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Abhi's always had a thing for bad boys. For tricksters and pranksters who maybe take the joke a step too far before catching themselves and reeling it back in. And this Constable N. Daya is right up his alley in possibly the worst way.
He'd been taking pictures of some girl dancing on a table at Bunny’s club – mildly creepy behaviour, he admits, now that he thinks about it – when someone snatched his phone from his hand and got into his face, demanding answers. He damn-near tripped on his tongue trying to explain himself while also trying not to drool over the stars sparkling in the man's eyes, and his stumbling struggle apparently came across as lying. The man bites his lip and starts twirling a pistol in one hand as Abhi falls silent, and Abhi barely swallows his groan as the man looks over him again, undoubtedly noting Abhi's hard-on.
"You're under arrest," the man decides, sliding his gun back into its holster with one hand and twisting Abhi's arm behind his back with the other. "Come quietly, and nobody gets hurt," he growls in Abhi's ear.
Abhi's knees wobble hard, knocking him back into the man. He offers his throat in submissive apology, vision blurring under flashing lights and heavy lids. "Yes, Sir," he breathes.
He hadn't planned on getting laid during his one-night layover in Hyderabad, but all his usual playmates at home have been incredibly busy – and getting a little stale, if Abhi dared to be honest with himself – for months, now, and Abhi had started climbing the walls in his antsy craving for a new project. (Poor Nanna probably wouldn’t approve of any part of this as a project, but Abhi couldn’t resist it the second he learned there was a problem to be solved.) It's probably incredibly stupid of him to run off with this Constable N. Daya guy, even if he really is a cop, without at least advising Bunny first.
Maybe he'll let me off if I choke on his dick in the back, or something. Though Abhi kinda hopes not. Now that he's aware of the craving he's been pushing off and burying, he suspects he'll need at least one round of the full package before he goes to meet his extended estranged family. Should've done that first, actually, before leaving England. A randy homosexual wandering the streets of a homophobic country he's not really a citizen of sounds like the basis for a horror movie –
Something cold snaps around his lifted wrist, pulling him back into the here and now. "Move," the Constable orders, and Abhi's knees find their strength again. He straightens and shuffles forward blindly, the Constable's free hand guiding him by the shoulder.
"Bava!" Bunny shouts from the bar, waving him down. Abhi grins and waves back with his other hand, heat growing up his cheeks as a confused frown deepens into concern on Bunny’s face.
The Constable growls, possessive, and Abhi starts taking bigger strides towards an exit. "Good boy," the Constable murmurs when they step out into the city's heat with no further interruption. Abhi can't help shivering under the praise. A little tug on the metal cuffs – they're handcuffs, oh dear God – guides Abhi toward a Jeep parked in a quiet corner behind the club, where Constable N. Daya shoves him face-first onto the hood. "What are you expecting to get out of this," he demands.
Abhi can only groan in response, hunger gnawing at him.
Constable N. Daya apparently doesn't like that answer, knocking Abhi's ankles wider to shove between his legs. Abhi gasps as his arm twists higher, the pain pushing his brain into working again as the Constable demands, "Were you gonna smooze your way into that girl's group, maybe drug her drink so you and your friend could play with her any way you like?"
"No, Sir," Abhi says, and wonders if this was sex-related at all. Am I really that thirsty? "I was really only taking pictures 'cause I thought my sister might like the dress. Her birthday's coming up and –" he hisses and arches at the pull in his arm. "I'm way too gay for girls, Sir!" spills out before he can explain in a milder tone, and he might just spontaneously combust in his embarrassment as the Constable's grip loosens.
"Oh," the Constable says as he retreats, and Abhi wonders if he's made the situation even worse ... before the Constable's fingers start brushing up his spine. "So you're hoping I'll forget this little indiscretion if you can blackmail me into something more inappropriate."
"No, Si-" A hand jerks into his hair, and he babbles, "My throat and ass have received no complaints, if that's what you're asking for, Sir!" He nearly faceplants into the metal when he's released, panting with strain as his hips hump against air. When have I gotten so desperate? A whine slips out as he slowly regains control, so hard he's dizzy with it.
"So what do you want?" the Constable asks. "And are you prepared for what you'll get?"
Abhi’s breath catches. He does have a condom and lube packet in his wallet. He can't promise how long they've been there or if they're any good anymore, though. (He's also pretty sure this hunger can't be solved in one round, either. Not with just one partner, and he's not inclined to push his already incredible luck. He wasn't looking for this to begin with –) "I'm gonna need a little help first, Sir," he decides, refusing to feel shameful about it. He dares to throw some puppy eyes at the Constable. "Depending on what you want."
The Constable considers him for a moment. Then gives a stinging slap to Abhi's ass and starts digging into Abhi's back pockets for his wallet. Abhi groans, can't stop himself from wiggling, though it only slows the Constable's search down.
"Stop that." Abhi freezes. Then his hips edge out again anyway, making it easier for the Constable to cop as much of a feel as he wants. The Constable humours him – for about two seconds – before he snorts and something drops onto Abhi's spine. He leans in, breath whispering against Abhi's ear as he flashes the packets in Abhi's vision. "Liar."
Abhi opens his mouth to explain, but the packets have already fallen, the Constable's hand caressing over Abhi's belly to play with the button and fly of Abhi's jeans. "Do you know the penalty for lying to the police in India, Mr. Abhiram ___?"
"N-no, Sir," Abhi says, his pants loosening. His welcoming groan is cut off when the Constable reaches for the packets again, other hand jerking Abhi's clothing clear for another distracting slap that makes Abhi gasp. Neither noise covers the telltale sounds of foil tearing, and Abhi tries to swallow his disappointment. Lucky to have landed this much when you weren't looking for it. He jolts anyway when the Constable's hand wraps around his cock ... an oddly cool-wet sensation covering it as the hand leaves. What –
"Now," the Constable says, breath still teasing Abhi's ear, "I have to cavity-search you."
Cool-wet-solid plunges into his ass, a hand thankfully covering his mouth as he shouts. The fingers push further into him, and Abhi whimpers as he pushes back, desperation clawing his own fingers into the Jeep's hood as he pants.
"Poor boy," the Constable murmurs. "You've waited too long for this. Do those pansies in England not know how to take care of you?" A twist nearly makes Abhi jump out of his skin, it feels so good. He spasms and whimpers again when the fingers brush his prostate. The Constable clicks his tongue. "Your sounds are delightful and I'd love to hear them, but this isn't the time or place." The fingers in Abhi's ass slow to a stop, and Abhi very nearly panics. "If you can keep yourself quiet, I can jack you off quickly so we can decide next steps with a sound mind. What do you think?"
Abhi nods, frantic with eagerness, and stuffs his free fingers into his mouth the second the Constable's hand leaves. He bites and sucks on them, groan muffled but still terribly loud when the fingers in his ass start moving again. (He could probably mention he can come without being touched, but that'll take longer than what the Constable's suggested. It'll hardly scratch the itch, so getting to the next step before he bounces back will be best for both of them. no he's not being greedy) A third finger slips in as the Constable's hand wraps around his cock. Abhi gives in to another groan, his eyes rolling closed, on the verge of temporary bliss. Not enough – not enough – not enough, but a damn good start –
"Such a good boy," the Constable suddenly chuckles, panting almost as hard above him. "Even with both my hands full, your trapped arm hasn't moved. Someone knew how to train you. How could they have let you go –"
"Sir, Sir please," Abhi dares to interrupt. "May I come?"
"Get those fingers back in your mouth," the Constable orders, and Abhi nearly gags himself in answer. Then he snuffles into Abhi's hair. "Yes, you may."
The condom bursts as Abhi wails, come streaking over the Jeep's grill. A sharp twist in his ass causes another spurt, Abhi almost fainting under the waves. His head hurts a little when he comes to, the Constable's fingers still idly stretching and playing with his hole.
Preparing me for the next round. Abhi shivers, and that draws the Constable's attention upward.
"Welcome back," he says with a grin in his voice, gently pulling his fingers away while urging Abhi upright again. He looks Abhi over, then glances at the car – and pauses, a frown teasing at his mouth. "You made a mess."
"I'm sorry, Sir," Abhi says, tugging his pants back up. "I wasn't sure how old they were. That's why I said –"
"Normally," the Constable muses, silencing him. "Normally, I'd have you clean up your mess with your tongue, but I don't think I have the patience for that right now." A hand jerks Abhi's chin up to face him. "Now you have a choice. You can fall to your knees and let me fuck your throat bare, and we go our separate ways when I'm done, or," A hand reaches around and squeezes one of Abhi's ass cheeks while his mouth waters. "Or, I can take you somewhere safe with plenty of supplies and give this ass the workout it deserves." A slap-and-rub tell Abhi what the Constable wants ... But he can't shake the craving.
"Can I have both?" he dares to ask, then pouts playfully. "I really should apologise for the mess I've made, before I'm rewarded." He nuzzles close. "Could you fuck my throat, just for a little bit, before you take me home?"
The Constable growls. A hand shoves into his hair and yanks. "Knees."
Abhi falls without question, the thump of cement on his joints hardly a note as he watches and waits for further instruction. A fine tremble has already engulfed the Constable before he fumbles with his jeans, but Abhi doesn't move, doesn't offer to help in any way. His jaw drops when the Constable's cock appears, mouth wet and ready to receive. The Constable shuffles forward and Abhi's eyes threaten to roll closed as the weight settles on his tongue and pushes deeper in. He allows them a slow blink, body relaxing for its second-favourite activity as his lips wrap around the invasion. A swish of tongue, a few slow pumps, and the Constable's grip tightens in his hair again.
"Now, suck."
Like a flipped switch, Abhi does so without conscious thought, never looking away from the Constable's expression as the speed and depth escalate ... but never quite reaches where they both know he wants to go. Abhi hums a question and receives a groan back, but nothing changes. He groans encouragement and the Constable shudders, starts to pull away –
Abhi's hands spring up to the Constable's thighs, stilling him. Eyes locked together, Abhi does a few test pumps to make sure the Constable's watching and aware ... then sinks all the way down, eyes fluttering as his throat spasms with effort around the Constable's cock before it settles, remembering. The Constable stares at him, jaw dropped in awe. Has he never had this before? Abhi relaxes his hold on the Constable's thighs, hands falling limp in his lap so the Constable can take over again.
Which he does. Eventually. Slowly. The grip in Abhi's hair rediscovering its command as it rocks the Constable's cock into ever-lengthening strokes, now finally going fully into Abhi's throat and lingering every few passes. The Constable's other hand starts petting him in a soothing, almost apologetic motion, like he's not sure he's allowed what Abhi's giving him, what Abhi's introduced him to –
Then the Constable jerks, thumb again running down the ridges of Abhi's throat. He jumps again, breath stuttering as his body shakes. "Shi- - Fu- Stop. Let go!"
He yanks away, cock scraping against Abhi's teeth in a way that must be uncomfortable, and staggers, strangling the base as ... as he fights not to come.
For the longest moment Abhi stares, confused. Then the Constable calms, glares at him. "Get in the fucking car."
Oh. OH!
Daya had really only seen an easy mark, at first. A young man, acting with the bright-eyed enthusiasm of a boy on his first outing without a parental figure, taking pictures left-and-right like he expected to stop existing if he missed the slightest memory. An easy target. Someone Daya could scare or embarrass into bribing him over a non-existent offence. A boy too rich for his own good and too innocent to know better. Really, Daya would be helping him, scheming him out of some pocket change now.
Or so he’d thought.
That's not to say he's upset about how badly he’s misread things. Mr. Abhiram ___ hasn't given him any room to be embarrassed about it. If anything, he's going to be massively confused about how all this happened after their meeting ends. It seems more like something out of a porno than a night in the life. Even one as corrupt as his.
He hadn't expected this boy man to give in so quickly, or so blatantly declare his preferences when Daya was still trying to suss out what he could get from their ... interaction. Let alone give and give and give, every time Daya thought he would surely hesitate or refuse to do more. Feeling his own cock through the ridges of that boy's throat is going to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, he's sure of it. Now he's driving the boy man to one of the lesser-known city haunts, with full intent of fucking both their brains out until neither of them can walk anymore. Or 'til sunrise, whichever happens first.
He's reset their clothing to a bare minimum, so they'll only look mussed at traffic lights and not have to risk getting pulled over, the man barely aware of what they're doing.
If Daya was just a little more monstrous, this boy would never find his way home. But an odd protectiveness possessiveness has entered his bones, and he knows he's not going to share this with anyone, even if the boy suggests it. He wants every noise, every thrust, every bruise, every thing for himself, some instinct telling him this'll be his only chance to revel in it.
So revel he will.
The boy seems to be waking up a little from his stupor about halfway there. He's getting twitchy, antsy, like he's having second thoughts about what they're doing. What they've done. What Daya might want from him next.
Daya bites his tongue and starts calculating how to reverse their route without drawing unwanted attention. He's not about to sex up someone who doesn't want him, guilty conscience or no –
"Sir – Sir, please. May I ...?" the boy reaches for Daya's nearest hand, and he releases the steering wheel to comfort and reassure him. Nothing’s going to happen that you don't want –
The boy nuzzles the back of his hand, then uses it to caress down his own chest ... then a shudder sighs out of him as he cups Daya's hand around his hard, trapped cock, hips lightly rolling a couple times before he settles. "Thank you, Sir."
Daya stares, jaw dropped as the boy goes hazy and relaxed again, legs spread in a blatant invitation –
The car behind them honks, the light turned green, and Daya hits the gas far harder than necessary to get them going that little bit faster.
This boy has earned a spanking at the very least, for being so brazen. Not that Daya removes his hand until they get there, his own cock throbbing the entire way. He drags the boy from his Jeep, barely bothers with basic banter while grabbing a room key, and yanks the boy inside to slam him against the closed door and get his tongue into that talented mouth. Abhiram groans his welcome, hips humping against Daya's thigh until Daya pulls them apart again. "You still haven't told me what you want."
The boy blinks at him, the words taking their time sinking in. Then a few more beats pass as the boy works his tongue and throat and lips in tandem to create an answer. “Everything,” Daya groans, his hold on the boy quaking. "Y-you said you'll give my ass a workout," the boy pants. "I wan- I wan'it all, pleasesir."
Everything. A dangerous proposition. Another filthy kiss is explored while Daya decides. Not that it's too difficult, either. "Strip," he demands when he gets his mouth back. "Hands and knees on the bed."
A grin flashes over Abhiram's face. Daya forces himself to step back instead of chasing it. He pulls off his shoes and socks, unease building as Abhiram doesn't move. He gestures a question. "Well?"
"Shall I dance for you, Sir? Or do you want to go straight to business?"
Nothing straight about this. Daya huffs a laugh and steps back again, falling into a loose parade rest. "Go on, then."
Abhi sways, wiggles a bit in place like he's trying to catch the beat of a silent song. Then his hands take on a mind of their own, stroking from thighs to chest and into his hair, fingers briefly catching at his undershirt and flashing his belly at the Constable. He tugs at his own hair and hums, reminding the Constable that he likes a bit of roughness before his hands drift back down to pinch at his nipples. His hips roll at the sting, and he lifts one hand to bite and suck at its thumb while he toes off his shoes and kicks them away, heavy eyes playing at innocence as he licks and plays, remembering the lovely thick weight he'd enjoyed earlier. Bigger than most in his experience, and even tastier for it.
The Constable is clearly remembering too, if his lusty stare is any indication. Abhi hums and sways some more, drawing off one shoulder of his overshirt as he turns to one side and gives the Constable a coy look. He undulates, urging the shirt further down while his free hand rubs at the inside of his thigh.
The Constable's eyes flick down at it then drift back up Abhi's torso. "Is this meant to be entertaining?"
Abhi knows it's bait but can't resist taking it anyway. He whips off both shirts and undulates some more, showing off the flex and pull of his muscles as he turns in place, fabric-trapped hands hovering overhead until his back is to the Constable.
Who hums, mildly impressed. Then steps forward to capture and free his still-bound hand from the cuffs. "You're athletic. Sprinter or swimmer?"
"Rugby," Abhi answers, stepping back and spreading his legs before bending over and freeing himself of his shirts. "When the team needs more than a cumcatcher. Do you play?"
"No," the Constable says, watching Abhi's hands rove over the backs of his thighs to cup his ass cheeks and pull at them. "I have no idea what that position is, but it sounds like a glorified fuck-doll."
"You're not wrong," Abhi says, more amused than embarrassed. "It usually takes multiple rounds with multiple dicks to satisfy me. You might've bitten off more than you can chew for one encounter."
"Is that so?" It comes out as a growl, and Abhi shivers, biting back a grin. Tit for tat.
He's almost ready for the shove that pushes him to brace himself on the mattress. And the smack to his ass that follows. He purrs instead, then hastily yanks at his jeans to bare his ass for a cleaner spanking. "Use my ass however you'd like, Sir."
Another growl. And Abhi remembers he should at least insist on another condom first –
A hand plunges into his hair, another smack ringing in his ears before the sting blooms under his skin. He groans, the submissive fog quickly overcoming him again as fingers rub in the heat.
"Did you forget you're under arrest? Did you think your punishment was over?" More spanks rain down, and Abhi gives in to more groaning. "You get my cock when I decide to give it, not before."
"Ye-Yes, Sir," Abhi pants between smacks. "Sorry, Sir. I won't forget again."
"You will if I tell you to," the Constable mutters, sounding almost sad about it. It pricks at something in Abhi's mind, only to wash out at the next smack, and he shivers instead.
"Yes, Sir," he says, not sure what he's agreeing to.
The hand in his hair goes loose, the hand spanking him pausing to rub in the heat, and Abhi wonders if he's said the wrong thing again –
"Strip," Constable N. Daya says again, stepping away. "Hands and knees on the mattress, and no further lip from you."
Time blurs. Movement happens, but Abhi doesn't really come to until his face is buried in musty-worn sheets, knees and elbows touching as he again presents his ass for the taking. He tucks his necklace into his mouth, the pendant well-used to doubling as both a cock ring and tiny gag to help keep Abhi a little quieter, before he reaches to spread his cheeks wider in offering.
The lube is getting sticky from disuse. Much longer, and it'll dry completely. His fingers rub around his hole, one dipping in as a test that makes him hum and shiver –
A smack to the sensitive skin makes him gasp. "Did I tell you to play with yourself?" the Constable demands over more foil tearing.
"No, Sir," Abhi says through the pendant. He dares a look behind him but can't really see the Constable. "You might want to add some more lube, though ... Unless you like the burn."
He's answered with another smack and a log in his ass that leaves him groaning long and loud into the sheets. Hands pull and pin his wrists into the 'arrested' position at his lower back, making him shiver again as the Constable leans over him, the log sinking a little deeper before a "... Maybe I do," sighs into his ear. A hand squeezes around his cock in a teasing warning. "Or maybe ... I'll make my own."
Abhi gasps to groan again, his pendant knocking against his bottom teeth and threatening to fall out. His tongue curls into the hole to keep it in place, his drool already making it slippery as his ass squeezes its welcome. The Constable isn't fully in him yet, but he's already stretched to nearly his maximum, and the Constable's cock is teasing at something his usual partners struggle to reach, even when they're working in tandem.
It may turn out Abhi's bitten off more than he could chew, this time. And he's even more excited to be wrecked for it. "Please fuck me, Sir."
Daya thrusts, the boy's ass still a little too tight for him to sink more than another couple centimeters – This will not do. – and the retreat threatens to tear or leave his condom behind. He's forced to pause, recalculate as the boy groans again.
Much as he doesn't want to stop and adjust, Abhiram's right. They need more lube. And maybe to back up a few steps, stretch the boy out properly before they can really go at it like they're both craving.
He's not sure either of them will have the patience for that, though. Much as he doesn't want to hurt the kid, the chances of not leaving him tender and limping have already died. (Daya suspects they'll both riot if a separation happens before this first round, at least, is done.) ... And the chain already hooked into the boy's mouth suggests he's fine with that – that he's prepared and eager to have a hitch in his stride for the next several days. Daya's fingers curl into the boy's hips, the vision teasing at him though he knows he'll never get to see it beyond this room, and the boy squeezes around him again. Painfully.
He breathes out, then lets go of Abhiram's cock to a desperate whimper and wiggle. Then he pulls Abhiram's wrists apart, leaning to plant them to either side of the boy's face before he catches the boy's eye. "Move."
It takes Abhiram a few seconds of teary-eyed blinking, but he raises himself up and starts crawling closer to the pillows, Daya slowly following along until he can reach the bedside drawer of supplies without hurting either of them further.
Abhiram collapses with a huff that sounds mildly annoyed a moment later, ass still hovering in the air as he wraps his arms around a pillow to wait. Daya lets it slide, already fiddling with his options inside the drawer. He's annoyed and frustrated too, but bitching at each other about it won't solve anything.
Another condom comes out half-sandwiched between lube packets, and Daya takes it as a signal that he's on the right path. He drops it onto Abhiram's back to keep track of it while he tears the lube packets apart, tentatively pulling his cock out a bit while pinching the condom he's wearing close and warming the packet a little in his other palm. Abhiram shudders and whines an even louder protest when Daya breaches the halfway point.
"Hush, I'm working on it," Daya says, pinching him quiet.
Abhiram wiggles and huffs again – then jumps, startled as still-cool lube dribbles onto his ass. Daya dares a few rolling strokes to rub the lube in to where it needs to go but quickly decides the condom he's got isn't going to last them the ride to come. He speeds and shallows his strokes, the boy already feeling a ton looser when he breaks free and hastily trades condoms to the boy's betrayed cries –
Then he sinks back in. Fully. And Abhiram's complaints strangle themselves in his throat.
It's still a snug fit, so he waits through a few heartbeats for Abhiram to catch his breath, eyes rolling in the boy's skull like he's never had a dick of Daya's size before. (Flattering, but unlikely. Especially if the boy wasn't exaggerating about taking multiple dicks at once. Daya might be a little bigger than average, but he's not that big.) He rocks a little as Abhiram starts to settle, eager to finally get this show on the road.
"Oh, Daddy," Abhiram suddenly groans, one hand clutching at Daya's thigh. "So big ... bes' cock I've had already ... feel so goood." He starts moving on his own, and Daya can't catch his breath to argue or correct. "C'n I milk y’r cock for you? Y've worked so hard t’day …”
The hold on Abhi's hips loosens, and he takes it as permission. He rocks. Pants. Whimpers and whines as he scratches the itch that's been plaguing him for so long. He squeezes. Shudders and lengthens his strokes, his pendant smacking at his face as the end closes in –
The Constable's grip tightens; a pinch around Abhi's cock almost makes him scream into the covers, the urge to come almost too much against the pain suddenly holding him back.
"Did someone say you could come?" the Constable says, nuzzling along Abhi's sweaty neck as he pulls almost out to rearrange their legs. "It certainly wasn't me." He slams back in, and Abhi almost chokes on his own spit, it's so fucking perfect. He tries to stuff his pendant back into his mouth to lessen the noises coming out of it, only to bite his own fingers instead. The Constable urges his hand away and twists it behind his back again with a gentle, handholding pin. "You can be as loud as you want here, baby boy," he tells Abhi over the rhythmic smack of hips and ass meeting. "Lemme hear you sing."
That. Does something. Abhi's never experienced before. The world goes white. Silent, victorious music plays in his ears as pleasure washes over and through him, detaching him from his body for an endless time. Then a sting. To his neck. He thinks? Becomes a new anchor, winding him back down into his skin as a beautiful warmth floods his ass.
Weight collapses over him a moment later, the best kind of heated blanket, and Abhi sighs contentment as the flood spills out, coating his outsides as well as inside. But after a few more pumps, the weight pulls away. Releases his hand. And Abhi can't hold back the sob. The need to reach. He's pulled close again a moment later, and he kisses his thanks to the sweaty skin under his cheek as an arm settles around his shoulders.
He'll never complain, but he always hates it when they leave him so quickly. It's not quite as bad when they pass him amongst themselves, but he still feels used and tossed aside when they're done.
The arm around him shifts, starts petting his hair, and he panics a little, thinking it’s about to end for good. "Fuck my throat again, before y'go?" he asks, sleep dragging at his bones. "Don' have t' get hard. Could piss in 't, if y'want. I don't care ..."
Daya's heart is still pounding as Abhiram sighs himself to sleep. What the fuck is wrong with those English boys, to treat this man so poorly? And is he really so out of it that he thinks Daya would abandon him before they're both ready to leave?
Abhiram shivers and whimpers, wiggling closer to Daya’s heat in his sleep. Daya reaches just far enough to fling the covers over them and returns to petting the boy's hair, questions twisting in his head as drowsiness tugs at him.
He will, of course, give Abhiram what he wants, if he still wants it when he wakes up. And he will take Abhiram home – or whatever passes for it – when they're finished with each other.
No unnecessary questions. No hard feelings. No demands to do better or expect more for either of them. Just a mutually beneficial night of amazing fun between strangers who'll never meet again . . .
Or so he tells himself. Not that he’s ever believed his own lies before. He suspects he's going to wonder about Abhiram ___ for the rest of his life. And he should probably be more upset about it.
He’s in a deep doze when Abhiram starts nuzzling at his chest a little over three hours later. A hummed question wakes them both, if the sleep-happy grin Abhiram shoots him before descending down Daya’s chest is any indication of an answer, a few soft kisses scattered over his abs before Abhiram reaches his destination.
Daya shivers and groans, hips rolling into an arch at the warm-wet wrapping around his cock again. The cooler air has kept him from even twitching towards hardness, but the heat will make that change soon. He pets at Abhiram’s hair, letting him take what he wants for this round – then hisses and jerks as his cock finds its way down Abhiram’s throat again.
There isn’t even any suction involved yet, just an occasionally-dancing tongue and drool as Abhiram goes still … for several long seconds, like he’s fallen asleep again. Daya catches himself thrusting ever-so-slightly and forces himself to pull Abhiram up by the hair as the boy’s face turns red from lack of air. His hold eases at the gasp, and Abhiram bobs a few times, catching his breath before going down a second time. Like he’s a glutton for punishment.
Or is wanting something he doesn’t think he has a right to. Another harm his rugby ‘teammates’ are propagating?
Daya growls, irritated at the reminder, and Abhiram somehow pushes him deeper. Daya pulls him up again, though Abhiram fights him to stay down, pulling him all the way off with a pitiful cry Daya silences with a kiss. “Is this what you want?” Daya teases between dives into Abhiram’s mouth, “Or would you like to ride instead?”
Abhiram gasps around a grin. “Can I?” And Daya can’t help smirking as he presents the lube packet that’s been wedged under his thigh for the last three hours. Abhiram squeals and snatches it away, and Daya leans to the drawer for another condom – “Do you really need to?”
“I should be clean, but I haven’t checked recently,” Daya says, opening his packet. “And this way makes a quicker and easier cleanup, besides.” Abhiram slows his own mid-air humping and carefully does not look at the crusting-over wet spot he’d left earlier, biting his lip. “Yes, you are a messy boy,” Daya teases. “Good thing I like that about you.” He rolls on the condom and reaches for Abhiram’s jaw. “Now gimme kiss. All aboard when you’re ready.”
Abhiram snickers into their kiss and climbs on a moment later. He groans long and loud as he sits on Daya’s cock. “Goood, this is such a good dick. Givin’ me a new standard for a thorough fuck.”
Good, Daya doesn’t say. You deserve better. “What would you like?” he says instead, one hand stroking up to play with a tit while Abhiram’s hips roll into rhythm. “Let’s make it your show now.”
“My show …” Abhiram pulls Daya’s hand up to his mouth, where he nibbles and kisses and sucks on a few fingers while he thinks. “Fuck me to coming,” he decides, pushing Daya’s hand down to wrap around his cock. “Then keep fucking me. I like the sting. Bet you could make me come again, before you’re ready.” He shivers, his ass squeezing around Daya’s cock on the upstroke. “Won’t take much. Your dick can reach shit that’s barely touched with almost no effort already. Think you could make me scream myself hoarse?”
Do you wanna be? Daya smirks and counters, “You wanna mark me, baby boy? Get me all dirty while you enjoy my cock?”
“Oh.” Abhiram freezes, his body squeezing hard. “May I? May I please …” He shudders and gasps, like the thought alone is enough to make him come.
“Yes, of course, baby,” Daya croons, wishing he could pull the boy down for another kiss. “Come for me – come on me.”
It doesn’t take long, after that. Abhiram arches and wails, come shooting out almost to Daya’s collarbones. Daya grins and encourages more, wringing out every drop until Abhiram’s wincing from the effort before pulling the boy down for praise and a cooling-off makeout.
One kiss becomes many, Daya waiting for a response before starting the second half of their plan. He rolls them over slowly, trying not to disengage before he loosely wraps Abhiram’s legs around his waist and attempts the first soft thrust.
Abhiram flinches, hissing. So Daya pulls up to wait –
“No – don’t,” Abhiram whines, hands turning clingy.
Daya grabs one to kiss the knuckles. “‘M not going anywhere, baby,” he murmurs, laying them in an in-between spot overhead that he can hold for a bit. “But I’m not gonna hurt you, either.” He tries another roll of the hips, and Abhiram’s ass squeezes him in welcome. “There we go …”
Abhiram groans and arches into him a few strokes later, free hand grabbing at Daya’s ass before it streaks up to his shoulder to cling. “Closer?”
Daya leans in, hiking a leg over his shoulder for a deeper stroke that makes Abhiram gasp into their kiss. “God, yes – yes, there. Harder.” A soft bite to a tit makes the boy groan and arch even harder, body quaking as Daya’s speed sharpens. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t ever stop. Make me come, jus’ from this.”
Oh, really? Daya pushes for more, and Abhiram’s eyes roll back as his body clenches a moment later. The stream is weaker, more watery, and Daya almost curses his relief, barely able to wait for Abhiram’s spasms to ease so he can pull out and stroke his own completion onto Abhiram’s belly. The boy hisses, then purrs at the sensation, his free hand fingerpainting their combined come into his skin before rising to take a taste –
Daya redirects that hand to his own mouth first, licking it clean before giving Abhiram the taste he craves. It’s kinda pointless if he isn’t clean, but at least there’s a plausible deniability this way.
Abhiram’s still pouting when they part. “We’ll have to call it a night soon, won’t we,” he says. “My friend is probably panicking about where I am already. Don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Daya sighs. “Yeah, probably. Do you need another nap first?”
Abhiram bites his lip, blinking back a new shine in his eyes as he reaches to pull Daya back down. “Just a little longer?”
“As long as you need, baby,” Daya assures him, curling himself like a shield around the boy’s back and kissing his temple. “As long as you need.”
Thirty minutes come and go in gentle silence. A tiny snore jerks the boy awake, changing and charging the room instantly.
Their time is up. Daya kisses Abhiram’s temple again and offers the shower so he can strip the sheets and remake the bed. Abhiram nods and shuffles into the bathroom with his clothes, both of them grunting complain at the bright light before Abhiram closes the door.
They don’t talk much beyond getting directions after that. There’s not much to be said. It’s not like they’re going to exchange numbers before parting ways –
“Thank you,” Abhiram suddenly says after hopping out of Daya’s Jeep. “You have no idea how much I’ve been needing that.”
“You deserve more than what those pussies have been giving you,” Daya says before he can think twice about it. “Don’t forget that.” Something sparks in his memory, and Daya wiggles Abhiram’s phone out of his back pocket and offers it back. “Welcome to India, Mister –”
“Abhi,” the boy corrects, their fingers brushing as he takes his phone. “Na peru Abhi.”
“Daya," he chokes for no reason. "I’m Daya.”
A soft smirk dances over Abhi’s face, then his fingers twiddle and the camera on his phone clicks. “Thank you, Daya, for the lift home.”
Little brat, Daya almost grouses. It’s too fond, even in his head, so he nods and drives away.
Abhi taps his phone into his other palm as he watches Daya’s taillights fade into the miasma of traffic down the road, not ready for this not-quite-real bubble to burst –
“BRO!” Bunny shouts, muffled, something clattering inside the bike dealership before heat engulfs his back and arms wrap around his chest. “Where have you been? I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped -” a sniff. "You got laid, didn't you? You dog!"
Abhi isn’t inclined to answer, but he murmurs assurances as they head back inside, somehow feeling more settled and ready for what he’s about to do.
He won’t share that photo of Daya with anyone. It’s not for anyone else.