Goa Nights

⚠️ Author's Note:

They cross the line, fully.

Ishaan rides. Vikram ruins. And neither of them can pretend anymore.

This is not just about release. It's about who they're becoming.

(Note: The characters now wear new names, Ishaan and Vikram. But the tension, the heat, the fall? Still exactly the same.)

________________________________________

That night, the silence between them was thick with what hadn't been said.

They hadn't kissed.

They hadn't fucked.

They hadn't talked about what it meant to lick your best friend's hole in broad daylight like you owned it.

But the tension in the air?

That was loud.

They lay in separate beds. Ishaan in one room, Vikram in the other.

It was past 1AM. The Airbnb was quiet. The only sound was the ceiling fan above, chopping at the air like a slow heartbeat.

Ishaan lay shirtless, on his back, staring at the ceiling. His cock was hard. Aching. He hadn't even touched it yet -- just remembering Vikram's tongue inside him, the slaps on his ass, the weight of being used. His briefs were soaked. His thighs twitched.

His fingers drifted down. Not just to his cock, but lower. Slower.

They stopped at the edge of his hole.

No.

No fucking way.

But his body didn't care what his brain said. Not anymore.

He pressed a fingertip against it. Just testing.

It twitched.

He moaned.

His face flushed hot.

What was happening to him?

He'd never done this with girls. He'd always been the one in control. He fucked. He got blowjobs. He left the marks.

But now?

He was the one moaning. Gagging. Spreading.

Letting it happen.

And the worst part?

He wanted it to happen again.

What the fuck has Vikram done to me?

That quiet, calm bastard. Not even aggressive. Not violent. Just... sure. Focused. Strong.

He hadn't forced anything. But the moment he touched Ishaan's ass, it was over.

He'd eaten him like a slut. Spanked him like he owned him.

And now, Ishaan was lying in bed wanting more. Wanting to be broken open. To be used.

To be ruined.

His cock throbbed.

The memory of Vikram's cock in his mouth made him shiver. Thick. Heavy. Too big for him. But he'd taken it. Gagged on it. Moaned for it.

Now he wanted to go deeper.

He wanted to earn that cock.

To be trained.

And maybe--fuck--maybe even be fucked.

The thought made his breath hitch.

Could I even take him? That thing? That thick cock?

What if it tears me in half?

What if I beg for more?

Ishaan shoved his face into the pillow and groaned.

He was losing his mind.

________________________________________

Neither of them got much sleep. The villa stayed silent, thick with denial and arousal. In the morning, Vikram woke up hard.

It wasn't like the usual morning wood -- lazy, half-forgotten.

This was urgent. Full. Angry. His cock was throbbing under the sheet like it needed to be inside something right now.

He remembered the feel of Ishaan's ass in his hands. The smoothness. The way it opened for him. The way Ishaan whimpered when he spat on it, when he licked it, when he slapped it red.

And that mouth...

That fucking mouth.

Vikram clenched his fist around his cock through the sheet and exhaled.

What the hell was he doing?

He'd never fucked anyone. Barely done anything. A couple handjobs from nervous girls back in second year. Some kisses, nothing serious. Never even felt this turned on.

But with Ishaan?

It was different.

It wasn't about gender. It wasn't even about attraction the way he used to think about it. He didn't find other guys hot. Not once had he checked out a dude in college. He liked girls. Still did.

But Ishaan?

He was different.

Stronger than anyone Vikram had been with. Tougher. Sharper. And still, he melted beneath him. Took it. Craved it. Begged for it.

That was the drug.

Not the hole.

Not the body.

But the power.

The ability to make someone like Ishaan -- cocky, confident, alpha-as-fuck Ishaan -- choke on him, open for him, squirm under his tongue.

And Vikram wanted more.

More noise. More submission. More control.

He didn't just want to fuck Ishaan. He wanted to ruin him.

Take him to the edge.

Keep him there.

See what would break first -- his hole or his pride.

And that scared him.

Because he liked Ishaan.

He wasn't some random hookup. He was his best friend. His person.

But if Vikram let himself think too hard about that, he'd never touch him again.

So he didn't.

He stepped into Ishaan's room.

Shorts tented. Breathing heavy.

Ishaan stirred under the blanket.

"Vik?"

Vikram didn't answer.

He just grabbed the blanket and yanked it down.

Ishaan's briefs were soaked. His cock stood straight up, leaking at the tip.

His lips parted when he saw Vikram's face.

"Vik--"

But Vikram was already on him.

He climbed onto the bed, straddled Ishaan's chest, and pulled his cock out.

"Open your mouth."

Ishaan opened. No hesitation.

Vikram shoved it in.

No warning. No teasing. Just took the moment and claimed it.

Ishaan gagged immediately. His throat wasn't ready. His eyes went wide, watering.

But he didn't stop him.

His hands gripped Vikram's thighs.

His mouth took it.

"Good boy," Vikram growled.

"That's it. Get used to it."

Ishaan moaned around him, spit bubbling out from the corners. His throat spasmed.

Vikram pulled back, let him breathe, then shoved in again.

Faster. Deeper. Meaner.

He grunted as he watched Ishaan choke.

Watched his lashes flutter. Watched tears spill down his face.

But Ishaan kept trying.

His lips sealed tighter. His tongue worked harder. He was learning.

"You're getting better," Vikram murmured, voice ragged.

"But you're still not ready to take all of it, are you?"

Ishaan shook his head, cock pressed against his belly, drool running down his chin.

"Good. We'll train that throat later."

He pulled out -- with a wet pop -- and grabbed Ishaan's face in one hand.

"Now kiss me."

Ishaan gasped for air.

Then Vikram slammed their mouths together.

It wasn't sweet.

It wasn't romantic.

It was raw.

Messy.

Tongue and spit and teeth.

Vikram bit his bottom lip. Sucked his tongue. Held his jaw like it belonged to him.

Ishaan moaned into it, hips rolling up against Vikram's weight.

Vikram kissed him harder -- shoved him into the mattress, ground their bodies together.

Their hips pressed tight.

Ishaan gasped when he felt it -- the full weight of Vikram's cock pressing down against his own.

It wasn't just hard. It was heavy. Thicker. Longer.

It made Ishaan feel... smaller. More open. Like his cock didn't even belong in the same league.

The kiss turned savage. Tongues fighting. Breath panting.

Vikram bit his bottom lip again. Sucked it. Then bit it harder.

Ishaan whimpered. And moaned. And pushed back up into it like a goddamn slut.

Then Vikram broke the kiss and started trailing his mouth lower.

He kissed along Ishaan's jaw. His throat. Bit down on his collarbone and sucked.

A fresh hickey bloomed.

Ishaan's hands clutched the sheets. His cock jumped between them.

Then Vikram kept moving -- down his chest, his stomach -- leaving a trail of wet bites and kisses.

When he got to Ishaan's thighs, he pulled them apart.

Wide.

He stared at the skin for a second, then leaned in and bit deep into the soft inside of Ishaan's right thigh.

Ishaan cried out. "F-fuck--"

The pain was sharp, stinging.

But the heat that followed made his asshole twitch.

And he knew Vikram noticed.

Because Vikram looked up, eyes dark and gleaming, then ran his thumb between Ishaan's cheeks and dragged it across the cleft.

Ishaan couldn't breathe.

Vikram didn't ask. He just turned him over.

Hands firm. Movements sure.

And suddenly -- Ishaan was bent over the mattress again.

Second time.

Same position.

Same boy.

He felt the air hit his hole -- bare, exposed, needy.

And in that moment, something inside him cracked.

This wasn't random.

Once could be forgotten. Brushed off. Blamed on Goa.

But twice?

Twice was a choice.

A pattern.

Something real.

He pressed his forehead into the sheets and whispered, "Fuck me."

He didn't even realize he'd said it.

Vikram didn't answer.

He just bent down and spread Ishaan's cheeks.

And stared.

The hole was already twitching. Soft pink. Slightly open. Like it was remembering what it had been given yesterday and begging for more.

Vikram leaned in and sucked hard -- right on the curve of Ishaan's left ass cheek.

Ishaan yelped. "Ow--fuck--"

Vikram didn't stop until a deep, purple hickey bloomed beneath his lips.

A mark.

One Ishaan would feel for days. Every time he sat down. Every time he walked.

I'm his now, he thought.

He hated how much he loved it.

Then Vikram spat.

The glob landed dead center.

Thick. Messy.

He spat again. Louder.

Then licked.

Not neat this time.

Not delicate.

It was sloppy. Hungry. Desperate.

He spit into Ishaan's crack and slurped it right back up.

His tongue lapped across the rim, pushing in, dragging out. His hands spread Ishaan wide, squeezing the cheeks, keeping them parted.

Ishaan shook.

His cock was pressed to the mattress, drooling against the sheets. His face was flushed, ears burning.

And suddenly, he realized--

This isn't just because he likes eating ass.

This is prep.

He's getting me ready.

Vikram's tongue was fucking him. Fast. Deep. Slurping like it was the only thing that mattered. Like he needed to loosen him. Stretch him. Wet him.

Because something bigger was coming.

And they both knew it.

Ishaan moaned.

This is it, he thought.

This is the moment.

Because all he could think about was what came next.

What it would feel like to be mounted.

To be pinned.

To have Vikram's thick cock inside him.

He wasn't ready. Not fully.

But his body was.

His hole twitched, stretched under the pressure of the tongue. His legs trembled.

And when he looked back, just for a second, over his shoulder--

He saw it.

The look in Vikram's eyes.

Not soft. Not confused. Not friendly.

Feral.

Hungry.

Like he'd been holding back all this time, and was about to snap.

Ishaan shuddered.

His cock throbbed.

And started to leak.

________________________________________

Vikram pulled back from Ishaan's hole slowly, his face glistening with spit, lips raw, cock throbbing. He'd never eaten anyone out like that. Never wanted to. Not even a girl.

But now?

He was obsessed.

This ass--Ishaan's ass--was everything. Tight. Smooth. Gold-brown and sinful. It opened for him like it was built for his mouth.

He hovered behind him, breath uneven, hands gripping those cheeks he'd just claimed with his tongue and spit. And he needed more.

"Can I rub it?" he rasped.

Ishaan didn't answer, just nodded into the mattress.

That was enough.

Vikram spat again, this time directly on the curve of Ishaan's ass, and lined his cock up between the cheeks. He started to move. Slowly. Deliberately. Dragging the heavy shaft up and down the crack.

The tip caught the twitching hole each time.

Ishaan gasped--each time it touched, his body lit up.

The first time was a shock.

The second time was temptation.

The third time?

It was almost unbearable.

Every time that swollen, leaking head brushed his rim, it was like a fuse being lit.

He'd never felt anything like it.

The heat.

The pressure.

The wrongness that felt so right.

Precum smeared across his hole, making it slippery, ready.

Vikram's cock twitched. He pushed the head against it--harder. Still didn't go in. Just threatened.

Ishaan shivered.

He didn't want to be the one to make the first move.

He wanted to be forced. Taken. Used.

But Vikram wasn't giving it to him that easy.

He kept rubbing. Kept teasing.

"You want it?" he asked, voice like gravel.

Ishaan bit his lip. Didn't answer.

Vikram leaned in closer, the weight of his cock resting perfectly between Ishaan's cheeks.

"I said--do you want it?"

Ishaan whimpered. "Yes."

"Then take it."

And just like that--Vikram held his cock still.

Didn't push. Didn't thrust.

Ishaan was the one who had to move.

And he did.

Tentatively, painfully slow, Ishaan pushed back.

His hole kissed the tip. Gave in just a little. The thick head stretched him wider than anything ever had.

He gasped. Froze.

The burn. The stretch. The way his ring twitched in protest.

Vikram groaned. "Holy fuck..."

It was tight. Hot. Alive.

Ishaan pushed again.

And the head popped in.

They both gasped.

Ishaan clutched the sheets, panting. "F-fuck, fuck--"

The pain was sharp. Deep. Like he was being split in half.

And yet--he didn't stop.

He looked back over his shoulder. Eyes glazed. Face flushed.

Vikram met his gaze and whispered:

"Go on. Take it in."

Ishaan's breath stuttered as the flared ridge of Vikram's cockhead settled inside him. His hole pulsed, fluttered, trying to accommodate it, trying to make sense of the invasion.

Vikram didn't move.

He just watched. Silent. Gripping the base of his cock like it was a leash he refused to tug.

He's making me do it, Ishaan realized.

He wants me to own it. To choose this.

But choosing didn't make it easier.

Ishaan exhaled, knuckles white around the bedsheet, and pushed back--slowly.

The thick shaft slid in, half an inch... then a little more.

The burn was brutal.

Pain bloomed across his spine. His hole stretched in ways it never had--barely prepared, barely ready--but wet enough from Vikram's spit and Ishaan's own need to allow it.

Vikram hissed, "Fuck, your ass is tight."

Ishaan moaned, low and hoarse.

It hurt.

But it didn't feel wrong.

It felt like his body had been waiting for this and didn't even know it.

With every inch he lowered himself, the pressure increased. The deeper he sank, the less he could breathe.

But still, he wanted it.

More.

He reached one hand behind and slid it under himself--until his fingertips touched the base of Vikram's cock. Just below that, his own stretched, twitching hole. And lower--Vikram's balls, warm against his taint.

He almost cried out.

He's fully inside me.

Ishaan was impaled. Filled.

His cock hung heavy and untouched beneath him, dripping onto the mattress. His body was trembling--but he was still.

Vikram groaned, looking down at the vision: Ishaan bent, arched, bare back glistening with sweat, ass spread open and red from spanking, with his fat cock buried to the base in that perfect, quivering hole.

This ass--Ishaan's ass--was made for him.

The curve. The smoothness. The golden-brown skin. The way it gripped every inch of him.

This wasn't an ass that should be wasted on anyone else.

He moved--just slightly. Pulled out an inch, slid back in.

Ishaan whimpered.

Then again. Out. In. Slow. Deep.

Ishaan gasped with every stroke. "Vik... oh fuck..."

"I'm not even moving yet," Vikram said through clenched teeth.

"You're filling me..."

And it was true.

Every inch inside made Ishaan feel like he was being rewritten. Unmade.

He'd thought sucking cock had changed him.

But this?

This was worship.

He was being fucked by his best friend. First time.

First real time. And it was perfect.

Vikram leaned over, chest brushing Ishaan's back. His hand slid under Ishaan's body and wrapped gently around his throat--not choking. Just claiming.

"You're mine now," he murmured.

Ishaan nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Vikram kept it slow at first.

Long, deep strokes -- sliding out until only the tip remained, then sinking back in, hips flush against Ishaan's ass.

Each thrust was a lesson.

And Ishaan? He was the student.

Eager. Trembling. Learning how to breathe through the burn and embrace the stretch.

"Fucking hell," Vikram groaned, gripping Ishaan's hips. "Your ass doesn't let go."

Ishaan could barely speak.

He was on all fours, arms shaking, cock swinging between his legs, leaking onto the sheets with every grind of Vikram's hips.

Every time the cock inside him brushed that spot--the one he didn't even know existed--his hole clenched tighter.

"Is this..." he gasped, "is this what it feels like... to get fucked?"

Vikram chuckled low. "You tell me."

He adjusted Ishaan's position, spread his knees wider, bent him deeper--ass high, head down, fully offered.

The next thrust went deeper. Harder.

Ishaan moaned like a bitch.

"He's ruining me," he thought.

"This cock... it's changing my body."

Vikram grabbed both cheeks and watched the hole spread, then swallow him whole, again and again.

"This ass..." he muttered, half-lost. "It was made for me."

Ishaan could feel it.

The shape of his own body -- every curve, every clench -- fit around Vikram like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

He was being used.

Owned.

Trained.

And he loved it.

________________________________________

"On your back," Vikram growled suddenly.

Ishaan flipped over. Legs up. Hole red and twitching. Glistening.

"Keep your hands off your dick," Vikram added.

Colder this time. Like it wasn't a rule anymore--

it was law.

Vikram lined up again.

Slid in.

Ishaan cried out -- hands grabbing his own knees, keeping himself open. Exposed.

Vikram leaned over, kissed his throat. Bit his collarbone.

Their chests pressed. Ishaan wrapped his legs around Vikram's back.

The new angle made Ishaan see stars.

He whimpered, "You're so deep."

Ishaan gasped -- his body shivering under Vikram's weight, cock bobbing against his stomach, aching for release.

He reached down, desperate to stroke--

Slap.

Vikram smacked his hand away, hard.

"No."

Ishaan froze, breath caught in his throat. "Wh-what?"

"You don't touch yourself."

"Please, I need--"

"You'll cum from my cock or not at all."

Vikram leaned in, thrusting slowly, grinding deep inside him.

"I've seen the way you leak when I fuck you. When I rim you."

His lips brushed Ishaan's ear.

"I wanna see if you can cum just from getting your ass fucked. Like a girl. Like your body knows who it belongs to."

Ishaan's hole clenched hard.

His cock twitched, untouched, already dribbling precum.

"Fuck," he whispered, eyes wide.

Vikram smirked. "That's right. Be a good boy. Take it. Show me what that ass is made for."

Vikram was sweating. Muscles flexing with every thrust.

He didn't stop.

Thirty minutes. Forty minutes.

Two positions. One mind-breaking cock.

Ishaan was wrecked.

Whimpering. Open. Slurring words. And still hard.

And Vikram?

Vikram was obsessed.

With the grip. The heat. The fucking way this ass took him.

And when he finally came, he did it balls-deep, with a groan that echoed off the walls.

Ishaan felt every pulse of it. Every spurt. His hole stretched and painted.

And still--he hadn't been allowed to cum.

________________________________________

The shower hissed softly as steam filled the room.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes had passed since Vikram last came inside him.

Ishaan lay sprawled on the bed, naked and limp, on his stomach -- one leg bent, his back faintly marked by fingernails and heat. There was a red patch on his neck. Another on his inner thigh. But it was his ass that Vikram couldn't stop looking at.

Still parted. Still flushed. Still twitching.

Still his.

Vikram sat beside him, one hand loosely wrapped around his softening cock. He wasn't even stroking it -- just... holding it. Feeling the way it pulsed when he stared too long at the boy beside him.

He's mine.

Not in the romantic sense. Not in the "we're in love" way.