Work Text:
The light in the hallway upstairs was dimmer than it had been downstairs, where the warm yellow glow of the living room still lingered along with the faint smell of tea and spices. Downstairs, Mr Gill had been analysing technical flaws in modern batting approaches for forty-five minutes straight, entirely oblivious to the subtle, deliberate slide of a bare foot against a calf underneath the wooden dining table.
By the time they reached the first landing of the stairs, Ishan’s patience had completely run out.
He didn’t even wait for Shubman to clear the top step before his hands clamped onto the line of Shubman’s waist, dragging him backwards into his chest. His mouth pressed hard against the junction where Shubman’s neck met his shoulder, leaving a damp, heavy press of lips that had Shubman stumbling back a step, a sharp intake of air catching in his chest.
"Ishan, wait—" Shubman hissed, his hand reaching blindly behind him to grab Ishan’s forearm, trying to steer them both toward the bedroom door without tumbling down the staircase. "My dad is literally right downstairs, stop it—"
Ishan ignored him, biting lightly at the sensitive skin right above Shubman’s collarbone. Shubman’s voice cracked mid-sentence, the reprimand dissolving into a soft, breathy sound that he immediately tried to swallow down as he fumbled with the bedroom door handle behind his back. He managed to push the door open, shoving Ishan inside and slamming it shut, twisting the lock with a quick, frantic click.
"Someone’s going to—ah," Shubman started, but the rest of the warning was cut off as Ishan dug his teeth in just deep enough to leave a sharp, red mark right over his collarbone.
"Someone’s not going to see anything if you lock the door," Ishan muttered against his skin, not giving him a second to breathe.
He pushed Shubman backwards until the back of Shubman’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, sending them both down. Ishan was on top of him immediately, pinning Shubman’s wrists beside his head for a brief, heavy second before his hands moved down to strip Shubman out of his shirt and sweatpants.
Under the dim overhead light of the bedroom, Shubman’s tan skin was already flushed dark pink, a high, warm colour spreading across his chest and up his neck. Ishan hovered above him, looking down at the mess of dark hair against the pillows and the faint tremor in Shubman’s thighs.
"You're way too loud for someone who’s supposed to be hiding," Ishan murmured, dragging his thumb over the sharp line of Shubman’s jaw before leaning down to leave a string of heavy, dark marks down his throat and across the swell of his chest.
Shubman’s hands found Ishan’s hair, fingers tangling in the roots as Ishan’s mouth moved down to trap one of his nipples between his teeth. He bit down gently, teasing the bud with his tongue while his fingers pinched the other side.
Shubman arched off the bed with a sharp tug at Ishan’s hair, a low, desperate noise slipping past his lips before he could catch it. He clamped his mouth shut, biting down hard on his own lower lip, the skin turning white under the pressure until a tiny bead of dark red appeared where his tooth dug in.
"Don't do that," Ishan grunted, pulling back just enough to press his thumb over Shubman's lip, smearing the tiny drop of blood across his mouth. "Let me hear it."
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube they’d hidden behind a stack of magazines earlier that afternoon. He flipped the cap open, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before sliding his hand down between Shubman's legs.
When Ishan pressed the first finger inside, Shubman’s eyes rolled back, his head falling sideways against the mattress as a ragged gasp escaped him. Ishan worked him open deliberately, adding a second finger, then a third, scissoring them slowly to stretch the tight heat. Every small twitch of Shubman's hips, every wet, choked sound he made trying to stay quiet, was sending a sharp spike of adrenaline straight through Ishan's veins.
"Look at me," Ishan demanded, his voice thick and rough.
Shubman’s dark eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and completely glazed over with pleasure, his chest heaving as he tried to keep his breathing silent.
Ishan pulled his fingers free with a slick sound, unbuttoning his own jeans and kicking them off in one fluid motion. He reached back to the nightstand for a condom, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on hastily.
"Turn over," Ishan rasped. "On your hands and knees. Now."
Shubman didn't argue. He rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his elbows and knees, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he braced himself against the sheet.
Ishan lined himself up at his entrance and sank all the way in with one hard, unyielding thrust.
Shubman let out a high, sharp gasp that echoed off the quiet walls of the room—a sound so clear that Ishan immediately slammed his palm over Shubman’s mouth to muffle it.
Even with Ishan’s hand locked tight over his lips, Shubman couldn't keep quiet. The noises came out muffled, wet, and frantic against Ishan’s skin as Ishan began to set a brutal, rhythmic pace, driving into him over and over.
Frustrated by the barrier, Ishan shifted his hand down, wrapping his fingers firmly around the front of Shubman’s throat. He pulled back, tilting Shubman’s head up and back until their eyes met, and leaned down to cover Shubman’s mouth with his own. He swallowed every broken noise, every desperate whimpering sigh, thrusting deep and hard while Shubman trembled beneath him, his fingers clutching uselessly at the bedsheets.
Then, heavy footsteps echoed from the wooden floorboards in the hallway outside.
The sudden, loud knock on the bedroom door made Shubman go completely rigid.
"Shubman? Ishan?" Mr Gill’s voice carried clearly through the thin wooden panel of the door. "Wrap up your video game and come down. Dinners on the table, your mother’s waiting."
Shubman’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic. He tried to freeze, his body locking up around Ishan’s cock entirely, but Ishan didn't stop.
A slow, wicked smirk spread across Ishan’s face in the dim light. Instead of pausing, Ishan deliberately flexed his hips, driving back in deep and slow, eliciting a silent, desperate shudder from the body beneath him.
Ishan tightened his grip on Shubman’s throat just enough to keep his head pinned back, the pressure firm enough that it would leave faint, light fingerprints on his skin by tomorrow morning. He leaned down, his mouth right against the shell of Shubman’s ear.
"Answer him," Ishan whispered, his voice dangerously low, pulling back halfway before sinking back in with a sharp, heavy snap of his hips.
Shubman choked back a sob, his hands gripping the headboard until his knuckles turned white. He swallowed hard, trying with every ounce of strength he had to pull his voice together, to smooth out the trembling air in his lungs while Ishan continued to drive into him from behind without a second of mercy.
"Yeah—ah—yeah Dad!" Shubman called out, his voice cracking violently on the second word as Ishan hit a spot that made his vision blur. He cleared his throat frantically, trying to cover it up. "We're... we're just saving the game! We'll be down in five minutes!"
"Alright, don't take too long; it's getting cold," his father called back, the sound of his footsteps fading away. The moment the hallway went quiet, Shubman collapsed forward, but Ishan didn't give him a second to rest. Sensing how tight and frantic Shubman’s pulse was beating against his palm, Ishan reached down with his free hand, wrapping tight around Shubman’s flushed, dripping cock. He stroked him in quick, perfect synchronization with the heavy, deep thrusts from behind, coaxing the absolute edge out of him.
Shubman sobbed out a muted confession into the mattress, his body shuddering violently as his orgasm hit, spilling hot over Ishan’s fingers. Ishan followed a split second later with a sharp groan, burying himself deep as his own release crashed through him.
For two full minutes, the room was silent except for the heavy, ragged sound of their breathing.
Then, reality hit.
Shubman snapped his eyes open, looking at the glowing clock on the bedside table. "Fuck. Dinner."
What followed was complete, chaotic desperation. They scrambled off the bed, Ishan stripping off the condom and tossing it deep into the trash bin while Shubman dragged them both into the adjoining bathroom, stumbling at the threshold because his legs felt like jelly. They crammed into the shower stall together under freezing water to wash off as fast as possible—a plan that almost failed when Ishan pinned him against the tile for one more messy, desperate kiss.
Exactly twenty-nine minutes later, they walked down the stairs. Their hair was damp, their posture stiffly erect, and their expressions carefully schooled into complete innocence.
His dad took one look up from the dining table, frowning slightly at the faint, fresh-red ring on Shubman’s neck and at their thoroughly dishevelled state. "You two look like you just got dragged through a hedge. Wash your hands and sit down."
Shubman caught Ishan’s eye from across the table, taking a quiet seat and lightly kicking Ishan's ankle under the tablecloth.
Yeah they were fine.