Story of two horny boys barebacking roughly in bedroom

Gay boys barebacking in bedroom
Gay boys barebacking in bedroom

Title: “Under the Weight of His Eyes” by Vansh – Part 1
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The first time I saw Sukhbir, it was on an ordinary afternoon in a small, dimly lit coffee shop.

The kind of place where the air is filled with the aroma of roasted beans and conversations that blend into the hum of the city. But when I looked at him, the world seemed to stop, the noise fading into the background.

He was sitting alone at a corner table, bent over a notebook, his strong jaw and broad shoulders
stark against the soft light. His presence was magnetic, drawing my eyes to him despite myself.
He was beautiful in a way that made my chest tighten, something about him both calming and
exhilarating.

I hesitated at the door for a moment, not wanting to seem too eager, but when I saw the empty
seat next to him, I couldn’t resist. “Excuse me,” I murmured, my voice low and almost uncertain.
His eyes shifted up to meet mine, and for a split second, I swore the room grew warmer. Without
a word, he moved his bag aside, offering me a silent invitation.

I sat down, our shoulders almost brushing. Neither of us spoke for a while, but the air between us was thick with something neither of us could name. A tension, a draw, that only seemed to grow the more we lingered in each other’s presence.
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The Tension Builds
Over time, we met at the same café, almost like clockwork, both of us lost in our own worlds, yet
always drawn to each other.

There were no overt flirtations, just subtle moments: the way his fingers would brush mine when we reached for the same cup, the heat of his gaze when I looked up at him, the quiet smile that lingered on his lips when I caught him staring.

It wasn’t long before the unspoken desire between us grew unbearable. We couldn’t continue
pretending. His voice was quiet but insistent when he finally spoke.

“Vansh…” he whispered one evening, his voice like velvet. “Come to my place tonight.”
I didn’t need any further invitation. I followed him to his apartment, my pulse racing with
anticipation and something darker, something deeper.
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The First Kiss
Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. There was no pretense, no distance between us now. His
hands found me instantly, pulling me into him, pressing his lips against mine with an urgency
that startled me.

I froze for just a moment, but only because the force of his kiss left me breathless. The intensity of it, the raw hunger in his touch — it was overwhelming, almost too much to bear.

His hands were everywhere, slipping under my shirt, tugging at my belt, unbuttoning my pants
with a practiced ease. “Tere bina main zinda nahi reh sakta,” he muttered against my lips, his
voice rough, a growl of desire that made my knees weak. “I can’t live without you.”

I didn’t respond with words; my body answered for me. I kissed him back harder, pulling him
closer, feeling the heat of his body radiating against mine. I was trembling, my hands seeking
him, wanting to feel every inch of him. My chest heaved against his, breathless and needy.
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Surrender and Claiming
He backed me toward the bed, his eyes dark and predatory, his hands caressing my waist
before sliding lower, gripping my ass tightly.

The way he held me, his fingers digging into my
flesh, sent a jolt of desire straight to my core. I gasped, a soft moan escaping my lips.
“Ab tumhare paas aane ka waqt hai,” he murmured, his lips tracing the curve of my neck, his
breath hot against my skin. “Now is the time for you to be mine.”

I didn’t fight it. I didn’t want to. I needed this. I needed him. His hands were everywhere,
exploring my body with such possessiveness that it left me breathless. The way his lips moved
against my neck, my chest, made me feel like I was melting under him.

His touch was rougher now, more urgent. He pressed me into the bed, his weight settling over
me, his erection pressing against my thigh. I moaned, unable to control the sound as my body
arched toward him. His grip tightened on my waist, pulling me closer.

“You’re mine, Vansh,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Meri jaan, tu meri hai.”
I couldn’t respond with words. I could only feel, could only let the sensations wash over me. His
lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was deeper, more desperate. His hands moved
down my body, pulling at my clothes, stripping me bare.

I didn’t care, didn’t need to think. My
body responded without question, and the only thing that mattered was the heat between us.
His hands found my hips, lifting me up to meet him, and I gasped as he entered me slowly. The
sensation was intense, both overwhelming and exquisite.

My body trembled beneath him as he
filled me completely, and I moaned, the sound low and guttural, a raw cry of pleasure.
He thrust into me with a force that took my breath away, his grip on my hips unyielding, his
movements relentless. “Mujhe chahiye tum,” he muttered, his voice strained with desire. “I need
you.”

With each thrust, I felt my control slipping further and further away. His hands moved to my
chest, squeezing, pulling, as he drove into me with increasing urgency. Every movement was a
declaration, a claim.

His name escaped my lips in a desperate cry, and he responded with a growl of his own, thrusting harder, deeper.

The sounds we made — the moans, the gasps — filled the room, the rhythm of our bodies
matching perfectly. I felt every inch of him, every shift of his weight, every press of his hands against my skin.

His body moved against mine with such power that it felt as though the world itself was trembling beneath us.

“Vansh…” he whispered, his voice broken, raw. “Tum meri duniya ho.”

His words struck deep, leaving a mark on my soul, and in that moment, I gave myself to him
completely.

I didn’t just give him my body; I gave him every piece of me. And as he thrust deeper, as we both neared the edge, the final moment came crashing in, overwhelming us with
its intensity.
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The Aftermath
When it was over, I lay in his arms, breathing heavily, the scent of our sweat and desire still thick in the air. Sukhbir pulled me closer, his fingers gently brushing through my hair.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, a quiet possessiveness in his voice.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t need to.

I had already surrendered — heart, body, and soul.
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(vansh476256@gmail.com)

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