Aditya Seal had been watching Aditya Roy Kapoor all night.

The Bollywood awards ceremony had been a blur of lights, applause, and forced smiles, but every time Aditya Roy Kapoor took the stage—accepting another award, flashing that arrogant, sharp-edged smile—Aditya Seal felt something low and mean coil tight in his gut. He was already half-hard by the time the after-party spilled into the private suite of the five-star hotel. Crystal glasses, expensive whiskey, the usual crowd of producers and hangers-on. Aditya Seal stayed on the edge of it, nursing a drink he barely tasted, eyes locked on the other man like a predator deciding when to strike.

Aditya Roy Kapoor looked devastating in his black tailored suit, the jacket open now, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the hard lines of his chest. He laughed at something a director said, head tipped back, throat working. Aditya Seal’s cock twitched. He wanted that throat. He wanted those lips stretched around him. He wanted to wipe that smug, award-winning expression off Roy Kapoor’s face and replace it with something broken and desperate.

He waited until the crowd thinned, until Roy Kapoor drifted toward the quieter corner near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Then Aditya Seal moved.

He stepped in close—too close—blocking the other man’s path with his body. “Congratulations,” he said, voice low, rough. “You cleaned up tonight.”

Aditya Roy Kapoor turned, that familiar half-smirk already forming. “Seal. Didn’t expect to see you lingering. Usually you’re gone the second the cameras stop.”

Aditya Seal didn’t step back. He let his gaze drag down Roy Kapoor’s body—slow, deliberate, filthy. Over the sharp cut of the suit, the way the fabric sat across broad shoulders, the subtle bulge at the front of those tailored trousers. He licked his lips. “I was waiting.”

“For what?”

“You.”

The word landed heavy. Aditya Roy Kapoor’s smirk faltered for half a second. Aditya Seal pressed the advantage, leaning in until their chests nearly brushed. The scent of Roy Kapoor’s cologne mixed with the faint salt of skin and residual stage makeup. Aditya Seal breathed it in like it was a drug.

“I’ve been hard since you walked on that stage,” he murmured, voice pure filth. “Watching you accept those fucking awards with that cocky little smile. Kept thinking about bending you over the podium and fucking the arrogance right out of you in front of everyone.”

Aditya Roy Kapoor’s eyes darkened. He didn’t move away. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m clear as glass.” Aditya Seal’s hand came up, fingers brushing the open collar of Roy Kapoor’s shirt, tracing the warm skin just above the first button. “And I’m done pretending I don’t want to ruin you.”

He stepped even closer. Their bodies touched now—chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Aditya Seal felt the other man tense, then the unmistakable press of interest against his hip. Roy Kapoor was getting hard. Perfect.

“You’ve been looking at me all night too,” Aditya Seal continued, voice dropping into a dirty, intimate register. “Don’t fucking lie. I saw it. Every time you thought no one was watching. You want this as bad as I do.”

He slid his hand lower, palm flattening over Roy Kapoor’s chest, feeling the solid muscle, the quickening heartbeat. Then lower still, until his fingers curled around the growing hardness trapped in those expensive trousers. He squeezed once—firm, possessive.

Aditya Roy Kapoor sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck—”

“Yeah,” Aditya Seal growled. “That’s right. Feel that? You’re already leaking for me.” He rubbed his palm slowly up and down the length, feeling it thicken under the fabric. “I bet your cock is aching. Bet you’ve been thinking about my mouth, my hands, my hole. Haven’t you?”

Roy Kapoor’s jaw clenched. He didn’t push the hand away. Instead he rolled his hips once, almost involuntarily, pressing into the touch. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“And you’re going to come for me tonight.” Aditya Seal leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of Roy Kapoor’s ear. “I’m going to take you upstairs, strip that pretty suit off you piece by piece, and make you beg. I’m going to suck your cock until you’re shaking, then I’m going to sit on it and ride you until you forget your own fucking name.”

He felt the full-body shudder that went through the other man. Aditya Seal smiled against his skin, dark and satisfied. He kept stroking through the trousers, slow and deliberate, mapping every ridge and pulse of the thick cock hardening under his hand.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Award-winning actor, and you’re standing here letting me feel you up like a desperate slut in the middle of a party. You want it that bad?”

Aditya Roy Kapoor’s hand finally moved—grabbing Aditya Seal’s wrist, but not to pull it away. To press it harder against himself. “You’re going to get us both fucking caught.”

“Then stop me.” Aditya Seal nipped the lobe of his ear, sharp enough to sting. “Tell me to walk away. Tell me you don’t want me to take you upstairs and wreck you.”

Silence. Then a rough, low “Fuck you.”

Aditya Seal laughed softly. “That’s the plan.”

He pulled back just enough to look the other man in the eye. The heat there was unmistakable now—hungry, conflicted, already halfway gone. Aditya Seal squeezed the thick cock in his hand one more time, then released it and stepped away.

“Suite 2408,” he said quietly. “Ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting, or I’ll start without you.”

He turned and walked out without looking back, blood thrumming, cock straining against his own trousers. Every step felt charged. He could still feel the shape of Roy Kapoor’s dick in his palm, the way it had jumped when he’d spoken those filthy promises.

In the elevator he adjusted himself, breathing slow, forcing patience. The suite door clicked open under his keycard. He left it unlocked.

He didn’t turn on the main lights—only the low lamps by the bed and the city glow bleeding through the windows. He stripped out of his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and rolled up his sleeves. Then he waited, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, heart pounding with dirty anticipation.

Nine minutes later the door opened.

Aditya Roy Kapoor stepped inside, still in the same black suit, eyes already darker than they’d been downstairs. He closed the door behind him and locked it with a deliberate click.

Aditya Seal pushed off the desk and crossed the room slowly. “Good boy,” he said, voice pure velvet filth. “You came.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Roy Kapoor muttered, but there was no real heat in it. He was already breathing harder.

Aditya Seal stopped in front of him. “Make me.”

He reached up and shoved the suit jacket off Roy Kapoor’s shoulders. It hit the floor. Then he went for the buttons of the white shirt, popping them open one by one, revealing the hard planes of chest and stomach, the dark trail of hair leading down into the waistband of the trousers. Aditya Seal’s mouth watered.

He pushed the shirt off too, then dragged his palms down the bare torso, feeling every ridge of muscle, every warm expanse of skin. “Fuck, you’re built,” he muttered. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on this for months.”

He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the center of Roy Kapoor’s chest, tasting salt and cologne. Then he bit—hard enough to leave a mark—right over a nipple. Roy Kapoor hissed and grabbed Aditya Seal’s hair.

“Careful,” Aditya Seal warned, lips still against the other man’s skin. “Or I’ll leave marks where the cameras can see them tomorrow.”

He sank to his knees.

The carpet was soft under him. He looked up the length of Aditya Roy Kapoor’s body as he worked the belt open, then the button and zipper. The trousers and underwear came down together. Roy Kapoor’s cock sprang free—thick, already fully hard, the head flushed dark and shiny with precome.

Aditya Seal groaned. “Jesus Christ. Look at this fucking cock.”

He wrapped his hand around it and stroked once, slow, from base to tip, smearing the wetness. Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue over the head, tasting the bitter-salt of precome. Roy Kapoor’s hips jerked.

“That’s it,” Aditya Seal murmured against the hot skin. “Watch me. Watch me suck this big, pretty cock.”

He opened his mouth and took the head in, swirling his tongue around it, sucking gently at first. Then he pushed deeper, inch by inch, until his lips stretched wide around the thick shaft and the head nudged the back of his throat. He swallowed around it, eyes watering, and looked up.

Aditya Roy Kapoor was staring down at him like he was something filthy and perfect. One hand still tangled in Aditya Seal’s hair, the other braced against the wall.

Aditya Seal pulled back, spit trailing from his lips to the glistening cock. “You taste like you want to fuck my face,” he said, voice already wrecked. “Do it. Use my mouth. I can take it.”

He opened wide again.

Roy Kapoor didn’t need a second invitation. He thrust forward, fucking into Aditya Seal’s throat with short, controlled strokes that quickly turned deeper, rougher. Aditya Seal took it—gagging wetly, spit running down his chin, hands gripping the other man’s thighs hard enough to bruise. Every time the cock forced its way past his gag reflex he moaned around it, the vibration making Roy Kapoor curse under his breath.

“Fuck—your mouth—” Roy Kapoor’s voice was strained. “Taking it so fucking well. Like a filthy little cockslut.”

Aditya Seal’s own cock was throbbing, untouched, leaking into his trousers. He reached down and freed himself with one hand, stroking in time with the thrusts into his throat. The wet, filthy sounds of the blowjob filled the suite—slurping, choking, the wet slap of skin.

When Roy Kapoor finally pulled out, Aditya Seal’s lips were swollen and shiny, chin a mess of spit and precome. He looked up, eyes glassy, and grinned.

“Get on the bed,” he rasped. “On your back. I want to ride that cock until you can’t think.”

Aditya Roy Kapoor stripped the rest of the way out of his clothes and climbed onto the massive bed, sprawling against the pillows. His cock stood thick and wet against his stomach. Aditya Seal stripped fast—shirt, trousers, everything—until he was naked, cock hard and curving up toward his navel, a bead of precome already sliding down the shaft.

He climbed onto the bed and straddled Roy Kapoor’s hips. He reached back, found the thick cock, and rubbed the head against his hole—teasing, not yet taking it.

“No lube,” he said, voice dark with promise. “Just spit and what you’ve already leaked. You’re going to feel every inch when I sink down on you.”

He spit into his own hand, reached back, and slicked the head and the first few inches of shaft. Then he positioned himself and started to push down.

The stretch burned immediately. Aditya Seal’s mouth fell open on a raw sound as the thick head forced its way inside him. He kept going—slow, relentless—until he was fully seated, ass pressed to Roy Kapoor’s hips, the entire thick length buried deep.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking big. Filling me up like a goddamn plug.”

He stayed still for a moment, adjusting, feeling the pulse of the cock inside him. Then he lifted and dropped—once, twice—finding a rhythm. The slide was tight and filthy, every downward thrust driving the head against that sensitive spot inside him that made his vision spark.

Aditya Roy Kapoor’s hands locked onto his hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Jesus—your ass—so fucking tight—”

“Then fuck it harder,” Aditya Seal snarled. He planted his hands on Roy Kapoor’s chest and started riding in earnest—rising and slamming down, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet suite. His cock bounced between them, leaking steadily onto the other man’s stomach.

“Look at you,” he panted. “Award-winning pretty boy with your cock buried in my hole. You’re going to come so deep inside me I’ll still feel it tomorrow. Aren’t you?”

Roy Kapoor thrust up to meet him, the force of it making Aditya Seal cry out. The pace turned brutal—Aditya Seal riding hard, Roy Kapoor fucking up into him, the bed creaking under the assault. Sweat sheened both their bodies. The air smelled like sex and cologne and the sharp salt of skin.

Aditya Seal leaned down, still moving, and bit Roy Kapoor’s lower lip hard enough to draw a metallic taste. “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded between thrusts. “Tell me how fucking good my ass is.”

“It’s perfect,” Roy Kapoor growled, voice wrecked. “Hot and tight and greedy. Taking every fucking inch like it was made for my cock. You’re a filthy, cock-hungry slut and I love it.”

The words went straight to Aditya Seal’s dick. He reached down and started stroking himself in time with the ride, twisting over the sensitive head on every upstroke. Precome made the slide slick and filthy.

“I’m going to come on your chest,” he warned. “Mark you up so you remember who fucked you after the awards. Who made you lose control.”

Roy Kapoor’s thrusts turned erratic. His grip on Aditya Seal’s hips tightened. “Do it. Come for me. Milk my cock while you do it.”

Aditya Seal slammed down hard and stayed there, grinding, stroking himself faster. The orgasm hit like a punch—his whole body locking up as he came in thick, messy ropes across Roy Kapoor’s chest and stomach, some of it hitting the other man’s chin. His ass clenched rhythmically around the cock buried inside him.

That was enough.

Aditya Roy Kapoor cursed—raw and broken—and thrust up one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he came. Aditya Seal felt every pulse, every hot spurt flooding deep inside him, the sensation so filthy and perfect it dragged another weak spurt from his own spent cock.

They stayed locked together, both panting, sweat cooling on their skin. Aditya Seal slowly lifted off, feeling the thick come start to leak out of him. He collapsed beside Roy Kapoor on the bed, chest still heaving.

For a long minute neither of them spoke. Then Aditya Seal turned his head and smirked, voice still rough.

“Next time,” he said, “I’m bending you over the desk and making you scream into the city lights.”

Aditya Roy Kapoor’s laugh was low and dark. “Next time,” he agreed, already reaching for him again.

Outside the suite the city kept glittering. Inside, the night was far from over.