Karthi sank deeper into the wide cushioned bench in the spa's relaxation room, the low flicker of candles casting soft shadows across the wooden walls. The air held a warm trace of sandalwood oil from the earlier massages, thick and familiar in a way that pulled at old corners of his mind. Tiger Shroff sat across from him on another bench, both of them wrapped in loose cotton robes after the long day of shoots and press. Neither spoke at first. The quiet hum of distant water features filled the space.

That sandalwood scent hit Karthi again, stronger this time as a fresh diffuser released more of it. It dragged him straight back to the small backyard in his childhood home where his grandmother used to rub the same kind of oil on his scraped knees after long cricket games. He remembered the rough feel of the stone steps and the way the smell clung to his clothes for hours. The memory made his chest loosen, but at the same time something tighter formed lower down when he glanced over at Tiger. Tiger's robe had slipped open a little at the collar, showing smooth skin and the start of a defined line down his chest. Karthi's pulse picked up without warning, a steady throb in his neck that he tried to ignore by shifting on the bench.

Tiger noticed the oil too. It reminded him of the tiny apartment his family had lived in when he was eight, where his mother burned sandalwood sticks every evening to keep the air fresh after his father's long work shifts. The sound of the sticks crackling matched the low crackle of one of the candles here, and that link made him swallow hard. His eyes moved over Karthi without meaning to, taking in the way the robe sat on broad shoulders and the quiet strength in the arms resting on knees. A warmth started low in Tiger's stomach, spreading slow and steady. He told himself it was just the heat from the room, but his breath caught short when Karthi stretched one leg out, the robe riding up to show a muscled thigh. Tiger's own cock gave a small twitch under his robe, and he pressed his palms flat on the bench to steady himself.

Karthi's thoughts raced in circles. He had worked with Tiger before on a few scenes, but this private downtime felt different. The scent kept pulling up more memories—running through fields, laughing with cousins, the simple freedom of those days. Yet each memory mixed with the present view of Tiger's relaxed posture and the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. Karthi's nipples tightened against the soft fabric of the robe, a light friction that sent small sparks down his spine. He wondered if Tiger felt anything close, if the same oil smell was stirring him too. The idea made blood rush south, his shaft starting to fill and press against the cotton. He crossed his legs to hide it, but the movement only made the pressure better and worse at once.

Tiger's mind voice kept repeating small questions. Why did this room feel so charged? The candlelight caught on Karthi's jawline, and Tiger's fingers curled with the urge to trace it. His breathing turned shallow, each inhale pulling more of the sandalwood in and with it the old apartment memories mixed with new heat. He felt his balls draw up slightly, a heavy ache building between his legs. His robe tented a bit, and he shifted to adjust without drawing notice. Thoughts of childhood bike rides blended with the sight of Karthi's calm face, creating a strange mix of comfort and raw want. His hole clenched once on its own, unexpected and secret.

They started talking about the scent without planning it. Karthi mentioned his grandmother's oil, the words coming out low and easy. Tiger answered with his mother's sticks, and the shared thread made the air feel closer. Karthi's cock grew fuller at the sound of Tiger's voice, the simple tone wrapping around him like a hand. He imagined what it would feel like to hear that voice closer, maybe against his ear, but he pushed the idea down and focused on the memories. His skin felt too hot, a light sweat forming at his lower back. Tiger listened and added details about the apartment windows, his own shaft now stiff and leaking a small spot into the robe. Every word between them added another layer, the tension building in small waves through their bodies.

Karthi kept stealing looks. Tiger's lips looked full in the candle glow, and the way his chest rose and fell faster than normal sent a throb through Karthi's length. He pictured running his tongue along those lips but stayed still, letting the memories flow instead. The sandalwood triggered another one—playing in rain with friends—and it helped him stay calm even as his balls grew tight and full. Tiger thought about Karthi's strong hands, remembering how they moved in fight scenes, and that image mixed with the childhood sound of crackling sticks. His nipples hardened too, rubbing the robe with each breath. He felt empty in a way that made his hips want to shift, but he held still, letting the want build slow and deep.

The talk moved to more stories. Karthi described the backyard games, his voice steady even while his mind screamed about how close Tiger sat. The distance between benches seemed smaller now, the heat from their bodies mixing with the candles. Tiger shared a story about his first martial arts class, the words coming between longer pauses as his pulse raced in his wrists. Both men felt their cocks strain harder, the fabric of the robes doing little to hide the growing shapes. Karthi's mind kept circling the idea of touching, of feeling Tiger's skin warm and alive. Tiger wondered the same, his hole fluttering again with the thought.

This went on, the memories layering one after another. Each new detail from childhood pulled them closer in words while their bodies reacted in silence. Karthi's shaft pulsed steady, pre-cum making the robe damp. Tiger's length ached with a deep throb, his mind filling with images of Karthi moving over him. They kept speaking, the sandalwood and candle crackle tying the past to this charged present, until the need to stay apart started to fray at the edges.

Finally Karthi stood and moved to the same bench, sitting near enough that their knees almost touched. The first brush of skin on skin sent a jolt through both. Tiger reached out, fingers tracing Karthi's arm, and the contact broke the long wait. Karthi pulled him in, mouths meeting with sudden hunger. Their robes fell open as hands roamed, Karthi's fingers wrapping around Tiger's hard cock and stroking firm. Tiger groaned into the kiss, his own hand finding Karthi's thick shaft and pumping it fast, thumb sliding over the slick head.

" Fuck, your dick feels so fat in my hand," Tiger whispered, voice rough. He dropped to his knees on the soft floor, taking Karthi's length into his mouth, sucking the head deep while his tongue worked the underside. Karthi thrust gently, hands in Tiger's hair, watching the lips stretch around him. "Suck it harder, yeah, get it all wet for your tight hole."

Tiger pulled off, spit trailing, then climbed up to straddle Karthi's lap. He lined up and sank down slow, the thick cock pushing into his ass inch by inch until it filled him completely. "Oh shit, stretch my slutty hole, pound me deep," Tiger begged, starting to ride with rolling hips. Karthi gripped his waist and thrust up hard, balls slapping against Tiger's skin. "Take every inch, you greedy fuck, your ass is gripping me like it never wants to let go."

They moved faster, sweat mixing with the oil scent still in the air. Tiger leaned back, Karthi's hand stroking his leaking cock in time with the thrusts. "Cum inside me, fill my guts with that hot load," Tiger gasped. Karthi growled, driving up harder until his release hit, pulsing thick and deep. Tiger followed right after, shooting across both their chests, body shaking from the force. They stayed locked together, breathing heavy, the childhood memories now mixed with this new heat that left them both spent and connected in the candlelight.