Cause Baby you are

Even with the AC on full blast, Ishan is sweating profusely. His heart hammers in his chest at the sight of Shubhman perched on the side of the bed, dark eyes devouring Ishan the same way Ishan is gazing at him.

In the dim glow of the lights, it feels like they are in a bubble - temporary, fragile, but only theirs. Ishan stops before the bed, a step away from the space between Shubh's knees. Then, just as Shubh's dimpled smile curves into a smirk—he pushes those thighs apart with a knee, and Shubhman falls against the bed with a soft gasp.

"Wahh, Mr. Kishan aap to bade strong ho."( "Wow, Mr. Kishan you are really strong") Shubhman cooes as he leans back on his arms, legs spreading just the slightest bit in invitation. Anticipation fizzles under his skin, Fuck, Ishan is already half-hard. Just the promise of getting to touch Shubhi tonight sets his nerves alight.

Usually, Ishan would have a goofy comeback to that blatant flirting, sending them both into peals of laughter. Today, that is the furthest thing from his mind.

"You are welcome, Mr Gill. Aap to jaante hi ho, jab baat aap pe aati hai to my only aim is to please."

("You are welcome, Mr Gill. You know when it comes to you my only aim is to please." )

Shubhman huffs out "Paaaagal" (crazy boy) as he realizes that Ishan is repeating their banter from the night that had changed both their lives verbatim. Hushed whispers of confession, tears of happiness, and, argh, the kisses. So many mind-numbingly sweet kisses.

Since the following day, they have had a new 'before match routine.' Wet, demanding smooches turning into heavy petting. Soft pecks all over the other's face minutes before leaving their room. Ishan's fingers and lips caressing the dimple depression he cannot get enough of.

Until now, they have ensured things have not gone further and reined their instincts in. Yes, the World Cup! Practice left them so exhausted that there was no energy to think of prep and going all the way. While they could have easily snuck in a quickie hand job or blown the other in the bath, it was not what they wanted. They wanted the first time to be special.

Who would ever be satisfied to make out the first time with the clock ticking as a reminder to return to the field? Shubhman deserved so much better. Today, he wants to take Shubhi apart piece by piece, till he is a quivering mess who has even forgotten his own name. And then put the fragments back so that his entire existence is focused on screaming "Ishaaan."

Yes, he is crazy like that because Shubhman spares no second thought when he decides to drive him to the point of half-madness.

"Ha hoon na me pagal, but sirf tere liye," ("Yes, I am crazy, but for you") Ishan purrs in a honeyed voice as he looms above Shubhman, one hand pressed into the bed, the other caressing the dimpled cheek. Ishan can see how his words have had the desired effect as his eyes trail across Shubhman's rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Hat, paagal kahinka. Baatein banana koi tujhse seekhe," ("Get lost you crazy boy. You are such a smooth talker") Shubhman's breath halters as Ishan's mouth starts placing moist kisses against the soft of the neck.

"Meri jaan, mein na sirf sach bolta hoon. Kaise na banoo pagal? Jab tu match ke baad puri duniya ke saamne mujhe aise hug karta hai jaise teri poori duniya tere bahoon mein ho"

("My love, I always tells the truth. Why wouldn't I be crazy? When you are the one who hugs me in front of everyone, after the match, as if your entire world is in your arms.")

Ishan presses his hips against Shubhman's in a slow grind. A sound escapes from the parted lips, hitched and high, sweeter than Ishan's favorite dessert.