Chapter 10: Weightless Devotion
The world without his glasses was a soft-focused dream. Arjun’s face above him was all impressionistic planes and shadows, the sharp details blurred into something more elemental. Rohan could feel the calloused pad of Arjun’s thumb tracing the line of his jaw, a rough contrast to the gentle pressure.
“You still with me?” Arjun’s voice was low, a vibration through the mattress.
Rohan just nodded, his throat too tight for words. His hands, still resting on Arjun’s biceps, slid upwards, over the dense curve of his shoulders. The fabric of Arjun’s t-shirt was soft, worn thin in places. He could feel the incredible heat of the body beneath it.
With a quiet, efficient movement, Arjun reached back, grabbed the collar of his own shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion. He tossed it aside without a glance.
The breath caught in Rohan’s chest.
In the dim light, Arjun’s torso was a landscape of sculpted muscle, all hard lines and deep shadows. A fine dusting of dark hair traced a path down his abdomen. He was… a lot. A beautiful, terrifying amount.
Arjun saw the look on his face. A slow, understanding smile touched his lips. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he took Rohan’s wrists, his grip firm but not tight, and guided his hands to his chest.
“See?” he murmured. “Just skin.”
Rohan’s palms flattened against the warm, solid flesh. He could feel the powerful beat of Arjun’s heart, a steady, relentless rhythm under his fingertips. He let his hands explore, tracing the defined ridges of his pectorals, the hard plate of his stomach. It was like touching living marble.
Then Arjun’s hands were on the hem of Rohan’s shirt. He paused, his eyes asking a silent question.
“Yeah,” Rohan breathed, the word barely audible.
Arjun didn’t lift him this time. He just gathered the fabric and pulled it up and off, his movements deliberate. The cool air hit Rohan’s skin, raising goosebumps. He felt exposed, his own softer, paler body a stark contrast to the form looming over him. A flicker of self-consciousness made him want to curl in on himself.
Arjun’s gaze was a physical weight, traveling over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. He didn’t speak. He just looked, his expression one of open, rapt fascination.
“Stop staring,” Rohan mumbled, turning his head to the side.
“Why?” Arjun’s hand came down, his palm covering nearly the entire span of Rohan’s ribcage. His touch was warm, grounding. “You’re perfect.”
He bent his head, and his mouth found the delicate hollow at the base of Rohan’s throat. The kiss was soft, then not. His tongue darted out, tasting the salt on his skin. Rohan gasped, his back arching off the bed. His fingers tangled in Arjun’s hair, clutching at the dark curls.
Arjun’s mouth was a brand, moving lower. He took his time, mapping Rohan’s body with a lazy, proprietary focus. He kissed the faint dip between his pectorals, the sensitive skin over his ribs, the soft give of his stomach. Each touch was a lightning strike, short-circuiting Rohan’s thoughts until there was nothing but sensation.
“You’re shaking,” Arjun murmured against his hip bone.
“You’re… a lot.”
Arjun chuckled, the sound a dark, pleasant rumble. “Good.”
His hands went to the button of Rohan’s jeans. The rasp of the zipper was obscenely loud in the quiet room. He worked the denim down his legs, his touch businesslike yet unbearably intimate. Rohan lifted his hips to help, his mind hazy. Soon, he was lying there in just his boxers, the cool air a shock against his heated skin.
Arjun leaned back on his heels, still kneeling between Rohan’s legs, and just looked. His eyes were dark, his breathing slightly uneven. The bulge in his own jeans was unmistakable, a clear outline of his arousal.
“You too,” Rohan managed, his voice rough.
That broke the spell. Arjun grinned, a flash of white in the dimness. He made quick work of his own jeans, shoving them and his boxers down in one impatient push. And then he was naked.
Rohan’s breath hitched. The reality of Arjun’s body, fully revealed, was almost too much to process. The sheer scale of him, the raw, unapologetic power. He was magnificent.
Arjun lowered himself again, his body slotting against Rohan’s. The full-body contact was electric. Skin to skin, heat to heat. The contrast was dizzying—the hard, unyielding planes of Arjun against his own softer form. Rohan wrapped his legs around Arjun’s waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solid weight of him.
“Okay?” Arjun whispered, his lips against Rohan’s ear.
“Yeah. Just… go slow.”
“I’ve got you.” Arjun’s hand slid between them, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of Rohan’s boxers. “I’ll always have you.”
The rest was a blur of sensation. The rustle of a foil packet, the slick sound of preparation, the sharp, clinical scent of latex. Then Arjun’s hands were on him again, turning him, arranging him with an effortless strength that made Rohan feel both cherished and utterly possessed. He ended up on his stomach, a pillow tucked under his hips.
Arjun covered him, his chest a warm, heavy weight against Rohan’s back. He could feel the damp skin, the hard muscle, the rapid thud of Arjun’s heart.
“Relax for me,” Arjun breathed into his shoulder.
The initial pressure was intense, a sharp, burning stretch that made Rohan gasp and clutch at the sheets. He buried his face in the pillow, his body tensing.
Arjun stilled immediately. “Hey. Look at me.”
Rohan turned his head, his vision blurry. Arjun’s face was close, his expression serious.
“Breathe,” he instructed, his voice calm. “Just breathe. Match me.”
He took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding against Rohan’s back. Rohan tried to mimic him, his own breath shuddering.
“Good. Again.”
They breathed together, in and out, until the sharp edge of pain receded, replaced by a feeling of profound, overwhelming fullness. Rohan felt stretched to his limit, filled in a way he hadn’t known was possible.
“Okay?” Arjun asked again, his patience seemingly infinite.
Rohan nodded, unable to speak.
Arjun began to move. It was a slow, deep, rocking rhythm that seemed to reach into the very core of him. Each thrust was a deliberate claiming, a conversation written in pressure and friction. Rohan’s moans were muffled by the pillow, his fingers twisting in the sheets.
Arjun’s arm wrapped around his chest, holding him tight, anchoring him. His other hand slid down Rohan’s stomach, his touch knowing and sure.
“That’s it,” Arjun growled in his ear, his voice thick with strain. “Just like that. You feel incredible.”
The pleasure built, a coiling, tightening heat in his gut. The world narrowed to the feeling of Arjun moving inside him, the sound of their ragged breathing, the smell of their sweat. The jasmine scent from the crushed flowers on the nightstand seemed to weave through it all, a sweet, ghostly reminder of the rooftop.
It was too much. The intensity of the physical sensation, the emotional vulnerability, the sheer, shocking reality of being with Arjun like this. A sob caught in Rohan’s throat.
Arjun felt it. He stilled, his body going rigid. “Rohan? Did I hurt you?”
Rohan shook his head, tears he couldn’t explain leaking from the corners of his eyes. “No. Just… don’t stop.”
He felt Arjun’s relieved exhale against his neck. “Never.”
The pace quickened then, losing some of its deliberate control. Arjun’s thrusts became more urgent, his breathing more ragged. The bedframe creaked a steady, rhythmic protest. He was murmuring into Rohan’s skin, a stream of fragmented, filthy praise that should have been embarrassing but was instead the most erotic thing Rohan had ever heard.
“So good for me… so tight… you have no idea…”
The coil in Rohan’s stomach snapped. Pleasure erupted through him, white-hot and blinding, wrenching a broken cry from his lips. His body convulsed, shuddering through the waves of his release.
The sensation tipped Arjun over the edge. With a guttural groan that was pure, unfiltered need, he drove deep, his body locking as he found his own climax. He collapsed onto Rohan’s back, his full weight a crushing, perfect comfort.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their harsh, slowing breaths. The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat. Arjun’s weight was immense, pressing Rohan into the mattress, but he didn’t mind. He felt… settled. Real.
Eventually, Arjun shifted, pulling out and rolling off him with a wet, soft sound. He disappeared into the attached bathroom for a moment, then returned with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned Rohan with a surprising, gentle efficiency before tossing the cloth aside and collapsing back onto the bed.
He didn’t pull up the covers. He just dragged Rohan against him, spooning him from behind, his heavy arm thrown possessively over his waist. His skin was slick with sweat, his breathing already deepening into the rhythm of sleep.
Rohan lay there in the dark, his mind slowly coming back online. Arjun’s body was a furnace at his back, his steady heartbeat a drum against his spine. The events of the night replayed in his head in a surreal loop: the rooftop, the jasmine, the carrying, the overwhelming intimacy of what had just happened.
He felt raw. Exposed. More seen than he had ever been in his life.
Arjun nuzzled the back of his neck, his voice thick with sleep. “You good?”
Rohan swallowed. “Yeah.”
“’Kay.” A pause. “You’re not weightless, you know.”
Rohan stilled. “What?”
“When I’m inside you,” Arjun mumbled, his words slurring as sleep pulled him under. “I can feel all of you. Every gram. It’s perfect.”
His breathing evened out, his body going heavy and still against Rohan’s.
Rohan stared into the darkness, the words settling deep in his chest, rewriting something fundamental he’d always believed about himself. The first hint of dawn was beginning to bleed around the edges of the window blinds, casting the room in a pale, grey light. He could see the vague shapes of the clutter: the textbooks, the energy drink cans, the poster of the vintage computer.
He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Arjun’s sleep-steady breathing, feeling the solid, undeniable weight of the arm around him. He had never felt more anchored in his life.