The Mumbai party was in full swing, the upscale venue buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the thump of music, the golden lights casting a warm glow over the crowd. Virat Kohli, in a sharp maroon vest over a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms, stood with an air of quiet dominance, sipping a glass of whiskey.

Varun Dhawan, in a crisp white shirt and black vest, his boyish charm on full display, flashed a peace sign for a photo, but his eyes kept darting to Virat, a playful yet hungry edge in his gaze. They’d been flirting all night—Varun’s teasing comments, Virat’s smirks, their touches lingering longer than necessary, the tension between them building with every passing moment.

As the party hit its peak, Virat leaned in close, his breath hot against Varun’s ear, his voice a low growl, “You’ve been playing with fire all night, kid—time to get burned.” Varun’s heart raced, a shiver running down his spine, but he grinned, his voice cheeky, “Show me what you’ve got, Daddy Kohli.”

That was all Virat needed—he grabbed Varun’s wrist, pulling him through the crowd, weaving past balloons and guests, until they found a secluded hallway leading to a private lounge, the music muffled behind a heavy door.

Virat locked the door behind them, the small lounge dimly lit, a plush velvet couch in the corner, the air thick with anticipation. He turned to Varun, his eyes dark with desire, and pushed him against the wall, their bodies pressing together, Virat’s hardness evident through his trousers. “You’ve been begging for this, haven’t you?” Virat growled, his hand gripping Varun’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze, asserting his dominance. Varun nodded, breathless, “Yes, Daddy—fuck, I want you.”

Virat kissed him hard, his lips rough, possessive, tongue forcing its way into Varun’s mouth, tasting the sweetness of Varun’s cocktails, their breaths mingling as Varun moaned, his hands fumbling to unbutton Virat’s vest, desperate to feel more. Virat pulled back, his chest heaving, and stripped off his vest and shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and tattooed arms, his body a testament to years of discipline. Varun followed, shedding his own vest and shirt, his leaner but toned frame exposed, his skin flushed with arousal, his trousers tenting with his growing erection.

Virat grabbed Varun by the hips, spinning him around, pressing Varun’s chest against the wall, his hands roaming over Varun’s back, down to his ass, squeezing hard through his trousers. “Such a good boy for Daddy,” Virat murmured, his voice thick with lust, as he yanked Varun’s trousers and boxers down in one swift motion, leaving Varun exposed, his cock hard and leaking, his ass on display. Virat stepped back, unbuckling his own trousers, letting them drop, his thick, veiny cock springing free, already throbbing, the sight making Varun whimper, “Fuck, Daddy—you’re so big.”

Virat grabbed a small packet of lube from his pocket—always prepared—and slicked his fingers, stepping close again, his chest pressed against Varun’s back, his cock brushing against Varun’s ass. He slid two fingers into Varun’s tight hole, slow and deep, stretching him, making Varun moan, “Oh god, Daddy—feels so good,” his hands bracing against the wall, his body trembling. Virat worked him open, adding a third finger, curling them to hit Varun’s prostate, making Varun’s cock twitch and leak onto the floor, his moans growing louder, “Please, Daddy—fuck me—I need you.”

Virat smirked, his dominance unwavering, pulling his fingers out, leaving Varun panting, hole slick and needy. “You’ll get Daddy’s cock, baby,” Virat promised, lubing his shaft, stroking himself a few times, his tattooed arm flexing as he lined up, the head of his cock pressing against Varun’s rim. He thrust in, slow at first, stretching Varun wide, watching Varun’s body tense, then deeper, until he was fully inside, his balls pressed against Varun’s ass. Varun gasped, “Fuck, Daddy—you’re so deep,” his voice raw, his legs shaking as he adjusted to Virat’s size.

Virat set a punishing pace, thrusting hard and deep, the wall rattling with each slam, the muffled music from the party a distant hum compared to the sound of their skin slapping. “You’re mine tonight, Varun,” Virat growled, his hands gripping Varun’s hips, leaving bruises, his thrusts relentless, hitting Varun’s sweet spot over and over. Varun’s hands clawed at the wall, “Yes, Daddy—fuck me—own me!” he begged, his voice breaking, his cock leaking onto the floor, untouched, the pleasure overwhelming.

Virat reached around, grabbing Varun’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, his grip firm, possessive, “Cum for Daddy, baby—show me how much you love my cock,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble against Varun’s ear. Varun couldn’t hold back—he came hard, his cock shooting thick, white cum against the wall, his hole clenching tight around Virat as he screamed, “Daddy—fuck!” Virat groaned, the tightness pushing him over the edge—he pulled out, stroking himself fast, his cum splattering across Varun’s ass and back, hot and sticky, marking him as his.

They slumped against the wall, panting, their bodies tangled in the afterglow, the party still raging outside. Virat kissed Varun’s neck, his dominance softening into a tender smirk, “Good boy.” Varun laughed breathlessly, turning to kiss Virat softly, “You’re the best Daddy.” They stayed there, catching their breath, knowing the night was far from over.