41

-• forever together •-

Taranya

It didn't take long for him to line his sheathed shaft against my core, making me dig my nails into his bare biceps as I chewed on my lower lip, preparing myself for the next step of our intimacy, concluding this beautiful consummation.

When I married this man, being so vulnerably safe in his embrace never crossed my mind, and even if it did, I never entertained the thought for more than a split second.

I used to think it was because I was averse to the idea. But I was wrong. It was because I so strongly wanted it that I had to stop thinking about it.

Everything with this man, the good, the bad, the ugly, becomes bearable, becomes another fight to win, making me hope that if I pull through this, there's nothing else stopping me from being with him. And I know it's no end, I know it's futile to think it's that easy, but maybe that's the reason I can't give up, even when I have wanted to, even when I want to, I can't give up.

I can't give up on him.

That's simply not in the options.

And for the first time in my life, I'm glad I don't have to make a choice. Choices are hard. Choices are chosen fate.

I want him to be my destined fate.

"May I?" He breathes harshly, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

I nod positively.

I have to throw my head back and stifle a gasp when he slips inside the first inches of many. The intrusion is foreign, but my body craves more, like two oceans knowing they're not losing each other, instead finding a way to be together.

"Fuck," he swears.

I open my eyes.

And I see him under a new light.

His muscles tighten, veins prominent, the gorgeous visage of God's alive craft twisted in a mix of agony and pleasure. He's holding back. He's trying so hard to not push inside fully. I run a hand down his arms, the corded muscles flex beneath my touch and I turn my head, burying my face in the back of his palm next to my head.

"You need to relax, my love. Please," he says, heaving through his dragged breaths. "I'm not even halfway through, and you're clenching around me so tight I don't think I'll last long."

I try to think about something else. I try to think about him. He's so beautiful I'm afraid he'll melt through the gaps of my fingers and evaporate in the thin air, nothing but mist on rose petals. So I interlace his hand, and kiss the pulse on his wrist. He gives me a pained smile and leans in, kissing me deeper on the mouth. That serves as a perfect distraction for both of us and he pushes inside another inch.

"Does it hurt?"

I shake my head softly.

He drives further ahead, and doesn't stop until he's fully nestled inside me. We both gasp, tearing our eyes off each other and looking where we're connected. It's obscene, and still, it's the most exquisite thing to ever exist.

My brain short circuits when the pain recedes and pleasure takes over. I shut down. Completely. A raw intensity consumes us, something that only animals are capable of, and when he moves, I understand why humans need rationality and morals. Because I don't ever want to think, all that matters to me is this moment, and how long it stays me, how long I can make it stay with me. The world can vanish around us, and we wouldn't care, because we've found where we're together, always.

He pulls out to the tip, and then plunges into me until the hilt. I moan, grabbing his shoulders to anchor myself as he rocks in and out of me. I can feel the slide of my body up and down, even the floor squeaks because of how roughly he pounds into me. He doesn't care about anything else, it's visible on his face.

And then I see stars.

Literal stars.

They explode beneath my eyes, blind me in the darkness with lights, and I gasp loudly.

"There, again! Again!" I pat his shoulder.

He angles my hips against his shaft in a way that he can go deeper and when I tell you I can feel him in my God damn oesophagus, I'm not lying. He's everywhere. In my veins, sliding over my spine, grazing my breasts, wrapping around my waist, squeezing my ribcage, and causing my heart to go on an overdrive mode.

I flap like a fish out of water, trying to hold onto something but his body. It's sweaty, slippery and it's moving like a monster inside me. My eyes open to the chandelier and I wonder if it has always been so bright. My focus centres into one point when he shields my sight with his stunning face, sweat dripping, savage, hooded with lust and driven by hunger for my flesh.

He buries his face in the nook of my neck, and his back arches, the curve of his spine rising to his plump buttocks, shining under the chandelier lights. I thread one hand into his dark locks, trail another down his nape, between his angular, sharp shoulder blades, over his spine before halting on his round cheeks. I squeeze the supple flesh and he grunts, his thrusts getting sloppy.

I nibble on his ear shell, guiding his face to my mouth and we kiss messily, tongues and teeth, open sucks and gentle bites. He drags those wet lips to my chin, placing sweet kisses down my throat before taking my right nipple into his mouth.

The double pleasure causes me a sensory overload. I fail to comprehend where to focus. All that falls out of my mouth are incoherent words of encouragement and unfiltered, loud moans.

"I'm close." He says abruptly, resting his forehead on my cleavage. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to last. I'm close." He murmurs shakily, his thrusts getting even slower.

"It's okay, come," I brush a hand through his hair.

I just had an orgasm, it'll be difficult for me to reach that high so quickly. But I know he's waited enough.

"I'm sorry," then he clenches his eyes shut and grunts, dragging out the slow pumps as he comes inside me. "Fuck," he pants over my chest, his body stops shuddering and he pulls out his softening length out of me. "I'm sorry," he looks at me sheepishly.

I shake my head. "Don't be." A smile takes over my lips. "This was the best sex of my life."

He frowns.

I blink. "I mean, the best first sex of my life."

He scoffs, but chuckles anyway and leans over to kiss me softly. "This was the best first sex of my life too."

"In my zero experience, this one takes the cake." I add.

"Hmm hmm," he nods, laughing in the crook of my neck. "I agree." He gives me another kiss, this one below my chin before pulling away to discard the condom. I watch him tie the end and look for the dustbin. He finds one in the southeast corner of the hall and gets up, naked as the day he was born, but now a man, a sexy, hotter than the fucking hell man, and I can't help but preen myself for bagging this walking eye candy as mine. As he returns, he brings his white shirt along and settles down between my legs, opening them wider to clean me. Despite the little awkwardness that fills me, I'm more warm and fuzzy at his caring gesture. Will you believe this man has never slept with another women before? Yet he still knows how to treat one after sex. Fuck that, he still knows how to treat every woman right, sex or not. A gentleman right there.

"Here," he gives me my undies to wear, and proceeds to put on his boxers. As soon as he picks up his trousers, I call out to him.

"Come here," he stops halfway, looking down at me curiously. I open my arms for him and he smiles, sliding next to me on the floor. I turn and bury myself in his broader than the mountain body. It's cold, but winter has always been my favourite and this man has always been my winter. "Remember our first trip?"

He lies straight on his back and folds an arm beneath his head. I scoot closer until my cheek is resting on his chest. "When we went to South Korea?"

I smile, unexpectedly happy that he still remembers. I know he does, he has proven that time and again, but knowing it makes me feel all giddy and I like it. It's been so long but each moment of those days is imprinted into my head. It was the first time I saw him as more than Shourya. I saw him as who he really is. My mystery man.

"God, I hated you then," he sighs.

I gasp, hooking my chin on his left pec as I glare at him. "You did not!"

"I was aggravated by you so much." He admits.

"Liar," I retort. "When the twins took me to a club, you followed me there, and then acted like a possessive freak!"

"Possessive freak?" He cocks a brow. "You were in danger. Did you forget what a trouble maker you were? I didn't follow you. I was there when you got in trouble. And like a gentleman, I saved you. Sorry that you feel every man trying to save you is into you."

My mouth drops. "What's with the attitude?"

"I got what I wanted," he shrugs.

If possible, my jaw drops lower. His eyes go wide when I straddle his hips and slap him on the chest. "You did not just say that!" I lean over, grabbing his jaw and making those pouty lips squish. He laughs, tossing my hand away and draping an arm over his face as I tickle him in the ribs.

"Okay, stop! Stop! Stop!" He huffs, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably.

"Say that you're crazy for me. Say that you love me to the moon and back. Say it! Say it! Say it!"

He grabs my wrists and flips us over, wrenching a yelp out of my mouth before I'm pinned beneath his muscular figure. He breathes roughly. "I still have to say? Haven't I proven enough?" He looks into my eyes intensely.

The smile on my face fades, replaced with the raw need for his touch, and I push my upper body until our lips are pressed together. I lie back down and run a hand down his body, frowning when something creamy coats my fingers. I rub the biege color between my fingers and look up at him.

He checks underneath his ribcage, "It's supposed to be waterproof. Guess sweat doesn't count." He looks back at me.

"What are you hiding?"

He knows that I know the answer, but I still want to hear it from him. Maybe it's a tattoo, maybe it's something else, maybe-

"Scar."

My breath hitches.

"How many?" I whisper.

He swallows.

"Tell me, please." I plead.

He pulls off me and sits on his butt. I push myself in a sitting position. "I don't know. I lost count after twenty three."

My hand flies to cover my mouth.

"Is that why your body felt so slippery? I thought it was sweat." I shift behind him and use my half dried anarkali to gently remove the concealer from his skin. Each wipe reveals a new scar to me, big and small, deep and shallow, cuts and burns and flogs and even surgery marks. "Who did this?" I rest my forehead on his back in defeat.

"Virendra and his men." He answers.

There are seven scars on his back alone. I don't want to imagine what the rest of his body is carrying.

"When did they stop?"

"After your brother found me." He replies.

I come back around. He releases the lock of his arms around the knees and I climb his lap, nuzzling my face beneath his throat as I wound my arms around his trimmed waist. "I hope you get your revenge." I tell him. "Because I know nothing else is going to make you feel better. No words, no therapy, and certainly no fresh start."

"What if I put you in danger?" He asks.

I pull away to look into his eyes. "My safety is my responsibility. It can be your priority, but never your responsibility. There's nothing we can do if things go out of control. That comes along with being your wife."

"I can't go on if something happens to you." He cups my cheeks.

I smile. "Nothing will happen to me."

He looks unsure.

"Don't you ever give up on our revenge for me. I won't like that."

He curls a hand around my nape and brings my forehead to touch his. "I really want to grow old with you."

I chuckle. "You sure you want to see me toothless? I'm going to be a high maintenance budhiya."

He laughs.

"I'm serious!" I straighten up to look at him. "You'll have to learn how to cook me food, run me a bath, read me books, massage my shriveled body, you'll have to do everything!"

"And what will you do?"

"I'm retiring from the position of a self-independent woman at the age of fifty." I shrug.

"And that includes basic human functions?"

"Yes." I state. "I'm giving you my youth. You give me your old age. It's a fair deal."

"How?" His brows pull together incredulously. "I'm also giving you my youth!"

"Did I ask for it?"

His mouth falls open in disbelief. "That's not fair! You can't use my love for you against me!"

"I can. Actually, I did."

"You should have been a lawyer."

"I know." I smile widely. "I took pity on your Niharika. She needs the job more than me. How else would she have the hope of you cheating on me with her?"

"Tara," he grows serious.

I sigh. "Okay, sorry, that was insensitive. I just hate her so much!" I fist my hands, grunting under my breath. "I need to do something about her."

He leans back, hands resting flat on the floor. "And what is that? It's been three years and I'm unable to get rid of her."

"She must have some dirt on her. You never pried into her personal life?" I narrow my eyes at him.

He nods. "I did. Got nothing significant."

"Was it just surface level digging or were you thorough, like hacking into her phone and all?"

"I can't hack into her phone. That's illegal."

"Accha harishchandra ki aulad, mere time pe tumhare morals kya ghaas charne gaye the?" I scowl.

He makes a face of awe, before smiling broadly. "God, you can swear at me in Hindi and I'll still find it cute. Say that again."

"Simp." An insult.

"A proud one." He takes it as a compliment.

"Anyway," I roll my eyes, "this is serious. I can't pretend in front of her that I've no interest in you. Especially now."

"Why? What changed?"

My eyes turn into slits. "You want me to say it?"

He nods.

"We had sex."

"And that makes you want to jump my bones every time you're close to me? Is that why you can't pretend anymore? Because you can't control yourself? Am I irresistible?" He leans in, playfulness in his tone.

"Shut up!" I push him back with a shove on his forehead. "You want me to say I don't like you? And that she can have you?"

He stiffens.

"Exactly. We need to do something about her." I mutter. "Also, I don't get good vibes from her. I feel she's capable of turning against you if she doesn't get you. There's a very thin line between love and obsession and obsession and hatred, and I'm sure she is willing to cross them all for you. Where do you even find such women?" I look at him with open judgement.

He gets offended. "I don't! I didn't even approach her like I did with Akansha. In fact, we got into a little tuss when she first stayed at our hotel during her college trip."

"Women have the tendency to throw their self respect under the rug when it comes to you." I rub my chin.

He snorts. "If that was true, you wouldn't be giving me so much tough time in our relationship."

"Remember how I begged you to take me on a date?"

He falls quiet. "You changed."

"So did Akansha." I say impressively. The smart woman is pursuing post graduation in fundamentals of maths at NYU and is making a name for herself. She doesn't need no man anymore to prove her worth. I'm so glad she didn't end up becoming a doormat like Niharika in love. "But I'm not sure about Niharika. And I'm afraid if we don't do something about her soon, she's going to create troubles for us in the future."

"So, what's the plan?"

"I'll find something on her. I have to."

"And how are you going to do that?"

My eyes meet his. I smirk. "I'm a journalist, Rudra. Finding people's secrets is what I get paid for."

"That sounds unethical."

"Better than hacking into a sixteen year old's phone and blackmailing her for favours." I say dryly.

He drops his face into his hands, then looks up at me defeatedly. "You're going to hold that up against me for the rest of our lives, aren't you?"

"I'm actually getting buried next to you so I can remind you of it even after we die."

"Great that I'm getting cremated." He gets up and holds out his hand to me.

"I'll write it in our will to our kids to mix our ashes before pouring them in Ganga." I haul myself on my feet.

"Such undying love, Tara?" He places a hand on his chest, looking at me dramatically in awe, "not wanting to let me go even after death?"

"Nope. It's a bond of seven lives!" I show him our interlaced hands. "I'm traumatizing you in each."

He laughs. "This is why I love you!"

Stop. I'm crying. I've melted, guys. I love them 😭❤️

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