AUTHOR'S NOTE : THIS STORY CONTAIN EXPLICIT MATURE CONTENT AND SOME SCENES THAT MIGHT TRIGGER YOU , CHECK THE TRIGGER WARNING AND IF ANY OF THAT WARNING TRIGGERS YOUR MENTAL HEALTH THEN DROP THE STORY FROM HERE..

IF ANY OF THAT WARNING NOT AFFECT YOU THEN WELCOME TO MY THIS YEAR'S BIGGEST STORY WITH ADDICTIVE PLOT NOT ONLY SMUT, BUT IF YOU COME ONLY FOR SMUT THEN I MAKE SURE YOU DON'T GET BORED.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

The door clicks shut behind me. And just like that- I'm no longer outside.

I'm inside his world.

I don't turn. I don't need to. I can feel him. It's not a sound. Not movement. Not even breath.

It's... awareness. Like the room itself knows I belong to him. Like I know it too. My fingers tighten around the belt of the robe wrapped around me. The silk feels too thin. Too useless.

Too exposing. I shouldn't have worn this. I shouldn't have waiting for him like this. I shouldn't

"Come here."

My breath stops. That voice. Deep. controlled. quiet. Worse than anger. Because anger can be resisted. This? This pull in his voice It doesn't ask.

I turn slowly. And there he is. Vivansh Raghuvanshi. The man i love most. Sitting like he owns the room. Like he owns the silence. Like he owns me.

One leg crossed over the other, his fingers resting lazily against the armrest, his gaze already on me as if it never left. As if it's been waiting. Watching. For this exact moment.

Three years. Three years without him. Three years of convincing myself I imagined the way he used to look at me. The way it never felt like admiration. Or love. But something deeper. Something heavier. Something that stayed.

And now That look is back. "You took your time," he says. Not angry. Not accusing. Just... stating it. Like he expected nothing less.

My throat tightens. "I didn't"

"Come closer." I stop speaking. Because he already has. My feet move before I fully decide to move them. One step. Then another. The sound of my own heartbeat fills my ears as I walk toward him, every instinct telling me to stop

And every part of me ignoring it. By the time I reach him, I'm too close. Close enough to feel the heat of his body. Close enough to smell that same faint, dangerous familiarity I remember Close enough that stepping back would feel like defiance.

I don't step back. His eyes drag over me. Slowly. Deliberately. From my face... down to my throat... lower... Pausing exactly where the robe parts just enough to remind me how little it's actually covering.

"You wore this for me?" he asks softly. I shake my head immediately. "No." A pause. Then A faint smile. Not warm. Not amused. Something else.

"Liar." The word lands quietly. But it still makes my stomach tighten. He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Do you know what I like about you, Avni?" I don't answer. Because I don't think he wants one. "You pretend," he continues, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. "You pretend you don't understand what's happening."

My fingers tighten around the robe. "I don't"

"Don't." One word. Sharp. Final. I fall silent. He stands. And everything inside me goes still. He doesn't rush. Doesn't reach for me immediately. Just walks around me slowly. Like he's inspecting something he already owns. Something he's been away from for too long.

I feel him behind me before he even touches me. And when his fingers finally brush against my arm It's light. Barely there. But it sends a sharp, uncontrollable shiver through me.

"Three years," he murmurs near my ear. My breath catches. "I stayed away," he continues.

"And you behaved." His fingers slide down to the belt of my robe. I freeze.

"You don't get to hold onto things in front of me," he says quietly. My hand moves instinctively, gripping the fabric tighter.

"I'm not" He catches my wrist. Not harsh. But firm enough that I feel it. That I understand it.

"Avni." My name in his voice Low. Controlled. Warning.

"Don't make me repeat myself." My breath becomes uneven. Because I know He will. And it won't be softer the second time. His fingers move to the knot. And with one simple pull

It loosens. The robe slackens. I not wearing bra. My heart starts pounding harder.

"Vivansh"

"Did you forget?" he murmurs. I swallow.

"Forget what?" His hand slides from my wrist... up my arm... slow... deliberate... Until his fingers rest lightly under my chin. Tilting my face just enough.

"That I don't ask twice." Silence. Heavy. Pressing.

"Remove it." My body goes still. There's no anger in his voice. No impatience. Just expectation. Like this moment was always going to happen. Like this isn't new. Just delayed.

"I" His thumb presses slightly against my chin. Not enough to hurt. Enough to stop me.

"Don't think," he says quietly. "Just do what you already know you're going to do."

"You know exactly what happens now , you know how much i miss this" And that's the worst part. Because he's right. My fingers slowly loosen. The fabric slips. Just slightly. His gaze darkens. Not surprised. Not impressed.

Just... satisfied. "Good," he murmurs.

Then he steps back. Sits down again. Leaning into the chair like nothing about this moment is uncertain. Like everything is exactly where it should be. His eyes stay on me.

Commanding without raising his voice. "Come here." I hesitate. Just for a second. His eyebrow lifts slightly. That's all it takes. I move.

When I reach him, he doesn't touch me immediately. just looks. Again. Like he's memorizing something. Or confirming it hasn't changed. Then

He leans back slightly. Spreads his hand over his thigh. And finally says it.

"Sit." My breath catches. He tilts his head slightly. Watching me struggle. Watching me think.

"On my lap, Avni," he adds softly. "Or do you need me to show you how?"

Heat rushes through me Not just embarrassment. Something else. Something I don't want to name. But I don't argue. Slowly I lower myself. The moment I settle, his hand comes to my waist.

Firm. Steady. Holding me exactly where he wants me. "See?" he murmurs near my ear.

"Not that difficult." I try to steady my breathing. But it's impossible when he's this close. When everything about him feels Controlled. Certain. Dangerous.

His fingers trace lightly along my side. Not wandering. Not rushed. Just... claiming space.

"I've been patient," he says quietly.

"Long enough." My heart pounds harder. "And I don't share what's mine." The words settle deep.

Heavy. Unavoidable. Then His hand stills. His grip tightening slightly.

"Now..." he murmurs.

"Feed me." My breath stutters. There's no explanation. No clarification. There doesn't need to be.

Because the way he says it The way he looks at me the way his hand holds me in place I understand exactly what he means. And that's what terrifies me the most. Because I don't move away. I don't argue. I don't refuse. I lean closer. and do exactly what he say.

i fed him.