Ansh Malhotra believed in three things-luxury, control, and never apologizing for either.He wore silk like it was armor and desire like it was perfume. In every room, eyes followed him. Men fell for the glitter. Women envied the walk. But nobody really touched him.Not unless he allowed it.Not unless he said, "Kya tum mujhe sambhal paoge?Because Ansh didn't beg. He demanded.He didn't just fuck.
He choreographed.Mumbai's nights were hot and endless, full of teeth and tension. Under the city's gloss, Ansh carved his kingdom-one kiss, one whip-crack smirk, one ruined man at a time.
And then Aarav Sharma walked in Stoic. Silent. Storm-eyed.The kind of man who never got touched unless he allowed it. The kind of man who thought control was his birthright.
But Ansh? Ansh burned men like him.And somehow, he couldn't stop touching him.
It wasn't love at first sight.
It was lust at first challenge.
The kind that left bruises on thighs and teeth marks on shoulders. The kind that made you say "just tonight" and mean it until you're saying it again the next night. And the next. And the next.
"Tu mujhe chodne aaya tha , Sharma?" Ansh had whispered one night, his legs wrapped tight around Aarav's waist. "Toh chhod. Lekin poora. Jism bhi... saans bhi... main sab dunga. Jab tak tu sab le sake."
It should've been casual.
It should've stayed physical.
But hearts don't follow contracts. Especially when they're breaking every rule they wrote.
This is not a love story.
It's a slow disaster.
A fuck turned habit turned comfort turned...complication.
And when the silken chains they built start feeling like home, the only question left is-Who will fall first?
Enjoy reading,My Rasgullas 🍒
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