The Oculesics- Ek Kahaani Junoon Ki

9.

Dhimahi's pov -

The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of rain and our hearts beating close together.

Trayambak's fingers traced slow circles on my bare back. My cheek rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took.

I could feel him watching me-his gaze heavy with things unsaid.

"Tum so gayi thi," he murmured, brushing my hair back. [You had fallen asleep.]

I looked up, met his eyes. They were molten, tender, dark with emotion. Not lust. Something deeper. Something that made my heart flutter.

"I didn't want to sleep," I whispered. "I wanted to feel you longer."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shifted, gently laying me on my back, the sheets sliding away from our naked bodies.

His hand cupped my cheek, and he kissed me-slowly, achingly, like time didn't exist outside this moment.

"Toh chalo... phir se mehsoos karo mujhe." [Then come... feel me again.]

He moved over me, his body warm and solid, a familiar weight that didn't crush-but cocooned me.

This wasn't like last night. This was slower. Intimate. No hunger. No urgency. Just... worship. He kissed every inch of my skin like it was sacred-my forehead, my nose, the corner of my lips. Then my neck... collarbone... the swell of my breasts. He looked up at me as his mouth found my nipple, his tongue circling it gently, then sucking it between his lips. I gasped, arching into him, fingers curling into his hair.

"Every breath, every ache, every comfort of yours, belongs to me." His voice vibrated against my skin.

I shivered.

His kisses traveled downward, tongue warm and reverent as he worshipped my stomach, my hips, the insides of my thighs-until I was trembling beneath him, eyes fluttering shut, breath shaky.

And then, he slid up again-his face above mine, his body between my legs. He didn't rush. He looked at me. Held my gaze.

"Iss baar... sirf pyaar hoga. Dard nahi." [This time... only love. No pain.]

I nodded, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He reached down, guiding himself to my entrance, and pushed in-slowly, gently. Stretching me, filling me.

I gasped.

It still hurt... but softer this time. Like a dull ache wrapped in warmth. His hand slid into mine, fingers interlocking. He kissed my eyelids as he began to move-smooth, rhythmic strokes that sent waves of pleasure building through me.

Our bodies found a rhythm as natural as breathing. Every thrust was deep and tender, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Tum meri ho, Dhimahi... har roop mein. Har pal mein." [You're mine, Dhimahi... in every form. In every moment.]

I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, my lips finding his neck.

"Trayambak... please..."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming more fluid, more intense. But never rough. Never losing that sweetness. His hands slid beneath me, lifting my hips, changing the angle-sending a spark that made me cry out. He kissed me again, swallowing my moans, moving inside me like he was trying to become part of me. And then it built-wave after wave. I gasped his name, my body tensing. "Trayambak... I'm... I'm..."

"Let go of yourself, love. I'm here."

And I did. I came, trembling, clinging to him as the world shattered in soft colors behind my eyelids. He followed right after-groaning into my mouth, spilling inside me, his body shaking. But he didn't pull away. He stayed inside me, holding me tight, kissing my forehead again and again like I was some delicate prayer he had finally been allowed to touch.