They moved together, slow and deliberate, building the pleasure gradually. His hand found hers, fingers intertwining, pinning it beside her head. The other hand slid beneath her, tilting her hips to change the angle.
"Look at me," he commanded gently. "Keep your eyes on me."
She did, even when it became almost too much. Watching him above her, his face taut with pleasure and emotion, his eyes never leaving hers.
"You're mine," he said, his thrusts becoming deeper. "And I'm yours. Completely. Forever."
"Forever," she agreed, feeling her orgasm building again.
"Come with me," he urged, his hand sliding between them to find her clit. "Let me feel you come around me. Please, Advika."
The combination of his words, his touch, the look in his eyes—it sent her over the edge. She came with a cry, her back arching, inner walls clenching around him.
He followed seconds later, her name a prayer on his lips as he emptied himself inside her.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard, their hearts racing in tandem. Then he rolled them onto their sides, still joined, pulling her close.
"I'm not done with you yet," he murmured against her hair.
"Oh?"
"I have months of being an emotionally constipated idiot to make up for." His hand skimmed down her side. "And I plan to be very thorough about it."
He made love to her twice more through the night—once with her on top, riding him while he worshipped her with his hands and words, and once more in the early morning hours, spooned behind her, his movements lazy and tender as dawn broke.
Each time, he told her he loved her. Whispered it, groaned it, said it with his body when words failed.
And each time, she said it back.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, too exhausted to move, too content to care.
"We should sleep," Advika mumbled against his chest.
"In a minute." His arms tightened around her. "I'm not ready to let go yet."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. I just... I need to hold you. To know this is real."
They talked as the sun rose, sharing things they'd never said before. Sidharth told her about his fears, his insecurities, his nightmares about losing her the way he'd lost his parents. Advika told him about growing up invisible, about the loneliness of being unwanted, about the fear that she'd never be enough for anyone.
"You're enough," he said fiercely. "You're more than enough. You're everything."
"So are you," she replied. "Broken edges and all."
They fell asleep as the sun climbed higher, wrapped around each other, finally at peace.
Two Weeks Later
The change in the household was palpable.
Nisha had apologized—stiffly, uncomfortably, but genuinely. "I was wrong. About you. About us. About... everything. I'm sorry."
It wasn't perfect. They'd probably never be best friends. But it was a start.
Rishabh had pulled Advika into a tight hug the first time he saw her after she'd returned. "Thank God. He was unbearable without you."
And Sidharth... Sidharth was different.
