(Please play "Tu Zaroori" from Zid for better experience)
After the grand game ended, everyone gathered to feast on the royal Eid spread — kebabs, biryani, sheer korma, and sweet kheer. The air was full of laughter and warmth, nostalgic chatter about how the kids had grown into graceful, majestic adults. Beneath the wholesome smiles, though, floated teasing whispers... about a certain cousin pair whose eyes danced a little too long during the game.
One by one, the family retired. The house slowly fell into silence — heavy with food, celebration, and unspoken thoughts.
Soumik stayed back, helping the elders with the cleanup, his kurta loose and wrinkled from the day's chaos.
Meanwhile, Mahi had slipped into his room. She wanted to talk. Or maybe... something more. She sat on the edge of his bed at first, then stood near the mirror, adjusting her dupatta casually — waiting.
When Soumik finally walked in, wiping his face with a towel, he stopped. Mid-step.
There she was.
Bathed in the dim golden light — radiant, surreal. Mahi turned. But then… did something bold.
She gently lifted the side of her lehenga, just slightly — just enough.
The delicate belly chain he had gifted her shimmered against her glowing skin, resting softly across her waist, circling her navel like it belonged there all along.
"I wanted to show you this," she said softly.
"Now you've seen it… bye. Goodnight."
She turned to leave.
But Soumik stepped forward and grabbed her wrist — not roughly, but with a tension that froze time.
"You think that was enough?" he muttered, pulling her gently between his arms.
"I haven't seen it properly yet."
"Wha—what are you doing?" she stammered, eyes wide.
He leaned in. His voice dropped to a whisper, like a secret spell.
"You're not leaving without my permission."
They were inches apart now.
His breath hit her skin — warm, unhurried. Her dupatta slipped from one shoulder.
He crouched slightly, eyes fixed on her waist. One hand brushing lightly over the chain, then trailing a finger around her navel. Her body shivered. She forgot to breathe.
And then — he kissed it.
Her belly.
A gentle, deliberate kiss on her navel.
Like thunder wrapped in silk.
Mahi froze. Every inch of her body became heat and goosebumps.
Soumik rose slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Closer. Closer.
Their lips hovered, breaths tangled.
Then suddenly —
He kissed her. Hard. Raw. Hungry.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't innocent.
He devoured her lips, like he had waited for this forever. She gasped, not from fear — but from the storm he just unleashed inside her. She tasted his sweat, his day, his want.
Mahi started kissing him back. Slow, unsure, then bolder. Her hand clutched his shoulder for balance — or maybe permission.
Soumik pulled her waist, their bodies locked. The kiss turned deep, wet, noisy.
"Umm… hmm…"
A sharp breath broke it.
They looked at each other. Gasping. Alive.
No words.
Just the sound of two hearts beating too loud in a silent room.
----
Then, with a crooked smile, he reached for something on the table behind her —
The honey jar. The one he'd won during the fair game earlier that day.
He unscrewed the lid slowly, deliberately.
Mahi blinked, confused.
"You brought that here?"
Soumik shrugged, dipping a finger inside the jar.
"A reward's meant to be shared, no?"
He stepped closer, eyes never leaving hers.
She parted her lips, just barely. That was enough.
He touched the honeyed finger to her lower lip.
> "Taste it."
She obeyed.
Sweet. Sticky. Dangerous.
He leaned in again — this time pressing his mouth fully to hers. The kiss was slower now, honey-soft, lips dragging, tasting, asking.
Mahi's breath came in soft, broken gasps.
Her chest rose and fell beneath the golden choli, barely clinging to her.
Soumik looked at her — eyes glazed, lips glistening — like he wasn't just seeing her, but tasting every second.
With slow, aching patience, he let another drop of honey fall — right on top of her left breast.
It rolled downward, lazy and golden, stopping just at the edge of her choli.
He caught it with his tongue.
She twitched.
Then — without asking — he pushed her choli gently upward. Just enough to expose what he needed.
Her nipple stood firm in the cool air, glistening now under honey and heat.
He stared at it for a beat, breath heavy.
Then he devoured it.
Not rushed. Not violent. But deeply, sinfully thorough.
His mouth wrapped around her breast, tongue circling, sucking, pulling.
> "A-ah—Soumik—"
She tried to speak, but his teeth gently scraped her — not enough to hurt, just enough to make her jolt. His other hand squeezed the opposite breast, rolling it in his palm like he had all the time in the world.
Honey mixed with her scent, her sweat, his want.
> "You're trembling," he whispered against her skin.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to taste you like this?"
Mahi moaned — one arm around his shoulders now, the other tangled in the bedsheet behind her.
His mouth moved lower. Kisses down her ribs. Her stomach.
Then — right above her lehenga line — he stopped.
> "May I?"
His voice was soft. Asking. But his eyes were blazing.
She nodded, barely.
He pulled the lehenga downward. Slowly. Reverently.
The golden fabric slid off her hips like a sigh.
Her panties were already wet — a dark patch visible even in the dim light. Soumik let out a shaky breath, kneeling in front of her.
> "Mahi," he said, voice unsteady. "Look at this…"
He dipped two fingers in the honey jar again and let a drop fall right between her thighs. It mixed instantly with her arousal, sticky and slick, dripping down her inner thigh.
> "You're sweeter than anything I've ever tasted."
He parted her gently — and stared.
For a long moment, he just watched. In awe. Almost reverent.
Then he leaned in.
His tongue met her like a kiss — slow, deep, exploring.
She arched. Her back hit the wall, legs shaking. Her hips tried to pull away but he grabbed her thighs, holding her in place.
> "Don't run," he murmured, licking deeper.
"Not from this. Not from me."
He feasted.
Mahi's head fell back, mouth open — whimpering, panting, suffering in pleasure.
> "S-Soumik… it's… I-I can't—"
He didn't stop.
He devoured her until her body buckled, her knees collapsed — and he caught her, lifting her gently.
---
He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap.
Soumik's arms held her firm in his lap — like he was afraid she'd melt away.
Her thighs straddled his, her body slack with aftershock, but her eyes…
Her eyes were burning now.
> "Honey actually tastes better when it's mixed with your fluids."
He whispered it against her shoulder, lips brushing sweat-slick skin.
Mahi didn't answer.
Instead, her hips shifted.
Slow. Experimental.
She ground against him again — this time with more purpose.
The friction between his kurta and her slick folds sent a ripple through them both.
> "Mahi," he groaned. "You're playing with fire."
She smiled, lazy and dangerous.
> "Maybe I want to get burned."
Soumik grabbed her hips, steadying her. But she didn't stop.
Her forehead pressed to his, breath mingling with his moan as she rocked again — rhythm building, mouth parted, heat rising.
Then she reached between them.
Guided him.
Her fingers curled around him through the thin cloth — thick, hard, begging for release. She slid his pyjama waistband down just enough, freeing him.
The moment their skin met —
They both gasped.
> "I need to feel you," she whispered.
And then — with a small lift of her hips —
She positioned herself.
And sank.
Inch by inch.
Depth by depth.
Soumik's head fell back with a guttural sound.
> "F-fuck… Mahi…"
She held onto his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he filled her, stretching her wide.
No haste. No apology. Just heat and history.
When she finally took all of him — seated deep in his lap — they stayed like that.
Breathing. Trembling.
> "We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
> "But we are," he said. "And you feel like home."
Then — movement.
She rocked slowly, still in control, using him for friction as he gripped her hips, letting her ride the burn.
Each shift was deep. Each grind, messy.
Wet sounds echoed softly in the room, broken only by their gasps, soft curses, and stolen kisses.
The honey forgotten. The world forgotten.
All that remained was the rhythm of their bodies and the golden chain still clinging to her waist — jingling faintly every time she moved.
> "Say it," she moaned, voice cracking.
> "Say what?"
> "That I'm yours."
Soumik's eyes snapped open — wild now.
He grabbed her waist, thrust up into her hard enough to make her cry out.
> "You're mine," he growled.
"Every fucking inch."
She clenched around him — tighter. Desperate.
> "Then take me," she whispered. "All the way."
And he did.
He flipped her gently onto the bed, still inside her, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.
And this time, he set the pace.
Hard. Deep. Raw.
The bed creaked. The chain jingled. The air smelled of sweat, honey, and want.
Her nails raked down his back.
His lips found her neck.
And together — they came undone.
---
Their breaths still heavy, Soumik didn't let go.
Instead, he slid off the bed, pulling her gently up with him — her legs shaky, body flushed and glistening.
He guided her to the full-length mirror.
She stood before it, nude, glowing, her breath fogging the glass.
Soumik stepped behind her — towering, bare, and burning with hunger all over again.
His hands slid around her waist, down her hips. He pressed himself against her back, and she gasped — their bodies slick with sweat and heat.
> "Look at you," he whispered into her ear, lips brushing the shell. "Look what you've become."
She tried to glance away, shy — but he caught her chin, tilting her face to meet her reflection.
> "No. Watch."
One hand gripped her breast. The other slid down between her thighs.
She moaned — soft at first, then louder as his fingers worked with purpose.
Their eyes locked in the glass.
His chest rose and fell behind her, his abs flexing each time she bucked forward against the mirror.
When he slid inside her again — slow, deep — she gasped against the glass, palms braced flat.
> "Soumik—"
> "Say it louder."
He moved behind her with slow, punishing rhythm — letting her feel every inch. Her breasts bounced softly with each motion, nipples brushing the cool mirror.
She watched herself — eyes wide, lips parted, helpless and wild.
And he watched her watch.
The tension built with every thrust — slow, grinding, deliberate.
Her body rocked back to meet him. His grip tightened on her waist. Their breaths turned ragged.
Her moans grew softer, higher, as she neared the edge —
and then his voice, low and broken:
> "Mahi… I'm—"
> "Together," she choked out, desperate, shaking.
"Come with me—now."
And they did.
Her body clenched around him.
He buried himself deep with a final thrust, groaning her name against her shoulder.
The glass fogged from their breath.
Their eyes stayed locked in the mirror, watching themselves come undone — not as separate beings, but as one.
----
Soumik lay flat on the bed — bare, breathless, and vulnerable. His chest still rose and fell from the last round, but the smirk on his face was smug. Too smug.
Mahi stood at the edge of the bed, messy hair falling over her face, eyes locked on his abs.
The honey jar glistened in her hand like a weapon.
> "What's that look for?" he asked, cocky.
She climbed onto the bed without a word, straddling him just below the waist — her body brushing his thighs, heat meeting heat.
Then she tilted the jar.
Golden honey poured directly onto his lower abdomen — a thick stream dripping right down his defined abs, pooling over the hard ridges before sliding lower... right over his shaft.
Soumik's breath hitched.
> "Mahi—what are you—"
> "Revenge," she whispered, her voice sultry.
"For what you did to me in front of that mirror."
She bent forward, letting her tongue press into his lower abs — slow, deliberate, almost torturous.
She dragged it up through the sticky trail, tasting every sweet drop, her lips brushing over each groove, her hands pressed into his sides, keeping him pinned.
He twitched beneath her.
> "Still think I'm shy?" she murmured against his skin.
Her mouth dipped lower again — tongue swirling right above his base before she shifted her hips back and leaned in further.
Then… she licked him.
One smooth glide over his length, coated in honey, her lips catching the edge as he gasped sharply.
She smiled.
Soumik gripped the sheets.
> "Fuck—Mahi—"
But she wasn't listening anymore.
This was her turn.
She wrapped her fingers around him — sticky, slow strokes — the honey acting like a second skin.
Then her lips wrapped around the tip.
Warm. Wet. Relentless.
She bobbed her head slowly, eyes locked on him, enjoying every twitch, every breathless curse.
He moaned — deep, broken, desperate.
> "You're gonna make me—"
She pulled off with a wet pop, looked up, and said,
> "You didn't stop when I begged, did you?"
Then she went back down — this time faster, deeper, one hand stroking what her mouth couldn't reach, the other massaging along his thigh.
Soumik lost control.
His hands flew to her head, but she slapped them away — her pace ruthless now, the slurping sounds obscene in the quiet room.
He came undone, crying out her name as he arched off the bed, abs flexing, thighs shaking — completely wrecked.
She swallowed everything.
Then licked a final drop of honey off his hip and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
> "Next time," she said, smirking as she crawled up beside him,
"don't mess with a sweet tooth."
---
Soumik was still gasping — sprawled on the bed like someone hit by a truck made of silk and honey.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted.
Mahi leaned over him, resting on her elbow, hair a tousled mess, and gently traced a finger along his jawline.
> "Hey…" she whispered softly, brushing the sweat-damp strands from his forehead,
"you alive, or should I call emergency?"
He chuckled weakly, still catching his breath.
> "That... was illegal," he murmured.
"What you did… with the honey…"
She smiled.
Then reached to the side table, grabbed a small hand towel, and started wiping the leftover stickiness off his abs — moving slow, tender, almost apologetic now.
She kissed his navel gently before moving up to lie beside him.
Soumik turned to face her, pulling her close by the waist until their foreheads touched.
> "You really took your revenge," he said, voice low, affectionate.
"Didn't even let me breathe."
> "You'll live," she whispered, fingers brushing his cheek.
Then silence — but not empty.
Just full of heavy breathing, skin on skin, heartbeats syncing in a quiet rhythm.
Soumik kissed her nose, then her forehead, lingering.
> "I like this you," he said softly.
"Confident. Dirty. Still annoyingly cute."
Mahi blushed — just a little.
But she didn't look away. Instead, she tucked herself against his chest, arm draped over his stomach.
> "Only for you," she mumbled.
"And only sometimes."
He smiled, his chin resting on her hair.
The air smelled like honey and skin and something deeply, terribly safe.
Outside, the world continued.
But inside that room, it was just two souls wrapped in warmth, calming the storm they'd just created.
> "Next time," Soumik whispered as sleep began to take him,
"I'll bring chocolate syrup."
Mahi groaned and smacked his chest.
But didn't move an inch away.
---