was feeling a bit down, cheer me up now that I've made your day (the arrogance in this istg 💀)

-• into the deep end of no return •-

cw: scenes involving oral sex

Taranya

Rudra sleeps so peacefully post an orgasm bliss, it's so endearing. He still sleeps seated, thinking I don't notice since he cuddles me every night like it's a ritual. But I know once I'm fast asleep, he goes back to his usual sleeping methods.

It's going to be hard, making him drop his high walls and let the normalcy creep back in. He has a misconception that expressing yourself automatically translates into being completely defenseless and vulnerable. And while I'm happy he doesn't wear that facade around me, I hate that he thinks the world is out to hurt him at the very first chance it gets.

Detachment for one is prevalent in his attitude. But I understand where he's coming from. He was deprived of love and affection at a very young age and it has made him believe emotions are mere tools depraved people use to extort the weaker. It breaks my heart, because I know if this man was provided with a normal childhood, he'd have grown up to become the most amazing man I know. Because despite not having it, he still turned out to become the most amazing man I know.

It reminds me of our Seoul trip. Back at the hotel when he tipped the butler, the old man said something along the lines of, "You'll grow up to become a kind and generous gentleman."

And my goodness, did he predict right.

I'm so scared of falling in love with this man, because I know he'll always love me more than I'll ever love him and the realisation leaves me reconsidering my worth in this relationship. He might have said countless lies, betrayed me more than once, but I also know he loves me like no other man will ever come close to the thought of, let alone the reality of its intensity. And he's a changed man now. He's constantly moulding himself to fit into my life. I'm afraid any future dent in the relationship will be from my side, and I'll be the reason if it ever falls apart.

It's the same as when you stand at the bank of the river, bare toes hovering over the surface, and you hesitate because of the cold instead of the depths.

Love? He's doing it better than me, and I can never compare it to the way he expresses it, constantly, devotedly, as if whatever he's feeling isn't just an emotion, but a sense of fulfillment that needs to be worshipped.

I'm not looking for a winner or a loser in our relationship. No, I'm insecure because if he chooses to walk out one day, I'll simply let him, assuming I fail on my end to keep him happy. Because I know he did his best, fuck, he's doing his best, and I'm still so indecisive regarding my feelings, unable to figure out whether what I'm feeling is really love or not. I know he said I can take my time, that he's willing to wait, but you know something about waiting? The power to walk out is often- always in the hands of the person doing the waiting. They can simply think it's time to stop, and you would be left banging your head on the wall because like the muddlehead you are, failed to figure out your shit in time. Ninety nine percent chances are you'll regret making them wait so long that they finally grow tired of your bullshit and decide you aren't worth it.

I drop my head on the headboard and stare at the ceiling lights blankly. I can't fathom how he sleeps with lights on. I can't even rest if the room isn't doused in darkness.

Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I turn off all the lights and step outside on the balcony. I wonder if Janet is still awake. I check the time difference and facetime her. It's still ten pm in England. She answers on the third ring.

"Hey," her pale face and midnight black hair fill the frame. "All good between you two?"

I nod. "Sorry, I dragged you in the middle of it-"

She dismisses with a wave of her hand. "No worries bestie, I love myself some tea. So, what exactly happened?"

"We were supposed to go out. He was busy at work. And he didn't remember to let me know that he'll be late." Granted, according to my words, I'm putting a hundred percent blame on him but I have no idea how to explain to her the entire situation without revealing the real issue. I'm not about to share his personal life with others, even if that said person is my best friend.

"Dick move." She scowls. "Good that you called him out on it. Go bestie!" She cheers me on.

I chuckle. "Anyway, what's with your dark circles?"

"My target is to reach a full 360° by the end of this month." She nods. I give her a look of deadpan that says quit joking. She gives in. "Just took up a side gig." Her tone turns down a notch, almost a whisper.

"What?"

"Editing and proofreading." She shrugs.

"Why?" I frown sitting straighter.

She rubs her fingers together, "To keep the cash flowing. It's not easy to live in the current economy as an artist."

"You could have asked me. I'll lend you some-"

"Tara, no." She cuts me off sternly. "I'm - I'm already ashamed that I let Ayush talk me into it." She admits softly.

"How much?"

"4500 euros." She whispers. "My rent was due over two months. The landlord threatened to kick me out."

"And you're telling me now?"

She twists her lips. "I didn't plan to tell anyone. I was on call with Ayush when my landlord came up to my door and created a scene. He heard it all and immediately wired the money to my number. I was so embarrassed, Tara. And I promised him to return the money as soon as possible but I haven't even scrapped off the surface of that amount. I shouldn't have taken the student loans, God, the worst mistake of my life!" She rakes a hand into her hair.

"Why don't you come back here?" I suggest.

Her eyes snap towards me. "What?"

"Come back." I tell her. "I didn't insist before because I thought you had it all figured out. But all alone there, without your family's support, you're just spiralling out of control. And I hate to see you like this. Come back, Janet, I'm sure Ayush will be the happiest. The rent here is cheaper. And you're a good writer. I'll pitch you in for such side gigs at my workplace. We're often in need of writers like you. You'll make a decent amount to keep your head above the water."

She swallows. "Don't put such ideas into my head-"

"It's not an idea. It's advice. One that you're in dire need of. Give India another chance, give Ayush the chance he deserves."

"He's doing med school. He's always busy. He'll be burdened if I come there. I don't want him to feel like I'm a responsibility-"

"He loves you!" I finally break my vow of silence. God damn it, I was over these two adults acting like immature teens when it came to their feelings. They need each other. Why can't they just face it!

She blinks at me, stunned to silence.

"He loves you." I continue softly. "He has loved you for over five years. He's so crazy about you. You're all he talks about whenever we're on a call. He wants to be more than a friend, more than a man you hook up with. He wants a relationship with you. Wake up, Janet. Stop letting your past ruin your present. Stop letting the relationships you saw getting destroyed destroying your own. He's not going to wait forever. Trust me, take the chance. Because when he walks out, you'll only have yourself to blame."

She looks down at her lap. "I'll think about it."

"You must."

She meets my eyes and gives me a tentative smile. "You got so worked up I was almost scared."

I laugh softly.

Her smile softens. "I wonder what he saw in me? I'm a mess through and through."

"Maybe because he's such an uptight person, he knows he can either hate you or love you. He chose love."

She blushes. "I miss him."

"You should call him."

She nods, looking up and her eyes go wide at something behind me. I quickly look over my shoulder, startling when I see Rudra leaning against the balcony door, hands stuffed in his sweats pockets.

"Oh shit, sorry, did I wake you up? I should have closed the door."

"Tara, will you please move out of the frame? Your jerk of a husband is shirtless and I'm shameless."

Rudra chuckles, dark and deep, just like his eyes stealing the black from the moonless night. "Hi, Janet," he greets in his raspy, gravel voice.

My heart plummets to my vagina and it beats there. I swear I'm not lying. I can literally feel it.

"Hello Rudra," she makes eyes at him.

I shoot my friend a glare, "Don't you dare. That's mine. From head to toe. Good night!" Hanging up, I put the phone on the table and move inside his arms, wrapping mine tightly around his bare torso.

"So you're the possessive type?" He teases.

"I've always been." I remark, trailing my hand down his bare chest and over the waistband of his sweats. "May I?"

He smirks. "With all due respect, please choke on my dick." He steps out on the balcony, pulling the door close after him.

I gape at him, astonished. "Here?"

He nods, walking past me and turning around to lean on the banister, spreading his arms further apart, his hands curling around the iron grill.

It's risky, borderline public indecency, anybody can walk into the garden and spot us here, and the guards usually take rounds every hour for security reasons. But that's the very reason why it turns me on so much.

I erase the distance between us and crush our mouths together. He moans, and I feel my heart flutter inside my ribcage. I love it when he moans. He's usually not very vocal, yes he always tells me how much he loves me, but his public image is of a brooding, quiet man who'd tip your world out of its axis if you accidentally step on his shoes. So when he loses his composure, makes such lewd, breathy sounds, it's empowering.

I suck on his lower lip, dragging my tongue from one end of his mouth to other, thrusting it back inside and entangling with his. His lips make sloppy, wet sounds, and he grunts along with them, digging his fingers into my hips as he ruts his lower body against mine. I pull away when it's necessary to breath and kiss a path down his throat, cupping his pecs, biting and nipping at his skin. He throws his head back, and when I tell you the dark worships him, I'm not lying. The moon, the skies, the stars, all align, and he's the center they revolve around, the most ethereal creation of nature, accepted by the night as its own.

"You're so beautiful," I cup his face in my hands, and his lips purse. I cannot help kissing them over and over again. "You're so so so devastatingly beautiful, it's almost painful to watch you fall apart for me."

"Why do you call me beautiful?" He asks hoarsely.

"Because I cannot make sense of your existence otherwise. I'm translating you in a language I can read."

His gaze drops low, long lashes forming shadows on his sharp cheekbones.

God, this man. He's my favourite.

I quickly drop to my knees and he sucks a deep breath, watching me undo the strings of his sweats and pushing them down his knees along with his briefs. His erection springs free, still the same, veiny, hot, hard, leaking precum at the tip. Holding it in both of my hands since one is not enough to cover his girth, I give his head a soft lick, and he groans, his Adam's apple bobbing as he throws his head back once again.

I flatten my tongue on the underside of his shaft, swirling my tongue around the head like it's my favourite lollipop, and finally give into the desire, sinking my mouth down the first few inches. His hand shoots down to hold my head in place, as if making sure I don't take it all the way in and literally choke on his dick. My hands curl around the back of his knees, trailing them up until I've his firm butt cheeks in my palms. He releases my head to fist his mouth. I look up from where I'm kneeling between his legs and my body comes alive at the open display of pleasure on his face. He's absolutely blissed out. I start bobbing my head up and down, slowly taking him in until his tip finally touches the deep end of my throat. I know he feels the tightness because his knees almost buckle and he has to clutch the railing to hold himself up.

"What did I tell you? Breath through your nose." He instructs.

I hollow my cheeks, deep throating him until I see stars myself. I love him inside my mouth. I love his salty taste, the feel of his length filling me, and I love the musky smell of his manhood. And I love that I can take him in my mouth without feeling this undeniable urge to throw up.

"That's right, my girl. Look how well your lips stretch around my cock. You can't get enough of me, can you?"

I groan around his shaft. He hisses in pleasure.

"You're such a well behaved woman, Esther. So well behaved. But you turn filthy the moment I'm inside one of your holes."

Holy shit, I'm wetter than fucking Pacific.

"I'm closer,"

"Wait!" I pull away and strip out of my loose top, tossing it on the chair. "Tell me when you're about to come." I swallow him back into my mouth.

He nods, his eyes fluttering close, and he reins in the moans and grunts. I bob my head on his length, licking, scraping my teeth, and kissing every inch of his beautiful shaft.

"I'm- I'm about to come." As soon as the words leave his mouth, I pull away and lean back, allowing his cum to shoot all over my bare chest. The warm, gooey, thick white essence coats my breasts and trickles down to dip inside my navel.

"Fuck," he gasps when he realises why I did what I did. Wrapping his hand around his length, he jacks himself off through the remaining orgasm, milking himself until he has nothing to offer. Then he sinks to his knees and takes my nipple in his mouth. I toss my head back to moan. "Let's take this inside the shower." Scooping me in his arms, he kicks the sweats off his ankles and walks back inside the room, making a beeline for the bathroom door.

I giggle at his eagerness.

And he doesn't waste time returning the favour once we're under the showerhead.

When we're finally in bed, exhaustion wins me over and I fall asleep nestled in his arms.

I wake up alone the next morning. He's back at his desk, dressed in his gym appropriate clothes and working on his computers. "You know you're obsessed with that thing?"

"Tara, come here," he beckons me closer.

"No, I need to get ready for the gym." I need to book it before he traps me in one of his educational Ted Talks. I love that he's genuinely passionate about something in his life but not when he tries to explain to me the wonders of his computer world.

He wheels his chair back and snatches my arm, ignoring my groans of frustration as he holds me around the stomach and settles me on his lap before taking us back to the desk. "Stay put," he commands as I wrestle in his arms to get away. I huff and sit quietly. His fingers fly over the keyboard, pressing all sorts of shortcuts and combinations and then he hits enter. The screen goes black, before tiny little pixels come together to form a 3D portrait of a man. My jaw drops in awe.

"Hi, Yara,"

The man smiles. "Hello, Boss,"

I gasp so loud the computerised eyes take note of it and move to me. I startle.

"Hello, Esther."

Holy, shit. His voice is exactly like Rudra's.

"Wh- Why does he sound like you?" I look at my husband in disbelief.

Rudra shrugs. "I didn't have a copyright of any other voice sample. So, I used mine."

"Why is he calling me Esther?"

"Because you're my Esther." Rudra smiles.

"I don't like it." I steal a glimpse of the hot AI on the screen. He's so human like it's as if I'm on a video call with a real person. "Don't make him call me Esther. It's creepy."

Rudra nods. "Alright, I'll change the settings. What would you like him to call you?"

I blink, a few options pop inside my head.

Tara, Taranya, Mrs. Boss (that one's smart, okay)

"Mrs. Rawal." I tell him.

Rudra's eyes darken.

He quickly shifts those bottomless pits to the flat screen on the wall and makes the changes. Then he presses a few keys on his laptop and finally on the main computer.

"Talk to him,"

I shift my attention to the handsome man on the screen. "Hi,"

"Hello, Mrs. Rawal." He greets me back politely.

"Why did you give him a face?" I look down at Rudra.

"Because Esther Industries need one."

I frown. "Wait, are you saying he's going to be you for the world?" The thought makes me unsettled.

"For the time being, yes." Rudra confirms with a nod.

I look back at the AI on the screen and my stomach clenches. I know they've been friends for over years, but at the end of the day, he's still a software, he doesn't exist. And I hate the thought of him replacing my husband in front of the world, flaunting his achievements like his own.

The placid brown eyes meet mine and I swallow.

Rudra puts me down on the chair and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. I find myself rooted to the chair under the intense gaze of the AI.

"Wh- What are you staring at?"

Yara smiles. "You."

Yara, stop being creepy.

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