Morning came quietly.

The golden light of dawn filtered through the carved wooden lattice, dancing across the room like threads of fire and silk. The warmth of the rising sun slipped between the curtains, but Advika didn't notice any of it.

She woke to his heartbeat.

Her cheek lay against his bare chest, his arm wrapped around her like an unbreakable promise. Their legs were tangled, her body sore in places she never knew could ache, her lips still tingling from the memory of his mouth, his fingers, the way he made her fall apart like she was his to break.

She stirred, shifting slightly.

He felt it.

"Hmm," Ranjeet murmured, voice low and gravelly with sleep. "Trying to escape already? I should've tied you down last night."

She flushed violently. "Shut up."

He opened one eye, smirking. "You weren't saying that when you were moaning my name like a prayer."

Her hand smacked his chest — weakly.

He caught it, laughing softly, and kissed her knuckles.

But as his teasing settled into silence, her expression changed. Something flickered behind her eyes. Doubt. Curiosity. Something sharper.

She looked up at him suddenly. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

He blinked.

The air shifted.

Her voice was quieter now, but the sting was sharp. "All those things you did... You've done them with others."

Ranjeet stared at her.

And then... he nodded.

Once. Slow. Heavy.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Advika looked away.

It wasn't that she thought he was pure. Of course he wasn't. He had always been powerful, sought after, experienced. But somehow, the confirmation — the quiet, unapologetic yes — twisted something in her chest.

It hurt.

Ranjeet noticed the shift instantly.

He sat up slightly, brushing her hair back, but she didn't look at him.

"Advika—"

"No, it's okay," she said softly, lying back. "You don't have to explain. I'm not foolish."

He grabbed her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I have done all those things," he admitted, voice raw. "I won't lie."

She held his gaze, trying to be brave.

"But," he continued, lowering his voice, brushing his lips against her cheek, "there's one thing I've never done."

She blinked. "What?"

He leaned down, whispering against her mouth, "I've never wanted to worship someone."

Before she could speak, he kissed her.

Not just a kiss — a claiming.

And then, he began again.

Slow. Reverent.

He pushed the sheet down from her body and laid her back against the pillows. His mouth found her throat first. Then her collarbone. Then her shoulder. Then lower.

Every inch of her skin was kissed. Sucked. Worshipped.

One kiss for her neck.

One for the spot behind her ear.

One for the soft curve of her chest. Then another. Then another.

"Commander," she whispered, trembling.

He didn't stop.

His lips moved lower. Down her stomach. Across the edge of her hip. The softest parts of her — the ones no one had ever touched before — were now being memorized by his mouth.

"I've touched others," he murmured between kisses. "But I never wanted to taste someone like I wanted to taste you."

He kissed her inner thigh. Then the other.

"I never needed someone... until you."

Advika's fingers clutched the sheets again, her entire body burning.

"C-Commander—what are you—"

He paused just above her navel, looking up at her.

"Something I saved," he whispered.
"For someone who makes me lose control."

She was already trembling as he pushed her legs apart gently, fingers sliding along her thighs — warm, possessive, reverent.

Her breath hitched when he leaned down and pressed a single kiss to her inner knee.

Then another. Higher.

Then another — even closer.

She let out a soft gasp, fingers clutching the bedsheets.

"Commander..." she whispered, already breathless.

He glanced up at her, eyes dark, voice low. "Keep your eyes on me."

She obeyed — helplessly.

His fingers slid up, hooking beneath the soft fabric still clinging between her thighs. He pulled her panties down slowly — so agonizingly slow it made her whimper — and tossed them aside.

Now she was bare to him.

Exposed. Vulnerable. But not afraid.

He leaned in again.

This time, his mouth pressed a kiss right there.

Soft. Gentle. Just a taste.

She jerked. "Ah—!"

Then he licked her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Her body arched. Her thighs trembled around his shoulders. Her head fell back, mouth open in a strangled moan.

"Oh my—Commander—"

He didn't stop.

His hands held her hips firmly in place as his tongue parted her folds, hot and wet and devastating. He licked slowly at first — long, slow strokes, teasing her clit, then dipping just below — until she was gasping, writhing, helpless beneath him.

The wet sounds of his mouth against her echoed in the room.

Her face was flushed deep red, her body on fire.

His tongue circled her clit now, pressing harder, making her moan louder, breath faster, toes curling against the sheets.

Her thighs instinctively began to close, too much, too sensitive.

He growled softly — possessively — and pushed them apart again. "No," he said into her skin. "Stay open. Let me taste you."

"Commander—please—" she whimpered.

He slid two fingers inside her as he sucked gently on her clit — just enough to make her cry out.

"Such a sweet little thing," he muttered between kisses. "You taste better than I dreamed."

His fingers pumped slowly, curling up inside her, pressing into that hidden place that made her thighs shake.

The tension inside her snapped.

Her entire body seized, back arching, mouth open in a silent scream.

Her climax rolled through her — sharp, hot, all-consuming — like flames licking through her veins. She clutched at his hair, his name tumbling from her lips in a moan that felt like it had been trapped inside her for years.

"Commander—!"

He didn't stop.

He licked her through it, tasting every last drop of her release, slow and soft and reverent now, as her body finally slumped into the mattress — trembling, panting, glowing.

He rose above her.

Licked his lips.

And smiled like a man who had just conquered the world.

"Only you," he whispered, kissing her swollen lips. "Only ever you."

He pulled her into his arms.

Advika pulled up the sheet lay tangled in the sheets, flushed and glowing, limbs still trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

She didn't speak.

She couldn't.

She just buried her face in Ranjeet's bare chest, trying to disappear under the weight of what he'd just done.

Of how he'd just worshipped her.

Of how completely undone she felt.

"Chotu..." he murmured, voice thick with male satisfaction,
"you're hiding."

"I hate you," she mumbled into his skin.

"Mmm. That didn't sound like hate a few minutes ago."

She groaned and pulled the sheet up over her head.

"Stop talking."

He chuckled, low and warm.

One of his hands slid up her back — bare, still slick with the heat of their closeness — fingers tracing circles on her spine.

"You know," he whispered, lips brushing her ear,
"you taste like jasmine and sin."

"Commander—"

He flipped her.

Gently.

But decisively.

And now she was beneath him again, hair spread over the pillow, face still pink, breath shallow.

He grinned.

"Still shy?" he teased.

"You're horrible."

"I haven't even started being horrible."

His hand slid over her waist.

Lower.

Palming her thigh with just enough pressure to make her gasp.

"You said I was experienced," he murmured, nosing along her jaw.
"Maybe I should teach you all the things I've never taught anyone."

His thumb brushed the inside of her leg.

Slow.

Knowing.

Sinful.

She arched into him without meaning to.

He groaned against her throat.

"See?" he whispered.
"You like it when I'm terrible."

"Stop—"

"Say please."

"Never."

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

Then lower — her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her breast.

His hand slid under the sheet again, to places he'd already explored once... but with new purpose now.

"Then don't beg," he whispered against her skin.
"Just Come."

Ranjeet's hand was already slipping lower beneath the sheets, mouth trailing down her chest, kisses deepening, pace intensifying again.

Advika gasped, curling into him, her fingers clutching the back of his neck.

"Commander..."

"Hmm?" he muttered, lips brushing the underside of her breast.

"Stop," she whispered — breathless, dazed.
"How many times do you plan to make me—"

He smirked against her skin.

"As many as I can before you stop being this sweet and shy in the morning."

She pushed at his shoulder—softly, blushing but firm.

"Commander, today's the haldi for Riya. Remember?"

He blinked. Paused.

Groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back like a man wounded in war.

"Why must tradition punish my happiness?"

She sat up, draping the sheet around herself, biting back a smile.

"Because tradition requires at least one of us to have self-control."

"Fine," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back down for one final kiss — slow, deep, possessive.
"But tonight, we celebrate marriage."

"marriage?"

"Our marriage," he whispered.
"Which means first night, too."

She blushed.

He smirked.

Then sat up, tousled and smug, stretching like a lion who knew his prey wouldn't get far.

"Get ready, Chotu," he said, kissing her temple.
"You're going to glow even more after you've been dipped in turmeric and a hundred compliments."

"And you?" she raised a brow.

"I'll be watching," he said with a wink.
"Every. Second."

She shook her head, already heading toward the bath.