The palace was quiet for the night.

The lanterns burned low, the maids had gone to their rooms, and even the air carried only the soft scent of mehendi and the last echo of music. But the Commander’s quarters were still awake, waiting. And so was she.

Advika sat cross-legged on the bed, still wearing her soft green lehenga. Her palms were open in the dim golden light, the dried henna staining her skin in a deep shade of maroon.

She did not look up when the door opened.

“You are late, Commander,” she said softly, her voice sweet with pretend anger.

Ranjeet entered the room with his hair slightly messy. He was still wearing his office kurta with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open. He looked like both war and poetry at the same time.

“Meetings went on longer than planned,” he said slowly as he walked toward her. “You know I was—”

“With your other woman?” she asked before he could finish.

He stopped for a moment and blinked. “What?”

She bit her lower lip to hide a smile, her eyes still looking at her palms.

“The one who wears red. The one who smells like rosewater and walks like she owns the world,” she said softly.

He took another step toward her, his eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and fake offense.

“Advika,” he said in a warning tone.

“Captain Arvind can confirm it. Or even the guards,” she said and tilted her head slightly, pretending to be innocent. “You think I don’t know?”

“Chotu,” he said, trying not to smile. “I swear—”

“Relax, Commander. I am teasing,” she said finally, her voice turning warm again.

She looked up then. Her eyes were glowing with mischief.

“But since you are home now,” she said softly and patted the bed beside her. “Sit here.”

He looked at her with surprise but did as she said. When he sat down, she did not stay still for long. She moved into his lap slowly, her legs straddling him, the soft fabric of her lehenga brushing against his thighs.

His throat went dry, and his hands naturally found their place on her waist.

“What is this?” he asked in a rough whisper.

“I got henna done,” she said in a sweet voice, raising her palms between them. “Do you want to see?”

He took her wrists in his hands and kissed her fingers gently without warning.

“It is beautiful,” he said.

She smiled, her lips curving into something playful. “Can you find your name in it, Commander in Chief?”

His eyes darkened slightly. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her face. “If I find it, what will be my reward?”

She leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Anything you want.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Anything?” he asked.

“Anything,” she repeated softly.

He did not look away. His eyes dropped to her right palm and within seconds he found what he was looking for. He pointed to the small place where his name was hidden.

“Here,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “That was fast.”

“I have memorized every inch of you, Chotu. Did you think I would not know where my name sits on your skin?” he said.

Before she could say anything, he held her face in both hands and kissed her.

It was a deep and hungry kiss, the kind that felt like a storm. His mouth claimed hers as if he had been waiting all evening just for this. She gasped softly as his lips moved against hers again and again until she moaned into his mouth, her fingers curling tightly into his hair.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against her lips.

“That was my reward,” he said in a low voice.

She was flushed and panting, her skin warm and glowing.

“You did not mention you would kiss me,” she whispered softly.

He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “No, you said anything I want,” he said.

He pressed a kiss against her jaw, then her throat. His hands slid up her waist and pulled her closer against him. She could feel his chest rising against hers.

He kissed her again, slower this time, but deeper. She melted against him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips opening softly as she gave in to him completely.

Still holding her waist, Ranjeet pulled her forward just a little, enough to bring their bodies closer. It was a small movement but it changed everything.

She felt him then. All of him.

Her breath caught in her throat. Their bodies pressed together, separated only by soft fabric and a thin layer of restraint. She gasped softly and tried to lean back, shy and startled, but he held her gently in place.

“Do not move,” he whispered at her ear, his voice low and warm. “It is not my fault. It is yours.”

“Mine?” she whispered, already out of breath.

“You sat on my lap in that green lehenga with mehendi still on your hands and your lips daring me to kiss you,” he said softly.

His hands slid slowly up her spine, his fingers warm against her skin.

“What did you think would happen?” he asked.

She could not answer. Her skin was already burning, her breath shaky and quick.

Her fingers moved slowly from his chest downward. She touched him carefully, her hands brushing over his ribs and stomach.

Ranjeet did not move, but his breathing became heavier.

“Advika,” he said in a low voice, rough and serious. “What do you think you are doing?”

She did not look at him. Her eyes stayed on his chest, her cheeks hot with shyness.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered softly.

He smiled against her hair, his voice low and teasing. “Touch me? Where, little queen?”

Her cheeks grew hotter, and her hand stopped just above his navel. She froze completely, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Do not tease me,” she whispered, almost embarrassed.

“Oh, but I must,” he murmured softly. “You are trembling like someone holding a sword for the very first time.”

She gave a small, shy huff. “I do not know how to do it,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

“And yet,” he said, taking her wrist gently and guiding it lower, “you are still trying. Brave girl.”

Her fingers brushed against the top of his waistband, and her breath caught once more in her throat.

First, she touch over cloth. Feel him hard and big under there, like hot rod press up. Advika gasp quiet. 'So big,' she whisper, fingers press gentle. She rub over cloth slow, up and down length.

Ranjeet groan low, hips move up little. His cock throb under her touch, get harder. Cloth feel wet little at tip from his leak.

Advika want more. She untie knot careful, pull cloth open. His cock spring free, thick and long, skin dark, veins stand out. Head shine with drop of his juice. She stare, then take hand inside dhoti, wrap fingers around shaft.

Skin hot and smooth, pulse strong. 'Like this?' she ask, start rub slow. Hand move up and down, grip loose at first, then tighter. She squeeze base, slide to top, thumb touch head where wet.

Ranjeet breathe heavy now. 'Yes... good, Advika.' His hand on her thigh, squeeze. She rub faster, feel him swell more in her fist. Pre-cum make slippery, her hand glide easy.

She twist little at top, rub under head with thumb. Ranjeet moan loud, body tense. 'Oh... wife... you make me close.' His balls tight, cock jerk in her hand. He about to come, feel build up hot.

But he grab her hand sudden, stop her. 'Wait, chotu,' he say rough, voice thick. 'I dont want come with hand first. I want come inside you.' Eyes burn with need.

Advika look surprise, but nod, face red. Before she say word, Ranjeet push her back on bed gentle but firm. Silk sheets cool under her hot skin. He get on top, body heavy and strong over her small one. His cock press against her belly, hard and ready.

He was warm. So warm.

And hard.

The fabric of his lower garment barely hid how much he wanted her. She could feel him twitch under her palm — even with just the lightest touch.

Her breath caught.

He hissed through his teeth. "Ah. There's my shy little wife."

"Commander," she whispered, hesitating.

"I'm listening," he said, voice ragged now, though he still wore that lazy smirk. "Don't stop now."

With trembling fingers, she slipped her hand beneath the cloth.

And touched him.

Hot. Heavy. Harder than she expected. Her eyes widened, and she almost pulled away — but he caught her hand, holding it there.

"Don't run," he whispered against her cheek. "You already own me. Do what you want."

She swallowed, looking up at him — eyes wide, heart pounding.

And then... she started to move.

Slowly. Gently. Her hand wrapped around him, uncertain at first, learning his shape, his reaction.

His head fell back.

"Ah—fuck—" he groaned under his breath, hips bucking slightly into her grip. "Just like that."

Her lips parted in surprise. He was beautiful like this — untamed, tense, undone beneath her.

"You like it?" she asked softly.

"Gods, yes." His voice was strangled now, teasing gone. "You have no idea."

She grew bolder with each passing second, stroking him slowly, curiously. His breath hitched every time her thumb grazed the sensitive tip. His hands fisted into the sheets now, his self-control fraying with every flick of her wrist.

She looked up at him, cheeks still red, lips slightly parted. "Is this how I... please you?"

He growled — deep, hoarse.

"You're killing me."

Then he caught her wrist, stopping her suddenly.

Before she could speak, he pulled her hand to his mouth.

And kissed it.

"I'm going to lose my mind if you keep doing that," he muttered.

She blinked, unsure. "Did I... do it wrong?"

He looked at her then — eyes wild, voice low and reverent. "You did everything too right. Now it's my turn again."

And with that, he rolled her under him.

But the moment her back touched the sheets, his lips were on her again — feverish, reverent, desperate.

He kissed her mouth.

Her throat.

Her collarbone.

Then lower.

His hands worked slowly — untucking her sari with unbearable care, peeling the silk away from her inch by inch, lips trailing after every fold he released.

"You'll cry if I do what I want to," he warned, his voice shaking.
"I won't stop once I start."

"Then don't," she whispered.

He stilled.

Looked at her — really looked.

And saw it.

Not fear.

Not hesitation.

Just her.

Burning.

Waiting.

His.

His hands found the strings of her blouse. He pulled the knot loose.

She gasped as the fabric slipped.

And he kissed her shoulders, her chest, her stomach — every new inch of exposed skin like it was sacred scripture.

"Every mark," he whispered against her skin,
"will be proof that I worshipped you like you asked."

She arched beneath him.

And when he finally lay over her again, bare to bare, his mouth at her ear and his breath unsteady—

He said only one thing:

"You're not mine tonight, Chotu.
You've always been mine."

And then—