Snapshots of Desire ✔ [Completed]

Fight or Flight

Warning - It's short and pretty rough and SUPER MATURE, but I hope you like it anyway- rated M! MMMMMMM! Yeah, that was an M, my friends!

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Night crept up, and the stale air in the room was almost icy enough to cool him down.

But just almost. Deep inside, Daya still felt like frothing and ranting, so angry and scared his hands were shaking. He had felt like this since Shreya had come dangerously close to sacrificing her own life for Purbi’s, just to protect HIM from more heartache.

He had screamed until his throat was sore, until it had been certain that she hadn't been harmed, and then, the anger had consumed him like wildfire.

Shreya still thought that he was in love with Purbi and she possibly still carried the pictures inside her mind, her fantasies about his one night with Purbi a night that had been less than passionate. He was still sure that he would never have been able to fool Purbi. It hadn't been his first sex in six years… that had possibly made up for incapability and hesitation, otherwise, she would have called his bluff immediately.

How could Shreya think that, dammit?

Sure, he felt a certain compassion for Purbi, who had suffered a similar trauma, had felt the pain he had all these years. But everything paled against the tender, passionate feelings his fierce junior evoked in him, the only home he knew, the only force of goodness in his life.

She could have died. Could have died protecting a woman she thought he loved, thus taking every spark of light from his miserable existence.

What would he have done without her?

Gone mad. Lost all purpose in the flicker of a moment. NO.

He kicked the bed so hard the boards rattled.

No.

He was DONE. Done resisting her. Done lying to her to keep this platonic. He felt his skin heat up, felt his cock swell into a murderous hard-on.

He would take what was his. His, because he knew she had given her heart as well as he had, and both had stayed stubbornly silent about it. ENOUGH.

He would claim her tonight. Fuck her until she acknowledged what was between them, accepted what they had become.

He straightened his suit and stormed out of his home, fuming with passion and anger. He controlled himself while he drove his car to her apartment, taking a second to contemplate his feelings, rich and sweet despite the danger that lurked behind them, because Siddhart would feast on this.

But he couldn't wait any longer- he simply would have to protect her. They would protect each other. But he couldn't wait.

His erection was growing out of his waistband, pulsing, aching, and he knew that when she didn't stop him (which she well could), it would rest deep inside her soon, pounding into the warm, soft heat he had craved for years now. He knew that he couldn't do much if she decided to fight him in earnest - but somehow he was convinced that she wouldn't. No - she would battle with him, but in the end, she would spread her legs to receive him. To consummate this fateful union that had been their destiny from the start.

He tried to walk slowly when he approached her apartment, but gave up halfway and simply ran the remaining distance.

He all but hammered against her door, the thundering noise strangely satisfying. His breath caught in his throat when she finally opened up, only her head appearing behind the doorframe. She was breathtaking.

He loved that his woman was no artificial doll, that she was real and pulsating, her glorious hair wild and disheveled, her small mouth pouting. No fake lashes on his pillow, no lipstick smears on his shirt, he would taste nothing but HER when he sampled the flavour of her pale, freckled skin. Her eyes were so huge they sucked him in.