69 ways To Fall In Love: Saanvi [Book I]

03 |

There they were.

All drunk, all wasted, yet still trying to figure out their next move to steal from the farm. Munni couldn't help but ask the bartender for one more drink at the table. He believed the more he drank, the more it would help him escape, because that's what alcohol does, right? All Munni wanted was to get away from the devil of a woman who was after him and Shankar. Shankar, just the way that name rolled off his tongue, sent shivers down his spine. He was constantly reminding himself that Shankar was just a coworker, an ally, and a partner in crime. The thought of Shankar being in danger was enough to keep him from getting all wasted and working on the plan.

"What if we couldn't make it?" Shankar murmurs, gulping down his madira. Munni's mind was filled with uncertain thoughts as he watched the vodka go down his throat; thoughts he was not supposed to have. Shaking his head, he managed to reply with a firm, "We will."

"But-" Shankar tried to reason it out, but all he did was receive a death stare from Munni. Was it just a death stare? Or was Shankar too naive to figure out the dancing flames of desire behind Munni's eyes? It was probably the latter one. Still, Shankar wasn't convinced at all and kept nudging Munni's arm. The contact made Munni freeze for a second, but it didn't last long as he caught a glimpse of a particular person. His sources had informed him about the crown princess and her team coming to get him and Shankar; technically, they were hunting their leader, Lalita, too, but things were just different with Shankar. Munni did a quick scan of the place, but he wasn't sure if the person he had just seen was the same one he had been warned about—the one coming to take Shankar away from him.

Not willing to take any chances, he decided to get out of the bar and out of any danger. Lalita had already left the bar after having a decent number of handai shots. To a nearly wasted Shankar beside him, Munni said, "Let's go."

Shankar, perplexed, couldn't help but wonder, "Where?" which made Munni squint his eyes and say, "Don't you trust me?"

"I do," he said as a wave of satisfaction washed over Munni and a small smile formed on his lips. He was about to walk out when he noticed Shankar was still seated, not even moving an inch. He just sat furrowing his brows. "I don't think I can walk," he said, stuttering through the words. Munni was about to respond, but Shankar's next words left him amused: "Hold my hand?"

Ignoring all the different sensations that arose from their slightest contact, he reached out his hand, which Shankar eagerly grasped as they both began walking towards the exit, but luck was not on their side that evening. Just before they could make it, a companion of the person he was on the run from passed by them singing some kind of bizarre ballad.

Next, the bartender yelled out to them, "Hey Munni! You're both leaving so quickly? Wait up, buddy, have a few more drinks." Cursing internally, Munni immediately started dragging an unaware Shankar into a dark alleyway, grabbing him by the shoulders, and pushing him against a nearby wall. He hoped to pass unnoticed by the weird people.

His eyes darted from Shankar's eyes to his mouth; the proximity between them was making it hard not to run his thumb over Shankar's lips and slide his fingers into Shankar's messy hair slowly. His innocent eyes were begging for the touch, begging to start and never stop.

Shankar looked down at their locked hands and softly murmured, "Your hand fits in mine; I like it."

Munni knew that this sentence held no intention for him, no desire in the way that he wanted, and no sensations similar to the way he felt. It was wrong. He felt wrong for having such thoughts.

Scared as to where this could go, he attempted to free his hand from the grip, but Shankar was not yet ready. "No, don't pull away. Not yet."

Shankar breathed in the fresh vanilla scent mixed with intoxicating madira as Munni scooted closer. His head was now nestled into Shankar's neck. Shankar's cheap perfume wasn't to Munni's liking, but somehow he grew attached to it.

"Tell me one reason," he whispered.

"Because that feels nice," Shankar mumbled, so that Munni could hear him. It was enough for Munni to unleash his forbidden emotions, which he had kept hidden for years. The words were enough for Munni to finally take a step forward, not thinking of any consequences this time.

It was like a drug he unknowingly got addicted to, a poison that was keeping him alive. Shankar had become his drug, poison, and addiction, and there was no turning back now.

"What if I touch you just right here, will you still say the same?" He mutters huskily as his hand slowly reaches Shankar's inner thigh, giving it a tender squeeze. Shankar rolled his eyes back, moaning out Munni's name.

The grip on Shankar's thigh hardened. The two's eyes had become a swaying pool of desire—a desire to touch and claim one another.

Munni has always dreamt of Shankar's voice moaning out loud while he was fucked him roughly, all tied up. And of Shankar screaming Munni's name, making Munni smile with satisfaction, letting everyone know that Shankar was his. That he owned him—his body, his soul, his mind, his sanity.

Now, seeing Shankar moan in the same way brought all his wet dreams down to reality, as if the line had finally diminished. For that moment, they both forgot that they were on the run.

Sensing that he was moaning his coworker's name, sent a heat of embarrassment through him. Swiftly, he managed to cover his mouth to control his loose state of mind. He blamed the vodka. Stupid vodka. Stupid Munni. Stupid queen.

Munni roughly snatched his hand from Shankar's thigh and closed the distance between them as he uttered, "I know you can be louder than that."

Shankar had never felt anything like this; this feeling was something he had always craved for. He felt compelled to close the gap, to feel Munni's touch, to beg for his touch, to be comforted by him. He yearned for his coworker.

"Fuck me," Shankar moans.

And all hell broke loose.