The library was deserted, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of turning pages. Neel and Malang were sprawled on a plush armchair, a mountain of textbooks threatening to topple over them. They were supposedly studying for their upcoming dance theory exam, but Neel found his focus wavering.
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Malang, perched precariously on the edge of the chair, was a vision of concentration. His brow furrowed in concentration, his full lips moving silently as he mouthed the complex terminology. Neel watched him, mesmerized by the way the dim light cast soft shadows on his face.
Suddenly, Malang yawned, a wide, adorable stretch that showcased the delicate curve of his throat. Neel felt a jolt of heat shoot through him, a flicker of something entirely unwelcome blooming in his chest. He quickly looked away, forcing his attention back to the textbook.
"This is so boring," Malang whined, his voice laced with a hint of sleepiness.
Neel cleared his throat, trying to sound authoritative. "We have to focus, Malang. This exam is important."
Malang pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that tugged at something deep within Neel. "But studying is making my head spin," he mumbled, batting his eyelashes innocently.
Neel knew that look. It was the same one Malang used whenever he wanted something – extra dessert, an extension on an assignment, or an escape from a particularly tedious chore. And more often than not, it worked.
This time, however, Neel was determined to resist. "Look," he said, his voice firm, "we can take a short break in ten minutes. But right now, we need to focus."
Malang sighed dramatically, slumping further into the chair. He cast a sideways glance at Neel, his lips pursed in a playful frown. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.
Then, Malang did something unexpected. He leaned forward, his body brushing against Neel's. The sudden contact sent a shiver down Neel's spine.
"Is there anything more interesting we could do to study?" Malang whispered, his voice husky and laced with a hint of mischief. His eyes, sparkling in the dim light, held Neel captive.
Neel's breath hitched. He could smell the faint scent of lavender shampoo and something citrusy, a combination that was intoxicating. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a primal urge to claim Malang for himself.
"Malang," he said, his voice a low growl, "don't tease me."
But Malang wasn't done. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering a tantalizing distance from Neel's ear. "Or maybe," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, "we could take a different kind of break."
The words sent a rush of heat through Neel. He could feel Malang's warm breath tickling his ear, and the touch of his body was sending his senses into overdrive. He wanted to pull away, to assert his dominance, but something held him back.
He stared into Malang's eyes, a silent battle of wills raging between them. In that moment, Neel realized that Malang, for all his innocence, possessed a power he hadn't anticipated.
Neel's gaze flickered down to Malang's lips, plump and inviting. The air crackled with unspoken desire. He knew he shouldn't give in, that this was a dangerous game, but the temptation was irresistible.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against Malang's cheek. The touch sent a jolt through Malang's body, a blush creeping up his neck. Neel lingered for a moment, savoring the warmth beneath his fingertips, before dragging his hand down to cup Malang's chin.
He tilted Malang's face up, their eyes locked in a silent conversation. Neel felt Malang's breath catch in his throat, and he knew he had the upper hand. This wouldn't be some innocent exploration; it would be on Neel's terms.
"Tell me what you want, Malang," Neel rumbled, his voice a low, dangerous caress.
Malang, emboldened by his own daring act, met Neel's gaze defiantly. "I want you to kiss me, Neel," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.
Neel smirked, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Anything else?"
Malang's cheeks burned a deeper crimson, but he held Neel's gaze. "Maybe... maybe not wanting this to be just a study break."
A satisfied smile played on Neel's lips. He leaned in slowly, savoring the anticipation building between them. Just as their lips were about to meet, a loud crash from outside the library shattered the tense silence. Both of them jumped, startled by the sudden noise.
Neel cursed under his breath, the moment broken. He pulled away from Malang, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. Glancing at the clock, he realized their ten-minute break had long passed.
"Looks like our break is over," he sighed, his voice gruff.
Malang, flustered and slightly disappointed, straightened up in his chair. "Yeah, I guess so."
The electricity that had crackled between them moments ago dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. Neel cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
"Maybe... we can continue this later," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Malang's eyes widened, a flicker of hope battling with the lingering tension. "Later?"
Neel met his gaze, a silent promise hanging in the air. "Later," he confirmed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
They spent the next few minutes back in their books, the memory of their near encounter simmering beneath the surface. But the focus on dance theory was a distant memory. Both of them knew their study session had taken a sharp turn, and neither of them were eager to forget the spark they'd ignited. _________________________________________
