RAHDIK ONESHOTS

Our scent - 2

Rahul took Hardik to a rooftop restaurant, one of the few places in Mumbai where the chaos of the city felt like a distant memory. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting a soft glow over the table where they sat. The mafia king had chosen the location with care; it was a place where he could show a different side of himself, where the weight of his title could be momentarily forgotten.

"This view is incredible," Hardik said, his eyes wide as he took in the panorama of the city. "It's like we're floating above it all."

Rahul leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Hardik's face. "It's not the only thing I find incredible tonight," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

The innocent perfumist blushed, his eyes sparkling with the light of a thousand stars. "What do you mean?"

Rahul's smile grew, the edges of it hinting at mischief. "You, Hardik," he said, his voice thick with desire. "You're like a breath of fresh air in a city choked by smog."

Hardik's blush deepened, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird in his chest. "Oh," he said, his voice small. "That's... that's very kind of you."

The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, the liquid a deep, rich red that mirrored the colors of the sky. Rahul poured two glasses, the clink of the crystal echoing in the quiet space between them. "To new beginnings," he toasted, his eyes never leaving Hardik's.

Hardik took a sip, the taste of berries and oak exploding on his tongue. "To friendship," he offered, his voice hopeful.

Rahul chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Friendship," he repeated, his tone holding a promise that was anything but platonic. "But I want to explore more than that."

The blush on Hardik's cheeks grew even more pronounced as he fiddled with his napkin. "Explore?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," Rahul said, leaning in closer. "The kind of exploration that requires us to shed our armor, to be vulnerable."

Hardik looked up, his eyes wide and searching. "I don't have any armor," he said, his voice earnest. "I'm just me."

Rahul's heart skipped a beat. He had never encountered someone so pure, so untouched by the harsh realities of the world he lived in. "That's what makes you so irresistible," he murmured, reaching across the table to take Hardik's hand.

Their fingers intertwined, the roughness of Rahul's skin a stark contrast to the softness of Hardik's. The innocence in the younger man's eyes was like a fuel to the gangster's soul.

"What do you mean?" Hardik asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"I mean," Rahul said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of Hardik's hand, "that I want to know every part of you, to understand what makes you tick, to learn what scents make you smile, what notes make your heart race."

The waiter returned with their meals, setting down plates of steaming biryani and tender kebabs. The aromas melded with the lingering scents of their perfumes, a heady mix of spices and passion.

Hardik swallowed hard, trying to process the intensity of Rahul's words. "But I'm just a simple perfumist," he protested, his eyes searching Rahul's face.

"That's what makes you so special," Rahul said, his voice gentle. "You see the beauty in everything, even in someone like me."

Hardik's gaze dropped to their joined hands, his cheeks flushing even more. "You're not what people say you are," he said softly. "I can tell."

"Oh?" Rahul raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing. "And what do people say about me?"

"That you're dangerous," Hardik replied, his voice wavering slightly. "That you control the city with an iron fist."