US IN THE U.S

6. THE BLUNTNESS

Yodha Viswanath:

I felt his lips grazing my neck, his teeth nipping gently, making me gasp in both surprise and pain. Almost instinctively, he soothed the sting by tracing slow, soft circles with his tongue, easing the ache he'd just caused.

This isn’t what friends do. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. I should stop him, remind him of boundaries, tell him to hold back.

But here I am, running my fingers through his hair, tilting my head to give my friend all the access he wants.

“Aah,” I breathed as he squeezed my waist, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. “Stop me, Tesoro,” he murmured between the heat of his kisses. “Tell me to stop.” His tongue traced a slow line along my jaw, the sensation making my pulse race.

“P-please,” I whispered, gripping him tighter, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips danced over my skin, leaving butterfly-light kisses in their wake. I’m not even sure what I’m pleading for.

Why am I feeling like this? Why can’t I stop him? Why do I want him to do these things, things I never imagined?

I know I like him—I’ve had a crush on him, admiring how supportive he is. But when did this shift for him?

He’s usually so controlled, even cold, but now his lips are hovering dangerously close to mine, his hands rough and steady as they explore my waist, tracing over my curves. This is happening too fast. I should stop him before I cross lines I can’t uncross.

I need to understand what’s going on. He says he wants to be my friend, but his actions speak differently.

“S-stop,” I managed to breathe out. As soon as I spoke, he froze, drawing back, though I already missed the warmth of his touch. We stared at each other, both of us breathing hard.

His gaze fell to my neck, and a smirk tugged at his lips. There’s no doubt he’s left a mark.

“We need to talk,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. He raised a brow, his expression casual. “About what?”

“About us.”

He sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “What about us?”

“Let’s go inside first.” I turned and led us to the hall, feeling him close behind me. I settled onto the sofa, and he took a seat opposite, far enough away that it almost felt uncomfortable.

“Agastya…what’s going on?”

“I’m just helping you unwind, taking your mind off things,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“That’s not what friends do,” I said, staring at him in disbelief.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, looking at me with that same casual expression.

“No, it’s not! You just gave me a love bite, Agastya. Friends don’t do that. Sure, they can hug each other, but this—kissing, all of this—isn’t what friends do.”

“Then who does this to you, Yodha?” he asked, his voice low.

“Excuse me?”

“Who’s supposed to do this with you?” His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering.

“I don’t know…maybe my boyfriend?”

“Then I’ll be your boyfriend from now on,” he said, his tone calm but serious.