Canvas of Love

Taste of heaven

Ahem* Ahem* Ahem*

Little golu-golu is coming.... ('~')

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The night was alive with music and laughter, the warm glow of fairy lights casting an enchanting hue over the rooftop terrace where the ICT team's post-match party was in full swing. Everyone was mingling, their glasses filled with drinks that reflected the victory they had clinched earlier in the day.

Ishan Kishan leaned casually against the bar, his drink untouched in his hand. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, but they quickly landed on the one person he couldn't seem to ignore.

Shubman Gill.

Dressed in a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans that accentuated his tall, lean frame, Shubman looked effortlessly magnetic. His usual calm, collected aura now carried a teasing edge, his smirk drawing attention from everyone around him. 

He was holding court with a group of people, his deep laugh carrying across the terrace, and Ishan couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Show-off" He muttered under his breath, though his lips curved into a smirk of their own.

He decided he wasn't about to let Shubman steal the spotlight so easily. 

Tonight, Ishan was feeling bold—dangerously bold.

Abandoning his spot at the bar, he weaved through the crowd until he was within striking distance. Shubman caught sight of him just as Ishan stepped into his personal space, his sassy grin daring the taller man to react.

"Well, well, If it isn't Mr. Perfect himself. Enjoying your fan club?" Ishan began, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

Shubman raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Jealous, Kishan? I could always make room for you."

Ishan let out a short laugh, his hand finding his hip as he tilted his head. "Jealous? Please. I don't need to stand in line to get your attention, do I?"

Shubman's eyes flickered with intrigue, his smirk turning into something darker, more dangerous. 

"You never do." He replied smoothly, his voice low and laced with just enough flirtation to make Ishan's pulse skip.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension between them humming like an electric current. The air around them seemed to thicken, the noise of the party fading into the background.

Ishan took a deliberate step closer, the toes of his sneakers brushing against Shubman's polished boots. 

"Careful, Gill! You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you're flirting with me." He said, his voice dropping to a sultry tone.

Shubman chuckled, the sound deep and smooth, as he leaned in slightly, bringing their faces dangerously close. "And what if I am?"

That admission—unexpected, bold—knocked the air out of Ishan's lungs for a split second. But he wasn't about to let Shubman see him falter.

"Then I'd say you're playing a dangerous game." Ishan replied, his grin sharp and challenging.

Shubman's gaze dropped briefly to Ishan's lips before meeting his eyes again. "I don't mind a little danger." He murmured, his voice like a velvet caress.

Ishan's breath hitched, but he quickly masked it with a sly smile. 

He placed a hand on Shubman's chest, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. "You think you're smooth, don't you?"