silentbard_
In a quiet morning soaked in steam and desire, two lovers find themselves tangled in a love that's too raw to hide and too tender to rush.
He wakes late, only to be greeted by the scent of her wet hair, the touch of her drenched silk saree, and the mischief in her eyes. From teasing kisses in the shower to a storm of passion against tiled walls, their bodies speak the language of longing-lips leaving marks, fingers exploring secrets, and hearts racing in perfect rhythm.
But this isn't just about lust-this is about love that laughs, love that tickles, love that undresses and redresses, love that falls again and again-every single morning.
As the water stops, the fire doesn't.
And when the world waits outside, they dress up with kisses, smiles, and a secret only they carry between their lips:
"You ruined my saree..."
"...Good. Let me ruin it again tomorrow."
A story where desire wears silk, passion drips from wet skin,
and every stolen second is soaked in love.