One Shot: “Not in My House… Or Maybe Exactly Here”

🌙 One Shot: “Not in My House… Or Maybe Exactly Here”

The kitchen smelled of spices and warmth.

Oil crackled softly in the pan as you stirred, trying to focus on the rhythm of cooking instead of the unfamiliar weight of the mangalsutra resting against your skin.

New house.

New life.

New… him.

From the living room, you could hear his mother speaking, his father responding calmly.

Normal.

Everything felt normal.

Except—

Your heartbeat.

You adjusted your dupatta slightly, exhaling slowly as you reached for the spices.

That’s when you felt it.

A presence.

Close.

Too close.

Before you could turn—

A hand slipped around your waist.

You gasped softly, the spoon in your hand pausing mid-air.

“Relax,” his voice came, low and amused, right near your ear.

“You’ll burn the food.”

Your breath hitched.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered quickly. “Your mom—”

“In the living room,” he finished calmly.

His grip tightened just slightly, pulling you back—

Until your back brushed against his chest.

Your fingers trembled.

“Someone might come—”

“That’s what makes it interesting.”

Heat rushed to your face instantly.

His nose brushed lightly against your hair, inhaling slowly like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me all morning,” he murmured.

“I haven’t,” you protested softly.

He hummed.

A low, knowing sound.

“Really?” His thumb moved against your waist, tracing slow, deliberate patterns. “Then why haven’t you looked at me properly even once?”

Your heart raced.

You had no answer.

Because you knew.

And he knew you knew.

“Turn around,” he said quietly.

You hesitated.

His grip tightened just enough.

Not forceful.

But enough to make your breath catch.

“I said… turn around.”

Slowly, you did.

And instantly regretted it.

Because he was already looking at you like that.

Dark.

Focused.

Possessive.

“So shy now?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m not—”

His hand moved.

Faster this time.

Coming up to hold your chin gently.

“Careful,” he whispered, eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Don’t lie to me this early in the marriage.”

Your pulse went wild.

“You weren’t this quiet last night.”

Your breath stopped.

His smirk appeared.

Slow.

Dangerous.

“Or have you forgotten already?” he added softly.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to step back—

But the counter stopped you.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

One step closer.

“You keep trying to run,” he murmured.

“But you don’t go very far.”

Your hands pressed lightly against his chest.

Not pushing.

Just… there.

“You shouldn’t do this here,” you whispered again.

His eyes darkened slightly.

“And where should I?” he asked, voice dropping lower.

You had no answer.

His thumb brushed your lower lip, slow and deliberate.

Not crossing the line.

But close enough to make your breath uneven.

“You look at me like I’m the problem,” he said quietly.

“You are,” you whispered back.

A soft chuckle escaped him.

“And you married me anyway.”

Silence.

Heavy.

His hand slid back to your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“Do you know what I like the most?” he murmured near your ear.

Your heartbeat thundered.

“No…”

“That you act like this outside…” his voice softened, teasing, “but I know exactly how you look when you forget to be shy.”

Your grip on his shirt tightened instantly.

“Stop,” you whispered, breath shaky.

But there was no real resistance.

His smirk deepened.

“Say it properly,” he murmured.

You froze.

“Tell me to stop like you mean it.”

You opened your mouth—

But no words came.

And that—

That made his expression darken just slightly.

“Exactly,” he whispered.

A voice called from the living room—

“Beta, is the food ready?”

You stiffened instantly.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t let go.

“Answer her,” he said calmly.

“T-two minutes!” you called out, voice barely steady.

His lips brushed dangerously close to your ear.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then, slowly—

Reluctantly—

He stepped back.

Letting you go.

But as he walked out—

Calm. Composed. Untouched—

His voice reached you one last time.

“Tonight,” he said quietly,

“don’t run anywhere little kitty.”

Your hands trembled as you stood there alone.

Because you knew—

That wasn’t a suggestion.

It was a promise. 😌

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