The meal was over, but neither of them moved. The silence between them was heavy.
Not awkward, no, but filled with something invisible, warm, magnetic.
Divya was gently playing with the base of her glass, a shy smile on her lips. She felt her heart beating a little too fast, without really knowing why. Or rather, she did. It was in the way Ritshy was looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to choose what would come next.
He stood up slowly and walked around the table. He extended a hand toward her—the same hand that had lit the candles, poured the wine, served her favorite dishes. But this time, that hand was asking for more.
She took it.
He led her silently to the couch, then pulled her close. There, their breaths mingled. Slowly, he ran his fingers along her cheek, tracing an invisible path to her neck. She shivered, he tilted his head, brushed his lips against hers without really kissing her, giving her time to pull away... But she didn't move.
She kissed him first.
A soft kiss, hesitant at first, but deeper, more urgent. He responded with the same tenderness, the same slowness. His hands found her hips, then her back. And in that contact, there was all the patience in the world, all the love of the moment.
"Come," he whispered.
She followed.
They entered the bedroom, bathed in warm light. The blanket pulled back, the bed ready, as if he had planned everything. And yet, nothing felt forced, everything flowed. Ritshy kissed her again, this time holding her tighter. His hands slid down her arms, then slowly to her waist, to the zipper of her dress. He waited—a breath, a silent agreement.
Only then did he undress her.
And she did the same.
When they were finally skin to skin, he carried her gently to the bed. Laying his body against hers, covering her skin with kisses. With whispers, with warmth. Each gesture was a declaration, each shiver a reply.
Their bodies intertwined beneath the crumpled sheets. Ritshy was in no hurry. He discovered her like a world unto itself. Her breaths, her trembling, the way she sometimes held back a sigh, or, on the contrary, surrendered in silence. He wanted her to feel desired, honored, safe.
Divya opened her senses to him, without fear, but with a new sensitivity. It was the second time she had belonged to him like this. But everything felt different. More intense. Deeper. Her gaze didn't shy away from his. Her gestures weren't timid. She wanted to feel every beat of his heart against hers.
When Ritshy entered her, it was with a precious, almost sacred slowness. He looked straight into her eyes, watching every reaction, every twitch. Divya clung to his shoulders, eyelids half-closed, her lips slightly parted, letting out a short breath.
She felt him fully, filled, but also wrapped in rare care.
Her body adjusted to his, opened, accepted—there was no pain, no discomfort. Just this rise, soft, burning, almost unreal.
He moved slowly, each motion marked by kisses on her collarbone, her jaw, her temples. He whispered her name like a secret. And she replied with restrained moans, nails softly digging into his back.
The heat rose. The rhythm quickened as their bodies sought each other, recognized each other. He held her tightly, she arched toward him. Everything was fluid, instinctive, deep.
And then, in a state of silent ecstasy, Divya felt her body tense. A warm wave swept through her, making her release a long, uncontrollable sigh. She reached it—orgasm—not with a cry, but with a deep vibration that made her contract around him.
Ritshy soon followed, carried away by the wave of her pleasure, overwhelmed by the way she had given herself to him. He buried his face in her neck, panting, their hearts beating as one.
They stayed like that, wordlessly connected, for long minutes. Just mingled breaths. Searching fingers, and the tender silence of a moment no words could truly describe.
Ritshy placed a final kiss on Divya's forehead, still nestled against him. Her eyes were half-closed, a peaceful smile resting on her lips, as if everything inside her had quieted. He gently stroked her hair, then held her hand in his.
"Are you okay?" he whispered.
She nodded, unable to speak, the words still too far away, lost in the echo of what they had just experienced.
He said nothing more. He didn't need to. What they had just shared went far beyond words.
And in that silent embrace, lit by the soft light filtering through the curtains, one thing was certain: something had just been born between them. Something true, intimate, irreversible.