**[MATURE CONTENT NOTICE]**

*This chapter contains explicit descriptions of intimacy, afterglow, and adult themes. 18+ only.*

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The darkness of the hut was thick, but I had already mapped out every inch of her—where her skin was most sensitive, the way her breath hitched when I touched the small of her back, and the exact placement of those moles on her jawline that drove me insane.

I felt her trembling beneath me, her silence answering for her. She was always my shy, sophisticated Janna, even after all we’d been through. If I waited for her to choose, we’d be lost in the tension forever.

"Fine," I growled, my voice a low, gravelly vibration against her neck. "If my wife is too shy to command her husband, then I'll take the lead. Like always."

I shifted, the old wooden *charpai* letting out a sharp, rhythmic creak that I chose to ignore. I reached down and stripped away my boxers, the cool night air hitting my skin for only a second before I pressed back against her warmth. I was beyond ready—hard, throbbing, and slick with the physical proof of three years of repressed hunger.

I opted for the **Coital Alignment Technique**, a position that would keep our bodies fused from chest to toe. I wanted to feel the **tattoo of her name** grinding against her own skin. I wanted no space between us.

I nudged her legs apart with my knees, my 6'3" frame looming over her, a shadow of pure, unadulterated possessiveness. I guided myself to her entrance, the heat radiating off her making my head swim.

"Look at me, Ishi," I commanded, my voice dropping to a lethal, intimate whisper.

I waited until I felt her wide, brown eyes lock onto mine in the shadows. I didn't just want her body; I wanted her soul to feel the weight of what I was about to do. I entered her slowly, a shallow, agonizingly deliberate slide that made her let out a long, broken moan against my mouth.

"Ah... *Rudra...*" she gasped, her fingers digging into the corded muscles of my viney arms, her nails marking the skin I’d spent all day toughening in the fields.

"Tight," I hissed, my jaw locking as I fought for control. "So damn tight, Janna. It’s like the first time

I didn't pull back. I stayed deep, grinding my hips against hers in that slow, rhythmic alignment that ensured every nerve ending was screaming. I felt her heart hammering against my chest, a frantic bird trapped against the cage of my ribs.

"You're not going anywhere," I murmured, my lips finding the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Not tonight. Not ever. This village, this mission... it all stops at this door. Right now, there is only you, me, and the fact that I’m never letting you go again."

The bed groaned under the force of my movement, a steady, primal beat that echoed the absolute claim I was laying on my wife. in this place was a man who would burn the world down just to stay in this moment forever.

I let out a low, dark chuckle against the sensitive skin of her shoulder, my teeth grazing the column of her neck as I shifted my weight, driving deeper into that perfect, agonizingly tight alignment. The rhythmic creak of the *charpai* was the only music we needed, punctuating her broken, melodic moans.

"Ah... *R-Rudra...*" she gasped, her small hands fisting in my hair, pulling my face back up to hers. Her brown eyes were hazy with pleasure, flickering with a sudden, shy curiosity even in the middle of our heat. "Wh...en... *aaaaa hhh*... when did you study... about positions, huh? *Aaaaa hhhh*... kyunki mujhse milne se pehle tak... you weren't even interested in girls. Or jab ek ladki mein hue... mean me... toh seedhe shaadi with... *mnhh*... with all this knowledge?"

I paused for a fraction of a second, my **ocean-blue eyes** locking onto hers with a predatory, possessive glint. I leaned down, my lips capturing hers in a wet, bruising kiss that tasted of her and the salt of our shared sweat, the sound of our mouths parting echoing in the silent hut.

"You think I’d let anyone else teach me, Janna?" I growled, my voice a gravelly, shameless thrum against her lips. I moved my hips again, a slow, calculated grind that made her back arch and a loud moan escape her lips before she could bite it back.

"I’m an engineer, Ishi. A CEO. My **photographic memory** doesn't just work for blueprints and business contracts," I whispered, my thumb tracing the swollen line of her lower lip. "When I realized I was finally getting you back—after three years of starving for you—I didn't just wait. I studied. I researched every way to make you scream my name. I wanted to make sure that when I finally had you under me, you’d never, *ever* think about anyone else."

I lowered my head again, my tongue swirling over her nipple before I drew it back into my mouth, sucking hard until she cried out, her nails scoring the muscles of my viney arms.

"I wasn't interested in 'girls,' Ishita. I was only ever interested in *you*," I hissed against the valley between her breasts. "And since I decided you were going to be my wife from the moment I saw you at the Shiv Mandir, I made sure I’d be the only man who could ever handle your passion. I don't do anything halfway—especially not loving you."

I felt her shudder beneath me, her body yielding completely to my command. I didn't care about the thin walls or the neighbors anymore. I wanted her to feel the weight of my preparation, the depth of my obsession.

"Now," I murmured, my hand sliding down to cup her face, forcing her to look at the raw, dark intensity in my gaze. "Stop worrying about my 'research' and tell me... does the 'Master-ji' approve of the lesson?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I claimed her mouth again, my movements becoming faster, more primal, as I led her toward the edge where the village and the mission finally ceased to exist.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The darkness of the hut felt like it was vibrating with the force of his possession. Every time the old wooden *charpai* creaked, it was drowned out by the sound of our tangled breaths and the slick, rhythmic heat of our bodies colliding.

"Ru... *ahhh*... Ru!" I cried out, my voice a broken melody of surrender. I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, pulling his 6'3" frame even closer until there wasn't a single millimeter of air between us. My fingers dug into the corded muscles of his back, tracing the heat of his skin as he drove into me with a raw, relentless power that made my vision blur.

He wasn't the cold prince anymore; he was a man reclaimed. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin where those moles were, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.

"Janna..." he groaned, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that vibrated against my collarbone. "**Janna...** you're so perfect. So mine."

He didn't slow down. Each thrust was a silent vow, a reclamation of the three years we had lost to the shadows. I felt the **tattoo of my name** on his chest grinding against me, a constant, physical reminder that I was etched into his very soul.

"P-Patidev..." I gasped, my head tossing back against the thin pillow. "Aah... *Rudra*... please... don't stop..."

He lifted his head, his **ocean-blue eyes** dark and swirling with a storm of possessiveness. He looked down at me, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his forehead onto mine. He looked predatory, beautiful, and utterly shameless in his hunger.

"I'm never stopping, Ishi," he hissed, his hands sliding under my hips to tilt me upward, deepening the connection until I felt like I was shattering. "I'm going to make sure that when you stand under that Banyan tree tomorrow, every breath you take reminds you of exactly how I’m taking you right now."

I let out a loud, unrestrained moan, my hands flying to his viney arms to steady myself as the world began to spin. The "Coital Alignment" was driving me toward an edge I hadn't visited in years. The sensation was overwhelming—too big for this small hut, too intense for this hidden mission.

"Ruuu!" I sobbed his name, my heart thudding in a frantic rhythm against his.

"Say it again," he commanded, his pace turning fast and primal, his jaw locked in a mask of intense concentration. "Tell me whose janna you are, Ishita."

"Yours..." I whimpered, the pleasure peaking into a blinding white light. "Always... yours... *Patidev*..."

He let out a triumphant, guttural roar that he muffled against my lips as we both went over the edge together, the old bed giving one final, exhausted groan under the weight of a love that destiny couldn't tear apart.

The heat in the tiny hut was stifling, but I didn't want to breathe anything but the scent of his skin and the smoke of our shared fire. Every time Ru moved, the old wooden *charpai* let out a sharp, rhythmic *creak-creak-creak* that felt like it was announcing our "shamelessness" to the entire village of Rajasthan.

"Ru... *aahhh*... tut jayegi ye! (It’ll break!)" I gasped, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his viney arms as the frame groaned under his 6'3" frame. "Slow... please... *aahhhh*... someone will hear!"

He didn't slow down. If anything, he leaned over me further, his **ocean-blue eyes** dark with a primal, possessive hunger that made my knees weak. He looked like the "Cold-Hearted Prince" reclaiming his throne, and right now, I was his entire kingdom.

"But you don't want 'slow,' Janna... do you?" he growled against my ear, his stubble grazing those moles on my neck that he’s so obsessed with. He shifted his weight, driving deeper with a blunt, rhythmic force that made the bed let out a final, agonizing protest.

I couldn't even find the words to argue. I was drowning in the sensation of him, the way the **tattoo of my name** on his chest was grinding against my own skin with every thrust. I just shook my head 'no' frantically, my long curly hair fanning out over the thin pillow as I pulled him closer.

"Aah... *Rudra!*" I moaned, the sound echoing off the walls. I stopped caring about the neighbors, stopped caring about the thin curtains. My voice was a broken, high-pitched melody of surrender.

"Aap... aap 'Jaan-Jaan' bolke... meri jaan le loge kisi din! (You'll take my life one day calling me 'Jaan'!)" I sobbed out, my head tossing back.

"Then let it go, Ishi," he hissed, his jaw locked in a mask of raw, intense concentration. "Give it all to me.  I’m not letting a creaky bed or a village wall stop me from showing you who you belong to."

He captured my mouth in a wet, bruising kiss that tasted of salt and desperation, muffling my loudest moan as the world finally shattered into a million pieces of gold and blue light.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The oil lamp was long dead, but the air in that tiny hut was thick with a heat that didn't need light to be felt. After that first shattering climax, I didn't let her go. I couldn't. Three years of cold, empty nights in the Raj Mahal had left a void in me that only she could fill, and I intended to fill it until she was breathless.

I shifted, pulling her beneath me into our favorite, most primal position—missionary. I wanted to see her face, even in the shadows. I wanted to feel every inch of her 5'3" frame pinned under my 6'3" bulk, reminding her exactly who she belonged to.

I drove into her with a deep, rhythmic thrust that made the old *charpai* scream in protest. *Creak-creak-creak.* The sound was rhythmic, loud, and utterly incriminating in the silence of the Rajasthan night.

"Ru... *aahhhh!*" Ishita sobbed, her head falling back as she arched her spine, her long curly hair tangling in the rough pillow. She wrapped her arms around my neck so tightly I could feel the pulse in her wrists. "Slow... *aaaaa*... someone will hear! I will die of embarrassment, Ru!"

"Let them hear, Janna," I growled, my voice a dark, gravelly vibration against her collarbone. I leaned down, my lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, right over those moles. I didn't just kiss her; I marked her. I sucked the skin until I knew a dark hickey would bloom there by morning—a brand that no high-neck suit could fully hide.

"Aah! *Rudra!*" she moaned louder, her hands fisting in my hair. "You're... you're doing it on purpose! You're being... *sh-shameless!*"

"I’ve been a saint for three years, Ishi," I hissed, my jaw locking as I increased the pace, the bed's creaking now sounding like a drumbeat to our passion. "Tonight, I’m done being a prince. I’m just a man taking back what’s his. If the neighbors hear... let them know that the 'city couple' isn't just here for the farming.

I captured her mouth in a wet, bruising kiss, my tongue swirling with hers in a dance that was just as frantic as our lower bodies. I felt her heart thudding against the **tattoo of her name** on my chest, the two rhythms merging into one chaotic symphony.

"Ru... *aaaaa*... I can't..." she whimpered, her voice breaking into a high-pitched moan that she tried to stifle against my shoulder. "The bed... it's going to break... *aaa hhh*..."

"Then we'll finish on the floor," I panted, my breath hot and ragged against her skin. I reached down, my hands sliding under her hips to tilt her perfectly for my next thrust. "I’m not stopping until you forget your own name, Ishita. I’m not stopping until the only word you know is mine."

She let out a long, unrestrained cry of pleasure, her body shuddering beneath me as the "Master-ji" finally lost all her composure. The bliss was too much, the intimacy too dark and deep for words. I watched her face—the way her eyes rolled back, the way her lips parted—and I knew that no matter how many walls were between us and the world, in this moment, we were the only two people alive.

"Say it," I commanded, my pace turning into a blur of friction and heat. "Whose life are you taking tonight, Janna?"

"Yours... *ahhh*... only yours, Patidev!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the mud walls

The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and salt, the heat between us so intense it felt like the walls of the hut were pulsing. I felt my body tighten, my muscles coiling like a spring as I lost the last shred of my "Prince of Rajasthan" composure. I was rock hard, throbbing against her, and the more she moaned, the more I pushed.

Ishi’s head tossed back, her eyes clouded with a pleasure so deep it looked like pain. She reached up, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and suddenly she leaned forward, biting my jawline with a desperate, sharp hunger. The sting only fueled me.

*Creak-creak-CRACK.*

The old wooden *charpai* was screaming now, every bolt and hemp rope straining under the 6'3" frame of a man who was no longer holding back. We didn't care. We forgot about the blackmailers, the village elders, and the thin curtains that barely separated us from the world.

"Ru... *aaaaaahhhh!*" she sobbed into my mouth as I captured her lips.

I gave one last, powerful, bone-deep thrust—the hardest of my life. It was a move of pure possession, my heart slamming against the **tattoo of her name** as the world disintegrated into white light.

**"ISHITA!"** I groaned her name against her lips, my voice a guttural, raw explosion of three years of repressed need.

She cried out my name—*Ruuu!*—her voice muffled by my kiss as she shattered beneath me, her body pulsing in a perfect, violent rhythm with mine. We came together so hard it felt like our souls were trying to merge through our skin.

And then, the inevitable happened.

***CRASH.***

The center support of the ancient *charpai* finally gave up. With a sickening splintering sound, the wood snapped, and we went tumbling down. The frame collapsed inward, dumping us—tangled, sweating, and still fused together—onto Kaki’s thick cotton mattress on the dirt floor.

For a long minute, the only sound in the hut was our ragged, hitched breathing. We lay there in the wreckage of the bed, my heavy frame still pinning her small, slim body into the cotton.

I lifted my head, my **ocean-blue eyes** slowly clearing as I looked down at her. Her hair was a wild halo of curls, her lips were swollen and bruised from my kisses, and her neck... her neck was a map of the dark marks I’d left.

Ishi blinked, her chest heaving as she looked at the broken pieces of wood surrounding us. A slow, shy, and utterly embarrassed smile broke across her face.

"Ru..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I... I told you the bed wouldn't survive you."

I let out a low, breathless huff of laughter, burying my face in the crook of her neck, my heart finally slowing down. "I'll build that wooden frame tomorrow, Janna. A strong one. A Rathor-proof one."

"You better," she giggled, her hands stroking my viney arms. "Because if Kaki sees this... I’m never leaving this hut again."

The darkness of the hut was thick and silent now, the only sound the frantic thrum of our hearts slowly finding a steady, shared rhythm. I didn't pull away. I couldn't. I stayed there, my 6'3" frame a heavy, protective canopy over her 5'3" body, our skin slick and cooling in the night air.

I buried my face deeper into the crook of her neck, my nose brushing against those new moles I was so obsessed with. I inhaled the scent of her—jasmine, sweat, and that intoxicating *Ishita* fragrance that had haunted my dreams for three years. I was utterly spent, my viney arms trembling slightly as I braced myself over her on the wreckage of the mattress.

Ishi let out a long, shaky breath, her chest heaving against the **tattoo of her name** on my heart. She shifted slightly, looking at the splintered wood of the *charpai* jutting out around us like a shipwreck.

A small, bubbly sound escaped her—a giggle that started in her chest and spilled out into the quiet room.

"Ru..." she whispered, her voice still raspy from the moans. "Look at what you did. You actually broke the bed. The village elders are going to think an earthquake hit this hut."

I let out a low, rumbling huff of laughter, my chest vibrating against hers. I snuggled even deeper, my face pressing into the soft skin of her throat, hiding my smirk against her collarbone.

"I told you, Janna," I murmured, my voice a dark, sleepy growl. "A Rathor doesn't do anything halfway. If the bed had to go, it went for a worthy cause."

"Aaaahhh!" she suddenly squealed softly, trying to push my face away with her small, slim hands. "Hato! (Move!) Your beard... *chub rahi hai* (it’s pricking me)!"

I didn't move. Instead, I rubbed my jaw—covered in the rough stubble from a day in the fields—deliberately against the sensitive skin of her neck, making her squirm and giggle even more.

"It’s a 'village look,' Ishi," I teased, my **ocean-blue eyes** finally opening to catch the faint glimmer of her smile in the dark. "You said you wanted a 'proper' husband. This is what he feels like."

"I said a *proper* husband, not a prickly bear!" she retorted, though she didn't stop stroking my hair. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the way she’d been fisting it minutes ago.

I sighed, finally rolling off her just enough to let her breathe, but keeping her tucked firmly under my arm. We were lying on the floor now, on Kaki’s thick cotton mattress, surrounded by the ruins of our furniture.

"Tomorrow," I promised, my voice heavy with sleep and satisfaction, "I build the strongest bed Rajasthan has ever seen. But tonight... tonight we sleep on the floor like the rebels we are."

I watched her through the dim shadows of the hut, her small  frame looking even smaller against the wreckage of the bed. I was still wired, the adrenaline of the last hour pulsing through my viney arms, but the moment I saw the exhaustion in her brown eyes, the "Cold-Hearted Prince" melted.

"Rest, Janna," I whispered, my voice thick and gravelly. "I’ve got you."

I didn't let her move a muscle. I stood up, my 6'3" muscular frame a dark silhouette in the quiet room. First, I grabbed a clean cloth and some water, returning to the mattress on the floor to tenderly clean the sweat and the traces of our passion from her skin. My hands, usually so firm and commanding, were as light as a breeze as I wiped her down, my **ocean-blue eyes** lingering on the dark hickey marks I'd left near those moles on her neck.

I cleaned myself quickly, then turned my attention to the "crime scene." I began clearing the splintered wood of the broken *charpai* from around the mattress, stacking the jagged pieces in the corner so they wouldn't scratch her during the night.

"Ru... what are you doing?" she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Making sure my 'Master-ji' doesn't wake up with a splinter," I teased softly.

I reached for my white cotton shirt—the one that smelled of the sun and my sandalwood cologne—and gently guided her arms into the sleeves. It drowned her, the hem reaching her mid-thighs, making her look incredibly vulnerable and entirely mine. I wrapped a simple dhoti around my waist, my chest still bare, the **tattoo of her name** gleaming over my heartbeat.

I slid back onto Kaki's thick cotton mattress, which was now our permanent bed on the floor. The moment I lay down, Ishita didn't hesitate. She scrambled over, her small hands finding the muscles of my chest as she snuggled deep into my side, her head tucking perfectly under my chin.

I pulled the heavy village blanket over both of us, tucking it tightly around her shoulders to keep out the February chill.

"Better?" I asked, my arm hooking around her waist to pull her flush against my heat.

"Hmm... much better, Patidev," she breathed, her breath warm against my skin. "But you're still a shameless bear."

"A shameless bear who’s going to build you a palace out of wood tomorrow," I countered, kissing the top of her curly head.

As her breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, I stayed awake for a few minutes longer, staring at the mud ceiling. We were hiding, we were sleeping on a dirt floor, and our bed was in pieces—but as I felt the steady beat of her heart against mine, I knew I had never been more of a King than I was in this moment.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the mud walls, hitting my face with a gentle warmth. I reached out for Ru, my hand searching for the hard muscle and the heat of his body, but the mattress beside me was empty.

A heavy *thud-scrape-thud* sound from the front room made me bolt upright. My body felt heavy—a delicious, lingering ache in my thighs and back that reminded me exactly why the bed was in pieces. I didn't have time to find anything so I just yanked my salwar on under his oversized white shirt. It felt like a soft, sandalwood-scented hug as I hurried to the doorway.

There he was. Rudra, his frame glistening with a light sheen of sweat despite the morning chill. He was bare-chested, his dhoti tied low on his hips, and he was currently dragging a solid, newly built wooden bed frame into our sleeping quarters.

"Ye kaha se...?" I gasped, my eyes wide. "Ru, it’s not even 7:00 AM! Where did this come from?"

He didn't look up immediately, his **ocean-blue eyes** focused on maneuvering the heavy wood through the narrow door. "Bas... aa gaya," he said shortly, his voice a deep, morning rumble. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his viney arms bulging as he gave the frame one last shove into place.

"Now you don't have to worry, okay?" he said, finally looking at me with a soft, tired smile. "No more uneven ropes to hurt your back or 'rope-coat' to irritate your skin. This is solid. It’ll survive... anything."

I walked over to him, my eyes narrowing as I took in the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink after I’d drifted off. I reached out, my fingers tracing the **tattoo of my name** on his chest.

"Rudra... sach batao," I whispered, looking up at him. "Did you do extra work? Did you go to the timber mill in the middle of the night? Iska paisa kaha se aaya?"

He started making excuses, something about "finding a good deal" and "trading some old scrap," but I knew my husband. He was the CEO of **Eternity**, a man who didn't know how to do anything halfway. He must have spent the entire night doing heavy labor for the village carpenter just to earn this for me.

"Aap mujhe spoil kar rahe hain, Patidev," I murmured, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and guilt. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder. "You worked all day in the fields, then we... and then you worked all night for this?"

"I'm not spoiling you, Ishi," he whispered, his large hands settling on my waist, pulling me into his heat despite the wood between us. "I'm just taking care of what’s mine. If Rajasthan’s princess has to live in a hut, she’s at least going to have a bed that doesn't break when her husband loves her."

I laughed softly, blushing as I remembered the *crash* from last night. I looked at the bed—it was simple, sturdy, and beautiful.

"Now," he murmured, his thumb grazing a dark mark he'd left on my jawline, "get dressed properly. Your 'students' will be here soon, and I don't think they should see their Master-ji wearing her husband’s shirt.

I looked at the heavy, sturdy wood and then at him. He looked like he’d just finished a twelve-hour shift at a construction site, but his eyes were still bright with that relentless Rathor energy.

"Vo sab baad m Chalo, let me help you take this into the bedroom," I said, reaching for one end of the frame.

He didn't even let my fingers touch the wood. "No need. I’ll do it myself, Janna. It’s too heavy for your slim arms."

"No, I will help, chalo!" I insisted, trying to be the "strong wife" for once. I wasn't going to let him do everything alone after he'd spent all night working for my comfort.

He suddenly dropped the edge of the bed and moved so fast I didn't have time to blink. His large hands caught my waist, and he yanked me flush against his bare, warm chest. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, right over the marks he’d left just hours ago, and let out a low, teasing groan.

**"Kal raat ke baad, jaan bachi hai aap mein?"** (After last night, is there any life left in you?) he whispered, his voice vibrating through my skin.

I felt the heat rush to my face, but I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me. I leaned back in his arms, looking up into those **ocean-blue eyes** that were now sparkling with mischief. "Aap toh aise keh rahe hain jaise pehli baar ho... (You're saying it like it's the first time...) I am used to it, Patidev."

"Oho, really?" He raised a dark eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. He let his gaze trail slowly down to my legs and back up. "Then why are you walking so slow, *baby*?"

The word hit me like a jolt. I bit my lower lip, my blush deepening to a dark crimson. "Don't call me *baby*... you know I don't like that name! It’s so... so cliché."

"Is it?" he murmured, leaning down so his lips were mere millimeters from my ear. "**Baby...**"

He started trailing wet, tickling kisses right along the shell of my ear, his stubble grazing my skin. "**Baby. Baby. Baby...**" he whispered nonstop, the word becoming a rhythmic, teasing chant that made me squirm in his grip.

"Ru! Stop! It tickles!" I shrieked softly, trying to twist away, but his viney arms were like iron bands around me.

"I don't think I can stop," he teased, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety tone that always made my knees go weak. "If you're so 'used to it,' then you should be able to handle a little bit of 'baby' talk, right? Or should I show you why I'm calling you that? Because you're looking very small and very mine in my shirt right now."

I hid my face in his chest, the scent of him—woodsmoke and pure Rudra—overwhelming my senses. "Aap bahut ziddi hain (You are very stubborn)," I muffled against his heartbeat.

"And you're very late for your students," he countered, finally letting me go with a playful swat. "Go. Get dressed. Use that scarf. I’ll handle the bed. And maybe... if you’re a good teacher, I’ll stop calling you baby for an hour."