The Endless Chase (1970s)
the Past
Author
December 9, 1976 | The Island – Meera’s Room
[The candle flickered, casting eerie shadows across the wooden walls. Meera sat on the bed, the thin silk of her nightgown barely covering her trembling frame. The letter still lay on the desk, its words etched into her mind. But her thoughts were interrupted by a sound—soft footsteps approaching.]
[The door creaked open. Andarin stood there, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. His eyes dark, hungry.]
Meera
(whispering) "Why do you look at me like that?"
[He said nothing. Just stepped forward, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked into place.]
Andarin
(low, rough) "Because you’re mine."
[Her breath caught. He moved toward her with slow, deliberate steps. The air between them thickened with something dangerous. He reached out, fingers trailing along her collarbone, pushing the strap of her nightgown aside. A shiver ran down her spine.]
Meera
(shaking) "You… you scare me."
[He smirked, his hand wrapping around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her still. His lips hovered over hers, his breath warm against her skin.]
[Then he kissed her—harsh, possessive, his teeth scraping against her lips. She gasped, but he didn’t stop. His hands roamed lower, grabbing, claiming, owning her. She wanted to fight. But the heat in her body betrayed her.]
[His fingers dug into her thighs, parting them as he pushed her back against the bed. The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, moans, and the storm raging outside. He whispered filthy things against her ear, things that made her heart pound and her legs weak.]
[And she hated that she wanted it.]
Author
December 9, 1976 | The City
[Aarav stepped out of the rain, his coat dripping onto the floor of the dimly lit brothel. The scent of cheap perfume, alcohol, and sweat filled the air. Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling as half-dressed women lounged against the walls, their eyes scanning him with practiced seduction.]
[He wasn’t here for pleasure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the distraction.]
[A girl approached him—young, beautiful, but with dead eyes. She wore a blood-red saree, her blouse cut low enough to leave nothing to the imagination. She tilted her head, smirking as she traced a finger along his damp shirt.]
girl
(softly) "Looking for something, detective?"
[His jaw tightened. She knew who he was. That meant she was useful.]
Detective araav
(lighting a cigarette) "Maybe. You gonna help me or waste my time?"
[She chuckled, stepping closer. Her perfume was overwhelming—jasmine, whiskey, and something darker. Her fingers trailed down his chest, stopping at his belt.]
girl
(whispering) "Depends… What’s in it for me?"
[He exhaled smoke slowly, eyes burning into hers. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist, twisting her body against the wall. A sharp gasp left her lips, but she didn’t fight. If anything, she smirked.]
Detective araav
(low, rough) "You talk, or I make you beg in a way you won’t like."
[Her breath hitched. But instead of fear, there was excitement in her eyes. She licked her lips, pressing herself against him.]
girl
(softly) "Maybe I’d like that."
[His patience snapped. He spun her around, shoving her onto the couch in the dimly lit corner. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them apart, his knee pressing into her core. Her nails dug into his coat as he leaned down, his lips grazing her throat.]
Detective araav
(growling) "Talk."
[Her breathing was uneven. But she laughed—dark, teasing, filled with something twisted.]
girl
(whispering) "Phantom isn’t real, detective. But the girls? They were never supposed to exist in this time."
girl
"Now… are you still going to fu*k me, or did I ruin your mood?"
[His fingers tightened around her throat. His mind was racing. But his body? It wanted.]
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