His Claim, Her Surrender
The classroom buzzed with chatter, chairs dragging, pens clicking, roll calls echoing in the air.
But Siyara couldn’t hear a thing.
Because Yuvraj was behind her.
Two rows back. One seat to the left.
She didn’t turn around. But she felt him.
Like a presence of his hand at her waist.
Like lips brushing her ear from a memory that hadn’t even happened yet.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She gripped her pen tighter.*
“Focus,” ( whispered to herself.)
But focus slipped when his gaze burned holes into her back. When the air between them felt heavier than the professor’s voice.
She could smell his cologne.
That same dark, earthy scent that used to only exist on her pillow during calls.
Now it surrounded her like smoke.
A folded note slid onto her desk.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*Note message*
> “You smell like that night.
And I’m losing my mind.”
She bit her lip.
Her hands trembled.
She didn’t reply.
She couldn’t.
But when the bell rang and students stood up to leave, she didn’t move.
Because she knew exactly where she was going.
The Rooftop
The door creaked open.
The wind hit her first—cold, but not enough to calm her fire.
And then—
she saw him. Standing near the ledge, sleeves rolled up, shirt half untucked, eyes fixed on the city.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He turned when he heard her.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(low, soft):
“I thought you wouldn’t come.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
“You said no excuses.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He took a step closer.*
Now there were only inches between them.
And tension that could split a sky in half.
They stood like that—pressed between silence and storms.
Until reality forced them apart.
But the fire between them?
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(finally, voice low and strained):
“One month without touching you…
And now you stand there, looking like every sin I want to commit.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She swallowed, chest rising faster now.*
Still, she said nothing.
Her eyes flicked to his lips.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He saw it.*
He stepped closer—one slow, torturous step at a time—until there was barely an inch left between them.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(voice hoarse):
“Tell me not to. I’ll walk away.”
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t breathe.
She just tilted her chin up—barely, shyly.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He grabbed her waist, pulled her flush against him, and kissed her.*
It wasn’t soft.
It was messy.
Teeth. Breath. Tongues brushing like fire and silk.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Her body melted into his. Her fingers clawed at his shirt. *
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*His hands slid under her dupatta, palms wide, fingers tracing the shape of her waist like he was memorizing her curves.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(between kisses):
“You feel like madness.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(gasping):
“You feel like something I can’t stop.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*His mouth moved to her neck. He kissed low—lower—*
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*until her knees weakened.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*Then—his hand slid under her kurti, slow, slow, upward.*
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(shivering):
“Yuvraj…”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(whispering):
“I’ll stop whenever you say.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Her chest rose into his palm.*
And then he touched her—there. Cupping her bosoms. Feeling those bosoms inside his palms. Squeezing those like a baby.
His fingers playing and pinching those sensitive peaks of her chest curves, firm and reverent, as if he'd spent a lifetime aching for this moment.
Not rushed. Not wild. But deep… possessive—like he was claiming what was already his.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Moans with whispers of her breaths*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*His control snapped silently.*
He kissed her again—this time slower. Deeper. Fingers brushing over places no one else had ever dared.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“This body is mine to cherish.
And I haven’t even started yet.”
And as her breath trembled against his shoulder, she realized—no distance, no time, no logic could ever save her from the wildfire that was Yuvraj Singh Rathore.
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