I woke up before him.
Which, considering last night, wasn't surprising.
Mehul was still asleep, buried beneath the sheets, his face half-hidden in the pillow.
His hair? A complete mess.
His breathing? Soft. Steady. Completely relaxed.
His body? Wrapped around mine like he had no plans of letting go.
And the best part?
The faintest red marks scattered across his skin—mine.
I smirked.
Because he was never going to live this down.
I shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open—and then immediately shut again.
He groaned.
Loud.
Pained.
I bit back a laugh. "You okay?"
Mehul scowled into the pillow.
Then—a mumbled, miserable:
"I hate you."
I grinned.
I traced a hand down his back, fingers pressing gently against his lower spine.
He tensed.
Then, with another suffering groan, buried his face deeper into the pillow.
I raised an eyebrow. "Sore?"
He reached back and slapped my arm.
Weakly.
I laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."
Mehul glared at me.
"You're banned from touching me ever again."
I smirked, trailing my fingers up his thigh.
"Liar."
His breath hitched.
And just like that, I knew.
Despite his complaints—
Despite his pitiful groaning—
He didn't regret a thing.
But still.
I needed to take care of the damage I had done.
I rolled out of bed.
Mehul made a pathetic noise of protest as I pulled away.
I chuckled. "Relax. I'm just getting you something."
He cracked open an eye, suspicious.
"Better be a miracle cure."
I rolled my eyes.
And ten minutes later, I returned with:
A warm towel.
Pain relief gel.
A cup of ginger tea.
Mehul blinked at me.
Then at the stuff I set down.
Then back at me.
His expression? Impossible to read.
Finally—he sighed.
"...You're lucky you're cute."
I smirked. "And you're lucky I'm in a good mood."
Then—I sat beside him.
And gently—**very, very gently—**started massaging the sore muscles along his lower back.
Mehul exhaled sharply.
Then melted.
Like I was undoing him all over again.
His body? Completely relaxed under my hands.
His breath? Slow. Deep. Almost content.
And me?
I was watching him too closely.
Watching the way he trusted me.
The way he let me take care of him.
The way he belonged to me, completely.
Something in my chest tightened.
I pressed a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder.
And just barely whispered:
"Mine."
Mehul hummed, half-asleep, voice muffled in the pillow.
"Yours."
And just like that—I was completely gone for him.