50 shades of Arnav

Chapter 1 - Vanilla, when done right, is yummy

It was very early Saturday morning, and Raizada Mansion was quiet with everyone still sleeping. Arnav opened his eyes, and tried to stretch, but was prevented by a soft arm thrown across his chest, and a long leg across his thighs. There was a head with its silky-soft bundle of hair on his shoulder, cushioning its cheek on his naked torso. He smiled and glanced down at his Khushi, lying there completely abandoned, holding on to him even in sleep. He smirked, like he would ever go anywhere else. Arnav leaned over to the other side and grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table. A glance at the time told him it was close to 6am. He looked at the date and realized it was their 6-month wedding anniversary. The real wedding, of course, not that stupid contract. He didn't care about these things, but he knew Khushi did. And whatever Khushi cared about, he did too. Yesterday had been a very hectic day, with meetings for him back-to-back all day, so he came home late at night and completely exhausted. She was still waiting for him, but they'd barely had dinner before both their eyelids were drooping, and they went straight to bed and were out like a light within 2 seconds of their heads hitting the pillow. On most days, they cuddled, talked for a bit, made love, cuddled some more, and talked a lot more before going to sleep. But Arnav had tried to get a week's worth of work completed in the last two days. The plan was to take a few days off and take Khushi with him on a vacation somewhere. A delayed honeymoon of sorts. Work was getting busy, and he needed to relax and wanted to spend some time with his wife. He'd finally got everything arranged the way he wanted. Maybe a few hours a day everyday to check his emails and give instructions to Aman, and he would be free to spend the rest of his days with Khushi. He was looking forward to it, especially the honeymoon part. Ok, honestly, the sex part.

Arnav was besotted with his wife. She was like a drug to him now. No matter how many times he touched her, kissed her, made love to her, he always wanted more. Just looking at her made him want to hug her, she smiled and he wanted to swallow that smile with his mouth, she touched him lightly, even if its only to serve him food, and he immediately went hard. Sometimes, he was involved in a meeting at work, and a turn of phrase, a light breeze from the AC, a particular color from a dress reminded him of Khushi, and he couldn't help being aroused. Before they were married, he'd fought this attraction, thinking it occupied too much of this thoughts and was a bother. He tried to stay away as much as possible, but was drawn to her. He laughed at that naïve Arnav now. Previously, he had had no idea exactly how addicting Khushi could be. Her bright eyes, her smile, her soft lips, her tiny waist, her flawless skin, all of that he had admired and wanted for his own. But now, he'd had a taste, and he was lost. Now he craved her with a passion he had not felt for any other woman. He'd never sought their presence, thirsted for their touch, yearned for their voice, as much as he did his petite wife. Sometimes, he couldn't believe she loved him and wanted him right back. He woke up most days beside her, just like today, and thought he was dreaming. Then he'd touch her soft hair, or her lips, and she'd smile and open her eyes, and look right into his, and he'd feel the jolt and realise it wasn't a dream. Even if it was, he'd like to stay in that dream forever. She made him feel happy when he was home, content when he was at the office, and delirious when they were in bed.

Involuntarily, he tightened his arms around her, and she protested, turning away from him, muttering his name. She always called him Arnavji, except when she was in the throes of an orgasm or when she was half-asleep, like now. It amused him no end, and he used that as a code for sex. When with other family members, he'd lean over and whisper, "Khushi, want to call me Arnav?", and she'd go all red. That just made him want to grab her right then, and kiss every single part of her. He knew now when she blushed, her entire body went pink. He'd made her blush on purpose many times. He'd say something outrageous, and she'd blush pink all over, and then he'd slowly take off every stitch of clothing covering her pink skin, and kiss every inch leisurely. Then she'd blush more and go all red. And he'd start all over again. Maybe she'd stop being so shy after a few more months, but he was going to milk this for as long as it lasted.