THE DESIRE IN DARK

Scene: Ankush’s Office – Nightfall. The building is quiet. Too quiet.

The blinds were half-drawn, shadows spilling over Ankush’s glass desk as Ruhi stood near the edge, arms wrapped tightly around herself, pretending the thudding in her chest wasn’t for him. Ankush leaned back in his chair, legs slightly spread, tie loosened, eyes burning holes into her every time she looked away.

She hated the way he looked at her like that—like he owned her.

She hated even more how it made her want to be owned.

Ruhi: (quiet but firm)

“We said no crossing lines at work. This—this isn’t just risky, it’s stupid.”

Ankush: (voice low, sharp like a blade in velvet)

“You think I care about lines, jaan? The moment you walked in here in that damn kurti with your hair tied up like a good girl, I stopped giving a fuck.”

He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. The air shifted.

Ruhi: (backing a step, palms going up)

“Ankush. No. We agreed. No one knows we’re married. We fix this quietly. We don’t give them a reason to look at us twice.”

Ankush: (chuckling darkly, walking toward her with a predator’s patience)

“You think I give a damn about what they look at? You're my wife, Ruhi. Even if it happened by mistake, it fucking happened. And I’m not gonna act like I don’t want to shove everything off this table and take what’s mine.”

He reached her, grabbed her wrist, pulled her flush against his chest.

She gasped.

Ruhi: (whispers)

“Someone could come in—”

Ankush: (growling)

“Let them. Let them see who makes you blush like that. Let them see who you run from with those trembling lips. You don’t wanna be touched? Then don’t look at me like that, jaan.”

His fingers slid under her jaw, tipping her face up.

Ruhi: (voice cracking with restraint)

“I’m trying to protect us—”

Ankush: (cutting her off)

“Protect us? You mean protect your control. Tell me right now—do you want me to stop?”

She opened her mouth. Nothing came.

His thumb brushed her bottom lip, his breath hot as sin against her cheek.

Ankush: (eyes darkening)

“Thought so.”

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It was hunger—years of denial, months of secrecy, weeks of pretending they didn’t wake up in the same bed tangled together. He kissed her like a war, hands gripping her waist, lifting her onto the desk as she gasped against his mouth.

Ruhi: (breathless, resisting still)

“Ankush—please…”

Ankush: (pulling back just enough to growl in her ear)

“You married me, jaan. You don’t get to beg me to stop now. You fucking made me yours. And now…”

(his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her knees apart)

“…I’m gonna remind you exactly what that means.”

Ruhi: (whimpering, torn between resistance and raw craving)

“We’ll get caught—”

Ankush: (gritting his teeth)

“Then let them watch how good I make you fall apart.”

She let out a broken moan, head falling back as his mouth kissed down her neck, hands already undoing the buttons at her waist.

Outside, the hallway stayed dark.

Inside, she burned.

Her breathing was ragged, each inhale brushing against Ankush’s chest. He hadn’t even undressed her yet—but god, she already felt bare. His fingers were slow, cruelly slow, tracing the hem of her kurti like he had all night to ruin her.

Ruhi: (voice trembling, almost pleading)

“Ankush… please don’t make me beg here…”

Ankush: (lips ghosting over her jaw, his voice gravel and danger)

“Then stop making me earn what’s already mine, jaan. You’ve been mine since that night. Since the second you signed that fucking register with my name beside yours.”

Ruhi: (clenching her fists in his shirt, trying to hold on to sanity)

“We said this marriage isn’t real…”

Ankush: (gripping her chin, making her look at him)

“It’s real enough to keep me awake every night thinking about you. Real enough for me to lose my goddamn mind watching you act like we’re strangers.”

(He leans in, biting the edge of her earring, making her whimper.)

“And real enough for me to risk everything right fucking now to have you.”

Her back hit the desk as he pushed her gently but firmly, the cold glass kissing her thighs through her leggings. His hands gripped her hips, dragging her forward until she was perched right on the edge, legs spread just enough to make her heart stutter.

Ruhi: (shaky voice, but her fingers already sliding under his shirt)

“Ankush… this is insane. Anyone could knock, or worse—open the damn door.”

Ankush: (dark smirk tugging at his lips as he kisses down her throat)

*“It locks, jaan. You really think I’d let anyone see you like this? This—”

(his palm presses flat against her chest, feeling her racing heartbeat)

“—this version of you is only mine.”

He shoved the papers off the desk with one sweep—reports flying, pens clattering—making her gasp.

Ruhi: (eyes wide)

“Are you crazy?! That was your meeting file!”

Ankush: (already kissing down her collarbone)

“Fuck the meeting. I’ve got something more important to handle.”

She couldn’t help it anymore. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, her resolve crumbling with every filthy promise in his touch.

Ruhi: (between moans, barely audible)

“We shouldn’t… god, we shouldn’t…”

Ankush: (nuzzling her neck, his voice a sinful growl)

“Then tell me to stop. Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

Silence. Only the sound of her breathing, and his.

She didn’t say it.

Because her fingers were already tugging open the rest of his shirt.

Ankush: (chuckling darkly)

“That’s what I thought.”

His hand slid under her kurti now, fingertips skimming up her bare stomach, teasing. Her body arched up, instinctive, needy.

Ruhi: (voice ragged)

“You’re going to destroy me, Ankush…”

Ankush: (kissing her like sin and silk)

“That’s the fucking plan, sweetheart.”

And then he crashed his lips into hers again—this time, nothing held back. Desperation. Heat. Chaos. She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling—and maybe he was.

Because falling for Ankush was inevitable.

And in that office, on that desk, married by mistake or not.

The air was suffocating now—filled with ragged breathing, the rustle of fabric, the sinful sounds of lips meeting skin. Ruhi’s kurti was half-off, her dupatta long forgotten on the floor. Ankush's shirt hung open, exposing the sharp lines of his chest as he hovered over her on the glass desk like a goddamn storm.

Her body was trembling—not from fear, but from the way he looked at her. Like she was a sin he wanted to commit again and again, even if it meant burning in hell.

Ankush: (voice low, possessive, lips brushing her collarbone)

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me, jaan. One look at you, and I forget I’ve got a goddamn reputation to protect.”

(His hand slid up her inner thigh, slowly, deliberately.)

“Forget that we’re supposed to keep this secret. Forget everything but how wet you are for me right now.”

Ruhi: (moaning through clenched teeth, head falling back)

“You’re insane… this is—this is madness—”

Ankush: (biting down just below her ear)

“Then fucking go. Walk out that door. But don’t look at me like that and stay, jaan. You know I’ll ruin you the moment you do.”

She grabbed his hair, yanked his face to hers, breath colliding as she whispered against his lips.

Ruhi: (voice shaking)

“Then ruin me.”

Ankush: (grinning, eyes wild)

“My fucking pleasure.”

He yanked her leggings down with one swift motion, dragging her hips to the very edge of the desk. Her gasp echoed through the empty office as his mouth followed—hot, greedy, tasting every bit of her like he was starved.

She bit her hand to keep from crying out, her body jerking under his mouth.

Ruhi: (choked, barely whispering)

“Ankush… oh god… someone could hear…”

Ankush: (lifting his head, lips glistening, voice filthy)

“Let them. Let them hear who you moan for. Let them wonder why I lock my fucking door.”

He stood, dragging her up into his lap, her legs wrapped around him, skin against skin, her shirt hanging off one shoulder. His hand gripped the back of her neck, eyes locked to hers.

Ankush: (thick voice, forehead pressed to hers)

“You’re mine. Fuck the world. Fuck the consequences. I’ll take you here, now, again and again until you forget you ever tried to resist me.”

Ruhi: (panting, eyes glassy, hands clawing at his back)

“You make me crazy…”

Ankush: (thrusting into her in one hard, deep motion)

“Then go fucking crazy for me, jaan.”

She cried out—his name, a prayer, a curse.

They moved like fire—fast, breathless, savage. The desk creaked under them, and god, it felt too good, too reckless. His mouth never left her skin. Her fingers never stopped dragging across his back.

And just when she was about to fall apart—

A knock.

Knock. Knock.

They froze.

Voice outside the door:

“Sir? Security just wanted to check if you’re still in the building—it’s past hours.”

Ankush: (gritting his teeth, still deep inside her, voice calm but lethal)

“I’m working. Don’t disturb.”

Silence.

Then the footsteps faded.

Ruhi: (barely breathing)

“Ankush… that was—he could’ve…”

Ankush: (smirking against her lips)

“Told you to be quiet, jaan. Guess I’ll just have to make you lose control all over again.”

Ruhi: (body trembling, gasping)

“You’re going to destroy me…”

Ankush: (biting her lip)

“Good. I want you wrecked. On this desk. In my bed. Under my name. Again and again.”

And then he moved again—harder, rougher, like the threat of being caught only made him more desperate to mark her, claim her, ruin her.