The Dance floor (😘😘)

Ishan’s glass slipped from his hand, spilling whiskey all over the table. “HOLY SHIT! You’re adopted?”

Aryan nodded slowly.

“Well, damn,” Ishan said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I did have my suspicions… Papa is like seventy, and you’re what, twenty-five? I used to think you were an IVF baby, but turns out you’re just Alok from Baghban,” he snorted, laughing into his palm.

Aryan shot him a glare. “Can you shut up for two minutes?”

“Yeah, yeah, go on. I’m listening.” Ishan waved him off, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face.

Aryan took a deep breath.

“Ever since Mom died five years ago, I started distancing myself from my father. He needed me the most, and I just… left. I went to Stanford just to get away from him. That’s where I met Natasha. We partied. Drank. Did crazy shit. Drugs. We got so reckless that…”

He swallowed. “She got pregnant. We had to abort the baby”.

“Dad found out. He wanted me to break up with her, for both our sakes. We fought. Over and over.”

"Wait, wait! That’s fucking crazy," Ishan interrupted, his eyes wide. "But it still doesn’t explain the adoption thing yet."

"I’m getting there, if you’d let me continue," Aryan said, annoyed but not angry.

"So... I kept dating Natasha even after his warnings. After completing my MBA, I started working at the company. I was good at it—our business profits tripled in two years. Dad was happy, but I still wasn’t talking to him. My routine was a mess—drugs, office, Natasha. Then one day, I heard from Atul Oberoi that my father wanted me out of the company because of my behavior. I saw a few lawyers sitting in his office I lost it. I went to his office to spy on him.... just to see what he was planning.”

Aryan’s voice broke, and he paused to wipe his eyes.

"Even after my brash behavior, he was giving away all his properties to my name. He never officially adopted me, so his property wouldn’t automatically go to me but would be diluted among the board members—specifically Atul, who had the most shares after him. So, he wanted to officially adopt me."

Ishan’s teasing smirk faded as he listened, his heart aching for Aryan.

Without thinking, he reached across the table and grabbed Aryan’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Aryan looked down at their joined hands, his tears spilling over.

“It was like my whole world shattered.” Aryan let out a shaky breath.

“I had spent years hating him. Avoiding him. Thinking he didn’t care. And the entire time, he was ready to give away everything—his entire legacy—to a selfish, reckless son who barely spoke to him.”

Ishan’s throat tightened.

“I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ran.” Aryan laughed hollowly. “Straight to a bar. Got wasted out of my mind. I was so consumed with guilt that I—” His voice cracked.

Ishan’s heart ached as he listened, his own eyes welling up. He didn’t know what to say, so he just held Aryan’s hand, letting the silence speak for him.

Aryan looked up at Ishan, his eyes red and raw.

"I was so drunk that night... I don’t even remember how I ended up on that road. All I know is that I woke up in a hospital, unable to move mybody . And the first person I saw was my father, sitting by my bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in days."

"Being paralyzed from the neck down made me realize the worth of having a healthy body," Aryan said, his voice heavy with bitterness.

"People treat you like shit when you’re like this. Natasha did come to visit me daily... but I realized she just wanted money. All she wanted was to get herself pregnant from the part of me that was still somehow working. She tried to force herself on me one day... Thank God Keethika Kaki was there to save me."

"That fucking bitch!" Ishan shot up from his seat, his anger boiling over.

His hands clenched into fists, and his voice shook with rage. "The next time I see that whore, I’ll kill her with my own bare hands!"

He paused, his chest heaving, then turned to Aryan with a look of disbelief. "But why the hell did you let her work in your office even after that incident?"

"Because I thought I deserved it," Aryan choked out, his voice breaking. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled to get the words out.

"I thought it was all punishment for my sins... for the way I treated my father, for the life I lived. I hated myself every single day... until I met you."

Ishan froze, his anger dissipating as Aryan’s words sank in. He sat back down slowly, his eyes never leaving Aryan’s face.

"What... what do you mean?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Aryan wiped his tears with the back of his hand, his voice trembling. "You... you made me feel like I was worth something again. Even when I was being an asshole, you stood by me. You didn’t treat me like I was broken or useless. You just... saw me. And I don’t know how to thank you for that."

Ishan’s heart ached as he listened, his own eyes filling with tears. He reached out and placed a hand on Aryan’s arm, his touch gentle but firm.

"You don’t have to thank me," he said quietly.

"You’re not broken, Aryan. And you sure as hell don’t deserve to be treated like you are."

Aryan looked down, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his sobs. Ishan hesitated for a moment, then pulled him into a tight hug.

Aryan stiffened at first, but then he melted into the embrace, his face buried in Ishan’s shoulder.

"That damn DJ!"

The irritated voice cut through the moment like a slap.

Ishan and Aryan snapped out of their trance, jerking apart just as Mama Carmen threw her hands in the air.

“Ruined a perfect moment!” she huffed dramatically.

Joel laughed beside her, shaking his head.

He turned to her, then gestured toward Elena. “May I?”

“Fine, but if you make my girl cry...", Mama Carmen narrowed her eyes, lips pursed in mock suspicion before finally nodding. "I’ll break your legs.”

Joel grinned, taking Elena’s hand.

“Noted,” he said before pulling her onto the dance floor.

The two of them disappeared into the crowd, their laughter echoing in the night air.

Ishan, still flustered, ran a hand through his hair, tucking a few stray strands behind his ear. He cleared his throat, glancing at Aryan.

“Uh… do you want to dance?” His voice came out softer than he intended, hesitant but hopeful.

Aryan hesitated, then smiled, a small, almost shy smile. “Yeah… ahm, sure.”

The music changed, something slower yet rhythmic, the kind of song that made people want to get lost in each other.

For the first time since their chaotic wedding, Aryan and Ishan weren’t bickering, weren’t pretending—just… enjoying.

The dim golden glow of the lanterns, the warm buzz of whiskey in their veins, and the laughter of people around them—it all felt so strangely right.

Ishan twirled, moving with the beat, his movements fluid and dramatic. Aryan smirked, watching him with amusement, his fingers tapping lightly against his wheelchair’s armrest.

“You do realize I can’t spin you around like in your DDLJ fantasies, right?”

Ishan grinned, swaying closer. “Well, you can still hold my hand and make it look like you’re in charge.”

He grabbed Aryan’s hands and placed them on his waist, guiding the movement. Aryan chuckled, shaking his head.

The song picked up speed suddenly, transitioning into something wild and fast. Ishan tried to keep up, his feet struggling against the layers of his gown.

Then—

A misstep.

His heel caught on the hem of his dress. He gasped, losing his balance, his body tipping forward.

In a flash, Aryan’s arms shot out, catching him with a firm grip around his waist. Ishan tumbled straight onto Aryan’s lap, his hands bracing against Aryan’s shoulders.

The world stilled.

Ishan’s breath hitched as he found himself impossibly close, straddling Aryan’s lap, his gown pooling around them.

Aryan’s hands remained where they had landed—one on his lower back, the other gripping his hip, warm and possessive. Their faces were mere inches apart, noses brushing, breaths mingling.

“You’re... so close.” His voice was husky.

Ishan could smell the whiskey on Aryan’s breath, intoxicating and sweet, mingling with the faintest hint of his cologne.

His lips parted slightly, his own breath shaky as his heart pounded against his ribs.

The way Aryan was looking at him—dark, intense, needy—set his skin ablaze.

Aryan leaned in, his lips ghosting over Ishan’s, testing, teasing, waiting. Ishan’s breath shuddered against Aryan’s lips, anticipation curling in his stomach like fire.

And then—

Their mouths met.

Aryan’s lips were firm yet soft, warm and demanding as they moved against Ishan’s. His stubble scraped deliciously against Ishan’s smooth skin, sending shivers down his spine.

Ishan whimpered against his mouth, his fingers threading through Aryan’s hair, gripping, pulling.

Aryan tried to pull back, his breath ragged, wanting to see Ishan’s reaction—but Ishan didn’t let him.

He grabbed Aryan’s face with both hands and crushed their mouths together again, his nails digging slightly into Aryan’s jaw.

Aryan’s tongue slid against Ishan’s bottom lip, teasing, testing, before slipping inside to meet Ishan’s own. Their tongues tangled, slow at first—tentative, exploring, savoring—before the kiss turned deeper, more desperate.

Aryan tasted whiskey and the faint sweetness of whatever lipstick Ishan had been wearing, a combination that made his head spin.

Ishan whimpered softly into Aryan’s mouth, his tongue curling against Aryan’s in a slick, heated dance. Aryan responded with a low, approving growl, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, to take more.

Their tongues stroked, slid, and tangled—pushing and retreating, teasing and tasting, heat surging between them with every breathless moan.

Ishan’s glossy lips were soft, molding perfectly against Aryan’s, parting eagerly under his touch.

Aryan sucked lightly on Ishan’s lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, relishing the way Ishan gasped and tightened his grip in Aryan’s hair.

Ishan’s lips were warm and pliant, moving feverishly against Aryan’s, slick with spit and the remnants of his lipstick, smudging against Aryan’s own mouth.

The kiss was messy, wet, intoxicating—neither of them willing to pull away, their mouths moving in sync as if trying to consume each other entirely.

Aryan’s breath hitched when Ishan’s tongue traced over the roof of his mouth, sending a shudder through his entire body.

He retaliated by pressing his lips even harder against Ishan’s, deepening the kiss until there was nothing left between them—no air, no space, only the feverish press of lips and tongues, the intoxicating warmth of each other’s mouths.

By the time they finally broke apart, Aryan’s lips were swollen and slick, his breath hot against Ishan’s flushed skin.

Ishan licked his own lips, still tasting Aryan on them, his eyes dark and hazy.

Their chests heaved, their bodies still tangled together, their foreheads nearly touching.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

They only stared, breathless, lips tingling, the ghost of the kiss still lingering between them.

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Finally These loved bird have stopped edging us all.

The night is still young, and lovely, Lets see Where this kiss takes them forward from here?

The next chapter will contain lot of 🔞 content... You can skip that if you want to focus more in the story than on the sexual part. I promise you I won't trade the story for cheap erotic stuff... But there will definitely be more romance between them for sure

I hope you guys liked it, vote if you did and comment what you want from next chapter.