Chapter 12 - Ch-12 Babita's Game

The text arrived at 8.47pm, three days after Bhide's legendary lecture.

"My TV isn't working. Can you come and take a look? Iyer is away for the whole week. Flat 22. Don't be late 😉"

Suyash stared at the message for a full minute. The winking emoji was more effective than any paragraph could have been. He thought about saying no. He considered the power humming in his veins, the careful control he had maintained, and Bhide's patrols and the society's gossiping tongues.

Then he thought about Babita's backless blouse, the way she'd pressed against him, and the promise in her eyes when she said, 'Another time.'

He grabbed his toolkit — a real one, not summoned, as appearing with tools from a home improvement show would raise questions — and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor.

She opened the door wearing a silk robe, loosely tied. The fabric parted just enough to reveal a sliver of collarbone and the upper curve of her breasts. Her hair was down, falling in dark waves over her shoulders. The scent of jasmine and something muskier wafted from the apartment.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "I've been waiting."

The flat was dimly lit, with candles flickering on the coffee table and the curtains drawn. Soft music with a slow, thrumming beat played from a speaker. The television was positioned against the far wall, dark and silent.

"What's wrong with it?" Suyash asked, his voice coming out rougher than intended.

"It won't turn on." Babita closed the door behind him and he heard the soft click of the lock. "I think it's something at the back. You'll have to look behind it."

She gestured towards the narrow gap between the TV and the wall, barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through. Suyash set down his toolkit. "I'll need some light."

"I'll hold a torch." Her smile was slow and knowing. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you can see everything you need to."

He knelt down and started maneuvering around behind the television. The wall was cool against his back. The tight space forced him to twist at an awkward angle. Wires dangled everywhere: An HDMI cord, a power cord, and something that looked like an old antenna connection. He reached for the power strip and checked if it was plugged in properly.

"Can you see anything?" Babita's voice came from behind him, closer than expected.

"Not yet. The connection might be loose. Could you shine the light here?"

"Of course."

He heard a soft rustle—fabric sliding against fabric—and then the flashlight clicked on, illuminating the tangle of wires. But his attention had snagged on something else. In the reflection of the dark television screen, he could see Babita.

She had taken off her robe.

She was holding the flashlight at her side, and the beam was casting upward shadows that danced across her body. She was wearing a nightie—if it could be called that. The fabric was completely transparent—a whisper-thin mesh that did nothing to hide what was beneath. No bra. No panties. She wore nothing but sheer fabric from her shoulders to her thighs.

His breath caught.

Her breasts were full and heavy. Her dark, erect nipples pressed against the flimsy material. Her waist curved inward and flared to hips designed for gripping. The transparent fabric pooled lower still at the apex of her thighs, and through it, he could see a neat triangle of trimmed, dark hair.

She caught him staring in the reflection and smiled.

"So hot, huh?" she said, her voice a purr. "The AC is broken. I had to wear something light."

Suyash's mouth went dry. His hands, which were still holding the power cord, froze. The toolkit lay forgotten on the floor.

"Babita," he started.

"The TV," she interrupted, stepping closer. The flashlight beam swung wildly, casting shadows that made her body seem to move in waves. "Is it fixed yet?"

He turned his head, which was a mistake because now he was looking directly at her, not just at a reflection. She stood two feet away, her transparent nightie clinging to every curve.

"I—" His voice cracked. "The plug is loose. It just needs—"

"Then fix it." She stepped closer. He could see the fine hairs on her arms, the slight parting of her lips, and how her chest rose and fell with each breath. "Or don't. I didn't invite you here for the TV."

The flashlight clicked off.

Complete, sudden darkness enveloped them, broken only by the flickering candles from the other side of the room. Then her hands found him. One was on his shoulder, warm and firm, while the other slid down his chest, her fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt. He felt her body press against his back—the shock of her breasts through the thin fabric, the heat of her stomach, and the unmistakable pressure of her pelvis against him.

"I've wanted this since the day you moved in," she whispered in his ear. Her teeth grazed his earlobe.

"You have no idea how boring it is here. Iyer is away all the time. Jetha is so desperate. But you..." Her hand reached his belt. "You're different. You don't chase. You make a woman come to you."

"Babita—"

"Shh." Her fingers undid his belt. "Don't talk. Just feel."

She turned him around, gripping his shoulders with her hands, and pushed him back against the wall. The wires dug into his spine, but he didn't care—not with her pressing against him and finding his mouth in the darkness.

The kiss was hungry. Her tongue slid against his, and she moaned into his mouth—a low, throaty sound. His hands found her waist and slid down to her hips. Her nightie was so thin that he could feel the warmth of her skin through it. She ground against him, and he felt her gasp when he pressed against her through his trousers.

"Take this off," she murmured, tugging at his shirt. "I want to see you."

They broke apart just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head. Her hands immediately went to his chest, her nails lightly scraping while her thumbs found his nipples. She circled them slowly, watching his face in the candlelight.

"You're beautiful," she said. "All that young muscle."

He reached for her nightie, intending to pull it off, but she stepped back and shook her head.

"No, you look first." She held her arms out and turned slowly. "You've been watching me from your balcony for weeks. Now you can watch up close."

She was stunning. Every inch of her was beautiful: the curve of her spine, the dimples at the small of her back, and the round fullness of her buttocks. When she turned to face him again, he saw that she was already glistening.

"Touch me," she said.

He didn't need to be told twice. He crossed the distance in one stride, taking her in his arms. One hand slid down to cup her buttocks, and the other came up to cradle her breast. Her nipple hardened against his palm. When he rolled it between his fingers, she gasped and fell back on his shoulder.

"Yes," she breathed. "Like that."

He bent his head and took the other nipple into his mouth, sucking through the transparent fabric. She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"More," she said. "Bite it. Gently."

He obliged, lightly biting the sensitive peak, and she cried out, a sharp sound filled with pleasure. His other hand slid between her legs and found her wet through the flimsy fabric. She was soaked. When he pressed a finger against her, she bucked against him.

"Inside," she demanded. "Fingers first. I want to feel you."

He pushed her nightie aside and slid a finger into her. She was tight and hot, clenching around his finger immediately. He added a second finger, and she moaned again, her hips moving in rhythm with his hand.

"Like that," she panted. "Oh God, like that. Curl them. Yes. Yes."

Her inner muscles gripped him, and he could feel her pulse around his fingers. Just as she seemed to be building toward a climax, however, she pulled away.

"No," she said breathlessly. "Not yet. I want you inside me when I come."

She dropped to her knees and unbuckled his belt. His trousers hit the floor, followed by his boxers. His erection sprang free, and Babita's eyes widened in the candlelight.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "You've been hiding that."

She wrapped her hand around him. Her thumb stroked the head and spread the bead of moisture there. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth. Suyash's head hit the wall. She knew what she was doing. Her mouth was hot and wet. Her tongue swirled around the head while her hand worked the base. She took him deep, her throat relaxing until her nose pressed against his stomach.

"Babita," he groaned.

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming, her lips stretched around him. She hummed. The vibration shot through him like electricity. When she finally pulled off, a string of saliva connected her lips to his. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up.

"The bed," she said. "Now."

Her bedroom was larger than his entire apartment. A king-sized bed dominated the center with white sheets turned down, invitingly. Babita pushed him onto the mattress, climbed on top of him, and straddled his hips.

She reached between them and guided him to her entrance. She was so wet that he slid easily against her folds.

"Look at me," she said.

He looked. She lowered herself onto him slowly, inch by inch, her mouth falling open and her eyes fluttering shut. Her inner walls gripped him, hot and tight. Once she was fully seated, she let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, that's...that's perfect."

She began to move.

On the king-sized bed, Babita took control. She straddled him, the sheer nightie bunched around her waist. As she lowered herself onto him, she let out a long, shaky moan.

"Finally... Uff, Suyash...it's so big.." She began to ride him with a rolling rhythm. She leaned back, her hands on his thighs. "Yes... right there... wahi par... oh God!"

He reached up and pulled the nightie down, exposing her breasts fully. He sat up and took one into his mouth, sucking hard. Babita screamed—a full-throated cry of pleasure. "Suck it! harder! Yes, meri jaan!" Her hips bucked wildly as her inner muscles clamped down, pulsing around him.

Suyash flipped her over, pinning her beneath him. He drove into her, deep and hard, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The headboard slammed against the wall—thump, thump, thump.

"Yes," she hissed. "Give it to me... Pound me... Pound me!"

He lowered his head to her ear, his voice a low growl. "Is this what you wanted while you watched me from the balcony?"

"Yes! Haan! I wanted you to ruin me!" she cried out. He pressed his thumb against her clit, and she shattered. Her back arched off the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream, her walls convulsing around him.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Turn me over."

She flipped onto her stomach and raised her hips, presenting herself. The transparent nightie was a twisted rope around her waist. Suyash positioned himself behind her and slid back in. The new depth made her gasp, her face buried in the pillow to muffle her moans.

"Oh my God... it's going all the way in... Suyash, jaan nikal jayegi... don't stop!"

He set a brutal pace, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingerprints would remain there for days. Every thrust was a wet, slapping sound that echoed in the quiet room.

"Tell me whose you are," he demanded, his breath hot on her neck.

"Yours... only yours.. Aah! I'm cumming! Main nikal rahi hoon!"

He came with a roar, burying himself deep, spilling into her in hot, pulsing bursts. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him there, milking every drop as they collapsed onto the silk sheets.

As they lay tangled later, the TV remained dark.

"What if someone saw me?" Suyash asked.

Babita smiled, looking satisfied. "The CCTV in this wing? Iyer installed the hub. And I... 'accidentally' unplugged the router this afternoon. Just a glitch, Suyash. Everything in this house is a glitch today."

She leaned in, kissing him with a new, secret ownership.

"The fridge is making a humming sound too. See you tomorrow, meri jaan?"

Suyash grinned. The game was just beginning.

Author's Notes: Translation Guide

* Babita-ji: An honorific used to play with the boundary of "forbidden" respect.

* Wahi par: "Right there."

* Meri jaan: "My life/soul" (A deep term of endearment).

* Jaan nikal jayegi: A dramatic expression meaning "You're killing me with pleasure."

I've added the harem list, along with some photos—check it out! 📸 Please drop some power stones, comments, and reviews if you're enjoying the story so far, or if you have any suggestions. ✍️✨ Thanks for the harem list suggestion viv_1039! 🙏🔥