"Your mouth can be used in different ways, like kis--" Before Shubman could finish his sentence, a sharp noise cut him short.

Both looked towards the source of the noise. There was a broken showpiece on the floor, and an orange cat was sitting over the cabinets, wagging its tail, being quite proud of its work.

"Damn, Spider, you ruined the moment."
Shubman said stepping back from Ishan and walking towards the cat.

Ishan noticed the change in his tone.
'Is he bipolar or something?' he thought

Spider was Shubman's cat, more precisely his baby. (Ishan's competition 🗿)

Shubman scooped Spider in his arms and said, "You just broke an antique piece that I brought from Germany."

Spider could not care any less about the antiqueness of the object; if he decided to do something, he would do it. After all, he was an orange cat, so such behavior was expected. Also, he was a spoiled cat; he had his own room and was allowed to do whatever he wanted because who was going to stop him? He got Shubman's attention, and that was it!

With Spider in his arms, Shubman turned around to look at Ishan and, with a neutral tone, said, "Come downstairs."

"I am leaving from here," Ishan announced firmly. There was no reason for him to stay in a stranger's house, especially when that stranger was actually behaving strangely.

Spider gave a low meow, looking at Ishan. Spider might not have liked this person who got cute looks (Spider's potential competition) and was also getting his owner's attention.

"No, you are not, at least not right now," Shubman told him, a smile threatening to break on his face, or more like a smirk.

"I am, and who is going to stop me?" Ishan exclaimed, growing more frustrated.

"Well, the guards I hire are not just for show," he let the little smirky smile show on his face. And with that, he left the room, whispering something into Spidey's ear.

One thing Ishan knew: whoever this person was, he was very rich, as he took in his surroundings in the room where he was standing. The pastel colors gave it an elegant look. And not just the room; that tall man emanated an aura which screamed 'old money' and 'influential.'

'What does he have to do with me?' he thought as he walked down the spiral staircase; the wooden polished railing was smooth and cool under his palm.

When he reached the living room, he looked around, taking in the expanse and beauty of the space. As an artist himself, Ishan was quite impressed by the artistic theme. He remembered the other men calling it a mansion because, indeed, it was a mansion.

He attempted to locate the main door, but upon finding it, he realized he couldn't leave the mansion of his own will. The main door was truly immense and intimidating, and the digital security lock didn't resemble a standard one.

Shubman stood near the dining table, staring at Ishan as he navigated his way towards him.

"I want to go home," he said, mustering as much politeness as he could.

"Don't you want to have breakfast with me, darling?"

"No," Ishan replied curtly, "and why are you calling me 'darling'?"

"You don't like that? Ah, then what about 'Jaan'? 'Meri jaan'?" He asked curiously.

If staring at someone intensely and angrily could kill, Shubman might be dead by now. Ishan was not going to put up with his nonsense.

Shubman sensed Ishan's anger and raised one hand in a surrendering manner. "Okay... okay... at least have this drink. It will help with the hangover," he said, pointing towards a glass filled with something like a hangover cocktail.

Although Ishan did not want anything there, he had no choice. Shubman gestured for him to sit in the chair he had pulled out, but Ishan, showing his disinterest, sat in another chair.

Shubman sat next to Ishan, and one of the kitchen staff served him his black coffee. Ishan kept staring at the drink in front of him while Shubman kept staring at him.

"Don't worry, there is no poison in the drink," Shubman's voice was tinged with sarcasm. Then he lowered his tone to an almost un-hearable level and whispered, "Because you got enough poison in you." Ishan might have heard that clearly because the look he gave to Shubman was far from kind.

Ishan started sipping his drink begrudgingly, while Shubman continued staring at him. Ishan knew he was being stared at by this weird, tall man, and because of that, he felt heat creeping up the nape of his neck.

Shubman extended his hand to push back Ishan's bangs that were resting on his forehead. But before he could do that, Ishan arched his head backward, avoiding his touch, but in the attempt, ended up showing his neck on full display.

Shubman's gaze dropped from his forehead to his neck. He noticed a mole there, or more like an invitation for him to kiss his neck. But he dropped the idea of kissing him real quick, as he couldn't afford to scare him off.

Shubman fisted his hand that was still suspended in the air and dropped it to his side.

When Ishan finished his drink, he stood up abruptly. "Let me go now."

"I will drop you."

"No."

"Why? Do you have any ride?" Shubman asked, arching his eyebrows, knowing well that Ishan did not have any ride. To which Ishan responded, "Yes, my legs."

Shubman grinned and muttered to himself, "I surely have some good taste"

As Ishan made his way out of the mansion, he couldn't help but notice a plethora of guards standing there in the same black uniforms, earpieces tucked into their ears, not even glancing at him or at Shubman, as if they didn't exist at all.

Ishan sat in the passenger seat, but as soon as he did, his lungs filled with the smell of a cologne that seemed familiar to him.

Shubman started driving, and while doing so, he kept glancing towards Ishan. He maintained enough focus on the road to avoid running into other vehicles, but the remainder of his attention was on Ishan, while Ishan kept looking out of the window.

Breaking the silence, Ishan spoke, "Wait a minute, I didn't give you my address and yet you're driving in the right direction."

"Yeah, because I know where you live."

Ishan was baffled at Shubman's words. "How... and wait, weren't you at that restaurant the other day?"

"Oh, so you remember me. Am I that charming?" Shubman asked smugly.

The realization dawned upon him. "So you were following me all this time." Things started to make sense to Ishan; all those feelings of being watched and followed were true.

Shubman didn't respond to Ishan's question, which fueled Ishan's anger. "Stop the car."

"I said stop the fucking car." Shubman stopped the car, removed his seatbelt with a swift motion, and then completely turned towards Ishan, leaning towards him and keeping a hand on the window glass. At that point, their faces were mere inches apart, and Ishan's breath hitched with the suddenness of the move.

Shubman stared into Ishan's eyes intensely, and Ishan gulped. Ishan hated the effect that Shubman was having on him right now. Ishan hated how his heart fluttered whenever Shubman got this close to him. He hated Shubman. He really did.

Shubman could literally hear Ishan's heartbeat as his heart was thudding loudly. "You love to pick fights with me, don't you?"

With his insides doing somersaults, Ishan wasn't able to say anything. Seizing the chance, Shubman continued, "Do you know which is the strongest muscle in the human body ?" Ishan didn't reply, so Shubman answered his own question, "Tongue. Wanna fight?"

A blush crept up on Ishan's cheeks as he realized what Shubman actually meant. He pushed him away, and the man with dimples smirked, being quite proud for flustering Ishan.

The remaining ride was silent, with Shubman's proud smile never leaving his face and Ishan trying to normalize his breathing and racing heart.

________

Shubman sat on the sofa, and Darshan stood there, scrolling on his tablet, ready to give information about Ishan to him.

"He is 26 years old."

"What's his name?" Shubman's question made Darshan look away from the tablet.

"Oh, great. You practically kidnapped him last night and drove him to his house today, and you didn't know his name?" Honestly, Darshan didn't expect any better from him.

Shubman glared at him, not entertaining his attempt at sarcasm, and Darshan fixed his focus back on the tablet.

"Ishan, Ishan Kishan." Finally, the boy Shubman found drunk sitting on the couch in a bar, who was able to get Shubman's attention at the very first glance, has a name now, and that is Ishan.

"I S H A N," Shubman said his name, stretching each syllable, feeling the taste of his name on his lips. "I like it."

~~~

Tounge is not the strongest muscle.

-

SPIDER: