How The Night Changes: An Arylie OS [Imlie Fanfiction]

Color Me Strawberry Red (Entirely in English)

"What have I gotten myself into? Sita Maiyya, you have to rescue me out of this mess. Right away. Pleaseee-"

"Imlie?"

Aryan entered the room, undoing his robe while holding a glass bowl half-full of what seemed like fruit. Fruit. Seriously? Did he really think she would beg for fruit?

Imlie scoffed as Aryan placed the bowl on the table adjacent to the occupied sofa. He tilted his face sideways to observe her expressions. Poor thing. Extending his fingers as if to touch her cheeks, he teased, smoothing the pillow cover behind her. Her nostrils flared in anger.

"You're looking even more beautiful now that you're angry." His eyes landed on her lips, tempting her more.

Imlie clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth as she fumed. This man would never mend his ways.

"Don't you have anything else to do? Other than tying up people's hands and.." she signaled towards the bowl sitting peacefully on the walnut table. "And bringing that?"

Aryan rested his fingers on the pillow behind her as he leaned in towards an agitated Imlie, softly breathing as he neared her ear. Goosebumps took over her skin while she resisted melting in his presence.

"Why? You don't enjoy this, baby?" He breathed cool air on her earlobe making her squirm, her toes pressing against the sofa.

His seductive, baritone-rich voice. His long fingers scraping the pillow just 2 inches from her bare skin. And him calling her baby. How could she forget to add that to her list? That was the biggest turn on.

"I.. I didn't say that..", she managed to get out amidst the constant itch to surrender. Now why did she start this in the first place? Oh that's right. The fucking challenges. First lying about her breathlessness for him. And now? This. A pretense of being indifferent towards his touch. Impossible. She was clearly already burning for it. He could probably tell too. What a shame.

"Interesting.. By the way, you probably don't like strawberries too much, right?"

Before she could answer, he continued. "I'll eat them. They'll get wasted."

Grabbing the glass bowl, he plopped down on his chair facing the sofa, crossing his legs. Strawberries. She didn't like them. Didn't. Past tense.

Imlie watched as Aryan dug into the bowl, carefully sliding a chocolate covered strawberry out of the dish and into his warm fingers. He ran his tongue across its surface, licking the chocolate off leisurely in an attempt to tempt her. A successful attempt indeed.

"Aryan just stop that. It's not effective at all."

"You got scared so easily Imlie? You know right, I still have to finish all of these?"

He lowered the bowl, showing its contents to his wife, who was now laying sideways with widened eyes and parted lips.

Wet, sugary spread on red, sour skin. Meh. It did look good in his hands though. Those veiny, tanned hands. Full of stamina. Imlie blushed as she recalled what all had gone down in the shower. Those hands did have magic in them. Especially those fingers.

"Yeah, alright. You eat them. I don't want any." She completed this sentence only to find another one, one that could be her ticket to freedom. It was high time her wrists got some breathing space.

"Anyways, even if I wanted to eat them, I wouldn't be able to." She shook her wrists to show him what she meant.

"Oh. You should have said that na? Here."

Aryan grabbed another piece of fruit and walked over to the sofa. Placing the strawberry in Imlie's mouth for a split second, he removed it swiftly, leaving her lips coated with chocolate.