Arjun Banerjee

The room was warm, dimly lit by the lamp on the dresser. The couch sagged slightly under Arjun’s weight, big, soft, and heavy, with the man settled in his lap. The movie murmured quietly from the TV, but Arjun wasn’t paying attention. Not really. His ears twitched, nose sniffing subtly. Something smelled... different. Faint, but enough to make his chest tighten.

"Hmm... kya ye...?" he muttered softly, whiskers brushing against the shoulder. Tail flicked nervously, instinct surged. Without thinking, he pressed his cheek against the man, rubbing slowly, spreading his own scent over him. Muzzle soft against skin, scent mingling in the quiet warmth of the room.

“Ah... sorry... just... smells a little different,” he murmured, tail curling around the edge of the couch. Ears flicked, flattening slightly. His heart hammered, fur brushing against the skin in gentle, instinctive strokes. Then, almost without realizing it, his tongue darted out, brushing along the cheek.

“Bas... just... little clean,” he whispered in voice low and shy. He shifted slightly, adjusting to keep the man comfortable in his lap, tongue tracing the jawline with careful, deliberate strokes. Paw resting lightly on the shoulder for balance, claws flexing just enough to hold steady.

Arjun blinked slowly, tail flicking nervously. Hah... behave, Arjun... But the warmth, the scent, the nearness it pulled at him. He pressed closer, cheek brushing along the neck now, tongue moving in tiny, careful laps along the skin. “Arre... thoda sa... patience, okay?” he murmured again, embarrassed, ears twitching as he tried to sound casual.

The man didn’t move. That made it worse. Heat pooled somewhere lower, subtle but undeniable, and Arjun’s chest tightened. He tried to focus on the TV, tried to act normal, but every movement betrayed him tiny shifts, rubs, nuzzles, brushing fur against skin, whiskers twitching.

“Hmm... smells... better now,” he murmured softly, licking along the shoulder, then down the arm, careful, tentative, protective.

He pressed his muzzle against the neck again, letting his scent linger, tail wrapping lightly around the man’s side. “Bas... just... stay... don’t move too much,” he whispered, a little plea, a little command adorably self-conscious. His body shifted instinctively to cover more, to hold, to nuzzle.

“Just... little longer,” he whispered again, voice low, almost a purr, tail flicking, ears flattening. “I... I’m not... anything... just... cleaning...” His tongue brushed again, careful, tiny laps along the jawline, neck, and shoulder. A soft nuzzle followed, fur warm and thick against the skin.

Arjun’s eyes closed briefly, breathing soft and measured, tail curling protectively.

Each brush of fur, each lick pressed him closer, binding the scent, warmth, and closeness together.

The movie droned on in the background, but Arjun didn’t notice.

“Bas... little longer...” he whispered one last time utterly devoted.

The dojo was quiet in that way it only ever got at night lights dimmed, the wooden floor still warm from the last class, the lingering scent of sweat and the faint spice of incense his father liked to burn after closing. Arjun dragged a towel across his neck, breath still heavy from training, fur damp and sticking in places. He’d been sweeping the mat in slow circles, humming a tune his ma always sang when she thought no one was listening.

His arms ached in that good, charged way, too much energy left for the hour. He looked up and froze. “Arey...?” His ears perked before he even realized they were moving, tail giving a lazy curl behind him. A slow smile spread across his muzzle, the kind he never managed to hide.

“Oh. Hey. Didn’t think anyone would still be around.” He dropped the towel over his shoulder. His heart thumped harder than it had during sparring.

Maybe he shouldn’t feel this warm “I...” He glanced around as if checking whether his baba or ma were watching. They weren’t. “I just finished class. Baba almost made me run another round ’cause I spaced out again. He said I was thinking too much.” A small huff, half laugh. “Probably right.”

Arjun shifted his weight, wiping his palms on his loose training pants. His fur was still damp. He could feel the heat rolling off his chest.

“You know...” His voice softened, almost shy despite the size of him. “I keep telling you... you should learn. Kalaripayattu’s not scary, yaar. And I’m a good teacher!” His grin widened. “You’d be great. Strong legs, good balance and—”

He cut himself off, ears flicking. “Accha, wait, hold on lemme just show you something real quick.”

He stepped forward before thinking twice, instinct taking the lead. His hand reached out, big warm paw settling around a forearm with the ease of someone who forgot how strong he was. No hesitation. No space left between them.

“Just a stance,” he said, but his voice had dropped lower, softer. “Only a second, promise.”

Heat drifted between them. His grip stayed firm, holding, guiding, maybe a little too close. He could feel breath that wasn’t his.

“See? Like this,” he murmured, pulling gently not giving a chance to resist, not even looking down to check if it was welcome. His other hand slid to a shoulder, broad thumb brushing over warm fabric. Every part of him felt wired, alert, aware.

“Bas, bas... yeah,” he exhaled, ears folding slightly as he leaned in. “You’re... you’re fitting right into the stance. Good. Really good.”

Something shifted. He swallowed, he hadn’t meant to bring him this close. Hadn’t meant for his chest to brush against someone else’s back. But once he was there, he didn’t move.

His claws flexed softly, just once, out of instinct before retracting again. “Uh... sorry,” he breathed, though he didn’t actually step away. “Got a little carried away. Happens sometimes. Baba says I’m too... enthusiastic.” Another quiet laugh, almost embarrassed.