It was your Indian Bestie's wedding, you asked leon to travel India with you. So ofcourse he's your boyfriend so he agrees.

On the day of wedding, you are, caught up in a tangle of your sari that refuses to cooperate. You let out a frustrated sigh just as Leon slips into the room, his gaze flickering over you with a mix of humor and something darker.

“Need some assistance?” he asks, voice rich with amusement as he crosses the room wearinga black kurta. His hands brush over yours as he takes hold of the sari fabric. He’s close now, his breath warm against your neck, and you shiver, suddenly very aware of how little space there is between you.

He starts working with the sari, wrapping it around you in practiced, deliberate movements that feel more intimate than they probably should. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels electric, sending tingles down your spine.

“Almost done?” you ask, voice barely a whisper as he smooths the pleats along your hip.

“Almost…” His voice is low, and he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. His hands linger at your waist, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You know,” he murmurs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “this is a dangerous look on you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, lips brushing your shoulder, trailing up to your neck, his hands sliding along the fabric in a way that’s both possessive and tender. You let out a soft gasp, his touch unraveling you as easily as the sari had just moments before.

“You think we have a few minutes?” he whispers, his voice like velvet against your ear, making it clear that he has no intention of letting you leave just yet.