The Love and The Ruin – Part 2 (Variable Voltage)

Thank you for coming back to read The Love and The Ruin. Shweta and I are quite ecstatic about the love pouring into our mailbox. Definitely encouraging. This has been one of the most momentous incidents of our lives. If you haven’t read the previous chapter, please do. Without further ado, let’s dive in!

The silence after Aarav’s confession wasn’t blank. It was alive, heavy, charged, brimming with things none of them had ever dared to say aloud. Shweta’s heart hammered as she glanced at him. Her chest rising too quickly, her lips parting like words wanted to tumble out. But nothing came.

Her thoughts whirled. Aarav. She’d known him only because of Rohan, the colleague who became his brother, the man who was always part of their vacations, their dinners, their late-night laughter. Aarav was Priya’s, not hers.

She’d thought of him as a protector, a friend who made sure she was comfortable when Priya wasn’t around. He carried bags, fetched drinks, and pulled her onto the dance floor to make her laugh. She had never thought of him as someone who looked at her like this, not until his words cracked the surface.

And now? Now he wasn’t just Aarav, the friend. He was a man. Staring at her and her body as though it was a secret he had long been aching to confess. Rohan felt the tension between Shweta and Aarav like static, shooting up and down his veins.

He had never truly pictured this moment beyond the blur of fantasy. He and Aarav had laughed about their wives before, teasing, but it had always been safe. Now he was watching his wife, his only woman, his whole world. Staring at his best friend with an emotion he had never seen in her.

His heart thudded hard enough to hurt. Was this cheating? Was he giving his blessing to something that could never be undone? He wanted to pull her back to him, but more than that, he wanted to see her step forward.

Aarav himself looked torn, jaw tight, eyes flicking nervously between her and Rohan, hands gripping his knees. “I…erm… I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost ashamed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Shweta gulped hard. Her lips curved into a nervous, trembling smile. “No. I mean. Don’t take it back.”

Rohan’s grin broke the tension, his tone playful and coaxing. “She’s right, Aarav. You said what you felt. And look at her.” His hand slid up Shweta’s thigh, squeezing gently. “You think she doesn’t want to hear more?”

Her cheeks burned red with shyness. She smacked his chest, laughing nervously. “Rohan! You’re impossible.”

“Am I?” His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer. “Or maybe. Just maybe. I am giving you what you’ve been hinting at all night.”

She ducked her face, biting her lip, hiding a smile. “You’re both. ridiculous.”

Aarav let out a broken laugh, rubbing his face with his palm. “This feels dangerous. Too much.”

Rohan tilted his head, voice low but steady. “Then let it be dangerous. We’ve earned that, haven’t we? Five years of building everything together. If there’s one man in the world I’d let near her, it’s you. And if there’s one woman who could handle this without breaking, it’s her.”

Shweta groaned softly, her face hot, but her thighs squeezed together at the words. “You two make me sound like some prize you’re passing around.”

“Not passing,” Rohan murmured, kissing her shoulder lightly. “Sharing. That’s different.”

The word hit like a spark. Sharing. Shweta giggled nervously, looking at Aarav again. Their faces were close now, close enough for breath to mingle, close enough that neither could lean back without shattering the moment.

Her cheek brushed his first, or maybe it was his brushing hers. It wasn’t clear. It was just skin against skin, the graze of her softness against his stubble. She shivered. He froze. Neither moved away.

Then the smallest peck, lips against cheek, featherlight. It wasn’t clear who gave it. She thought maybe it was him. He thought maybe it was her. But once it happened, it was impossible not to answer it.

Another peck followed. Then one closer to the corner of her mouth. She giggled softly into his jawline, her lips trembling. “We’re being ridiculous.”

“Or careful,” Aarav murmured back, his voice strained.

Rohan smirked, watching the slow burn unfold like a fuse. “Careful is overrated. Go on. You’ll drive each other insane like this.”

Shweta’s lips brushed Aarav’s cheek again, closer this time, so close she could taste the salt of his skin. She pulled back, laughing nervously. He replicated her, brushing once more, and then retreating.

They found a rhythm, a rhythm with increasing tempo, back and forth, cheek to lips, lips to cheek, their breaths intertwining, their hearts pounding. She whispered, barely audible. “Careful isn’t what I want right now.”

And then, almost like they both gave in at the same heartbeat, their lips pressed. Not crashing, not greedy, just a trembling kiss, mouths moulding softly, parting, pressing again. A flicker of tongue, retreat. A moan from Shweta, muffled into his mouth. His hand twitched upward, aching to touch more but holding back.

Guilt suddenly twisted in Shweta’s belly: Priya’s face, Priya’s kindness, the risk of betrayal. But stronger than guilt was the pulse between her thighs and the heat in her chest. Maybe it wasn’t really about Aarav himself.

Maybe it was about Rohan watching, about Rohan letting her step into danger and still holding her steady. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stop. Aarav’s thoughts weren’t clear either. He had kissed only one woman his whole life, Priya, since he was twenty.

He loved Priya. In fact, even in this moment when he had kissed his best friend’s wife, he still loved his own wife. But in spite of all the excitement, wild and kinky was not something in his and Priya’s sex dictionary.

Watching Shweta squirm, flushed and glowing, Aarav felt like he was standing on the edge of something forbidden and unstoppable. It wasn’t that Priya wasn’t enough. It was that Shweta was different. Wilder. Dangerous. And Rohan. Rohan wasn’t pushing him away.

Watching them, Rohan felt his chest tighten, his trousers tightening around his crotch. This wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. This was real, his wife’s first kiss with another man, his best friend, happening right in front of him. He hadn’t truly pictured this, hadn’t mapped it out in fantasies beyond a blur.

And now he was wondering, how far could this go? How far did he want it to go? The kiss deepened, slow and wet, their hesitation crumbling into hunger. Their lips moved with growing urgency, pulling back, meeting again. And still, neither of them could say who started it.

Was it her? Was it him? Or was it Rohan, steady and smiling, giving them both the courage to fall? When Shweta finally broke it, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged.

Aarav went back in for another kiss. Warmer this time, the taste of her breath fills his mouth. He hadn’t meant to go further. He’d just wanted another taste of Shweta’s lips. But the more he stayed there, the more her softness made his chest ache.

The soft sounds she made under her breath, the way her fingers trembled on his arm, all of it reached out to something in him he hadn’t named yet. “Fuck, I want more. But how?”, he thought, kissing her once, then twice, and then once again. Unconsciously, his tongue pressed against the back of his own teeth.

His imagination started meandering through dangerous territory. Sliding his tongue into her mouth, tasting her thoroughly. He’d never done this with her; in his mind, it was forbidden territory. Even as he thought it, his hips shifted closer, his hands slid to her waist,

He tilted his head and, without thinking, flicked the tip of his tongue along the edge of her upper lip, just a quick, damp sweep, and pulled back immediately, heart hammering.

“Did I just do that?” His breath came shallow. “Do I dare again?”

He kissed her once again, slower this time, his tongue muscles tracing the underside of her lower lip, gliding across its curve before retreating again. His chest swelled and fell as though he’d run a mile in a minute. He wanted to stop and keep it at his lips only.

But the taste of her was already in his mouth, and his body refused to obey his mind. A third time. His mouth opened slightly, and he risked more, a tiny flick against her tongue itself, just the edge of it, testing, then retreating. The contact jolted him; it jolted her.

Shweta froze. “That’s his tongue. Another man’s tongue.” Wet, warm, flicking mine. Her brain raced. “Is this okay? Am I allowed to like this?” She hadn’t yet answered. But Aarav kept returning, brushing her tongue with his and then withdrawing. He couldn’t stop checking whether the door was still open.

She was still hovering on the edge of decision when she felt him begin to retreat completely, his tongue pulling back as if in apology, given that he had not gotten any response. Without processing her thoughts, she grabbed the back of his neck.

She pulled him deeper into her mouth, sealing hers over his. Then, without warning, he pulled his tongue back in. They stared at each other through half-open eyes, mouths still joined. His pupils were wide; hers trembled with guilt, but also hunger.

They kissed once again, this time with a slow, deliberate push of tongues, each exploring a little further, testing how much was welcome. Flick, pull back. Flick, pause. A soft moan from her throat. A shudder from him. The air between them tasted like a question mark.

And then the question broke. Aarav’s restraint snapped, and he dove, tongue plunging deep into her mouth. Shweta’s tongue met his, caught it, held on as though it were a lifeline. Their mouths sealed and moved, wet and hungry, tongues twisting, flicking, circling, pulling each other deeper.

The kiss went messy. Saliva drooled at the corners of their mouths, smearing over their cheeks and chins. Strings of spit stretched and broke as their lips familiarised with each other. Shweta let out a soft moan, her body heating up, her fingers running through his hair.

Aarav groaned back, his hand moving from her waist to her back. Pulling her closer as if trying to savour as much of her as was permissible in the moment. A low moan escaped her, involuntary, needy.

She pulled harder at his neck, holding him to her, kissing him like she’d wanted to all along. “Mmmm, Aarav,” she whispered against his lips between breaths. “Your tongue. Oh, God.”

Rohan watched, stunned at the escalation. This wasn’t a polite kiss anymore. It was a full-blown, spit-slick invasion, his wife locked in a tangle of tongues with his best friend. Shock and arousal twisted together in his gut as the sound of their wet, hungry kissing filled the space.

He thought, “That’s my wife. That’s my wife tasting another man’s tongue. That’s my best friend’s tongue inside her mouth.” A jag of jealousy went through him, sharp and electric, but right behind it came a heavier surge of heat. “God, look at her face. Look how hungry she is. Look at them.”

He recalled his and Shweta’s first kiss, the way she had been hesitant, how she had turned her head shyly and giggled until he coaxed her lips open with whispers and sombre nuzzling with his lips. It had taken him weeks, maybe nearly a month.

Before she’d let him slide his tongue, go beyond her teeth, and even then. She had tensed as though she was unsure about what to do with it. He had taught her, one kiss at a time, how to open up. How to take his tongue between her lips and create suction, and then leave it with a soft pop.

All of that lived in his muscle memory. And now, years later, he was watching her applying his lessons, the same moves he taught her, happening with someone else, with his best friend.

Rohan’s cock growled a bit. The jealousy didn’t go away. It intertwined with arousal until he couldn’t tell them apart.

His thoughts screamed, “This. It is darker and dirtier than anything I’ve ever imagined, he thought. This is what it means to share her. This is what it means to watch her cross the line we drew together. She’s using the tricks I taught her. She’s a pro now, and she’s showing him. My wife, my best friend, looks at them.”

Without blinking (lest he lose even the slightest movement between his wife and best friend), Rohan swallowed hard. Moistening his dry throat, trying to cool his chest, hot with emotions. Without realising it, a small sound escaped him.

He wasn’t sure if he was more turned on by the sight or by the way it manifested. Every dark thought he’d been afraid to name. He watched his long-time girlfriend-turned-wife kiss his B-school-batchmate-turned-best-friend. It was like watching the door to a room he’d built in his head swing open.

Just that, until then, he did not know what that door held. He couldn’t look away. Rohan, sitting right beside them, smirked. His voice cut through, playful. “Go on, Aarav. Explore her. She wants you to.”

Shweta broke the kiss just long enough to look at her husband, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “Rohan,” she said almost inaudibly, as though needing his go-ahead one last time.

Rohan smirked, gliding his hand down her thigh. “Babe, I’m showing my best friend what’s mine. Let him feel how perfect you are.”

Her eyes fluttered, and when Aarav pulled her back into a kiss, she didn’t resist. This time, his hands moved higher, brushing the side of her breast over her dress. He froze, uncertain, but Rohan chuckled and reached over, taking Aarav’s wrist and pressing it firmly against her.

“Like this,” Rohan murmured. “Don’t just hover. Feel her.”

Aarav’s fingers tightened, cupping her breast through the fabric. Shweta gasped into his mouth, moaning against his tongue.

“Y-yeah.” Aarav breathed, breaking the kiss to look down at his hand on her. “God, Rohan. She’s so fucking soft.”

Shweta moaned, arching into his touch. “Mmmm, Aarav.”

Rohan’s hand slid lower, resting briefly over her knee before squeezing her inner thighs, making her moan. Rohan grinned and said, “See? She loves it. Go slow, but don’t be afraid.”

Aarav’s eyes met Rohan’s, nervous but burning with desire. “You’re. Really okay with this?”

“More than okay,” Rohan said with a grin. “I want to see how badly you want her.”

Shweta turned towards him, lips still glistening from Aarav’s kiss, her chest rising fast. Her eyes scanned his, big, wide and uncertain. “Rohan. Did you really say that?” she whispered, with her trembling voice. “I’m your wife. I just kissed him. Your best friend.”

His hand gently squeezed her thigh, trying to inspire some relief and confidence in her. “Exactly,” he said, his grin curling darker. “That’s why it’s so hot. You’re not just anyone’s wife, you’re mine. And I’m sitting here watching you fall apart because of another man’s kiss. You don’t see it, but I do. You’re glowing, Shweta.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he murmured, pressing his forehead briefly to hers. “Because it’s not stealing you away from me. It’s showing me a side of you I never knew I could see. I don’t lose you tonight, I get more of you. Dirtier, freer, wilder. And I want that more than anything.”

A whimper left her throat, her hand clutching his wrist. “God, Rohan. You’re making me ache. You’re saying that while I can still taste Aarav on my lips, ” Her voice trailed. She let out a shy laugh, hiding her face in his shoulder.

Rohan pulled her chin back up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t hide. Own it. Say it. Say what you want. I want to hear.”

Her voice cracked as she whispered it, half-confession, half-plea. “I want him to kiss me again. Right here. While you watch.”

Rohan’s eyes darkened. He didn’t let her off easy. “Why, Shweta? Tell me. Tell your husband why you want to kiss him while I am sitting right here.”

That commanding tone froze her, her thoughts unclear. “I. I don’t know what it is, Rohan. I love you, really, I do. I can give up the world for you. You know that. You’re my only one. And maybe that’s why it feels. Possible. Because we’re strong enough.”

Rohan’s hand slid up her thigh, steady, coaxing. “Strong enough for what? For you to desire another man?”

Her gaze darted to Aarav, then back to him, her chest rising too fast. “It’s not just any man. It’s Aarav. He’s been with us in everything, our trips, our nights out, all the laughter. He’s your best friend, like a brother. He’s Priya’s. He’s. safe.” Her voice cracked. “If it were anyone else, I’d never even think of it.”

Aarav shifted uncomfortably, his throat working, his voice low. “And what if that makes it worse, Shweta? Is it me? Priya’s husband. Your friend. Does that make this too dangerous?”

Her hand flew to his arm, clutching. “No, no, not at all. In fact, that’s exactly what makes it possible. Because I know you’d never hurt me. Or us. Or Priya. That’s why I can even breathe right now.”

Rohan studied her, his voice rough. “So, it’s trust. That’s why you want him?”

Shweta nodded shakily, then hesitated, her lips trembling. “Not just trust. It’s. You. Seeing you look at me this way. Seeing how it turns you on to watch him kiss me. It doesn’t make me feel that I am taking something away. Rather, I feel I am giving you something, giving us something. Like I’m making us bigger.”

Rohan groaned, his grip tightening on her thigh. “Fuck, baby. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re giving us more. Not less.”

He turned to Aarav, locking eyes. “And you? What do you feel hearing this? Knowing she wants you because of what we’ve built?”

Aarav swallowed hard, his hand trembling on his knee. “I feel. Honored. Like I’m being trusted with something sacred. I love Priya, God, I love her, I can go through nights telling the world how much I love her, and it wouldn’t be enough, but what’s here, right now, with you two. It’s different. It’s not instead of her. It’s. Alongside. If I take this step, I swear I’ll never let it break what you have. Or what I have. I’ll only ever make it stronger.”

Silence. Heavy. Charged. Their breaths, the only sound in the room. Shweta’s voice cracked, but her words were steady. “Then. Kiss me. Please. Kiss me again. Because the truth is, I want it. I want you. And I want Rohan to see that I can be his wife, and still let myself burn for you.”

Rohan’s eyes softened, his voice a whisper that broke the last wall. “Then stop waiting. Both of you. Just fucking kiss already.”

It wasn’t clear who moved first, Shweta leaning in, Aarav pulling her, but suddenly their cheeks brushed, nuzzling. A hesitant graze of lips on lips. A pause. Then another, firmer. Her soft whimper, his muffled groan. And then it broke open.

The kiss turned desperate, hot, all tongue and hunger. Aarav’s mouth devoured hers, their lips crashing, sliding, parting and crashing again. Her fingers curled in his hair, dragging him closer, while his hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Rohan sat frozen, his heart thundering, his cock straining against his pants, watching his wife’s mouth swallowed by his best friend’s. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even dared to imagine it fully. But seeing it happen, seeing her surrender while knowing she was still his.

It was more intoxicating than anything he’d felt in his life. When Shweta moaned into Aarav’s mouth, arching toward him, Rohan let out a guttural groan of his own. He wasn’t losing her. He was gaining something darker, bigger, filthier.

And in that moment, as their tongues tangled wetly and their bodies pressed closer, there was no telling who had started it, or who wanted it more.

Between kisses, Aarav groaned, his voice rough. “Fuck. I guess some part of me always wanted this for a long time.”

Shweta pulled back just enough to whisper, her lips brushing his ear. “And now you have me. Don’t waste it.”

Rohan’s cock twitched at the sight of his wife saying that to another man. He leaned back, watching, his hand casually rubbing the bulge in his own trousers. “That’s it, baby. Show him how good you are at being wanted.”

Aarav’s lips stayed glued to Shweta’s until she broke away, gasping, cheeks flushed deep red. Her dress had ridden dangerously high, nearly exposing her inner thigh, and Aarav’s hands were on her thigh.

Her eyes opened slowly, still dazed, lips tingling. She swallowed, voice soft. “God. Kissing him feels so different.”

Her gaze darted to Rohan, searching his face. “I don’t even know what to do with how it feels.”

Rohan’s mouth curved, his thumb tracing lazy circles just above her knee. “Different good?”

A tiny laugh slipped from her throat, nervous and breathless. “Mmm. Yeah. Good. Too good.” She brushed a finger over her bottom lip as if testing the aftertaste. “It’s like I can’t. Stop thinking about it.”

Aarav shifted in his seat, his hands faltering on her thighs. “You can’t say that,” he muttered, but his eyes betrayed him, still fixed on her mouth, then sliding lower before he caught himself.

Shweta noticed the heat rushing to her cheeks. She whispered, almost shyly, “You’re staring.”

He looked away too quickly, jaw tight. “Sorry. I didn’t mean, ”

Rohan’s chuckle cut in, smooth, amused. “Aarav, man. Don’t apologise. Of course you’re staring. I know how gorgeous Shweta is. irresistable..” His voice dropped lower, coaxing. “Go on, Aarav. Tell her what you see.”

Aarav hesitated, shifting in his seat like the words weighed too much. “I shouldn’t.”

Shweta’s breath quickened as she formed the next sentence in her head, torn between nerves and curiosity. She knew that if she said it, it would cement the nature of this equation.

She finally mustered the courage to respond to Aarav, “Then maybe just don’t look away,” she said softly, eyes flicking down before darting back up.

Rohan leaned closer to her ear, his words low, coaxing. “Baby. You see how he’s looking at you? Like he wants more but doesn’t dare ask? What if you let him see a little more?”

Shweta swallowed, her fingers worrying the hem of her dress. She looked at Aarav, then at Rohan, then back again. “More?” she whispered, uncertain but curious.

The air thickened with heat, lips, tongues, hands, and the beginning of something none of them could pull back from now.

That’s all for this chapter. Can’t wait to share the next chapter with all of you. Shweta and I are having a gala time writing this. We are both equally involved in cataloguing this memory. Happy to receive feedback and integrate it, if possible, into the upcoming chapters.

You can write to me and Shweta at [email protected].

Also, we’ve been getting invitations from a lot of you to indulge in swinging. We want to clarify that we aren’t swingers, nor are we looking to meet anyone.

We have a very different view of this aspect of our life, which is not in the same vein as swinging. So, a kind request to not email us with invitations. While we are flattered, we’d love it if you could skip us on the invite! Cheers!