The Mas of Desire

2.1: The Wolf at the Door

The Sunday afternoon heat hung heavy over Hyderabad, a sticky haze that clung to everything. Abhi sat on the living room floor, a fan whirring lazily beside him, his math notebook open but untouched.

Madhuri was in the kitchen, the clatter of steel plates mixing with the sizzle of oil--she'd promised chicken pakora, this time for Ishaan's "study group" in Abhi's room.

Abhi's stomach churned at the thought. Ishaan's coming, into their home, and the photo he'd sent--the one still burning in his memory--felt like a loaded gun waiting to fire.

His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up.

Ishaan: "On my way, bro. Tell her to look hot--gonna make her day" Abhi's fingers froze over the keys, a mix of dread and something sharper twisting inside.

He didn't reply, couldn't, but the doorbell rang before he could think it through.

Madhuri wiped her hands on her apron, smoothing her hair as she crossed to the door. She wore a reddish pink saree--simple but snug, the fabric catching her curves in the light--and Abhi's throat tightened, knowing Ishaan would see it too.

"Namaste, aunty!" Ishaan's voice boomed as the door swung open, bright and dripping with charm.

He stepped inside, all 6 feet of him--bright tee stretched over his arms, jeans hugging his thighs, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

His grin was wide, disarming, but his eyes--dark and piercing--locked onto Madhuri like a hunter sizing up prey.

Abhi shrank into the couch, wishing he could disappear.

Madhuri smiled, polite but warm. "Ishaan? Good to see you, Come in, sit. Pakora is almost ready" She gestured to the sofa, oblivious to the way Ishaan's gaze lingered on her saree's pleats, tracing the line of her hips.

"Thanks, aunty," he said, dropping his bag with a thud. "Smells amazing already--Abhi wasn't kidding about your cooking" He shot Abhi a wink, subtle but loaded, and Abhi's face burned, his hands clenching into fists.

"Oh, it's nothing special," Madhuri said, brushing off the compliment, but her cheeks flushed faintly, a flicker of pride she couldn't hide.

She turned back to the kitchen, and Ishaan's grin widened, leaning toward Abhi as she left.

"Fuck, bro, she's hotter up close," he whispered, voice low and hungry. "That saree's begging to come off"

Abhi flinched, hissing, "Shut up, Ishaan!"--but it was weak, drowned by the thud of his own pulse.

Ishaan sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, owning the space.

"Relax, buddy. Just admiring the view" He pulled out a notebook, flipping it open like this was really about studying, but his eyes kept darting to the kitchen.

Madhuri returned with a tray--steaming chicken pakora, a bowl of yogurt, and two glasses of water--setting it on the table.

"Have it, boys," she said, her smile maternal but tinged with something else when Ishaan met her gaze.

"You're growing strong, Ishaan--cricket, right?"

"Yeah, aunty," he said, stretching and flexing his arms casually, muscles rippling under his sleeve.

"Gotta stay fit. You look like you keep active too--office work can't be easy"

His tone was smooth, a compliment wrapped in innocence, but Abhi saw the glint in his eyes, the bait being dangled.

Madhuri laughed, waving a hand. "Enough, flattery won't get you extra food!"

She turned away, but her step faltered, just for a second.

Abhi caught it--the way she lingered on Ishaan's frame, her lips parting before she caught herself.

She retreated to the kitchen, and Ishaan smirked at Abhi, popping a handful of pakora into his mouth.

"She likes me, bro. Did you see that?"

Abhi glared, whispering, "She's just being nice!"

Ishaan chuckled, leaning back. "Nice gets her wet. Keep watching--you'll see"

Abhi's fists tightened, but he said nothing, the wolf now inside his den, and him too tangled to stop it.

2.2: The Stirring Beneath

Madhuri stood at the sink, rinsing the tray, the cool water a balm against the heat creeping up her neck. Ishaan's voice echoed in her ears--"You look like you keep active too"--and she hated how it lingered, how it warmed her in places she'd ignored for years.

"He was just a boy, Abhi's friend, barely out of high school." she thought. But the way he'd said it, the confidence in his broad shoulders--she couldn't unsee it. Her fingers tightened around a spoon, scrubbing harder than necessary.

"Ugh, same old crappy thoughts again," she muttered, shaking her head.

From the living room, she heard Ishaan laugh--a deep, rolling sound that cut through the quiet house. Abhi's voice followed, softer, strained, and her chest twinged.

Her son had been off lately--quiet, jumpy, avoiding her eyes. She'd chalked it up to high school stress, but now, with Ishaan here, she wondered. He was loud, brash, the kind of boy who'd drag Abhi into trouble if she wasn't careful. Yet he was polite, charming in a way that disarmed her. Too charming, maybe.

She dried her hands, glancing at the drawer key on her wrist. The rose--wilted but still locked away--flashed in her mind.

"Was it a coincidence, Ishaan showing up after that? No, ridiculous. He was a kid, not some stalker."

Still, the thought nagged, a thread she couldn't quite pull. She adjusted her saree, smoothing the pleats, and caught her reflection in the kitchen window--flushed cheeks, a spark in her brown eyes she hadn't seen in ages.

"What's wrong with you--cut it out, Madhuri" she whispered, turning away fast.

Back in the living room, Abhi sat rigid, watching Ishaan devour the pakora like it was a conquest.

"Your mom's a fuckin' goddess, bro," Ishaan said between bites, loud enough for Abhi to cringe.

"Bet she's got every guy at work drooling"

Abhi's jaw clenched, his voice barely a hiss. "Stop it, Ishaan. She's my mom"

Ishaan grinned, leaning closer. "Yeah, your mommy--and a damn fine one. You saw how she looked at me. She's starving for it"

Abhi's hands shook, anger and shame boiling up, but before he could snap,

Madhuri reappeared, wiping her hands on her pallu.

"How's food? Want some more?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes flicking between them.

Ishaan straightened, flashing that grin again. "Tastes delicious aunty, just like the way you make everything better. I've had my fill."

"Also gotta say this, You're spoiling me--better watch out, I might keep coming back" His voice was playful, but the edge was there, a challenge she didn't catch.

"Haha, you're always welcome here, Ishaan" she said, smiling despite herself.

"Abhi needs good friends" She ruffled Abhi's hair

He ducked away, mumbling, "I'm fine, maa"

She frowned, sensing the tension, but let it go, heading upstairs to change. Ishaan watched her go, his gaze tracing her ass as she climbed, then turned to Abhi with a smirk.

"She's inviting me in, bro. You're gonna help me make it stick"

Abhi's stomach dropped. "No way," he whispered, but Ishaan clapped him on the shoulder, hard.

"Yes way. Text me again tonight. We're just getting started" He stood, grabbing his bag, and sauntered to the door, pausing to call out, "Thanks, aunty! Best snack ever!"

Madhuri's voice floated down--"Glad to hear, Ishaan! Take care."--and he left, leaving Abhi staring at the empty tray, the air thick with something he couldn't name.

Upstairs, Madhuri slipped into a nightie, her skin still tingling from Ishaan's flattery. She pushed it down, locked it away with the rose, but the stirring wouldn't fade.

Downstairs, Abhi clutched his phone, Ishaan's words a leash tightening around him. The mask was emerging--charming, bold, dangerous--and neither of them saw its teeth yet.

2.3: The Thief in the Night

The house was still that evening, a fragile quiet broken only by the hum of the fridge and Ramesh's snores drifting from the bedroom. Abhi sat on his bed, legs crossed. He'd tried to ignore Ishaan's taunts, tried to focus on his homework, but the memory of Ishaan's grin, the way he'd looked at his mom, dragged him back every time.

His phone buzzed, sharp and insistent. Ishaan: "Where's my update, bro? Don't make me come over"

Abhi's heart thudded, panic spiking. He couldn't let Ishaan show up again--not after today, not with her already smiling at him too much.

He crept to his door, cracking it open, the hallway dim but alive with shadows.

Madhuri's room was at the end, the door ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. He took a breath, stepping into the dark, each footfall a betrayal.

Peering through the gap, he saw her--sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair, her nightie a soft gray that clung to her shoulders. Ramesh's snores rumbled steady, a wall between her and the world.

She looked tired, her movements slow, but there was something else--a restlessness in the way she paused, staring at her reflection, her fingers lingering at her throat.

Abhi's breath caught, his phone slipping in his sweaty grip. He typed, quick and quiet: "Gray nightie. Brushing her hair. Dad's asleep"

Ishaan's reply was instant: "Hot. She's probably thinking about me--bet she's wet under that. Get me more, bro. The rose. Now"

Abhi's stomach dropped. "The rose? Does he want me to steal it?" He stared at the message, the words blurring as his pulse raced.

"No way"--he couldn't. But Ishaan's threat hung heavy, and the photo he'd already sent felt like a door he couldn't close. He edged closer, the floor creaking under him, and froze as Madhuri's head tilted, like she'd heard.

She didn't turn, just sighed--a low, weary sound--and set the brush down, sliding into bed. Abhi waited, counting her breaths until they evened out, then slipped inside.

The room smelled of her--rose perfume, a faint sweat--and his chest tightened, guilt warring with the thrill of being here.

The drawer was in the vanity, locked, but the key glinted on her wrist, dangling as she slept.

He hesitated, his hand hovering, then gently--oh so gently--slid it off, his fingers brushing her skin. She stirred, murmuring something, and he froze, heart in his throat, but she settled, lost to dreams.

The drawer clicked open, and there it was--the rose, wilted but potent, the note folded beside it. He snapped a photo, the flash off, and texted it to Ishaan: "Got it. Rose and note" His hands shook as he tucked it back, relocking the drawer, slipping the key onto her wrist with a thief's care.

He fled to his room, locking the door, his breath ragged. Ishaan's reply buzzed: "I thought your existence is like elevator music, bro! But, you got it, She's keeping it--means she's hooked. You're my eyes from now"

Abhi sank onto his bed, the phone slipping from his grip. He'd done it--stolen from his mom, handed her secret to Ishaan--and the rush was sickening, a twisted mix of fear and power.

He saw her differently now, not just as his mother, but as someone with shadows, someone Ishaan could reach. He curled into a ball, the night pressing down, the line he'd crossed a scar he couldn't erase.

2.4: The Petals Fall

Madhuri woke Monday morning with a start, her wrist tingling where the key rested. She sat up, Ramesh still snoring beside her, and rubbed her eyes, a vague unease settling in her chest.

The dream lingered--faceless hands, a deep voice calling her name--and she shook it off, blaming the heat. But as she swung her legs out of bed, her gaze fell to the vanity, the drawer shut tight. Something felt... off. She couldn't place it, but the air in the room was heavier, like someone had been there.

"Ugh, these filthy dreams!" she muttered, standing to stretch, her nightie riding up her thighs.

She unlocked the drawer, checking the rose--still there, petals curling inward, the note uncreased. Relief washed over her, then guilt.

"Why did I even care? It was a stupid gift, a creepy prank" she thought yet she hadn't thrown it away.

She slammed the drawer shut, the key clicking into place, and dressed quickly--Pale celadon linen wrap dress, beige strappy stilettos her armor for the office.

Downstairs, Abhi was at the table, poking at his idlis with a fork, his eyes downcast.

"Morning sweetie! What, no appetite?" she asked, pouring herself tea.

He shrugged, mumbling, "Just tired, mom," but his voice was hollow.

She frowned, setting her cup down. "You're hiding something Abhi, did you get into any trouble in high school?"

He shook his head too fast, and she sighed, brushing his hair back. "Tell me if there's anything, okay? I'm always here for you"

Abhi nodded, her touch a lifeline he didn't deserve, and watched her leave for work, the key glinting on her wrist. He'd touched it last night, held her secret, and the memory burned--half shame, half something darker.

At the office, Madhuri buried herself in reports, but her focus wavered. The junior associate--dropped by her desk, leaning too close. "Hello ma'am, you're glowing today," he said.

She scoffed, "Enough lad, work on your flattery," but her pulse quickened.

She pushed it down, focusing on her screen, but the rose crept back--"I see you"--and now Ishaan's voice from yesterday, smooth and teasing.

"Ugh.. What's happening to me?" she grumbled.

The day dragged, and when she got home, another parcel waited--a small box, no sender. Her hands trembled as she opened it in the kitchen, Abhi upstairs oblivious.

Inside, a single petal--fresh, red--and a new note

"You can't hide, Madhuri. I'm closer than you think"

Her breath caught, fear and thrill colliding. She stuffed it into her bag, heart racing, and glanced at the stairs.

"Who is this creep? Is it one of my colleagues? Is it the neighbors? Is it Ishaan? or Is it.. A-Abhi? No, Impossible.." she rushed to her room without saying a word to Abhi.

"Get your head straight girl, why did you just think about that. Abhi is your son. Step out of it," she cursed herself.

Madhuri locked the petal away with the rose, her pride warring with a growing itch she couldn't scratch. Someone was watching--even closer now--and she didn't know whether to run or wait. The mask's whisper got louder, and the petals were falling, one by one, into her unraveling life as she dozes off.

2.5: The Game at the Gate

Tuesday afternoon blazed through Hyderabad, the high school courtyard a furnace as Abhi trudged out, backpack dragging his shoulders down. He'd barely slept, his mom's silence last night screamed louder than words.

Ishaan in his oversized fit, leaned against the gate, cricket bat slung over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his bare arms.

His grin was sharp, predatory. "Hey kiddo, where you running off to?" he called, voice carrying over the chatter of dispersing students.

Abhi froze, clutching his straps. "Home," he mumbled, but Ishaan stepped closer, towering over him.

"Not yet, bro. We're taking a detour--your place. Gotta thank your mom for that treat again"

Abhi's stomach flipped. "Sh..She's at work," he lied, too quick, and Ishaan's eyes narrowed, catching it.

"Bullshit. Saw her car parked when I passed by earlier. Come on, don't be a pussy" He clapped Abhi on the back, steering him toward the road, his grip firm and unyielding.

Abhi stumbled along, panic rising--Ishaan in their house again, so soon, felt like a storm he couldn't stop.

They reached the gate just as Madhuri's car pulled up--she'd left work early, a rare break. She stepped out, a coral saree catching the sun, her hair loose and wild from the wind.

Abhi's breath hitched, but Ishaan whistled low, nudging him. "Fuck, bro, jackpot"

Madhuri spotted them, waving with a tired smile. "Oh hey, Ishaan! What's this, a surprise visit?"

Ishaan flashed his charm, striding over. "Couldn't stay away, aunty. Your delicious treat's still on my mind--thought I'd beg for seconds" His voice was honey, but his eyes raked her saree, lingering on the way it clung to her chest.

Madhuri laughed, brushing her hair back. "Enough, you'll make me cook all day!" She didn't see the hunger in his stare, but Abhi did, his fists clenching as Ishaan leaned closer, offering to carry her bag.

"Here, let me help," Ishaan said, taking it before she could protest, his fingers brushing hers.

Madhuri blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she nodded, leading them inside.

Abhi trailed behind, the air thick with something he couldn't name--fear, anger, a shameful spark he buried deep.

Ishaan dropped the bag on the table, sprawling on the sofa like he owned it, and Madhuri disappeared to the kitchen, promising snacks.

"See that, bro?" Ishaan whispered, smirking. "She's into me. That touch--she felt it"

Abhi glared, his voice a hiss. "She's just being nice!"

Ishaan chuckled, kicking his feet up. "All that nice might trip her up. You'll see what I mean" He pulled out his phone, texting fast--Abhi didn't see it, but the glint in his eyes said trouble.

Madhuri returned with a plate of samosas, setting it down with a smile. "Have them, Ishaan, you're too skinny for cricket," she tried to tease him a little for the taunts he made on her.

he rolled up his sleeves of his oversized t-shirt flexed an arm, grinning. "Skinny? Nah, Aunty--I'm lean where it counts. Slim waist, all muscle up here--feel it if you don't believe me," He held it out, bold as hell

Madhuri laughed, swatting his hand away. "Cover it up Ishaan! You're a bad boy, you know that?" she said

But her eyes lingered on his abs, a flush creeping up her neck before she turned away.

Abhi's chest tightened, the spark igniting--jealousy, maybe, or worse.

Ishaan caught it, whispering, "She's under my spell, bro. Text me tonight--everything"

He stood, thanking Madhuri with exaggerated charm, and left, his shadow stretching long behind him.

Abhi stared at the samosas, appetite gone, the game now at his gate--and him too weak to shut it.

2.6: The Crack in the Mirror

Madhuri stood in her bedroom that night, the coral saree pooled on the floor, her reflection stark in the mirror. She'd changed into a nightie--black, silky, a rare indulgence--and traced her fingers along her collarbone, replaying Ishaan's visit.

His boldness--offering to carry her bag and touching her, flexing abs like some hero--should've annoyed her. It didn't. It stirred her, a ripple in the calm she'd clung to for years.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling in the quiet.

"He's Abhi's friend, just a teenager... yet his confidence, his eyes, his body... they didn't feel like that," she thought.

Downstairs, Abhi paced the living room, he'd seen it--her flush, her laugh, the way she'd looked at Ishaan's abs. It wasn't just nice. It was something else, something that made his stomach churn and his dick twitch, a betrayal he couldn't face.

His phone buzzed--Ishaan: "Show me what she's doing"

Abhi's breath hitched, "I'm an idiot, swear to God, might as well carve my own tombstone"

He crept upstairs, the house creaking under him, and paused at her door.

It was ajar, the mirror angled just right--he saw her, nightie slipping off one shoulder, slightly showing off her cleavage, her hand sliding down her neck, eyes half-closed, her dress revealing one of her thick thighs.

His mouth went dry, a jolt shooting through him--shame, thrill, a mix he couldn't untangle.

She didn't see him, lost in her own world, and he fumbled his phone, snapping a blurry shot before bolting back downstairs.

He sent it, hands shaking: "Here. Don't ask again"

Ishaan's response was a firebomb: "Damn! look at her thick thighs, she's a slut waiting to break."

"Congrats, dummy, you didn't screw it up--miracles do happen after all."