A/N: Hey there! :) So after all the wonderful responses from you guys to The Lawyer's Wife I decided to write another one-shot set in the same universe. For those of you who haven't read it, it's set in the future, where ShraMan move into Sumo's childhood home after Shravan finds out the truth and hasn't completely reconciled with his parents yet - you DON'T need to have read The Lawyer's Wife to understand this one :)
I've rated it 16+ due to mature themes/situations, although it's not extremely explicit, since I don't think I'm 100% comfortable with writing full-blown smut just yet. But if you feel as though you shouldn't be reading it, or are uncomfortable with the subject material, please don't!
I've also continued my OS, Pillow Talk, into the SS Never Let You Go and the first three parts are up, so feel free to check that one out if you'd like! :D
If you're interested in reading more of my ShraMan works and would like me to PM you when I update, feel free to send me a buddy request and I will!
ShraMan OS | Labour of Love [16+]
Sumo pinned her hair at the back of her head loosely as her husband mixed the pale blue paint in the paint can. She appreciatively watched as one lean, muscled arm lifted up the wooden stir stick with the thick paint dripping back into the can to test its consistency. "You think that's good?" he queried, glancing up at her from where he was crouched on the floor, clad in his muscle tank and sweats.
"It's great," her gaze travelled up the prominent vein running up his forearm. Seven months of marriage and yet she still couldn't get enough of the finely formed specimen of masculine beauty that was her husband.
Shravan raised an eyebrow in amusement, knowing very well her attention wasn't focused on the paint, "Sumo, ma'am?"
She finally pried her gaze away and cleared her throat, smoothing down her old kurta top she'd worn for the occasion. "It's the pregnancy hormones," she tried to sound apathetic and failed dismally.
"You're only a month pregnant," the lawyer pointed out, gesturing with the stirring stick towards her flat stomach.
"How would you know anything about what I'm going through, you're a man," she huffed, grabbing a paint roller. Shravan wisely remained silent, though the grin on his face clearly indicated that he knew perfectly well his wife found him attractive enough to ogle, pregnant or not.
"Are you sure this colour won't turn out too dark?" he broached a new topic with tact.
Sumo rolled her eyes at him, "It's - what is it again? Petal Purple? Look at it, Shravan, it's a lot more muted compared to those garish shades of pink you had suggested."
"I know what our baby likes," he insisted.
"We don't even know if we're having a boy or a girl!"
"It's a girl...I can feel it," he nodded with serious conviction.
"She - it's in my womb."
"Ah, but who helped put her there?" he grinned and she laughed, "Alright, fair enough, point to you, my lord."
As soon as the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, Shravan had gone...well...slightly overboard. While she found his excitement and joy quite endearing, his initial mix of overprotectiveness and jubilance had been a bit overwhelming. She had already needed to tell him a number of times that she was perfectly fine and that she had nothing to worry about in this stage of her pregnancy but he still worried from time to time. And their recent shopping trips had been quite the task with Shravan getting easily distracted by every baby toy, book, onesie within sight...all in all, however, she couldn't have asked for a better partner. She already knew he was going to be a wonderful father...perhaps the reasons behind his recent behaviour partly had to do with his own father's handling of his upbringing...he didn't want to repeat his mistakes, so naturally he'd become a little more nervous, even with his anticipation.
"You are not your father," she had told him seriously one night, stroking the side of his face while lying in his arms in bed.
"I know, I know...but sometimes I worry that I might make the same mistakes. Unintentionally. I think that was the issue, really - Papa thought he was doing the best for me, for my happiness, when in reality he was only taking steps to ensure my own misery and loneliness. He didn't intend for that to happen, but it happened nonetheless...What if...what if one day I make a decision concerning our child's future...and it's not the right one?"
"It's a little early for that kind of stress, don't you think?" she smiled gently, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, "I think that being a parent is going to be new...and exciting...and terrifying. For both of us. And yes, we're going to make mistakes along the way, but we're going to learn from them too. If anything, I think knowing where your father went wrong is just going to help you know how to avoid repeating his mistakes. And, you're not in this alone, Shravan. I'm here, too."
"And I'm so glad for it," he responded sincerely, bending down to kiss her.
She was glad they had talked that one out. She was sure that parenthood was going to be challenging for them both, but she couldn't be more eager for it. In fact, she had been the one to suggest they paint the baby's room that day because she wanted to help him do it and she knew for a fact her husband would hardly allow her to lift a finger later on in her pregnancy. They had decided to use her old room as the baby's room. After they'd moved into her childhood home, while part of Sumo loved reminiscing memories of her parents with the familiar furnishings and wallpaper, she had also recognized that much of it was dilapidated and falling apart. Certain things had to be removed, repainted, refurnished...and part of her also felt clean once it had been done. This was a new beginning for them - they didn't need to be hindered by the past.
"Ready?" Shravan inquired now, taking a step back to take in the expanse of the wall.
"Have you ever painted a wall before?" Sumo asked, joining his side.
"No...but it can't be that hard, can it?"
"I'll do the bottom half, you take the top," she rolled the paint roller in the pale bluish-purple paint. At times like this, she was quite grateful for having a Qutub Minar for a husband - there was no way she'd have been able to reach that top of the wall. Shravan was also more patient than she; he'd acquired some Winnie the Pooh stencils and was planning to paint in the tiny characters in a sort of border by the crib.
Sumo started first, dragging the roller down the wall in clean lines from the middle, then took a step back, surveying the colour. "I think we'll have to do a second coat after."
"Yeah, it'll get lighter once it dries," Shravan nodded, starting to paint as well, "You did a pretty good job with that bit...you didn't even need me to hold your hand this time..."
"Oh, ha, ha," she grumbled, though a smile crept to her face at the old memory of him helping her with her art project in high school, "Even then, you couldn't resist a chance to touch me."
"Don't tempt me," he chuckled, "Or this paint job will never get done."
They worked together, painting the wall in steady, careful strokes - not rushing or applying too much pressure. They could've easily hired someone to paint the room for them, but there was something about painting this room themselves that had stuck. They hadn't discussed it, yet Sumo knew Shravan felt the same way she did. There was something oh-so-sweet and wonderful about creating something for their unborn child; that it would sleep and reside in an environment nurtured with love and promise. She wanted everything to be perfect for it, she wanted it to grow up in a home filled with love and understanding and unity. She wanted her child to never experience the bitter loneliness and abandonment she and Shravan had. Painting and decorating it's room themselves just seemed right in a way, as though setting the benchmark for the way they would raise their family.
"What if the baby doesn't like the colour?" her husband suddenly queried with a small frown, as he painted.
"Well, it's vision is going to be a bit blurry at first, it won't see clearly until it's five months, anyway," Sumo pointed out, blowing her hair out of her eyes, "And I highly doubt our child is going to develop an aversion towards a colour, Shravan. Especially one this light. By the time it's able to express what it likes and what it doesn't like, we can just repaint the wall. Whatever colour it likes."
"What if it likes electric blue...or hot pink...?"
"We'll have to set some borderlines," Sumo replied thoughtfully, "After all, I'll have to find some way to prevent you from spoiling it rotten."
"We can't be too strict, either," Shravan said reasonably, working at the top corners, "What's a good balance?"
"I guess we'll have to discover that one out as we go along. Isn't that what all parents do?"
"I suppose so...I did consider consulting one of those How-To books..."
She stifled a giggle at the thought, "But?"
"I didn't think parenting should be defined by rules or a manual," he looked down at her seriously, "I decided the best way to figure this one out would be with you by my side."
"I like that approach far better," she agreed, then grimaced at a slightly darker square in the middle of the wall, "It looks patchy."
"It'll be fine after the second coat, I think. You know, I wonder who our child will look more like...me or you?"
"I'm rather hoping it'll be blessed with your eyes."
"I want a chubby, miniature Sumo," he beamed at the image presented in his mind...a tiny little girl with pigtails and bright eyes tottering into the room calling out "Papa!" as he returned home from work...
"You better hope your miniature Sumo' doesn't inherit my obstinacy too."
"She'll be just as mischievous as her mother, that's a given."
"Look who's talking!"
"I learned from the best," he gave her an exaggerated bow.
"I'm flattered," she snorted, working her way back up from the bottom to the middle of the wall. She glanced at Shravan's side, "I'm beating you, by the way."
"I wasn't aware this was a competition?" he raised a brow in amusement...then looked over at her side, "Ah, but my side is neater."
"No it isn't...look, I can see the brush strokes on that side," she gestured with a paint-smeared hand.
Shravan rolled his eyes, "I'm not done with that bit yet."
"Excuses, excuses."
"Hey, I'm the one who taught you how to paint properly."
"The student surpasses the master," she deadpanned and he chuckled, "Oh, we'll see about that..."
She deftly painted down her remaining half, then surveyed the result, "Well, I win round one. Second coat goes on once it's dry, right?"
"Mmhm," he focused on painting the top bit of the wall right above her. She yelped as a drop fell on her nose, "Shravan!"
"What?" he turned to face her and laughed at the comical picture presented before him, with Sumo's indignantly scrunched-up nose and the spot of paint adorning it. "You're adorable," he swiped the paint off her nose, leaving a faint streak, and returned back to finishing up his half of the wall.
He was just lining the thin border at the top when he felt a very cold, sticky finger sweep down the back of his neck.
"Sumo!" he wriggled around, almost dropping his roller, "That was so cold!"
His wife looked the very picture of innocence with her eyes blinking up at him and hands clasped in front of her, though he knew better, "I couldn't help it, you were providing the perfect vantage point, you were basically asking for it with your head tilted like that..."
"You're a menace," he growled, advancing towards her. Her eyes widened and she gave out a tiny shriek before speeding out of the room. He followed, in full pursuit, laughing as she dodged him, fleeing into the kitchen. Shravan cornered her by the refrigerator, grinning evilly, only to have her swiftly duck under his arm. Rounding the corner, he stubbed his toe by the table, "Ow, Sumo!" He stopped, bending down to examine his foot.
She turned around for only a second, smirking, knowing very well he was making a big deal out of nothing, "Poor baby."
And then his wife skipped out of the room unconcernedly, disappearing down the hall.
"Shaitaan," he muttered under his breath, limping a little as he followed. He looked both sides down the hallway, but the house was utterly silent. "Sumo?" he called, only to be greeted by silence.
Frowning, he ventured back into the baby's room, but it was empty too. "Sumo, you can come out now!" he tried again, a little worried when she still didn't answer.
He swivelled around the room, trying to figure out where she might've gone when he suddenly caught sight of the old cupboard at the back of the room. On a sudden hunch, he stalked towards it, opening the doors to find his wife curled up in a ball on the shelf, gazing up at him with laughter sparkling in her eyes.
"Very funny," he drawled, the momentary stress receding, "I'm not surprised you still fit in there."
"Not all of us are six foot giants, you know," she countered, unwrapping her arms from her knees.
"No, I suppose not," he leaned in, crowding up her space, "but you being this small does provide some advantages," he suddenly slid one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, lifting her out of the closet with paint-covered hands. She felt the wetness seep into her clothes and she shrieked, "Shravan, no!"
He chuckled as he put her down only to grab her again from her waist, and swung her around, fingers smearing her cheeks with paint. She screamed, giggling uncontrollably at the same time and kicked at him to no avail, before grabbing a nearby glass of water and sloshing it at his face. He spluttered, letting go of her, his hair dripping, the front of his tank drenched through.
She snorted, "Your hair's all floppy," folding her arms smugly in front of her, as though he was the ridiculous-looking one, despite she being streaked all over with paint. He shook his head at her, running a hand through his hair, and then, in one swift motion, pulled his tank over his head, letting it hit the floor. She gulped at the sudden action, her eyes trailing down his front, focused on a thin stream of water running down his neck and the defined v-shape of his chest. Her eyes darted from his eyes back down to his chest and then back to his eyes again, which were already darkening as she traced his figure.
He stalked towards her and she took a few steps back until she hit the unpainted wall. Her eyes slowly closed and her breaths started coming faster as his fingers trailed in an unhurried path from her cheeks, down her throat, curving along her collarbone in gentle, erotic swirls, before dipping underneath her kurta shirt. She gasped as a drop of paint, half-diluted with water, ran down her front, pooling at her belly button and Shravan's eyes widened as he watched her. Her eyes opened, piercing with need, and she stretched out one hand, tangling at the back of his hair roughly, and pulled him down to kiss her. He bided his time, however, catching her lower lip gently between his teeth and then sweeping his tongue into her mouth in teasingly shallow passes, mimicking his feather-light brushes over her breasts. She slid down to the tarp-covered floor and he followed, still kissing her so slowly she thought she might unravel. She made a frustrated sound against his mouth and he grinned, knowing very well what he was doing to her, but made no effort to kiss her any more deeply, leaning his hands back on the floor behind him. Something in her snapped and she pushed him back, climbing over him until she managed to seat herself on his lap. At sudden inspiration, she dipped her fingers in the paint in the tray, without breaking their locked gaze, and then let the tips of her fingers drag lightly against his chest.
Shravan hissed in a breath as the coolness trickled down his body and his wife continued to paint him, slowly working her way from his collarbone to his chest. He'd never seen a sight more arousing than Sumo's paint-splattered fingers circling around the flat disks of his pecs and then trailing downwards, edging the contours of his muscled lower abdomen and then just below his belly button, raking her nails in ever-widening circles. He froze, grabbing her hand before she could wreak any more havoc to his senses and dragged her in for a deep, drugging kiss, gripping her thighs and then sliding his hands up the curve of her rear and then her back, back and forth. His chest rubbed against hers as she decisively rocked herself against him and then he had to stretch an arm back before he fell and took her along with him.
A loud thwack! sound resounded in the room and they both startled, looking down, breathing hard. He'd somehow managed to overturn the plastic paint tray with his hand. Light purple paint pooled on the floor beside them.
Sumo giggled, leaning her head against his chest as she fought to calm her racing heart, "It's a good thing we covered the floor with tarp before we started."
"We're gonna need to buy more paint now," he chuckled, raking his eyes down her paint-smeared neck and chest.
"And whose fault is that?" she retorted.
"You started it," he reminded her, stealing a quick kiss from her mouth.
She sighed, glancing at the pale blue wall, "I suppose it's time for the second coat? The wall's probably dry by now."
"You're not," he traced a finger appreciatively down the damp column of her neck and she smacked his hand away, attempting to keep a stern countenance, "Enough of that, or our child's room is never going to get painted."
"We have eight months...oh, and look, we've already gotten a head start on the other wall."
Sumo turned and laughed at the sight of the previously unpainted wall, now smudged and streaked with blue from where she had been pressed up against it. "I don't even know how we managed to get up to this..."
"Oh, I do. I always was a pretty good painter in school, and now looking at you, I feel like quite the artist," her husband announced proudly, "My finest creation yet."
"So modest," she replied dryly, "Now, how about you exhibit more of that skill and paint that second coat and get on with the rest of the room...or our little creation's going to be stuck with three white walls and one mismatched," she patted her flat stomach.
"Alright," he got up with an exaggerated sigh, "For the little one... We should probably wash up, first, though. I'm of no inclination to let this stuff just dry on me."
"Ah, well...I call first dibs on taking a shower!" she raced off at breakneck speed, but didn't get very far before he caught up, tossing her over his shoulder and heading up the stairs with the excuse that his painting services didn't come free, though she knew perfectly well that all that he did was for love, and love alone.
For wasn't the tiny creation inside her, at that very moment, living proof of it?
Anupamaa
Cricket
