~~~~~~~~~~~~~Swept Away ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Arjun and Chitrangada story)
Disclaimer: This is a work of PURE FICTION. None of it has happened in the real epic. Also, THIS IS A WARNING- MATURE CONTENT EXPLICT SCENES AHEAD. Although it's my first time writing such a spicy story, I've tried my best to keep it subtle and... Idk, please let me know if it doesn't make sense. I think I'll stick to the comical stuff after this.
I really wanted soft boi Arjun with the ever commanding Chitrangada. I also need more Chitrangada stories, please recommend me some if there are any good ones. The portrayal of Chitrangada was inspired by a chapter from @desigurlie's lost moment- Upturned fates. Her work has always fueled my obsession✨
Again, WARNING- ⚠️⚠️⚠️MATURE CONTENT AHEAD⚠️⚠️⚠️-
He had commanded legions.
His name echoed across Aryavarta like a hymn of war and wonder.
He had crossed untamed lands, brought kings to their knees, and claimed victories that echoed through the ages.
Yet now, the very same man lay on silk, wrists loosely bound above his head: not by force, but by choice, his own choice.
His skin glistened, flushed, marked by her full mouth and her hands. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sandalwood, and the only sound was his breath: ragged, hungry, waiting.
It almost seemed like he was the inexperienced one.
Chitrangada stood at the edge of the bed, watching him like a predator watches its prize- not with cruelty, but with absolute control. Every part of her radiated authority. From the tilt of her chin to the slow, deliberate way she approached him; like she owned every inch of the room.
Every inch of him.
“Tell me what you want,” she said, voice low.
Arjun, turned to look at his lioness. Her skin, sun-kissed and battle-tested, glistened with sweat and shone rich bronze. Her strong arms, Oh how strong yet small against his own hands.
Her eyes, gods her eyes: dark as storm clouds, shaped like almonds. They held the clarity of someone who had seen both battlefield and betrayal, saw straight through armor and ego alike.
Her hair, long and raven-dark, was usually tied back, but when loosened, it fell like a warrior’s banner. Her very being the embodiment of power- grace woven into every stride, commanding in stillness, and utterly unafraid.
He smiled- not cocky, but soft, reverent. “You. However you want me, my queen.”
“Mine,” she said against his skin.
“Yes,” he breathed, arching into her. “Always.”
When her nails scraped down his arms and left blooming marks of possession, he gasped her name like prayer. Then, blinking up at her with those maddeningly amber eyes, he gave a crooked grin. "Should I be worried you’re branding me now, Rajkumari?"
Chitrangada arched an eyebrow, lips curving into something dangerously amused, "You're lucky I’m not carving my name into your chest."
Arjuna chuckled breathlessly, still pinned beneath her. "At least make the script neat. I have appearances to keep."
She didn’t move gently, she moved like a storm claiming the sea, fierce and beautiful, unstoppable. And Arjuna- her husband met her every motion with soft cries, body shaking beneath the woman who refused to let him disappear behind titles or legend
She crawled over him like a flame licking up dry wood, and he shuddered when her fingers traced the lines of his chest.
“You’re not afraid to give me control?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Arjuna met her eyes with that infuriating, intoxicating calm. “Chitra, my dearest, I’ve held the weight of kingdoms on my shoulders. But nothing feels heavier than your gaze when you choose me. I’d give you everything.”
He wasn’t afraid of surrendering to her: he thought of it as an honor.
She leaned down and bit gently at his lower lip, just enough to make him groan. “You’ll regret that.”
He chuckled, then gasped as her hands claimed him again. “Only if you stop.”
Then, she kissed him like war, like conquest, like she was here to take everything and leave him grateful.
Arjuna gasped against her lips as she pushed him down again: one hand against his chest, the other sliding his arms up above his head with purpose. Her thighs straddled his hips, bare and strong, the weight of her both grounding and dizzying.
“Chitra…” he breathed, but the rest of her name broke into a moan as her mouth moved to his throat.
Gods.
He had faced demons, kings, god- and yet nothing had ever left him so undone as this woman untying the knot at his waist with maddening ease.
She wasn’t gentle tonight. She was hungry.
Her husband- wielder of Gandiva, breaker of sieges- offered himself up without resistance. Not because he was weak, but because she was strong. And nothing aroused him more than watching her own it.
Her dark, obsidian hair, that had unfurled like a waterfall, created a curtain to cover their kisses and the slap of skin against skin.
“Keep your hands where they are,” she whispered. His muscles flexed with the effort not to move. He could easily take control. Flip her beneath him. Take the reins. But he didn’t want to, gods he didn’t.
He wanted her to have him.
She moved like a queen claiming what was hers, every roll of her hips purposeful, every sound she dragged from his throat another trophy. And he gave them willingly. He gave her everything.
Arjuna’s breath caught as her nails scraped down his chest. His eyes fluttered open just enough to see her above him- glowing in the lamplight, body curved in power, eyes consuming him.
“Look at you,” she whispered. “So beautiful like this. My prince. Mine.”
He couldn’t speak; his throat was a tangle of devotion and desperation. He only nodded, eyes glassy with pleasure, hands still bound above him.
She rode him like she knew the rhythm of his soul. When release came, it shattered him. Not violently- but reverently.
Like the sky cracking open to reveal light.
He collapsed beneath her, body trembling, mind blank, lips parted. When she finally untied his wrists, kissing them gently, he wrapped his arms around her and held her like she was the only anchor left in the world.
"Tell me, Arjuna," she said, her voice low and teasing, her eyes gleaming with amusement, "do you always let yourself be so... swept away? Or is it just when I’m the one leading you?"
Arjuna, still catching his breath, let out a soft chuckle, his head lolling slightly as he gazed up at her with a mix of exhaustion and admiration. His skin was flushed, and the faint traces of a smile played on his lips as he tried to find the energy to respond.
"Well," he said, voice raspy, yet playful, "I must admit... you’ve certainly got a way of leading me." His amber eyes twinkled as he lifted his hand lazily, brushing a lock of her hair from her face. "Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t need much convincing. I’m easily swept away, especially when I’m in such... good company."
Chitrangada raised an eyebrow, her smirk only growing as she leaned in closer. "Easily swept away, you say? I suppose that makes my job easier then."
Arjuna rolled his eyes dramatically, his tiredness catching up with him in waves, but the charm in his words never faltered. "Well, if this is what ‘swept away’ feels like, I think I could get used to it. Though I might need a bit more rest before I can do it all over again."
Chitrangada laughed softly, her gaze softening as she admired him. "Don’t worry, my hero," she teased, her hand resting against his chest. "You’ve earned your rest."
Arjuna sighed dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillows, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. "I think I’ve earned everything," he muttered playfully, closing his eyes for a moment. "But I suppose... I could let you lead me again when I’m feeling up to it."
Chitrangada smiled at his words, leaning down to kiss his forehead, the soft affection in her gesture contrasting with the earlier fire. "Rest now, my prince. I’ll let you get back to your charming self... for now."