Queen of Persia ✔️

iiiv. night fifty

The night had finally arrived. Arman was always awaiting this time of day. Why? Well maybe because he got to see Parisa or maybe because he finally had the chance to be himself. Tonight, he came a little later than usual, expecting Parisa to be asleep. But she had waited for him. She stayed away, looking out the balcony. She was looking at the stars she once spoke her secrets too. But now the stars were a witness of her love. They witnessed everything and nothing.

When Arman walked in, Parisa didn't turn as usual. She kept looking out the balcony. She observed every atom of the night sky. Just like the first night they had met, Arman walked right behind Parisa towering over her body. But instead of teasing her just like back then, he held her from behind. She pressed her body against his, leaning on his tall torso as support. His embrace was warm enough to melt ice.

"A very wise person once told me that stories are a remedy to escape this world," he reminded her. He carefully rubbed her bare arms, providing her warmth. 

"What a wise woman," Parisa laughed, "would you like to hear a story, my king?" she asked him gently. Her voice was soft and soothing, almost like medicine to Arman. Even if her voice was slightly deeper than the other girls, Arman loved it. Her voice brought him some sort of closure.

"No," he responded, holding her tighter than before, "I want you tonight," he added. She turned her body around to face him. Once again, their foreheads were touching, and their breaths were caressing each other's skin. Arman held her by her waist, locking eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, devouring his torso.

"Then do it," she gave him permission. Permission from her is all he wanted. In that moment, she fell in love with him, he was both: dangerous and a gentleman. A balance that made her feel safe. He slowly ran his hands over her past ⏤ lingering over the worn edges of her heart. When a man loves a woman, she becomes his weakness. When a woman loves a man, he becomes her strength. That is called the exchange of power. The exchange of needs they desired for years. With their lips against each other, she felt his fingers trace and crave every single texture on her skin.

He began to unwrap her slowly. First her heart. Then her soul and mind. He hadn't gotten to her clothes, but she knew he would soon. She craved his touch and so she slowly unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the nicest set of abs she had every seen. His skin was smooth but hard. Every part of him was perfect to her. He was her darkest fairy-tale and she was his twisted fantasy. Together they created magic like no other. Arman was completely lost in the kiss to even realise how he was slowly undressing her. For one night, they lived a passion they desired in their wildest dreams. A burning situation of love and intimacy.

Both their clothes were now entirely off. She dug her fingernails into his body, as he navigated her to the bed. The silk sheets felt like cold water on her bare skin, and he felt like a warm heater. She hung onto his body as if he was going to leave. She kissed him until he forgot about his fears in life. She was his better half, and he was her stronger half. The half they both needed.

"Lift your body, my heart," he whispered softly in her ear. She slowly lifted her hips allowing him to touch her in ways she had only dreamt off. It was long after that they were fully connected. Inside and out, they were one. One soul. Souls that devoured each other. Souls that desired each other's touch.

Only in a situation like this, Arman, was ever undone. His hands move up her thighs, undoing every single bit of composure she had left. He felt colours he hadn't even known. They both knew how to capture every moment, as if they had imagined this very moment for years. His was breathing hard, chest heavy. Parisa could feel her hands shake as he pulled her into a kiss again. A kiss that lit up the sky. Unbelievable kiss. His hands were still on her hips, connecting both their bare bodies together. It provided them the warmth only skin to skin touch could provide.

It was moments like this that allowed them both to feel freedom. Because this. This exact moment was everything. A memory, a feeling that would last a lifetime. And even a lifetime was short for their love.