Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

33 - Aag *

AN: This chapter is pure smut, feel free to skip.

Meerab was naive and yet calculated when she needed to be. She had seen enough of the world for it to hurt when her freedom was about to be snatched away. She had ran to the train station with every cell yearning— crying out— in ardent search for a different road that led to free choice. On that uncertain path is where she opened the door for Murtasim; equally wise, kind and honourable.

The sight of their wedding pictures sprawled out on the cofee table, the intimate and soothing blaze behind them and the law school application made her heart squeeze in love, in finally finding a home that treated her with the care and consideration she sought. Her eyes were pools of appreciation, of a dream come true.

Murtasim had just confessed that his only wish is that she stayed closed by, spurring her on to tease, ''Kitna paas?'' She swiftly pivoted so that she faced him, hinting at the blooming amorous need within. (To stay close? How close?)

''Closer,'' he deftly ordered until Meerab found herself face to face, knees nestled past each other ontop of the comfy rug. With pink heart-shaped helium baloon drifting against the tall ceiling, the loose rose petals had followed them into the room. It was an intimate retreat, they were truly alone and encompassed in a bubble of newly discovered love, glowing.

''Aur nazdeek Meerab,'' he ordered in a hoarse voice, narrating the unassuming instruction which led into Meerab pressing her lips against his in a pace that was leisurely and unhurried, yet easily stirred the depths of desire within. Their knees welcomed each other, slowly kissing whilst her hands slid down to her quaint waist, splaying to the flair of her hips. The greedy groping incited her entire body to tingle. (Even closer Meerab.)

Meerab sharply gasped, the temperature rising as her hands smoothed over his cotton kameez, finding the hardness of his chest. The fire cast a handsome shadow on his features to sharpen his nose and jaw, crackling and dancing elegantly besides them like a miniature storm. In a tactful swoop, her pulled her forward so that her intimate centre rest again his knee, every wither amplified 10 fold from the gentlest friction, so that she was conscious of the connection, anticipation rousing.

Care efforts were spent in kissing her pouty cupid bow, the corner of her lips, her chin, the soft flesh beneath and upon her beating pulse point. She was moaning, demure yet awakened, head falling back as took a taste of her skin, sinfully sweet and utterly intoxicating.

''May I ?'' He asked against her lips that were softer than silk, his fingertips tracing her lacey neckline in waiting.

Instinctively, she grinded herself against him in a motion that was subtle enough to be modest and yet exhilarating, only given away by a bated breath.

Without thinking, without any thought, her lips were left parted and she nod, letting him undo the buttons that fastened her kameez together. The loops were skilfully opened, each one a promise of flesh; bare before his view and to be savoured. He peeled the fabric and it way just enough space to show her perky cleavage and tops of her spilling cups that were lined in lace, making his cock twitch.

She had been close, immersed in his hobbies, his house that had become a secret retreat where they explored each other. They felt like they had stolen moments of time, taken without giving. He placed a trail of lasting kisses on a route downwards upon her breastbone, each one coupled with a sincere praise.

''Khoobsurat.'' (Pretty.)

Peck.

''Pyari,'' he mumbled against her sensitive skin. (Precious.)

Kiss.

''Meri khushi.'' (My happiness.)

Lick. His forehead leaned against her clavicle, resting like a pit stop.