Waking up in the arms of her husband, with his bare chest pressed up against her body — covered in his clothing was a feeling no one had prepared her for. The smell of his perfume mixed with the natural scent of his manliness tingled her senses. His warm, sturdy arms held her waist in a tight grip and she had no idea of where her skin felt the most alive. Was it her lips that still felt as if they were covered by his as he kissed her gently under the moonlight? Was it the region between her legs that stung still — a reminder of the consummation? Or was it her lithe waist that was warmed by his arms? Perhaps it was her back that felt his toned muscles move with the beat of his heart.
Samra was flushed. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, but she knew the raging red would be invisible to the naked eye and for the first time she felt confident about having a darker skin — it's camouflage was superior. She stroked his hairy arm with her fingers each limb attached to her working with a mind of its own. Sighing deeply she relived the night she had shared with him. His sweet words and gentle touches had turned into soft kisses and then into harsh bites that were spread our across her warm skin. The confidence of his touch had melted her into a pile of soft bones and marrow. She felt like jelly, spreading out under him, his hands manipulating her as they wanted. He had held her like a mother cradles its newborn, with love and infinite affection. Carrying her to the private bathing chambers and helping her wash up in the cool pond filled with water lotuses. Only sleeping after they had watched the sunrise and prayed, his loose kaftan giving her body all the cover it needed.
Shy now that she could hear voices of his guards outside the bedroom, she hid her face under the silk pillows. Her breath halted for a second, his beard grazing the inch of visible skin from wear the plum dress and slipped off. Inhaling with silent, deep and cautious breaths Samra felt for the edge of the mattress in the dimly lit room. The one burning candle, that was at the end of it's thick stump like a badly butchered arm was flickering it's last. It cast a gloomy shadow over the rich and luxurious furniture but did little to guide her about where everything was. She felt the tips of her fingers graze air, the wind biting at her stained palms. Stretching out now, more confidently she began to slide out from under his arms. Holding her breath lest she wake him up.
It was of course a bit too much she wished for. Having forgotten her fate in just one night — she later thought. For as soon as she made the lightest of movements to get out from under the sheets, his hand pulled her by her forearm. With his sheer brute force, she ended up smashing against his toned chest. A soft groan spilled from under her mouth, no signs of resistance though. His hand brushed the damp lock of hair, pushing it behind her soft ear. He leaned over brushing his lips ever so softly against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her cheek. Samra's heart beat ran fast like an elephant that had caught a glimpse of fire. She clenched her hand, the deep shell of her palm carrying nothing but air. With the stealth and agility of a cheetah, Fadhunsi pushed her on the bed. Her back coming to contact with the fine sheets, her palm flattening against his sweaty chest a surprised cry escaping her lips.
"Har dafa eik mulzim ki tarah bhagnay ko kyun tiyaar hoti hain?" He whispered.
[Why are you always ready to run away like a criminal?]
His warm breath was neared than she had anticipated. The wildly thick arms caged her from the sides and his body sunk over hers, dangerously low, with each breath the top slope of her breast brushed against his. Not even a thin hair could pass between them without grazing them.
"Ais—aisi koi baat nahi hai," she gulped.
[It's—It's nothing like that.]
Samra could for some reason imagine the dip in his facial muscles as they turned to sit in a prideful smirk. A hint of his dimple appearing on his left cheek with the action. Fadahunsi dragged a hand from her lips to just above her heaving breast. Flattening where the beat of her heart was loudest.
"Yeh tez nabz tou kisi aur baat ka hi ishara kar rahi hai," his voice was dripping with humor.
[This fast heartbeat gives an indication of something else.]
"Woh tou waisay hi hai". She shrieked.
[It is like that for no reason.]
"Is it because I'm near you? Does my touch make your body so erratic?" He questioned.
The deep huskiness inside his voice coupled with the soft lilt of his accent as he spoke fluent lashkari — the language of Loh, sparked a fire deep in the pits of her stomach. A part of herself that had until last night had been unknown to eve herself. She fisted her hands, her nails digging into his skin ever so lightly. Fadahunsi winced under his breath, he had been charged at with all sorts of weapons but none had managed to pierce its way to his heart like her grip. The relentless prowess of her arrow like nails shot straight through him. Even in the dark he could see the pale eyes that lit up with excitement and passion of having dealt him a painful wound.
"If you want my heart ask me for it, these lowly attacks don't suit a woman of your status". He teased.
"Why do you speak like that?" She punched him.
"I speak the truth and the truth alone humdum," he kissed her forehead.
"Why do you always bring up something about me harming you? I'm not as wild and feral as you assume!"
He sensed the underlaying hints of anger and frustration. Rising up to give them both some air to breathe, he brought her to his sturdy lap. Their nakedness hiding under the sheets. He gripped her chin with gentle fingers, his lips laying upon hers. He sucked on her lower lip biting into it with his teeth, his thumb brushing her jaw in gentle strokes. Samra fought to keep up with him. Her hands fisted his unkempt hair, her lips tasting every inch of his warm mouth. She moved in his embrace, settling her legs on either side of him their lips still engaged in raw passion. He kneaded the muscles of her back, slipping dangerously close to the hem of the dress that had hiked up. The dark skin of her thighs slipping out from under, his warm hands massaging them softly.
Samra held back a deep guttural moan. Her breath hastened deep inside her chest and she felt a warmth flood the region between her legs. She clenched her muscles tight, her eyes clouding with dark spots, energy draining out of her body as she fought to keep her eyes on his face. She slid her hands on Fadahunsi's face running through his thick beard. Forcing him away she took a deep breath. Her fingers massaged the swell of his lips, feeling the imprint on hers still. His lips were set into a deep smile, his heart racing as fast as hers.
"This does not answer my question". She whispered against his face.
"I don't think you're any of those words. I ask you to take ownership of what's yours".
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Samra changed into a light pink muslin dress. The shirt ended a few inches above her ankles, the neckline embroidered with silver thread and sequins settled on it. The cuffs of her sleeves were made with fine tilla and stones. The lehnga flared our from underneath and it's ruffles fluttered in the gentle summer breeze. A maid had helped her set her hair into a side parted braid, adding a white gold hair jewel. The jhoomar framed the side of her forehead and the large dial earrings with the thin white beads sat over the shell of her ear. Her veil was settled on her hair loosely, draped over one shoulder. The sprinkling of small motives on her dress reflected the shades of the rainbow on the floor as sunlight struck them.
She applied the lightest of perfumes on the dressing table. It's aroma of baby breaths and jasmine's made her skin come to life. Her expressive kohl lined eyes stared at her husband with wild expectation. She twirled in front of him, waiting for his approval.
"Yeh rang saray shokh ap par hi jach te hain,
Hum jin lafzon mein bhi tareef ka sochein kam partay hain," he straightened out her veil for her.
[All these bright colors suit you,
Whatever words of praise that come to mind are less for you.]
"Makhan tou ap behtareen laga letay hain," she giggled.
[You butter one extremely well.]
He chuckled at her remark. The sounds of their laughter rumbled the thick walls, and the sight of the two laughing in each other's embrace was observed by prying eyes from the garden below. Four of them, lifted in great pleasure while one curled in jealousy. The bile colored snake propping up in their mind as they sneaked out from the thin gap between the palace walls.
"Listen Samra, behind the privacy of our palace and quarters you're allowed to refer to me as you wish. In front of our supervisors or guests call me 'General Fadahunsi'," he ordered.
The two were headed out of their bedroom for a late lunch when he cornered her, explaining to her the responsibilities she had now that she was his wife. There were protocols that had to be followed, rules that could never be broken if they wanted to maintain peace in their lives. His playful attitude and the actions of treating his wife as an equal would not settle well with many, it's consequences were what he wanted to avoid at all costs.
"Of course Fadahunsi. I understand. I won't disrespect you in any way," she offered her sincerity.
"It would not be disrespect. It's to ensure your safety. I'd be dammed if they use you as leverage against me," he stared into her eyes.
Samra shivered at his confident gaze. She felt her bones rumble and her soul move with a deep sense of affection. At times she wondered if he could stare at her heart and mind, her thoughts, with his stern gaze.
"Now let's leave before Alishba shows up on our bedroom door demanding a written apology for making food wait," he spoke.
Samra nodded her head, opening the heavy wooden door, his warm palm resting on the small of her back and guiding her out of the bedroom. The two walked side by side. His steps were large and confident, his broad shoulders brushed her nimble frame and the wide palms that wrapped her waist in their grip massaged the skin from above her dress. Hers were a contrast of his. For every one step he took Samra took two, her figure all but covered by his, like a wall providing it's protection. A tree giving it's everlasting shade.
"Also before I forget to mention, the royal wedding is tonight, and you'll attend it by my side. As my wife," he informed.
Samra nodded, knowing deep inside her heart that all hell was about to break loose.
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⚜️Samra's outfit ⚜️
• Translations •
Jhoomar — a piece of jewelry that covers one side of the forehead
Tilla — a style of threadwork done by metal threads
• What is Lashkari? •
Lashkari is the original name of Urdu meaning the one for the armies. There was a time when the subcontinent's army consisted of Arabic, Indian and Persian men. They mixed words and found a common language and thus the Laskhari Zuban / Urdu was born
•••
Can you see the history fanatic in me is thriving?
Ive been dying to share these facts lmfao
I LOVE SAMRA AND FADAHUNSI