Gentle and humble beginnings of the monsoon weather had soon transformed into a full blown storm. For four days it had continued to pour, with such ferociousness that all men were confined to the walls of their home. Trapped were their free spirits, forlorn were their wild hearts. The sun had forgotten what it's responsibilities were and the untamed clouds continued to weep. Their sorrow — or was it their joy that was so immense that their hearts were wrenched and the usual zephyr like eyes had turned stormy? The river banks had overflown within a few hours, flooding the fertile land for kilometers upon kilometers, destroying the straw huts of farmers.
Man and animal took refuge in the same spaces. The closeness of their bodies generated enough heat to keep their hearts and limbs in motion. Sounds of pitter patter had become their closest confidants, loud screams of air whistling through the tiny openings in between the walls and windows. Lamps flickered and oil was doused over them, firewood began to run out at a fast pace, their hearts beat in fear of their lives. Food was scarce, in their kitchens. While plenty of it rotted in the unbearable wetness, inside the men struggled to feed their children no one had expected something of this scale. Atleast not for the past eighty years.
All was not destroyed though. The storm had taken form a day after the caravan had returned to Baghdad. It had forced those that were separated to be closer than ever. There was no other choice. Behind the walls of the General's manor was a safeguarded haven. A nest of his wife and their love. A gentle dwelling, a reminder of the eternal truth. In life and in death, in sorrow and in happiness, in health and in sickness — in storm and in calmness no one but they would be by their sides. The fact of their life. The only part that was sealed with an iron stamp was their relationship, everything and everyone else was a visitor that would soon disappear.
The large walls had managed to keep stray eyes and ears at bay. Only his most trusted servants were allowed in the main part of his manor during this time, the rest had left for their quarters and were to remain there until summoned. Samra loved the seclusion, she had been thriving in it. The past mont had been particularly tiring on her, meeting so many people and putting up a happy face did not sit well with her. When the announcement had come to stay in homes, Samra had squealed her entire figure boisterous.
In the large home all the lanterns burnt bright. The lamps had been filled repeatedly to keep them alight, the sky outside was dark as the midnight sky. Only the orange hue that came from the fire was their source of illumination. There was a deep silence in the halls, with Samra and Fadahunsi keeping to their quarters for the most part. Rest of the place was too chilly to be visited. The cold settled in on the soft marble and limestone, finding refuge in the creaking wood-boards.
Waking up once more to the rippling sound of water, and harsh smacks from tall tree branches on their windows, Samra nuzzled into Fadahunsi's warm chest. Their bare bodies were covered by a thick sheepskin blanket, fur robes placed on the sides to add extra warmth. She felt wind blow in to the cocoon of warmth and instantly curled herself into a ball. Her fingers brushed the thick caramel hair on Fadahunsi's neck, his dark roots beginning to show more as the exposure to sun lessened. His beard scratched her skin and she blushed on remembering the rash left behind on her inner thigh.
Her muscles were sore and they ached as she willed them to move. He was a man insatiable, and he had kept that under wraps well until they had finally settled into the estate. Her nights were long as he held her to himself, working on her body with his careful hands. His lips whispered secrets against her skin, his tongue traced paths she never knew, her toes curling up as a warmth crippled her stomach. She had never imagined a man that would be so skilled at the art of coupling. She had heard enough stories to dread that part but with him it was like a gentle dream coming true.
Fadahunsi who had been up for a few minutes, dragged his fingers down her elbow. His head had found its way to her shoulders in the middle of the night, his bicep resting on the gentle slopes of her bosom. He sighed in delight, pressing his lips to the creamy, malleable skin just below her wishbone. He pinched the skin below the curve of her breast, the softest of groans falling from her lips. The heat and softness from her body were telltale signs of her soreness, the way it was currently nuzzling deeper into his body searching for refuge against the harsh chill was endearing to him.
"Subah bakher," he whispered.
[Good morning.]
His husky voice hung into the air, the 'r' rolling off of his tongue like a blade glides through grass. Samra whispered her reply in return, her eyes — the ones he loved to stare into still shut tight. His face twitched, his facial muscles pulling into a smile. The color of his hazel eyes turning more profound as nothing but peace and complete serenity filled him through.
"Won't you show me your eyes today?" He questioned.
The softness in his voice made it seem as if he was cooing at a young child. Samra opened one eye, tearing sleep out from them. They were slightly swollen and the long hours she stayed up had caused them to redden. Her hand cupped his chin, the tip of her thumb massaged the skin below his lower lip. Her eyes crossed and she bit her lip as she focused at the scar that had dried on his face. Another one that reminded her of his strength.
"What are you thinking?" He tapped her head.
She smiled wistfully, shaking her head she kissed his upper cheek. Her lips lingered for a second, the wisps of her eyelashes curled so high that he could see them touch her eyebrows. Her gaze kept itself steady on his face even when she broke away from him, wrapping her frame in the oversized robe. Immediate warmth clouded her. Like the gentlest of hugs and she relished the feelings. Her feet collided with the thick carpets, the fur pricked her soles and sunk under her weight.
Their bedroom had an attached bathroom to it, with stairs that led from the garden directly into it. Fadahunsi had explained to her it was for his servants so that they could fill his large bath with water without walking through his bedroom. It was ingenious and she was left stupefied. In the past few days no one had filled the bath and with fresh water, the rain forbid them. However, last night Fadahunsi had ordered his servants to walk in from his bedroom and draw up a fresh bath. And now Samra sighed in delight as she sunk into the water.
Her hands moved along the still waters, creating a tonne of ripples. Small giggles left her mouth as she cleaned herself at a leisurely pace. A coarse cloth and soapstone had been place against the green marble tun for her to use, for which she was thankful. Before she could grip those though, large hands took them into their grip. She blushed on watching Fadahunsi enter the bath. He coaxed her into his hold with soft movements. His hands rubbed the soapstone with a softness. He was careful not to rub to harshly, lest he cut her skin.
"How do you feel now?" He spoke.
"Better than I was last night," she whispered in reply.
He nodded, lifting her leg out of the waters to wash it with the soapstone. Samra felt her body flush, heat rushing to her face as he inched closer to the heat between her legs. His fingers skimmed the circumference of her thighs, gently grazing the tuft of hair that had begun to sprout in between her legs. She pushed his hands away, her heartbeat faster than a cheetah as it followed its prey.
"I've seen and touched you there plenty of times," he quirked his lips.
"Pl-please Fadahunsi," she shyly shook her head.
He chuckled, placing a finger under her chin. He raised it ever so slightly, his lips brushing against hers. He could fee the patterns of her heartbeat change, her breast crushed against his chest as he placed his lips on hers with full force. He sucked on her lower lip, his hands tucking the sticky hair strands behind her ear. His tongue forced itself into her mouth, he could taste the strawberries she had eaten after the morning prayer.
Samra was fully in his control. She was putty in his hands and he held her sides in a tight grip whilst making love to her. Her shoulders and neck covered in bite marks and blueish marks. The water spilled out of the tub as the danced the dance of love — great artistry required to master it. Their harsh cries and the smell of sex covered their skins. It seeped into their bones and pores, later Samra felt too ashamed to even meet any of their servants in the eye. The walls were after all thin and they had been anything but silent.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
A few days later the storm finally came to an end, bright sunshine taking its place. Samra after days of having stayed inside felt like there was no greater feeling than the burning heat of the sun against your skin. Fadahunsi had finally went to the palace, promising to return early for dinner. Samra had spent the morning with her handmaidens. They had tied her hair into a braid and dressed her in a dark green satin gown, a thick gold belt tied at her waist. She wore leather shoes with it — that despite their ugliness came in handy while walking through the muddy garden.
She had already dusted Fadahunsi's study and tried to make sense of the thick books in there. Their covers of greens and gold, reds and blues had caught her eye. However, as she looked at the black writings on the yellowed pages nothing made sense to her and she exited the room. Frowning, she walked into the large kitchen. A wide smile grazed her features and her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she watched the fresh produce and meats — knowing exactly what she would do.
In the evening, when Fadahunsi returned he sighed. His house felt warm, the womanly presence of its mistress had cracked through the ice cold exterior of his home even. He felt his being fill up with pleasure at just the thought of Samra floating around their home. Her touch would have lingered on the furnishings, her scent staining the very essence of the place. When he walked through the foyer, rather than dark hallways, his wife stood to greet him. She hugged her tight and pressed her body against him, her lips kissed his cheeks and she dragged him into the dining hall.
"Aj mein nai khana banaya hai!" She beamed with joy.
[Today I have made dinner!]
"Iss khanay ki lazat ka andaza uskay bananay wali kai husn sai hi ho sakta hai," he kissed her hand.
[The delightfulness of this food can be judged by the beauty of the chef.]
Samra blushed and sat by his side. Serving him the thick turmeric colored butter chicken gravy. She had made bread and brushed it with ghee, placing one in his plate before tearing into her own food. Her pregnancy — the seed of their love turned her even more ravenous. Fadahunsi and her had learnt this fact last night and the joy that filled their beings after had been almost unmatchable. The seed of their love they calculated, had been planted the first time they slept together.