Authors note : Hey everyone, I thought IS deserved at update after a month long break, so I penned their wedding night chapter after many requests. This is a warning that the chapter is mostly smut, so I advise for readers to avoid this chapter if uncomfortable. The last 20% is fluff/flirting of the morning after, that you might like 😅
Also, this chapter was inspired by an AI image that I came across of twitter, posted by @S_selenophilex , I shall retweet onto my timeline.
That fateful dusk when Meerab had suffered a nightmare, forcing Murtasim to provide company in her bedroom, her following dream had been interrupted and cut short. Her eyes had pulled open from shock of Murtasim tugging her arm to be closer- causing the fairytale to cease. ''Jab tum mere kamre mein soye the, tumhare khwab mei kya hua tha?'' She asked plainly, curiosity unrestrained. (When you slept in my room, what did you see in the dream?)
He didn't catch on, hands weaving into hers as if that would help. ''Samjha nahi main Meerab,'' he responded in a soft breathy tone, entranced deeper into her bridal attire, the ivory chiffon bordering her skin that was within reach, stuck on the twinkling embroidery that made him doubt that she was even real. (I'm not following Meerab.)
That night, post her nightmare, he remained sleeping on the chair in her bedroom, his unconscious mind dreaming and conjuring up what happened when they stood closer than ever before. He had practically narrated the same scene to Mai - so she prompted, ''tum Mai ko keh rahe the ke khwab mei tasveer khench raha tha khet mein.'' (You said to Mai that in your dream, you were taking photographs in the fields.)
His interest piqued at learning that she was not asleep as he had assumed. ''Tum sun rahi thi?'' He asked, focusing upon the knowledge that he didn't realise she possessed. She had unlocked his mind. (You were listening?)
''Maine bhi dekha tha.'' She shared with shimmering eyes of awe, finally able to tell that her mind rivalled his in creativity- in being soul mates. (I saw it too.)
''Tumne bhi same khwaab dekha?'' He asked in a hesitant hushed tone, both bemused and amazed at the alchemy of their proximity- it was a magical night. Unlike the dream, the dazzling moon had now replaced the sun, encasing them in a hushed night. (You had the same dream?)
Eagerly, she nod, unable to not know a second longer. ''Tumhare nazdeek aane se mein sharam se hat gyi, aur fir tumne mera bazu pakda - fir main jaag gyi. Par tumne aage dekha tha, tou batao kya hua tha,'' She ordered whilst blushing at the ridiculous request. She waited with patient ears, biting her bottom lip in waiting. (I saw the same dream. You came close to me and I looked away from being overwhelmed. You grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer- I woke up. But you saw what happened next, so tell me about the next part.)
A boyish smirk appeared as he knew what happened, so he narrated, ''Tumhara bazu pakadne se tum mere seene se lag gyi.'' He confessed proudly whilst also getting closer to watch the stun on her face. Wide and mirthful eyes, eagerly piecing together the information like puzzle. (I pulled you arm and you collided with my chest.)
''Tumhare seene pe thi? Fir?'' She asked as bewilderment hugged her insides, ambient romantic lighting illuminating the secluded retreat so that she sank into his enchanting and whimsical story. (I was upon your chest? Then?)
On her saying, his thumb came to her chin, lifting it a couple degrees so their gazes locked onto each other as if there was no other person left in the vast universe. ''Aise kara,'' he endearingly whispered into the desire saturated air between them, deeming it better to show than describe - lost in her pretty glossy lips, heavy bridal attire and unprecedented closeness. (Like this.)
His musky perfume inundated her senses, blurring logic and shyness, until she welcomed him completely- his touch was utterly natural upon her skin. ''Fir?'' She was so deep into the pools of his eyes, ready to dip into the abyss of unknown with him; she yearned for more. (Then?)
''Fir aise kiya,'' he explained simply in his handsomely deep voice, tilting his head so that his warm lips gently touched hers in their first proper kiss, noses ghosting each other. (Then I did this.)
On the tender collision, the entire world stopped spinning. His lips softly pressed against her, making Meerab freeze for a second despite him easing her way closer- he was warm, his presence emanating a sense of safety and solace. It pulled her in like a warm hug, gently fuzed into a spark of growing desire.
Just when the realisation hit, he pulled back to see the effect of testing the water.
Despite the kiss being short, she was breathless, wonderment twinkling in her eyes that almost rivalled the pretty jewellery in iridescence. The space between them was a few short inches where their shallow breaths amalgamated, infusing in anticipation and newfound lust.
''Again?'' He asked in a mithai-laced whisper, and Meerab's head nod faintly, words stolen along with her first kiss.
Both still cross legged, his hands came under hers, his thumb on-top to tether them together on this new voyage. The touch was feather light, and wholly yielding and secure. ''Koyi jaldi nahi hai Meerab,'' he tried to spluttered out, his lips grazing the fullest part of her lower lip, and he was grateful that the night had worn away her lipstick. It was blotted out now. (There's no rush Meerab.)
Just like her favourite romance novels that uttered sweet nothings in english, she assured, ''I want to.'' The temptation was too alluring, beckoning her back, which was the same magnetic pull is what attracted her lips to join his again in that wonderful union, finding herself somehow closer. ''I want to be your wife,'' flowed from her lips like a swaying stream, providing refreshing relief and hope in a single gesture.
An 'okay' was both prideful and snuck out between then with the boost of morale as the kiss deepened. His hands stated put, massaging and simply appreciating the softness within his hold; the same hands that had poured his tea in the train, carried her measly luggage whilst treading on an unknown journey, and had traced the library shelves in search of a fable to quell the homesickness.
The kiss only broke for him to look downwards, pushing her ornate bangles back to trace the scar just past her wrist like a opaque crescent. It was on the soft fleshy part on the inner side and fully healed, yet a mar to remember the moment. ''Tumhare lgaye huye marham ka asr hai,'' Meerab said softly, cheeks flushed in the same scarlett as her faded lipstick, appreciating the care and attentiveness. (The effect of your applied ointment.)
The next second was used to pull the blemished wrist up to trace it against his hot lips, attaching a sincere kiss to it. The bangle adorned arm was guided to his shoulder whilst he shuffled closer into her personal space. Her entire mind tingled as they entered the unknown, unveiling the path that had been off bounds.
Then his hand set off on a novel journey. In awe, his knuckle brushed the soft of her cheeks, down a leisurely trail of her pretty jaw. ''Nahi, mere pyar ka asr hai,'' he corrected, certain that his attention and care had healed the wound sooner. The tease aroused every sensitive point of his neck as he delved onto the jewels resting upon her clavicle. Their knees were still connected, a circuit complete, the sparks completing laps between them. (No, thats the effect of my love.)
The barely there touch caused the anticipation to heighten deliciously, breath hitching as his unadulterated attention watched the skin between her chocker style necklace and neckline, a peak into a new realm. It was a portal ; wisps of his heady exhales blanketed the skin, flowers and musky perfumes and remnants of the confectionary swirling around him.
Her grip tightened around him, invited the man inwards until they were gasping and yet scooping for more. Her jewellery clad hand wound into his hair from an organic need, so he could feel the smooth bangles skimming his nape in an entirely new sensation.
The jewellery and clothes were much appreciated, but the idea that the boundaries to seperation has dropped made their skin tingle in a magical sensation. His lips peppered sweet little kisses, in the secret nook of her lips, on the sharp of her cupids bow, and the joining to claim her as it began deepening, his tongue wanting to taste to flavour of his bride. Buzzed under his touch, he found her glowing in newly awaken need.
''May I?'' He asked, voice hoarse was soft as his fingertips toyed with the dori fastened at her nape. Waiting for her reply, the cool rope slid between his fingers.
She nod, holding his gaze for a second before he began depositing a train of kisses to the soft skin of her long neck. Her chin elegantly raised to give him space as he divulged himself, stubble teasing as he breathed upon the thin senstive skin, engraving every caress to memory.
Meerab simply absorbed the array of tantalising touches that felt forbidden and he was eager to learn every tender point of her flesh. The dori knot was pulled and let go of from behind her, the cool metal necklace dropped downwards, beckoning his eyes to follow.
The pads of his finger slip down the thin rope of her necklace, hovering over her skin when he made the initiating step, requesting, ''Utaar lun?'' (Can I take it off?)
Her painstaking efforts to get ready were being wasted, and yet it did not invoke an ounce of annoyance. The undoing of the finishing steps were more of a treat, her head tilting forward as he carefully removed it from around her neck. Then, with her patience than he had ever used in his life before, he undid the tikka weaved into her hair.
His deep and hand handsome voice confession, 'Main pyar karta hun tumse,' is what spurred her on; it was the equivalent of a elixir that caused a high of both delight and titillation. His hand unlatched and began to vigilantly roam the fabric of her dress, venturing beneath her kameez and yet above the gharara to tease the skin of her thighs.
Clinking bangles, chiming bells and light-cautioned moans danced together in his room in pursuit of a new melody of desire.
Slowly, Murtasim's hand tred upwards, closer to the apex of her clothed warmth before pausing. Gaze darting upwards, as they met again in the depths of their deep and dusky eyes, reflecting a still-young tender affection that sprouted in the gap between them with little effort.
In the wait, she felt herself blooming awaken, craving the return of his touch, and muttering a low but sure, ''yes, please.'' Her voice was dreamy and breathy with need.
''Okay meri biwi,'' he muttered to take the reigns, connecting their lips and finding his tongue taking gentle swipes into the hot crevice of her mouth as she allowed him to explore.
Then his fingertips mapped out the centre point of her legs over her clothes, making her breath catch from the touch, causing a shiver to run up her spine.
Succumbing to his lead, with eyes took rest. Past her ears, she head his husky voice meander past, ''you're so beautiful Meerab. I fell for you the first time I saw you in the train.''
A sweet gasp was sung before he meld his mouth with hers again, head tilting, patient as the atmosphere slowly infused with uncovered desire which simmered shallowly beneath the surface.
''I have fallen deeper in love with you, understanding your thoughtful nature and kindness with everyday pass.''
Lacking the usual dupatta and after the protective necklace having been removed, the elegant curve of her creamy neck was bare, beneath which her heartbeat picked up, now erratic and yearning for more.
''I had been patiently waiting for you to arrive into my life. I simply invited you to live here, safely and securely and you became my Khaani with ease- the house longed for you.''
Engrossed in the kiss, her eyes were closed but envisioned the hue of his tanned hand getting hidden beneath the layers of her decadent clothes, his large manly finger contrasting the loving smoothing motion he massaged over her centre. It didn't feel intrusive, rather like a intimate graze, kindling a heat that became a blaze, growing until body began to melt.
''Murtasim, you offered me everything on a silver platter. You made everyone welcome me, gave me a job, a home and a future....''
His own breath was heavy from her humms, her succumbing to easily to the new touch, welcoming him in every way. The proximity was the fuel to use a fraction more friction over her center so it caused a sweet friction, sure that she unequivocally felt every swipe. In return, Meerab felt her panties soaking through with her arousal, a deep heat seeping into her flesh at the feelings of impulse he evoked.
''You deserve nothing less Meero,''
Like an innate response, her legs widened a couple degrees, discovering herself bearing down on his exploring fingers. Meerab's eyelashes felt heavy to lift. Pretty yellow gold earring glinted as she slowly and calmly lost herself, chest arching forward as he continued the ministration through the fabric as a starter. Her hands came to rest on the swell of his bicep, moving with a peaceful tide as his fingers met her.
In their own explorative bubble, Murtasim felt himself hardened from her longer shaky breather that wafted between them, her now glossy parted lips and the sheer yearning the emanated from her skin. ''I love you - you are my home, you have taken my heart with your kind gestures, you presence, your words....''
She was so sensitive and responsive, producing an elegant gasp that punctuated the air as his thumbs excavated the area, only knowing that she was succumbing to the sparks of pleasure. Yet the realm was comforting, every sweet noise making him smugly smirk.
Then his hand detached, blindly venturing into the elasticated waistband, and slipping down to stroke her through the barrier of her damp panties, silk soaked through with desire, yet providing the slightest delicious resistance. ''You are my heart, my mind, my comfort, my calm, I look for you in every room.'' His fingers were soaked through in her warm slippery arousal.
Whatever he had discovered was clearly pleasurable from her head falling back in bliss, her neck letting so, so he continued the motion until she was almost jumpy. He watched in amazement as her skin picked up a glow from the high surging with. It barely took a couple more lazy strolls over her sensetive area until she sharply inhaled, her hands coming down on top of his wrist to slow the inundating energy.
There were a bunch of colourful fireworks in her mind like at the display outside, it was sweeter than the copious mouthfuls of sweets they had been fed and more exhilarating that symphonies that had played in the wedding hall. The ejaculation seeped out of her, slowly and secretly.
Looking up with his hand stuck against her dampened sex from her tethering grip, her chest was heaving and eyes glossy was the unassuming orgasm that had gripped her unlike anything she had felt before, it was a heavenly relief.
''It's okay,'' he whispered huskily at witnessing her give into the pleasure, nuzzling into her neck with his hand holding head up into him as she processed the gratifying high with ragged jumpy breaths.
Words were redundant in vocalising the adoration that grew within her from being so generously being tended to. Then the moments was taken to slide her onto his lap, the erection between them yet unattended to. Even closer, and feeling her pulsating heat, a single finger easily slipped into her in a shallow slide into her warm and spongy in walls.
His digit soaked through whilst search inside her, her walls gripping and yet there wasn't an ounce of friction from how slippery she was- her own body making its way, inviting him in. She moaned a velvety ''Murtasim,'' breath catching as he ventured deeper into her intimate crevice.
Tenaciously, his finger found itself curling inwards naturally. ''Is that nice?'' He figured it was from her mouth being left agape and her eyes sparkled when they met, from the unlocked intimacy and the probing that was pleasant and new. He was slow and unrushed, simply awed whilst watching her writher upon his single finger. ''Is that good, jaanemann?''
She whimpered 'yes' to both the sensation and the endearing words that helped her let go, feeling the intense new tickle of her walls sheathing his finger as it slid within her in a new dance. He was vigilant, dazed and intoxicated on the way she took laboured breaths, focusing on the way it felt being exploring inside, taking her onto a untrod path of newly awakened passion.
Her entire hand wrapped around just the thumb on his other hand, each finger hesitant, searching for reassurance as she saw white, beautifully numbing and unwinding white. His hand slotted into hers and easily encased her much smaller one, needing to be closer, more intertwined so that no loose ends remained.
Whilst he committed to gently ease his finger inside of her juices covered opening amidst both of them being dressed, he felt her coy kisses skimming the base of his stubble, her ring adorned hands trying to undo the fiddly buttons of his kameez, fumbling messily against his collar from the buzz. ''Slowly,'' he hummed, his finger exiting her, covered in her slick. His forearms knocking hers as he took the task off her, undoing the buttons with her mentally still being pumped with his gentle middle finger.
The metal bangles were taken off and were dropping, mindlessly rolling off into the bed. Meerab was still shaky when the rings slipped off her finger, yet not bothering with pretty earrings or the beads from that that swooped into her hair. She imagined the minuscule vibration of each beat beneath her breast bones was visible or that's how it felt.
In his lap, and with the opens buttons unveiling his chest, she had a perfect view of the dark curls that scattered over his firm chest. Her fingertips grazed over the unveiled skin, handsomely contrasting her own. Each touch was harmonious and delicate, on a voyage of deciphering her new husband.
Knowing this wife enjoyed the view from her peaking, he pulled at the back of his kameez and pulled it off in a single tug.
It was thrown aside, hands coming to her waist and slipping into the side seam of her kameez to feel the warmth of her skin, to kiss again and again, in different ways, patterns as paced that they lost themselves in.
''Will you take the dress off for me?'' Again, his fingertips stole touches, groping her soft rubenseque and feminine hips that usually caused her dress to regally flow outwards - that previously were not within the realm of his fingertips.
''Yes.'' She was hyper aware of every move in the game of intimacy, taking more and yet both still winning.
The room was illuminated by the overhead-light, yet dimmed romantically and the curtains surrounding the bed had been opened for the illusion of privacy. Yet she didn't take the initiative.
''Shall I take it off for you?'' Then his hands encircled her waist so the fabric of her bridal dress gathered at his wrists, feeling the embellished fabrics on the way to the tie at her back, leaving a tingling trail in ode to his presence.
She gave a silent nod, craving more of what he had tempted her with. ''Please.''
Her ivory kameez was lifted off, leaving her in pretty maroon satin bra that gently cupped her perky breasts, edged in a sheer pretty floral swirling lace on top of the bulging skin. The contrast of her pale skin against the deep hued fabric was erotic and he felt the heat rushing down to his own growing manliness.
At seeing her bare skin, a prowl switched on, simply needing to touch her. ''So pretty meri biwi,'' he crooned, fingers tracing over the swell overspilling part of her breasts and then feeling the threads of her bra, the feather light touch causing her to shudder over her senstive nipples hiding beneath the fabric. Their were embroidered flowers in the cups, and now the subject of his fascination, finding himself kneading her gently, so that her jaw fell slack from the tingling spine. Her felt herself pebble, oh so sensetive to his toying touch.
''May I,'' he asked in a gentle tone, despite the virile desire to rip it off and see her in all the naked glory.
Only her head nod, wanting to kiss him. With her consent, he tugged the bra cups down to put her breast on display, soft and womanly, with dusky pebbled nipples from his touch, making his mouth dry from such an erotic vision.
They were both dripping in need, spurring him in to trace the pretty things with his thumb, the unhidden curves, the supple skin and the contrast of the deep pink made him twitch.
Lowering his head, he began depositing appreciative pecks along the valley of her breaths, inhaling the remnants of their wedding on his route south, specifically cardamom and saffron that had been steeped into every dessert- she was his dessert.
All the whilst, breathlessly, his hands made their way down to her waist band, knowing he was growing harder from being so turned on at his usually so demure Meerab giving in to the pleasure, relishing the wanton chase of desires with her cheeks flushing a hue of mellow fuchsia.
Down cast, she couldn't look away, curiosity mixed intrigue from seeing the bulge in his pants that was so close to her.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't have time to dwell as his hand in hers made her stand, tall with her naked chest on display.
Heaving, she looked to him in apprehension and he leaned to kiss her stomach, splayed hands gliding down her hips and pausing. ''Shall we take the gharara off?''
''You first,'' she instructed, delaying being fully bare before him despite his hands already venturing her entire body,
He stood without hesitation, more imposing without the clothes to hide his swelled biceps, his wide sculpted shoulders. Her own eyes lowered from his chest to see his tapered waist, his low hanging white pyjama that deliciously highlighted the prominent V of his lower abdomen, with a train of hair leading downwards. ''As you wish meri biwi,'' he replied huskily, pushing his pants down until he was in nothing but the plain white boxers that beautifully contrasted the golden of his skin.
''Now?'' His voice was hoarse with need, his boner throbbing impatiently.
''Now,'' she replied, her eyes half closing to brace herself.
''Look at me,'' he coaxed whilst his thumbs hooked onto her waistband, gazes locked onto each other for support as the air attacked her expose buttocks, then thighs and knees and calf, until she stood in nothing but her arousal soaked panties. ''You are the most beautiful girl I've ever come across, Meerab.''
''You are very haseen and jameel too,'' she whispered coyly as she did on their dance floor, but doing trying a different dance. She was just grateful that her hair fell forward to provide a play at modestly, and Murtasim knew he wouldn't last long on seeing so much of her skin.
He pulled the silky bedsheets back and Meerab took that as her cue to lay down, and felt that she was immediately covered by Murtasim's, his hands finding purchase at either side of her, between her bare legs. ''Your legs are so sexy.'' Now he had the freedom to kiss down her supple stomach, slide his fingers down her exposed silken thighs.
Whilst his fun went on, he was not able to yet appreciate how every ministration made her internal muscles flutter with a fever of excitement, beckoning him.
Amidst the rolling hands, his hands pulled the flimsy panties down to unveil her glistening petals. To affirm the point, she lightly moaned, ''I need you.'' Her heart was set on him, mind told her to venture into his mind, her body was ready.
His words vanished at seeing the sight of her swollen and shimmering organ, yearning for him, unable to help himself from sliding his fingers again through the slippery mess, knowing he had done something right. She gasped at the brazen touch, watching his prideful smirk.
''So pretty,'' he rasped out, dipping shallow two fingers into her as she winced, causing him to place kisses on her hip done. ''Are you ready Meerab?''
''Haan,'' she exhaled, watching him kneel to finally pull his boxers off, his stiff member springing free. Her eyes widened at the thick girth of it, wondering how it would fit inside her.
''I'll go slow,'' he replied to the glint of hesitation in her eyes, making her nod. His penis stood like rod, flush with blood and desperate to be within her.
''Slow,'' she echoed whilst Murtasim widened her legs, settling between her as he slid the tip through her warm folds in tender preparation, pacing himself as his spine glowed in anticipation. Beneath him, a demure yet enthralling woman handed herself over, a goddess in the flesh that was ready to commit in all mind, body and soul.
Meerab forgot how to breathe, her entire body hot, at the sensation of his engorged tip meeting her sensitive flesh, forgetting how to function, all decorum thrown out the window.
All she could see was Murtasim above her, her knees wide as he nestled closer, one hand resting besides her head, the other one snaking behind her neck to lift her closer.
Somehow, they inhaled the same air, foreheads touching as he found her pulsing entrance. ''Go on,'' she urged in a barely audible hum, his lips meeting hers as he slowly pushed his length inwards, slipping in without friction and yet she still winced as if it burned within.
''Sorry,'' he mumbled in slight remorse, yet pushing in further into her heat.
''It's okay,'' she whimpered sultrily, legs trying to close at either side of him from, feeling a sharp strech at the seams.
''Janemann, relax,'' he crooned against her forehead, pulling behind her legs wider so he could nuzzle in. His hands lowering to find that hidden pearl to guide her through the discomfort.
She felt so full, she felt like his wife. Her empty mouth remained parted, not breathing as he found a relief within her tight wet walls, squeezing him inwards deliciously as he moved his hips into hers, sure he couldn't sink deeper. Her arms arm around to hold his swell biceps, testament to reserved strength that he purposefully held back in employing.
Pushing aside her own discomfort, Meerab saw the pleasure in the contortion of his features, her tightly shut eyes and restrained grunts. His hand planted at her either side to maneuver through the first waves of pleasure sheathed within his wife, slowly pushing in and own as she acclimatised. ''Murtasim,'' she gasped at her feeling of him venturing deeper with every stroke of his long stiff member, probing and yet finding sanctity within.
''Just a bit more,'' he pleaded brokenly, rolling into her fully a couple more times until she felt his flesh against her lower lower lips, where he could not be deeper, nor did she think there was anyplace left within her, every nerve alight. ''You feel so good,'' he moaned out in a raw handsomeness, bottoming out until they were one entanglement.
Meerab only hummed in response, entire body buzzing at being so full, so complete. Trying to accomodate, he began cautiously thrusting out and into her, a messy thumb strumming her clit with the help of her sticky arousal. ''Is that better?''
Then, he heard a pleasure seeped sigh from his wife, taking it as a cue to pick up the place. ''Yes, like that,'' she mewled as he hit a sweet spot within. Her head rolled back as it transformed into something more pleasurable, exposing her neck to be adorned in haphazard kisses. ''Murtasimmmm,'' rippled from her mouth as he found a fitting pace, slow yet long rolls into her, guiding her legs to fold around him in a vice grip.
The air charged in a passion, a zest for affection and need, both deep in the throes of pleasure that sweetened the mind, linking them further together in a delicate yet fervent dance of intimacy. His continued care was testament to the depths of reverence for her, awe of her beauty, and intended devotion. Even still, she lifted her hips to meet him half way
Each eager and organic thrust lead them to a new heightened love, in a quest to unite at centre point of bliss. The air saturated in a chorus of his heavy gutteral grunts from the fluttering of her walls and her sugary-mithai laced moans from each roll in.
Emboldened from the high, Meerab found herself reaching for him, needing to hold onto the source of the ecstasy. She didn't even notice her fingernails digging into his sides, boldly pulling him closer, nor the silky sheets slipping down his back as he rocked into her with a tentative uncertainty, in a grab for the almost tangible high.
Lowered, his stubble almost grazed her cheek, her alert nipples brushing the light hair on his chest in an tantalising feather light touch that made her organ tingle. Her spine arched in a search of more. The fact that they were both fully naked was somehow even more inebriating, exhilarating and leaving an ardent want for more.
Murtasim knew he wouldn't hold on much longer, trying to breathe as the pleasure crested within his groin as she began messily convulsing, nearing her own release. ''I'm gonna...'' he barely got out before Meerab felt him pulsing, shooting his thick hot seed deep within her, claiming her as his.
Her back arched, her mind an incoherent jumble, all she could see and think and hear was him, nails raking into him, sure to mark his golden skin in an unmissable red, the hue of love.
The same knowledge is what drove her over the edge into a state of electric free falling. ''Please Murtus-,'' tumbled from her lips like a wash of ecstasy tiding over her entire body and mind, facing the beautiful aftermath of another orgasm. Her entire body tingled, twinkled, floated under his touch. In between her legs was an amalgamation of their mess, sticky release, permeating the air in sweet perfume of their passion.
He continued the slowing messy thrusts as they almost came together in a sticky hot mess, mumbling each other's name in a natural melody of relieved panting breaths. His head swung back, grunting as she beautifully spasmed around him, rinsing him of pleasure, relinquishing control as they flooded with a new peaked sense of calm.
He rolled to her side, both taking hot ragged sighs to recover when he pulled the sheet over both of them, his hands roaming over her supple and erotically naked flesh, to his hearts content.
It was a tickle that felt like a shrill up her spine, lulling her deeper into his hold. Barley, a few fleeting minutes slipped in time before he pushed himself up, and she protested weakly, sleepily, ''Kahan ja rahe ho?'' (Where are you going?)
''Just one minute,'' he replied over his shoulder, slipping his lose pyjama on before entering the bathroom. A hand towel was rinsed under luke warm water before being ringed out.
Infront of his wife, she eyed he walked closer, narrating, ''Let me clean you?''
Her jaw opened in protest, but the words failed to form. She had trusted him this far, so what was a little after care. ''I need clothes aswell?''
''You can't sleep naked?'' He teased, watching her blush in a deep gorgeous rosy blusher with the sheet clutched to her chest, her glowing shoulder peaking over. He was somewhat proud shirtless, this taunt muscles on display, his veins bountiful in oxytocin and dopamine, making her appear ever-more beautiful, like the full moon presented it before before him.
''Nahi,'' she stuttered, barley recovered from the orgasm. ''Aur mere kapre apne kamre main hai.'' (No. And my clothes are in my own room.)
He didn't even consider to go and fetch them for her. ''Ab yeh tumhara kamra hai,'' he corrected, climbing onto the bed. His hair was mess, there wasn't a wisp of sleepiness within him. ''Kyun ke tum meri biwi ho,'' he clarified, despite both of their ears still ringing from the wedding procession. (This is your room now, because you are my wife.)
''Kamra mera ho sakta hai, par yeh kapre tou tumhare hai,'' she countered, allowing the silk sheets to slip. (This room can be mine, but your clothes can't be.)
''Mere kapre bhe tumhare hai,'' he said in a voice that was smitten, enraptured on her unrivalled beauty, reaching for the ground and tossing her the white kameez he had worn. (My clothes are yours too.)
''They're yours only,'' she whined, but holding onto it. She had never worn a mans clothes before, thicker and infused in his intoxicating heavy oud scent.
''Tum bhe tou meri he hou,'' he huskily added, cornering her in the sweetest battle. ''Pehn lou. I will tell the staff to shift your clothes into my closet tomorrow,'' he suggested, watching as she slipped it over her head, already missing the sight of her naked flesh. (You are mine aswell. Wear it.)
''Okay,'' he hummed hesitantly as he got between her legs again, the edge of his oversized kameez was lifted as he gentle swiped over her sticky and swollen petals, not a gram of discomfort uttered at his touch. ''Are you okay? Hurting?'' He questioned at seeing the little streaks of red soaked into the towel.
''Haan, very okay,'' she replied in a hush tone, shyness merging into a coquettish smile, quelling his concern.
Tossing the flannel to the side, he folded the sleeves on the kameez she wore that were too long on her, his minding still buzzing that she wasn't a dream ; she was real and everything he could have ever dreamed of.
''Tired jaanemann?'' He hummed past her ear as they lay together under the protective sheets, under the serene night. The rush had passed, calm settled over them, swirling with the roses aroma that adorned their marital bed.
''Tired,'' she echoed, nuzzling into him, the side of her foot sliding up his calf whilst also being caressed by the cool satin. ''Janeman,'' she giggled at copying him, eyes closed and eyelashes resting angelicly, face covered in the faded remnants of her wedding makeup.
The last thing Murtasim did before sleeping on his wedding night was to peck his lips on top of hers a last time, to savour the taste of his wife. It was a bid to get him through the long slumber, not wanting to leave her for a second.
Only after signing his name besides her and spending an evening in her company, did he feel like the richest man alive.
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The entire wedding was a sweet dream, which is why Meerab blinked on waking up in a room which didn't seem like her own. The walls were licked in a regal navy blue, unlike her own. The posters on her bed had a laced white netting that had been opened, encasing her in a whimsical tent that was perfumed with flowers and musk, and a slight waft of toasty oud incense.
What was even more strange was the tension on the blanket over her, and when she looked down, she was covered in a plain white kurta- it was Murtasim's kameez. Murtasim – he invoked the memories of the night prior to replay in her mind him a reel of film, scene after scene of imagery that made her cheeks dust over in a shade of sweet cherry.
He groaned besides her, pulling the blanket as the space between them widened, allowing a wisp of cool morning air to tickle her. So he turned over, his arm easily slotting over her arm, until she was cocooned in his presence, within the cavity besides his rib. The tanned flesh of his cosy arm over her, slipping over the silky grey sheets, made her heart flutter in realisation of what they had done last night.
He hummed sleepily into her hair, content that it was infinitely softer than the sheet. The euphony of her breathing halting meant that she was awake.
''Subha bakhair Mrs Khan,'' his hoarse voice danced over her ear the same way that they had taken their first dance at the wedding hall, and then throughout the voyage of the night. (Good morning Mrs Khan.)
Meerab twisted fractionally to see him, his eyes still sleeping but a fulfilled smile playing on his lips. His grip loosened to accommodate, her long hair teased beneath them when she responded with a sweet, ''Morning,''
''Is it not a good morning?'' He teased in a light chuckle, hand drawing up her clothed forearm, so thin that her body heart emanated through.
''It is a good morning,'' she corrected, her bare legs slipping against the silken sheets, and occasionally against his.
''Aur raat?'' This time his eyes opened, searching for an ounce of discomfort or timidness, but he was met with the Meerab that rivalled him, holding onto his espresso iris' despite the way her mind pirouetted. (And the night?)
''who bhi acchi thi,'' She replied in a mere whisper. (That was nice too.)
''Khush ho?'' he asked again, his hair fallen in a carefree mess from the way she had pulled it last night. (You happy?)
But in reply, she only tilted her lips so they met his again in a soft and shimmering kiss, as what would be further confirmation?
Spurred on, he propped himself up, haphazardly caging her beneath with their lips having learnt a new rhythm, melding amidst a waltz between them. When he pulled away to breath, Murtasim was able to appreciate her slightly swollen lips from their practice last night, her hair splayed beneath without a care, engrossed in him and the pleasure he provided.
''Kyaa dekh rahe ho,'' she asked in a coy breathy cadence, her hands coming to his nape to catch the short hair between her fingers, there wasn't enough grip. The beads of her cool marble bracelet that he had gifted rolled against his skin like a massage. The heat between then was tangible, a newfound desire had been ignited, and its embers still burned in a glowing red hot from the passed night. (What are you looking at?)
''Meri biwi ko,'' he uttered resolutely, his fingertips tenderly brushing the whispy hair out of her face, considering himself fortunate in this endeavour too. The tender swipe made her look up to the utter adoration he displayed, that somewhere merged into more amorous desires towards her. ''At my legally wedded wife,'' he added, intoxicated on her alluring presence, in his simple clothes and his bed – now their marital bed. (At my wife.)
A smile broke out on to her still tingling lips from being euphorically in love, maybe amplified by the orgasms that had provided each other. ''Woh to main hun.'' It was obvious that they had made love last night, the nicks of his beard on her face still slightly irritated, buzzing his name. (That, I am.)
The humble diamond necklace fell into the divot between her clavicle, her chest visibly rising from the proximity, the anticipation that shimmering within her. So, his hand reached out to arrange it prettily against the cloth of his kurta that she wore. Every touch was testament to the gentleness he had held her with the last night, his every promise of taking care of her ringing true – she discovered that her husband was a gentle lover, not that it was much of a surprise.
''Uth jayein?'' she asked whilst peering, despite not yet wanting to leave the embrace. He strummed at the deepest part of her heart, invoking comfort, tranquility and belonging- she had claimed this room, his bed and heard with a finesse that took barely any effort – it felt like the stars aligned just for them. (Shall we get up?)
Murtasim nod, leaning back onto his own pillow as the morning daylight was undeniably bouncing off the drawn curtains, casting a sense of warmth and optimism upon them.
She was glowing too, her lips a shade of rich rose petals that he desired to inhale, her hair an precious inky waterfall that he wished to dive into.
Despite being only newly accustomed to his proximity, the increase of distance felt was instantaneously disliked. Pushing herself up, she leaned on his bare handsome chest as she was a more than welcome to the weight. His hand came to rest upon her diaphragm, and her head upon the balmy warmth of his shoulder. Murtasim's hand covered over hers when she asked, ''Tumne mere haq mehr pe sawaal nahi kiya tha?'' (You didn't question my haq mehr?)
Her mind wandered in that realm, the first time when she had asked something substantial of him. She was not oblivious to the trust he had bestowed upon her, and wondered if her was always so accommodation. ''Tumhara haq hai Meerab.'' (That was your right.)
She lifted slightly, eye level yet above him – the remnants of the previous days hairstyles mean that ringlets had dropped into large sexy waves, emerging between was the subject of all his musings...
His musing had glossy eyes almost, the repetition of the phrase haq had been repeated more in the previous 24 hours than ever before in her life. ''Kuch bhi likh leti to mana nahi karta,'' he explained, ready to lay down everything at her footsteps. (I would have accepted anything that you wrote down.)
''Jaise?'' (Like?)
''South Africa mein safari pe honeymoon pe le jaata, jaise train pe kaha tha,'' He explained in a sort of reverie, considering it like she was utterly precious to him already. (You could have written down that I have to take you to South Africa on a honey moon, like I offered when we met on the train.)
''Train mein tumne bahut kuch kaha tha, aur sach bhi chupaya tha,'' she reminded, eyeing him playfully with a mirthful glint, stroking his chest, watching the stubborn curls flick past her hand in amusement. (You said alot of things in the train, and hid alot of truths.)
''Tumhein yaad hai?'' He almost chuckled, feeling caught out. The calm was palpable, as if time had stopped for them, the world sleep, hibernating endlessly for them. The diaphanous curtains had slipped open some time during the night, enshrouding them in a clandestine romantic retreat. (You remember?)
''Mujhe yaad hai ke maine tumhare saamne baithi thi, tasveer ke liye. Aur kal main tumhare saath baithi thi tasveeron mein - as your wife,'' she reminisced as waves of wonderment flowed over her, appreciating to journey taken. Her journey as a bride-on-the-ran easily transformed from harrowingly daunting to effortless, him being the magic key. (I remember that I saw sat infront of you in the train for you to be able to take my picture. Yesterday, I was sat besides you and we were in the same frame.)
There was only a pause of a couple seconds before he decided, ''Hum gaon chalte hain. Wahan mera studio bhi hai, to tasveer process kar lenge, aur Khaani apni zameen bhi dekh legi.'' He obviously wanted to show off, and steal some moments in a house less populated, surrounded in an eden of perpetual peace. (Let's go the the village. My studio is there so we can process the images and my Khaani can see her lands.)
Her eyes lit illuminated, sitting up at such a pleasant prospect. ''I'll have a shower and then we can go...'' she thought out loud, mind replaying the scenes of last night, the mess of limbs in a quest of desire and way he cleaned her and cuddled her as if she was the embodiment of his deepest desires. She slipped out of the cocoon of sheets, seeing the mess on the floor, wincing at her discarded underwear and bridal dress ; even his sherwani seemed like it had no owner.
From last night, the sincere narrations of his affections echoed through her mind, causing her heart to swell. There was no regret of moments passed and no hesitation when she requested, ''Can you get my clothes?'' It was accompanied by a polite smile to sweeten the deal, along with his kurta on her frame that seemed more like a nightie.
''Main pasand kar lu?'' He dared to ask, already knowing her wardrobe off the back of his hand. No doubt, Maa Sahab had added a few extras as wedding gifts too, but most importantly, each thread linked back to him, his roots, his land, his blood. (Can i chose your outfit?)
''We both know that you love all my dresses,'' she challenged him to refute the idea. Even Meerab wasent blind to way he boyishly smirked at spotting her a new dress, forcibly pulling his eyes away from her flowy dress collection, each one more flattering than the next. It was just good luck that the tailor, and Mai's measurements, ensured that the dress perfectly cinched in at her tiny waist, and flowed downwards like a regal and billowing tide.
Rising to the occasion, Murtasim tugged on her forearm, a clear possessive tinge to his words when he questioned, ''Akhir dee kisne?'' He wanted her to voice it, to unequivocally link them, intertwining further until they could not possibly be unravelled. (And who gifted them to you?)
''Mere shauhar ne,'' she whispered in a sultry voice, lips ever-so-slightly parted when she leaned in closer to kiss him again. (My husband did.)
Proofread by HereinNowhere2