Note:
A chalet is a wooden house/cottage with overhanging eaves, typically found in the Swiss Alps.
Also, a little video representation of the first part of MeerAsim's evening for you all is attached below. I thought it may enhance the reading experience if you could see their views, with the music inspo of my choice. Its the link to my Twitter post, hopefully everyone can access it. Xo
Link: https://twitter.com/DanniiHi/status/1748113384707444926?s=19
Tu tabaahi meri
Chayn bhi mera tu hi hai,
Tu dawa dil ki
Marz bhi dil ka tu hi re,
Chal bheegein bheegein bheegein bheegein itna
Bheege bheege kabhi nahi jitna
Bheege bheege bheege bheege utna re...
He looked...the only phrase she felt could do justice to the man standing against the Bentley was ruggedly gorgeous. So unlike his usual polished appearance but the look so good on him, that you'd never think he wasn't born for the casual, 'just got out of bed' vibe. Black shirt, a black bomber jacket and black trousers; so similar to what he'd been wearing when she had last seen him. But his hair was mussed, not a speck of product and his stubble was darker, covering his entire jaw and under it too. He looked rugged; there was no other word for it.
And Meerab couldn't take her eyes off of him. It was so strange that someone you had spent almost your entire life with could suddenly be viewed so differently through the eye of your mind. The rush of feelings, the sudden, slow burning low in your abdomen and the tingles on your skin; so new and yet so frighteningly easy to accept. She walked down, slowly and with her eyes fluttering between him and the steps, and her phone still held up to her ear.
"Good evening." she spoke softly into the phone, her eyes on him, and saw his lips, framed by his darker, thicker moustache, twitch a little.
It was exciting; this little back and forth game they were playing. Who knew being courted by your own husband was this thrilling?
He looked at her, head to toe, and then slowly smiled.
"Uh, I need to change..." Both her question and voice were soft and a little hesitant; very out of character for her.
It was so predictable. Her skin started tingling the very next second as his eyes dropped from her face, lazily travelling all the down and then all the way up, his head starting to shake slowly even before he'd returned to her eyes. He then made that delectable humming sound he made when saying 'no'. A deep, throaty hum which sounded so sure, so strong and so sinfully dreamy despite not even being an actual word.
Insaan bano, Meerab...
She gulped. Was this how she was going to be every time she was near him? Suddenly the prospect of a date with Murtasim was as intimidating as it was exhilarating.
The interior of the car was light brown leather seats set against the cream leather of the dash board and controls. It had that musky, new car smell but it was punctuated with Murtasim. Just by the hints of his smell mixed into the car's, Meerab could tell that he'd been inside it for a good few hours. The ambient lighting on the rims of the doors and lined around the floor of the car had the intimate interior basking in a golden glow.
Murtasim sat relaxed, one hand low on the steering wheel with his other wrist just resting on the elevated console between them. His fingers stroked each other absentmindedly, and Meerab watched in a trance as his ring, the exact colour as the leather seats, moved with them. It glided up and down hypnotically as he moved his fingers, and so lost in thought she was, that she didn't realise when they slowed down.
"Bhook to nahi lagi?" His words were like vibrating particles in the air between them, suspended and expectant.
The question itself was very Murtasim; the one she had grown up with. The one who had had a first-hand show of her appetite throughout the years. Finding that Murtasim here, in the middle of foreign Zurich, on her first romantic outing, that too with the new, much more complex Murtasim, was comforting. She hummed in denial and shook her head, her waves bouncing around her from the lack of styling. Or just basic brushing for that matter.
Good Lord.
She looked out of the tinted window and prayed that she wasn't underdressed for whatever he had planned. She had been sure it had been a dinner, dessert and maybe an activity on the side. Maybe the theatre or the opera. A cruise on Lake Zurich if he was feeling adventurous. It was the dinner and dessert part which had her biting into her bottom lip. He'd never taken her somewhere where she could've gone dressed as she was right now. Of course, the fact that she could technically go anywhere she wanted wearing even a sack of potatoes if she went with Murtasim Khan was another matter altogether. She was positive people would over backwards and wait on her hand and foot if they knew she was with him. Still, it didn't ease neither the lip biting nor the feeling that she was underdressed for her very first, proper date.
They drove for a while before the car took a sharp exit off the motorway and the lights suddenly went dark. The street lights reduced considerably and trees lined the little country road on either side. Meerab finally decided it was time to come out of the shock of her 'impromptu Murtasim sighting' syndrome; a phenomena was which now becoming increasingly normal around him.
"Kahan ja rahay hain?"
He turned to look at her, a tiny, tiny smirk curling the edge of mouth, but stayed silent.
"Is this part where I find out you're really a Khan?" she continued, thinly veiled sarcasm filtering through.
"Matlab?" he humoured her, his face serious as he concentrated on the dark road ahead.
She flicked her hair back and leaned onto the little space in between them.
"Wohi. Gaddi-nasheen. Zameendaar. Corrupter of women, awaara, ayaash...neither kind or fair." She spelt out succinctly, her eyebrows raised in challenge as she waited to see his reaction to the description. It was true for most of his contemporaries, after all.
It got darker and foggier, the trees getting higher and thicker until there were just vast fields surrounding them. Meerab squinted her eyes, her nose pressing against the glass as she tried to discern the landscape outside. The car rounded a corner and suddenly stopped as bright, intrusive lights came into view. Murtasim clicked open his belt and opened his door, turning his head just a tad.
"Tum abhi baithi raho."
If Murtasim Khan was good at issuing orders, then Meerab Murtasim Khan was better at defying them; especially ones which tested her curiosity. She was out of her belt and half out of the door just as he rounded the car. Without missing a beat, his hand extended as she ambled out of the car, steadying her as she straightened whilst she looked at him sheepishly. Meerab blinked as Murtasim gave her the look; the one which said 'I know what you just did but I'm going to let it slide'. He then took her hand and led her around the car until Meerab's mouth fell open and their feet came to a stop. His body enveloped hers from behind and his lips skimmed her ear as she stared blinkingly ahead.
"I am really a Khan. And gaddi-nasheen and a zameendaar." His warm breath blew on the shell of her ear, the heat from his front warming her cold back. "Awaara aur ayaash hona koi khaas gunah nahi hain, and maybe corrupter of a woman, dekhte hain." The icy wind blew against them and all Meerab could do was shiver against him and stare ahead, stunned. "And it's better as neither kind nor fair, and for my people, I'm both. Always."
With that, he slipped away from behind her and pulled her hand forward, walking them closer and closer to the shiny, gigantic helicopter standing on the tarmac ahead. It was huge; its rotors poised powerfully above its sleek, black structure. She stood in a daze as Murtasim greeted the groundsman, who quickly swung open the door. Still looking around the place she now realised was a private air-field, Meerab yelped as she felt herself being scooped up and lifted into the open helicopter. She was lowered and let her weight press on the cushioned seat, jumping as the backs of her thighs sunk onto his hard forearm. He slid his arm out slowly andl eaned over, buckling the three-piece belt snuggly over her chest.
A soft 'Murtasim' escaped her lips as he straightened and his face hovered right over hers. He looked down at her, his eyes as dark as the night sky behind him. Caressing her face with his gaze, he ran a finger down her right cheek; a light, feathery touch. Meerab breathed out as he untangled a few strands of her hair from the belt straps, pushing them back. And then he stepped out, shutting the clear Plexiglass door tightly. Meerab watched as he spoke to the groundsman for a few seconds before shaking his hand, taking a set of keys from the man, and made his way around to the pilot's side.
It was an imperceptible change, but this was yet another Murtasim. There was something distinctly different about this Murtasim and it wasn't the usual variation between Khan, Captain and the businessman. It wasn't even the one she had grown up with. He looked at ease, like he was coming to home to something relaxing; like a hot drink, a scented candle and a snuggle on a cosy sofa at the end of a long day. His body was totally relaxed and he was swinging the keys between his fingers in an action so uncharacteristic that it had Meerab's mouth tugging into an absent-minded smile. But then her smiling at just the sight of him was also wholly uncharacteristic. Nothing was routine here.
Something about this man calmed her; stilled her torrential waters, smoothed her ruffled feathers and lulled the loud, impatient, nervous energy coursing through her at times. It was the only explanation for how Meerab had remained this quiet and patient since she'd laid eyes on the helicopter she was now strapped in. It was his controlled, measured actions, the confidence in them and the way he always had a plan; never aimless or rattled. Like he could fight anything that came his way and solve any problem thrown at him. It made trusting him, letting him lead the way easy; easier than Meerab had ever imagined it being when it came to a man.
Murtasim hoisted himself into the little cockpit and secured the helicopter doors, turning on the powerful machine to a buzz which turned into a thudding roar as the rotors and engine reached full capacity. The familiar sensation of the helicopter vibrating around him, the controls almost begging to be pushed to the edge of their impressive potential, taking flight and leaving ground behind; he lived for it. Right on cue, he felt himself slipping into the zone reserved solely for take-off and landing, but he pushed himself out of it. For the first time since he'd taken up solo chopper flights as a way of relaxation, Murtasim had company.
His little lily-like wife sat prettily and surprisingly patiently next to him as he wore his headset, checked all the settings, contacted the Control Tower and input the flight plan into the system. On a usual solo flight in his helicopter, this would be the part where he motioned to his groundsman, get the thumbs up for take-off and then with a flick of his wrist, he'd be flying. However, his wife had displayed enough patience for a night.
Picking up her headset, he finally turned to her and found her bright, glittering eyes on him.
"Hi." he repeated the words he'd said a little while ago. Then, remembering that this was now a courtship and he was in the middle of wooing his wife, nodded to the headset.
"May I?"
She smiled; a tiny, slow smile which told him she knew that he would've had the headset on her already, had it not been for his sudden remembrance of certain wooing etiquettes. She let her eyes answer and her headset was slipped on as his face took on a serious expression. He adjusted it on her head, pushing her hair back and positioning the mic in front of her mouth. His fingers lingered on her hair and he had to gulp to tamp down the scene flashing in his mind.
Her hair was soft and in those waves he liked so much; exactly like they had been that night. He'd run his fingers through them again and again, pulling, stroking, curling it around his fingers and running his fingers through as her body had arched in pleasure. It had smelt different, not the usual strawberry most probably because she'd showered and come straight from the hospital, but it had still felt like bliss. There had been a specific noise she's made when he'd curled his entire hand around a handful of hair and twisted gently, pulling her hair back to get better access to her tongue. It had been like a button; she'd cried out in the exact same way every single time; and there had been many, many times.
He cleared his throat.
"Apnay shauhar ke saath helicopter ride pay chalien gi, Mrs Murtasim Khan?"
Her brows jumped and he wasn't surprised. He wasn't known for his polite manners or patience, but then he'd never had to adhere to courting protocols. Something told him that a little good behaviour, a little extra effort and a whole lot of charm wouldn't go remiss. And though he wasn't an expert on the modern-girl dating handbook, the spark lighting in her eyes and her little, cheeky smile were enough to prove him right.
He leaned forward to tighten the two belt straps directly over her chest and abdomen, his hands feeling the soft contours of her sides and hips to determine just how tight it needed to be.
"Pehlay aap bataein ke turbulence to nahi hogi?"
His eyes slid to hers before going back to the belt. How ironic. The single most turbulent aspect of his life was actually scared of turbulence herself.
"Jis larki se maine shaadi thi, ussey thori si turbulence kya keh sakti hai?" He pushed that button in her, the one he knew responded to its trigger every time. Her mouth and jaw moved as she weighed his words. "Turbulence hogi bhi to mein darnay nahi doon ga, I promise." The answer was instinct and the product of the confidence he had in himself when it came to flying.
She watched him for a moment and then bit her lip as she looked out of the clear helicopter casing. Her eyes jumped back to him as he sat back into his own seat and strapped himself, waiting with his hand on the throttle.
"Well, in that case, fly me away, Captain Khan."
It was exhilarating. The spectacular aerial view of a winter-time Zurich at night, yes. But he'd seen that a hundred times before. She was exhilarating. Her gasps, little jumps, sounds of glee and the way she kept snapping her head back to him, her eyes wide and sparkling whenever he dipped the helicopter low enough for her to identify a landmark and then swooped it back up again. The entire case of his helicopter was clear Plexiglass, giving them a 360 view of the starry sky and the glittering, colourful city; and his date seemed to love it. They'd flown around the entire scape of Zurich and above the Swiss and German Alps on the Germany-Switzerland border. He'd kept the chopper low enough to have a clear view of the city, flying in between the taller buildings, and the rest had been Zurich's magic.
The city was glowing with festive lights, every single inch of it twinkling like specks of gold. Lake Zurich glittered with all the reflections and the glow of the lights illuminated even the darkest corners of the city. The annual festive fireworks, scheduled for twentieth day of Advent, shot into the night sky in a burst of multicolour, and Meerab gasped as Murtasim lifted the helicopter higher and circled around the display. Her hand reached out and touched the glass when the sparks felt so incredibly near, but each one ended up being a safe distance away from them. Her head turned to Murtasim, the waves in her hair bobbing about her face as she pointed to the reflection of the multicolour display on the lake. He nodded, watching her with a small, knowing smile on his lips and a crinkle around his eyes which betrayed genuine happiness.
He let her watch until the fireworks died down, slowly circling the city centre and increasing altitude until they had left the city way down. Many of the lights merged into one and the entire city was just lines of glowing, golden lights connected by bright, golden spots. He usually flew faster than what was considered normal helicopter speed, but that was why he'd purchased this particular one a little while ago.
As he cut through the darkness around the Alps and made his way back above Zurich, the lights zoomed by underneath and Meerab did the gasp-squeal thing she had been doing all evening whenever he sped up and performed a low dip. Her right hand shot out and suddenly clutched onto the belt strap across his chest as she squealed through another zig-zag. Murtasim glanced at her in amusement before enveloping her tiny hand with his free one.
"Dar to nahi lag raha?" he spoke into his mic.
His bright-eyed passenger swung her head to him, her mouth stretched wide with her teeth clenched together in an exhilarated grin.
"Dar? Aur bhi tez chalao!" she laughingly squealed, waving her hand in urgency and then squealed louder as he chuckled and adjusted his hand on the Cyclic, increasing the speed.
Interesting.
His wife was a thrill-seeking daredevil. And he had to admit, it made her all the more irresistible to him. A woman who liked being on aircrafts and wasn't afraid of a little risk in the sky? It was damn near tailor-made perfection for him.
Murtasim had shocked at himself today; another first, and all around this woman. He'd brought her with him into the one part of his life reserved solely for him. No one was allowed into this facet of his life. Commercial flying was private to him as it was, but he willingly allowed intrusions into it because it required them; passengers, cabin crew, Phoenix officials were all counted as intrusions. But this; flying his own chopper or his own two-seater plane, it was his. For him; his reflection, his relaxation, his enjoyment and his stress-relief. And he'd just brought her up with him. He hadn't even given it much thought, and that was most unexpected of all.
He'd flown to Geneva on business, wrapped up his meetings and then had Liza obtain and send over 'Miss Ahmed's' flight routes to him, and low and behold, his wife had been a few short hours away in Zurich. It had taken him about four hours to leave his offices in Geneva, have lunch with a friend at the UN and then drive himself to Zurich. During that three-hour drive, he'd made one call and issued two orders which he hadn't planned when he'd first flown into Switzerland. The call had been to the assistant who handled his offices in Europe and the two orders entailed having a Bentley Continental GT waiting for him in Zurich when he reached, and to have a note delivered to The Mandarin Oriental Savoy, Zurich.
Despite his sometimes clinical, serious manner, Murtasim wasn't stiff when it came to routines. He liked routine and followed a stringent one ninety percent of the time; his professional life depended on it. But he relished risks and thrill; it was a small part of him but it had always dominated. Because he knew all this about himself, it was rare that he ever surprised himself.
But as he propelled his helicopter into the air and high above the Swiss Alps, the strange feeling of having someone in the enclosed with him had been expected; it was a first, after all. He'd let her do this. Actually, he'd had her do it. He had brought her into his scared space and something about that made him want to watch this woman closely for hours; figure out what made her so different that she'd made a long-standing tradition of having him break his own rules and routines.
She was special; she had to be. He knew himself and it was because of that, he knew just how rare his attitude towards her was. He had begun to realise when they had been much younger. They had somehow made a mess of their marriage, but he was slowly but surely beginning to believe that the forces of fate or destiny had been right in intertwining their lives. There was something about her; something he'd felt a long time ago when he'd first thought about marrying her, which had then been buried in the chaos of their estrangement.
He frowned as movement from the side of his eye caught his attention. White whisp-like particles fell onto the Plexiglass and the weather forecast he'd received from the groundsman came back to him. Meerab gasped and leaned forward, her fingers trailing the little sparkling pieces rapidly covering the exterior.
"It's snowing! Murtasim, it's snowing!" Murtasim's mouth curved into a deep, deep smile of indulgence as her entire face lit up. This was the closest he'd seen her be to the Meerab he remembered. The one who existed prior to that night before their nikkah. The one who's personality could only be described as colours of a rainbow thrown high into a crystal-clear, blue sky. More than the view, it was her transformation over the course of the flight which gave him that surge of thrill; always exactly how he'd described it; a blooming lily.
"Murtasim, dekho!" she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, turning him to the side as the tallest buildings in the Stadt began to be covered with the snow. Guided by instinct, one hand went to cover hers whilst other went to the ice-protection settings and flicked it on as his eyes roamed over the exterior to ensure the chopper was flying fine. Snowflakes had started sticking to the Plexiglass around them, almost cocooning them within the structure of the helicopter. The lights from the city below had begun to dim slightly because of the cover of light snow and Meerab was watching the sprinkling of snowflakes around them.
Her head turned to him out of habit, but this time she did a double take, her eyes clinging to his dark ones. Steadily circling the chopper around, Murtasim looked back at her, his eyes dropping to her lips glistening with lip-gloss. They twitched just slightly in response and the delight on her face became subdued, merging with awareness. Murtasim felt his jaw clenching and gulped lightly as she dropped her eyes.
And just like that, the air inside the small, intimate helicopter cockpit changed completely.
Taking just one look at her, her hair cascading on over her shoulders, her lips pouty and her eyes wide and shiny, Murtasim took a deep breath and made another decision he normally wouldn't have in the middle of the night and during forecasted snow.
Tightening his hand on the controls, he lowered altitude slightly and positioned the helicopter so that the cockpit faced the opposite direction to the snow. Satisfied with how they were positioned, he eased up on the controls and flicked on the auto-pilot hovering mechanism; one of the main features he'd bought this particular helicopter for and something which had cost him a small fortune. It made the helicopter hover in the air without the pilot manning the controls, allowing him to free his hands.
Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the snowflake-covered helicopter seemed too cold, too intimate. Like there was nowhere to go and the rapidly thickening snow was pushing them closer and closer. Meerab looked away, leaning back against her seat in a bid to act like she was enjoying the view of snowfall on the screen in front of them. Murtasim leaned back too, one hand loosely placed on the controls out of habit and faced her.
He saw her lashes flicker and knew that she was using everything in her to keep her eyes on the screen and not turn to him. Her lips quivered lightly and she steadied them with a little flick of her tongue. And Murtasim watched.
Had she always been this attractive? He had attended balls, galas and parties with princesses, heiresses, socialites-hell even three queens, and yet as he lazily kissed her profile with his gaze, he had to admit to himself that this was the sexiest he had ever found a woman in his entire life. Unbound hair, fresh-faced, sparkling eyes, plain black-on-black outfit and that delectable air of confidence, sass and warm, golden honey-sweetness. Meerab in a nutshell.
The fact that she was looking so gorgeous in his helicopter must have something to do with it; anything attached to flying became exponentially attractive to him anyway. Meerab buckled up in the sky next to him, the twinkling city underneath them and the first snowfall of the season around them; Murtasim was running out of ways to temper his body's response and he needed her to stop tempering hers.
"Eyes, Meerab." his voice was low, but a soft command nonetheless.
Even in the dark, he saw her chest expand on a deep breath, and then keeping her face towards the front, only her eyes slid to his face, blinking and tentative.
She swallowed.
He waited.
Her head turned, her eyes wide and unsure. There was nowhere to go. They were cocooned literally in their own world, above and away from everyone else. Words were surplus and eyes talked as they inched slightly closer but resisted the last few inches. All they did was look into each other's eyes, breathing heavy; their eyes dilated even as Murtasim clenched his jaw and Meerab gulped; both drowning under the avalanche of tension and flutters, and desperately trying to get through it and keep their heads above the insane urge. And then there was that one corner of their minds which blared an outraged 'why?'
Why resist? Why brave through the avalanche? Why push against the urge?
Why?
They were two people, alone in a secluded, magical corner of the world and having left everyone and everything way below them. A man and a woman with no restrictions, intrinsic or external. With her eyes wide, Meerab's chest expanded and relaxed, her breaths deep and heavy yet so temptingly feminine. He was still, his eyes blazing with a look was now so achingly familiar to her and his nostrils slightly flared. His jaw worked and his hand, always on the controls, loosened ever so slightly.
"Say yes, Meerab." His voice was already husky with intent.
Murtasim faintly wondered if she found it intimidating; the hot rush of blood in his ears, the way his body tightened and then snapped at just the sight of her and how his mind strayed to deep, deep places reserved only for the woman in front of him. There was not a single shred of doubt in his mind that it was the same for her as it was for him, and he wondered.
Did she find the way he was intimidating? Did she need him to be gentler? Softer? Soothe her with sweet words before anything happened between them? Just the thought seemed like a tall order because Murtasim didn't do sweet; never had and had never planned to. Just the fact that he was wondering about the level of sweet talk required before he touched his wife had him questioning his brain. She'd done it again; made him do something he never did or had to do. The minx was turning out to be an expert at that.
It was either luck, blessings or good karma, but his mental questioning was answered the very next second. He watched her as her eyes dropped down, which had his jaw clenching in anticipation of a denial. And then those glittering brown eyes looked up.
"Yes." she breathed out.
Dynamite; that's what she was. Of course, she wasn't intimidated. She was just careful, smart but she matched you step for step and met you head on, and it made her undeniably irresistible. He didn't know who moved first, but their lips met in the middle of the snow-cocooned cockpit in a rush of sweet breaths, gasps and the thundering of the helicopter.
And at that moment, the auto-pilot hover feature in the helicopter was worth every penny Murtasim had paid for it. His hands were on her face, her hair, her hips; everywhere. Hers slid up to his stubble-roughened jaw, loving the way it felt on her soft palms, before one slid deep into his un-styled hair and the other slid under his jaw, as her fingers trailed over the overgrowth of stubble on his throat. Their lips slid over one another's; hot and so, so desperate for more. tering to take every last bit of pleasure they could. It was like being handed a glass of water after days of thirst; essential, welcome and nowhere near enough.
Murtasim's mouth engulfed Meerab's as he drank and drank, until she was the one who wanted a drink. Freeing her lips for just a second to breathe, they fused with his again as she took his bottom lip and sucked, biting down as the hand in her hair tightened. It was pure instinct making her lips move in ways she'd never known or imagined. It wasn't learnt or practiced; it was just them. Their minds were blank and honed solely on the velvety glides of their lips. It was either one long kiss or a thousand ones, each fusing seamlessly together, but it went on forever. Meerab's arms stretched and grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in as he angled her face up with his large hand splayed all over her cheek and jaw.
The angle allowed better access to her mouth and he slid his tongue along the seam of her now-swollen bottom lip. Murtasim was rewarded a gasp in return and a low growl of frustration vibrated in his chest at the restricted access to her body. It took every ounce of clarity for Murtasim to glance at the windscreen and the control panel to ensure they were still hovering safely, before he reached between them and unclipped his belt with a click. The belt straps were pulled back automatically and even before they'd reached their stationary positions, Murtasim had pushed forward and pressed against Meerab, his mouth devouring hers as his hands reached down and curved low around her full hips. They felt their way up her sides and shoulders, and her thick fur coat was pushed down her arms as he felt her hands slide down from his neck and pull away.
They disappeared between their bodies and it took him a moment to realise where they were heading. As her fingers fiddled with the clasp of her own belt, his hand shot out stilled hers, humming a 'no' in deep in her mouth.
No way in hell.
"Tum nahi." he spoke against her tongue just as closed his mouth over it. It was bad enough that this madness had him unbuckling mid-air, but he couldn't risk her being unbuckled; no matter how close he wanted to get her or how close she wanted to be.
A petulant moan was thrown at him and he swallowed it, his hands stroking her cheek and low onto her neck in consolation. His nose skimmed across her jaw, kissed her chin and then his lips were on her throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way along her delicate collar bone and trying to get deeper into the neckline of her top. Her coat sleeves pooled at her elbow and wrists as she combed her hand into his hair and pulled him down, lower onto her. The other hand had snaked its way into his jacket, and Murtasim breathed out against her collar bone as her little hands pushed upwards and curled around his hair roughened neck form underneath his upturned jacket collar.
Then, their lips found each other again, and as the powerful rotors of the helicopters worked fiercely to keep them suspended in the air, and in their blissful bubble, their considerable thundering was lost on the couple who kissed like time was of the essence and they only had a limited number of kisses left. Murtasim lowered Meerab onto the seat enough so that she was facing upwards and his face was angled down over hers.
And then he took; her lips, his pleasure, her wants, his needs, it all merged into one blazing flame within them as he kissed her harder than he had done so far. He took to make up for all the days they hadn't seen each other since their last kiss. He kissed to compensate for all the nights he'd spent alone in his bed since the last time she'd been in it. And he kissed because it was all he could do. Nothing could've pulled him away from her lips at that moment high up in the skies; he'd destroy anyone who tried.
It was just them, cocooned in their little snow-covered haven, up and away from anyone and anything. Their very own snow globe.
Breathing was deemed secondary and they kissed deeply until only a moment was spared to snatch a breath from each other's mouths. And then another kiss would follow. Again and again until Meerab was dizzy and Murtasim thought he would combust from restraint.
A helicopter hadn't been the greatest of places to kiss your date senseless, Murtasim realised as her hand pulled at his hair and the sting tugged at him deep within his core. Unless a kiss was just that, a kiss, a helicopter was possibly the worst aircraft he owned when it came to their current predicament. And this was him and Meerab; it was never going to be just a kiss. But tonight, it would have to be; at least whilst they were 7000ft in the air.
A beep sounded, reminding him that the auto-pilot hover had been operational for fifteen minutes. It would continue to sound every fifteen minutes until he turned it off, and Murtasim's finger acknowledged the warning before returning to Meerab's ear, skimming it as he sucked her bottom lip until she snatched a breath in. Murtasim's heart was thundering and his body coiled tighter than a spring. Looking at her, he knew she was the same. He took the break in momentum to pull back slowly, keeping his hands around her hips but finally breaking the kiss.
She was spectacular, drenched in desire like this. Her full, swollen lips now glistened with the remnants of his desire, her hair was mussed with the bangs falling haphazardly onto her forehead and her eyes completely unfocused. Her eyelids were heavy and her pupils were visibly dilated even in the darkened cockpit. Her breathing was so heavy that one breath would occasionally stop short and another would start pre-emptively as she tried to catch it. Her fingers blindly clutched his neck under his jacket collar and her head had started to loll forward, trying to find a resting place on him.
She half-sat and half-lay, unravelled and completely at his mercy. So very unlike the Meerab the world knew. It made him want to hide her in his arms and prevent anyone from getting to her. Like this, vulnerable and coming down from a blinding high, she was his and his only. His to see, his to hold and his to catch. No one got to see her like this, and no one ever would.
It was a gradual fall from the high. He held her face up as her breathing evened out and her eyes became clearer until realisation dawned. And she just looked at him with wide, owlish eyes which shone with the intricate threads of self-awareness tangled with questions; something he was also well acquainted with by now. But he didn't have any answers for her. He still hadn't figured out why they were the way they were; why all they had to do was look at each other from across a room and it felt like the entire world could very well burst into flames and it was A-okay as long as they could somehow get their hands on each other and stay that way. The same questions burned in her eyes and he kissed them away; a deep, slow kiss before he pulled her coat back up and stroked her hair away from her face.
"Ab bhook lag gayi?" he murmured against her lips.
She hesitated, her breath still a little uneven against his lips as she held onto him for support. Then her nose rubbed against his as she nodded in an enthusiastic 'yes', making his eyes smile in indulgence.
And indulge her, he did. Dinner was at a secluded chalet atop one of the peaks of the Swiss Alps. Meerab had had her heart in her throat the entire time as Murtasim had been landing the giant helicopter on the snow-topped mountain. But he might as well have been bay-parking a car, because he'd been as relaxed and controlled as he always was.
The chalet glowed with what seemed like a million lights, and was empty expect for the caretaker; a tall, stocky German man who greeted them before seating them on the snow-covered terrace at the top of the chalet, overlooking the ski slopes and adjacent Alps. Even in darkness, it was such a distinctly special experience and Meerab had a hard time keeping her mouth straight as she looked around and then at the man who had made it all possible.
Their dinner had been brought to the beautifully set table at the edge of the terrace, and had been eaten in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by Meerab's exclamations of 'so good!' and how 'yum' it was. The caretaker had returned to clear their plates and asked about dessert, to which Murtasim had gestured towards the middle of the terrace, and somehow that had been enough for the elderly man to understand. When asked if she'd like Glühwein, the traditional German mulled wine drink which was a holiday season staple, she declined with a smile and asked for a cappuccino instead. He'd then turned to Murtasim, and his knowledge that her husband was not a drinker and would probably prefer espresso had let Meerab know that this man was well acquainted with him.
Her choice of drink had turned out to be perfect because dessert was something Meerab would never forget. A chocolate fondue with a massive platter of cut fruits and a bonfire to roast marshmallows and nuts over; marshmallows for her, nuts for him. It had been set up in the middle of the terrace, and they had opted to sit on the same side of the bonfire overlooking the view, with Meerab excitedly roasting every piece of strawberry on the platter. Murtasim was leaned back on the cosy outdoor sofa-chair and didn't do much roasting, but was indulgently opening his mouth for any roasted treat his wife sent his way. His threshold for sweet was way, way lower than hers, and so after a certain point, he'd just relaxed and watched her, his fingers occasionally twirling a strand of her hair whenever she leaned back.
After dessert, they were back to their seats at the table they'd had dinner on, next to the thick wooden balustrade on the terrace. The snow fell fast and gently onto the already snowy peaks so closely visible from the chalet. The chalet was in a secluded valley and only the slopes of the Alps were seen as far as the eye could be seen. Meerab spied other, equally glamorous chalets to the other side of the slopes, along with a little ski shop and café hut, all nestled at the foot of the peak. The lights from the interior and the fairy lights draped around the structure were the only illumination, and as Meerab leaned her head against the railing to the side, a tired, content sigh escaped her.
It really had been a perfect outing; the magical view of Zurich, the snow, the novelty of flying in a helicopter, the chalet, dinner...him. Even the kiss. All of it; it had her heart fluttering at its perfection.
Was this how it was to be Murtasim's?
Never a dull moment, never routine and never, ever without the crazy rush butterflies in her stomach. She looked at him, her head flopped onto the railing in relaxation.
"So, you're one of those. South of France in the summer, skiing and chalets in Switzerland for winter." she remarked dryly, her eyes droopy, her body relaxed.
He looked away from the view and tilted his head to side, his finger running over the stone of his ring. He also sat back, relaxed and looking the most laid back she had ever seen him. It made letting her guard down easier.
"I'm too busy in the summer and as for winter, you're in my chalet, aur subha tak ruko, skiing karwa bhi doon ga." he drawled, eyes stayed on her entire time, watching her reaction.
Bulls eye.
Meerab's eyes shot to his and it felt like a charge of electricity passed through them and settled deep into every pore of her skin. The implication of his words wasn't lost on her, and it also hadn't escaped her notice that this was a home. His home. With a bed; most likely only a few steps away. She gulped her nervousness down.
"Murtasim Khan, ye ayaash baatein aap pe achi nahi lagti." she remarked primly.
She pulled her coat tighter around her mid-section with one hand, feeling slight shivers travel up her frame.
"Ye to bohat sharaafat se kaha hai, abhi tak apne ayaashi dekhi kahan hai?'
She bit her lip and dropped her eyes for just a second before meeting his gaze head-on.
"Kahan tha na maine? Tum ho hi ayaash." she whispered sassily, her eyes were alight with a mixture of mirth mixed with haughtiness, and his honed into her in a way which betrayed his enjoyment at their conversation.
His phone rang, popping the little bubble they'd been in. Both their eyes instinctively slid to the ringing phone on the table and with a frown, Murtasim picked it up. It gave Meerab valuable time to try and read him; absorb the man in front of her, who had so many facets to his intriguing personality.
This entire evening was an example. It was the last thing she would've expected. So unexpected but now that she'd had an intimate look at him with his guard down, so very Murtasim; which was surprising since it wasn't black tie, a seven-star restaurant and with all the trimmings of The Murtasim Khan special brand of treatment. A helicopter ride, a Swiss chalet stay and dinner in the Alps was no cheap date, but it was the relaxed, casual feel of it all which was so at odds with the cutthroat, slick Murtasim she had gotten accustomed to in Pakistan and even in Doha.
He did relax and resort to his comfort habits when winding down, just like the rest of them mere mortals. Strangely enough, it made Meerab want to find out more. She thought she had known what made him tick, and to an extent, she did, but seeing him like this, curiosity sparked. It was complex; this thing called attraction. It messed with your head and made you want more; more than you'd ever planned on demanding or receiving.
She shifted her eyes to him as he spoke into the phone. It was a business call; a technical issue at a factory. Murtasim spoke clearly and with command, his face serious. Meerab's eyes roamed over the hard, defined contours of his face. His facial hair had darkened considerably and his hair had been mussed. That had been her, and her shameless and very enthusiastic actions in the helicopter. More than him, she was surprising herself with how easily her body seemed to crave him and also how easily it acted on that craving.
Was this how married life would've been if things hadn't gotten so tangled? If she hadn't heard Maa Begum that night, if she hadn't given Murtasim an ultimatum the night before their nikkah and if they hadn't lived liked strangers for the past two years? Would they have burned for each other just like they burned now? They'd never really given themselves the chance to explore this. Everything had been too quick.
She stood up and walked along the terrace, turning towards the view of the slopes and letting the unparalleled view and its beauty put her right back into the bubble she had been in a few minutes before. It really was too easy to lose yourself, both in the view and in whatever she was doing with Murtasim. And so, so tempting to take that leap of faith and just jump.
Sudden heat behind her had her shaking out of reverie as he walked up behind her. Meerab's back stiffened as she hesitated just a second before turning to find him standing so close to her, it had her back pressing into the wooden balustrade. She looked up into his eyes, needing to shift the mood before things heated up, as they inevitably did when they were this close to one another.
"Car kyun change ki?" she asked, her voice just slightly deeper than a whisper.
He stood where he was, watching her. He was silent for a moment.
"My type had a type." he replied; not a whisper, but low and gravelly; a deep rumble in the cold air.
Maybe you have a type?
Her recent words hung silently in the crisp air between them; the reason she had given for him owning so many of the same Mercedes, just before she had told him what car was more her type. Meerab gulped softly as her eyes shifted from him; it felt overwhelming to look at into his eyes right then. She cleared her throat and soldiered on with her attempt to keep the atmosphere light.
"No more Mercedes?" she asked, curious.
He shook his head once, a small, enigmatic smile on his lips.
"Mercedes for me, always. The Bentley's yours." he announced casually, like he hadn't just given her a £260,000 car.
The only reason Meerab even knew this little nugget of information was because she had been Googling the car a few nights ago. Her jaw dropped and an incredulous laugh filtered out.
"Murtasim, tum paagal ho? You can't give that." she reasoned laughingly.
It wasn't lost on Meerab that she was one of the very, very small number of people who could call Murtasim Khan paagal, and not be punched in the face directly after. In fact, the only other people in the very exclusive club would be Maa Begum and most likely Omar, and even that was pushing it.
"I'm not giving it. I'm gifting it. And why not?" he asked, logical as ever.
"It costs more than half a million pounds, husband. Tum bohat zyaada fazool-kharchi nai kartay?"
She raised a brow in question. His own rose at her knowledge of the price.
"Fazool-kharchi implies the use of something which you only have a limited amount of." he replied, and Meerab knitted her brows, wondering not for the first time if this man had an English, grammer and punctuation fetish.
As for the implication, annoyingly, it did make sense, and money was the last thing Murtasim had a limited amount of.
"Meri biwi ko kuch acha laga tha, to maine uske liye le liya."
Her heart was such a wuss. And a traitor. The way it quickened a little at his words and deep, low voice was annoying. Meerab shushed it.
"Tell me about this car first. Kuch batao toh." she proposed, her arms stretched back as held onto the wide balustrade.
"Ussey kya hoga?" he chuckled, taking a step closer.
"Bas, batao. I would like to know the specifics. It's a Bentley...aagay tum batao."
He took another step closer, his wide shoulders now blocking her entire view of the chalet's interior. She discreetly pressed her back deeper against the wood at her back. Looking at her with an expression of curiosity, indulgence and exasperation, he nodded at her.
"Pucho." came the command.
Meerab blinked blankly. It was all well and good to steer the conversation in a safe, no-proximity direction, but what on earth was there to know about cars? Sometimes, she annoyed herself. Oh well, she knew enough 'car' words to brave through this conversation.
"Uh, tyre pressure." she threw back, her brows high, waiting for an answer.
They very swiftly lowered and knitted together as her husband pushed his lips together and his jaw worked hard to keep his grin from emerging. He took another, little step towards her, until he was directly in front of her, the front of his shoes touching the front of her Uggs.
"Engine se start kartay hain." Murtasim drawled, to which Meerab shrugged her shoulders and nodded, totally nonchalant.
"6 litre. Twin-turbo. W12 piston engine." he murmured.
Meerab's eyes widened. Whatever he was saying, she was certain it was absolutely not meant to be said in the tone Murtasim had used. His voice had dropped, roughening, and each word felt like it had been caressed in his mouth and then stroked her over entire body. Meerab suddenly felt hot.
"Transmission." he prompted.
Her breath hitched.
"Transmission." she repeated, her tone meant to expectant but just a rush of breathy syllables.
"Eight-speed dual-clutch." He took another step in so that his chest brushed against hers. "Automatic."
Meerab's chest felt heavy as breathing became laborious, and her hands dropped from the balustrade to hang in the air, her elbows till perched on it.
"Top speed." He prompted again, and just like last time, she repeated breathily.
His hands came to rest next to her elbows on the wood, circling her.
"Three hundred and thirty-five kilometres per hour." He was so close now. His words had been breathed onto her face, her lashes fluttering as his warm breath fell onto her cold cheeks, rosy from the cold.
"Fast." Meerab breathed out.
He nodded ever so slowly.
"Very fast." he agreed huskily.
"Zero to sixty miles per hour." Came the last command, again repeated by a now reeling Meerab.
"Three point six seconds." he breathed the words into her slightly parted mouth.
They were now pressed so tightly against the balustrade that Murtasim's body enveloping hers looked like they were one person. He'd completely caged her, and the sides of his jacket on either side her body hid her from view. Meerab's eyes flickered from the effort it took to keep looking into his eyes, but lost the battle, sliding shut; wanting to block everything except how good it felt. Murtasim's mouth angled over hers, breathing into her soul.
"Stay the night." His words reverberated through his chest and mid-section.
Meerab pressed her eyes shut even tighter, swallowing as her breathing quickened. Murtasim leaned in, his eyes fixated on her lips like they'd disappear.
Would another kiss be okay? Would it be too much?
And stay the night? Should she? Could she? Would they...?
Hello dear readers! Happy, happy, happy MeerAsim reading <3
It's MeerAsim's courtship outing numero uno aka first date! I had so much fun whilst writing this, and honestly, that's the only reason the update is out quicker. Truth be told, I was undecided about what the actual date would be up until I had started writing. But after that, I kid you not, this wrote itself. The heli ride over Zurich, the dinner at the chalet, the bonfire, all of it. These little snapshots of romance are so, so close to my heart and have actually come straight from the heart too, and I hope you enjoy them.
Also, here is a peek into our Captain's POV that you've been asking for. As you know me by now, you'll know I won't just reveal it all at once, but enough has been shown to let you know how he sees her, what he feels and how she affects him.
The video attached is basically the aerial views MeerAsim had when flying over Zurich, such a magical city honestly. Hope it gets you in the feels! Also, 1411 words of just MeerAsim kissing; I hope they made up a little for the lack of kissing until now.
Lastly, I tried so hard to keep this chapter short, which it is when compared to recent ones, but its still ended up being nearly 9000 words. I will forever be baffled as to how I managed to write <5000 word chapters at the start of HkP; I want that talent back
Enjoy and let me know what you think.
Till next time, D xo