AN: This chapter is pure smut, feel free to skip.
Meerab was naive and yet calculated when she needed to be. She had seen enough of the world for it to hurt when her freedom was about to be snatched away. She had ran to the train station with every cell yearning— crying out— in ardent search for a different road that led to free choice. On that uncertain path is where she opened the door for Murtasim; equally wise, kind and honourable.
The sight of their wedding pictures sprawled out on the cofee table, the intimate and soothing blaze behind them and the law school application made her heart squeeze in love, in finally finding a home that treated her with the care and consideration she sought. Her eyes were pools of appreciation, of a dream come true.
Murtasim had just confessed that his only wish is that she stayed closed by, spurring her on to tease, ''Kitna paas?'' She swiftly pivoted so that she faced him, hinting at the blooming amorous need within. (To stay close? How close?)
''Closer,'' he deftly ordered until Meerab found herself face to face, knees nestled past each other ontop of the comfy rug. With pink heart-shaped helium baloon drifting against the tall ceiling, the loose rose petals had followed them into the room. It was an intimate retreat, they were truly alone and encompassed in a bubble of newly discovered love, glowing.
''Aur nazdeek Meerab,'' he ordered in a hoarse voice, narrating the unassuming instruction which led into Meerab pressing her lips against his in a pace that was leisurely and unhurried, yet easily stirred the depths of desire within. Their knees welcomed each other, slowly kissing whilst her hands slid down to her quaint waist, splaying to the flair of her hips. The greedy groping incited her entire body to tingle. (Even closer Meerab.)
Meerab sharply gasped, the temperature rising as her hands smoothed over his cotton kameez, finding the hardness of his chest. The fire cast a handsome shadow on his features to sharpen his nose and jaw, crackling and dancing elegantly besides them like a miniature storm. In a tactful swoop, her pulled her forward so that her intimate centre rest again his knee, every wither amplified 10 fold from the gentlest friction, so that she was conscious of the connection, anticipation rousing.
Care efforts were spent in kissing her pouty cupid bow, the corner of her lips, her chin, the soft flesh beneath and upon her beating pulse point. She was moaning, demure yet awakened, head falling back as took a taste of her skin, sinfully sweet and utterly intoxicating.
''May I ?'' He asked against her lips that were softer than silk, his fingertips tracing her lacey neckline in waiting.
Instinctively, she grinded herself against him in a motion that was subtle enough to be modest and yet exhilarating, only given away by a bated breath.
Without thinking, without any thought, her lips were left parted and she nod, letting him undo the buttons that fastened her kameez together. The loops were skilfully opened, each one a promise of flesh; bare before his view and to be savoured. He peeled the fabric and it way just enough space to show her perky cleavage and tops of her spilling cups that were lined in lace, making his cock twitch.
She had been close, immersed in his hobbies, his house that had become a secret retreat where they explored each other. They felt like they had stolen moments of time, taken without giving. He placed a trail of lasting kisses on a route downwards upon her breastbone, each one coupled with a sincere praise.
''Khoobsurat.'' (Pretty.)
Peck.
''Pyari,'' he mumbled against her sensitive skin. (Precious.)
Kiss.
''Meri khushi.'' (My happiness.)
Lick. His forehead leaned against her clavicle, resting like a pit stop.
''Mera araam.'' He could almost feel her pattering heart between her breasts, roused in his name into beating madly in preparation for what he would to her. (My peace.)
Peck.
''Meri,'' he declared resoloutley before his nose nuzzled against her supple breasts and he deeply inhaled the scent of his wife, cementing it into memory indefinitely. ''Meri jaaneman.'' She was trembling from what he had made bloom within her, evoking her entire body to flush and year for his touch. (My soul.)
''Can I see,'' she asked, her lilt apprehensive yet intrigued, gaze lifting slowly until they met.
''Khud se zyada, main tumhara hi hun,'' he affirmed, his husky voice was testament to the effect of Meerab being in his vicinity, handing herself over to him. (More than my own, I belong to you.)
They were still on their knees, the room dark yet case in a toasty ambience from the illuminating fire. Murtasim's eyelids fell, breathing slowing to ground himself, imaging every sensual moan she had ever uttered so that the blood would rush south. The house was secluded when his hips lifted, his kameez was pulled aside and she got a glimpse of his tapered waist, the centre trailing in darker curles upon his wheaty skin. Pulling the tie of his shalwar, his waistband went slack.
Her lips parted in intrigue as her member was unveiled to stand proud before her. Murtasim spat in his own hand before he wrapped around the base of his length, watching as her hands fiddled with her parted neckline, giving the perfect window onto her body.
It was so intimate to watch him massaging his own erect penis in front of her, teaching her how to play with his organ in a temperate cadence.
Her pupils dilated, entranced on the sight of him holding himself with conviction, with authority. The only thought that clouded her mind was of how it fit inside her, how it had slipped into her so easily, evoking her own release with ease. His grip was tight, the entire thing glistening and hissing at how good it felt, vulnerable and yet secure before his wife, depicting the hold she would iminently imitate.
The quiver between his eyebrows in concentration is what drew her closer, her own hand replacing his, confident despite being a novice.
A sigh emitted from his sinking lungs at her hand sped up the tempo with languid jerks, the rhythm of his breathing also picking up. The praises, less refined, unlocked a new level of satisfaction within her.
Each stoke was firm and yet inquisitive, wondering which caress which trigger which response. He basked in the attention, his demure wife awakened in his company, both sat in front of the cosy fire whilst her smaller hand, that had only seen superfluous luxuries, got to work on his slippery length. Her hand slid with ease onto him hard length, firm and proudly unyielding as she massaged him. Just the sight made her insides churn.
Every touch was navigating a new path, testament to her determination to study him, to evoke pleasure that would make him lose the cool composure, until he muttered her name, like a solemn prayer, like a mantra of unrefined praise, like an incantation to spur her on.
In the same pursuit, her nimble thumb slid over the crease of the tip of his penis, slotting and finding something sensitive that instantly made him jerk and moan her name, a gluttonous 'Meerab' luxuriously rolling off his tongue. It spurred her on to repeat the motion, wanting more of whatever pleasured him, her other hand formed a cuff around a base, squeezing the pleasure out of him, until his hips lifted, and her hand was forced to halt by firm grip on her wrist.
''Meerab, bas,'' he instructed in a hurry, gentle and yet certain. (Meerab, that's enough.)
Her hand released, detatching from the warmth of his mass. ''Did I hurt you?''
''Never,'' he deflected, kissing her again. He wouldn't have lasted long.
''Then?''
He would have easily come in her hand, her touch was too tempting. ''It's your turn now to show me.'' The stakes were raised.
Meerab gulped, the sunset pink blush grew, encompassing her neck and cheeks when the spotlight shone on her. Simply holding her dainty fingertips, Murtasim made her stand so that he could tug on her waistband, so it fell like a waterfall, pooling at her ankles. Her hand balanced on his shoulder and her long kameez formed a curtain of modesty as she stepped out, heartbeat running at the piqued expectation.
To ease her in, Murtasim pushed himself up to grab some fluffy pillows. They were used to prop himself, leaning against the wall with his knees folded and wide. ''Yahan baitho, meri biwi,'' he beckoned, decided that she would be comfortable if facing away, yet in his hold and view. (Sit here, my wife.)
The floor between his legs was pat as an invite and Meerab sat so her back was against his clothed chest, his stiff cock patiently pressed the back of her hip.
His chin perfectly slot of her shoulder, a tessalation that was divine. ''What shall I do,'' she asked, hesitant to venture out with the initiating step. It was invitation for his arms to roam around her rib cage, teasing the side of her breasts, watching the kameez gather between her naked creamy legs that were nourished in the comfort of the fire.
It gave the perfect view down her opened neckline, a picturesque vision of her swell breasts heaving. He basked in her open waterfall hair, lips meeting the side of her balmy neck. ''Whatever feels good. I am so lucky,'' he shared candidly, wholeheartedly believing every word, making her sink into the cradle of his body.
She felt each vowel rattling in his chest against her back, aware of his engorged rod and yet it only enticed her, arousal collecting at her own opening with every heady touch and utterance.
''Show me,'' he urged in a hushed intimate tone, hand ravenously toying with the flimsy material before draping it over her thigh to uncover her inflamed centre, emanating desire. ''Please Meerab,'' he muttered, the wait making the act even more alluring. He widened her legs so that it draped over his own knee, opening her to view, the air perfumed in her slick; a visceral reaction to how much she wanted him; her body had quickly learned to long for him.
His gaze locked downwards when she accepted. Her own hand travelled with gravity, tracing her quivering lower stomach, sensitive mound and then directly south.
With heavy drunken eyelids, his mouth dried as her hands rested over her shimmering heat, stretching out the seconds before quenching his thirst.
''What shall I do?'' She purred coyly, a mix of hesitation and wanton need, craving his touch that somehow knew her better than herself. He had skilfully mapped her out, already basked in every minute reaction and etched it into memory.
''What I do,'' he hummed past her ear, her entire bare chest blanketed by his heady breath, erupting in goosebumps that decpited her own burning soul. She felt herself sinking into the rug, into him as if melting, without concern for how their bodies merged, mirroring the molten wax on the mantle, dripping.
She bit her lip hard, now pulsing in pain which hardly went noticed as her eyes closed to block out the view, avoiding how close he was whilst studying her every twitch. Her middle finger lowered, dipping into her open flower to soak in the deep slipperiness before drawing lazy uneven circles over her folds.
A breath was stolen at the sight of her nimble finger, her Khaani ring adorned lowering, her stomach tensing as the simple touch strummed something innate, her entertance lurching for more.
Murtasim palpably felt the pleasure too, the way her cheeks had developed a rosy hue and her mind flooded with the imagery of him. Her hand playing in a quest to mimic what his fingers had once done in exploration, a reflection of her husband.
Finding a delicious stroke through her moist petals, her hand pressed fractionally hard, her own lips parting for a sultry rippling moan. His nose peered forward to dig into her cheek, almost enjoying it almost as her, his hands settling onto her voluminous thighs, keeping her in place so she only had to focus on herself.
''Is that good?'' The untamed heat of lust was hotter, scorching at finally being let loose.
''Not as good as you,'' she admit drunkenly, head rolling back onto him like her spine grew weak, becoming even more seductive as she succumbed to the sensations of passion.
''Really,'' he quizzed, too tempted. His own hand venturing down to help in the erotic pursuit, greedy to fuse himself into the equation, using his fingers to play her.
The sliding of his bronze fingers was more deliberate. Soaking through, he drew a contrasting pattern of up and down through the reems of silk, making her thigh shake and breaths quiver from each jolt that he sparked. Murtasim, devoutly learnt, exercised his knowledge with a vigour, careful to graze her engorged bud on every round.
Meerab was encapsulated, his stiff remember to one side, one unrelenting hand ahead that worked to inundate her in pleasure, the other hand open as she became his harp, eliciting melodious and sensuous gasps that danced in the air.
His digits gave relief and kindled an inferno before his very eyes; his kittenish wife transformed into seductive siren, open for the taking.
Causing her hips to tilt, his strokes were short and precise yet barely-there, allowing her to wither to his touch. She was sensitive and ready, a sheen glistening fluid on top of the hints of her dusty pink petals, her internal organ fluttering in a quest for more.
Then he continued with another finger, 2 providing pressure, caressing her sex so that all her mind mumbled was him. ''Meerab,'' he asked into her perfumed hair, wanting permission to probe her entrance.
''Jee,'' she moaned as he swirled around her opening, teasing, knocking impatiently. (Yes.)
Pressing against her with an octave more passion, she yelped in sweet surprise, only stifled with a ardently unfaltering kiss upon her lips. His one hand massaged her breasts, the other one slipping deeper into a hot slippery cushion that eagerly welcomed him in.
The thumb extended to grace her clitoris and her knees widened, hips jutted and her breasts pushed outwards in search for more. Her head fell back, lifting to see him numb on her, revelling in his wife becoming undone, on her bottom lip wobbling under his touch.
Time stilled as he slid a finger into her opening, the inferno blaze watched as they gently devoured one another on the living room floor upon the woolly rug, their soiree rivalling the elegance of the swirling fire.
''Murtasim,'' she whined as his finger stretched her inside, hungrily yet cautious to ease her in.
He hummed into her hair, letting her know that she was free to let go, to fall into his arms like she already had under less amorous circumstances of the library. He inhaled, ravishing his mouth against hers, hands fondling her sex until the arousal spilled out of her.
The onslaught of pleasure was a vicious attack, curling her spine, her knees jumped under his hold, tickling her, messaging her inside with care until the pleasure crested, peaking when she saw an oblivion of white: white like the top of a snowy mountain, a blanket of fluffy clouds or a blinding light, forcing her to let go.
A deep breath tumbling from her lungs until she released, drowning into him as it was second nature, as if he was safety and home. The high ebbed, slowly washed away.
With a new found clarity, she saw distinct pride of Murtasim's face, watching with full eyes to catch every ounce of her response when she came to her senses, panting with her kameez barely doing anything for her modestly; it has been discarded off her legs and neckline opened until it was only clothing by name.
''Utho.'' He throbbed. (Get up.)
Meerab straightened her spine, face burning and her body ready for more.
Numerous cushions where pulled down from the sofas in a haphazard effort, to make space as he climbed onto the sofa, already shirtless with tense muscles in waiting.
This time, he wanted to see her face as it contort in unadulterated pleasure. Murtasim reached for the corners of her flimsy kameez, tugging it free over her shoulders.
A shawl was located in the ottoman and promptly used to wrap around her body and cover the glowing bare skin amidst delving deeper, exploring a new realm of crackling pleasure together.
Whilst pressing his mouth into hers, the heat rose from the fire and blanketed them in privacy. Meerab perched ontop of him, knees folding to either side on the sofa.
Her fingertips rippled over the hardness of his buff chest and taunt abdomen. The short hairs tickled her, her fingers reading his skin as if it was inscribed with invisible poetry.
''I love you,'' she whispered into the air seductively, her words laced in the utter truth; she desired him more with each passing moment. Her chest rose and fell under his gaze as he brazenly investigated the curves of her bodice, the paler skin on her soft stomach that hadn't seen the sun, her feminine hips and the outline of her covered breast. On their own accord, his thumb came to trace her lower stomach, caress as if to stifle her contacting muscles, awakened.
She peaked down through her long lashes, and realised how handsome he looked against the navy plush sofa, hair undone from all the times he had pulled his fingers through it, iris' bright with desire.
His hips hungrily lifted in a quest for more.
Naked, a buzz flashed through them from the sexual collision.
He held her hip to provide a little friction on his cock, making her eyes widened and become iridescent. He was so close, so brazenly wanting her to rub her arousal on him — in need.
Looking up, he watched enamoured, infatuated with the woman he had discovered. He endearingly cupped her face and she nuzzled into his hand; a pact of comfort as she stepped out into the playfield, slowly grinding herself ontop of him until he hissed her name.
At the same time, studying him, her hand embarked on a route to trace up his forearm — corded in veins — up until his thick bicep. He tucked her pesky fringe behind her ear, tracing the delicate curved shell of her cartilage, causing her spine to be enveloped in heady tingles.
The act between them was like swaying, like a boat buoyantly rocking as if simply riding the current.
Murtasim's index finger folded beneath her chin, tilting her head in a gracious tug closer, engaging his abs to lift to kiss her; full of gentle affection, bubbled in unbridled desire, easily aroused with a simple wanton glance. Again and again, nicking her lips with his moustache.
She pulled away, to breath; needing to calm her lungs.
Starved, his wet tongue swiped at the seam of her mouth, urging her to open so he could explore the hidden crevices, to lick with a passion that threatened to drive them through the hours of the night. His hand slid down the curve of her side, finding her splayed thighs to tenderly squeeze the supple flesh.
Each soft suckle, each minuscule groan into her mouth was reciprocated with more eagerness, needing him closer, pushing away her fears. When their oxygen had been exhausted, she only pulled away for a moment before he caught her mouth again with an intensity that spoke to his dedication in tending to her.
All that was left was tempered patience and a deep love that amalgamated into a recipe for passion, speaking to the depths of their blooming want for one another.
Emboldened by the lustful shine in his gaze when they eyes met, her pussy fluttering impatiently. Her legs resting at either side of him like a coy hug. The skin of her inner thighs grazed his rigid abdomen, it felt like a tease, evoking her center to drench through.
Murtasim's fingers slipped between them, his fingers finding her intimate folds to be velvety and swollen already, cream seeping out from his earlier ministrations, from the overflowing love that coursed through her bones. He easily slided his finger around her wet entrance again, spreading the sticky arousal over her petals that were both warm and engorged.
His wet fingertip walked upwards to graze her clit, and her thighs automatically tensed in reaction, unable to control the reflex.
In response, he was filled with a cocky pride at the obviousness of the effect of his finger on her pearl, ever-so-gently grazing it, watching as her hips buckled greedily. His desire mirrored her own, his dick beseeching for attention too.
He painted the circumference of a circle upon her intimate skin, small swirling into large strokes through her slit . Her eyes fell closed as she focused on the sensation of his gentle, tentative ministrations against her sex, shipped off into a state of inebriation.
Lost, her hands went to his chest to stabilise herself, as the bliss built up. He could feel her walls flutter, thighs shake and clench either side of him.
Pushing her hair back so that her breasts were on display, he watched how they weighted, round and perky, making his dick pulse. He leaned to take a nipple into his mouth whilst her chest heaved, causing a delicious graze. Persisting, he gently sucked as her entire body tingled from the climax, sensetive and like putty in his hands.
His tongue lapped around, and left a wet trail of saliva for the air to attack, causing a sea of goosebumps to erupt from gently blowing cool air upon the skin. She gasped as he continued with the other nipple, alternating into grazing, just enough pressure to have her whining 'Murtasim' in a pleasure seeped moan.
With his help, Meerab lifted and he slipped past her lips again, finding the source of the heart, his tip tracing her entrance as their gazes locked. They were unbarred but they hearts still palpitated as he guided her to slowly let herself go down, so that he lost himself into her and become complete.
''You want to do it like this?'' He asked breathlessly, looking at her sitting on top of him, yet all he could think of was to ravenously slip inside her for some relief to his hard-on.
She hummed in agreement, and the vibration of the murmur did him no favours, his aching member demanded attention, so he slid her back.
Her soaked hot center met his member like a knock on a door. She lifted, uncertain and flushed.
Still, he guided her hand down to hold member, hesitantly wrapping around his hefty girth with his hand on top. There were a few explorative rolls of her wrist upon his length for practice, eager and putting away with reservations. And then he guided him past her enterance, knocking her opening as she peered down, her hair veiling her the way a tremble coursed through her.
His swollen throbbing tip met her silken flesh, and she swiped his tip through her sopping folds, to be coated in her slippery arousal, positioning it towards her patiently waiting entrance. The air charged, pleasure was on the rise.
He let go as Meerab felt him tap against her center, pulsating in waiting. ''There,'' she whispered in a question, and she looked up. Her eyes were glazed and drunk, and he gave a short precise nod, urging her to lower herself.
On his cue, her knees gave way and she slipped down onto him slowly.
Her mouth left agape as each inch of thick girthy length entered her cushioned walls, stretching her in a pleasant new way. She paused as her muscles accommodated to his sheer size.
The convulse was akin to a welcome massage upon his member, forcing a deep gutteral moan to be emitted from his lips, his jaw falling slack. ''Meerab, come on,'' he ordered impatiently.
His hips lifted to get her to move, his hand at her outer thigh to guide her along, up and down, eliciting light mewls to jump out of her lungs, saturating the living room's air.
Following her downward rock , each lift was accompanied with a wanderous rolling motion forward, her hips enjoying the way she was able to grind on top of him, the angle tickling a new unexplored spot inside of her.
Lightly, Meerab began bouncing on him and rocking on his length, finding a calm cadence.
On either side of him, her knees found an airy explorative movement that mean he felt sweet tides of pleasure from the movement, from the friction against her mound when she grinded.
The vision of her bouncing on top of him was surreal, more mesmerising and erotic than any fantasy he could have imagined.
Her perky breasts bounced without a care for being demure. His hand gripped her buttocks, trying to hurry her allong on her expedition of figure 8's upon his cock.
It was blissful all the same, but the end was in near, calling their names.
He watched as she lifted, catching a brief fleeting glimpse of his hard member glistening, soaking from her arousal, then again hidden from view within her when she lowered.
Meerab's features were scrunched as she concentrated at the way he filled her perfectly, grazing every deep nerve inside her, lighting fire to every sensation by his relentless touches and eager gropes.
''Dekho meri taraf, '' he coaxed with a need to take lead. She pulled her eyelashes apart to see him flushed with need in his cheeks, his wide golden chest heaving. His gaze, which held hers with an intensity passion, threatened to pull her over the edge at any second. (Look at me.)
His hair was messy, falling onto his forehead without care; she was all that mattered in the moment.
The moment was taken for his hips to thrust into hers with more vigour, causing her the wither at the calculated entry, coaxing her legs to widen. ''Murtasim, i'm close,'' she panted in bliss, her neck rolling backwards.
She let him meet half way with the thrusts as he became more desperate, more greedy as the pleasure built, layer upon layer, filling her to the hilt every time. ''Me too,'' he groaned, pushing up from the plush cushion, as the grip on control left.
Their hips tessellated perfectly, skin clapping with a beat that was more beautiful and melodious that the fire, the background filled her whiny mewls at being filled so perfectly, impaling the air.
The nerves lit up inside her: from his cock, the rough explorative hands, the raw groans he let out- it was enough for her to pass the threshold. A long 'Murtasim,' rolled off her tongue, as she ran into the finish line, pleasure coursing through her veins.
The thrusts began to get sloppier, more desperate as he neared his imminent release; it was palpably within his vicinity. Her muscles were tightening and spasming uncontrollably, milking him with each ride.
The pleasure flooded through her body and it was almost in reach. ''Just a little bit more,'' Murtasim gutturally grunted, his nose scrunched tightly in compounded tension as he tried to reach the magical point of no return. ''Meerab,'' he implored, her name ragged and instinctive. There was no one else in the world for him.
She was too slow and shallow as focused on her euphoric orgasm, and it wasn't cutting it. Murtasim grabbed onto her hipbone, swiftly flipping her onto the sofa.
He pinned her with his weight, his hips thrusting down in a rockier tempo. Now, he repeatedly drowned in her to the hilt. Her one leg fell off the sofa, open to him to rinse of pleasure.
Meerab was almost jumping from the force of the thrusts that he orchestrated, feeling him spasming at it surmounted, lashings of pleasure drowned him too until it escalated and he reached the tip of the peak.
It overflowed; a deluge of bliss and mind numbing sparks of gratification washed over them. His dick twitched, cummimg until his seed filled her. His head flung back as much as it could, looking up to the heavens as if he had been blessed by her, showered in delightful orgasmic sensations, blinded to the stresses of the world.
They caught their breaths, panting desperately in relief. His spine felt weak, causing him to fold forwards onto her, his cheeks resting into the crook of her neck, hand gripping her thigh that leaned off the sofa.
Their breath was ragged and broken, trying to pace itself, find each other again.
Only now she could truly feel his heart beating rapidly, her own blood thrashing pasing her ears like torrential evening winds, dulling the outside words as her skin met. ''You were so good jaaneman,'' he praised softly into her hair.
A neophyte had quickly transforming into a master, expertly in tune with her femininity, with a gentle teacher by her side. Her legs burned.
She felt herself fusing into his soft skin, the union was a meld of Khan and Khani resting after their excursion of shared pleasure and secretive fun on their honeymoon, brimming with thanks and understanding. Her entire body glittered inside, humming his name for the journey they had completed together.
She was well and truly spent, squashed under him yet enjoyed it. As if he knew, her husband pushed himself up. Meerab sat up too, shaky. He looked at her, watching the heavenly expanse of her exposed curved back, the dip of her lower spine, the ridges of her shoulder blades imploring to seen. He pulled the shawl over her, and Meerab nestled into find, seeming solace again.
''Murtasim,'' she weakly mumbled onto the senstive skin at the base of his neck as his hand meandered around her shoulder, over the cashmere of her skin. She could feel his seed seeping out of her, dampening her inner thighs, evidence of their love making.
His flesh was balmy beneath her, the space between them was non-existent, and perfectly so. He effortlessly titled his head to place tender kisses into her toasty forehead, showing gratefulness directly onto her skin. ''Main tumse bahut mohabbat karta hu Meerab Khan. Jitna tum soch bhi na sakti,'' he shared in a grateful exhale, both watching the fire that began to die out. (I love you alot Meerab. More than you could ever imagine.)
Her hand raised to his sharp jaw, scattered in a short stubble that prickled, but was pleasant under her hand, like the braille of his body. ''Jitna mai soch bhi nahi sakti?'' She echoed, the idea settling around her like a hug. (That I cant even fathom?)
Lazily, her finger tips traced a path to the shadowed bump his adam's apple, and she felt it move when he gulped, the power invoked a barely; a giggle was elicited as she reigned in her status.
''Nahi. You can't even dream about it. Sab kuch haar dunga, bas tumhein nahi khona chahta.'' He displayed undiluted candour. (I can lose everything, but I just dont want to lose you.)
''Main uth jaun?'' She asked in a barely audible voice, words weighted in exhaustion. (Shall i get up?)
It was a suggestion, but the tone obviously conveyed that she didn't want to leave the apt throne. The fuel in her muscles had truly depleted, and nothing could be cosier than than his chest, more assuring than being wrapped in the hold of his muscular arms.
''I'll take you,'' he offered, his hand pulling the blanket up her back as they stood up, a veil of privacy over her. It felt like her entire twinkled in the aftermath, like glitter that caught on the strobe-light, on his presence. He pulled his own shalwar up before they msde their way back to the bedroom.
They held hands, locked together. The world around was barely processed from being so thoroughly loved; the tempest subsided leaving only a peaceful lull, inviting them to sleep. Her legs were tired. Meerab followed him without a single thought in her mind, the shawl drowsily trailing behind on the flower-studded marble floor.
''So jao, Meerab,'' he whispered gently as she lowered her on the bed. Content, Murtasim slipped in next to her, and again, they were together, intertwined, knotted into a beautiful mess.
The serene quiet and tranquillity was beyond comforting. It felt like stars smiled down upon them in awe of their progress. She leaned over to kiss him goodnight.
Proofread by HereinNowhere2