Dhaagey: The Ties that Bind Us

31. learning to touch

Meerab's gaze traced the rhythmic rise and fall of his body. Up. Down. Up. Down. Standing in the door frame looking out onto the terrace, her grip tightening around the glass she held, Meerab found her throat parched despite having just downed the whole glass. She had gotten up early only to witness the sight in front of her, the lack of sleep no longer bothered her as she watched him.

Amidst this tranquility of the early morning, Murtasim's grunts of exertion were the only sound, creating a stark contrast to the serene environment. He was a picture of masculine beauty - his muscles flexing and contracting with every push up he did, beads of sweat trickling down his sculpted back and arms. The sight was a feast for Meerab's eyes, stirring a mix of desire and admiration within her.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Murtasim, cloaked in the sheen of exertion, was a symphony of motion that commanded all her attention. The tight black tank top he wore clung to him, displaying the muscles of his arms in raw detail. Each push-up he did seemed to enhance their definition, rendering the veins running from his elbows to his wrists all the more noticeable.

Her own breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering loudly. His grunts of exertion, a testament to his relentless drive, echoed across the terrace and resonated within her, sparking an insatiable yearning. She couldn't help but remember the few times she had felt those muscles beneath her fingertips, the memory of his strength, his warmth sending a thrill through her body. The feel of his body pressed against hers, his strong arms wrapped around her in an embrace that was both protective and possessive, haunted her thoughts.

Her eyes traveled over his form, drinking in the sight of him. His hair, normally neat, was tousled with his intense exercise, seemingly mirroring his uninhibited spirit. Every fibre of her being yearned to touch that wild mane, to run her fingers through his hair.

Meerab bit her lower lip, her gaze tracing the rivulets of sweat that ran down Murtasim's arms, forming beads that glinted in the soft morning sunlight. His movements, so deliberate and controlled, held her captive, each flex and release of his muscles was like a beautifully choreographed dance she couldn't tear her eyes from.

As she stood there, a sudden rush of warmth crept up her neck, painting her cheeks with a soft pink hue. These thoughts, so intimate and raw, were uncharted territory for Meerab. Yet, they were as compelling as they were disconcerting, painting vivid pictures in her mind of him and her, tangled in between sheets.

In her mind's eye, she saw Murtasim hovering over her, his muscles rippling, straining as he moved. She imagined the rhythm of his thrusts, each one echoing the rhythm of his heart, fast and frantic. She could almost feel the pressure of his body atop hers, warm and solid, his weight a welcome anchor in the storm of her desire. His grunts of exertion during his workout now echoed in her mind as grunts of a different sort, evoking a symphony of sensations that caused a soft gasp to escape her lips.

Would he be as controlled and deliberate as he was now, she wondered. Or would the depth of their passion make him lose his carefully cultivated restraint? She envisioned his strong hands, calloused from years of working out, exploring her body with a tenderness that belied their rough exterior. His lips trailing a path of heated kisses down her throat, her chest, lower...

She shook her head, chastising herself for letting her thoughts run wild. Yet, the spark of desire, once ignited, was hard to put out. Each movement of his, each bead of sweat that trickled down his skin, only added fuel to her growing fire.

The very thought of him, of them together, brought forth a pulsating heat between her thighs, her body reacting to her own vivid imagination. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around herself, the cool morning air a stark contrast to the heat brewing within her.