Unveiling Meerab [Tere Bin FF]

20. imperfect perfection

A/N: Look at this, another update already! I couldn't help myself, hehehehe. Y'all know what's coming, so proceed with caution! Y'all better react as much as y'all screamed at me about finally getting here, just saying! Okay, see you on the other side! 

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Set gently upon the counter beside the sink, Meerab found herself at an elevated vantage point, her eyes level with Murtasim's. A distinct lightness twinkled in his eyes, a playful and affectionate glimmer that instilled a fluttering sense of joy within her chest. It was as if his gaze held the capability of brushing away the clouds of hesitation, leaving in its wake a sky ablaze with the anticipation of dawn, delicate yet brimming with untold promises.

"I didn't mean that you needed to carry me in here," Meerab's voice laced the air with a teasing lilt, her words a delicate dance between jest and sincerity.

"Why? Still scared?" Murtasim's reply came swift and light, his tone threading a line of playful banter as his hands moved to the back of his kurta. With a swift, practiced motion, the fabric whisked over his head, leaving his upper torso bared to her gaze.

For a moment, the subtle air of teasing fell away, dissipating into the thick air of the bathroom. Meerab's eyes inadvertently drifted downward, drawn irresistibly from her husband's face to the expanse of skin revealed. Her gaze traced the contours of his chest, following the deliberate architecture of muscles and the sinewy lines defining them. Murtasim's body was a testament to consistent exertion and discipline, painted with the subtle hues of strength and dedication.

It wasn't a new revelation. The knowledge of his regular workouts was a familiar fact, etched into her consciousness through routine and observation. She had borne witness to the way tank tops clung to his form, accentuating the swell of his arms and the firmness residing within. Yet, knowledge paled in comparison to the unveiling of reality, the first-hand witnessing of what she had only glimpsed from afar or through veiled fabric.

As her eyes roved, absorbing the sight of his tanned skin stretched over well-sculpted muscles, her fingers twitched at her sides. It was as if they possessed a mind of their own, yearning to bridge the distance, to trace the skin laid bare before her, to explore the uncharted territories of his body. Each dip and rise called to her, whispering silent invitations to learn, to touch, to feel.

Meerab's eyes, caught in the act of silently admiring, darted upwards at the sound of Murtasim's chuckle.

He bore an amused expression, eyes twinkling with lighthearted delight at her obvious appreciation. She could feel the warmth rushing to her cheeks, a flush of embarrassment tinting her visage as she swiftly averted her eyes, realizing that she had been staring for much too long.

Yet, the escape was short-lived. A gentle finger found her chin, coaxing her gaze back to lock with his. "Dekh sakti ho, haq hai tumhara," he assured, his voice a whisper threaded with the intimacy of the moment and the usual teasing lilt that accompanied his flirtatious one-liners.

Meerab rolled her eyes in response to his teasing tone, the playful banter lightening the air charged with anticipation. But his smirk persisted, and he whispered, "Your turn," initiating a shift in focus.

A moment of hesitation gripped her, brief and fleeting, before she began reaching for the hem of her kameez. The movement halted midway as Murtasim shook his head gently. "Actually, that's my job," he murmured, and something about the steadiness in his voice nudged her into acquiescence.

Feeling a deeper blush stain her cheeks, Meerab nodded her consent. Murtasim inched closer, the proximity bridging the space between them. His hands, warm and steady, glided along her sides, fingers trailing over the smooth silk until they located the zipper at the back of her kameez.