64 - Qubool Hai

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Contains smut

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Contains smut

The house was still charged with festivities after the humble nikkah. Each terracotta step up to their bedroom was fuelled on stirred anticipation. The idea that his wife was ready and trickling with arousal meant that titillating imagery of her polluted his mind, producing a thick haze of desire. The glass of ice cold sweetened milk was still in hand, taking a gulp whilst skipping 3 steps up. When he reached the top, a flower garland was grabbed off the overflowing bannister. Murtasim entered, trailing the delicate rope of flowers behind him with a distinct plan in mind.

But on entering their room, the ideas fell flat with the absence of his ethereal wife. He heard shuffling, so began circling around to their en-suite where Meerab was stood with her head down in concentration, pulling her bangles off and placing them on the counter as if the day had already finished.

''Voti, abhi shaadi khatam nahi hui,'' Murtasim voiced out into the private space, cutting the task short by pulling on her bare wrist until they were face to face and entirely too close; he could decipher the glint of unquenched lust in her eyes, the tiredness from orchestrating an event at her own baba's house and a glow that the babies afforded her. (Wife, the festivities haven't finished yet.)

Feeling Murtasim's fingers, firm yet gentle, on her wrists evoked a mischievous curl to her lips. ''I know, but it's been a long day, meri jaan,'' she whined lowly, tiptoeing to peck her lips onto his with complete authority.

The mirror watched, the surrounding tiles walls almost blocked everything else out, soundproof.

''Kyun, abhi to maine suhag raat banani hai,'' he chuckled, fingertips stroking down her face and studying her lips. They were the slightest bit swollen and — he imagined — still magically tingling when his thumb swiped over them, tugging whilst he studied the sight in awe. (We haven't made our wedding night yet.)

It did feel like their wedding; their victories alamgamating into something that was worthy of celebration. His head lowered past her shoulder, and Meerab's hand wove through his head of hair. She looked into the mirror with hooded drunken eyes as he nuzzled into her neck, seeking serentiy whilst mushing his face into her skin.

Her one hand snaked around his ribs, teasing up his sculpted back and the other past his nape, finding the slither of his bronze skin that peaked between the black kameez and dark hair. He lazily dragged his bottom lip on the thin beneath her ear, velvet and warm

''I'm already pregnant, it might be too late for that,'' she murmured sensually, word beginning to slur, intoxicated from the way he breathed heavy, encompassing all her senses.

''Two of them,'' he chuckled boyishly, the vibration against her skin melting her spine, the sorcery making her fall further into him.

''I love you,'' Meerab playfully admit amidst basking in the calm after the storm, pressing her entire body into his, and with complete belief, handing herself over; trust that he would always be a supporting beam.

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