Muhtesem Yuzyil Imagines ♡

A Taste Of Honey {Anastasia/Kösem} (By Crabbycake)

Anastasia didn't know when she fell in love. Or if it really was love at all.

Was it in the garden? His eyes reflecting the sunset, bathing him in hues of rose and gold. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine shimmering in the air as her lips met his; a kiss soft and slow as a drizzle of honey. 

If only feelings were like seasons - one doesn't need to ask if spring has arrived when the ice is thawed and the flowers in bloom. It's clear as day, no mystery, you know.

Anastasia didn't know when she fell in love. Or if it really was love at all.

Was it in the garden? His eyes reflecting the sunset, bathing him in hues of rose and gold. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine shimmering in the air as her lips met his; a kiss soft and slow as a drizzle of honey.

Perhaps in the hamam?

"Stay with me tonight," Ahmed begged.

Anastasia had declined, but she kept that treasured memory tucked into a box, playing with it over again when she had a moment to herself.

And sometimes she liked to change the details.

What would have happened if she said yes?

She would like to kiss again and maybe, just maybe, let her reservations sink like a stone. Have her hands tangle into his hair, feel her bare body flush against his.

Their quickening breaths would mingle in the rose scented steam as the delicious heat of his lips consumes her; flames licking her neck, shoulders, breasts. The trail of fire builds as his hands glides on her skin, teasing her desire in maddening circles until she is boiling, ecstatically hot and sweet like syrup.

Anastasia wakes up with a start, panting and soaking with want.

How do you know you're in love?

You dream of the one.

Her hands are shaking as she pours herself some water and gulps it down. The liquid cools her, but doesn't wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. She knows he's not alone in his bed tonight.

"There are so many girls here and they all want you," Anastasia said.

"What matters is who I want," replied Ahmed. The sun had yet to rise but there was a fire in his warm brown eyes, a steady glow burning with conviction, setting sparks into her core. "I want you, Nasya. Only you."

A shiver breaks Anastasia's thoughts, and she slams the box shut with barbs and steel.

Ahmed can sleep with whoever he pleases. I don't care.

She repeats the words over again, hoping the lie would become truth.

Would Ahmed like this? Anastasia wonders.

She is dressed in red and gold, luscious as ripe pomegranate jewels. The scent of jasmine whispers on her skin, an invitation to come closer to breathe its sweet perfume.

Her reflection smirks back at her, as if to answer, Yes, of course he would.

She lies down, trying to calm the rise and fall of her chest, but her thoughts would wander to him and his poetic words.

"'Does the heart tell man to love, or is it the work of loneliness?'" he read, his fingers tracing the curved letters."'What is love? Is it being the flame of a candle, or is it touching a flaming fire?"

There's no calming the bird in the cage; her heart sings and beats its wings, urging Anastasia to get on her feet to find him.

The secret garden is bursting with blooms. Ahmed sits at a work bench, his clever hands busy bringing life to drift wood. He drops it all for her as she approaches and rises to greet her. "Nasya," he says her name and butterflies flutter in her walls. "Did something happen?"

What could she say?

"I see you in my dreams," she murmurs, before claiming his lips, pouring a thousand fevered dreams into a kiss. There's nothing soft and slow in this moment, she greedily devours it; biting and sucking every honeyed taste and as his hands grip hard onto her hips to pull her closer, the hunger simply grows until she's aching with need.

He reluctantly pulls away from her, with a little groan that strangely thrills her. His voice is hoarse, he's breathing hard against her and she can feel his heart is pounding as her hand slides to his chest. "Nasya," Oh, she loves it when he says her name. "We should stop, otherwise I can't-"

"I want to be with you tonight."

What is love and is this love? She doesn't want to think, she's tired of it. Tonight is about desire, and her surrender to it.

Before she leaves him to escape from this wretched palace. 

(All credits to original author)

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