“Not here.” She glanced around them.
“Not here.” He agreed, taking her hand and letting her step down. “In our bed.” He touched his mouth to the apple of her cheek. “We have earned it.” He left a nip there.
————————————————————
His bedroom… their bedroom, opened up like a fresh beginning. Bright cream walls, sunlight from open curtains, a bed made in pristine white, bare furniture that waited for their lives. The click of the door made her freeze.
Amaal turned, and found his fingers on the button of his koti, eyes on her. She gulped, stepping back, finding the bed behind her and crumbling down on it.
“Like it?” He asked, the tucking sound of buttons opening punctuating the silence.
“I haven’t seen it yet.” She managed, eyes on his chest.
He took off his koti and set it aside. “I meant the room.”
Amaal glanced up. His voice had gone deeper. The sun was in his black eyes and gleaming brighter from the white of his kurta. And then he pulled it off.
Amaal had seen him, in snippets and instalments, mostly in shadows, like she had lived this love with him. But now, he stood here, in bright sunshine, naked from the waist up, letting her see every inch of his melted skin without any barrier. She felt movement and immediately her eyes went down, only to see him pull the drawstrings holding his pyjama up and pushing it all the way down with everything else.
Saliva pooled in her mouth. She swallowed before she did something indecent. And his palm found her chin.
“Ready?” He tipped her jaw up.
She stared, unblinking, excited, nervous, joyous… a little scared. All the feelings that he had ignited inside her from the first time she had realised she had fallen for him. She nodded.
He bent down to her ear — “Then show me.”
Their eyes clashed, and she read the smirk in his eyes. Amaal grabbed him around the neck and pulled him down on the bed, turning until he was underneath her. He expected it, because his hands remained by his side, held up in surrender. She smiled, lowering her head to kiss the column of his neck. He let her. She went lower, kissing the puckered leathery skin of his pectorals. Her hands roved his sides, nails trailing across muscles and veins. Her mouth went lower, to the smoother skin of his navel, melting again into grafts disappearing down below, where older scars lived.
Amaal opened her mouth but firm fingers fisted her hair.
“Not like this.” He pulled her up. She gaped.
He eyed her saree. “Off.”
She pushed to her feet and he sat up, not even touching her as she began to undress. It felt far more intimate when he watched. And she was forced to turn away from him to hold her own. Amaal walked to the oval mirror frame in the corner to escape him and found him behind her in the reflection, eyes on her. He stood up, and ambled towards her.
“Now you turn away from me?” He whispered, gathering her hair in his hand and tugging it aside.
“Shouldn’t I?” She finished stepping out of her petticoats, heating up at the bright red lingerie that she had chosen for this day.
He fingered the lace of the opening — “Would I let you?”
Her stomach contracted, and something down below began to gush. His finger pushed through the lace and inside her. And she bucked forward, feeling her arm grabbed in his and tugged up behind and around his neck. She followed it up with her other one and held onto the back of his neck, clawing and scratching at his uneven skin as he made her body his personal wave. His fingers worked mercilessly. And her body forgot everything.
He stopped abruptly.
She gasped, on the cusp.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
His fingers pulled out, and then they were peeling the scraps of red lace off her body. Her stomach tautened. He ran a knuckle around her bellybutton, trailing back down to where she needed it. His eyes kept her ensnared, and his knuckle hovered in the air over her. Amaal inhaled, panting, waiting. And then she lost his eyes as they dipped to where his knuckle hovered. She followed his gaze and it penetrated her.
Her eyes squeezed shut, feeling it go so deep and hook around something electrifying. She screamed. And then she was being lifted again, in the air, and on the bed. Their bed.
She pushed open wet eyes, not even halfway coming yet but so ready to explode when his shadow darkened her being. Amaal did not have the strength to meet his gaze then as he pushed her legs apart and nudged his way in. It was so raw, and so real, and so instinctive as their bodies just snapped together like magnets notching into each other.
“Oooohggg…” she writhed her head, falling down the rabbit hole already.
