Author's Note: I can't believe how long this chapter is, but I hope y'all enjoy it! OKAY BYE! 

-----------------------------------

Nazia Ahmed

[One Month, Two Weeks, Three Days Post Confession]

Nazia sighed deeply as she knocked on her daughter's bedroom door for the third time that evening. The door stood stubbornly closed, refusing to yield to her gentle persistence. She pressed her ear against it, hoping to catch some response, but all she heard was the soft sound of sniffling. Her heart ached at the sound; Meerab had been locked in her room for over an hour now, upset over a chemistry test that was still days away. This wasn't the first time her daughter had locked herself away in stress, and Nazia knew from experience that prying her out would be no easy feat.

"Meeru, sweetheart, it's just a practice test, it's okay if you got a few wrong, you still have three more days to go. You don't need to stress yourself out," she called softly, knocking once more. But the silence that followed told her Meerab wasn't ready to come out just yet.

Nazia was just about to walk away and give her some more time when the doorbell rang, startling her. She frowned, wondering who it could be at this late hour. She glanced at the clock—a little past eight. She made her way to the door, her curiosity piqued.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of Murtasim, standing there with a sheepish smile on his face and two boxes in his hands. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had rushed over, and his eyes filled with worry.

"Hi ma'am," he greeted her with a bright smile.

"Hi Murtasim," she replied, a bit surprised to see him. Before she could ask him anything, he began rambling, his words tumbling over each other in his haste.

"Meerab was crying on the phone about the test, so I got her cake," he explained, lifting one of the boxes in his hands, his voice filled with concern.

Nazia couldn't help but smile. This boy really is something else. The sight of him standing there, all flustered and worried over her daughter, was both heartwarming and amusing.

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "That's very sweet of you."

As he walked past her into the house, he handed her the other box. "I also got you carrot cake... Meerab said it was your favorite," he added with a nervous smile.

Nazia couldn't help but laugh, her amusement clear in her voice. "Are you trying to impress me, Murtasim?"

The poor boy looked positively panicked at her teasing, his eyes widening as he stammered, "No, ma'am! I mean, yes? I mean... I just want you to like me."

She smiled warmly at him, her heart softening even more. "I already like you, Murtasim. That's why you're always welcome here." Although, she mused silently, he did seem to make himself scarce whenever she got home, almost as if he were still a bit nervous around her.

Murtasim visibly relaxed at her words, a shy smile spreading across his face. It was clear how much her approval meant to him, and Nazia found it endearing. He really was a good boy, and seeing how much he cared for her daughter only solidified her positive opinion of him.

"Thank you for the cake," she said, holding up the box he had given her. "I'll go try to get her to come out. I've been trying for a while, but maybe she'll listen if she knows you're here." She motioned for him to sit down on the couch. "Make yourself comfortable."

Nazia made her way back to her daughter's room. She knocked gently on the door again. "Meeru, Murtasim is here," she called out.

There was a brief pause, followed by the creak of the bed as Meerab shifted. Nazia could practically see her daughter wiping her eyes, trying to pull herself together.

"He brought cake," Nazia added, a small smile playing on her lips. She knew her daughter well; if anything could lure Meerab out of her self-imposed exile, it was the combination of Murtasim and dessert.

True to form, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Meerab with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and a pout firmly set on her lips. She was wearing an oversized hoodie that looked like it ate her along with her pajamas, and looked up at her with a pitiful expression, sniffling as she tried to hold back more tears.

"So, you'll come out for him, but not for me?" Nazia teased gently, though her eyes softened with understanding. She knew how seriously Meerab took her studies, but she also knew that Meerab needed to learn to give herself a break.

"Mom," Meerab pouted, looking slightly embarrassed as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Nazia chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her daughter's face. "He's in the living room, and he brought me carrot cake too, my favorite."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Meerab's lips. "He's so cute," she muttered, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Nazia nodded, her own smile widening. "He is. Now go on, he's waiting for you...I'll be upstairs," she added as she gently nudged Meerab towards the living room, giving her daughter the space she needed. But, as any good mother would, Nazia lingered near the staircase, quietly listening in and occasionally peeking down to see what was happening.

From her vantage point, she watched as Meerab walked into the living room and, without a word, climbed into Murtasim's lap, snuggling up to him sideways as if she had done it a thousand times. The sight tugged at Nazia's heartstrings—her daughter, who was so independent and strong-willed, curled up against him like a child seeking comfort. And Murtasim, for his part, responded with such tenderness, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back gently. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, whispering something to her that Nazia couldn't quite hear.

For a moment, she considered going down there, interrupting their moment. But then, as she saw the way Murtasim held Meerab, how he whispered words of reassurance into her ear, she decided against it. He was calming her in a way that no one else seemed to be able to, and she realized that Murtasim was exactly what her daughter needed right now.

But then, just as Nazia expected, it started—the spiral that no one could stop, not even Murtasim. Meerab had been spiraling since she was a little girl, her mind always jumping to the worst-case scenarios. Nazia had spent years trying to soothe these spirals, but hearing them now—knowing the weight of the future hanging over her daughter—made it even more painful. But today, it wasn't Nazia on the frontlines of this battle; it was Murtasim, and she prayed he could handle the storm.

"What if I bomb the test?" Meerab's voice was tinged with anxiety, the question trembling on her lips.

Nazia could almost see Murtasim's brow furrow in concern as he gathered Meerab closer in his arms. His voice, when it came, was a balm, steady and sure. "You won't bomb it. You're one of the smartest people I know," he replied, his tone gentle but firm, trying to ground her spiraling thoughts.

"But what if I don't get an A?" Meerab's voice rose in pitch, the edge of panic creeping in. "And then...what if I don't get into the college I want? What if I don't get into the same schools as you? What if we end up in different places?"

Nazia's heart ached as she listened to the flood of fears pour out of her daughter, one after another, like a dam breaking under the pressure. She had always worried about the weight of the expectations Meerab placed on herself—expectations that were sometimes impossible to meet.

Murtasim, however, seemed unfazed by her spiral. He continued to hold her close, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her thoughts. "Meerab, listen to me," he began, his tone calm but insistent. "Even if you don't get an A—which, by the way, is highly unlikely—it's not the end of the world. You're amazing, and colleges will see that. They'd be lucky to have you. And if we don't end up at the same place... well, we'll figure it out."

"But what if I freeze up during the test?" Meerab's voice wavered, as if she was already imagining herself in that moment of panic. "What if I can't remember anything? What if I just sit there and stare at the paper like an idiot? And then I'll get a terrible grade, and I'll have to retake the class, and that will mess up all my applications, and I'll miss the deadlines—"

"Meerab," Murtasim interrupted softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You won't freeze. You've prepared for this. You've studied so much that you probably know the material better than the teacher does. But even if something goes wrong, we'll figure it out together –probably you actually - just like you did with Mr. Raza."

There was a brief pause, and Nazia could almost hear the gears turning in her daughter's mind as she tried to process his words, to let them sink in.

"But what if I do everything right and still fail? What if I'm just not good enough? What if all my hard work was for nothing?" Meerab's voice was softer now, tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at Nazia's heart. These were the deep-seated fears that Meerab rarely voiced—the ones that gnawed at her self-confidence, even though she was one of the most capable people Nazia knew, there were days where Meerab didn't think so.

"Meerab," Murtasim's voice was filled with a quiet intensity that Nazia hadn't heard before. "You are more than good enough. You're one of the most hardworking, dedicated, and brilliant people I've ever met. One test isn't going to define you. It's not going to undo everything you've accomplished. And even if things don't go perfectly, that doesn't mean you've failed. It just means something went wrong and you need to find another way forward. But I promise you, you are good enough. You're more than enough."

There was a pause, a silence so deep that Nazia held her breath, waiting to hear what Meerab would say next. She could almost see her daughter's mind working, sifting through Murtasim's reassurances, trying to find the cracks in them—because that's what Meerab did when she was scared.

"But what if..." Meerab started again, her voice small and uncertain. "What if we don't get into the same schools, and then... and then you find someone else? Someone who's better than me? Someone who doesn't freak out over tests like this and ruin everything?"

Murtasim's response was immediate, his voice filled with a fierce protectiveness that made Nazia's heart swell. "Meerab, look at me." His voice was gentle but commanding, and Nazia took a peek, seeing him tipping her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I'm not going to find someone else. I don't want someone else. I want you. I've always wanted you, and always will. Freak-outs and all. You're the one I'm in this with, and I'm not going anywhere. Even if we end up at different schools, we'll make it work. I'll drive hours if I have to. I'll fly across the country if it comes to that."

Nazia couldn't help the tears that pricked at her eyes as she listened to Murtasim's heartfelt words. She had always worried about how Meerab's anxieties might affect her relationships, but here was this boy—this wonderful, patient boy—reassuring her daughter with such conviction, such unwavering certainty. It was exactly what Meerab needed to hear, and it was exactly what Nazia had always hoped she would find in a partner.

"Promise?" Meerab's voice was barely a whisper, so soft that Nazia almost missed it.

"I promise," Murtasim replied without hesitation, his voice steady and full of love.

There was another pause, and Nazia could imagine the way Meerab was slowly relaxing into his embrace, her fears gradually being soothed by his words and his presence.

"Okay," Meerab finally said, her voice small but steady. "Okay."

Nazia lingered, listening as the mood in the living room shifted. The quiet sniffles she had heard earlier were now replaced by the gentle hum of conversation, the tension easing away like a receding tide. She couldn't help but smile to herself, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Meerab was calming down, thanks in no small part to Murtasim's unwavering presence.

"You brought me cake?" Meerab's voice was soft, but there was a note of surprise and warmth that made Nazia smile.

Nazia peeked down the stairs just in time to see Murtasim laugh, his expression tender as he looked at Meerab. "Yes," he said, his voice light with humor. "Tuxedo and red velvet because you can never decide."

Nazia had to hold back a chuckle at that. Meerab spent nearly twenty minutes pacing back and forth in front of the cake display at the store on her birthday, debating between chocolate and red velvet. In the end, she always threw up her hands up in exasperation and declared she couldn't decide. The fact that Murtasim had thought to bring her the two flavors he knew she loved showed just how well he understood her daughter.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Nazia leaned over the banister slightly, catching a glimpse of the scene below. Murtasim was opening the cake box with a practiced ease, pulling out a fork and handing it to Meerab with a small, satisfied smile. Meerab, still perched comfortably on his lap, accepted it with a quiet "thank you" and took a bite.

"Mmm, it's good," she hummed, closing her eyes briefly to savor the taste.

"I got it from that bakery near the lake," Murtasim replied, his voice filled with a quiet pride.

Nazia watched as Meerab's eyes widened in surprise. "You drove that far?" she asked, her tone filled with affection.

Murtasim nodded, and before Nazia could even blink, Meerab leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "You're the best boyfriend," she murmured, her voice full of sincerity.

Nazia's heart swelled with emotion at that. He really was the best, she thought. It wasn't just about the cakes or the way he comforted Meerab during her moments of panic—it was the way he looked at her, the way he cared for her, the way he made her feel better.

She smiled to herself, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the boy who was currently making her daughter's world a little brighter.

Murtasim's grin widened as Meerab continued to eat, and Nazia noticed how his fingers absentmindedly played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands gently between his fingers. It was such a simple, intimate gesture, but it spoke volumes about the comfort and ease they felt with each other. When Meerab offered him a bite of the cake, he accepted it without hesitation, their conversation continuing in soft, murmured tones that Nazia couldn't quite make out.

But she didn't need to hear the words to know what was being said. The way they looked at each other, the way they shared those quiet moments—it was clear that they had something special, something that made Nazia's heart ache in the best possible way.

As she quietly slipped away, giving them their privacy, Nazia felt a deep sense of contentment settle over her. She was happy—truly, deeply happy—that Meerab had found someone like Murtasim. Someone who was patient with her, who understood her quirks and fears, and who was willing to drive across town just to bring her the cake she loved. Someone who made her feel safe enough to be herself, even in her most vulnerable moments.

Nazia couldn't ask for anything more for her daughter. Her daughter had chosen well, but then again, her daughter had always been smarter than she herself had been.

------------------------------------------------

Murtasim Khan

Echo Valley High School

[1 Month, Three Weeks Post-Confession]

Murtasim sat in the school library on a quiet Monday afternoon, a textbook open in front of him, but his mind was miles away from the assignment. Meerab was sitting beside him, her legs brushing his under the table, and it was driving him fucking insane. She had this tight t-shirt on that hugged her curves in all the right places, and every time she moved, he couldn't help but notice the way her tits moved, teasing him, taunting him.

He had tasted the forbidden fruit, and now he wanted more.

"Did you do your homework?" she randomly asked, her voice cutting through the fog of his thoughts.

He blinked, staring at her like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. "What?"

Meerab leaned in, sounding a little nervous. "The third thing," she muttered, her voice low, sultry.

Third base. Those articles. Those videos.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and Murtasim groaned, his cock twitching in his jeans. His mind flashed back to the other night in her room, his hands all over her tits, his mouth sucking on her nipples. Fuck, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He nodded, his voice rough as he asked, "Did you?"

Her grin widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she nodded. And then she leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "My mom's working late. She won't be home until midnight."

Fuck.

Murtasim's cock instantly went hard, throbbing against his jeans, and he let out a low groan, the sound deep and primal.

Fuck, she's going to kill me, how do I go on with my day with that knowledge?

Meerab noticed his reaction, her eyes dropping to the bulge in his pants, and she giggled, the sound light and teasing.

She kissed him, quick and playful, her lips barely brushing his before she pulled back.

"You're killing me," he muttered, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his hands to himself.

Meerab giggled again, her tits moving with the movement, and he couldn't help himself.

"Your tits jiggle when you laugh," he said, his voice low, filled with pure, unfiltered lust.

She whacked his arm, laughing, but he could see the blush rising in her cheeks. "Do your homework so we don't have to do it later," she scolded, but there was no real heat behind her words.

Murtasim smirked, leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked on her chest. "You just sprang that on me, and you're wearing that tight t-shirt," he shot back, his voice laced with frustration and want.

"Aw, poor Murtasim," she teased, her lips curling into a smirk that made his blood boil.

Fuck it. He couldn't take it anymore.

He stood up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. She let out a surprised yelp, but she followed him, her fingers lacing with his as they sneaked off to the back of the library, to the foreign language section.

The moment they were out of sight, Murtasim had her pressed up against a bookshelf, his mouth crashing down on hers. The kiss was desperate, hungry, all tongues and teeth, and he couldn't get enough of her. His hands slid under her shirt, palms cupping her tits over her bra, and he groaned into her mouth, "I love these."

Since he'd seen them, touched them, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about them. Meerab's tits were all he could think about—how they felt in his hands, how they tasted against his tongue, how they looked when she was arching her back, moaning his name.

He was fucking obsessed.

She hummed against his lips, kissing him harder, her hands roaming his body, digging into his shoulders, sliding down his back. Murtasim pressed his hard cock against her, grinding into her, and she groaned, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He wanted to push her up against the shelf, rip her clothes off, and bury himself inside her right there, but fuck, they were still in the library – and she had a plan, a wonderful plan, with links.

Meerab pulled back, her eyes glazed with lust, her lips swollen from his kisses. She whimpered, a soft, needy sound that made him want to drop to his knees and worship her right there. But then she seemed to collect herself, pulling away with a small, determined smile. "I'll go back first," she said, her voice breathy, her eyes flicking down to his crotch. "You take care of getting my little friend to behave."

The she reached down, patting his cock through his pants, and Murtasim groaned, his head falling back against the shelf.

That just made it harder.

She giggled, her tits moving again, and then she turned and ran, leaving him standing there, hard as a rock, desperate, and on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

He stared after her, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, his cock throbbing painfully against the tight denim. "She's gonna kill me one day," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he tried to will his cock down.

----------------------------------------------

Meerab Ahmed

[1 Month, Three Weeks Post-Confession]

Meerab loved it when her mom worked double shifts. Those evenings were like a golden ticket, a rare opportunity to bring her boyfriend home and do whatever her heart desired...in her bed. The thrill of having Murtasim to herself, without the constraints of time or interruptions, made her heart dance inside her pericardial cavity. The house was theirs, the world outside forgotten, as they lost themselves.

Meerab's breath caught in her throat as Murtasim's lips crashed against hers again. Every kiss felt like he was trying to consume her, like he couldn't get enough. His hands roamed her body, fingers tracing the curves of her waist, the dip of her spine, and she melted into him, craving more.

Murtasim Khan knew how to kiss—fuck, did he know how to kiss. He didn't just kiss her mouth; he claimed it. Then, as if he couldn't bear to leave any part of her untouched, he trailed his lips up to her ear, sucking on the sensitive skin there, making her shiver. His tongue flicked out, licking her earlobe before he nipped at it, sending a jolt of electricity straight down her spine.

"Mmm... Murtasim," she moaned, her voice breathy, desperate.

His lips moved lower, down her neck, leaving wet kisses in their wake. He sucked gently at her pulse point, making her whimper as her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. She couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get enough of the way his mouth felt against her skin, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss to make her body sing.

He licked, he sucked, he took his time, like he was savoring every inch of her. It was driving her wild, making her feel like she was about to come undone. She couldn't stand it any longer, the need, the want—it was all too much. With a low, frustrated moan, she pushed her shirt off, her hands trembling slightly as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. The fabric slipped away, and she tossed it aside, baring herself to him. She wanted his mouth on her tits, needed it, craved it – she was ruined now that she had a taste.

Murtasim didn't need any more encouragement. His hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them as his mouth descended, his lips wrapping around her nipple. Meerab gasped, her head falling back as a flood of pleasure washed over her. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking against the hardened nub, and she arched into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

"Fuck... yes... just like that," she moaned, unable to stop the sounds spilling from her lips. She loved how he touched her, how he licked, sucked, teased, flicked his tongue, wrapping his mouth around her tit like he was trying to get it all in. It was like he was obsessed, like he couldn't get enough, and she was right there with him.

She'd always thought about this, fantasized about it late at night in her bed, imagining what it would feel like to have him worshipping her body like this. But she'd never really believed it would happen, that he'd be in her bed, doing this to her, making her feel like she was going to lose her mind.

Her hands moved to his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, desperate to feel his skin against hers. She was obsessed with his body, the way his muscles rippled under her touch, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. Her fingers traced the hard lines of his abs, his chest, before she leaned in, biting at the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, kissing her way down to his chest.

Murtasim grunted, a low, primal sound that sent another wave of heat pooling between her legs. She loved the way he sounded, the way he groaned and growled when she touched him, when she kissed him.

He pushed her further into the mattress, his body hovering over hers, looking down at her. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made her shiver. And then he moved, his weight pressing her into the mattress as his lips found hers again, kissing her hard, deep, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her all over again.

Meerab wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, loving the feel of his chest pressed up against hers, the heat of his body against hers. She wanted more, wanted all of him, wanted to feel him everywhere. He kissed her harder, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he ground his hips against hers, his hard cock pressing into her through their clothes.

And then he was kissing down her neck and chest again, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He knew she didn't want hickies on her neck—too obvious, too hard to hide—but her tits were another story. He sucked hard on the soft flesh, his teeth grazing her skin, leaving marks that she knew she'd find later in the mirror, marks that made her pussy throb with need every time she caught sight of them.

"Murtasim... please..." she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her body writhing beneath him as his lips trailed lower, down her stomach, stopping just above the waistband of her yoga pants. She looked down at him, her eyes half-lidded with desire, and found him staring up at her, his eyes dark, filled with something she couldn't quite place.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice low, husky. He always asked, always made sure she was okay, and it just made her want him more.

She nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She knew he'd stop if she asked him to, knew he'd never push her further than she wanted to go. But she didn't want him to stop—not now, not ever.

She was nervous, though. She didn't have pretty panties, nothing fancy, just a basic black pair that matched her bra. But she had read obsessively about this, about what it would be like to be touched by him, to have his hands on her, his fingers inside her. And she knew he had too, because his fingernails were trimmed and filed, smooth against her skin.

Murtasim didn't hesitate any longer. His hands slid under the waistband of her yoga pants, pulling them down her legs, revealing more of her to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on her legs, her thighs, and she loved the way he groaned, the way his eyes darkened when he saw more of her.

"Fuck, Meerab...," he muttered, his hands caressing her thighs, his fingers trailing up to the edge of her panties. His touch was light, teasing, and it drove her crazy, made her squirm beneath him, desperate for more.

She watched him, her breath hitching as he took his time, his fingers tracing the outline of her panties, his eyes locked on hers. Meerab loved how he looked at her, how his eyes darkened with hunger, his gaze raking over every inch of her exposed skin. The way he groaned low in his throat as he took in more of her made her shiver with anticipation. She could see the raw desire in his eyes, could feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they roamed her body.

His gaze fell on the small bandaid on her thigh, his brow furrowing slightly in concern as he traced his finger over it. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough, husky.

She felt a little embarrassed, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I cut myself shaving," she muttered, her cheeks flushing just a bit – she had shaved more obsessively than she ever did these days.

Murtasim leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bandaid, and the gesture was so sweet, so unexpectedly tender that she giggled, her heart swelling with affection. He was so cute, even when he was about to do all sorts of dirty things to her.

But then his hands—those big, wonderful hands—were massaging her thighs, his thumbs caressing her inner thighs, and her giggles quickly turned into soft moans. He leaned in again, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hands never stopping their teasing, his thumbs brushing higher, closer to where she ached for him.

Their kisses grew more urgent, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. His hands kept teasing her thighs, inching closer and closer to her center, until his fingers brushed against her slit over her underwear. Meerab gasped, breaking the kiss, her eyes flying open to meet his. He pulled back slightly, his eyes questioning, asking for permission without words.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted this, wanted him so badly it hurt.

Murtasim didn't need to be told twice. He leaned in again, his lips finding hers as his hand moved back to where she needed him most. His fingers pressed against her slit, rubbing her gently over the thin fabric of her underwear, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking up involuntarily.

"Fuck, Meerab..." he groaned against her lips, his fingers pressing more firmly, feeling the dampness that was already soaking through her panties. She could feel herself getting wetter, hotter, the anticipation driving her insane.

His hand slipped under the waistband of her underwear, and she was on fire, her whole body tensing with anticipation. His first touches were hesitant, almost cautious, his fingers exploring her folds, teasing her clit with light, tentative strokes. It was clear he was figuring things out, learning what she liked, and she appreciated how careful he was being.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper against her lips.

Meerab nodded, biting her lip as his fingers continued their exploration, circling her clit in slow, deliberate motions. "Yeah... ohhhh, yeah..." she breathed, her head falling back against the pillow, her body arching into his touch.

She loved his fingers.

He started to build up confidence, his fingers moving with more purpose, stroking her clit in slow, steady circles that had her toes curling, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She was so wet, and every time he touched her, it sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

Murtasim kept watching her, his eyes locked on hers, letting her guide him, letting her tell him what she wanted. He was good at this, so good, and she loved the way he was so focused on her, so determined to make her feel good.

He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as he asked, "Can I... can I push my finger inside you?"

Meerab nodded again, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted that, needed it, craved it. "Yes... please..."

He didn't make her wait. His fingers slid lower, finding her entrance, and then, slowly, carefully, he pushed one finger inside her. She gasped, her whole body tensing around him as he entered her, the sensation so good it almost made her dizzy.

"Oh... fuck... Murtasim..." she moaned, her hips rocking against his hand, trying to take him deeper. His long finger felt so good inside her, filling her, stretching her in the most delicious way. He started to move, slowly at first, sliding his finger in and out of her, building up a rhythm that had her gasping and moaning against his lips.

"You feel so good..." he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he kissed her, his lips moving hungrily over hers.

Meerab was losing herself in the sensation, in the way he was touching her, the way he was fucking her with his finger, making her moan and writhe beneath him. "I love your fingers... Murtasim..."

Meerab had fantasized about Murtasim's hands for as long as she could remember, imagining those strong, calloused fingers touching her in ways she'd only dared to explore on her own. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared her for the reality. His fingers felt so much better than hers ever did, the way they filled her, stroked her, coaxed her body to heights she didn't know were possible.

He grinned against her lips, clearly pleased with himself, and then he added a second finger, stretching her even more. Meerab moaned louder, her head falling back against the pillow as the pleasure intensified, her body clenching around his fingers as he moved in and out of her, the rhythm steady, relentless.

"Good?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear as he curled his fingers inside her, seeking out that hidden, elusive spot that would unravel her according to the videos she had watched and sent him links for.

Meerab's breath hitched, her body taut with anticipation, every nerve alight as he teased her with slow, deliberate movements. "Tell me, Meerab," he whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of her ear, "where do you want me? Here?" He curled his fingers gently, brushing against her inner walls, the pressure just enough to make her hips twitch involuntarily.

She shook her head, it felt good, but not different.

"Here?" His hand shifted, probing deeper, angling just slightly.

She whimpered, unable to find the words, her back arching as she pressed closer, needing him to find it, to touch that spot that would send her screaming. "No, but close, Murtasim... please," she finally managed, her voice trembling with a desperate, aching need.

A satisfied smile curved Murtasim's lips as he resumed his exploration, the pressure of his fingers increasing, more insistent. "Good," he murmured, his voice like honey as he adjusted the angle of his hand, slowly curling his fingers inside her again.

"Right here?" He asked, his breath hot against her neck as he pushed a little deeper, the pad of his fingers pressing firmly against a spot that made her entire body jerk in response, a strangled moan escaping her lips.

"Is that it?" he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety tease, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. But he didn't stop, instead, he withdrew slightly and pressed in again, this time with more pressure, more confidence.

"Yes... fuck, yes..." she moaned, her hips grinding against his hand, urging him on, needing more, needing him to keep doing that until she couldn't take it anymore. Her hips bucked against his hand, the sensation almost overwhelming as he expertly coaxed more pleasure from her.

"Here?" he asked again, but this time there was a smirk in his voice, a quiet arrogance that came from knowing exactly what he was doing to her. He curled his fingers, focusing on that spot, rubbing it with just the right rhythm. Her hips moved on their own, pushing down to meet his hand, seeking more of that mind-numbing sensation he was pulling out of her.

She was writhing.

"You're so wet, so perfect around my fingers," he murmured, his voice low and filled with raw desire.

"Faster." She gasped.

Her moans turned to broken cries when he did, her body writhing against him, his filthy words only adding to the intense pleasure building inside her. "Murtasim... I'm so close...—"

His thumb moved to circle her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge – he had clearly done his homework very well. "Cum for me, Meerab."

His words sent her over the edge. She gasped, her whole body tensing as the orgasm hit her, her muscles clenching around his fingers, her breath coming in short, ragged moans as the pleasure overwhelmed her, washing over her in wave after wave of bliss. "Murtasim... ohhhhh, fuck... Murtasim..." she cried out, her voice breaking as the orgasm tore through her.

Murtasim groaned, feeling her clench around him, her wetness coating his fingers, and he kept moving, kept thrusting his fingers inside her, drawing out her pleasure, making her ride it out until she was trembling beneath him, gasping for breath.

When it was over, when the last shudders of her orgasm had finally subsided, Meerab collapsed against the bed, her body spent, her heart pounding in her chest.

She'd touched herself before, trying to chase that elusive release, but it was nothing compared to what he gave her. She didn't know climaxes were supposed to be like that—so intense, so all-consuming, leaving her breathless and trembling, her body completely at his mercy. Murtasim's hands, those perfect, fucking wonderful hands, were everything she'd ever wanted and more, and she knew she'd never be able to get enough.

Murtasim slowly pulled his fingers out of her, his eyes never leaving hers, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

"So sexy..." he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again, his lips soft, tender, as if he was trying to tell her with that kiss just how much he adored her.

Meerab could only nod, her breath still coming in short, shallow gasps, her body still buzzing with the afterglow of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. "Murtasim..." she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of awe and affection.

He smiled against her lips, his hands still caressing her, soothing her, grounding her.

Meerab lay there, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had, but something feral, something primal was building inside her, demanding more. Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at Murtasim, who was still hovering over her, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. Without thinking, she grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down into a kiss, her lips crashing against his with a force that startled even her.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, and she could taste herself on his lips, which only fueled her need. She slid her hands down his body, fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest, the ridges of his abs, until she reached the waistband of his shorts. Her breath hitched as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, her heart pounding in her chest as she finally wrapped her hand around his cock.

"Fuck... it's so big," she moaned, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Murtasim grinned against her lips, clearly pleased with himself, but Meerab wasn't in the mood to praise him. She bit his lip, hard, making him groan, and then she kissed him again, her hand working his cock the way she'd seen in those videos she'd watched late at night, trying to figure out how to please him.

His cock was hot and thick in her hand. It was bigger than she'd expected, definitely bigger than what she'd imagined when she'd touched herself, fantasizing about this exact moment. Her fingers couldn't quite close around his girth, and she marveled at the sheer size of him, silently guessing he was at least seven inches long. The skin was smooth, velvety, but beneath that softness, she could feel the hardness of his erection, the way his cock pulsed with every beat of his heart.

She explored him slowly, her hand moving up and down his length, taking in every detail. The head of his cock was broad and blunt, slick with precum, and as she circled her thumb over it, spreading the wetness, she realized with a small jolt that he was circumcised. The ridge around the head was pronounced, and she could feel it twitch under her touch, could feel the way his cock jerked slightly in her hand, as if begging for more.

Her fingers wrapped around him, squeezing just right, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the wetness that was already gathering there. She stroked him tight and fast, her hand moving with a rhythm that had him groaning into her mouth, his hips bucking up into her hand, chasing the pleasure she was giving him.

Murtasim's breathing grew heavier, more labored, and the sounds he made—those deep, guttural groans that vibrated in his chest—only fueled her desire. She loved the way he sounded, the way he couldn't seem to hold back, couldn't hide how much he was enjoying her touch. It was intoxicating, knowing she was the one making him feel this way, knowing she had this kind of power over him.

Her fingers moved lower, hesitating for just a moment before she cupped his balls, feeling their weight in her hand. They were firm, but not as hard as his cock, there was a slight give of the skin, the way they tightened in response to her touch. She rolled them gently between her fingers, just like she'd learned, and the sound Murtasim made—half a groan, half a growl—was so fucking hot it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her legs. She kissed him harder, swallowing his groans, feeling him twitch in her hand, knowing he was close.

"Fuck, Meerab..." Murtasim groaned, his voice thick with need, and she bit her lip, feeling a rush of heat between her legs at the sound. She loved how he said her name, how he couldn't seem to hold back the raw, desperate sounds that spilled from his lips. She wanted to hear more, wanted to push him to the edge, to make him lose control completely.

As she stroked him, her hand moving in a tight, steady rhythm, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have him inside her. The thought made her shiver with both excitement and a bit of apprehension. He was so big—how was he going to fit? The idea of him stretching her, filling her up, made her mouth go dry with anticipation. She'd read enough to know they were going to need a lot of lube to make it work, but the thought of him sliding inside her, of feeling every inch of his thick cock buried deep within her, made her body ache with need.

She could feel him getting closer, could feel the way his cock throbbed in her hand, the way his breath came in short, sharp gasps. She focused on the head, circling it with her thumb, stroking him faster, tighter, her other hand still gently teasing his balls. Murtasim was groaning louder now, his hips bucking up into her hand, chasing the pleasure she was giving him.

When she felt him start to lose control, felt his cock twitching, she pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her voice low, commanding, "Cum for me."

That was all it took. Murtasim groaned her name, his voice rough, desperate, and then he was coming, hard, his cock jerking in her hand as he spilled himself over her fingers. The warm cum spurted out in thick ropes, coating her hand completely in warm, sticky fluid. It seemed to go on forever, his cock pulsing over and over as he emptied himself, and she marveled at the sheer amount of it, the way it covered her hand completely, dripping down her fingers, slick and hot.

Murtasim's head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut as he groaned her name, his voice hoarse, desperate. She watched him, her heart swelling with pride and satisfaction at the sight of him unraveling beneath her touch, at the power she held over him in that moment. She had reduced him to this—a shaking, groaning mess, moaning her name over and over as he came for what felt like forever.

When it was finally over, when the last of his orgasm had shuddered through him, he collapsed back against the bed, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged pants.

Meerab slowly pulled her hand away, her fingers slick with his cum, and she couldn't help but smile at the sight. She had done that—she had made him lose control like that, made him cum so hard he was still trembling.

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips before she got up and ran to the bathroom to wash her hand.

-----------------------------------------

Meerab Ahmed

[2 Months Post-Confession]

The public library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional click of a keyboard. The late afternoon sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the wooden tables and bookshelves. The place had always been a sanctuary for Meerab on weekends—a haven where she could lose herself in words and ideas. But today, it felt different. There was a comforting presence beside her, one that made her heart flutter in the most ridiculous, wonderful way.

Murtasim sat across from her, his brows furrowed in concentration as he typed away on his laptop. They had spent the last few hours going over their university applications, discussing their essays, and making sure every detail was perfect. He was wearing that grey hoodie she loved, the one that made him look both impossibly handsome and boyishly charming. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the strong, tanned forearms that she couldn't help but sneak glances at every now and then. Her eyes trailed up to his face, his jaw clenched in focus, lips slightly pursed, and she felt a wave of affection wash over her. She loved these quiet moments with him, where they could just exist together, sharing the same space, in a way she had never thought would happen.

"Okay, so what do you think of this line?" Murtasim's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to reality. He turned his laptop around so she could read the screen, his eyes searching hers for approval.

Meerab leaned forward, her gaze scanning the text. "I like it," she said with a smile, nodding in approval. "It's strong, and it really shows how passionate you are about your goals. I think it'll make a great impression."

He smiled, a little crooked, a little shy. "Thanks. I'm almost done with this one. How's yours coming along?"

She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. "I'm overthinking it, as usual. I keep wondering if I'm saying too much, or not enough, or if I'm just rambling..."

He chuckled, reaching across the table to gently squeeze her hand. "If it's anything like the other paragraphs I've read so far, it's perfect."

Her heart warmed at his words, and she felt the familiar comfort that he always seemed to bring her. They continued working in companionable silence for a while longer, occasionally sharing random thoughts or asking for each other's opinion on something. It was easy, natural, and she loved it.

As she finished typing another paragraph and glanced down at her list of schools, a thought suddenly crossed her mind. She glanced up at Murtasim, who was now staring at the screen with a look of deep concentration. There was something she had been meaning to ask him, something that had been on her mind for a while now.

"Hey," she began softly, catching his attention. "Where do your parents want you to go?"

Murtasim paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighed, the sound heavy with something she couldn't quite place. "Yale," he replied, his voice lacking the usual warmth she was accustomed to. "My dad and brother went there, so they're pretty set on me going there too."

Meerab tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "Well, that makes sense. It's a prestigious school, and being a legacy student would probably make it easier for you to get in."

But instead of agreeing, Murtasim just sighed again, this time more deeply. His eyes flickered down to the screen in front of him, but he wasn't really seeing it. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before, a stiffness that worried her.

Meerab watched him carefully, sensing the shift in his mood. She looked around the library, making sure they were still relatively alone, before pushing her chair back slightly. She walked around the table and slipped into the seat beside him, gently nudging his arm to get him to turn toward her. When he didn't, she leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug, her hands clasping under his other arm. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she whispered, "what's wrong?"

He stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the tension that still hadn't left his body. Meerab held him tighter, giving him time to gather his thoughts.

"It's just..." Murtasim finally started, his voice low and hesitant. "Sometimes, it feels like... like they don't think I can do anything on my own. Like I wouldn't be anything without them...so even though I know I'd likely get into Yale...I don't want to go there because they would say I only got in because of them...and maybe I will."

Meerab's heart clenched at the pain in his voice. "Murtasim," she whispered, shifting slightly so she could look at him properly, her eyes searching his. "You're one of the most capable people I know, yes, being a legacy student might help your chances, but it'll be because of that and the fact that you're capable. But you don't have to go to Yale if you don't want to.."

Murtasim sighed, his voice low and uncertain. "Sometimes, it feels like... like they don't see me. Like I'm just this... extension of them, you know? Like whatever I do, it's only ever good enough because it's what they wanted, not because it's something I've achieved on my own."

Meerab's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. "You're not just an extension of them. You're your own person, and you've accomplished so much because of who you are, not because of what they've done or expect, they can have those expectations, but the work you do to meet those expectations and anything else is all you."

He sighed, his gaze dropping to his lap. "It's hard, though. They always have these expectations, these plans for me. Sometimes, I feel like no matter what I do, it's never enough. It just... it feels like I'm always trying to live up to something, you know? Like I'm only worth as much as their approval."

Meerab gently cupped his face, turning him to look at her. Her thumb brushed against his cheek. "You're worth so much more than that," Meerab whispered, her voice fierce with conviction. "You're intelligent, kind, and strong. You have so much potential, and you deserve to be recognized for who you are, not just for living up to someone else's expectations."

Murtasim's lips curved into a small, grateful smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't want to disappoint them, Meerab. I don't want them to think I'm ungrateful."

"You won't disappoint them," Meerab assured him, her voice firm yet gentle. "But you need to remember that this is your life, your future. You have the right to choose what makes you happy, even if it's different from what they want. They might not be happy about it at first, but they'll learn to let go. And if they don't... I'll yell at them!"

When his eyes met hers, they were filled with a depth of emotion that both scared and excited her, it was new, the way he looked at her these days. The intensity in his gaze made her feel like she was the only person in his world.

His lips slowly curled into a smile, a smile that made her heart skip a beat, sending her heart into overdrive inside her pericardial cavity. Her breath hitched, the warmth of his gaze making her feel like she was standing under the brightest sun, basking in its warmth.

"You'd yell at them for me? Like you did with Mr. Raza?" he teased, his tone light, but his eyes still holding that deep affection.

Meerab giggled, nodding eagerly. "A whole speech that'll make them cry and sob and tell you that they love you," she said, her voice playful but sincere.

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. "Even my brother?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. They both knew his brother wasn't his biggest fan, their father's constant pitting of them against each other, telling them only one of them could be the heir to the family business, continuing the cycle of trauma he had inherited from his own father.

Meerab didn't miss a beat, nodding with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'll tie him up to a chair and show him all the cute pictures and videos I have of you until he's sobbing at how cute you are and how much he loves you," she declared, her tone half-serious, half-joking. She couldn't understand why someone wouldn't love Murtasim.

Murtasim laughed then, loud and deep, the sound echoing through the quiet library. The way he laughed, so freely, so openly, made her heart swell with warmth. It was a laugh that held no reservations, no insecurities—just pure joy. It was infectious, making her chest feel light, almost giddy.

Without thinking, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, her heart fluttering at the contact – she didn't know what it was about the kiss on his cheek that made her heart race despite everything else they had done, but it did. It was a simple act, but it felt monumental, as if she was solidifying something unspoken between them.

She had had a crush on him for years, a silly schoolgirl crush that had once made her blush and stammer in his presence. But this new feeling that bloomed inside her—it was something different, something more. It wasn't just a crush anymore. It was an overwhelming desire to protect him, to wrap herself around him and keep him safe from anything that could hurt him.

She wondered if this was what love felt like—the kind of love that made you want to shield someone from the world, that made their happiness just as important as your own. As she gazed at him, she realized that she didn't just want to be with him; she wanted to be his strength, his refuge, the one person who would always stand by his side, no matter what.

And in that moment, she knew she was falling—falling so deeply for Murtasim Khan that she might never want to find her way back up.

---------------------------

Murtasim Khan

[Two Months Post Confession]

The Echo Valley High School Athletic Awards and Banquet was the event of the year for the school's athletes, a grand evening where the best of the best were recognized for their hard work and dedication. The school gymnasium was transformed into a formal venue with white linen-covered tables, twinkling lights strung across the ceiling, and a stage set up at the front, where trophies and plaques gleamed under the spotlight. It was a night of celebration, where the whole community gathered to applaud the achievements of their athletes, from soccer to track, basketball to tennis.

And this year, Murtasim was set to receive one of the highest honors—an award for his stellar contributions to the soccer team over the past few years and his exceptional leadership as captain. It was a recognition of not just his athletic skills, but his ability to inspire and lead his team to victory time and again.

He should've been excited, but as he sat on the couch in Meerab's living room, his arms wrapped around her, his mind was elsewhere. She was nestled against his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his shirt, and he could feel the soft rise and fall of her breath, a soothing rhythm that usually calmed him. But tonight, her question pulled him out of that comforting haze.

"Are your parents coming?" she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant, as if she already knew the answer but didn't want to accept it.

He stiffened slightly, the question sending a pang through his chest. He didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to focus on the feel of her against him, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, like she was made to be there. How was it that she could ask something so simple and yet make him feel like the ground was slipping out from under him?

"They're not coming," he finally said, his voice devoid of emotion, but inside, he was anything but calm. "They never do." His father was flying out to Dubai that evening with his mother, and his brother was never home.

Meerab was quiet for a moment, and he could sense her mind whirring with thoughts, the cogs turning as she processed what he'd just said. She bit her lip, her expression unreadable, and he felt a knot form in his stomach. He hated that look—when she was holding something back.

"What?" he prompted, needing to know what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers.

She just shrugged, her gaze shifting away from him, her teeth still worrying at her bottom lip. "Nothing," she muttered, but he wasn't buying it.

"Meerab," he pressed, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. "Talk to me."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, he saw a flash of vulnerability that twisted something deep inside him. Then, she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she let go of whatever she was holding onto. "Do you not want them to meet me?" she asked, her voice small, like she was bracing herself for an answer she didn't want to hear.

"What?" He blinked, completely taken aback. "Why would you even think that?"

She bit her lip again and then the words just spilled out, her thoughts tumbling over one another in a rush. "Because we always come here...never your house. My mom loves you, but I haven't even met your parents... And I get it, desi parents, a girlfriend is not what they expect...but even as a friend, they've never—"

"Hey, hey, slow down," he said, his heart breaking a little at the insecurity in her voice. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks gently. "They know about you."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Then... why?"

"They don't care," he said, his tone flat. He wasn't angry at her, but at the reality of the situation. "They think it's just a high school fling and I'll eventually get over it and make a strategic match like my brother is..."

She stared at him, the pieces slowly falling into place, but the hurt was still there, lurking in the back of her eyes. "So... it's not that you don't want them to meet me because of me?"

He shook his head, his hands still holding her face like she was the most precious thing in the world. "No, baby. It's not that at all. I don't want them to meet you because they wouldn't see you the way I do. They wouldn't see you the way everyone else does. They'd make you uncomfortable, and I can't—" He broke off, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I can't stand the thought of them making you feel like you're not good enough either. Because you are. You're more than enough."

She was quiet, processing his words, and he watched as the hurt in her eyes slowly gave way to understanding. But then her expression shifted, and she looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something fiercer.

"They wouldn't come to an award's night?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

Murtasim sighed, shaking his head. "Not for sports. They don't care about that kind of stuff. To them, athletics only matter if it looks good on my college applications."

Meerab's eyes widened, and he could see the anger building in her, her cheeks flushing as she sat up straighter. "So they don't come to anything? Plays? Games? Awards? Parent-teacher nights?"

He shook his head again, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Nope."

Her face twisted into that angry kitten look he adored, the one that made her eyes sparkle with fire, and then she was hugging him tightly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him as if she could shield him from the world. He could feel her trembling slightly, the intensity of her emotions pouring out through the strength of her embrace.

He couldn't help it—she was just so cute. So fiercely protective. So full of love for him that it made his chest ache in the best way. He leaned back slightly, cupping her face with his hands, and began pressing kisses all over her face, starting with her forehead, then her cheeks, her nose, and finally, her lips. She giggled softly, the sound vibrating against his mouth, and he pulled back just enough to see the small smile tugging at her lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft and full of empathy. "I didn't know."

He shook his head, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm just... really lucky to have you."

"My mom and I will be there, cheering the loudest," she said, in a no-nonsense tone.

He laughed and nodded, his heart warming, wondering if this was what it felt like to be loved.

-----------------------------------------------------

Meerab Ahmed

[2 Months Post-Confession]

Meerab was supposed to be doing homework with Murtasim at the library, but instead, she found herself sprawled out on his bed, her body thrumming with anticipation. His parents were away, and they'd taken full advantage of the empty house, the lure of his bed too strong to resist. But who cared? She didn't. Not with the way he was looking at her, not with the way her body responded to his every touch.

She watched, her breath hitching, as Murtasim kissed his way down her body, his lips leaving a burning trail from her neck to her chest, then down to her stomach. Every kiss, every brush of his lips, made her skin tingle, made her pulse race. She was practically panting by the time he reached the waistband of her panties, and when he hooked his fingers under the fabric and slid them down her legs, her heart nearly stopped.

She was completely exposed now, her pussy wet and throbbing, aching for him. Murtasim sat back on his heels, just staring at her with that intense, hungry gaze of his, like he was trying to memorize every detail and compare it to what he had only felt. His eyes traced every curve, every dip, before settling on her pussy, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. It was so intimate, so raw, but she loved it. She loved how he couldn't look away, how he looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice thick with need as he stared at her, his gaze dark and hungry. Meerab propped herself up on her elbows, watching him as he watched her. There was something so hot about the way he looked at her, like he couldn't get enough, like he was completely mesmerized by the sight of her. His fingers ghosted over her slit, barely touching, and she gasped, her hips jerking at the sensation.

Murtasim groaned softly as he felt how wet she was, his fingers sliding easily between her folds, spreading her slickness. His free hand moved to his cock, rubbing himself through his pants like he couldn't take it anymore, like he was barely holding himself together.

She wanted his cock.

"Fuck, Meerab," he groaned again, his voice rough as he watched his finger disappear inside her. He was so focused, so intent, and it made her shiver with anticipation. He added a second finger, stretching her just a little more, just like last time.

Meerab kept herself propped up on her elbows, watching him as he touched her. She couldn't believe how hot it was, watching him study her like this, his eyes locked on her pussy as he slid his fingers in and out, groaning every time she clenched around him.

Meerab's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her hips moving against his hand, urging him on. She couldn't believe how good it felt, how much she loved the way he touched her, how much she loved watching him touch her. It was so fucking hot, and she could feel the heat pooling in her stomach, the tension building with every thrust of his fingers.

"Please, Murtasim... please," she moaned, her voice trembling with need, and he knew exactly what she wanted.

He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, his eyes dark and full of promise as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her pussy. He looked up at her, his gaze locking with hers, and then he lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to taste her.

She let out a breathy moan, her hips bucking up into his mouth. He started slow, circling her clit with his tongue, teasing her, driving her insane. He was taking his time, just like the video she'd sent him had instructed, and she could tell he'd done his fucking homework.

"Fuck...," Meerab gasped, her head falling back as his tongue moved over her clit, teasing her, tasting her. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he buried his face between her legs, his tongue working her clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Murtasim groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her body as he ate her out, his tongue flicking over her clit, his fingers sliding back inside her, fucking her slowly as he licked and sucked, taking his time, savoring every moment.

He was so good at this—so good—and she couldn't stop the moans that spilled from her lips, couldn't stop her hips from grinding against his face, desperate for more. She remembered everything in the videos she had linked, everything in the articles, and he was following the instructions perfectly, his tongue and fingers moving with precision, with purpose. It was like he was determined to make her lose her mind, and he was succeeding.

"Fuck, Murtasim... you deserve an A+," she managed to moan, her voice breathless as she pulled on his hair, her hips moving faster, grinding harder against his face.

Murtasim's response was a low, deep chuckle that vibrated against her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through her.

"Right there... oh, fuck, right there," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He followed her lead, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, and she could feel herself getting closer, the pleasure building, her body trembling with anticipation.

Her hips moved against his face, grinding against him as he ate her out, his mouth and fingers driving her insane, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close, she could feel it, and she knew he could too, could feel the way her body was tensing, the way she was gasping for breath, sobbing his name as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

His fingers curled inside her, hitting that perfect spot, as he sucked on her clit, and she cried out, her body arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through her, intense and all-consuming.

"Oh my god... oh fuck... Murtasim!" she sobbed, her fingers tightening in his hair as she came, hard and fast, her pussy clenching around his fingers, her hips bucking wildly against his face.

He didn't stop, didn't slow down, just kept licking and sucking, his tongue working her clit as his fingers fucked her through the orgasm, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until she was trembling, gasping for breath, her mind a blissful haze.

When it was finally over, when the last shudders of her orgasm had faded, Meerab collapsed back onto the bed, her body spent, her heart pounding. "God... you're amazing," she panted, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. She couldn't believe how good that felt, how fucking amazing he was at this, at making her cum so hard she could barely think straight.

Murtasim slowly pulled back, his fingers sliding out of her as he stood up and looked down at her, a satisfied grin on his face. His lips were glistening with her wetness, and the sight of him like that, his hair messy from where she'd pulled on it, his eyes dark with lust, made her stomach flip with desire all over again.

He is so fucking hot.

Meerab pushed herself up, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for him. She needed to touch him, needed to feel him, needed to make him feel as good as he'd just made her feel. She pushed his shirt off, her fingers tracing the hard muscles of his chest, feeling the way they tensed under her touch. She loved the way he felt, loved the way his skin was warm and smooth, loved the way his breath hitched as she moved lower, her hands sliding under the waistband of his pants.

Murtasim groaned as she tugged his pants down, his cock springing free. Meerab couldn't tear her eyes away from Murtasim's cock, hard and heavy, standing proud between his thighs. He looked bigger than he had felt the last time she had touched him, and now, with nothing between them, she could see every detail. The way his cock throbbed with each beat of his heart, the way a drop of precum glistened at the tip, the way the veins stood out against his thick length. It was mesmerizing, and she felt a rush of heat between her legs just looking at him.

She reached out tentatively, her fingers wrapping around his shaft, and she marveled at the way it felt in her hand—hot, smooth, and impossibly hard, like it had the last time. She squeezed gently, feeling the way he twitched in her grip, and she looked up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

Murtasim let out a breathy chuckle, his head falling back against the pillow as he groaned. "No... uhn Meerab, it feels... it feels good."

She bit her lip, her eyes flicking back to his cock, watching the way it throbbed in her hand. "What does it feel like?" she asked, her thumb brushing over the tip, smearing the precum across his sensitive skin.

He groaned again, his hips twitching slightly. "It feels... fuck... it's like... it's like every nerve is on fire," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "It's like... I need you... I need to be inside you... so fucking bad..."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, the raw need in his voice making her own desire flare even hotter. She was fascinated by him, by his body, by the way he responded to her touch. She wanted to explore him, wanted to understand every part of him, wanted to make him feel as good as he'd made her feel.

Meerab leaned in, her breath warm against the tip of his cock, and she watched the way he tensed, the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes darkened with anticipation. She was curious, eager to see how he would react, eager to see if she could make him feel the same overwhelming pleasure he'd given her.

She blew softly on his cock, watching the way he twitched in response, the way his thighs tensed. She was so close now, close enough to smell the musk of him, close enough to see every detail, every ridge, every vein. She hesitated for just a moment, and then she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to taste him.

The reaction was immediate. Murtasim's entire body jerked, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as her tongue dragged across the sensitive head of his cock. He tasted salty, musky, and she found herself craving more. She licked him again, slower this time, savoring the feel, the way he shuddered beneath her touch.

As she licked him, she remembered the videos she'd watched, the tips and tricks she'd studied late at night, thinking of him. She remembered how the women in those videos had made men groan like they were dying, their mouths filled with cock, their tongues working in perfect harmony with their hands. She wanted that—wanted to make him feel that good, wanted to hear him groan like that, to know that she was the one driving him insane.

Murtasim's cock was pretty. Prettier than any of the others she had seen in those videos. Maybe it was because it was attached to him, maybe it was because it was his, but whatever the reason, she wanted it.

Meerab wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently, her tongue swirling around the tip as she took him deeper into her mouth. Murtasim's groan was low, guttural, his hips bucking up slightly as she sucked him, his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her but not forcing her.

"Fuck... Meerab... just like that...," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as she bobbed her head, taking him deeper, her lips stretched around his thick length.

She remembered the tips from the videos, remembered how the women had used their tongues to tease the sensitive underside of the head, how they had hollowed their cheeks to create more suction, how they had used their hands to stroke what they couldn't fit into their mouths. Meerab followed those tips, her tongue flicking against the underside of his cock, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him harder, her hand wrapping around the base to stroke him in time with her movements.

It was harder than it looked, to do all of that at the same time, she was a bit clumsy. Not an A+ performance. But he didn't seem to mind that.

His groans grew louder, more desperate, his hips jerking up into her mouth as she worked him over. She could feel him throbbing against her tongue, could feel the tension building in his body, could hear the way his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

Her jaw hurt, he was so big.

"Meerab... fuck... you're gonna make me cum," he groaned, his voice strained, desperate.

She didn't stop, didn't slow down, just kept sucking him, her hand stroking him faster, her other hand gently cupping his balls, rolling them between her fingers. She wanted to make him cum, wanted to make him lose control, wanted to feel him explode, to know that she had driven him to the edge and pushed him over it.

When she felt him start to lose control, when his groans turned into needy, desperate moans, when his cock started to twitch in her mouth, she pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes locking with his.

That was all it took. With a deep, guttural groan, Murtasim came, his cock jerking violently in her mouth as he spilled himself over her face and tits. The warm cum splattered across her skin, thick and sticky, and she didn't pull away, just let him cover her, watching the way his face twisted in pleasure, the way he moaned her name over and over as he came, hard and long, his entire body trembling with the force of it.

When it was finally over, when the last of his orgasm had shuddered through him, Murtasim took in a deep breath, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged pants. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction and something else—something that looked a lot like awe.

"That that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever felt and seen," he panted, his voice thick with disbelief, with raw, unfiltered lust.

Murtasim was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared down at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and raw, unfiltered lust. The way he looked at her, like she really was the hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen, made Meerab's heart race in her pericardial cavity. She could still feel the warmth of his cum on her skin, and as she traced her fingers through it, she felt a rush of pride at how completely she'd unraveled him.

She watched as Murtasim moved, her eyes following every movement. He didn't bother covering himself, and she couldn't look away from the sight of him—his body was perfect, every muscle defined, his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, his ass tight and firm. And his cock, still thick and half-hard, swung between his legs as he walked to the bathroom.

Holy fuck, he is gorgeous.

Meerab's breath hitched as she took in the sight of him, her pulse quickening at the way his muscles flexed with every step. He was so fucking sexy, and she couldn't believe he was hers, that he wanted her like this.

He disappeared into the bathroom, and she heard the sound of water running for a moment before he returned, a damp towel in hand. When he knelt beside the bed, his expression was different—softer, more tender. Her heart skipped a beat as he reached out with the towel, gently wiping her face and body clean.

The warm towel felt soothing against her skin, and she couldn't help but giggle softly as he worked, the intimacy of the moment making her chest tighten with something deeper than just lust. She looked up at him, smiling, feeling a warmth in her heart that matched the heat between them. He was so careful, so sweet, and it made her fall even harder for him.

When he was done, Murtasim leaned in and kissed her, and this kiss was different from the others—softer, lingering, filled with a kind of unspoken affection that made her melt. She kissed him back, her lips moving slowly against his, savoring the tenderness of the moment.

"Wanna shower?" he asked, his voice low, with a playful edge, but there was something in his eyes that made her pulse quicken all over again.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Showering with him? The idea sent a thrill of excitement through her, and she couldn't quite believe this was happening. Showering together felt so intimate, so... couple-y, and it made her stomach flutter with nerves and excitement. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew she wanted it, wanted him, wanted everything they could have together.

"Yeah... I'd love that," she whispered, her voice a little shaky, but filled with anticipation.

Murtasim's grin was almost boyish, and it made her heart skip a beat in her pericardial cavity.

-------------

Author's Note: At this point I am just indulging myself and y'all, haha. Let me know what you think of the chapter and what your favourite part is!