A/N: Hellllooooo! Thank you for the love and laughs for the last chapter, I am glad so many of your enjoyed the wedding as much as you did. And the saxsux, hehehe. Onto the next chapter, where we get more saxsux and their walima! Hehe.

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In the privacy of their new, still unfamiliar bathroom, Meerab was wiping off her wedding makeup, her actions more mechanical than thoughtful for she found herself lost in thought.

True to his words, Murtasim sauntered in just five minutes later. Meerab's gaze couldn't help but stray towards him, he had just sauntered into the bathroom completely naked, without a care in the world. Her eyes grew wide as they flickered down to his now not-hard-cock before she looked back up at him again.

Catching her wide-eyed look through the mirror, he flashed a cheeky grin that made her cheeks heat up further.

"What?" Murtasim teased, catching her lingering gaze in the mirror. His voice was laced with amusement and a hint of mischief.

"Uh, clothes?" Meerab managed to stutter out.

"New rule—no clothes in our bedroom," Murtasim declared with a grin that suggested he was partly jesting and partly hopeful.

He disappeared into the frosted stall that housed the loo. Meerab turned back to the sink to wash her face, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest. A minute later, Murtasim emerged from the stall and casually padded over to the shower stall, turning the shower on and adjusting the temperature, his movements fluid and unabashedly bare.

She paused, her thoughts racing.

Was this normal?

Did people just walk around naked?

Murtasim, however, seemed utterly at ease, as if it were the most natural state to be in. As he found the desired temperature, he stepped under the stream, and water began cascading down his body, tracing each muscle and curve with glistening paths that drew her in.

She couldn't resist stealing glances through the mirror.

She had never seen a naked man before—not in reality. The half-naked men from magazines were nothing compared to the full presence of Murtasim; he seemed like he could belong on any high-end fashion cover, yet no magazine could capture the full extent of his allure, which extended far beyond the cropped frames.

His shoulders were as broad, the muscles flexing with each movement. The way his back muscles shifted under his skin as he moved was mesmerizing. His chest was sculpted, the water droplets trickling down the planes and contours, leading to a tapering waist that highlighted his athletic build.

Meerab bit her lip, her gaze unintentionally drifting lower, appreciating the curve of his firm backside and the powerful build of his legs. The sight was unexpectedly overwhelming, stirring a mix of admiration and a deeper, more primal attraction.

The warmth and steam of the shower filled the bathroom, blurring the edges of the mirror and casting a sultry glow over the tiles. Murtasim suddenly turned towards her, the towel in her hand dropping as her eyes dropped to his cock, and then back up to his face.

Murtasim's inviting smile beckoned, his voice low and teasing, echoing off the walls. "You can admire me from closer, haq hai tumhara, biwi ho tum meri," he said, his words laced with affection and a hint of challenge.

Meerab's response was an eye roll, a mix of exasperation and delight at his unabashed confidence. Despite her outward show of annoyance, she felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the steamy air.

His gaze lingered on her, an eyebrow quirked in playful expectation, waiting for her to make the next move.

Was this normal? Meerab's thoughts raced as she hesitated to step towards the shower stall. The concept of sharing such an intimate space was foreign to her, a stark contrast to the solitary showers of her days, focused and functional without intrusion.

She needed to wash her hair, scrub her body, and...her thoughts trailed off as she listed the mundane tasks that suddenly seemed an odd pairing with his tantalizing presence.

"Don't make me come get you," he warned, the playful threat hanging between them.

Meerab peeled off Murtasim's kurta, which she had borrowed, leaving her naked, feeling the weight of his gaze as she stood shyly on the cold tiles outside the shower.

Stepping tentatively into the shower, her initial shyness was palpable, unsure of what exactly to do next in such intimate proximity.

Murtasim's response was swift and tender; he reached out, his hand closing firmly yet gently around hers, drawing her into the warm embrace of both the streaming water and his arms.

As he pulled her close, any lingering nervousness melted away under the comfort of his touch.

Meerab leaned into Murtasim, her cheek resting against the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. It was a reassuring reminder of his equally felt excitement and nerves despite his outwardly confident demeanour. The water enveloped them, soothing and warm, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, letting the comfort of their closeness wash over her as Murtasim's hands roamed her back, tracing lines that sent shivers down her spine.

A minute into the embrace, Meerab tilted her head back to look up at him, a flicker of memory crossing her mind. "This reminds me of that night we got stuck in the rain," she muttered, recalling the closeness of their bodies as he carried her, the rain pouring over both of them.

Murtasim's eyes held a glint of something deeper, more reflective as he gazed down at her. "If I tell you something, promise you're not going to laugh," he said, his voice carrying a seriousness that piqued her curiosity.

Nodding, she urged him to continue, her own gaze locked with his.

"I was looking at you when we crashed. You were humming something, looking out at the rain with a hint of a smile on your face, and I couldn't look away. That whole day, the week before, and every moment after that, I had a hard time looking away from you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

Tears welled up in Meerab's eyes, touched by his heartfelt admission. Yet, she managed to tease, her voice wobbling between emotional and playful, "Seems like I will be the death of you."

His laughter rang out, warm and rich, filling the space between them, bouncing off the tiled walls. He leaned in, his hands cradling her face tenderly, and kissed her.

"I loved that day," she admitted as he pulled away, her voice soft. "I am surprised you didn't feel my heart with how fast it was beating against your back."

He chuckled, a sound that was both content and filled with love. "Must have been drowned out by my own heartbeat," he replied, his voice soft but filled with joy at her admission.

Their conversations meandered back to that summer as they showered, wrapping her in warmth that went beyond the steamy tendrils of the shower. Meerab hummed, relishing the gentle scratch of Murtasim's fingers on her scalp as she washed her hair, and he is.

She loved showering with him.

She loved everything about it—their towels hanging side by side, their toothbrushes paired in the holder, their clothes mingling in the closet.

In their house.

It was all distinctly theirs: quiet, peaceful, and utterly freeing.

Though the clock had ticked close to midnight, and fatigue had gnawed at her earlier, Meerab felt a surge of liveliness after slipping into her pajamas, the fabric light and clean against her skin after days of wearing heavy outfits.

As she stepped out of the closet, she found Murtasim, dressed in pajamas and a t-shirt, lounging on the couch in their bedroom. He groaned playfully as she stepped out of the closet, adorned in a silk pajama set with shorts...because he had repeatedly mentioned the shorts she wore once.

Catching him mutter something under his breath—something about "over my shoulders"—she approached him. With a swift move, he pulled her onto his lap, his hands immediately going to her legs, eliciting giggles from her.

Overcome with affection, Meerab cupped his face and squeezed gently. "Want to go make coffee?" she proposed, her voice bubbling with excitement to use their new kitchen.

"Now?" Murtasim looked up at her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She nodded enthusiastically, playfully manipulating his head to nod as well with her hands still cupping his face.

"It's our house," she declared with a grin.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression questioning.

"It's like I can do anything! No one is going to reprimand me for being up too late, or walking around at night, or making food at odd times, or moving furniture around," she elaborated, her fingers tracing his beard.

"I have unleashed a monster," he teased, his smile broadening into one of adoration.

She laughed, nodding in agreement. "I have had a taste of freedom and I love it."

"Let's go try out the coffee machine then," he suggested with a grin, matching her enthusiasm.

With a final squeeze of his face, Meerab leaned in and pecked his lips.

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Although Meerab's words hadn't made sense at first, Murtasim couldn't help but realize how apt they were moments later. There was a freedom, and it was new to him. The houses he had lived in before—the haveli, the village house—none had ever truly felt like their house did now. There was an ease and a warmth here that those places, bound by layers of tradition and the eyes of family, simply couldn't offer.

As he stood there, watching Meerab perch on the kitchen counter by the coffee machine, her shorts riding up to reveal more of her already tantalizingly long legs, he realized just how different this was. They couldn't be like this anywhere else. And he couldn't let his hands roam up and down her thighs, eliciting giggles and playful swats from her.

"Is this what you wanted to do back then?" she teased, catching his eyes with a knowing look.

He couldn't suppress a snicker, squeezing her thigh gently, marveling at the softness of her skin. "I didn't admit it to myself, but probably yes," he confessed.

The coffee machine beeped, signaling his brew was ready, pulling him momentarily from their flirtation. As he stepped back, Meerab clapped her hands delightedly and hopped off the counter, her movements as light as her laughter. She grabbed her cup, holding it with both hands like a child holding a cherished treasure, and padded over to the large sectional in the living room.

Watching her, Murtasim's heart swelled with an affection so potent it almost ached.

Meerab paused by the couch, looking back at him with those expectant, sparkling eyes that seemed to pull him forward. He quickened his steps, not wanting to miss a moment.

"Sit," she instructed, pointing to the cozy corner where the two sections of the sofa met. He settled down as told, his curiosity piqued.

"Hold your cup carefully," she continued, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

He adjusted his hold on the cup, making room for her as she climbed into his lap, sidling in sideways so she could see him. Her movements were playful yet somehow still graceful, each shift making his body respond with a mix of warmth and want. She nestled into him further, causing an involuntary groan to escape his lips.

"Am I heavy?" she pouted, her face turning towards his, eyes wide and teasing.

That certainly wasn't the issue—her rubbing against him was stirring the ever-ready appendage between his legs. He shook his head, his voice a low tease, "I carried you up the stairs, remember?"

Meerab gave a playful shrug as she took another sip of her coffee. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Kya pata, maybe I tired you out," she teased back, her voice light and teasing.

Murtasim snickered at her jest. "You wish."

She didn't respond with words, but he saw the smile lingering on her lips as she savored another sip of the coffee they had made together. "Good?" he asked, watching her closely.

Nodding, she replied with genuine appreciation, "We picked well."

He laughed softly. "We better have, we spent hours deciding on a coffee machine." Reflecting on the day they bought it, he remembered how Meerab had darted around the store, her excitement contagious.

Their shopping adventures had been a highlight of their house setup. Meerab had wanted everything to be perfect, which meant deliberating over every little choice, sometimes spiralling. She had calmed down some after Murtasim had reassured her repeatedly that they could always change things later if they didn't work out.

Now, he took her free hand in his, sipping his own coffee as his thumb traced over the hidden letters of his name in her mehendi. The letters were intricate, almost as if they weren't letters at all but just a design. "How come my name gets hidden, and you get this?" he asked, holding out his hand where Meerab was written boldly across his palm.

She grinned up at him. "Because all the women were making eyes at what was mine, so I had to stake a claim," she said proudly.

"At our wedding?" Murtasim raised an eyebrow, amused by her possessiveness.

Nodding emphatically, Meerab continued, "The audacity of them, I should have sent Murtasimbakri to chew their dupattas."

"You should have," he agreed, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

"If they eye you up at our walima, it's over for them," she declared, her tone half-serious, half-joking.

Murtasim chuckled, enjoying her feisty side. "You can use my gun," he joked.

Rolling her eyes, Meerab patted his cheek gently. "You nearly escaped jail, I can't go now, I'm too pretty for jail," she quipped.

Murtasim burst out into laughter. His coffee nearly escaped his grip.

"What? I am too pretty for jail!" Meerab whined.

"And I am not?" he shot back with a mock offended air, teasing her playfully.

"You are, but you'd look at people like this—" She tried her best to look intimidating. She scrunched up her face in a serious expression, her eyebrows knitting together and her lips drawing into a thin line.

"Ahh, there's Meerabilli," he chuckled.

She lightly whacked his arm. "Point is that they'd be scared of you."

"You're plenty scary," he teased her again, earning a glare.

"See?" he pointed out, almost triumphantly.

"Do you really want to sleep on the couch on your wedding night?" Meerab retorted with a threatening smile.

He laughed heartily, "See, you're scary!"

She pouted in response, a feigned hurt look that made her all the more endearing to him.

"And adorable," he quickly added, softening his previous tease.

Her pout transformed into a smile, and she took another sip of her coffee, wiggling happily. This innocent act did not help Murtasim's growing arousal, a physical response that was becoming harder to ignore.

"You really need to stop that," he muttered as he put down his cup.

Meerab looked up at him, her expression one of confusion.

In response, Murtasim reached out, his hands finding her hips, and gently pulled her closer to him.

She let out a surprised "oh" when she felt him against her, her eyes widening slightly.

"That's all it takes?" she asked, her head cocking to the side, her tone surprised.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "With you, it takes a lot less," he admitted, his voice low and honest. "Just a thought, just a look."

"Oh," she smiled, charmed and perhaps a little flustered by his confession.

"Oh," he echoed playfully, mimicking her response, his hands deftly moving to take her coffee cup and place it safely on the table.

Murtasim couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration as Meerab squealed when he adjusted her position to straddle him. Her legs found their place on either side of his thighs, her weight settling comfortably against him. His hands immediately roamed to her bare thighs, caressing the smooth skin beneath his fingertips as hers rested on his shoulders.

"Is that not all it takes with you?" he teased, a grin spreading across his face as he noted her quick intake of breath.

Meerab only shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Murtasim's heart thumped louder in his chest.

Allowing one hand to wander up her back, he reveled in the silky feel of her hair, now clean and smooth from their recent shower. As his fingers threaded through the strands at the back of her neck, he tugged gently before pulling her closer.

The slight moan that escaped her lips was intoxicating.

He paused mere inches from her lips, the heat of her breath mingling with his, her lips tantalizingly close and quivering slightly.

If he were a stronger man, Murtasim thought, he might have resisted, waiting for her to close the distance. But resistance was far from his mind; her slight gasp was all it took for him to give in, drawing her into a deep, consuming kiss.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled Meerab along with him. Her body molded perfectly against his, her chest pressing against him. Today, the absence of a bra beneath her shirt was something he didn't have to ignore or pretend not to notice.

He deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening in her hair, effectively swallowing the beautiful sounds she made. Murtasim marveled at the variety of noises she could produce—gasps, moans, whimpers, mewls, groans; his name articulated in myriad ways, each one sending a thrill through him. He would spend years learning and coaxing every possible sound from her, cataloging each one in his heart and mind as a treasure to be cherished.

His hands were insistent as they explored the curves of her body, his fingers delving under her shorts which had ridden up. Gripping the soft flesh of her ass, he pulled her closer, aligning their bodies so that his arousal rubbed against her. The friction drew a moan from her lips, and she momentarily broke their kiss, her gaze clouded with desire, lips parting breathlessly.

Overwhelmed by his longing for her, Murtasim shifted their positions fluidly. With a gentle but firm push, he maneuvered Meerab onto her back along the couch. As he loomed over her, her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer. The heat of her body and the feel of her thighs tightening around him elicited a deep groan from his throat.

His hands slid down the length of her legs, appreciating the smoothness of her skin.

Gazing down at her, he caught Meerab biting her lip, her eyes alight with desire. Her hair fanned out on the cushion, framing her face like a radiant halo. Murtasim couldn't resist; he took one of her legs, unwrapping it from around him and straightening it upwards, planting soft kisses along her calf and up towards her thigh.

She let out a light giggle, the sound like music to his ears. "Is that what you wanted to do?" she teased.

Grinning up at her, Murtasim nodded, a playful yet intense look in his eyes. "The first dream I had of you like this...these legs were on my shoulders...like this," he explained, gently positioning her leg so her foot rested just above his shoulder. His voice dropped to a huskier tone, "And I was buried inside you." Now that they were married, he no longer felt the need to hold back these truths.

Her reaction was immediate; her eyes widened, and a soft, whimpering sound escaped her lips.

Leaning in closer, he continued to place reverent kisses further up her leg, inching toward her inner thigh.

His breath warm against her skin as he spoke. "And in another dream, your thighs were over my shoulders," he murmured before gently biting down on her right thigh.

Her sharp intake of breath filled the room, but there was a look of confusion on her face.

"You didn't give me my muh dikhai present," he teased, an idea forming, watching her reaction closely.

"It's in the—" she started, clearly thinking about the physical gifts.

He cut her off, knowing that it was in the car. "There is something else you can give me," he said with a sly grin.

"What?" she asked.

"Let me show you why your thighs were over my shoulders," he whispered huskily.

Meerab nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation, and Murtasim couldn't suppress the smile that broke across his face. He moved to her other leg, trailing kisses down it towards her thigh, eliciting a giggle from her when he nipped just above her knee.

Unable to resist the pull of her lips any longer, Murtasim hovered over her to capture her mouth once more. He reveled in the freedom to kiss her deeply, without the usual constraints they had faced before, he didn't have to worry about getting carried away. His lips plundered hers with a passion that spoke volumes of his longing for his wife.

He kissed down her neck, left his mark on her skin, and rocked his hips against hers.

As Meerab clutched at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, he dove deeper into the kiss, his body pressing firmly against hers. HIs hands were deliberate as he unbuttoned Meerab's shirt, carefully parting the fabric to reveal her. The shirt fell open as he swiftly moved away and pulled his own t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

His gaze dropped to her breasts, perfect in his eyes, and his hands followed instinctively. He reveled in the feel of them, squeezing gently, massaging the soft flesh, captivated by how her nipples hardened under his touch and the delightful sounds escaping her lips.

Leaning forward, he took her left nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before pulling back to blow gently across the damp skin. The resulting gasp from Meerab, and the way her flesh puckered in response, pleased him immensely.

The ceilings in their living room were not vaulted, but still rather high, her moans echoed around the area, filling up the space so beautifully as he played with her nipples.

He expressed his admiration unabashedly, "I love these," while continuing his ministrations.

Meerab's response was to whimper, her hands finding the back of his head to press him closer to her chest, desperate for more contact, more of his mouth on her.

"Murtasim, Murtasimmm, Murta-simmmm," she moaned, each utterance of his name different and more intense than the last, her voice thick with desire.

Grinning against her skin, he cupped both of her breasts, pushing them together, and buried his face in the soft warmth, his beard brushing against her skin as he nuzzled, drawing small, encouraging noises from her. He indulged a moment longer before chuckling softly at her whine of protest as he began to trail kisses downward.

His lips moved over her stomach, nuzzling gently.

Murtasim shifted, moving off the couch and gently pulling Meerab's legs until her feet touched the floor, leaving only her upper body resting on the couch. As he knelt between her legs on the ground, he noticed her body tensing slightly.

She propped herself up on her elbows, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Murtasim?" she queried, her tone laced with caution.

"Shhhh, let me show you something," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur as he reached down to pull her shorts down.

A groan escaped his lips when he discovered she wasn't wearing any panties— she'd kill him one day, he was sure of it.

"What—?" Meerab began, her question hanging in the air.

"It's my present," he interjected smoothly, silencing her with his intent gaze.

"What?" she repeated, her confusion apparent.

"A taste. Of you." His voice was low as his fingers began to trail down her slick, wet slit, his groan deepening at the heat and readiness he encountered.

Her eyes widened, her lip caught tightly between her teeth.

Despite her clear uncertainty, she didn't push him away or plead for a halt as he looked at his fingers moving along her slit. If he had seen this when he first slid into her, he knew he wouldn't have lasted long—she glistened beautifully, coated enticingly with her arousal.

Leaning forward, Murtasim kissed her stomach tenderly, then moved to lick and suck just below her navel. He savored the symphony of delightful sounds she made as his fingers gently traced her clit, each touch designed to draw out her pleasure.

Murtasim was acutely aware of the scent of Meerab's arousal, a fragrance as intoxicating as the roses that were in their room. He savored the moment, letting his breath wash over her, thrilling at her immediate response—a sharp intake of breath and a gasped "Murtasim—" as her hands clutched at the couch fabric.

"Hold my hair," he instructed softly, envisioning this very scenario from his dreams where her fingers would entangle in his hair while her hips moved against his mouth, her voice chanting his name in a crescendo of pleasure.

Obediently, she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him as he planted open-mouthed kisses along her thigh, first on one side then the other, each kiss more insistent. The second time he sucked on her thigh, he felt the tension in her muscles melt away under his touch.

She giggled lightly when he playfully nuzzled her thigh with his beard. "Still prickly?" he asked, voice muffled against her skin.

"N—no," she sighed out, a sound of contentment as his fingers resumed their dance up and down her slick, wet slit. He watched her reactions closely, each flicker of her eyes, each subtle shift of her body language speaking volumes to him.

Then, replacing his teasing fingers with his tongue, he gave a broad, languid stroke up the center of her arousal, the taste of her flooding his senses and eliciting a deep, resonant groan from within him.

She gasped sharply at the new sensation, her grip in his hair tightening instinctively.

He had read and fantasized about this moment—how to pleasure her in just the right way, how to get her to forget everything but his name – he just hoped it worked.

With deliberate, flat strokes of his tongue, he targeted the swollen bundle of nerves with his tongue, flicking it.

"Oh—" she barely managed, her voice a breathy whisper of pleasure.

Alternating his approach, he lapped at her earnestly before flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue, his hands now lifting her thighs to rest over his shoulders, positioning her perfectly to bury his head between her legs.

The sound of her drawn-out moan, full of deep, unabashed pleasure, sent a direct jolt to his cock, straining against the confines of his pajamas.

Her responsive moans and gasps only spurred him on further as he held her thighs firmly, steadying her as she began to writhe under his ministrations. He then sealed his mouth over her clit, sucking gently yet insistently, and the reaction was instant and intense.

Meerab's scream of ecstasy reverberated through the room as her back arched dramatically off the sofa. Her legs tightened almost painfully around his head, and her hands, instead of tangling in his hair, tried to push at him in a futile attempt to manage the overwhelming sensations.

Ignoring her instinctive push, Murtasim wrapped his arms tighter around her thighs, his hands resting on her stomach to hold her steady. He was relentless, groaning against her as he continued to lap, lick, and suck, repeating the motions that sent her spiraling.

Her cries filled the space, "Ah ah ah—Murtasimmmm. Oh—I—plea-pleaseeee uhnnnn," resonating with a passion that matched the storm he was stirring within her.

He switched tactics, alternating between gentle flicks and focused suction on her sensitive clit, driving her further towards the edge. Soon, her body tensed dramatically, her legs clamping around his head like a vise, her hands yanking at his hair as she crossed the threshold into a shattering orgasm.

Her pulsing, her body's rhythmic contracting around the absence of anything but his tongue, was a sight he couldn't see but felt profoundly. He continued his attentions, easing her through the waves of her climax until gradually, her thighs relaxed their grip, and her hands loosened in his hair, signaling the ebb of her intense experience.

Murtasim pulled back slightly, giving Meerab room to catch her breath.

Her appearance was nothing short of ravaged—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, dazed eyes, her hair tousled in every direction. She looked thoroughly undone, wild in a way that struck a deep chord of satisfaction in him.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

Meerab stared at him, seemingly lost in the aftermath.

He carefully lowered her trembling legs from his shoulders, massaging her thighs and calves gently as her feet found the floor.

"Meerab?" he probed again when she only hummed in response.

She nodded finally, a slow smile spreading across her face. It was the kind of smile that told him she was more than okay; she was in a blissful haze.

He couldn't help but snicker, teasing, "So, is this how you stop thinking?"

Her only response was another hum, her mind clearly still reeling.

He chuckled—had she been fully coherent, she would've playfully smacked him for that comment.

It took her a minute to gather herself enough to blink a few times and focus on him. "Are you back?" he jested, a smug pride swelling in his chest for being able to elicit such a reaction from her, perhaps the boys hadn't been all that misguided when they told him to read up.

Meerab shrugged slightly, her gaze shifting away, still visibly overwhelmed by the intensity of her pleasure.

He cupped her face gently, drawing her eyes back to his. "Did you like that?" he asked softly, earnestly needing to know her feelings.

She nodded, the gesture delicate but certain.

"Hm, more of that then," he murmured, pleased with her response.

She bit her bottom lip, a gesture full of thought and a hint of nerves. "Did you... like it?" Her voice was tentative, seeking his affirmation.

He snorted lightly at the question, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Of course, I did. I can prove it to you, stay right here for—" He leaned in closer to her, his breath teasing her skin.

She giggled, a sound full of light and warmth, and leaned forward, pulling him closer.

He complied willingly, crawling back up onto the sofa.

As she cupped his face, there was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes before she decided to kiss him. She pecked his lips lightly at first, pulling back to determine if she liked it, then, reassured by whatever she saw or felt, she dove in for a deeper, more passionate kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

Murtasim's breath hitched as Meerab teasingly let her tongue slip past her lips while they kissed with a renewed hunger, her fingers raking through his hair and then exploring down his back, tracing the muscles that tensed under her touch. As her hands wandered to his chest and then his stomach, he pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, "Here?"

Her nod was quick, her eyes glinting with the same eagerness that pulsed through him. He grinned, breaking away for a moment to stand and push his pajamas down, her giggle filling the air at his hurried movements.

Meerab reached for the throw blanket on the sofa, carefully spreading it over the cushions. He chuckled at her thoughtfulness, half-teasing, "Really?" He loved that she was as protective of the couch they had painstakingly chosen together as she was passionate.

"We can't wash a couch," she pointed out practically, her eyes playful yet serious.

"I'll buy a new couch if we have to," he retorted with a mock-serious tone, stepping one knee onto the sofa for leverage while his other foot remained on the ground, he gently pushed her back down onto the throw. Positioning himself, he grabbed her legs, parting them to make room for himself, his desire flaring visibly.

Without wasting another moment, Murtasim ran his length along her, savoring the feel of her slick heat against him before he plunged into her.

The sensation was even more intense than the first time, a feat he hadn't thought possible. This time there was no gasp of pain from Meerab, only a deep, resonant moan of pure pleasure as her tightness enveloped him completely, her walls stretching wonderfully to accommodate him.

Her reaction was electric, her inner walls clenching tightly around him in a rhythmic dance of pleasure and need. The warmth, the wetness, the perfect tightness enveloped him, driving every thought from his mind except the overwhelming need to move, to feel.

"I love being inside you." He watched, fascinated and intensely aroused, as he pulled back slightly only to thrust forward again, watching himself disappear into her. The sight was nearly enough to undo him, and he shut his eyes for a moment, gathering control over the urge to climax too soon.

With deliberate slowness, Murtasim lifted one of Meerab's legs, pressing kisses up her calf, her knee, along the smooth expanse of her thigh, his hands caressing the soft skin as he moved. Her responses were intoxicating—soft moans and sharp intakes of breath that punctuated the rhythmic sounds of their bodies meeting.

Finding a rhythm, he rolled his hips smoothly, each thrust deeper, eliciting beautiful sounds from Meerab. He was fascinated by how she learned to tighten around him, a skill she seemed to have mastered quickly, her inner muscles clenching in a way that drove him to the brink of madness. The first time she had done it, he had nearly come undone, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming.

Murtasim adjusted their position, lifting both her legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him a deeper angle, eliciting a gasped Murtasimmm from her.

He leaned into her, his thrusts gaining speed and force, driven by the urgent need to feel more, to give more.

Meerab's reactions grew more eager; she thrashed beneath him, her hands clutching at the sofa, at his arms, anywhere she could reach.

The room echoed with the sound of his name falling repeatedly from her lips in a crescendo of moans that matched the sound of skin slapping against skin as he thrust into her.

Each sound she made spurred him on, and he watched her face—flushed with desire, eyes glazed with passion. He matched her moans with his grunts, the air thick with heat.

Her body welcomed him, her legs tightening their grip around him as he moved. As he sped up, the sound of skin against skin filled the air, punctuated by Meerab's increasingly loud declarations of pleasure. Murtasim felt the familiar tightening, the build-up of heat, knowing he was close.

Murtasim, unable to resist the urge to kiss her, shifted back against the plush cushions of the couch, pulling Meerab into his lap without breaking their heated connection. She gasped so loudly as she found herself straddling him again, his cock still buried inside her, their faces inches apart.

He pressed his lips against hers, their kiss desperate.

He captured her moans with his mouth, each kiss as hungry and consuming as the last.

His hands settled firmly on her hips, guiding her to move rhythmically down onto him, facilitating a depth that made both gasp with each descent. He reveled in the feeling of her taking him in completely, her movements becoming more assured and urgent as the heat between them built to an almost unbearable intensity.

Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a gasp that seemed to get bigger every time she sunk onto his cock completely, a shiver running through her body, before she pulled up, repeating the motion again and again.

Murtasim's fingers found her clit, circling it.

Her responses were immediate and intense, her body tightening around him, her movements becoming less rhythmic and more sporadic as she neared her peak. The chant of his name spilled continuously from her lips, each utterance more desperate than the last, vibrating against his lips as he pressed kisses against her lips.

As the tension coiled tighter within them both, Murtasim felt the familiar surge of heat signaling his imminent release. With a few more touches to her most sensitive spots, he pushed her over the edge with him. He emptied himself inside her with a series of deep, grounding thrusts, each one punctuated by her cries of pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of intense pleasure that left them both breathless and shuddering.

As Meerab's head rested gently on Murtasim's shoulder, their bodies remained entwined, with him still buried deep within her. In the quiet aftermath, Murtasim found himself enveloped in a profound sense of contentment that surpassed even their first time together. That initial encounter had left him amazed, but this moment was something entirely different, something more.

The haze of satisfaction clouded his mind, his body felt thoroughly sated, and his heart swelled with the closeness of her. The warmth of her breath against his neck, the gentle weight of her body pressing into his—these sensations resonated deep within his soul.

As they lay there in silence, Murtasim thought to himself with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I could get used to this."

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Murtasim had always prided himself on his composure, on the steady cadence of his gait, the unwavering rhythm of his breath—until the moment he crossed the threshold into their room and caught sight of Meerab.

Breathing—a seemingly involuntary act he had mastered since birth—now felt like a herculean task. He halted, his eyes locking onto Meerab.

Murtasim knew how to breathe, he had been breathing his whole life

For years, he had breathed without a problem

But why was his breath failing him again?

She sat on the sofa in his room at the haveli, bathed in the soft, ambient light that seemed to weave magic into the very air. Meerab was resplendent, draped in a greyish silver lehenga that seemed spun from the very essence of moonbeams. The intricate embroidery shimmered, scattering light across the room as if she were surrounded by a constellation of softly glowing stars. Her attire whispered of starry nights and moonlit serenades, the delicate fabric cascading around her in folds that captured the first light of dawn.

The subtle glint of her jewelry added to her ethereal appearance. The maang tikka on her forehead was a masterpiece in itself, complementing the choker around her neck—both crafted with polished pearls and the lightest touch of gemstones and diamonds. Each piece caught the light, casting prismatic reflections that played across her serene features.

Murtasim, though having witnessed Meerab's beauty countless times before, found himself at a loss, grappling with a sudden breathlessness.

It was a paradox that wove itself around his thoughts—why, when he had memorized her features as one does a favorite verse of poetry, did she strike him with such force now? As he watched her, this question danced at the edge of his reasoning, but no answer would suffice.

Caught off-guard by the intensity of his feelings and unable to find an answer to his musings, a deep, resonant groan of admiration escaped him. It was a sound filled with such depth of emotion, so raw and genuine, that it echoed softly in the room. Meerab turned towards the sound, her face breaking into a knowing, gentle smile that acknowledged his unspoken praise.

Murtasim approached Meerab, the sound of his steps echoing his inner turmoil. As he finally stood before her, his words flowed with ease, heartfelt and sincere. "You look beautiful," he confessed, each syllable heavy with the weight of his admiration.

She flashed him a radiant grin, her eyes sparkling with affection. "You look very handsome yourself," she responded, her voice light and teasing.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Murtasim leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know we can't possibly go out with you looking like this."

Meerab arched an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And why is that?"

He closed the distance between them, his breath mingling with hers. "Because, meri jaan, if we step outside with you looking like this, everyone will fall hopelessly in love with you, and then what will I do?"

Her laughter rang out, clear and light-hearted. "You're so cheesy, Murtasim."

But Murtasim was undeterred, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Maybe we should just stay here...and we can learn how to have sex with you wearing all of that." His grin widened, playful yet laden with desire.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she playfully swatted at him, her eyes alight with mock indignation. "Stop," she admonished, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

"I can't," he groaned, his voice thick with longing.

"Are you not tired?" she asked, one eyebrow arching gracefully.

He had spent two days buried inside her multiple times a day – and it was not even close to enough.

Shaking his head, Murtasim began to loosen his tie, his gaze locked on hers. "Never too tired for this," he murmured.

She made a soft, intrigued sound as she stood up, her hand reaching out to grasp his. "Don't," she chided.

Murtasim chuckled softly, wrapping his other arm around her, his hand finding the small of her back. "We can be quick," he muttered, pulling her flush against him, their bodies aligning perfectly as if they were two halves of a whole.

"Murtasim," she sighed, her voice carrying a blend of admonishment and affection.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Murtasim leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "You could be screaming that in minutes." The suggestion hung in the air, charged with an electric tension.

Shaking her head, Meerab gave his arm a playful whack. "You're impossible," she declared, though her eyes danced with laughter.

He glanced toward the plush bed of his bedroom—a space that had harbored countless fantasies of her. "The bed is right there, there's a lock on the door," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "I've always wanted to have you right here." His confession was more than just a moment of lust; it was a revelation of his deepest yearnings, rooted in the very place where thoughts of her had first tormented him.

"Murtasim!" Meerab whined, her cheeks flushing.

"A kiss at least," he bargained, his gaze softening as he admired her beauty.

She shook her head, her fingers instinctively touching her meticulously done makeup. "You can't ruin my makeup," she protested lightly.

He let out a groan of frustration, the sound muffled by his longing. Meerab's laughter rang out, light and teasing, as she added, "Until after the walima."

His expression transformed from one of mock despair to a broad grin at her words. Accepting the temporary truce, he stepped back and offered his arm gallantly. "Let's go, meri jaan, to our walima. The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave."

As they walked through the haveli, resplendent with flowers and shimmering lights, Murtasim felt the weight of the moment settle around him, anchored by the gentle grasp of Meerab's hand around his bicep. They moved together, her elegance matched by his pride, each step a silent declaration of their union. "I love you," he murmured, his voice low, meant only for her, as he glanced down into her eyes.

Meerab looked up at him, her face lit by a smile that could outshine every shining light. "I love you too," she replied, her eyes sparkling with the depth of her emotions, clearly a woman deeply in love.

On stage, surrounded by the gentle murmur of well-wishers and the soft clinking of glasses, they seemed ensconced in their own perfect bubble. Even as guests approached to offer their congratulations, Murtasim and Meerab remained absorbed in each other, their connection palpable. They sat close, their sides touching, unconsciously leaning towards one another.

Despite his mother's gentle admonitions from earlier about maintaining decorum, Murtasim found himself repeatedly reaching out to touch Meerab, his fingers interlacing with hers, his lips finding her forehead in tender kisses.

The murmurs of "I knew it" from village acquaintances who had watched their love story unfold over summers past did little to distract Murtasim. He heard the whispers, the barely veiled surprise, and the congratulations tinged with the satisfaction of having guessed right, but none of it mattered. There, in the whirl of their wedding celebration, with Meerab by his side, he was content.

In the midst of a particularly heartfelt congratulation from a distant relative, Meerab leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, "I want gulab jamun." The simplicity of her request, so mundane yet so endearing, made him chuckle warmly.

Without a moment's hesitation, he signaled to Maryam who was standing to the side. "Meri biwi ke liye gulab jamun, please." He asked his sister.

Maryam giggled, "how long are you going to call her meri biwi, bhai?" She teased.

"Forever." He grinned.

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A/N: Soooooooo, what do you think? Hehehehehe. 

This will be the final "normal" chapter. Meri Musibat will be wrapping up by mid-May, so after this chapter, you can expect eight shorter "epilogue chapters" posted at 12pm EST every couple of days from April 26 to May 15 as follows: Chapter 31 - Murtasimbakri's POV; Chapter 32 - 24, 27; Chapter 33 - 25, 28; Chapter 34 - 26, 29; Chapter 35 - 27, 30; Chapter 36 - 28, 31; Chapter 37 - 30, 33; Chapter 38 - 80, 83. 

And after that we'll have to say goodbye to Meri Musibat! I have a couple of other fics in the pipeline (which I've mentioned on Twitter), so after finishing up MM, I'll focus on UM, and then Dhaagey. After which, I'll post my next work, "The Fourth Choice"!