Dedicated to sree10

He was always detail oriented, always too concerned about lights, angles or texture. He loved his art like a mother her babies, so Gauri had to reconfirm if she had heard him correctly.

"Us?" She repeated. "You want to let me paint?" She pointed vaguely at the paints and brushes. "You're actually letting me touch these stuff?"

He watched her for another minute, arms crossed and face blank. His wife looked so beautiful when she was excited, her eyes shinning and round - just like a little kid. She clasped her tiny palms together and her petite frame twirled on the spot, trying to captured many things at once with that curious gaze of hers, trying to see more than she could. She was so pure, completely untouched by the bitterness of the world, he adored that and at the same time it overwhelmed him. How exactly did they end up together? What exactly had he done that he was rewarded with an angel?

He crossed the space between them in few long strides and back hugged her, letting his chin rest on her shoulder, their cheeks touching. Even without seeing, he knew she had her eyes closed, he could feel the way her body molded to his filling the gaps his frame had left out, before stilling into that embrace, the sense of togetherness. Lacing his fingers with hers, he picked up her hand to their eye level, letting the diamond on her ring finger catch the light, before breathing against her ear.

"Peheli baar tum ne humse kuch maanga, aise todi mana kar tha," he felt shivers running down her spine as he spoke, her cheeks were turning crimson - just the shade he loved.

"Omkara?" Her tone was mild yet doubtful. "Humne sahi kiya na? Aise shaadi kar ke? Everyone back at home are so excited with having that grand marriage ceremony for us and here we -" She gulped, and turned in his arms to look into his eyes.

"Gauri," he imitated her tone, gripping her hands in his. They were cold he noticed distantly, contrasting against the warmth of his own - like fire and ice. "Marriage is not for them,  it is for you and I. My life is yours and your life mine, the world and their rituals can go to hell." She chuckled nervously at that,  returning her smile, he continued seriously. "My family can get crazy at times - you do know that. They live more for the world than themselves, had we left this most important moment of our lives to them, they'd have made a circus out of it. I don't want that. I don't want them to force you into a million dollar worth trousseau that suffocates you and hope that you keep smiling and acting like a proper kandhani bhahu. I know you didn't say anything but the past few weeks had been a torture. I don't want to hurt you, not even for the sake of my own people."

Her eyes simply brimmed over and she couldn't help but caress his face. He caught her wrist and kissed her fingertips, one at a time, never letting go of their locked gazes.

"Why do you love me so much?" She wondered softly. He knew the life had not given her many reasons to think so highly of herself, or to believe that she deserved a lot more than she was getting. His Gauri - was always so humble. "What am I to do with all this love?"

"You don't have to do anything," he breathed against her, touching her forehead to his. "Just let me love you, let yourself be loved."

He always had a way with words, always trapped her in them. It was a different, intoxicating feeling - to know that you're confined - and enjoy the it. She had been always crazy for him, everything about him. That deep husky voice and those intense words, he could claim her life with them had he wanted to. But Gauri was not so oblivious, there were other things that he wanted.

"So this is my wedding gift?" She tried to distract both of them. "You're going to let me paint with you?"

He shook his head mildly, smiled at her.

"The gift is a little bigger," he said secretively.

"What is it then?" she wondered curiously. He crooked an eyebrow but said no more as her eyes traveled the room. The lights had been dimmed, leaving a circle of amber right where they stood. The walls had his work on them, a distinct door to the right leading into the bedroom. There were paintings processed to various stages, canvases rolled and stacked, sculptures haunting them like a silent crowd of spies. Finally her eyes returned to his, he was grinning now. Understanding dawned slowly and her face reddened a little. "Oh!" she said looking anywhere but at him. "It's you."

His fingers drummed on her skin as he drew her close. She hid her head in his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I've never let anyone touch my work before they are done." His words were slow and clear. "My art is my passion, it is what I am Gauri." He gripped her shoulders and distanced her a little, so that he could look into her eyes. "And I am yours now, with all virtues and vices."

She no more knew what was there to be said. It was his words again, touching her heart in its deepest, pulling her towards him irrevocably. Stepping in to the circle of his arms, she caressed his throat - the highest she could reach - and spoke, the intensity of love she felt for him, chocking on her words.

"Show me how its done."

The cold paint and his warm touch created a tingling contrast on her skin as he directed her to dip her hand in the tray of thick red and smudge it on the canvas. There was no art in it yet, just a blotch in the emptiness. His palms slid down the length of her arm, leaving her too sensitive skin burning against the cold air. His lips touched her just behind the ear. The black melted to the red, and deepened against blue. He left out some whites and smoothed the rest, the colors seamlessly merging against one another. His hands were too experienced, both on the canvas and on her body, Gauri thought incoherently breathing against his lips, as they broke apart from a deep kiss.

He seemed to know what she wanted, before her own heart had acknowledged it. His hands traced her curves, some times too gentle - making her whimper with need, some times insistent, reaching out to expose more skin to his touch. Her own fingers had a mind of their own as they trailed down paths on his chest, wondered across his abs, dug into his firm muscles, smoothed the plains of his back. He showed her how to stroke the details into the canvas, the lines curving and disappearing into a maze of colors and at the same time stroked the flames of her desire, his lips following the lead of his fingers.

They shared a breath and his tongue traced her lips. His hand reaching under the thick curtain of her hair to support her neck, his other palm running up and down her arm. He dipped her down bearing her against the cold floor. His own body holding her anchored, as she clung to his shoulders afraid of her own heartbeat. She gasped as the velvety tip of his tongue parted her lips and gently moved in to explore her warm mouth, opening up to her in return. He tasted like mint and dew drenched spring mornings, that very essence made her heady, drunk on his love. Her body arched up, head falling back, exposing the column of her throat for his warm mouth to explore. He took it all, his own heart skipping several beats. With the last bit of power he held over himself, Omkara raised himself, bearing his weight on his elbows and looked at her. Her eyes were no longer brown, they were coal black, shimmering in a glow of blue like midnight. That passion, the absolute trust almost undid him, he reached in and caressed her cheek.

"Painting can wait," he whispered softly and stood up swiftly, taking her with him. Her arms wound around his neck and she looked deeply into his, nodding gently as she laid her burning cheek against his neck.

 They never broke that eye contact, as they read each others soul. Both knew things were about to change forever, but they had reached that unspoken agreement a long time ago. Each had seeped into the very fabric of the other's being that an existence void of the other was not a possibility anymore. The searing desires burned down their individual realities as they became one, hands caressing, lips molding, and souls entwined they breathed each other in. The zenith of their passion was a beautiful chaos, he thought as she shattered in his arms, his name a chant on her lips.

It was his last sensible thought, before losing himself to that very chaos. Their heartbeat rhymed, like a timeless sonata. A song, words of which both of them had forgotten and the melody resonated in their pulse, finally finding its missing note. Two puzzle pieces finally clicking together, two soulmates finally finding home.

"Gauri..." her name was somewhere within his soul, the very part of it he had been missing all along. "Gauri, Gauri Gauri.."

**

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Sakura