His breathe. Warm and intoxicating, it fell along the valley of her neck, giving its own kiss to sooth her burning skin before his lips came lighting the exact spot back on fire.
Her breath. Ragged and enchanting, lured him down further, though he had wanted to respect her wishes about waiting till marriage. No he couldn't stop, not now. They were married, for all her cared. Bound together by strings of faith if not by the strings of the mangalsutra he had tied around her neck.
It was all material promises anyway. The ring, the mehendi, the sindoor, the mangalsutra. They meant nothing for him. He had already made her his, and she had already made him her's. He had promised her everything, especially more than anything that seven pheres would offer her. He had made her his in all ways which mattered to him. If not by the bonds of the Gods she believed in, they had united by bonds of love in which she - and now he- believed in.
That was all that was necessary. She was all that was necessary.
Her fingers curled around the sweater he wore, the sudden feeling of desire scaring her. Yet she wanted it. She wanted to take the risk, plunge into the ecstasy it offered, and lose herself to him. Not that she hadn't already, yet somehow every moment she spend with him gave him more of her. And he unknowingly took, feeding on the love she radiated, so she held her stance.
Moving her body up slowly, she kissed him on the cheek. Slow and lingering, she let herself enjoy the sensations that shook her to her core. He had given her so much, she had to return something. Mustering everything she had, her lips moved down to the ones they so desperately wished to meet. He made no move, held steady and let her make the decision. The confidence evaded her and she hid into the comforts of his chest, hiding herself.
Yet the fire had been lighted and the flames were only being fed. In a matter of minutes, they were back where they started. Drinking in each other's breaths as they moved closer and closer. He wanted all of her. She wanted all of him.
His hand moved slowly, snaking a blazing trail along her bare back. His fingers connected with her dori and he pulled it, slowly, letting her know what was waiting. The flames had consumed them, charring any thoughts of the virtues she so dearly held onto.
She brought herself as close as she could, her eyes resting on his lips in anticipation. He had to take the lead now and he so gladly did. Never breaking the gaze he moved in, decreasing the inches that kept them apart for so long.
The most beautiful things in life were not seen, but felt.
And he reached the oasis he so desperately seeked. She fell into the ecstasy of the feelings that only he could conjure. Their lips met, greeting each other with the warmth and affection only lovers shared.
They were lovers indeed. Bound by everything they held dear. She thanked her Devi for him, she thanked the weavers of faith. He thanked his Devi, the one that had so readily fought to be with him. He would worship her tonight, every night. For once in his life, he had found someone to have faith in.
As the fire turned into inferno, all coherent thoughts leaving them both, they functioned only on the raw sense of passion. As his hands removed everything that hid her from him, no objection or signs of hesitation visible from her side, she let herself receive what he had to offer. They both took as much as the other gave.
For in the folds of the moments that followed, only the intimacy of star crossed lovers resonated. The radiance of their affection, charring everything in its path.
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