✨Aster✨

Patience wasn't her strong suite.. Not about the man she wanted anyways. How could she hold off when he was right there, in front of herself, looking like a dream come true? With his gunmetal jaw, lion's heart and iron fist he ruled Karachi with - she wasn't God's strongest warrior, not in this aspect at least..

And her body was her biggest enemy, as a healthy woman, ovulation came once a month, and in that whole week she wanted to bury herself inside his ribs and never let go.. There was something about Hamza Ali Mazari that burnt away her inhibitions..

She was sitting in their shared bedroom, he was gone - some work or other, she didn't ask about it, but that didn't mean she didn't miss him.. In fact she did, very much, even when she finally got up and went to work around the house, duating this, organizing that, she felt a hollow ache in her chest, making her pick up the phone and dial his number.

"Aap kaha ho?" (𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?)

His voice seeped into her ear like spiced honey, coddling, a bit exasperated.

"Kaam pe aya hu jaan, kyu kya hua?" (𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?)

"Kab tak ghar aoge!?" (𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬?)

She whined, impatience bubbling in her gut. His chuckle almost made her shiver, and his words set her skin on fire.

"Aa jaunga, sabr karo.. Sabr ka phal meetha hota hai na?" (𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘯𝘰?)

She hung up with a huff, muttering complaints into the air.

"Biwi ke liye koi time hi nahi hai_" (𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦..)

Later that afternoon, she was folding the laundry, the day catching up to her, making her limbs feel heavier.. She took his black kurta, the one he wore around the house when he stayed in, and brought it to her chest, face nuzzling the soft collar.. Even with the scent of laundry detergent, his smell - of aged leather, expensive cigarettes and gunpowder, something uniquely his, permeated down her throat and settled heavy in her lungs, making her sigh.. The dull tingle at the base of her spine was back, making heat rush to her cheeks.. She lied down, hugging his pillow, still soaked in his scent and the trace of his warmth. Now, Hamza had a strict rule about pleasing herself, that's what he was there for.. But what he didn't know, wouldn't hurt him - she thought, placing the pillow between her thighs, her hips rolling, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine.

Hamza got home earlier that day, carrying a bouquet of flowers to make up for her earlier grumpyness, but as soon as he locked the door behind him, he was greeted by the unmistakable sounds of her whimpers from the bedroom, making his blood jolt in his veins before redirecting it's flow towards his crotch. He stood at the door to the bedroom, smiling slightly at the fact that his sweet wife hadn't yet noticed, frustrated at not being able to come, he had ruined her for anyone, or in this case, anything else.

"Rok nahi payi?" (𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧?)

His voice was so mockingly soft that it made her jerk up, kicking the pillow away.

"Hamza_!? Tum itni jaldi_matlab.." (𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘻𝘢!? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺_𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯..)

He chuckled, walking over to the side of the bed, tilting her chin up, her face was perfect. Pricks of tears in her doe eyes from frustration, face flushed and lips pulled in a little pout. He leaned in, whispering.

"Ab meri biwi ne bulaya hai toh.. Aur ake yeh nazara bhi dekhne ko mil gaya." (𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘴𝘰.. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰)

She shoved him playfully, huffing.

"Aap jao! Bohot bure ho.." (𝘎𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺! 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯..)

He hummed, already focused on tugging her kaftan off. She gasped as he flipped her on all fours, taking his own clothes off.. Usually he'd be meaner if he caught her touching herself, but not today, he knew what she needed, and it wasn't teasing.

Hamza nipped at her shoulder, pulling her towards him by the hips as he sheathed himself inside her, her velvety walls wrapping around him like a vice as she mewled, fists clenching the sheets. He wrapped a hand around her from underneath, strong, secure like a metal band as he started moving in urgent thrusts - not gentle, not too rough either. She whined and moaned everytime the crown on his length nudged against the spongy flesh of her cervix, making her collapse face first into the mattress, drooling as he hiked her ass up in the air by her thighs.

"Maine kaha tha na? Sabr ka phal meetha hote hai? Dekha?" (𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵? 𝘚𝘦𝘦?)

The growl in his voice made her clench around him, her syrupy interiors oozing slick as she rolled her hips back greedily.

"Hamza_ Hamza please!" She begged, her pleasured sob coming out choked

"Let it go" He whispered in her ear, hips grinding down to reach deeper.

She came with a squeal, hand going behind herself to dig her nails into the soft flesh of his waist, anchoring him inside her.

"Yeh kya kar_" (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰_)

His question died halfway as he groaned, spilling deep inside her. One look at her smug, lazy little smile told him everything he needed to know, she'd planned this, hoping to get him come inside her, make a baby with the man he loved.. He chuckled, kissing the sweat slicked back of her neck.

"Mujhe bol sakti thi." (𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦)

He whispered, pulling out, only to push in the trickle of their mixed essence inside her warm cunt with a thumb.. She munbled, spent, satisfied and now tired.

"Sabr kar rahi thi, Hamza saab.." (𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘻𝘢)