Unwrapping
Arnav took his top lip between his teeth, watching as the digital clock on his phone sluggishly ticked over.
11:56pm.
He held a red rose between his fingers; a cutting carefully taken from the garden that lay outside their bedroom just a few minutes ago. They were at the farmhouse, as had become their habit for special occasions and those rare weekends when he wasn't working.
Their bedroom was lit with the soft glow of two dozen white candles. A platter of rose petals rested on the bedside table, next to a small container of jalebis he'd made himself. A black and white photo from their wedding hung above the bed, framed in simple black. Khushi was grinning, gazing up at him with undisguised love and adoration as he carried her into Shantivan.
Three minutes.
He sat on the edge of their bed, drinking in the sight of his wife as she slumbered. On the other side of the room, on a table decorated with a string of fairy lights, sat a small cake. Minuscule. Only big enough for four tiny slices.
Arnav shifted his weight, yawning, and froze when Khushi mumbled a protest in her sleep.
"Ssshhhh," he smoothed her fringe away from her face.
Smiling, Khushi snuggled into his hand, and he smiled as a memory surfaced.
Next year, I'll take her to Nainital. Maybe we'll actually make it there.
He sat there, lost in his memories, until his phone buzzed.
Midnight.
Leaning forward, he kissed Khushi's forehead.
"Happy birthday, Khushi."
She stirred, but didn't wake.
"Wake up," he murmured, running his fingers lightly over her eyes, "Khushi."
"Arnav-ji."
Khushi took his name in her sleep as she rolled over. The blanket slipped, revealing the white nightgown she wore. Desire pulsed in his veins, sudden and potent. She looked so pure, so innocent, sodelicately pretty in white.
"Wake up, Khushi."
Drawing the sheet aside slightly, Arnav traced the rose over his wife's eyelids.
He trailed the soft petals over her cheeks, her nose, her lips. He kissed her, and pulled away when she started to respond in her sleep. The rose resumed its explorations, sweeping along her jaw and down her neck. Across her shoulders, skipping over the thin straps of her gown, and then lower. He skimmed her ribs before circling her navel, peeling the sheets away to reveal more of her.
The gown ended at her knees, but had ridden up to her thighs in her sleep. Arnav smiled as he guided the rose along her leg. He traced random patterns across her knee, down to her ankle, and then worked his way up the other leg.
Khushi whimpered. He watched as her eyes flickered. She whispered his name as the rose journeyed under her gown, and slowly, her eyes opened. Blinking sleepily, she looked around the room, taking in the candles and cake, but only woke fully when she registered him sitting beside her, the rose in his hand still caressing her inner thigh.
"What are you doing?" her hand clamped around his wrist, stilling him and the rose.
"Happy birthday."
He set the rose on the table before leaning towards her. Khushi gasped into his kiss, and his desire threatened to ignite. The antics with the rose had served to fan his own yearning more than awaken hers. But they knew each other now, had learnt to read one another's smallest gestures, so he smiled as she bit his bottom lip gently. A silent invitation.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Arnav deepened their kiss as he stretched out next to her. His hands retraced the path of the rose, and she hissed before responding in kind, sliding her hands over and under his night shirt. One of them groaned, but the sound was lost as he whipped her gown over her head. His shirt soon followed.
Pulling him closer, Khushi kissed him hungrily as she battled with the ties on his pants. At her growl of frustration, his own hands joined hers, working the knot with a fire that matched hers. When all the barriers between them were gone, Arnav explored his wife's pleasures, relishing her sounds. He arranged her pliant body gently, but stilled at her soft whisper.
"Arnav. Is it your birthday, or mine?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is there something you want?"
Khushi reddened, batting him away gently. He refused to move.
"Tell me."
He traced patterns into her skin as he waited, and when no response came, brushed his fingers over her cheek and jaw.
"Tell me, birthday girl."
Pulling him down, Khushi hid her face against his neck. She trembled as she whispered what she wanted into his ear.
A long, long while later, Arnav covered her with the sheets as she rested her head on his shoulder, her body wrapped around his.
"We should celebrate your birthday every night," he suggested.
Khushi gave an embarrassed giggle as she swatted at him. "Shameless!"
"I do my best ..."
"Is there cake?" Khushi asked, one hunger apparently replacing another.
"Cake and jalebi from me, and Aarav is making you breakfast in bed in the morning."
"Arnav-ji! Why are you ruining his surprise?"
"Because you snuck into the kitchen and ruined the surprise on Mother's Day."
"Oh."
"Yeah," he grinned, dropping a kiss onto her hair, "Do you want the cake or jalebi first?"
"Do you have to ask?"
They ate the jalebi in bed, Khushi moaning as she bit into a spiral. His sweet-making had greatly improved under her careful tutelage.
And later, when they'd cleaned each other of any and all errant crumbs and indulged in a distractionor two, Arnav slid out of their bed. He pulled on his pants, handed Khushi her gown, and politely turned away as she dressed. She joined him at the small table as he lit a candle on her cake.
"Chocolate?"
"I tried to convince them to make a jalebi flavoured cake," he joked, earning playful pinch.
He caught her up, kissing her and whispering another birthday wish against her lips, "Happy birthday, baby. I wish you every happiness, every success. Aarav and I love you so much."
Smiling through tears, Khushi thanked him with a kiss before turning to her cake. They cut it together, feeding each other amidst long, languorous kisses. She giggled and bounced in his arms.
"Where's my gift?"
"Weren't you paying attention earlier?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
Scandalised, Khushi gasped as she pushed him away. Arnav chuckled, twirling her so she rested against him. They swayed to some unheard music.
"I hid them in the room earlier. There are three packages. You can look for them in the morning."
She sprang away, rushing to the wardrobe and ignoring his attempts to recapture her. Khushi found the package easily. She sat on the edge of their bed, running her fingers over the wrapping – plain, bright yellow – before carefully opening it. The soft material of the sari slipped through her fingers as she examined it. Red, of course, but with a bright yellow pallu. Grinning, Khushi started to thank him, but he waved her into silence.
"Two more packages," he reminded her.
She found matching bangles and a jewelry set in another package under his bedside table. Arnav lounged on the bed, watching his wife hunt for the third and last package.
"Where is it?" she asked eventually, her hands on her hips as she came to stand in front of him.
Smirking, Arnav pointed to himself.
"I can't unwrap you!" Khushi's eyebrows came together in a frown.
"You can, but that's not what I meant."
She blushed. He held out a hand and tugged her onto his lap when she slid her palm against his.
"Your last present is me," he murmured into her hair, "in Lucknow, for two weeks. With you, your Amma and Babu-ji, and Bua-ji."
"Really?!"
"The train tickets are in an envelope behind the TV."
She bounded away, retrieving the envelope before settling back into his lap. Khushi hugged him close, mumbling her thanks before trailing kisses along his neck, his jaw, his lips.
He fell back onto the bed, taking her with him.
Author's Note:
Although I originally envisioned this piece to be more explicit than Not Making Love, I loved the idea of leaving exactly what they did unexplored and instead focussing on Khushi's comfort with sharing her desires and fantasies with her husband.
I love the way this turned out :D
My favourite line is "I can't unwrap you!"