Orphic (#1 in the Hajar series)

forty-two

THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER IM SCREAAAAMING SIS i hAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS boOK

ALSO THIS CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE AWKWARD HAH I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE THIS KINDA STUFF

please enjoy and vote and comment 😘🤠🤩

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chapter fourty two - amatory

song of the chapter ; its you - zayn

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ISRAFIL COULD FEEL his heart pounding in his chest, his limbs feeling light and loose as Farah's fingers curled around his neck to bring him closer. Slowly, as if she were almost timid, she leaned back and pulled him down even further, forcing the both of them to fall onto the bed without breaking the kiss. He carefully balanced himself on his forearms, careful not to apply his weight to her own body.

She tilted her head slightly, and her black hair sprawled around her face, creating a dark halo, accentuating the faint gold luminescence emphasizing the highlights of her high cheekbones. He broke away for a moment to catch a breath, and froze once he caught sight of her. Israfil inhaled sharply, his darkened eyes scanning over her facial features.

Farah felt her skin burn with bashfulness, "What?" She asked, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

She was a fucking siren. Some type of mythological creature to make him fall in love to the point where he forgot his own name. Everything about her was beautiful, devilishly so. And how could he not fall under his spell, especially with the way she was looking at him?

Fuck me, Israfil hummed to himself.

"You're so beautiful," He breathed before pressing his lips to her own again, basking in the feeling of her against him. Israfil wasn't sure how long they were kissing for, but he was lost in the movements. His kisses fell from her lips to her jaw, and down her throat. Farah's mouth parted slightly, allowing her to exhale shakily when she felt the skim of teeth along her collarbone.

When one of his hands left its position from beside her head and went to the hem of her shirt, she paused. Sensing her hesitance, he halted in his tracks, waiting for her to say something. Anything. He hoped he hadn't overstepped, he would scold himself endlessly if that were the case.

"Israfil," She whispered, "I want to-- I really want to, but-" She gazed at the ceiling, hating the way she felt as if she were about to cry. "It's ugly."

"Farah," He murmured gently, "Look at me." When she looked at him, her eyes glassy and glazed with emotion, he felt something inside of him break and shift. He wiped a tear as it fell down the side of her cheek, not allowing it to soak into the bedsheets. "Nothing about you could ever be ugly," Israfil felt his stomach drop to the floor. The room was quiet and the air was heavy as she panted slightly in anxiousness.