Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The late afternoon sun bled honey-gold through the window, catching in the delicate dust motes dancing above the vase of peonies on the mahogany table. Their heavy, blushing heads seemed to pulse with a quiet, secret life, each velvet-soft petal a silent invitation. He watched her from across the room, her fingers hovering just above the fullest bloom, not quite touching, yet feeling its radiant warmth. A slow, soft sigh escaped her lips as she finally let her fingertips trace the impossible curve where the deepest crimson faded to the palest shell-pink. Her eyes fluttered closed, a faint, tremulous smile gracing her mouth as if she were listening to a whispered secret only she could hear. The intoxicating, sweet-spicy fragrance of the flowers wrapped around them both, a tangible presence in the hushed room. He moved closer, his shadow falling over her, and she leaned back into the solid warmth of his chest without a word. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple, a ghost of a touch that made her shiver. In that suspended moment, the line between her body and the flower’s sublime beauty seemed to blur and dissolve completely. They stood there, wrapped in the silent, blooming language of a desire too profound for words.
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