Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The city slept under a blanket of distant, silver stars, but in the quiet of our room, the world was alive and pulsing. His fingers, tracing the line of my collarbone, spoke a language older and more honest than any words we had ever shared. A slow, deep warmth began to uncoil within me, spreading like liquid sunlight through my veins with every gentle pass of his hand. I felt my breath catch, a soft, shaky thing, as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine in a silent question. My own hands found the solid strength of his shoulders, anchoring me in the dizzying, beautiful freefall of the moment. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken poetry of our racing heartbeats and shallow breaths. When his lips finally met mine, it was not a conquest, but a quiet surrender, a key turning in a lock I hadn't known was closed. A low, contented sigh escaped me, lost against his skin, as every nerve ending sang a chorus of pure, undiluted feeling. In that breathless space, I was both utterly found and completely unbound, a constellation mapped only by his tender touch. The world outside had vanished, leaving only this sacred, shimmering truth between us.
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