Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The evening air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and damp earth, clinging to our skin like a whispered promise. His hand found mine, not with urgency, but with a slow certainty that made my breath catch. Our fingers laced together, a silent language of their own speaking volumes in the twilight. I could feel the steady, reassuring thrum of his pulse where his wrist pressed against mine, a rhythm that seemed to sync with my own racing heart. He leaned in, and his breath warmed my neck, a ghost of a touch that sent shivers cascading down my spine. When his lips finally met mine, it was a soft exploration, a tender question met with my yielding answer. The world narrowed to this single, suspended moment, the rustling leaves providing a hushed soundtrack to our intimacy. I felt the solid strength of his shoulder beneath my palm, an anchor in the rising tide of my emotions. A soft sigh escaped me, not of surrender, but of a profound, aching recognition of a long-awaited homecoming. In that fragrant, shadowed bower, we were the only two souls, woven together by the quiet magic of the falling night.
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