Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The moon cast its silver glow through the open window, painting our skin in shades of pearl and shadow. His gaze held mine, a silent question answered by the slight, trusting part of my lips. His fingers, tracing the line of my jaw, were like a sculptor learning the curves of his most cherished marble. A shiver, delicate as a falling petal, traced its way down my spine as he leaned closer, his breath a warm caress against my neck. The world narrowed to this single, breathless point, where the only sound was the frantic rhythm of my heart echoing in the quiet room. Every gentle touch was a whispered promise, a language spoken only through the warmth of his palms against the small of my back. I felt myself melting into his embrace, a slow surrender to the rising tide of feeling that threatened to pull me under. My own hands found the strong plane of his shoulders, anchoring me in the dizzying, beautiful storm of his affection. A soft sigh escaped me, not of words, but of pure, unfiltered emotion, a sound of complete and utter belonging. In that suspended moment, we were not two people, but a single, beating heart wrapped in the moon's tender light.
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