Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The city was a fever dream, its asphalt still shimmering with the day's captured heat, and the air in the apartment was thick and still. He stood by the open window, the distant neon signs painting his silhouette in fleeting hues of rose and gold. When his hand found the small of my back, the touch was a brand, a searing point of contact that made my breath catch. I leaned into him, my forehead resting against his shoulder, inhaling the warm, clean scent of his skin mixed with the city's distant perfume of rain on hot concrete. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up my spine, a silent question that my entire body answered with a tremble. Our eyes met, and in that suspended moment, the noisy world outside faded into a hushed, expectant silence. A single, slow tear traced a path down my cheek, not of sorrow, but of an overwhelming, terrifying joy. He caught it with his thumb, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that felt like a physical anchor. My hands framed his face, feeling the strong line of his jaw tighten under my palms as he leaned closer. In that breath before our lips met, the universe contracted to the mere space between our two yearning hearts.
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