Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The moon cast long, silver fingers through the window, illuminating the delicate space between us. His gaze was a tangible warmth, a slow caress that made my skin hum with anticipation. I watched the steady rhythm of his breathing, a silent language my own body yearned to answer. A single finger traced the line of my jaw, a whisper of a touch that sent shivers cascading down my spine. The air itself grew thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and our shared, unspoken longing. My hand found his, our fingers intertwining in a silent promise that felt more intimate than any kiss. Every slight shift, every shared glance, was a new verse in this quiet, aching poem we were writing together. I leaned into the solid comfort of his shoulder, feeling the world narrow to this single, breathless moment. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of surrender, but of profound recognition, as if my soul had finally found its harbor. In that suspended silence, our hearts beat a frantic, synchronized rhythm against the quiet of the night.
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