Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The evening air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, a sweet perfume that clung to our skin as we moved in the dim light of the room. Her fingers, trembling slightly, traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that made my breath catch in my throat. I could feel the frantic rhythm of her heart answering the wild drumming of my own, a silent conversation pulsing between our bodies. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a sound more intimate than any name, as I let my hand rest gently on the small of her back, drawing her closer. The world outside our shared warmth ceased to exist, the only reality being the soft rustle of fabric and the heat radiating from her skin. Every glance was a confession, every hesitant touch a question that found its answer in the yielding softness of our embrace. I watched the candlelight dance in her eyes, seeing entire constellations of unspoken promises swirling within their depths. The space between our lips vanished, not in haste, but in a slow, inevitable surrender that tasted of longing and sweet wine. In that suspended moment, we were not two separate beings but a single, breathing entity woven from shared vulnerability and aching tenderness. It was a silent sonnet composed of racing pulses and whispered breaths, a perfect, fragile world built just for us.
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