Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading afternoon sun cast long, golden fingers through the window, gilding the dust motes dancing in the still air. His gaze was a tangible warmth upon her skin, a silent question that made her breath catch. Slowly, his hand rose, his knuckles barely grazing the line of her jaw in a whisper of a touch. A shiver traced the path his fingers took down the column of her throat, a delicate map of rising sensation. Her eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the language his touch spoke, a dialect of pure, unspoken devotion. He traced the elegant curve of her shoulder, his palm a comforting weight that seeped into her very bones. Every point of contact felt like a spark, igniting a quiet fire that bloomed beneath her skin. She leaned into his solid strength, her forehead finding solace against his, their shared breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. In that hushed stillness, the world narrowed to this single, profound conversation of caresses. It was a silent symphony composed of heartbeats and the tender exploration of two souls remembering their way home.
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