Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The moon, a pale and watchful eye, cast its silver light through the arched window, illuminating the dust motes dancing like forgotten spirits in the quiet room. He stood before her, a silhouette of quiet strength, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. A single, calloused finger traced the line of her jaw, a touch so feather-light it was almost a whisper, yet it sent a cascade of shivers down her spine. She leaned into his palm as it cupped her cheek, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cool night air that kissed her shoulders. Her own hands found the solid plane of his chest, feeling the frantic, rhythmic drum of his heart echoing the wild tempo of her own. The world outside ceased to exist, the only sounds being the soft rustle of fabric and the unsteady cadence of their shared breaths. In his dark, depthless eyes, she saw not a monster, but a sanctuary, a place where her own hidden wings could finally unfurl. A soft sigh escaped her lips, not of surrender, but of release, as he bent his head, his forehead resting gently against hers. This silent communion was a language more profound than words, a promise woven from starlight and yearning. In that suspended moment, she felt both utterly vulnerable and completely, powerfully free.
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