Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, trembling shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes that danced in the heavy, warm air between us. His gaze was a tangible weight, a soft pressure that made my breath catch and my skin hum with a quiet electricity. I watched the slow, deliberate journey of his hand as it rose, his fingers hovering just a breath from my cheek before finally making contact. The touch was a whisper, a brand of exquisite heat that sent a cascade of shivers down the curve of my spine. My eyes fluttered closed as I leaned into his palm, feeling the gentle strength there, a silent promise that made my heart ache with a beautiful, swelling tenderness. He moved closer, his forehead resting against mine, and our shared breaths became a single, unsteady rhythm in the quiet space. I could feel the frantic, answering beat of his pulse where his wrist brushed my neck, a wild drum echoing the longing coursing through me. The world narrowed to this single point of connection, to the scent of his skin and the warmth of his body so near my own. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of surrender, but of a profound and aching recognition, as if my soul had finally found its missing harbor. In that suspended, golden moment, every fear quieted, replaced only by the overwhelming rightness of being utterly and completely his.
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