Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the quiet room, each dust mote dancing in the warm, honeyed light. His gaze was a tangible weight, a soft pressure that made the air between them feel thick and sweet. When his fingers finally brushed against her wrist, the touch was so gentle it was almost a question, and her silent answer was the slight, yielding tilt of her head. A slow, shuddering breath escaped her lips as his hand traced the delicate line of her collarbone, a map of whispered promises. She could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart answering the wild drumming in her own chest, a silent, syncopated conversation. Closing her eyes, she let the sensation of his nearness wash over her, a tide of warmth that started deep within her core and spread to her fingertips. The scent of his skin, clean and faintly of sandalwood, filled her senses, becoming the only fragrance in the world. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, humming with a newfound awareness of the space where her body ended and his began. In that suspended moment, there were no secrets left to unlock, only this profound, wordless understanding that bloomed between them. It was a perfect, aching completeness, a silent sonnet written on their intertwined souls.
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