Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, amber shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes dancing in the still air. His gaze was a tangible warmth that traveled over my skin, leaving a trail of silent anticipation in its wake. I felt the whisper of his breath first, a soft caress against my neck that made my pulse flutter like a captive bird. His fingers traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that spoke of unspoken longing, a question posed without sound. My own hands found the solid plane of his back, learning its landscape through the fine fabric of his shirt. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of surrender, but of arrival, a sound that seemed to hang in the air between us. He leaned his forehead against mine, our shared breath creating a private universe where time itself seemed to slow and stretch. In that suspended moment, every nerve ending sang with the electricity of our proximity, a thrilling, humming current. The world outside the window ceased to exist, its noises fading into a distant, irrelevant hum. This was a language older than words, a conversation written in glances, touches, and the quiet, desperate hope for more.
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