Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun bled gold through the window, casting long, dancing shadows across the room where the air itself felt thick and warm with unspoken words. He stood behind her, his breath a soft, warm tide against the nape of her neck, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hands, with an almost reverent slowness, came to rest upon her shoulders, his touch a brand of quiet possession. She leaned back into the solid warmth of his chest, her head finding its natural cradle against him, a perfect, breathless fit. A low, contented hum escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly into his own soul. His fingers traced a path of delicate fire along her collarbone, each point of contact a whispered promise, a question asked without sound. She turned within the circle of his arms, her gaze lifting to meet his, and in the stormy grey of his eyes, she saw her own longing reflected back, raw and beautiful. The world outside, with all its noise and haste, simply melted away, leaving only this sacred, silent space they were building between them. His thumb gently brushed her lower lip, a gesture so tender it made her heart ache with a sweet, unbearable pressure. In that suspended moment, every breath shared felt like a confession, and every trembling point of contact was a language more profound than any they had ever spoken.
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