Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The city slept below, a blanket of silent, glittering lights, as the only sound in the room was our shared, unsteady breath. His hand found the delicate curve of my neck, his thumb tracing a slow, hypnotic rhythm against my fluttering pulse. I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing as a shiver, delicious and warm, cascaded down my spine. The air itself felt heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the unspoken words hanging between us. When his lips finally met mine, it was not a conquest but a question, a tender exploration that my soul answered with a soft, yielding sigh. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself as a profound, dizzying warmth spread through my chest. Every gentle caress of his hands felt like a promise whispered directly onto my skin, speaking of devotion and quiet, burning passion. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the space where our bodies met, a silent conversation of trembling touches and yearning glances. A single, stray tear traced a path down my cheek, born not from sorrow, but from the overwhelming beauty of being so completely known. We were two separate melodies finally discovering we were written for the same symphony, our hearts beating a frantic, synchronized drum against the quiet of the night.
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