ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The city slept under a blanket of distant, winking stars, but in our quiet room, the world was reduced to the soft sigh of your breath and the warmth of your hand in mine. Your eyes, dark pools of liquid night, held a question that my own answered with a slow, trusting smile. My fingers traced the line of your jaw, a delicate map leading me home, and I felt a shiver pass through you as I brushed a stray curl from your cheek. You leaned into my touch, your forehead gently pressing against mine, and for a long moment, we simply existed in that shared, breathless silence. The air grew thick with unspoken words, every glance a whispered promise, every hesitant touch a quiet confession. I could feel the frantic rhythm of your heart echoing my own, a wild, syncopated drumbeat against my chest as you drew me closer. Your lips found mine not with hunger, but with a tender, searching sweetness that spoke of longing finally fulfilled. A soft sigh escaped you, a sound of pure surrender that melted into the space between our mouths, and my hands slid to the small of your back, anchoring you to me. In that suspended hour, we were not two souls, but one single flame burning away the darkness, fragile and eternal. The only truth was the language of our bodies, a silent, profound conversation that left us both trembling and utterly, completely known.
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