ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The moon cast a soft, silver glow through the open window, painting our skin in shades of pearl and shadow. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from my shoulder to my wrist, a silent question whispered against the quiet hum of the night. I leaned into his touch, my head finding its familiar resting place against the steady rhythm of his chest, where I could feel the quiet thunder of his heart answering my own. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the intoxicating warmth of our shared breath. A soft sigh escaped my lips as his hand settled on the small of my back, pulling me closer until not a sliver of light could pass between us. In that endless moment, the entire world narrowed to the language of our bodies, a conversation spoken in trembling touches and lingering glances. I felt utterly unmoored, adrift in a sea of sensation where every nerve ending sang with a gentle, aching fire. His lips found my temple in a kiss so tender it felt like a promise, a vow spoken without sound. A single tear, born of overwhelming connection, traced a hot path down my cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, his eyes holding mine with an unbearable softness. We were two souls woven into one fragile, perfect entity, burning slowly in the sacred quiet of the dark.
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