In the Mood for More

ManoJob

Manojob Pic(s)

The city lights blurred beyond the rain-streaked window, a distant galaxy that couldn't compete with the universe we were creating in that quiet room. His thumb traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that made my breath catch, a silent question in the lingering space between us. I leaned into his touch, my own hands finding the solid warmth of his back, learning the landscape of him through the soft fabric of his shirt. The air itself felt thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the faint, clean fragrance of his skin. Our foreheads gently met, and in that shared stillness, I could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart echoing my own. His eyes, dark and impossibly deep, held a softness that promised a thousand unspoken tomorrows. A slow, tender smile graced his lips, and it felt like the sun breaking through a lifetime of clouds. Every nerve ending sang with the awareness of his proximity, a magnetic pull that was both thrilling and profoundly calming. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that remained was the quiet symphony of our breathing, falling into a perfect, harmonious rhythm. I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my soul, that this was not an ending, but a beautiful, breathtaking beginning.