ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fire crackled, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to share our secret. His fingers, usually so sure and steady, trembled slightly as they traced the line of my jaw, a silent question whispered against my skin. I leaned into his touch, my own breath catching as a shiver traced its way down my spine, awakening every nerve. The world outside the warm glow of our sanctuary ceased to exist, leaving only the scent of his skin and the soft sound of our shared breathing. His palm cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my lower lip with a reverence that made my heart ache. Our eyes met, and in that deep, unbroken gaze, I saw a universe of unspoken promises and tender longing. He slowly guided my hand to his chest, letting me feel the frantic, answering rhythm of his own heart beneath my fingertips. A soft sigh escaped me, not of surrender, but of profound connection, as I let my fingers learn the landscape of his collarbone. The air grew thick with a sweet, aching tension, a palpable energy that hummed between our barely-touching bodies. In that suspended moment, we were not two people, but a single, beating pulse wrapped in the quiet darkness.
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