ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The city slept under a blanket of distant, silent stars, but in our sanctuary, the only light was the soft glow of the moon tracing the curve of your shoulder. My fingers, trembling with a reverence I could not name, traced the line of your jaw as you turned toward me, your eyes holding galaxies of unspoken promises. A sigh escaped your lips, not of words, but of pure feeling, warming the scant space between our faces. I felt the frantic drum of your heart answering the wild rhythm of my own, a syncopated beat against my palm. Your hand found the small of my back, pulling me closer until no light could pass between us, a silent claiming that shattered my composure. The scent of your skin, warm and familiar, became my only air as I buried my face in the hollow of your neck. Every nerve ending awoke, singing a wordless hymn of longing and terrified joy at this intimacy. I could feel the tension in your arms, a coiled strength held in gentle check, a beast tamed only by affection. In that suspended moment, we were not two people, but a single, breathing entity woven from shared vulnerability and desperate hope. The world outside ceased to exist, lost to the profound language of our entwined bodies and racing souls.
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