21Naturals
Polina Sweet, Charlie Dean Pic(s)
The world outside dissolved into a muted gray blur, the steady percussion of water agat the glass forming a rhythm for the quiet intimacy of the room. ide, the air was thick and warm, carrying the faint, clean scent of skin drying slowly after a sudden drenching. His fingers traced a path not of ownership, but of rediscovery, following the delicate curve of her spine from the nape of her neck down to the subtle dip just above where the sheet pooled. Each vertebra was a silent landmark under his touch, a slow cartography of a familiar landscape made new by the dim, stormy light. A low, contented sigh escaped her lips, not a word but a vibration he felt through his palm resting flat agat her stomach. The languid heat of their bodies created a private microclimate beneath the heavy cotton, a stark contrast to the chill trying to press in from the windows. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat, a frantic, tiny flutter that betrayed the calm stillness of her limbs, a secret he was privileged to witness. When she finally turned her head, her eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, holding a question that needed no verbal answer. In that silent exchange, the monotonous drumming of the weather faded entirely, replaced by the profound, echoing quiet of two people sharing a single, breathless moment.
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