Face fucking king
The silence of the old apartment was a heavy blanket, broken only by the frantic rhythm of two hearts colliding after years of aching absence. His gaze, a storm of familiar intensity, held hers as his thumb traced the delicate line of her jaw, a touch so tender it made her breath catch. The sharp, stinging contact of his palm against her cheek was not one of violence, but a desperate punctuation to the unspoken words hanging between them. She leaned into the touch, her lips finding his with a hunger that spoke of a thousand lonely nights, her hands trembling as they mapped the remembered landscape of his shoulders. A single tear traced a path through the city's grime on the windowpane, mirroring the salt on their joined lips as the world outside blurred into insignificance. He wove his fingers through hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest where his heart hammered a wild, frantic beat against her skin. The air grew thick with the scent of rain and her perfume, a dizzying fragrance that wrapped around them like a silken cord. Every whispered sigh that escaped her was a symphony, a surrender to the tidal wave of emotion that threatened to pull them under. In that suspended moment, the past and the future dissolved, leaving only the raw, trembling truth of their connection. This was not a reunion, but a homecoming for two souls who had been starving for this very light.
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