Andy Star
The summer air was thick and honeyed, clinging to our skin as the last notes of music faded into a charged silence. Andy’s gaze was a physical touch, a soft burn that traced the line of my jaw as Sofie’s fingers, trembling slightly, intertwined with mine. A shared, unspoken confession hovered between us all, a fragile truth given voice only in the way Cathaleya leaned her head against Vara’s shoulder, her quiet sigh a testament to surrendered defenses. The world had shrunk to this dim room, where every hesitant glance was a promise and every soft intake of breath felt like a shared secret. When his hand finally, slowly, cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin, it was not a demand but a question that my entire being answered with a silent, yearning yes. I felt my composure melt away, a slow, warm unraveling that left me exposed yet utterly safe within this circle of trust. Our foreheads gently touched, a sacred bridge built from vulnerability and a longing so profound it ached. In the quiet that followed, filled only with the rhythm of our hearts, I understood that this was not about passion alone, but about souls quietly recognizing one another in the dark. The tender pressure of his lips on mine was a final, gentle seal on every whispered desire we had dared to set free.
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