Face fucking king
The moon cast a silver veil through the window, illuminating the quiet intimacy of the room. Her breath hitched as his fingers, with a tender reverence, traced the line of her jaw, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a silent surrender to the emotion swelling between them. He could feel the frantic rhythm of her pulse where his thumb gently stroked her neck, a wild drumbeat echoing his own. Her eyes, deep pools of trust and longing, never wavered from his, speaking volumes in the hushed silence. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, sharing the same air, the same breathless anticipation. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, not of sorrow, but of overwhelming feeling, which he caught with the softest brush of his lips. Her hands trembled as they came to rest upon his chest, feeling the steadfast, powerful heart within. In that suspended moment, the world fell away, leaving only the language of their intertwined souls. This was a communion, a silent promise whispered into the skin, sacred and profound under the watchful moon.
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