Killergram
The quiet corridor was bathed in the soft, silver glow of the moon, its silence broken only by the sound of their mingling breath. He found her there, a vision in pale pink and shadow, her delicate form leaning against the cool wall as her eyes held a promise of shared secrets. Her touch was a whisper against his skin, a slow, exploring map of tentative fingertips that traced the lines of his shoulders. She rose on her toes to meet him, her lips brushing his in a question he answered with a low, yearning sigh. Their embrace tightened, a desperate language of clinging fabric and beating hearts as the world outside ceased to exist. He could feel the frantic rhythm of her pulse where his thumb gently stroked her neck, a silent drum echoing his own. A single, stray tear traced a path down her cheek, a testament to the overwhelming emotion swelling within her chest. When their foreheads finally rested together, the air itself seemed to shimmer with the unspoken words passing between them. In that suspended moment, every fear was quieted, replaced by the profound safety of being truly seen. This was not a collision, but a homecoming, a perfect, silent understanding written in the language of touch.
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