WillTile XXX
The moon cast long, silver shadows across the quiet apartment, the only sound the frantic beating of their hearts. His hands, which had been tangled in her hair with a tender desperation, suddenly stilled, his entire body tensing into a perfect, silent arc against her. A soft, guttural sigh escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unguarded release that seemed to hang in the still air between them. She felt the profound shudder that racked his frame, a tremor that spoke of a deep and aching surrender he had fought for so long. His taste, warm and uniquely his, flooded her senses as she accepted his offering, a slow, deliberate swallow sealing their intimate pact. A profound quiet settled over them, thick and warm as a velvet blanket, broken only by their ragged, synchronizing breaths. He slowly sank against her, his forehead coming to rest on her shoulder, his entire weight a confession of trust and spent passion. She held him there, her fingers gently tracing calming circles on his back, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his skin gradually begin to slow. In the hushed darkness, there were no words needed, for the air itself was thick with the unspoken truth of their connection. This was more than a secret; it was a silent language written on their skin, a perfect, glowing ember of a job well done in the sanctuary of the night.
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