Primos Hot ofc
Euerickdiaz,Gabriel Hot,Bruno Hot
The world outside the rain-streaked window blurred into a watercolor of gray and green, forgotten as his gaze held mine. A slow, tentative smile graced his lips, a silent question that my own heart answered with a frantic rhythm. His fingers, feather-light, traced the line of my jaw, sending shivers of anticipation across my skin. I could feel the warmth of his body mere inches from mine, a magnetic pull I had no will to resist. When his hand finally settled on the small of my back, it felt like a homecoming, a perfect and secure weight. Our foreheads touched, and in that shared breath, the air itself seemed to thicken with unspoken longing. The scent of his skin, clean and faintly of sandalwood, filled my senses, becoming the only fragrance in the world. A soft sigh escaped me as I leaned into the solid comfort of his chest, my hands finding their place upon his shoulders. In the quiet intimacy of that room, every hesitant touch was a whispered sonnet, a language more profound than words. This was not mere passion, but a profound discovery of a missing piece of my soul, finally sliding into place.
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