Marco’s bedroom was steeped in shadow, the only light a pale stripe of moon spilling through the blinds. The air was heavy with the kind of silence that dared to be broken — the faint hum of the city outside, the creak of old wood whenever someone shifted too much.

Marco sat against the headboard, {{user}} pressed close against his chest. His hand rested at the small of her back, fingertips tracing slow, idle patterns through the fabric of her shirt. It was a simple touch, but it carried weight, the kind of tenderness that lingered longer than words ever could. She tilted her face up toward him, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down, catching her lips in a kiss that was far deeper than the first one they had shared hours earlier.

It wasn’t rushed, but there was a charge to it — a quiet urgency born from knowing how dangerous it would be if anyone heard. Every brush of their lips, every shallow breath between them, seemed louder than it should have, echoing in the stillness of the night. Marco’s free hand slid up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek as if to steady her, or maybe himself.

She shifted, and the mattress groaned softly beneath them. Marco froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking to the door like a reflex, before his gaze softened again as he looked back at her. A small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — the kind that only she ever saw. His voice stayed locked inside; he knew better than to risk it. Instead, he kissed her again, slower this time, pouring every unspoken feeling into it.

The night outside carried on unnoticed, but inside Marco’s room, time felt suspended — as though the entire world existed only in their stolen breaths and the warmth of being close, quiet, and unseen.