Somewhere above, a koel cried out—sharp, distant—and then all sound vanished again.He took a step forward. Gay sex Not from the cliffs. And what skin it was—burnished like honeyed bronze, smooth and glistening with water that clung to him like worship. I wasn’t cold, but I shivered. Somewhere deep in the far north of Pakistan—beyond the villages, beyond the reach of any call to prayer or the dust of roads—I had found it: a hidden lagoon cradled between limestone cliffs and flowering jungle, where the air shimmered heavy with humidity and birdsong fell in lazy arcs across the water.The place had the hush of myth. As if the water had birthed him.He stood half in shadow, half in gold, where the canopy cracked open to let the sun spill directly onto his skin. Every nerve alive. Somewhere deep in the far north of Pakistan—beyond the villages, beyond the reach of any call to prayer or the dust of roads—I had found it: a hidden lagoon cradled between limestone cliffs and flowering jungle, where the air shimmered heavy with humidity and birdsong fell in lazy arcs across the water.The place had the hush of myth. I had followed no trail. I wasn’t cold, but I shivered. Somewhere above, a koel cried out—sharp, distant—and then
