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“I want—I just want…” Her hands shake and heart palpitations stutter against her ribs. Mon forces herself to take a deep breath, dropping her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Five fucking seconds,” she mutters. “Just five seconds where I don’t feel everything slipping through my damned fingers.”
Erskin gently cradles her elbow, the warmth of his palm seeping through her sleeve. She glances up at him through her lashes, chin quivering as the air shakes in her throat. “Five seconds, Erskin,” she whispers. That’s all I want. Her eyes smart with unshed tears.
The fact of the matter is, is that the galaxy is falling apart in her hands and everything she can do to slow it down, she’s already doing. There’s no stopping it. Not anymore. And Erskin can’t stop it any more than he can stop the sun from setting, though she knows it doesn’t stop him from trying. If anyone could, it would be him. For her.
“I know,” he says, other hand settling at her waist. He’s so warm. And lately, she’s always so very cold. As if he knows (he probably does), he takes that final step into her space. That space that’s crosses into familiar intimacy and obliterates any plausible appearance of a close working relationship. Mon leans into the heat of his body, shivering at the relief and resting her forehead atop his shoulder; his aftershave clings to the collar of his shirt, layered atop the scent of detergent that’s just as much him as the indescribable smell that always lingers in one’s clothes. “Do you trust me?
Mon pulls back just enough to look at him, brow furrowed at the non-sequitur. “Yes.” There’s no hesitation. No doubt. Something flickers across his own expression, so fleeting she must imagine it. There’s little time to ponder it however, because he’s kissing her—the barest press of his lips to hers, not even giving her the time to properly respond before he’s pulling back just far enough to take his warmth with him.
“One.”
“Wha–“ Erskin cuts her off, his mouth once again warm and soft. He caresses her jaw with his knuckles, before holding her face in his hand.
“Two.”
Oh. Her lips part as she exhales in one big breath and this time he catches her lower lip between his.
“Three.”
Mon’s eyes flutter shut and she relaxes into him, his arm looping around her back to keep her close; not that he needs to when she practically chases his next kiss, a nearly inaudible whimper sounding in her throat.
“Four.”
There’s the smallest touch of tongue with his next kiss and she’s so wrapped up in the moment, there’s no awareness to be self conscious as she melts into him, the perpetual cold housed in her bones giving way to the warmth of his affection.
“Five.”
Mon swallows, taking in a shuddering breath as she opens her eyes. There’s a cocky little smile on his mouth now, that strong streak of self-assuredness she loves so much and doesn’t see nearly often enough. “Five seconds,” she says, heat creeping across her cheeks just as surely as they are red, blushing like a schoolgirl.
He nods. “Five seconds.”
A set of three words float across her mind that she refuses to grant any shape. Instead, “What about thirty?”
His smile grows into a smirk, his answer in the way he slips his hand back to cradle the base of her skull as he kisses her again. Deepens it after only a moment, his tongue tracing the curve of her lips before pressing further, possessing her so thoroughly that he pushes everything else from her mind.
For thirty more seconds, she simply resides in his arms, his tongue in her mouth while he’s secure beneath her hands.