About Damn Time...
A modern twist to a kids' game
The darkened bedroom had a rare, suspended silence born of an evening nap… where time is thought to pause and the world outside is just a rumour.
She was curled against him, bare skin hushed against his, her breath a steady rhythm against his chest. His hand rested loosely on the small of her back, fingers grazing her skin as if, even in sleep, he was mapping her coordinates.
Ten minutes.
That’s what the clock offered when his eyes pulled open. Ten minutes before the world demanded they get dressed and acknowledge that moments like this have endings.
Damn… Time is never on our side, he thought.
He didn’t move. He just watched her. A slow smile pulled at his mouth and he slipped his hand under the covers.
Very, very slowly. He let his fingers trace the length of her side up, and then down, a feather touch, just enough to make her stir. She shifted, a soft hum vibrating in her throat, but the pull of sleep held fast.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then again. This time his fingertips wandered higher, mapping her as if he could stretch those ten minutes into an eternity if he stayed precise. Her brow twitched. The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
Another pause. Another thirty seconds of quiet.
He dipped beneath the weight of the duvet, pressing kisses to her thighs before retreating, coming back up for air.
Her eyes fluttered halfway. “What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice thick and dark with sleep.
He didn’t answer. He just waited.
Then, he went under again… a slow, teasing trail of sensation, as she felt his tongue make a long, straight line from the top to the bottom of her back. She let out a quiet laugh. “Hide and seek?”
He surfaced, wearing a mask of innocence, eyes closed as if he hadn’t moved an inch. She watched him now, waiting.
Thirty seconds. Nothing but their breathing.
Then he vanished beneath the covers again. His tongue took a more serpentine path, longer this time, tongue flattened as he tasted her. Mint? It was the kind of touch that makes shoulders shift and breath catch.
“I see what you’re doing,” she whispered, her laugh softer now. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.
The game stretched out. A touch, a pause, the ache of anticipation. Each time he disappeared, he was a little bolder, a little more knowing. It wasn’t rushed. It was a heist; they were stealing time instead of chasing it.
Finally, he pulled the covers up over both of them, cocooning them in a shared, muffled darkness. She blinked, her face inches from his in the shadows.
“You found me,” he whispered.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. They just looked at each other with the kind of look that renders speech redundant. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her temple.
“My muse.”
She didn’t hesitate. There was no room for overthinking. She just smiled, certain and steady.
“My love.”
And for those last few damn minutes, the world could wait.
Beautiful ❤️