Neptune’s hair always smelled like the sea. Fresh and wild and bracing. Whenever Uranus was close to her like this, that was always what came to mind, and she’d be overwhelmed anew that she’d somehow been lucky enough to win Neptune’s heart, to be the one who got to touch her and hold her like this, and have Neptune want her back.
Uranus dropped a kiss on Neptune’s shoulder and felt her sigh.
“I have to go soon,” Neptune said, each word dragged out with reluctance.
“Don’t say that,” husked Uranus in reply, tightening her hold.
Neptune gave a subdued sniff of laughter. “You know it’s true. We both have to go. It’s just that you never want to be the one to say it.”
This planet they were on; it was little more than a hunk of desolate rock. Above them the sky loomed, its darkness broken by a million blinking stars. There’d been a disturbance in the region earlier that had allowed both of them to come here, and they’d afterwards taken what advantage they could of that. Uranus didn’t think she wanted to consider how frequent these kinds of situations were becoming.
How long had it been since they’d last slept in an actual bed together? Uranus wasn’t sure she cared to think about that either.
“I know,” said Uranus, whispering the words onto Neptune’s skin. “I know we have to go soon, but not yet. Not yet.”
She closed her eyes, memorising the feel of Neptune’s body against hers. The inevitable parting was hurtling towards them like an unstoppable enemy attack, but that was the future and it didn’t matter now. In the present, in this moment, it was just the two of them, breathing, feeling each other, watching the stars burn. And that was all Uranus cared about. This moment, and every moment like it still to come, when she could hold Neptune in her arms and defeat the ever-creeping solitude that haunted them both.