The clock showed four minutes. They tapped the readers nearly in unison. The NFC did its thing: the green “Go” flashed, unlocking the turnstiles. She dropped the phone in her pocket and giggled. A moment later her hand found his, her fingers dancing in it. Hands. She rarely just held them. Those long delicate digits of hers would explore his, idly having a finger battle as they walked or talked or walked and talked. It was one of those tiny things that made her her, the things she would not be even aware of. He felt her squeeze his hand as they turned. The subway station was nearly deserted. “New York in the time of pandemic. Pathetic.” He scowled for a moment.
She was looking at him. Her face, framed by that black hat, those red curls and the mask. Those eyes. One could drown in them. He shoved her against a wall.
— Fuck, — she gasped.
He moved closer, pushing her in, his hand finding her throat.
— Show me, — he growled, slightly squeezing her throat.
She gasped again as her trembling fingers undid the buttons, letting his hand find the cold chain connecting a pair of needle clamps. He pulled.
— Fuuuck, — her word echoed.
— Fully, — he stepped back.
She grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt, lifting it over her breast. He yanked the edge up. The chain dangled. Her eyes met his.
— Don’t you move.
“Click”. The sound of electronic shutter could have been heard at the both ends of the station. He stepped towards her grabbing both of her hands, pinning them above her head as the train rolled into the station, his eyes locked onto hers.
— Fuck. — she whispered in his ear.
They stepped through the subway car door, her coat unbuttoned, the bottom of the chain dangling above the belly button.
The clock flashed zero.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/m54r6z/four_minutes_mf