[There is only so much breath-taking-away that can be done, and he doesn't want to come up for air and back to an existence where thinking will happen because everything about her feels too good to forget, but he pulls back reluctantly. He's breathing like he finished a marathon. (It was a long kiss.)
Chekov slowly lowers his hands. He immediately misses holding onto her and puts them on her waist instead. Maybe if no one says anything, this can keep being okay.]