Regrets

Summary: Batterie fanfiction! I wrote this for jikochuu (whom is super nice go check em out!) please excuse my really shitty french but if you run it through google translate I am sure it will be more than accommodable.
Rating: 18+ (or not you sly little kiddies ;) 3)
Genre: Can you spell A-N-G-S-T? (also smutt)

Enjoy ~ 3

"Ce qui est sous votre masque?" I've asked him this before. He smiles, or so someone could assume. His face is always smiling. "Ne pas être comme ça." I don't try to sound scolding as I say that. I wonder if it comes off that way. Zacharie shrugs, I hear a small giggle. "Bien." I grind out this time, shifting to sit back on the subway seat.
"Il est préférable de ne pas poser des questions idiotes le batteur." Didn't I know it.
"Quand je purifie ce monde, que ferez-vous?"The question had been weighing on my mind for longer than I would like to admit.
"Donc, vous inquiétez." Zacharie slides closer, palm resting on my thigh.
"Oui" His hand trails up my side, resting at my chin. The movement makes me shiver, and I wonder if this happened to anyone else. Was I any different from his merchandise? From His precious credits? His soulless mask encompasses my mind.
"Vous êtes si pure." His grip tightens yet I won't flinch. "Je ne suis pas." Zacharie releases with gentle fingers, somewhat surprisingly. Now there is only silence between us and the clicking tracks below.
"Je ne veux pas te détruire." Zacharie trembles slightly, not far from cringing. I wish I could comfort him, yet had no ability to. I could hardly comfort myself.
"Il fonctionne mieux comme ça." It sounds flat… Like a farewell said too often. I wonder, how many times it been. How many switch flicks. How many of 'me' had seen their way past him. How many lies had he changed.
"Non" I refute but I know nothing can change his mind.
"Continuez à me donner des crédits. J'ai besoin que vous vivez" I don't understand why he would say such things. He needed credits to live. With his wiry arms, he slides onto my lap in a sad sort of straddle. I let him do as he likes, knowing he cannot see sorrow in my eyes.
I end up thinking of all the times he has thought of credits rather than me, does that keep him going? Does he lay in his pile watching it recede as the switch enviably turns again? Does the feeling of the thick white currency drive him through another scenario thinking just this once, he wouldn't have to see his friend properly due to the paper in his hands. Did it help him through the endless masses of my face, my threats, my pain… Or did he no longer see me. Nor a customer. Nor a being. What if, he saw a monster. Because in the end, there is nothing left… Was it really better that way?
He slides his fingers under my belt, feeling for the latch. I keep my hands steady, holding him by the sides. He slides his hands over me, I wince, laying back on the seat, breathing in heavy puffs. Zacharie unzips his crotch, pulling out what was his, rutting against mine in thick motions.
"Laissez-moi cela." I nod at this, spitting into his hands, clenching into myself. Could he even breathe under that mask?
He rides up, fingering a puckered hole above my still aching cock, a tease until the end. Slowly descending he cusses, almost as much as I'd like to, spreading his hands on my chest like the cat mask insinuated.
"Maiou" He hisses, almost comically but I know its his way of letting it out. He trembles there, sitting at my base, moving in small jerks at first. I gasp at his tightness. He shakily pushes up with his palms and knees, falling back down only to climb again.
We work up a steady rhythm, and I try not to dig my nails in. I don't succeed. I notice this as he rolls his hips. I spot the light traces of blood. I suspect he doesn't notice, as he begins to bounce in a way, grinding and gasping in the clattering subway box.
"Ah! Ah!" I shudder, feeling the familiarity in the sounds. I dig in tighter, pushing into him with force feeling him contract and swoon.
"Touche moi ici!" He moves my hand to his weeping member, I let him beg for my attentions longer, but then start to stroke. He gasps loudly, whithering with the motions, rocking with my hand. I begin to lose my sight, pushing farther, squeezing, pumping, the feelings of sex all too much.
"Ca vient!" He calls, forcing against me, with his might, thick strings of white cling to my skin, coating the striped shirt. I breathe heavily as he dismounts still shaky, leaning down to attend to me, lifting his mask ever so slightly. I see a twisted tongue black lips and a thin haze of smoke. All of which are unnerving.
"Hé… C'est sale." I wince, feeling a slight scrape of his teeth. I am so hard it hurts.
"Je ne m'inquiète pas." With that he takes me completely in his mouth, and I grasp his hair uselessly forcing him down as my essence pours into his throat. He coughs, lips slightly worn with my white, his teeth looking almost pleased.
Zacharie flicks his mask with a sigh, pushing it into place. I won't kid myself in saying, I didn't see a trail of tears. With that knowledge I knew this wasn't the first time we had done this. Perhaps on the same train. To the same place. With the same end. And that ominous switch.
He pulls up his pants as quickly as I latch mine, and we sit again, in our horrible silence. Did his heart hurt each time?
"Zacharie…"
"Non."
"Je suis désolé." He shook his head, hands covering the mask. The train cart stopped. I got up,
saying goodbye with my fingers, trailing them through his hair, placing little kisses on the backs of his hands with their tired tips.
"Adieu" I whisper, leaving him in the train car. Just like every time .. Such was my fate as the batter.

Hence nothing remains

except

for my

Regrets