It's not regret.
This feeling gnawing at Satoru's insides like a rat to a rotting corpse—it's not regret. You can't regret something you've risked everything to have—to hold for even a fraction of a second.
So it's not.
It's not regret.
"You're late, Satoru."
"No, you're just early, as usual."
The wobbly motel door closes behind him with a nonreassuring click, and Satoru finally takes the breath he's been holding since the last time they met up like this. Two months ago.
"You should try it some time." Suguru grins. He's in a white knit sweater today. It lays delicately over his wide shoulders, showcasing the length of his neck and the razor sharp cut of his jaw—he looks beautiful. Suguru always looks beautiful.
He crosses and uncrosses his legs as Satoru steps further into the room, the ratty carpet giving way almost alarmingly under Satoru's thousand dollar loafers. He hates meeting up in this shitty little dive. He would prefer something more lavish, something that fits what Suguru is truly worth.
"If I was on time you'd just find a reason to make me wait. You and your petty little games."
Satoru loves those games.
And he'll never admit it.
"Maybe… maybe not," Suguru offers, and gives nothing else aside from a knowing look.
Suguru's hair is loose, long and void-like down his back and over his shoulders. Satoru's fingers are already itching to touch, and those violet eyes track the way he clenches his fist at his side. The grin on his lips widens.
"Did you miss me, 'Toru?"
I always miss you.
"Nope. Not even a little. Hardly even noticed you were gone. Suguru who?"
"Oh? What a shame, because I missed you."
Did you?
Satoru can't say what he wants, he knows he can't, so he remains silent. And Suguru doesn't press, he never does.
"Are you in one of your moods today?" He crosses his legs again, long and pretty, black leather ankle boots pointed in Satoru's direction. "Come here."
The command feels like a hand around his throat, a harsh yank on the leash tethered to the ever-present collar of his need as Satoru's legs move one after the other until he's standing directly in front of Suguru.
"Don't spoil what little time we have by being angry with me. You can be angry all you want after I leave."
You leaving is the problem.
"I'm not angry," Satoru denies, the lie obvious.
"Then kiss me."
And that's it, he's done for.
Because Suguru tastes like heroin feels, Satoru would know. The instant their lips touch, nothing outside of this shitty motel exists, including Satoru's broken heart. There's only the sweetness of Suguru's tongue against his and the desperate way Satoru clings to him, long fingers threaded through glossy black hair as they devour one another.
It's like nothing has changed, like Suguru didn't rip his heart out when he left, like Satoru doesn't count the seconds until they're here again, touching, tasting, memorizing every inch of each other until the next time. If there will be a next time.
"Stop thinking, Satoru. It's never been your strong suit." Suguru pants the words right into his mouth, eager, relentless fingers working at the opening of his pants. "Touch me."
One day he'll examine how readily he obeys every command given to him when spoken in that smooth voice. One day Satoru will care that he always gives in far too easily. But not today, not now when he has everything he's ever wanted right here.
He's got Suguru pressed to the sheets in the next moment, their bodies slotting together like two perfectly fitted puzzle pieces. The sweater disappears, pushed up Suguru's body and discarded so Satoru can touch him as instructed. So he can lick along the plains of his stomach and trace the fading lines of scars suffered in countless battles.
He drinks in the soft moan Suguru breathes into the room, letting it wash over him as he fights not to think of how likely it will be that he will be the one leaving scars on Suguru's body next. The time is coming, he knows it, can feel it hanging heavy and ugly between them each time they meet like this.
It's a sharp tug at his hair that pulls Satoru from his thoughts, that forces him into the present, and back into the all knowing violet of Suguru's eyes.
"Stay with me, 'Toru. Stay here."
It's not fair that Suguru can ask that of him, ask him to stay, when he refuses to do the same. But he's helpless to do anything else. Suguru pulls him into another kiss, this one slower, deeper than before, and as they breathe each other's air, refusing to separate for even a second, they somehow manage to rid each other of their clothes.
"I missed you." Satoru sighs when they're finally naked, skin to skin and tangled together. "I miss you, Suguru."
"I know." And that's all he says. "I know."
Suguru rolls them over, straddling Satoru's hips with both hands on his chest to press him into the bed. It's unfair how beautiful he looks like this, how good control looks when taken into those skillful hands. It feels like eons have passed since they've done this, and yet Suguru still looks and feels as flawless, and as perfect to Satoru as he always has.
"I love when you look at me like that, 'Toru." He smiles down at him, fingers ghosting over sensitive nipples until Satoru sucks in a shaky breath. "Always so utterly hopeless, aren't you?"
He is, and they both know it.
"Ride me," Satoru chokes out, voice thick with the emotions he's trying so hard to keep under wraps. Suguru doesn't want that, he doesn't want to hear it, he just wants to pretend for these few hours—and part of Satoru wants that too.
"Is that what you want?"
No.
"Yes." His fingers dig into Suguru's thighs, hard, and then harder still. Satoru's way of leaving his mark. He wants it to bruise, to leave deep violet petals along Suguru's skin so he remembers who put them there long after they've left this room.
Suguru's answer is to wrap his hand around Satoru's dick, still hard and eager from the moment they first touched, and raise up on his knees to drag the head between his legs. He always comes prepared. Not once in the time they've been meeting like this has Suguru been anything less than ready. He's always slick, worked open and desperate to be filled from the moment Satoru enters the room.
And it's especially true now.
"Do you want it like last time?" Suguru asks, words drawn out and strained as he works the head of Satoru's cock along his entrance. "You left me sore for days afterward. I could feel you with every step I took." Suguru sounds nothing but pleased by the memory.
And Satoru remembers. He remembers the two of them arguing from the moment they laid eyes on each other. He remembers angry tears and screaming at the top of his lungs, and the way Suguru had given it right back to him, throwing his own feelings and regrets in his face. He also remembers how violently they'd ripped each other's clothes off, and how he'd channeled every ounce of anger and desperation into fucking Suguru straight into the mattress until neither of them could move.
No, Satoru doesn't want to repeat that.
"N-no," he says on a low moan, fingers sinking deeper into the taunt muscle of Suguru's thighs as he's suddenly engulfed in the tight, wet heat of his body. "Not like last time."
"No?" and Suguru laughs as he says it, just on the right side of breathless, eyes dancing as they roam Satoru's face. "You want it slow this time, don't you? Want me to make you wait, make you work for it?"
I just want you to stay. Stay with me.
"Yes. Yes, please," he says instead. "I'll work for it."
"Anything for you, Satoru." And then Suguru is dropping himself fully into Satoru's lap, the round curve of his ass meeting the hard line of his pelvis as Satoru's dick is swallowed whole by Suguru's body.
It pulls the most unguarded noise from Satoru's throat, a moan so raw, so entirely unfiltered it's as if he's bared his belly to a raging beast. He's never felt so vulnerable. And Suguru looks completely unaffected, planting his warm palm right over Satoru's heart as he raises his hips just to drop them back down again, motion slow and calculated while he watches Satoru's every expression like a hawk, waiting to strike.
It feels too familiar, too close to those nights they spent locked in Suguru's room, tangled together in those black sheets for hours. The nights they felt they would die if they let go for a single second. Satoru doesn't want to remember those nights while he looks at Suguru now, not when he can feel the familiar sting of tears in his eyes.
So he closes them.
Satoru closes his eyes, every already-heightened sense suddenly dialed exponentially higher, and lets the steady up and down motion of Suguru's hips consume him. And Suguru lets him. He lets Satoru suffer in his own emotions, he lets him try and fail to block it all out, and then he slams himself down onto Satoru's dick, harder, faster, until he can't shut it out anymore.
"Fuck! Suguru, what—"
"I told you to stay with me, 'Toru." There's an uncharacteristic bite to the words, but Satoru is too far gone to care. "Stay right here."
"I never left." he says through clenched teeth, nails now clawing painful crescents into Suguru's skin. "I've always been right here." At Suguru's every beck and call, and so utterly destroyed on the inside he can't tell up from down anymore. But he's always been right here.
All for Suguru.
For his one and only.
Suguru's movements slow, and then stop completely. They're still staring each other down, the haze of unshed tears blurring the lines of Suguru's face so Satoru can barely make out his expression. And then his hair falls over his eyes, his mouth set in an unsettling grin, and then he's leaning down to smash their lips together.
He's not angry, Satoru knows Suguru's anger, how hot it burns and just how vicious he can be when he lets it get the better of him. This isn't that. Satoru isn't sure what it is exactly, can't tell when the slide of their tongues, and the warmth of Suguru's mouth, temporarily wipes his mind blank. There are fingers tangled in his hair, tight and relentless as they pull Satoru's head back until his neck is bared and he has no choice but to accept it.
Satoru holds on just as fiercely, just as desperate, and takes his chance to rear up and push off the bed, taking Suguru with him, until he's sitting at the edge with Suguru in his lap while they kiss like they never have before.
"Suguru," he begs, because that's what this is and Satoru isn't naive enough to think otherwise as he pushes the words into Suguru's mouth. "Suguru, please. Please come ho—"
There's a harsh bite to his lip, teeth sinking into tender flesh, until Satoru pulls away with a hiss and tastes blood when he swipes his tongue over his lip. And the second he tries to lean back, to look at Suguru, a hand is being slapped over his eyes and Suguru is kissing him again, harder, deeper.
He's refusing to speak, or let Satoru say anything, but it's impossible to miss the way Suguru holds him, how his breath hitches subtly when Satoru pulls him closer, both arms wrapped around his waist, or how he refuses to let Satoru see him. But he can't stop now that he's started. And Suguru can't keep him blind and mute.
"Come—come home," he pants between fever laced kisses and destroyed moans as Suguru continues to move in his lap, the pleasure inconsequential when it's fleeting. "Come back to me."
Suguru remains silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing when his pace picks up. Satoru doesn't care if he's being ignored, if Suguru isn't listening to a word of it—he needs to say it. He can't stop now, not when it feels like his last chance.
"I need you. I need you, Suguru." Satoru's voice breaks on a half choked sob that leaves him shaking.
The tears have long fallen, held captive by the hand still covering his face, but Satoru refuses to let anything stop him, not even Suguru. When he can't get the words past his lips, when the tears continue to choke him up, he just holds on tighter, squeezing Suguru harder until he can feel every drum-like beat of his heart and unsteady breath he takes.
"I love you."
The words hurt when he says them out loud. So he does it again.
"I love you."
And again.
"I love you, Suguru."
And again.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Satoru repeats it over and over between bone deep sobs and spit soaked kisses. He makes Suguru eat every ounce of his love, his devotion, hoping to stuff him full of it until he comes to his senses and finally comes back home—back to him.
He's ready to let loose the declaration again, ready to burn the words into his flesh if that's what it takes, when Satoru opens his mouth and feels a single, salty teardrop hit his tongue. In that instant, Satoru's entire world zeroes out into that single teardrop—Suguru's teardrop—and then Suguru's voice follows, watery and broken.
"I know." Suguru's hand finally drops from Satoru's face, the motion one of defeat, and all Satoru can do is press his face into his neck as he holds on for dear life. He's almost scared to see Suguru's face now, to see the truth that's always hidden behind the nonchalance he wears. Because the only thing worse than seeing Suguru act like this doesn't matter, like a piece of him isn't dying every time they meet like this, would be to see the longing and pain that Satoru has felt every day since he left etched on Suguru's face.
To know that he feels the same, that he misses them just as much, and still refuses to come back. Satoru can't handle it, so he does what he should have done from the moment he walked through that door—he pretends. He pretends his heart isn't being ripped from his chest all over again, and when Suguru raises up again, he yanks him back down. Satoru gives him what he wanted from the start.
They go on like that until the room is filled with endless moans and half formed words of love or hate, Satoru isn't really sure what's what anymore. All he knows is that Suguru holds him tight, until Satoru can't take a breath or form a thought, as he comes between them with Satoru's name on his lips. And then, he follows right behind him, chanting Suguru's name like a prayer as he pushes as deep as is humanly possible and marks Suguru up from the inside out.
Because this is it.
Satoru pulls him closer, awash in the warmth of his body and the knowledge that this, this is all they will ever have until… until the day he has to meet Suguru on the battlefield, instead of this shitty motel. Because his love can't wash Suguru's sins away, just like it can't keep them here, together, forever.
So no, this awful feeling, it's not regret.
It's love… and that's so much worse.