十九

1.3K 33 0
                                    

TITLE: Until Morning Comes
AUTHOR: ReadOrDie

TITLE: Until Morning ComesAUTHOR: ReadOrDie

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

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.

eudaimonia, satosuguWhere stories live. Discover now