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    Summary

    Satoru wants to ask what's wrong, but raises his gaze to Suguru's to find them forehead to forehead, to find Suguru's eyes wide and desperate and pleading and trusting, staring up at him, and his voice leaves him.

    "No, please," Suguru croaks, barely audible. "Hold me." He requests, voice smaller than any of him ever is.

    God, if the bloody muscle of Satoru's heart was made of anything firmer, it would have cracked. He sinks immediately down further against Suguru, chest to chest, and plenty of the strength of his thrusts has to be sacrificed but Suguru doesn't seem to mind and fuck, neither does he. He breathes: "Suguru," once, broken and surprised,

    Then twice, "Suguru," not calling to him for an answer but calling to him in prayer.

    Then “Suguru, Suguru, Suguru," a couple more times, because he can't think of any other words.

    //

    Or: There are still nights Suguru comes back from missions feeling bits and pieces of that old hopelessness that almost swallowed him once. Satoru's older, now, though, knows how to pick him back up together, how to get him out of his head.

    (part of a series but can be stand-alone)

    Series
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