[ He can catch his breath, because Suguru will just take the opportunity to trace down his neck instead, biting hard against the soft skin by his collarbone, intent on leaving a mark.
Satoru probably doesn't deserve to get what he wants—him jealous, possessive—but he can't help that he is. Even if the hurt has passed, there's still an irrational anger that burns through him, and he can't find any outlet that's more satisfying than this.
He has to pause only so that he can shift where he's sitting and face Satoru more easily, pulling him back into a kiss once he's settled, one hand coming to his thigh and gripping tight. ]
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Satoru probably doesn't deserve to get what he wants—him jealous, possessive—but he can't help that he is. Even if the hurt has passed, there's still an irrational anger that burns through him, and he can't find any outlet that's more satisfying than this.
He has to pause only so that he can shift where he's sitting and face Satoru more easily, pulling him back into a kiss once he's settled, one hand coming to his thigh and gripping tight. ]