Suguru drops her hand; she isn't going to push or force Satoru into something that she isn't fully engaged with, or doesn't completely want, even if she isn't sure what she wants. She shrugs and stands up.
"It's always what you want, isn't it, Satoru?" And that's felt like their entire relationship. Satoru wanting her attention, and Suguru giving it to her; Suguru fixing things; Suguru waiting for her, only to be forgotten again and again; Suguru listening and comforting her; Suguru's wants ignored, her slowly fracturing heart finally shattering, with no one else to pick up the pieces. "What did you want me to do now? What did you think when you answered the door?"
She turns away from Satoru, unable to look at her like that because she does want to reach out and hold her, offer some comfort and reassure her. It's what she'd do when anyone she played with said they wanted to stop. And even if she doesn't love Satoru, she still cares about her, and that wars with the reality of who she is now. Suguru walks back to the couch, pulling off her gloves and dropping them on the coffee table, then pulls her robe back on, wrapping it around her.
"Do you know why I left?" she asks, pacing back to the bed. She stands at the foot, arms crossed over her chest defensively. "Fuck. Me and my mouth. I'm not going to talk about that."
She can't, not then, when Satoru looks so skittish and small, unlike herself. Or perhaps more like herself than usual; this was Satoru when she was worried and upset and when Suguru would hug her. "Drink some water." There's a bottle on her nightstand, probably lukewarm, left by the housekeepers. She nods to it. "Eat some chocolate." They didn't do anything, so she wouldn't be in the wrong to leave and let Satoru handle her own shit. And yet, there she is, telling her what to do.
She came in, annoyed and angry, with the intent of bossing Satoru around a bit, probably getting around to making good on that promise to spank her, and then leave. And now she feels torn about fucking aftercare. "All these rules I'm breaking," she mutters, pressing a thumb to her forehead, trying to soothe the rising headache. "For someone who doesn't even know what they want." She drops her hand, and turns around, heading for the door.
no subject
"It's always what you want, isn't it, Satoru?" And that's felt like their entire relationship. Satoru wanting her attention, and Suguru giving it to her; Suguru fixing things; Suguru waiting for her, only to be forgotten again and again; Suguru listening and comforting her; Suguru's wants ignored, her slowly fracturing heart finally shattering, with no one else to pick up the pieces. "What did you want me to do now? What did you think when you answered the door?"
She turns away from Satoru, unable to look at her like that because she does want to reach out and hold her, offer some comfort and reassure her. It's what she'd do when anyone she played with said they wanted to stop. And even if she doesn't love Satoru, she still cares about her, and that wars with the reality of who she is now. Suguru walks back to the couch, pulling off her gloves and dropping them on the coffee table, then pulls her robe back on, wrapping it around her.
"Do you know why I left?" she asks, pacing back to the bed. She stands at the foot, arms crossed over her chest defensively. "Fuck. Me and my mouth. I'm not going to talk about that."
She can't, not then, when Satoru looks so skittish and small, unlike herself. Or perhaps more like herself than usual; this was Satoru when she was worried and upset and when Suguru would hug her. "Drink some water." There's a bottle on her nightstand, probably lukewarm, left by the housekeepers. She nods to it. "Eat some chocolate." They didn't do anything, so she wouldn't be in the wrong to leave and let Satoru handle her own shit. And yet, there she is, telling her what to do.
She came in, annoyed and angry, with the intent of bossing Satoru around a bit, probably getting around to making good on that promise to spank her, and then leave. And now she feels torn about fucking aftercare. "All these rules I'm breaking," she mutters, pressing a thumb to her forehead, trying to soothe the rising headache. "For someone who doesn't even know what they want." She drops her hand, and turns around, heading for the door.