The idea’s been stuck in his mind for years, never leaving no matter how much time passes.
The scene—one he truly wouldn’t want to forget—is intimate. Romantic. Sweet. It’s with the people he loves. He’s sickeningly gentle and she gives back just as much as she takes. They’re barely doing anything, but every little movement practically screams just how much they love each other.
And Shin wasn’t part of it.
When it happened, when he tried to enter Ken’s room, he should have stopped the moment he heard his hushed voice, her giggles. He should have stopped when he heard Yuria (and it most certainly was Yuria—he had dreamed about her far too much to confuse her voice with anyone else’s) tell him “that’s good”, when he heard Ken laugh a little in response. He definitely should have stopped when he peeked inside and saw the woman of his dreams with the man he admired, joining together in something sacred, something he wasn’t supposed to see.
He remembers vividly how the sole light of the room, a small lamp, seemed to light up the best of all of Yuria’s features. How the light cupped the edge of her breasts, how it just barely managed to shine over Kenshirou’s large abs. Though dark, he could see where they joined together, how Kenshirou pushed himself to the hilt and Yuria so gorgeously whimpering his name at the deepness, the closeness.
He felt everything in that moment. Happiness, sadness, jealously, yearning, desperation. He wanted so badly to be Kenshirou. He wanted just as badly to be Yuria.
When his eyes open, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand is moving independently of his thoughts, driven entirely by desperation. There was a nameless heat inside of his stomach, burning endlessly with seemingly no cause. Was it envy? Was it lust? Ever unsure, he slumped back into his chair, thumb ghosting tenderly around the head of his cock to ease the unbearable heat.
Loose stands of sandy hair fell onto his chest, the rest straining to hang onto his shoulder. The more he thought about the situation, the faster his hand moved, the harder his heart thumped in his chest. Yuria’s moans echoed in the silent room around him, Kenshirou’s grunts swallowed by the volume of Shin’s own. His hand quickened, the sloppy sound of skin stroking skin accompanying the orchestra of whimpers played so perfectly in his mind but becoming all too loud when his orgasm hit and that memory stopped.
They weren’t here now. Things weren’t like that anymore. He didn’t know where Kenshirou was now, but he was certain that Yuria was not with him. Not anymore.
And, as the heat in his stomach fell, so did his mood.