Sunset Valley love makes hunters of us all [m]

the end of it leaves him gasping, weak and hazy in the aftermath of his own release. the feeling of a tongue against his scruff surprises him a little, and he finds himself sinking to the ground as the man withdraws. he takes in a slow, deep breath, watching quietly as he moves to face him again. something in his expression makes him feel colder than he already had. "do you regret it?" he asks after a moment, stomach twisting at the hint of vulnerability in his own voice. he shouldn't care, he tells himself — but he does. he's so tired of being everyone's regret — of being his own regret; is it so wrong to seek something different?