Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. The title of this one-shot and the lyrics featured in it belong to Panic! At The Disco.

Author's note: After spending all my weekend re-reading an amazing fanfic, The Heart Rate of a Mouse (not in this site and not a Degrassi fic), I had to write this. I don't think I've written something like this before, so bear with me.

"You have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start, it's never silent. Ever since we met, I only shoot up with your perfume; it's the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do. Ever since we met, I've got just one regret to live through... and that one regret is you."

Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met), Panic! At The Disco.

And this is not right.

Clare attacks his lips as soon as they enter the motel room, the sound of their kissing echoing throughout the room, and Eli wonders if anyone can hear them.

Probably. Surely.

He pushes Clare against the wall, his greedy tongue exploring every single corner of her mouth, and he feels elated when she starts moaning against his lips. He presses his body against hers, and he knows that she can already feel how his body is responding to their making out. They're being loud and sloppy, but he missed her, he missed this, and he doesn't give a fuck.

Eli feels dizzy, as he always feels whenever they meet. For a moment he forgets about his wedding band, for a second he forgets about Clare's. How ironic that both are married but not to each other, and here they are, making up for lost time.

Clare's teeth start nibbling on his neck, and he can't help but remember the night this affair started. High school reunion, a look across the room, and both knew that they couldn't ignore each other. Let's meet again to catch up, they both said, both knowing that catching up wouldn't really happen, because that's not who they are.

They didn't really want to know about what had happened in the years they spent apart. At least Eli didn't. Just the basic stuff, oh you married him, oh you married her, kids, jobs, responsibilities and bitter regret. A passionate kiss, fast hands, and they were back to square one.

He comes back from his reminiscing and finds himself on top of Clare, the bed squeaking under their weight. This is what their high school love has been reduced to: secluded motels and guilt-ridden kisses. Clare sighs as Eli unbuttons her blouse, and he knows that they don't have much time.

Time has never been their friend.

"I missed you," he groans, unhooking the back of Clare's bra.

"I've missed you too, so much," she says, and he notices the tears in her eyes.

They both get rid of their clothes, not wanting to think about what else they're getting rid of as they undress, and Eli holds his breath at the sight of Clare's body. He remembers the first time he saw it, they were nervous teenagers in a messy room, he couldn't breathe, and things hadn't changed that much.

But they aren't teenagers anymore. And they are in a motel room. And they both have their own homes.

No, not a home, thinks Eli, pressing his lips on Clare's neck. This is home.

He kisses Clare's collarbone before moving to her breasts, his tongue working fast and eager, and she is moaning loudly. Eli lives for her sounds, he thinks of them whenever he's alone, whenever he is trying to write a short story, whenever he sleeps with his wife.

Nobody said it was the right thing to do, but it sure as hell feels right to him.

Only… not really.

He flips them over so Clare is lying on top of him, and her soft lips are all over his chest, causing him to arch his back. Clare's lips are on his stomach and he wonders if she does the same thing to her husband. Probably not.

They never mention their spouses' names, it would only make them real, and this is their escape from reality. Because during the few hours they spend together every month they can pretend that they're still together, that their love made it through, that they made things work out.

They lie to themselves, because the truth hurts too much. Because they have to live with the consequences of their decisions and that is punishment enough.

Eli gasps when he feels Clare's mouth on his cock and he closes his eyes, focusing only on the waves of pleasure running through his body. She is the only one who makes him feel like this, almost feverish, almost gone. Her mouth is moving fast, her lips are scorching his skin, and her tongue is making him lose it.

"Fuck," he breathes, and black is all he sees.

He tugs gently on Clare's hair and she stops, and he beckons her to come closer. Funny how they don't really speak, but there is no need to. They get each other.

Clare moves closer to him and they kiss, and he tastes his own bitterness in her mouth. It's Clare's taste and his own mixed in one messy, torturous kiss, and that's the way it should be. He wants Clare's husband to know, he wants him to know that Clare's will always be his, even if they're not really together. He wants Clare's husband to notice the marks on her skin, the different taste in her mouth, but he knows it's just a delirious dream.

"Clare," he says breathlessly, and she kisses him fervently. They move around and he's on top of her, and he can't help himself; he pushes into her in one swift move and Clare's lips part, a low moan escaping her lips. He moves slowly, he wants to make this last, he needs a memory to get him through another month without her.

"Leave him," he groans, nibbling on her earlobe.

"I can't," gasps Clare. "Leave her."

"I can't," he echoes, and everything seems suddenly final.

Clare wraps her legs around him, making Eli push in deeper, and his thrusts become more urgent, more frenzied. He wants her more than anything in the world, but he can't have her. He can't have her because he already did once and he stupidly lost her.

He moves faster, sliding in and out of Clare almost haphazardly, and her fingernails dig into his back. He is fucking (there's not another word for it) her harder and harder, part of him wanting to hurt her because she hurt him in the past. Tears are rolling down Clare's cheeks and he notices them, and he feels guilty and broken.

It's as if they're punishing each other somehow.

"Damn it, Clare," he says under his breath, and bites Clare's lower lip, his teeth tugging aggressively on it.

"Eli," she moans, and he almost loses it, but he tries to focus. He can't let this end, not now, not ever.

He flips them over again so she's on top of him, and they both stop moving for a moment. This is his favorite view of her, being able to see almost every inch of her skin, her messy soft curls framing her face. He looks at the flushed face, the bruised lips, and he knows that he will never love anyone like he loves her.

And he knows that Clare feels the same way, and it's all a beautiful, utter mess.

Clare moves slowly, her eyes closed and he wants her to look at him. He exists, even if Clare wants to pretend he doesn't. "Open your eyes," he says, and she obeys.

"Look at me," he continues, and she does.

Their eye contact never breaks, not even as Clare starts moving faster, not even when he painfully digs his fingers in her hips, grabbing every inch of flesh he is able to.

Clare starts mumbling incoherently, and Eli knows she's close. He knows her better than anyone, and he knows how to push her limits. He slightly arches his back and Clare lets out a little scream and her movements become increasingly faster.

She is screaming, and Eli feels her muscles tighten around him, and he gulps, he gulps because he knows he is about to lose it too. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mutters, and he lets go. He can't see a thing but Clare's face, the way she looks like she's about to pass out, the way she bites her lower lip before as she runs a hand through her hair.

It seems never ending; they're both moaning and holding on to each other, and Clare's face is bright red, and Eli thinks that she had never looked so beautiful. He wants to stay like this forever, but he knows that the moment will end soon, and he doesn't know if he will be able to say goodbye again.

They're sweaty and sticky and bothered, but they have never been so perfect. They are breathing hard, and Clare lies down next to him, their legs intertwining, and they kiss. It's a slow, patient kiss, as if they have all the time in the world.

They don't.

"I'll have to leave soon," she whispers, and he silences her with his lips. He doesn't want to hear it.

He also knows that he will take a shower after Clare leaves, trying to erase her scent with soap. He also knows that Clare is etched in his skin and that he will never truly get rid of her. He knows that his wife will touch him where Clare touches him, trying to make him forget.

Not going to happen.

"We could run away, you know," he says, his fingers brushing Clare's thigh, tracing circles on her bare skin. "Just leave everything and live our lives and…"

"Grow old together," continues Clare. "Look back at these clandestine meetings and laugh, laugh about how we had to hide."

"But we can't, huh," says Eli. Not a question but a statement.

"No. It's not that easy," sighs Clare sadly, and he wraps his arms around her. Eli's lips touch her forehead, and Clare's shaking, and everything is wrong.

"I'm sorry," says Clare for the thousandth time since their affair started.

"It's okay," he says for the thousandth time as well.

"I should have never broken up with you," she says miserably, and his heart stops.

"I was a mess," he says, full of understanding.

"I just couldn't handle it," she cries.

"Can you handle it now?" he asks, an edge of resentment in his voice.

"No… I can't," she admits, and he smirks, because things haven't changed at all.

"Does she… does she suspect anything?" asks Clare, worried.

"It takes a liar to know a liar," snaps Eli. "She asks questions, I just don't give her answers… what about him?"

Clare shakes her head, a guilty look in her face. "No. He has no idea."

"Good. I don't want you to leave," he says, a desperate attempt to make this last longer.

"I don't want to leave," she says, burying her face in his shoulder, and he feels the tears burn his skin. "But I have to."

"I know. I fucking know."

He knows that they will get caught one day, and that their explanations will make no sense, and that they will lose everything and everyone. He thinks of his kids, he thinks of her kids, and wonder if it's all worth it.

Eli looks at her and her blue eyes are staring back, the utmost love and dedication shining in them. He leans in for another kiss, and yes, it is worth it.

They are both being selfish, but nobody ever said that love was easy. Their story never went smoothly, things were always complicated between them. And he knows that that will never change.

It is what it is.