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ᴄʏʀᴀᴍ ﹙🇴​ɥɔɐʎʌ ᴉɔ ǝ🇱​ɥ🇳​ɐ﹚ ([personal profile] hallowing) wrote2024-01-04 07:28 am
Entry tags:

ic inbox;

@torontonian
TEXT

AUDIO

VIDEO

ACTION

chokuto: (pic#16070679)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-16 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
[It is not a new experience to have Cy's attentions on his body now, and while the goal remains the same—an orgasm, somewhere at the gleaming end of this—the course to reach it is entirely changed. A leg is lifted, hooked by an arm, levered up to split the space between his thighs. The stretch isn't uncomfortable, but it does make him hyper-aware of just how openly he has been exposed. Nothing separates the bare curve of his ass and the deeper crease within from eyes or hands or cool air. He is surprised at a surge of arousal from the feeling of being put like this, half-embraced, unable to lower his leg, right hand obediently on the bedsheet.

Forgiving the splatter of lubricant at that faulty start with one arched brow, he waits, and—finally, finally, Cy touches him. A whole new sensation than when he'd done it to himself. First that Cy takes his time—all of it, every eternal second allowed to an immortal god, stroking across that hole until he can feel lube dripping down, soaking the towel, sticking to his ass. Then, a heightened sensitivity lacking before, the difference of another's hand that he can't predict. Rubbing at him, grazing the tender nerves on the outside of a tight rim, coaxing muscles to ease. Sasuke hadn't spent so long acclimating himself; he'd moved quickly to the next step.

And the kisses. Distracting, sweet, unnecessary but welcomed with a thirst he can't define. His mouth hangs open after Cy kisses him there, wet and a little red, tongue licking lips like he wants it again.

It feels like an age for that first finger. Sheer discipline keeps Sasuke down on the bed, but his hips twitch at that breach of pressure, neglected cock starting to drool precum onto a flat navel. The sound that escapes his mouth is quieter than how he had sounded on the call—breathy, fluttery—perhaps because he's not alone or because Cy is so thoroughly careful.

When at last he feels Cy's warm palm cupped against his ass and a finger filling him to the last knuckle, Sasuke exhales hard, eyelashes flickering, hair tossed out of a face now undeniably flushed. It's better than just his own finger, because it is a stretch that aches. It's still not enough. His head has rolled back on the pillow when Cy's other hand finds it, and he pushes into the touch, needy.]


Mm. [An absent hum that isn't an answer; he tries again, sucking in air.] I want more. You're taking forever.
Edited (forgot a detail) 2024-01-16 06:24 (UTC)
chokuto: (pic#16070701)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-16 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[Please do not talk to him like that when he has a finger up his ass, it melts some crucial part of his brain necessary for functioning.

There it is again, that alien sentiment. Let me enjoy you. The deep, muscular relaxation from Cy's thorough massage is all that allows him not to tense over, clearly at struggle with this concept of leisure and patience in pleasure. Last time, the aphrodisiac glazed his senses enough that he could come quickly; Cy didn't slow them down like he's doing now. Aware and awake as he is here, no longer suffering detrimental effects that muddy the senses, this is nothing short of torment.]


Cyram—

[You're ridiculous, maybe, or you're the one with all the time—surly, bratty—but it's cut by the kiss to his skin. And by the stroke of that finger. Pushed up deep inside of him, curled at an angle, there's the barest rub against something electric.

He jolts, emitting a gasp. The smooth features of his face are furrowed, confused, brow wrinkled. Without realizing it his hips has moved, trying to chase it, cock twitching; obediently he has not turned, though a mismatched gaze slips up to the ceiling as his head rolls back.]


What did you do just now?
Edited (misread smth don't mind me) 2024-01-16 17:31 (UTC)
chokuto: (pic#15106071)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
[He did listen when it was described, and he'd looked at the diagram Cy sent, but—so quickly it had fallen out of his mind with the event horizon of penetration looming on its own. This isn't confessed, not when Cy is finally, finally admitting a second finger into him, additional width of knuckles an aching stretch but nothing like his own hasty attempt earlier. Plenty of time to adapt, to cool. Plenty of time to hear Cy talk. And during, he just... feels it, what it is like to have someone's fingers buried into such an intimate place, slippery and warm, keeping his hole prised open.

The information is good; the information doesn't matter. His mind is too wrapped around sensations, a hitch of breath signaling his first reaction as that thicker middle finger moves, applies its articulate graze of pressure—a trembling gasp is pulled from Sasuke as another shiver of gentle, electric pleasure from stimulated nerves goes through him.]


That's... ah, [without thinking the obedience comes, right hand grasping up to take Cy's, a white-knuckled squeeze around it as his body does the same. Clenches, that tight passage enveloped around Cy's fingers spasming. His voice hitches, stumbling over words.] I... I—understand. I don't need to stop.

[Cy, as always, coaxing him to communicate when he'd rather slip underneath whatever this is. But it's also grounding to speak.]

It isn't bad.

[Not if the state of his cock is any indication, untouched even as fresh precum beads at the slit, wet enough to smear on his belly.]
chokuto: (Default)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
[At first, the instruction doesn't make sense to him.

It feels like—criticism. Even in the gentle, constructive tone, it feels like a correction to an error he's made, an overwhelming judgment on what he had thought was honest. The wrack of a shiver outside pleasure and somewhere on the plane of just emotional takes hold of him. His hand tightens over Cy's reflexively, for the pressure of it, grasping the physical anchor against an unknown storm that's swept into his mind.

The kiss is gentle, as soothing as the words. Sweetheart comes again, carried on the back of a promise of protection that almost hollows him out completely.

A whisper, then, coming a little thick in his throat.]


Pineapple.
chokuto: (pic#15621122)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
[His first instinct is to say, I don't know. But he tries doing what Cy has already taught him once before by breathing, even if the count is sloppy, less careful in the swollen state of that sudden and unexpected emotionality.]

Don't leave. [Which maybe isn't even what Cy meant, but—it's what comes out of his mouth when he hears that. "Physical space." As if he'll turn and Cy will be gone from the room in a wispy, malevolent crackle of energy. The hand fastened over those fingers doesn't ease; its grip only seems tighter, desperate.] ... Your voice. I want to hear it.

[It's okay if Cy talks. It might even be better to listen to its drawling cadence as he unravels whatever it is he's just felt, this painful blockage in his chest.]
chokuto: (pic#15621133)

cw: my feelings getting obliterated

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
[He closes his eyes to listen, noticing when the rhythm of Cyram's voice alters as he goes into the story of Takëthal—a name spoken so tenderly, so carefully that it rests in the air like an incantation, reaching back for a ghost and pulling it into a slant of light for moments before it is painstakingly returned to the dark. It occurs to him that Cyram's patchwork memory has preserved this fragment of a past exactly because of its significance. So he can fight, too, for what matters to him, enough to dig in the effort of recollection against all the odds of a ruined mind.

Sasuke doesn't know how long he'll be alive. A fraction of the time Cyram has spent in existence, less than the flicker of an eye, less than a blade of grass on a whole planet. Yet he determines, then, to remember Takëthal for as long as he's living. So if one day it should slip from Cyram's grasp, at least Sasuke can give it back to him.]


You changed the language you were speaking in.

[An observation in a voice that emerges quietly between them, low and thoughtful beneath the spell that Cyram has woven over him. The weight of an arm, the hook of a leg. An ease of physicality as he's never shared with anyone, not a parent. Not a teammate. Not even Naruto. Because this is too—gentle, the way Cyram holds him and tells him about the genesis of his name.]

'Cyram'. He chose well. [A mortal father, a fisherman. The image of it is easy, like the cabin and the lake, like the porch. The dying fish.] It's warm. It reminds me of the way it feels when I'm listening to you.

[A shudder, and finally the release, emotion let out like a river in the stream of his breath. His eyes open.]

Sorry.
chokuto: (pic#15621071)

🤡

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
Chiskikani.

[Notably, he says this aloud to mimic and test pronunciation, but not Takëthal. That name is reserved for the sanctity of Cyram's memory. It can rest in the dark again now.]

I can't say for certain. I'm not used to... [his fingers twitch under Cy's lips, each press soothing] this communication. What I want, but even more what I feel. Emotions are dangerous for me. I want to tell you the whole story, but not right now. It's long. Complicated. You should still know that they affect me more than a normal individual, and those emotions also influence the power that I possess. It's part of my blood—my clan, the Uchiha. We call it our kekkei genkai. You've seen it in my eyes.

[His head turns, dark hair tickling against Cy's cheek as he shifts to look at him, to be open.]

It was when you said that you would guard my feelings. I responded to that.
chokuto: (pic#15621038)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[The emotional expense has left him drained, raw, but not in any way that allows regret to lie. It feels clear and washed out, clean. It's how he felt last time too with Cy, a sudden calm clarity beneath all of the difficulty of new experience, of learning behaviors, of confronting his own trained responses. He doesn't know if it will ever be easy, but he doesn't mind that.

It is those kisses that still continue to uproot him, no matter how many times Cy presses them to his skin. Those effortless little expressions of physical affection are so foreign, so unbelievable, a part of him doesn't want to get used to them. To take them for granted.

Sasuke listens, nodding by the end.]


I want to see you naked. [There's interest in the turn of his eyes, curiosity dwelling in a young face.] But I also don't want to give up on this. If I'm going to be here, I need to learn how to do these things. [Brutally pragmatic. He understood the point of Cy gifting him that box, it seems.] Can we try again later?
chokuto: (pic#15621050)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[As Cy stands to undress, he peruses the supplies, quick to begin cleaning the mess of sticky-dried lubricant on his hand and between his legs. Soiled wipes are discarded in the small corner trash can with a practiced toss without looking—his eyes are tilted up through a veil of dark lashes, instead, to watch Cy reveal himself in a display of warm-toned skin.

It isn't surprising to find no scar or mark on that body, given what he knows of Cy's immortality, his ability to heal the most fatal injury before the damage has even took. Sasuke can see the fluidity and grace in him, the evidence of ease in a body he's had for thousands upon thousands of years, that utter lack of self-consciousness bred from a place of extreme familiarity. He sheds clothes as if going back to a natural state. He moves as if knowing every possible movement his body can make. It reminds Sasuke, a little, of a warrior whose armor is their skin—except this possesses more sensuality than cold economy of presence. There's really no word for it that he can find, but it's difficult not to watch, to admire.

Sasuke has already pulled the towel from beneath his body and also tossed it into a laundry hamper (his suite of a closet is truly standing-room-only at this point, except for the bed). His shirt follows. Then Cy is on the mattress with him, a comfortable distance, gently cleaning the residue from a flat abdomen. He rolls onto his side at the initiation of this contact, so that they face each other.]


Then I was lucky, [after a period of thoughtful quiet,] to find you here. I don't know how this would have gone with someone else.

[Badly, is the assumption. If he hadn't completely succumbed to petrification first—he could have truly hurt someone. Or sent himself down a confusing spiral of autonomy, intimacy, and poor emotional reactions.]

Can I touch you? Not with the intent for... anything.
chokuto: (pic#15621104)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-17 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[With that permission, Sasuke's right hand extends into the sliver of space still separating them, setting itself to Cy's strong left shoulder. Smooth skin drags underneath the palm of his hand as he maps from that point up to the slope of a throat—where he can feel Cy's pulse drumming steady beneath his fingertips—then down, across the ridge of a collarbone, the hard flat center of the sternum, sideways across the solid swell of a pectoral.

In this exploration, the heel of his palm rubs across one dusky nipple to feel the give of soft nub, to feel it catch against the caress. It isn't to incite anything sexual so much as it is curious, navigating another male body like his own but wholly different, made of hard, lean lines and trim muscle. Completely, flawlessly smooth beneath his wandering hand unlike his own body, which is riddled with scars and mended bone. There's no story on Cy to tell what he's been through. Not even his mind is a reliable archive.

Down across the belly, the sensual jut of an iliac crest, his hand forming itself over Cy's hip in an experimental hold. He ventures lower only as far as he can reach—briefly traveling the outside of Cy's muscular thigh before he comes back up in a long, broad stroke.]


You may be my type too. [Intoned quietly, looking back up at Cy's face. There's the slightest pull of humor in it.] I don't know, since I never thought I had one.
chokuto: (pic#15963630)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-18 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
[The return of touch is soothing as he watches Cy's face while he speaks. Concepts he's never heard of and has no preexisting framework to put them into—it's difficult. But more than that, he wonders at the glimpse of a history described.]

Did you learn all of this alone?

[He has more questions than only this: What did Cy mean, when he was "new"? Why had he been so angry? What exactly went wrong with the Ascension? Yet these are withheld, for now, as Cy is clearly focusing on Sasuke's issues. The rest can wait for another moment.]

If you're still working on it thousands of years later, then I don't seem to have a lot of time. [lmao] Those in my world—shinobi, we're called—don't have long lifespans even by comparison to the average civilian. Perhaps thirty. More powerful individuals might reach forty, or if they're very lucky, fifty and sixty.

[Yet he can count the number of shinobi he's ever known who are that old on one hand.]
chokuto: (pic#15621122)

[personal profile] chokuto 2024-01-18 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Sum of everyone you love.

For Sasuke, that has been—his parents. Dead, now, pale ghosts of a life buried and left behind, of a childhood barely lived. His teammates—but even that Sasuke isn't certain. Did he love Kakashi and Sakura? Or Team Taka, Suigetsu and Karin and Jugo? It feels muddied in his mind; reaching for the memory of those people, there's only a strange and muted numbness, extended back into a deep well of regret. He tried to kill Kakashi and Sakura. He tried to kill Karin. Suigetsu and Jugo were only battlefield tools, and he never allowed them close to his body or his mind. And Naruto—yes, he knows it now. That he loved Naruto. But he had tried to kill him too, over and over and over.

Itachi. He loved his brother, but he also hated his brother. And he killed him.

There's a slow closing-off as Sasuke lies there beside the man, the god, who feels almost untouchable in that moment for their differences. An insignificant slip of a life like a ripple in a vast ocean. Knowing how these dimensions work, how long would he even have with Cy? It could be days. Weeks. Months, if there is some fortune. But not years. So how much can Cy really do? And why would Sasuke let him do that? All of that love to give, it would be wasted on someone like him.

Alone. It is empty, but that emptiness is what keeps him safe. From loving people. From hurting people.

Quietly he rolls over to face the other way, the vulnerability of lying there without clothes setting in like he's just noticed it.]


I want to be alone.