[His ability to participate in this conversation is beginning to degrade slightly, hand forming a fist against Cy's scalp at the tug on his balls where the skin is tight and close to his body.]
Type...? You mean, more than the humbler? I haven't thought of anything. Do you have — suggestions?
[Breath comes a little quicker, obviously affected.]
Type...? You mean, more than the humbler? I haven't thought of anything. Do you have — suggestions?
[Breath comes a little quicker, obviously affected.]
You, [a sharp breath in, almost unable to control the way his hips buck to chase that mouth, frustrated moan smothered low in his throat.] — you're awful, teasing me like this.
[Fussy, but not a sentiment he truly means outside the sexual torment.]
I can't decide. There are too many options. But, the first few you mentioned, where you're the one hitting me... [Maybe he's too biased by the fact of how badly he wants Cy to touch him now, but the thought is appealing, almost overwhelmingly so.] I like those. Where it's you, controlling me.
[Whipping, spanking, being forced to sit — it's a potent fume of lust that crowds out his mind of all thought.]
I trust you with any of it.
[Fussy, but not a sentiment he truly means outside the sexual torment.]
I can't decide. There are too many options. But, the first few you mentioned, where you're the one hitting me... [Maybe he's too biased by the fact of how badly he wants Cy to touch him now, but the thought is appealing, almost overwhelmingly so.] I like those. Where it's you, controlling me.
[Whipping, spanking, being forced to sit — it's a potent fume of lust that crowds out his mind of all thought.]
I trust you with any of it.
[He sees what you're doing.]
You just want me to say it.
[A huff, and then his hand pushes Cy's head away from his dick, where it juts out between strong thighs, flushed an almost painful-looking shade of red.]
No, I won't come. [At least Sasuke knows well how to be a grade-A submissive slut by now.] So you should stop now or I won't be able to control it.
You just want me to say it.
[A huff, and then his hand pushes Cy's head away from his dick, where it juts out between strong thighs, flushed an almost painful-looking shade of red.]
No, I won't come. [At least Sasuke knows well how to be a grade-A submissive slut by now.] So you should stop now or I won't be able to control it.
[The room he's chosen for them isn't particularly special or higher-end — they wouldn't allow someone of such a low rank to purchase those — but it's large enough, with a four-poster bed and all of the necessary amenities for an overnight stay. It also has an attached private bathroom, which is something of a luxury for them to appreciate later.
Excitement is static on his nerves, yet discipline keeps him pliant and docile as he's tied beneath Cy's hands, an arrangement not so complicated that it's clear it is meant less for show than functionality.]
Mmhm. [The position forces him into a forward curl, so he puts his cheek against the bed in order to gaze up at Cy — the expression of trust on his face like a shining light.] It isn't so tight that blood flow is restricted to my limbs, so I should be able to maintain this for a while.
[Those kisses, however, coax a bit of squirming. As if he would like to press himself into them for more substantial contact.]
Excitement is static on his nerves, yet discipline keeps him pliant and docile as he's tied beneath Cy's hands, an arrangement not so complicated that it's clear it is meant less for show than functionality.]
Mmhm. [The position forces him into a forward curl, so he puts his cheek against the bed in order to gaze up at Cy — the expression of trust on his face like a shining light.] It isn't so tight that blood flow is restricted to my limbs, so I should be able to maintain this for a while.
[Those kisses, however, coax a bit of squirming. As if he would like to press himself into them for more substantial contact.]
[Crawl. The intention hooks through him, skewing his thoughts to distraction even at those kisses, each one shared with meaning and sentiment, a kind of love seeded deep between them by now. He strains to kiss back, eagerness in the muffled noise lost somewhere against Cy's mouth.]
Even if I decide I like it? [There's no pushing, no insistence of what he's capable of managing — it's just a sincere question.] Mm. Okay.
[In all their time together, Cy has learned his boundaries. Sasuke understands, now, that the denial of more isn't about his own capabilities; of course he could handle it given the extent of what his body has endured as a warrior. But this is also for Cy's well-being — that first time they'd experimented with pain play lacking discussion still bright in his mind for how it had affected Cy.
A moment of further thought, and then Sasuke directs a look upward — very deliberate in the slant of his gaze through lashes, low-lidded.]
Let me suck your cock at some point during this scene. I don't care when, but I like doing it.
Even if I decide I like it? [There's no pushing, no insistence of what he's capable of managing — it's just a sincere question.] Mm. Okay.
[In all their time together, Cy has learned his boundaries. Sasuke understands, now, that the denial of more isn't about his own capabilities; of course he could handle it given the extent of what his body has endured as a warrior. But this is also for Cy's well-being — that first time they'd experimented with pain play lacking discussion still bright in his mind for how it had affected Cy.
A moment of further thought, and then Sasuke directs a look upward — very deliberate in the slant of his gaze through lashes, low-lidded.]
Let me suck your cock at some point during this scene. I don't care when, but I like doing it.
[He thought he was prepared, but actually feeling the humbler fit into place between his legs where he is most vulnerable, feeling the screws tighten the wedges into a significant stretch, is altogether a new experience. It almost winds him — that pull of forced rigidity stretches tender skin to a dull, throbbing ache that lasts. Sasuke has no way to hold himself up within the restraints, and so he lets his weight slump downward against the bed as if any posture or poise of fight has seeped out of him at once, limbs pliant, muscles struggling not to spasm. A sort of coaxed physical lassitude simply because he feels so vulnerable in this state.]
I'm all right, it's just... [the words are slow, a little breathless.] It's an intense sensation. This part of the body, obviously it's... somewhere I'd try to protect from harm, so it's almost like there's this — mental barrier, too.
[Akin to the first time Cy had spanked him, maybe. His reflexes want to resist, but in this case, there's no possible way to do so.]
And when you apply pressure like that...
[A sound breaks from his throat, jagged outcry turned at the last second against the sheets in a muffled death — perhaps the loudest he's heard himself vocalize without Cy fucking him into senselessness. There's pain, a whole river of it, rushing in on all sides as he's never felt, renewing some of the vigor in his body so he begins to struggle even if it makes the pain worse, because to stay still is even more intolerable. And it feels so good, like the edge of a wound deepened to something bleeding, something permanently scarring.]
I'm all right, it's just... [the words are slow, a little breathless.] It's an intense sensation. This part of the body, obviously it's... somewhere I'd try to protect from harm, so it's almost like there's this — mental barrier, too.
[Akin to the first time Cy had spanked him, maybe. His reflexes want to resist, but in this case, there's no possible way to do so.]
And when you apply pressure like that...
[A sound breaks from his throat, jagged outcry turned at the last second against the sheets in a muffled death — perhaps the loudest he's heard himself vocalize without Cy fucking him into senselessness. There's pain, a whole river of it, rushing in on all sides as he's never felt, renewing some of the vigor in his body so he begins to struggle even if it makes the pain worse, because to stay still is even more intolerable. And it feels so good, like the edge of a wound deepened to something bleeding, something permanently scarring.]
I'm — trying.
[Built out of a ragged whine more than any true complaint, demonstrated by how quickly he falls to Cy's instruction. In an airless voice, he counts — ten, nine... Those warm hands are steadying, preventing him from dragging himself up the bed with the physical urgency of that pain, to a point where he has no other choice but to simply exist in it. Let it wash over him, the pull down into that mindless subspace almost overwhelming except for the fact that he wants to be present with Cy right now as they try this new experience together.
The count helps. The immensity of the pain fades, a little, until it becomes bearable enough that he can lie there and breathe. He's less aware of himself for all the space it takes up in his mind — deep breaths exhaled in gasps against the sheet, corners of eyes damp with tears.]
[Built out of a ragged whine more than any true complaint, demonstrated by how quickly he falls to Cy's instruction. In an airless voice, he counts — ten, nine... Those warm hands are steadying, preventing him from dragging himself up the bed with the physical urgency of that pain, to a point where he has no other choice but to simply exist in it. Let it wash over him, the pull down into that mindless subspace almost overwhelming except for the fact that he wants to be present with Cy right now as they try this new experience together.
The count helps. The immensity of the pain fades, a little, until it becomes bearable enough that he can lie there and breathe. He's less aware of himself for all the space it takes up in his mind — deep breaths exhaled in gasps against the sheet, corners of eyes damp with tears.]
[At the nudge to the device fixed between his legs, Sasuke has to clench teeth around the noise he emits — something low and ruined, halfway to an unintelligible mess. Cy is not wrong; he does not know what he would do with further stimulation to his balls, when it feels as though every nerve-end has been wired to an electric socket, sensitive enough to burn from the faintest flicker of contact. Case in point how he nearly writhes when Cy's mouth finds the taut skin of his sack, frictive drag of stubble like fire against the wet, soothing drags of a tongue. His voice devolves into a whimper, smothered facedown.
Of course, Cy's words only make it worse. How is he supposed to think like this, let alone move? The torment feels fresh, ragged — and he knows he is going to do it anyway, because Cy will ask him for it. The collar around his throat is testament to just how much he would do if Cy told him to.]
I—nn, I don't know... if I can s—stop. [Sasuke rarely hears himself sound so messy, tripping over the attempt at speech.] Like this. It's too much.
[Cy won't punish him if he does come, he knows — but he doesn't want to. He wants to be good.]
Of course, Cy's words only make it worse. How is he supposed to think like this, let alone move? The torment feels fresh, ragged — and he knows he is going to do it anyway, because Cy will ask him for it. The collar around his throat is testament to just how much he would do if Cy told him to.]
I—nn, I don't know... if I can s—stop. [Sasuke rarely hears himself sound so messy, tripping over the attempt at speech.] Like this. It's too much.
[Cy won't punish him if he does come, he knows — but he doesn't want to. He wants to be good.]
[There's a shiver in the muscle of taut thighs when Cy's thumb edges at his hole where it is bared in the furrow of his ass — then a more physical jolt, unpreventable, when Cy's attention slips to the rigid capture of vulnerable balls in the smoothly lacquered device. As the humbler is lifted off skin, the effect is immediate in a low, keening moan emptied from Sasuke's throat, all temperance for his own voice lost to the sensation that keeps him on its brittle-sharp edge. His legs tremble, toes curled, feeling hot beneath the press of Cy's words. It is like he is an extension of Cy's will in that moment — all of his control wrested away with such finality that his swollen cock leaks precome so freely it looks obscene, and his jaw is already slack when Cy's fingers find his lips.
He tastes the bitterness of salt on his tongue, a flavor well-loved to familiarity by now as his mouth molds over the man's knuckles in a wet, obedient seal. He has begun to suck at them before Cy has even finished speaking — drool pools as his tongue laves the grooves of fingers, tasting past precome to find Cy's skin unnaturally warm beneath it. He wants these knuckles to fill his mouth to the brim, so he tries to draw them deeper with coaxing, kittenish licks, devoted efforts soon becoming sloppy and hungry and uncaring for how desperate it makes him look.
He hears himself make some sound with his mouth full, something like yes, a humming vibration, or a plea — because he is a slut, and he wants to Cy's dick inside of him, and he wants to be called pretty while Cy is doing all of that to him. The pain is still immense as it eclipses half his mind, a constant throb low between his legs; even the slightest movement brings his attention back. There's an edge of teeth against Cy's knuckles when he comes from it — suckling at fingers, nerves blistered with pain. He spills onto the sheets in a wet drench of seed, already edged well through the morning enough to make it easy, effortless, dripping pearly white down his shaking thighs.]
He tastes the bitterness of salt on his tongue, a flavor well-loved to familiarity by now as his mouth molds over the man's knuckles in a wet, obedient seal. He has begun to suck at them before Cy has even finished speaking — drool pools as his tongue laves the grooves of fingers, tasting past precome to find Cy's skin unnaturally warm beneath it. He wants these knuckles to fill his mouth to the brim, so he tries to draw them deeper with coaxing, kittenish licks, devoted efforts soon becoming sloppy and hungry and uncaring for how desperate it makes him look.
He hears himself make some sound with his mouth full, something like yes, a humming vibration, or a plea — because he is a slut, and he wants to Cy's dick inside of him, and he wants to be called pretty while Cy is doing all of that to him. The pain is still immense as it eclipses half his mind, a constant throb low between his legs; even the slightest movement brings his attention back. There's an edge of teeth against Cy's knuckles when he comes from it — suckling at fingers, nerves blistered with pain. He spills onto the sheets in a wet drench of seed, already edged well through the morning enough to make it easy, effortless, dripping pearly white down his shaking thighs.]
[In that delirious fallout of orgasm, the choice is easy, mindless — he struggles into the new position even as it jostles the device hinged cruelly over his balls and puts his head down, obedient to the directive. Lips and tongue lap up the mess he's made, aware that his face is glowing with heat in a deep pink flush but otherwise uncaring how he looks this way, on his knees for Cy. He has long since shed embarrassment around Cy, making room for the satisfying bite of humiliation in its place.
Yes, he wants to be good. Yes, he wants Cy to fuck him almost-dry with only the lubricant of his own come, so that every thrust burns and he feels nothing but the space inside of his body that Cy carves out with his dick. There's a gasp where he's pressed facedown against the sheets, mobility limited, nodding his assent — but he does manage to grind his hips back into those fingers, or try to, even if it hurts where the taut skin of his balls is tugged.]
Are you going to do it now?
[He knows they're supposed to do a scene, but he feels almost frantic with the desire to be held down, to feel Cy push into him ruthlessly in that moment.]
Yes, he wants to be good. Yes, he wants Cy to fuck him almost-dry with only the lubricant of his own come, so that every thrust burns and he feels nothing but the space inside of his body that Cy carves out with his dick. There's a gasp where he's pressed facedown against the sheets, mobility limited, nodding his assent — but he does manage to grind his hips back into those fingers, or try to, even if it hurts where the taut skin of his balls is tugged.]
Are you going to do it now?
[He knows they're supposed to do a scene, but he feels almost frantic with the desire to be held down, to feel Cy push into him ruthlessly in that moment.]
[There's a muffled sound against the bed, halfway between a sob and a moan — unable to thrash when those fingers toy with that tender spot of nerves inside of him, massaging a hot, electric rush of pleasure straight through his bloodstream. He feels like if it was physically possible to get hard again, he would in seconds — but even as his softened cock stirs in a lazy little twitch, it remains pliant and malleable to handling, fitted easily with the silicone ring that Cy slips down to the base. It doesn't feel very snug; he knows that will change soon.
In the restraints and with the device, he can't close his legs against Cy's efforts as he might wish, but his ass clenches down unbearably tight around those knuckles while he's fingered. He could let it drag on and on, and he wonders if he would get close to an orgasm again — but he's also eager to move into the scene, and thematically it would make more sense if he's not yet fully hard. So—]
I'm... hah, ready. [Whatever will take him closer to Cy fucking him, even if it means at the expense of his own torment. Or especially because of it.] I love you. [And then in a breathless exhale,] Taenarum.
In the restraints and with the device, he can't close his legs against Cy's efforts as he might wish, but his ass clenches down unbearably tight around those knuckles while he's fingered. He could let it drag on and on, and he wonders if he would get close to an orgasm again — but he's also eager to move into the scene, and thematically it would make more sense if he's not yet fully hard. So—]
I'm... hah, ready. [Whatever will take him closer to Cy fucking him, even if it means at the expense of his own torment. Or especially because of it.] I love you. [And then in a breathless exhale,] Taenarum.
[The love Cy leaves with him is pervasive, draping over him like a sheer veil and settling in the quiet that follows the man's abrupt departure, malignant power leftover in a chill. And during the interim of those minutes, Sasuke prepares himself mentally — finding this to be no difficult task. To be someone's enemy was the mold of his entire life. To be captured, perhaps, less so — but no reach. He's found himself bound and helpless in the past, at the mercy of better opponents; this changed context, however, is a fantasy he could have never even dared to dream.
He feels the moment Cy reenters the room, and the man will find that he hasn't changed position on the bed — though likewise his body language has changed. There is tension in muscles not previously present, arm stiff against the restraint of rope, fingers fisted, head folded down to completely conceal his face against the bed. Not an inch of movement tempts the tool between his legs forcing him to maintain this shameful, bent position, and he says nothing when that question comes. He hardly even breathes.
Shame would be powerful, if this situation was real — both for the defeat and the humiliation. Those are ready emotions to mask in silent observation and resentfulness. His ears pick up the sound of glass, then the noise of steps across the carpeted floor, and when Cy chooses a side of the bed he turns his head deliberately in the other direction, unwilling even to look at the approach.]
He feels the moment Cy reenters the room, and the man will find that he hasn't changed position on the bed — though likewise his body language has changed. There is tension in muscles not previously present, arm stiff against the restraint of rope, fingers fisted, head folded down to completely conceal his face against the bed. Not an inch of movement tempts the tool between his legs forcing him to maintain this shameful, bent position, and he says nothing when that question comes. He hardly even breathes.
Shame would be powerful, if this situation was real — both for the defeat and the humiliation. Those are ready emotions to mask in silent observation and resentfulness. His ears pick up the sound of glass, then the noise of steps across the carpeted floor, and when Cy chooses a side of the bed he turns his head deliberately in the other direction, unwilling even to look at the approach.]
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