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[He braces for the distance he's carried in that short trip across the room, limbs clinging to Cy as he's dropped in a languid sprawl across the bed — he turns his cheek to rub against the soft fibers of that orange blanket, familiar, treasured for the reminder of one of the first gifts Cy had ever given him. Directed to undress, Sasuke is quick to obey, peeling out of his clothes until his body is bare to scrutiny. There is some nostalgia shaken loose by Cy's words — how once he hid himself from view, shied from the warm hands on him now as they're rearranged into intimate position.
The progress they've made across these days they've been together eludes him at times, but now it is clear and vivid and close. He meets that kiss, eager for it, burning down to the core for Cy's lips against his own, Cy's tongue dragging hot into his mouth. There are wet fingers between his legs, near his hole, and when Cy pauses to ask that question he huffs into it.]
You're not wrong to assume. This is usually how we do it.
[His brow creases thoughtfully for a moment, and then in a surge of strength he pushes Cy onto his back, completing a straddle across the man's waist in the process. His right hand reaches behind to guide lube-slick fingers into his hole in a hard push. One, two, three — however many Cy is willing to give him at once. It feels easy to relax into it, like the Diamond on his palm has carved him into pliant willingness, a fluency of arousal that turns his blood hot and torrid.]
I'll ride your cock like I did the first time. Do you remember? You had to slow me down, because my instinct was to go at it ruthlessly, because it felt so good I couldn't control myself... [Sasuke mimics this, grinding his ass down against Cy's knuckles.] I'd never taken a cock before. Yours was the first. And I want yours to be the last.
The progress they've made across these days they've been together eludes him at times, but now it is clear and vivid and close. He meets that kiss, eager for it, burning down to the core for Cy's lips against his own, Cy's tongue dragging hot into his mouth. There are wet fingers between his legs, near his hole, and when Cy pauses to ask that question he huffs into it.]
You're not wrong to assume. This is usually how we do it.
[His brow creases thoughtfully for a moment, and then in a surge of strength he pushes Cy onto his back, completing a straddle across the man's waist in the process. His right hand reaches behind to guide lube-slick fingers into his hole in a hard push. One, two, three — however many Cy is willing to give him at once. It feels easy to relax into it, like the Diamond on his palm has carved him into pliant willingness, a fluency of arousal that turns his blood hot and torrid.]
I'll ride your cock like I did the first time. Do you remember? You had to slow me down, because my instinct was to go at it ruthlessly, because it felt so good I couldn't control myself... [Sasuke mimics this, grinding his ass down against Cy's knuckles.] I'd never taken a cock before. Yours was the first. And I want yours to be the last.
Edited 2024-07-25 05:33 (UTC)
（ there's no objection when sasuke shifts their position, nor when sasuke manhandles his fingers, three pressed deep into his body at that nurtured shove. the way he moves is just a little uncanny, clearly influenced. if this were not an established relationship, he would find it — offputting, something that cleaves too close to a lack of consent, autonomy stripped from a partner too deeply affected by the casino's influence. but they have done this too many times and loved too well for him to be bothered now, with sasuke — and rather than offputting, he finds the show of strength, the sinuous shift of his hips, the vying for control to be immediately, intensely arousing.
he has never been shy about calling sasuke beautiful, about offering poetic worship to every part of him — to touching him in the trace of old scars. looking up at him, at the flex of powerful thighs as sasuke hikes himself up and seats cy's fingers deeply in a downward push of his hips, no new revelations are made about the quality of his appearance. but love is augmentation and accentuation to it all, and though he's mapped out the boy's scars a thousand times by now it seems like each time they do this cy is overwhelmed anew by the way they're etched into his skin like marble. the way light from the artificial window cuts across his face, casting him halfly in shadow, sharpening the cut of each muscle to burnished silver. the way cy can trace marks he's left — bruises sucked to the surface of moon-pale skin, marks and expressions of a lasting love. how the clench of his body around just three fingers feels somehow just as good as if it were his cock by dint of it being sasuke, sasuke.
they don't need much prep, ultimately. cy pulls his hand away, dropping it still messy and slick with lubricant against sasuke's thigh.
the collar is nearby, stored in its sleek box amidst the other various sex items — cy calls it with a thought, and opens the box one-handed, peels the collar from its soft bed of silk and holds it out. except here, the customary pattern shifts, cracks, breaks. cy presses it into sasuke's hand, closing his fingers over the leather. ）
I do remember. I knew all the way back then, how dangerous you were going to be for me. It felt like you were made for me, the way you took my cock. The way we fit together as if we were made of the same stone. I'm glad I was your first. I'll be your last, and anywhere else but here your only.
（ a tug of sasuke's wrist brings his hand up, and cy kisses at his fingers, rubs his cheek against his knuckles. ）
Put the collar on me.
he has never been shy about calling sasuke beautiful, about offering poetic worship to every part of him — to touching him in the trace of old scars. looking up at him, at the flex of powerful thighs as sasuke hikes himself up and seats cy's fingers deeply in a downward push of his hips, no new revelations are made about the quality of his appearance. but love is augmentation and accentuation to it all, and though he's mapped out the boy's scars a thousand times by now it seems like each time they do this cy is overwhelmed anew by the way they're etched into his skin like marble. the way light from the artificial window cuts across his face, casting him halfly in shadow, sharpening the cut of each muscle to burnished silver. the way cy can trace marks he's left — bruises sucked to the surface of moon-pale skin, marks and expressions of a lasting love. how the clench of his body around just three fingers feels somehow just as good as if it were his cock by dint of it being sasuke, sasuke.
they don't need much prep, ultimately. cy pulls his hand away, dropping it still messy and slick with lubricant against sasuke's thigh.
the collar is nearby, stored in its sleek box amidst the other various sex items — cy calls it with a thought, and opens the box one-handed, peels the collar from its soft bed of silk and holds it out. except here, the customary pattern shifts, cracks, breaks. cy presses it into sasuke's hand, closing his fingers over the leather. ）
I do remember. I knew all the way back then, how dangerous you were going to be for me. It felt like you were made for me, the way you took my cock. The way we fit together as if we were made of the same stone. I'm glad I was your first. I'll be your last, and anywhere else but here your only.
（ a tug of sasuke's wrist brings his hand up, and cy kisses at his fingers, rubs his cheek against his knuckles. ）
Put the collar on me.
[Concord stands without further shyness, shaking off as much water as he could. Not like he actually brought a towel along, so he'll let the air dry him before attempting to get on his neatly stacked clothing. He moves to sit back into the grass where he had been before, as a unicorn. He's still a towering guy at six foot six, but Cy's not as small as most of the people Concord has been around so far.]
Everything is more... tiresome. Labored. I presume it is the distance from my country. That and the nature here, which lacks place. [Concord might make some effort to sound less cryptic, but Cy is saying words like OnlyFans which the unicorn has absolutely no frame of reference on, so fair is fair.]
I wanted to say, [since he wasn't going to against Cy's wishes] that I am able to speak with plants.
Everything is more... tiresome. Labored. I presume it is the distance from my country. That and the nature here, which lacks place. [Concord might make some effort to sound less cryptic, but Cy is saying words like OnlyFans which the unicorn has absolutely no frame of reference on, so fair is fair.]
I wanted to say, [since he wasn't going to against Cy's wishes] that I am able to speak with plants.
[The more Cy bathes him in that love, cradles him in the outpour of affection he has no more defenses against, the worse the fever in him seems to grow — a fire set to a fierce windstorm, ignited to a scorching temperature that consumes every hurt, every worry. Cy's attentive adoration has smoothed over even the most permanent scars that mar his body, as if those touches alone might heal them, wipe his skin to a clean slate, untouched and unharmed. It's only his imagination; it is only how it feels, but that is real enough for him.
Then Cy draws the collar to them, and Sasuke breathes out — shaky, uneven. I was made for you. The words almost roll off his tongue, stopped only as his hand is guided, kissed and nuzzled. With reverence he accepts the collar offered out to him and sets it around Cy's throat. He'll need help to buckle it, but Cy is already there to assist this process, and by that point his own eyes are a gleam of moisture like glass across the mismatched color of his gaze. He knows what this gesture means. He knows it is not effortless for Cy to give it to him — the signifying surrender less about any sexual desire than it is an act of devotion. Love. And it is one of the kindest, most selfless things a person has ever done for him. And it is the first that he knows won't vanish when he closes his fist around it. Even if he still scared, still wakes up occasionally in the night to look at Cy's face in a panic that he will be gone. It's a fear he can better handle.
Yet he's not prepared for the emotion that crests in him like the crash of a tide, strangling all air for a moment, then two, until the tears are dripping down his cheeks. Perhaps it is overreactive, and perhaps he is responding to the intersection of some influence between his own suit and the new one emblazoned on his palm — but it doesn't really matter. He just sits there on Cy's hips and traces his fingers across the leather band around the man's throat and then he starts talking.]
I was going to do this later. I still will. I had a plan for it. [I still do, sentiment warm and heavy between them.] I promise I'll do it properly later. But I want you to marry me. Here, in this place. I want to make you my husband. We already talked about it before, but...
[He has to swallow thickly on the feeling.]
Cyram, will you marry me? You have my body and my heart but I want you to have everything else, too. My mind. My soul. My life. And I want yours — or whatever you can give me.
Then Cy draws the collar to them, and Sasuke breathes out — shaky, uneven. I was made for you. The words almost roll off his tongue, stopped only as his hand is guided, kissed and nuzzled. With reverence he accepts the collar offered out to him and sets it around Cy's throat. He'll need help to buckle it, but Cy is already there to assist this process, and by that point his own eyes are a gleam of moisture like glass across the mismatched color of his gaze. He knows what this gesture means. He knows it is not effortless for Cy to give it to him — the signifying surrender less about any sexual desire than it is an act of devotion. Love. And it is one of the kindest, most selfless things a person has ever done for him. And it is the first that he knows won't vanish when he closes his fist around it. Even if he still scared, still wakes up occasionally in the night to look at Cy's face in a panic that he will be gone. It's a fear he can better handle.
Yet he's not prepared for the emotion that crests in him like the crash of a tide, strangling all air for a moment, then two, until the tears are dripping down his cheeks. Perhaps it is overreactive, and perhaps he is responding to the intersection of some influence between his own suit and the new one emblazoned on his palm — but it doesn't really matter. He just sits there on Cy's hips and traces his fingers across the leather band around the man's throat and then he starts talking.]
I was going to do this later. I still will. I had a plan for it. [I still do, sentiment warm and heavy between them.] I promise I'll do it properly later. But I want you to marry me. Here, in this place. I want to make you my husband. We already talked about it before, but...
[He has to swallow thickly on the feeling.]
Cyram, will you marry me? You have my body and my heart but I want you to have everything else, too. My mind. My soul. My life. And I want yours — or whatever you can give me.
（ his fingers encircle sasuke's wrist as the boy traces fine leather, thumb stroking along the vein. and when sasuke speaks, the motion stills very briefly, like the stutter of a skipped heartbeat and then resumes again. the boy looks so grave, like this. cy can't tell if it's hard to say for saying's sake or if sasuke expects rejection after everything, after this having been discussed in the past and all but agreed to then — but ultimately the why doesn't matter.
he tugs sasuke's hand up, and presses a kiss to his knuckles. his gaze is on sasuke's, attentive to the tears that make his dual-coloured eyes bright in the low light. there are a thousand things he could say, effusive and warm. it would be easy to fill the space between them with syllables — cy comes easily to conversation, communication, connection. but here, sasuke does not need an essay. he does not need a glut of honeyed words spilled into open air. he just needs an answer, and there is only one he would ever give. ）
Yes.
（ his expression is soft, brows lifted faintly upwards. love is a golden splendour that rests easy in him, and it's easily reached for — not overwhelming, but filling. love is the only reason he's any sort of sane. it's the only anchor he's ever had to a life he'd as soon seen ended on aikelyk. he's laid more of it to rest than most people could imagine in instant or eon, but there is something singular about sasuke that stands out to him in the murk of memory. like tak, like kaiaxia, like satya, he'll try. he'll hold on. some stars, after all, shine more brightly than the rest.
his free hand falls to sasuke's hip and urges him up, steadies his cock. he does not need to tell sasuke to seat himself on it, it's something done with immediacy and instinct, sasuke settling in his lap with a roll of his hips. cy can feel the pressure, the heat and warmth and nearness of his body, the clench as he flexes — but cy doesn't immediately turn the act frictive, there's no upwards lift of his hips. it's just... like the collar, like his touch on sasuke's wrist, like the question, like the tears on the boy's face. a constellation of connection, drawn along livewire nerves.
the only thing he does is let his hand settle at sasuke's thigh, pushing him down to take him just that much more deeply into the hallowed ground of his battleworn body. ）
Ask me again. （ not because it was wrong, not because the moment needed to be different. he wants to make that clear, which is why he adds: ） I want to hear it again.
（ sasuke might recognize how cy defaults to repetition sometimes. an attempt to hold onto things he's worried might otherwise slip away. it's why he takes photographs of sasuke at his most debauched. it's why, so often, he's instructed sasuke to pay attention, to capture something with the sharingan — preserving moments like unfading amber. ）
he tugs sasuke's hand up, and presses a kiss to his knuckles. his gaze is on sasuke's, attentive to the tears that make his dual-coloured eyes bright in the low light. there are a thousand things he could say, effusive and warm. it would be easy to fill the space between them with syllables — cy comes easily to conversation, communication, connection. but here, sasuke does not need an essay. he does not need a glut of honeyed words spilled into open air. he just needs an answer, and there is only one he would ever give. ）
Yes.
（ his expression is soft, brows lifted faintly upwards. love is a golden splendour that rests easy in him, and it's easily reached for — not overwhelming, but filling. love is the only reason he's any sort of sane. it's the only anchor he's ever had to a life he'd as soon seen ended on aikelyk. he's laid more of it to rest than most people could imagine in instant or eon, but there is something singular about sasuke that stands out to him in the murk of memory. like tak, like kaiaxia, like satya, he'll try. he'll hold on. some stars, after all, shine more brightly than the rest.
his free hand falls to sasuke's hip and urges him up, steadies his cock. he does not need to tell sasuke to seat himself on it, it's something done with immediacy and instinct, sasuke settling in his lap with a roll of his hips. cy can feel the pressure, the heat and warmth and nearness of his body, the clench as he flexes — but cy doesn't immediately turn the act frictive, there's no upwards lift of his hips. it's just... like the collar, like his touch on sasuke's wrist, like the question, like the tears on the boy's face. a constellation of connection, drawn along livewire nerves.
the only thing he does is let his hand settle at sasuke's thigh, pushing him down to take him just that much more deeply into the hallowed ground of his battleworn body. ）
Ask me again. （ not because it was wrong, not because the moment needed to be different. he wants to make that clear, which is why he adds: ） I want to hear it again.
（ sasuke might recognize how cy defaults to repetition sometimes. an attempt to hold onto things he's worried might otherwise slip away. it's why he takes photographs of sasuke at his most debauched. it's why, so often, he's instructed sasuke to pay attention, to capture something with the sharingan — preserving moments like unfading amber. ）
Edited 2024-07-25 19:56 (UTC)
[It's a simple and straightforward answer. It's what he needs to hear, and Cy knows it, that single word mending a part of him that has split into separate pieces of grief and loss over countless difficult years. There is a steady assurance to it, confidence, honesty — and he believes Cy for saying it. Perhaps that is the most important facet: He believes Cy. In all of this, the faith that this man will tell him truthfully if he asks. That his feelings will be safeguarded even when they are extreme, even when they come from a place of trauma and tear him up inside, making him react in illogical ways.
When those hands ease him into position, and he feels the first searing push of penetration — he doesn't fight it. His body is used to this now, accepts it like it is merely a part of him to be joined to Cy in such an intimate way. He shifts back and seats himself on the spear of Cy's cock with a fluttering exhale, muscles releasing some meager tension that had settled for the question. Even expecting Cy's answer, it was still in him to — fear, maybe, another outcome. An illusion over his eyes. Disbelief, love but not this kind of love, not the fealty of commitment on a level he hadn't expected to find for himself.]
Cyram, will you marry me? [The words now are a little hoarse, raspy with the emotion that clouds out everything.] I want you to take my family name.
[His eyes close in a flicker, and then they are open and it's obvious why — they're coolly aglow with power, gem-like. One red as a ruby; one pale amethyst. Lashes still damp, he doesn't bother to wipe away the tears, just leans down in an elegant arc of core strength to kiss Cy on the mouth. It isn't the exact way they once did this for the first time, but that doesn't matter to him. This is the natural evolution. Feeling so full makes him breathless, but Cy's cock is at home within his body, so the first grind of his hips is circular, less about any kind of rhythm than the desire to enhance that stretch.]
I want to stay with you forever, even if it's just — my soul. The legacy of my name. Whatever I can give you to keep.
When those hands ease him into position, and he feels the first searing push of penetration — he doesn't fight it. His body is used to this now, accepts it like it is merely a part of him to be joined to Cy in such an intimate way. He shifts back and seats himself on the spear of Cy's cock with a fluttering exhale, muscles releasing some meager tension that had settled for the question. Even expecting Cy's answer, it was still in him to — fear, maybe, another outcome. An illusion over his eyes. Disbelief, love but not this kind of love, not the fealty of commitment on a level he hadn't expected to find for himself.]
Cyram, will you marry me? [The words now are a little hoarse, raspy with the emotion that clouds out everything.] I want you to take my family name.
[His eyes close in a flicker, and then they are open and it's obvious why — they're coolly aglow with power, gem-like. One red as a ruby; one pale amethyst. Lashes still damp, he doesn't bother to wipe away the tears, just leans down in an elegant arc of core strength to kiss Cy on the mouth. It isn't the exact way they once did this for the first time, but that doesn't matter to him. This is the natural evolution. Feeling so full makes him breathless, but Cy's cock is at home within his body, so the first grind of his hips is circular, less about any kind of rhythm than the desire to enhance that stretch.]
I want to stay with you forever, even if it's just — my soul. The legacy of my name. Whatever I can give you to keep.
（ they are abruptly not near enough, not close enough. cy has a sudden, absurd intrusive thought — that he could use the void to occupy more of the same space, that he could, right now, put a hand into sasuke's chest with precise mathematics and cradle his heart in the seat of its power. he wants to feel the source of the strong pulse that echoes along the leylines of all his arteries. the strength and ferality of the thought catches him off-guard with its intensity, and his hand is lifted from sasuke's thigh and pressed against his chest like the first volley of an attritive war before he realizes how wildly askew his thoughts have gone and turns it into a caress instead.
if he were to voice that desire aloud, there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that sasuke would crack his ribs open right here and now to make it real. so it remains unspoken, and intimated only briefly in a faint issuance of pressure in the drag of his nails. ）
Yes. （ it's said again, his voice is pitched lower, cracked open. ） I will marry you. And I'll carry whatever you can give me, for as long as my memory permits. I'll say your name to a thousand winds on a thousand worlds.
（ his hand skirts downward, cupping sasuke's cock and balls together into what he knows will be an uncomfortable squeeze, and then gentles the touch to a soft, aching caress, coaxing the foreskin back from the head of his cock, fingers slick with precome. then a retreat, palm pressed low on sasuke's belly in something that's become ritual for them both, dampening sasuke's skin with that emission smeared by fingertips. marriage and family and children are too entwined to them both, which is why it's where he shifts to now — ）
I've thought about it. I know you can change your body, and it'd probably be the easier thing for us to do. But I can see all the ways that dealing with the changes of your body, the fear, the uncertainty, all that past trauma would wear on you if you had to take it all at once. I don't want to put that burden on you, even though I know you could stand it.
（ another thing made clear: it's not about weakness, it's about offering an act of love.
he has no desire to be a woman, to have a woman's body. for all the times he's been a father — biologically or otherwise — he's never once wanted to partake of the physicality of the act himself. he is too much his own body, too settled, too sure.
yet, he knows that it's possible for a god to reshape the scaffolding they're housed in. he could probably do it, if he let himself settle more fulsomely into kulo vayn's borrowed power. iantha may have taken the body of an early proto-humanoid, but she has... adjusted it, over the years. made it her own, in perfect symbiosis. not all the changes she's made are cosmetic, and he knows too that the last living god besides them both, the one that died to make mercykiller, would often change the physical sex of their body on a whim.
but even if that's a power he can't access, he knows there are places where it could be done magically. his body resists only physical alteration, the cut of a knife, the break of a bone. the time it would take to produce a child would be a fraction of abbrenon, and for a far better purpose. it's something he could stand, and not suffer for standing. ）
I can't promise the kid would have the Sharingan. But if you could be okay with that, I'll give you a child. As soon as we're anywhere else but here. All you have to do is ask me.
if he were to voice that desire aloud, there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that sasuke would crack his ribs open right here and now to make it real. so it remains unspoken, and intimated only briefly in a faint issuance of pressure in the drag of his nails. ）
Yes. （ it's said again, his voice is pitched lower, cracked open. ） I will marry you. And I'll carry whatever you can give me, for as long as my memory permits. I'll say your name to a thousand winds on a thousand worlds.
（ his hand skirts downward, cupping sasuke's cock and balls together into what he knows will be an uncomfortable squeeze, and then gentles the touch to a soft, aching caress, coaxing the foreskin back from the head of his cock, fingers slick with precome. then a retreat, palm pressed low on sasuke's belly in something that's become ritual for them both, dampening sasuke's skin with that emission smeared by fingertips. marriage and family and children are too entwined to them both, which is why it's where he shifts to now — ）
I've thought about it. I know you can change your body, and it'd probably be the easier thing for us to do. But I can see all the ways that dealing with the changes of your body, the fear, the uncertainty, all that past trauma would wear on you if you had to take it all at once. I don't want to put that burden on you, even though I know you could stand it.
（ another thing made clear: it's not about weakness, it's about offering an act of love.
he has no desire to be a woman, to have a woman's body. for all the times he's been a father — biologically or otherwise — he's never once wanted to partake of the physicality of the act himself. he is too much his own body, too settled, too sure.
yet, he knows that it's possible for a god to reshape the scaffolding they're housed in. he could probably do it, if he let himself settle more fulsomely into kulo vayn's borrowed power. iantha may have taken the body of an early proto-humanoid, but she has... adjusted it, over the years. made it her own, in perfect symbiosis. not all the changes she's made are cosmetic, and he knows too that the last living god besides them both, the one that died to make mercykiller, would often change the physical sex of their body on a whim.
but even if that's a power he can't access, he knows there are places where it could be done magically. his body resists only physical alteration, the cut of a knife, the break of a bone. the time it would take to produce a child would be a fraction of abbrenon, and for a far better purpose. it's something he could stand, and not suffer for standing. ）
I can't promise the kid would have the Sharingan. But if you could be okay with that, I'll give you a child. As soon as we're anywhere else but here. All you have to do is ask me.
[He wants to be there. With a desire so intense it almost trespasses over his self-control, Sasuke wants to be there — on all of those thousands of worlds — at this man's side. It is impossible to know what will happen, but he will tear apart the foundation of this dimension and every other that dares to keep him away from Cy if necessary. There has been no reason to test the extent of his abilities or his limitations within the resort, not when he is content with the days as they are — but if ever that changed, the House itself would have to bring him down. Separation is not something he will tolerate, not easily, not quietly. And perhaps that soothes some of the fear that still lives in him at the thought of having Cy taken from him. As long as he breathes, he will never, ever surrender the future where they might be together. He won't leave Cy alone. He'd die before he allowed it.
Cy continues speaking, spelling out that connection to family that is so naturally the next step for them, warm hand cradling his balls in a squeeze that inspires squirming only soothed by the stroke across his belly. And Sasuke's expression breaks into a smile — laughter spilling out, a little watery from his own tears but effusive, breath chuffing gently, because —]
Even now you're trying to protect me from struggle and suffering. It means more than I can say. But, I'd see it as the ultimate act of service to you, Cyram. I want to have your children. I want to carry them, even if it's hard. [His right hand fishes for the one that is still petting him, directing it back to his lower stomach if it has strayed, cupping over it so their flattened palms allow the stitch of intertwined fingers.] I won't say that it's off the table. I like the idea of knocking you up too. Making you mine, and no one else's.
[There's more deliberate movement now, reminding both of them how intimately they're connected, Cy's cock rigid and hot inside his body.]
As for the Sharingan... ah, can we discuss that later? It's getting difficult to concentrate. We shouldn't talk about children too often, or I'll — try to do it anyway, even in a place like this.
[you are going to drive him CRAZY]
Cy continues speaking, spelling out that connection to family that is so naturally the next step for them, warm hand cradling his balls in a squeeze that inspires squirming only soothed by the stroke across his belly. And Sasuke's expression breaks into a smile — laughter spilling out, a little watery from his own tears but effusive, breath chuffing gently, because —]
Even now you're trying to protect me from struggle and suffering. It means more than I can say. But, I'd see it as the ultimate act of service to you, Cyram. I want to have your children. I want to carry them, even if it's hard. [His right hand fishes for the one that is still petting him, directing it back to his lower stomach if it has strayed, cupping over it so their flattened palms allow the stitch of intertwined fingers.] I won't say that it's off the table. I like the idea of knocking you up too. Making you mine, and no one else's.
[There's more deliberate movement now, reminding both of them how intimately they're connected, Cy's cock rigid and hot inside his body.]
As for the Sharingan... ah, can we discuss that later? It's getting difficult to concentrate. We shouldn't talk about children too often, or I'll — try to do it anyway, even in a place like this.
[you are going to drive him CRAZY]
（ he laughs too, and tugs sasuke in against him, long lines of sharply defined muscle melting into him as he steals a kiss. he wraps his arms around sasuke, holding him steady and still, flexing his hips upwards just a little into an absentminded thrust. playfully: ）
So, correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me like the secret to ruining your coherence is to put a dick up your ass?
（ gosh, he Never Would Have Considered That Before. Brand new information!! on the heels of that kiss, he rubs his cheek against sasuke's like an affectionate cat, and the d-ring of the collar jangles like a bell. ）
I love you. I'm going to marry you. We'll figure out the kid thing later.
（ he shoves sasuke back to a sitting position and then assumes his own, one of careless repose. his ankles cross, his hands are tucked behind his head which elongates the flex of core muscles and accentuates the faint arch to his spine. he knows how to make a picture of himself, that's for sure. ）
Now, I'm going to lay here and you're going to show me all the tricks I've taught you until you milk my cock to orgasm inside you. Work for it. Show off all that beauty, all that grace for me, t'che verai.
So, correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me like the secret to ruining your coherence is to put a dick up your ass?
（ gosh, he Never Would Have Considered That Before. Brand new information!! on the heels of that kiss, he rubs his cheek against sasuke's like an affectionate cat, and the d-ring of the collar jangles like a bell. ）
I love you. I'm going to marry you. We'll figure out the kid thing later.
（ he shoves sasuke back to a sitting position and then assumes his own, one of careless repose. his ankles cross, his hands are tucked behind his head which elongates the flex of core muscles and accentuates the faint arch to his spine. he knows how to make a picture of himself, that's for sure. ）
Now, I'm going to lay here and you're going to show me all the tricks I've taught you until you milk my cock to orgasm inside you. Work for it. Show off all that beauty, all that grace for me, t'che verai.
（ you know, he might have commiserated on that laborious power piece, or chased down exactly what he meant by place, if not for the fact that he just blithely continues and announces his ability to converse with all things chlorophyllic, and cy raises his eyebrows curiously. it's not exactly alien to him — the people of aikelyk were well-versed in it, after all. it's just not something he's encountered with any recency, and his expression softens, fondness showing in the brief crease of his brow.
he could say something profound. he could ask all the questions a farmer might ask. he could teleport the little cactus in his room to hand, and ask if it missed stiles.
but what he says instead is: ）
This isn't going to make my vegetarianism weird, is it?
he could say something profound. he could ask all the questions a farmer might ask. he could teleport the little cactus in his room to hand, and ask if it missed stiles.
but what he says instead is: ）
This isn't going to make my vegetarianism weird, is it?
[Concord gives a slow blind at that. He would respond "The plants will eat you one day," but this man claimed he is also an immortal sort, so... Concord adjusts that response,]
Given the chance, a plant would eat you. They do not know morality.
[so comically obvious of a statement it nearly sounds profound]
Given the chance, a plant would eat you. They do not know morality.
[so comically obvious of a statement it nearly sounds profound]
（ that pulls a laugh out of him, and an idle twang on the guitar where it's braced across his lap. ）
Well, that's fine by me. Not knowing morality means nothing's done in cruelty.
（ he fans his hand out against the grass as he speaks, blades tickling his palm. his expression is fond as he does it, focused on the shiver of the blades stirred by his hand. ）
Sometimes, simple and uncomplicated is best.
Well, that's fine by me. Not knowing morality means nothing's done in cruelty.
（ he fans his hand out against the grass as he speaks, blades tickling his palm. his expression is fond as he does it, focused on the shiver of the blades stirred by his hand. ）
Sometimes, simple and uncomplicated is best.
Edited (should not tag when tired, words stop wording) 2024-07-26 03:06 (UTC)
They are not complex beings, plants. They know what they need and what is out of balance. [Which is really all they'll tell him about. A useful skill for, well,]
I can grant you that insight with ease.
I can grant you that insight with ease.
[There's a gentle scoff, as if to intimate the thought: "Is that really so surprising?" After everything they've done up to this point, of course his coherence would be ruined by the act of sex with Cy — and certainly even more so on the heels of the words they've just shared, but Cy understands, and that sarcasm attests to it. His own expression only softens at the promise. He can't recall the last time he felt like this, so weightless and free, but it was probably in the Valley of the End.
Yet he knows that isn't quite accurate. At that time, it was like the emotion had scorched the bed of his mind, left him clean and empty. Here, he is full — the sentiment fills him like a cup, threatening to pour over the brim with that river channeled between them. All of the love and adoration and respect and trust that can possibly be embodied by one person. Cy is the fixture of his life, its center, bright as a star.]
I love you. [In French, though it slips in the space between translation the lyrical edge of it can just be made out.] I'll love you forever. Until I'm old, until I'm gone. And even after that. I'll never let you be without me.
[And perhaps he won't get old at all — if he can carve a space beside Cy, he'll stay there for the rest of time.
Sasuke goes to fucking himself down on the man's lap like he's desperate for it, which is true, rhythm an inelegant grind that does more to crush their bodies together than to show off skill or technique. It's a rough, ruthless pace. It's like the first time he ever tried this — pushing himself onto Cy's cock with a furious hunger that would not be sated, a wild abandon in the first real pleasure of his life, just wanting to feel the stretch of his ass until it begins to chafe with need for lubricant. And this time he'll test if Cy will let him keep going, bouncing on the man's dick even as a sheen of sweat prickles his brow and he has to catch his weight with his right hand on the mattress, panting hard from the effort of stamina. He maintains eye contact through it — the colored glow of his own gaze fiercely intense.]
Yet he knows that isn't quite accurate. At that time, it was like the emotion had scorched the bed of his mind, left him clean and empty. Here, he is full — the sentiment fills him like a cup, threatening to pour over the brim with that river channeled between them. All of the love and adoration and respect and trust that can possibly be embodied by one person. Cy is the fixture of his life, its center, bright as a star.]
I love you. [In French, though it slips in the space between translation the lyrical edge of it can just be made out.] I'll love you forever. Until I'm old, until I'm gone. And even after that. I'll never let you be without me.
[And perhaps he won't get old at all — if he can carve a space beside Cy, he'll stay there for the rest of time.
Sasuke goes to fucking himself down on the man's lap like he's desperate for it, which is true, rhythm an inelegant grind that does more to crush their bodies together than to show off skill or technique. It's a rough, ruthless pace. It's like the first time he ever tried this — pushing himself onto Cy's cock with a furious hunger that would not be sated, a wild abandon in the first real pleasure of his life, just wanting to feel the stretch of his ass until it begins to chafe with need for lubricant. And this time he'll test if Cy will let him keep going, bouncing on the man's dick even as a sheen of sweat prickles his brow and he has to catch his weight with his right hand on the mattress, panting hard from the effort of stamina. He maintains eye contact through it — the colored glow of his own gaze fiercely intense.]
Au-delà du temps.
（ he hadn't intended to be a passive bystander for the act in its entirety — though he makes no move to stop sasuke even when the lubrication has been worn away, knowing now that he likes the burn, trusting now that he'll stop if he needs to — he does eventually lift a hand to card sasuke's hair back from his face. it feels like his only awareness of time comes with the changing length of it, those strands so soft and silk-smooth as they run through his fingers.
sasuke's gaze is met and held without hesitation. he wants to look at him, wants to see the first furrows of pleasure and pain as they vie for room in his expression. he wants to surrender to the mercy of the sharingan and its disparate twin. he wants, and wants, and wants.
his hands lift to sasuke's shoulders, pulling him into an angle that's punishing on the core, wanting to see him work, to fuck himself to enthusiastic exhaustion until every last bit of tension is wrung out of him like a bloodletting. for all that it's a little graceless, a little messy, there is the same wild beauty in this as in a storm, as when lightning splits the sky.
one particular downward grind has him bite his lip bloody, and there's an inarticulate tangle of noise that spills from his mouth as his fingers hook against sasuke's back and drag down, leaving livid furrows that drag bruises to the surface from the wings of his shoulderblades to the small of his back where, in a small mercy, his hands settle around sasuke's hips. thumbs catch at the jut of his iliac crest, and a brief exertion of strength resists the next flex of sasuke's thighs, keeping him nailed to the altar of cy's cock with what barely seems like effort. ）
Do you want it to hurt?
（ an echo of that disastrous first time, where the impulses of suit and sadism had intersected badly. offered again, now, freely and with nothing else but trust, but love writ plain on his face. ）
（ he hadn't intended to be a passive bystander for the act in its entirety — though he makes no move to stop sasuke even when the lubrication has been worn away, knowing now that he likes the burn, trusting now that he'll stop if he needs to — he does eventually lift a hand to card sasuke's hair back from his face. it feels like his only awareness of time comes with the changing length of it, those strands so soft and silk-smooth as they run through his fingers.
sasuke's gaze is met and held without hesitation. he wants to look at him, wants to see the first furrows of pleasure and pain as they vie for room in his expression. he wants to surrender to the mercy of the sharingan and its disparate twin. he wants, and wants, and wants.
his hands lift to sasuke's shoulders, pulling him into an angle that's punishing on the core, wanting to see him work, to fuck himself to enthusiastic exhaustion until every last bit of tension is wrung out of him like a bloodletting. for all that it's a little graceless, a little messy, there is the same wild beauty in this as in a storm, as when lightning splits the sky.
one particular downward grind has him bite his lip bloody, and there's an inarticulate tangle of noise that spills from his mouth as his fingers hook against sasuke's back and drag down, leaving livid furrows that drag bruises to the surface from the wings of his shoulderblades to the small of his back where, in a small mercy, his hands settle around sasuke's hips. thumbs catch at the jut of his iliac crest, and a brief exertion of strength resists the next flex of sasuke's thighs, keeping him nailed to the altar of cy's cock with what barely seems like effort. ）
Do you want it to hurt?
（ an echo of that disastrous first time, where the impulses of suit and sadism had intersected badly. offered again, now, freely and with nothing else but trust, but love writ plain on his face. ）
[The weight on his shoulders forces that more grueling pace, abdomen a tight drum and thighs shaking with a fine tremor of effort — but he revels in it, limits being pushed those few inches further to test what he can do, to prove himself, to demonstrate his strength and desire in a real and physical way. His breath is ragged and uneven, chest rising with every harsh intake and collapsing on the outflow.
Then he feels Cy's nails in his back, raking hot lines to the surface of skin, catching on the dead nerves of scar tissue but alive and vibrant with pain everywhere else. He wonders if Cy has drawn blood. He hopes, and he wants it to leave a mark as long as possible, deep enough to mottle with the bruising that discolors his skin in that claiming way. It means Cy has touched him, changed and possessed him.
Sasuke recognizes the question, because his own thoughts are drifting back on all of their conversations and encounters — he can't forget anything they've said or done. He never will. He remembers the first time Cy asked him that, and how it sounded over the device, dark and intoxicating, a trigger for some instinct or urge he had yet to recognize. He remembers his own thoughtless compliance, just like now—]
Yes, [a word that sounds like begging as he writhes on Cy's cock, clenching his hole around the intrusion of hard flesh until it aches.] Yes, please. Yes.
Then he feels Cy's nails in his back, raking hot lines to the surface of skin, catching on the dead nerves of scar tissue but alive and vibrant with pain everywhere else. He wonders if Cy has drawn blood. He hopes, and he wants it to leave a mark as long as possible, deep enough to mottle with the bruising that discolors his skin in that claiming way. It means Cy has touched him, changed and possessed him.
Sasuke recognizes the question, because his own thoughts are drifting back on all of their conversations and encounters — he can't forget anything they've said or done. He never will. He remembers the first time Cy asked him that, and how it sounded over the device, dark and intoxicating, a trigger for some instinct or urge he had yet to recognize. He remembers his own thoughtless compliance, just like now—]
Yes, [a word that sounds like begging as he writhes on Cy's cock, clenching his hole around the intrusion of hard flesh until it aches.] Yes, please. Yes.
Let me.
（ it's a request for submission, for sasuke to go lax and boneless in his grip, meaning made clear by a stroke from his hips to his knees, fingers kneading tenderly into the corded muscle until the tension melts away like an equation wiped from a blackboard, until sasuke gives him total control and absolute obeisance. with humour — almost self-deprecatory: ）
You're still doing the finishing act, don't think you can bat your pretty eyes at me and have me do all the hard work for you.
（ it's a good-natured threat as these things go — and then he blows sasuke a cheeky little kiss and a wink before he sets to his work: namely, lifting sasuke with his palms levered beneath his thighs, thumbs pressed to a deep bruise against their sides to give him a solid, punishing grip that lets him drag sasuke back down in a merciless drag. cy's more practiced at establishing a rhythm, and this one will push sasuke to his limits and past them — there's no time offered to acclimate, to adjust, to breathe. everything is narrowed down to this act balanced on the blade of a knife: the use of sasuke's body for no purpose other than to seed pain into this deepest part of him until every other cruel thing he's ever endured in his life is drowned out by the immediacy and the urgency of the inward spear of cy's cock, the drag of its head against his prostate, the chafe of ill-suited skin as the lube wears away. sasuke's pleasure, which has been cradled lovingly and guarded fiercely from that first encounter onward, seems almost unconsidered here — and anything felt is incidental to the aim.
but his attention goes — unfocused, faraway. the connection of their gaze, which had barely flagged for blinking to now, is lost. not disassociation, exactly, but — there are some things he can stand to see reflected in sasuke's expression and some he can't. instead, his attention is on fixed point that does not directly align to any one thing on sasuke's body, lax. but he's still here, still in the moment — assurance offered in the shelter of an occasional stroke of one thumb against sasuke's thigh. ）
Keep your ass clenched around me. Don't you dare relax. You want it to hurt? Make it hurt.
（ that's half a snarl — the sort of low, whipcrack command that means he expects to be obeyed. his words are slightly stilted, for all that he's not much impacted in terms of physicality, the impact of sasuke's body pulled hard against him is still affecting how smoothly he can speak. ）
Your body's mine. You can have it back when you're sobbing from the pain. When your mind can't focus on anything but how much it hurts, when you've accepted there is no purpose to your existence except to take my cock. Then, you can earn my orgasm.
（ it's a request for submission, for sasuke to go lax and boneless in his grip, meaning made clear by a stroke from his hips to his knees, fingers kneading tenderly into the corded muscle until the tension melts away like an equation wiped from a blackboard, until sasuke gives him total control and absolute obeisance. with humour — almost self-deprecatory: ）
You're still doing the finishing act, don't think you can bat your pretty eyes at me and have me do all the hard work for you.
（ it's a good-natured threat as these things go — and then he blows sasuke a cheeky little kiss and a wink before he sets to his work: namely, lifting sasuke with his palms levered beneath his thighs, thumbs pressed to a deep bruise against their sides to give him a solid, punishing grip that lets him drag sasuke back down in a merciless drag. cy's more practiced at establishing a rhythm, and this one will push sasuke to his limits and past them — there's no time offered to acclimate, to adjust, to breathe. everything is narrowed down to this act balanced on the blade of a knife: the use of sasuke's body for no purpose other than to seed pain into this deepest part of him until every other cruel thing he's ever endured in his life is drowned out by the immediacy and the urgency of the inward spear of cy's cock, the drag of its head against his prostate, the chafe of ill-suited skin as the lube wears away. sasuke's pleasure, which has been cradled lovingly and guarded fiercely from that first encounter onward, seems almost unconsidered here — and anything felt is incidental to the aim.
but his attention goes — unfocused, faraway. the connection of their gaze, which had barely flagged for blinking to now, is lost. not disassociation, exactly, but — there are some things he can stand to see reflected in sasuke's expression and some he can't. instead, his attention is on fixed point that does not directly align to any one thing on sasuke's body, lax. but he's still here, still in the moment — assurance offered in the shelter of an occasional stroke of one thumb against sasuke's thigh. ）
Keep your ass clenched around me. Don't you dare relax. You want it to hurt? Make it hurt.
（ that's half a snarl — the sort of low, whipcrack command that means he expects to be obeyed. his words are slightly stilted, for all that he's not much impacted in terms of physicality, the impact of sasuke's body pulled hard against him is still affecting how smoothly he can speak. ）
Your body's mine. You can have it back when you're sobbing from the pain. When your mind can't focus on anything but how much it hurts, when you've accepted there is no purpose to your existence except to take my cock. Then, you can earn my orgasm.
[He feels like wet clay molded by those hands, massaged to a soft and pliable looseness at that request, that directive Let me. It is so easy to put the reins of control into this man's hands now that he does not think twice, a dreamy look in his eyes at Cy's blithe flare of humor. Cy could put a blade through his chest and he would not flinch — he would take it, and die slowly, bleeding into these hands until he was drained, and he'd drift peacefully away. It is a defenselessness he has never known in his life before. It would be terrifying if it didn't feel so good.
Instead those strong hands seize his weight from beneath his thighs, driving a brutal rhythm that leaves no room for tolerance or mercy. He feels himself slammed down onto Cy's cock with a ruthless precision that forces the air out of his chest on tattered breaths — so thoroughly that he doesn't have time to breathe back in, left in that narrow reactive space where he can't fill his lungs as fast as they're emptied. The chafe of Cy's dick dragging in the channel of his ass isn't soothed, only gets worse, a burn that builds and builds until he feels it rubbing directly against his prostate.
Make it hurt. Where his body might have once thrashed to escape this pain, he's forced to remain in the flow of it — clenching the muscles of his lower body over the man's cock, squeezing his ass hard, hearing the obscene slap of skin where they connect. And it hurts, a bright ribbon of sensation that threatens to carry his head somewhere else — tethered back only by Cy's voice.]
Yes, yes, ah — yes... [Almost like he's stuck on the word, half-choking on it.] It hurts. It hurts.
[Cy's gaze has slid off of him, and he notices it even in the fog of everything else, that tilt of focus gone away — like Cy is looking at him from a distance. It catches in his mind but doesn't negate the physical reassurance of Cy's touch across his thighs, so in the moment he lets it go, pushes it back — easy enough when he's coming in the next moment untouched. The orgasm spills out of him, striping Cy's belly in threads, yet miraculously he does not soften, cock left stiff and swollen that urgent shade of red. And Cy fucks him through it. That savage pace doesn't falter, friction burning inside of him, overstimulated by the continuous pressure against his prostate. Sasuke lets his hand reach out to hook into the d-ring of the collar, a yank that tethers him in place as he's brought down onto Cy's cock — and he experiences a second orgasm with no refractory period. It feels almost too sudden, too violent; his voice breaks on a cry that collapses into sobbing, eyes wet with tears as his chest heaves and he shakes in Cy's hold.]
Instead those strong hands seize his weight from beneath his thighs, driving a brutal rhythm that leaves no room for tolerance or mercy. He feels himself slammed down onto Cy's cock with a ruthless precision that forces the air out of his chest on tattered breaths — so thoroughly that he doesn't have time to breathe back in, left in that narrow reactive space where he can't fill his lungs as fast as they're emptied. The chafe of Cy's dick dragging in the channel of his ass isn't soothed, only gets worse, a burn that builds and builds until he feels it rubbing directly against his prostate.
Make it hurt. Where his body might have once thrashed to escape this pain, he's forced to remain in the flow of it — clenching the muscles of his lower body over the man's cock, squeezing his ass hard, hearing the obscene slap of skin where they connect. And it hurts, a bright ribbon of sensation that threatens to carry his head somewhere else — tethered back only by Cy's voice.]
Yes, yes, ah — yes... [Almost like he's stuck on the word, half-choking on it.] It hurts. It hurts.
[Cy's gaze has slid off of him, and he notices it even in the fog of everything else, that tilt of focus gone away — like Cy is looking at him from a distance. It catches in his mind but doesn't negate the physical reassurance of Cy's touch across his thighs, so in the moment he lets it go, pushes it back — easy enough when he's coming in the next moment untouched. The orgasm spills out of him, striping Cy's belly in threads, yet miraculously he does not soften, cock left stiff and swollen that urgent shade of red. And Cy fucks him through it. That savage pace doesn't falter, friction burning inside of him, overstimulated by the continuous pressure against his prostate. Sasuke lets his hand reach out to hook into the d-ring of the collar, a yank that tethers him in place as he's brought down onto Cy's cock — and he experiences a second orgasm with no refractory period. It feels almost too sudden, too violent; his voice breaks on a cry that collapses into sobbing, eyes wet with tears as his chest heaves and he shakes in Cy's hold.]
Edited 2024-07-27 01:09 (UTC)
Reckon I do.
[Concord is pretty easy to onboard into activities, honestly! Taking care of plants sounds nice. Soothing, even. This place could use more nature, even if it is lacking place, merely sitting in a planter. Still better than nothing.]
[Concord is pretty easy to onboard into activities, honestly! Taking care of plants sounds nice. Soothing, even. This place could use more nature, even if it is lacking place, merely sitting in a planter. Still better than nothing.]
[ On the polar opposite end, Tomura's barely set foot in the Naked Yolk beyond a cursory exploration when he first arrived here. Nevertheless, it doesn't particularly fluster nor scandalize him, walking past the masks, the collars, the floggers decking out the lobby area, and onward to the hallways of the private rooms. More than anything, the air he gives off is unimpressed, bored and completely uninterested in the bells and whistles of human depravity brazenly on display.
The room Cyram's selected for them is met with the same reaction once he lets himself in. His eyes skate over the sex furniture like it's nothing more than your average IKIA desk, and he ends up more or less skimming over Cy as well, apart from brief recognition that the man is here. Then his eyes land on the array of rope spread out on the bed, and there his gaze finally lingers, considers the items in front of him.
Six hours, huh? To him, it sounds like plenty of time. ]
What kind of knots? [ He finally turns towards Cy now, after approaching the bed and leaning a hip against the metal support. ] Like for hostages, I guess.
[ He shrugs, careless. Might as well speak frankly. ]
The room Cyram's selected for them is met with the same reaction once he lets himself in. His eyes skate over the sex furniture like it's nothing more than your average IKIA desk, and he ends up more or less skimming over Cy as well, apart from brief recognition that the man is here. Then his eyes land on the array of rope spread out on the bed, and there his gaze finally lingers, considers the items in front of him.
Six hours, huh? To him, it sounds like plenty of time. ]
What kind of knots? [ He finally turns towards Cy now, after approaching the bed and leaning a hip against the metal support. ] Like for hostages, I guess.
[ He shrugs, careless. Might as well speak frankly. ]
（ sasuke's body may as well been carved around him for how well they fit — an occupation of every negative space they have each in turn. sasuke shakes around the intrusion, from the pain, but there's no resistance in him. there's only acceptance, a welcoming of the pain of it into his body, driving him bonelessly spent, trembling hotly in cy's grasp. the desperate, keening sobs have him fighting the urge to get off immediately — imagine telling sasuke once upon a time that crying gets him off, only to have him become a fucking gold medalist at the art. this boy takes overachievement seriously.
the second, immediate orgasm is a surprise — but a welcome one. cy pulls him back down in a final punishing grip, and then leaves him connected at that deepest, most intimate point, one hand steady at the boy's wrist where he's gripping onto the collar. the other is dragged through the mess sasuke made of his abdomen, and then his fingers — glistening wetly with the boy's come — are lifted and presented before his mouth. ）
Good boy. （ is murmured, soft praise for how well sasuke took his cock, for coming twice in such quick succession, for the way he bends, obedient, to clean cy's hand. ） You are so fucking perfect. Every inch of you. Every piece, every part. Your soul was made to fit me.
（ there's a slight shift as he pulls sasuke down against his chest, cradling him in the sticky mess of sweat and come, hips angled well enough that the change permits no mercy to sasuke's ass. ）
I love the way you cry for me. The tears, the way your body shakes, the way your breath goes ragged. I bet you could get me off just doing that, being so, so good for me that way.
（ idly, as sasuke lays against him, cy slips fingers into his mouth and proceeds to sink into an almost meditative thrusting there, a stand-in for a forced blowjob he can't currently manage given the fact his cock is otherwise occupied. ）
After I come inside you, I want to put a plug in your ass to keep my seed where it belongs. Then, I want you to change to a woman so I can do it again in another hole. Don't speak. （ there's a warning stroke of his fingers against the base of sasuke's tongue, petting him there but also preventing a verbal answer. come to think of it, there's a mask they could use... hm. ） Nod yes or no.
the second, immediate orgasm is a surprise — but a welcome one. cy pulls him back down in a final punishing grip, and then leaves him connected at that deepest, most intimate point, one hand steady at the boy's wrist where he's gripping onto the collar. the other is dragged through the mess sasuke made of his abdomen, and then his fingers — glistening wetly with the boy's come — are lifted and presented before his mouth. ）
Good boy. （ is murmured, soft praise for how well sasuke took his cock, for coming twice in such quick succession, for the way he bends, obedient, to clean cy's hand. ） You are so fucking perfect. Every inch of you. Every piece, every part. Your soul was made to fit me.
（ there's a slight shift as he pulls sasuke down against his chest, cradling him in the sticky mess of sweat and come, hips angled well enough that the change permits no mercy to sasuke's ass. ）
I love the way you cry for me. The tears, the way your body shakes, the way your breath goes ragged. I bet you could get me off just doing that, being so, so good for me that way.
（ idly, as sasuke lays against him, cy slips fingers into his mouth and proceeds to sink into an almost meditative thrusting there, a stand-in for a forced blowjob he can't currently manage given the fact his cock is otherwise occupied. ）
After I come inside you, I want to put a plug in your ass to keep my seed where it belongs. Then, I want you to change to a woman so I can do it again in another hole. Don't speak. （ there's a warning stroke of his fingers against the base of sasuke's tongue, petting him there but also preventing a verbal answer. come to think of it, there's a mask they could use... hm. ） Nod yes or no.
[The praise soothes that itch in him, sore and needy for attention and approval from this man alone. He suspects there is no one left alive that he would feel this craving for acknowledgement from. And Cy satisfies it, a vocalization of pleasure that brightens every point of hurt until the ache is perfect, until it is exactly what he needs.
No hesitation surfaces when those fingers lift to his mouth. Sasuke's lips part, taking in the intrusion now with a practiced tongue, tasting himself as he's made to clean his own mess from Cy's hand, throat working to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his mouth. He can feel how deeply Cy's cock sits inside of him, the way his own body cradles the heavy heat of it in a tight, throbbing clench — eyes rapt on the man's face, cheeks flushed, expression adoring. Cy could do anything to him now and he would thank him for it.
Yet there is the promise of feeling Cy fill him up close at hand. A physical shiver passes through Sasuke, tempered by the fact he cannot speak, can only allow his voice to reverberate messily around the fingers that push into his mouth, toying with his tongue. The penetration from both ends is enough to make him squirm with need even in the fresh wake of his own release. He tries to rock his ass down into Cy's lap, but at this angle he doesn't have much momentum, rhythm and pace too beholden to Cy's control.
A glassy look settles into his eyes at the command, and his affirmative nod is barely a thought. It is careful so as not to dislodge the man's fingers where they sit on his tongue, testing the tight flex of a gag reflex at the back of his throat — but Sasuke almost cannot help it. Desire runs a hot river through him, wanting to feel Cy's come inside of him. He wants it everywhere, in his body and on his skin, until his world is nothing else. Until he is under Cy's complete dominion.]
No hesitation surfaces when those fingers lift to his mouth. Sasuke's lips part, taking in the intrusion now with a practiced tongue, tasting himself as he's made to clean his own mess from Cy's hand, throat working to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his mouth. He can feel how deeply Cy's cock sits inside of him, the way his own body cradles the heavy heat of it in a tight, throbbing clench — eyes rapt on the man's face, cheeks flushed, expression adoring. Cy could do anything to him now and he would thank him for it.
Yet there is the promise of feeling Cy fill him up close at hand. A physical shiver passes through Sasuke, tempered by the fact he cannot speak, can only allow his voice to reverberate messily around the fingers that push into his mouth, toying with his tongue. The penetration from both ends is enough to make him squirm with need even in the fresh wake of his own release. He tries to rock his ass down into Cy's lap, but at this angle he doesn't have much momentum, rhythm and pace too beholden to Cy's control.
A glassy look settles into his eyes at the command, and his affirmative nod is barely a thought. It is careful so as not to dislodge the man's fingers where they sit on his tongue, testing the tight flex of a gag reflex at the back of his throat — but Sasuke almost cannot help it. Desire runs a hot river through him, wanting to feel Cy's come inside of him. He wants it everywhere, in his body and on his skin, until his world is nothing else. Until he is under Cy's complete dominion.]
So?
（ another slow thrust of his fingers and then he reclaims his hand, a string of drool briefly connecting them in a line like a shimmering filament before it breaks at the apogee of the stretch. cy strokes his cheek briefly, kisses his hair, and then: ）
Get me off, my beautiful whore. Work for it.
（ another slow thrust of his fingers and then he reclaims his hand, a string of drool briefly connecting them in a line like a shimmering filament before it breaks at the apogee of the stretch. cy strokes his cheek briefly, kisses his hair, and then: ）
Get me off, my beautiful whore. Work for it.
[He is glad for the order, glad to work for it — tongue cleaning the drool from his lips as his head turns to nuzzle that hand. He almost wants to ask for the fingers back in his mouth so he can take them deeper and feel the dual sensations of being fucked at the same time, but then he wouldn't be able to speak, wouldn't be able to kiss in turn. There are so many sensations he wants that Cy has shown him, taught him to enjoy, and he feels greedy with desire now. Heady to know that he might have this forever, if Cy really will marry him.]
Yes, sir.
[The words are all ragged breath as he steadies himself and begins a relentless rhythm, rocking in Cy's lap, riding the man's cock even against that burn of penetration from limited lubricant — the harsh drag feels so good. It satisfies an untempered ache in him. Sweat prickles on his skin for the effort, face flushed, right hand hooked into the d-ring of the collar for stability.]
Please — please come inside of me. Fill me up.
Yes, sir.
[The words are all ragged breath as he steadies himself and begins a relentless rhythm, rocking in Cy's lap, riding the man's cock even against that burn of penetration from limited lubricant — the harsh drag feels so good. It satisfies an untempered ache in him. Sweat prickles on his skin for the effort, face flushed, right hand hooked into the d-ring of the collar for stability.]
Please — please come inside of me. Fill me up.
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