Of course we can. None of this has to be one and done unless you want it to be. I'm easy.
（ for a moment, the demi-embrace tightens — reassurance melting into absence as he scoots back off the bed and stands up. first, the box of cleaning supplies is retrieved a second time and set within sasuke's easy reach, and then cy strips without ceremony out of his own clothes. it's more mindful of sasuke's space than of his own preferences that the articles are folded neatly and set aside before he clambers back into the narrow bed.
there's a sort of ease to his nudity — neither shy nor showing off, no more self-conscious now than when he was clothed, that carries over into an effortless grace. most notably about him, perhaps, is that his body is entirely unscarred, nothing that would speak to any trauma, nothing that would ever denote pain. an impeccable canvas that conceals an almost monstrous truth.
he wears that lack carelessly, and well. almost too well.
but on his return to the bed, he doesn't quite resume his position — both because of the necessary clean-up that has to occur, and because he's entirely conscious of the fact this is the first time sasuke's probably ever seen another man naked in this particular context. the same bed, on the heels of a sexual act even if left uncompleted. the faint, acrid smell of arousal still in the close, stuffy air of the tiny room like a hazy, erotic overlay. but his earlier interest is clearly subsided, and his cock hangs flaccid against a backdrop of intermittently groomed hair (mostly, when he remembers. or when he cares.) as he lounges on his side, back against the wall, buying precious inches between them. but there's no real sense of shamelessness, nothing suggestive in pose or posture. he's just present.
regardless of what sasuke's doing or has chosen to do on the topic of clean-up, he grabs one of the wet wipes as well and dabs at the boy's stomach to erase the evidence of unfinished orgasm. it's not quite as utilitarian as the last time, getting him tidied before sasuke slipped below the leylines of genuine exhaustion, this contact is less almost medically sterile and more companionable, affection palpable even in the lingering stroke of the wipes. ）
Look, it's normal to have some false starts, too. You don't have to feel bad about that. Trust me when I say I'd rather get halfway there with you a hundred times and have you feel comfortable enough to call it off than fuck you once when you aren't into it. You said you'd look after me too — that's how you do it. So, thank you for that.
（ a bit of a shrug. ）
If it would help you to try anything out on me first, you can. I wanna stress the help part — don't do it because you think you owe me or I need it, that ain't it. I am always down to clown, but my interest begins and ends with my partner's. It's just easier sometimes, and it's an option if you're into it.
no subject
（ for a moment, the demi-embrace tightens — reassurance melting into absence as he scoots back off the bed and stands up. first, the box of cleaning supplies is retrieved a second time and set within sasuke's easy reach, and then cy strips without ceremony out of his own clothes. it's more mindful of sasuke's space than of his own preferences that the articles are folded neatly and set aside before he clambers back into the narrow bed.
there's a sort of ease to his nudity — neither shy nor showing off, no more self-conscious now than when he was clothed, that carries over into an effortless grace. most notably about him, perhaps, is that his body is entirely unscarred, nothing that would speak to any trauma, nothing that would ever denote pain. an impeccable canvas that conceals an almost monstrous truth.
he wears that lack carelessly, and well. almost too well.
but on his return to the bed, he doesn't quite resume his position — both because of the necessary clean-up that has to occur, and because he's entirely conscious of the fact this is the first time sasuke's probably ever seen another man naked in this particular context. the same bed, on the heels of a sexual act even if left uncompleted. the faint, acrid smell of arousal still in the close, stuffy air of the tiny room like a hazy, erotic overlay. but his earlier interest is clearly subsided, and his cock hangs flaccid against a backdrop of intermittently groomed hair (mostly, when he remembers. or when he cares.) as he lounges on his side, back against the wall, buying precious inches between them. but there's no real sense of shamelessness, nothing suggestive in pose or posture. he's just present.
regardless of what sasuke's doing or has chosen to do on the topic of clean-up, he grabs one of the wet wipes as well and dabs at the boy's stomach to erase the evidence of unfinished orgasm. it's not quite as utilitarian as the last time, getting him tidied before sasuke slipped below the leylines of genuine exhaustion, this contact is less almost medically sterile and more companionable, affection palpable even in the lingering stroke of the wipes. ）
Look, it's normal to have some false starts, too. You don't have to feel bad about that. Trust me when I say I'd rather get halfway there with you a hundred times and have you feel comfortable enough to call it off than fuck you once when you aren't into it. You said you'd look after me too — that's how you do it. So, thank you for that.
（ a bit of a shrug. ）
If it would help you to try anything out on me first, you can. I wanna stress the help part — don't do it because you think you owe me or I need it, that ain't it. I am always down to clown, but my interest begins and ends with my partner's. It's just easier sometimes, and it's an option if you're into it.