[He cannot possibly listen to Cy describe what he enjoys and remain unaffected. Where the previous descriptions had shriveled some of that interest, now it's renewed, stoked by the drawling cadence of Cy's voice. The variety is difficult for his mind to grasp onto specificity—but listening to those words, appended at the end by such a bold statement of intent, is enough.
no subject
The rush of arousal is hot, vivid. Sitting on the blanket, Sasuke is aware of the sudden pulse between his own folded thighs, cock stirring, attention dovetailing from the meal altogether. He is aware that he wants... all of that, or at least he wants to try it. Pain, knives, obedience and control. Even the humiliating thought of begging. Under Cy's hands, anything feels possible—at least in that moment, in the blasé and confident way it's intoned.]
Cyram.
[Low and almost petulant, he hesitates on how to approach this sudden predicament of tunnel-visioned lust. His face is undeniably red.]
I'm finished eating.