[It would be easy to fall into that frustration. To chase it, ruthlessly, and wring the orgasm out of him with less pleasure than simple, brutal relief. Yet Cy's voice corrals him, guides him away from that habit of disregard for his body; he's only ever trusted himself in battle. Not like this, bare to the flesh and wrapped up in someone else's arms. The vulnerability is as frightening as before, but it's much easier to bear when it's Cy. Cy.
He's gasped the name again like a litany, desperate as he's first maneuvered into an arched back, hips and ass a sinuous curve all the way down to the joined intrusion of their slippery, lubed fingers. Then another hungry suck of air as he's pulled to his knees, upright, head lolling back to brace on Cy's strong shoulder in exposure of the throat, the ridge of a collar, the flat sternum.
Arm trapped by their bodies, a fractured sound emerges when that warm hand slips to the bottom of a throat. The divot of a collarbone hammers with the heavy pulse of his heart, stuttering a little quicker on the ridge of—something like fear mixed into excitement. He wouldn't allow anyone else to hold him like this. Fatal, to put his body into hands that could rend him apart. But it's Cy.
He's not fighting. I've got you, those sweet words enough to sink under, carrying him along. Fingertips hook at a better angle, a deeper angle, managing to graze that tender area of nerves, and the sound it fishes out of Sasuke is high and shattered and shivering. An all-over feeling of release that blisters and burns.]
There. It's... there, Cyram — hah...
[He comes, hips twitching hard, cock untouched as his release stripes the bedsheet—and in his earlier haste, he's forgotten to lay down a towel—a wet mess that darkens fabric immediately. And he's boneless in Cy's grasp, held up only by the other's strength, ass clenched furiously tight over their fingers.]
no subject
He's gasped the name again like a litany, desperate as he's first maneuvered into an arched back, hips and ass a sinuous curve all the way down to the joined intrusion of their slippery, lubed fingers. Then another hungry suck of air as he's pulled to his knees, upright, head lolling back to brace on Cy's strong shoulder in exposure of the throat, the ridge of a collar, the flat sternum.
Arm trapped by their bodies, a fractured sound emerges when that warm hand slips to the bottom of a throat. The divot of a collarbone hammers with the heavy pulse of his heart, stuttering a little quicker on the ridge of—something like fear mixed into excitement. He wouldn't allow anyone else to hold him like this. Fatal, to put his body into hands that could rend him apart. But it's Cy.
He's not fighting. I've got you, those sweet words enough to sink under, carrying him along. Fingertips hook at a better angle, a deeper angle, managing to graze that tender area of nerves, and the sound it fishes out of Sasuke is high and shattered and shivering. An all-over feeling of release that blisters and burns.]
There. It's... there, Cyram — hah...
[He comes, hips twitching hard, cock untouched as his release stripes the bedsheet—and in his earlier haste, he's forgotten to lay down a towel—a wet mess that darkens fabric immediately. And he's boneless in Cy's grasp, held up only by the other's strength, ass clenched furiously tight over their fingers.]