[With a deep inhale, he drapes his legs over Cy's knees if only for the additional contact, muted somewhat by slacks.

The saliva that Cy rubs down his skin is sticky with residue from the half-dissolved lozenge. As if he's forgotten its presence, Sasuke cracks it with his teeth and eats the shattered pieces. The ginger-lemon flavor makes his mouth taste saccharine. His throat is numb enough now that it doesn't feel much like he took a cock so hard in it — and it makes his mind wander off in the direction of how it might feel to do it again, given that relief.]

No, you're right. [The look in dissimilar eyes sharpens — an intensity of pupils dilated with a remnant of lust. Their stamina feels evenly matched; it doesn't take much to stir interest back up, fire over dry earth.] We need to work harder.

[A playfulness easy to feed into as he watches Cy bring up his caught wrist, briefly taken by the sight of it in that silk cuff as he's kissed. Arousal clenches low in his belly, renewed with a flush of heat.]

So, are you going to put me on my hands and knees, or do I have to do it myself?