[The pillow lifts his hips off the bed at a slight angle, breath jarred from him as he's shoved back down, even this action enough to keep the band of his arousal tightly wound — because there is so much trust in him for Cy that a little rougher handling translates only in the language of pleasure and affection, no threat, no thoughtless cruelty. His cock drags on the fabric of the pillowcase, but this friction helps keep him hard as hips squirm reflexively to rut against it, greedy for the pinned chafe. The scarf tickles; he feels his arm go taut, trapped. It would only take him lifting his thigh to free it, but the illusion of restraint lasts in his mind.

That command sinks in him, lead in a pool of water. Obediently, Sasuke does not move, careful to keep muscles still on the bed.

And this becomes a challenge when he feels the cold dribble of lubricant at the crease of his ass, soon warmed by skin as Cy works to rub it in, breaching him on knuckles familiar to the intrusion by now. It doesn't make it any less good — Cy's fingers inside of his hole satisfy some itch he cannot access on his own, opening up a depthless trench of hunger to be fucked. He's certain he could never get tired of taking Cy's cock.

The prompting question earns a hitched, airy noise, clenching down over Cy's knuckles in his ass almost unconsciously to make it burn a little more, though soon he's eased and worked looser by a clever turn of a wrist. Not angled enough to graze his prostate, he notices. A small and purposeful torment.]

You can be rougher if you want. [As he was with the blowjob.] And spank me. Not... as much as when we were focusing on that, I mean. But one or two wouldn't hurt. [Like he's assuring Cy more than himself.] Also... even if it gets translated, or if some words don't, I don't care, but — I enjoy hearing you speak in French.

[Is language a kink?]