[The feeling of legs around hips, Cy's body bent beneath him, the welts drawn by nails across his back — he wants to distill these sensations for as long as they can possibly last. He wants to rewrite the sad, sunken memory of this home with something good, sentimentalism built into the structure of an illusion for a place that no longer exists except here in this moment, and them within it. It isn't real, but they make it real, Cy's body feels more than real wrapped around his cock; skin radiates hot and fiery where nails scrape long red lines, magnified by his mind's interpretation. It's so good. His dick aches at the throb of pain, rhythm of thrusts faltering, frantic and messy more than anything practiced.
And the integrity of the illusion, though flawlessly woven, responds to this mental state — the golden light in the window, brilliantly colored, spills into a pool of milky moonlight with a sudden shift in perception. He thinks Cy looks just as beautiful laid out under the pale cut of the moon, sculpted in a perfect cast deeper than flesh suggests from the making of the mind beneath it. He wants to look at him with these eyes forever. He wants to see him under a hundred different lights on a thousand different days. The room doesn't change, but it feels like the world around it does, a narrowing down to this space away from everything else, all of his grief, all thought of dead clansmen and loss — just love.
His mouth falls onto whatever it can reach of Cy when they aren't kissing, and in the genjutsu he's able to leave a cluster of red bruises, sucked to the surface in a flowering bloom of worship and possessiveness. They won't be there when they leave the illusion, but it satisfies a part of him now.]
Cy, [is the ragged exhalation, eventually.] I'm close. I'm going to come — can I do it inside? [The drag of his dick is hard and deep, rarely pulling all the way free of that tight clench of muscle, arm around Cy's hips adjusting so his hand can cradle a palmful of Cy's ass. Panted breath fans the skin still wet from his mouth.] Then... I want your cock in my throat. I want it to choke me.
[crazy intensifies]
And the integrity of the illusion, though flawlessly woven, responds to this mental state — the golden light in the window, brilliantly colored, spills into a pool of milky moonlight with a sudden shift in perception. He thinks Cy looks just as beautiful laid out under the pale cut of the moon, sculpted in a perfect cast deeper than flesh suggests from the making of the mind beneath it. He wants to look at him with these eyes forever. He wants to see him under a hundred different lights on a thousand different days. The room doesn't change, but it feels like the world around it does, a narrowing down to this space away from everything else, all of his grief, all thought of dead clansmen and loss — just love.
His mouth falls onto whatever it can reach of Cy when they aren't kissing, and in the genjutsu he's able to leave a cluster of red bruises, sucked to the surface in a flowering bloom of worship and possessiveness. They won't be there when they leave the illusion, but it satisfies a part of him now.]
Cy, [is the ragged exhalation, eventually.] I'm close. I'm going to come — can I do it inside? [The drag of his dick is hard and deep, rarely pulling all the way free of that tight clench of muscle, arm around Cy's hips adjusting so his hand can cradle a palmful of Cy's ass. Panted breath fans the skin still wet from his mouth.] Then... I want your cock in my throat. I want it to choke me.