[At the nudge to the device fixed between his legs, Sasuke has to clench teeth around the noise he emits — something low and ruined, halfway to an unintelligible mess. Cy is not wrong; he does not know what he would do with further stimulation to his balls, when it feels as though every nerve-end has been wired to an electric socket, sensitive enough to burn from the faintest flicker of contact. Case in point how he nearly writhes when Cy's mouth finds the taut skin of his sack, frictive drag of stubble like fire against the wet, soothing drags of a tongue. His voice devolves into a whimper, smothered facedown.
Of course, Cy's words only make it worse. How is he supposed to think like this, let alone move? The torment feels fresh, ragged — and he knows he is going to do it anyway, because Cy will ask him for it. The collar around his throat is testament to just how much he would do if Cy told him to.]
I—nn, I don't know... if I can s—stop. [Sasuke rarely hears himself sound so messy, tripping over the attempt at speech.] Like this. It's too much.
[Cy won't punish him if he does come, he knows — but he doesn't want to. He wants to be good.]
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Of course, Cy's words only make it worse. How is he supposed to think like this, let alone move? The torment feels fresh, ragged — and he knows he is going to do it anyway, because Cy will ask him for it. The collar around his throat is testament to just how much he would do if Cy told him to.]
I—nn, I don't know... if I can s—stop. [Sasuke rarely hears himself sound so messy, tripping over the attempt at speech.] Like this. It's too much.
[Cy won't punish him if he does come, he knows — but he doesn't want to. He wants to be good.]