[He can feel the come cooling on his skin where Cy has wiped it off, a mess that sticks hair at his temple and along his cheekbone, leaving him dirtied and marked in a way that aches at the pit of his stomach. Then he's turned over in a breathless kick, nerves alight with the promise Cy sets in the air between them — eyes already turned toward the rack of implements, studying them.
There is a glance back, but only briefly before he begins to crawl, and the look he glimpses on Cy's face makes that painful passage across the ground feel like nothing, even when every movement hurts. Without his left arm it's almost a humiliation how slow his pace is — forced to hop his weight on the palm of his right hand until he gets to the end of the leash's slack. It doesn't matter what Sasuke takes from the wall, but in this role he would never select the easy way out, would never choose a soft-tressed flogger for the perception that he is weak, that he can't bear worse. So into his teeth he takes one of the slender crops, biting down in order to carry it back.
That claim to pride against humiliation feels hot and heavy on his skin like this, leashed and collared, crawling on his knees, fetching the implement like an obedient pet for its master with come still drying on his skin and in his hair. He's burning with it by the time he reaches Cy's chair, vividly aware of the fact that he would never — not by any stretch of the imagination — ever allow someone else to do this to him, to see him like this.]
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There is a glance back, but only briefly before he begins to crawl, and the look he glimpses on Cy's face makes that painful passage across the ground feel like nothing, even when every movement hurts. Without his left arm it's almost a humiliation how slow his pace is — forced to hop his weight on the palm of his right hand until he gets to the end of the leash's slack. It doesn't matter what Sasuke takes from the wall, but in this role he would never select the easy way out, would never choose a soft-tressed flogger for the perception that he is weak, that he can't bear worse. So into his teeth he takes one of the slender crops, biting down in order to carry it back.
That claim to pride against humiliation feels hot and heavy on his skin like this, leashed and collared, crawling on his knees, fetching the implement like an obedient pet for its master with come still drying on his skin and in his hair. He's burning with it by the time he reaches Cy's chair, vividly aware of the fact that he would never — not by any stretch of the imagination — ever allow someone else to do this to him, to see him like this.]