[That cold energy snaps through the air, severing his restraints — he lets out a breath at the sudden rush of freedom against the issuance of that command. At this stage, Sasuke listens to the compliancy forced upon him and shifts against the headboard, pushing his body back down in a stretch of willowy limbs, soft with curves he's not accustomed to possessing. It's only the third time in this form, but he thinks he's getting used to it; Cy's condition, however, will push him neatly to the limit of that familiarity.
He doesn't question it in the moment. They've reached a part of the scene, organically, where he will fight less than he will surrender, weakened by Cy's exercise of control over him, by the cool drain of tears.
Movement jars the silver chain where it drapes his belly, jolting pierced nipples. He grits his teeth against it — shyly, reluctantly allowing his thighs to fall apart, to slip his right hand down between them. As soon as he dares to touch fingers to the wet folds of his cunt, he's reminded of the pain still living here too, an accidental graze of knuckles at pierced flesh sending an electric wave of it through nerve-ends. With a whimper, he thumbs his clit gently — but the intensity of such a sensation draws his hand down instead, as if afraid of it. Everything feels slick, wet, hotter than he expects. He pushes a finger into himself and almost rolls onto his side from how it feels, how good and how strange, cheek turned away on the sheets.]
no subject
He doesn't question it in the moment. They've reached a part of the scene, organically, where he will fight less than he will surrender, weakened by Cy's exercise of control over him, by the cool drain of tears.
Movement jars the silver chain where it drapes his belly, jolting pierced nipples. He grits his teeth against it — shyly, reluctantly allowing his thighs to fall apart, to slip his right hand down between them. As soon as he dares to touch fingers to the wet folds of his cunt, he's reminded of the pain still living here too, an accidental graze of knuckles at pierced flesh sending an electric wave of it through nerve-ends. With a whimper, he thumbs his clit gently — but the intensity of such a sensation draws his hand down instead, as if afraid of it. Everything feels slick, wet, hotter than he expects. He pushes a finger into himself and almost rolls onto his side from how it feels, how good and how strange, cheek turned away on the sheets.]