（ sasuke begging him to stop is like a livewire spark that crawls up his spine and settles somewhere at the cervical spine like a weight — and he feels it when kulo vayn is suddenly and abruptly awake. he comes and goes in the back of cy's mind, driven to dormancy by unending captivity and its lack of tolerance for enslavement, briefly awake when its interest is provoked. sasuke says stop and that single word swallows his focus like an eclipse.
for a moment his vision seems doubled, and his hands not his own, the sensation dreamlike, as if he's moving underwater. his mouth feels dry, but the sense of thirst that follows like the swell of a tide is for blood. the thought that peels along the thoroughfare of his thoughts is for how much sasuke would tolerate before he began to beg for real. before he started panting hades through frenetic hiccupping sobs, the bell a chiming symphony. until there was blood enough to soak the sheets and to make pale skin moon-silvered with shock.
sasuke is everything kulo vayn would have wanted in a warborne child. strong, beautiful, resilient, malleable as soft clay from the impure earth. if sasuke's world had been one of the eleven, he could imagine kulo vayn offering him the same deal that he'd offered to eska rao — endure me and i will leave you and your world alive.
kulo vayn does not have the capacity for deception, not exactly. he would leave the world alive, meaning he would not pull a blood-drenched godslayer weapon from its spent core. but of the people that called it home — there was no hope for them from the moment kulo vayn stepped between worlds to breathe their air. eska rao, one of the three, left a broken custodian of a desolate graveyard in osiere.
the room tilts, shifts, falls away. eska looked little like sasuke, skin like drunken midnight, eyes silver as a blade, broader and more muscular until torture ground them to a shadow. but the strength, the beauty in defiance, the will, those things run along parallel lines, and for a moment he cannot say which one is beneath him begging. he pulls their tangled hands free of the boy's cunt, and closes his eyes a moment, leaning against sasuke's knee as he sits back, forehead pressed against the jut of the bone. his breathing is measured, and he presses a kiss against cool skin. ）
Pomegranate.
（ his voice is sure, steady, cradled by a calm that seems like it could have been borrowed from the space before a storm. ）
no subject
for a moment his vision seems doubled, and his hands not his own, the sensation dreamlike, as if he's moving underwater. his mouth feels dry, but the sense of thirst that follows like the swell of a tide is for blood. the thought that peels along the thoroughfare of his thoughts is for how much sasuke would tolerate before he began to beg for real. before he started panting hades through frenetic hiccupping sobs, the bell a chiming symphony. until there was blood enough to soak the sheets and to make pale skin moon-silvered with shock.
sasuke is everything kulo vayn would have wanted in a warborne child. strong, beautiful, resilient, malleable as soft clay from the impure earth. if sasuke's world had been one of the eleven, he could imagine kulo vayn offering him the same deal that he'd offered to eska rao — endure me and i will leave you and your world alive.
kulo vayn does not have the capacity for deception, not exactly. he would leave the world alive, meaning he would not pull a blood-drenched godslayer weapon from its spent core. but of the people that called it home — there was no hope for them from the moment kulo vayn stepped between worlds to breathe their air. eska rao, one of the three, left a broken custodian of a desolate graveyard in osiere.
the room tilts, shifts, falls away. eska looked little like sasuke, skin like drunken midnight, eyes silver as a blade, broader and more muscular until torture ground them to a shadow. but the strength, the beauty in defiance, the will, those things run along parallel lines, and for a moment he cannot say which one is beneath him begging. he pulls their tangled hands free of the boy's cunt, and closes his eyes a moment, leaning against sasuke's knee as he sits back, forehead pressed against the jut of the bone. his breathing is measured, and he presses a kiss against cool skin. ）
Pomegranate.
（ his voice is sure, steady, cradled by a calm that seems like it could have been borrowed from the space before a storm. ）
I just need a minute. I'm okay.