[It is Cy's words that help him through the difficulty, layered in the gentle love of a kiss to the forehead, of the petting hands on his tits, belly, between his legs. There's a greater squeeze from the pressure of Cy's palm where it slips up against the pubic mound, and despite the greater constriction, it helps to coax him through those final two. It guides him in the tight, full-body clench even when he feels resistance, fatigue setting into the shiver of overtaxed muscles.
And the dull, throbbing, pulsing pain — this washes white through his head. He's nothing but a whore possessed by this man. He'll wear the bruises as evidence of that fact, and maybe he'll keep the breasts of this body for that week, and press on those sore places in the shower, and Cy can fuck him against the tile after. Does he have to change back right away? What if he stayed, and let Cy get him pregnant?
The final squeeze of those inner walls makes Sasuke cry out, soft and weak, dropping his head into the protective cradle of Cy's shoulder. An orgasm chases it — but it doesn't feel singular. It is a long, drawn-out, continuous pulse of pleasure that leaves him so wet on Cy's dick it feels like he could fit another finger inside of him and take everything deeper, to the seat of his womb where he recalls that dull ache. In a different position than this, perhaps —]
Cy... Cy, please, I want you. Come inside of me. Put it in me. [His voice is ragged, gasping, recognizable as still him despite its higher feminine tone.] Please fuck my cunt.
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And the dull, throbbing, pulsing pain — this washes white through his head. He's nothing but a whore possessed by this man. He'll wear the bruises as evidence of that fact, and maybe he'll keep the breasts of this body for that week, and press on those sore places in the shower, and Cy can fuck him against the tile after. Does he have to change back right away? What if he stayed, and let Cy get him pregnant?
The final squeeze of those inner walls makes Sasuke cry out, soft and weak, dropping his head into the protective cradle of Cy's shoulder. An orgasm chases it — but it doesn't feel singular. It is a long, drawn-out, continuous pulse of pleasure that leaves him so wet on Cy's dick it feels like he could fit another finger inside of him and take everything deeper, to the seat of his womb where he recalls that dull ache. In a different position than this, perhaps —]
Cy... Cy, please, I want you. Come inside of me. Put it in me. [His voice is ragged, gasping, recognizable as still him despite its higher feminine tone.] Please fuck my cunt.