（ he laughs, going to his knees beside him in a way that feels not remotely like submission. it's a casual demonstration of power — that even kneeling he fears nothing from his unwilling prisoner. that even after leaving him alone for days, weeks — he isn't concerned with searching him for a knife, or testing glasses for poison. he's so absolute, so secure in his power that he would find such suspicions demeaning. he owns this pretty, pregnant whore, and even the bite of his words only cleave him towards excitement. ）

What restraint found me on the battlefield will be absent the bedroom, t'che serikko.

（ cy rubs his cheek against one of sasuke's thighs, and leans in to lap at his cunt — one hand lifts to hold his leg beneath the knee to discourage movement. his grip is bruising, fingers a punishing press. ）

I told my servants to prepare you. Did they?

（ he leaves the words nebulous on purpose. if sasuke wants to imagine his role as being subject to some humiliation — stripped and cleaned with thorough, perfunctory indifference, perhaps — or a servant's clever fingers working oil into his ass, he'll leave that for him to decide. after all, cy's tastes are no secret in this world. he likes to be cruel. revels in it. ）