[The complete lack of concern, that exercise of authority as if Sasuke is no more threatening than a clawless, toothless animal — it is almost deliriously alluring, no matter how it's meant to demean him. He has known for a long time of his own attraction to power, though perhaps not consciously. And it feels as though Cy embodies that with such ease that it leaves him breathless to watch.

He fixes himself into the moment. If he had a carving knife tucked somewhere in his clothes or under a pillow, hidden after he was brought his dinner, he could use it now to lash out. But he doesn't. There would be an occasion for that — seeking the fight, the punishment, the exquisite satisfaction of testing this man's limits, but so too has he seen the extent of its cruelty.

And perhaps there's no imperative left, with a life in his belly.]

Shouldn't you see for yourself? [His right hand braces on the floor to keep upright, not that he's in danger of tipping over with how firmly he's held in place.] Perhaps I told them I didn't want to be touched, and I made them leave. Perhaps, while you were gone, their loyalty turned to me.

[Would they listen to his command over their lord's? No, not likely — and Cy will find his asshole oiled, a plug with a jeweled base seated inside of him.]