[He can't close his legs with Cy between them, although there is an aborted effort to attempt it, caging the man's shoulders between the bracket of his knees. The plug is jostled inside of his body, seated more deeply, a reminder of the pressure that keeps him open and ready — and his cunt is messier for Cy's attention to it, folds red and swollen, those rough fingers gliding through that slick wetness to push in.

A sharp exhalation leaves his throat, finding himself oversensitive to that first penetration as Cy's knuckles fill his pussy, like some effect of the diamond suit carried over. Or how he imagines it, in his own fantasy, while heavy with Cy's child.]

... Miserable. [This, in a breathy hiss.] I'm tired all of the time. My — chest hurts. [He pointedly does not say my breasts.] I become nauseated. I crave food. My moods change.

[These are all true facts of pregnancy, though not quite in the context of a titillating scene of intimacy, but it is what his character would say and do. And Sasuke is learning that performance, feeling it out in an expression of freedom.]

And the man who caused this left me alone for weeks.