（ there's a spark of acted anger, there — at being directed, denied. but it's smoothed over almost immediately, and he does gentle his touch somewhat, petting at those hot interior walls even as he doesn't abate the stretch of his fingers making a home in him. one more deep thrust, and then the press of his thumb against the boy's clit, over the position of that capricious piercing, rolling the nerve against trapped metal. he knows this body well — it's one he created, one he conquered. he can get sasuke off with a word, or a whisper. ）

You've only assured your safety for another few months. Be careful what you ask me.

（ is the warning that follows, cy leaning up to press a meaningful kiss and a catlike rub of one cheek to the swell of his belly before he settles back on his knees. he's so fucking hard — no illusion necessary — he can feel precome dampening the fabric of his pants. not simply spreading sasuke's legs and fucking him is becoming increasingly a challenge the longer they inhabit the fantasy. that cy captured this man, beat and abused him and ultimately forced him into a woman's body to bear life unwillingly, all of those things speak to and satisfy that darkest part of him. but for each scar kulo vayn left on his psyche, for each deep desire — he's taken it, changed something of it, made it his own. kulo vayn didn't care about creating life, he only wished to take it — if pregnancy resulted from an assault, it was incidental to the act and it would not spare the one now sundered. kulo vayn liked to hurt people, liked to see genuine pain and fear and hopeless despair on their faces as he tortured them, as he held them down. cy might have come to enjoy the act of inflicting pain, but he rarely looks at someone's face as he does it, letting his gaze drift elsewhere. and the pain itself is structured, controlled, and most importantly — it ends.

but this fantasy lets him walk a finer line, beneath the shelter of sasuke's submission, his strength, and his own deepest needs that had been so long unmet before they had a chance encounter in a locker room, before cy put hands on him and moulded him like soft clay into what he's now become. someone who's taken back the power of their body, who's become confident and secure in knowing what he likes and in asking for it unashamedly.

for a moment, he's struck by the depths of feeling he experiences then. the love, the pride, the gratitude, and there's a gleam of tears at the corners of his eyes that he wipes away with a quick duck against sasuke's thigh, though he can't quite help how soft his expression is on sasuke when he lifts his head again. his voice, at least, is unchanged — that cruel, imperial tone coming so naturally to him even after ten millennia. ）

Milk yourself, taste it — and then come. I've got a surprise gift planned for you — and it will be easier on you to accept it if you've relaxed for me.

（ sasuke knows he won't be given a reprieve. he won't be permitted to refuse. it is not only the life in his belly he must advocate for, but the men that cy has spared but keeps captive, beholden to his compliance, his acceptance of this role he must play. ）