[That threat scorches through him, anticipation set toward a future that has yet to come — danger temporarily abated by the life he has begun to foster in his belly for this man. Cy's cheek rubs the swell where their child is growing, stubble a soft raspy scrape over tight skin, and Sasuke can't help but squirm a little outside the boundaries of this scene. The want in him is deep, and fierce, not at all insincere — but at least he can play it off as a kind of discomfort brought by the reminder of his subservient position.
He is a vessel, one that belongs to this man alone. His own agency does not matter. His autonomy no longer exists, all that he is placed into Cy's hands under the illusion of force such that he needs no concern for shame. His mind is empty, pleasure lighting up nerves close to pain, suffering that isn't a stranger to his experience but at least here, now, it takes meaning, and Cy cherishes him for it.
Through the cruel discipline of this role he's playing, Sasuke knows obedience is required; he has been trained for this. That rough thumb slides across his clit, dragging at the embedded metal of the piercing, a jolt of sensitivity through his lower body that has those interior walls clenching hard over Cy's knuckles. Without protest his right hand cups beneath the heavy weight of his breast, pale flesh overflowing in his palm, and squeezes — a whimper high in his throat for the throb of soreness it evokes. Milk drips, pearly-white, at the application of pressure, and his fingertips swipe it up to bring to his lips for his tongue to clean off.
He chases an orgasm — even if he doesn't need to, half-driven to that brink of release by the order alone. It's so much easier when he does not have to think. It pours out of him effortlessly, because Cy has told him to do it and the man holds dominion over his whole body, cunt spasming around those fingers, legs trembling in an effort not to move until the flow ebbs. He's panting, flush high in his cheeks, overwrought on the come down.]
😭😭
He is a vessel, one that belongs to this man alone. His own agency does not matter. His autonomy no longer exists, all that he is placed into Cy's hands under the illusion of force such that he needs no concern for shame. His mind is empty, pleasure lighting up nerves close to pain, suffering that isn't a stranger to his experience but at least here, now, it takes meaning, and Cy cherishes him for it.
Through the cruel discipline of this role he's playing, Sasuke knows obedience is required; he has been trained for this. That rough thumb slides across his clit, dragging at the embedded metal of the piercing, a jolt of sensitivity through his lower body that has those interior walls clenching hard over Cy's knuckles. Without protest his right hand cups beneath the heavy weight of his breast, pale flesh overflowing in his palm, and squeezes — a whimper high in his throat for the throb of soreness it evokes. Milk drips, pearly-white, at the application of pressure, and his fingertips swipe it up to bring to his lips for his tongue to clean off.
He chases an orgasm — even if he doesn't need to, half-driven to that brink of release by the order alone. It's so much easier when he does not have to think. It pours out of him effortlessly, because Cy has told him to do it and the man holds dominion over his whole body, cunt spasming around those fingers, legs trembling in an effort not to move until the flow ebbs. He's panting, flush high in his cheeks, overwrought on the come down.]