（ that proclamation warms him more than the rising steam from the water ever could. he bends, leaning down to drag teeth over the place where the struggling bit bruises against the pale column of his throat. as his fingers push into the warm, wet channel between his legs — ）

I could never tire of you. You were my most exquisite foe on the battlefield, and now you're my most exquisite slave. I yearned for your body every moment I was away.

（ his free hand curves around the gentle jut of sasuke's belly, where their child has taken root. even in the context of a fantasy world, an illusion — in that moment it feels so concrete that the reality threatens to swallow him. while he would never actively desire this particular set and stage for them, would never truly embrace the desire to hurt sasuke against his will no matter how much kulo vayn hungers for the ill-treatment of a warborne son — no. the truth of all his earthly wants is as he'd told sasuke months ago: someone to wake up next to. to have until the world burns to nothingness. to carry carved in his heart, until time — thief of all he loves, all he's ever had, all he's ever wanted — carves the name away like water erodes a mountain.

so he would never actively wish for this to be their shared life, in all aspects save one: the evidence of their union, their love, in the swell of sasuke's breasts and belly.

cy slips his hand upwards to squeeze one tender breast. ）

If I were to entertain the idea of making you my queen, what do you expect you'd need to do to earn it?