（ and what sasuke gets in return is — just love. sun-warmed, but it is a thing that needs no cradling, no protection. it is very much the core, the foundation of their connection — it does not need coddling, as it is the strength they share. and there is caution, too — that very tender sense of withholding something from fear of its ability to do harm. kulo vayn paces in its cage like an animal, rattling bars that hold it well.
the love is a swell. the first breath when you rise from the ocean depths. the first glint of light at dawn. it's immediately clear that it's for who sasuke is as a person and not a body — attraction is a shimmer laid atop the love, but it adds only window set dressing. he would love him in any body, at any age, with any appearance — instead, the love is bound up in admiration and pride in him, for the work he's done, for how he's grown and come into himself. it's this vast, and endless vault of heat and love and awe, tinged just a little in the sorrow an immortal cannot help but feel towards someone they know will die all too soon.
cy kisses him, and the feeling is electric — the rush of attraction a warm, broad spill like paint dumped over blank canvas. and it's clear, it's so intrinsically, achingly clear that this surge is based in the physicality borne purely of this moment. sasuke is softer around the hips, which offers a place for him to press bruises into well-loved skin. his breasts are heavier and lower set than before, but they fit perfectly in his palms, and the taste of him is ambrosial. his belly may seem ungainly to sasuke, but in cy's mind it's an expression of affection and love unlike any other, the wilful undertaking of something that is difficult, and painful, and dangerous on behalf of that love. and the attraction here is more than just a shimmer, it's a torrent. almost overwhelming for how it subsumes him. but, again — it's clear that the attraction is about the nature of the act of service writ plain. how it's sasuke's choice that drives his desire — to appear to him like this, to step into and inhabit this fantasy for him, is an aphrodisiac unlike anything the casino could hope to produce on its own. it's nothing that can be distilled, be feigned — it's a passion that is all-devouring, that could scour him down to bone and leave in its place only gratitude for the storm.
cy rolls his hips upwards, one hand holding sasuke firmly in place. the tangle of emotions are almost indecipherable, things drifting to the surface like oil on agitated water, cogent for a moment and then lost to the ephemera of it all. but some truths can only be self-evident: there is nothing about sasuke's current state he could fail to find attractive. and he lets him have it all: that wonder, that admiration, that lust that's softened by love, and the love that's sharpened by want. it's given over wholesale, trusting in sasuke's capacity to manage and navigate the emotions of someone who's been alive for thousands of years, knowing that he can take it, and knowing that he wants it just as badly as cy wants the flavours of reality here writ plain. ）
no subject
You're always careful with me.
（ and what sasuke gets in return is — just love. sun-warmed, but it is a thing that needs no cradling, no protection. it is very much the core, the foundation of their connection — it does not need coddling, as it is the strength they share. and there is caution, too — that very tender sense of withholding something from fear of its ability to do harm. kulo vayn paces in its cage like an animal, rattling bars that hold it well.
the love is a swell. the first breath when you rise from the ocean depths. the first glint of light at dawn. it's immediately clear that it's for who sasuke is as a person and not a body — attraction is a shimmer laid atop the love, but it adds only window set dressing. he would love him in any body, at any age, with any appearance — instead, the love is bound up in admiration and pride in him, for the work he's done, for how he's grown and come into himself. it's this vast, and endless vault of heat and love and awe, tinged just a little in the sorrow an immortal cannot help but feel towards someone they know will die all too soon.
cy kisses him, and the feeling is electric — the rush of attraction a warm, broad spill like paint dumped over blank canvas. and it's clear, it's so intrinsically, achingly clear that this surge is based in the physicality borne purely of this moment. sasuke is softer around the hips, which offers a place for him to press bruises into well-loved skin. his breasts are heavier and lower set than before, but they fit perfectly in his palms, and the taste of him is ambrosial. his belly may seem ungainly to sasuke, but in cy's mind it's an expression of affection and love unlike any other, the wilful undertaking of something that is difficult, and painful, and dangerous on behalf of that love. and the attraction here is more than just a shimmer, it's a torrent. almost overwhelming for how it subsumes him. but, again — it's clear that the attraction is about the nature of the act of service writ plain. how it's sasuke's choice that drives his desire — to appear to him like this, to step into and inhabit this fantasy for him, is an aphrodisiac unlike anything the casino could hope to produce on its own. it's nothing that can be distilled, be feigned — it's a passion that is all-devouring, that could scour him down to bone and leave in its place only gratitude for the storm.
cy rolls his hips upwards, one hand holding sasuke firmly in place. the tangle of emotions are almost indecipherable, things drifting to the surface like oil on agitated water, cogent for a moment and then lost to the ephemera of it all. but some truths can only be self-evident: there is nothing about sasuke's current state he could fail to find attractive. and he lets him have it all: that wonder, that admiration, that lust that's softened by love, and the love that's sharpened by want. it's given over wholesale, trusting in sasuke's capacity to manage and navigate the emotions of someone who's been alive for thousands of years, knowing that he can take it, and knowing that he wants it just as badly as cy wants the flavours of reality here writ plain. ）