Well, sometimes you want somebody to step on you and call you names a l'il, as a treat.
（ he presses his lips against the bridge of sasuke's nose, since at this angle it's easier than a second true kiss. ）
You're probably also gonna run into a case where your other partners aren't gonna be as experienced as me, and they might be less skilled at certain shit — but as long as they care about making you feel good, that's all I care about. （ he props his arms against sasuke's shoulders, letting his fingers lace behind him. ） About the mirror — if you wind up being okay with it — I've been thinking about something like that for whenever we get around to your grand deflowering. This is just a thought — you know my spiel. But I was thinking it'd be nice to fuck you while we're on our sides, from behind. That way I can hold you, and you can have some control over the depth and the angle. It also means you get some privacy if you get overwhelmed.
（ look, he's just. we're on orgasm number #3 and he knows you now. ）
But if you're up for it, we could set up a mirror, and you could tell me if it's okay to watch. I could close my eyes or wear a blindfold otherwise. What do you think?
[Other partners. It's occurred to him, of course—this isn't a place where relationships between two people can be forged, where commitment is an option. It isn't his own world built on the back of marriages between a man and a woman, where loved is not required and unions are never severed.
For all he knows, Sasuke is only one of several partners that Cyram has coaxed with sweet words, eased with tenderness, called sweetheart in the last few weeks. He may be Sasuke's first experience, but he also won't be Sasuke's last. It seems expected. Cy is preparing him for it.
An ominous burn of something a little sour rises in his chest; it's soon distracted, tucked away as Cy continues.]
"Grand deflowering." Is that what you're choosing to call it? I'm not a girl. [Oh no, the casual misogyny.] ... But I'm not against it, when you put it like that. The position sounds—okay.
[A slow shake of his head.]
I don't want you to wear a blindfold. It's fine if you see me; seeing myself like that is more difficult.
[He's curious enough on topic of what crass phrases Cy might know—since the other options are so dismally terrible—but the question steers him from its pursuit.
It forces him to turn inward, analyzing why he has such difficulty at the idea. The mirror, his own face reflected back, exposing such a side of him to his own sight. He feels a full-body shiver of discomfort simply for the imagining.]
... I don't know for sure. Of course, the vulnerability. It's one thing to feel it, but when I see it — my reaction is negative. I don't want it to be there, because there's some part of me that will feel the need to rip it out. Cover it up. It's a visceral, physical sensation. Showing a side like that to anyone is dangerous. Someone could [a struggling pause] hurt me with it. So when I look at my own face, I don't feel safe.
The other reason is my eyes. [Wait for it.] They were my brother's.
Edited (grammar we don't know her) 2024-01-21 06:30 (UTC)
at first he thinks he heard him wrong. at first, he thinks he must be speaking in metaphor. except when has sasuke ever done that? he's literal to an absolute fault. and given the weird eyeball magic, the promise of transplanted memories, the awareness it seems to grant him of the void magic he uses — no, he doesn't think it's some fanciful simile.
his first reaction goes unvoiced, and his expression is a carefully schooled blank. open, inviting conversation, but absolutely nonreactive. first thing's first — he gives the kid an accepting nod, and then just folds his arms closer behind sasuke's head, tugging him in close.
the embrace doesn't last long, just a handspan of heartbeats, and then with a final stroke of his hair he lets him go but doesn't pull away. ）
Okay. Let's table that idea for now, then. So what can I do to help you feel safe? It's okay if the answer is nothing right now.
Edited (im too tired words bad) 2024-01-21 06:42 (UTC)
[The hug is unexpected, even when it shouldn't be, because Cy has been so liberal with his affections so far. Perhaps because it comes on the hinge of that particular admission—he doesn't see why it would be deserving of something as physical as an embrace.
Yet he finds himself welcoming it, head pillowed against Cy's chest, eyes closed, hearing the deeper drum of his heart. The hand in his hair earns a flickering of lashes; then his eyes open again, and he looks up, chin tucked close at Cy's sternum.]
I don't feel unsafe right now. For that... I don't know. [He frowns.] Maybe with time it'll be easier.
[Unwillingly, his mind circles back to Cy's mention of other partners. If he can barely do this with someone like this man, how is he supposed to do it with others? But his lips press into a firm line; he shelves it neatly, irritated that it came back up.]
Can we keep going? I want to do more with you. The toy... and if you'll let me, I want to try using my mouth.
Oh, it is not a matter of let. I am super horny to get that pretty mouth stretched around my cock, any time you're ready I'm there. Let's do that first, 'cause I kinda suspect it'll get you hard again and I'm spectacularly into that, then it'll give us a grand finale with the toy.
（ but there's something else he wants to touch on. something important, given the way things have gone up until this point. he brushes a hand through the boy's feathersoft hair, and then: ）
Can I say one more gross emotional thing first? It'll be hard for you to hear.
（ it's a conscious choice, not to append his usual caveats. sasuke's proven himself in that regard — he'll say no if he needs to. ）
[Sasuke is close to being swept in by the gentle vulgarity of those words, but Cy's question halts him; he finds his face tucking a little closer to the man's chest. Thinking. There are moments, when Cy shares those sentiments, that his own reactions are unpredictable enough as to incapacitate him. He cannot say if this will be the case—but the warning helps. It allows him time to prepare, to guard against the mental impact of hearing such tender things.
He nods, feeling his cheek drag against Cy's shirt.]
（ the permission earns the soft press of a kiss down against the crown of his hair before he readjusts, folding the kid into his arms. holding him just lightly enough that it won't feel like an impossible trap. ）
Things are stupid here, and there's a possibility that some unpredictable shit will happen down the line that I can't control. I can't make promises about that.
（ he continues the stroke of the boy's hair as he speaks, a grounding and mindful touch. his fingers card through the strands, gently working out tangles where he finds them. ）
But as long as I'm — normal, myself, all that shit — you have my word that I'll never use your vulnerabilities against you. Not as punishment, not as retaliation if you're a little jackass to me for whatever reason, not to just be fucking cruel. I would never do that to you. Everything you give me, I'll guard. I said it and I meant it. If there's ever a day you don't feel safe with me, I've failed at being the man I want to be.
（ there. tender sentiment given, and now — ）
Breathe. Don't speak, just let me hold you. Tell me when you're good, but take your time.
[He can't recall the last time someone touched his hair like this—gentle, carefully thorough, working fingers from scalp to messy ends in a way that coaxes pleasant shivers all through nerves. Not since he was a child cradled in his mother's lap. Or perhaps Itachi did this to him, once, when he was still too young to resent him out of jealousy, before that impossible gulf between them began to grow.
Either way, he's eased into a similar state of quiet wakefulness. So that the words Cy speaks do not come up against a guarded wall of suspicion or distrust; they simply wash over him, sinking into skin.
So it's startling when the tears prick his eyes. Only a blink of moisture gathered behind lashes, easily disguised against the fabric of Cy's shirt where he's cradled.
Even if he didn't believe Cy—and he does, implicitly, wholly—the sentiment alone is destabilizing. The gesture of that promise. He hadn't realized, perhaps, how deeply this fear went, how it has carved such a trench inside of his soul. And he still doesn't fully understand it, but he knows that Cy is telling the truth. So he allows himself to be held, right hand forming a loose fist at Cy's back while waiting for the excruciating tide of emotion to pass with each unstable breath.
（ they don't need to hang onto the moment. sasuke accepts it, and speaks, and then cy adjusts himself so that he's ready to slip backwards off the bed, both hands lifting to cup the boy's cheeks so he can press another kiss into his hair.
and then he steps down and back. and, in a bright, cheerful tone: ）
Okay. You ready to get your gold medal in dicksucking, sweetheart? Let's do a trick first, it'll make it easier. （ but it does kinda require two hands, which means he's going to have to stand in for part two. ） Make a fist, clench your thumb inside. Counterintuitive to punching, I know. Squeeze real hard. While you're doing that, open your mouth. I'm going to put a finger in against your tongue, far enough back to trigger your gag reflex — but the brain has a hard time focusing on both those sensations at once, so it kinda deadens the gag reflex briefly. Helps so you don't just throw up on somebody's dick, which, for the record, spectacularly unsexy. Do it when you're ready.
[It's good when they move along; it's easy to take the cue from Cy, to shift into this planned act, to trust that he'll be guided. The man slides off the bed and he feels himself follow, slightly, scooting toward the edge to remain close enough for physical touch.
And his cheeks flush, a little, at the vulgarity of dicksucking in his ears. Yet he nods, forming a fist with his right hand to close his thumb in the palm by a solid squeeze. The hold feels off, wrong, because it's not how he trained to use his hands, but he lets himself accept the newness as his mouth opens obediently to a finger.
Determination to prove himself worthy, to do well, lights that bright fire in him. He increases the pressure on a trapped thumb incrementally as he feels Cy's finger slip past teeth, dragging across the flat of his tongue to go deeper, testing the boundary of that reflex. He tastes salt on skin and the harsher flavor of nicotine. His throat works reflexively to swallow around it; he can feel saliva pool at the intrusion, but he doesn't fight, mind narrowed onto that closed fist. Cy's finger slips further, further—there's a strain at the back of his throat, a hiccup of noise that makes his eyes wet, but Sasuke doesn't fully gag or yield to the cough, not even when the extent of that last knuckle has breached his mouth.]
（ and he leaves it where it is for a moment, letting the kid feel the motion, take the weight, other fingers bracketed to either side of his mouth. he mimics the motion of a thrust, slow and easy and in, almost obscene if not for the mirror surface of trust between them, reflected and received. he continues the motion with varying depths and speeds. warming up. he keeps eye contact throughout, so long as sasuke doesn't look away. ）
Now, sucking cock takes practice. While you're learning, don't try to deep throat — it can feel fucking amazing both giving and receiving, but it can also make you panic since it cuts the air off entirely, and if your partner isn't paying attention to you, or grabs you and holds you there, you can fucking choke. You want to grasp the base of the cock with your hand so you've got a buffer. Feels mooooostly the same on the receiving end, don't let anybody tell you otherwise, but you have more control.
（ you always get the whiners who say they can't come without deep throating, and they are fucking liars, actually — ）
You want to keep your lips kinda over your teeth. Some people don't mind a bit of teeth — I don't — and some people do. It'll tire your jaw out after a while, so it's good to do some stretching beforehand or a bit of massage after. Humming reverbs through the teeth and up the shaft, feels awesome. Sealing your lips around the shaft helps, but the seal will pop loose and it will make ridiculous, silly, obscene sounds so just keep that in mind. Silly shit's just part of sex, nothing to be embarrassed about. I'll warn you when I'm close, up to you if you want to finish me off with your hand or try to swallow, but it'll catch you off guard that first time. Jizz pops off at a surprisingly high velocity, goddamn.
（ satisfied, he draws his hand back with a slow, wet pop of sound, and rubs his spit-damp finger against sasuke's mouth in a messy smear. ）
[It's only an instructional precursor to the actual act, and yet Sasuke is arrested by the easy drag of that finger across his tongue, practiced as it feels out the back of his mouth. A negligible weight compared to what he imagines a cock will be like, but the fantasy is there, pantomimed expertly by the deft motions of an artful finger. He doesn't look away—even when it strains, even as Cy's words fill his whole head like wet cotton and he feels himself half-hard already despite not even getting his mouth where it's supposed to be. It's almost conditioned at this point, his reaction to the way Cy talks to him.
Irrationally he doesn't think it would be that bad to choke on Cy, to feel the air strangled out of him in service of Cy's pleasure. He doesn't voice this, though, but his thighs press a little tighter together.]
Yes.
[Of course he does. For all they've done so far, there's never been much of an emphasis on Cy's body—and part of him regrets that it has taken so long to get here, despite Cy's careful coaching on transactional sex. He knows he's needed the time to learn, but his fingers are eager on the waist of pants, would be clumsy if not masked by roughness instead, the sort of hand used to sharp movements and articulation of complicated weaponry. His mouth is shiny from being rubbed with spit, and before he's even pulled the band down over Cy's crotch, he presses hungry lips to the flat of a navel just to nose at it, to inhale the scent of skin, tasting.]
（ cy just lets him touch. explore what he wants, go about it any which way that strikes him. he's not instructional here, just waiting and patient. sasuke presses in against his abdomen, and the only move he makes is to stroke at his hair again. ）
I can go two ways on dirty talk during a blowjob, by the way. I can either stick with the praise you're kinda already familiar with, or I can get filthy about it. That'd mean I'd be calling you a slut, a whore, a bitch — 'look at how you take my cock, you fucking slut'. I'm only going to state this once — but anything I say during that kind of talk isn't a reflection on how I feel about you. I don't actually think you're any of these things, it's just about setting the mood.
（ because he's seen sasuke, how he reacts to praise, how he's hungry for it. and he wants to make it clear that that's the reality of how he feels about him, and that the other things — those are just words. ）
Either way, it's harder to safeword out if something hits wrong while you're sucking dick, so if it does — tap the spot behind my knee and I'll stop what we're doing. Preferences about which way I go?
[The mood, upon hearing those words come out of Cy's mouth, deviates in a rush of potent arousal like a splash of hot water. He remembers being laid out on Cy's bed, pinned underneath the man's weight in the torment of addled lust, at mercy to the influence of the resort—he vividly recalls hearing that word, slut, a denigration in any other context yet somehow colored differently when it comes in Cy's voice. Maybe it's a conditioned response in him learned during that encounter, but the air sweeps out of his lungs all at once in a deep, fluttering exhale.]
Vulgar language doesn't bother me. I like it, [he manages, with an effort to put the words together.] When you call me those things. As though I'm doing something right, and you're enjoying it too.
[Cy not meaning them—he understands, but he isn't so unconfident as to wilt beneath that kind of talk. Surely being called a whore is better than many other accusations he's faced in his life; for Cy, at least, he's more than willing to become that. Maybe that is the true difference. If someone else tried, he's not sure his response wouldn't be outright negative.
A nod at the adjustment of a safeword.]
Do you have one too? A word that you use.
[There is a part of Sasuke that has difficulty even imagining the man would require one, given the breadth of his experience, but it feels right to ask.]
（ the moments where he looks genuinely unguarded are few and far between. this is the second such moment, and even then it's subtle. it's just a faint — wonderment, perhaps that looks out of place if only because in a life stretched on the torturous rack of millennia, there's little space left in him for it to fill.
but it's there. something quiet, something tired, something just a little sad. not for himself, because he rarely spares that manner of consideration for his own interiority — but just. sadness is, in many ways, hardcoded into his marrow, spelled out across the atoms of the assembled star-stuff that is his human form.
and then he blinks, and the moment is broken.
tellingly, he doesn't have an immediate answer. yes, he uses safewords. yes, he does everything proper and above board — that refrain of safe, sane, consensual a constant hammering metronome in the back of a ruined mind. but when it's happens, when he offers it up to a partner, it's because he's adhering to a structure that's been just a little thrown out with sasuke, and no one ever asks for those reasons the boy might suppose — he does seem like he has little need of one. confident and self-assured, open and mindful of his own traumas and those of others.
[He notices, but as so often Cy has given him the grace of a quiet moment, of stillness, he doesn't pursue. He wants to ask—it is in him to ask, an effort to know everything about who this man is—but it won't be now. Cy trusts him to speak his mind, so Sasuke will do the same.
That someone this ancient, who has suffered so much, can even express such a sudden and unguarded look is enough to twist itself up in Sasuke's chest.
He exhales through his nose.] Ares. [Tested on his tongue, an unfamiliar shape of syllables. He wonders what it means.
When contemplation passes, he decides that this is something he wants to do more than ever in that moment, if only to reel Cy's mind into the present with him. Eyes lower to the task, fingers tugging the waistband of pants down toned thighs, revealing the black material of fitted boxer-briefs. He's seen Cy naked before, but that context was a different shade of intimacy; like this, so close to a part of Cy he's seen but never touched, hunger gathers in his belly with thick and syrupy lust. He noses down from where he's made a home against Cy's flat abdomen, using the barrier of fabric to test how it feels to simply form his mouth against the length hidden beneath it. To investigate the shape—lips following where he imagines the line of Cy's cock begins at the tip, dragging his mouth to the root, questing for some signal of interest as a cheek turns and rubs itself against Cy's thigh.
（ and cy, who is certainly no stranger to the banishment of dark spirals with the wilful application of sex, lets him do it. sasuke presses a hot mouth over the fabric, breath a damp, warm weight that makes him exhale.
pleasure's easy. he's never really gotten bored of feeling it — the rise and the rush of it, the clench-release-relax of coming. but sasuke already has something of a hold on him, and arousal is — different, when it's someone he's come to care about. like it's filtered through stained glass, turning what would otherwise be a normal event into something sanctified.
the stirring of his cock, then, is immediate — and the line of it thickens behind the fabric of the briefs.
he turns a bit, kicking his pants off, stepping back so he can sit down on the edge of the bed, guiding sasuke with a soft hand in his hair to go down in front of him. his knees spread obligingly, making room — one hooks in over the kid's right shoulder, because he likes the additional points of contact, because sasuke won't mind the weight, because it lets him pull him in just a little with the tightened muscle of his thigh and the bend of his knee. he's not worried about the underwear, because he can technically just get rid of it with a twitch of one open hand when sasuke's done exploring.
he opens his mouth, to say something filthy, the first in a a promised litany of many — but instead, the only thing he says is: ）
[There's an intimate exhilaration, feeling Cy get hard under the caress of his mouth. He has only a moment to savor this sensation before he's steered off the bed and onto knees, and he sinks readily down into this position, tucking lean legs underneath himself as if at a shrine. A knee slings over his shoulder, easily held; he likes that it keeps himself in the crux of thighs and disallows much movement, trapped here where the heady, masculine scent of another man's body is close and accessible.
His right hand lifts, rubbing the bulge of stretched fabric to feel the shape of balls beneath—although that compliment stops him, minutely, mismatched eyes turned owlishly up. It's not the vulgarity he expected, and it closes his throat with a swell of emotion difficulty to steady back to equilibrium. Loving, swaddled in that warmth, heartfelt enough to stick in his thoughts. It takes another moment to concentrate.
Sasuke could deflect it. So far, these little remarks on his appearance have been negligible, either in the heat of a sexual moment or discarded by banter. Yet this, carried on such sincere intonation, holds the air as if in a gentle fist.
It's like it's made him a little shy, color in pale cheeks, fingertips playing at the slit of the boxer-briefs until fabric folds open to expose the jut of that length where it's begun to fill out. He doesn't say anything in the end, simply bends his head forward to taste the side of Cy's cock with a few slow, kittenish laps of tongue, following the rigid line down to a thickened base. His nose grazes the sparse curls of dark pubic hair, exhalation fluttering out.]
（ he touches the side of sasuke's head with a deft press of his fingers, gently pushing him back just a little and then: ）
Here, lemme —
（ yeet the underoos. look, getting to play around with someone he can openly transmat around is still just a little bit of a novelty, okay? but it leaves him bare beneath sasuke's ministrations, and he tightens the hook of that thigh to pull him back in. it's gentle enough it's clear suggestion and not an order.
his cock jumps with a flex to those pelvic floor muscles, and his hand drops back against sasuke's hair. ）
Hey — I don't think I'm up to dirty talk. I just want to watch you.
[Obediently he leans back, eyelids flickering at the caustic afterimage of that wild energy, though he doesn't flinch. Hasn't, even since the first time Cy demonstrated his power. Marvel and curiosity exists in him as a response to what Cy is capable of doing—but not fear.
Without underwear in the way, he takes in the sight up close, all those smooth lines of flesh to the attractive arch of a hard cock close to his face. It takes Cy's hand in his hair to tempt his chin upward.]
You can if you want. But I'm not really... [Hm, how does he say this.] I don't know how to make it look the way you did. That effortless performance.
[Meanwhile, his right hand closes itself over that stiffened length of arousal, just to feet its heat, the silky texture of flesh beneath the rub of a palm.]
I don't want an effortless performance. If I wanted that I would suck my own dick and believe me, I'm flexible enough to pull it off.
（ he sounds absolutely certain in that, and when sasuke curls his hand around cy's cock, he makes an encouraging hm of sound. his own hands, which can't maintain callouses no matter how much he does, how hard he trains, how much he works, feel entirely different to the roughened palms of someone who's been using weapons, trained to war from a perilously young age. ）
I just want you. Whatever that looks like. It's about the partner, not the act. I want you.
[It is emboldening—dangerously so, like Cy is filling his head with deep intoxication, blurring the edges of his thoughts until everything is skewed, slanted, dizzyingly hot. I want you is a press of a brand on his skin, like Cy's embraces, like Cy's kisses. The sentiment completely engulfs him.]
You can have me.
[A deferent tilt of his head beneath Cy's hand, he leans forward into a bow that returns the wet weight of his mouth to that cock, painting it in broad strokes until it shines with saliva. It isn't careful, it isn't precise or particularly skilled—it's just hungry, the sort of lapping he might do to a messy meal, starved enough not to care that it makes him look more like an animal than a civilized man.
Callused, weapon-worn fingers continue to explore the shape wherever his lips and tongue don't wander, but eventually he slips back up to the head and tastes the slit, sucking it briefly with a seal of lips. Unlike Cy's quiet and artful demonstration before, Sasuke doesn't care if he's a little loud, if that embarrassing pop that Cy had described when his mouth departs the swollen head disturbs the quiet of the room. He laps at tender foreskin, less intent on coaxing pleasure than he is just feeling it with his tongue. When he breathes through his nose, it's in heavier, humid bursts, a detail that shows some slipping self-control.]
（ that statement slugs him in the gut. he has one hand free, and it drops to the edge of the bed, kneading at the mattress. because there is a sense of ownership there, of offerance, and it — has an affect. it sparks electric along every nerve, and the brief seal of sasuke's mouth against the head of his cock, the press of his fingers, the fucking — words, those things all come together in some awful triumvirate of a pleasure he doesn't remember getting this dizzily drunk on in a long, long time.
it pulls a sound out of him, something low and breathy, perhaps the first thing he's done around sasuke that's almost entirely uncontrolled. his heel, braced against sasuke's back along the line of his spine, digs in hard.
time fractures away from him, and narrows the point of his world down to the boy on his knees. the warmth of that questing tongue and his rough hand. by the time sasuke tongues the slit of his dick he's already messy and leaking with precome for reasons well beyond just the physical attention. possessiveness washes over him like blood from a slit throat in a messy spray, and he chokes on unwelcome words — you're mine — just enough presence of mind it's not the time or the place for the sentiment to spill out between them.
his fingers flex in the boy's hair, clearly restraining himself from just grabbing him and dragging him forward, wanting another, deeper plunge — ）
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
（ he presses his lips against the bridge of sasuke's nose, since at this angle it's easier than a second true kiss. ）
You're probably also gonna run into a case where your other partners aren't gonna be as experienced as me, and they might be less skilled at certain shit — but as long as they care about making you feel good, that's all I care about. （ he props his arms against sasuke's shoulders, letting his fingers lace behind him. ） About the mirror — if you wind up being okay with it — I've been thinking about something like that for whenever we get around to your grand deflowering. This is just a thought — you know my spiel. But I was thinking it'd be nice to fuck you while we're on our sides, from behind. That way I can hold you, and you can have some control over the depth and the angle. It also means you get some privacy if you get overwhelmed.
（ look, he's just. we're on orgasm number #3 and he knows you now. ）
But if you're up for it, we could set up a mirror, and you could tell me if it's okay to watch. I could close my eyes or wear a blindfold otherwise. What do you think?
no subject
For all he knows, Sasuke is only one of several partners that Cyram has coaxed with sweet words, eased with tenderness, called sweetheart in the last few weeks. He may be Sasuke's first experience, but he also won't be Sasuke's last. It seems expected. Cy is preparing him for it.
An ominous burn of something a little sour rises in his chest; it's soon distracted, tucked away as Cy continues.]
"Grand deflowering." Is that what you're choosing to call it? I'm not a girl. [Oh no, the casual misogyny.] ... But I'm not against it, when you put it like that. The position sounds—okay.
[A slow shake of his head.]
I don't want you to wear a blindfold. It's fine if you see me; seeing myself like that is more difficult.
no subject
（ there's a gentle little bap to the back of sasuke's head, the way a cat bats at a toy. ）
And don't be weird about women. Virginity's a social construct anyways.
（ it's corrective, but not cruel — and then he's moving on. ）
Do you want to talk about why? Or still working on that one?
no subject
It forces him to turn inward, analyzing why he has such difficulty at the idea. The mirror, his own face reflected back, exposing such a side of him to his own sight. He feels a full-body shiver of discomfort simply for the imagining.]
... I don't know for sure. Of course, the vulnerability. It's one thing to feel it, but when I see it — my reaction is negative. I don't want it to be there, because there's some part of me that will feel the need to rip it out. Cover it up. It's a visceral, physical sensation. Showing a side like that to anyone is dangerous. Someone could [a struggling pause] hurt me with it. So when I look at my own face, I don't feel safe.
The other reason is my eyes. [Wait for it.] They were my brother's.
no subject
at first he thinks he heard him wrong. at first, he thinks he must be speaking in metaphor. except when has sasuke ever done that? he's literal to an absolute fault. and given the weird eyeball magic, the promise of transplanted memories, the awareness it seems to grant him of the void magic he uses — no, he doesn't think it's some fanciful simile.
his first reaction goes unvoiced, and his expression is a carefully schooled blank. open, inviting conversation, but absolutely nonreactive. first thing's first — he gives the kid an accepting nod, and then just folds his arms closer behind sasuke's head, tugging him in close.
the embrace doesn't last long, just a handspan of heartbeats, and then with a final stroke of his hair he lets him go but doesn't pull away. ）
Okay. Let's table that idea for now, then. So what can I do to help you feel safe? It's okay if the answer is nothing right now.
no subject
Yet he finds himself welcoming it, head pillowed against Cy's chest, eyes closed, hearing the deeper drum of his heart. The hand in his hair earns a flickering of lashes; then his eyes open again, and he looks up, chin tucked close at Cy's sternum.]
I don't feel unsafe right now. For that... I don't know. [He frowns.] Maybe with time it'll be easier.
[Unwillingly, his mind circles back to Cy's mention of other partners. If he can barely do this with someone like this man, how is he supposed to do it with others? But his lips press into a firm line; he shelves it neatly, irritated that it came back up.]
Can we keep going? I want to do more with you. The toy... and if you'll let me, I want to try using my mouth.
[goodbye trauma, hello sex]
no subject
（ but there's something else he wants to touch on. something important, given the way things have gone up until this point. he brushes a hand through the boy's feathersoft hair, and then: ）
Can I say one more gross emotional thing first? It'll be hard for you to hear.
（ it's a conscious choice, not to append his usual caveats. sasuke's proven himself in that regard — he'll say no if he needs to. ）
no subject
He nods, feeling his cheek drag against Cy's shirt.]
Go ahead.
no subject
（ the permission earns the soft press of a kiss down against the crown of his hair before he readjusts, folding the kid into his arms. holding him just lightly enough that it won't feel like an impossible trap. ）
Things are stupid here, and there's a possibility that some unpredictable shit will happen down the line that I can't control. I can't make promises about that.
（ he continues the stroke of the boy's hair as he speaks, a grounding and mindful touch. his fingers card through the strands, gently working out tangles where he finds them. ）
But as long as I'm — normal, myself, all that shit — you have my word that I'll never use your vulnerabilities against you. Not as punishment, not as retaliation if you're a little jackass to me for whatever reason, not to just be fucking cruel. I would never do that to you. Everything you give me, I'll guard. I said it and I meant it. If there's ever a day you don't feel safe with me, I've failed at being the man I want to be.
（ there. tender sentiment given, and now — ）
Breathe. Don't speak, just let me hold you. Tell me when you're good, but take your time.
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Either way, he's eased into a similar state of quiet wakefulness. So that the words Cy speaks do not come up against a guarded wall of suspicion or distrust; they simply wash over him, sinking into skin.
So it's startling when the tears prick his eyes. Only a blink of moisture gathered behind lashes, easily disguised against the fabric of Cy's shirt where he's cradled.
Even if he didn't believe Cy—and he does, implicitly, wholly—the sentiment alone is destabilizing. The gesture of that promise. He hadn't realized, perhaps, how deeply this fear went, how it has carved such a trench inside of his soul. And he still doesn't fully understand it, but he knows that Cy is telling the truth. So he allows himself to be held, right hand forming a loose fist at Cy's back while waiting for the excruciating tide of emotion to pass with each unstable breath.
Then, quietly.]
Okay.
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and then he steps down and back. and, in a bright, cheerful tone: ）
Okay. You ready to get your gold medal in dicksucking, sweetheart? Let's do a trick first, it'll make it easier. （ but it does kinda require two hands, which means he's going to have to stand in for part two. ） Make a fist, clench your thumb inside. Counterintuitive to punching, I know. Squeeze real hard. While you're doing that, open your mouth. I'm going to put a finger in against your tongue, far enough back to trigger your gag reflex — but the brain has a hard time focusing on both those sensations at once, so it kinda deadens the gag reflex briefly. Helps so you don't just throw up on somebody's dick, which, for the record, spectacularly unsexy. Do it when you're ready.
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And his cheeks flush, a little, at the vulgarity of dicksucking in his ears. Yet he nods, forming a fist with his right hand to close his thumb in the palm by a solid squeeze. The hold feels off, wrong, because it's not how he trained to use his hands, but he lets himself accept the newness as his mouth opens obediently to a finger.
Determination to prove himself worthy, to do well, lights that bright fire in him. He increases the pressure on a trapped thumb incrementally as he feels Cy's finger slip past teeth, dragging across the flat of his tongue to go deeper, testing the boundary of that reflex. He tastes salt on skin and the harsher flavor of nicotine. His throat works reflexively to swallow around it; he can feel saliva pool at the intrusion, but he doesn't fight, mind narrowed onto that closed fist. Cy's finger slips further, further—there's a strain at the back of his throat, a hiccup of noise that makes his eyes wet, but Sasuke doesn't fully gag or yield to the cough, not even when the extent of that last knuckle has breached his mouth.]
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Now, sucking cock takes practice. While you're learning, don't try to deep throat — it can feel fucking amazing both giving and receiving, but it can also make you panic since it cuts the air off entirely, and if your partner isn't paying attention to you, or grabs you and holds you there, you can fucking choke. You want to grasp the base of the cock with your hand so you've got a buffer. Feels mooooostly the same on the receiving end, don't let anybody tell you otherwise, but you have more control.
（ you always get the whiners who say they can't come without deep throating, and they are fucking liars, actually — ）
You want to keep your lips kinda over your teeth. Some people don't mind a bit of teeth — I don't — and some people do. It'll tire your jaw out after a while, so it's good to do some stretching beforehand or a bit of massage after. Humming reverbs through the teeth and up the shaft, feels awesome. Sealing your lips around the shaft helps, but the seal will pop loose and it will make ridiculous, silly, obscene sounds so just keep that in mind. Silly shit's just part of sex, nothing to be embarrassed about. I'll warn you when I'm close, up to you if you want to finish me off with your hand or try to swallow, but it'll catch you off guard that first time. Jizz pops off at a surprisingly high velocity, goddamn.
（ satisfied, he draws his hand back with a slow, wet pop of sound, and rubs his spit-damp finger against sasuke's mouth in a messy smear. ）
You wanna undress me?
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Irrationally he doesn't think it would be that bad to choke on Cy, to feel the air strangled out of him in service of Cy's pleasure. He doesn't voice this, though, but his thighs press a little tighter together.]
Yes.
[Of course he does. For all they've done so far, there's never been much of an emphasis on Cy's body—and part of him regrets that it has taken so long to get here, despite Cy's careful coaching on transactional sex. He knows he's needed the time to learn, but his fingers are eager on the waist of pants, would be clumsy if not masked by roughness instead, the sort of hand used to sharp movements and articulation of complicated weaponry. His mouth is shiny from being rubbed with spit, and before he's even pulled the band down over Cy's crotch, he presses hungry lips to the flat of a navel just to nose at it, to inhale the scent of skin, tasting.]
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I can go two ways on dirty talk during a blowjob, by the way. I can either stick with the praise you're kinda already familiar with, or I can get filthy about it. That'd mean I'd be calling you a slut, a whore, a bitch — 'look at how you take my cock, you fucking slut'. I'm only going to state this once — but anything I say during that kind of talk isn't a reflection on how I feel about you. I don't actually think you're any of these things, it's just about setting the mood.
（ because he's seen sasuke, how he reacts to praise, how he's hungry for it. and he wants to make it clear that that's the reality of how he feels about him, and that the other things — those are just words. ）
Either way, it's harder to safeword out if something hits wrong while you're sucking dick, so if it does — tap the spot behind my knee and I'll stop what we're doing. Preferences about which way I go?
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Vulgar language doesn't bother me. I like it, [he manages, with an effort to put the words together.] When you call me those things. As though I'm doing something right, and you're enjoying it too.
[Cy not meaning them—he understands, but he isn't so unconfident as to wilt beneath that kind of talk. Surely being called a whore is better than many other accusations he's faced in his life; for Cy, at least, he's more than willing to become that. Maybe that is the true difference. If someone else tried, he's not sure his response wouldn't be outright negative.
A nod at the adjustment of a safeword.]
Do you have one too? A word that you use.
[There is a part of Sasuke that has difficulty even imagining the man would require one, given the breadth of his experience, but it feels right to ask.]
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but it's there. something quiet, something tired, something just a little sad. not for himself, because he rarely spares that manner of consideration for his own interiority — but just. sadness is, in many ways, hardcoded into his marrow, spelled out across the atoms of the assembled star-stuff that is his human form.
and then he blinks, and the moment is broken.
tellingly, he doesn't have an immediate answer. yes, he uses safewords. yes, he does everything proper and above board — that refrain of safe, sane, consensual a constant hammering metronome in the back of a ruined mind. but when it's happens, when he offers it up to a partner, it's because he's adhering to a structure that's been just a little thrown out with sasuke, and no one ever asks for those reasons the boy might suppose — he does seem like he has little need of one. confident and self-assured, open and mindful of his own traumas and those of others.
the silence takes a thoughtful bent, and then: ）
Ares. Let's go with that.
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That someone this ancient, who has suffered so much, can even express such a sudden and unguarded look is enough to twist itself up in Sasuke's chest.
He exhales through his nose.] Ares. [Tested on his tongue, an unfamiliar shape of syllables. He wonders what it means.
When contemplation passes, he decides that this is something he wants to do more than ever in that moment, if only to reel Cy's mind into the present with him. Eyes lower to the task, fingers tugging the waistband of pants down toned thighs, revealing the black material of fitted boxer-briefs. He's seen Cy naked before, but that context was a different shade of intimacy; like this, so close to a part of Cy he's seen but never touched, hunger gathers in his belly with thick and syrupy lust. He noses down from where he's made a home against Cy's flat abdomen, using the barrier of fabric to test how it feels to simply form his mouth against the length hidden beneath it. To investigate the shape—lips following where he imagines the line of Cy's cock begins at the tip, dragging his mouth to the root, questing for some signal of interest as a cheek turns and rubs itself against Cy's thigh.
Not delaying, really, so much as exploring.]
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pleasure's easy. he's never really gotten bored of feeling it — the rise and the rush of it, the clench-release-relax of coming. but sasuke already has something of a hold on him, and arousal is — different, when it's someone he's come to care about. like it's filtered through stained glass, turning what would otherwise be a normal event into something sanctified.
the stirring of his cock, then, is immediate — and the line of it thickens behind the fabric of the briefs.
he turns a bit, kicking his pants off, stepping back so he can sit down on the edge of the bed, guiding sasuke with a soft hand in his hair to go down in front of him. his knees spread obligingly, making room — one hooks in over the kid's right shoulder, because he likes the additional points of contact, because sasuke won't mind the weight, because it lets him pull him in just a little with the tightened muscle of his thigh and the bend of his knee. he's not worried about the underwear, because he can technically just get rid of it with a twitch of one open hand when sasuke's done exploring.
he opens his mouth, to say something filthy, the first in a a promised litany of many — but instead, the only thing he says is: ）
You look beautiful.
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His right hand lifts, rubbing the bulge of stretched fabric to feel the shape of balls beneath—although that compliment stops him, minutely, mismatched eyes turned owlishly up. It's not the vulgarity he expected, and it closes his throat with a swell of emotion difficulty to steady back to equilibrium. Loving, swaddled in that warmth, heartfelt enough to stick in his thoughts. It takes another moment to concentrate.
Sasuke could deflect it. So far, these little remarks on his appearance have been negligible, either in the heat of a sexual moment or discarded by banter. Yet this, carried on such sincere intonation, holds the air as if in a gentle fist.
It's like it's made him a little shy, color in pale cheeks, fingertips playing at the slit of the boxer-briefs until fabric folds open to expose the jut of that length where it's begun to fill out. He doesn't say anything in the end, simply bends his head forward to taste the side of Cy's cock with a few slow, kittenish laps of tongue, following the rigid line down to a thickened base. His nose grazes the sparse curls of dark pubic hair, exhalation fluttering out.]
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Here, lemme —
（ yeet the underoos. look, getting to play around with someone he can openly transmat around is still just a little bit of a novelty, okay? but it leaves him bare beneath sasuke's ministrations, and he tightens the hook of that thigh to pull him back in. it's gentle enough it's clear suggestion and not an order.
his cock jumps with a flex to those pelvic floor muscles, and his hand drops back against sasuke's hair. ）
Hey — I don't think I'm up to dirty talk. I just want to watch you.
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Without underwear in the way, he takes in the sight up close, all those smooth lines of flesh to the attractive arch of a hard cock close to his face. It takes Cy's hand in his hair to tempt his chin upward.]
You can if you want. But I'm not really... [Hm, how does he say this.] I don't know how to make it look the way you did. That effortless performance.
[Meanwhile, his right hand closes itself over that stiffened length of arousal, just to feet its heat, the silky texture of flesh beneath the rub of a palm.]
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（ he sounds absolutely certain in that, and when sasuke curls his hand around cy's cock, he makes an encouraging hm of sound. his own hands, which can't maintain callouses no matter how much he does, how hard he trains, how much he works, feel entirely different to the roughened palms of someone who's been using weapons, trained to war from a perilously young age. ）
I just want you. Whatever that looks like. It's about the partner, not the act. I want you.
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You can have me.
[A deferent tilt of his head beneath Cy's hand, he leans forward into a bow that returns the wet weight of his mouth to that cock, painting it in broad strokes until it shines with saliva. It isn't careful, it isn't precise or particularly skilled—it's just hungry, the sort of lapping he might do to a messy meal, starved enough not to care that it makes him look more like an animal than a civilized man.
Callused, weapon-worn fingers continue to explore the shape wherever his lips and tongue don't wander, but eventually he slips back up to the head and tastes the slit, sucking it briefly with a seal of lips. Unlike Cy's quiet and artful demonstration before, Sasuke doesn't care if he's a little loud, if that embarrassing pop that Cy had described when his mouth departs the swollen head disturbs the quiet of the room. He laps at tender foreskin, less intent on coaxing pleasure than he is just feeling it with his tongue. When he breathes through his nose, it's in heavier, humid bursts, a detail that shows some slipping self-control.]
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it pulls a sound out of him, something low and breathy, perhaps the first thing he's done around sasuke that's almost entirely uncontrolled. his heel, braced against sasuke's back along the line of his spine, digs in hard.
time fractures away from him, and narrows the point of his world down to the boy on his knees. the warmth of that questing tongue and his rough hand. by the time sasuke tongues the slit of his dick he's already messy and leaking with precome for reasons well beyond just the physical attention. possessiveness washes over him like blood from a slit throat in a messy spray, and he chokes on unwelcome words — you're mine — just enough presence of mind it's not the time or the place for the sentiment to spill out between them.
his fingers flex in the boy's hair, clearly restraining himself from just grabbing him and dragging him forward, wanting another, deeper plunge — ）
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cw: (cy grab bag - war horrors/assault/trauma/suicide)
the walking content warning that is cy
🥲🥲🥲
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