[His entire body jerks when Cy's fingers draw apart the slick folds of his cunt, unprepared for how sensitive it feels simply to be touched there when he's already drenched and swollen with arousal — and he is even less prepared for the attention paid to the clit, a wave of heat washing through his bloodstream like aphrodisiac. He hasn't taken on this form in a little while, so it is almost-new, relearning the places where a woman feels pleasure, that slit between his legs seeming to ache with the desire to be touched, rubbed, petted. Yet Cy does none of that, only wipes him clean perfunctorily before targeting that most tender spot — pierced nipples stinging when his chest heaves with deep, sobbing breaths, pulling the silver chain taut between them.
In the end, he can't tell why or how it happens, but he's certain an orgasm crashes through him as Cy toys with his clit and slides the needle up through the hood, muscles spasming with a shock of pleasure-pain that makes him momentarily faint. The act of being pierced by Cy's hand bound up in this scene of conquering ownership — it makes him undone, braced against the immensity of sensation and biting his own lip until it bleeds to withhold the cry he wants to make.
Shaking afterward, chain jingling in a bright glimmer on his skin, he flinches at the flick to tender nerves.]
I'm not. I'm not. [Half-senseless protest babbles out of him, bitten lip giving the false appearance of a red lipstick on his mouth.] Let me go, I'll... do anything else. I'll swear loyalty to you. I'll kill for you. Just — let me go.
（ that orgasm shivers out of him, and cy just lets him ride it out, petting and stroking him with amusement — simulated — and approval — genuine. he will never stop loving how pleasure looks on sasuke, how it pours tension and then relief into every muscle, the sounds he makes, the way he thrashes in resistance against it. the blood from his bitten lip red as the glittering gemstones of the chain. outside the scene for just a moment, he kisses sasuke's knee — and then it's right back into the acting.
the chain lays against sasuke's skin, gleaming as cy plucks it like a harp string, and then follows it between his thighs to his breasts. the chain is pulled taut, lifting them up by the piercings — and then he lets it drop back down. there's a shift as he crawls between sasuke's legs, one arm braced beside his head, and leans down intimately into his space, forcing a kiss that tastes of blood, rubbing against his cheek like a cat until he can whisper in his ear: ）
No.
（ his hand slips between them, trailing down against that chain like an anchor, tugging at his clit with only a little cruel insistence first — and when he gets to the boy's cunt he parts the labia with a push of his fingers until he gets to his hole, fingers slipping in easy for how wet he is. he can feel the press of the dildo that's up his ass, and pushes down against it with a thoughtful little sound. ）
No, the only thing for you to do from here is take what I give you. Every minute, every hour of the day — until I'm finished with you. You can fight all you want — but you should know it accomplishes nothing but getting me hard.
[The piercings are still tender and new — his body has no capacity to heal quickly without the aid of medical ninjutsu, so when Cy pulls on the chain, lifting his breasts by their full weight, his nipples ache with a raw sensation of pain that clears the hazy remnants of pleasure from orgasm. He whimpers, a sound lost when their mouths slide together in a satisfying collision that shares the taste of blood between them. Then his head turns to the side to escape the scrape of stubble, the voice purred into his ear.
A harsh, merciless denial. Sasuke feels his own heart pounding in his chest beneath the swell of breasts, frantic, anticipating the hand that slips down between them and unable to jolt away from cruel fingers at his clit. The area is sore where the jewelry hooks under the hood, disturbed by even the slightest movement — almost unbearably sensitive when his cunt is suddenly full of Cy's knuckles from that wet inward slide. With the toy buried in his ass, it feels like there is no room to allow anything else; the sensation of being spread open in those two separate places is utterly foreign to him. Cy nudges the dildo from within that hot interior and it makes Sasuke jerk hard at the ropes leashing him down to the bed. His mouth opens, gasping, trying to find speech.]
I'll beg you. [Bargaining still — and a willingness to strip away his pride if it means delivering him from this fate. It comes out quiet, shaken.] Anything. What do you want? Anything else.
[The threat of what has been suggested is looming closer to finality, with the man heavy on top of him, those fingers pushed up into his cunt to make it clear: he's going to be fucked until he's pregnant in this body.]
Don't do this. You won't — the power of my bloodline — you won't be able to control it.
（ he laughs, pressing a blood-smeared kiss against sasuke's shoulder. mockingly: ）
Like I'm not controlling you right now?
（ he pulls his hand away from sasuke's cunt, and then sits back, licking his fingers clean with obvious relish, leaning on one of sasuke's bound and lifted legs with a brace of one elbow. it's so cavalier it's insulting, using him as little more than furniture. ）
Like I haven't controlled every aspect of this encounter from the moment you set foot on the battlefield to the moment I collared you? And you think I can't marshal children?
（ there's a scoff, and then a final suck of his fingers, and then he pats sasuke's thigh playfully. possessively. ）
The time for you to submit, be obedient, swear fealty to me in exchange for better treatment and autonomy is long, long past. You pinned your pride to victory, and you've lost. Accept it. The only thing left for you is to accept that the combination of your power and your beauty is what is keeping you alive, and to be thankful for it.
（ if sasuke attempts another protest from that point on, it's ignored. instead, cy starts rearranging rope-work, moving him however he wants him. he does a torso-tie that pins him to the headboard, one rope over his waist but below the chain so it won't tug at it — and another under the armpits but over his breasts. his knees are lowered, now — still tied at the ankles, but allowed to rest neutrally — if spread-eagled — against the bed.
the result is that sasuke is tied sitting, his hand left free — a clear announcement of how little threat is perceived from sasuke at the moment. once cy's satisfied with his rope work, he stretches, cracks his neck with an audible pop as he rolls out his shoulders and stands. ）
I don't think I'm done hurting you yet. What do you think, can you take one more thing for me, t'che serikko?
[His attention stays rapt on Cy, finding it easy to believe that performance — how effortlessly the man instills authority in the pitch of his voice, and control in every graceful, confident movement. If not for the foundation of their relationship so far, perhaps he might have believed it too well. But he knows better. There is a bell in his hand and a word that will get him out.
He watches Cy clean off wet, glistening fingers and has to swallow past the sudden thickness in his throat. And the words, heavy and final, hammering down the nails of discipline and punishment — he is pliant as he's rearranged up against the headboard, ropes constructed into new knots that hold his upper body in a new position, leaving enough freedom to give the illusion of autonomy even when it will vanish from the first test. Because it is true, and the resentment is in the downward tilt of discolored eyes, a gaze that peers out through dark lashes with a fire burning low, dull embers. Any window of opportunity he might have to beg and plead his way out of this has closed. Is there another path? Could he play into it, pretend at submissiveness and obedience, until the man's guard is down? Not right away. It would be too obvious.
He says nothing through the evisceration of hope, and only lifts his right hand to touch the collar around his throat — avoiding any other part of his body as if in rejection of its current shape. That phrase draws a sharp look, one kept insolent despite the way it curls heat low in his belly for knowledge of what it means.]
Does it matter what I choose? Whether I tell you yes or no, you'll do it anyway.
（ sasuke gets a broad, flirtatious wink as cy wanders back to the rack. he picks up a slender rattan rod, bends it carefully in his hand, sets it aside. this is repeated several times until he finds one that has the spring he wants, and then it's slapped down against his hand hard enough to leave a welt that vanishes as he holds his hand up for sasuke to observe.
then he makes his way back across the room, snagging that forgotten wine glass from the end table as he does it. he sits beside sasuke, takes a slow swallow of the wine and offers it out with an enticing swirl. ）
[That she sears through him, and in the interim where Cy leaves the bed to survey the rack, he pulls at the collar around his throat, then runs his fingers down over the bindings of his chest — a subtle attempt to see if there is anything he can easily loosen.
Cy has purposefully knotted nothing very tight, and most of those fixtures are for display more than function, so it's easy to free the rope wrapped above his breasts before the man returns to the bed with both weapon and wine. In a desperate yank against the second rope still across his waist, Sasuke tries to lunge forward with a swing of his right arm as soon as Cy is close — uncaring when it upsets the glass of wine and stains the sheet like pale blood. It's an orchestrated violence, mere fantasy, because they've sparred before and he knows exactly what Cy can counter, but it still makes his heart race with a secret thrill.]
（ he lets the wine spill, even telegraphed as the move is. then, in a shimmer of movement that seems like it might be a clandestine use of the void, he suddenly has sasuke's wrist in his grip. he turns it into a caress that starts at the junction of the elbow and works to the fingers, and then presses a soft kiss to sasuke's knuckles.
but the illusion of tenderness shatters. the grip turning crueller, grinding the ulna and radius bones together in a punishing twist, holding his arm out of the way as he reties him with his left. he tugs sasuke's hand towards his crotch, forcing him to caress the swell of his cock through his pants. ）
Told you. You're just making this better for me. Every struggle, every defiant act. I got you wet, I got you off, and now it's like you're goading me into a hard cock on purpose. Can't wait to have me inside you, can you, slut?
（ he is still holding sasuke's hand as he bends to pick the glass up from the carpet. it's set empty to one side, and he fans his free hand across the stain left behind on the sheets. chidingly, ）
I'm going to whip your breasts. First one, then the other one. Now, I don't want to hit the piercings, so I need your help. Put your hand here.
（ he guides sasuke's hand beneath one heavy breast, and forces him to put his palm flat beneath it, supporting it while also pulling it slightly away from the body. ）
Hold it up and count. Let's not be defiant about this one, please.
（ the threat to sasuke's men hangs, omnipresent in the air. and the boy should ask himself — if cy is capable of doing this to someone he has a use for, what might he do to those that have no such bulwark? ）
[That grip aches dully, leaving hard imprints of bloodless white on skin that may color to bruises later — harmlessly turning his arm away to refasten the rope, then dragging it down, palm forced over the outline of the man's cock where it has grown hard within his slacks. Sasuke hears himself make a soft, bitten sound of protest, but even that is pathetic to his own ears. The effortless power and degradation wielded against him cuts like a hot blade. There's no stopping this.
Like someone who has realized their own fate at last, who has begun to internalize it — his hand scoops beneath the pliable shape of his breast, holding it up, chain strung from one sore and reddened nipple catching the light in a silver blink. His own obedience is shameful, and he turns his head away to avoid looking at Cy.]
（ cy leans down, and presses a kiss to sasuke's forehead, carding fingers through his hair where long bangs have fallen free of the restraining braid. a brief cup to the back of his neck, and a more genuine kiss follows, cy resting their foreheads briefly together before he straightens up. then, coldly — ）
Count.
（ the protest isn't acknowledged in the least, and the small rattan cane is lifted and then brought down with a snap against sasuke's breasts. he knows how to hit so that there's more show than sensation — they haven't done this particular type of impact play before, and the violence of the scene is starting to wear on him enough to stay his hand just a little. but even being careful, over time, paints stripes on pale skin. livid red lines that bloom beneath the thin line of the cane. ）
[He allows himself to crane into the kiss — its warmth carrying him, briefly, out of the scene. Out of that pretend fantasy of humiliation and shame. And it makes it easier to slip back in beneath it, carried deeper than before into the mindlessness of pain.
The count isn't effortless. It comes in French like he was told the first time — a quiet, teeth-gritted murmur as the cane whips across the tender flesh of his breast, whistling in the air. The mild feeling compounds to a burn the longer it goes, until soon he finds himself breathless, body shifting against the headboard as the torment starts to cloud his head.
It is partially intentional, then, when he lets a hot rush of dampness gather in the lashes of his eyes. Like the breaking of a moment, the sensation of release he has come to crave in a different way than the physical purge of an orgasm — this is more of an emotional reprieve, cleansing every thought as the tears pinch at the corners of eyes and drip down his cheeks. There's the hitch of a sob as he drags in ragged breath when Cy tells him to switch to the other side, hand lifting the swell of his breast to endure the same punishment. Please stop trips past his lips somewhere past the count of dix, broken-down to this obedience.]
（ even now, enmeshed as he is in the role he's playing, the role he's lived lifetimes ago — the urge to stop to wipe sasuke's tears away is almost a geas of its own. he knows, he trusts that if sasuke genuinely needed him to stop he would ask for it, but he still wavers on the precipice, caught between two acts of love — stopping to tend to his hurts and soothe the tears, or carrying them through to the end.
perhaps it's there in his expression, a brief flicker of indecision. perhaps it's there in his next act, which is to forestall the sequence of careful, exacting blows — to instead bend down and press a kiss at the divot of his collarbone, to rub his palm over the raised, reddened skin that's radiating heat from the injury to his breasts. he considers saying their pause-word just to check-in, but ultimately —
ultimately, as he kisses his way up along the fine bone of his jaw, brings his hand up to curl in sasuke's braided hair, he decides to let go of his concerns, and surrender to sasuke's judgment of his own limits. ）
I could stop, （ he murmurs, as he twists his hand in sasuke's hair, tight against the scalp. ） but I think you know what's next if I do. Is that what you want, Uchiha?
[He does see it. Not significant enough to call it to a halt — just a slight shift of the scene's tone, so subtle perhaps anyone else wouldn't have noticed — but Sasuke sees it. For all the time they've spent in each other's company, his attention is sharp and honed on Cy, even at the man's least serious, or at his most inscrutable. The pain of such an extended scene doesn't wear on Sasuke personally; when it is in service of something like this, woven into the intimacy of their shared pleasure, he suspects he could endure almost anything.
Yet — it is Cy's mental state he cares for above all. Those kisses trail up his chest, and he breathes into the lull of affection, reminded of all that lies gentle and loving between them. There's no fight to the hand that winds into the braid of his hair, hard knuckles pressed to his scalp. But he also doesn't stop himself from crying, simply quiets it a little, tears wet on cheeks as his face angles up.]
You've made it clear. You'll do what you want with me. [Low, whispering words.] ... I still have one request.
[As if he is in any state to bargain. Sasuke still does it, the look on his face strong, that glimmer of prideful defiance not fully at rest.]
If I'm going to have your children — then take care of them. It doesn't matter what you do to me, but treat them well.
（ he's glad, in that moment, that he's tucked in close to sasuke's ear. that there's no visual scrutiny to be endured for how deeply that sentiment sunders him. there's just a breath, sharply drawn, and then a catlike rub against sasuke's cheek as he straightens up.
the cane is discarded somewhere over his shoulder, a soundless fall to the carpet as he cradles sasuke's face with his hands. his thumbs wipe at the tears even as he searches the boy's expression. it's equally as much trying to commit things to an imperfect memory as it is a warlord's cruel mockery.
then: ）
All right.
（ it's a calculated sort of agreement, none of the affection or fondness that gleams briefly in his expression is present in his tone, which is remote and wintrous. a mercurial man granting a favour that could just as easily be revoked as upheld. ）
You've taken your punishment well enough that I'll agree provisionally, on one condition.
（ a quick calculation is all it takes to sever the ropes with the void, granting his prisoner the freedom — at least — of motion. ）
Lay back down. Spread your legs. I want you to watch you touch yourself. If you can get yourself off, I'll do as you've asked.
[That cold energy snaps through the air, severing his restraints — he lets out a breath at the sudden rush of freedom against the issuance of that command. At this stage, Sasuke listens to the compliancy forced upon him and shifts against the headboard, pushing his body back down in a stretch of willowy limbs, soft with curves he's not accustomed to possessing. It's only the third time in this form, but he thinks he's getting used to it; Cy's condition, however, will push him neatly to the limit of that familiarity.
He doesn't question it in the moment. They've reached a part of the scene, organically, where he will fight less than he will surrender, weakened by Cy's exercise of control over him, by the cool drain of tears.
Movement jars the silver chain where it drapes his belly, jolting pierced nipples. He grits his teeth against it — shyly, reluctantly allowing his thighs to fall apart, to slip his right hand down between them. As soon as he dares to touch fingers to the wet folds of his cunt, he's reminded of the pain still living here too, an accidental graze of knuckles at pierced flesh sending an electric wave of it through nerve-ends. With a whimper, he thumbs his clit gently — but the intensity of such a sensation draws his hand down instead, as if afraid of it. Everything feels slick, wet, hotter than he expects. He pushes a finger into himself and almost rolls onto his side from how it feels, how good and how strange, cheek turned away on the sheets.]
（ he sees that urge to turn, the twist of the boy's hips as he fights his own pleasure. cy reaches out to cage sasuke's knees with both hands, forcing him to keep his legs open, apart. a reminder that he has no latitude to remove himself from vulgar display. he belongs to cy, and there is only one will that dictates now what he may or may not do.
his hands skirt upwards, from knee to pale thighs not notably less muscular, and he thumbs at the outer labia, parting them with a stroke. sasuke's cunt is equally as pretty as his cock — rosy pink skin reddened with arousal, swollen and slick. if not for the context of the scene, he would lean down and put his mouth on the boy and suck at his tender clit until he'd wrung a dozen orgasms out of him and rendered him physically exhausted and insensible — but instead he shifts the grip of his left hand to free up his thumb, and he pushes down against sasuke's clit, knowing that the pressure will roll the nerve against the metal bar beneath the root of it. he turns it into a slow, torturous rub that marries pleasure and pain, watching sasuke's face for any signs of undue discomfort. ）
Just one finger? （ his tone is equal parts mocking and chiding. ） You must know you'll need to take more than that. I want you three deep on the next stroke. I don't care if it hurts.
（ it'll certainly be a stretch with the dildo tied against him, but he's confident sasuke can handle it. while it's not wholly similar, they've done enough work with anal training and worked him up through several sizes of dildos that the concept of being penetrated, of accepting intrusions into his body, is no longer a foreign concept. he'll just have to rewire his own perceptions to feel through a lens of altered anatomy. ）
And once you've come for me like this, I'm going to fuck you. （ he shifts his weight on the bed, and bends to kiss sasuke's knee. ） Every day, even if you sob or beg or fight me. Until you're carrying my child.
（ he eases off the torture of his clit, letting his fingers curl wetly around the chain to follow it upwards to the divergent leads to each breast. he chases one chain and cups the bruised, reddened flesh where it terminates, kneading into it, reigniting the pain of the caning. ）
And if you think that means I'll stop, that you'll get a moment's respite in exchange for the use of your body, you're wrong. You'll be spreading your legs for me like a whore from the earliest stirrings of pregnancy until the end. You were once a proud military commander, a fearsome warrior — now you're just an empty vessel for my use, my pleasure, my bloodline. No one else could have defeated you so thoroughly, so completely — could own you as entirely as I do now. Say that you're mine.
[There is no escaping that forced exposure. Sasuke does not fight it, even when the unprotected display of his body in this state — pierced and strung with obscene jewelry, soft with curves, breasts red and inflamed from the attention of the cane — is so vulgar and filthy that he might have once violently tried to conceal himself from view. Not with Cy now, and not within the context of this scene, bargain made under the agreement that he would be subservient to this man's every merciless whim.
Yet he's not prepared for the intensity of that attention paid to his clit, nerves screaming with the fire of pleasure-pain like the afterfall of a lightning strike. It's easier to access his cunt with the aid of Cy's fingers keeping him spread, dark curls damp and shining with his own thick arousal, folds so swollen and slippery it would be more challenging one-handed. Yet for a moment he can do — nothing, hooked on the trembling fervor of that sensation, clit rubbed against the metal of the piercing where it is most tender. His thighs shake and his back curves, sobbing on the breath in his throat. He feels he could come from this alone — but it isn't what Cy demands of him.
Tentatively, Sasuke pairs index and ring finger alongside middle when he pushes inside of himself again, the additional stretch throbbing through him in a way that makes him less careful with his words, less defiant, leaning more into the submissive performance for Cy's eyes alone.]
It hurts. [With the dildo still plugged inside of him, it feels like there's so little room for his fingers.] It's too much.
[Cy's dark words roll through him, a squirming restlessness that fights superficially against the way he's touched, sore breasts cupped and fondled.]
I, I'm... [his mind is empty, a slush of thoughts never formed to anything substantive, somewhere right on the cusp of that next blistering orgasm.] I'm — yours. I'll be yours. Only you. [And then his body takes over for everything else, spasming through the rush of that heightened pleasure — feeling release pour through him, clenching down hard on his own fingers, on the unyielding toy, crying out as fresh tears leak from the corners of eyes. At first he seems to fight it, turning his face against the bed and trying to drag himself up the sheets away from it, but the tide is so powerful that he can't. He's helpless to ride it out.]
（ it's said with approval, uncharacteristic for the role he's playing but perfectly in line for himself — letting his palm drift from sasuke's breast down along his belly, down to the sparse triangle of soft curls to the folds of his cunt. if sasuke tries to pull his hand free he disallows it, bracing his own hand over the boy's and adding a finger that grooves between the boy's own. cy, then, guides the thrust of their joined hands, backing out just enough that the sink of their touch is tantalizing into that wet, velvet clench of heat. they carve space out into this body, the passage eased by arousal and orgasm, and cy gives him no mercy for overstimulation. if sasuke thrashes, he'll only hold him down. ）
[There's a panicked thrash, held down and subdued by the man's body on top of him, the additional width of another finger pushed inside of him. He aches from the burn of that stretch on the heels of orgasm, the physical intensity at such a degree that he's weak, panting, desperate to escape or to end the torment in some other way — the one demanded of him like a hot splash of water across his skin, color high on his face.]
Wait... stop...
[Ragged breath sobs out of him as the pressure builds again in his belly, heavier somehow, slower to reach the peak of that fruition — he tries to close his legs against it, to keep it trapped inside of him, but Cy makes that impossible. Their joined fingers give the simulated illusion of fucking. He rocks up, into that violation, knuckles spearing him a little deeper, a little rougher, until he's crying out from the force of that second orgasm — wrung to the last sensitive nerve and shivering muscle.]
（ sasuke begging him to stop is like a livewire spark that crawls up his spine and settles somewhere at the cervical spine like a weight — and he feels it when kulo vayn is suddenly and abruptly awake. he comes and goes in the back of cy's mind, driven to dormancy by unending captivity and its lack of tolerance for enslavement, briefly awake when its interest is provoked. sasuke says stop and that single word swallows his focus like an eclipse.
for a moment his vision seems doubled, and his hands not his own, the sensation dreamlike, as if he's moving underwater. his mouth feels dry, but the sense of thirst that follows like the swell of a tide is for blood. the thought that peels along the thoroughfare of his thoughts is for how much sasuke would tolerate before he began to beg for real. before he started panting hades through frenetic hiccupping sobs, the bell a chiming symphony. until there was blood enough to soak the sheets and to make pale skin moon-silvered with shock.
sasuke is everything kulo vayn would have wanted in a warborne child. strong, beautiful, resilient, malleable as soft clay from the impure earth. if sasuke's world had been one of the eleven, he could imagine kulo vayn offering him the same deal that he'd offered to eska rao — endure me and i will leave you and your world alive.
kulo vayn does not have the capacity for deception, not exactly. he would leave the world alive, meaning he would not pull a blood-drenched godslayer weapon from its spent core. but of the people that called it home — there was no hope for them from the moment kulo vayn stepped between worlds to breathe their air. eska rao, one of the three, left a broken custodian of a desolate graveyard in osiere.
the room tilts, shifts, falls away. eska looked little like sasuke, skin like drunken midnight, eyes silver as a blade, broader and more muscular until torture ground them to a shadow. but the strength, the beauty in defiance, the will, those things run along parallel lines, and for a moment he cannot say which one is beneath him begging. he pulls their tangled hands free of the boy's cunt, and closes his eyes a moment, leaning against sasuke's knee as he sits back, forehead pressed against the jut of the bone. his breathing is measured, and he presses a kiss against cool skin. ）
Pomegranate.
（ his voice is sure, steady, cradled by a calm that seems like it could have been borrowed from the space before a storm. ）
[The hazy gauze brought by orgasm fades as soon as that word splits the air, and Sasuke sits up, a jolt of movement chasing the quick pace of his heart with worry. An apology almost falls out of his mouth — but, in the past, Cy has gently moved him away from such reactions, and he tries to stay that reflex now. Cy tells him that he's okay. He has to trust those words. The word used is not a full stop, as they've both done in the past, but rather a slow steer of tactics, a careful change.
Yet the need to comfort draws up too powerful to resist, and he wipes his messy hand on the bedsheets before he reaches for the man, petting at skin, craning to try and kiss what he can in a bend forward where Cy sits between his legs.]
（ sasuke reaches for him, offering comfort and support that cy hates to solicit when he's been made to bear the brunt of the scene's suffering. but he's turned him away once before when sasuke thought only to console him, and it isn't something he'd do again lightly.
he lets himself adjust how he's sitting, coming forward into that kiss to meet him halfway. nuzzling against his cheek. less considerately, he doesn't wipe his hand before letting it come up to cradle the back of sasuke's neck so he's not supporting himself with only core muscles. ）
[An effortless surrender of sentiment, uncaring of the tacky touch of wetness to the back of his neck if it means — this, the love between them, the reciprocation of physical affection.]
I've enjoyed everything we've done so far. There's nothing I would change. [His head turns, gently resting his brow down and against Cy's throat, feeling that unnatural warmth where it emanates from smooth skin. He inhales the scent he's come to know and adore.] You haven't hurt me. Not in any way I didn't want you to. That was the first time it ever seemed so effortless — pleasure at my own hand.
[Maybe his words are unnecessary, but he wants to say them anyway, because they're true. Cy has taught him to trust honesty and boundaries, but this is the first time they've tried a more complex scene of this nature. It doesn't surprise him; it must be hard on Cy, more than anything.]
（ his fingers work against the back of sasuke's neck, stroking the skin above the collar very gently as he just pulls him into a sitting position and then leans in against him, letting sasuke take his weight as he slumps against his shoulder. gratitude shivers through him, and he knows — sasuke has caught the nuance of his pause and is offering all the assurances he knows how. love is a tender demonstration, glittering between them like a web of gemstones catching light, and he just. breathes. the scent of arousal is heady in the room, distinctly different with sasuke's changed biology than in his male form but familiar just the same. ）
Should I be worried about the Sharingan letting you read my mind?
（ it's a tired, humorous murmur, spoken against the hollow at his clavicle. ）
Ah, no. You're just getting it from the other side now.
[The soft smile touches his lips where they remain close to Cy's skin, unwilling to part. His hair, bound in its braid, feels heavy where it drapes over his body — and the continued pause makes him more aware of all the places where he's sore and aching — but none of these sensations are too unpleasant.]
That's what it means to know someone as well as you know yourself. Like the other half of your soul.
[He kisses Cy's cheek, missing slightly, landing closer to his ear.]
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In the end, he can't tell why or how it happens, but he's certain an orgasm crashes through him as Cy toys with his clit and slides the needle up through the hood, muscles spasming with a shock of pleasure-pain that makes him momentarily faint. The act of being pierced by Cy's hand bound up in this scene of conquering ownership — it makes him undone, braced against the immensity of sensation and biting his own lip until it bleeds to withhold the cry he wants to make.
Shaking afterward, chain jingling in a bright glimmer on his skin, he flinches at the flick to tender nerves.]
I'm not. I'm not. [Half-senseless protest babbles out of him, bitten lip giving the false appearance of a red lipstick on his mouth.] Let me go, I'll... do anything else. I'll swear loyalty to you. I'll kill for you. Just — let me go.
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the chain lays against sasuke's skin, gleaming as cy plucks it like a harp string, and then follows it between his thighs to his breasts. the chain is pulled taut, lifting them up by the piercings — and then he lets it drop back down. there's a shift as he crawls between sasuke's legs, one arm braced beside his head, and leans down intimately into his space, forcing a kiss that tastes of blood, rubbing against his cheek like a cat until he can whisper in his ear: ）
No.
（ his hand slips between them, trailing down against that chain like an anchor, tugging at his clit with only a little cruel insistence first — and when he gets to the boy's cunt he parts the labia with a push of his fingers until he gets to his hole, fingers slipping in easy for how wet he is. he can feel the press of the dildo that's up his ass, and pushes down against it with a thoughtful little sound. ）
No, the only thing for you to do from here is take what I give you. Every minute, every hour of the day — until I'm finished with you. You can fight all you want — but you should know it accomplishes nothing but getting me hard.
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A harsh, merciless denial. Sasuke feels his own heart pounding in his chest beneath the swell of breasts, frantic, anticipating the hand that slips down between them and unable to jolt away from cruel fingers at his clit. The area is sore where the jewelry hooks under the hood, disturbed by even the slightest movement — almost unbearably sensitive when his cunt is suddenly full of Cy's knuckles from that wet inward slide. With the toy buried in his ass, it feels like there is no room to allow anything else; the sensation of being spread open in those two separate places is utterly foreign to him. Cy nudges the dildo from within that hot interior and it makes Sasuke jerk hard at the ropes leashing him down to the bed. His mouth opens, gasping, trying to find speech.]
I'll beg you. [Bargaining still — and a willingness to strip away his pride if it means delivering him from this fate. It comes out quiet, shaken.] Anything. What do you want? Anything else.
[The threat of what has been suggested is looming closer to finality, with the man heavy on top of him, those fingers pushed up into his cunt to make it clear: he's going to be fucked until he's pregnant in this body.]
Don't do this. You won't — the power of my bloodline — you won't be able to control it.
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Like I'm not controlling you right now?
（ he pulls his hand away from sasuke's cunt, and then sits back, licking his fingers clean with obvious relish, leaning on one of sasuke's bound and lifted legs with a brace of one elbow. it's so cavalier it's insulting, using him as little more than furniture. ）
Like I haven't controlled every aspect of this encounter from the moment you set foot on the battlefield to the moment I collared you? And you think I can't marshal children?
（ there's a scoff, and then a final suck of his fingers, and then he pats sasuke's thigh playfully. possessively. ）
The time for you to submit, be obedient, swear fealty to me in exchange for better treatment and autonomy is long, long past. You pinned your pride to victory, and you've lost. Accept it. The only thing left for you is to accept that the combination of your power and your beauty is what is keeping you alive, and to be thankful for it.
（ if sasuke attempts another protest from that point on, it's ignored. instead, cy starts rearranging rope-work, moving him however he wants him. he does a torso-tie that pins him to the headboard, one rope over his waist but below the chain so it won't tug at it — and another under the armpits but over his breasts. his knees are lowered, now — still tied at the ankles, but allowed to rest neutrally — if spread-eagled — against the bed.
the result is that sasuke is tied sitting, his hand left free — a clear announcement of how little threat is perceived from sasuke at the moment. once cy's satisfied with his rope work, he stretches, cracks his neck with an audible pop as he rolls out his shoulders and stands. ）
I don't think I'm done hurting you yet. What do you think, can you take one more thing for me, t'che serikko?
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He watches Cy clean off wet, glistening fingers and has to swallow past the sudden thickness in his throat. And the words, heavy and final, hammering down the nails of discipline and punishment — he is pliant as he's rearranged up against the headboard, ropes constructed into new knots that hold his upper body in a new position, leaving enough freedom to give the illusion of autonomy even when it will vanish from the first test. Because it is true, and the resentment is in the downward tilt of discolored eyes, a gaze that peers out through dark lashes with a fire burning low, dull embers. Any window of opportunity he might have to beg and plead his way out of this has closed. Is there another path? Could he play into it, pretend at submissiveness and obedience, until the man's guard is down? Not right away. It would be too obvious.
He says nothing through the evisceration of hope, and only lifts his right hand to touch the collar around his throat — avoiding any other part of his body as if in rejection of its current shape. That phrase draws a sharp look, one kept insolent despite the way it curls heat low in his belly for knowledge of what it means.]
Does it matter what I choose? Whether I tell you yes or no, you'll do it anyway.
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（ sasuke gets a broad, flirtatious wink as cy wanders back to the rack. he picks up a slender rattan rod, bends it carefully in his hand, sets it aside. this is repeated several times until he finds one that has the spring he wants, and then it's slapped down against his hand hard enough to leave a welt that vanishes as he holds his hand up for sasuke to observe.
then he makes his way back across the room, snagging that forgotten wine glass from the end table as he does it. he sits beside sasuke, takes a slow swallow of the wine and offers it out with an enticing swirl. ）
Dulls the pain.
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Cy has purposefully knotted nothing very tight, and most of those fixtures are for display more than function, so it's easy to free the rope wrapped above his breasts before the man returns to the bed with both weapon and wine. In a desperate yank against the second rope still across his waist, Sasuke tries to lunge forward with a swing of his right arm as soon as Cy is close — uncaring when it upsets the glass of wine and stains the sheet like pale blood. It's an orchestrated violence, mere fantasy, because they've sparred before and he knows exactly what Cy can counter, but it still makes his heart race with a secret thrill.]
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but the illusion of tenderness shatters. the grip turning crueller, grinding the ulna and radius bones together in a punishing twist, holding his arm out of the way as he reties him with his left. he tugs sasuke's hand towards his crotch, forcing him to caress the swell of his cock through his pants. ）
Told you. You're just making this better for me. Every struggle, every defiant act. I got you wet, I got you off, and now it's like you're goading me into a hard cock on purpose. Can't wait to have me inside you, can you, slut?
（ he is still holding sasuke's hand as he bends to pick the glass up from the carpet. it's set empty to one side, and he fans his free hand across the stain left behind on the sheets. chidingly, ）
I'm going to whip your breasts. First one, then the other one. Now, I don't want to hit the piercings, so I need your help. Put your hand here.
（ he guides sasuke's hand beneath one heavy breast, and forces him to put his palm flat beneath it, supporting it while also pulling it slightly away from the body. ）
Hold it up and count. Let's not be defiant about this one, please.
（ the threat to sasuke's men hangs, omnipresent in the air. and the boy should ask himself — if cy is capable of doing this to someone he has a use for, what might he do to those that have no such bulwark? ）
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Like someone who has realized their own fate at last, who has begun to internalize it — his hand scoops beneath the pliable shape of his breast, holding it up, chain strung from one sore and reddened nipple catching the light in a silver blink. His own obedience is shameful, and he turns his head away to avoid looking at Cy.]
Don't.
[It's barely a whisper, this time.]
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Count.
（ the protest isn't acknowledged in the least, and the small rattan cane is lifted and then brought down with a snap against sasuke's breasts. he knows how to hit so that there's more show than sensation — they haven't done this particular type of impact play before, and the violence of the scene is starting to wear on him enough to stay his hand just a little. but even being careful, over time, paints stripes on pale skin. livid red lines that bloom beneath the thin line of the cane. ）
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The count isn't effortless. It comes in French like he was told the first time — a quiet, teeth-gritted murmur as the cane whips across the tender flesh of his breast, whistling in the air. The mild feeling compounds to a burn the longer it goes, until soon he finds himself breathless, body shifting against the headboard as the torment starts to cloud his head.
It is partially intentional, then, when he lets a hot rush of dampness gather in the lashes of his eyes. Like the breaking of a moment, the sensation of release he has come to crave in a different way than the physical purge of an orgasm — this is more of an emotional reprieve, cleansing every thought as the tears pinch at the corners of eyes and drip down his cheeks. There's the hitch of a sob as he drags in ragged breath when Cy tells him to switch to the other side, hand lifting the swell of his breast to endure the same punishment. Please stop trips past his lips somewhere past the count of dix, broken-down to this obedience.]
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perhaps it's there in his expression, a brief flicker of indecision. perhaps it's there in his next act, which is to forestall the sequence of careful, exacting blows — to instead bend down and press a kiss at the divot of his collarbone, to rub his palm over the raised, reddened skin that's radiating heat from the injury to his breasts. he considers saying their pause-word just to check-in, but ultimately —
ultimately, as he kisses his way up along the fine bone of his jaw, brings his hand up to curl in sasuke's braided hair, he decides to let go of his concerns, and surrender to sasuke's judgment of his own limits. ）
I could stop, （ he murmurs, as he twists his hand in sasuke's hair, tight against the scalp. ） but I think you know what's next if I do. Is that what you want, Uchiha?
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Yet — it is Cy's mental state he cares for above all. Those kisses trail up his chest, and he breathes into the lull of affection, reminded of all that lies gentle and loving between them. There's no fight to the hand that winds into the braid of his hair, hard knuckles pressed to his scalp. But he also doesn't stop himself from crying, simply quiets it a little, tears wet on cheeks as his face angles up.]
You've made it clear. You'll do what you want with me. [Low, whispering words.] ... I still have one request.
[As if he is in any state to bargain. Sasuke still does it, the look on his face strong, that glimmer of prideful defiance not fully at rest.]
If I'm going to have your children — then take care of them. It doesn't matter what you do to me, but treat them well.
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the cane is discarded somewhere over his shoulder, a soundless fall to the carpet as he cradles sasuke's face with his hands. his thumbs wipe at the tears even as he searches the boy's expression. it's equally as much trying to commit things to an imperfect memory as it is a warlord's cruel mockery.
then: ）
All right.
（ it's a calculated sort of agreement, none of the affection or fondness that gleams briefly in his expression is present in his tone, which is remote and wintrous. a mercurial man granting a favour that could just as easily be revoked as upheld. ）
You've taken your punishment well enough that I'll agree provisionally, on one condition.
（ a quick calculation is all it takes to sever the ropes with the void, granting his prisoner the freedom — at least — of motion. ）
Lay back down. Spread your legs. I want you to watch you touch yourself. If you can get yourself off, I'll do as you've asked.
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He doesn't question it in the moment. They've reached a part of the scene, organically, where he will fight less than he will surrender, weakened by Cy's exercise of control over him, by the cool drain of tears.
Movement jars the silver chain where it drapes his belly, jolting pierced nipples. He grits his teeth against it — shyly, reluctantly allowing his thighs to fall apart, to slip his right hand down between them. As soon as he dares to touch fingers to the wet folds of his cunt, he's reminded of the pain still living here too, an accidental graze of knuckles at pierced flesh sending an electric wave of it through nerve-ends. With a whimper, he thumbs his clit gently — but the intensity of such a sensation draws his hand down instead, as if afraid of it. Everything feels slick, wet, hotter than he expects. He pushes a finger into himself and almost rolls onto his side from how it feels, how good and how strange, cheek turned away on the sheets.]
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his hands skirt upwards, from knee to pale thighs not notably less muscular, and he thumbs at the outer labia, parting them with a stroke. sasuke's cunt is equally as pretty as his cock — rosy pink skin reddened with arousal, swollen and slick. if not for the context of the scene, he would lean down and put his mouth on the boy and suck at his tender clit until he'd wrung a dozen orgasms out of him and rendered him physically exhausted and insensible — but instead he shifts the grip of his left hand to free up his thumb, and he pushes down against sasuke's clit, knowing that the pressure will roll the nerve against the metal bar beneath the root of it. he turns it into a slow, torturous rub that marries pleasure and pain, watching sasuke's face for any signs of undue discomfort. ）
Just one finger? （ his tone is equal parts mocking and chiding. ） You must know you'll need to take more than that. I want you three deep on the next stroke. I don't care if it hurts.
（ it'll certainly be a stretch with the dildo tied against him, but he's confident sasuke can handle it. while it's not wholly similar, they've done enough work with anal training and worked him up through several sizes of dildos that the concept of being penetrated, of accepting intrusions into his body, is no longer a foreign concept. he'll just have to rewire his own perceptions to feel through a lens of altered anatomy. ）
And once you've come for me like this, I'm going to fuck you. （ he shifts his weight on the bed, and bends to kiss sasuke's knee. ） Every day, even if you sob or beg or fight me. Until you're carrying my child.
（ he eases off the torture of his clit, letting his fingers curl wetly around the chain to follow it upwards to the divergent leads to each breast. he chases one chain and cups the bruised, reddened flesh where it terminates, kneading into it, reigniting the pain of the caning. ）
And if you think that means I'll stop, that you'll get a moment's respite in exchange for the use of your body, you're wrong. You'll be spreading your legs for me like a whore from the earliest stirrings of pregnancy until the end. You were once a proud military commander, a fearsome warrior — now you're just an empty vessel for my use, my pleasure, my bloodline. No one else could have defeated you so thoroughly, so completely — could own you as entirely as I do now. Say that you're mine.
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Yet he's not prepared for the intensity of that attention paid to his clit, nerves screaming with the fire of pleasure-pain like the afterfall of a lightning strike. It's easier to access his cunt with the aid of Cy's fingers keeping him spread, dark curls damp and shining with his own thick arousal, folds so swollen and slippery it would be more challenging one-handed. Yet for a moment he can do — nothing, hooked on the trembling fervor of that sensation, clit rubbed against the metal of the piercing where it is most tender. His thighs shake and his back curves, sobbing on the breath in his throat. He feels he could come from this alone — but it isn't what Cy demands of him.
Tentatively, Sasuke pairs index and ring finger alongside middle when he pushes inside of himself again, the additional stretch throbbing through him in a way that makes him less careful with his words, less defiant, leaning more into the submissive performance for Cy's eyes alone.]
It hurts. [With the dildo still plugged inside of him, it feels like there's so little room for his fingers.] It's too much.
[Cy's dark words roll through him, a squirming restlessness that fights superficially against the way he's touched, sore breasts cupped and fondled.]
I, I'm... [his mind is empty, a slush of thoughts never formed to anything substantive, somewhere right on the cusp of that next blistering orgasm.] I'm — yours. I'll be yours. Only you. [And then his body takes over for everything else, spasming through the rush of that heightened pleasure — feeling release pour through him, clenching down hard on his own fingers, on the unyielding toy, crying out as fresh tears leak from the corners of eyes. At first he seems to fight it, turning his face against the bed and trying to drag himself up the sheets away from it, but the tide is so powerful that he can't. He's helpless to ride it out.]
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（ it's said with approval, uncharacteristic for the role he's playing but perfectly in line for himself — letting his palm drift from sasuke's breast down along his belly, down to the sparse triangle of soft curls to the folds of his cunt. if sasuke tries to pull his hand free he disallows it, bracing his own hand over the boy's and adding a finger that grooves between the boy's own. cy, then, guides the thrust of their joined hands, backing out just enough that the sink of their touch is tantalizing into that wet, velvet clench of heat. they carve space out into this body, the passage eased by arousal and orgasm, and cy gives him no mercy for overstimulation. if sasuke thrashes, he'll only hold him down. ）
Come again.
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[There's a panicked thrash, held down and subdued by the man's body on top of him, the additional width of another finger pushed inside of him. He aches from the burn of that stretch on the heels of orgasm, the physical intensity at such a degree that he's weak, panting, desperate to escape or to end the torment in some other way — the one demanded of him like a hot splash of water across his skin, color high on his face.]
Wait... stop...
[Ragged breath sobs out of him as the pressure builds again in his belly, heavier somehow, slower to reach the peak of that fruition — he tries to close his legs against it, to keep it trapped inside of him, but Cy makes that impossible. Their joined fingers give the simulated illusion of fucking. He rocks up, into that violation, knuckles spearing him a little deeper, a little rougher, until he's crying out from the force of that second orgasm — wrung to the last sensitive nerve and shivering muscle.]
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for a moment his vision seems doubled, and his hands not his own, the sensation dreamlike, as if he's moving underwater. his mouth feels dry, but the sense of thirst that follows like the swell of a tide is for blood. the thought that peels along the thoroughfare of his thoughts is for how much sasuke would tolerate before he began to beg for real. before he started panting hades through frenetic hiccupping sobs, the bell a chiming symphony. until there was blood enough to soak the sheets and to make pale skin moon-silvered with shock.
sasuke is everything kulo vayn would have wanted in a warborne child. strong, beautiful, resilient, malleable as soft clay from the impure earth. if sasuke's world had been one of the eleven, he could imagine kulo vayn offering him the same deal that he'd offered to eska rao — endure me and i will leave you and your world alive.
kulo vayn does not have the capacity for deception, not exactly. he would leave the world alive, meaning he would not pull a blood-drenched godslayer weapon from its spent core. but of the people that called it home — there was no hope for them from the moment kulo vayn stepped between worlds to breathe their air. eska rao, one of the three, left a broken custodian of a desolate graveyard in osiere.
the room tilts, shifts, falls away. eska looked little like sasuke, skin like drunken midnight, eyes silver as a blade, broader and more muscular until torture ground them to a shadow. but the strength, the beauty in defiance, the will, those things run along parallel lines, and for a moment he cannot say which one is beneath him begging. he pulls their tangled hands free of the boy's cunt, and closes his eyes a moment, leaning against sasuke's knee as he sits back, forehead pressed against the jut of the bone. his breathing is measured, and he presses a kiss against cool skin. ）
Pomegranate.
（ his voice is sure, steady, cradled by a calm that seems like it could have been borrowed from the space before a storm. ）
I just need a minute. I'm okay.
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Yet the need to comfort draws up too powerful to resist, and he wipes his messy hand on the bedsheets before he reaches for the man, petting at skin, craning to try and kiss what he can in a bend forward where Cy sits between his legs.]
I'm here. [A whisper, hushed.] Whatever you need.
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（ sasuke reaches for him, offering comfort and support that cy hates to solicit when he's been made to bear the brunt of the scene's suffering. but he's turned him away once before when sasuke thought only to console him, and it isn't something he'd do again lightly.
he lets himself adjust how he's sitting, coming forward into that kiss to meet him halfway. nuzzling against his cheek. less considerately, he doesn't wipe his hand before letting it come up to cradle the back of sasuke's neck so he's not supporting himself with only core muscles. ）
I love you.
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[An effortless surrender of sentiment, uncaring of the tacky touch of wetness to the back of his neck if it means — this, the love between them, the reciprocation of physical affection.]
I've enjoyed everything we've done so far. There's nothing I would change. [His head turns, gently resting his brow down and against Cy's throat, feeling that unnatural warmth where it emanates from smooth skin. He inhales the scent he's come to know and adore.] You haven't hurt me. Not in any way I didn't want you to. That was the first time it ever seemed so effortless — pleasure at my own hand.
[Maybe his words are unnecessary, but he wants to say them anyway, because they're true. Cy has taught him to trust honesty and boundaries, but this is the first time they've tried a more complex scene of this nature. It doesn't surprise him; it must be hard on Cy, more than anything.]
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Should I be worried about the Sharingan letting you read my mind?
（ it's a tired, humorous murmur, spoken against the hollow at his clavicle. ）
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[The soft smile touches his lips where they remain close to Cy's skin, unwilling to part. His hair, bound in its braid, feels heavy where it drapes over his body — and the continued pause makes him more aware of all the places where he's sore and aching — but none of these sensations are too unpleasant.]
That's what it means to know someone as well as you know yourself. Like the other half of your soul.
[He kisses Cy's cheek, missing slightly, landing closer to his ear.]
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'making sasuke participate in his own torment is my kink' - cy, ten k years and a half
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it's not a cysuke thread without cy talking sadly abt war horrors at some point tbh
🥲🥲🥲
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here there be dragons
🐉🐉🐉
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the endlessness of horny, pt8349823^2999
they will never stop
once u pop...
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we are cringe but we are free