We're still going to have to deal with the mess when we're done.
[But by the tone of his voice, he's losing interest in the fussy particulars. So what if they return to a wet congealed mess of bodily fluids between them? A future problem.
And he enjoys that thought, keeping Cy inside of his body while they experiment within the genjutsu. He sets his hand on Cy's shoulder and pushes — a clear indication to lie flat.]
Any other requests?
im just time skipping us a l'il otherwise we will be here ALL YEAR
（ flat he goes without protest, the collar jangling faintly as he's jostled about. he puts one hand behind his head in a position of casual repose — the other pulls sasuke down gently. ）
Just kiss me. I love you.
（ well, not quite. after the heat of that kiss fades, they do discuss more particulars — the yesses, no's and points of interest they both have and want to explore in the context of the scene — and then cy meets sasuke's gaze, bled to red by the sharingan, and gives him a soft little smile as he murmurs taenarum. ）
why do they yap so much. also cw: pregnancy kink now for real lmao
[The genjutsu pulls over their senses in a whisper of change, unthreatening, familiar now for the handful of times they've indulged its power. With experience on his side, he knows how to do this — the access of information enough to influence the illusory layout without bleeding beyond that surface he touches within Cy's mind, at the fore of the brain. The suite around them is gone, the whole of the resort melted away to construct a new place in its absence, as he did once before with his childhood home. Architecture in the style of traditional Japanese is what he makes — 城, befitting a warlord — rooms of wood and stone, tatami floors and shoji screens, gardens, sloped rooftops. A fortress overlooking valleys and the distant ribbon of an ocean, fixed strategically in mountainous terrain.
Most of the detail is in this one chamber, though, because it belongs to Cy. There is art on the walls, instruments in corners, artifacts on the desk and shelves. Only Cy's mind will fill in those blanks, if he wants to — Sasuke seats himself comfortably on the pillows collected in the center of the room, sprawling, facing an open screen that exposes a perfect view of the moon and stars.
Given their discussion of continuity, he retains that female form, as always on a fine line of androgyny that doesn't sacrifice his normal features to make the change of sex. And, too, his breasts are as full and heavy as they were due to the diamond suit — but also there's a new element. It isn't one he has personal experience with, of course, so it's taken partly from Cy's knowledge of what pregnancy should look like, the swell of a belly beneath soft, silk fabric hard to miss where the white moon illuminates him.
He put Cy somewhere just outside the door to start the scene more formally, so his head turns to look for him.]
they never shut the fuck up. and never stop fucking. we've created a monster.
（ between one heartbeat and the next, they're in an illusory world. cy is outside a door, looking down at his hand where he's lifted it to push the door aside, and he completes the natural motion without hesitating, carrying himself into the scene.
he's struck at once how much care and attention sasuke has built into it — the things that sasuke knows are dear to him — the art, the instruments, the books that add the faint scent of lignin to the room. he fills in some gaps he suspects were intentionally blank — the colour scheme of the room, the slow burn of candles. there's a desk in one corner, with a hand-drawn map that paints a picture of the coast beyond that ribbon of ocean visible from the balcony. the room isn't ostentatious, but it's clearly lived-in — a place where one might retreat to after a tiring day.
there's a moment where the fabric of the illusion shivers, and cy lifts a hand to wipe blood from one cheek — not his, naturally, but the suggestion of some distant violence done. dull grit covers his clothes and is a dust in his hair: a return from a conquering campaign.
cy closes the door behind him with a snap, and then takes his boots off, pads across the space and into sasuke's without comment. one hand slips into his hair, forcing him upwards into a kiss while the other curves possessively against his belly, trailing along the delicate chain that even now is leashed to piercings as much for pain as pleasure — the stab of lust that seizes him seeing sasuke in this state is not remotely feigned, he can feel the chafe of his cock beneath his clothing as the thrill of the scene — the sight — sink in. ）
I should have brought you with me, （ is the murmur that follows the seizure of a kiss, ） I could have used the release. （ his hand dips lower, following the chain to its anchorpoint, the piercing nestled beneath the nerves of the clitoris. sasuke tries, reflexively, to close his legs to the intrusion, and cy's correction is the patient disappointment of a teacher when he says: ） Spread your legs.
（ he doesn't know what the timeline was that sasuke had intended, how long now that he's been a slave to this life — changed in body, lashed to the wheel of a warlord's twisted desires. long enough for a child to take root. long enough that perhaps some of the threats cy made during their last scene, for all its intensity, have come to pass. perhaps the boy has come to the idea of obedience, or perhaps he still resists — he'll let sasuke make that choice for himself. ）
[He drinks in those details, the union of both of their minds in the little ways Cy influences their surroundings — wearing the role of a warlord as much in demeanor as appearance. It feels like the room is owned by Cy, and it takes no effort from the Sharingan to craft that illusion as the man approaches. Cy is good at that all on his own.
Anticipation catches in his throat at the first touch, because by this narrative it has been a long time since he's been kissed, since the man who has captured him left on some violent campaign. There have been days between their last reunion, a separation that might have ached, or might have been a reprieve — he recognizes that he gets the space to choose how he wants to behave. They didn't lay any strict rules for his own part within the story, except for its eventual conclusion of love, which in continuity is not something he thinks could have been avoided. There's only so much he can pretend.
The piercings pull at sensitive flesh, nipples hard from exposure to the air in the sheer lack of clothing — silk enough to remain decent but easily removed at Cy's discretion. That hand sinks lower, down to where he's hot and wet between his legs already, intent on the jewel that glints from the folds of his cunt. The chain jingles as Cy follows it — and Sasuke has made a decision. His thighs fold open, and he watches the man through a veil of dark lashes.]
You didn't find some willing woman while you were gone? ... Or unwilling. [A cool tilt of his head, haughty, but seen-through. Defiant in a way that is more fragile than the last scene's determination. Jealous at the thought of Cy with someone else, but unwilling say it.] I'm surprised by your restraint.
[Playful, like a sharp blade in too-loose fingers — while the evidence of slick arousal between his legs speaks to his own need.]
（ he laughs, going to his knees beside him in a way that feels not remotely like submission. it's a casual demonstration of power — that even kneeling he fears nothing from his unwilling prisoner. that even after leaving him alone for days, weeks — he isn't concerned with searching him for a knife, or testing glasses for poison. he's so absolute, so secure in his power that he would find such suspicions demeaning. he owns this pretty, pregnant whore, and even the bite of his words only cleave him towards excitement. ）
What restraint found me on the battlefield will be absent the bedroom, t'che serikko.
（ cy rubs his cheek against one of sasuke's thighs, and leans in to lap at his cunt — one hand lifts to hold his leg beneath the knee to discourage movement. his grip is bruising, fingers a punishing press. ）
I told my servants to prepare you. Did they?
（ he leaves the words nebulous on purpose. if sasuke wants to imagine his role as being subject to some humiliation — stripped and cleaned with thorough, perfunctory indifference, perhaps — or a servant's clever fingers working oil into his ass, he'll leave that for him to decide. after all, cy's tastes are no secret in this world. he likes to be cruel. revels in it. ）
[The complete lack of concern, that exercise of authority as if Sasuke is no more threatening than a clawless, toothless animal — it is almost deliriously alluring, no matter how it's meant to demean him. He has known for a long time of his own attraction to power, though perhaps not consciously. And it feels as though Cy embodies that with such ease that it leaves him breathless to watch.
He fixes himself into the moment. If he had a carving knife tucked somewhere in his clothes or under a pillow, hidden after he was brought his dinner, he could use it now to lash out. But he doesn't. There would be an occasion for that — seeking the fight, the punishment, the exquisite satisfaction of testing this man's limits, but so too has he seen the extent of its cruelty.
And perhaps there's no imperative left, with a life in his belly.]
Shouldn't you see for yourself? [His right hand braces on the floor to keep upright, not that he's in danger of tipping over with how firmly he's held in place.] Perhaps I told them I didn't want to be touched, and I made them leave. Perhaps, while you were gone, their loyalty turned to me.
[Would they listen to his command over their lord's? No, not likely — and Cy will find his asshole oiled, a plug with a jeweled base seated inside of him.]
（ there's a breath of amusement huffed against him, and cy lifts his other hand up to push that plug a little more firmly in against him. to drag his fingers through the slick folds of his cunt, tugging cruelly at the piercing. ）
I see the mother of my child has gained a sense of humour while I was away.
（ he leans in to close his mouth over the seat of the piercing, applying gentle suction to the head of his clit. he slips two fingers into the hot, wet channel of his body, fingers curled just slightly as he pushes in as if heedless for sasuke's pleasure or even tolerance. no, he is a man claiming space because he can, not because it's wanted or welcomed. enjoyed all the more, perhaps, because it isn't. ）
Tell me, how does it feel to carry my heir?
（ it's asked almost conversantly as he turns his attention on the boy's clit to a kittenish lick of his tongue even as his fingers drive deeply into him with a rough thrust. he trusts sasuke to regulate the pain to no much more than he can take. ）
[He can't close his legs with Cy between them, although there is an aborted effort to attempt it, caging the man's shoulders between the bracket of his knees. The plug is jostled inside of his body, seated more deeply, a reminder of the pressure that keeps him open and ready — and his cunt is messier for Cy's attention to it, folds red and swollen, those rough fingers gliding through that slick wetness to push in.
A sharp exhalation leaves his throat, finding himself oversensitive to that first penetration as Cy's knuckles fill his pussy, like some effect of the diamond suit carried over. Or how he imagines it, in his own fantasy, while heavy with Cy's child.]
... Miserable. [This, in a breathy hiss.] I'm tired all of the time. My — chest hurts. [He pointedly does not say my breasts.] I become nauseated. I crave food. My moods change.
[These are all true facts of pregnancy, though not quite in the context of a titillating scene of intimacy, but it is what his character would say and do. And Sasuke is learning that performance, feeling it out in an expression of freedom.]
And the man who caused this left me alone for weeks.
（ god, but there's a part of him that loves that little flicker of rebellion. perhaps it harkens back to the first few times they were together, the way sasuke was so primed to grit his teeth against pleasure, how often cy had to keep drawing his legs apart against a spasm of self-denial. the echo of that here is nostalgic, and it makes him instantly, impossibly hard.
cy laps at that sweet spot at the crux of his thighs, tasting the nectar of arousal heady and thick on his tongue. the slip of two fingers turns to three, hand twisting. there's a tightness to his body that speaks to resistance, to sasuke's own pleasure in simulated refusal. ）
You'll spend the next three on my cock to make up for it.
（ there's a pat to his thigh — as if that's meant to be some comforting reward, and not a threat. ）
[The width of three fingers is a burn, feeling the way his body clenches around that intrusion until it throbs in his blood — and while he ultimately controls the threshold of pain, he is also the sort of person innately tempered to test his own boundaries. Not too much. Not to a degree that would harm himself, or draw Cy's concern toward him, but enough to feel the glass-edged fragility of his own composure start to shiver as his cunt is stretched wide.
Three weeks on Cy's cock is a promise sure to leave him wrung-out, ruined, pleading for mercy. Perhaps it has happened before. Perhaps he's been fucked across tireless days by this man, just to satiate that appetite.]
Don't be too rough.
[A quiet murmur, and maybe Cy will figure it out — that he's asking less for himself than the life that he carries.
Hands slip up to the sheer fabric draped around his shoulders, and before he's even shed the covering, that answer is clear — there are damp spots left on silk where he's leaked, nipples pebbled with pale milk once he disrobes.]
（ there's a spark of acted anger, there — at being directed, denied. but it's smoothed over almost immediately, and he does gentle his touch somewhat, petting at those hot interior walls even as he doesn't abate the stretch of his fingers making a home in him. one more deep thrust, and then the press of his thumb against the boy's clit, over the position of that capricious piercing, rolling the nerve against trapped metal. he knows this body well — it's one he created, one he conquered. he can get sasuke off with a word, or a whisper. ）
You've only assured your safety for another few months. Be careful what you ask me.
（ is the warning that follows, cy leaning up to press a meaningful kiss and a catlike rub of one cheek to the swell of his belly before he settles back on his knees. he's so fucking hard — no illusion necessary — he can feel precome dampening the fabric of his pants. not simply spreading sasuke's legs and fucking him is becoming increasingly a challenge the longer they inhabit the fantasy. that cy captured this man, beat and abused him and ultimately forced him into a woman's body to bear life unwillingly, all of those things speak to and satisfy that darkest part of him. but for each scar kulo vayn left on his psyche, for each deep desire — he's taken it, changed something of it, made it his own. kulo vayn didn't care about creating life, he only wished to take it — if pregnancy resulted from an assault, it was incidental to the act and it would not spare the one now sundered. kulo vayn liked to hurt people, liked to see genuine pain and fear and hopeless despair on their faces as he tortured them, as he held them down. cy might have come to enjoy the act of inflicting pain, but he rarely looks at someone's face as he does it, letting his gaze drift elsewhere. and the pain itself is structured, controlled, and most importantly — it ends.
but this fantasy lets him walk a finer line, beneath the shelter of sasuke's submission, his strength, and his own deepest needs that had been so long unmet before they had a chance encounter in a locker room, before cy put hands on him and moulded him like soft clay into what he's now become. someone who's taken back the power of their body, who's become confident and secure in knowing what he likes and in asking for it unashamedly.
for a moment, he's struck by the depths of feeling he experiences then. the love, the pride, the gratitude, and there's a gleam of tears at the corners of his eyes that he wipes away with a quick duck against sasuke's thigh, though he can't quite help how soft his expression is on sasuke when he lifts his head again. his voice, at least, is unchanged — that cruel, imperial tone coming so naturally to him even after ten millennia. ）
Milk yourself, taste it — and then come. I've got a surprise gift planned for you — and it will be easier on you to accept it if you've relaxed for me.
（ sasuke knows he won't be given a reprieve. he won't be permitted to refuse. it is not only the life in his belly he must advocate for, but the men that cy has spared but keeps captive, beholden to his compliance, his acceptance of this role he must play. ）
[That threat scorches through him, anticipation set toward a future that has yet to come — danger temporarily abated by the life he has begun to foster in his belly for this man. Cy's cheek rubs the swell where their child is growing, stubble a soft raspy scrape over tight skin, and Sasuke can't help but squirm a little outside the boundaries of this scene. The want in him is deep, and fierce, not at all insincere — but at least he can play it off as a kind of discomfort brought by the reminder of his subservient position.
He is a vessel, one that belongs to this man alone. His own agency does not matter. His autonomy no longer exists, all that he is placed into Cy's hands under the illusion of force such that he needs no concern for shame. His mind is empty, pleasure lighting up nerves close to pain, suffering that isn't a stranger to his experience but at least here, now, it takes meaning, and Cy cherishes him for it.
Through the cruel discipline of this role he's playing, Sasuke knows obedience is required; he has been trained for this. That rough thumb slides across his clit, dragging at the embedded metal of the piercing, a jolt of sensitivity through his lower body that has those interior walls clenching hard over Cy's knuckles. Without protest his right hand cups beneath the heavy weight of his breast, pale flesh overflowing in his palm, and squeezes — a whimper high in his throat for the throb of soreness it evokes. Milk drips, pearly-white, at the application of pressure, and his fingertips swipe it up to bring to his lips for his tongue to clean off.
He chases an orgasm — even if he doesn't need to, half-driven to that brink of release by the order alone. It's so much easier when he does not have to think. It pours out of him effortlessly, because Cy has told him to do it and the man holds dominion over his whole body, cunt spasming around those fingers, legs trembling in an effort not to move until the flow ebbs. He's panting, flush high in his cheeks, overwrought on the come down.]
There you go. Good girl. Obedience is always such a good look on you.
（ he pats his hand just above the sparse, dark curls that frame his pretty cunt, and then he stands up. the rest of sasuke's body is given a perfunctory inspection the way one might check a horse for soundness — dispassionate, detached. caring more for function than form. but there is a moment of affection, perhaps, when he takes sasuke's wrist in his hand and lifts it, pressing a fleeting kiss against his palm.
when he's satisfied, he takes the opportunity to drop his hand against the neglected breast, fingers tightening until it too produces a messy leak of milk. there's a thoughtful hm, and then: ）
Go take a bath. Clean yourself, take the plug out. Your present should be ready when you return. Don't expect to sleep tonight — but you have my word I won't do anything that might harm our child.
（ and then, just — briefly outside the scene, he taps his other hand against his temple, clear sign to sasuke that he can take the image of the machine from his mind. he's envisioning the machine in two parts: the stockade, made from a metal scaffolding that forces someone bent at the waist and restrained, their hands cuffed, a fixed collar around their throat. there are small comforts offered: a padded bar beneath the breasts and again at the pelvis to support his pregnant belly, and at least the ergonomics of the forced position is only uncomfortable and not cruelly torturous.
the machine is an intricate design, predicated on a flywheel design — one dildo meant to, when activated, thrust forward into a bodily orifice. but the other is a little different, a hydraulic compressor that can be hooked into a second dildo for a second hole. sasuke should be able to deduce that one is intended for thrusting, but there's a brief moment of imagining that cy knows he can take directly from his mind: it's intended to be used with a compatible device that can contract and expand based on the pressure differential.
both can be adjusted to accommodate a participant standing or kneeling — he suspects sasuke will prefer to stand simply because it will be the more uncomfortable of the two options. ）
[Good girl. The words fit the context of the scene, but he's also reminded of a moment not so long ago now where Cy had praised him the same way, an unexpected arousal twisting low in his belly as a result. Here it is denigrative in place of earlier's affection, but both have a potent effect — both leave him deliriously warm, possessed, embodying that blurry line between who he is and who he is pretending to be. It feels good to hear.
His hand twitches when his palm is kissed gently, but the words are directive and cold as his sore breast is fondled with that clinical attention. There's only one option, so he climbs to his feet, wavering slightly as he discovers his balance is upset by the additional weight of his midsection. It's strange to be pregnant, he discovers, even within the more comfortably controlled environment of a genjutsu — but he's thinking less of that and more of what Cy has in store for him as he obeys, walking to the adjacent chamber where he finds a bath full of warm water, waiting, skipping the monotony of preparation.
Cy's subtle cue wasn't missed. While he bathes, perfunctory in the scrub of soap that leaves pale skin gleaming pink, Cy will have what he wants, drawn from the creative ingenuity of the man's mind. So that when Sasuke dries off and walks out — naked, because these are the rules enforced on him, black hair like wet ink over slim shoulders — he discovers what Cy has crafted for him.
There is a moment where he — stares, more out of curiosity than anything else, although he won't deny there is some intimidation to approaching a machine like this. For the scene, he plays it like reluctance, lingering back.]
... I see. So, you've decided to torture me after all. Is this your "gift"?
（ he's at sasuke's side in a glimmer of the void, sasuke's interpretation of his powers more than the reality of the thing. his hand settles at the small of the boy's back, and directs him forwards. there's a hesitation to his steps that isn't missed, but cy's strength is — inexorable. eventually, sasuke has to step ahead so he isn't shoved. ）
I'm offended you think I need a machine to torture you.
（ hello he is a WARLORD. ）
Step over the bar, bend forwards. Do I need to use the restraints, or are you going to behave and accept your gift graciously?
[That flicker of dark, cold energy leaves him breathless, shepherded toward the machine to keep from tripping on his own feet and being sent to the floor. There is compliance bought by his physical state; he obeys more readily now because of their child, arm folded protectively over the swell of his belly as he goes.
But that doesn't mean he won't struggle when it matters. There is resistance — as much because he enjoys being forced to do this in reality as it is true to the character he plays. In the end, he does not accept graciously, and Cy positions him over the bar before shoving him in that forward bend, body a curve of muscle definition and swell of more feminine traits. The restraints come next, fitted expertly.]
Tired of fucking me yourself? Perhaps your age is getting to you.
[Half for show, half because he wants to feel Cy force him, Sasuke fights the whole way into those locks and buckles.]
（ and cy plays at patient tolerance of it. he works each limb into the restraining devices — right wrist into the cuffs, both ankles affixed to the stockade, spread apart so that no part of him can be concealed with a coquettish twist of his hips or thighs. a sling strap is worked beneath his belly so it's not only his spine and core muscles supporting the posture — one of only a handful of concessions to his comfort.
the collar is last, and he locks it with a satisfying click.
then he takes up sasuke's long, dark hair and works it through a tie loop, hooking it to a bar above him so that his head is restrained by more than just the collar alone, held at a punishing angle that's suggestive of, ah — ）
You've got three holes, haven't you?
（ boy, he's gonna throatfuck you to the ragged edge of consciousness, actually.
once he's finished binding up his hair, he circles sasuke to drag the machine itself into position, petting one hand along the boy's hip. the explanation he unspools is as much so that sasuke can fill in any gaps in the detailing of the genjutsu as it is meant to intimidate the warlord's slave. ）
The one going in your ass is about eighteen inches. It doesn't thrust, so you only need to take it once. It does contract and expand in a sequence I control — so you'll find yourself going from mercilessly to tolerably full at my command. We're going to put this one in first.
（ the dildo itself can be removed from the machine, and he does so to make sure it's well-lubricated. sasuke may have developed a taste for taking things raw and rough, but if the scene is meant to bend them towards a gentler future, certain considerations need to be made. the concession to that preference is that he makes no move to ready him for it, to prepare — sasuke, therefore, can calibrate the level of pain he wants to accept based on his own preferences as cy thumbs the head of the dildo into his ass. he takes his time with it. the machine itself may lack a thrusting mechanism for this one, but he clearly has no desire to just force sasuke to take it to the hilt and move on.
instead, he works it in and then out of him. pushing it in until it meets resistance, and then easing back. there's a faint, disapproving tut as the dildo hitches at some point deep within his body. ）
I see you haven't kept up on your training while I've been away. You haven't used the toys I left you?
[His heart races a little faster as Cy secures him in place with that meticulous care, unable to fully mask the excitement for its novelty even within genjutsu, the full restraint denying all possible movement. It isn't the first time Cy has used bondage on him, but never to a degree like this — once his long hair is fastened above, he can't manage a full turn to look behind him. The anticipation of what waits for him there, in the form of those two penetrative devices, is thrilling. There is a surrendering of control here beyond all they've explored, sheltered in the safe environment of his own domain so no real harm will come beyond what he allows.
It doesn't matter. He would put his body in Cy's hands, regardless of what he might suffer. The trust runs so deep it is second only to the blood that keeps him alive.
That threat, and its obvious conclusion, makes Sasuke swallow hard enough to feel the collar's restrictive leather around his throat. He wants Cy's cock in his mouth so bad that it aches. But — he can't let the illusion of the scene fracture, so he turns a dark-eyed glare onto the man instead. Willful, petulant — a fire that hasn't burned out even if part of him has come to crave this man's ownership and possession of him.
His ass is tolerant to the first slide of the dildo's length, although there's soon a strain, muscles locking up on instinct until self-preservation (and, ultimately, trained experience) has him regulating his breath and forcing a physical relaxation.]
Why would I do that? If you wanted me to obey you, then you should have stayed to ensure it.
[The cuffs around his ankles clatter as he shifts on his feet, a meager adjustment in the bent-over posture he's made to hold. Tugging a little away from the dildo — pushing it an inch back out of his hole.]
I only have to be yours when you're here.
[A purposeful mockery, as if to plant some insinuation of who he might be fucking while Cy is gone on his war campaigns.]
（ there's a suck of his teeth at that little show of resistance, the way sasuke fights the intrusion. as much as he craves this boy's perfect, absolute submission — that prideful defiance, demonstrated in the safety and shelter of the scene, is fucking obscene. ）
Oh, good girl — you know I love it when you fight me. （ the working length of the dildo — less than what he'd threatened — is pushed back in with one hand looping beneath sasuke's pelvis to force him still and steady to take it, until it's fully seated in him. cy strokes his hand against the boy's mons pubis, the jut of his swollen belly soothingly, as if he's trying to settle him into the relaxation and acceptance of the toy. ） You're so beautiful when you struggle, and I love that sharp tongue of yours. The only weapon I've left you with, hm?
（ a gentle little pat to his flank as he straightens up, hooking the dildo up properly to the machine. ）
When I turn it on, you'll feel it thicken inside you. The water's warmed to your body temperature, and it'll be pumped in beneath the silicone sheath of the dildo, slowly filling out until I'm satisfied, but it's going to be hard on your body because it'll be such a weight. It won't hurt, but you'll be desperately uncomfortable. You'll be glad for the restraints then, holding you up.
（ idly, he pushes two fingers into the boy's cunt, coming away messy and slick with arousal — as he circles sasuke deliberately, he undoes his pants and takes his cock in hand, smearing that honeysweet slick against the head of it, which hardly needs the help — precome has already beaded at the head of the glans. he pushes his dick in against the boy's mouth, sliding a thumb between his lips to prise them apart. his goal is a simple one: he wants sasuke to clean the taste of himself up with only his mouth. just a brief torment, before he finishes his work. ）
Next time I leave, I'll see to it you're seated on a cock eight hours a day. And if anyone gets any brave ideas to avail themselves of your other holes... mm. （ he pushes his hips forward, seating himself down sasuke's throat in a cruel push, petting his cheek, stroking the line of his throat until the collar inhibits it. ） I'll have them killed, for touching what's mine.
[He feels that hand slip low, under his belly, forcing him to take the slide of silicone until it's fitted inside of him to that deep extent — clenching his teeth around a sound of discomfort for the unprepared stretch. The plug he was wearing before feels like it did nothing at all, for how full he is now. Those cooing praises don't help, set on the backdrop of a certain cruelty that is an intoxicant in the context of the scene.
Part of Sasuke understands that the running narration of what comes next is partly practical, so that the illusion can shift to accommodate Cy's needs of it — but that second piece, the one that is clearly meant to keep him on the seat of anticipation, cuts his composure like a hot knife. Knowing what will happen beforehand makes him more sensitive to every torment, jolting when fingers abruptly push into his slippery cunt, swallowing another pitiful noise as he sees Cy slick his cock from the corner of his eyes.
Cy's presence, while he's affixed by restraints like this, is indomitable. Overwhelming. The man towers over him, radiating authority in a way that is impossible not to bend beneath. When that thumb pries his mouth open he bares his teeth — but he doesn't bite. Like he's learned. A red tongue cleans off his own slick arousal from the man's cock, leaving it shiny with spit. Then his throat is pushed into — he can't help the higher sound of protest that never makes it past his lips, stuffed down with the intrusion of Cy's dick, a yank at the hooked collar around his neck and tied-up hair taking him nowhere fast.
That possessiveness should not sound so good, but for the role he's playing it is like music, because this is all he is. He belongs to this man. He has been molded by these hands, made into a woman, subjugated to a position where his body is a vessel to give pleasure, accept pain, and produce children. Nothing else.]
（ he stays there until he can feel the involuntary flutter of sasuke's throat work around the crown of his dick, until an absence of oxygen takes him right to the edge of a swoon and then he pulls back — only to wipe his cock against sasuke's cheek to halfly dry it before he tucks himself back in his pants. ）
There you go. Thank you for cleaning up your mess.
（ he cards a hand through sasuke's hair, and then slips back around behind him to tend to the second insertion — this dildo is markedly shorter, but it's thicker — though not beyond what sasuke can comfortably take. he tugs the machine into place and aligns the dildo so it will plunge into him the moment it's turned on, though he rubs it between the pretty folds of his pussy first before nudging it just barely inside him. there's a hard press of his palm against the boy's clit, and then he steps away to admire his work. speculatively — ）
Now, we need to figure out what to do with your tits. I've got a few ideas. I could tie them with weights — （ this is punctuated by him reaching down to squeeze one breast and to close his fingers tight against it, pulling it downward by a pinch to the nipple until the skin is taut and there's a spatter of milk on the floor. ） that will make them sway with every thrust of the machine. I could hit them with a riding crop until they're pretty and bruised for me, until you're crying from the pain.
（ a rougher tightening of his fingers accompanies that one, deliberately pressing bruises and a cruel twist of the breast until he gets some physical sign of pain from sasuke significant enough that he eases off. ）
You remember the humbler, right? How snug it felt against you, how well it kept you on your knees for me, how perfectly it presented your balls for torment? I could do something like that with your tits. Or I could just... （ another squeeze, another yield of milk in a messy spill across his fingertips, which he raises to his own mouth and tastes with an appreciative sound. ） milk you, and take that bountiful yield to feed your men. So they know everything you've sacrificed for their safety.
[Lack of oxygen lingers like a burn in his throat, starry behind his eyelids when Cy draws away — the wipe of the man's cock against his cheek leaves a wet smear, an act so acutely belittling that it throbs in his cunt. Then there's the tease of that other affixed dildo as it's positioned just enough where he can feel the blunt end, but he can't satisfy himself by pushing down on it and taking it inside. Every action is deliberately cruel, intended to hurt or cause an ache of expectation for some future hurt, some pleasure held tantalizingly out of reach.
The man's palm is rough across his clit enough that he cries out, jerking in his bonds, those next words weaving a delirious web over his imagination. Cy fondles him, pinching a nipple made even more tender by the metal piercing hooked into it — his face is hot, sweat beginning to freckle his hairline with the strain of being trussed up. Milk is forced from his breast, dripping to the floor below in an obscene spill — it's painful, but with that sensation is a knife-edge of alleviation, too-full pressure eased by that forceful flow.]
Don't. It hurts when you touch them — stop. [A quiet plea, knowing that this glimmer of fear will be what Cy looks for. Covering his tits in bruises, or milking them, or dragging them down with weights: his fear is a shining beacon that allows tears to dampen his lashes.] I thought I said — to leave my men out of your... perversions. That was our agreement.
[His voice comes thin and strained, struggling where he's held bent at the hips, feeling that the slightest movement might push his pussy down onto the dildo and knowing he is wet enough it would slide right in.]
（ it's said almost sympathetically, as if it's a matter of sasuke simply having a poor memory, and not cy gaming the system. he makes one more cruel grind of his fingers against the boy's breast and then lets go, wiping his hand on his pants before he pats sasuke's flank. ）
Thing is, I don't recall ever agreeing to it.
（ he skirts around behind sasuke again to turn the machine on, just a slow drive of that second dildo into place, inch by tantalizing inch at the lowest possible setting. as it pushes into sasuke's pussy, he levers a hand between his legs and strokes against his clit. ）
There you go, good girl. （ it would sound almost fond, if the situation wasn't — what it is. ） You're so wet — you really missed me, huh, sweetheart?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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（ a little upwards rock of his hips upwards is practically the closest he can come to heaven. ）
If we do it right here and now, I get to stay inside you physically and fuck you senseless in genjutsu. That's a win/win for me.
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[But by the tone of his voice, he's losing interest in the fussy particulars. So what if they return to a wet congealed mess of bodily fluids between them? A future problem.
And he enjoys that thought, keeping Cy inside of his body while they experiment within the genjutsu. He sets his hand on Cy's shoulder and pushes — a clear indication to lie flat.]
Any other requests?
im just time skipping us a l'il otherwise we will be here ALL YEAR
Just kiss me. I love you.
（ well, not quite. after the heat of that kiss fades, they do discuss more particulars — the yesses, no's and points of interest they both have and want to explore in the context of the scene — and then cy meets sasuke's gaze, bled to red by the sharingan, and gives him a soft little smile as he murmurs taenarum. ）
why do they yap so much. also cw: pregnancy kink now for real lmao
Most of the detail is in this one chamber, though, because it belongs to Cy. There is art on the walls, instruments in corners, artifacts on the desk and shelves. Only Cy's mind will fill in those blanks, if he wants to — Sasuke seats himself comfortably on the pillows collected in the center of the room, sprawling, facing an open screen that exposes a perfect view of the moon and stars.
Given their discussion of continuity, he retains that female form, as always on a fine line of androgyny that doesn't sacrifice his normal features to make the change of sex. And, too, his breasts are as full and heavy as they were due to the diamond suit — but also there's a new element. It isn't one he has personal experience with, of course, so it's taken partly from Cy's knowledge of what pregnancy should look like, the swell of a belly beneath soft, silk fabric hard to miss where the white moon illuminates him.
He put Cy somewhere just outside the door to start the scene more formally, so his head turns to look for him.]
they never shut the fuck up. and never stop fucking. we've created a monster.
he's struck at once how much care and attention sasuke has built into it — the things that sasuke knows are dear to him — the art, the instruments, the books that add the faint scent of lignin to the room. he fills in some gaps he suspects were intentionally blank — the colour scheme of the room, the slow burn of candles. there's a desk in one corner, with a hand-drawn map that paints a picture of the coast beyond that ribbon of ocean visible from the balcony. the room isn't ostentatious, but it's clearly lived-in — a place where one might retreat to after a tiring day.
there's a moment where the fabric of the illusion shivers, and cy lifts a hand to wipe blood from one cheek — not his, naturally, but the suggestion of some distant violence done. dull grit covers his clothes and is a dust in his hair: a return from a conquering campaign.
cy closes the door behind him with a snap, and then takes his boots off, pads across the space and into sasuke's without comment. one hand slips into his hair, forcing him upwards into a kiss while the other curves possessively against his belly, trailing along the delicate chain that even now is leashed to piercings as much for pain as pleasure — the stab of lust that seizes him seeing sasuke in this state is not remotely feigned, he can feel the chafe of his cock beneath his clothing as the thrill of the scene — the sight — sink in. ）
I should have brought you with me, （ is the murmur that follows the seizure of a kiss, ） I could have used the release. （ his hand dips lower, following the chain to its anchorpoint, the piercing nestled beneath the nerves of the clitoris. sasuke tries, reflexively, to close his legs to the intrusion, and cy's correction is the patient disappointment of a teacher when he says: ） Spread your legs.
（ he doesn't know what the timeline was that sasuke had intended, how long now that he's been a slave to this life — changed in body, lashed to the wheel of a warlord's twisted desires. long enough for a child to take root. long enough that perhaps some of the threats cy made during their last scene, for all its intensity, have come to pass. perhaps the boy has come to the idea of obedience, or perhaps he still resists — he'll let sasuke make that choice for himself. ）
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Anticipation catches in his throat at the first touch, because by this narrative it has been a long time since he's been kissed, since the man who has captured him left on some violent campaign. There have been days between their last reunion, a separation that might have ached, or might have been a reprieve — he recognizes that he gets the space to choose how he wants to behave. They didn't lay any strict rules for his own part within the story, except for its eventual conclusion of love, which in continuity is not something he thinks could have been avoided. There's only so much he can pretend.
The piercings pull at sensitive flesh, nipples hard from exposure to the air in the sheer lack of clothing — silk enough to remain decent but easily removed at Cy's discretion. That hand sinks lower, down to where he's hot and wet between his legs already, intent on the jewel that glints from the folds of his cunt. The chain jingles as Cy follows it — and Sasuke has made a decision. His thighs fold open, and he watches the man through a veil of dark lashes.]
You didn't find some willing woman while you were gone? ... Or unwilling. [A cool tilt of his head, haughty, but seen-through. Defiant in a way that is more fragile than the last scene's determination. Jealous at the thought of Cy with someone else, but unwilling say it.] I'm surprised by your restraint.
[Playful, like a sharp blade in too-loose fingers — while the evidence of slick arousal between his legs speaks to his own need.]
cw: deliberate misgendering from here on out
What restraint found me on the battlefield will be absent the bedroom, t'che serikko.
（ cy rubs his cheek against one of sasuke's thighs, and leans in to lap at his cunt — one hand lifts to hold his leg beneath the knee to discourage movement. his grip is bruising, fingers a punishing press. ）
I told my servants to prepare you. Did they?
（ he leaves the words nebulous on purpose. if sasuke wants to imagine his role as being subject to some humiliation — stripped and cleaned with thorough, perfunctory indifference, perhaps — or a servant's clever fingers working oil into his ass, he'll leave that for him to decide. after all, cy's tastes are no secret in this world. he likes to be cruel. revels in it. ）
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He fixes himself into the moment. If he had a carving knife tucked somewhere in his clothes or under a pillow, hidden after he was brought his dinner, he could use it now to lash out. But he doesn't. There would be an occasion for that — seeking the fight, the punishment, the exquisite satisfaction of testing this man's limits, but so too has he seen the extent of its cruelty.
And perhaps there's no imperative left, with a life in his belly.]
Shouldn't you see for yourself? [His right hand braces on the floor to keep upright, not that he's in danger of tipping over with how firmly he's held in place.] Perhaps I told them I didn't want to be touched, and I made them leave. Perhaps, while you were gone, their loyalty turned to me.
[Would they listen to his command over their lord's? No, not likely — and Cy will find his asshole oiled, a plug with a jeweled base seated inside of him.]
we forgot the cnc warning oop
I see the mother of my child has gained a sense of humour while I was away.
（ he leans in to close his mouth over the seat of the piercing, applying gentle suction to the head of his clit. he slips two fingers into the hot, wet channel of his body, fingers curled just slightly as he pushes in as if heedless for sasuke's pleasure or even tolerance. no, he is a man claiming space because he can, not because it's wanted or welcomed. enjoyed all the more, perhaps, because it isn't. ）
Tell me, how does it feel to carry my heir?
（ it's asked almost conversantly as he turns his attention on the boy's clit to a kittenish lick of his tongue even as his fingers drive deeply into him with a rough thrust. he trusts sasuke to regulate the pain to no much more than he can take. ）
abandon shame all ye who enter here
A sharp exhalation leaves his throat, finding himself oversensitive to that first penetration as Cy's knuckles fill his pussy, like some effect of the diamond suit carried over. Or how he imagines it, in his own fantasy, while heavy with Cy's child.]
... Miserable. [This, in a breathy hiss.] I'm tired all of the time. My — chest hurts. [He pointedly does not say my breasts.] I become nauseated. I crave food. My moods change.
[These are all true facts of pregnancy, though not quite in the context of a titillating scene of intimacy, but it is what his character would say and do. And Sasuke is learning that performance, feeling it out in an expression of freedom.]
And the man who caused this left me alone for weeks.
that's a good way of putting it 🤡🤡🤡
cy laps at that sweet spot at the crux of his thighs, tasting the nectar of arousal heady and thick on his tongue. the slip of two fingers turns to three, hand twisting. there's a tightness to his body that speaks to resistance, to sasuke's own pleasure in simulated refusal. ）
You'll spend the next three on my cock to make up for it.
（ there's a pat to his thigh — as if that's meant to be some comforting reward, and not a threat. ）
Is your milk in yet? Show me.
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Three weeks on Cy's cock is a promise sure to leave him wrung-out, ruined, pleading for mercy. Perhaps it has happened before. Perhaps he's been fucked across tireless days by this man, just to satiate that appetite.]
Don't be too rough.
[A quiet murmur, and maybe Cy will figure it out — that he's asking less for himself than the life that he carries.
Hands slip up to the sheer fabric draped around his shoulders, and before he's even shed the covering, that answer is clear — there are damp spots left on silk where he's leaked, nipples pebbled with pale milk once he disrobes.]
cw: kv does war crimes again
You've only assured your safety for another few months. Be careful what you ask me.
（ is the warning that follows, cy leaning up to press a meaningful kiss and a catlike rub of one cheek to the swell of his belly before he settles back on his knees. he's so fucking hard — no illusion necessary — he can feel precome dampening the fabric of his pants. not simply spreading sasuke's legs and fucking him is becoming increasingly a challenge the longer they inhabit the fantasy. that cy captured this man, beat and abused him and ultimately forced him into a woman's body to bear life unwillingly, all of those things speak to and satisfy that darkest part of him. but for each scar kulo vayn left on his psyche, for each deep desire — he's taken it, changed something of it, made it his own. kulo vayn didn't care about creating life, he only wished to take it — if pregnancy resulted from an assault, it was incidental to the act and it would not spare the one now sundered. kulo vayn liked to hurt people, liked to see genuine pain and fear and hopeless despair on their faces as he tortured them, as he held them down. cy might have come to enjoy the act of inflicting pain, but he rarely looks at someone's face as he does it, letting his gaze drift elsewhere. and the pain itself is structured, controlled, and most importantly — it ends.
but this fantasy lets him walk a finer line, beneath the shelter of sasuke's submission, his strength, and his own deepest needs that had been so long unmet before they had a chance encounter in a locker room, before cy put hands on him and moulded him like soft clay into what he's now become. someone who's taken back the power of their body, who's become confident and secure in knowing what he likes and in asking for it unashamedly.
for a moment, he's struck by the depths of feeling he experiences then. the love, the pride, the gratitude, and there's a gleam of tears at the corners of his eyes that he wipes away with a quick duck against sasuke's thigh, though he can't quite help how soft his expression is on sasuke when he lifts his head again. his voice, at least, is unchanged — that cruel, imperial tone coming so naturally to him even after ten millennia. ）
Milk yourself, taste it — and then come. I've got a surprise gift planned for you — and it will be easier on you to accept it if you've relaxed for me.
（ sasuke knows he won't be given a reprieve. he won't be permitted to refuse. it is not only the life in his belly he must advocate for, but the men that cy has spared but keeps captive, beholden to his compliance, his acceptance of this role he must play. ）
😭😭
He is a vessel, one that belongs to this man alone. His own agency does not matter. His autonomy no longer exists, all that he is placed into Cy's hands under the illusion of force such that he needs no concern for shame. His mind is empty, pleasure lighting up nerves close to pain, suffering that isn't a stranger to his experience but at least here, now, it takes meaning, and Cy cherishes him for it.
Through the cruel discipline of this role he's playing, Sasuke knows obedience is required; he has been trained for this. That rough thumb slides across his clit, dragging at the embedded metal of the piercing, a jolt of sensitivity through his lower body that has those interior walls clenching hard over Cy's knuckles. Without protest his right hand cups beneath the heavy weight of his breast, pale flesh overflowing in his palm, and squeezes — a whimper high in his throat for the throb of soreness it evokes. Milk drips, pearly-white, at the application of pressure, and his fingertips swipe it up to bring to his lips for his tongue to clean off.
He chases an orgasm — even if he doesn't need to, half-driven to that brink of release by the order alone. It's so much easier when he does not have to think. It pours out of him effortlessly, because Cy has told him to do it and the man holds dominion over his whole body, cunt spasming around those fingers, legs trembling in an effort not to move until the flow ebbs. He's panting, flush high in his cheeks, overwrought on the come down.]
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（ he pats his hand just above the sparse, dark curls that frame his pretty cunt, and then he stands up. the rest of sasuke's body is given a perfunctory inspection the way one might check a horse for soundness — dispassionate, detached. caring more for function than form. but there is a moment of affection, perhaps, when he takes sasuke's wrist in his hand and lifts it, pressing a fleeting kiss against his palm.
when he's satisfied, he takes the opportunity to drop his hand against the neglected breast, fingers tightening until it too produces a messy leak of milk. there's a thoughtful hm, and then: ）
Go take a bath. Clean yourself, take the plug out. Your present should be ready when you return. Don't expect to sleep tonight — but you have my word I won't do anything that might harm our child.
（ and then, just — briefly outside the scene, he taps his other hand against his temple, clear sign to sasuke that he can take the image of the machine from his mind. he's envisioning the machine in two parts: the stockade, made from a metal scaffolding that forces someone bent at the waist and restrained, their hands cuffed, a fixed collar around their throat. there are small comforts offered: a padded bar beneath the breasts and again at the pelvis to support his pregnant belly, and at least the ergonomics of the forced position is only uncomfortable and not cruelly torturous.
the machine is an intricate design, predicated on a flywheel design — one dildo meant to, when activated, thrust forward into a bodily orifice. but the other is a little different, a hydraulic compressor that can be hooked into a second dildo for a second hole. sasuke should be able to deduce that one is intended for thrusting, but there's a brief moment of imagining that cy knows he can take directly from his mind: it's intended to be used with a compatible device that can contract and expand based on the pressure differential.
both can be adjusted to accommodate a participant standing or kneeling — he suspects sasuke will prefer to stand simply because it will be the more uncomfortable of the two options. ）
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His hand twitches when his palm is kissed gently, but the words are directive and cold as his sore breast is fondled with that clinical attention. There's only one option, so he climbs to his feet, wavering slightly as he discovers his balance is upset by the additional weight of his midsection. It's strange to be pregnant, he discovers, even within the more comfortably controlled environment of a genjutsu — but he's thinking less of that and more of what Cy has in store for him as he obeys, walking to the adjacent chamber where he finds a bath full of warm water, waiting, skipping the monotony of preparation.
Cy's subtle cue wasn't missed. While he bathes, perfunctory in the scrub of soap that leaves pale skin gleaming pink, Cy will have what he wants, drawn from the creative ingenuity of the man's mind. So that when Sasuke dries off and walks out — naked, because these are the rules enforced on him, black hair like wet ink over slim shoulders — he discovers what Cy has crafted for him.
There is a moment where he — stares, more out of curiosity than anything else, although he won't deny there is some intimidation to approaching a machine like this. For the scene, he plays it like reluctance, lingering back.]
... I see. So, you've decided to torture me after all. Is this your "gift"?
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I'm offended you think I need a machine to torture you.
（ hello he is a WARLORD. ）
Step over the bar, bend forwards. Do I need to use the restraints, or are you going to behave and accept your gift graciously?
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But that doesn't mean he won't struggle when it matters. There is resistance — as much because he enjoys being forced to do this in reality as it is true to the character he plays. In the end, he does not accept graciously, and Cy positions him over the bar before shoving him in that forward bend, body a curve of muscle definition and swell of more feminine traits. The restraints come next, fitted expertly.]
Tired of fucking me yourself? Perhaps your age is getting to you.
[Half for show, half because he wants to feel Cy force him, Sasuke fights the whole way into those locks and buckles.]
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the collar is last, and he locks it with a satisfying click.
then he takes up sasuke's long, dark hair and works it through a tie loop, hooking it to a bar above him so that his head is restrained by more than just the collar alone, held at a punishing angle that's suggestive of, ah — ）
You've got three holes, haven't you?
（ boy, he's gonna throatfuck you to the ragged edge of consciousness, actually.
once he's finished binding up his hair, he circles sasuke to drag the machine itself into position, petting one hand along the boy's hip. the explanation he unspools is as much so that sasuke can fill in any gaps in the detailing of the genjutsu as it is meant to intimidate the warlord's slave. ）
The one going in your ass is about eighteen inches. It doesn't thrust, so you only need to take it once. It does contract and expand in a sequence I control — so you'll find yourself going from mercilessly to tolerably full at my command. We're going to put this one in first.
（ the dildo itself can be removed from the machine, and he does so to make sure it's well-lubricated. sasuke may have developed a taste for taking things raw and rough, but if the scene is meant to bend them towards a gentler future, certain considerations need to be made. the concession to that preference is that he makes no move to ready him for it, to prepare — sasuke, therefore, can calibrate the level of pain he wants to accept based on his own preferences as cy thumbs the head of the dildo into his ass. he takes his time with it. the machine itself may lack a thrusting mechanism for this one, but he clearly has no desire to just force sasuke to take it to the hilt and move on.
instead, he works it in and then out of him. pushing it in until it meets resistance, and then easing back. there's a faint, disapproving tut as the dildo hitches at some point deep within his body. ）
I see you haven't kept up on your training while I've been away. You haven't used the toys I left you?
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It doesn't matter. He would put his body in Cy's hands, regardless of what he might suffer. The trust runs so deep it is second only to the blood that keeps him alive.
That threat, and its obvious conclusion, makes Sasuke swallow hard enough to feel the collar's restrictive leather around his throat. He wants Cy's cock in his mouth so bad that it aches. But — he can't let the illusion of the scene fracture, so he turns a dark-eyed glare onto the man instead. Willful, petulant — a fire that hasn't burned out even if part of him has come to crave this man's ownership and possession of him.
His ass is tolerant to the first slide of the dildo's length, although there's soon a strain, muscles locking up on instinct until self-preservation (and, ultimately, trained experience) has him regulating his breath and forcing a physical relaxation.]
Why would I do that? If you wanted me to obey you, then you should have stayed to ensure it.
[The cuffs around his ankles clatter as he shifts on his feet, a meager adjustment in the bent-over posture he's made to hold. Tugging a little away from the dildo — pushing it an inch back out of his hole.]
I only have to be yours when you're here.
[A purposeful mockery, as if to plant some insinuation of who he might be fucking while Cy is gone on his war campaigns.]
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Oh, good girl — you know I love it when you fight me. （ the working length of the dildo — less than what he'd threatened — is pushed back in with one hand looping beneath sasuke's pelvis to force him still and steady to take it, until it's fully seated in him. cy strokes his hand against the boy's mons pubis, the jut of his swollen belly soothingly, as if he's trying to settle him into the relaxation and acceptance of the toy. ） You're so beautiful when you struggle, and I love that sharp tongue of yours. The only weapon I've left you with, hm?
（ a gentle little pat to his flank as he straightens up, hooking the dildo up properly to the machine. ）
When I turn it on, you'll feel it thicken inside you. The water's warmed to your body temperature, and it'll be pumped in beneath the silicone sheath of the dildo, slowly filling out until I'm satisfied, but it's going to be hard on your body because it'll be such a weight. It won't hurt, but you'll be desperately uncomfortable. You'll be glad for the restraints then, holding you up.
（ idly, he pushes two fingers into the boy's cunt, coming away messy and slick with arousal — as he circles sasuke deliberately, he undoes his pants and takes his cock in hand, smearing that honeysweet slick against the head of it, which hardly needs the help — precome has already beaded at the head of the glans. he pushes his dick in against the boy's mouth, sliding a thumb between his lips to prise them apart. his goal is a simple one: he wants sasuke to clean the taste of himself up with only his mouth. just a brief torment, before he finishes his work. ）
Next time I leave, I'll see to it you're seated on a cock eight hours a day. And if anyone gets any brave ideas to avail themselves of your other holes... mm. （ he pushes his hips forward, seating himself down sasuke's throat in a cruel push, petting his cheek, stroking the line of his throat until the collar inhibits it. ） I'll have them killed, for touching what's mine.
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Part of Sasuke understands that the running narration of what comes next is partly practical, so that the illusion can shift to accommodate Cy's needs of it — but that second piece, the one that is clearly meant to keep him on the seat of anticipation, cuts his composure like a hot knife. Knowing what will happen beforehand makes him more sensitive to every torment, jolting when fingers abruptly push into his slippery cunt, swallowing another pitiful noise as he sees Cy slick his cock from the corner of his eyes.
Cy's presence, while he's affixed by restraints like this, is indomitable. Overwhelming. The man towers over him, radiating authority in a way that is impossible not to bend beneath. When that thumb pries his mouth open he bares his teeth — but he doesn't bite. Like he's learned. A red tongue cleans off his own slick arousal from the man's cock, leaving it shiny with spit. Then his throat is pushed into — he can't help the higher sound of protest that never makes it past his lips, stuffed down with the intrusion of Cy's dick, a yank at the hooked collar around his neck and tied-up hair taking him nowhere fast.
That possessiveness should not sound so good, but for the role he's playing it is like music, because this is all he is. He belongs to this man. He has been molded by these hands, made into a woman, subjugated to a position where his body is a vessel to give pleasure, accept pain, and produce children. Nothing else.]
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There you go. Thank you for cleaning up your mess.
（ he cards a hand through sasuke's hair, and then slips back around behind him to tend to the second insertion — this dildo is markedly shorter, but it's thicker — though not beyond what sasuke can comfortably take. he tugs the machine into place and aligns the dildo so it will plunge into him the moment it's turned on, though he rubs it between the pretty folds of his pussy first before nudging it just barely inside him. there's a hard press of his palm against the boy's clit, and then he steps away to admire his work. speculatively — ）
Now, we need to figure out what to do with your tits. I've got a few ideas. I could tie them with weights — （ this is punctuated by him reaching down to squeeze one breast and to close his fingers tight against it, pulling it downward by a pinch to the nipple until the skin is taut and there's a spatter of milk on the floor. ） that will make them sway with every thrust of the machine. I could hit them with a riding crop until they're pretty and bruised for me, until you're crying from the pain.
（ a rougher tightening of his fingers accompanies that one, deliberately pressing bruises and a cruel twist of the breast until he gets some physical sign of pain from sasuke significant enough that he eases off. ）
You remember the humbler, right? How snug it felt against you, how well it kept you on your knees for me, how perfectly it presented your balls for torment? I could do something like that with your tits. Or I could just... （ another squeeze, another yield of milk in a messy spill across his fingertips, which he raises to his own mouth and tastes with an appreciative sound. ） milk you, and take that bountiful yield to feed your men. So they know everything you've sacrificed for their safety.
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The man's palm is rough across his clit enough that he cries out, jerking in his bonds, those next words weaving a delirious web over his imagination. Cy fondles him, pinching a nipple made even more tender by the metal piercing hooked into it — his face is hot, sweat beginning to freckle his hairline with the strain of being trussed up. Milk is forced from his breast, dripping to the floor below in an obscene spill — it's painful, but with that sensation is a knife-edge of alleviation, too-full pressure eased by that forceful flow.]
Don't. It hurts when you touch them — stop. [A quiet plea, knowing that this glimmer of fear will be what Cy looks for. Covering his tits in bruises, or milking them, or dragging them down with weights: his fear is a shining beacon that allows tears to dampen his lashes.] I thought I said — to leave my men out of your... perversions. That was our agreement.
[His voice comes thin and strained, struggling where he's held bent at the hips, feeling that the slightest movement might push his pussy down onto the dildo and knowing he is wet enough it would slide right in.]
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（ it's said almost sympathetically, as if it's a matter of sasuke simply having a poor memory, and not cy gaming the system. he makes one more cruel grind of his fingers against the boy's breast and then lets go, wiping his hand on his pants before he pats sasuke's flank. ）
Thing is, I don't recall ever agreeing to it.
（ he skirts around behind sasuke again to turn the machine on, just a slow drive of that second dildo into place, inch by tantalizing inch at the lowest possible setting. as it pushes into sasuke's pussy, he levers a hand between his legs and strokes against his clit. ）
There you go, good girl. （ it would sound almost fond, if the situation wasn't — what it is. ） You're so wet — you really missed me, huh, sweetheart?
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the day sasuke says 'tits' outloud his sexism will be cured
he will be a changed (wo)man
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cw: deranged cnc talk ig
pillow talk for them
truly tbqh
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stares at the 1.3k comments in this inbox
we're going to stumble out of this cr like we've just lost 100 years in faerie tbqh
yeah 🤡🤡🤡
the cysuke experience
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a rare 1/2
2/2
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are we free
revives this days later (text, 2 days post eggpocalypse??)
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