hallowing | ic inbox;

[His mind feels fragmented, drawn by the tenderness of Cy's knuckles inside of him, by the teeth at his throat — physical sensations competing for his attention against that question. He likes the way Cy's other hand strokes at his belly, the swell accommodating the life cradled within it. The context of the scene allows him to experience how it could be, one day, if he did have Cy's children. In that moment it seems almost real, no matter how well or how effortlessly they play pretend.

There's another soft sound, his own hand chasing Cy's to lay over the palm that cups his breast.]

By being perfect for you. Devoting myself to you. Enduring you, and giving you everything you need, because I need it too. I won't lose who I am — and I'll still fight you when you want me to.

[The title of queen is meaningless with that symmetry of lust and love. And this scene is only a thin film over the mutual desire he knows they both share in a family.]

I'll have as many children for you as this body can bear. I'll never be empty.

（ he lets their fingers thread together, and cy pulls his hand free from between his legs for a brief moment, only to push back in with three fingers in a slow, aching inward drag, intended to keep him prised open. ）

Then, when you give me an heir — I'll make it reality.

（ he kisses at his throat. then: ）

Tell me about it. Those long, empty nights that saw you pleasure yourself thinking of me. I want to hear you speak of it.

[The sudden push of three fingers leaves him full, breath falling from his lips on a stilted gasp. Even tired and worn to the threads of his limit, Cy’s touch is not refused. Even sore, achingly sensitive, his cunt clenches down onto that greater width of knuckles, unable to help the instinct. His head rests on Cy’s shoulder, eyelids flickering, color high on his face — composure ruined beneath this man’s hands.]

The world was cold without you. The days were gray and colorless. I had no warmth beside me, and I became aware of that the longer it lasted. I wondered if you had found another woman, someone more beautiful, that you preferred… I feared you wouldn’t return.

[And it is this use of another that is deliberate, an acknowledgement to the fantasy of the scene — secure in knowing it will not change Cy’s treatment of him once they leave it.]

And I felt empty. Here. [His hand slips down, touching Cy’s elbow and following a path to where the hand is submerged in water, using his palm to cover Cy’s knuckles where they penetrate him.] I wanted your cock inside me so badly it hurt. I wanted to feel your body holding me down. I wanted to feel the bruises of your strength, your ownership over me.

[Even though it makes him feel like glass, like he might break from any more pressure than this — he bucks hips forward, grinding the sore, tender nerves of his clit against the hard ridge of Cy’s palm underwater, feeling the piercing catch and rub.]

So I would do this… and imagine it was you instead, holding me still, filling me up. Coming inside of me.

（ at that tortured lift of his hips, cy has to — exhale carefully, and he briefly stills his hand, letting himself just — occupy space inside sasuke's body, cradling him close. ）

There's no one else. No one could compare to you.

（ it's a vulnerable admission for a warlord to make, but — true, nevertheless. as much in this fantasy as in all other places. cy closes his mouth against the side of sasuke's neck, sucking a bruise to the surface, and then starts dampening his hair with one free hand. ）

I'll take you on my next campaign.

[With his head angled back on Cy's shoulder, it's easy to turn his cheek, to look at him through wet lashes — the flush of arousal on his face is evident, even after all of this, eyes glassy and mouth bruised so red from abuse it almost appears like lipstick.]

Then use me every night. Fight your enemies on the battlefield and find me in your bed after.

[He's squirming, restless, clearly willing to wrench another orgasm out of himself no matter how much it taxes his body, or in this case his mind — the film of the illusion feels thin, a shimmering across the backs of eyelids.]

I'll go with you anywhere.

Shh. Rest, regain your strength. I'm not done with your pretty cunt yet.

（ one more stroke along those inner walls, and then he withdraws and starts to tend sasuke's hair, catching the long strands as they pool like a glossy oil slick on the surface of the water. while the warlord would never offer it, cy can feel where the seams of the illusion are starting to wear thin, and he taps lightly against sasuke's left temple to indicate his true meaning: that sasuke should pull from his own deep reserves of power to replenish himself. presumably, its process can be different here — not the process he's come to expect in a world unfettered by illusion. genjutsu, after all, is a weapon. it makes sense that while he is so entirely at sasuke's mercy, he could pull from him unbidden.

but he's not concerned about it — there's neither fear nor concern in any part of him as he simply busies himself with washing his slave's long hair, wiping all those abrasions clean. his touch is still — cruel, insistent. he offers no agency at all, it's clear that if he wishes to spread sasuke's thighs or press a firm hand to one breast and bend to taste the milk that leaks from him in a steady flow that sasuke has no say in his doing so, and no right to refuse him. but there's something that could perhaps become tenderness in time, underlaid beneath the domination.

once he's finished, and has scrubbed sasuke down to his satisfaction, lingering on the bruises a little too intently, he carries him from the warmth of the pool to his bed, setting him on its edge. he dries him how one might rub down an animal, again with very little personal concern. a command follows, as he tousles his own hair with the same towel — ）

Ride me. I don't care which hole I fill. I want to see you at the height of all your glory, my pregnant little whore.

[The implication is clear, and Cy is correct — draining some of that power from Cy's reserve, cold and malevolently tainted by its connection to Kulo Vayn, is manageable from within genjutsu. The allowance bolsters his own strength; Cy will feel it like a pinprick through the illusion sapping that channel of vitality, though knowing his regenerative abilities it won't be an enduring discomfort. Sasuke does his best to sooth over the roughest edges — Cy will feel him take a deep breath where they're cradled together in the bath, surroundings momentarily bright and sharp, steam pluming in a fragment of light before everything settles.

He's cleaned with no agency beneath those hands that own him, that feel him in every intimate place, and then he's picked up and carried from the bath in a dripping rain of water. Toweled off, placed naked on the bed that sits low to the ground, he has to crane his head to look up at the man's intimidating height.

That directive settles through him, a flame that torches his blood, already nodding before Cy has joined him and laid down to allow the positional change. There's no hesitation as he straddles the man's hips — at this point he can only pretend his resistance for so long, even in the guise of this scene, and his discipline has weathered enough torment that is is harder not to show how much he wants this too. As much as he enjoys every act they do together, every new source and version of pleasure Cy introduces him to — that moment where he feels Cy slide inside of him, no matter the form he occupies, is breathlessly perfect. He feels empty without this intimacy. He craves it like water, like air.

It's his cunt that he slips over the head of Cy's cock and bears down, finding himself still so wet inside the accommodation is little issue, stretch managed easily after being fucked open by the toy, muscles relaxed from ceaseless orgasms. Still, there's something to be said for this skin contact compared to the detachment of the machine; he shivers, bracing his right hand on Cy's abdomen to keep himself upright, more aware than ever of the physical changes to his body. The heavy breasts, swollen belly — both are so visible in this position that he looks away, embarrassed. He likes that in this fantasy he's carrying Cy's child, but he discovers that it's vulnerable to be on display like this, as a woman, pregnant — that is it not a state inherently meant to look attractive, in his own mind.]

（ whatever it's intended to look like in sasuke's mind, it's clear that it's not a sentiment shared by the man beneath him. his expression is soft, brows lifted slightly in wonder that breaks the bounds of the scene. how can he be unaffected, seeing sasuke like this for the first time? it doesn't matter that it's fantasy, or that these are simply roles they're playing for each other's sexual gratification. it's overwhelming for a variety of reasons. the trust, the love — and as always, he spares no focus for how intently he hones in on sasuke's embarrassment and tendency to hide away when he's not convinced of his own beauty.

the boy has a hand down against him, and he circles his wrist with the press of long fingers and then pulls it away, removing that support on the surface — but he keeps holding sasuke's wrist, and after a moment it's clear he's only done so to afford himself a clear, unimpeded look at him. it's not just the appearance of pregnancy that winds him, it's how sweetly perfect sasuke has been about it that sees cy lever himself up on one elbow and pull him down into a kiss around the swell of his belly, that crowds out all the rest. ）

Can we pomegranate for a sec?

（ yes he is asking for a time out so he can yell loudly about how hot his husband is thank u??? ）

[There's a careful nod, unable to quite hide his own timidity at appearing to Cy in this state — as much because of the change to his form as the implication of their union together. That this is what it will be like when they have children one day, a future he wants badly enough that it aches. The emotion sticks in his throat; he swallows past it, leaning into where Cy holds his wrist, seeking comfort in the contact of skin.]

I'm all right. It's... new.

[An understatement, to say the least.]

I'm not sure how you find this attractive, though. [To get to the heart of newly discovered insecurity.] I can't move very well. I feel... heavy, on top of you.

（ if you told him... however many months ago now, that sasuke would come to a place of being able to articulate his emotions so clearly, it's not that he would have disbelieved it — but he wouldn't have expected it so soon, or so perfectly done.

cy kisses his wrist, thumb stroking along the line of the vein. ）

It's a change from your normal body — especially as a male — and it's not uncommon for anyone capable of getting pregnant to feel that way about themselves.

（ his other hand lifts, gently curves against sasuke's belly, and then drops against one hip, pushing gently to rock him into a rhythm of motion. ）

Reach into my mind. I want you to know what I'm thinking, how I'm feeling about you like this.

[That movement, even the subtlest jolt of their hips together, is a reminder for where Cy is buried inside of him — the hard, slick sensation of where their bodies are joined together in intimate union, Cy's cock filling him, a fact softened by the swell of his belly. If he could stay like this forever, perhaps it would be enough for everything else that has happened.

It's difficult to lie down on top of Cy to reach his mouth in this form, so he tries to pull Cy up to him, to kiss his mouth.]

Okay. Then open your thoughts to me. [His right hand caresses Cy's shoulder, then slides until he's cradling him around the shoulders. His eyes must be wet, because when he blinks his vision is smudged.] I'll be careful with you.

[Touching thought, pulling it up from Cy's mind like long reams of thread — it doesn't go any deeper than the area genjutsu is already grounded, won't access more than the snatches he's borrowed from Cy's mind in the crafting of this illusion. But it is more immediate, and more prolonged, to stay in Cy's thoughts. To experience his feelings as they arise. Cy will sense it like a spark of electricity, a flame, faint and almost ticklish; he will feel Sasuke's presence as much physically as mentally, at his side, with him, on top of him as well as within him.]

（ a soft, appreciable murmur — ）

You're always careful with me.

（ and what sasuke gets in return is — just love. sun-warmed, but it is a thing that needs no cradling, no protection. it is very much the core, the foundation of their connection — it does not need coddling, as it is the strength they share. and there is caution, too — that very tender sense of withholding something from fear of its ability to do harm. kulo vayn paces in its cage like an animal, rattling bars that hold it well.

the love is a swell. the first breath when you rise from the ocean depths. the first glint of light at dawn. it's immediately clear that it's for who sasuke is as a person and not a body — attraction is a shimmer laid atop the love, but it adds only window set dressing. he would love him in any body, at any age, with any appearance — instead, the love is bound up in admiration and pride in him, for the work he's done, for how he's grown and come into himself. it's this vast, and endless vault of heat and love and awe, tinged just a little in the sorrow an immortal cannot help but feel towards someone they know will die all too soon.

cy kisses him, and the feeling is electric — the rush of attraction a warm, broad spill like paint dumped over blank canvas. and it's clear, it's so intrinsically, achingly clear that this surge is based in the physicality borne purely of this moment. sasuke is softer around the hips, which offers a place for him to press bruises into well-loved skin. his breasts are heavier and lower set than before, but they fit perfectly in his palms, and the taste of him is ambrosial. his belly may seem ungainly to sasuke, but in cy's mind it's an expression of affection and love unlike any other, the wilful undertaking of something that is difficult, and painful, and dangerous on behalf of that love. and the attraction here is more than just a shimmer, it's a torrent. almost overwhelming for how it subsumes him. but, again — it's clear that the attraction is about the nature of the act of service writ plain. how it's sasuke's choice that drives his desire — to appear to him like this, to step into and inhabit this fantasy for him, is an aphrodisiac unlike anything the casino could hope to produce on its own. it's nothing that can be distilled, be feigned — it's a passion that is all-devouring, that could scour him down to bone and leave in its place only gratitude for the storm.

cy rolls his hips upwards, one hand holding sasuke firmly in place. the tangle of emotions are almost indecipherable, things drifting to the surface like oil on agitated water, cogent for a moment and then lost to the ephemera of it all. but some truths can only be self-evident: there is nothing about sasuke's current state he could fail to find attractive. and he lets him have it all: that wonder, that admiration, that lust that's softened by love, and the love that's sharpened by want. it's given over wholesale, trusting in sasuke's capacity to manage and navigate the emotions of someone who's been alive for thousands of years, knowing that he can take it, and knowing that he wants it just as badly as cy wants the flavours of reality here writ plain. ）

[There was a time where he could not have handled that love. It pours out of Cy, so well-sculpted, so well-shaped that it fills every part of him, every empty crevice and crack and corner of his mind as if he has plunged himself into an ocean. The warmth closing over his head is familiar. It seems made from Cy's blood, Cy's beating heart, endless in the way of his power that Sasuke has felt before — immense, revitalizing itself instantly, a depth that drops away beneath his feet to suggest the long years Cy has lived, immortal and ancient. More than one man despite the way he appears to Sasuke in everyday life, yet no less than one whole person who has nurtured him through the worst hurts he has ever experienced. Explaining, communicating, teaching him what all of it means — shining a light into the dark to illuminate his most shameful secrets.

It feels like being in two places at once, his mind plunged into Cy's thoughts and feelings while his body exists in the illusive reality they've constructed together with his ancestors' power. Cy kisses him and it's like being cradled in a scalding heat, that love leaving bruises on his hips and scorch marks in his mind — pain that fades to a dull, pleasant ache. Only evidence of where Cy has willingly trespassed, where Sasuke has willingly surrendered himself to be touched and held in this hallowed place.

He gasps into the kiss, forgetting his own insecurity. He wonders why he had felt it at all. The tears in his eyes spill over, made from relief more than sadness, as if he is taking the first real breath of his entire life. Love tangles into the lust, inseparable, so that it becomes unclear to him which of the two precedes the other, and then Cy moves below him — inside of him — and it doesn't matter.

Cyram. He wants to rewrite himself with that name. He wants to carve it into his skin and wear it for the rest of his life.]

Cyram, [is the choked little sound he makes, knees squaring themselves on the bed to bear his weight.] Fuck me. Please. Make love to me — ruin me. [He's saying it through his own tears, rough and raspy and desperate.] I'll stay with you forever. I'll never leave you alone again.

（ there's a warm husk of laughter, and then cy cups his cheek, thumb tracing his bottom lip. there's no taenarum to get them back into the scene. they don't need it anymore — it was always just a way for them to play at shared fantasy, but in this moment no such fantasy is necessary: they are living the reality they chose.

there's a tug to the chain that hangs between his breasts and is draped down over his belly, and then: ）

You will one day, and that's okay. We're going to have a good life just the same.

（ his thumb pushes briefly inside sasuke's mouth, and once it's slick with his saliva he drops his hand down between them, rubbing at the boy's sore, abused clit. ）

Come for me one more time like this like a good boy. Then get on your hands and knees, I'll fuck you from behind. I can be a bit rougher that way.

[He shakes his head at those words, stubbornly defiant yet unable to put voice to the decision, that it comes as much from a rejection of the impossible as a conviction he could change that reality. Committed to his goals with a certain blindness, a ruthlessness that does not see logic when emotion is involved. Cy will still feel it between them, where their minds are married together by the Sharingan — his deep, desperate devotion at the very edge of sanity.

Mouth yielding to that push, he licks at Cy's thumb and then shivers, small cry elicited by the attention where he's already so sore and tender. It feels like he can't possibly come again — but this is an illusion, and he will, even if it pushes him to the edge of a fatigue never felt so intimately.

He doesn't have to force himself; the swell of pleasure climbs, then spills out of him in a trembling, shaking mess, slickness renewed around Cy's cock where he grinds himself, cunt a tight clench over Cy's length as the orgasm passes like a wave through every muscle. He's begging senselessly, reduced to pieces of instinct — his movements are automatic as he peels himself back to roll onto hand and knees on the bed, back curved in a slope to support the heavy weight of his belly and presenting the wet mess between his legs, slick folds of his pussy brightly red in an obscene display of what he's endured over the course of the illusion. Cy's cum is visible leaking out of him, just a little, a pearly-white shine on skin.]

（ he feels it, but what's given in return is just soft, soothing acceptance — like the fall of gentle rain. sasuke comes, and immediately shifts positions. cy is a bit more circumspect, taking his time about it — he swats sasuke once across the ass and then stands up. hooks his hands at the crux of sasuke's hips and pulls him right to the edge of the bed on such a vulgar display.

he reaches down to wipe up that come and push it back into his body with his fingers, and then: ）

Don't move. I want you to look at yourself like this in my mind and remember it for me. Look how pretty you are like this. The folds on your cunt, rosy and reddened with everything you've taken at my hand. How slick you are, how desperately your body wants me. You look so incredible, so beautiful, so brave. Hold this in your mind.

（ he flattens his hand out against the small of sasuke's back, forcing that arch deeper. moves his thighs further apart, so that supporting himself will be a strain. then he pets him, fingers dragged through the hot, slick channel of his cunt, using the glossy slick of his body and his own come as lubricant to push two fingers into his ass, working to a rhythm for no point beyond pleasure. ）

Do you remember one of our first scenes, how I made you drink until you were full?

（ his other hand slips around beneath sasuke, patting at him right over the approximate anatomical placement of his bladder. really, the way sasuke had reacted to it — the way he'd opened his mouth, defiant even in his obedience, to accept more... fuck. it had left him winded. he's so helplessly, desperately in love with the way sasuke willingly accepts discomfort in exchange for the penance of pleasure.

he holds his left hand out, and then: ）

I have a glass in my hand. Cool water, that tastes like something from a fresh mountain spring.

[It is another testament to the work they've done, that he can bear to look at himself in this state at all — a peering through Cy's perspective at the indecency, bent forward on the bed, pulled to its edge so his feet hang off, toes curled, muscular thighs flexed to maintain the fold of that position. He has privacy to smother his face against the sheets in the wake of his own humiliation as well as a dark, aching arousal to hear the description Cy paints of the display. And obediently, too, he keeps it in his mind where it will sit in a reservoir of memory made permanent by the work of the Sharingan.

Only for Cy. So he'll forever know the state Cy has reduced him to, and this moment will never be lost.

Then he's touched and some of that composure fractures, moan muffled against the bed. His lower back strains with the deepened arch, thighs forced wider, aware of how bare and vulnerable he is between his legs when Cy strokes at his cunt and finds it slickly wet, folds slippery, radiating heat from that internal temperature of his body. The only resistance that meets the new intrusion is at the rim of his hole, a hitch of tightness before those knuckles push in on an effortless slide.]

... I remember. [A shy whisper.] I've thought about it since then.

[A confused attraction to the control Cy had wielded over such a necessary bodily function. He's surprised Cy revisits it here, but the effect is immediate — he squirms beneath the pressure of that hand low on his belly with nowhere to go, whining at the anticipation of what Cy seems to suggest. It takes no time at all of the glass to appear in that raised hand, full of crystal-clear water and beaded with condensation.]

I'd struggle to see you in genuine pain that wasn't somehow leashed to your pleasure.

（ this is said mildly, as he takes a drink of the water for himself just to taste it. ）

But I enjoy the way you embrace discomfort for me. It's like you melt into it. You hold nothing back. You just — give, and give, and give.

（ he pulls his fingers from sasuke's ass with a slick sound, giving him one affectionate pat before he goes to one of the side tables and cleans his hand. maybe it's only an illusion and it doesn't matter here, but he's a creature — in many ways — of established patterns and habits. his return is heralded by a warning to sasuke to take the weight — and then he drapes himself along sasuke's back, gripping one hand into his hair to pull his head back, though it's not done ungently, just... firm, unyielding, inescapable. the other curves around, and holds the cup to his lips. ）

Drink for me, t'che verai.

[He bears Cy's weight on top of him, crushed down against the bed in a way that only further attracts his awareness to the soreness of his breasts, bent hips and planted knees all that keeps the pressure off of the heavy swell of his pregnant belly. He half-hears Cy through the pounding of his own heart, but the instruction clears some of the fog in his head, chin already tilted to accept the glass against his lips even as the tether of his hair disallows any other motion.

And he drinks. Knowing Cy's intention, knowing the discomfort it will soon bring in this position, in this physical state — his throat works around every thirsty swallow, not cleanly, breath quick and panted through his nose. Although he tries to catch every drop without splattering the bedsheets, he is beholden to Cy's balance, to the hand holding the cup and the other in his hair.

Soon it is drained empty. Yet as he gasps for air, the glass refills itself — cool and clear and shining in the candlelights of the room, feeding into this fantasy of too much.]

No more.

[A plea even as he hopes Cy denies him.]

（ within the shelter of genjutsu, he's aware — the glass wouldn't be refilled if sasuke didn't want it to be so. he knows without needing to be told with any specificity, then, that sasuke is asking to be forced to take more, to go beyond his limits.

cy pets at his hair, and a shift of his hips communicates that his cock is hard in this draped position, even though the angle isn't penetrative. ）

Sweetheart, （ the word is gentle, but it's — condescending, a little. leaning into the domineering angle sasuke is clearly hungering for. ） you know you aren't finished yet. You can do better for me, okay?

（ a kiss is pressed against the back of sasuke's neck. the glass is pressed to his lips. ）

Drink, or we'll do this the hard way.

[The threat is like a sting of static on his skin, invigorating, potent in his blood. He is aware of Cy's cock tucked hard against his skin with the denial of its presence inside of him, carving out that space created just for this man, in this body — but the affirmation of Cy's arousal only deepens his own.

He swallows, this time more slowly, past the need of thirst and now in a state where the discomfort has begun to set in. His mouth is sloppy on the rim of the glass, water leaking in fine rivulets down his chin where his head is forced upright by the hand in his hair. He feels his abdomen clench with a new and different strain, intensified by their positions.

But it's not enough. He wants to feel it like a blade's edge against his throat — and the glass refills again, telling Cy that he can do this. One more time.]

Please, I can't. I'm so full. [The torment strains in his voice, wet and thick and raspy, on the verge of a sob.] Don't — don't make me drink anymore.

（ cy pats him affectionately, and then straightens back up, heels scuffing on the floor. he gives no direction, just flips sasuke (gently, mindful of his state) onto his ass, and then tugs at the chain strung between those piercings until it hefts both breasts at a cruel angle, the weighty downward drag of them cruelly punishing to his nipples. he gives the boy a bit of a look, and then: ）

Are you going to finish your glass, or am I going to force you?

[It knocks the breath out of him less with force than surprise, turned onto his back and exposed, mouth half-parted around a startled little sound that breaks into a whimper as that chain is tugged on. His nipples hurt from the abuse by now, red and puffy, welts and bruises standing out on the pale skin of his breasts.]

I—I can't do it.

[The words are soft, mouth wet and messy, eyes shining with tears. A look of soft subservience targeted upward at Cy as if to demand make me.]

Edited 2024-09-14 22:55 (UTC)

（ cy heaves a disappointed sigh, and then pats sasuke's cheek, letting the chain drop back against his belly. it takes a moment that's perhaps a bit fuzzier than normal to recall where he'd set the gag down — and it's also difficult to know whether or not sasuke kept the continuity of the scene to use the void anyways. so instead, he leans in close, renewing his grip on sasuke's hair to wrench his head backwards. ）

I've put the water down on the end table, and I've gone to get the spider-gag. It's in my hand, I'm going to force your mouth open to take it.

（ sasuke obeys him immediately, and the scene shifts just a little — enough to accommodate those changes, and then cy is straightening up so he can fit the gag about his head. he's not kindly about it, prising his mouth open with the cruel jut of a thumb, forcing his jaw to stretch to accommodate the metal ring that he sets in past the teeth. the gag is tied behind his head, and cy meets sasuke's eyes and then pushes two fingers into his mouth, flat against his tongue. ）

You can do it, （ he says, gentle, coaxing. ） because you don't have a choice. Now. （ he calls the water back to hand in his right, and lifts it up. his other hand stays where it is, fingers pressed down against sasuke's tongue so even the option of trying to rebel even a little is wholly removed. ） Look me in the eye, and drink like a good girl. Every drop. I want you so full it aches. I want you to feel like every movement is uncomfortable and experience those painful cramps from holding it in. I want you so uncomfortable that all you can do is sob, and take what I give you.

[The gag is forced into place, its shape familiar by now as it clicks against his teeth, holding his mouth in that perfect, compliant 'o' — unable to close his jaw, to prevent his throat from being accessed and used by this man's will. He makes a low, keening sound that is loud in his ears, tongue made to flatten at the bottom of his mouth when those fingers tuck in on top of it. He tastes the salt of Cy's skin on those knuckles; he can't even suck at them like this if he wanted to. The defenseless is exhilarating, all the more intensified by those words.

His obedience is demanded. He tries to maintain that upward gaze even through the wet glaze of tears in his eyes, and he drinks, because he has to, otherwise he'll drown as that water is tipped and poured in a ceaseless stream down his throat. He can't even cry unless he wants to choke, so he just swallows as fast as he can get the liquid down, throat working, straining to finish.

The fullness is — explicitly overwhelming, after that. It's so much worse with the weight of his swollen belly, although there is some alleviation on his back, but still he endures the throb of his bladder, the painful clench of muscle to withhold that desperate feeling. Once the glass is empty, this time it remains that way, and his sobbing is open-mouthed in sucks of air that care little for how messy and ruined it makes him look beneath Cy.]

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