[It's only an instructional precursor to the actual act, and yet Sasuke is arrested by the easy drag of that finger across his tongue, practiced as it feels out the back of his mouth. A negligible weight compared to what he imagines a cock will be like, but the fantasy is there, pantomimed expertly by the deft motions of an artful finger. He doesn't look away—even when it strains, even as Cy's words fill his whole head like wet cotton and he feels himself half-hard already despite not even getting his mouth where it's supposed to be. It's almost conditioned at this point, his reaction to the way Cy talks to him.
Irrationally he doesn't think it would be that bad to choke on Cy, to feel the air strangled out of him in service of Cy's pleasure. He doesn't voice this, though, but his thighs press a little tighter together.]
Yes.
[Of course he does. For all they've done so far, there's never been much of an emphasis on Cy's body—and part of him regrets that it has taken so long to get here, despite Cy's careful coaching on transactional sex. He knows he's needed the time to learn, but his fingers are eager on the waist of pants, would be clumsy if not masked by roughness instead, the sort of hand used to sharp movements and articulation of complicated weaponry. His mouth is shiny from being rubbed with spit, and before he's even pulled the band down over Cy's crotch, he presses hungry lips to the flat of a navel just to nose at it, to inhale the scent of skin, tasting.]
（ cy just lets him touch. explore what he wants, go about it any which way that strikes him. he's not instructional here, just waiting and patient. sasuke presses in against his abdomen, and the only move he makes is to stroke at his hair again. ）
I can go two ways on dirty talk during a blowjob, by the way. I can either stick with the praise you're kinda already familiar with, or I can get filthy about it. That'd mean I'd be calling you a slut, a whore, a bitch — 'look at how you take my cock, you fucking slut'. I'm only going to state this once — but anything I say during that kind of talk isn't a reflection on how I feel about you. I don't actually think you're any of these things, it's just about setting the mood.
（ because he's seen sasuke, how he reacts to praise, how he's hungry for it. and he wants to make it clear that that's the reality of how he feels about him, and that the other things — those are just words. ）
Either way, it's harder to safeword out if something hits wrong while you're sucking dick, so if it does — tap the spot behind my knee and I'll stop what we're doing. Preferences about which way I go?
[The mood, upon hearing those words come out of Cy's mouth, deviates in a rush of potent arousal like a splash of hot water. He remembers being laid out on Cy's bed, pinned underneath the man's weight in the torment of addled lust, at mercy to the influence of the resort—he vividly recalls hearing that word, slut, a denigration in any other context yet somehow colored differently when it comes in Cy's voice. Maybe it's a conditioned response in him learned during that encounter, but the air sweeps out of his lungs all at once in a deep, fluttering exhale.]
Vulgar language doesn't bother me. I like it, [he manages, with an effort to put the words together.] When you call me those things. As though I'm doing something right, and you're enjoying it too.
[Cy not meaning them—he understands, but he isn't so unconfident as to wilt beneath that kind of talk. Surely being called a whore is better than many other accusations he's faced in his life; for Cy, at least, he's more than willing to become that. Maybe that is the true difference. If someone else tried, he's not sure his response wouldn't be outright negative.
A nod at the adjustment of a safeword.]
Do you have one too? A word that you use.
[There is a part of Sasuke that has difficulty even imagining the man would require one, given the breadth of his experience, but it feels right to ask.]
（ the moments where he looks genuinely unguarded are few and far between. this is the second such moment, and even then it's subtle. it's just a faint — wonderment, perhaps that looks out of place if only because in a life stretched on the torturous rack of millennia, there's little space left in him for it to fill.
but it's there. something quiet, something tired, something just a little sad. not for himself, because he rarely spares that manner of consideration for his own interiority — but just. sadness is, in many ways, hardcoded into his marrow, spelled out across the atoms of the assembled star-stuff that is his human form.
and then he blinks, and the moment is broken.
tellingly, he doesn't have an immediate answer. yes, he uses safewords. yes, he does everything proper and above board — that refrain of safe, sane, consensual a constant hammering metronome in the back of a ruined mind. but when it's happens, when he offers it up to a partner, it's because he's adhering to a structure that's been just a little thrown out with sasuke, and no one ever asks for those reasons the boy might suppose — he does seem like he has little need of one. confident and self-assured, open and mindful of his own traumas and those of others.
[He notices, but as so often Cy has given him the grace of a quiet moment, of stillness, he doesn't pursue. He wants to ask—it is in him to ask, an effort to know everything about who this man is—but it won't be now. Cy trusts him to speak his mind, so Sasuke will do the same.
That someone this ancient, who has suffered so much, can even express such a sudden and unguarded look is enough to twist itself up in Sasuke's chest.
He exhales through his nose.] Ares. [Tested on his tongue, an unfamiliar shape of syllables. He wonders what it means.
When contemplation passes, he decides that this is something he wants to do more than ever in that moment, if only to reel Cy's mind into the present with him. Eyes lower to the task, fingers tugging the waistband of pants down toned thighs, revealing the black material of fitted boxer-briefs. He's seen Cy naked before, but that context was a different shade of intimacy; like this, so close to a part of Cy he's seen but never touched, hunger gathers in his belly with thick and syrupy lust. He noses down from where he's made a home against Cy's flat abdomen, using the barrier of fabric to test how it feels to simply form his mouth against the length hidden beneath it. To investigate the shape—lips following where he imagines the line of Cy's cock begins at the tip, dragging his mouth to the root, questing for some signal of interest as a cheek turns and rubs itself against Cy's thigh.
（ and cy, who is certainly no stranger to the banishment of dark spirals with the wilful application of sex, lets him do it. sasuke presses a hot mouth over the fabric, breath a damp, warm weight that makes him exhale.
pleasure's easy. he's never really gotten bored of feeling it — the rise and the rush of it, the clench-release-relax of coming. but sasuke already has something of a hold on him, and arousal is — different, when it's someone he's come to care about. like it's filtered through stained glass, turning what would otherwise be a normal event into something sanctified.
the stirring of his cock, then, is immediate — and the line of it thickens behind the fabric of the briefs.
he turns a bit, kicking his pants off, stepping back so he can sit down on the edge of the bed, guiding sasuke with a soft hand in his hair to go down in front of him. his knees spread obligingly, making room — one hooks in over the kid's right shoulder, because he likes the additional points of contact, because sasuke won't mind the weight, because it lets him pull him in just a little with the tightened muscle of his thigh and the bend of his knee. he's not worried about the underwear, because he can technically just get rid of it with a twitch of one open hand when sasuke's done exploring.
he opens his mouth, to say something filthy, the first in a a promised litany of many — but instead, the only thing he says is: ）
[There's an intimate exhilaration, feeling Cy get hard under the caress of his mouth. He has only a moment to savor this sensation before he's steered off the bed and onto knees, and he sinks readily down into this position, tucking lean legs underneath himself as if at a shrine. A knee slings over his shoulder, easily held; he likes that it keeps himself in the crux of thighs and disallows much movement, trapped here where the heady, masculine scent of another man's body is close and accessible.
His right hand lifts, rubbing the bulge of stretched fabric to feel the shape of balls beneath—although that compliment stops him, minutely, mismatched eyes turned owlishly up. It's not the vulgarity he expected, and it closes his throat with a swell of emotion difficulty to steady back to equilibrium. Loving, swaddled in that warmth, heartfelt enough to stick in his thoughts. It takes another moment to concentrate.
Sasuke could deflect it. So far, these little remarks on his appearance have been negligible, either in the heat of a sexual moment or discarded by banter. Yet this, carried on such sincere intonation, holds the air as if in a gentle fist.
It's like it's made him a little shy, color in pale cheeks, fingertips playing at the slit of the boxer-briefs until fabric folds open to expose the jut of that length where it's begun to fill out. He doesn't say anything in the end, simply bends his head forward to taste the side of Cy's cock with a few slow, kittenish laps of tongue, following the rigid line down to a thickened base. His nose grazes the sparse curls of dark pubic hair, exhalation fluttering out.]
（ he touches the side of sasuke's head with a deft press of his fingers, gently pushing him back just a little and then: ）
Here, lemme —
（ yeet the underoos. look, getting to play around with someone he can openly transmat around is still just a little bit of a novelty, okay? but it leaves him bare beneath sasuke's ministrations, and he tightens the hook of that thigh to pull him back in. it's gentle enough it's clear suggestion and not an order.
his cock jumps with a flex to those pelvic floor muscles, and his hand drops back against sasuke's hair. ）
Hey — I don't think I'm up to dirty talk. I just want to watch you.
[Obediently he leans back, eyelids flickering at the caustic afterimage of that wild energy, though he doesn't flinch. Hasn't, even since the first time Cy demonstrated his power. Marvel and curiosity exists in him as a response to what Cy is capable of doing—but not fear.
Without underwear in the way, he takes in the sight up close, all those smooth lines of flesh to the attractive arch of a hard cock close to his face. It takes Cy's hand in his hair to tempt his chin upward.]
You can if you want. But I'm not really... [Hm, how does he say this.] I don't know how to make it look the way you did. That effortless performance.
[Meanwhile, his right hand closes itself over that stiffened length of arousal, just to feet its heat, the silky texture of flesh beneath the rub of a palm.]
I don't want an effortless performance. If I wanted that I would suck my own dick and believe me, I'm flexible enough to pull it off.
（ he sounds absolutely certain in that, and when sasuke curls his hand around cy's cock, he makes an encouraging hm of sound. his own hands, which can't maintain callouses no matter how much he does, how hard he trains, how much he works, feel entirely different to the roughened palms of someone who's been using weapons, trained to war from a perilously young age. ）
I just want you. Whatever that looks like. It's about the partner, not the act. I want you.
[It is emboldening—dangerously so, like Cy is filling his head with deep intoxication, blurring the edges of his thoughts until everything is skewed, slanted, dizzyingly hot. I want you is a press of a brand on his skin, like Cy's embraces, like Cy's kisses. The sentiment completely engulfs him.]
You can have me.
[A deferent tilt of his head beneath Cy's hand, he leans forward into a bow that returns the wet weight of his mouth to that cock, painting it in broad strokes until it shines with saliva. It isn't careful, it isn't precise or particularly skilled—it's just hungry, the sort of lapping he might do to a messy meal, starved enough not to care that it makes him look more like an animal than a civilized man.
Callused, weapon-worn fingers continue to explore the shape wherever his lips and tongue don't wander, but eventually he slips back up to the head and tastes the slit, sucking it briefly with a seal of lips. Unlike Cy's quiet and artful demonstration before, Sasuke doesn't care if he's a little loud, if that embarrassing pop that Cy had described when his mouth departs the swollen head disturbs the quiet of the room. He laps at tender foreskin, less intent on coaxing pleasure than he is just feeling it with his tongue. When he breathes through his nose, it's in heavier, humid bursts, a detail that shows some slipping self-control.]
（ that statement slugs him in the gut. he has one hand free, and it drops to the edge of the bed, kneading at the mattress. because there is a sense of ownership there, of offerance, and it — has an affect. it sparks electric along every nerve, and the brief seal of sasuke's mouth against the head of his cock, the press of his fingers, the fucking — words, those things all come together in some awful triumvirate of a pleasure he doesn't remember getting this dizzily drunk on in a long, long time.
it pulls a sound out of him, something low and breathy, perhaps the first thing he's done around sasuke that's almost entirely uncontrolled. his heel, braced against sasuke's back along the line of his spine, digs in hard.
time fractures away from him, and narrows the point of his world down to the boy on his knees. the warmth of that questing tongue and his rough hand. by the time sasuke tongues the slit of his dick he's already messy and leaking with precome for reasons well beyond just the physical attention. possessiveness washes over him like blood from a slit throat in a messy spray, and he chokes on unwelcome words — you're mine — just enough presence of mind it's not the time or the place for the sentiment to spill out between them.
his fingers flex in the boy's hair, clearly restraining himself from just grabbing him and dragging him forward, wanting another, deeper plunge — ）
[It feels better than some of victories he's struggled to gain on the battlefield, the way Cy sounds when he's like this, that noise elicited from the iron bed of discipline that marshals this man, a god, a being who has outlived countless civilizations and visited countless worlds and slept with countless people. It feels like a new kind of power to feel the way Cy's cock gets hard against his lips, lapping at that steady drool of precome with diligent attentiveness. What he lacks in practice is balanced by a deep, consuming enthusiasm, a need to please fostered in him since he was old enough to look up and wish to be wanted.
He wants this. And he wants Cy to want him so badly that as soon as those fingers twitch against his scalp he slips further in, pinned by the leg over his shoulder, mouth parting over the head of a dick to take it into his throat.
At the same time, Sasuke's right hand drops. The fist closes over the thumb. Without the aid of fingers, he can't prevent the wet circle of his mouth from sinking down a little further than wise on Cy's cock for a first time, but he doesn't relent, doesn't reach for the back of a knee, does nothing but swallow reflexively around the sudden and intrusive heaviness in his mouth. A ripple of tension tightens over Cy; he makes a low sound, as if in surprise for the stretch, the fullness, the way he's forced to breathe hard through his nose if he wants any air. Black bangs fall into eyes but he doesn't fight it, can't do anything but keep himself held here inelegantly, because he's not going to let Cy come without doing it down his throat.]
（ he muffles a jesus fucking christ against one lifted hand, the press of his knuckles hard into his open, panting mouth. teeth graze his knuckles, and as these things go it's a superficial bite — not intended to draw blood, just to serve as a counterpoint to the way sasuke swallows him down. almost reflexively, he curls forward faintly, shoulders hunched.
his hand in sasuke's hair stays gentle. will always stay gentle, as long as that's what's wanted — but even that discipline can't help him from a faint upwards twitch of his hips, chasing the heat deeper. the way sasuke's mouth sings with tension around him, the way he can feel the strain of the boy's open jaw, the glistening slick of drool that dampens his cheek, his chin. cy shudders as need presses in over his awareness, slipping over him like the veil of a darkened sky, but his voice has regained that control when he says: ）
Hey, sweetheart — I'm real close.
（ he'll let him choose, but the warning is — necessary, imminent. ）
[As ruthlessly as he's trying to pull the orgasm out of Cy, that warning is important, he knows, integral to communication—but all it does is stir the coal of lust in him to a burning flame. The sound that Cy makes along with the endearment; he couldn't be dragged off of Cy's cock willingly at this point.
Attempting to cradle it against the flat of his tongue, Sasuke closes his eyes, allowing himself to slip into the act fully. No conscious thought impedes him. He's not thinking about how well he's doing, how much Cy is enjoying it, what it will feel like to swallow—all sensation is channeled into the heavy weight of a cock, the sharp taste of salt, the achy stretch of his jaw, the messy smear of saliva and precome, the obscenely wet sounds...
With no way to signal his approval but for a hum around the dick stuffed into his mouth, he sinks as low as he can bear, and then holds. It isn't enough to entirely cradle the full length to the root, not without choking, but he tries his best anyway because it's all he can give of himself.]
（ it's that shift, that little hum that does it. orgasm crests and crashes down, the muscles of his thigh clenching and coiling but not pressing sasuke any deeper in against him. the slip he allows himself is that his hand clenches down hard against sasuke's hair, twisting black strands into a spill of contrasting ink against his skin as his knuckles whiten there.
his cock twitches against sasuke's tongue as he comes hard, painting the back of his throat with thick, ropy coils of cum. there's another soft panting sound that sounds like it was dragged out of his chest by a crack riven directly into the cage of his ribs. he does hunch forward, bent over sasuke like a man in obeisance at prayer as he rides it out.
and, since sasuke didn't pull back — since he took him deeper and waited, cy's free hand drops between them and his fingers curl against the curve of the boy's jaw. holding his mouth shut, now, around his cock. ）
Swallow for me.
（ it may be softly said, but it's still an order, and he's a man well-used to being obeyed. ）
[It's an overwhelming sensation. A hot flood that spills into his throat, a rush he's expecting but has no experience to compare it to, nothing to brace for the actual reality of hot seed that soaks his tongue and fills his whole mouth to the tight seal of lips. Lashes flicker, dragging another desperate suck of air through his nose—tethered by the hand in his hair, a good feeling that snags at his scalp.
Then there are fingers on his jaw, soothing, and Cy's words shatter the meditative trance he'd fallen into. Obediently his throat flexes, taking the bitter-salt mouthful down, knot of cartilage underneath his jaw working to swallow the load. It doesn't taste bad. He wasn't prepared for anything good, but he can find nothing to complain about; he prefers salt, anyway. Prefers even more the satisfaction of feeling Cy's cock soften against his tongue, the evidence of pleasure spent and devoured.
Pulling back with a wet gasp, he breathes hard, hair messy over a dark brow. His mouth is slick and red, an abused color from use; he's miraculously managed not to spill anything for the sake of how deep he'd taken it, but that says nothing for the saliva he's smeared all over Cy's dick.]
Hah.
[... yes, the first sound out of his mouth is the most self-satisfied, prideful little laugh.]
( cy laughs in turn, and then lets his leg slip from sasuke's shoulder, reaching to haul the boy up on top of him as he flops back on the bed. somehow, somehow, this is elegantly done.
sasuke is wrapped up into his arms and he bites at the side of his neck playfully. )
You little shit. You're telling me the first time I get you to laugh and it's not because I'm charmingly hilarious? I just had to get you to suck my dick?
[There's a quiet oof as he's manhandled down on top of Cy, wrapped in arms that he wouldn't escape even if they weren't keeping him held fast, steady in a warm embrace. But—he has to play the part, doesn't he? So a right hand slithers up, pushing Cy's face back by the cheek when he's bitten.]
Maybe you're not as funny as you think you are. [HUFFS] You're the one calling yourself 'charmingly hilarious'.
[The disdain is totally ruined by the smirk that keeps trying to tug its way onto his mouth.]
（ them's tusslin' now. which is — challenging on the narrow bed, but not impossible. he shifts, one arm cradling sasuke against him precisely until he can get him on his back, and then... well.
playful nude wrestling ensues. the greeks would've been proud.
but all good things have to come to an end eventually, and when the moment has passed, cy is laughing again. pressing messy kisses against sasuke's swollen, reddened mouth, tasting himself with the intrusive lick of his tongue. ）
[He won't get tired of this—the playful physicality of wrestling, the easy contact of their bodies, Cy's face smiling out at him like that. The laughter, the kisses. In a reversal of usual positions, Sasuke ends up on top by the end this time, straddling strong hips as they taste each other in that lick of a tongue.]
I had a good teacher.
[The word he uses is sensei in a voice that drawls, tone lowered, looking at Cy through the cast of dark lashes. He's still aroused—an effect not diminished since sucking Cy's cock had first coaxed him hard again, but also further enticed by all of the grappling on the bed.]
（ he has his hands on sasuke's thighs, fingers kneading just a little at the strong cords of muscle there. he's found attraction in sasuke's body since they first met — every scar a love letter to something he's given up on ever burying. but he likes, too, how fit he is, and that it comes from living, surviving. ）
Hm?
（ he settles back on the bed, easy. that's the tone sasuke uses when he's about to say something just a little this side of serious, so he'll wait for it to come. ）
[He has to sort his thoughts in order to say what he wants to say, made even more challenging by the vulnerable content of what he's feeling as he looks down at Cy, as he enjoys the sensual rub of hands on naked thighs. He steadies himself with his right hand against Cy's shoulder, then bends in closer—seeking both the affection of a head laid down against the man's chest while also taking the opportunity to hide his face.
Just this time, at least, if Cy allows it.]
You've said a lot for me already. [Gingerly, he eases his weight more fully flush against Cy, less for the sexual aspect now than simple intimacy of touch. A fumbling communication of sentiment.] I want you to know that I heard it. And I won't forget it. [Ever.] And that it also isn't only your responsibility, because I want to... do the same for you. I want you to feel safe. I want you to believe that I can protect you, too.
[His words aren't so effortless, clearly struggling to be expressed.]
I'm less afraid of you hurting me than I am of hurting you. I know that you'll laugh, because wounds don't matter—not with your ability—but I don't want to do that. I never want to cause you pain, even by accident. You could tell, but I've done it before. I've tried to kill people who were important to me, because I was lost, and confused, and it seemed easier to... sever those connections than it did to live with them.
cw: (cy grab bag - war horrors/assault/trauma/suicide)
（ sasuke curls in against him, and cy adjusts automatically to accommodate him, however he wants to be, or lay. arms slip around him in an easy embrace as natural as dawn, and he laces his fingers together just beneath the boy's shoulders. he draws one knee up, foot braced against the bed, half to bracket him.
and then the words come, each one felt in an exhalation of breath against his chest, and some part of his mind goes eerily still, eerily blank. his body is a graveyard of many things — lost worlds beneath his skin, the whisper of sweet nothings of lovers, the sobbing terror of victims as they begged or pleaded or wept beneath him. he has not always known how to be kind, it was something he had to learn. re-learn, maybe, because the boy he used to be must have been so once. kulo vayn would not have delighted in turning his hand to cruelty if its seeds had already been planted in him. he would not have taken his chin in the prison of his mind and told him not to look away.
will he remember this moment, he wonders? in a thousand years, in ten? maybe it will live alongside takëthal cutting him down from a tree with the burn of rope around his throat and death seeming like it was only ever another gasping breath away.
fear has been part of him far longer than he's carried his name. it is a muted presence now, but never gone. yet for all his confidence and surety and grace, he is always, always afraid. of what he might become. what he might do. what he could lose. what horrors he has yet undiscovered he could inflict. he doubts he mastered every way of taking a person apart in a thousand years, that there must still be something left in him to learn. he fears the unknown span of time stretched out ahead of him, because one day he will wake up and the foundational tenets of what he holds dear and who he wants to be will be eroded out of his mind the way wind tears down mountains, and what follows that will burn worlds to ash and cinder.
he does not breathe as sasuke speaks. he feels the edge of pain when his lungs start to protest, and repair, and protest, and repair.
i'm less afraid of you hurting me than i am of hurting you. that's when he breathes in, a ragged inhalation that smells like the mild shampoo sasuke uses on his hair. ）
Okay.
（ he should say something back, he knows. something meaningful, that meets that kindness halfway instead of dragging it into himself the way one might seize a person by the hair and let their heels cut furrows in the dirt. ）
[It isn't the response he is anticipating—and it shocks him, cold as icewater running through grooves carved out of warmth and desire and affection not long ago. Ares. When he'd asked, he hadn't thought he would hear it, and so soon. The emotional wound is a splash across his face: torn open like a hole, then swiftly collapsed into defensive, self-protective barriers of distance. Patterns of coping.
Unlike Cy, playing off how that reaction makes him feel is almost impossible. He is still new to safewords, so to him this signals only one thing. In trying to express the depth of what he is feeling he has managed to hurt Cy exactly as he didn't want to. He can't tell which of the words did it, but—that doesn't really matter.
At least he knows, having seen it demonstrated, what to do. Physically extracting himself from their embrace, Sasuke slides to the edge of the bed and faces away, seeking folded clothes to begin putting them back on in sharp, efficient movements. His voice is a murmur.]
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no subject
Irrationally he doesn't think it would be that bad to choke on Cy, to feel the air strangled out of him in service of Cy's pleasure. He doesn't voice this, though, but his thighs press a little tighter together.]
Yes.
[Of course he does. For all they've done so far, there's never been much of an emphasis on Cy's body—and part of him regrets that it has taken so long to get here, despite Cy's careful coaching on transactional sex. He knows he's needed the time to learn, but his fingers are eager on the waist of pants, would be clumsy if not masked by roughness instead, the sort of hand used to sharp movements and articulation of complicated weaponry. His mouth is shiny from being rubbed with spit, and before he's even pulled the band down over Cy's crotch, he presses hungry lips to the flat of a navel just to nose at it, to inhale the scent of skin, tasting.]
no subject
I can go two ways on dirty talk during a blowjob, by the way. I can either stick with the praise you're kinda already familiar with, or I can get filthy about it. That'd mean I'd be calling you a slut, a whore, a bitch — 'look at how you take my cock, you fucking slut'. I'm only going to state this once — but anything I say during that kind of talk isn't a reflection on how I feel about you. I don't actually think you're any of these things, it's just about setting the mood.
（ because he's seen sasuke, how he reacts to praise, how he's hungry for it. and he wants to make it clear that that's the reality of how he feels about him, and that the other things — those are just words. ）
Either way, it's harder to safeword out if something hits wrong while you're sucking dick, so if it does — tap the spot behind my knee and I'll stop what we're doing. Preferences about which way I go?
no subject
Vulgar language doesn't bother me. I like it, [he manages, with an effort to put the words together.] When you call me those things. As though I'm doing something right, and you're enjoying it too.
[Cy not meaning them—he understands, but he isn't so unconfident as to wilt beneath that kind of talk. Surely being called a whore is better than many other accusations he's faced in his life; for Cy, at least, he's more than willing to become that. Maybe that is the true difference. If someone else tried, he's not sure his response wouldn't be outright negative.
A nod at the adjustment of a safeword.]
Do you have one too? A word that you use.
[There is a part of Sasuke that has difficulty even imagining the man would require one, given the breadth of his experience, but it feels right to ask.]
no subject
but it's there. something quiet, something tired, something just a little sad. not for himself, because he rarely spares that manner of consideration for his own interiority — but just. sadness is, in many ways, hardcoded into his marrow, spelled out across the atoms of the assembled star-stuff that is his human form.
and then he blinks, and the moment is broken.
tellingly, he doesn't have an immediate answer. yes, he uses safewords. yes, he does everything proper and above board — that refrain of safe, sane, consensual a constant hammering metronome in the back of a ruined mind. but when it's happens, when he offers it up to a partner, it's because he's adhering to a structure that's been just a little thrown out with sasuke, and no one ever asks for those reasons the boy might suppose — he does seem like he has little need of one. confident and self-assured, open and mindful of his own traumas and those of others.
the silence takes a thoughtful bent, and then: ）
Ares. Let's go with that.
no subject
That someone this ancient, who has suffered so much, can even express such a sudden and unguarded look is enough to twist itself up in Sasuke's chest.
He exhales through his nose.] Ares. [Tested on his tongue, an unfamiliar shape of syllables. He wonders what it means.
When contemplation passes, he decides that this is something he wants to do more than ever in that moment, if only to reel Cy's mind into the present with him. Eyes lower to the task, fingers tugging the waistband of pants down toned thighs, revealing the black material of fitted boxer-briefs. He's seen Cy naked before, but that context was a different shade of intimacy; like this, so close to a part of Cy he's seen but never touched, hunger gathers in his belly with thick and syrupy lust. He noses down from where he's made a home against Cy's flat abdomen, using the barrier of fabric to test how it feels to simply form his mouth against the length hidden beneath it. To investigate the shape—lips following where he imagines the line of Cy's cock begins at the tip, dragging his mouth to the root, questing for some signal of interest as a cheek turns and rubs itself against Cy's thigh.
Not delaying, really, so much as exploring.]
no subject
pleasure's easy. he's never really gotten bored of feeling it — the rise and the rush of it, the clench-release-relax of coming. but sasuke already has something of a hold on him, and arousal is — different, when it's someone he's come to care about. like it's filtered through stained glass, turning what would otherwise be a normal event into something sanctified.
the stirring of his cock, then, is immediate — and the line of it thickens behind the fabric of the briefs.
he turns a bit, kicking his pants off, stepping back so he can sit down on the edge of the bed, guiding sasuke with a soft hand in his hair to go down in front of him. his knees spread obligingly, making room — one hooks in over the kid's right shoulder, because he likes the additional points of contact, because sasuke won't mind the weight, because it lets him pull him in just a little with the tightened muscle of his thigh and the bend of his knee. he's not worried about the underwear, because he can technically just get rid of it with a twitch of one open hand when sasuke's done exploring.
he opens his mouth, to say something filthy, the first in a a promised litany of many — but instead, the only thing he says is: ）
You look beautiful.
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His right hand lifts, rubbing the bulge of stretched fabric to feel the shape of balls beneath—although that compliment stops him, minutely, mismatched eyes turned owlishly up. It's not the vulgarity he expected, and it closes his throat with a swell of emotion difficulty to steady back to equilibrium. Loving, swaddled in that warmth, heartfelt enough to stick in his thoughts. It takes another moment to concentrate.
Sasuke could deflect it. So far, these little remarks on his appearance have been negligible, either in the heat of a sexual moment or discarded by banter. Yet this, carried on such sincere intonation, holds the air as if in a gentle fist.
It's like it's made him a little shy, color in pale cheeks, fingertips playing at the slit of the boxer-briefs until fabric folds open to expose the jut of that length where it's begun to fill out. He doesn't say anything in the end, simply bends his head forward to taste the side of Cy's cock with a few slow, kittenish laps of tongue, following the rigid line down to a thickened base. His nose grazes the sparse curls of dark pubic hair, exhalation fluttering out.]
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Here, lemme —
（ yeet the underoos. look, getting to play around with someone he can openly transmat around is still just a little bit of a novelty, okay? but it leaves him bare beneath sasuke's ministrations, and he tightens the hook of that thigh to pull him back in. it's gentle enough it's clear suggestion and not an order.
his cock jumps with a flex to those pelvic floor muscles, and his hand drops back against sasuke's hair. ）
Hey — I don't think I'm up to dirty talk. I just want to watch you.
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Without underwear in the way, he takes in the sight up close, all those smooth lines of flesh to the attractive arch of a hard cock close to his face. It takes Cy's hand in his hair to tempt his chin upward.]
You can if you want. But I'm not really... [Hm, how does he say this.] I don't know how to make it look the way you did. That effortless performance.
[Meanwhile, his right hand closes itself over that stiffened length of arousal, just to feet its heat, the silky texture of flesh beneath the rub of a palm.]
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（ he sounds absolutely certain in that, and when sasuke curls his hand around cy's cock, he makes an encouraging hm of sound. his own hands, which can't maintain callouses no matter how much he does, how hard he trains, how much he works, feel entirely different to the roughened palms of someone who's been using weapons, trained to war from a perilously young age. ）
I just want you. Whatever that looks like. It's about the partner, not the act. I want you.
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You can have me.
[A deferent tilt of his head beneath Cy's hand, he leans forward into a bow that returns the wet weight of his mouth to that cock, painting it in broad strokes until it shines with saliva. It isn't careful, it isn't precise or particularly skilled—it's just hungry, the sort of lapping he might do to a messy meal, starved enough not to care that it makes him look more like an animal than a civilized man.
Callused, weapon-worn fingers continue to explore the shape wherever his lips and tongue don't wander, but eventually he slips back up to the head and tastes the slit, sucking it briefly with a seal of lips. Unlike Cy's quiet and artful demonstration before, Sasuke doesn't care if he's a little loud, if that embarrassing pop that Cy had described when his mouth departs the swollen head disturbs the quiet of the room. He laps at tender foreskin, less intent on coaxing pleasure than he is just feeling it with his tongue. When he breathes through his nose, it's in heavier, humid bursts, a detail that shows some slipping self-control.]
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it pulls a sound out of him, something low and breathy, perhaps the first thing he's done around sasuke that's almost entirely uncontrolled. his heel, braced against sasuke's back along the line of his spine, digs in hard.
time fractures away from him, and narrows the point of his world down to the boy on his knees. the warmth of that questing tongue and his rough hand. by the time sasuke tongues the slit of his dick he's already messy and leaking with precome for reasons well beyond just the physical attention. possessiveness washes over him like blood from a slit throat in a messy spray, and he chokes on unwelcome words — you're mine — just enough presence of mind it's not the time or the place for the sentiment to spill out between them.
his fingers flex in the boy's hair, clearly restraining himself from just grabbing him and dragging him forward, wanting another, deeper plunge — ）
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He wants this. And he wants Cy to want him so badly that as soon as those fingers twitch against his scalp he slips further in, pinned by the leg over his shoulder, mouth parting over the head of a dick to take it into his throat.
At the same time, Sasuke's right hand drops. The fist closes over the thumb. Without the aid of fingers, he can't prevent the wet circle of his mouth from sinking down a little further than wise on Cy's cock for a first time, but he doesn't relent, doesn't reach for the back of a knee, does nothing but swallow reflexively around the sudden and intrusive heaviness in his mouth. A ripple of tension tightens over Cy; he makes a low sound, as if in surprise for the stretch, the fullness, the way he's forced to breathe hard through his nose if he wants any air. Black bangs fall into eyes but he doesn't fight it, can't do anything but keep himself held here inelegantly, because he's not going to let Cy come without doing it down his throat.]
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his hand in sasuke's hair stays gentle. will always stay gentle, as long as that's what's wanted — but even that discipline can't help him from a faint upwards twitch of his hips, chasing the heat deeper. the way sasuke's mouth sings with tension around him, the way he can feel the strain of the boy's open jaw, the glistening slick of drool that dampens his cheek, his chin. cy shudders as need presses in over his awareness, slipping over him like the veil of a darkened sky, but his voice has regained that control when he says: ）
Hey, sweetheart — I'm real close.
（ he'll let him choose, but the warning is — necessary, imminent. ）
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Attempting to cradle it against the flat of his tongue, Sasuke closes his eyes, allowing himself to slip into the act fully. No conscious thought impedes him. He's not thinking about how well he's doing, how much Cy is enjoying it, what it will feel like to swallow—all sensation is channeled into the heavy weight of a cock, the sharp taste of salt, the achy stretch of his jaw, the messy smear of saliva and precome, the obscenely wet sounds...
With no way to signal his approval but for a hum around the dick stuffed into his mouth, he sinks as low as he can bear, and then holds. It isn't enough to entirely cradle the full length to the root, not without choking, but he tries his best anyway because it's all he can give of himself.]
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his cock twitches against sasuke's tongue as he comes hard, painting the back of his throat with thick, ropy coils of cum. there's another soft panting sound that sounds like it was dragged out of his chest by a crack riven directly into the cage of his ribs. he does hunch forward, bent over sasuke like a man in obeisance at prayer as he rides it out.
and, since sasuke didn't pull back — since he took him deeper and waited, cy's free hand drops between them and his fingers curl against the curve of the boy's jaw. holding his mouth shut, now, around his cock. ）
Swallow for me.
（ it may be softly said, but it's still an order, and he's a man well-used to being obeyed. ）
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Then there are fingers on his jaw, soothing, and Cy's words shatter the meditative trance he'd fallen into. Obediently his throat flexes, taking the bitter-salt mouthful down, knot of cartilage underneath his jaw working to swallow the load. It doesn't taste bad. He wasn't prepared for anything good, but he can find nothing to complain about; he prefers salt, anyway. Prefers even more the satisfaction of feeling Cy's cock soften against his tongue, the evidence of pleasure spent and devoured.
Pulling back with a wet gasp, he breathes hard, hair messy over a dark brow. His mouth is slick and red, an abused color from use; he's miraculously managed not to spill anything for the sake of how deep he'd taken it, but that says nothing for the saliva he's smeared all over Cy's dick.]
Hah.
[... yes, the first sound out of his mouth is the most self-satisfied, prideful little laugh.]
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sasuke is wrapped up into his arms and he bites at the side of his neck playfully. )
You little shit. You're telling me the first time I get you to laugh and it's not because I'm charmingly hilarious? I just had to get you to suck my dick?
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Maybe you're not as funny as you think you are. [HUFFS] You're the one calling yourself 'charmingly hilarious'.
[The disdain is totally ruined by the smirk that keeps trying to tug its way onto his mouth.]
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（ them's tusslin' now. which is — challenging on the narrow bed, but not impossible. he shifts, one arm cradling sasuke against him precisely until he can get him on his back, and then... well.
playful nude wrestling ensues. the greeks would've been proud.
but all good things have to come to an end eventually, and when the moment has passed, cy is laughing again. pressing messy kisses against sasuke's swollen, reddened mouth, tasting himself with the intrusive lick of his tongue. ）
Wow, hey, so you're pretty amazing at that.
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I had a good teacher.
[The word he uses is sensei in a voice that drawls, tone lowered, looking at Cy through the cast of dark lashes. He's still aroused—an effect not diminished since sucking Cy's cock had first coaxed him hard again, but also further enticed by all of the grappling on the bed.]
Cyram.
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Hm?
（ he settles back on the bed, easy. that's the tone sasuke uses when he's about to say something just a little this side of serious, so he'll wait for it to come. ）
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Just this time, at least, if Cy allows it.]
You've said a lot for me already. [Gingerly, he eases his weight more fully flush against Cy, less for the sexual aspect now than simple intimacy of touch. A fumbling communication of sentiment.] I want you to know that I heard it. And I won't forget it. [Ever.] And that it also isn't only your responsibility, because I want to... do the same for you. I want you to feel safe. I want you to believe that I can protect you, too.
[His words aren't so effortless, clearly struggling to be expressed.]
I'm less afraid of you hurting me than I am of hurting you. I know that you'll laugh, because wounds don't matter—not with your ability—but I don't want to do that. I never want to cause you pain, even by accident. You could tell, but I've done it before. I've tried to kill people who were important to me, because I was lost, and confused, and it seemed easier to... sever those connections than it did to live with them.
cw: (cy grab bag - war horrors/assault/trauma/suicide)
and then the words come, each one felt in an exhalation of breath against his chest, and some part of his mind goes eerily still, eerily blank. his body is a graveyard of many things — lost worlds beneath his skin, the whisper of sweet nothings of lovers, the sobbing terror of victims as they begged or pleaded or wept beneath him. he has not always known how to be kind, it was something he had to learn. re-learn, maybe, because the boy he used to be must have been so once. kulo vayn would not have delighted in turning his hand to cruelty if its seeds had already been planted in him. he would not have taken his chin in the prison of his mind and told him not to look away.
will he remember this moment, he wonders? in a thousand years, in ten? maybe it will live alongside takëthal cutting him down from a tree with the burn of rope around his throat and death seeming like it was only ever another gasping breath away.
fear has been part of him far longer than he's carried his name. it is a muted presence now, but never gone. yet for all his confidence and surety and grace, he is always, always afraid. of what he might become. what he might do. what he could lose. what horrors he has yet undiscovered he could inflict. he doubts he mastered every way of taking a person apart in a thousand years, that there must still be something left in him to learn. he fears the unknown span of time stretched out ahead of him, because one day he will wake up and the foundational tenets of what he holds dear and who he wants to be will be eroded out of his mind the way wind tears down mountains, and what follows that will burn worlds to ash and cinder.
he does not breathe as sasuke speaks. he feels the edge of pain when his lungs start to protest, and repair, and protest, and repair.
i'm less afraid of you hurting me than i am of hurting you. that's when he breathes in, a ragged inhalation that smells like the mild shampoo sasuke uses on his hair. ）
Okay.
（ he should say something back, he knows. something meaningful, that meets that kindness halfway instead of dragging it into himself the way one might seize a person by the hair and let their heels cut furrows in the dirt. ）
Ares.
the walking content warning that is cy
Unlike Cy, playing off how that reaction makes him feel is almost impossible. He is still new to safewords, so to him this signals only one thing. In trying to express the depth of what he is feeling he has managed to hurt Cy exactly as he didn't want to. He can't tell which of the words did it, but—that doesn't really matter.
At least he knows, having seen it demonstrated, what to do. Physically extracting himself from their embrace, Sasuke slides to the edge of the bed and faces away, seeking folded clothes to begin putting them back on in sharp, efficient movements. His voice is a murmur.]
Sorry.
🥲🥲🥲
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