[It should humiliate him, the way Cy narrows down so many qualities that are strictly feminine — and true to his life. He no longer had a mother by the time he was eight years old. He took that role completely, learning to cook, clean, sew, and otherwise take care of himself. Yet Cy soothes the implication quickly, easing the knot that had begun to tighten in his throat. In a world so focused on power and strength, and how those can be used to subjugate someone else, homemaking skills are not exactly prized. Least of all by men.
The nuzzle, backed by that reassurance, further calms him.]
It's hard to imagine you as submissive. Even if I did try to use that sort of language on you, would you actually enjoy it? [Cy's pleasure matters to him too.] ... I remember one of the first times we spoke, I said that I would be more dominant than submissive. I believed it. I can imagine myself behaving that way, too, but I don't know that it would have been — a good thing.
[The way he struggles with himself, the guilt he feels at the idea of hurting others...]
I suppose I would have had to learn to be more like you. How you exercise control, safely.
（ as if he senses that brief turmoil, he shuffles himself about on the bed, tugging sasuke astride his hips and then downward to kiss him, nipping softly at his bottom lip. as his arms wend around sasuke and he tucks them together cheek to cheek, dragging stubble against sasuke's skin, he murmurs: ）
Ah, that language wouldn't necessarily be about dominance or submission. You can be dominant and still wanna get knocked up, or fantasize about it. But I do struggle with submission. It's funny — I think I probably was once? I don't have a strong impression of who I was before — （ well, they don't need to get into that, but — ） but I remember who I was during it all, and I... that weakness, that cowardice, it took me a long time to be kind to myself, to recognize that my reaction was about survival, that it wasn't just... weak, to be broken. I hated how deeply and completely I was changed by someone else's cruelty. Sometimes I still struggle with that, feeling like I'm just something someone else made.
（ sasuke, he knows, will understand that sentiment better than most. ）
My response to that trauma was to reach for control with both hands and hold it. Surrendering that is... fucking hard. It's actually easier for me with strangers — it's not like I seek it out, but if I'm teaching or something — because submission is no longer a natural state for me, but they don't know that, so I can come at it from the angle of being what's needed in the moment. But with people who've seen me, who know me... it's harder to relax because the fear that surrendering that control is going to get them hurt is always, always there.
（ fear has informed so much of his life for so long, a constant low-grade feverbright burn in the back of his mind. he's not sure who he'd be if he were to wake up one day and find it excised. ）
It's not about being vulnerable. I'd give that part of myself to you without hesitation, you know? But it makes the fear louder. Having control is what quiets it, because I get to tell myself never again.
[The change in position is met with pliancy, allowing his weight to be brought over Cy's hips in their reclined position, pushing with need into the kiss — just for the sake of that contact, that grounding tether. Then he tucks his head down and lets Cy rub their cheeks together; the man's warmth bleeds between them, uncoiling muscles.
Every time he hears about who Cy used to be and compares it to who he is now, it deepens that channel of affection, of understanding and respect. And the ache of sadness, of course, that is always there.]
If you want to do it with me, [the words spill out of his mouth like an errant sigh,] I'll take care of you. I promise.
[He picks his head up to look at Cy, wanting eye contact — evidence for how important he feels this is to communicate.]
I don't mean right now, but someday in the future. It's okay if you're afraid. I am too.
Sweetheart, I'd do anything you ever wanted with you.
（ he lets sasuke peel himself back enough to make eye contact, and it's returned with unflinching steadiness and a slight smile. one hand lifts, and is set against sasuke's cheek. ）
But in terms of submission, it wouldn't really be about me. It's not something I'm into for its own sake, or something that I'd get psychological or physical pleasure out of. If you want to try your hand at being dominant, I'd help you and it wouldn't cost me anything or take anything from me — I need you to understand I wouldn't agree to it against my will — but it'd be because you wanted it, that's what would make it special and worthwhile to me. What would bring me pleasure and pride would be seeing you be confident and self-assured and happy, practicing the things you've learned from me. Even if the fear is there.
（ his thumb worries at the jut of sasuke's cheekbone, and then hooks behind his jaw to tug him down for another kiss, this one pressed softly against his forehead. ）
Honestly, watching you step outside of all that fucking — oppressive cultural shame and fear and uncertainty just to stand with me on equal ground has been pretty near the single best act of service anyone's ever given me. You need to know that, too.
[Don't say that, he almost demands — even if in this context, Cy must mean sexual acts only. Yet there is still a terrifying moment where the request almost falls out of his mouth, because he cannot imagine that sort of fealty, and now he cannot imagine his life without Cy in it, and in one stupid moment he might ask for Cy not to leave him, even after this, after whatever their time in the resort may become —
Sasuke shudders, that touch reeling him down into a kiss. He lets it wipe his mind clean and clear.]
I don't struggle with those things when I'm with you. [Cy gives him the space and security to leave everything that has ever hurt him at the door.] But I can't say that... if I went back, they wouldn't return to me. It might be difficult.
[Would he simply pretend that he has not been irrevocably changed by this man in order to function in his own world? He doesn't know.]
I'm interested in what you said, but — nothing so intense as what we've tried, if that makes sense. I don't know that I want to dominate you in the same way as you've done to me. Can we begin more simply?
（ his hand slips to the back of sasuke's head, feathers through his hair and falls away. he folds both arms behind his own, fingers laced, and makes an inviting, sinuous stretch of himself, putting all that lean muscle on easy display. ）
Of course. There's a few things we could try — guessing you don't want to jump right into just dicking me down, yeah? — but something like intercrural is a good kinda intermediary step. Uh, it's — here, easiest to show you. （ excuse him while he just. manhandles you, actually?? cy pitches them both onto their sides, and nudges and prods sasuke until they're in a subtle parenthesis of positions, nested together in a curve of warm skin. they've had enough downtime, and his dick is basically a dousing rod when it comes to remote proximity to sasuke that it's easy to get himself half hard again with a few quick strokes — and then he pushes his cock between sasuke's thighs, and leans in to press a messy, open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder. ）
The harder you clench your thighs together, the better it feels. Not quite penetration, but it lets you get used to the way you need to move into it. （ there's a demonstrative flex of his hips, and a slow forward plunge of his cock. it's a little less comfortable without lube, but he's not really seeking any sort of gratification from it, only teaching. ） We could try it like this, or I could kinda sit sidesaddle in your lap.
[His eyes are drawn magnetically to that lean line of muscle, attraction toward Cy only chiseled further at the purposeful display — unprotesting as he's moved onto his side, faced forward, the word intercrural settling foreign and strange in his head until demonstrated. Then Sasuke sucks in a breath; his hand drops down, seeking the curve of Cy's hip. The feeling mimics penetration in its level of intimacy but doesn't fully emulate it. It's good, a drag of friction enough to fill out his cock quickly, and his thighs clench down on reflex.
That kiss wetly cooling on his shoulder, Sasuke turns to peer back through dark lashes.]
Won't you have more control if you're in my lap? [But...] It would be easier to kiss you that way.
[He's watching Cy — more intently now. Waiting, as if reined back, for discussion to conclude.]
I want to try it. I don't really care about the position.
（ a bit of a laugh, as cy just leans his forehead against sasuke's nape like a man seeking shelter from a storm. a hand skims sasuke's side, and then follows the curve of a rib bone to his sternum, palm pressed briefly over his heart.
it's harder not to say i love you than it would be to spill it like viscera into the open air, where the gore of the sentiment could write it into the bloody language of divination. cy has learned not to despair of love, because it's been anchor more than albatross, but sasuke needs time.
he presses a kiss to the seventh cervical vertebrae, and then — ）
Let's do it this way, then. Close to how I — please understand I am editing out obscenities for the sake of your modesty — dicked you down that first time. Because the romantic in me likes the symmetry.
It's fine, with you. We'll find our way back eventually.
[An assured promise given readily to those touches, to that kiss, to the whole fever-warm line of Cy against his back sealing their bodies together like a letter.]
... You don't need to preserve my modesty. By now, isn't it pointless? [Breath huffs from his lips, half-formed laughter of his own that never fully materializes. Sasuke begins to shift, an awkward squirm of limbs that attempts to rearrange them, to put himself on his left side so that his right arm can hook itself around Cy's hips.] I like it too — the symmetry.
[Somewhere in the shuffle, his mouth comes near enough to the smooth slope of Cy's shoulder that teeth nip at him. There's no pressure in the pinch; he's only thinking of all the times Cy has marked him.]
I mean, I was going to joke about plumbing the hitherto unknown depths of your anal cavity, but since you objected to that so strenuously last time...
（ he's hilarious. sorry about your taste in terrible men, sasuke. but he does let himself be shuffled about obligingly, responding to sasuke's touch and direction without an ounce of hesitation. the only thing he does is fling a hand out to the nightstand, casting about like a blind man until he tracks down the well-loved bottle of lube that almost certainly needs to be replaced by now. the remaining contents, lowly viscous, get shaken towards the cap and — mindful of sasuke's hand — he just does it himself, dumping its contents into his palm before he drops his hand between his legs, slicking his thighs to give sasuke an easier time of it. ）
En français, that'd be 'je veux être entre tes jambes'.
[The steady tone of his voice rapidly devolves, tucking in against Cy's spine with the intensity of a single-minded focus, eyes tracking movement as the bottle of lubricant is picked up and squeezed its last gasping breaths onto a hand, then smeared in the smooth valley between thighs. With a stutter, he takes hold of his own cock and nudges into that space, as shown and instructed. The settling comes in a drag of wet, slippery friction; he stuffs his mouth against the back of Cy's neck, exhaling humid air raggedly.]
Are you teaching me French? [The sound he makes is — darkly startled, disbelieving, amused.] Now?
[As his right hand slips lower and lays over a jutting hip, he digs his teeth in again at Cy's throat to communicate what he thinks about that.]
（ there is a theatrical little yelp of ow! at that bite, though it is by no means protest. ）
Yes. Is it working?
（ a flex of his thighs, a slight staggering of his knees tightens the enveloping space between the former. hips shift backwards, mimical of the ebb and flow of penetration, one hand reaching for sasuke to pull him in closer. ）
[Sasuke manages a little snarl, pulled closer, seeking the slick rub of friction between thighs. His own leg swings itself up and over both of Cy's in a forceful press — as if to demonstrate that he was listening, and he knows it will feel better in a tighter clench of muscle.]
That's not fair. [It comes out husky against Cy's neck.] I need to see your mouth when you speak it.
[With Sharingan, for memorization. It makes sense. Shush.
But he's more affected by the meaning of those words than he is trying to learn them, grinding hips with more persistence, the hard line of his cock riding up against the space between Cy's thighs, feeling the soft press of balls and the cleft of his ass in that delicious drag. It's a new sensation; the heat is overwhelming, wrapped like a glove, arm squeezing around Cy with enough strength to flex the toned bicep.]
... But, [in a breathy murmur] if you want to keep talking — I'm listening.
No you don't, cheater. Just listen. You can pick it up without your fancy eyes if you pay attention.
（ sasuke shifts, pulling himself closer by any means necessary, as if he could crowd out all but atoms between the press and flux of their bodies. the hot, wet slip of his cock isn't penetrative, but it's pleasurable — as much for the points of contact where sasuke's holding him as anything else. the strength of his thigh and the line of his arm where it falls across his chest. cy, obligingly, lifts his own so that sasuke doesn't have to navigate the tangle of limbs and lowers it again, covering sasuke's hand with the cup of his palm, wending their fingers together like a braid of ivy. ）
J'ai envie de toi means 'I want you'. Répète cela, repeat that.
[Cheater serves enough to motivate the voracious part of him willing to prove itself, clutching back at their laced fingers in its tether of comfort and reassurance, inhaling the scent of Cy from that place just at the nape of a neck where hairline ends and skin begins. He noses against it, kisses, scrapes teeth.
Splitting concentration between the cadence of Cy's words and the tight friction of thighs over his cock is difficult — but he tries. It means the rhythm of the eager, shallow thrusts he begins is sloppy and irregular.]
J'ai... [thickly accented, the consonants come a little slurred, pace a little stumbling, wanting to put sharper sounds where they don't exist in the moving, lyrical shape of the sentence,] envie de toi.
[Its sentiment doesn't need translation. I want you — punctuated on his next push, dragging up between Cy's thighs with a desperate exhale, precome a smear across the crown of his cock.]
（ his tone is soft, appreciative and warm even as he pushes back against sasuke's forward thrusts, steadying and regulating the rhythm with easy, practiced guidance. his other arm is halfly trapped beneath him, but not so much that he can't squirm about until he can hook his other hand against sasuke's elbow, thusly holding onto him by two points of contact as if he were something by which cy could anchor himself to the present. ）
Go ahead and bite me. It's okay if it's hard — healing, remember?
（ he peels sasuke's hand away from his chest, guides it upwards and kisses his hand along the path of calloused fingers to their tips. his grasp slips down to sasuke's wrist, and in a mirror of what he's done now with sasuke several times, he takes two of the boy's fingers into his mouth, a scrape of teeth against the rough knuckles, and hollows out his cheeks with a slow, sensual suck. ）
[The encouragement is a potent salve, steeping in his system as he's held onto, as focus slips into those blurry corners where pleasure takes over and he becomes almost mindless in his drive toward release, fucking Cy's thighs with that climbing need. My good boy — Sasuke feels like he becomes a little desperate hearing that, the ownership impressed upon that phrase soon writing itself under his skin until he's hot everywhere, aching, close to the edge.
New and sudden sensation of his fingers in Cy's mouth only uproots him further. It mimics how it feels to have Cy's lips around his cock, sucking at him skillfully; hips stutter in their rhythm, wound up in that dual wetness between Cy's legs and on his tongue.]
Cy... [ragged, obedient to the urge, wanting to mark Cy as much as he's been marked in turn — teeth dig down on flesh at the tender nape of a neck. A fierce pinch, messy and almost feral in his desire. He tastes the brief flavor of metal and salt before it's gone in the laving of a tongue, flesh healed in an instant. His breath pants humidly over the flawless spot. Frustration makes him bite again, though not so hard this time as to draw blood, voice bent out of his throat in a hoarse murmur.] Cy. I want you.
[Maybe he says it in French. Maybe it's translated. He can't tell, too bleary in those moments before orgasm, latched on desperately to Cy's body — and then coming, soaking Cy's thighs as that pace falters, slows, every muscle shivering.]
（ pain holds nothing for him — it's not a turn-on, it's not something that well and truly drives him. it doesn't put him in the moment or anchor him to his body. but — the difference here is the love. it's not a panacea, exactly. it doesn't act as a fulcrum upon which pain and pleasure balance. but it transmutes the meaning for him — a step back from pain viewed from the lens of a body that is built to take abuse, and into the realm of one for whom acts of service reign paramount. enduring it, ultimately, costs him nothing. but the twitching interest of his cock, half-stirred to arousal, is in spite of the ache and not because of it.
the bite heals, is soothed, is repeated without the same force, and cy closes his teeth against sasuke's fingers just a little. not a warning — just the physical act of acknowledgement, and when sasuke repeats the words in a dizzying jumble of language, intermarried utterance that starts french and ends japanese he makes a soft sound, a moan around the boy's fingers that feels like it was unmoored from behind his navel.
sasuke spills his release in a wet splatter between his thighs, and even here he's driven to overstimulate him, a firmer flex of his thighs as he shifts his hips obscenely, making sure that sasuke's softening cock is deliberately cradled by the mess.
he pulls sasuke's fingers from his mouth, kisses his knuckles, his palm, the pulse-point at his wrist. ）
Fuck me, you're so fucking hot. How'd that feel for you?
（ not just physically — but emotionally, psychologically. ）
[He resurfaces slowly from that haze past pleasure, rubbing his face against the warm skin at the back of Cy's neck — shuddering hard through the too-sensitive drag of wet friction across his cock as it softens in the shelter of thighs, a weak noise of unmeant protest. Cy's praise rolls over him, meted out with that physical affection across his knuckles, palm, wrist, each spot tingling where those kisses land.
Another aftershock jolts him, and he tries to pry himself from between Cy's legs before he's tormented further.]
I feel good. [And how far they've come, for him to state this so plainly. He feels connected, close to Cy, demonstrated in the nuzzling as his hand tries to slip lower down Cy's body, palm flat at the sternum and lower on the man's abdomen, fingers searching for his cock. It's a curious touch — but a desiring one, too, because he wants to make Cy feel as good as he does.] It's not fair, though. That I can't leave any marks on you the way you can with me.
[A petulant huff matches a tone implying no seriousness, because it's not Cy's fault.]
（ he lets sasuke withdraw with a soft laugh, and then just slings his arm backwards over the boy, the touch bracing more than restrictive. ）
I know, I know. Trust me, my kingdom for a hickey.
（ it's been all he's ever known for so long, he isn't sure if he ever grieved the lack of it or if the pervasive sadness of that lack of intimate connection is just something he carries on its own merits. he's considered on more than one occasion if his own love for leaving marks is due to the fact they can't be left on him in turn.
but that level of deep contemplation has meant that he's come up with a few ideas over the years.
sasuke gropes downward for his cock, which frees up his hand — it's an easy thing, then, to lift his arm up and bite the edge of his thumb bloody. from there, his left forearm is raised and with an effortless flourish he paints the character that sasuke so often uses to represent himself with on the network: 火 against the smooth skin of its inside.
the wound, of course, heals only moments after serving as an impromptu source of ink — but the blood lingers in a ruddy smear, and he holds his arm aloft, halfly over his shoulder to offer sasuke an order: ）
[Mismatched eyes snap to the bloody etching of a symbol almost as soon as Cy has begun to write it out, attention narrowed, watching. The effect it has on him is profound enough to make him utterly still, at once softened and inflamed by the gesture Cy demonstrates. There's little delay in his obedience; lips form a tight circle, blowing a thin stream of air over the blood to help it cool and stain in the drying.
Something settles in him, seeing the mark. He knows it will come off in their next shower. But it is more permanent than anything else he can leave on the man, and the fact that Cy has done it so readily for him engraves a deeper satisfaction. A more vibrant need temporarily met.
Mind decided, he sits upright and smoothly rearranges himself, nudging Cy onto a flat back and straddling the man's waist in a familiar perch. He is deliberate in sitting not across Cy's thighs, but higher, weight on Cy's hips — because he wants to feel Cy's cock tucked under the seat of his ass, even if it isn't fully hard. The intimacy and the suggestion are enough.
Then he lifts his right hand, teeth biting his own thumb with a quick and practiced gesture — the skin of that place has been bitten enough times to show scarring from it, but not too severely for how shallow a wound it is. Scrawled in a delicate smear, this time in the slope where Cy's ribs come together: うちは.]
（ he feels more than sees it, the narrowing of that focus like the apex of light in a pinhole camara that inverts the visible world. that inversion is still present in him when sasuke slings a leg over him and settles across his hips, a deliberate shift that slots his dick against the cleft of his ass. there's a heightening of interest that fills out his cock, and he drops a palm down against sasuke's thigh, pushing him in a soft, slow grind that's almost more casually than wilfully intimate.
his eyes, however, are on sasuke's, the contact broken only when the boy looks down and writes a series of characters in hiragana. the sentiment of it does not surprise him. it couldn't, after everything, but his breath does hitch faintly when he realizes what's written. there's something achingly soft in his expression, as if he were a man standing in a childhood home for the last time, knowing that when he steps across the threshold he will never return to all that was loved and lost within those walls.
but still, despite the gesture he still tuts faintly and reaches for sasuke's hand, laving the negligible hurt with his tongue. once he's satisfied, he doesn't quite let him escape — just slips his hand to the boy's wrist, encircling it with his own hand. his index finger and thumb overlap broadly, and even though sasuke is neither small nor delicate — dizzyingly — he seems so in the moment. then the moment is gone, and cy nuzzles in against his palm. ）
[He's caught in that look, bending beneath it like a reed in water to blow air across blood-marked skin without losing Cy's eyes. It should terrify him, that meaning — but he is too certain to feel anything but rightness, and the terror comes from recognition more than mere existence. As if to speak it will dash it away. Writing in this temporary way, perhaps, is safer, because they'll lose the evidence. But that doesn't mean that it wasn't once there: a private confession of sentiment he dares not say aloud.
Cy's tongue is wet over the miniscule wound, and then as the grip changes he cups a warm cheek and considers how to respond. What he's told Cy already has not carried much detail; he could say plenty about Konoha, its people, the Hokage. He could tell Cy what his world was like before his clan was wiped from the face of history in one broad stroke. Yet none of these feel true enough — the word home comes with an opaque sense of loss, and only now is he realizing why.]
It was lonely. [This is the truth.] After my clan was gone, the village officials left the compound — where we were living separated from the rest of the citizenry — intact. It was... a ghost town, or a graveyard, without any people. They cleared the bodies quickly but there were still signs of what happened everywhere. I visited often, but I didn't live there. I had a small apartment on my own. I went to school and I came back. Most days, I spoke to no one.
[His head droops forward, fringe of dark hair falling into his eyes as his gaze slips down Cy's body. He stares at those red characters, his own family name staring back.]
Eventually I left the village. And then there was a battle, and the compound was destroyed. When I saw it again, everything was buried in rubble, and I knew it wasn't going to be rebuilt. To me, it was... almost a kind of permanency, that those ruined structures wiped away the last evidence my clan was ever there at all.
I was in prison for a year after I returned. Once I was finally released, I couldn't stay. [His voice — falters at these words, some piece of vulnerability broken off as shoulders lose their shape and round slightly forward, unconsciously closer.] I no longer belonged. Everything was gone. I'm not certain that I had felt it was my home since I was eight years old. It was — Naruto. He was the only reason.
[It has weighed on him, this sense of responsibility. He's only alive because of Naruto. To protect that future Naruto had promised.]
... I don't know that I would go back now. [And this, his voice lowers to admit, tangled in shame.] I want to know that he's alive, and safe. But it isn't my home anymore.
（ he's weathered more heartbreak than this. but of those things he has the benefit of distance and time, and hearing this is raw in its newness to him and nearness to sasuke both. the words spill out of sasuke the way blood fountains from an arterial rupture, and he's a decade too late to have staunched it. now, he can only do little things: he pulls sasuke in against him until he's bent at the hips and flush against his chest with the name of a clan that's almost extinct cooling in the blood of its final scion between them.
it was lonely, he says. cy so very rarely reaches for anger, but it splinters at the shards of his awareness there. there were so many points of failure in his life, so many people who should have known better, so many hands that impressed only cruelty upon him. it's the first he's heard of jailed for a year, and the fucking marvel of sasuke being in any way sane, capable of expressing tenderness and care even sheltered in the space between them is — it's remarkable, but it's awful that it's remarkable because someone, at some point, should have fucking cared.
his arms lift, and close around sasuke's shoulders like the promise of a lock built to safeguard some precious wonder, and he just. holds him for a time, without trying to speak. existence is a strange spark of a thing when it is sheltered only between bodies, in breath and in blood. ）
[He folds himself in against Cy with no effort, starved for the security those arms provide in a way that is difficult to fully acknowledge. Easier to tuck his head in against Cy's shoulder, to smell the familiar scent of his skin and hair — and, slowly, to let go of the memories that have resurfaced with this retelling.
There's only one way to answer what Cy asks him then.]
I don't know. [As close as he is, he seems to try to be closer, pressing in tighter, those bloody characters sealed between them.] I thought I did. I would wander the world for some time and come to terms with myself, with being alive — I would atone, protect what Naruto had created after the war, and then I'd return. I'd find a woman. We would have children.
[Faltering, a stumble in the way his breath hitches.]
I don't believe that I want that anymore. But I don't know.
[The only thing he wants is here against him, and Sasuke's heart trips faster at the thought, too fearful. It's too heavy, means too much.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The nuzzle, backed by that reassurance, further calms him.]
It's hard to imagine you as submissive. Even if I did try to use that sort of language on you, would you actually enjoy it? [Cy's pleasure matters to him too.] ... I remember one of the first times we spoke, I said that I would be more dominant than submissive. I believed it. I can imagine myself behaving that way, too, but I don't know that it would have been — a good thing.
[The way he struggles with himself, the guilt he feels at the idea of hurting others...]
I suppose I would have had to learn to be more like you. How you exercise control, safely.
no subject
Ah, that language wouldn't necessarily be about dominance or submission. You can be dominant and still wanna get knocked up, or fantasize about it. But I do struggle with submission. It's funny — I think I probably was once? I don't have a strong impression of who I was before — （ well, they don't need to get into that, but — ） but I remember who I was during it all, and I... that weakness, that cowardice, it took me a long time to be kind to myself, to recognize that my reaction was about survival, that it wasn't just... weak, to be broken. I hated how deeply and completely I was changed by someone else's cruelty. Sometimes I still struggle with that, feeling like I'm just something someone else made.
（ sasuke, he knows, will understand that sentiment better than most. ）
My response to that trauma was to reach for control with both hands and hold it. Surrendering that is... fucking hard. It's actually easier for me with strangers — it's not like I seek it out, but if I'm teaching or something — because submission is no longer a natural state for me, but they don't know that, so I can come at it from the angle of being what's needed in the moment. But with people who've seen me, who know me... it's harder to relax because the fear that surrendering that control is going to get them hurt is always, always there.
（ fear has informed so much of his life for so long, a constant low-grade feverbright burn in the back of his mind. he's not sure who he'd be if he were to wake up one day and find it excised. ）
It's not about being vulnerable. I'd give that part of myself to you without hesitation, you know? But it makes the fear louder. Having control is what quiets it, because I get to tell myself never again.
no subject
Every time he hears about who Cy used to be and compares it to who he is now, it deepens that channel of affection, of understanding and respect. And the ache of sadness, of course, that is always there.]
If you want to do it with me, [the words spill out of his mouth like an errant sigh,] I'll take care of you. I promise.
[He picks his head up to look at Cy, wanting eye contact — evidence for how important he feels this is to communicate.]
I don't mean right now, but someday in the future. It's okay if you're afraid. I am too.
no subject
（ he lets sasuke peel himself back enough to make eye contact, and it's returned with unflinching steadiness and a slight smile. one hand lifts, and is set against sasuke's cheek. ）
But in terms of submission, it wouldn't really be about me. It's not something I'm into for its own sake, or something that I'd get psychological or physical pleasure out of. If you want to try your hand at being dominant, I'd help you and it wouldn't cost me anything or take anything from me — I need you to understand I wouldn't agree to it against my will — but it'd be because you wanted it, that's what would make it special and worthwhile to me. What would bring me pleasure and pride would be seeing you be confident and self-assured and happy, practicing the things you've learned from me. Even if the fear is there.
（ his thumb worries at the jut of sasuke's cheekbone, and then hooks behind his jaw to tug him down for another kiss, this one pressed softly against his forehead. ）
Honestly, watching you step outside of all that fucking — oppressive cultural shame and fear and uncertainty just to stand with me on equal ground has been pretty near the single best act of service anyone's ever given me. You need to know that, too.
no subject
Sasuke shudders, that touch reeling him down into a kiss. He lets it wipe his mind clean and clear.]
I don't struggle with those things when I'm with you. [Cy gives him the space and security to leave everything that has ever hurt him at the door.] But I can't say that... if I went back, they wouldn't return to me. It might be difficult.
[Would he simply pretend that he has not been irrevocably changed by this man in order to function in his own world? He doesn't know.]
I'm interested in what you said, but — nothing so intense as what we've tried, if that makes sense. I don't know that I want to dominate you in the same way as you've done to me. Can we begin more simply?
no subject
Of course. There's a few things we could try — guessing you don't want to jump right into just dicking me down, yeah? — but something like intercrural is a good kinda intermediary step. Uh, it's — here, easiest to show you. （ excuse him while he just. manhandles you, actually?? cy pitches them both onto their sides, and nudges and prods sasuke until they're in a subtle parenthesis of positions, nested together in a curve of warm skin. they've had enough downtime, and his dick is basically a dousing rod when it comes to remote proximity to sasuke that it's easy to get himself half hard again with a few quick strokes — and then he pushes his cock between sasuke's thighs, and leans in to press a messy, open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder. ）
The harder you clench your thighs together, the better it feels. Not quite penetration, but it lets you get used to the way you need to move into it. （ there's a demonstrative flex of his hips, and a slow forward plunge of his cock. it's a little less comfortable without lube, but he's not really seeking any sort of gratification from it, only teaching. ） We could try it like this, or I could kinda sit sidesaddle in your lap.
no subject
That kiss wetly cooling on his shoulder, Sasuke turns to peer back through dark lashes.]
Won't you have more control if you're in my lap? [But...] It would be easier to kiss you that way.
[He's watching Cy — more intently now. Waiting, as if reined back, for discussion to conclude.]
I want to try it. I don't really care about the position.
no subject
（ a bit of a laugh, as cy just leans his forehead against sasuke's nape like a man seeking shelter from a storm. a hand skims sasuke's side, and then follows the curve of a rib bone to his sternum, palm pressed briefly over his heart.
it's harder not to say i love you than it would be to spill it like viscera into the open air, where the gore of the sentiment could write it into the bloody language of divination. cy has learned not to despair of love, because it's been anchor more than albatross, but sasuke needs time.
he presses a kiss to the seventh cervical vertebrae, and then — ）
Let's do it this way, then. Close to how I — please understand I am editing out obscenities for the sake of your modesty — dicked you down that first time. Because the romantic in me likes the symmetry.
no subject
[An assured promise given readily to those touches, to that kiss, to the whole fever-warm line of Cy against his back sealing their bodies together like a letter.]
... You don't need to preserve my modesty. By now, isn't it pointless? [Breath huffs from his lips, half-formed laughter of his own that never fully materializes. Sasuke begins to shift, an awkward squirm of limbs that attempts to rearrange them, to put himself on his left side so that his right arm can hook itself around Cy's hips.] I like it too — the symmetry.
[Somewhere in the shuffle, his mouth comes near enough to the smooth slope of Cy's shoulder that teeth nip at him. There's no pressure in the pinch; he's only thinking of all the times Cy has marked him.]
I want to be between your legs.
no subject
（ he's hilarious. sorry about your taste in terrible men, sasuke. but he does let himself be shuffled about obligingly, responding to sasuke's touch and direction without an ounce of hesitation. the only thing he does is fling a hand out to the nightstand, casting about like a blind man until he tracks down the well-loved bottle of lube that almost certainly needs to be replaced by now. the remaining contents, lowly viscous, get shaken towards the cap and — mindful of sasuke's hand — he just does it himself, dumping its contents into his palm before he drops his hand between his legs, slicking his thighs to give sasuke an easier time of it. ）
En français, that'd be 'je veux être entre tes jambes'.
no subject
[The steady tone of his voice rapidly devolves, tucking in against Cy's spine with the intensity of a single-minded focus, eyes tracking movement as the bottle of lubricant is picked up and squeezed its last gasping breaths onto a hand, then smeared in the smooth valley between thighs. With a stutter, he takes hold of his own cock and nudges into that space, as shown and instructed. The settling comes in a drag of wet, slippery friction; he stuffs his mouth against the back of Cy's neck, exhaling humid air raggedly.]
Are you teaching me French? [The sound he makes is — darkly startled, disbelieving, amused.] Now?
[As his right hand slips lower and lays over a jutting hip, he digs his teeth in again at Cy's throat to communicate what he thinks about that.]
no subject
Yes. Is it working?
（ a flex of his thighs, a slight staggering of his knees tightens the enveloping space between the former. hips shift backwards, mimical of the ebb and flow of penetration, one hand reaching for sasuke to pull him in closer. ）
Ta bite te fait du bien — 'your cock feels good'.
no subject
That's not fair. [It comes out husky against Cy's neck.] I need to see your mouth when you speak it.
[With Sharingan, for memorization. It makes sense. Shush.
But he's more affected by the meaning of those words than he is trying to learn them, grinding hips with more persistence, the hard line of his cock riding up against the space between Cy's thighs, feeling the soft press of balls and the cleft of his ass in that delicious drag. It's a new sensation; the heat is overwhelming, wrapped like a glove, arm squeezing around Cy with enough strength to flex the toned bicep.]
... But, [in a breathy murmur] if you want to keep talking — I'm listening.
no subject
（ sasuke shifts, pulling himself closer by any means necessary, as if he could crowd out all but atoms between the press and flux of their bodies. the hot, wet slip of his cock isn't penetrative, but it's pleasurable — as much for the points of contact where sasuke's holding him as anything else. the strength of his thigh and the line of his arm where it falls across his chest. cy, obligingly, lifts his own so that sasuke doesn't have to navigate the tangle of limbs and lowers it again, covering sasuke's hand with the cup of his palm, wending their fingers together like a braid of ivy. ）
J'ai envie de toi means 'I want you'. Répète cela, repeat that.
no subject
Splitting concentration between the cadence of Cy's words and the tight friction of thighs over his cock is difficult — but he tries. It means the rhythm of the eager, shallow thrusts he begins is sloppy and irregular.]
J'ai... [thickly accented, the consonants come a little slurred, pace a little stumbling, wanting to put sharper sounds where they don't exist in the moving, lyrical shape of the sentence,] envie de toi.
[Its sentiment doesn't need translation. I want you — punctuated on his next push, dragging up between Cy's thighs with a desperate exhale, precome a smear across the crown of his cock.]
no subject
（ his tone is soft, appreciative and warm even as he pushes back against sasuke's forward thrusts, steadying and regulating the rhythm with easy, practiced guidance. his other arm is halfly trapped beneath him, but not so much that he can't squirm about until he can hook his other hand against sasuke's elbow, thusly holding onto him by two points of contact as if he were something by which cy could anchor himself to the present. ）
Go ahead and bite me. It's okay if it's hard — healing, remember?
（ he peels sasuke's hand away from his chest, guides it upwards and kisses his hand along the path of calloused fingers to their tips. his grasp slips down to sasuke's wrist, and in a mirror of what he's done now with sasuke several times, he takes two of the boy's fingers into his mouth, a scrape of teeth against the rough knuckles, and hollows out his cheeks with a slow, sensual suck. ）
no subject
New and sudden sensation of his fingers in Cy's mouth only uproots him further. It mimics how it feels to have Cy's lips around his cock, sucking at him skillfully; hips stutter in their rhythm, wound up in that dual wetness between Cy's legs and on his tongue.]
Cy... [ragged, obedient to the urge, wanting to mark Cy as much as he's been marked in turn — teeth dig down on flesh at the tender nape of a neck. A fierce pinch, messy and almost feral in his desire. He tastes the brief flavor of metal and salt before it's gone in the laving of a tongue, flesh healed in an instant. His breath pants humidly over the flawless spot. Frustration makes him bite again, though not so hard this time as to draw blood, voice bent out of his throat in a hoarse murmur.] Cy. I want you.
[Maybe he says it in French. Maybe it's translated. He can't tell, too bleary in those moments before orgasm, latched on desperately to Cy's body — and then coming, soaking Cy's thighs as that pace falters, slows, every muscle shivering.]
no subject
the bite heals, is soothed, is repeated without the same force, and cy closes his teeth against sasuke's fingers just a little. not a warning — just the physical act of acknowledgement, and when sasuke repeats the words in a dizzying jumble of language, intermarried utterance that starts french and ends japanese he makes a soft sound, a moan around the boy's fingers that feels like it was unmoored from behind his navel.
sasuke spills his release in a wet splatter between his thighs, and even here he's driven to overstimulate him, a firmer flex of his thighs as he shifts his hips obscenely, making sure that sasuke's softening cock is deliberately cradled by the mess.
he pulls sasuke's fingers from his mouth, kisses his knuckles, his palm, the pulse-point at his wrist. ）
Fuck me, you're so fucking hot. How'd that feel for you?
（ not just physically — but emotionally, psychologically. ）
no subject
Another aftershock jolts him, and he tries to pry himself from between Cy's legs before he's tormented further.]
I feel good. [And how far they've come, for him to state this so plainly. He feels connected, close to Cy, demonstrated in the nuzzling as his hand tries to slip lower down Cy's body, palm flat at the sternum and lower on the man's abdomen, fingers searching for his cock. It's a curious touch — but a desiring one, too, because he wants to make Cy feel as good as he does.] It's not fair, though. That I can't leave any marks on you the way you can with me.
[A petulant huff matches a tone implying no seriousness, because it's not Cy's fault.]
I want everyone to know you're mine.
no subject
I know, I know. Trust me, my kingdom for a hickey.
（ it's been all he's ever known for so long, he isn't sure if he ever grieved the lack of it or if the pervasive sadness of that lack of intimate connection is just something he carries on its own merits. he's considered on more than one occasion if his own love for leaving marks is due to the fact they can't be left on him in turn.
but that level of deep contemplation has meant that he's come up with a few ideas over the years.
sasuke gropes downward for his cock, which frees up his hand — it's an easy thing, then, to lift his arm up and bite the edge of his thumb bloody. from there, his left forearm is raised and with an effortless flourish he paints the character that sasuke so often uses to represent himself with on the network: 火 against the smooth skin of its inside.
the wound, of course, heals only moments after serving as an impromptu source of ink — but the blood lingers in a ruddy smear, and he holds his arm aloft, halfly over his shoulder to offer sasuke an order: ）
Blow.
no subject
Something settles in him, seeing the mark. He knows it will come off in their next shower. But it is more permanent than anything else he can leave on the man, and the fact that Cy has done it so readily for him engraves a deeper satisfaction. A more vibrant need temporarily met.
Mind decided, he sits upright and smoothly rearranges himself, nudging Cy onto a flat back and straddling the man's waist in a familiar perch. He is deliberate in sitting not across Cy's thighs, but higher, weight on Cy's hips — because he wants to feel Cy's cock tucked under the seat of his ass, even if it isn't fully hard. The intimacy and the suggestion are enough.
Then he lifts his right hand, teeth biting his own thumb with a quick and practiced gesture — the skin of that place has been bitten enough times to show scarring from it, but not too severely for how shallow a wound it is. Scrawled in a delicate smear, this time in the slope where Cy's ribs come together: うちは.]
no subject
his eyes, however, are on sasuke's, the contact broken only when the boy looks down and writes a series of characters in hiragana. the sentiment of it does not surprise him. it couldn't, after everything, but his breath does hitch faintly when he realizes what's written. there's something achingly soft in his expression, as if he were a man standing in a childhood home for the last time, knowing that when he steps across the threshold he will never return to all that was loved and lost within those walls.
but still, despite the gesture he still tuts faintly and reaches for sasuke's hand, laving the negligible hurt with his tongue. once he's satisfied, he doesn't quite let him escape — just slips his hand to the boy's wrist, encircling it with his own hand. his index finger and thumb overlap broadly, and even though sasuke is neither small nor delicate — dizzyingly — he seems so in the moment. then the moment is gone, and cy nuzzles in against his palm. ）
Tell me about your home.
no subject
Cy's tongue is wet over the miniscule wound, and then as the grip changes he cups a warm cheek and considers how to respond. What he's told Cy already has not carried much detail; he could say plenty about Konoha, its people, the Hokage. He could tell Cy what his world was like before his clan was wiped from the face of history in one broad stroke. Yet none of these feel true enough — the word home comes with an opaque sense of loss, and only now is he realizing why.]
It was lonely. [This is the truth.] After my clan was gone, the village officials left the compound — where we were living separated from the rest of the citizenry — intact. It was... a ghost town, or a graveyard, without any people. They cleared the bodies quickly but there were still signs of what happened everywhere. I visited often, but I didn't live there. I had a small apartment on my own. I went to school and I came back. Most days, I spoke to no one.
[His head droops forward, fringe of dark hair falling into his eyes as his gaze slips down Cy's body. He stares at those red characters, his own family name staring back.]
Eventually I left the village. And then there was a battle, and the compound was destroyed. When I saw it again, everything was buried in rubble, and I knew it wasn't going to be rebuilt. To me, it was... almost a kind of permanency, that those ruined structures wiped away the last evidence my clan was ever there at all.
I was in prison for a year after I returned. Once I was finally released, I couldn't stay. [His voice — falters at these words, some piece of vulnerability broken off as shoulders lose their shape and round slightly forward, unconsciously closer.] I no longer belonged. Everything was gone. I'm not certain that I had felt it was my home since I was eight years old. It was — Naruto. He was the only reason.
[It has weighed on him, this sense of responsibility. He's only alive because of Naruto. To protect that future Naruto had promised.]
... I don't know that I would go back now. [And this, his voice lowers to admit, tangled in shame.] I want to know that he's alive, and safe. But it isn't my home anymore.
no subject
it was lonely, he says. cy so very rarely reaches for anger, but it splinters at the shards of his awareness there. there were so many points of failure in his life, so many people who should have known better, so many hands that impressed only cruelty upon him. it's the first he's heard of jailed for a year, and the fucking marvel of sasuke being in any way sane, capable of expressing tenderness and care even sheltered in the space between them is — it's remarkable, but it's awful that it's remarkable because someone, at some point, should have fucking cared.
his arms lift, and close around sasuke's shoulders like the promise of a lock built to safeguard some precious wonder, and he just. holds him for a time, without trying to speak. existence is a strange spark of a thing when it is sheltered only between bodies, in breath and in blood. ）
So, tell me about the one you'd like to build.
（ not what was. what is, what could be. ）
no subject
There's only one way to answer what Cy asks him then.]
I don't know. [As close as he is, he seems to try to be closer, pressing in tighter, those bloody characters sealed between them.] I thought I did. I would wander the world for some time and come to terms with myself, with being alive — I would atone, protect what Naruto had created after the war, and then I'd return. I'd find a woman. We would have children.
[Faltering, a stumble in the way his breath hitches.]
I don't believe that I want that anymore. But I don't know.
[The only thing he wants is here against him, and Sasuke's heart trips faster at the thought, too fearful. It's too heavy, means too much.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
we were overdue a freakout i guess
this is so tame for an uchiha freakout he hasn't tried to sew bits of cy to his tiddy yet
i mean. i guess i can put that on the list.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: rape-play mention
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)