[That expression of emotion has meaning too. He won't forget it, or how much it matters to see Cy showing it freely — too accustomed to a world where sentiment is weakness better buried, better concealed, and in the case of his own clan outright dangerous. So as Cy sets those kisses down, he returns with one of his own, claiming the man's mouth in a brief, bold seal.]
Yes. [After untangling their embrace, he seeks Cy's hand once more to lead him along.] If you want to. I can show you where I used to live.
[He won't say it will be easy. He hasn't seen the Uchiha compound himself in years, and it has a — powerful effect on him, even laid within memory like some eternal monument untouched by time, no detail lost in the sightline of Sharingan. As they approach that outer boundary, Cy will be able to see the crest of the Uchiha clan emblazoned on a wall for the first time, the red-and-white painted fan an insignia that naturally draws the eye.]
Our symbol. A fire needs wind to become stronger and more powerful, and a fan creates that wind.
[Itachi once told him this, when he was a child first learning the footsteps of legacy he would follow and eventually outpace.]
（ the symbol catches his eye — cy may be, before almost anything else, a mathematician — but what is math if not the foundational art of the universe? there is a simplicity and beauty to the numeracy of everything known and unknown that is older than everything but atoms.
but the paper fan... he'll remember it. he'll try to. as long as he can carry it. like the other little details of sasuke he's tucked away like precious things, more worth in knowing that as a boy he once sat desolate in the ruin of a garden with plants pulled up around him than in all the gems and jewellery in all the worlds he's ever set foot on. ）
I want to see it all. Whatever you're comfortable showing me.
（ he knows each stone tells a story. he knows, too, that at some point they'll walk past a place where the body of a kinsman fell. ten years is not enough time to put that to rest, given how grief is nested alongside love, inseparably entwined in the core of who he is. but sasuke would not take him here, nor show him these things if he didn't wish to. there is importance in visiting graves and in old homes. ）
[Cy is right. There is no road to walk without trespassing on the final resting place of one of his clansmen. All of them were killed here — in the open, fighting back, or hiding within the privacy of their homes. Their deaths are irrevocably burned into his mind, such that as he navigates the path inward, he sees it all around him again, slumped bodies and vacant faces and so much blood. His hand only tightens on Cy's, weathering this, ensuring that what they view now in the illusion of the Sharingan is the quiet serenity of a neighborhood beneath the noon-day sun.
There are shopfronts arrayed down the center street, where once his aunts and uncles were busy at work, calling out to him as he would run past on the return from school. Those places look desolate now, empty and hollow, strange as skeletons in the severe shadow created by bright daylight. Sasuke is silent the entire way; it is the bereavement of what was lost, but also a reverence and respect for the dead, that keeps him from speaking.
Eventually, their walking takes them to the home he remembers. They pass through a wooden gate. A plain footpath leads to the single-story house, an engawa wrapped around the outer walls bridging manmade structure to gardens — a koi pond, hanging paper lanterns, a stone pagoda, hakone grass, a sōzu, small fenced-in plots for crops. There are summer flowers in bloom, a colorful flurry of hydrangea and camellia and osmanthus, fragrant scents brooding in the open air. It is not an excessively large house, but clearly elevated in a display of status as head of the clan.
He gently tows Cy with him, up onto the back porch, and then stands there looking into the garden with his head slightly bowed, hair slipping into eyes.]
（ cy crowds in close. in the strictest sense, he can't use his body as a shield here — but if there is a moment when sasuke's hand tightens on his, or when a step seems to stutter past a certain place where the fall of a body might have once held ground — those are the times that cy lifts their hands to press a kiss to his knuckles, or butts his head down against sasuke's own, gentle and grounding.
there is beauty here, but he can't say the parallels to aikelyk settle the soul. whether it's some reedy thread of sasuke's own feelings on the matter buoyed up under the illusion, or his own experiences with places of death and violence, but it's not entirely unlike setting foot on hallowed ground.
like sasuke, he does not try to speak. when they reach the house that's built out with that much more detail, that much more love — he knows. home. and as they stand on the engawa, cy settles an arm around sasuke's shoulders and pulls him close. ）
It's beautiful.
（ sasuke does not need to tell him that he's never shown anyone else this place like this. some things can simply be known. the scent of the flowers suffuses the air, the gentle sound from the ponds and the deer-scarer that clacks rhythmically as it fills and empties, fills and empties.
he wants to go inside. but instead, he just sits down at the edge of the porch, tugging sasuke down with him, in against him. so they can overlook the beautiful yard and its gardens and its swimming koi, and while away time. ）
[Without protest he goes down onto the wooden porch, settling comfortably into Cy's body like territory charted and well-known, physical affection a buffer against the emotion that subdues him now in its endless tide. He doesn't know how long they stay there, but it's enough to feel as if the angle of light has changed — its yellow cast slanted through trees, shadows softening at the edges. If only a change in the weave of illusion, it feels real. He can pretend they're truly here together for a moment.
Then finally Sasuke stands, sliding open the shoji screen at their backs, hand coaxing Cy with him in order to lead their path inside. Almost without thinking he sheds his shoes. The house is cool and quiet, outdoor noises a gentle ambience through the open screen. He does not spend much time navigating through the greater rooms, in particular avoids one that remains closed — and it may be only a trick of the light, a wrinkle in the Sharingan's veil, but the door to that rooms seems darker, further away, burdened by an old scar of grief and kept purposefully out of the sunshine.
They pass through the kitchen, the hall that had once seemed endlessly long to him — and find themselves in a child's bedroom, everything tidily kept. Motes of dust look golden in the light spilling in through a half-curtained window. A green dinosaur watches them from atop the bed with beady black eyes.]
（ he sheds his shoes when sasuke does, and follows him with a silence that speaks truth to millennia of ease in this body, a dancer's grace in every easy step. while aware of that distant, darkened door — it holds no curiosity for him, and does not draw the eye. he can infer the meaning in the space between sunlit rooms.
he told sasuke: he knew early on that this story was not a happy one.
but the bedroom is brighter, and he has to duck a little under the door that's not meant to accommodate someone his size. most houses in japan are like that — one of the reasons he hasn't spent much time there in earnest. funny little similarities, these ties of language and architecture and cultural nuance.
there is an ache in him that settles and cools like molten glass, something that takes the shape of love drawn through fire — because as an engineer, as an architect, as someone who has spent so much of his life around people, this room tells a story. it's tidied by a child's hands, cleaned by a mother's. the bed has few adornments save that little toy. the colours are the sort of neutral that suits children best when they are expected to be seen and not heard.
the loneliness, he thinks, had its genesis here. it started here long before this house became a tomb, became rubble, became something ploughed under and grown over. he stands in the centre of it for a long time, silent. just letting the space press in around him, against him. holding sasuke's hand in a tight knit of their fingers. ）
I begin to see why you don't vibe with my messy room.
（ the words are meant to be light — and they are, but there's a tenderness laid just beneath them, foundational, that cannot be missed. ）
[The lightness draws him from that quiet reverie, and his attention turns itself wholly onto Cy, an unconscious part of him glad to be fished from the painful steep of nostalgia. He steps in, pressing lips to the curve of the man's jaw where stubble grazes. The tactile sensation is grounding.]
That's not the only reason. I don't like the thought of you living that way.
[No matter the differences of nature, of becoming — he sees the constellations of loneliness in Cy, too. To have lived so long, losing everyone who ever mattered, until even the grains of that memory were wiped by time.]
You take care of me well. [The words are a murmur, resting his cheek against Cy's shoulder.] But I want to do the same for you.
（ he shifts away from sasuke only to approach the bed. the little dinosaur gets picked up and turned over in his hands. it's the first thing he's actually interacted with, in the context of this illusion — and he's almost charmed to find there's a real weight and heft behind it, at least as his brain interprets it. ）
The god of dreams has a similar power. Hers is stronger — she's the only real god left, I barely even count compared to her, and she's taken on a lot of power to keep the universe functional, so she's... you could throw everyone with powers here in the Casino at her, and she'd swat them all like flies, so trust me when I say that's not a slight against you. But her and I used to talk like this, when it was the only way we could stay concealed from Kulo Vayn.
（ it was the only merciful thing given over to him in that long, thousand years. those moments of reprieve, where he was not forced into abject awareness of what his body, his hands were enacting. iantha would bring his consciousness to her realm, and she would build dreamscapes for him. places of peace and stillness and silence. the one she favoured was a subterranean pool of saltwater, buoyant and warm, and he remembers trying to drown himself in it, and her hand at his nape as she fished him out and told him softly that she could not permit him to die even in dreams. ）
It's more a feeling than an innate knowledge. I feel like I could... （ he sucks at his teeth with a considering sound. ） put my hand into it and pull at the seams until it gives. But some of that is probably because you warned me, and some of that is probably KV's power at work, resisting any sort of mental tampering.
[Curiosity rises — as it always does on the subject of power, or the mystery of it, even if he harbors no tender feelings for the god in question knowing what she did to Cy. Perhaps it is his own arrogance, but he does not think himself below Iantha except by the fact that he is mortal and she is not. Naturally it draws his thoughts to Kaguya.
Sasuke says none of this, centered back on the man in front of him, more important than idle considerations about who or what holds the fabric of the universe together. He'd rather be with Cy, here and now.]
As I said, I didn't go deep enough to get anywhere close to Kulo Vayn, but... I could sense it. Something else in there, taking up space. Something dark. [He follows, sitting to Cy's left.] You might be able to, though. Undo it. There's a way to disengage the illusion of genjutsu, but usually it takes intensive training or outside aid. I have a feeling you would have an advantage. Also, this is the first time that I've — created an illusion like this, one that isn't useful for battle. [Sentimental, strictly.] So that may help.
（ he is going to very carefully set i could sense something else in there taking up space out of his mind. if he examines the intimation too long, he'll have to fight down a slurry of terror as it tips him into dark waters, and he — doesn't want to go there. later, he can review the statement and fall apart. here and now, though: ）
Your first time, huh?
（ yes, perhaps it's possessive of him — but he likes that it is. he wants as many of sasuke's firsts as he can seize in both hands, and he hasn't exactly made a secret of that. ）
（ sasuke stop being cute actually when your boyfriend wants to bang in front of your dinosaur toy??? ）
Hey.
（ cy reaches up, letting a soft brush of his fingers turn sasuke to look at him more fully. ）
You can say no. （ he no longer says that quite so often with sasuke, which is perhaps the main indication that what he's about to suggest is new to them both, but — ） But if you're up to give it a try here, I want you inside me.
（ sasuke fully controls this world. it's not immediately physical, and there's nothing that can really be done wrong here, in the safety and shelter of their minds. and so too is it an expression of the trust they harbour in all the negative spaces between them, the fact that cy would give himself over to a sexual act in this way. it's not submission — he's detailed the reasons why he would struggle with that — but it is a clarion-clear declaration of love. ）
Might need to make the bed a bit bigger with your magic brain shit, but. You know. Option's there.
Cy's words have an indelible effect on him, always, but this feels more than that — the gentleness of it, the implication of what Cy means. Affection surges, formed into that ache of love he's come to recognize and acknowledge despite the fear intrinsic to its existence. There is an intensity to the way he looks at Cy — a tilt that leans into the touch, head turned enough that he can graze those fingertips with cool lips.]
I've wanted to try that for a while now. [Leaning forward, he presses his brow in against Cy's own in brief intimacy.] So, yes.
[A gentle withdrawal, up and out of Cy's space as he stands and goes to the wood paneling of the wall where storage is kept hidden. He seeks a bundle of futon bedding and blankets, pulling everything out in a tumble, the effort half-effective with only one arm.]
（ cy helps him with a soft, settled eagerness and once it's laid out on the floor, covered in sheets and soft blankets, he lets himself drop down onto it, grasping at sasuke's hand to pull him too. ）
Do we need lube here? Can I just imagine it really hard?
It doesn't work like that. You're not the one controlling the illusion.
[There's amusement on his face, a fond smile bringing color and lightness to someone who shows it so rarely. He lets that hand pull him down into a sprawl on the futon.]
If I chose, I could just... [and with a calculated movement, he rolls on top of Cy,] have you naked and ready to take me in the span of a moment. But it's not what I want. I'd rather undress you, then prepare you myself.
[His tone is low, soft — less seductive than it is basking in the intimacy of this allowance. Not submission, but an act of service, clearing all of the darker shadows from this place of hallowed ground, creating love in what once was a grave. Cy is unbearably handsome to him on the white bedding in a slant of warm summer sunlight; he bends down to steal another kiss, then sits upright and begins divesting Cy of his clothes.]
Reach under your pillow.
[There's a little curve to his lips — like a child that thinks they've done something clever in the playing of a prank — because Cy will uncover a bottle of lubricant.]
（ he does it with a leer, already guessing what he'll find — and his fingers close on a bottle that's twin to the one he first used on sasuke it gets a soft gust of laughter out of him. ）
You're such a brat.
（ he lets himself be undressed, though he lets sasuke take point on it. where he could help by lifting his hips or shifting, he does so minimally — enjoying not only being handled, but the act of letting himself be so.
once he is thoroughly naked and not the least bit ashamed or troubled by it, he waggles the bottle of lube enticingly in one hand and then pops the cap off, gesturing for sasuke to come thither so he can pour some into his palm. ）
I've got the relaxation part down pat, as an FYI, so I don't need much prep. Not that I wouldn't enjoy you taking your time to lovingly work me open, but — you know. Much keener on taking your dick as a general rule. （ a playful lift of his eyebrows. ） Well, how do you want me, Uchiha? You're driving this one.
[Unlike past exchanges where Cy remained dressed while he was naked, here Sasuke wants to feel the frictive intimacy of skin on skin — shedding his own clothing with less care and more urgency, a strip that is all economical movement made of toned muscle. The enticement is met with a kiss, pleased even as Cy calls him a brat, palm lifted to accept a liberal squeeze of lubricant.]
I'll do some, at least. I want to feel you on my fingers.
[The direct words are meaningful in their intensity — because while this may be happening in a complex mental illusion, there is newness to it, sanctity in the indulgence of such pleasure where before only pain and fear and violence had existed.]
Sit on my lap. It's harder for me to balance when I'm above you. [Once he doesn't need his hand, it'll be easier, but for now he sits back, mismatched eyes watching Cy with undisguised heat.] ... And kiss me.
（ cy laughs warmly, and obeys unhesitatingly, getting to his knees so that he can arrange himself across sasuke's thighs, his own spread open and without tension. he lets sasuke take and support his weight, aware of and trusting to the fact he can, and wraps his arms around sasuke's shoulders. he does kiss him, and deeply — like he's trying to drink the air from his lungs in an inward press of his tongue. he rides up against sasuke in a flex of his thighs, his cock already halfly hard where it drags against sasuke's midsection in a messy smear of precome.
playfully: ）
Yessir.
（ it's said with stolen air, cheeky, as he leans back in. sasuke is welcome to finger him all he likes — but cy is going to take that order to heart, biting at his bottom lip, kissing the pale column of his throat, a thousand tiny sparks of connection, each imbued with more love than the last. ）
[There's a levity that relinquishes the strangling hold of grief on him since the veil of genjutsu had fallen over them. Sasuke melts into the kiss, and while he doesn't forget where they are — it's changed, slightly, feeling Cy's weight in his lap and the hot drag of that cock against his abdomen. The severity of this distilled memory is softened by degrees.
With Cy's cheeky comment, he bites back at a lower lip, a reprimand that does no damage but communicates some of that play in physical language.]
I don't hate how that sounds.
[Mostly a jest, as fingers slicked with lubricant drift into the furrow of cheeks, finding Cy's hole — rubbing across the entrance of his body, mimicking a tease of penetration done to him beneath Cy's hand countless times. The breach of index and middle fingers is an easy slide, one and then the other, luxuriating in the stretch of muscle that closes over knuckles. As promised, there's little resistance, but he doesn't shy aware from the indulgence of dragging in and out a few times just to feel the yield of Cy's body.]
That is because you're a brat, （ he drops a kiss against the bridge of sasuke's nose, relishing in that little show of playful affection. ）sir.
（ he rolls his hips into the penetration, but there's nearly no tension in him that isn't directly related to the fact he's using the flex of his thighs to keep himself tucked in close against sasuke, nuzzling at his temple, holding onto him through the slip of sasuke's fingers. ）
I'm not super big on prostate play — I'm one of those guys that finds it more intense than super pleasurable — so while I'm not saying don't go for it, just don't go ham on it, wouldn't be my thing.
（ he doesn't mind weathering a little overstimulation for sasuke especially, but it's really not the aim for him. he wants sasuke inside of him, wants that closeness and connection more than any amount of physical pleasure alone. ）
[Sasuke finds that he likes learning these preferences, more pieces of Cy that he can collect and possess and shelter against time. It's difficult to nuzzle into Cy's shoulder with their heights positioned this way, so — he simply presses his face against Cy's chest and rubs his cheek like an overly affectionate cat. Though he doesn't mind hearing sir, it doesn't raze a path of lust through him the way it does when he's the one saying it, or when Cy is calling him slut and whore.
Perhaps he's learning about himself, too.]
All right.
[He spends time fingering Cy less as an act of necessity to loosen him up — given there's little need — and more for the intimacy of it, the newness, enjoying that tight clench around scarred knuckles and imagining how it will feel once he's fully inside. Sex has become so much more to him than the resort seems to proclaim, with Cy. It isn't a fun game, it isn't a trivial pursuit of gratification, and without the circumstances of their situation he would feel no need to sleep with anyone else. He just wants this, for the rest of his life. Beyond time.
Sensitive to Cy's words, he doesn't seek out a prostate and pay it excessive attention, merely explores, and strokes, and lets his fingers slip in a loosely relaxed rhythm for touch more than the hurried chase of lust. Then his hand withdraws, fishing for the lubricant to apply it to his own cock — the motions careful, yet betraying an urgency that comes in quickened breath. His voice is low, adoring, but retains that intense directness as an arm comes to encircle Cy's hips.]
（ another time, perhaps, he would take this chance to tease — he'd tell sasuke to specify the it he's referring to. but that failed attempt at walking him through masturbation isn't far from his mind, and sasuke's frustration at not being able to talk like he does sits similarly along these things they learn, and know, and cherish between them.
so he doesn't try. he just listens, and obeys, reaching down for the slick, hard line of sasuke's cock. he works his hand once down the shaft in a loving caress before he seats the head of it against his hole and eases down, eyes falling closed at the first breach of the thicker head. he knows himself and his body with the weight of millennia behind it — and so taking sasuke in is done smoothly, in one drawn-out spear of motion that leaves them flush against one another. his hips rock into it, aching for just a little more, a little deeper — and when he's satisfied he lets out a breath in a pleased tangle of noise that's not unlike a sound someone might make sinking aching muscles into a hot bath.
his cock twitches in a guttering stir of interest, pressed against sasuke's belly — but for all the arousal suffused in him now, the more important thing is to lean back just enough that he can see sasuke's eyes, red and violet tones in a dizzying swirl, and kiss him again. ）
I love you. （ said again, plain and unadorned. sentiment seems to swell him at the seams — if he could say nothing else aloud for the rest of sasuke's life, let him say that. ） And I'm grateful you brought me here and shared this part of yourself with me. （ he pushes sasuke's hair back from his forehead so he can see his eyes more clearly. then: ） Let me be worthy of your trust until the heat death of the universe, sweetheart.
（ it's plea, and prayer, and promise. sealed with another kiss, and bracketed by another flex of his thighs as he lifts himself just slightly, and settles back down deep. ）
[The heat is an overwhelming intensity. Air rushes out of his chest as soon as Cy lowers down, movement as graceful as everything else done in such an ancient, artful body. It feels — almost feverish, a feature of physiology magnified by the squeeze of pressure as Sasuke's cock sinks into him, met with no resistance in that one slow, certain slide. The rock of hips drives a sharp hiss of noise from Sasuke — his arm tightens where it has cinched around Cy's narrow waist, force behind strength that would be bruising on anyone else except for this man. They've connected in so many ways, physical and emotional and now mental, yet it seems that each time is an exercise in his own restraint because of the outpour of affection threatening to flood. And maybe it is worse with practice, or maybe it is better tempered; Sasuke doesn't know. All he knows is that he's far past the point of return. He wouldn't survive it.
He can feel Cy's dick as it rubs against his belly, but before he can pursue any kind of friction, those eyes fasten onto his own, fringe of hair swept away to better allow the shared look. And those words. He's undone, vulnerability bared like the break of a wave on rocks, features furrowed with the depth of how that makes him feel.
He chases that kiss like the signature of a letter, final — and then another, and another. That tease of a thrust does nothing but stoke hunger fed by confessional love. With their lips still sealed together, unwilling to part, he uses the strength of one arm to repeat the motion, pulling Cy slightly off his lap only to grind up into him, feeling the shallow roll of tightness from Cy's ass sheathed all the way to the base of his cock.
It's not enough. Unfathomably desperate, he pivots weight forward and delivers Cy backwards onto the futon in a spill, arm kept where it is — using it to set the angle of Cy's hips so they are tilted up off bedding to accept the next thrust, harder and fuller, withdrawing the whole length of his cock and driving it into Cy as deep as it can be taken. He does this again, rhythm and pace set by urgency in the continued kisses, their bodies pressed as close together as he can manage in this position. Vowing words come strung somewhere between the slick separation of lips: I love you and I'll never leave you.]
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Yes. [After untangling their embrace, he seeks Cy's hand once more to lead him along.] If you want to. I can show you where I used to live.
[He won't say it will be easy. He hasn't seen the Uchiha compound himself in years, and it has a — powerful effect on him, even laid within memory like some eternal monument untouched by time, no detail lost in the sightline of Sharingan. As they approach that outer boundary, Cy will be able to see the crest of the Uchiha clan emblazoned on a wall for the first time, the red-and-white painted fan an insignia that naturally draws the eye.]
Our symbol. A fire needs wind to become stronger and more powerful, and a fan creates that wind.
[Itachi once told him this, when he was a child first learning the footsteps of legacy he would follow and eventually outpace.]
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（ the symbol catches his eye — cy may be, before almost anything else, a mathematician — but what is math if not the foundational art of the universe? there is a simplicity and beauty to the numeracy of everything known and unknown that is older than everything but atoms.
but the paper fan... he'll remember it. he'll try to. as long as he can carry it. like the other little details of sasuke he's tucked away like precious things, more worth in knowing that as a boy he once sat desolate in the ruin of a garden with plants pulled up around him than in all the gems and jewellery in all the worlds he's ever set foot on. ）
I want to see it all. Whatever you're comfortable showing me.
（ he knows each stone tells a story. he knows, too, that at some point they'll walk past a place where the body of a kinsman fell. ten years is not enough time to put that to rest, given how grief is nested alongside love, inseparably entwined in the core of who he is. but sasuke would not take him here, nor show him these things if he didn't wish to. there is importance in visiting graves and in old homes. ）
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There are shopfronts arrayed down the center street, where once his aunts and uncles were busy at work, calling out to him as he would run past on the return from school. Those places look desolate now, empty and hollow, strange as skeletons in the severe shadow created by bright daylight. Sasuke is silent the entire way; it is the bereavement of what was lost, but also a reverence and respect for the dead, that keeps him from speaking.
Eventually, their walking takes them to the home he remembers. They pass through a wooden gate. A plain footpath leads to the single-story house, an engawa wrapped around the outer walls bridging manmade structure to gardens — a koi pond, hanging paper lanterns, a stone pagoda, hakone grass, a sōzu, small fenced-in plots for crops. There are summer flowers in bloom, a colorful flurry of hydrangea and camellia and osmanthus, fragrant scents brooding in the open air. It is not an excessively large house, but clearly elevated in a display of status as head of the clan.
He gently tows Cy with him, up onto the back porch, and then stands there looking into the garden with his head slightly bowed, hair slipping into eyes.]
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there is beauty here, but he can't say the parallels to aikelyk settle the soul. whether it's some reedy thread of sasuke's own feelings on the matter buoyed up under the illusion, or his own experiences with places of death and violence, but it's not entirely unlike setting foot on hallowed ground.
like sasuke, he does not try to speak. when they reach the house that's built out with that much more detail, that much more love — he knows. home. and as they stand on the engawa, cy settles an arm around sasuke's shoulders and pulls him close. ）
It's beautiful.
（ sasuke does not need to tell him that he's never shown anyone else this place like this. some things can simply be known. the scent of the flowers suffuses the air, the gentle sound from the ponds and the deer-scarer that clacks rhythmically as it fills and empties, fills and empties.
he wants to go inside. but instead, he just sits down at the edge of the porch, tugging sasuke down with him, in against him. so they can overlook the beautiful yard and its gardens and its swimming koi, and while away time. ）
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Then finally Sasuke stands, sliding open the shoji screen at their backs, hand coaxing Cy with him in order to lead their path inside. Almost without thinking he sheds his shoes. The house is cool and quiet, outdoor noises a gentle ambience through the open screen. He does not spend much time navigating through the greater rooms, in particular avoids one that remains closed — and it may be only a trick of the light, a wrinkle in the Sharingan's veil, but the door to that rooms seems darker, further away, burdened by an old scar of grief and kept purposefully out of the sunshine.
They pass through the kitchen, the hall that had once seemed endlessly long to him — and find themselves in a child's bedroom, everything tidily kept. Motes of dust look golden in the light spilling in through a half-curtained window. A green dinosaur watches them from atop the bed with beady black eyes.]
... This was mine.
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he told sasuke: he knew early on that this story was not a happy one.
but the bedroom is brighter, and he has to duck a little under the door that's not meant to accommodate someone his size. most houses in japan are like that — one of the reasons he hasn't spent much time there in earnest. funny little similarities, these ties of language and architecture and cultural nuance.
there is an ache in him that settles and cools like molten glass, something that takes the shape of love drawn through fire — because as an engineer, as an architect, as someone who has spent so much of his life around people, this room tells a story. it's tidied by a child's hands, cleaned by a mother's. the bed has few adornments save that little toy. the colours are the sort of neutral that suits children best when they are expected to be seen and not heard.
the loneliness, he thinks, had its genesis here. it started here long before this house became a tomb, became rubble, became something ploughed under and grown over. he stands in the centre of it for a long time, silent. just letting the space press in around him, against him. holding sasuke's hand in a tight knit of their fingers. ）
I begin to see why you don't vibe with my messy room.
（ the words are meant to be light — and they are, but there's a tenderness laid just beneath them, foundational, that cannot be missed. ）
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That's not the only reason. I don't like the thought of you living that way.
[No matter the differences of nature, of becoming — he sees the constellations of loneliness in Cy, too. To have lived so long, losing everyone who ever mattered, until even the grains of that memory were wiped by time.]
You take care of me well. [The words are a murmur, resting his cheek against Cy's shoulder.] But I want to do the same for you.
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（ his arms come up and wrap around sasuke's shoulders, the intimacy coming as naturally as a breath. ）
You're good for me in a way I've forgotten people could be good for me.
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Then I'll make sure you remember, as long as possible.
[As long as Cy will have him. He'll do whatever it takes to stay at his side; no cost is too high.]
Can you tell that this is an illusion? I didn't ask before.
cw: suicidality
（ he shifts away from sasuke only to approach the bed. the little dinosaur gets picked up and turned over in his hands. it's the first thing he's actually interacted with, in the context of this illusion — and he's almost charmed to find there's a real weight and heft behind it, at least as his brain interprets it. ）
The god of dreams has a similar power. Hers is stronger — she's the only real god left, I barely even count compared to her, and she's taken on a lot of power to keep the universe functional, so she's... you could throw everyone with powers here in the Casino at her, and she'd swat them all like flies, so trust me when I say that's not a slight against you. But her and I used to talk like this, when it was the only way we could stay concealed from Kulo Vayn.
（ it was the only merciful thing given over to him in that long, thousand years. those moments of reprieve, where he was not forced into abject awareness of what his body, his hands were enacting. iantha would bring his consciousness to her realm, and she would build dreamscapes for him. places of peace and stillness and silence. the one she favoured was a subterranean pool of saltwater, buoyant and warm, and he remembers trying to drown himself in it, and her hand at his nape as she fished him out and told him softly that she could not permit him to die even in dreams. ）
It's more a feeling than an innate knowledge. I feel like I could... （ he sucks at his teeth with a considering sound. ） put my hand into it and pull at the seams until it gives. But some of that is probably because you warned me, and some of that is probably KV's power at work, resisting any sort of mental tampering.
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[Curiosity rises — as it always does on the subject of power, or the mystery of it, even if he harbors no tender feelings for the god in question knowing what she did to Cy. Perhaps it is his own arrogance, but he does not think himself below Iantha except by the fact that he is mortal and she is not. Naturally it draws his thoughts to Kaguya.
Sasuke says none of this, centered back on the man in front of him, more important than idle considerations about who or what holds the fabric of the universe together. He'd rather be with Cy, here and now.]
As I said, I didn't go deep enough to get anywhere close to Kulo Vayn, but... I could sense it. Something else in there, taking up space. Something dark. [He follows, sitting to Cy's left.] You might be able to, though. Undo it. There's a way to disengage the illusion of genjutsu, but usually it takes intensive training or outside aid. I have a feeling you would have an advantage. Also, this is the first time that I've — created an illusion like this, one that isn't useful for battle. [Sentimental, strictly.] So that may help.
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Your first time, huh?
（ yes, perhaps it's possessive of him — but he likes that it is. he wants as many of sasuke's firsts as he can seize in both hands, and he hasn't exactly made a secret of that. ）
You wanna go for another first here?
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Did you have something in mind?
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Hey.
（ cy reaches up, letting a soft brush of his fingers turn sasuke to look at him more fully. ）
You can say no. （ he no longer says that quite so often with sasuke, which is perhaps the main indication that what he's about to suggest is new to them both, but — ） But if you're up to give it a try here, I want you inside me.
（ sasuke fully controls this world. it's not immediately physical, and there's nothing that can really be done wrong here, in the safety and shelter of their minds. and so too is it an expression of the trust they harbour in all the negative spaces between them, the fact that cy would give himself over to a sexual act in this way. it's not submission — he's detailed the reasons why he would struggle with that — but it is a clarion-clear declaration of love. ）
Might need to make the bed a bit bigger with your magic brain shit, but. You know. Option's there.
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Cy's words have an indelible effect on him, always, but this feels more than that — the gentleness of it, the implication of what Cy means. Affection surges, formed into that ache of love he's come to recognize and acknowledge despite the fear intrinsic to its existence. There is an intensity to the way he looks at Cy — a tilt that leans into the touch, head turned enough that he can graze those fingertips with cool lips.]
I've wanted to try that for a while now. [Leaning forward, he presses his brow in against Cy's own in brief intimacy.] So, yes.
[A gentle withdrawal, up and out of Cy's space as he stands and goes to the wood paneling of the wall where storage is kept hidden. He seeks a bundle of futon bedding and blankets, pulling everything out in a tumble, the effort half-effective with only one arm.]
This might be easier. Help me set it up?
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Do we need lube here? Can I just imagine it really hard?
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[There's amusement on his face, a fond smile bringing color and lightness to someone who shows it so rarely. He lets that hand pull him down into a sprawl on the futon.]
If I chose, I could just... [and with a calculated movement, he rolls on top of Cy,] have you naked and ready to take me in the span of a moment. But it's not what I want. I'd rather undress you, then prepare you myself.
[His tone is low, soft — less seductive than it is basking in the intimacy of this allowance. Not submission, but an act of service, clearing all of the darker shadows from this place of hallowed ground, creating love in what once was a grave. Cy is unbearably handsome to him on the white bedding in a slant of warm summer sunlight; he bends down to steal another kiss, then sits upright and begins divesting Cy of his clothes.]
Reach under your pillow.
[There's a little curve to his lips — like a child that thinks they've done something clever in the playing of a prank — because Cy will uncover a bottle of lubricant.]
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You're such a brat.
（ he lets himself be undressed, though he lets sasuke take point on it. where he could help by lifting his hips or shifting, he does so minimally — enjoying not only being handled, but the act of letting himself be so.
once he is thoroughly naked and not the least bit ashamed or troubled by it, he waggles the bottle of lube enticingly in one hand and then pops the cap off, gesturing for sasuke to come thither so he can pour some into his palm. ）
I've got the relaxation part down pat, as an FYI, so I don't need much prep. Not that I wouldn't enjoy you taking your time to lovingly work me open, but — you know. Much keener on taking your dick as a general rule. （ a playful lift of his eyebrows. ） Well, how do you want me, Uchiha? You're driving this one.
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I'll do some, at least. I want to feel you on my fingers.
[The direct words are meaningful in their intensity — because while this may be happening in a complex mental illusion, there is newness to it, sanctity in the indulgence of such pleasure where before only pain and fear and violence had existed.]
Sit on my lap. It's harder for me to balance when I'm above you. [Once he doesn't need his hand, it'll be easier, but for now he sits back, mismatched eyes watching Cy with undisguised heat.] ... And kiss me.
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playfully: ）
Yessir.
（ it's said with stolen air, cheeky, as he leans back in. sasuke is welcome to finger him all he likes — but cy is going to take that order to heart, biting at his bottom lip, kissing the pale column of his throat, a thousand tiny sparks of connection, each imbued with more love than the last. ）
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With Cy's cheeky comment, he bites back at a lower lip, a reprimand that does no damage but communicates some of that play in physical language.]
I don't hate how that sounds.
[Mostly a jest, as fingers slicked with lubricant drift into the furrow of cheeks, finding Cy's hole — rubbing across the entrance of his body, mimicking a tease of penetration done to him beneath Cy's hand countless times. The breach of index and middle fingers is an easy slide, one and then the other, luxuriating in the stretch of muscle that closes over knuckles. As promised, there's little resistance, but he doesn't shy aware from the indulgence of dragging in and out a few times just to feel the yield of Cy's body.]
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（ he rolls his hips into the penetration, but there's nearly no tension in him that isn't directly related to the fact he's using the flex of his thighs to keep himself tucked in close against sasuke, nuzzling at his temple, holding onto him through the slip of sasuke's fingers. ）
I'm not super big on prostate play — I'm one of those guys that finds it more intense than super pleasurable — so while I'm not saying don't go for it, just don't go ham on it, wouldn't be my thing.
（ he doesn't mind weathering a little overstimulation for sasuke especially, but it's really not the aim for him. he wants sasuke inside of him, wants that closeness and connection more than any amount of physical pleasure alone. ）
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Perhaps he's learning about himself, too.]
All right.
[He spends time fingering Cy less as an act of necessity to loosen him up — given there's little need — and more for the intimacy of it, the newness, enjoying that tight clench around scarred knuckles and imagining how it will feel once he's fully inside. Sex has become so much more to him than the resort seems to proclaim, with Cy. It isn't a fun game, it isn't a trivial pursuit of gratification, and without the circumstances of their situation he would feel no need to sleep with anyone else. He just wants this, for the rest of his life. Beyond time.
Sensitive to Cy's words, he doesn't seek out a prostate and pay it excessive attention, merely explores, and strokes, and lets his fingers slip in a loosely relaxed rhythm for touch more than the hurried chase of lust. Then his hand withdraws, fishing for the lubricant to apply it to his own cock — the motions careful, yet betraying an urgency that comes in quickened breath. His voice is low, adoring, but retains that intense directness as an arm comes to encircle Cy's hips.]
Put it in. I want you to do it yourself.
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so he doesn't try. he just listens, and obeys, reaching down for the slick, hard line of sasuke's cock. he works his hand once down the shaft in a loving caress before he seats the head of it against his hole and eases down, eyes falling closed at the first breach of the thicker head. he knows himself and his body with the weight of millennia behind it — and so taking sasuke in is done smoothly, in one drawn-out spear of motion that leaves them flush against one another. his hips rock into it, aching for just a little more, a little deeper — and when he's satisfied he lets out a breath in a pleased tangle of noise that's not unlike a sound someone might make sinking aching muscles into a hot bath.
his cock twitches in a guttering stir of interest, pressed against sasuke's belly — but for all the arousal suffused in him now, the more important thing is to lean back just enough that he can see sasuke's eyes, red and violet tones in a dizzying swirl, and kiss him again. ）
I love you. （ said again, plain and unadorned. sentiment seems to swell him at the seams — if he could say nothing else aloud for the rest of sasuke's life, let him say that. ） And I'm grateful you brought me here and shared this part of yourself with me. （ he pushes sasuke's hair back from his forehead so he can see his eyes more clearly. then: ） Let me be worthy of your trust until the heat death of the universe, sweetheart.
（ it's plea, and prayer, and promise. sealed with another kiss, and bracketed by another flex of his thighs as he lifts himself just slightly, and settles back down deep. ）
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He can feel Cy's dick as it rubs against his belly, but before he can pursue any kind of friction, those eyes fasten onto his own, fringe of hair swept away to better allow the shared look. And those words. He's undone, vulnerability bared like the break of a wave on rocks, features furrowed with the depth of how that makes him feel.
He chases that kiss like the signature of a letter, final — and then another, and another. That tease of a thrust does nothing but stoke hunger fed by confessional love. With their lips still sealed together, unwilling to part, he uses the strength of one arm to repeat the motion, pulling Cy slightly off his lap only to grind up into him, feeling the shallow roll of tightness from Cy's ass sheathed all the way to the base of his cock.
It's not enough. Unfathomably desperate, he pivots weight forward and delivers Cy backwards onto the futon in a spill, arm kept where it is — using it to set the angle of Cy's hips so they are tilted up off bedding to accept the next thrust, harder and fuller, withdrawing the whole length of his cock and driving it into Cy as deep as it can be taken. He does this again, rhythm and pace set by urgency in the continued kisses, their bodies pressed as close together as he can manage in this position. Vowing words come strung somewhere between the slick separation of lips: I love you and I'll never leave you.]
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[crazy intensifies]
it's okay they're both weird tbh
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talking about trauma during sex the cysuke way
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(fade to marathon sex + collars + probably sasuke crying again)