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[hallowing]

@torontonian

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[chokuto]

[It's a high he chases — earning that quiet sound from Cy, validation in the moan even as it devolves into another breath. There's no resistance to how he is directed; he coaxes his jaw to slacken, not to clench, lips a messy seal over teeth and tongue pressed down flat in his mouth to allow the rhythm of that slide. The last time, Sasuke had demonstrated an aggressive effort in getting Cy off, wanting to feel the hot rush down his throat as he applied himself to the act of sucking cock for the first time. It was untempered, undisciplined, driven by the desire to draw pleasure out of this man alongside the ever-desperate need to prove he is worthy.

Now there is something else he wants. And he's come this far trusting Cy, that scaffolded foundation allowing him to temporarily put down the reins of control he's constructed to survive. The knees that cradle him are a mirrored reflection of its sentiment; he will be held, supported. A counterpoint to the filth of words leaving Cy's mouth — making it easier for Sasuke to slip into this role. To kneel there, between Cy's legs, with hot mouth open for use.

The right hand he's braced on the bed lifts, and he shakes the bell. Harder.]

[hallowing]

（ the hand cradling sasuke's head nudges him back, until his mouth comes off his cock and all he can feel is the hot gust of air from the boy's swollen lips, stained red with the stretch. cy just looks at him a moment, letting eye contact be the thing that knifes between them — and once he's satisfied, once he's found what he wanted to in sasuke's mismatched eyes, he mouths the words thank you, and then —

lets his hand slip to a slightly different position, thumb hooked in one corner of sasuke's mouth where he forces the boy's jaw wide, long fingers pressed to the line of his jaw where the mandible curves, digging in against the bone. then he drags him forward by both that grip, and a firmer hold on the little chain, coiling the slack of it into his left hand so that now there is no hope of the pressure abating, no release from the sensation that now bites so cruelly at sasuke's nipples.

true to his word, sasuke will find himself held, forced to take cy as deeply as he can. and cy will keep him there with that indomitable grip, until the first signs of involuntary airless panic begin to surface — desperate twitches even sasuke's discipline can't stifle before he permits brief respite. sasuke is allowed to breath once in a gasping shudder of breath, and then the forward pull is redoubled.

but cy is keeping an eye on sasuke's hand, on how he holds the bell, on the story his expression and eyes will tell — more focused here on him now than on the stifling warmth of the boy's mouth as it envelops his cock, the way he can feel the head of his dick rubbing against the ridges at the roof of the mouth, and then enveloped by a tight reflexive clench at the back of the throat — it feels fucking divine, but they're still here with a goal. ）

Three more. Then close your eyes and take my come like the dirty little whore you are.

（ his voice is rough, silk dragged over broken glass — but entirely in control. ）

[chokuto]

[The eye contact, the gratitude expressed in silent words — it carries him into that rougher transition of handling as his jaw is taken, mouth pried wider, chain a taut line that jolts electricity to tender nerves, skin sorely red where each clamp has pinched in ceaseless pressure and built to a throbbing ache. His focus splits down the middle, half between the torment of the chain and half to his own open mouth, head pulled forward to take the first merciless push of Cy's cock.

It fills his throat to the brim in a burning slide, the thicker crown sealing the passage of air in a tight tuck of pressure. He senses his own body's rebellion; his nostrils flare, a desperate inhalation that does little to offset the sensation of fullness, the choke that threatens to seize him against steeled self-discipline. Held, and then the relent — beholden to Cy's mercy as he swallows a wet breath before the next push, Cy's dick so heavy on his tongue and so deep that he can't even taste it.

Three more, he's promised. They become a blur on the boundary of pleasure and pain — his mind wiped clean to the feeling of it, jaw an ache to keep flexed as wide as he can take it. Tears gather in dark lashes that flicker from the strain of letting his throat be fucked with such ruthlessness; saliva leaks from the corner of his mouth, caught in gossamer strings on Cy's cock when it slips loose between the count of one, then two, then three. He hears himself make some ragged, gasping, choking sound on the final push that is obscene to his own ears, and he's glad to close damp eyes. Glad to wait, face turned up, mouth and cheeks an abused shade of red.

The bell never chimes.]

[hallowing]

（ sasuke just — takes it, pliant beneath the pull of his hand, the rough intrusion of his cock. his throat is open, accepting, the protest in the form of its spasms only happening when he starts that desperate struggle for oxygen.

that final sound is like a key slid into the lock of his arousal, and when he pushes the boy back it's with the first ropy strands of come painting his lips and then more fulsomely his face as cy steadies the jut of his cock with his left hand, the chain caught between his palm and the shaft as orgasm wrings a soft murmur of sound from him. his right hand slides to sasuke's hair and catches both it and a handful of the silk tie, holding him so he can't reflexively flinch away (or at least that is the suggestion in the strength of his grip) as he slips through the tremoring release and exhales in a gust.

sasuke's left a mess, come painting his mouth and cheeks, splashed against his lashes and across the bridge of his nose, and cy makes a murmur of approval, sweet praise that's become practiced and rote between them right now, and he leans down to gently palm at sasuke's cheek, not caring about the mess.

the chain is lowered gently until it simply hangs inert between the boy's nipples, and cy will be mindful of it in a moment, but — ）

Do you want a picture before I start cleaning you up, sweetheart? Same rules apply, you can see it and then I'll delete it for you.

[chokuto]

[The hand on his head is anchoring, keeps him present and rooted in the act, unable to pull away — as if it is anywhere in him to want that. His mouth is still slightly slack when he feels Cy's come on his face, a hot splash with a consistency like honey that glazes his cheeks, eyelids, nose, running down a sharp chin at the pull of gravity. He takes in a ragged breath, feeling the soreness of his throat as he leans into that familiar palm.

There's nothing to describe the sensation. It feels like being marked, something filthy and debasing about how he kneels with legs tucked under as he allows Cy to paint his skin. A reciprocated demonstration of what he'll do for Cy, and what Cy cares for him enough to do in turn. Unconsciously, Sasuke licks some of the smeared come off his lips where it tickles and tastes the bitter-salt flavor of it.]

Yes, I want to see.

[hallowing]

（ there's a soft acknowledging hum, and then a shift of movement — he draws his wrist back far enough to take a picture that captures both the facial and the way some of it's dripped down, and the sore reddened nipples pinched by clips. sasuke, as he sees it, is always fucking gorgeous — but there's something to be said for the elevated ethereality to his appearance at the moment.

photo taken, he murmurs a gentle warning before he starts tidying him up, making sure that none of the come will get into his eyes when he opens them. he uses the tail end of the scarf to do it, dampened with a bottle on his nightstand, eyes and lashes and anywhere remotely adjacent softly wiped away.

then: ）

Okay, you can open your eyes. Do you want to take the clamps off or clean your face first?

[chokuto]

[Once his eyes are clear, it is the same as last time — a flash of red in the right to preserve the mental picture before the permanent deletion. He cares less for the sight of himself than he does what it shows, and he wants to retain that image with clarity.

Then his gaze slants up, Sharingan still a vibrant glow, allowing himself to luxuriate in the moment of watching Cy, too. Because he does not want to forget this man or how he appeared, lounging on the bed, knees spread apart to accommodate the position. A soft sigh shifts out of Sasuke. Somehow, it makes him feel... tender, and he's tempted to climb up and into the man's arms, but he stays the urge.]

Face. It itches.

[And he doesn't mind the lingering ache of the clamps, especially as it distracts from his own cock, flushed dark with color from the strain of his own arousal.]

[hallowing]

（ and the picture is deleted without a moment's resistance. then there's a bit of a laugh — so practically blunt, this kid. rather than continue to use the silk, he considers where the face cloths are kept in the shared bathrooms and calls one to hand, dampens it obligingly and then tilts the boy's chin up with a gentle finger.

he hasn't asked too much about the disparity in his eyes. why one is red, and one a spiral offset by pale violet — but he assumes given the boy's claim about being able to extract or offer memories, that it has something to do with permanence. that's its own sort of aphrodisiac, knowing. ）

Since you asked so nicely. （ this is teasing, as sasuke really made more of an adorable demand, but hey. he does start very tenderly cleaning the rest of his skin in smooth, practiced motions that sweep the cooling come from first one cheek and then the other. the rest is daubed away where he finds it, including where it's ran down from his jaw to his throat, or dripped lower.

once sasuke is appropriately polished up, face still glistening with moisture, cy bats very gently at the tip of his nose with an unused but dampened edge of the cloth to denote his satisfaction with the cleaning. ）

Aight, c'mere. （ he offers his hand out to help sasuke up. he doesn't need assistance, but that's not the point. ） It'll hurt to take the clamps off, so I'll do it one at a time and give 'em some good ol' oral attention to gentle it.

[chokuto]

[There's pleasure even in these moments, gently wiped clean by the damp cloth in warm hands. If he wasn't still keyed up from the intoxication of his own arousal, he might have let it carry him off, soothed to the point of drowsiness. At the tap, Sasuke's mouth pulls — somewhere on the border of a pout. Yet he obeys, standing with aid of that hand and tucking himself neatly between those spread knees.]

It's the Sharingan that I'm using. In my eye. [Cy had not asked, but this time he feels safe enough to share, despite what it will say about his own sentimentalism.] It is... essentially a kind of photographic memory, so whoever has these eyes can view everything the Sharingan has seen with perfect recall.

[The wording is specific there, and he's certain Cy will know why.]

If you notice me using it with you, then it's only because I don't want to lose anything between us.

[hallowing]

（ his hand had been half-lifted, reaching for the chain, legs renewed in their circle around sasuke and primed to pull him closer. but that statement stops him dead, as frozen and unmoving as a statue for an unnatural span of heartbeats that, were he human, would seem terribly, terribly strange. like a clockwork simulacrum of a person that's simply wound down, and stopped.

his gaze is unfocused, directed at the sharp, elegant swoop of a collarbone, and then, without speaking, he pulls sasuke in wholly against him. relieving sasuke of those sharp pinpricks of pain is briefly forgotten, and instead what happens is —

cy tightens his arms around the boy, face pressed in against his chest. it isn't obvious he's crying until his shoulders shake. ）

[chokuto]

[If there's any shock in him to see Cy's reaction to his words, it is easily swept away and buried beneath the immediate impulse to comfort. His arm comes around the man's shoulders in a secure hold, pressing in until they're as close as they can feasibly achieve in this position — leaning a little to lay his head down on top of Cy's, cheek pressed into dark hair, inhaling the familiar smell of shampoo and soap.]

I'm here.

[It is like the realization of what he's witnessing from Cy reflects a mirror-image ache into his own chest; the affection is palpable, difficult to breathe past. The feeling, as it has been before, is terrifying. It could eat a hole straight through his heart, crawl in and make a bed, knitting himself interminably to this man. He has gone far past the point of dangerous into territory better unconsidered.

He lifts his right hand, eventually, and cradles the back of Cy's head as he waits for that shaking to subside.]

[hallowing]

（ it doesn't take him long. he's an old hand, you see, at pulling himself together against even an unexpected shattering. his arms stay tight around the boy, gripping at the opposite elbow.

(he's not really a person most days — just a collection of horror and hurt that have been stitched together by demonstrative love. and sometimes pulling the sutures taut takes an act of will, and sometimes it's done alone, and sometimes in the circle of someone's arms. while he knows which one he prefers, he knows equally as well which one he's taught himself to accept.)

he breathes out slow, bracing, and then: ）

Trying to get a few more minutes with the nipple clamps, I see.

（ for legal purposes this is a joke. ）

[chokuto]

[He doesn't draw back even after it seems that Cy has reached calm, and his quiet, understated laugh is smothered somewhere in a head of dark hair, breathy and easily missed. It is a bit of an awkward picture — tucked in against the front of the man's body, he's aware of the dull and nagging pinch of the clamps. It's simply easy for him to ignore the discomfort when that vulnerability in Cy calls him close.]

Yes. Did my plan succeed?

[By now, humor as a distraction isn't new to him, and he lets Cy carry him along in it.]

[hallowing]

Oh, for a bit. But I'm onto you now, so don't think you can keep getting away with it.

（ he doesn't quite want to look at him just yet — not sure if he's worried the sharingan will still be active, or wanting it to be — so instead he presses a kiss against the boy's sternum.

finally, he relinquishes the encircling grasp, fanning one hand out across the boy's ribs, gently prising the clamp loose from one nipple and soothing the rush of sensation with his mouth and the gentle lave of his tongue. the gesture is repeated with similar diligence on the other, and the chain is put down on the bed where it will no doubt get lost abruptly in the tangle of blankets.

now, he does pull back just enough to look upwards, mouth quirked at one corner in a wry expression that can be mistaken as nothing else but fondness. ）

Should've known better than to date a competitive guy. Always trying to one-up me on the thoughtful shit, huh? （ he reaches up, cups the sides of sasuke's face and pulls him down for a kiss. ） What a jerk.

[chokuto]

[The Sharingan is no longer active, dispelled for the sake of a settling adjustment — what he's confessed is not only for Cy, but for himself, words put to the extent of what he feels for this man. He's never used his eyes in this way; always their power was reserved for survival, for battle and destruction, for improving his capability. Not for something so sentimental as making these moments permanent. But he doesn't regret it.

And to see that it affects Cy, even less. He wants Cy to know how much it means.

Sasuke's thoughts are ferried away the moment a mouth attends to that abused flesh, skin bright red once released from the pinch of the clamp. He hears himself exhale sharply, a shudder working its way through his body. It isn't pain, but the sensation is intense, soothed by a diligent tongue — nipples sorely bright once Cy is finished, standing out from the paleness of the rest of his chest. The kiss is pushed into; his cock remains achingly hard between them, but he ignores it.]

So, are we? [Now with space of mind, he narrows in on that word before uncertainty can halt his words.] Dating?

[hallowing]

（ for ease of just not sitting around with his dick out, spent and still tacky with saliva, he tucks it back into his pants, does them back up, and then scoots backwards on the bed so he can pull sasuke with him.

before he gets out of range of his nightstand, though, he does rummage briefly for a little foil-wrapped lozenge. sasuke gets offered a bottle of water, and then the lozenge in that order. he'll find the latter tastes like ginger and honey, but isn't terribly sweet. ）

I'd say so.

（ he reaches up to gently work the silk scarf free from his hair, and then on a whim wraps it around sasuke's cock and gives it a gentle stroke. it's not really done with wilful intent to go anywhere, just an investigation of how the new sensation will affect him. ）

What do you think?

[chokuto]

[He is trying not to let the idea take root in him too foolishly, because he's no longer an adolescent, and his maturity had prevented him from seeing the point of 'dating' among his classmates back when he was younger. Yet it's challenging, and he can feel the idea getting tangled up in his chest. To him, it is not a casual claim.

The lozenge sits on his tongue and clicks against his teeth, flavor melting to soothe the back of his throat, rinsing down with a swallow of cold water — though there is a near-choke when silk drags across his cock, balance upset against Cy, thankfully held up by the other man's body. Excuse me.]

It's... yes. [Articulate.] I just hadn't expected it.

[Whether or not Cy intends for that to more than a playful caress, he can't ignore it, settling his weight across one of Cy's legs as his breath comes a little quicker, unconsciously seeking relief.]

[hallowing]

（ he caps the water once sasuke seems finished with it — teamwork — and then sets it aside, letting the boy arrange himself however he likes across his thighs.

the drape of silk persists, and he curls his hand around the base of sasuke's cock with the sheer fabric between it and his palm. he strokes him tenderly, leaning in so he can mouth at sasuke's throat. not quite biting, but definitely pressing his teeth in over old, healing bruises. ）

Well, at the risk of sounding self-aggrandizing, （ a soft murmur, breathed out against the side of his neck — he pulls away only to deliver the final line: ） I'm kinda hard to anticipate.

（ his eyebrows lift playfully as he makes a torment of his touch. he still very much intends to suck him off, but this is a fun interlude. ）

[chokuto]

[He tucks the lozenge in against his cheek, tasting the gritty flavor almost like a medicinal tea, and settles in closer. It is hard not to keep his eyes off of Cy's face at that lean in — the defined features, handsome and familiar enough by now to ache. He wants to put his mouth on the petal-soft skin beneath Cy's eyelids, to rub away any lingering wetness. The attention of aged bruising at his throat earns a slight squirm, instead.]

You are. I'm not used to it.

[Now that the bottle has been relinquished, he uses his freed hand to take hold of Cy's wrist — but only to feel it in his fingers. There's no attempt to restrict the dragging slide of silk across the shape of his cock, eager precome leaking to dampen the fabric.]

Cy. [His hips twitch forward, breath quickening.] If you continue that... I won't last.

[hallowing]

Maybe that's the whole point.

（ but he does take mercy on him, just a little, and lets the scarf pool in his lap like dark ink, dampened by precome along its narrow band of colour. cy rubs the back of one hand against his eye as if to banish any lingering tears, and then he grabs the boy around the middle and just sort of casually puts him at the head of the bed, leaning against the pillows as cy makes room between his thighs, stroking along the muscle to encourage him to keep them open.

he is clearly not done with the silk, because messy and stained as it is, he ties a loop in it and catches it about sasuke's wrist. he doesn't use silk for restraints — mostly because it tends to draw tighter than people can easily escape with comparatively little effort — but this isn't exactly restraint in a typical sense, identifiable in how loose the cuff sits, and how easily it could be escaped.

but it has a clear purpose beyond that, obvious after a moment when he bends to lap at the head of sasuke's straining cock, pulling sasuke's hand by the tether until it settles against his head. tacit permission and instruction for the boy to direct him how he wishes.

he keeps one hand thusly occupied, the other he squirms between the small of sasuke's back and the mattress beneath him so that he can lift him up when and where he wants — but the rest of his attention is now wholly focused on the boy's cock, which he takes down in one smooth swallow and a warm, wet hum of sound. ）

[chokuto]

[He's moved with an effortless handling that once more takes his breath, put where Cy wants him and willing to abide it, legs loosely draped apart to ensure there's space to accommodate Cy's body where it is so clearly wanted. The loop of silk around his wrist earns a curious look — forgotten briefly when that hot, wet mouth engulfs him in a single expert swallow, Sasuke's back curved in a sudden arch of pleasure matched by a lowly startled moan.

It has been long enough since Cy last took his cock into his mouth that he'd almost begun to underestimate the blistering, overwhelming sense of it, how it eclipses his mind in that tide of sensation where no reason can exist. He thrashes a little, just for how physical the shudder that works through him is — barely, barely holding himself off the cliff of an abrupt orgasm as soon as Cy's merciless lips seal at the very root of his neglected dick.

His hand is lifted, steered; he's only aware enough of this to act on the guidance and take hold of Cy's hair in his fist, desperately clutching, a clumsy clutch that lets hips buck inelegantly for more of that tight, slippery friction.]

Cy, I'm going to—

[Because Cy had told him it is polite to warn, yet it's almost too late to precede the rush of it, and unless the man pulls off he will receive a throat full of hot come as Sasuke's heels drag up on the bed, toes curled.]

[hallowing]

（ the warning is plenty — he'd known sasuke was close even as he closed his mouth against his cock, and he pets the boy's side soothingly as he comes, reassurance that it's okay, that he was prepared, and he swallows it with a smug little nuzzle, a press of one cheek into thighs that have drawn closed with the thrill of orgasm, a drag of stubble across sensitive skin.

he works the boy's cock with his tongue until he's satisfied he's wrung every last drop out of him, and then pulls back with a wet pop as the suction breaks. he presses a kiss against sasuke's iliac crest, and then beside his navel, working his way back up to those sore, reddened nipples, one of which he teases at with a tug of closed lips but no teeth.

then: ）

Hands and knees next, right?

（ yeah, he's gonna be just a little merciless about this. ）

[chokuto]

[It takes effort to let his knees fall apart after the grip of orgasm, tension braided into every muscle — but the soothe of sensation assists, stubble scraping tender skin as that last overwhelming suction abates, a warm kiss landing on the jut of a hip bone.

He lies there, breathless and starry with pleasure in that blissful wake, head tilted up in pliant submission to every ministration. There's lighthearted protest to the attention paid sore nipples, but it is not enough to cause real discomfort; his hand remains dug into Cy's hair, knuckles loose through short, dark strands.]

Hands and... [words stumble to a halt.] Now?

[The question is a little awestruck in its surprise, coming through the daze of his sluggish awareness.]

[hallowing]

（ in answer, pushes himself up cross-legged well into sasuke's space, forcing the boy to either widen the sprawl of his thighs or drape them over the jut of his knees. he leans forward, traces two fingers against sasuke's bottom lip and then gently prises his mouth open, those fingers are swept against the boy's tongue with an amused look and then withdrawn. cy wipes the resultant saliva down sasuke's sternum, leaving his skin damp in his wake. ）

Well, what do you know? Not dehydrated yet. I'm pretty sure that means we are contractually obligated to keep going.

（ but that's the playful assertion, undercut by the fact he lifts his hand up by the silk tether and kisses his palm. ）

But I guess if you need a breather...

（ as if he could refuse sasuke literally anything, smh. ）

[chokuto]

[With a deep inhale, he drapes his legs over Cy's knees if only for the additional contact, muted somewhat by slacks.

The saliva that Cy rubs down his skin is sticky with residue from the half-dissolved lozenge. As if he's forgotten its presence, Sasuke cracks it with his teeth and eats the shattered pieces. The ginger-lemon flavor makes his mouth taste saccharine. His throat is numb enough now that it doesn't feel much like he took a cock so hard in it — and it makes his mind wander off in the direction of how it might feel to do it again, given that relief.]

No, you're right. [The look in dissimilar eyes sharpens — an intensity of pupils dilated with a remnant of lust. Their stamina feels evenly matched; it doesn't take much to stir interest back up, fire over dry earth.] We need to work harder.

[A playfulness easy to feed into as he watches Cy bring up his caught wrist, briefly taken by the sight of it in that silk cuff as he's kissed. Arousal clenches low in his belly, renewed with a flush of heat.]

So, are you going to put me on my hands and knees, or do I have to do it myself?