（ his breath is a gust, half-laughter as he reaches up to stroke the boy's hair. it would be a little terrifying, he thinks, if he'd found sasuke when he was younger — a raw wound of a man, still barely half-formed by his own trauma. his easy devotion would've been so fucking overwhelming, and cy is honestly, genuinely afraid of how that might have gone when he was less practiced, less sure of himself. clumsy in ways that were more often hurtful to the people he had grown to love. ）

Okay, please believe me when I say your eagerness is very appreciated, but also my room's a fucking disaster again and I don't want you to feel like you need to clean it because you absolutely deserve better than being my maid.

（ his hand is steady, tangling in the fine strands and then trailing down his nape, his spine. ）

Give me a couple hours, okay? I'll tidy up, and there's a couple things I want to grab for the aftercare session for you. In the meantime — you can do me a favour by having a nice hot shower to get all relaxed and finding us a nice dinner to share, yeah? And pack an overnight bag with whatever you think you'll need for a couple days in my room.