[He watches, honed into every movement Cy makes, drawn to the flex of strong shoulders behind a back until that touch drives a stuttered breath loose. It's not restrictive, but there is a sense of... containment, in the way his ankles are held in those warm hands.
Then Cy's instruction consumes his whole world — and while he does not experience embarrassment, what he feels is some close cousin. Set into the frame of being observed, that expectation threatens to ride down on him in a fury for the pressure it creates in light of what he's shared, how he's struggled. In a concentrated effort to tame it, Sasuke breathes. Closes his eyes. Listens, tries to trust.
His right hand lowers, settling at the base of his cock where it's still swollen and flushed against his belly, focused on the sensation of Cy's cock still cradled inside of his body — betraying himself when the first shape of fingers a tight fist.]
That it's not enough.
[The sentiment is like a thorn, a piece of glass. The way he strokes himself drags, even done slowly, made more into punishment than pleasure.]
no subject
Then Cy's instruction consumes his whole world — and while he does not experience embarrassment, what he feels is some close cousin. Set into the frame of being observed, that expectation threatens to ride down on him in a fury for the pressure it creates in light of what he's shared, how he's struggled. In a concentrated effort to tame it, Sasuke breathes. Closes his eyes. Listens, tries to trust.
His right hand lowers, settling at the base of his cock where it's still swollen and flushed against his belly, focused on the sensation of Cy's cock still cradled inside of his body — betraying himself when the first shape of fingers a tight fist.]
That it's not enough.
[The sentiment is like a thorn, a piece of glass. The way he strokes himself drags, even done slowly, made more into punishment than pleasure.]