[It's so much. The lubricant helps. It's so much — the words that come out of Cy's mouth, falling over him like a cool rain, carrying him from one moment to the next. He can't concentrate, lost somewhere between the smoother glide of his hand on his aching cock and the things that Cy is saying to him.
Just listen to me and try. So he tries, and he listens.
There was a time, not long ago, where he would have recoiled from what Cy says to him, where his whole body would have flinched from it like a blow to the gut. And he would have used his safeword to get Cy away from him, to eliminate the softness of touch and compassion and sentiment sheltering itself in this space between them. He would have wanted to be alone. And there was a time, only a little more than a year ago, where he would have tried ruthlessly to kill this tender thing between them. He doesn't deserve this now; it is a thought that soars high in his mind, preeminent, occupying so much of his self-identity and his life prior to this place. Prior to Cy.
And so quickly, Cy snuffs it. You don't have to feel like you deserve it. All those words, all of that fondness given to him. The shudder wracks through his body, and his hand falls loose around his cock when the first wave of emotion comes. This time humiliation bends swiftly in because the room isn't dark, Cy will be able to see the first silent tears that gather on dark lashes — and he can't believe this would happen again in such a short period of time.
What is wrong with him?
The gasp for air breaks out, weight put forward into Cy's chest to hide himself, curling — seeking protection with the desperation of a child who never had it.]
there is so much crying in his future
Just listen to me and try. So he tries, and he listens.
There was a time, not long ago, where he would have recoiled from what Cy says to him, where his whole body would have flinched from it like a blow to the gut. And he would have used his safeword to get Cy away from him, to eliminate the softness of touch and compassion and sentiment sheltering itself in this space between them. He would have wanted to be alone. And there was a time, only a little more than a year ago, where he would have tried ruthlessly to kill this tender thing between them. He doesn't deserve this now; it is a thought that soars high in his mind, preeminent, occupying so much of his self-identity and his life prior to this place. Prior to Cy.
And so quickly, Cy snuffs it. You don't have to feel like you deserve it. All those words, all of that fondness given to him. The shudder wracks through his body, and his hand falls loose around his cock when the first wave of emotion comes. This time humiliation bends swiftly in because the room isn't dark, Cy will be able to see the first silent tears that gather on dark lashes — and he can't believe this would happen again in such a short period of time.
What is wrong with him?
The gasp for air breaks out, weight put forward into Cy's chest to hide himself, curling — seeking protection with the desperation of a child who never had it.]