[His room is cool and dark when Cy transmats him there, cleanly untouched over the past week he has spent with Cy in the rank-three suite upstairs. For a moment he simply lies fully dressed on the bed — aware of the cramped space around him, aware even more of the pressure inside where the plug has been nestled, slick lubricant preventing any uncomfortable chafe of silicone. It is the second time today he's held something in of his body meant to stretch and hold muscle open; he knows he will feel it tomorrow, but they've worked to a point of practice with these toys, and he's not worried about it. His mind is turned toward the future with acute focus.
Soon, it becomes all that occupies his thoughts. Sasuke sits up and places the box on the bedside table — narrowly situated between the mattress itself and the other wall — removing none of the toys, though his fingertips rove curiously over the shape of the spider gag in silent contemplation. Then, he stands and undresses, selecting a loose sleeveless top and sweatpants, neither article of clothing one he holds any special fondness for.
And then, he gets back into bed. Sleep becomes an impossible target, lying there in the dimness with only an automated-switch nightlight on the wall casting a golden arc onto the ceiling. He squirms, feeling the plug shift, feeling the minutes run together with anticipation that, as Cy had predicted, causes his body to tighten like a wire. He jolts at every footstep in the hall, every sound of movement from his neighbors through thin walls.
It seems to take an eternity for that cold, malevolent energy to spark in the air — Sasuke has slipped into a half-awake drowse, orange blanket pulled up over a bare shoulder when Cy enters the room. In seconds he is fully alert, fingers fisted around the silver bell as his wrist is snatched and he's turned onto his stomach, face shoved into the mattress.
Breath snags in his throat, too stunned yet to even struggle. That voice slips into him, sinuously low, poisonous honey in the unfurling of fantasy.]
What do you... [a gasp jars out of him as knee meets back,] What are you doing? Who are you?
[Playing off the fact that he hadn't seen Cy's face in the darkness — his pulse jumps, trying to turn his cheek on the bed to look above.]
no subject
Soon, it becomes all that occupies his thoughts. Sasuke sits up and places the box on the bedside table — narrowly situated between the mattress itself and the other wall — removing none of the toys, though his fingertips rove curiously over the shape of the spider gag in silent contemplation. Then, he stands and undresses, selecting a loose sleeveless top and sweatpants, neither article of clothing one he holds any special fondness for.
And then, he gets back into bed. Sleep becomes an impossible target, lying there in the dimness with only an automated-switch nightlight on the wall casting a golden arc onto the ceiling. He squirms, feeling the plug shift, feeling the minutes run together with anticipation that, as Cy had predicted, causes his body to tighten like a wire. He jolts at every footstep in the hall, every sound of movement from his neighbors through thin walls.
It seems to take an eternity for that cold, malevolent energy to spark in the air — Sasuke has slipped into a half-awake drowse, orange blanket pulled up over a bare shoulder when Cy enters the room. In seconds he is fully alert, fingers fisted around the silver bell as his wrist is snatched and he's turned onto his stomach, face shoved into the mattress.
Breath snags in his throat, too stunned yet to even struggle. That voice slips into him, sinuously low, poisonous honey in the unfurling of fantasy.]
What do you... [a gasp jars out of him as knee meets back,] What are you doing? Who are you?
[Playing off the fact that he hadn't seen Cy's face in the darkness — his pulse jumps, trying to turn his cheek on the bed to look above.]