（ the shirt is carved away, the collar of it the last thing to be cut — and this done by levering the spine of the blade snugly against his skin to pull it upwards at the last. he reaches for one of the shelves where sasuke had put the evening's tools, and takes it down — there's a length of that red rope inside, which he busies himself with one-handed. ）

Sasuke, （ a disapproving little tut, though at least this time the disapproval isn't lacking in emotionality. if anything, it's all the more richly, darkly playful in its condescension now. ） I shouldn't have to tell you that's not how this works.

（ it's conversant. he's mindful enough of the parameters of the scene not to be intentionally overloud, but he's certainly walking that narrow edge, knowing sasuke will burn with shame at the possibility of being overheard, however minor it may be. people come and go enough in these shitty rooms, and at least one roommate hasn't been replaced since they left or were promoted out. ）

You, （ a warning cinch to sasuke's shoulder — harder this time, right at the brink of dislocation before it eases back and cy loops a rope cuff around his wrist, ） don't get to say things like no or stop or let go of me anymore. Do you understand? Yes or no.