[Is it better or worse, when Cy's hand slips off of his cock and leaves it a mess of leaking precome? Sasuke can't tell. There's a certain path of humiliation that the words scour through him at the idea of anyone else seeing those pictures, knowing what he looks like in this state, and the thought goes to his head in the breathlessness of being sat on.

At the prospect of pain under Cy's hand, he squirms again, a startled little jolt of movement — to no effect trapped as he is, but the excitement is well-disguised as fear.]

I like how it feels. [A quiet confession scraped reluctantly out of his throat.] I didn't think anyone was paying attention to me. There. At the club.

[If he fell to pleading, would he be listened to? Would it be better if Cy put the gag back in his mouth, even if it meant a puddle of drool in his mouth?]

I— [and a soft gasp, playing into the inexperience that he once truly had.] I've never done it before.