（ cy eases up just a little — enough that sasuke can continue to thrash and fight if he wants to. and then he starts to hit him.
the blows are calculated. a certain intensity, certain placements. never the same place twice in a row — but where usually he waits, and sometimes soothes the area with a gentle rub of his hand, that tenderness is absent here. he just hits him, again and again, not waiting for sasuke to call out the count or breathe between blows. he strikes the plug, too — and every time sasuke struggles, or tries to say no, or any of its many iterations, the next blow is harder, until his skin is mottled with bruising across the seat of his ass.
cy can feel sasuke's cock hard against his thigh, and the dampness from its weeping slit — and the answering echo of his own arousal feels like it's smothering him in the haze of the room. he's more himself — as he is at present, as he is to sasuke — in this scene than how he'd been during the genjutsu, when he'd leaned more into the conquering warlord that he's been a thousand times over across a thousand brutal years — but by no means does that diminish the intense fervour of his desire. he wants sasuke beneath him, wants him to cry and beg as he's fucked. he wants to see the fear on his face — but he wants, too, to know that the fear is simulated. that it's not real. that it could be stopped at any moment by either of them in turn, and that not doing so is a choice.
but for now — for now, he contents himself with the beating. a cruel, brutal thing, no pain spared as he lands the blows again and again, until he's finished and his breath rings harsh and jagged in the room. ）
no subject
（ cy eases up just a little — enough that sasuke can continue to thrash and fight if he wants to. and then he starts to hit him.
the blows are calculated. a certain intensity, certain placements. never the same place twice in a row — but where usually he waits, and sometimes soothes the area with a gentle rub of his hand, that tenderness is absent here. he just hits him, again and again, not waiting for sasuke to call out the count or breathe between blows. he strikes the plug, too — and every time sasuke struggles, or tries to say no, or any of its many iterations, the next blow is harder, until his skin is mottled with bruising across the seat of his ass.
cy can feel sasuke's cock hard against his thigh, and the dampness from its weeping slit — and the answering echo of his own arousal feels like it's smothering him in the haze of the room. he's more himself — as he is at present, as he is to sasuke — in this scene than how he'd been during the genjutsu, when he'd leaned more into the conquering warlord that he's been a thousand times over across a thousand brutal years — but by no means does that diminish the intense fervour of his desire. he wants sasuke beneath him, wants him to cry and beg as he's fucked. he wants to see the fear on his face — but he wants, too, to know that the fear is simulated. that it's not real. that it could be stopped at any moment by either of them in turn, and that not doing so is a choice.
but for now — for now, he contents himself with the beating. a cruel, brutal thing, no pain spared as he lands the blows again and again, until he's finished and his breath rings harsh and jagged in the room. ）