chokuto

[He shouldn't be surprised, knowing Cy and all they've done together up to this point — but it will be a new day, and him a new person, when he stops reacting to these little things. The intimacies, the invitations, the sweetness. Cy's desire to be around him, and understand him, and touch him.

There's a bobbing nod after a moment, felt more than anything against the slope of Cy's throat where he's pressed his face.]

All right. I will, then. [A fluttery breath.] Let's go.

[Teleport them, not-boyfriend he is definitely not-dating.]

（ his breath is a gust, half-laughter as he reaches up to stroke the boy's hair. it would be a little terrifying, he thinks, if he'd found sasuke when he was younger — a raw wound of a man, still barely half-formed by his own trauma. his easy devotion would've been so fucking overwhelming, and cy is honestly, genuinely afraid of how that might have gone when he was less practiced, less sure of himself. clumsy in ways that were more often hurtful to the people he had grown to love. ）

Okay, please believe me when I say your eagerness is very appreciated, but also my room's a fucking disaster again and I don't want you to feel like you need to clean it because you absolutely deserve better than being my maid.

（ his hand is steady, tangling in the fine strands and then trailing down his nape, his spine. ）

Give me a couple hours, okay? I'll tidy up, and there's a couple things I want to grab for the aftercare session for you. In the meantime — you can do me a favour by having a nice hot shower to get all relaxed and finding us a nice dinner to share, yeah? And pack an overnight bag with whatever you think you'll need for a couple days in my room.

[He's halfway to argument, I don't mind cleaning — but Cy soothes all protest out of him with the path of that hand, words intimating more forethought than he was prepared to demonstrate in his own hastiness. The promise of a few days in Cy's room is enough to buoy him through impatience. With no small amount of reluctance, he levers himself to sit upright.]

A few hours. I'll shower and bring over something to eat. I found a kitchen to use, but I won't do that myself tonight. [He wouldn't want to impress upon Sizhui's generosity on such short notice.] Next time. [Solemnly as a vow.]

Then, I'll see you later.

（ he pushes himself up, chasing sasuke to press a kiss against the pout of his mouth — and then he places his hand against the small of sasuke's back and flips them so the boy's beneath him on the bed.

it's no more suggestive than that — his knee between sasuke's thighs, their hands still tightly laced, and then he winks broadly, playfully, and transmats away.

he does spend his time cleaning, as promised — finding a good cream with an arnica/cbd base combo, and finishing up loose ends on the network.

tomorrow will come soon enough. ）

[It's suggestive enough to follow Sasuke through the next few hours — until he arrives at Cy's door, freshly changed and showered, carrying a small overnight bag on the left shoulder and a box of (healthy, vegetarian) takeout in his right hand. The time passes uneventfully, apart from the depth of their conversation over the meal and appreciating Cy's room enough to immediately make a mess of the bed in a tangle of blankets and limbs. It always feels better to sleep like that in Cy's arms — the more frightening awareness that he has begun to crave it on a regular basis aside.

The next morning is slow, easy, unhurried. They enjoy a simple breakfast from the Early Bird Hall once more, visit the gym, shower together in a warm and comforting act of intimacy like no other he's experienced, and finally return to Cy's room. Sasuke — dressed again in a hoodie thieved from somewhere in Cy's pile of clothes, a pair of loose sweatpants, barefooted — sits on the bed, expectant face turned up to Cy.]

Now?

（ the act hangs between them, and he can tell sasuke's awareness of it and eagerness towards it is a fissure. still, he goes out of his way to keep things casual and light. he's not in a rush. let me enjoy you, he'd told the boy once, and he means it still.

but when sasuke looks at him like that and puts the whole of his heart into that single word — cy can only laugh, helplessly, and reach for him. he presses a kiss down against his hair. ）

Stand up. I want to undress you.

（ sasuke had asked to be naked, and the only thing he can do is oblige. ）

[Any impatience after waiting a day for this is tempered by the kiss, his head angled up toward it — and he is, of course, obedient, rising up from the bed to stand in front of Cy in that limited space.]

Why? [A familiar furrow knits his brow.] ... Usually you ask me to undress myself.

[Observant of every act and seeming ritual formed between them by now, this doesn't escape his notice.]

（ he takes sasuke's hand in his, thumbing across his knuckles. ）

Yeah, that's mostly because up until now I've wanted the emphasis to be on the fact it's your choice.

（ the space, the freedom. they might not have much, here, but they have what they can give each other, and he doesn't mind articulating it. sasuke is always quick to pick up on nuances anyway. ）

But we've already talked about it for this scene, you've stated your wants, and you trust me enough to be certain I would stop if you asked, so I wanted to do it this time. （ he pulls sasuke in, and presses his face in against the thick sweatshirt. it smells like both of them. he bites playfully, getting a mouth full of thick cotton. ） Unwrap you like a fucking present.

Okay.

[His hand turns over in Cy's to chase the graze of a thumbpad, pressing together in a flat union of palms. A nod confirms the understanding of those words. There's a thrill in this, too, as if he's taken a turn around an unfamiliar corner — the newness of discussion, negotiation. And that trust sheltered between them, so tenderly protected.

There's no permission or assent given then, because Cy already has it. His entire body curves in toward Cy's like a flower starved for daylight. The bite is barely felt through the thick barrier of the sweatshirt's material, more warm pressure than pinch, so he stands taller, trying to push against Cy's mouth, seeking something more tangible. Eager to strip out of it for how hot his skin feels at Cy's words, but willing to wait. Willing.]

（ he takes his time, dragging the shirt up over sasuke's head. it gets tossed to the corner of the room where he usually puts his laundry (hey, at least there is a designated spot for it now that isn't simply 'everywhere') and then he hooks his ankles behind sasuke, tugging him in against the edge of the bed with a flex of his thighs.

his hands are worshipful, wandering — hands fanned against sasuke's sides, up his ribcage, mouth at his sternum, closing over one nipple, up to his throat. he explores sasuke like it's the first time he's ever done it, the last time he ever will, every bit of him getting some measure of attention in some way, even if it's just a fleeting touch, like the cup of his hand against sasuke's amputated arm, skirting upwards against the bandages to his shoulder.

it's while he's lavishing attention to the other nipple that his hand works at the band of the sweatpants, hiking them and sasuke's underwear down in one clean drag hooked in against his thumb, and once the fabric's pooled at the boy's feet he calls it good enough for now, and with one final pinching bite he leans back to look at him. he's never once failed to regard sasuke like a work of art, but there's a new quality to his expression here, the warmth cut by anticipatory lust that lives in the upwards quirk of one corner of his mouth, and the considering cant to his head.

then he scoots himself back on the bed so there's a bit more room. ）

Lay this way, （ he says, indicating that sasuke's left side should be the one closest to his body. ） You'll have better balance with your arm on the outside. What I'm going to do is make sure your torso's mostly on the bed, and I'm going to trap your thighs between my legs so you'll be restricted. We're not going to start right away, I want to discuss a couple more things and get you used to the position so that if you don't like it or you need to move we can make that happen.

（ he pats his right thigh, so sasuke knows to lower himself across it, and once he's done that cy shifts until he has his left thigh braced over the hollow of sasuke's knees. he reaches down to ensure sasuke's dick isn't trapped anywhere uncomfortable, gently adjusting both it and his balls so there's no risk of pain to either, and then he smooths his hands across the boy's back, the curve of his ass, his hand nothing more in the moment than a warm, reassuring press. once he's satisfied, he reaches for his bedside table and takes a few items from it — the first being a small bell on a looped ribbon. he takes sasuke's hand, loops the ribbon about his middle finger. the bell will fall just past his wrist if released by his fingers. ）

Secondary safeword. Sometimes it's hard to speak when you're doing pain play, so you can let the bell drop. Because this is our first time, I'm not going to rely a hundred percent on you using safewords — if you fight me or ask me to stop I will. As we do more scenes like this, we'll work towards situations where asking me to stop or struggling just become part of the scene and I'll only stop if you safeword out. But it's harder to build that reflex right away.

（ he bends down, kisses at sasuke's right shoulder. ）

I can pin your hand behind your back if you want to feel completely restrained, or we can hold hands here on the mattress with the bell between our palms, and you can just pull back to let it drop. Afterwards, I'll help you come down and make sure you feel good — I've got a cream that will help with any bruising, and it'll ease the sensation, and I'll get you to take some anti-inflammatories as well. （ a thoughtful sound. then, as though he's in complete ownership of sasuke's body he caresses the inside of one thigh, and then tugs his legs closer together. ） One more thing — keep your legs closed and your back arched. The legs are so I don't accidentally hit you in the balls, since you'll end up with your junk compressed against my thigh as every hit will drive you a bit forward, so if you part your thighs and my reflexes aren't up to snuff I could smack you. The second one is for any scene that involves impact play to the thighs or ass — if somebody miscalculates a blow and you've got your back rounded, the force could end up getting transferred to the kidneys and cause serious internal damage. Any questions?

Edited 2024-02-11 19:52 (UTC)

[Those exploratory touches kindle the flame in him, burning bright as he's peeled out of clothing and exposed to the cooler air of the room, flushed at the first seal of a mouth over his nipple — and then breath stutters at the trade of attention to the other, sensitivity pricking in a hot chill. The way Cy handles him is reverent enough to put him into his own body in a way he's unaccustomed. Not in his head, not living from the leap of thought to thought. And the caress to the blunt end of his left arm, an area so emotionally significant and so strictly untouched, coaxes a full exhalation from lungs. A sigh deep enough to bleed his soul between them.

That bite lingers in a dull throb as he's redirected, compliant, unashamed in this state of undress before Cy's eyes by now. With anyone else, this subservient of a position would scorch a path of humiliation through him, but here he feels only a flicker of embarrassment as he positions his weight across Cy's thigh with his left side faced inward. Reflexively his right hand comes out to brace on the bed. The color of attraction shows on his skin, pale pink, unable to resist even the clinical hand between his legs as it tucks his balls protectively under. There's no deliberate enticement, but Cy is a natural aphrodisiac to his mental and physical state — so it is with awareness he feels his cock twitch, interest pooling in a pulse of aroused blood.

Cy is speaking to him, so he grasps at focus. A hand obligingly takes the bell, cupping his palm around it to the soft, metallic jingle it makes, memories falling back to one of his most significant exercises on the practice field as a new genin. It's an unreal comparison, in that moment, between past and present.]

No questions. [Thighs clench together as urged in a flex of strong muscle. His back, too, forms a better arch. The aftermath is too far to look ahead — he'll face it when they get there, inexplicable trust in Cy to have prepared for anything. In another place, in someone else's hands, he would not have even thought of that fallout. But then he likely wouldn't be here bent over a man's lap at all.] I don't know how I want to put my arm yet, so I'll leave it where it is for now. On the bed.

[What becomes more prominent in his mind is how restricted it is to have his legs pinned behind the knee, to have his ass pushed upward. What does it look like in Cy's eyes? And beneath it is that force of lust almost against his own naked will, kicked alive by Cy's description of safewords and struggling. Not for here, a first experience, but — eventually.]

Okay.

（ another soft, smooth stroke over sasuke's ass, fingers slipping against the crease, teasing in against the rim of his hole, and then back to the gentle massage. the way the kid's keyed up doesn't miss his notice — the kiss of a blush adding colour to his pale skin, the way that cy can feel the twitch of his cock where it's tucked neatly against his thigh, the hitch in his breathing, the way he steadies himself with the flex of strong core muscles. but it's — the way he just puts himself in cy's hands, so absolute and trusting — that's the real aphrodisiac. submission as an act of love. trust as an act of service.

kulo vayn would take this boy in its hands and break him down to fucking nothing. only three people ever survived it, and sasuke is patterned exactly after them — a survivor, sharp as a knife and hard as a shield. even now, that impulse lives in him. it would be so easy to slip beneath the surface of that learned sadism, to become nothing more than what he was built into — a destroyer, a ruiner, to wear the mantle of war like a cloak and leave only blood and suffering in his wake. sasuke speaks to that sliver hammered into his soul that is not nice or kind or restrained, and sometimes when he looks at him it's with an overlay of fresh wounds and bloodied lips and he —

shivers, a little.

but he's held back that tide for longer than he drowned in its bloody depths. he peels himself back from the urge, and instead only gently says: ）

Count the blows outloud for me, okay? It'll give you something to focus on. I'll leave my other hand here — （ he rests it near sasuke's, one finger reaching out to hook against his index finger, a brief touch that doesn't linger. ） in case you want the contact. Don't tense — that'll make it hurt more, I want you to stay relaxed as much as you can. I won't move onto the next strike until you've counted the last one outloud, so if you need a bit of a break you can wait a few seconds to say it.

（ he pitches himself a bit awkwardly sideways, puts his right hand beneath sasuke's chest and levers him up a little too so this next kiss can be pressed against his lips. ）

Thanks for exploring this with me. It means a lot. Tell me when you're ready to start. Take all the time you need.

Edited 2024-02-11 21:09 (UTC)

[Deft fingertips slide into the crease of his ass against that sensitive hole, and Sasuke jolts slightly, soothed back down by the massage like a petted cat. His head bobs in another nod of affirmation, chin down against the mattress until he's coaxed into a kiss — and this, strained into a little harder, sentiment carried by Cy's words.

There's warmth. He feels it fill him up like a glass, overflowing with a desire to give Cy as much as he has been given in turn. As his head lowers once more and he arches, settling, muscles attempt to unstitch themselves from inherent tension.

Without thinking about it, his right hand worms closer until it sits up against the one Cy presented, fingers curled protectively around the bell. He takes a few deep breaths. And as if preparing for a jutsu, for the tricky maneuver of some combat technique —]

I'm ready.

（ the words are like a trigger that pushes him over the threshold into the practiced ease of domination. cy's never — willfully so — gotten any enjoyment out of being an asshole as a dominant. it cleaves too close, presses too much on the fractures that will live in him until he dies. the kindness is a choice, even when it accompanies pain.

his free hand rubs against the back of sasuke's fingers where they're curled against the bell, a counterpoint to the blow about to land. the warning that sasuke gets is the sudden envelopment of his hand in a bracing press before he lets his hand fall back to its resting place, and then —

when he strikes it's with the same exacting force he'd demonstrated on sasuke's hand only yesterday, neatly across his ass. the smack of his palm is loud in the hush of the room, and once the blow's landed he rubs the spot, soothing it with the warmth of his palm as he waits for sasuke to count off. if it takes him a few seconds before he can manage it, cy will slip his hand further up against his spine, cradling the nape of his neck briefly before returning to its comforting press against the reddened mark blooming against his skin. ）

[The strike comes down, and all of the air he's schooled into an even rhythm gusts out upon impact. There is a moment where it becomes clear to him why Cy prefaced the newness of this first time, why there is a secondary safeword in his fist — because disciplined instinct drills a hole through him like a nail under a hammer. It takes force of will not to struggle, not to twist and escape the sharp, starry pain that lashes the bare skin of his ass. The sound alone is vulgar in the quiet room, but beyond that is some part of him curled around a core of defensiveness built into who he is. The part of himself that has kept him alive.

It doesn't even hurt, not yet, not outside a dull burn like he's stood in the sun too long, and that fades quickly. It doesn't need to hurt. There is an anticipatory response shored up against the thought of pain — the expectation that it will come sooner rather than later. What makes the difference here is that he knows the source, and he trusts it, and there are parameters. And he can say,]

One.

[— knowing exactly how many moments of pain are left.]

（ and so it goes.

the pattern established, the rules laid down, and cy falls into an easy rhythm. the blow lands, and sasuke counts, and in the space suspended between the two cy soothes him with a practiced hand. he's careful about where the blows land, spreading the impacts around so there's no overlap between any two immediate blows. the next one lands a little more to the right of his ass, the one that follows lower and to the left. three, four — he pauses on five, rubbing at the skin and lifting his right hand to stroke at sasuke's hair while the left stays against the place on his ass warmed and reddened by the blow.

before the boy can open his mouth to add to the count, cy interjects: ）

Let's check in. How're you doing? Walk me through it.

（ getting sasuke to turn his focus to his own feelings and the physical sensations meted out against him is an exercise in and of itself. forcing the boy to be present, to be an active participant in the acceptance of pain inflicted against his person. it will keep him from subspace as well, for now — that won't always be the goal, but he thinks that sasuke is already spectacularly primed to sink beneath the ocean of inflicted pain and that he'll fucking drown there without a firm hand to guide him through the storm of it. ）

[As those blows continue, he is unsurprised to find that the sting builds, steadily climbing to a height that straddles a line between a blister and a burn. His lower half flares with heat underneath Cy's hand. The distribution across both sides allows some leniency, some meager mercy, permitting him to reclaim the intake of his breath and focus on the moment, on the count, two, three, four—

By the fifth, noise jars out of his throat in a half-formed whimper. The desperate urge to writhe underneath the flat of Cy's palm only mounts, but his resilience is powerful and hard-earned. What he struggles with most is keeping his muscles from that natural wind of tension.

Cy's voice fills his ears, drawing him up from the undertow of sensation. His mouth falls slack, and when he speaks it's with a commendable amount of composure. All that gives him away is the slight shiver that has set into the lower half of his body. A fine, trembling crack in the glass.]

It's not... painful. [His tolerance must be high, because the ache is uncomfortable at worst.] The most difficult part, so far, is... not fighting back. Trying to get away. It's — it feels like an instinct.

But I'm okay. [His weight shifts in Cy's lap in that moment's pause, stiffly aware that his cock has hardened to a full and swollen state of arousal, tucked against the inside of Cy's other thigh.] You can keep going.

Do you need to move or change positions?

（ it's asked with a gentle pet between the cheeks of the boy's ass, a slow circle against his hole, and a press inward that doesn't breach the muscle — he wouldn't do it dry anyway, but it's certainly the suggestion of penetration. ）

[A headshake answers that statement where his face is pressed to the bed, but then to be clearer:] No. I don't.

[The suggestion is distraction enough — hips tilt back against the graze of fingertips, seeking that drag of friction even if it comes dryly across the rim of his hole. Another shiver works through his system, but it's made purely of pleasure for the ease. Another deep breath. Then, Cy continues.

The hits sound so loud in that small room, filling his ears and his awareness as he slips back under that meditative wave, stinging flesh soon raw with heat on the surface of skin. It's different, he thinks, than being struck somewhere else on his body — the impact is spread enough around as to feel evenly proportioned, pale flesh blazing hot and red as a sunburn, throbbing in time with quick heartbeats. And his cock is fully rigid, now, leaking precome in the confined space between the bedsheet and Cy's leg.

Nine, ten, eleven—

A new noise tears out of him, teeth clenched over the whimper as a slap forces him further up in his seat, dick rubbed hard against the fabric of Cy's pants.]

（ the fucking sound that is caged by the clench of sasuke's teeth is — sure something else. it cuts through his awareness like a shot across the bow, and he has to breathe through the roar of lust it drags out of the pit of him. ）

God, those sounds are so hot, sweetheart. You've got me so fucking hard, taking punishment for me like this.

（ he wants to kiss him desperately in that moment, to breathe in the exhalation borne of that whimper — but since it's tricky to manage at this angle at the best of times, he only lifts his free hand to sasuke's mouth and if permitted will slide two fingers in against his tongue in a possessive, familiar slip of motion that's clearly meant to simulate a blowjob.

but he doesn't want to overwhelm him with any one particular sensation or other right yet either, which is why he works his mouth a moment and then spreads the cheeks of sasuke's ass with his thumb and index finger, spitting against the sensitive flutter of his hole. he works the spit in against him with the hook of his thumb and then pushes it inside him in one inexorable inward motion. the coaxing beckoning of his thumb once it's fully seated grazes at the edge of the prostate, and reaches down to press a kiss against his hair. it's a poor man's spitroast — a thumb and two fingers sliding in tantalizing concert into the slick wet heat of him at opposing ends, but he hopes it'll be an anchor through the building haze of discomfort and restraint that sasuke is weathering to endure the pain. ）

If you want to get off for me now, I'll stop the spanks at twenty and move right to the aftercare. If you want to hold out, at the end I'll slide my cock up your pretty reddened ass and paint your insides with my come first. Drop the bell if you want the first option. This is about your satisfaction, not mine — whatever you decide, make it for you. I'm just here to serve you, Sasuke. Help me do that.

Edited 2024-02-12 00:28 (UTC)

[The praise is almost as potent as the smack of a hand, a delirious high now transformed by the ache of exposed flesh, heady as it leaches through limbs and settles like a hot coal in his belly. There is some tight, knotted arousal in how this scene plays out — his mind devises the unbidden context of that punishment delivered for a wrong, a transgression, and discovers how good it feels to have it paid. That it is like repentance, scratching a sore itch deep underneath his psyche where he could not reach before.

And Cy says he is hard because of it. He wants to squirm higher into the man's lap to feel the evidence of his dick, wants to push himself against it with an urgency that threatens to tear out of him in a plea as he's never done, never thought he could do — then fingers find his mouth, a familiar pressure across a slick pink tongue that slithers over them, yielding open to the invasive plunge. His teeth threaten to scrape Cy's knuckles so he parts his jaw wider and tries to take them obediently deep. Jagged, panting breath now comes around the intrusion, damp and desperate. Sasuke can feel how warm his face is from being pressed to the bed.

Another sound falls loose, this time stuffed and smothered by fingers in his mouth, when he feels that second penetration. It's mostly dry on the thin glide of spit, so it chafes, but that comes welcome against the rawness of his ass. Like two dull aches in tandem, split and then sewn back together. Muscles flex, then relax again, trying to prevent his hole from squeezing down with a needy effort of strength. His mouth is collecting a steady pool of saliva from the fingering.

There's no way to verbally respond, but his reaction is telling enough — the hand that encases the bell goes bloodlessly white with the force he uses to keep it in his fist.]

（ he laughs a little, soft, and this time the kiss is dropped against sasuke's shoulder. ）

Okay, I hear you loud and clear. Let me do this first, okay? I can feel how hard you are, how good you're doing against my thigh — just be patient.

（ he keeps his fingers in sasuke's mouth for now, the rhythm of his fingers sliding against his tongue is thoughtfully gentle rather than an intrusive plunge, and he does give his thumb a gentle tug from the seat of sasuke's hole.

given the slight change in plans, he wants to at least get the aftercare part started now — so one of those creams he'd set out earlier is reached for, the cap popped, and a generous helping of it squeezed out against the small of sasuke's back to use as a staging ground to rub into his skin. the arnica will help with the formation of bruising, and the cbd will act as pain relief — neither terribly invasive on their own. he's thorough about it, making sure that the lotion really has a chance to sink down into the skin, and when he's satisfied he grabs a towel to wipe off any excess.

the sign that he's nearly ready to continue is one last thrust of his fingers into sasuke's mouth — just skirting the line of his gag reflex, and then he withdraws, giving a loving (if messy) stroke against his cheek before his hand returns to where it was prior, nestled just beside sasuke's own on the bed. ）

Relax for me. We're going to pick up again and I want you to take 'em real nice for me, okay? Show me how well you can resist fighting me. Next one's twelve. Eight more and then you get dessert, but the less you relax the longer it'll take because I'm still gonna prep you first.

（ he waits for sasuke's acknowledgement, and then raises his hand again, bringing it down. the intensity of the blows hasn't changed, but his hand's cupped just a little more — lessening the overall sting of his palm as it lands. ）

[Let me do this first — and it is done for Cy, then, because he knows what his own reaction would be, he knows what he would ask for. He knows what he craves. He would want fingers as deep in his throat as they could fit, gagging him. He would want fingers pushed up into his hole, stretching him, ruthlessly rubbing the tender spot of his prostate that still no one has ever touched but Cy. Or, better, he would want to take Cy's cock after twenty strikes to the ass, or thirty or forty, until his skin is glowing hot and he's thrashing, until he's full to the brim with Cy and there is no more space in his head for anything or anyone else.

But this allowance, this slow and measured pace, isn't just for his own sake of wading into the depths of new waters. It is also for Cy. The knowledge that there is a progression to work up his experience, and that one day he'll be practiced at this enough to be able to handle such intensity without falling apart. Because Sasuke can't say, yet — as much as he would spear his body on pain for Cy's pleasure, he doesn't know what it will look like on the other side, coming down from the height of that plunge. He's had darker, emptier moments in his life that tell him it would not be very good. He doesn't want Cy to see that. The respect for boundaries goes both ways, and it isn't a foundation built in one day; it must be steadied and reinforced over time.

Something cool and smooth is rubbed into throbbing flesh. He shudders, coaxing the steel of his body to relax, relax, relax. It's a mantra in his mind as his mouth is vacated, as that hand returns to his ass. The blows don't sting as badly, but he doesn't mind. His cock continues to leak persistent precome; his hand reaches out, coiling around Cy's own as he bears the remaining eight. He wants to come so badly but he doesn't beg for it. Cy promised him.

What he does do — right on the cusp of nineteen, twenty — is let himself release a high whine broken over the stutter of his own hips, unrepressed, the sound as close to a tearless sob as it can get.]

（ christ, that fucking sound. the twentieth blow rings out with all the sanctity of a churchbell in the air and that soft choke of sound drowns out everything else for a moment, his focus blacked out and narrowed down to it alone. the ache of his cock where it's trapped awkwardly by the cut of his pants is what zones him back in, and his hips shift to seek relief of the persistent nudge of discomfort.

but — sasuke first.

he reaches for the anti-inflammatories, taps two out of the bottle and into his hand, and then pushes them into sasuke's mouth with a gentle slide of his thumb and index finger. the bottle of water laid out on the bed is next, and he holds it so the boy can drink. ）

Swallow these for me and just rest a bit, breathe and relax. I've got you. You did so good, you took that punishment so fucking well for me. You were perfect.

（ he reaches for sasuke's wrist — gently guides him to reach around behind himself, pressing the boy's palm against the swollen, reddened skin of his ass. letting him feel and touch and explore but also because he suspects that he'll instinctively linger on any parts that are more painful than the rest, which he'll pay mindful attention to afterwards. and while he does that, after he's set the bottle of water aside, he strokes sasuke's hair tenderly, touching him anywhere he can reach just as these little grounding points of contact that can pull him back to his body. ）

Just give me a bit to work you open, okay? I'll be quick as you can stand, I know you can keep yourself hard and messy for me until then. Do you want to sit in my lap to take my cock, or do you want to be on your knees on the bed?

（ even as he's talking, gentle and soothing, he's reaching for the lube nearby to slick his fingers up, working them inside sasuke with practiced skill. he knows the boy's body so well now despite the fact they've only done this specific physical climax once before that he can interpret every clench and flicker of muscle around him, urging him on or holding him back in turn as he fucks him open with his fingers. normally he treats this as an act all its own, is happy to take agonizing time to jar pleasure loose from the coiled cable of sasuke's body, but now he clearly has another aim: keeping his word just as quickly as he dares with a boy who isn't fragile or soft but whom he treats as treasure regardless. ）

[Lips are pliant and yielding as he swallows pills down a dry throat and takes a few thirsty, noisy gulps from the bottle of water. The gentle way that he's led through these steps of recovery is like being wrapped in a warm blanket after time in the cold. Unnecessary because it's not going to kill him; soothing, gentle, so unbelievably kind because someone cares this much to look after him.

A curious hand wanders the curve of his own ass, feeling the heat that radiates against his palm. There are no welts, no marks — and he shouldn't be so disappointed that, with some attention and tender efforts, soon it will be as if nothing has touched him at all. Yet there's satisfaction to the stinging burn that continues to throb; he finds a spot particularly affected, just at the crease of thigh and ass cheek, and presses in his thumb to feel the twinge of dull pain.

Then he wallows in that praise, those caresses, mind beginning to anchor back into a clearer pattern of thought, squirming at the renewed awareness of his dick against Cy's leg. The question earns a gust of breath — and it quickens when he feels that slick-wet probe at the entrance of his body, fingers prying at his hole, easing the way with a familiar stretch. A trickle of sweat has gathered on his brow as he turns his head to look at Cy, pinned legs flexing.]

Mm. I don't have a preference between either of those, but... I want you to be able to touch where you hit me. I want your hands there when you fuck me. [He feels — like some thoroughly satisfied animal, even wound up by the pursuit of orgasm. There's a new looseness brought on by the conclusion of being struck; he feels less inhibited, more willing to be vocal.] Cy, it felt really good.

Edited 2024-02-12 04:34 (UTC)

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