+

[chokuto]

UN: 火
𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 / 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 / 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 / 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 / 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖
𝟖♣ ( 𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑩𝑺 )

Comments

[hallowing]

（ 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?

[chokuto]

[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.]

[hallowing]

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.

[chokuto]

[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.

[hallowing]

（ 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. ）

[chokuto]

[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.]

[hallowing]

（ 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. ）

[chokuto]

[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.

[hallowing]

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. ）

[chokuto]

[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.]

[hallowing]

（ 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.

[chokuto]

[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.]

[hallowing]

（ 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. ）

[chokuto]

[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.]

[hallowing]

（ 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. ）

[chokuto]

[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.

[hallowing]

（ he marks that spot with a mental note to pay it additional care after they're done, but for now simply continues to twist and flex his fingers open within the heat of sasuke's body. when the boy squirms, though, cy shifts with him to give him a little more freedom, moving his left leg to free the boy's knees from beneath it. somehow, he makes the awkward disentangling of limbs seem graceful.

his fingers drive in deeper, the third slipped in now even though he knows it will offer a faint stretch of discomfort it's certainly no worse than what else sasuke has accepted from his hand tonight. his right knee is slightly lifted so that there's something for sasuke to brace against, and his right hand retreats from its tender ministrations elsewhere on sasuke's body to add more lube which he massages in with his fingers. ）

I'm glad. Thank you for telling me. It means a lot to me, sharing something like this with you and seeing how it affects you.

（ one final flex of his hand and then, deeming sasuke to be adequately prepared, he simply hefts him up astride his lap, pulling the boy's thighs to either side of his hips. it'll be the easiest way for sasuke to get what he'd asked for, because cy can hold him like this, dig his hands in against the swell of building bruises and lower him down.

he could undress, using the void to make short work of his clothing — but he finds he's kinda into the dichotomy of sasuke's bare, flushed skin and his own dark slacks, so he leaves well enough alone for now, merely dropping one hand between them as he steadies the boy with the other, working his pants open and easing his trapped cock out (commando again, mostly because 'cleaning his room' had resulted in a perilous lack of clean underwear??)

if sasuke had reason to doubt him before, if he'd wanted proof of how much his tolerance, acceptance, enjoyment of pain affects him — surely the state of his cock will lay it all to rest. it's almost painfully hard, throbbing to the touch, weeping at the slit so heavily he barely has to slick a lubed-up hand around it to ease its eventual penetration into his ass.

he guides sasuke to the approximate place he needs to ease down onto it, and then — ）

Here, hold my cock steady. I'll support you. （ his hands slip around to sasuke's ass, taking his weight with an inhuman ease, fingers digging in against all those tender little places he'd laid down on him only minutes before. ） Let me know when you're ready to go and I'll lower you down. （ he leans in to nip at sasuke's bottom lip playfully. ） Slowly. I'm really not gonna last long, so I want to make it count for all five fucking times I'm gonna be able to slide into your perfect ass.

[chokuto]

[Three fingers, so quickly, is tolerated despite the burn of the stretch, despite his inexperience, that he doesn't touch himself much now outside of these times with Cy because it can't compare — and he breathes through it at a steady rhythm. He likes knowing that Cy is preparing him for this. It was not promised tonight, but he knew he would pursue sex in some capacity and he's eager in a way that's new, that comes from having done this once before. A craving for the memory of what it felt like to be wrapped around Cy's cock. It's easy and practiced as he's maneuvered into that straddling position, claiming the man's lap like a throne.

At the sound of fabric and teeth of a zipper, Sasuke's eyes slip south and then hang on the sight. His throat works around a dry, stuck swallow. Hunger eats itself alive inside of him to find Cy so hard, the dark flush of his dick crowned with so much slick, pearly precome. And that — all because of him. What he allowed Cy to do.

There's no hesitation. He wants it inside of him badly. Sex with Cy feels so effortless somehow, like it was something he was made to do.

Supported both by Cy's aid and the strength of his own body held up on bent knees, Sasuke takes the wet line of that cock and, with only a hiccup at the tender dig of fingers into abused flesh, rubs the tip up against the rim of his hole. He presses back when Cy kisses his lips, then,] Okay, [comes rasped between them, urging Cy to lower him down to a full seat.] Do it. I want it.

[hallowing]

（ he leans in, canting his head against sasuke's, chin hooked over his shoulder as he does as asked. sasuke gets lowered down with aching, inexorable slowness. he's in complete control of the descent, and as it happens he just nuzzles against him, kisses at his shoulder rather than peppering him with the usual sharp press of his teeth.

he keeps his hips steady, doesn't rut against the boy or otherwise move until sasuke is fully seated across his lap, flush against him with the spear of his cock disappeared inside him.

he breathes out in a stutter, the muscles of his stomach drum-taut with the effort of not just blowing his load immediately, and while he keeps one had wedged between sasuke's ass and his thighs, the other he peels back so he can wrap it around the boy's shoulders and just pull him in close. it feels a little like a promise, an unspoken oath, the genesis of which has stepped beyond human understanding. ）

[chokuto]

[It's so much. Like the first time, there's that breathtaking moment of fullness — where his body has made space for another's in a union so unbearably intimate he wants, instinctively, to put his face down into Cy's neck just to bear it. He resists, head turned instead to rub his cheek against Cy's in a way that will drag across rough stubble and put every fluttery breath in the man's ear. With thighs compressed, and with Cy's strong hands steadying him, he gives up all control and only wraps his right arm around broad shoulders in turn for balance.

He doesn't think he will ever get tired of this sensation. He couldn't possibly. It's even more intense than the last time he took Cy's cock, because his ass is still warm and stinging, and they haven't spent an extended amount of time stretching him or relaxing him through orgasms. It makes this feel — rawer, his body tighter, driven by desperation to come for how long he's been kept hard and untended.

Yet Sasuke doesn't reach down to touch himself. The most he allows is a push of hips, cock dragging across Cy's shirt. The contrast of bare flesh to the fabric of clothing is strangely erotic, as though he's become what Cy has called him on previous occasions, a slut or a whore used for pleasure.]

Cy, [gasped out, scratchy. Cy, Cy, Cy — all he hears, feels, thinks, cares about in the world.] Come inside of me?

[hallowing]

（ five thrusts, it seems, had been ambitious of him. every time sasuke talks like that, skirting the lines of his own comfort with that factual, crass language it's like a stab of warming lust — his shoulders shiver, and he can feel the building crest of an ache in his balls that makes holding off fucking hard— ）

I will, sweetheart. Ask me properly.

（ he says it as he lifts the boy up a few scant inches, and this time on lowering him down rolls his hips so his dick slides newly against sasuke's prostate with a flex of his pelvic muscles. it's taking a not-inconsiderable amount of his hard-won restraint not to just do as he's asked, but what can he say? he likes it when sasuke begs him for it. ）

[chokuto]

[It feels like he might come from this too. It wouldn't take long, just enough of Cy's cock grazing his prostate at that perfect angle a few more times — pleasure slamming through him like a wall, electricity wired to nerves, thighs beginning to spasm with the effort not to fight Cy's hold on him and do it himself. He wants it harder, wants that friction and pressure and heat, wants to feel the rush of Cy's orgasm fill him up.

Breathing raggedly, his arm firms in its loop around Cy's shoulders and he bears down hard on Cy's dick, purposefully tight as a fist. Tighter, against the jolting ache up his spine.]

Will you come inside of me? [are the broken, rasping words. And for the first time between them, so quiet it might slip in the air and dissipate —] Please.

[hallowing]

（ you know, he'd kinda meant sir.

but he's not going to offer correction, especially the way that plea is just spilled out in the air between them, soft sentiment laid bare. he can feel the clench of sasuke's body all around him, driving him to the precipice and it would be easy, so easy to just let go and fall into the rising tide of it, but —

— but he stops, just for a moment. shifts his hand to sasuke's cheek, and he leans in to kiss him. a soft lick into his mouth, the taste of his tongue, the shared oxygen on their breath. it's both instant and eternity.

after that, release comes easy. everything tightens, caught at that fracture-point of pleasure, and slacks off, and cy is left holding onto sasuke as tightly as a man clings to a shipwreck in a storm. aftershocks of orgasm seize him in tiny little tremors that shiver all the way through him, and though he doesn't remember moving his hands at all he's got both arms wound around the boy, one hand cupping the back of his head, fingers in a loose twist of his hair, and the other is simply holding him tightly enough to bruise.

he's panting wetly against the crook of sasuke's shoulder, and can only find it in himself to murmur: ）

Fuck. Wow.

[chokuto]

[He likes being held like that, in such a tight embrace it feels permanent — cradled so closely he can hear the rhythm of Cy's heart beating against his own chest. The grip aches, a little, in a good way. The kiss leaves him breathless, absorbed in its tenderness and then overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled as Cy comes. His knees clench and he bears down on Cy through to the end of it. He wants everything. He wants to feel every twitch, every jolt of muscle, as Cy's cock begins to soften inside of him.

Movement restricted, Sasuke still manages to tip his cheek to the top of Cy's head where it is cradled at his neck. The sensation of humid air on skin shivers through him.]

Mm.

[Let him stay like this forever, and it might be enough.]

[hallowing]

（ he doesn't actually know how long it takes for him to collect all the little fractals of a mind spun like sugar on roaring pleasure, but — long enough. he exhales in a bracing gust, and then peels himself back just a little so he can look at the kid and brush dark hair back from his forehead and away from those mismatched eyes. half of him wants to collapse into a boneless heap and just take sasuke with him — but the other half knows the job's not done. ）

Gimme a sec. I need to figure out where I dropped the high functioning aftercare region of my brain. Christ. Fuck.

（ he groans audibly and thumps his forehead down against sasuke's shoulder with a slouch of his spine. ）

Did you even come? （ omg??? he sounds Worried, Actually. he's a bad dom for coming first 🥺🥺🥺 ） I lost the fucking plot.