chokuto

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)

（ 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.

[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.

（ 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. ）

[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?

（ 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. ）

[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.

（ 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.

[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.]

（ 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.

[Apparently, his ability to emote anything close to humor emerges clearest when he's one-upped someone — or, in this case, made Cy come with a vengeance. There's a quiet little heh from where his own face is tucked neatly against the side of Cy's head. Then pulled back, blinking at Cy's face.]

Didn't you say it yourself? It's not transactional.

[So, no, he didn't, but he's luxuriating in the heat of Cy's body wrapped around him, tucked inside of him. His cock is pressed in the seal of their bodies and muffled by Cy's shirt. If he focuses on it too long, it'll tug him away to distraction.]

Was it that good?

Edited 2024-02-13 03:12 (UTC)

Oh, you do not get to put that back on me, you little fucker.

（ he sounds not the least bit actually upset or annoyed, it's more just — fond, warm sentiment delivered on the palms of profanity. but there is an orgasm ratio to be maintained here, thank you!! he does settle, though, pressing soothing little kisses against what he can reach of sasuke's shoulder, and tracing nonsensical sigils on him with one lazy hand. ）

It was perfect. Having you naked and fucked out for me like this, I can feel the heat of your slapped ass through my fucking slacks. （ he heaves a sigh, and then straightens up so he can press a kiss against sasuke's forehead. ） My perfect little slut, you do dangerous things to my dick.

[Can he be blamed? Reducing a man who is over ten millennia old, who has bedded countless others, to that level of gratification — the rush is unspeakable, a heady sense of power akin to the closest victories he's won on the battlefield.

Sasuke hums, eyes closed beneath the gentle trace of fingers and unperturbed by that profanity. It is the latter words that earn a more significant reaction; he shudders, shifting to unfold legs and wrap them properly around Cy's waist on the bed. The kiss to his brow unveils a naked expression, arousal vibrant in mismatched eyes echoed by my perfect little slut.]

I'm only as good as I was taught.

[So, really, this is all Cy's fault.]

（ sasuke gets a crooked smile, but the sentiment is just — soft, easy love.

cy leans back, hands skirting from sasuke's hips down his thighs and back behind himself in a moment that almost seems like a careen into physical restraint, the flex and bend of his shoulders giving the briefest suggestion of bound hands before his touch settles on sasuke's ankles and stay there. ）

I think I'm gonna need another demonstration.

（ sasuke's been struggling to get himself off. he can tell it drives the boy to frustration and self-directed annoyance, this feeling of not being good enough that lists into personal apathy.

so: ）

Jerk yourself off for me. I want to watch you.

（ it's not quite the same as flying solo. cy's cock isn't quite out of the game yet, and an upward flex of his hips rekindles its flagging interest — his refractory period isn't anything to sneeze at, either. but he thinks the problem isn't necessarily that sasuke can't get himself off alone, and more that he's not gentle enough with his body to make it anything but a ruthless pursuit — that the issue is more that he doesn't know how to welcome pleasure into himself when there's no one and nothing else to administer it. ）

I want you to take it easy, and gentle. Just listen to my voice. （ his thumbs stroke at sasuke's ankles, slow circles around the little jut of that delicate bone. ） Wrap your hand around the base. Close your eyes. What's your body telling you?

[He watches, honed into every movement Cy makes, drawn to the flex of strong shoulders behind a back until that touch drives a stuttered breath loose. It's not restrictive, but there is a sense of... containment, in the way his ankles are held in those warm hands.

Then Cy's instruction consumes his whole world — and while he does not experience embarrassment, what he feels is some close cousin. Set into the frame of being observed, that expectation threatens to ride down on him in a fury for the pressure it creates in light of what he's shared, how he's struggled. In a concentrated effort to tame it, Sasuke breathes. Closes his eyes. Listens, tries to trust.

His right hand lowers, settling at the base of his cock where it's still swollen and flushed against his belly, focused on the sensation of Cy's cock still cradled inside of his body — betraying himself when the first shape of fingers a tight fist.]

That it's not enough.

[The sentiment is like a thorn, a piece of glass. The way he strokes himself drags, even done slowly, made more into punishment than pleasure.]

（ he keeps his hands where they are in self-imposed exile, but the gentle whisper of the pads of his thumbs across sasuke's skin — a rare place on him that isn't scarred — persists. ）

Easy, sweetheart, easy. I've got you. Grab the lube, slick yourself up. It's okay if you fail, I'll help if it's too much. But I want you to try, okay? Just listen to me and try.

（ sasuke obeys him, and there's a glimmer of frustration in his sharp movements. but it's still progress, and once he's done as he was bid cy tells him to again close his eyes.

then, in a voice that's soft, with a storyteller's lilt — ）

All your life, your body's been a weapon. You can stand pleasure with me because it's something that you feel you're being given, not something you're taking from yourself, from me. But I can tell you right now that if you could see the way you're holding your cock right now, if you were touching me like that you'd be furious at yourself. There's nothing gentle in it. You're being cruel to yourself because you don't know how to be kind, because strength has only come from pain, and pleasure culled from battle. But it's okay. Every part of you is something precious to me. I want you to carry that, and I know you can take it. Loosen your fingers up. Your hand feels good, the way the callouses add a texture to the way the skin of your cock slides beneath it. Chase that feeling all the way up to the head of your cock, drag your index finger against the crown, up enough your grip stutters. Slip your hand up and over the head, twist your wrist a bit as you go so the friction works against the glans. Squeeze, think about my mouth on you. Remember how you came for me back then? I could've sat there for hours just worshipping your cock on the altar of my tongue.

（ his tone is so achingly far away, tender in a way even sasuke rarely hears from him. ）

You don't have to feel like you deserve it. That comes later. For now, trust that I say you do. You've trusted me with every part of yourself so far, so give me that, too. Your body is beautiful, you deserve to treat it that way when you're with me, when you're alone. I want you to. I want you to reach into yourself and find just the smallest spark, some thread of pleasure, and grasp it, and pull until it unravels. C'mon, ma petite flamme, surrender yourself and let me catch you.

[It's so much. The lubricant helps. It's so much — the words that come out of Cy's mouth, falling over him like a cool rain, carrying him from one moment to the next. He can't concentrate, lost somewhere between the smoother glide of his hand on his aching cock and the things that Cy is saying to him.

Just listen to me and try. So he tries, and he listens.

There was a time, not long ago, where he would have recoiled from what Cy says to him, where his whole body would have flinched from it like a blow to the gut. And he would have used his safeword to get Cy away from him, to eliminate the softness of touch and compassion and sentiment sheltering itself in this space between them. He would have wanted to be alone. And there was a time, only a little more than a year ago, where he would have tried ruthlessly to kill this tender thing between them. He doesn't deserve this now; it is a thought that soars high in his mind, preeminent, occupying so much of his self-identity and his life prior to this place. Prior to Cy.

And so quickly, Cy snuffs it. You don't have to feel like you deserve it. All those words, all of that fondness given to him. The shudder wracks through his body, and his hand falls loose around his cock when the first wave of emotion comes. This time humiliation bends swiftly in because the room isn't dark, Cy will be able to see the first silent tears that gather on dark lashes — and he can't believe this would happen again in such a short period of time.

What is wrong with him?

The gasp for air breaks out, weight put forward into Cy's chest to hide himself, curling — seeking protection with the desperation of a child who never had it.]

（ he sees it. the attempt, the shift, the dam that cracks, and cracks, and breaks, and he's not surprised when sasuke cleaves in against him, pressed in close. tears come, but sobs don't follow — a learned reflex, from a world that has beaten it into him: any weakness you have, any kindness you show is only a knife you give an enemy to hold at your throat.

how long did it take him to perfect the art of crying without a fucking sound? doubtless it was done to revoke even the faintest possibility of being heard, of being hurt.

cy traces the line of the boy's legs, back to his hips, up against his back. he just holds him. no cracks, no quips, no commentary. just patient and understanding, one hand lifted a little higher just to stroke at his hair. he holds him until his breath steadies, until the tremble of his thighs is keyed down to nearly nothing, until the salt-slick tears have dried with a bit of an itchy sheen against his skin.

when he does speak, it's a quiet murmur of sound, barely audible even in the hush of the room. ）

I used to think I could never lay my hands on myself, on another person ever again. The thought of coming made me sick. Every time I closed my eyes I saw — （ well, that part doesn't matter. there is a brief, winnowing meadow of silence and then he carries on: ） — it took a long time to get me there. Even the thought of seeing the contrast of my hand on someone's skin, it just — （ he exhales. it's not steady. ） I think I could've gone the rest of my life without finding solace in someone else if I hadn't met the right person at the right time for me. He'd been a prisoner of war. （ that fucking thing, again. war, like a drumbeat in his head, in his heart, stitched into his soul. there is a spike of howling rage in him, because he hates it so much it has almost consumed him, burnt him down to ash, and somehow it hasn't been enough. ） He'd been hurt in ways I was familiar with. Everything that'd been done to him, I'd done to someone else. The scars were fucking awful, and I used to have nightmares that I was the one that put them there. But he'd had — time to live with himself after, and I was still so raw with it. I don't know how else to explain it, except to say he put me back in my body. He wouldn't let me hate myself. He made me face it down. The shame, the horror, the hate, and he broke something in me doing that. And then he fixed it.

（ he buffets sasuke just a little closer, because he can feel the nascent pressure of tears building behind his eyes, and while he doesn't take issue with crying he still wants to wipe his eyes. he's lost fragments of that love over the years, but the grief of its loss is still a wound. ）

I don't remember his name. But I remember what he did for me. （ lightly: ） Long winded way of saying I did my fair share of crying too. It's okay, Sasuke. Every step forward echoes, and builds, and ripples outwards.

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there is so much crying in his future

😏😏😏 (also, uh, cw: war horrors/torture/gore allusions)