chokuto

[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.

[The episode is quiet, subdued, and eventually his tears cease where he's folded into Cy's arms, mind lying in that bruised and vulnerable aftermath — listening to the rhythm of Cy's voice as it takes him away from the self-inflicted misery of his own thoughts.

It hurts to hear what Cy describes. It hurts, and it helps. He feels some desperate urge to find the man's name for Cy, to reach into that ancient ocean of memory and fish it out, but not without permission, no matter how badly he wishes to do something for Cy in return for all that Cy has done, is doing, for him. And at the same time builds that cold terror of losing this man who has become so irrefutably significant in such a short period of time — he does not ever want to give Cy up. It will destroy him.

Voice thready with breath, Sasuke finally speaks.]

He didn't forget you. [That man. That prisoner of war.] And I never will, either.

[It seems that just as that person came to Cy at the correct time, Cy has walked into his life the same — war's entity reflecting humanity back at him.]

I don't mind if you forget me one day. It's not your fault. I knew that when I first asked you to find me.

Edited (why did i repeat myself) 2024-02-13 21:57 (UTC)

I know.

（ humans struggle to comprehend the timeline. the concept of a millennium is almost beyond what a person can fathom as time lived, spent, sold.

cy keeps stroking at his hair, stopping any time he hits a snarl in the silken strands that needs to be worked through. ）

I'll carry your memory as long as I can, though. You need to know that, too.

[A nod, felt when he puts his head in against Cy's, right hand hunting around for the man's own in a familiar braid of fingers. Then he brings the handhold between them, palm still tacky with lubricant, trying to coax their joined grasp around his cock where it has flagged against the soft inner skin of a thigh.

It doesn't feel strange to transition between the emotional depth of conversation to this, a physical need. Perhaps because both are so intertwined, so intrinsic to one another — Cy has now seen him more vulnerable than anyone. And the language they share is easily communicated with his body.]

Will you do it with me, this time?

Of course, sweetheart.

（ sasuke asks him for almost nothing — but when he reaches into the depths of himself and pulls out a plea, cy will never stop letting him know that the answer is always immediate and affirmative. equally as much — he's determined to never tell sasuke you don't have to ask. all that would do is tell him that the work he did to get here isn't seen.

their joined hands bracket sasuke's cock, and cy leads the dance for now, coaxing back some of the stiffness it lost in the torrential shift of emotion. he lets the shaft nestle in the cradle of their fingers more than their palms, which means that when either of them flex their fingers the grip is an uroboros of sensation swallowing them both down. the lube eases the contact, and the close contact of his shirt is an occasional interjection when their grip lists one way or another.

cy is back to slouching, pressing an open mouth against the artery at the side of sasuke's neck, closing his teeth but not quite biting. between that, and softer kisses, and nips at the lobe of his ear, the sensations are never twice the same. ）

You want me hard for you again? Wouldn't take much.

[He is rigid again in moments, buoyed by the tenderness of that endearment as well as Cy's artful touches, fingers knitted in an act of intimacy that cuts the air from his lungs with every ragged breath. Cock swollen and sensitive to every drag on tender flesh, precome beads at the slit in a refreshed trickle of wetness. On an upward pull, he feels a caress smear it over the crown of the head — making his body jolt where it sits astride Cy's lap.]

Yes.

[Reminding him, as if he could forget for a second, that Cy is still inside of his ass. Muscles clench all down both thighs, looking for the intrusion of a dick that has kept him open this whole time despite tears and reassurances and confessions. Overeager hips bear down with the intent to stir Cy back to full arousal.]

（ the clench helps, the shift, the way sasuke asks him — it's an easy feeling to sink into, to accept into himself, to enjoy. he makes a soft noise, and drops his free hand to sasuke's hip, fingers curling beneath the seat of his ass — the boy weighs nearly nothing to him despite a solid frame and well-honed muscle, so it's easy enough to help encourage him to lift just slightly and then pull him back down, hard. harder than they've done so far, than earlier gentleness allowed. he's already mostly there, buoyed by the slick of his own spent orgasm inside the boy and the remains of the tacky lube that eased prior passage. the heat of the earlier blows is still radiating from him like a fever, and —

if they'd done this more than once before, if they were more than just exploring the nascency of a relationship, maybe he'd slap him again, palm curved in against already reddened skin. but — for now, the only thing he does is flex his fingers into the little hurt of it all, and respond to the rock of sasuke's hips with an upward shift of his own. ）

Just so you know, you're cleaning my shirt later.

（ is the playful little threat, not uttered seriously. it's simply an expression of desire, that that will be the end goal of their engagement. he wants to be messy, wants sasuke to get off, wants, wants. ）

[Timed with the rough pull down into Cy's lap, his voice jars from his throat in a low sound — hungry as much for the handling as he is the sharp jolts of fingers that flex over red, abused flesh. The mix of those two pleasures, of Cy's cock against the sore spot of nerves and the flare of heat where he was hit, becomes an intoxicant not easily shaken. Its potency clouds his head. Lean legs wrap themselves around Cy's hips, ankles locked, using core muscle to meet every rejoining of bodies, trying to ride himself down on Cy's dick with the dedicated enthusiasm of stamina.

And between them, where their laced handhold continues to stroke at his cock, every touch shared by this physical intimacy — he finds that it takes no time at all to climb to the apex of orgasm. Made more primal by the fact he can feel how slick it is inside as Cy fucks him and he knows this is not only lube, that it is Cy's come, and he craves it again. And again. And again.

Cy's words come through to him in a blissed haze, met with — impossibly — a ragged, breathless laugh, closer to that free expression of emotion than he's been yet.

Then there's nothing else but sensation. Sasuke does not take long to drench their fingers in his own seed, what little is cupped by their hands soaking the front of Cy's shirt as promised.]

Okay, so, laughter reserved for me making exceptionally hilarious comments while dicking you down? Noted, noted.

（ it's said playfully, murmured against the pale column of sasuke's throat just after the orgasm is yielded out of his body's bleak tension. cy, by that anchoring hand, sort of rocks sasuke's body against the spear of his cock, but it's less about coming and more about hitting the kid with those delicious little aftershocks of overstimulation — not more than he can stand, but enough. ）

You good, sweetheart?

[Any thought for a sharp, dry comment is shattered by the angle of that rolling movement, pleasure spidering through him like electricity. He gasps, overwhelmed by a full-body shudder, muscles tensing on and around Cy — legs flexing tight at Cy's waist, the clench of his ass over Cy's dick still maddeningly rigid inside of him, fine fingers squeezing that other hand.]

Hah, I'm... yes. Even though I can tell you're doing that on purpose.

[It might sound sullen, at least in performance, if not for the way he tries to repeat the motion of hips to chase that same too-intense shock of sensation where he felt Cy's cock rub. The edge of that pleasure — it feels so good it almost hurts.]

Cy.

Edited 2024-02-15 04:48 (UTC)

Mm?

（ he disentangles his messy, sticky hand from where it's been woven against sasuke's, slick and sticky with come, and equalizes the grip on his other hip, dragging him back and forth in a slow grind that makes the zipper of his fly catch against the underside of one of the boy's thighs. it's noticed, and instantly soothed with an apologetic shift of one hand. ）

[The slow, methodical way their hips grind together, a drag less about Cy's dick slipping out of his hole than it is simply rubbing it in the tight, slick channel of his ass where he's seated — constantly pushing up against the tender spot of nerves inside — devolves him to a speechless, squirming state of overstimulated intensity. Sasuke holds on tighter, pushes closer, minimizing space in a lean against Cy's chest as his mouth falls open around panted breath.

If he notices the sharp jab of a zipper, it's not with irritation. He presses down against Cy's lap a little harder to feel the abraded drag of metallic teeth on his skin a second time.]

Shh. Gentle.

（ it's a soft entreaty, murmured against sasuke's cheek as he kisses at him in a slow, hungry press of his mouth. he frees up one hand to push his pants further down, removing the temptation to yield to the teeth. ）

We did the pain part. Punishment's over. Now it's just slow, and easy, and sweet.

（ he pulls the boy in against him as close as the various touchstones of bodies and angles will allow, and this time the kiss is against his mouth, feeling the pliant yield of sasuke's against his own that warrants entry, the inward press of his tongue that lays claim there. ）

I think I can get off again. Can you take it?

（ rhetorical question. he already knows what sasuke's answer is going to be — but it's only polite to ask. ）

[There's no protest, allowing Cy to channel this into a softer direction even as he finds it harder to be that than anything; in these experienced hands, at least, the way is smoothed. And he does not fear it as he might have in another place, time, with someone else. Sasuke takes a steadying breath that is soon kissed out of his mouth by the seal of familiar lips, the slide of a hot tongue — all of it given, handed over as if it costs him nothing.

His right arm circles itself around Cy's shoulders now that it's free from their hold, mismatched eyes bleary from his own orgasm. His face and the tender skin of his ass both burn, overheated.]

Yes. [He wants to feel it again — punctuated by a rock of hips to keep himself electrically aware of Cy's cock as it spreads him open, slicked with come.] Always.

C'mere, I'm going to move us. Sasuke — thighs tight around me. Be good for me, sweetheart — keep me inside you.

（ one arm curls around sasuke, pinning him in close against him as he carries them first upwards, standing — supporting sasuke's weight without any significant show or strain — and then he pivots on his heel and turns to face the bed. he doesn't quite lower them down gently — he cradles sasuke against him as he arranges himself appropriately for a Proper Fuckin', and then drops them both down against the mattress. letting his weight pin the boy down is a deliberate thing, as is the drop itself, just enough to drive the air from sasuke's lungs.

from this new position, atop him, pressing him down into the blankets, the hard grip of sasuke's thighs angling his hips just right, one forearm braced beside sasuke's head — ）

I've wanted you like this from the first moment I saw you.

（ fucked open beneath him, pressed down, held. ）

[There's a responsive squeeze of thighs to keep Cy's cock lodged inside of him even as he's lifted, pivoted toward the bed. Breath gusts out at the drop — buried in it, a sound, half-gasped as he feels Cy settle on top of him in a cover of body weight that does not allow any ease of movement. So far they've maintained positions allowing himself some freedom of control; this is the first that most resembles when he'd asked for Cy's aid, when the torment of aphrodisiac had clouded his mind and made it impossible not to succumb to a pleasure he had not ever felt before.

The reaction is immediate, unlocked by that pattern of memory. Sasuke all but thrashes — testing the strength of Cy's hold on him, encircled in an embrace of limbs as he's trapped on the bed. All of his awareness goes to the feeling of Cy's dick as it keeps him open.]

I... [The sensitivity has not abated; he feels raw with static, nerves frayed.] I didn't know that I did, but those dreams... It was in my head before we'd even met. I wanted it. From you.

[If there is one gift this place has given him it would be Cy. Their faces are so close, bracketed by Cy's arm. A craning reach seeks lips against his own.]

（ it's not quite struggling. it's testing limits, and cy lets him — if sasuke truly protested the position, cy trusts that he'd make it more obvious than this, which is barely just testing their boundaries.

he does wonder, though, if that was the gift of this place. the house had commented on his kindness. maybe it had, in some small way, lead sasuke to him. he soothes the thrashing with the press of his palm against sasuke's arm, down his side, to his hip and the crux of his thigh, and then bends into that craning reach to kiss him. the difference in their heights makes it just a little awkward, exaggerated by penetration, but he manages to make it work by rocking his hips back, pulling himself out of sasuke just a little. it'll be all the sweeter to drive back into him. ）

I'm gonna pin your hand. （ he does so, his left anchoring sasuke's to the mattress, their fingers braided in a clench. ） It won't take me long to get off like this, and then we'll go on to aftercare, okay?

（ his smile is warm, if a little crooked. playful, as the next kiss is dropped against sasuke's temple. ）

Ask me to fuck you hard and I will.

[The kiss, split by the hot slide of a tongue past lips in intimate tangling, only magnifies that sensation of Cy's cock sliding back inside of him with a push of hips. A noise of pleasure falls out of his mouth, thin and flickering with breath. He only nods at the warning; his hand is slack and effortlessly surrendered to Cy's warm fingers, flexing into a tighter hold once joined. It won't take long, Cy claims — but Sasuke wouldn't mind if they stayed like this for hours. If he could make Cy come, again and again, without ever leaving his body.

He nods. Thighs rearrange themselves around the circle of Cy's hips, deliberate as ankles hook in a surer hold at the small of his back. Like setting a lock.]

Will you, [in that same airy rush of feeling,] fuck me hard?

[It has taken time to fall into better comfort with these requests, with making his wants known — but he's led by Cy's experience as easily as a river flows a channeled path.]

Sir.

（ it's the sir that really pushes him — and he seals the word against sasuke's mouth with a kiss before he moves to comply. he cages sasuke in against the bed, one hand pinning his down, the other bracketing his head so closely that he can't twist away and press his cheek down into the blankets.

the fucking itself is easy, practiced. sasuke's body yields beneath him, fucked open, fucked full. every little breathy sound the boy makes generates a lightning strike of lust, meteoric, that only intensifies the snap of his hips and the faint, building strain to his own breathing. he lets himself be a little harder, a little rougher — because sasuke likes it, because he can take it, because cy would, he thinks, do anything this kid fucking asked of him and then some.

it does not, as he promised, take him long — but he makes it last. and when he does come, it's with a sharp exhalation and a collapse into the willing cradle of sasuke's thighs, atop his body. aftershocks lick up his spine, and through them he kisses at sasuke's cheek, breath trembling just a little. ）

[Just as much as that trust blooms and builds between them, layered upon a bedrock foundation — so, too, is Sasuke learning what it is this man likes. Too ready he feels to surrender beneath the lust that feeds back on itself, an ouroboros of desire magnified by deep emotional intimacy he's shown no one else, by the reflections of their lives and events that have designed patterns of behavior. Words like sir and please have power; questions, asking, demonstrating his own willingness and his wanting for what Cy is able to give him. There's power.

He does not feel belittled, or small, or weak while he's pinned beneath another man, as a dick slides in and out of his body in those hard thrusts, obscene smacks of flesh punctuating each point of pleasure. It isn't anything as he dared to imagine. And more, he understands why Cy wants this — what Cy has entrusted in the telling of his atrocities. It is a way to exercise what he craves without the burden of horror. Without the pain, and the anguish, and the black self-hatred.

And Sasuke feels the same. He wants the same so desperately.

In acknowledgment of this, he lets himself be a little louder in that intimate pocket between their faces, vocalizing soft noises while he's fucked, all the way to that shivering climax. And then his thighs clench, looking up at Cy from beneath a fringe of hair in perhaps the most extended demonstration of eye contact as he's filled with come, again. He turns his face into the kiss at his cheek and gives one back. Less practiced, more of a rub of lips than anything substantial. A gentle tug frees his hand only to coil his entire arm around Cy's shoulders, holding as much as he's held.]

（ he does not miss that eye contact, nor its meaning, nor the gift of it.

afterwards, he lays sprawled there as long as he dares — cherishing the warmth of sasuke's body beneath him, the places where sweat has bled through the fabric of his clothing and — newly renewed — the sensation of where the come has dried on his shirt.

time becomes a murky sludge he has to dedicate serious bandwidth to wade through, but eventually he manages it. the transition to aftercare is a slow, methodical process. he tidies them both up, strips himself naked, gets sasuke to lay facedown while he dresses his skin in another round of lotion — focusing his attention on those specific little parts that sasuke had indicated unknowingly as a source of greater hurt.

he spends much of the rest of the day working the boy loose and boneless with a gentle massage that wrings the tension from taut muscles, humming a faint old song as he works.

when they sleep, they're tangled up in each other, and he's got one hand slung across sasuke's reddened ass in a mark of possessive protectiveness, cradling the boy against his chest like he has no intention of letting him go. ）

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there is so much crying in his future

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

i know my emotions are in danger when i see that cw

lmaoooo it does always mean a Certain Sort of Way, huh

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