chokuto

[He nods, feeling the movement shift his cheek up against Cy's chin, closing his eyes briefly as a shiver of warm expectation works through his body.]

All right. I don't mind waiting.

[In the theory. In the moment may be a different story, but that's part of it, too.]

Now? I've been stretched enough that a plug shouldn't be an issue.

You'll get tense again — the anticipation. I just want to make sure, okay?

（ they may have played around with it a little in the spur of the moment, and in genjutsu — but it's the first time they're actively sorting out a specific scene, and while he's come to a point where he'd trust sasuke to safeword out if it was more pain than he could stand, he doesn't want to get there. moreso, perhaps, on the heels of the picnic. the guy's already feeling emotionally bruised, if he had to cut something else short on account of his own comfort he might be overwhelmed. ）

I don't mind if there's a little pain involved with something like this, but I still want you to come down more on the side of pleasure.

[The way Cy takes care of him, meticulously attentive to his needs in the moment while planning ahead for that future scenario where conversation will fall to the wayside of fantasy — Sasuke is struck, made tender by speechlessness. The emotion swells in him. He takes a deep and steadying breath, then reaches for one of Cy's hands and pulls it around his back, guiding the palm over the curve of his ass.]

Okay. Then finger me first, and we'll add the plug once I'm ready.

[In that intervening time, he'll probably need more lube anyway. Sasuke punctuates his request with a kiss — a little wet, hungry, teeth catching on a lip.]

T'che verai. I love you.

Edited 2024-05-20 19:00 (UTC)

（ hearing chiskikani on sasuke's lips — a language that's been dead so long its only haven is his mind — is its own sort of love. what he feels isn't grief, exactly — but it's what grief leaves you with when it's hollowed you out. he returns the kiss, but gentler, more settled — and then they move on.

it's a familiar thing between them now, settled and sure — not like those first few attempts when more than one of these instances had gone a little off the rails. cy teases him through it, and at the end gives him a box of stuff to take back to his room — things they've either discussed using during a scene, or considered. the spider gag is one of them, and cy gives him a walkthrough of how it's used, with the caveat — if you decide you don't want it to be part of the scene, just keep it out of the box.

and then he drops him off in his room, not willing after earlier's incident to make him walk through the halls with a plug up his ass. tells him to wear something to bed he doesn't mind getting ruined, and to keep the bell in his hand — from there, it's a waiting game.

cy doesn't return to his room, but to one of the rooftop venues that's lush and green, and he just sits under a tree and lets his mind empty of thought like water through a sieve. he can smell grass and moss and growing things, and he thinks about nothing. eventually, he stirs — gets to his feet and decides rather than to teleport down, he'll walk. normally, he might make a meander of it all. check out some shops, chat with a few folks he's seen before along the way, but today he just goes in a straight line, and winds up outside of sasuke's door.

he considers smoking a cigarette first, but scent is such a powerful purveyor of memory he'd rather not introduce it as an element to round out the scene, and so, with a final roll of his shoulders, he just teleports into the familiar space. the room is abysmally small, as always, but he knows it all the more intimately for how sasuke organizes it — and it's easy to be kneeling in a moment on the bed, fingers closing on sasuke's wrist as he shoves him face down on the mattress from whatever position he was in feigning sleep. ）

Hey, gorgeous.

（ as requested — his tone mirrors the one he'd used in the genjutsu. there's a cruelty that lingers there, undercut beneath a playful affect like a heady perfume. like a dark mirror of who he is, or who he could be.

the lack of space doesn't leave them much maneuvering room, and it means that he puts one knee into the small of sasuke's back to hold him down, pinioned against the bed. leaning his weight into him until it'll be a strain on the lungs. ）

Shh. Don't scream. What will the neighbours think?

[His room is cool and dark when Cy transmats him there, cleanly untouched over the past week he has spent with Cy in the rank-three suite upstairs. For a moment he simply lies fully dressed on the bed — aware of the cramped space around him, aware even more of the pressure inside where the plug has been nestled, slick lubricant preventing any uncomfortable chafe of silicone. It is the second time today he's held something in of his body meant to stretch and hold muscle open; he knows he will feel it tomorrow, but they've worked to a point of practice with these toys, and he's not worried about it. His mind is turned toward the future with acute focus.

Soon, it becomes all that occupies his thoughts. Sasuke sits up and places the box on the bedside table — narrowly situated between the mattress itself and the other wall — removing none of the toys, though his fingertips rove curiously over the shape of the spider gag in silent contemplation. Then, he stands and undresses, selecting a loose sleeveless top and sweatpants, neither article of clothing one he holds any special fondness for.

And then, he gets back into bed. Sleep becomes an impossible target, lying there in the dimness with only an automated-switch nightlight on the wall casting a golden arc onto the ceiling. He squirms, feeling the plug shift, feeling the minutes run together with anticipation that, as Cy had predicted, causes his body to tighten like a wire. He jolts at every footstep in the hall, every sound of movement from his neighbors through thin walls.

It seems to take an eternity for that cold, malevolent energy to spark in the air — Sasuke has slipped into a half-awake drowse, orange blanket pulled up over a bare shoulder when Cy enters the room. In seconds he is fully alert, fingers fisted around the silver bell as his wrist is snatched and he's turned onto his stomach, face shoved into the mattress.

Breath snags in his throat, too stunned yet to even struggle. That voice slips into him, sinuously low, poisonous honey in the unfurling of fantasy.]

What do you... [a gasp jars out of him as knee meets back,] What are you doing? Who are you?

[Playing off the fact that he hadn't seen Cy's face in the darkness — his pulse jumps, trying to turn his cheek on the bed to look above.]

（ he can hear the dull chime of the bell where it's held fast against sasuke's palm, and he spares a moment's acknowledgement for it, the stroke of his thumb along the tender inner wrist. then there's a jerk of his arm higher against his back, wrenching the shoulder to clear discomfort but not quite pain as he makes a disapproving noise, a suck of the teeth. ）

I'm the guy that's going to make you mine. （ that's said in a rough purr, lilted upwards as cy leans down near his ear. his free hand is lifted, and shoves sasuke's head down forcefully against the mattress, preventing him from craning to look.

there's a shift, and that curl of black energy — a knife materializes in his hand. the one, months ago, from the elevator. he drags its blunt edge against sasuke's nape as if he's simply brushing his hair out of the way, a mockery of a tender caress. ）

Hold still.

（ he hooks the tip of the blade in just below the shirt collar, until its tip rests just barely against sasuke's skin, and then he starts dragging it downward, the fabric parting with a sound like grass being torn by the roots. the knife is sharp, but he's practiced in handling them — it won't leave a mark unless sasuke struggles. ）

[The effect of the scene has dug its heady roots into Sasuke, and the next time he gasps it is with his mouth pressed down hard against the mattress, half-smothered, discomfort jolting through his right arm at the joint of his shoulder. It throbs into his belly, and at once he's dizzy with the force of lust from being pinned and held down this way, the illusion of helplessness, of power taken away.

The knife cuts through fabric easily, having chosen clothing cheap and replaceable — and he can feel the threat of the blade against his skin with that warning heavy in mind. In such a scenario, panic demonstrates itself in a brief struggle despite that — another gasp of air lost to the sheets, on the verge of a dry sob, when he feels the bite of steel on skin. It registers like a cool sting, shallow enough it won't scar.]

Stop. [A quiet plea. He has neighbors, after all, and he's keenly aware of this even beneath the veneer of pretend. The act is easy to fall into.] Let go of me.

[And, in his mind, he wonders how it will seem once he's stripped completely naked. Once this man finds the plug in his ass.]

（ the shirt is carved away, the collar of it the last thing to be cut — and this done by levering the spine of the blade snugly against his skin to pull it upwards at the last. he reaches for one of the shelves where sasuke had put the evening's tools, and takes it down — there's a length of that red rope inside, which he busies himself with one-handed. ）

Sasuke, （ a disapproving little tut, though at least this time the disapproval isn't lacking in emotionality. if anything, it's all the more richly, darkly playful in its condescension now. ） I shouldn't have to tell you that's not how this works.

（ it's conversant. he's mindful enough of the parameters of the scene not to be intentionally overloud, but he's certainly walking that narrow edge, knowing sasuke will burn with shame at the possibility of being overheard, however minor it may be. people come and go enough in these shitty rooms, and at least one roommate hasn't been replaced since they left or were promoted out. ）

You, （ a warning cinch to sasuke's shoulder — harder this time, right at the brink of dislocation before it eases back and cy loops a rope cuff around his wrist, ） don't get to say things like no or stop or let go of me anymore. Do you understand? Yes or no.

[The language, the tone, all of it succeeds in that purposeful implementation — Sasuke's will bends beneath its influence, shuddering when cool air meets the expanse of his bare back, shirt cut away in a clean line. The way Cy says his name makes him squirm, but not enough to tempt the knife near his skin a second time.

There's movement. He can't see where Cy goes in the cramped space in the room, in the dark, but he follows the sound, mind making guesses — concentration shattered by the sharp stab of pain in his arm as it is twisted further behind his back. Another sound is elicited, entirely made of air, ragged and panting. The slightest expression of that pain fished up out of him.

Do you understand? Rope on his wrist soon becomes a familiar chafe.]

Yes. [Shaken, shivering.] ... It hurts. You're hurting me.

[He tries for strength, even in compliance unwilling to lose himself — the words aren't weak, aren't desperate. He still carries that backbone of spirit yet unbroken.]

Good. You can say that one all you want.

（ the rope is dragged over his head, whisper-brief against his throat and then worked beneath his torso to anchor his hand. the cuff tightens to bruising — they'll have to treat the abrasions later — and then the other end of the rope is worked through his elbow and tied there, mindful not to compress any nerves or the brachial where it runs through the notch of the elbow. once he's done, sasuke's arm is anchored by two points against his back, effectively immobilizing the shoulder. ）

But that's not a dealbreaker for you, is it, slut? I've seen the way you watch people at that BDSM club. You think I haven't noticed the way you act like you're above it all, but you leave with a hard-on when somebody gets spanked or flogged or beaten on stage? You think I haven't seen the way your mouth parts and your breathing goes shallow when you're in the crowd?

（ he slaps the broad, flat edge of the blade against sasuke's flank, not quite the same noise as a hand striking an ass, but near enough an approximation as to get his point across. then the point of the knife is levered sideways against the waistband of his pants, and then its edge twisted to face upwards, away from his skin. ）

I bet you're hard right now. Admit it, and maybe I'll be a little nicer. Ease you into it.

[The binding pulls taut, rope affixed to his wrist and neatly hitched around his waist impossible to escape from — a fact that establishes itself when he struggles, a yank against restraints with the dawning awareness of a person who has come to find themselves trapped. If there was hope of freedom, it dwindles to those last feeble embers, leashed instead to the whim of someone else, that dark voice hollowing out every thought in his head.

He imagines the scenario Cy paints in words. Perhaps it might have truly been like him, in another life, to stand on the fringes with a longing unrealized. Slut scorches a fresh path through him, and he bites the inside of a cheek when he feels the knife threatening his lower body.

There's a choice to make here.]

I didn't— [a hiss of breath, waistband tugged away from his skin] I didn't know that anyone saw me. It's not what you think.

[Denial less about his own masochistic interest than the conclusion drawn: that he is above anything. Yet it will take only seconds for this man to realize his cock is hard, filled out in the flimsy material of sweatpants, wearing no underwear, a plug pushed into his ass.]

I would never be aroused by something like this.

[So he chooses.]

Is that so?

（ the knife begins to cut, fraying the waistband of his pants away. beneath, he's bare — revealing the broad, flat butt of a plug between his cheeks. he makes a speculative sound, and then: ）

We're coming back to this.

（ there's a tap to the base of the plug that's almost affectionate, and then he shifts his position — no longer kneeling quite beside sasuke, but roughly shoving his thighs apart to position himself between them, cutting more of the fabric away so that there's no impediment to him widening the space. once he's satisfied, the knife is set on a shelf well out of sasuke's reach and both hands reach for the boy's hips, jerking him roughly up just enough that one hand can slip beneath him to palm his cock. not just hard, but — ）

See, now it's hard to say if the precome's because you're a liar, or because you've been sitting here like a whore with a plug up your ass.

（ his hand comes away with a damp, tacky streak spooled across his fingers, and methodically he lifts his hand to sasuke's lips. he doesn't ask, he doesn't wait for that sweet, pliant obedience sasuke shows him so reverently in the bedroom. instead, he just shoves his fingers into his mouth, the other hand levering his jaw open with a cruel pinch at the sharp angle of the bone. ）

Clean your mess. Every drop.

[A chill shivers over skin bared to the room, and there's a slight twitch of hips at the tap to the base of the plug for the way it disturbs silicone against sensitive, stretched inner muscle — but the shame courses a bright river of arousal through him as the truth is dragged into the light for the physical evidence he bears. Thighs kicked apart, clothing torn in great cuts of fabric, he can do nothing to prevent how he's handled. It pivots his ass up slightly so that hand can reach, a drag of friction over his cock that only makes him want more he isn't given.

Sasuke clenches teeth through the sound he makes, but soon it isn't possible because strong fingers pry his jaw wide apart, shoving in. The bitter taste of himself floods his mouth — there's a moment where he tries to resist, tongue pushing against the pads of fingertips to reject their forceful intrusion, but it's not a battle he wins. Air comes patchy between those thick knuckles as he swallows because he has no choice, then laps away the residue of precome until Cy's skin is clean and wet with his own saliva.

Then he bites down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the pinch of flesh yielding to his meager act of rebellion.]

Oh, sweetheart. （ there's a sigh of condescending disappointment, and a shake of his head. he pulls his hand back, though not before wiping the spit across sasuke's face in something that's half a caress. once he's satisfied, his hand drops down to sasuke's ass and delivers one hard smack, powerful enough to redden the skin immediately. ）

See, I know you're smart enough to know the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. Cute little act of rebellion, though. I knew you wouldn't go down easy — well. Varying degrees of the word down.

（ there's a rummage in the box until he finds what he's looking for, the spider gag — and he turns it over in his hands, and then dangles it within easy view of sasuke. ）

I was gonna have you suck my dick the old fashioned way, but I'm not so sure I can trust you now. Luckily, I came prepared for you to be a little cunt. Any last words before I reduce your pretty mouth to a warm hole to stick my cock in?

[It's degrading, that smear of spit across his cheek — he burns with it in the moments before that hand comes down hard on his ass, slap of skin resounding in the quiet room. He swallows a whimper from being voiced despite himself, putting his face down against the bed.

Sweetheart. There's an echo of Cy in the endearment, only tinged with something darker, potent, arousal a single flame building into fire.]

You don't know me at all.

[He picks up the sound of the box, attention fixated there until the gag is dangling in front of his eyes, deliberately presented. Sasuke's face flushes, pinched with clear understanding. The struggle is renewed, arm yanking at the rope around his waist even as it abrades skin in hot pink lines.]

Don't, [despite the earlier command, the words slip out of him unheeded.] No. You can't do that. I've never— [gasped, cut off.] I'll choke.

[He knows that Cy likes to see the fear, the fight, and so it's played here with ease, less because he is sincerely afraid than it is the act of electrified lust at the thought of Cy using his throat like this.]

Then think next time before you bite me.

（ sasuke's right — that fear is its own aphrodisiac, one that hooks in deep and sinks beneath his skin. he rides out a shiver — anticipation, lust — and then strokes sasuke's hair back from his forehead. it might be tender, if not for the fact that it's a ploy to slip the back of the gag over his head. he doesn't tighten it, because of course the next step is getting sasuke to open his mouth to accept the ring. he forces his thumb in past sasuke's lips, skirting the space between his teeth and cheek, fingers stroking at his jaw. ）

And there will be a next time. Be a good little slut and open for me.

[That threat hangs in the air between them. His jaw yields to the driving intrusion of that thumb, parting to accept the metal of the ring into a hot mouth — fighting the urge to push his tongue out against it, because he knows it's useless. The ring clicks against his teeth as it is fitted, drool already beginning to collect from the 'O' his lips are made to maintain.

The metal cuts into the soft corners of his lips; he can feel it heavy around the back of his head, Cy's fingers notching the strap tightly snug. It feels obscene — like he is an animal that has been muzzled, belted down, no room allowed for anything but obedience. To have his mouth forcefully gaping makes him feel more like the whore he's accused to be, waiting to be used.

Sasuke makes a sound — a ragged little whine — and it's louder because he can't silence it by swallowing or sealing lips. He tries to wrench his head away from Cy's hands, tries to roll his body sideways on the bed even if there's nowhere to go.]

Edited 2024-05-21 02:50 (UTC)

（ the second he tries to buck away, cy hits him again — this time the placement of his hand is right over that plug, driving it more deeply into him. ）

We both know if you really wanted to escape you would've swallowed your pride and screamed for help the second you realized what was happening. You would've endured the well-meaning pity, the furtive glances, and people treating you like a fragile victim if you didn't actually want this.

（ it's tricky in the small space, but he manages to roll sasuke onto his back, that bound arm jutting his shoulder at a cruel angle beneath him. ）

You know what I think? I think that part of you recognizes that no matter what, despite all your power, all your strength, you're better served being my whore. Just a warm hole, huh? So you don't have to think, don't have to feel anything except what I do to your body. How long were you at the club hoping I'd notice you and take what's mine?

（ he slips three fingers into the circle of the metal ring, plunging them into sasuke's mouth until his last knuckle bottoms out, and he can finger fuck him slowly like this. he makes eye contact as he does it — equal parts serious check-in and hunger to see further expression of that fear. then: ）

This is a good look on you.

（ unable to close his mouth, lips cinched tight at the corners, drool pooling wherever gravity wills it, and most importantly the deep penetration of his fingers. cy angles his other hand until he can snap a picture of it, and then another of his weeping cock tucked in against his belly, and then he leans in to kiss sasuke's forehead. ）

I'm going to fuck your mouth now, nod your head if you understand.

（ notably, not giving him room to decline. ）

[The strike lands directly on the base of the plug — eliciting a harsh noise he only just manages to smother against the bedsheet before it can rise high enough to carry through the walls of the room. He can feel the blunt end of the silicone pushed that much deeper into him, threatening to target his prostate at a slightly better angle.

And then Cy is speaking to him, washing away the rest. Pain lances through his shoulder at the exaggerated angle; no longer face down, he can't stifle the quiet sob, working against the saliva that pools in the back of his throat with a hard swallow. There's no way to stop those fingers from driving into his mouth, violating it, shoved far enough back he can feel the tight squeeze that threatens to seal off air. Cy looms above him, features partially shadowed in the dimness of the room — the feeling of that dark gaze on him makes it all more intense. The slick sound of fingers sliding in and out is vulgar in his ears.

Just the same as those words, filtering through a haze of arousal — and fear, of course, demonstrated in the hitching breaths, the rapid stutter of his pulse, the gathering wetness in black eyelashes. His hand feels like it's going numb behind his back; he tries to jerk his away at the click of the Watch's camera setting, humiliation becoming a bright sore inside of him.

It burns even hotter. Better. That kiss is like a sweet taunt amidst everything else. He nods, never dislodging the thick knuckles that fill his mouth.]

（ the sob lances through him, a spear of lust that settles low in his belly. that's the deciding factor, then, in how the rest proceeds — he can't exactly have sasuke undress him bound as he is, even his mouth restrained — instead he unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out — where there's evidence of his arousal in the faint glaze of precome that's been otherwise wicked away by the fabric of his slacks. he doesn't give sasuke time to adjust or get comfortable with the weight of the plug or the new position, he just bends him in half at the waist until his face is inches away from cy's own cock, hand firmly grasped at the back of his head, thumb hooked beneath the strap of the gag, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulls him down.

they've been plenty sweet about this act. plenty gentle. but so too have they explored boundaries, and cy has become intimately acquainted with what sasuke can take. the gag adds a new but not insurmountable dynamic — but he's perhaps more careful than his rough handling would suggest as he seats his cock within the pliant, open heat of sasuke's mouth. ）

It'd be so cruel of me to come down your throat like this, you can hardly swallow. So I think I'll use your face instead.

（ it's his left hand that's holding sasuke down — the right skims down his spine, and follows the line of his bound arm to his the bell with its new, braided cord around his wrist so it can't get lost, gently coaxing his fingers open to touch the warm metal. just a reminder for them both, like this. sasuke can hardly say pomegranate when he's gargling on a cock. ）

[The role he is playing has never been made easier than when he's bent in half, open mouth forced over the head of Cy's cock, taking it down in a swallow of hot flesh, velvet on his tongue. He has no control over the descent; it simply fills him to the brim, straining at the effort to fit Cy all the way down, throat flexing as if it will somehow make room in the very back where it is tightest and most essential. He breathes air in hard through his nose through necessity. It's true, in that moment, he would have no way to accommodate Cy's come — even if he wants to take it, yearning to swallow that load no matter how it will choke him. He wants everything Cy is willing to give him.

But it's enough, just this. Dark strands of hair slip into his face, sticking where saliva has dried on his cheek and sweat has begun to prickle at his hairline. He can taste Cy at first, heavy in his mouth, bitterness and salt and musk so associated with masculinity, and he craves it, wants to lap at it with his tongue if only he had the control. Yet all he can do is try to breathe through his nose and weather the abuse of his throat for this man's pleasure alone. As if it is some trial.

Then it's so deep he can hardly taste anything. Drool gathers around the metal ring that keeps his lips pried apart, messy on Cy's slacks, soon worsened by the tears that drip from tightly closed eyelids. There's a moment where his mind entirely fades out — blissfully lost in the demands of the body, aware only of the ache in his jaw, in his shoulder, in the tight plug up his ass and the neglected throb of his own cock. He even forgets not to be noisy, allowing the wet and strangled sobs to emerge as they will, unconsciously threading his fingers into Cy's offered hand.]

Edited 2024-05-21 05:50 (UTC)

（ he keeps up a litany of filthy words. not his usual praise — crass but achingly fond — but things primed towards degradation. your neighbours should see you like this, he croons as he holds sasuke down against him until his shoulders shake for want of air. until it's clear that he's pared down to only a thing, an unspooling of sensations that bleeds into every muscle fibre and empties him of all possible thought.

this is what you deserve, is said with that bespoke cruelty as cy gently folds sasuke's fingers back over the bell and checks to make sure that the ropes aren't too tight at his wrist and elbow. the sobbing, cut off by the slick, wet noises of his mouth as he forces sasuke to take him deep earn sasuke a low, throaty moan of pleasure and a flex of his hips pushes the head of his cock into the waiting warmth of his mouth. he knows he's leaving bruises, that sasuke will be hoarse later and will struggle to swallow — but he knows too that he'll relish the feeling of having been so claimed, and miss the pain as it fades.

he shifts into something almost conversant. talks about keeping sasuke collared and caged like a pretty thing, wearing scraps of silk that leave nothing to the imagination at all, brought out only for use of his body — or perhaps fucked through the bars. being kept ready and waiting with a plug in his ass, how cy plans to train him for no other purpose but that. no one else can have you, he tells him on one particularly rough slide of his cock against the back of sasuke's throat. not unless i say.

and it's not until he's whisper-close to orgasm that he hauls sasuke up and off his cock and shoves him roughly to his back — half-sprawled in a rough heap from the angle of the bound arm. from there he kneels over him, lifted just enough off his haunches so he can palm his cock and swat sasuke across the face with it, pay attention, before another stroke carries him off.

they've done this before, so sasuke will know to close his eyes — but he still tries to aim as much as anyone can aim their dick for a cumshot, painting a stripe across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, forehead up into his hair.

his one concession to knowing how much sasuke likes to swallow is to drag his fingers through the mess as it rapidly cools, and push his fingers through the ring of the gag to drag slick fingers against his tongue. ）

[As it plays out, Sasuke finds it easier to sink into the fantasy — Cy's voice spills over him and he becomes the victim suffering this act, the one claimed, the one taking everything he is given without choice. This is what he deserves. He's a possession meant to be caged and owned and used, and this man will use him well. The idea subsumes him, surrendering to that helplessness and forfeiting his autonomy, his will, his body. The back of his throat aches from rough handling; his throat burns for lack of air, face hot with the blood that has rushed to his head from being bent over Cy's lap. It's perfect. If it's what he deserves, then he has never been so fortunate.

Spots of black crowd his vision just as he's wrenched off and flipped over. Sasuke gasps, coughing, unable to close his mouth to prevent the drool from escaping down his chin as the position changes. He knows he's a mess — he does not care how he looks, too lost in pleasure to recall modesty. The arm bound under his back throbs, a warning at its placement, but this too slips out of thought when he sights Cy kneeling above him, cock jutting out, gleaming wet from the work of his own mouth. He hears himself make some unintelligible sound — an airless moan unable to form into words with his lips pried open by the metal ring.

Eyelids flicker when Cy's slaps at his cheek with the hard line of his dick, and the moan becomes another broken sob, hiccupped quietly. The degradation scorches through him, unexpectedly intense. Then his face is painted with hot stripes of come — Sasuke knows to close his eyes, voice devolving soon into a whimper. He feels it coat his skin like a glossy finish even into his hair, making him filthy, staining him. When fingers wipe over his tongue he tries to speak: please barely coherent, lacking the sharp consonant of the p to become something more like uh-lease.]

Sorry, I don't speak 'breedable whore'.

（ that's said playfully, as he pets come directly into sasuke's hair with a faint upwards quirk of one corner of his mouth, using the motion to slip his hand to the back of his head to undo the gag. the metal ring is pulled from his mouth, not gently even where spit has dried and sealed at the corners of his mouth. ）

Say something worth my time, or it's going back in.

Edited 2024-05-22 02:07 (UTC)

[His mind is a blur of thought when the gag is pulled free from behind his teeth. The corners of his mouth sting; he blinks away unshed tears, panting out hard and ragged breaths.]

Please. The pictures you took— [a trembling attempt to squirm on the bed, shifting his arm from its bloodless pin under his back.] Please delete them.

[It feels like he's speaking past sandpaper, tone raspy and wet, cheeks hot enough to melt a candle. He can feel the come drying in his hair in a debauched mark of ownership.]

smh at them

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