chokuto

Good boy.

（ the wax burns down until the heat is licking at his fingers, and then he tamps the wick out absently and sets the rest aside. he takes pictures again — the writing, the place where both hairbrush and plug vie for space in his body, and then he grabs sasuke by the hair and pulls him up just enough off the mattress to take a picture of his face, tear-streaked with come drying on the places he hasn't been able to rub off — and then lets him drop again with a callous thump. the hairbrush is removed and the plug follows — both set aside for later cleaning. with sasuke bound as he is, he's easily manoeuvred onto his knees, body bent in a jackknife for want of anything to support his torso, face pressed uncomfortably against the mattress as he's held in place with one hand pressing bruises into his hip.

cy slaps him across the ass — a sound that rings loud in the room, the force of it enough to be felt above the other agonies. ）

It's best that you know your place. On your knees, fucked open beneath me.

（ that's said in a murmur as he presses three fingers into sasuke's hole — less out of any consideration for prep and more just to make sure there's still plenty of lube and that they won't need to break immersion for more. he lets go of sasuke's hip briefly with a low warning to stay, so he can get his pants undone a second time — and when he withdraws his fingers, he slicks the remainder of what was there along his cock. there's a shift, then, body weight denting the mattress as he moves to arranges himself behind sasuke, cy's knees bracketing his. the head of his cock is rubbed between the cleft of sasuke's ass, his skin radiating heat from earlier abuse — cy pushes in against him in a promise. ）

Ask me.

（ ask what he doesn't say. to fuck him, to stop — it really doesn't matter, both statements would fit equally well, both would drive him onwards. only two things exist now to call him off — hades, or the bell. ）

[The scorch of heat abates, leaving behind a dull throb of sensation across the plane of his back — and there's no resistance when he hears the click of a camera shutter, this time, until his face is lifted off the bed. Then Sasuke tries to jerk beneath that hand, protest swallowed behind teeth, knowing it will do no good and fighting anyway. The knowledge that the sight of him in this ruined state has been preserved in those images — suspended in fantasy, humiliation takes on its sharpest edge and cuts deep. Not even the sweet praise of Good boy soothes that wound, although he can't help the part of himself that would do anything to hear it again.

Tied as he is, there's no amount of fight that prevents Cy from rearranging him into the new position, bent with his ass raised, sob hitching at the back of his throat when the plug and brush are removed because of how they drag against the sensitive and over-abused rim of his hole. The hard slap is just another burning hallmark of shame against his skin. All of it — the submission, the display of weakness in being conquered, the weathering of degradation and how heavy his cock still hangs between thighs as a result of it — he could never have showed to anyone else. It's dizzying, to have reached this point. To trust this implicitly.

The word Hades never touches his lips; the bell remains securely tucked in hand. He wants to rub himself back against the tease of Cy's cock as a wave of lust rocks through him, but instead he tries to escape it, ankles and wrist yanking at rope in one last frantic effort.]

I can't— [gasping, voice a low rush. He's crying again.] Will you... fuck me? [A quiet hitch of breath.] But don't— please don't hurt me.

Oh, sweetheart. I'm going to hurt you exactly as much as I want.

（ he thumbs the head of his cock into sasuke's hole, seating himself fully in one brutal, devastating push that gives him no room to breathe or think or do anything but exist to accept him in. ）

As much as you deserve. （ that's said as he drapes himself against sasuke's back, lines of stiffened wax breaking off between their bodies and sticking to sweat-damp skin. ） I wouldn't be here if you weren't strong, you know? You can take it. You just have to be brave.

（ one arm holds them up — the other, braced beneath sasuke's body, aligned against his sternum, puts his hand right at the boy's throat. he lets his fingers curl around the pale column of his neck, press over the arteries and squeeze. his voice is a low murmur against sasuke's ear — be brave. ）

[He has no choice but to take that first push, bearing the weight laid on his back, feeling dried wax crack and smear between the seal of skin. It takes all of the air out of his chest — filled in one inexorable slide, his body yields to Cy's cock as if he was waiting for it, the stretch of muscle at the rim a sharp sting of nerves from earlier's violation.

Another sob breaks out of his panting mouth when Cy is fully seated. It's one of relief, though well-disguised as pain through glassy tears. He feels wholly, completely at Cy's mercy. He feels owned. All of it: the intimacy of how they're joined, the endearment Cy calls him still, the sensation of being crushed down against the bed and told to take it and given no choice, no control. His legs remain bent, tied at the ankle and closed together, but Cy's warm weight on top of him almost flattens out the fold of his upper body so he's left fighting for air facedown against the mattress. He almost comes again from that alone.]

I'm s—sorry, [broken, ruined words.] I'm sorry. I'll— [Cy will feel the fast stutter of a pulse beneath strong fingers, breath sucked in desperate little gasps.] I'll be... good. For you.

（ cy makes a noise that's half a scoff, part of the scene the way what he does next is not: he noses at sasuke's hair, presses a soft kiss to his nape. little things, little moments, that remind them both that this is only play.

then his fingers tighten at sasuke's throat. punishing, bruisingly airless — dragging him to the edge of unconsciousness before releasing him. at the same time, the deep, brutal snap of his hips buries him seemingly deeper every time. the myriad sensations would be overwhelming if he wasn't what he is — the heat of sasuke's body, the smears of wax between them, the way that he can feel the radiating heat of physical injury in a parenthical curve where sasuke's ass meets his hips.

in scenes like this, he just lets himself run on autopilot. tightly wound even in the moment, he is far more focused on control than on his own pleasure, and what he feels is always incidental to the act. but sasuke playing into it so sweetly, giving him everything he's learned he likes — the sobs, the submission, the fighting, letting himself be humiliated and beaten and broken beneath him, is an added dimension he's not used to. he's run plenty of scenes that involved roleplayed rape. but he's never done it with someone who knows so intimately, so achingly why, and who's so perfectly suited to give him exactly what he needs in turn. it feels like an act of love that echoes into the empty palace of his bones, as tender an embrace as he's ever felt.

he comes with a shiver, buried deep, and to muffle the wounded-animal moan that would otherwise crack open from his throat he just bites at his nape, tasting blood on his tongue. ）

[Those fingers hold his throat tight as a collar, threatening his sight in a ring of black unconsciousness — in stark contrast to the gentleness that comes before, reassurance of a kiss placed down at the back of his neck. Dual sensations fold together until he's left somewhere in the middle, senseless and spellbound, aware only of Cy's body on top of him, hard thrusts keeping him trapped against the bed in submission, taking everything. His thoughts slew out of focus, already gone beneath the veil of imaginary cruelty. He just lets Cy fuck him and revels in that feeling, another dimension of intimacy he could not have found without help. Guidance, and love.

The moment Cy comes, filling him in that hot familiar rush, Sasuke whimpers — then begins to squirm, seeking relief for where his own cock is trapped against the sheets, a bright counterpoint to the teeth that sink into his skin. It's such a visceral, claiming gesture that he wants to thrash beneath it, but his body is too restrained and his soul too satisfied, enjoying the throb of pain coaxed to the surface of bitten, torn flesh.]

Cy.

[A fissure in the fantasy, but he can't help uttering the man's name. His ass is tight around where Cy is still embedded inside of him, softening, warm and sensitive. He wishes he could kiss him, and yet he's also fine like this, until Cy seeks him again in the aftermath.]

No.

( he's speaking reflexively, knowing what it is sasuke wants, the shift of his hips as he's pressed down into the mattress. cy laves at the smear of blood against the back of sasuke's neck and then braces a hand against sasuke's side to peel himself back, cock slipping wetly free of his body, come leaving a slick glaze against the cleft of his ass.

his breath comes in a shuddering heave as he uses the grip against sasuke's throat to flip him to his back, pinning him roughly against the bed in a painful splay of bound limbs. cy flattens him with the slip of one broad palm down against his sternum as he hitches himself lower, ducks in between his thighs and shoulders them apart in a way that will make the bindings at his ankle chafe and leans in to swallow sasuke's cock to the root, not caring that the act will shatter the immediate immersion — the pretended persona has no especial need to care about sasuke's pleasure and cy would perhaps be tempted to leave him wanting if he loved him less.

but he doesn't. he can't.

he's awkwardly spilled against sasuke's body, not able to move the way he otherwise might with the way he's restrained, but while his right hand stays pinning him down, the other one slips down to shove several fingers roughly back into the seat of his ass, slick with his own seed as he pushes into him.

whether sasuke comes immediately or not is irrelevant to him. he just wants to taste him, the marriage of the blood from having bitten him mingling with the bitter taste of pre-come heavy and heady on his tongue. )

Edited 2024-06-07 21:20 (UTC)

[The denial whips through him, as physical as anything else Cy has done to him with both hands — and then he's turned over with that effortless strength, aware of the trickle of wetness between his legs where Cy has slipped out of him, muscle aching and sore around that new emptiness. In moments that mouth swallows him down, perfectly fitted, expertise in the seal of lips and tongue that has without fail unraveled him every time. He tries to fight against the imminent crash of his own orgasm — he tries to abide that refusal and hold himself back from the cliff, knees forced to spread where ankles remain joined, skin rubbed pink beneath the rope. His arm is twisted under his back and his whole body is a throbbing seat of discomfort, nerves worn down to the raw bed of sensation.

Then Cy's fingers shove into him with no mercy, no hesitation, thick knuckles forcing his hole to yield open, and he's so sensitive there from repeated intrusion that he cries out — loud enough he can hear it fill the room. Knees jerk with nowhere to go; mercifully he's so wet inside that Cy's fingers find no resistance, but the feeling of it is overwhelming.]

Cy, Cy, please, I want to come... Cy, please let me— [mindless begging without even the ability to rock back against that mouth, those fingers where they've plugged him up.] I...

[Teary and shaky, he can't prevent the burning edge of his own release any longer, and unless Cy stops him then it'll pour out in a hot flood. So soon after his other orgasm, Sasuke is painfully sensitive in the aftermath — and actively struggles to escape Cy's grasp, even in such a weak state.]

( there is no protest, no further instruction to abstain — cy wants him to come as badly as sasuke in that moment, and when the boy finally slips under the tidal swell of it, there is only an answering swallow, the hot seal of his mouth and the press of his nose against sparse pubes. sasuke struggles as the overstimulation hits him, but cy holds him there and forces him to endure with an absence of mercy that can only come from that tendency towards sadism.

it's when he is satisfied, and not sasuke, that he finally slips back, lips polished to a spit-shine as he licks them clean of any lingering come and then levers himself further up the lean lines of sasuke's body to kiss him, still slotted between his thighs. there's a murmur — not of his safe word, but of the one they'd agreed upon to indicate the curtain call of the scene — elysium and at the deathknell of its soft sound in the air he kisses sasuke again, gentler. )

Gimme a sec. I'll untie you.

( just. let him have a moment first. )

[At that softly murmured word — a place of sanctuary in the afterlife, according to myth — the spell of fantasy dissolves. He meets the kiss with tired, shivering hunger, closing his legs as if to trap Cy between them and keep him there, kissing him.]

It was perfect.

[Then he relents, so Cy is able to untie him and begin the cleaning process. He aches in so many places it's hard to keep track, but that doesn't matter as much to him right now as—]

Cy. [When his arm is freed, he reaches to cup under Cy's jaw. The bell jingles where it is still fastened to his finger.] I love you.

（ he stills, and in that moment there is nearly nothing human in him. his eyes skirt upwards — lingering briefly on the livid print of his hand sketched against sasuke's pale throat, and then he meets sasuke's gaze. perhaps someone else would be guarded, or riven by shame. cy is only blank, and eerily empty until if by willpower alone the humanity is clawed back. his brow furrows a little, mouth tugged down at one corner. he nuzzles into sasuke's palm, and the bell chimes so soft. ）

I know.

（ some of that arnica cream — which he's already applied to sasuke's ass — is poured anew into his hand and then gently worked into the skin at his throat, soothing the bruises. mentally he's running a checklist: broken skin disinfected and treated, bruises tended to, that soft and worshipful touch he sinks so easily into with sasuke has cleaned the mess between his legs, the glossy shine of his softened cock.

he shifts on the small bed, arranging himself cross-legged on the bed so he can pull sasuke, boneless and pliant, nearer his lap so he can start cleaning come from his hair. several new things are removed from the box that he apparently squashed one corner of at some point in their scene because the fucking size of this bed is a joke — sasuke is given painkillers, water to chase them down and afterwards a lozenge for his throat.

the water bottle is then used in concert with a soft cloth to start the process of working his hair clean. cy is achingly gentle, fingers catching in the snarls and working them free without tugging at his scalp. ）

I'm — （ his eyes close briefly. then: ） — not as bad as I expected. You did that. You were magnificent, sweetheart. I don't know that I've ever had anyone make what they wanted about what I liked.

（ he's not even sure if that makes sense. he feels like words have lost meaning, in the aftermath. ）

[Those ministrations of care are so gentle, so painstakingly thorough, that at times he cannot fathom they are meant for him. Yet Cy reminds him — the familiar path of hands over his body, smoothing in cream, treating wounds and bruises, cleaning hair and skin. Through the discussion they've navigated and the meticulous preparation to build this scene together, Sasuke knows it is meant more as a demonstration of love, an act of service. Yet part of him finds in that blankness something ancient, ritualistic, shaking off the dust. Less apologetic for its existence than it is an understanding — this is who Cyram is.

So Sasuke isn't deterred or unsettled by that presence, or lack of presence, because he realizes this is Cy showing himself in vulnerability as much as Sasuke has ever done in turn.]

It's effortless with you. [His chin tips to keep the water that Cy uses to soak his matted hair dripping more slowly, caught by a small hand towel.] I don't have to try. Everything I want is what you like; everything you like is what I want.

[He thinks of suggesting a shower, or a return to Cy's room where they'll have a little more space and be removed from where this played out — but they have time. Instead, he simply turns his attention to undressing Cy, tugging at whatever clothing still remains. There isn't much that needs tending when Sasuke was on the receiving end for most acts, but he finds bits of crusted wax he can wipe away, and sweat, and the wet evidence of their coupling.]

When I was first starting out as a genin... our team was only assigned D-rank missions. They were as basic as you can imagine — finding someone's lost cat. Delivering documents across the village. Determining if a woman's husband was being unfaithful. [He leans in toward Cy, craving the contact of bare skin.] They were easy, and I resented this at the time, because I only wanted to improve my abilities and that wouldn't happen by helping an old woman complete her weekly shopping.

[A huff that might be laughter.]

But, looking back, I believe I took those missions for granted. They were the closest I ever interacted with the general population of the village. The civilians. The people who worked, every day, living simple lives. It felt like... a connection between shinobi and the rest of the world, the world we were supposed to be protecting. As the missions became more difficult, the more stratified that connection was. Until the people of the village became a concept rather than anything real.

[Sasuke sets the hand towel aside, absently folding it over.]

I remember an older man once paid for one of these missions. But he didn't have anything for us to do — he just kept making up stupid tasks, like folding the laundry he'd put out to dry, or organizing his library alphabetically. I thought he was losing his mind in old age. Now, I suspect he only wanted the company.

（ once sasuke takes over, cy gives him full rein. he's mindful, watchful — making sure that the boy's not going to overexert himself after the act. cataloguing everything from his breathing to the pitch of his voice, hoarse from the rough use of his throat. but he finds nothing amiss, nothing out of place, no harm permanently done — and so he relaxes by degrees as sasuke tends him in turn, and when he's finished cy just tugs him in close until they're a tangle of limbs on the bed.

given what he knows of sasuke's world, that part of it is almost a surprise. it's a gentler assimilation into the ranks of a child soldier than he'd anticipated possible for the culture he's pieced together in his head, and he finds himself stroking sasuke's damp hair as he speaks.

then: ）

Part of it might have been the company, （ he says after a long, long pause. ） — but I bet there are more than a few people who've lived up in your world, aware enough of the shinobi to hire them, that would do it just to give some kids a few more days, hours, minutes of peace.

[The touch is soothing, and once they're wrapped in that familiar tangle of limbs on the bed, the last of the adrenaline drains out of him — he feels safe, tucked into Cy's arms like this. Enough that his thoughts wander with his voice.]

Perhaps. I never thought of it that way... how ordinary people might perceive the shinobi around them. Most of my experiences with being known came from the infamy of my clan, even more when it was gone.

[He looks for Cy's face, Cy's dark eyes, damp hair pushed back to reveal his own in their mismatched color.]

Those years were peaceful. But they were bought by my brother's life, so even now it's difficult to feel grateful for them.

（ he leans in and presses a kiss to sasuke's forehead, and then tips his chin upwards for another, tasting the honeyed lozenge on his tongue. ）

What happened with your brother wasn't fair to either of you. It's natural to feel conflicted about what peace you were given in those years.

（ one hand lifts to cup at sasuke's cheek. there's a bit of a tremor to his hand, the come-down from scene's stressors, that calms once contact is made. ）

I always hated the idea that you should feel nothing but gratitude for someone else's sacrifice when you're the one that has to live with it.

（ it wasn't the same for him, on abbrenon. the girl who died there wasn't someone he was close to, just someone who had a strong sense of justice and righteousness, who believed in standing up for her ideals, and was killed for it. but he remembers iantha murmuring to him that he should respect the sacrifice he never asked for, and be grateful. it would be all the worse for sasuke, given the context of his culture and the deep wounds that love leaves there — he won't pretend he understands, just that he's not ignorant. ）

[Breath flickers between their lips at the end of the kiss; he moves the lozenge with his tongue, clicking it against his teeth.]

You're right. It's what I resented the most.

[That expectation of gratitude, that he should honor Itachi's memory by following his decisions — that he should feel any love or loyalty for the village that had driven Itachi to death. It wasn't worth it. Not to him, when he'd had no choice but to bear the consequences of loss, left alone.

Sasuke's right hand covers the one on his cheek, braiding their fingers together and leaning into the cup of the palm.]

You remind me of him at times. Perhaps I'm looking for those signs, but I don't think so. He was a good man like you, forced to do terrible things. Only he turned it into a calculated purpose. Another mission, even if it meant he would lose his humanity in the process.

（ some awareness shivers into being, and settles over him like a shroud. his eyes search sasuke's briefly, focus swinging between the boy's unusual eyes — and then cy kisses the corner of his mouth and then the tangle of sasuke's fingers in his. ）

It's not unusual to be drawn to people who share traits with those we loved most when we were young. It's... — your mind can anticipate how those people will react, how they'll behave or treat you to a certain extent, and that familiarity creates a sense of safety. Sometimes it comes from a place of trauma, such as when the traits are toxic or harmful. There's a saying on earth — 'better the devil you know than the one you don't.'

（ earlier in their relationship he might have paused to stress that he's not implying their relationship is the result of toxicity or abuse — but he knows that sasuke will understand he is only slipping into a generalization, a reason to explain other behaviours that sasuke might see or be exposed to in the resort. ）

How are you feeling?

[Perhaps the memory of Itachi is powerful in that moment, because he's spoken it to being — but even the gentle, thorough, instructive way Cy speaks is another little tug at the frayed thread of familiarity, to a version of his brother that once existed a lifetime ago. The one who taught him how to be a shinobi when he was a child. Foundational memories, unearthed after so many years repressed in his mind by the taint of hatred.

A slow nod. He pushes his face into Cy's warm shoulder, listening to the slow beat of a heart. He understands what is meant without it being clarified.]

Good. [It comes out honestly, the scene having worn him down to a bed of contentment.] Better than good. I never imagined something like that could feel so... satisfying. Even the pain. [His head tilts up, butting gently against Cy's chin.] How are you?

[A thought occurs to him, then.]

You still have those pictures.

I'm okay. Processing.

（ it's neither good nor bad for him, it just is. but he'd expected bad — so it's something. a step beyond normal and expected, and into something more like spring.

at the question, he nods a bit, dipping his cheek down against the crown of sasuke's hair. ）

Yeah. Wanna see?

[He doesn't push for more from Cy, but naturally his attention is there — sensitive, observant, wanting to help Cy settle in the wake of the scene as much as possible.

Another nod, breath stirring against warm skin.]

You wrote something on my back. Didn't you?

（ he laughs, and then lifts his arm, turning his wrist so sasuke can see the watch display but leaving it for him to turn on. ）

A few somethings. It looked good on you, though.

[He does, extracting his hand from their embrace in order to manipulate the Watch's interface — pulling up the series of images Cy had captured of the last hour or so. He navigates the library, starting from the last pictures first, his messy face and lower body and the wax-painted scrawl of words on his back.

Oh. The writing's vulgarity burns up into his face, not immune to what he's looking at, even if he knows he's only looking at himself.]

I should have known. [A huff is meant to disguise his own glimmer of embarrassment, and the arousal sharp at its heels.] But... this one?

[He points at cum dumpster, specifically.]

（ and he — laughs, a noise that's soft and pitched low as he presses a kiss to sasuke's hair. ）

Too much?

I didn't say that. It just surprised me.

[Yes, he's still blushing, but at least he's not shy enough to try and hide it. He lets the Watch's interface dim — noticeably not asking Cy to delete the images. At least not right now.]

Do you want to return to your room? We'll have more space.

I'm okay for right now if you are.

（ he steals another kiss, teeth catching gingerly at sasuke's bottom lip. ）

I like that it smells like us.

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we are free