"Oh — " 

He clings to Lev; his hips roll forward. 

"You," he's panting, "you could, you could choke me, or keep biting, Lev please —" 

Lev puts his hand on Sasha's throat and kisses him and groans into his mouth. 

"You're so beautiful, I could do whatever I want to you--"

"You can — please do —" 

"I mean not really," Lev hastily corrects, his hand still on Sasha's throat. "I don't want to do things you don't want-- I just like-- thinking about hurting you-- and making you do things--"

He opens his eyes. "You don't want to do things I wouldn't want. So I trust you to do whatever you want to me." 

"Fuck, that's hot."

He's biting Sasha's neck and pulling his hair with one hand and choking him with the other and grinding against Sasha's thigh.

He makes a sound that would have been a moan if he could breathe and writhes under Lev's hands and presses his hips into Lev, tries to find an angle that'll put pressure where he wants it. 

He stops biting, kisses the spot he bit, and says, "I like-- hurting people-- all kinds of ways-- and forced orgasms-- and tying people up-- and mind control-- I like the idea of raping people-- I like thinking about making people bleed-- I like trans guys a lot, you're so beautiful-- I like it when people are scared-- and have to do what I say--"

He can't breathe. He can't breathe he can't breathe can't breathe. It's, it's not — not just — can't breathe. 

He's struggling in earnest now. 

Lev lets go of his throat and wraps his arms around him. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't react at all. Doesn't even seem to hear the question. He's hyperventilating now that he can breathe; Lev can probably hear that his heart is going jackrabbit-fast. He's shaking, just a little bit. 

"Shhh, shhhh, it's okay, I've got you, it's okay." He tries stroking Sasha's hair.

There's half a chance he's making it worse. He was the one that triggered it. But it's so awful to have them alone, he doesn't want to do that to Sasha. Sasha can tell him to go if he needs to.

The shaking goes down. His breathing calms, some. He slumps forward into Lev's chest. 

That's good. Lev keeps stroking his hair and murmuring vague reassuring things.

He buries his face in Lev's shoulder and curls his fingers in Lev's shirt. His heart slows, his breath keeps hitching. 

"I'm here, I'm going to stay here, everything is going to be all right, I promise."

He nods and clings to Lev. "Yeah." It's almost too quiet to hear. "Yeah, you are. You're here." 

Lev kisses his forehead. "You can talk about it if you want to but if you don't I can just hold you."

"I'm — probably never going to be able to do. A lot of that."

Lev kisses his forehead. "I don't care."

Nod. "I — being tied up is good. Getting thrown around is good. I can't — not when I'm scared, ever — I can't do noncon stuff, I don't even have a real safeword, my safeword is just no — please don't talk about that while we're —" 

And now is when he starts crying. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know--"

Hugs.

Hugs. Lev should keep hugging him forever. He's so warm and so good and he's safe, Sasha's not going to get hurt here. He keeps clinging. "Not your fault, not your fault, wasn't you, just — please —" 

"I'm never going to hurt you, I promise." He pauses. "Unless I make a mistake or it is somehow necessary to prevent a runaway trolley from killing five children or similar."

Shaky laughter. "Yeah," he says, almost to himself, "yeah, you wouldn't — you're here —"