[The way Tseng coaxes him down from the height of that acute, thoughtless pleasure is gentle, and Sasuke finds himself obeying those instructions without hesitation. His head is still gauzy and gray, a little out of it, red tongue slipping past lips to lap away the bitter-salt vestige of cum from callused fingertips. He's obedient, too, in taking breaths once he's finished until the frantic stutter of his pulse slows to a calmer, mediated pace.

With his face a mess, he is careful to keep his eyes closed as Tseng cleans him up. And then they open again at the command, gaze turning up, a twitch of a smile at his mouth.]

Ah. [His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat.] Good.

[Fine to settle on his knees more comfortably, Sasuke's head tilts, as if to push his cheek into the man's hand like a cat.]

To be clear, this isn't why I came over. I suppose that it's... difficult to resist being around you sometimes.

[Especially when Tseng — so buttoned-up and professional, not a fold of clothing or strand of hair out of place — starts dirty talking him over breakfast.]