[ almost absurdly, tseng is struck by a realization: this may be the only time in rufus' life that he's underestimated his own power. yes, incoherent—how could tseng possibly be expected to be coherent in the face of rufus on his knees on tseng's kitchen floor? not least of all when he does that, leaning forward to drag his tongue along the fine cotton of tseng's slacks, right along the hard shape of his cock? ]
Fuck, [ tseng breathes out. his hand stays where it is in rufus' hair, not to coax or to force him but rather to anchor tseng against the fact that he already feels half-insane and rufus hasn't even unzipped him yet. ] Then I suppose I'll just have to give you what you want.
[ and if that means copious praise and dirty talk before tseng inevitably loses the ability to speak in sentences at all, well, it would be genuinely tseng's pleasure. ]
no subject
Fuck, [ tseng breathes out. his hand stays where it is in rufus' hair, not to coax or to force him but rather to anchor tseng against the fact that he already feels half-insane and rufus hasn't even unzipped him yet. ] Then I suppose I'll just have to give you what you want.
[ and if that means copious praise and dirty talk before tseng inevitably loses the ability to speak in sentences at all, well, it would be genuinely tseng's pleasure. ]