[It does something to him, listening to Tseng talk like that — and not just talk like that, but talk to him, about him that way. Unexpectedly, the fine hairs on his arms seem to stand on end; a tremor thrills all the way down the length of his spine, making him shiver involuntarily. Tseng says he looks like a vision and somehow it doesn't feel like he's talking about the show he's putting on, the efforts he's making to try to look good. Somehow it just feels like Tseng is talking about him, and it's so strange and so novel and so good to be praised for being himself, and not something that he's accomplishing.
He'd thought, initially, that his pleasure in this would come from the reactions he would get, the satisfying triumph of having made Tseng unravel. But oddly, his thoughts aren't turning to plans and designs of things he wants to elicit; his mind is unusually quiet, content to just let the sound of Tseng's voice wash over him as his focus narrows down to the heat in his mouth and the rhythm of his own bobbing head.
One hand finds its way to Tseng's knee, fingers curling into the bunched fabric just from looking for something to hold on to; the other leaves the base of his cock to dip down further, searching out his balls to roll and palm at them as he starts to try taking Tseng's cock a little deeper.
In this, at least, he doesn't try to make a spectacle of himself; determined not to choke and embarrass himself, he makes his descent gradually, testing a little at a time before sliding back up to tease just at the head and afford himself a moment's breather before seeing how much he can take once again.]
no subject
He'd thought, initially, that his pleasure in this would come from the reactions he would get, the satisfying triumph of having made Tseng unravel. But oddly, his thoughts aren't turning to plans and designs of things he wants to elicit; his mind is unusually quiet, content to just let the sound of Tseng's voice wash over him as his focus narrows down to the heat in his mouth and the rhythm of his own bobbing head.
One hand finds its way to Tseng's knee, fingers curling into the bunched fabric just from looking for something to hold on to; the other leaves the base of his cock to dip down further, searching out his balls to roll and palm at them as he starts to try taking Tseng's cock a little deeper.
In this, at least, he doesn't try to make a spectacle of himself; determined not to choke and embarrass himself, he makes his descent gradually, testing a little at a time before sliding back up to tease just at the head and afford himself a moment's breather before seeing how much he can take once again.]