[Fuck, he needs — he's not wet enough to imagine that, fuck, he should've made the effort to find the lube after all, could've gotten himself so slick and dripping if he had but he didn't, and it makes him bite at his forearm from the need to feel his teeth around something, working his fingers harder inside him as if to take out his frustrations on his own body. He presses his knees together, squirming, and when a dribble of pre starts to pool on the inside of his thigh, it doesn't take long before an alternative solution presents itself, and he pauses in his efforts only long enough to stroke himself firmly instead, collecting as much as he can before moving the pads of his fingers back to circle his entrance.
Now it's slick, and cool, and with his eyes closed he can call up images of that day on the beach, bent over his father's desk, the way that Tseng's tongue had dragged against the sweat beading on his back only now it's lower, it's pushing inside and oh, fuck, it's so good.]
il ovvvvv e it
[He's pushing himself too hard, maybe — harder than Tseng would, he suspects, when Tseng is always so careful and gentle with him — but that's a problem for a later Rufus, surely.]
myyyy dsek i wanttti t on my des k on his des k;;;;
no subject
Now it's slick, and cool, and with his eyes closed he can call up images of that day on the beach, bent over his father's desk, the way that Tseng's tongue had dragged against the sweat beading on his back only now it's lower, it's pushing inside and oh, fuck, it's so good.]
il ovvvvv e it
[He's pushing himself too hard, maybe — harder than Tseng would, he suspects, when Tseng is always so careful and gentle with him — but that's a problem for a later Rufus, surely.]
myyyy dsek i wanttti t on my des k on his des k;;;;