[ tseng has heard sasuke allude to this theory before, but has never sat him down to outline it explicitly. on its surface it makes sense, that each suit would correspond to something like that—hearts for the heart (tseng assumes), clubs for the mind, and diamonds, based on tseng's own experience, for the body. ]

I see. [ tseng nods again. there's no need to nitpick exactly which behaviors might have been influenced by sasuke's suit, and which by his memory of his own feelings about this person from his past; what matters is that sasuke understands and can articulate what he experienced that night, and, even more critically, that he doesn't feel taken advantage of.

it's really only fair, to get a blunt confession in exchange for tseng's own, but the reminder of the evening makes tseng's stomach swoop with immediate arousal. the sight is vivid still in his memory, sasuke spreading his thighs and begging tseng to put a finger in alongside the plug, to fuck him. his cock twitches, hardening slightly, and tseng pointedly crosses one knee over the other, aware even as he does so that he's telling on himself. ]

I wondered about that. I would have given you more, but I wasn't sure how much you've taken before, and I didn't want to overwhelm you.

[ and, tseng thinks, one finger seemed to have been sufficient, given the way sasuke responded. he clears his throat. ]

The first has to do with—dirty talk. Degradation, I suppose, to an extent. I want to know how you feel about being called names. [ tseng's gaze flicks up from his teacup, meeting sasuke's, gauging his response. ] "Pretty little slut," for example.