[His eyes glance down at that touch, gazing from beneath dark lashes, watching the way dark fabric wrinkles beneath that fingertip. Then Tseng's palm flattens over his stomach and he finds himself leaning toward it a little, pressing against that center of warmth — hem of the shirt rucked up enough to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and toned muscle underneath.
When that touch eventually navigates up to grasp him by the back of his neck, he juts out his chin, as if testing the flex of strength in Tseng's hand where it holds him. The pressure of a thumb below his jawline is intoxicating; it isn't too hard, but it suggests an exchange of control so prevalent between them, to what they like.]
Yes. It suits you. [More than master, at least in what they've done so far.] So, which one will you start with calling me first?
[Testing that line of tension between them, he lets his own hand slip down — brushing the heel of his palm across the crux of long legs, where he finds the shape of Tseng's cock hard beneath neat slacks.]
puts on my clown nose
When that touch eventually navigates up to grasp him by the back of his neck, he juts out his chin, as if testing the flex of strength in Tseng's hand where it holds him. The pressure of a thumb below his jawline is intoxicating; it isn't too hard, but it suggests an exchange of control so prevalent between them, to what they like.]
Yes. It suits you. [More than master, at least in what they've done so far.] So, which one will you start with calling me first?
[Testing that line of tension between them, he lets his own hand slip down — brushing the heel of his palm across the crux of long legs, where he finds the shape of Tseng's cock hard beneath neat slacks.]