[He likes the way he can feel the thrum of his own pulse beneath the spot where Tseng's thumb presses down against his skin. He likes, more, what it demonstrates between them, toeing at the line that crosses dominance with submission, one he's gone over and back again enough times to crave, a familiar gesture of intimacy that expresses what is otherwise too difficult to communicate. A satisfaction that meets some new, almost frightening need.
Sasuke shifts his hand, turning it slightly around so that he can rub the heel of his palm against the hard shape of the man's cock through those slacks. It's empowering to know he's caused this attraction, to feel it shown in such a physical way. That, and how Tseng touches him — one hand on the back of the neck, the other grasping his chin — is enough to burn beneath his skin, hot in his gaze when he looks up.]
Yes, sir.
[And without hesitation, he sinks to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, posture perfectly straight, shoulders back and head tilted to maintain eye contact. His arm falls at his side, hand resting on his lap.]
no subject
Sasuke shifts his hand, turning it slightly around so that he can rub the heel of his palm against the hard shape of the man's cock through those slacks. It's empowering to know he's caused this attraction, to feel it shown in such a physical way. That, and how Tseng touches him — one hand on the back of the neck, the other grasping his chin — is enough to burn beneath his skin, hot in his gaze when he looks up.]
Yes, sir.
[And without hesitation, he sinks to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, posture perfectly straight, shoulders back and head tilted to maintain eye contact. His arm falls at his side, hand resting on his lap.]