Then bank one extra on your end. I have a feeling you'll want to use it soon.
[Cautious. Holding himself back, but not necessarily withholding himself. Two similar concepts with one very distinct difference: the former serves to punish Tseng; the latter serves to punish Rufus.
He runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth, resisting the urge to chew his lip until it splits. There's something about this revelation that feels electric, manic, like catching the strut of a helicopter just for the thrill of the exit, and likely it shows in how rapidly the tenor of his text turns from shy to reckless.]
I'm going to tell you once, and I don't want to have to tell you again, so remember it. If you ever decide you want to kiss me, don't wait for some sign that you're allowed. The only reason you should hold back is if you don't want it, yourself.
[ it feels like—like plate tectonics. a shifting of what tseng had previously understood to be true about the relationship between himself and rufus. rufus, brilliant and illuminated, and tseng in the shadows behind him, a load-bearing pillar, a weapon, a fulcrum.
where do the shadows go when the light comes through?
rufus was right: tseng does want to use his second question. he knows the answer may ruin him, but he has to know. ]
Do you want me to kiss you? Or do you want to be kissed, and you trust me the most to do it?
[Tseng came to this resort before him. Has lived here without him. Fucks people who aren't him. Lives in opulence that makes him uncomfortable but won't give it up because of the access it affords him. Has everything at his fingertips, everything a person could possibly want, and it would have been so easy for him to decide, at any time, that he didn't need Rufus.
But these are the questions he asks — really, one question with two parts, a distinction he wants to hear made. For once, Rufus can hear the real one beneath it, because it's precisely the sort of question he's sought to ask in return.
Is it me? Is it me that you want, that you follow, that you crave, is it me?
So many of these questions have been difficult. This one is so, so easy.]
[ his breath punches out of him. it is ruinous, but not the way tseng expected it to be, not the sensation of a floor falling out from underneath him but rather the sharp new awareness that this changes everything.
the moment tseng lets himself have rufus this way, he will be compromised beyond redemption. it's a lucky thing, then, that his boss seems to like him. ]
[It's a solid ten seconds before he realizes that the reason his face aches is because he's started to smile, unpolished and lopsided and disbelieving, and he doesn't quite remember when that happened.]
You told me something you won't do. Tell me something you're going to.
[And the uncertainty still tugs at him, that twisting feeling of almost-wrongness that comes of pushing back against everything he's been taught to be, but Tseng said to trust him even with that, especially with that, and he does.]
[ this is very much not president shinra and the director of administrative research. this is rufus and tseng, and it is probably only fair that rufus get something to hold him over. ]
Kiss you, of course.
I also think it's very unlikely that I'm going to let you get further into my suite than the foyer before I suck you off.
[That's not, he almost types, the sort of thing a dominant is supposed to do, is it, except that he's coming to understand that the sort of thing Tseng as a dominant does is whatever he thinks will please Rufus, and that maybe it's the sort of thing Tseng does regardless of what a dominant would do, and also that it would be another question he's not entitled to so he's barred from asking it anyway.
What he does instead is think of it — Tseng's hair brushing the insides of his thighs, Tseng's tongue dragging hot up his cock like it'd dragged up his jaw — and takes a moment to question the sequencing of these two vows, whether Tseng intends to suck him with lips red and swollen from kissing or whether he'll kiss him after the fact with the taste of cum still on his tongue.
He closes his eyes, the hand not holding the watch drifting down the plane of his stomach toward the swelling ache in his pants.]
I'm going to touch myself to that thought.
[Brat.]
Though I'm sure the reality will exceed expectations.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Cautious. Holding himself back, but not necessarily withholding himself. Two similar concepts with one very distinct difference: the former serves to punish Tseng; the latter serves to punish Rufus.
He runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth, resisting the urge to chew his lip until it splits. There's something about this revelation that feels electric, manic, like catching the strut of a helicopter just for the thrill of the exit, and likely it shows in how rapidly the tenor of his text turns from shy to reckless.]
I'm going to tell you once, and I don't want to have to tell you again, so remember it. If you ever decide you want to kiss me, don't wait for some sign that you're allowed. The only reason you should hold back is if you don't want it, yourself.
no subject
where do the shadows go when the light comes through?
rufus was right: tseng does want to use his second question. he knows the answer may ruin him, but he has to know. ]
Do you want me to kiss you? Or do you want to be kissed, and you trust me the most to do it?
no subject
But these are the questions he asks — really, one question with two parts, a distinction he wants to hear made. For once, Rufus can hear the real one beneath it, because it's precisely the sort of question he's sought to ask in return.
Is it me? Is it me that you want, that you follow, that you crave, is it me?
So many of these questions have been difficult. This one is so, so easy.]
My Tseng.
I like you. I want you.
no subject
the moment tseng lets himself have rufus this way, he will be compromised beyond redemption. it's a lucky thing, then, that his boss seems to like him. ]
Come over tomorrow.
Bring a change of clothes.
no subject
[It's a solid ten seconds before he realizes that the reason his face aches is because he's started to smile, unpolished and lopsided and disbelieving, and he doesn't quite remember when that happened.]
You told me something you won't do. Tell me something you're going to.
[And the uncertainty still tugs at him, that twisting feeling of almost-wrongness that comes of pushing back against everything he's been taught to be, but Tseng said to trust him even with that, especially with that, and he does.]
Please. I want to think about it until then.
no subject
[ this is very much not president shinra and the director of administrative research. this is rufus and tseng, and it is probably only fair that rufus get something to hold him over. ]
Kiss you, of course.
I also think it's very unlikely that I'm going to let you get further into my suite than the foyer before I suck you off.
no subject
What he does instead is think of it — Tseng's hair brushing the insides of his thighs, Tseng's tongue dragging hot up his cock like it'd dragged up his jaw — and takes a moment to question the sequencing of these two vows, whether Tseng intends to suck him with lips red and swollen from kissing or whether he'll kiss him after the fact with the taste of cum still on his tongue.
He closes his eyes, the hand not holding the watch drifting down the plane of his stomach toward the swelling ache in his pants.]
I'm going to touch myself to that thought.
[Brat.]
Though I'm sure the reality will exceed expectations.
no subject
[ considering tseng got himself off in the shower earlier thinking about fucking rufus into a mattress. ]
And you're right, it will.