[It's far from the command of a man who owns the world; really, it's more like a whine that comes riddled with plaintive desperation, like he's such a poor needy thing so terribly wounded by the prospect of going without cock for thirty more seconds. He buries his face in the comforter, sweat-dappled forehead pressed and sticking to the covers, his back arching slightly with the rise and fall of his still-deep breaths. His skin feels like it's burning with the lack of contact, the need to feel Tseng wrapped around him and buried inside; when he finally finds himself with license to draw his hand away, he drags ineffectually at the mattress, halfway between wanting to climb up and curl inward on himself or to bear the waiting even longer.]
Haven't I been good enough? Tseng — !
[Poor, aching, desperate thing. Or maybe just manipulative enough to know precisely which buttons to push to make Tseng crazy — with Rufus half out of his mind with desire, it's always a little difficult to tell what's instinct and what's by design.]
[ honestly, at this point it's not rufus' ability to withstand that tseng is worried about, but rather his own—his insides feel like a collapsing star, a yawning, aching hunger inside him that threatens to consume. he pushes his slacks down around his thighs and doesn't bother with anything further, can't bother with anything further when rufus's voice sounds the way it does, pitched and demanding. he kneels on the mattress between rufus' spread feet, drags his palm down the appealing sway of rufus' spine with a gentle shh, baby, i've got you—uses the other hand to guide his cockhead to rufus' stretched hole and then pushes inside in one sweet, sweet push.
he couldn't stop if his life depended on it. he doesn't stop until he's all the way inside, until his hips meet rufus' ass and tseng's cock is swallowed by the vicelike velvet heat of rufus' body, slick and needy. fuck, he feels like a fever dream, every desire tseng has ever had condensed into one man's form, gorgeous and golden and writhing beneath the weight of tseng's hands and his gaze. he licks his lips and grips rufus tightly, palms against his hipbones, withdraws and fucks into rufus like he means it, like he wants rufus to taste it in the back of his throat when he wails. ]
You've been so good, baby, [ tseng murmurs, thoughtless and adoring, barely audible over the wet sound of his cock moving, the slap of his hips against rufus' skin. ] You've been so good, you deserve everything, you deserve the whole world—
[ it's unfair, how thoroughly rufus can undo him. decades of training in how to keep his composure, how to compartmentalize emotion and sensation, how to ignore pleasure just as well as pain, and tseng will throw it all away for this beautiful man beneath him. he would give rufus anything he asked for without a second thought. ]
A girl, I want a girl, a little girl, half yours —
[Later, when the thick haze around his thoughts lifts with the clarity of hindsight, he'll bare his teeth at the mortifying ordeal the resort's games have put him through, toying with him like this. But for right now, Rufus can't imagine wanting anything else, can't divert his thoughts from anything but the desperate need to see his phantom cravings fulfilled.
Tseng fills him perfectly. He always does. But the burn of his need isn't just centered in a desire for sex, the way he's so often accustomed to; this time it feels like ambition coming to fruition, like the two of them standing on top of the world and building a future beyond just the instant moment. That, in itself, makes him moan loud and long, his own drive for primacy dovetailed perfectly with the primal drive of Tseng's hips, more more more, drunk on the knowledge that even demanding the impossible, Tseng will set out to give it to him.]
Yours, yours, yours —
[Does he mean that impossible desire? Does he mean himself? It doesn't matter, because the answer is all one and the same, if he deserves everything then everything is his and that means everything is Tseng's because he is. Tseng's grip is deliciously bruising on his hips and wholly unnecessary to hold him, when he's fucking his own body back just as firmly, trying to take Tseng deeper on every stroke until they're both consumed by the conjunction. His arousal burns like a wildfire, beading wet on his skin and making him clench tight around the heady friction of every thrust, but for once something in Rufus's subconscious tries to hold out against the pleasure, deflecting his own climax in an attempt to feel Tseng come first, to feel Tseng make him slick and filthy and bred.]
[ it's unlike rufus to be so willing to delay his pleasure, but in some distant corner of his overheated mind tseng thinks he understands. he can guess that rufus wants to feel himself filled, to have the reassurance of being bred before he can allow his own slide into climax—and tseng, in this moment, wants literally nothing more than to give it to him, something about rufus' urgency triggers an answering instinct in tseng, the need to pin rufus down and breed him again and again until he's certain it takes. to give him the daughter he's begging for, their child.
and another, gentler layer that underpins the driving sexual need between them: tseng wants to see rufus be the father he deserved. they had talked about it, hadn't they, so many months ago on the beach in rufus' suite—whether they were suited to it, whether it was possible. it feels possible now, in the desperate clutch of tseng's hands against rufus' hips, in the steady thrust of rufus' ass back against tseng's body. it feels so close tseng could reach out and grasp it.
he comes like that, bent forward over rufus' spine, whispering beautiful nonsense into the curve of his throat as he spills deep into the welcoming heat of rufus' body. once won't be enough, he thinks, tseng needs to fuck him again and again until he's sure—but one thing at a time. he sinks a claiming bite into the meat of rufus' shoulder and reaches around to grasp his cock, stroking firmly in time with the short, sharp movements of his own hips chasing residual pleasure. ]
Come for me, baby, [ tseng murmurs in rufus' ear. ] So I can put you on your back and fuck you again. Come on, beautiful, there you go, just like that—
[There are no words for the utter satisfaction that crashes over Rufus when Tseng releases inside him. It's as though the air has been punched out of him and a desperate thirst has been satiated all at once; that maddening demand in his subconscious abates just long enough to find a sense of relief from the itch of craving, pacified by the teeth in his shoulder and the molten spill of cum filling him up. The noise that escapes him is wet in itself, halfway between a whine and a sigh, already blissed out and euphoric before Tseng's fingers even close around him to encourage him up to his own delicious peak.]
Ngh...fuck...!
[Every bit of it feels so good — the weight of Tseng's body draped over him, the hot breath washing over his sweat-slick skin, the tremors in his muscles that he can't suppress. Climax catches him off-guard, less like reaching a distinguishable peak and more like something finally giving way and shattering him into pieces as rope after rope of cum spills over Tseng's deft and perfect fingers.
It's the second best thing he can remember feeling, given how hazy and fixated his memory has gone since this bizarre need overtook him. The best is still held firmly in place by the fit of Tseng's cock inside him, unable to leak so long as he's still hilted where he belongs.
The tension coiled in his muscles seems to leave him at the same time his orgasm does; the bedding feels so soft and deep where his cheek sinks into it that despite being bent in half over the mattress, it almost feels like he could drift off into a stupor just like that. It's a rare moment of respite that doesn't last long, as put you on your back and fuck you again threads insidious through his brief moment of clarity and clouds his mind over with the incense of desire once more.]
Oh...hhh, again, yeah...want you again...fuck, Tseng...
[ it doesn't take the observational skills of a turk to notice the way heavy, sweet satisfaction soaks every inch of rufus' body. if tseng let him, he could probably sink right into insensibility, could probably spend a long while just relishing the physical sensation of being full and bred.
the trouble is, of course, that tseng doesn't want to let him. not yet, anyway—despite rufus' lassitude tseng's own hunger hasn't abated. he allows them both a few long seconds of bliss, just breathing in the heavy musk of sweat and sex, enjoying the physical strain of fucking, before he pulls back and lets his cock slip from rufus' body. with a restrained urgency that belies his desire, tseng coaxes rufus first onto his side, then onto his back, where tseng spreads both of rufus' thighs over his own and guides his cock right back into rufus' hole.
at first, his hands stay where they are at rufus' waist, gripping him firmly so tseng can fuck him in long, slow strokes. he hasn't given rufus much of a chance to get hard again yet, and in the oversensitive aftermath of climax tseng thinks it might take a moment, but his own cock is still aching, and at least this way he can take a little of the edge off while rufus slowly comes back to full arousal. ]
You're gorgeous, [ he murmurs. rufus knows better than anyone that tseng is not the type to give compliments freely, least of all ones that are undeserved, so while the honesty is rare he should at least be able to trust that tseng means it. ] Do you remember—drinking with me on the beach? In your room.
[It takes a while before thoughts that aren't yeah, please, fuck, Tseng stand any chance of coalescing in his mind; though he hears the question, and knows the answer, Rufus can't muster any particular urgency to open his mouth and supply it, too content with letting Tseng move him where he wants and lying idle while he's seen to.
With a little more presence of mind, he might be tempted to laugh at the sight he surely makes — Shinra's boy king turned pillow princess, splayed out and drowsing while his dutiful knight-Turk keeps him glutted to dripping in pleasure.
He does remember, though. The sand had been more coarse than the pillowy mattress beneath him now, and there'd been the kiss of condensation on cool glass, and more liberty to unwind than either of them usually allows himself outside of the bedroom like this, and all the lust of the present moment equaled in kind with a softer sort of happiness.]
I remember.
[It falls from his lax, wet mouth like a sigh; though it seems such a struggle to coax his eyes open, he does it because he knows Tseng thinks his eyes are gorgeous, too, and Rufus thinks he'd do just about anything to please in a moment like this.]
[ it doesn't matter. tseng hadn't asked the question to get a response, not really—more just to let rufus hear his voice, one small thread to keep him tethered to the bed they share. he knows rufus remembers it just as well as tseng does. ]
Yeah, [ tseng murmurs in soft, adoring agreement. ] It is.
[ there's really something about rufus when he's like this. beautiful and disheveled and deep, deep in the soft clouds of subspace, able to think of little other than his body and his pleasure. it clenches like a fist behind tseng's breastbone, this knowledge that rufus trusts him so implicitly that he would allow tseng to not only see him like this, but to be the one to make him this way—every rise of rufus' chest, every twitch of his thighs as good as a tacit i love you.
as if there had ever been a question that tseng would tear the world apart bare-handed if it was what rufus asked of him. how could tseng look down at the glorious, white-golden sight of rufus beneath him and do anything other than turn himself over to perfect supplication?
tseng's pace increases, little by little, as rufus' body begins to respond. the slide is so slick now, between rufus' relaxation and the mess of cum still filling him up, and the wet sounds of his cock moving inside rufus are astonishingly lewd. still, tseng clutches hard at his own self-control, determined to bring rufus to another peak before allowing himself to do the same. ]
[Rufus thinks, fleetingly, that it feels as though he couldn't lift his arms if he tried, weighted and sluggish with satisfaction as he is, but there's a thought in his mind that compels him to try. They raise, just a little, and his fingers fumble artlessly as he tries to reach for Tseng and pull him down, willing in that moment to sacrifice even the delicious leverage that keeps Tseng hitting up inside him at the perfect angle and rhythm in favor of trying to pull him down for a kiss.
He wants that, he finds. Wants to be laid out on his back with Tseng over top of him, weighted down beneath the secure presence of someone who loves him with such limitless abandon. It's been close to a year since first he was willing to even voice this particular desire to himself, the tantalizing thought of being only the size of his own body and no more. He wants it now, to delineate exactly how much space he takes up by where he ends and where Tseng begins.]
Come kiss me like I'm yours.
[There's not even the hint of a question in Rufus's breathy words, not an ounce of doubt in his choice of the word like. The ending of that sentence, because I am yours, simply lingers unspoken — but it's not as though they've ever really needed words, not when it's the two of them like this.]
[ no need to tell tseng twice. he leans down immediately, bracketing rufus' head with his forearms and pressing his elbows into the pillows, so that when their mouths press together it's as if they're in an enclosed space all their own—the world no larger than the two of them in this bed. it changes the angle, changes the pace so that tseng can't drive quite as deeply inside, but that doesn't matter—even though his hips only shift in minute increments, more gentle nudges than steady strokes, the new position is so toe-curlingly intimate that it feels all the better for it.
tseng kisses rufus exactly as he's told to do, like rufus is his, unquestioned. it's slow and thorough, the slide of his tongue against rufus' mirroring the shallow rocks of his hips; he nips adoringly at rufus' lower lip, sucks at his tongue, explores every sensitive place he's memorized inside rufus' mouth so he can earn the reward of rufus' shivers and quiet noises. rufus is more expressive when he's like this, no longer thinking of image and face. tseng savors every muffled whine.
when they pull apart a little to breathe, tseng rests his brow against rufus' and lets his eyes open just a sliver. enough to see the lovely blur of him at this distance, pale skin and pale hair and the shocking stormy blue of his eyes, almost swallowed by his pupil. he's so beautiful tseng can barely stand it. ]
You are mine, [ tseng murmurs, so quietly it's nearly inaudible. it doesn't need to be said aloud, but it feels good to say anyway. ] Just like I'm yours.
[Who but Tseng could make sex so satisfying, so thoroughly complete, that even the thought of orgasm goes rapidly by the wayside in favor of Rufus simply wanting this to last. Having succeeded at drawing Tseng down over him like a blanket, Rufus's fingers are free instead to weave through the drape of Tseng's hair in his own little echoed intimacy, the liberty so familiar he's almost forgotten that it once was out of reach.
Tseng tells him he's beautiful, often. Gorgeous, others. Stunning, sometimes. Rufus believes it when Tseng has him like this, believes it with even more conviction than he believes in his own destined greatness, his own capacity to bend the world to his will. He's never been beautiful like that before Tseng existed like this to look at him as he does, before Tseng made his own gaze into lenses through which Rufus could see himself, too.]
Yeah. I need you.
[It's not the frantic, desperate begging of the compulsion from before. It's not desire fueled by lust. It just, like Tseng's, feels good to say. Good to admit, in the sliver of space between their lips reserved for secrets, like a flash of an enigmatic smile beneath an elevator's golden light.]
[ although neither of them has taken the step of actually saying the words aloud, there are moments when tseng feels them acutely—like now, embroidered into the way rufus says i need you, meaning not that rufus shinra needs the head of his turks but that rufus, just rufus, needs just tseng. the entirety of tseng's life has been shaped around the question of what use he can be: how he might be forged into a weapon to be wielded by the long arm of the company, what purpose he might serve to those who own him. the meaning of his existence has always been his function.
but now, in the quiet of tseng's bedroom, rufus says i need you and it has nothing to do with what tseng can do for him, nothing to do with how tseng can be used. the thought that he might be of some value to this man beyond his function is one that nearly overwhelms him, and tseng can do nothing but give rufus another lingering, breathless kiss, some small way to express the way that those simple words touch something tender deep inside him, a place that no one else has ever been able to reach. ]
You have me, [ tseng promises, in between the kisses he presses to rufus' mouth. ] You have me, always.
[ even when they part, he stays close, his forehead pressed to rufus' and their noses brushing together, the warm wash of rufus' breath against his mouth each time their bodies move together. climax becomes an afterthought and also an inevitability; they will come, both of them, but tseng is no longer focused on it as a goal. ]
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no subject
[It's far from the command of a man who owns the world; really, it's more like a whine that comes riddled with plaintive desperation, like he's such a poor needy thing so terribly wounded by the prospect of going without cock for thirty more seconds. He buries his face in the comforter, sweat-dappled forehead pressed and sticking to the covers, his back arching slightly with the rise and fall of his still-deep breaths. His skin feels like it's burning with the lack of contact, the need to feel Tseng wrapped around him and buried inside; when he finally finds himself with license to draw his hand away, he drags ineffectually at the mattress, halfway between wanting to climb up and curl inward on himself or to bear the waiting even longer.]
Haven't I been good enough? Tseng — !
[Poor, aching, desperate thing. Or maybe just manipulative enough to know precisely which buttons to push to make Tseng crazy — with Rufus half out of his mind with desire, it's always a little difficult to tell what's instinct and what's by design.]
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he couldn't stop if his life depended on it. he doesn't stop until he's all the way inside, until his hips meet rufus' ass and tseng's cock is swallowed by the vicelike velvet heat of rufus' body, slick and needy. fuck, he feels like a fever dream, every desire tseng has ever had condensed into one man's form, gorgeous and golden and writhing beneath the weight of tseng's hands and his gaze. he licks his lips and grips rufus tightly, palms against his hipbones, withdraws and fucks into rufus like he means it, like he wants rufus to taste it in the back of his throat when he wails. ]
You've been so good, baby, [ tseng murmurs, thoughtless and adoring, barely audible over the wet sound of his cock moving, the slap of his hips against rufus' skin. ] You've been so good, you deserve everything, you deserve the whole world—
[ it's unfair, how thoroughly rufus can undo him. decades of training in how to keep his composure, how to compartmentalize emotion and sensation, how to ignore pleasure just as well as pain, and tseng will throw it all away for this beautiful man beneath him. he would give rufus anything he asked for without a second thought. ]
no subject
[Later, when the thick haze around his thoughts lifts with the clarity of hindsight, he'll bare his teeth at the mortifying ordeal the resort's games have put him through, toying with him like this. But for right now, Rufus can't imagine wanting anything else, can't divert his thoughts from anything but the desperate need to see his phantom cravings fulfilled.
Tseng fills him perfectly. He always does. But the burn of his need isn't just centered in a desire for sex, the way he's so often accustomed to; this time it feels like ambition coming to fruition, like the two of them standing on top of the world and building a future beyond just the instant moment. That, in itself, makes him moan loud and long, his own drive for primacy dovetailed perfectly with the primal drive of Tseng's hips, more more more, drunk on the knowledge that even demanding the impossible, Tseng will set out to give it to him.]
Yours, yours, yours —
[Does he mean that impossible desire? Does he mean himself? It doesn't matter, because the answer is all one and the same, if he deserves everything then everything is his and that means everything is Tseng's because he is. Tseng's grip is deliciously bruising on his hips and wholly unnecessary to hold him, when he's fucking his own body back just as firmly, trying to take Tseng deeper on every stroke until they're both consumed by the conjunction. His arousal burns like a wildfire, beading wet on his skin and making him clench tight around the heady friction of every thrust, but for once something in Rufus's subconscious tries to hold out against the pleasure, deflecting his own climax in an attempt to feel Tseng come first, to feel Tseng make him slick and filthy and bred.]
no subject
and another, gentler layer that underpins the driving sexual need between them: tseng wants to see rufus be the father he deserved. they had talked about it, hadn't they, so many months ago on the beach in rufus' suite—whether they were suited to it, whether it was possible. it feels possible now, in the desperate clutch of tseng's hands against rufus' hips, in the steady thrust of rufus' ass back against tseng's body. it feels so close tseng could reach out and grasp it.
he comes like that, bent forward over rufus' spine, whispering beautiful nonsense into the curve of his throat as he spills deep into the welcoming heat of rufus' body. once won't be enough, he thinks, tseng needs to fuck him again and again until he's sure—but one thing at a time. he sinks a claiming bite into the meat of rufus' shoulder and reaches around to grasp his cock, stroking firmly in time with the short, sharp movements of his own hips chasing residual pleasure. ]
Come for me, baby, [ tseng murmurs in rufus' ear. ] So I can put you on your back and fuck you again. Come on, beautiful, there you go, just like that—
no subject
Ngh...fuck...!
[Every bit of it feels so good — the weight of Tseng's body draped over him, the hot breath washing over his sweat-slick skin, the tremors in his muscles that he can't suppress. Climax catches him off-guard, less like reaching a distinguishable peak and more like something finally giving way and shattering him into pieces as rope after rope of cum spills over Tseng's deft and perfect fingers.
It's the second best thing he can remember feeling, given how hazy and fixated his memory has gone since this bizarre need overtook him. The best is still held firmly in place by the fit of Tseng's cock inside him, unable to leak so long as he's still hilted where he belongs.
The tension coiled in his muscles seems to leave him at the same time his orgasm does; the bedding feels so soft and deep where his cheek sinks into it that despite being bent in half over the mattress, it almost feels like he could drift off into a stupor just like that. It's a rare moment of respite that doesn't last long, as put you on your back and fuck you again threads insidious through his brief moment of clarity and clouds his mind over with the incense of desire once more.]
Oh...hhh, again, yeah...want you again...fuck, Tseng...
no subject
the trouble is, of course, that tseng doesn't want to let him. not yet, anyway—despite rufus' lassitude tseng's own hunger hasn't abated. he allows them both a few long seconds of bliss, just breathing in the heavy musk of sweat and sex, enjoying the physical strain of fucking, before he pulls back and lets his cock slip from rufus' body. with a restrained urgency that belies his desire, tseng coaxes rufus first onto his side, then onto his back, where tseng spreads both of rufus' thighs over his own and guides his cock right back into rufus' hole.
at first, his hands stay where they are at rufus' waist, gripping him firmly so tseng can fuck him in long, slow strokes. he hasn't given rufus much of a chance to get hard again yet, and in the oversensitive aftermath of climax tseng thinks it might take a moment, but his own cock is still aching, and at least this way he can take a little of the edge off while rufus slowly comes back to full arousal. ]
You're gorgeous, [ he murmurs. rufus knows better than anyone that tseng is not the type to give compliments freely, least of all ones that are undeserved, so while the honesty is rare he should at least be able to trust that tseng means it. ] Do you remember—drinking with me on the beach? In your room.
no subject
With a little more presence of mind, he might be tempted to laugh at the sight he surely makes — Shinra's boy king turned pillow princess, splayed out and drowsing while his dutiful knight-Turk keeps him glutted to dripping in pleasure.
He does remember, though. The sand had been more coarse than the pillowy mattress beneath him now, and there'd been the kiss of condensation on cool glass, and more liberty to unwind than either of them usually allows himself outside of the bedroom like this, and all the lust of the present moment equaled in kind with a softer sort of happiness.]
I remember.
[It falls from his lax, wet mouth like a sigh; though it seems such a struggle to coax his eyes open, he does it because he knows Tseng thinks his eyes are gorgeous, too, and Rufus thinks he'd do just about anything to please in a moment like this.]
S'nice...
no subject
Yeah, [ tseng murmurs in soft, adoring agreement. ] It is.
[ there's really something about rufus when he's like this. beautiful and disheveled and deep, deep in the soft clouds of subspace, able to think of little other than his body and his pleasure. it clenches like a fist behind tseng's breastbone, this knowledge that rufus trusts him so implicitly that he would allow tseng to not only see him like this, but to be the one to make him this way—every rise of rufus' chest, every twitch of his thighs as good as a tacit i love you.
as if there had ever been a question that tseng would tear the world apart bare-handed if it was what rufus asked of him. how could tseng look down at the glorious, white-golden sight of rufus beneath him and do anything other than turn himself over to perfect supplication?
tseng's pace increases, little by little, as rufus' body begins to respond. the slide is so slick now, between rufus' relaxation and the mess of cum still filling him up, and the wet sounds of his cock moving inside rufus are astonishingly lewd. still, tseng clutches hard at his own self-control, determined to bring rufus to another peak before allowing himself to do the same. ]
no subject
[Rufus thinks, fleetingly, that it feels as though he couldn't lift his arms if he tried, weighted and sluggish with satisfaction as he is, but there's a thought in his mind that compels him to try. They raise, just a little, and his fingers fumble artlessly as he tries to reach for Tseng and pull him down, willing in that moment to sacrifice even the delicious leverage that keeps Tseng hitting up inside him at the perfect angle and rhythm in favor of trying to pull him down for a kiss.
He wants that, he finds. Wants to be laid out on his back with Tseng over top of him, weighted down beneath the secure presence of someone who loves him with such limitless abandon. It's been close to a year since first he was willing to even voice this particular desire to himself, the tantalizing thought of being only the size of his own body and no more. He wants it now, to delineate exactly how much space he takes up by where he ends and where Tseng begins.]
Come kiss me like I'm yours.
[There's not even the hint of a question in Rufus's breathy words, not an ounce of doubt in his choice of the word like. The ending of that sentence, because I am yours, simply lingers unspoken — but it's not as though they've ever really needed words, not when it's the two of them like this.]
no subject
tseng kisses rufus exactly as he's told to do, like rufus is his, unquestioned. it's slow and thorough, the slide of his tongue against rufus' mirroring the shallow rocks of his hips; he nips adoringly at rufus' lower lip, sucks at his tongue, explores every sensitive place he's memorized inside rufus' mouth so he can earn the reward of rufus' shivers and quiet noises. rufus is more expressive when he's like this, no longer thinking of image and face. tseng savors every muffled whine.
when they pull apart a little to breathe, tseng rests his brow against rufus' and lets his eyes open just a sliver. enough to see the lovely blur of him at this distance, pale skin and pale hair and the shocking stormy blue of his eyes, almost swallowed by his pupil. he's so beautiful tseng can barely stand it. ]
You are mine, [ tseng murmurs, so quietly it's nearly inaudible. it doesn't need to be said aloud, but it feels good to say anyway. ] Just like I'm yours.
no subject
Tseng tells him he's beautiful, often. Gorgeous, others. Stunning, sometimes. Rufus believes it when Tseng has him like this, believes it with even more conviction than he believes in his own destined greatness, his own capacity to bend the world to his will. He's never been beautiful like that before Tseng existed like this to look at him as he does, before Tseng made his own gaze into lenses through which Rufus could see himself, too.]
Yeah. I need you.
[It's not the frantic, desperate begging of the compulsion from before. It's not desire fueled by lust. It just, like Tseng's, feels good to say. Good to admit, in the sliver of space between their lips reserved for secrets, like a flash of an enigmatic smile beneath an elevator's golden light.]
I do.
no subject
but now, in the quiet of tseng's bedroom, rufus says i need you and it has nothing to do with what tseng can do for him, nothing to do with how tseng can be used. the thought that he might be of some value to this man beyond his function is one that nearly overwhelms him, and tseng can do nothing but give rufus another lingering, breathless kiss, some small way to express the way that those simple words touch something tender deep inside him, a place that no one else has ever been able to reach. ]
You have me, [ tseng promises, in between the kisses he presses to rufus' mouth. ] You have me, always.
[ even when they part, he stays close, his forehead pressed to rufus' and their noses brushing together, the warm wash of rufus' breath against his mouth each time their bodies move together. climax becomes an afterthought and also an inevitability; they will come, both of them, but tseng is no longer focused on it as a goal. ]