[Tseng's reactions stoke that small, selfish little part of him that Olivine can't really name. It's the part of him that pushes forward through hesitation, that craves the sense of captivation.]
You know where I am, Tseng. [The words are helplessly amused, breathy and dizzy. His fingers don't stop moving, stroking his insides in slow, demanding little movements, even before that next order comes through.] Ungh—don't I usually cry anyway?
[He's certainly prone to it. He's also aware that Tseng isn't talking about his usual tears, and from the way his hips shift he's excited by the thought. The sight of his flushed cock and the tension from how his fingers splay around his balls pulls a whine from the priest, unable to keep his hips still anymore.]
I already want it to be you. [not that he's failed to obey—in fact, there's a notable shuffle of metal as Olivine leans forward to brace his weight better on his shoulder. It's hard to get past the first two knuckles when he's more upright, anyway.] How slowly... do I have to go for you?
[It's an important question, given his relative impatience with Tseng not actively here to meter him further. A more important question when his slow kneading pulls away from his entrance—long enough to slide his fourth finger in. that way, he can get deeper. Can better imagine the familiar stretch of Tseng's cock sinking into his ass, easing him open.
And he can better control the sight of his muscles in the watch camera with every scissoring motion, clenching down and pushing his fingers back together greedily.]
I want—mmngh. I want to go harder, Tseng... I want to come already.
[He's nowhere near his breaking point, and honestly he doesn't actually want to come yet; it's performative disobedience, given in the implicit assurance that his hand is basically under the other man's full control. He could mess it up, but it's devastatingly erotic to follow every order despite his own wants.]
[ the command is given easily, with the confidence of a man sure that olivine will obey even if tseng isn't there to force it. he knows olivine too well to think otherwise—olivine might want to come, but it will feel even better for him if he denies himself for a while, and tseng is pretty sure that olivine's desire to obey is, at least for the time being, stronger than his desire to orgasm.
he watches olivine's four fingers slide into the welcoming clutch of his ass, the ring of muscle stretching tight around them as he pushes them greedily into his wet hole. it's easier for tseng to see the pink of his insides this way too, in little glimpses between olivine's spread fingers as he scissors them inside himself, making even more slick drip from him and coat his taint, soaking into the askew fabric of his panties. ]
Slow, slower than that. I want you to feel every inch of it. You can touch your prostate, but don't come. I want you dripping wet and twitching, I want you so sensitive you think your cock will explode if I even breathe on it.
[ whether or not olivine still has the wherewithal to watch the feed from tseng's watch is... unclear, but if he does, he's treated to the sight of tseng beginning to stroke himself again. his hand is slick now, having reached for the lube in the interim, and the first full stroke makes him groan, pleasure clenching in his belly and making his thighs tense. ]
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You know where I am, Tseng. [The words are helplessly amused, breathy and dizzy. His fingers don't stop moving, stroking his insides in slow, demanding little movements, even before that next order comes through.] Ungh—don't I usually cry anyway?
[He's certainly prone to it. He's also aware that Tseng isn't talking about his usual tears, and from the way his hips shift he's excited by the thought. The sight of his flushed cock and the tension from how his fingers splay around his balls pulls a whine from the priest, unable to keep his hips still anymore.]
I already want it to be you. [not that he's failed to obey—in fact, there's a notable shuffle of metal as Olivine leans forward to brace his weight better on his shoulder. It's hard to get past the first two knuckles when he's more upright, anyway.] How slowly... do I have to go for you?
[It's an important question, given his relative impatience with Tseng not actively here to meter him further. A more important question when his slow kneading pulls away from his entrance—long enough to slide his fourth finger in. that way, he can get deeper. Can better imagine the familiar stretch of Tseng's cock sinking into his ass, easing him open.
And he can better control the sight of his muscles in the watch camera with every scissoring motion, clenching down and pushing his fingers back together greedily.]
I want—mmngh. I want to go harder, Tseng... I want to come already.
[He's nowhere near his breaking point, and honestly he doesn't actually want to come yet; it's performative disobedience, given in the implicit assurance that his hand is basically under the other man's full control. He could mess it up, but it's devastatingly erotic to follow every order despite his own wants.]
no subject
[ the command is given easily, with the confidence of a man sure that olivine will obey even if tseng isn't there to force it. he knows olivine too well to think otherwise—olivine might want to come, but it will feel even better for him if he denies himself for a while, and tseng is pretty sure that olivine's desire to obey is, at least for the time being, stronger than his desire to orgasm.
he watches olivine's four fingers slide into the welcoming clutch of his ass, the ring of muscle stretching tight around them as he pushes them greedily into his wet hole. it's easier for tseng to see the pink of his insides this way too, in little glimpses between olivine's spread fingers as he scissors them inside himself, making even more slick drip from him and coat his taint, soaking into the askew fabric of his panties. ]
Slow, slower than that. I want you to feel every inch of it. You can touch your prostate, but don't come. I want you dripping wet and twitching, I want you so sensitive you think your cock will explode if I even breathe on it.
[ whether or not olivine still has the wherewithal to watch the feed from tseng's watch is... unclear, but if he does, he's treated to the sight of tseng beginning to stroke himself again. his hand is slick now, having reached for the lube in the interim, and the first full stroke makes him groan, pleasure clenching in his belly and making his thighs tense. ]