[ it's not like rufus to spend so long typing, so tseng is already anticipating that whatever comes through next will be complicated. he's right. ]
I spend about 40% of my day there. Any more and it becomes obvious that I'm counting cards. With the remaining time, I'm often doing rounds to ensure that my information is still as up-to-date as possible.
[ he's never lied to rufus before, and he's not going to start now. ]
[If this were business — and maybe it should just be business and nothing more — then that's where his line of inquiry would naturally end. An acceptable breakdown of time and location for his own reference, if he ever were to need such information later. The particulars wouldn't be any of his concern. However surprising or intriguing they might be, they simply wouldn't be anything worthy of his concern.
Except he's also spent time at the Naked Yolk, albeit not very much. He knows what people do there. He knows what he's done there. And now, evidently, the door has been opened for him to imagine what Tseng does there.
Putting people facedown into horizontal surfaces, maybe. Playing them like fiddles. It's the sort of thing Tseng would do, probably.]
[ technically speaking, it isn't a question, and so tseng doesn't have to answer it... but he knows rufus expects him to, so he will. the only question is, how? what on gaia could tseng possibly say to that—"yes, i'm very good at making my partners lose their minds"? there is little tseng wants less than to talk to rufus about his other bedmates.
wait, his other bedmates? when did he start thinking of rufus as one of them? they've never even shared a bed before. ]
No complaints yet, sir.
[ yes, he's a great fuck, thank you kindly. shiva. tseng is going to spontaneously combust. why does rufus even know what goes on at naked yolk? ]
[ two minutes and fourteen seconds later, in the most transparent possible attempt to change the subject (and therefore his brain) away from rufus at the bdsm club, ]
[Meaning there is a slim, yet non-zero, possibility that someday he might text Tseng and Tseng might be at the Naked Yolk. With someone else. With someone who isn't him. And he would still answer the text.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ it's not like rufus to spend so long typing, so tseng is already anticipating that whatever comes through next will be complicated. he's right. ]
I spend about 40% of my day there. Any more and it becomes obvious that I'm counting cards. With the remaining time, I'm often doing rounds to ensure that my information is still as up-to-date as possible.
[ he's never lied to rufus before, and he's not going to start now. ]
I also spend time at the Naked Yolk.
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Except he's also spent time at the Naked Yolk, albeit not very much. He knows what people do there. He knows what he's done there. And now, evidently, the door has been opened for him to imagine what Tseng does there.
Putting people facedown into horizontal surfaces, maybe. Playing them like fiddles. It's the sort of thing Tseng would do, probably.]
That must keep you busy.
[He stares at his watch a minute, thinking.]
I imagine you're a popular guest.
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wait, his other bedmates? when did he start thinking of rufus as one of them? they've never even shared a bed before. ]
No complaints yet, sir.
[ yes, he's a great fuck, thank you kindly. shiva. tseng is going to spontaneously combust. why does rufus even know what goes on at naked yolk? ]
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[It's a joke, clearly, and not just because what idiot would harbor complaints about Tseng going to town on them, anyway.]
I'll remember that, if for some reason I can't get hold of you. I'll assume you're otherwise occupied.
[With someone else. In the BDSM club. Ensuring that they have no complaints. Fuck.]
( 1/2 )
[ shiva. ]
( 2/2 )
I'm making stir-fried string beans and noodles.
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Fuck. Fuck.]
I haven't eaten yet.
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[He needs to go stare at himself in the bathroom mirror for 8.5 minutes first, so as to make sure he doesn't look a fool when he arrives.]