[He can't describe what it is about the language that so effectively undoes him. The tone of voice Tseng uses is almost unfair, almost weaponized, warmly affectionate even at the humiliation of being called a whore, being reduced to the simple purpose of this act — on his knees to take a man's cock into his throat. Yet Sasuke is only more aroused at the idea of that debasement. He has always seen his body as a weapon, and so now it seems reasonable that this is what he would be used in service to, even if the fantasy expands slightly on the hinge of Tseng's words, less about just anyone and more for this man alone in this moment.
Tseng will still feel it. That slight vibration of voice around his cock, a muffled noise for the disparaging words that signals Sasuke's own pleasure to hear it. And there's something more, an aching burn for the endearment placed on the end — because being beautiful is not a kind of praise he has ever chased. It feels so personal, so sweet in contrast to the filthy derision of the rest.
Then the man's hand finds the back of his head and he surrenders to it, eases slightly to allow his mouth to be fucked, giving control with a shiver of loosened muscles. He can feel how Tseng watches him and it's enough to white out his mind. There's no room to think when he's forced down to that precise point of airlessness, where his mouth forms a tight seal until he can't breathe with the thick tip shoved into the back of his throat, pinching wetness at the corners of his eyes.
In this state, he's too eager to meet the foot between his legs. There's no resistance, no squirming away from embarrassment. He's too far gone for that. The degradation makes it all more acute, grinding his covered erection against Tseng's heel with a whimper that will be felt around the man's cock.]
[ there's relief that mixes with the arousal as sasuke's hips grind up to meet the pressure of tseng's shoe between his thighs—the gamble paid off, then. tseng tilts his head back on a quiet moan and presses his foot a little more firmly against sasuke's cock, his hips moving with increasing urgency as he fucks into sasuke's throat, finding that exact point again and again to steal sasuke's breath away.
despite the way sasuke's muscles have gone loose and his gaze has gone hazy with pleasure, there's still an urgency to the way sasuke moves against him, to the noises he makes that are muffled by the insistent press of tseng's cock into his mouth. it drives tseng wild—it drove him wild the first time they did this, too, but even more so now that he knows sasuke better. it makes him want nothing more than to ruin this gorgeous boy kneeling before him, tears caught in his lashes, his face flushed and saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs his approval as sasuke's hips move. ] You love this, don't you, my precious little slut? Does it make you want to come?
[ what are the chances, tseng wonders idly, that sasuke remembers the instruction not to make tseng come? he'd intended to pull out and jerk himself to finish on sasuke's face, but he's already getting close, and he'd like sasuke to be the one to come first before tseng gets himself off. ]
[Having his pleasure put at the center of this act, reciprocal in his desire to use his mouth on Tseng — it's almost too much. The pressure of the sole of Tseng's foot against his cock through the thick fabric of pants only enhances that unbearable sensation, friction somewhere on the cusp of enough without taking him there, without delivering the relief of an orgasm that his body craves. Part of that is the grasp of control this encounter has on him; he exists in Tseng's hand, and he'll do whatever Tseng tells him to to do in this moment. Trusting someone enough to yield to that kind of exchange is learned, but still vulnerable. Still new.
At the question, he nods his head, humming around the intrusion of Tseng's cock in his throat so his voice comes out a muffled overeager affirmation. His right hand sinks to the base and he squeezes his fingers into a tight circle there, because he does remember that he can't make the man come first. Then he slips his mouth off over the head, Tseng's cock shiny and wet, a string of saliva like a fine filament between his lips and the tip.]
Can I? [His voice is rough and a little husky from use.] Am I allowed to?
[Like he needs permission to come, he grinds his hips up for a more direct drag of Tseng's foot between his legs — panting now, close to the edge with a desire to be told to go over it.]
[ fuck, sasuke is going to be the death of him. tseng's breath catches at the sight, sasuke's mouth swollen with use, his gaze dark and needy as he looks to tseng for permission to indulge his own desire for pleasure. he really is beautiful like this, tseng thinks a little wildly, his thumb stroking the line of sasuke's cheekbone. this is far from the first time that tseng has been in control, but shiva, being with sasuke is the first time tseng has felt that control to be so utterly precious.
one of tseng's hands moves to the base of his own cock, covering sasuke's hand where it's wrapped around the base. his other hand tightens in sasuke's hair, holding his head in place as his foot presses a little more firmly high between the crux of sasuke's thighs. ]
Since you asked so nicely, [ tseng says, ] you may come.
[ and while sasuke chases his orgasm, tseng does the same. he uses sasuke's hand, the one curled around his cock, and jerks himself off with it, the circle of his fingers just tight enough to drive tseng right to the brink of climax. a slow breath, hold, two, three, waiting for sasuke to shudder over the edge—but as soon as he does, tseng looses his iron grip on his own control as well, and uses sasuke's fingers to stroke himself to orgasm, his cock twitching and then spilling in hot, sticky spurts all over sasuke's face. ]
[Those two points of contact carry the weight of anchors — one heavy and warm over his own at the root of the man's swollen cock, the other snarled into his hair with enough force to rein him in place so he cannot move at all. The lack of control is an aphrodisiac all its own, impressed even harder by the rigid line of Tseng's foot against his cock providing that drag of friction. And those words, You may come, like the relief of cool rain after hot drought — his entire body flinches as he comes, soaking his own underwear until the thin fabric is pasted in a sticky smear to his crotch. Even this is delicious, and he squirms to feel that wet mess before reason or sanity has quite crept back in.
Then there is Tseng above him, looking down at him with that black gaze of lust, keeping him pulled in tight and immobile so that hot splatter covers his cheeks and mouth in a glaze. Sasuke can't help the sound that leaves him, mouth falling open as if to catch any that might land there so at least he can taste it. His eyes are glassy, face flushed with the fruition of desire.]
Tseng...
[It's half a whine, eyelashes flickering and then falling shut in a natural reflex not to let any get in his eyes. Yet this is also a signifier of trust, too, in a way that perhaps the man won't know. His sight is an immensely precious thing.
And so he stays like that, on his knees, until Tseng decides to release him.]
[ if he wasn't so overwhelmed by the sight of sasuke shuddering into orgasm as he grinds up against the sole of tseng's shoe, tseng might have taken better care to aim and get a little more of his cum in sasuke's mouth for him to taste—but he's half out of his mind with pleasure and desire and so only a few drops land between his open lips. still, the sight of him with his eyes closed and mouth open, his face covered in tseng's spend, chest heaving with panted breaths and hips squirming against the pressure between his thighs...
it's an image that sears itself indelibly into tseng's mind, the kind of sight he'll never forget. ]
Sasuke. [ his voice sounds rough, and tseng's breath comes quickly too, struggling to modulate it as his nerves are jolted by little aftershocks of orgasm. he curls sasuke's fingers around his length and gives it one last stroke, catching the last remnants of his cum on sasuke's fingertips, then lifts sasuke's hand to put those fingers in his mouth instead. ] Lick those clean and take deep breaths for me.
[ while sasuke does that, tseng tucks himself back into his pants and leans over to grab a roll of soft paper towels from their place on the kitchen counter. by the time he returns, sasuke seems to be more or less done with his fingers, and so tseng guides them from his mouth so he can use the paper towel to dab at the splatters of cum on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. it's not a full cleanup, they'll need the bathroom for that, but it's at least enough to make sure none of it will drip into sasuke's eyes. ]
Look at me. [ tseng cups sasuke's face in one hand, gentle and coaxing. ] How do you feel?
[The way Tseng coaxes him down from the height of that acute, thoughtless pleasure is gentle, and Sasuke finds himself obeying those instructions without hesitation. His head is still gauzy and gray, a little out of it, red tongue slipping past lips to lap away the bitter-salt vestige of cum from callused fingertips. He's obedient, too, in taking breaths once he's finished until the frantic stutter of his pulse slows to a calmer, mediated pace.
With his face a mess, he is careful to keep his eyes closed as Tseng cleans him up. And then they open again at the command, gaze turning up, a twitch of a smile at his mouth.]
Ah. [His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat.] Good.
[Fine to settle on his knees more comfortably, Sasuke's head tilts, as if to push his cheek into the man's hand like a cat.]
To be clear, this isn't why I came over. I suppose that it's... difficult to resist being around you sometimes.
[Especially when Tseng — so buttoned-up and professional, not a fold of clothing or strand of hair out of place — starts dirty talking him over breakfast.]
[ very much like a cat, a particularly satisfied one at that. tseng smiles and strokes his thumb across sasuke's cheekbone, finding himself endeared by even such a small gesture. ]
I didn't think it was, but I have to admit I'm feeling very smug about it.
[ and why wouldn't he be? it's unbelievably satisfying to have this kind of effect on sasuke, to be able to drive him this wild. tseng doesn't take it for granted, that he's being allowed to see sasuke vulnerable, that he's sometimes given the reins of sasuke's pleasure and trusted to make it worthwhile.
he lets sasuke stay on his knees for a moment, but eventually tseng does lean down to rest a hand on sasuke's bicep, carefully encouraging him to stand. slowly, of course, out of consideration for the fact that his knees are likely sore—tseng's kitchen floors certainly weren't laid with kneeling comfort in mind. ]
[There's a quiet little snort at that first comment, but he lets Tseng have that well-deserved smugness, drawn up to his feet by the gentle hand on his arm. Any soreness to his knees is negligible; his body has endured far worse discomforts over the years of his life.
He comes to stand close to Tseng, between the man's open legs.]
That depends. [A tilt of his head.] Are you washing my face here in the kitchen, or are you going to take me to the shower?
I was hoping for the shower, but if your preference is the kitchen sink...
[ tseng casts a little glance backwards, behind them to where the sink is set into the marble countertops. it is a nice sink, but not entirely what tseng thinks of when he thinks about aftercare.
when his gaze returns to sasuke, tseng's expression softens a little in its teasing. it's not a conscious change, just... something his face does when he looks at sasuke, evidently.
he also contemplates saying aloud that the last time they showered together they also got rather distracted, but chooses not to, since he's sure that sasuke remembers regardless. ]
[Is it strange to think the man who just came all over your face is being very cute right now?
In any case, Sasuke hums low in his throat and leans slightly away, conscious that he's still not fully clean and he doesn't know if Tseng would want him too close for that reason.]
I don't have anywhere to be. Let's take a shower. [His right hand drops, seeking Tseng's wrist — a little bossy in the way he tugs on the man's arm as he steps back, towing him along.] I should take advantage of your bathroom's privacy while I can.
[ ah ah. tseng's hands find sasuke's waist, holding him in place and refusing to let him lean away. far be it from tseng to think that his own spend on sasuke's face is somehow dirty or unclean—perhaps sasuke has forgotten that one of tseng's favorite activities is eating sasuke's ass? ]
Gladly. [ and not just as a figure of speech. tseng likes the idea of showering together, the intimacy and sensuality of the experience. ] You know you can use my bathroom whenever you want, don't you?
[ like, what is the point of having a fuckoff big luxe bathroom if you aren't going to let your situationship use it as he desires? tseng lets himself be pulled up by sasuke's hand on his wrist, but the first thing he does when he stands is to take sasuke's face in both hands and kiss him right on the mouth—a brief kiss, yes, but hopefully one that leaves no uncertainty about the fact that tseng doesn't mind sasuke close no matter how messy he is. ]
I can't just walk in whenever I want... I would ask first.
[Hello, that's so thoughtless? What if Tseng is busy or has other company over? Still, he's touched by the consideration and the lack of shame shown in that kiss — clearly signifying he doesn't mind the mess. Sasuke returns it, letting himself enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the gesture before they withdraw and begin making their way to the shower.]
Ah, thanks. My hair is getting a little long — though not as long as yours. [Tseng easily wins that comparison.] Sometimes it can be annoying with one hand.
[He rarely complains about his handicap, if ever, but it is a testament now to the general comfort he feels in Tseng's presence, to be open.]
[ well, tseng doesn't care if sasuke walks in whenever... but he senses that the argument would be a losing battle on his side, so he just nods in acquiescence as he straightens up from his seat on the stool. he keeps sasuke close as they walk, one hand a warm presence at the small of his back. ]
Maybe yours will get this long, if you don't cut it for five years. [ the last time tseng cut his hair was in october of [ ν ] – εγλ 0002, just after the incident at nibelheim. a signifier of his own dishonor, his own grief, although he hadn't explained it to anyone as such.
this mention of sasuke's missing arm is, tseng thinks, perhaps the first time that sasuke has acknowledged it outright. it's always been clear to tseng that he manages well enough, and sasuke has never struck tseng as the type to want to be treated differently because of it, so it does speak to sasuke's comfort with and trust in tseng that he speaks so openly about it now. what a warm feeling, small and blooming in his chest. ]
I can imagine. [ tseng has only spent short stretches of time without full use of his limbs, and those were frustrating enough. he leans over to press a brief kiss to sasuke's temple. ] Then let that be another point in favor of you making use of my bathroom. When you're tired of doing it yourself, you can come here and let me do it for you.
[Five years is a long time. For most of his life, he'd kept his hair short and maintained it himself — it was only after leaving prison at the end of the war, and beginning to travel across these dimensions, that he'd stopped caring for that maintenance. So now it has begun to grow out, partially sideswept to conceal the strange color and pattern of the Rinnegan.
The gesture is touching, and he manages a soft little laugh at the words, leading the way into the bathroom now that he knows the path.]
You're the one who must get tired of washing your own hair. [Two hands or not...] But, if you want, you can do it for me now.
[Once he's turned on the lights, pleasantly backlit at the counter mirror, Sasuke begins to shuffle his shirt overhead. He's not shy this time undressing with Tseng, but he is — aware of himself, maybe.]
[ tseng can't deny that; his own hair does take some work to wash. but— ] It's more enjoyable when it's yours.
[ his own hair, he only washes to get clean! sasuke's hair, he gets to wash for the experience of it, the intimacy and shared space. far more pleasing a venture than just trying to shampoo away the day.
as sasuke begins to undress, tseng leans over to turn on the spray, letting it heat up in the meantime. then he turns and spends a moment just watching, his gaze steady and warm as he observes sasuke's skin revealed, the narrow dip of his waist broadening to his ribs and then to his shoulders. lithe muscle, pale skin decorated by scars that speak to the life sasuke has led.
tseng steps forward to do the last part, tugging sasuke's shirt over his head, and then leans in to kiss his shoulder right atop one of those faded scars. that's all—no comment. there's no need for it. tseng sets sasuke's shirt on the countertop and begins to remove his own clothes next, his shirt first and then his slacks. ]
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Tseng will still feel it. That slight vibration of voice around his cock, a muffled noise for the disparaging words that signals Sasuke's own pleasure to hear it. And there's something more, an aching burn for the endearment placed on the end — because being beautiful is not a kind of praise he has ever chased. It feels so personal, so sweet in contrast to the filthy derision of the rest.
Then the man's hand finds the back of his head and he surrenders to it, eases slightly to allow his mouth to be fucked, giving control with a shiver of loosened muscles. He can feel how Tseng watches him and it's enough to white out his mind. There's no room to think when he's forced down to that precise point of airlessness, where his mouth forms a tight seal until he can't breathe with the thick tip shoved into the back of his throat, pinching wetness at the corners of his eyes.
In this state, he's too eager to meet the foot between his legs. There's no resistance, no squirming away from embarrassment. He's too far gone for that. The degradation makes it all more acute, grinding his covered erection against Tseng's heel with a whimper that will be felt around the man's cock.]
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despite the way sasuke's muscles have gone loose and his gaze has gone hazy with pleasure, there's still an urgency to the way sasuke moves against him, to the noises he makes that are muffled by the insistent press of tseng's cock into his mouth. it drives tseng wild—it drove him wild the first time they did this, too, but even more so now that he knows sasuke better. it makes him want nothing more than to ruin this gorgeous boy kneeling before him, tears caught in his lashes, his face flushed and saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth. ]
Just like that, [ tseng murmurs his approval as sasuke's hips move. ] You love this, don't you, my precious little slut? Does it make you want to come?
[ what are the chances, tseng wonders idly, that sasuke remembers the instruction not to make tseng come? he'd intended to pull out and jerk himself to finish on sasuke's face, but he's already getting close, and he'd like sasuke to be the one to come first before tseng gets himself off. ]
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At the question, he nods his head, humming around the intrusion of Tseng's cock in his throat so his voice comes out a muffled overeager affirmation. His right hand sinks to the base and he squeezes his fingers into a tight circle there, because he does remember that he can't make the man come first. Then he slips his mouth off over the head, Tseng's cock shiny and wet, a string of saliva like a fine filament between his lips and the tip.]
Can I? [His voice is rough and a little husky from use.] Am I allowed to?
[Like he needs permission to come, he grinds his hips up for a more direct drag of Tseng's foot between his legs — panting now, close to the edge with a desire to be told to go over it.]
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one of tseng's hands moves to the base of his own cock, covering sasuke's hand where it's wrapped around the base. his other hand tightens in sasuke's hair, holding his head in place as his foot presses a little more firmly high between the crux of sasuke's thighs. ]
Since you asked so nicely, [ tseng says, ] you may come.
[ and while sasuke chases his orgasm, tseng does the same. he uses sasuke's hand, the one curled around his cock, and jerks himself off with it, the circle of his fingers just tight enough to drive tseng right to the brink of climax. a slow breath, hold, two, three, waiting for sasuke to shudder over the edge—but as soon as he does, tseng looses his iron grip on his own control as well, and uses sasuke's fingers to stroke himself to orgasm, his cock twitching and then spilling in hot, sticky spurts all over sasuke's face. ]
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Then there is Tseng above him, looking down at him with that black gaze of lust, keeping him pulled in tight and immobile so that hot splatter covers his cheeks and mouth in a glaze. Sasuke can't help the sound that leaves him, mouth falling open as if to catch any that might land there so at least he can taste it. His eyes are glassy, face flushed with the fruition of desire.]
Tseng...
[It's half a whine, eyelashes flickering and then falling shut in a natural reflex not to let any get in his eyes. Yet this is also a signifier of trust, too, in a way that perhaps the man won't know. His sight is an immensely precious thing.
And so he stays like that, on his knees, until Tseng decides to release him.]
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it's an image that sears itself indelibly into tseng's mind, the kind of sight he'll never forget. ]
Sasuke. [ his voice sounds rough, and tseng's breath comes quickly too, struggling to modulate it as his nerves are jolted by little aftershocks of orgasm. he curls sasuke's fingers around his length and gives it one last stroke, catching the last remnants of his cum on sasuke's fingertips, then lifts sasuke's hand to put those fingers in his mouth instead. ] Lick those clean and take deep breaths for me.
[ while sasuke does that, tseng tucks himself back into his pants and leans over to grab a roll of soft paper towels from their place on the kitchen counter. by the time he returns, sasuke seems to be more or less done with his fingers, and so tseng guides them from his mouth so he can use the paper towel to dab at the splatters of cum on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. it's not a full cleanup, they'll need the bathroom for that, but it's at least enough to make sure none of it will drip into sasuke's eyes. ]
Look at me. [ tseng cups sasuke's face in one hand, gentle and coaxing. ] How do you feel?
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With his face a mess, he is careful to keep his eyes closed as Tseng cleans him up. And then they open again at the command, gaze turning up, a twitch of a smile at his mouth.]
Ah. [His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat.] Good.
[Fine to settle on his knees more comfortably, Sasuke's head tilts, as if to push his cheek into the man's hand like a cat.]
To be clear, this isn't why I came over. I suppose that it's... difficult to resist being around you sometimes.
[Especially when Tseng — so buttoned-up and professional, not a fold of clothing or strand of hair out of place — starts dirty talking him over breakfast.]
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I didn't think it was, but I have to admit I'm feeling very smug about it.
[ and why wouldn't he be? it's unbelievably satisfying to have this kind of effect on sasuke, to be able to drive him this wild. tseng doesn't take it for granted, that he's being allowed to see sasuke vulnerable, that he's sometimes given the reins of sasuke's pleasure and trusted to make it worthwhile.
he lets sasuke stay on his knees for a moment, but eventually tseng does lean down to rest a hand on sasuke's bicep, carefully encouraging him to stand. slowly, of course, out of consideration for the fact that his knees are likely sore—tseng's kitchen floors certainly weren't laid with kneeling comfort in mind. ]
Would you let me wash your face?
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He comes to stand close to Tseng, between the man's open legs.]
That depends. [A tilt of his head.] Are you washing my face here in the kitchen, or are you going to take me to the shower?
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I was hoping for the shower, but if your preference is the kitchen sink...
[ tseng casts a little glance backwards, behind them to where the sink is set into the marble countertops. it is a nice sink, but not entirely what tseng thinks of when he thinks about aftercare.
when his gaze returns to sasuke, tseng's expression softens a little in its teasing. it's not a conscious change, just... something his face does when he looks at sasuke, evidently.
he also contemplates saying aloud that the last time they showered together they also got rather distracted, but chooses not to, since he's sure that sasuke remembers regardless. ]
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In any case, Sasuke hums low in his throat and leans slightly away, conscious that he's still not fully clean and he doesn't know if Tseng would want him too close for that reason.]
I don't have anywhere to be. Let's take a shower. [His right hand drops, seeking Tseng's wrist — a little bossy in the way he tugs on the man's arm as he steps back, towing him along.] I should take advantage of your bathroom's privacy while I can.
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Gladly. [ and not just as a figure of speech. tseng likes the idea of showering together, the intimacy and sensuality of the experience. ] You know you can use my bathroom whenever you want, don't you?
[ like, what is the point of having a fuckoff big luxe bathroom if you aren't going to let your situationship use it as he desires? tseng lets himself be pulled up by sasuke's hand on his wrist, but the first thing he does when he stands is to take sasuke's face in both hands and kiss him right on the mouth—a brief kiss, yes, but hopefully one that leaves no uncertainty about the fact that tseng doesn't mind sasuke close no matter how messy he is. ]
I'll wash your hair, too.
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[Hello, that's so thoughtless? What if Tseng is busy or has other company over? Still, he's touched by the consideration and the lack of shame shown in that kiss — clearly signifying he doesn't mind the mess. Sasuke returns it, letting himself enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the gesture before they withdraw and begin making their way to the shower.]
Ah, thanks. My hair is getting a little long — though not as long as yours. [Tseng easily wins that comparison.] Sometimes it can be annoying with one hand.
[He rarely complains about his handicap, if ever, but it is a testament now to the general comfort he feels in Tseng's presence, to be open.]
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Maybe yours will get this long, if you don't cut it for five years. [ the last time tseng cut his hair was in october of [ ν ] – εγλ 0002, just after the incident at nibelheim. a signifier of his own dishonor, his own grief, although he hadn't explained it to anyone as such.
this mention of sasuke's missing arm is, tseng thinks, perhaps the first time that sasuke has acknowledged it outright. it's always been clear to tseng that he manages well enough, and sasuke has never struck tseng as the type to want to be treated differently because of it, so it does speak to sasuke's comfort with and trust in tseng that he speaks so openly about it now. what a warm feeling, small and blooming in his chest. ]
I can imagine. [ tseng has only spent short stretches of time without full use of his limbs, and those were frustrating enough. he leans over to press a brief kiss to sasuke's temple. ] Then let that be another point in favor of you making use of my bathroom. When you're tired of doing it yourself, you can come here and let me do it for you.
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The gesture is touching, and he manages a soft little laugh at the words, leading the way into the bathroom now that he knows the path.]
You're the one who must get tired of washing your own hair. [Two hands or not...] But, if you want, you can do it for me now.
[Once he's turned on the lights, pleasantly backlit at the counter mirror, Sasuke begins to shuffle his shirt overhead. He's not shy this time undressing with Tseng, but he is — aware of himself, maybe.]
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[ his own hair, he only washes to get clean! sasuke's hair, he gets to wash for the experience of it, the intimacy and shared space. far more pleasing a venture than just trying to shampoo away the day.
as sasuke begins to undress, tseng leans over to turn on the spray, letting it heat up in the meantime. then he turns and spends a moment just watching, his gaze steady and warm as he observes sasuke's skin revealed, the narrow dip of his waist broadening to his ribs and then to his shoulders. lithe muscle, pale skin decorated by scars that speak to the life sasuke has led.
tseng steps forward to do the last part, tugging sasuke's shirt over his head, and then leans in to kiss his shoulder right atop one of those faded scars. that's all—no comment. there's no need for it. tseng sets sasuke's shirt on the countertop and begins to remove his own clothes next, his shirt first and then his slacks. ]