[ tseng is so attuned to rufus that it would be impossible for him to miss the way rufus’ hips shift slightly, like he wants to ride tseng’s tongue and is holding himself back from all but the faintest ghost of the movement. impossible for him to miss, too, the way rufus’ cock brushes against his chest and the answering way rufus’ thighs tremble with sensation.
he’s also so attuned to rufus that it would be impossible for him to miss that hitched breath, that murmur, that half a word that’s barely anything at all and is yet, paradoxically, everything.
please.
after the fact, he’ll be able to point to this as the moment he knew he was fucked. in the moment, though, he has no idea what it is about that half-syllable that hooks its white-hot claws in him, has no idea what hearing even the ghost of such a plea on rufus’ tongue would be enough to send pleasure crashing through him like a tidal wave. but it does. it does, it takes him apart from the inside out.
tseng’s fingers spasm against rufus’ waist. his own hips jolt, and he muffles an audible noise of pleasure directly against rufus’ entrance. the muscles in his thighs and stomach tense and tseng comes hard in his jeans, without being touched once, save for that barely-there caress that he’s still sure he hallucinated.
a lesser man would be undone by the intensity of the orgasm; tseng, however, has a job to finish. he slides his hands down from rufus’ waist to his hips, then down right to the crease where his hips meet his thighs, fingers curling inward and pressing just shy of his cock. he moans against rufus’ hole, lets the vibrations run through him, and hopes against hope that he won’t be the only one making a mess of himself tonight. ]
no subject
he’s also so attuned to rufus that it would be impossible for him to miss that hitched breath, that murmur, that half a word that’s barely anything at all and is yet, paradoxically, everything.
please.
after the fact, he’ll be able to point to this as the moment he knew he was fucked. in the moment, though, he has no idea what it is about that half-syllable that hooks its white-hot claws in him, has no idea what hearing even the ghost of such a plea on rufus’ tongue would be enough to send pleasure crashing through him like a tidal wave. but it does. it does, it takes him apart from the inside out.
tseng’s fingers spasm against rufus’ waist. his own hips jolt, and he muffles an audible noise of pleasure directly against rufus’ entrance. the muscles in his thighs and stomach tense and tseng comes hard in his jeans, without being touched once, save for that barely-there caress that he’s still sure he hallucinated.
a lesser man would be undone by the intensity of the orgasm; tseng, however, has a job to finish. he slides his hands down from rufus’ waist to his hips, then down right to the crease where his hips meet his thighs, fingers curling inward and pressing just shy of his cock. he moans against rufus’ hole, lets the vibrations run through him, and hopes against hope that he won’t be the only one making a mess of himself tonight. ]