And yet the moan that resonates throughout the bridal suite isn't one of the ones that Rufus himself has been stifling, isn't one of the noises he's tried to hard to keep swallowed and constrained. That's Tseng — that's what Tseng sounds like when he's not quiet, when something finally made him surrender his composure to the inevitable.
Maybe that's what tips him over the edge. It could be the stimulation, of course, redoubled in its enthusiasm while the sound is still lingering in the air. It could be the strong grip of hands on him, the way it adjusts from something stabilizing to something unmistakably possessive. It could be anything, really, but the triumph and the fascination certainly don't hurt anything, and nor does the fact that he's certain he didn't imagine the feeling of Tseng tensing up beneath him or the tremor that ran through him in the wake of what sounded very much like satisfaction of his own.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because Tseng isn't the only one making a mess of Tseng tonight, not when that clever tongue swipes over him just one time too many and whatever last thread of resolve he'd been maintaining finally snaps. Cum spills filthy between them, spattering against Tseng's skin, and the fact that Rufus rolls off of him to half-collapse on the mattress probably has more to do with not wanting to land it in than out of any courtesy not to crush him when he goes down.]
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And yet the moan that resonates throughout the bridal suite isn't one of the ones that Rufus himself has been stifling, isn't one of the noises he's tried to hard to keep swallowed and constrained. That's Tseng — that's what Tseng sounds like when he's not quiet, when something finally made him surrender his composure to the inevitable.
Maybe that's what tips him over the edge. It could be the stimulation, of course, redoubled in its enthusiasm while the sound is still lingering in the air. It could be the strong grip of hands on him, the way it adjusts from something stabilizing to something unmistakably possessive. It could be anything, really, but the triumph and the fascination certainly don't hurt anything, and nor does the fact that he's certain he didn't imagine the feeling of Tseng tensing up beneath him or the tremor that ran through him in the wake of what sounded very much like satisfaction of his own.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because Tseng isn't the only one making a mess of Tseng tonight, not when that clever tongue swipes over him just one time too many and whatever last thread of resolve he'd been maintaining finally snaps. Cum spills filthy between them, spattering against Tseng's skin, and the fact that Rufus rolls off of him to half-collapse on the mattress probably has more to do with not wanting to land it in than out of any courtesy not to crush him when he goes down.]