[ ah, ah. it's a good thing that sampo is so beautifully responsive, so physical—it means that tseng can feel his orgasm rising from a mile away, starting in the tension of his thighs and crawling up to the way his cock throbs and his balls tighten. but he's not begging, and so he doesn't get to come—not, of course, that tseng's not going to get him most of the way there.

he ducks his head again, hollows his cheeks and draws back, a firm, deep pass of suction—and at the same time, his hand shifts to wrap his fingers firmly around the base of sampo's length, thumb tucked under his balls in a makeshift cockring, holding his orgasm at bay even as his tongue keeps working at the head where precum is dripping insistently from his tip.

after another moment, tseng pulls back and off sampo's cock entirely. he looks up at him, cool and unruffled except for the way his mouth is flushed and a little swollen, his hand still tight where it's keeping sampo from achieving release. ]

Not yet, you aren't. [ tseng's other hand pets almost affectionately at sampo's hip, a little soothing gesture in contrast to the other ways in which he's being a right bastard. ] I think my expectations were clear, no?

[ beg pretty, and then you get to come. those were the terms, and sampo agreed; tseng isn't inclined to make changes in the middle, not when he enjoys this so very much. another pearl of precum beads at the tip of sampo's cock, and he leans forward to lick it up with an approving sound. ]

Look how wet you are. You want to come so badly, don't you? [ tseng's gaze flicks up, his eyebrow lifting. ] Then you know what you have to do.

[ and he leans forward, makeshift cockring still firmly in place, and swallows sampo all the way down so that when he swallows, the muscles of his throat work tight around the head of sampo's cock. ]