[ an hour before this moment, tseng would never have believed that he would ever let himself have a dream like this. a dream of rufus sprawled out and at his mercy, shaking under his hands, a dream where he can give rufus more than just the world—it would have been unthinkable. but here they are, aren't they, and rufus' knuckles are white where his hands are trying to grip at the smooth surface of the desk, and sweat beads in the sway of his back, and his breath hitches audibly every time tseng's cock rubs over his prostate.
there's a certain temptation to stop. to shove his cock as deep as it will go into rufus' body and hold it there, force him to stretch around it, to savor the twitching heat of his body until rufus breaks and does as he's told. it's what tseng would do if rufus were anyone else, probably—stop, and make them beg, and then turn them over onto their back and fuck them until they make a mess of their own stomach and chest.
but rufus isn't just any partner, and the thought of watching his face when he comes feels ruinous. feels like something that would etch itself on the insides of tseng's skull, the back of his throat, something he would never again be able to stop seeing or stop tasting.
he still says, ] Because I said to, [ but he knows rufus won't do it. and the next best thing is this: like he promised minutes ago, tseng reaches around to wrap his hand firmly around the hot, slick length of rufus' cock, stroking him mercilessly in time with tseng's thrusts. rufus might be keeping this little corner of control for himself, but it's still tseng who has a grip on his pleasure. ]
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there's a certain temptation to stop. to shove his cock as deep as it will go into rufus' body and hold it there, force him to stretch around it, to savor the twitching heat of his body until rufus breaks and does as he's told. it's what tseng would do if rufus were anyone else, probably—stop, and make them beg, and then turn them over onto their back and fuck them until they make a mess of their own stomach and chest.
but rufus isn't just any partner, and the thought of watching his face when he comes feels ruinous. feels like something that would etch itself on the insides of tseng's skull, the back of his throat, something he would never again be able to stop seeing or stop tasting.
he still says, ] Because I said to, [ but he knows rufus won't do it. and the next best thing is this: like he promised minutes ago, tseng reaches around to wrap his hand firmly around the hot, slick length of rufus' cock, stroking him mercilessly in time with tseng's thrusts. rufus might be keeping this little corner of control for himself, but it's still tseng who has a grip on his pleasure. ]