[Tseng's promise takes him from euphoria to devastation in a span of moments, a soaring high cut short by a plummeting crash. Once I get you home means not now, means he has to wait even longer when he's already waited so long already as it is. Without meaning to, a note of his icy despair works its way into his scent, a sour acidic undercurrent to the sweet-spice warmth it's been; for just an instant, an irrational fear swells in his throat and leaves him to beat it back with annoyance and frustration.]
I want it now —
[Petty, spoiled thing that he is, his fingers scrabble against the reassurance of Tseng's steady shoulders, like grasping at him will somehow make him change his mind. It's a petulance that lasts only until Tseng's fingers find their way into his pants and glide to his entrance, giving him the gift of girth and stretch that still isn't what he wants, but that still satisfies the craving simmering in his blood.
Tseng's middle finger presses inside and Rufus drives his hips back almost instantly to meet it, instincts singing, eyes glassy with heat and need; on instinct, his body tightens and recedes around it again and again, as if to taunt Tseng with the feeling of precisely how it'd milk him if he would only compromise his resolve and comply.]
Ngh — I need it, I need it —
[His head falls back, baring the whole of his throat to Tseng's attentions — a damning impulse for a so-called alpha and a Shinra both — as he tries to take Tseng's finger deeper, choking back a whine when it finds his prostate and stimulates it in a way that leaves him shaking. There's no teasing, not like this; it is, he recognizes through the cloudy haze of heat-intoxication, what he needs, because Tseng knows better what he needs than he does, right now.
It's a reassuring thought; his scent sweetens commensurate with it, even more heady and rich than it'd been even before his moment of fear had taken him earlier. His alpha. His Tseng. Safe and here and safe, feeding his pleasure, showing him how he'll survive this.]
Tseng. Tseng, m'gonna — I'll, I'll come —
[Maybe that's what Tseng wants, or maybe he wants him to wait for that, too. But either way, he knows he wants to be told. Told to endure it, told to come — that belongs to his alpha, too, for all that his penchant for being a brat might want to pretend otherwise.]
no subject
I want it now —
[Petty, spoiled thing that he is, his fingers scrabble against the reassurance of Tseng's steady shoulders, like grasping at him will somehow make him change his mind. It's a petulance that lasts only until Tseng's fingers find their way into his pants and glide to his entrance, giving him the gift of girth and stretch that still isn't what he wants, but that still satisfies the craving simmering in his blood.
Tseng's middle finger presses inside and Rufus drives his hips back almost instantly to meet it, instincts singing, eyes glassy with heat and need; on instinct, his body tightens and recedes around it again and again, as if to taunt Tseng with the feeling of precisely how it'd milk him if he would only compromise his resolve and comply.]
Ngh — I need it, I need it —
[His head falls back, baring the whole of his throat to Tseng's attentions — a damning impulse for a so-called alpha and a Shinra both — as he tries to take Tseng's finger deeper, choking back a whine when it finds his prostate and stimulates it in a way that leaves him shaking. There's no teasing, not like this; it is, he recognizes through the cloudy haze of heat-intoxication, what he needs, because Tseng knows better what he needs than he does, right now.
It's a reassuring thought; his scent sweetens commensurate with it, even more heady and rich than it'd been even before his moment of fear had taken him earlier. His alpha. His Tseng. Safe and here and safe, feeding his pleasure, showing him how he'll survive this.]
Tseng. Tseng, m'gonna — I'll, I'll come —
[Maybe that's what Tseng wants, or maybe he wants him to wait for that, too. But either way, he knows he wants to be told. Told to endure it, told to come — that belongs to his alpha, too, for all that his penchant for being a brat might want to pretend otherwise.]