[His breath catches in his throat, watching Tseng with enthralled intent as his tongue flicks out to drag through the wetness clinging to his hand and wrist; it's so hot, and he's still so stimulated and riddled with heat, that he trembles in Tseng's hold again as an aftershock quakes through him and coaxes another, smaller gush from his body that dampens him further.
A knuckle slips beneath his chin; his eyes go glassy in an instant, loving — craving — the submission implicit in it. It's the smallest things that drive him so desperately out of his mind, the ones Tseng is normally far too restrained to indulge. Touching him like he owns him, like it's his right to make him look here or there — it's something Rufus could never tolerate asking for, yet aches for nevertheless.
A little overwhelmed, he resorts to nodding slightly, unable to collect enough presence of mind to find words that won't just dissolve into begging. Tseng — Tseng wouldn't make him beg, likely, wouldn't lord the opportunity to hear it over him and demand it as a condition of his care. Some alphas would. Tseng would kill any who so much as thought of trying.
It's not that he wants to taste himself, not exactly. But he wants to be kissed, and he wants Tseng's mouth, and he wants to give Tseng what he wants — and thinks that maybe this is the only way he'll let himself ask for it, is by offering it to him instead. Letting him choose, because of who they are, and not just what they are.]
And when...when you get me home.
[They're so close, so close that he knows Tseng can't help but breathe in his panting, that the very air between them is shared just as much as everything else.]
Want to taste you. Want you to let me suck your cock.
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A knuckle slips beneath his chin; his eyes go glassy in an instant, loving — craving — the submission implicit in it. It's the smallest things that drive him so desperately out of his mind, the ones Tseng is normally far too restrained to indulge. Touching him like he owns him, like it's his right to make him look here or there — it's something Rufus could never tolerate asking for, yet aches for nevertheless.
A little overwhelmed, he resorts to nodding slightly, unable to collect enough presence of mind to find words that won't just dissolve into begging. Tseng — Tseng wouldn't make him beg, likely, wouldn't lord the opportunity to hear it over him and demand it as a condition of his care. Some alphas would. Tseng would kill any who so much as thought of trying.
It's not that he wants to taste himself, not exactly. But he wants to be kissed, and he wants Tseng's mouth, and he wants to give Tseng what he wants — and thinks that maybe this is the only way he'll let himself ask for it, is by offering it to him instead. Letting him choose, because of who they are, and not just what they are.]
And when...when you get me home.
[They're so close, so close that he knows Tseng can't help but breathe in his panting, that the very air between them is shared just as much as everything else.]
Want to taste you. Want you to let me suck your cock.