It is good, how pliable and obedient and yielding Rude's become. Tseng's smile might even be genuine, were he capable of such a thing. As it stands, all of it is performative. He is sure that Rude knows what would really please him.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers clasping with too much pressure around a single nipple, twisting until he feels the throb of pain. Of course, the gloves make it harder to feel anything, so his reaction might very well be drastically delayed—or that's an excuse he thinks he'd like to outfit, should it come to that. His touch skitters down, and again he's confronted with the sight of Rude's cock, so heavy and swollen and wet with need. It makes him hurt all over again, makes him want it even worse, and he hates it but it won't be a problem for much longer.
His fingers clench into the muscles of Rude's thighs now, dragging him closer, digging in wet and hot from their service under Rude's skin. The only thing he wants to bury inside him anymore is this sharp ache between his thighs, and he barely wets his cock enough before he presses the head of it against Rude's hole and forces his way through, with his fingers and his hips driving that first push hard. This is always the best part, the maddening pressure until that always sudden pop through his defenses, and Tseng is watching closely the entire time, even if the look in his eyes is drifting far away on the feeling of it.
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"Beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers clasping with too much pressure around a single nipple, twisting until he feels the throb of pain. Of course, the gloves make it harder to feel anything, so his reaction might very well be drastically delayed—or that's an excuse he thinks he'd like to outfit, should it come to that. His touch skitters down, and again he's confronted with the sight of Rude's cock, so heavy and swollen and wet with need. It makes him hurt all over again, makes him want it even worse, and he hates it but it won't be a problem for much longer.
His fingers clench into the muscles of Rude's thighs now, dragging him closer, digging in wet and hot from their service under Rude's skin. The only thing he wants to bury inside him anymore is this sharp ache between his thighs, and he barely wets his cock enough before he presses the head of it against Rude's hole and forces his way through, with his fingers and his hips driving that first push hard. This is always the best part, the maddening pressure until that always sudden pop through his defenses, and Tseng is watching closely the entire time, even if the look in his eyes is drifting far away on the feeling of it.