Rufus goes down on his knees before him, and a furrow appears between Tseng's brow. For a moment, he is uncertain what is going to happen, his mind spinning fast and nothing catching. Again, overthinking things. Rufus's hands move to his zipper.

"Sir—" he begins, but it happens so quickly. He isn't ready for the shock it is to be shallowly submerged in Rufus's mouth, for the open chill in Rufus's eyes as he gazes up at him. His breath catches in his throat. Rufus's tongue strokes him until his cock is hard and quivering and of course he needs more, wants to lift up his hips and drive into the warmth and wetness Rufus is keeping from him, but he would never. Instead, he trains his breathing and keeps his eyes locked on Rufus, unwavering and unerring.