"My thoughts are these," Tseng says, milking Rufus's walls until his cock runs slick and shiny with precum. He's always wanted the opportunity to stay and watch this, his fingers stuffed deep inside Rufus, working him until he pours, but the time has never been right. Now?

Now everything is coming together.

"You wanted something from me that I was not ready to give you." In case he has forgotten (unlikely), Tseng's fingers uncurl from his cock, roughly snatch up a fistful of Rufus's hair to draw his head back, to arch his throat. Tseng lets his teeth scrape along the lovely curve of it, and it turns his breathy words into a hiss. "I believe I am ready to give you that now, sir. Not without a few caveats, of course."