"Breathe," Tseng insists instead, and doesn't give him any recourse to resist. He's shifting them now, withdrawing from the sweet depths of Rufus's body so he can lay Rufus out on the couch. So much easier this way, bracing Rufus's leg against his shoulder as he slips between his thighs again.

Again, he enters Rufus, and it feels just as teeth-grittingly good. But now he can take advantage of having the president laid out before him, can swipe the flat of his palm against the tip of Rufus's too-hard cock, giving it a few rough slaps while his fingers close tighter than before around Rufus's throat. He fucks him hard, punishingly, his lips parting with the bittersweet sting of it all.