Rufus gives a hum around Tseng's cock as he moves up, running his tongue along the head to get any precum there before sitting back on his heels. He doesn't have to ask if Tseng liked it as he licked the corner of his lips. He had a few ideas he wanted to try in the future when they had more time and a better setting. It wasn't a bad first try if he said so himself.
He was painfully hard but he didn't touch himself yet as he stands, taking his time to pull off his tie and start to undress in front of Tseng. He doesn't pay attention to where he drops his clothes as he strips down, only leaving his shirt on completely unbuttoned as he slides onto Tseng's lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.
At least Rufus has enough compassion to leave him slowly. It is still a shock, the kiss of too-cold air on his spit-soaked flesh, but it's not as bad as it could have been. He watches Rufus undress, gaze dark as ever, and holds out his hands when he is through.
Rufus has always fit so perfectly on his lap, as if he was made to be here. Tseng's hand slides up his back, steadies around his waist. The other is lifted to his lips, slicked with his tongue before he lowers it between them.
"You loved that," he remarks, slipping his fingers up the aching length of Rufus's cock, squeezing around it when he reaches the tip. He lets himself wonder, grinning privately, where the inspiration came from. How telling it is that in his absence, Rufus has found a new favorite trick. "What is it that does it for you?" he murmurs into Rufus's ear, fist tunneling over his cock, slow and sliding.
His breath catches as he watches Tseng wets his fingers and then reach down to grasp his cock. He leans down a little, thrusting his hips against Tseng's hand with each stroke. It had been difficult not to touch himself while he had Tseng's cock in his mouth so now he impatiently craved every touch.
"I've been wanting to try that for a while now." Literally years. He just never really had the chance since they were often separated after he became President and just when they finally could have more private moments together, Rufus got sick. It was almost too cruel.
But now nothing was stopping him from indulging himself in these things that they never got the chance to do before. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"
"No," Tseng says, but to be honest, he wasn't expecting much of anything but dramatics or cold shoulders. The hand upon Rufus's hip rises to his lips instead, stroking over the plush curve of them. "You look beautiful on your knees."
His thumb presses into Rufus's lower lip, opening the way for his flicking tongue. There is something heady and powerful and alluring about tasting himself in Rufus's mouth. It makes his fist move faster, in quick, blurring snaps of his wrist.
He knows—he always does—when Rufus will be at that edge. To bring him there quickly is his intention, pumping his cock until it shines with the red flush of blood, and then stop, turn his fingers into whispering brushes of touch. Rufus is best when Tseng gets him wild for it, and they so rarely have the time, but he is making it now.
He laughs breathlessly at the comment but there is more left unsaid in his eyes. He's as much as Tseng's as Tseng is his. That much as always been true since the first day Rufus had set eyes on Tseng.
Rufus is aching for release when Tseng suddenly stops stroking his cock, feeling himself right at the very edge about to release. He wasn't worried about anyone walking in on them down here so he doesn't hold back his moans and gasps.
He parts his lips for Tseng, trying to move his hips against Tseng's hand once more. Any thoughts of his own duties later in the afternoon were long forgotten now that he was in Tseng's arms once more. "Aren't you going to properly show your appreciation?"
"In due time," Tseng says, closing his fist around the base of Rufus's cock. The fingers on Rufus's lip dig into his mouth until they come up dripping wet, and he guides them down along Rufus's spine, plunges one, and then another quickly after, into Rufus's hole. The clench around his fingers makes him hum—low and directly into Rufus's ear.
"Mr. President." All these years later, his fingers are trained to curve right into that electric spot inside of Rufus, precise as his fingers are on the trigger of his gun. "I'd hoped that we could revisit a previous proposal of yours."
He shifts his hips up as he feels Tsengs slipping inside of him. Tseng always knows just how to touch him and for a moment he doesn't really register what Tseng is telling him until he can start to put words together.
"Yes- ahhh - tell me about this proposal." Business was the last thing on his mind when Tseng's fingers found just the spot that made a jolt of pleasure through his body, pulling a low moan from his lips. "I want to hear your thoughts on it."
"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."
"And what would those be?" Rufus's voice is breathless and strained as Tseng grabs his hair and draws his head back. It takes all his willpower not to reach down to touch himself but instead clutches Tseng's shoulders hard to keep them in place.
He's very nearly there but he's determined to hear Tseng out before letting himself go. He shifts his hips down against Tseng's fingers, trying to fuck himself on them the best he was able to. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."
Tseng gives Rufus a few hard thrusts in response, his fingers rough, purposefully avoiding spearing upon the places Tseng knows Rufus wants it most. And then they withdraw; he holds them away and brings them down again as a stinging slap across Rufus's cheeks.
"If I am to do these things for you," he says, eyes on Rufus and his icey blue eyes even as he drags his teeth across his skin, "then it shall be on my terms. I need complete control if I am to guarantee your safety, Mr. President."
His fingers slide within him once more, and his touches are fleeting, teasing, just enough to keep him on edge while he awaits his response.
Rufus gasps when Tseng slaps his ass and when Tseng's fingers enter him again, he thrusts his hips against them, seeking out some relief. It's not enough, it's not quite what he needs and he nods without hesitation. As if there was any doubt that Rufus would agree to the terms
"I find the terms acceptable. We have a deal. Now fuck me already." They may have time to themselves but Tseng knew just how to get him to linger on that edge without giving him just want he needed. He finally has to give in and reach down between them to stroke his cock with a soft moan.
"And one more thing." Tseng is lightning quick, catching Rufus's wrist, twisting it behind his back as deftly and smoothly as he handles the rest of his body. It forces Rufus to thrust his shoulders back, to better exhibit the swollen, straining jut of his cock.
He guides Rufus down, until his legs are splayed, until his own cock is brushing between Rufus's legs. It is a sordid hell to keep him here when Tseng can feel the fever of him bathing that twisted ache in his radiating heat.
"I want the displaced scientists from R&D for the Turks," he says, his eyes narrowed. "Only three. I'll send you their files. That is..." His whispers steam over Rufus's skin, pause while his tongue unrolls to crowd one of Rufus's nipples into the sharp points of his teeth. He sucks hard, lets Rufus go nowhere that he is not holding him. His hips lift all the while, his cock so close to piercing through. "... if we have a deal. Say the word, Mr. President, and I will fuck you until you are broken."
He lets out a low, high pitched noise that is entirely undignified but Tseng has him completely at his mercy. He can feel the brush of Tseng's cock against his thigh and it would be so easy to just give in when Tseng turns his attention to one of his nipples.
But despite his current position he still has a question before he agrees. "What do you want them for? And I'll agree so long as you keep them on a short leash." He trusts Tseng not to let another Hojo or Hollander situation happen but he doesn't trust anyone from R&D. He lets out a soft moan as Tseng sucks his nipple. "Promise I'll get regular updates and I can even give you some of the funding I took from that department as well."
"Their uses to me are innumerable. But you have my word, Mr. President." Tseng knows how to say that word the way Rufus likes it, all stress on the S until it sizzles against his skin. And he has always loved saying it for him.
"I will keep them close at hand and vigilantly watched." Perhaps it is demonstrative, the way he jerks Rufus's wrist behind his back, knowing exactly what angle and force of pressure to apply to move him how he likes. There is no one he's ever touched who has been immune to his command so far, not even the man with all the power in the world. Now, he is forcing him lower still, holding the upward thrust of his cock to his entrance, letting the wetness collected at the tip of it sweep slick trails across Rufus's open and wanting little hole. He can twitch and jerk and fight all he likes; Tseng has him secure.
It should bother him that Tseng has so much influence over him to get what he wants. It would have been a problem if he didn't completely trust Tseng and know that their goals aligned.
He nods after a moment, deciding to ask Tseng for the details later when the man's cock wasn't rubbing at his entrance. He still hesitates as if he's thinking about it to give the illusion that he was going actually turn down Tseng's proposal.
But he can't hold out for long, he can't so much as move his hips against Tseng's cock.
Tseng is a patient man, and both of them are very bad at taking no for an answer. It is that very reason why their agendas align so smoothly; they are as a pair so ruthlessly ambitious.
The corners of Tseng's lips curl when Rufus does say the words. He leans in, close enough to kiss, but not yet. He wants to watch the look in Rufus's eyes when he sinks him down on to his waiting cock, while he spears deeply into his insides, his breath freezing in his throat. It always feels better than the last time, somehow, and Rufus is not the only one who has been kept waiting.
He lets Rufus rest for a moment, thoroughly impaled, as his fingers skitter across his president's throat.
"Do not lean into my hand," he commands as his fingers pinch Rufus's throat shut, cutting off his air supply. He knows exactly how to do this without leaving so much as a faded bruise, but there is still more room for error than he would like. And then he moves again, thrusting hard into Rufus's heat, rubbing his thumb over the rising beat of his pulse, with no intention of letting him breathe until it is pounding.
Rufus lets out a low moan as Tseng lets him sink down on his cock finally. The familiar stretch and pleasure never fail to overwhelm him when Tseng is inside him no matter how many times they come together.
His eyes widen in surprise but despite his first instinct, he does what Tseng orders and doesn't lean forward when suddenly Tseng presses a spot on his throat and it's only because he trusts Tseng that he doesn't pull back or struggle. He can't make a sound when Tseng thrusts until into him, white spots appearing at the edges of his vision as he gasps for breath. The pleasure feels more intense as his airway is pinched shut, eyes falling closed as shallow gasps escape his lips.
"Very good," Tseng says, on the verge of breathlessness. He is sure now that Rufus will follow his direction, which is all the cue he needs to drop a hand down his back, let it sink into the curve of his ass and grasp tightly. His grip pulls Rufus open wider, lets him rock Rufus's body into every resounding slam of his cock.
He keeps his gaze intent upon Rufus's face, but he is no stranger now to what Rufus wants. The back-bending, bone-rattling roughness of his thrusts are a start while Rufus slips away beneath the vice grip Tseng has on his throat. But not too much, not just yet—soon, his grip on Rufus's neck relents, his thrusts slow, and he sweeps his hand over Rufus's cheek, commanding him to, "Breathe."
As soon as Tseng releases his throat he draws in a large raspy breath, oxygen filling his lungs in a rush. His vision is still spotty at the edge and every hard thrust almost makes his eyes water but he never breaks eye contact with Tseng.
He felt himself close to that edge as Tseng worked him open even wider with his fingers "Tseng- again-" which maybe wasn't the best idea since his lungs still burned slightly from the lack of air the first time but he was so close to his climax he wanted to feel that same intense pleasure once more even if it was dangerous.
"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.
He lets out a low whimper when Tseng shifts and pulls out of him, feeling his absence keenly as he was laid out on the couch. He's painfully hard and even that fleeting contact is almost enough as Tseng thrusts hard into him once more.
His hands grasp at Tseng's shoulders but he doesn't shove him off, instead digging his nails into his shirt. The lack of air makes him feel intoxicated, every part of his body is sensitive to even the slightest touch. He feels as if he's slipping away as he suddenly reaches his climax hard with a strangled gasp that is forced out through a crushed windpipe, tears running from the corner of his eyes.
Tseng lets off Rufus's throat in little, fluttering squeezes as he feels him spill between them. How gorgeous he looks, with tears dotting his eyes like glittering diamonds, exquisite and used and spent. Tseng wishes he could admire him like this forever.
Instead, he withdraws again, his hands smoothing over Rufus's chest, feeling for the beat of his heart, the rise of his lungs expanding. "Sir..." he murmurs, dragging his lips across every spot his fingers burned into Rufus's flesh. No marks left behind, just like a good Turk.
He will not ask if Rufus is okay, but he will cast his gaze up at him expectantly, as if Rufus is any one of his men and he is expecting a report.
"Fuck." Air filled his lungs in gulps as he tried to catch his breath as Tseng let go of his throat. He could only late there for a bit, feeling Tseng's lips moving over his skin as he let everything wash over him. It takes a moment for the spots on the edges of his vision to clear as he looks down at Tseng finally with a content, pleased smile on his lips.
"Fuck- Tseng-" Those were all the words he could put together in a slightly raspy voice, still overwhelmed and slowly coming off that intense rush he had felt with Tseng cutting off his airway.
The corners of Tseng's lips twitch. He would never gloat, not at a time like this, but it is difficult not to feel a swell of pride seeing Rufus in this state.
His Rufus. His president. Tseng's hands still cannot stop smoothing over his skin.
"You came hard." Tseng is not sure that he's ever seen Rufus need it so badly before. He rubs his fingers up Rufus's sides. "Next time..."
His head dips. He takes a mouthful of Rufus's skin from just below his collarbone, grinning around it. His eyes glimmer with something mischievous.
"Next time?" He prompts, unable to help himself. He gives a low hum of pleasure when Tseng takes his skin in his mouth, shivering slightly as he feels as if his entire body is still sensitive. Every touch sends shudders of pleasure through him still and he looks down at Tseng, reaching down to run his fingers through a few strands of black hair. He knows that mischievous look, he knew what promise it held.
He never would have put his life in anyone else's hands like that with anyone except for Tseng who knew his body so well after so many years together. He arches his back a little against Tseng's wandering hands, soaking up each little touch that Tseng bestowed on him.
He just wanted to lay here all afternoon if he could with Tseng even if they could be interrupted by a Turk at any time. He didn't think he had it in him to stand at the moment at least.
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He was painfully hard but he didn't touch himself yet as he stands, taking his time to pull off his tie and start to undress in front of Tseng. He doesn't pay attention to where he drops his clothes as he strips down, only leaving his shirt on completely unbuttoned as he slides onto Tseng's lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.
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Rufus has always fit so perfectly on his lap, as if he was made to be here. Tseng's hand slides up his back, steadies around his waist. The other is lifted to his lips, slicked with his tongue before he lowers it between them.
"You loved that," he remarks, slipping his fingers up the aching length of Rufus's cock, squeezing around it when he reaches the tip. He lets himself wonder, grinning privately, where the inspiration came from. How telling it is that in his absence, Rufus has found a new favorite trick. "What is it that does it for you?" he murmurs into Rufus's ear, fist tunneling over his cock, slow and sliding.
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"I've been wanting to try that for a while now." Literally years. He just never really had the chance since they were often separated after he became President and just when they finally could have more private moments together, Rufus got sick. It was almost too cruel.
But now nothing was stopping him from indulging himself in these things that they never got the chance to do before. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"
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His thumb presses into Rufus's lower lip, opening the way for his flicking tongue. There is something heady and powerful and alluring about tasting himself in Rufus's mouth. It makes his fist move faster, in quick, blurring snaps of his wrist.
He knows—he always does—when Rufus will be at that edge. To bring him there quickly is his intention, pumping his cock until it shines with the red flush of blood, and then stop, turn his fingers into whispering brushes of touch. Rufus is best when Tseng gets him wild for it, and they so rarely have the time, but he is making it now.
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Rufus is aching for release when Tseng suddenly stops stroking his cock, feeling himself right at the very edge about to release. He wasn't worried about anyone walking in on them down here so he doesn't hold back his moans and gasps.
He parts his lips for Tseng, trying to move his hips against Tseng's hand once more. Any thoughts of his own duties later in the afternoon were long forgotten now that he was in Tseng's arms once more. "Aren't you going to properly show your appreciation?"
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"Mr. President." All these years later, his fingers are trained to curve right into that electric spot inside of Rufus, precise as his fingers are on the trigger of his gun. "I'd hoped that we could revisit a previous proposal of yours."
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"Yes- ahhh - tell me about this proposal." Business was the last thing on his mind when Tseng's fingers found just the spot that made a jolt of pleasure through his body, pulling a low moan from his lips. "I want to hear your thoughts on it."
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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."
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He's very nearly there but he's determined to hear Tseng out before letting himself go. He shifts his hips down against Tseng's fingers, trying to fuck himself on them the best he was able to. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."
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"If I am to do these things for you," he says, eyes on Rufus and his icey blue eyes even as he drags his teeth across his skin, "then it shall be on my terms. I need complete control if I am to guarantee your safety, Mr. President."
His fingers slide within him once more, and his touches are fleeting, teasing, just enough to keep him on edge while he awaits his response.
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"I find the terms acceptable. We have a deal. Now fuck me already." They may have time to themselves but Tseng knew just how to get him to linger on that edge without giving him just want he needed. He finally has to give in and reach down between them to stroke his cock with a soft moan.
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He guides Rufus down, until his legs are splayed, until his own cock is brushing between Rufus's legs. It is a sordid hell to keep him here when Tseng can feel the fever of him bathing that twisted ache in his radiating heat.
"I want the displaced scientists from R&D for the Turks," he says, his eyes narrowed. "Only three. I'll send you their files. That is..." His whispers steam over Rufus's skin, pause while his tongue unrolls to crowd one of Rufus's nipples into the sharp points of his teeth. He sucks hard, lets Rufus go nowhere that he is not holding him. His hips lift all the while, his cock so close to piercing through. "... if we have a deal. Say the word, Mr. President, and I will fuck you until you are broken."
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But despite his current position he still has a question before he agrees. "What do you want them for? And I'll agree so long as you keep them on a short leash." He trusts Tseng not to let another Hojo or Hollander situation happen but he doesn't trust anyone from R&D. He lets out a soft moan as Tseng sucks his nipple. "Promise I'll get regular updates and I can even give you some of the funding I took from that department as well."
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"I will keep them close at hand and vigilantly watched." Perhaps it is demonstrative, the way he jerks Rufus's wrist behind his back, knowing exactly what angle and force of pressure to apply to move him how he likes. There is no one he's ever touched who has been immune to his command so far, not even the man with all the power in the world. Now, he is forcing him lower still, holding the upward thrust of his cock to his entrance, letting the wetness collected at the tip of it sweep slick trails across Rufus's open and wanting little hole. He can twitch and jerk and fight all he likes; Tseng has him secure.
He repeats himself: "Say the word."
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He nods after a moment, deciding to ask Tseng for the details later when the man's cock wasn't rubbing at his entrance. He still hesitates as if he's thinking about it to give the illusion that he was going actually turn down Tseng's proposal.
But he can't hold out for long, he can't so much as move his hips against Tseng's cock.
"Deal."
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The corners of Tseng's lips curl when Rufus does say the words. He leans in, close enough to kiss, but not yet. He wants to watch the look in Rufus's eyes when he sinks him down on to his waiting cock, while he spears deeply into his insides, his breath freezing in his throat. It always feels better than the last time, somehow, and Rufus is not the only one who has been kept waiting.
He lets Rufus rest for a moment, thoroughly impaled, as his fingers skitter across his president's throat.
"Do not lean into my hand," he commands as his fingers pinch Rufus's throat shut, cutting off his air supply. He knows exactly how to do this without leaving so much as a faded bruise, but there is still more room for error than he would like. And then he moves again, thrusting hard into Rufus's heat, rubbing his thumb over the rising beat of his pulse, with no intention of letting him breathe until it is pounding.
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His eyes widen in surprise but despite his first instinct, he does what Tseng orders and doesn't lean forward when suddenly Tseng presses a spot on his throat and it's only because he trusts Tseng that he doesn't pull back or struggle. He can't make a sound when Tseng thrusts until into him, white spots appearing at the edges of his vision as he gasps for breath. The pleasure feels more intense as his airway is pinched shut, eyes falling closed as shallow gasps escape his lips.
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He keeps his gaze intent upon Rufus's face, but he is no stranger now to what Rufus wants. The back-bending, bone-rattling roughness of his thrusts are a start while Rufus slips away beneath the vice grip Tseng has on his throat. But not too much, not just yet—soon, his grip on Rufus's neck relents, his thrusts slow, and he sweeps his hand over Rufus's cheek, commanding him to, "Breathe."
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He felt himself close to that edge as Tseng worked him open even wider with his fingers "Tseng- again-" which maybe wasn't the best idea since his lungs still burned slightly from the lack of air the first time but he was so close to his climax he wanted to feel that same intense pleasure once more even if it was dangerous.
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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.
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His hands grasp at Tseng's shoulders but he doesn't shove him off, instead digging his nails into his shirt. The lack of air makes him feel intoxicated, every part of his body is sensitive to even the slightest touch. He feels as if he's slipping away as he suddenly reaches his climax hard with a strangled gasp that is forced out through a crushed windpipe, tears running from the corner of his eyes.
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Instead, he withdraws again, his hands smoothing over Rufus's chest, feeling for the beat of his heart, the rise of his lungs expanding. "Sir..." he murmurs, dragging his lips across every spot his fingers burned into Rufus's flesh. No marks left behind, just like a good Turk.
He will not ask if Rufus is okay, but he will cast his gaze up at him expectantly, as if Rufus is any one of his men and he is expecting a report.
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"Fuck- Tseng-" Those were all the words he could put together in a slightly raspy voice, still overwhelmed and slowly coming off that intense rush he had felt with Tseng cutting off his airway.
"I'm fine, don't worry."
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His Rufus. His president. Tseng's hands still cannot stop smoothing over his skin.
"You came hard." Tseng is not sure that he's ever seen Rufus need it so badly before. He rubs his fingers up Rufus's sides. "Next time..."
His head dips. He takes a mouthful of Rufus's skin from just below his collarbone, grinning around it. His eyes glimmer with something mischievous.
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He never would have put his life in anyone else's hands like that with anyone except for Tseng who knew his body so well after so many years together. He arches his back a little against Tseng's wandering hands, soaking up each little touch that Tseng bestowed on him.
He just wanted to lay here all afternoon if he could with Tseng even if they could be interrupted by a Turk at any time. He didn't think he had it in him to stand at the moment at least.
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