Rufus can't answer for a moment when Tseng rubs the head of his cock with an expert touch, precum already dripping down Tseng's fingers. He doesn't seem to notice or care when there is the sound of voices and footsteps outside the door of Tseng's office, keeping his gaze focused on Tseng.
"Your mouth." He reaches down to tangle his fingers in black hair to hold on and try to nudge Tseng where he wants him to go. His other hand grips one of the cushions of the couch tightly, spreading his legs a little wider if he can manage it. The couch is a bit too narrow to make it really comfortable but it doesn't matter. "Now."
Tseng doesn't care about the footsteps either. What he does care about are the fingers in his hair, which he disentangles the same way he did last time: two fingers pressed to the pressure point in Rufus's wrist, held until he feels the grip in his hair slacken. He drags Rufus's wrist lower, stares up at him with narrowed eyes.
"Tell me what you want," he corrects himself, "nicely."
Tseng is aware of the discrepancies between the things he and Rufus have experienced in their respective timelines. Even Rude and Reno, he suspects, do not exactly share perfect memories with him. Which means the impetus is on him to teach Rufus better. It is as much his job as any other duty he owes to the president.
"You are so used to power," he says, eyes on Rufus as he licks his cock closer, sets the head of it against the sharp points of his teeth, a promise of pain he does not yet deliver. "Here, only one of us has any. Do I make myself clear?" His lips curl. It does not escape him that Rufus may be doing this solely to garner a certain reaction from him. "Or perhaps you would like me to teach you a lesson."
The sharp points of Tseng's teeth against the head of his cock makes him shudder but he makes a noise of protest when Tseng forces him to get go of his hair. There is only one with power here and it's certainly not Rufus who is spread out in front of Tseng at his mercy.
But that makes him no less defiant. He grabs the back of Tseng's neck to try to push him down impatiently. He knows he's not going to be able to get away with it, that Tseng will punish him for this. "I am asking very nicely, Tseng. I want your mouth, please."
He had spent the last two years being treated too carefully, even if it was necessary. If they could d anything at all given Rufus's physical state. Now he wanted to make up for that lost time and then some while he was able to. He was going to push Tseng as far as Tseng would allow him.
His response is immediate; Rufus's other hand is snatched away, and both are lifted in unison to plant above Rufus's head. His wrists are small around, Tseng can close his fingers around both at once. He presses them to the armrest, leans over Rufus, until their breathing mingles, close enough to kiss.
"No."
His free hand drops instead. He spits into it, rubs his fingers together until they shine, and begins to pump Rufus's cock: hard, fast, thrusting his thumb up the underside of it so that Rufus has that perfect hitch of pressure.
He tries to twists his arms to get free but Tseng has his wrists pressed hard to the armrest. He doesn't want to come but Tseng is making it extremely difficult at the moment and he both hates him and loves him for it.
He arches his back, clutching his hands into fists against Tseng's fingers.
"Fuck- " and then in a low, tight hiss- "-please- you know what I need."
Tseng smirks down at him. He can feel Rufus getting close, and that's when the pressure between his fingers slowly abates, when he starts dragging them featherlight up and down the length of Rufus's cock. Slow, practically too fleeting to feel. He wonders how long Rufus's composure will last like this.
He still has it in mind to teach Rufus a lesson, though. His fingers start to pump again, at not quite the maddening, jolting speed they were before—just enough to bring him to the edge and leave him there again.
"You want my mouth," he says, licking his lips until they glisten. "Do you think you've earned it?"
Rufus can't help but let out a soft whimper of impatience, every bit of his resolve melting away under Tseng's expert touch just leaving him hanging there. He is addicted to how Tseng can wield pleasure like a weapon, leaving his entire body trembling.
"Yes, I have, Tseng-" He doesn't care how desperate he sounds right now as Tseng keeps him on that edge and the sight of Tseng licking his lips sent a jolt right down his body to his cock. "Please. Please."
Words uttered so breathlessly and so earnestly only for Tseng.
"Hm." Tseng is in no great rush to wrap this up. These dalliances with Rufus often take awhile; the time has been budgeted for. Nothing is holding him back from driving Rufus crazy for it.
And if anything, this is the best part. Watching the most powerful man in the world twist and writhe beneath him, pleading with him despite how deaf he knows that Tseng can be to such things. He will do what he likes, on his own time, and that has ever been a constant.
He drags the back of his nails up and down Rufus's cock while he pretends at considering his requests. It's tempting to keep this up, to bring him right to the brink and ruin the release for him. He thinks that's precisely what he wants to do.
"You beg so prettily, Mr. President," he says, twisting his fingers, darting them away. He's decided that Rufus will not get much touch in succession anymore; let him strain and twitch in the air while Tseng watches, suckling on his lower lip. "But I think you can do better."
Rufus tries to pull his wrists free while fully aware that Tseng isn't going to let him free until he decides to, practically panting in ragged gasps at this point. It's agonizing ecstasy to be kept like this, just where Tseng wants him.
When Tseng pulls his fingers away from his cock he wants to growl and order Tseng to do what he wants but that wasn't going to get him what he wanted this time. He knew Tseng was well aware of what he was doing when he sucked on his lower lip like that and what it was doing to him.
He never would have considered begging for anyone else but Tseng somehow knew just how to draw each breathless word from his lips. "Tseng...I'm begging you. Anything you want..."
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no subject
"Your mouth." He reaches down to tangle his fingers in black hair to hold on and try to nudge Tseng where he wants him to go. His other hand grips one of the cushions of the couch tightly, spreading his legs a little wider if he can manage it. The couch is a bit too narrow to make it really comfortable but it doesn't matter. "Now."
no subject
"Tell me what you want," he corrects himself, "nicely."
Tseng is aware of the discrepancies between the things he and Rufus have experienced in their respective timelines. Even Rude and Reno, he suspects, do not exactly share perfect memories with him. Which means the impetus is on him to teach Rufus better. It is as much his job as any other duty he owes to the president.
"You are so used to power," he says, eyes on Rufus as he licks his cock closer, sets the head of it against the sharp points of his teeth, a promise of pain he does not yet deliver. "Here, only one of us has any. Do I make myself clear?" His lips curl. It does not escape him that Rufus may be doing this solely to garner a certain reaction from him. "Or perhaps you would like me to teach you a lesson."
no subject
But that makes him no less defiant. He grabs the back of Tseng's neck to try to push him down impatiently. He knows he's not going to be able to get away with it, that Tseng will punish him for this. "I am asking very nicely, Tseng. I want your mouth, please."
He had spent the last two years being treated too carefully, even if it was necessary. If they could d anything at all given Rufus's physical state. Now he wanted to make up for that lost time and then some while he was able to. He was going to push Tseng as far as Tseng would allow him.
no subject
"No."
His free hand drops instead. He spits into it, rubs his fingers together until they shine, and begins to pump Rufus's cock: hard, fast, thrusting his thumb up the underside of it so that Rufus has that perfect hitch of pressure.
"Try it again."
no subject
He tries to twists his arms to get free but Tseng has his wrists pressed hard to the armrest. He doesn't want to come but Tseng is making it extremely difficult at the moment and he both hates him and loves him for it.
He arches his back, clutching his hands into fists against Tseng's fingers.
"Fuck- " and then in a low, tight hiss- "-please- you know what I need."
no subject
Tseng smirks down at him. He can feel Rufus getting close, and that's when the pressure between his fingers slowly abates, when he starts dragging them featherlight up and down the length of Rufus's cock. Slow, practically too fleeting to feel. He wonders how long Rufus's composure will last like this.
He still has it in mind to teach Rufus a lesson, though. His fingers start to pump again, at not quite the maddening, jolting speed they were before—just enough to bring him to the edge and leave him there again.
"You want my mouth," he says, licking his lips until they glisten. "Do you think you've earned it?"
no subject
"Yes, I have, Tseng-" He doesn't care how desperate he sounds right now as Tseng keeps him on that edge and the sight of Tseng licking his lips sent a jolt right down his body to his cock. "Please. Please."
Words uttered so breathlessly and so earnestly only for Tseng.
no subject
And if anything, this is the best part. Watching the most powerful man in the world twist and writhe beneath him, pleading with him despite how deaf he knows that Tseng can be to such things. He will do what he likes, on his own time, and that has ever been a constant.
He drags the back of his nails up and down Rufus's cock while he pretends at considering his requests. It's tempting to keep this up, to bring him right to the brink and ruin the release for him. He thinks that's precisely what he wants to do.
"You beg so prettily, Mr. President," he says, twisting his fingers, darting them away. He's decided that Rufus will not get much touch in succession anymore; let him strain and twitch in the air while Tseng watches, suckling on his lower lip. "But I think you can do better."
no subject
When Tseng pulls his fingers away from his cock he wants to growl and order Tseng to do what he wants but that wasn't going to get him what he wanted this time. He knew Tseng was well aware of what he was doing when he sucked on his lower lip like that and what it was doing to him.
He never would have considered begging for anyone else but Tseng somehow knew just how to draw each breathless word from his lips. "Tseng...I'm begging you. Anything you want..."