[ This is, so far, everything Derek was hoping it would be. The elevated pulse, the thrum of hopeful excitement reverberating through Reggie's body, all that newly found confidence - it goes without saying that Derek's genuinely very unsure about putting himself beneath anybody, let alone a fucking seventeen year old, but he does trust Reggie, and he does want to make him feel a little better, and this is the most intimate and - hopefully most appreciated - gift that he can offer him.
He feels all antsy and nervous, his stomach filled with static. Reggie kisses him and Derek doesn't react too much, other than slightly tilting his chin up to really feel the soft press of Reggie's full lips against his own. His eyelids flutter and he wills himself not to moan when he feels the sharp pinch of teeth against his lip, but he's getting harder and harder, anticipating what's to come more and more. Reggie tells him everything he's going to do to him, walks him through every moment he's about to experience, and Derek looks the way he always does - mildly angrily, vastly unimpressed. He's looking at Reggie like he's telling him what tomorrow's weather is going to be for, like, the eighth time in a row.
But the thing is - and Derek has never, ever admitted this, not even to himself - the thing is, there's a very greedy, slutty part of Derek that loves to get fucked. A part of him that wants nothing more than to cut through all the pressure and the power struggles and the masculinity he associates with being on top and to just get well and truly fucked. Stretched open, filled to the brim, made into somebody's personal whore. He's got the perfect ass for it - full, round, always virginally tight, given how rapidly his body heals - and he's so fucking sensitive. Derek looks at Reggie like he'd rather be anywhere other then here, but...
It's just a defense mechanism. Reggie barely eases the tip of his finger inside Derek before his knees are shaking a little and his back is arching away from the sofa, just half an inch, if that. His hands grab at anything they can reach for support, one hand holding Reggie's shoulder in a tight, painful grip, the other digging into the armrest he's resting his head against, and Derek takes a breath, holding it in his chest for as long as he can. Reggie slips his finger past the first knuckle and down to the second, and Derek exhales, shaky, color filling his cheeks as he grips down on Reggie's finger as tightly as he can. His cock flexes, precum smearing back against his stomach, and his toes are curling. Derek's losing his composure already.
And then Reggie presses forward, bringing them flush together, skin to skin, and he's not fucking him yet, but just the thought of it makes Derek release this guttural, growling moan from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see Reggie's face as his own burns a little brighter, and when Reggie takes another kiss from him, Derek pointedly refuses to engage. He's incredibly easy to read like this - all wanton and needy and willing to give himself up to Reggie in any way he wants him, and the way he doesn't kiss Reggie back makes it obvious that he's still clutching onto some proud sense of masculinity that makes it difficult for him to fully lean into the feeling.
But that'll change. Reggie said something about being his, too, and the mix of all this submission and dominance that Derek thrives on is already making him feel like he could come. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look Reggie in the eye, but that only lasts for a second before he's darting his gaze away and staring at Reggie's chin, his neck, the shoulder he's still holding on to. Safe spots. ]
If you were mine - really mine - [ His voice is gravelly and sort of hesitant, like it's tripping over itself, but he clears his throat and keeps it stern and steady as he talks - ] - you'd never leave my bed. All day, all night, you'd just-- you'd... you'd, uh...
[ They've barely touched each other, but Reggie does something with his finger that makes Derek lose his train of thought, and he reaches his hand down from Reggie's shoulder and grabs his wrist as tightly as he can, holding Reggie's hand still. He takes a breath, looks up at Reggie, and-- he smiles now, laughing, weak and fragile as he lets his wrist go. ]
F-fuck. Careful. You're gonna make me come already.
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He feels all antsy and nervous, his stomach filled with static. Reggie kisses him and Derek doesn't react too much, other than slightly tilting his chin up to really feel the soft press of Reggie's full lips against his own. His eyelids flutter and he wills himself not to moan when he feels the sharp pinch of teeth against his lip, but he's getting harder and harder, anticipating what's to come more and more. Reggie tells him everything he's going to do to him, walks him through every moment he's about to experience, and Derek looks the way he always does - mildly angrily, vastly unimpressed. He's looking at Reggie like he's telling him what tomorrow's weather is going to be for, like, the eighth time in a row.
But the thing is - and Derek has never, ever admitted this, not even to himself - the thing is, there's a very greedy, slutty part of Derek that loves to get fucked. A part of him that wants nothing more than to cut through all the pressure and the power struggles and the masculinity he associates with being on top and to just get well and truly fucked. Stretched open, filled to the brim, made into somebody's personal whore. He's got the perfect ass for it - full, round, always virginally tight, given how rapidly his body heals - and he's so fucking sensitive. Derek looks at Reggie like he'd rather be anywhere other then here, but...
It's just a defense mechanism. Reggie barely eases the tip of his finger inside Derek before his knees are shaking a little and his back is arching away from the sofa, just half an inch, if that. His hands grab at anything they can reach for support, one hand holding Reggie's shoulder in a tight, painful grip, the other digging into the armrest he's resting his head against, and Derek takes a breath, holding it in his chest for as long as he can. Reggie slips his finger past the first knuckle and down to the second, and Derek exhales, shaky, color filling his cheeks as he grips down on Reggie's finger as tightly as he can. His cock flexes, precum smearing back against his stomach, and his toes are curling. Derek's losing his composure already.
And then Reggie presses forward, bringing them flush together, skin to skin, and he's not fucking him yet, but just the thought of it makes Derek release this guttural, growling moan from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see Reggie's face as his own burns a little brighter, and when Reggie takes another kiss from him, Derek pointedly refuses to engage. He's incredibly easy to read like this - all wanton and needy and willing to give himself up to Reggie in any way he wants him, and the way he doesn't kiss Reggie back makes it obvious that he's still clutching onto some proud sense of masculinity that makes it difficult for him to fully lean into the feeling.
But that'll change. Reggie said something about being his, too, and the mix of all this submission and dominance that Derek thrives on is already making him feel like he could come. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look Reggie in the eye, but that only lasts for a second before he's darting his gaze away and staring at Reggie's chin, his neck, the shoulder he's still holding on to. Safe spots. ]
If you were mine - really mine - [ His voice is gravelly and sort of hesitant, like it's tripping over itself, but he clears his throat and keeps it stern and steady as he talks - ] - you'd never leave my bed. All day, all night, you'd just-- you'd... you'd, uh...
[ They've barely touched each other, but Reggie does something with his finger that makes Derek lose his train of thought, and he reaches his hand down from Reggie's shoulder and grabs his wrist as tightly as he can, holding Reggie's hand still. He takes a breath, looks up at Reggie, and-- he smiles now, laughing, weak and fragile as he lets his wrist go. ]
F-fuck. Careful. You're gonna make me come already.