[ God. He shrugs out of his jacket, throwing it at Tate's face rather than helping him into it, because he's looping around from the quiet, calm, affectionate buzz of his climax and back into the general, overall grumpiness that comes from being stuck in a cramped box for longer than he needs to be. He stands hunched over between Tate and the screen, gathering up Tate's foregone clothes and holding them against his stomach, and before too long, he figures he's gonna have to face the outside world.
Wait, shit, his dick's still out, still hard despite his complete disinterest in wanting to keep this going. He gives an awkward little leg-shuffle as he tucks his cock back into the waistband of his underwear and pulls his henley down a few inches, pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed father watching his daughter waddle away to Stitches by Shawn Mendes. This was dumb. He feels dumb. Happy, but. Dumb. ]
Gonna check if the coast is clear.
[ He ducks out of the curtain, and - well, there are obviously some glances, but it seems like the place has thinned out quite a bit, and other than a few congratulatory grins of recognition from other Doms that make his skin crawl, everything seems... fine. There's a little side-table with their order all wrapped up and waiting for them right beside the photo booth, which is kind of embarrassing, given that someone would've just come over and left it here for them, but. What's done is done. Derek grabs his food, knocking on the side of the booth to give Tate the all clear to come out. ]
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[ God. He shrugs out of his jacket, throwing it at Tate's face rather than helping him into it, because he's looping around from the quiet, calm, affectionate buzz of his climax and back into the general, overall grumpiness that comes from being stuck in a cramped box for longer than he needs to be. He stands hunched over between Tate and the screen, gathering up Tate's foregone clothes and holding them against his stomach, and before too long, he figures he's gonna have to face the outside world.
Wait, shit, his dick's still out, still hard despite his complete disinterest in wanting to keep this going. He gives an awkward little leg-shuffle as he tucks his cock back into the waistband of his underwear and pulls his henley down a few inches, pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed father watching his daughter waddle away to Stitches by Shawn Mendes. This was dumb. He feels dumb. Happy, but. Dumb. ]
Gonna check if the coast is clear.
[ He ducks out of the curtain, and - well, there are obviously some glances, but it seems like the place has thinned out quite a bit, and other than a few congratulatory grins of recognition from other Doms that make his skin crawl, everything seems... fine. There's a little side-table with their order all wrapped up and waiting for them right beside the photo booth, which is kind of embarrassing, given that someone would've just come over and left it here for them, but. What's done is done. Derek grabs his food, knocking on the side of the booth to give Tate the all clear to come out. ]