[ Derek isn't close to done. He can smell it on Tate, feel it in the race of his pulse and the tight clench of his body as he tries to will himself back, and Derek only grunts, determined, to see it through. He's fucking Tate with this well-practiced, animalistic speed, pushing him further back into the seat he's laying on and probably repeatedly bumping his head against the inside of the door, but again - he either doesn't notice or he doesn't care.
He could grab Tate's cock, jerk him off, give him the satisfying rush of an orgasm milked out of him, but he doesn't. Instead, Derek drops down against Tate, chest to chest, body to body, his abs grazing over Tate's dick while they fuck and giving him only the barest amount of friction to help him through this. He pounds his ass, rearranging his arms to wrap beneath Tate's torso and head, pulling him in close, and he doesn't have it in him to tell Tate to come for him, he just-- fucks him harder, faster, like he was fucking built to do this, the telltale scratch of claws and teeth against Tate's skin all he needs to know he's losing himself.
Tate might have already come, but Derek doesn't notice when he does. He's at his biggest, the ball at the base of his dick fat and thick and hyper-sensitive already. He's fucking into Tate and slapping the surface of his knot against his hole with increasing, almost angry frustration, bucking his hips forward but never quite getting enough strength or force in his body to breach Tate with the size of him. Derek sees a flash of white, pressing the sharp points of his teeth down into the bridge of Tate's shoulder, and he just--
He just keeps trying. His knot keeps slapping against Tate's hole, stretching him a little when Derek presses his entire body onto Tate's, crushing his ribs and forcing him down into the seat until it sounds like the metal holding the car together might bend if he keeps this up. Derek's grunting and snarling and lapping at Tate's throat and neck with his tongue, each radically faster thrust getting a little more give out of Tate's hole, until finally, finally, he does it.
Tate gets filled with his knot with one hard, tearstained shove, stretching him open to his limit, and Derek's grunting like he's a bitch in heat, dropping Tate back onto the seats and holding himself up with one fist in the leather. He laughs, like he's proud of himself, flush body to body with Tate. His knot, like always, is the most sensitive part of his body, and between the shallow squeeze of Tate's ass and the scrambling heat of just how good it feels to fuck someone with his own load, it won't take much to get close. ]
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He could grab Tate's cock, jerk him off, give him the satisfying rush of an orgasm milked out of him, but he doesn't. Instead, Derek drops down against Tate, chest to chest, body to body, his abs grazing over Tate's dick while they fuck and giving him only the barest amount of friction to help him through this. He pounds his ass, rearranging his arms to wrap beneath Tate's torso and head, pulling him in close, and he doesn't have it in him to tell Tate to come for him, he just-- fucks him harder, faster, like he was fucking built to do this, the telltale scratch of claws and teeth against Tate's skin all he needs to know he's losing himself.
Tate might have already come, but Derek doesn't notice when he does. He's at his biggest, the ball at the base of his dick fat and thick and hyper-sensitive already. He's fucking into Tate and slapping the surface of his knot against his hole with increasing, almost angry frustration, bucking his hips forward but never quite getting enough strength or force in his body to breach Tate with the size of him. Derek sees a flash of white, pressing the sharp points of his teeth down into the bridge of Tate's shoulder, and he just--
He just keeps trying. His knot keeps slapping against Tate's hole, stretching him a little when Derek presses his entire body onto Tate's, crushing his ribs and forcing him down into the seat until it sounds like the metal holding the car together might bend if he keeps this up. Derek's grunting and snarling and lapping at Tate's throat and neck with his tongue, each radically faster thrust getting a little more give out of Tate's hole, until finally, finally, he does it.
Tate gets filled with his knot with one hard, tearstained shove, stretching him open to his limit, and Derek's grunting like he's a bitch in heat, dropping Tate back onto the seats and holding himself up with one fist in the leather. He laughs, like he's proud of himself, flush body to body with Tate. His knot, like always, is the most sensitive part of his body, and between the shallow squeeze of Tate's ass and the scrambling heat of just how good it feels to fuck someone with his own load, it won't take much to get close. ]
Ffffuck. Fuck, Tate.