[Derek's arms envelop him, pulling him close and making each thrust and grind all that more brutally passionate. Tate's cock is rigid and so close to blowing his load against Derek's abs when he lays over him, coaxing hoarse groans and shouts as Tate's arms reach around Derek's chest to hold on to him. His nails drag over the broad sides of his back, scratching red lines that criss and cross the longer this goes on.
His thighs are squeezing to Derek's sides, calves cramping from how hard he's holding on with his legs in addition to his arms. He's moving with Derek's every dip and plunge, starting to feel frantic with how raw he's become and how Derek shows no signs of relenting. No signs of slowing down. If anything, it will only get worse - Tate feels the swell of Derek's cock enough to predict what's coming and as soon as he notices that thick bulge slamming up against him he's not surprised. Concerned, maybe, because for all Derek's efforts to jam it inside him - he doesn't seem to make it happen. And Tate feels like he's being torn apart in the process, so very on the verge of panicking from the overwhelming pain and pleasure.
He doesn't think he can do this. There's no way he can? His voice is a hoarse rattling cry the harder Derek fucks him and the more he somehow stretches, tears slipping out the corners of his eyes when it finally happens. He pushes and he pushes and he pushes and Tate stretches. He pushes some more and Tate's legs jerk and his toes curl, and he bites down on Derek's neck with his own level of skin-breaking ferocity. The knot slides in past his tired, ruined hole and settles inside him like an anchor. One Tate squirms against, not for displeasure but because he's in the throes of a sudden orgasm. Somewhere mixed with the pain and the final relief of having him inside, Tate came - jets of white between their bodies, painting them both as Derek sunk to pin him down.
Tate can't imagine how he looks, tear stained and blushing red - his eyes are glossy and unfocused, rolling back behind fluttering lashes as he feels the never-ending push against his prostate and the utter fullness. They're stuck together at this point, joined in a car that now smells of sex and sweet and sour pork. Tate's chest is heaving and his heart rate is through the roof - but he manages to stop jerking and whimpering, looking up at Derek with shiny lips and a well fucked smile.]
no subject
His thighs are squeezing to Derek's sides, calves cramping from how hard he's holding on with his legs in addition to his arms. He's moving with Derek's every dip and plunge, starting to feel frantic with how raw he's become and how Derek shows no signs of relenting. No signs of slowing down. If anything, it will only get worse - Tate feels the swell of Derek's cock enough to predict what's coming and as soon as he notices that thick bulge slamming up against him he's not surprised. Concerned, maybe, because for all Derek's efforts to jam it inside him - he doesn't seem to make it happen. And Tate feels like he's being torn apart in the process, so very on the verge of panicking from the overwhelming pain and pleasure.
He doesn't think he can do this. There's no way he can? His voice is a hoarse rattling cry the harder Derek fucks him and the more he somehow stretches, tears slipping out the corners of his eyes when it finally happens. He pushes and he pushes and he pushes and Tate stretches. He pushes some more and Tate's legs jerk and his toes curl, and he bites down on Derek's neck with his own level of skin-breaking ferocity. The knot slides in past his tired, ruined hole and settles inside him like an anchor. One Tate squirms against, not for displeasure but because he's in the throes of a sudden orgasm. Somewhere mixed with the pain and the final relief of having him inside, Tate came - jets of white between their bodies, painting them both as Derek sunk to pin him down.
Tate can't imagine how he looks, tear stained and blushing red - his eyes are glossy and unfocused, rolling back behind fluttering lashes as he feels the never-ending push against his prostate and the utter fullness. They're stuck together at this point, joined in a car that now smells of sex and sweet and sour pork. Tate's chest is heaving and his heart rate is through the roof - but he manages to stop jerking and whimpering, looking up at Derek with shiny lips and a well fucked smile.]
You fit.