[ This is the moment that Derek's been wanting, too. This warm, sleepy safety he only finds with the people closest to him - he's exhausted and boneless and hypersensitive, twitching and fucking shallow, upward thrusts into Tate with these intermittent little gasps, eyes closed tight, toes curling every time Tate scratches him or breathes against him. This is what he wants - this feeling of total, raw connection between him and his pack, this feeling of satisfaction and bliss that comes half from what he just did and half from knowing he made his beta happy. His submissive.
He's gonna be painfully hard until his body decides that Tate's been well and truly bred, and Derek's too well-fucked and happy to care. Tate makes some kind of quiet, throaty joke about the state of Derek's car, and Derek just laughs, sleepy and safe, kissing a few loving, affectionate kisses to Tate's neck. ]
Don't care.
[ Not his car, after all - he'll clean up, make things a little nicer, but his boss fucking expects him to get laid in the backseats of everything he borrows. That's Duplicity, for you.
Derek's too tired to lift his weight off of Tate, and he doesn't want to lose that connection, anyway, so he stays where he is, draped over him and breathing long, languid breaths against his skin through his nose. He's holding Tate as closely as he possibly can, soothing his hands up and down his back, wherever he can reach, and the combination of how good it feels to get laid and the excitement of everything they've done today chips away at the walls he keeps up. When he talks again, it's a whisper, said right up against Tate's ear, like he's afraid of being overheard. ]
I hope I'm enough for you. I want us to... always be like this.
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He's gonna be painfully hard until his body decides that Tate's been well and truly bred, and Derek's too well-fucked and happy to care. Tate makes some kind of quiet, throaty joke about the state of Derek's car, and Derek just laughs, sleepy and safe, kissing a few loving, affectionate kisses to Tate's neck. ]
Don't care.
[ Not his car, after all - he'll clean up, make things a little nicer, but his boss fucking expects him to get laid in the backseats of everything he borrows. That's Duplicity, for you.
Derek's too tired to lift his weight off of Tate, and he doesn't want to lose that connection, anyway, so he stays where he is, draped over him and breathing long, languid breaths against his skin through his nose. He's holding Tate as closely as he possibly can, soothing his hands up and down his back, wherever he can reach, and the combination of how good it feels to get laid and the excitement of everything they've done today chips away at the walls he keeps up. When he talks again, it's a whisper, said right up against Tate's ear, like he's afraid of being overheard. ]
I hope I'm enough for you. I want us to... always be like this.