[ Man - he was joking. Tate gives him that please as if he wasn't, and Derek feels a brief flutter of guilt in his chest that he quickly tries to smother before it grows roots and makes this even harder to deal with than it already is. With another deep, long-suffering breath, Derek folds his arms and follows Tate to the bench, feeling stares boring into his back from the guy manning the front desk. He's... getting used to this, honestly. He doesn't feel half as much shame about fucking in front of an audience as he used to. Maybe that's good. Maybe that's bad.

Derek drops his arms, resting his hands on Tate's thighs. One of the other workers tips forward to get a closer look, and yeah, okay, Derek knows he's probably supposed to let that go, but with how uncomfortable and anxious Tate is, he kind of can't. He grits his teeth, shoots the guy a Look, and when he doesn't step back right away, Derek pulls out the big guns and flashes his eyes red. It's enough - Derek and Tate get their distance, with the guy quickly scrambling back, pretending to act unaffected. Derek sighs through his nose. ]

You'll be okay. I've got you.

[ The bench is low enough that Derek can sink to his knees and be at a pretty decent height for this. He pulls Tate forward by the waist, getting him closer to the edge of it, then carefully, carefully unbuttons his jeans. He's trying not to go too slow here, but he doesn't want to just whip Tate's dick out in front of everybody, either. ]

Just - think of how you'll feel after all of this. Your heartbeat - the bite. It's all gonna be worth it.