[ When Derek first came back, he was - convinced, honestly, that he and Tate were done. No more friendship, no more pack. There wasn't a single part of him that believed Tate, at first, when he said that he signed with Kavinsky again because he had to, just like there wasn't a single part of him that believed Tate suddenly gave a shit about his own mortality after the war scared the fear of a new death into him. There were a few days there where Derek saw Tate as exactly who he was - selfish and conniving. Unkind.
And then Tate rode it out. Tate's been getting so much better at riding out Derek's reactions. He didn't cry, didn't fight, he just - promised to be better, than did just enough to convince Derek that he was wrong to have doubted him. Derek still hasn't signed Tate's name to the ledger, because Stiles hadn't done that, and there's some small, unconscious part of him that remembers that - but nobody's around to stop Derek from trusting him. From believing that this is - fine. That they're good again. That they'll always be good again. That this isn't just Jennifer again. Kate.
Yeah. Yeah, Derek promises. He doesn't answer verbally, but there's that smile again. Trusting and affectionate and so full of loyalty. Derek always looks so much younger when he smiles. ]
Alright - shut up. Let's get this over with.
[ After that - Derek's gonna really focus, now. Tate wanted this over fast, and Derek's not going to be sidetracked by whatever stewing affection is stuck beating behind his ribs. Derek takes a firmer hold of Tate's cock and sticks out his tongue, lightly dragging it over the underside of Tate's shaft. He's not worried about being noisy, or-- looking like a whore in front of these guys. He sucks the head of Tate's dick with loud, wet sounds, swallowing him down to the base, bobbing his head back up and leaving Tate shiny and slick with his spit. He hums softly and bobs forward again, pressing his nose to Tate's jeans and closing his eyes, swallowing while he easily, expertly deep throats the guy.
He comes up for breath, swipes his tongue over Tate's tip, tasting whatever precum he might have earned already. Derek takes Tate in his fist again, jerking faster now, the side of his fingers brushing over the most sensitive nerves in his head every time he strokes up. Slowly, Derek takes Tate's head back in between his lips, sucking hard and playing with him with the very end of his tongue, and he still holds eye contact. Still takes in every breath, every reaction, like that's the entire reason he's doing this. ]
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And then Tate rode it out. Tate's been getting so much better at riding out Derek's reactions. He didn't cry, didn't fight, he just - promised to be better, than did just enough to convince Derek that he was wrong to have doubted him. Derek still hasn't signed Tate's name to the ledger, because Stiles hadn't done that, and there's some small, unconscious part of him that remembers that - but nobody's around to stop Derek from trusting him. From believing that this is - fine. That they're good again. That they'll always be good again. That this isn't just Jennifer again. Kate.
Yeah. Yeah, Derek promises. He doesn't answer verbally, but there's that smile again. Trusting and affectionate and so full of loyalty. Derek always looks so much younger when he smiles. ]
Alright - shut up. Let's get this over with.
[ After that - Derek's gonna really focus, now. Tate wanted this over fast, and Derek's not going to be sidetracked by whatever stewing affection is stuck beating behind his ribs. Derek takes a firmer hold of Tate's cock and sticks out his tongue, lightly dragging it over the underside of Tate's shaft. He's not worried about being noisy, or-- looking like a whore in front of these guys. He sucks the head of Tate's dick with loud, wet sounds, swallowing him down to the base, bobbing his head back up and leaving Tate shiny and slick with his spit. He hums softly and bobs forward again, pressing his nose to Tate's jeans and closing his eyes, swallowing while he easily, expertly deep throats the guy.
He comes up for breath, swipes his tongue over Tate's tip, tasting whatever precum he might have earned already. Derek takes Tate in his fist again, jerking faster now, the side of his fingers brushing over the most sensitive nerves in his head every time he strokes up. Slowly, Derek takes Tate's head back in between his lips, sucking hard and playing with him with the very end of his tongue, and he still holds eye contact. Still takes in every breath, every reaction, like that's the entire reason he's doing this. ]