[ Derek can tell that Tate's getting close. He's - salivating, a little, making the inside of his mouth wetter and warmer and better, each hard, determined suck adding tighter, tauter pressure. There was a time when every blowjob Derek gave in this place was methodical and clinical and just designed to get things done, and with Tate wanting this over quickly, maybe that's the kind of blowjob he would have preferred - but right now, in spite of the surly attitude and furrowed eyebrows, Derek is openly enthusiastic. He wants to make this good for Tate, yeah, but more than anything, it's obvious that he's really, really enjoying himself.
He twists his fist over Tate's dick in furious strokes, wet sounds of rapid friction making Derek forget, for a second, that they're being watched. He pulls off of Tate with a soft, clearly aroused gasp for air, then plunges forward again, swallowing him to the root. The more Derek does this, the sluttier he looks - like he fucking lives for Tate's cock, like he's at his happiest when he's seconds away from tasting someone's load. He's hard in his jeans, and Derek doesn't touch himself, both hands too busy focusing on Tate, but he rocks his hips forward in gradual, barely there movements, unaware of what he's doing.
One of the guys says fuck yeah, cum in his mouth, and that's the only thing someone could've said to make Derek let Tate cum on his face right now. Mildly annoyed, Derek leans back on the balls of his feet the more frantically Tate starts to breathe, pulling his lips from his cock and flicking the tip of his tongue in circles around the head, instead. He strokes Tate faster, refusing to stop, looking up, holding eye contact. Silently asking him to come. ]
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He twists his fist over Tate's dick in furious strokes, wet sounds of rapid friction making Derek forget, for a second, that they're being watched. He pulls off of Tate with a soft, clearly aroused gasp for air, then plunges forward again, swallowing him to the root. The more Derek does this, the sluttier he looks - like he fucking lives for Tate's cock, like he's at his happiest when he's seconds away from tasting someone's load. He's hard in his jeans, and Derek doesn't touch himself, both hands too busy focusing on Tate, but he rocks his hips forward in gradual, barely there movements, unaware of what he's doing.
One of the guys says fuck yeah, cum in his mouth, and that's the only thing someone could've said to make Derek let Tate cum on his face right now. Mildly annoyed, Derek leans back on the balls of his feet the more frantically Tate starts to breathe, pulling his lips from his cock and flicking the tip of his tongue in circles around the head, instead. He strokes Tate faster, refusing to stop, looking up, holding eye contact. Silently asking him to come. ]