[It's a lot easier when his eyes are closed. The word blots out and in the dark all he has is the ringing in his ears, the muffled noises that deafen out as he feels... pleasure. Simple pleasure - his hips buck and he really tries to fuck up into the heat, the cavernous warmth of Derek's mouth as it envelops his cock and invites him straight to the back of his throat. He moves so rhythmically, so practiced, that Tate's already losing any grasp he had on himself.
Derek pulls back and it's - enough of a change that Tate knows he's lost his grip entirely. His eyes open weakly, inky black and welling with lusty tears - he just gets a moment of eye contact with Derek before his head lolls back, his shoulders roll back, his whole body arches and he's losing his load. Barely parting his lips in a silent 'o' before he's painting Derek's lips white and shuddering with the sudden jolt that pulls him out of a moment of slow motion to the white hot pleasure just as it ebbs away.
He nearly slumps backward, reaching out to grab Derek's shirt at his shoulder to stay grounded.]
no subject
Derek pulls back and it's - enough of a change that Tate knows he's lost his grip entirely. His eyes open weakly, inky black and welling with lusty tears - he just gets a moment of eye contact with Derek before his head lolls back, his shoulders roll back, his whole body arches and he's losing his load. Barely parting his lips in a silent 'o' before he's painting Derek's lips white and shuddering with the sudden jolt that pulls him out of a moment of slow motion to the white hot pleasure just as it ebbs away.
He nearly slumps backward, reaching out to grab Derek's shirt at his shoulder to stay grounded.]
... Shit.