[ He's not in the mood for snippy, sarcastic bullshit, so Derek's trying to cut Tate off at the pass with genuine honesty and a rough kiss to the neck. He's running his hand up beneath Tate's shirt now, climbing up his stomach, stroking his thumb over the middle line of his chest, sucking softly against faded pink marks he left on Tate's throat not that long ago. Making them brighter, again. Deeper.
He gets Tate's belt open, gets him unzipped, and he tugs Tate's jeans down to his thighs hard enough to hear a stitch break. He's using his tongue more than his teeth, as he laps at Tate's neck, kissing him more than anything else, and when he slips his hand up the leg of Tate's underwear, he doesn't go straight for his cock. He just - strokes his thigh, soft and easy. ]
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[ He's not in the mood for snippy, sarcastic bullshit, so Derek's trying to cut Tate off at the pass with genuine honesty and a rough kiss to the neck. He's running his hand up beneath Tate's shirt now, climbing up his stomach, stroking his thumb over the middle line of his chest, sucking softly against faded pink marks he left on Tate's throat not that long ago. Making them brighter, again. Deeper.
He gets Tate's belt open, gets him unzipped, and he tugs Tate's jeans down to his thighs hard enough to hear a stitch break. He's using his tongue more than his teeth, as he laps at Tate's neck, kissing him more than anything else, and when he slips his hand up the leg of Tate's underwear, he doesn't go straight for his cock. He just - strokes his thigh, soft and easy. ]