[ Yeah, Derek's not gonna tell Tate shit. He bites the inside of his cheek and drops his arm to his side, already starting to sweat - he frowns like he's annoyed when Tate guides his legs again, though he obediently moves to give him more space, and he leans heavily on his elbow, propping himself up with it. He's-- not really looking at anything, until Tate starts talking again, the heat crawling up from his chest and his neck and making his stomach drop. ]
Ah - fuck. Shut up.
[ He doesn't mean that. He doesn't want Tate to shut up. The dirty talk is going straight to his cock, getting him harder and harder, one hard twitch enough to get him fully erect. He swallows, and - if they were in opposite positions, he'd be able to say something back, he'd be able to talk about how good Tate looks all slutty and ready for him, but it's hard to think about anything other than the filling, perfect stretch of his ass. Derek isn't rocking his hips yet - but it won't be long. ]
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Ah - fuck. Shut up.
[ He doesn't mean that. He doesn't want Tate to shut up. The dirty talk is going straight to his cock, getting him harder and harder, one hard twitch enough to get him fully erect. He swallows, and - if they were in opposite positions, he'd be able to say something back, he'd be able to talk about how good Tate looks all slutty and ready for him, but it's hard to think about anything other than the filling, perfect stretch of his ass. Derek isn't rocking his hips yet - but it won't be long. ]
Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that?