[ The more Tate touches him, the more difficult it is for him to think clearly. He winces and sucks in a breath, less like he's hurt or uncomfortable and more like he's just-- adjusting to a change in temperature. It's willpower alone that has Derek staying flushed to the sheets, even though the ghost of physical contact around his cock again has him frustratingly hard again. Tate says he doesn't know what he wants and Derek barely manages to think through his response. ]

I can't tell you. You have to figure this out. Take control.

[ His voice is surprisingly stable, given how overloaded he feels. He nods, mildly uncomfortable when Tate gets the blindfold on his forehead, though not enough to stop, flexing and unflexing his hands again as the world goes dark. His other senses, already heightened, seem all the more sensitive. He can hear every rustle in the sheets, every beat of Tate's new heart. He stretches his legs straight, trying to stay comfortable, more and more pre running from his cock, giving away that despite all his anxiety, despite the callous casualness in his voice, there is a submissive part of him that likes this. ]

But I enjoy... having you in the position I'm in now... for a few reasons. I can talk to you about them... if you think it would help you figure out what you want.