[Touche. Tate doesn't laugh but he's amused as he sinks lower, taking more of Derek into him before lifting back just a little to adjust. It's still a lot to take, but after a few strained seconds of adjustment, muscles flexing, he sits flush against Derek's hips and gyrates his hips ever so gently in a clock wise circle. His exhale is relieved, and Derek might not be able to see his smile but he can likely tell that it's there.]
Or you can tell me what you want to do to me. Or have me do to you.
[Another roll of his hips, and he's lifting up - just to sink back down, nice and slow.]
no subject
Or you can tell me what you want to do to me. Or have me do to you.
[Another roll of his hips, and he's lifting up - just to sink back down, nice and slow.]
And in three hours? You can come. Great, right?