[ Derek's mildly frustrated, just because he feels like they're circling some of the things they've circled before - Tate's unwillingness to take care of himself, Tate's cavalier attitude towards his own life and safety. This wasn't really where he wanted the conversation to go, but now that they're done with the distance at all, he makes his way up to the loft, talking as he climbs. ]

I don't like hurting you. That's all.

[ The breathplay Tate's so fuckin' into is difficult enough, sometimes. The scratches and the bites that sometimes draw blood feel good in the moment, but Derek always feels horrible when they're coming down after. He makes it to the bed and stands with his arms crossed, looking down at Tate. He's worried saying the wrong thing will make Tate leave or blow up, but. What's new. ]

You're precious to me. Doesn't matter if you'll heal. I want to take care of you. Can't do that if I'm exhibiting enough force to have killed you, if you were alive.