[And just like Derek runs hot, Tate often runs cold - he hasn't broken a sweat in the treehouse, and his skin has an unnatural pallor to it when he sits forward and briefly puts parts of himself in shadow. Then, just as quick and vivid, he looks every part the lively spirited teenager he wants to be, color not yet rushing to his face but his eyes catch the light with a glimmer against their jetblack.]
Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]
no subject
Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]