[ Derek makes sure to balance his hold on Tate based entirely on what would feel worse, in the sweetest, most frustrating sense of the word. When Tate stays obedient, squirming without trying to resist or make silent, urging demands, Derek holds him tight, keeps him stable, holds him down exactly where he doesn't want to be. When he doesn't, when he pushes back against Derek and actively fights against his grip, that's when Derek lets go entirely, moving back so that Tate presses into nothing, losing whatever semblance of touch Derek had afforded him in its entirety. The grazing, teasing touch of his thumb, the still present laps of his tongue - Tate loses them both, when he tries to get more of them. ]
Maybe you were right, then.
[ Nothing about the heavy, almost mocking tone of Derek's voice indicates that he believes that for a second. He's taunting Tate into backing down; telling him to admit he was wrong, give Derek the victory over whatever pointless, teasing argument that they're having. He's silently urging him to just collapse, submit, and beg to be fucked without artifice. Derek punctuates his point by dragging his tongue down Tate's hole in a long, slow line, all the way to his cock, hand squeezing his ass after another sharp, immediate swat. ]
no subject
Maybe you were right, then.
[ Nothing about the heavy, almost mocking tone of Derek's voice indicates that he believes that for a second. He's taunting Tate into backing down; telling him to admit he was wrong, give Derek the victory over whatever pointless, teasing argument that they're having. He's silently urging him to just collapse, submit, and beg to be fucked without artifice. Derek punctuates his point by dragging his tongue down Tate's hole in a long, slow line, all the way to his cock, hand squeezing his ass after another sharp, immediate swat. ]
Were you?