[ Given that he had to insinuate he was going to fuck Tate just to bring him home. Derek takes Tate's hand, holds it for a second, staying silent. He feels the rush of blood beneath his skin, moves his fingertips down to rest against the base of Tate's wrist. He feels faded scars, smooth but somehow textured over the rest of his skin. He just - listens. Tries to smell fear. Lies. Anything.
He looks up, slowly lowers his eyebrows. This isn't enough for Derek to trust him. "We already agreed to try" - that's not a yes, and every animal, primal instinct in Derek is telling him that this is a bad decision, and that trusting Tate is a mistake, and that this isn't going to work. A softer, stupider side of him just... wants to win him over, already. Wants to fix him with the bite. ]
Werewolf. By birth. The woman who killed my family was a hunter - part of a network of people who put my kind down like animals.
[ He swallows, tenses his jaw. Looks at Tate, unblinking, and waits for a reaction. Disbelief. Disgust. A spike of something, hitting the air through chemosignals or bolting through his fingers, still held over Tate's pulse. Anything. ]
no subject
[ Given that he had to insinuate he was going to fuck Tate just to bring him home. Derek takes Tate's hand, holds it for a second, staying silent. He feels the rush of blood beneath his skin, moves his fingertips down to rest against the base of Tate's wrist. He feels faded scars, smooth but somehow textured over the rest of his skin. He just - listens. Tries to smell fear. Lies. Anything.
He looks up, slowly lowers his eyebrows. This isn't enough for Derek to trust him. "We already agreed to try" - that's not a yes, and every animal, primal instinct in Derek is telling him that this is a bad decision, and that trusting Tate is a mistake, and that this isn't going to work. A softer, stupider side of him just... wants to win him over, already. Wants to fix him with the bite. ]
Werewolf. By birth. The woman who killed my family was a hunter - part of a network of people who put my kind down like animals.
[ He swallows, tenses his jaw. Looks at Tate, unblinking, and waits for a reaction. Disbelief. Disgust. A spike of something, hitting the air through chemosignals or bolting through his fingers, still held over Tate's pulse. Anything. ]