[ He can't. Shouldn't. He sounds more tired, than anything else. It's kind of frustrating - he's surrounded by aphrodisiacs and drugs and leather and whips and chains every fucking day of his life, but it's this that turns awkward. This is why he doesn't have a fucking pack. Or - okay - not specifically because he always ends up with incomprehensibly inappropriate hardons, but. Because things always go wrong.
Tonight was supposed to be easy. Derek sits up, still not forcing Tate away from him, and he reaches for another beer, cracking open his third. He takes a swig, arches his neck back when he swallows, adam's apple bobbing. He wipes his lips on the back of his mouth, then slowly tilts his head towards Tate. ]
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[ He can't. Shouldn't. He sounds more tired, than anything else. It's kind of frustrating - he's surrounded by aphrodisiacs and drugs and leather and whips and chains every fucking day of his life, but it's this that turns awkward. This is why he doesn't have a fucking pack. Or - okay - not specifically because he always ends up with incomprehensibly inappropriate hardons, but. Because things always go wrong.
Tonight was supposed to be easy. Derek sits up, still not forcing Tate away from him, and he reaches for another beer, cracking open his third. He takes a swig, arches his neck back when he swallows, adam's apple bobbing. He wipes his lips on the back of his mouth, then slowly tilts his head towards Tate. ]
How is this not weird to you?