[ Tate's turning this around on him. What would I like to do to you. Derek swallows, still running too warm, even with his jacket behind him. He pushes himself up higher on his forearms, bridging more of the distance between himself and what's being done to him.
Derek's always been contradictory - he wants nothing more than to take care of people, to protect them and to satisfy them and to make them happy, but - he's demanding, and he can be selfish, and the needs he has, the needs he wants to be met, he always feels them at eleven. He wants to fuck and take and win, he wants to come and be serviced and stay in control. He wants to be dominant, an apex predator, he wants to be wanted.
Right now, Tate's playing with both of those fires. What would I like to do to you - he's fixated on that. It's going straight to his cock. ]
Fuck.
[ Try as he might to seem as unemotionally, clinically neutral as he can about all of this, his body's betraying him. He gets to full hardness pretty fucking quickly once he's playing with his balls, another thread of precum running down his shaft to meet Tate's tongue as it swipes over the underside of it, and while he might not be able to see him in the dark, it's hard to miss how gifted he's been. He's a two-hand job. Derek's stomach flips when Tate shifts in closer, and - and he knows what's about to happen before it happens, but when Tate seals him in the tight, wet warmth of his mouth, Derek feels like he's been punched in the stomach.
Fuck. Fuck. Derek spreads his legs wider, keeping his eyes open even as they start to sting. Nervously, he slips his fingers back through Tate's hair. He doesn't... do anything, he just holds his hand there. Silent, inactive encouragement. ]
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Derek's always been contradictory - he wants nothing more than to take care of people, to protect them and to satisfy them and to make them happy, but - he's demanding, and he can be selfish, and the needs he has, the needs he wants to be met, he always feels them at eleven. He wants to fuck and take and win, he wants to come and be serviced and stay in control. He wants to be dominant, an apex predator, he wants to be wanted.
Right now, Tate's playing with both of those fires. What would I like to do to you - he's fixated on that. It's going straight to his cock. ]
Fuck.
[ Try as he might to seem as unemotionally, clinically neutral as he can about all of this, his body's betraying him. He gets to full hardness pretty fucking quickly once he's playing with his balls, another thread of precum running down his shaft to meet Tate's tongue as it swipes over the underside of it, and while he might not be able to see him in the dark, it's hard to miss how gifted he's been. He's a two-hand job. Derek's stomach flips when Tate shifts in closer, and - and he knows what's about to happen before it happens, but when Tate seals him in the tight, wet warmth of his mouth, Derek feels like he's been punched in the stomach.
Fuck. Fuck. Derek spreads his legs wider, keeping his eyes open even as they start to sting. Nervously, he slips his fingers back through Tate's hair. He doesn't... do anything, he just holds his hand there. Silent, inactive encouragement. ]