[Tate likes the way Derek sounds when he's pleased, when he's being pleasured - that low rumbling groan that makes Tate's ears buzz to hear it. He's busy with his mouth full, sucking and swirling his tongue in repetitive tracks against the warmth of his cock before he hears Derek's voice sound strained in the air between them. He looks up, peels back, chin damp and rubbed clean against his shoulder while he looks at Derek and how he's sprawled out.

God, just having one finger in him feels - exciting. The tightness, the friction, the heat of him cinched around him... just makes Tate want to fuck him harder, faster and with something a lot different than the crooked knuckle of his middle finger. He presses in deeper, pulling out slow while he catches a breath and looks at Derek with his other hand still pumping at the base of his cock.]

I... I want to. Will you help me?

[Tate doesn't think - doesn't know that he can but he's still willing to try. And by having Derek help he means something very specific, which he's not sure he'd oblige. So he has to think for a moment more, finger plunging back into Derek and burying past the second knuckle. He exhales hard and then licks at his lip.]

Don't let me stop. Not until I do it, or you come, okay? Can you... Are you okay with that? Forcing me, if I ask you to? To help me along.