[ Tate's coming and Derek's growling again, harsh and reverberating. Incendiary. He misses most of Tate's climax, too focused on himself to see what's coming - Tate blows his load and stains his boxers and the inside of his jeans, and Derek barely gets the last shot of it on his tongue when he rushes back down, sealing the clothed head of Tate's cock between his lips and sucking. He laps up that last, pearly white shot of cum like he's found an oasis in the desert, moaning like the eager slut he is. The eager slut Tate turns him into.
He fucks Tate's throat like he doesn't remember he needs to breathe. It's rough and erratic, and every time he grazes over the edges of his teeth or fucks up his angle and slams into the back of Tate's throat hard enough to wind him, he just growls again, like he's frustrated. He's writhing a little on top of Tate, pinning him down against the floor without giving him any means of escape, and the curled fingernails against his skin, the scratches that actually start to hurt - it just encourages him.
Finally, finally, he forces Tate to deepthroat him for the third and final time, stretching him open. He looks down his own chest with cum dripping from his lip and sees the bulge of his cock stretching in Tate's throat, and that's enough to make him shoot. He yells fuck like he's in tears, he yells Tate like he's the one who can't breathe. He's a fucking wreck.
He shoots his first jet of cum down Tate's throat as deep as he can get it. He pulls back, blasts the second on his tongue, and then pulls himself entirely from Tate's mouth. He reaches down and jerks himself off as fast as he can - slippery and messy, because his cock's never been this lubed up before - and he blows the rest of his climax on Tate's face, shaking like he's freezing but feeling like he's on fire. He paints Tate's face white, marking him, claiming him, and when he's done - when he's done -
He collapses, rolling off of Tate and laying on his back, arms stretched and cock still pulsing the last few drips of cum he has left in him. He breathes in a rasping, hard breath, and then another, and then it evens out. His ears are pounding and the world is spinning and he's...
no subject
He fucks Tate's throat like he doesn't remember he needs to breathe. It's rough and erratic, and every time he grazes over the edges of his teeth or fucks up his angle and slams into the back of Tate's throat hard enough to wind him, he just growls again, like he's frustrated. He's writhing a little on top of Tate, pinning him down against the floor without giving him any means of escape, and the curled fingernails against his skin, the scratches that actually start to hurt - it just encourages him.
Finally, finally, he forces Tate to deepthroat him for the third and final time, stretching him open. He looks down his own chest with cum dripping from his lip and sees the bulge of his cock stretching in Tate's throat, and that's enough to make him shoot. He yells fuck like he's in tears, he yells Tate like he's the one who can't breathe. He's a fucking wreck.
He shoots his first jet of cum down Tate's throat as deep as he can get it. He pulls back, blasts the second on his tongue, and then pulls himself entirely from Tate's mouth. He reaches down and jerks himself off as fast as he can - slippery and messy, because his cock's never been this lubed up before - and he blows the rest of his climax on Tate's face, shaking like he's freezing but feeling like he's on fire. He paints Tate's face white, marking him, claiming him, and when he's done - when he's done -
He collapses, rolling off of Tate and laying on his back, arms stretched and cock still pulsing the last few drips of cum he has left in him. He breathes in a rasping, hard breath, and then another, and then it evens out. His ears are pounding and the world is spinning and he's...
Exhausted. ]