[Tate's lips part ever so slightly when Derek holds his neck, feeling expectant of something that doesn't come. He'd lean against his palm if he had a few seconds more to react, but Derek pulls away and Tate sits back on his calves and touches his fingertips to his adam's apple gingerly, feeling sore and hoarse - wondering how long it'll last before it fades on him. He's still thinking of the kiss, wondering if he did right by it, but when Derek's up and looking for his clothes all it takes is a glance at his dick to think he did.
Christ.
He looks down at himself, raising his brows at the mess in his jeans before giving an absently agreeing shrug. Takes an attempt to get up on his feet, feeling more exposed than ever when he starts peeling off his sneakers and jeans. Boxers are definitely toast, but are the jeans that bad? He holds them up to Derek, raising his brows.]
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Christ.
He looks down at himself, raising his brows at the mess in his jeans before giving an absently agreeing shrug. Takes an attempt to get up on his feet, feeling more exposed than ever when he starts peeling off his sneakers and jeans. Boxers are definitely toast, but are the jeans that bad? He holds them up to Derek, raising his brows.]
They really that bad? What do your wolf eyes see?