[ Derek doesn't look back at Tate. He just says, kind of confidently, kind of like he's bragging - ]
I made you come pretty fucking hard, bro.
[ - which is kind of fucking terrible, because bro just slips out of him without his notice. That fifteen year old jock dude who wanted to become a professional basketball player is rearing his ugly head, and it's honestly the worst thing. The worst possible thing.
Derek grabs the sweats and throws them over to Tate, walking naked across the platform and very narrowly managing to avoid slipping in a particularly nasty puddle of cold, cold cum. Derek decides halfway through picking up his clothes that he's not gonna get dressed again. No point. He kicks his jeans and his boxers and his ruined shirt into a little pile for the morning and then just - saunters on back.
After a pause, Derek wriggles down into the sleeping bag, patting the fabric and silently telling Tate that he's willing to share now. There's... nothing to say that Tate's going to be okay with Derek sleeping up against him, naked as the day he was born, but it feels like there's been a shift in how they are around each other, now. Tate talked so fucking heavily about how they were pack, about how he should trust him, and - well, Derek trusts him. Derek trusts him with everything. He wants to share everything with Tate, from here on out. That's how pack should be. ]
no subject
I made you come pretty fucking hard, bro.
[ - which is kind of fucking terrible, because bro just slips out of him without his notice. That fifteen year old jock dude who wanted to become a professional basketball player is rearing his ugly head, and it's honestly the worst thing. The worst possible thing.
Derek grabs the sweats and throws them over to Tate, walking naked across the platform and very narrowly managing to avoid slipping in a particularly nasty puddle of cold, cold cum. Derek decides halfway through picking up his clothes that he's not gonna get dressed again. No point. He kicks his jeans and his boxers and his ruined shirt into a little pile for the morning and then just - saunters on back.
After a pause, Derek wriggles down into the sleeping bag, patting the fabric and silently telling Tate that he's willing to share now. There's... nothing to say that Tate's going to be okay with Derek sleeping up against him, naked as the day he was born, but it feels like there's been a shift in how they are around each other, now. Tate talked so fucking heavily about how they were pack, about how he should trust him, and - well, Derek trusts him. Derek trusts him with everything. He wants to share everything with Tate, from here on out. That's how pack should be. ]
C'mon. It's late.