[ Derek never really feels like he deserves intimacy. It's a constant struggle with Stiles, though he does his best not to show it; he's afraid of letting him down or ruining him the way he did with Paige, or the way Kate did to him. With Tate, it's different, but there's that same self-defeating gravity crushing him from the inside when things get too far - who's to say he won't let him burn, one day, like the rest of his pack? Who's to say he won't cradle Tate's dead body, like he one day will Erica's? Why does he think he's earned the right to be this close to somebody he cares about? Why does he think he's allowed to care about them in the first place?
But it's - intoxicating. It's fulfilling, and every time, try as he might to pull himself back and stay in isolation, Derek just wants more. Tate strokes the two of them together and Derek feels his body go tense. He leans with restrained subtlety into every touch Tate gives him, moving into Tate's breath, rolling his hips to fuck up into his hand. He doesn't deserve this, but - it's all he wants? A mess of hands and more locked away in the overwhelming heat of a single sleeping bag with somebody he thinks the world of, while the rest of the world lives in the darkness and the cold around them. ]
... Yeah.
[ Just his fingers. Derek swallows, holding his head back to give Tate more access to his throat, and he moves his hand back from Tate's thighs, back up to his hole again. Precum might not be lube enough for Tate to open up for him, but - it's enough of a start. He presses one finger to his muscle, and then another. Not penetrating, but - preparing to. ]
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But it's - intoxicating. It's fulfilling, and every time, try as he might to pull himself back and stay in isolation, Derek just wants more. Tate strokes the two of them together and Derek feels his body go tense. He leans with restrained subtlety into every touch Tate gives him, moving into Tate's breath, rolling his hips to fuck up into his hand. He doesn't deserve this, but - it's all he wants? A mess of hands and more locked away in the overwhelming heat of a single sleeping bag with somebody he thinks the world of, while the rest of the world lives in the darkness and the cold around them. ]
... Yeah.
[ Just his fingers. Derek swallows, holding his head back to give Tate more access to his throat, and he moves his hand back from Tate's thighs, back up to his hole again. Precum might not be lube enough for Tate to open up for him, but - it's enough of a start. He presses one finger to his muscle, and then another. Not penetrating, but - preparing to. ]
Last thing I'd want to do is hurt you.