[ It takes Derek-- a while, to remember where he is. To come down from the ridiculous fucking animalistic high of his orgasm and stop his body from trembling. Tate whispers I can't right against his ear and Derek panics, in that way where his body reacts before his head does; he feels a jolt of worry before he realizes that voice belongs to Tate and reasons out what he means. That he's exhausted, that he's wrecked. The same as Derek.
The lack of sleep he's had tonight fucking gets to him. Derek steadily, steadily withdraws himself from Tate's ass, feeling a little alone when he loses the warm heat of him. His chest aches like he's been breathing too hard for his lungs to keep up with. He doesn't disentangle himself from Tate, even though he should - he just drops his arm around his side, heavy and dead. ]
Fuck.
[ It comes out more like fhck, because Derek's dropped his head down, his lip pulled back by the bicep he's using as a pillow and slurring because of it. Derek swallows, looking at Tate with a smile that's more dopey and drained than anything else. Derek looks almost blissful. That was... that was really, really fucking good. He feels fucked out. Drained. Happy. ]
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The lack of sleep he's had tonight fucking gets to him. Derek steadily, steadily withdraws himself from Tate's ass, feeling a little alone when he loses the warm heat of him. His chest aches like he's been breathing too hard for his lungs to keep up with. He doesn't disentangle himself from Tate, even though he should - he just drops his arm around his side, heavy and dead. ]
Fuck.
[ It comes out more like fhck, because Derek's dropped his head down, his lip pulled back by the bicep he's using as a pillow and slurring because of it. Derek swallows, looking at Tate with a smile that's more dopey and drained than anything else. Derek looks almost blissful. That was... that was really, really fucking good. He feels fucked out. Drained. Happy. ]
Gonna... m'gonna pass out. I think.