[Tate says that - quick and almost amused, because after everything's said and done? It is pretty funny. He gets comfortable on the back seat, arranging his legs and slouching enough that he's actually comfortable before he moves around to feel which pocket he put them in again. He sticks his hand in, but doesn't yet pull it out. They're tucked away from the world inside the car and - like the booth - it makes it their space. Tate's still so visibly relaxed, he ends up laughing.]
I don't know if I wanna see what they look like. What if I look like a total slut?
[He's - shifting again, this time drawing out the photos, which stack up in his hand.]
[ Derek's not at the point where this is funny, but. Tate feeling like that is something of a relief, cutting Derek short when he starts to spiral and panic about whether or not this whole debacle is a fucking be-all end-all sign that their contract is doomed to be an embarrassing failure from the start. He's not sure he's got the guts to ask Tate to show him the photos, but he kicks the car into gear, pulling out and driving out towards his and Stiles' place. ]
[He doesn't trust the sea not to carry these into someone else's horny hands. He's flipping through them with a few groans, one or two made by being jostled in how he's laying by the car should it go over a bump or two. But the rest of his attention is on flicking through the photos, caught at various intervals of them going at it. A lot of Tate from behind, perched and sinking into Derek's lap and Derek shredding his shirt.
To be honest, some of these make Tate feel aroused again - seeing what it looks like to have a cock up his ass? It's embarrassing, wholly, and yet his cock is twitching in his pants like it wants a little more. You can't, in the angle of this shot, really tell it's Tate aside from the messy blond hair. He'd probably jerk off to this if it wasn't him. Might... jerk off to it, even though it is him.
He keeps flipping through photos but decides it's time to be honest:]
[ Great, cool. Derek laughs, humorless and forced, quietly wanting to die. Better to burn them than to let poor Stiles stumble across them. Or Kavinsky. Or - anyone, really. This whole fucking in public thing would have been a better idea if Derek didn't have, like, a thousand people he wanted to keep his sex life with Tate seperate from.
Tate mentions the screen on the booth, and no, Derek didn't see that. He looks into the rearview mirror, tries to get a better glimpse of Tate, but it's hard, given where he's laying. Derek pays attention to the road again. ]
[Or good ass, depending on what was probably on display. Tate is still preoccupied looking through the photos, trying to find one of Derek's dick that showcases how bizarrely huge it gets when he's really worked up. The more he looks through these and gets past the embarrassment of them existing, the more he... wants to keep them. Tucked away in a loose floorboard space in the loft, where only he can find them. Maybe he'll do that.]
It showed what was going on in the booth. So while we have the mementos, anyone nearby had a free show.
[Tate's - adjusted to the idea now, and now that he's removed from the location? He no longer cares about how it made him feel at the time. People aren't looking at him like a pet anymore, so... he can forget about it. He laughs again though, sitting up a bit to toss a photo over the passenger side headrest, letting it rest on the cushioned seat. It shows Derek pounding in to Tate, but with a little pixel border of balloons. Guess some of them had filters after all.]
[ Oh, that's-- horrible news, Derek's pretty sure they're going to end up on the fucking internet, then, sooner or later. Derek groans, grip on the steering wheel getting tighter and knuckles going white. He's not entirely sure if he's angry, embarrassed or kind of horny, but either way, it's not a great vibe. He again tries to find Tate in the rearview mirror, just barely managing to see the corner of his arm as he holds out a photo for Derek to take.
He reaches back, sees the balloons, sees Tate's ass, sees his dick, and then he's rapidly slapping at Tate's hand to take it back. Nope. Still too soon. Definitely embarrassing. He'll look when he gets home. ]
Gonna make me crash the car.
[ God. God? God. He drives a little faster. ]
You're a bad influence on me, you know. I'm not fucking Stiles out in public. We use a bed, like normal people. Or, like - a car. Sometimes the couch. The shower. The kitchen, one time. But.
[ ... actually they got together in the first place because they jerked each other off in a room full of people, so. Derek, uh. Derek driiiiives a little faster. ]
I met Peter in an alley. I could be the bad influence too.
[But he's not sure how he feels about knowing where Derek's fucked Stiles, for some reason. Doesn't put him off but it also doesn't really interest him. It does remind him of the awkward handjob he shared with Stiles, something that makes his hip shift in a way he's grateful to have excuses to hide the reason for. Photos. Post-fuck bliss. Bumpy car. He hasn't thought about Stiles that way since that day, and he's gotta stick that back away in the recesses of his mind. Never happened.
He smiles though, smug and satisfied when Derek tells him he's going to be distracting and speeds up as a result. Tate can feel the car go faster and has no qualms with it. He'd survive a crash. So would Derek. Makes him think of a few things for a future ride, when he really is in the front seat with him and able to be even more of a distraction. Tate rests the photos on his chest and lays back against the seat, his hand slipping down his pants just to adjust himself and also... yeah, still covered in cum.]
[ Maybe they're just bad for each other, then. It's just a thought that drifts through him in passing, here one minute and gone the next. Derek doesn't realize how right he is. ]
Not gonna stop you.
[ If Tate wants to keep the photos, Tate gets to keep the photos. Derek... likes that Tate isn't gonna throw all of them away, and he can't exactly hide that, given the smile that betrays him by creeping into his voice, but he's sure as shit not going to admit that he wants to keep some too. He just keeps driving, heading home. ]
I can tell what you're doing, you know. Your heartbeat's picking up.
[Tate's immediate response is an embarrassed one, mostly because he wasn't actually going to touch himself the way it veeeery obviously looks like he was. His heart hitches predictably and there's heat in his face, his hand still tucked down his waistband with his fingers resting against his stomach. He sighs, like he's annoyed (at getting caught,) before relaxing away from that shameful twinge and then actually wrapping his fingers around his dick. Not exactly hard. Not exactly that horny. But.]
Just - keep your eyes on the road. And your ears outta my chest.
[ Derek - laughs. Tate's annoyed, and Derek always did love to annoy him. He's grinning a little, tongue pressed to the inside of his lip to try and rein it in. A part of him just wants to pull the car over and slip into the back seat for a while. Another part of him just wants to drive even faster. ]
That... was pretty fun. I don't think we've ever been together like that. I felt like if I didn't get my hands on you, I'd literally die.
[Tate's teasing, evident by the tone of his voice and the thrilling thud of his heart when he gets to feel satisfied with the fact he was alluring to Derek. That he's got - a hook in him, something that he wants. That maybe he can't replace. Tate feels wanted and it makes him radiate a special kind of happiness, mingled with a sexual spark as he quietly jerks off lazily to the concept of them. He loosens his jeans to aid in the gesture - which is languid and slow, since he's not exactly popping a tent.]
I liked it. I uh, I really...
[Mmh. He lolls back his head so his face can't really be seen, and breathes in the scent of the seats as he tries to wonder why he's even saying this:]
Your fault. I needed you. I don't need just anyone like that.
[ It's... amazing, as always, to hear Tate admit that he likes the more animalistic sides of Derek, the parts of him so innately tied to his lycanthropy. He smiles a little less, but not because he's any less happy; he can hear the rustle of fabric and the sound of skin on skin, and suddenly this all feels a little more serious. ]
It was just - kind of a rush. Signing. It didn't hit me until we were getting our photos taken, but - we're in a contract. I can give you everything I have, now, I can - I can take care of you. Make every day feel amazing. I can give you a future, I can show you how much I care about you.
[ Faster, faster. Nearly at the beach, now. Derek misses a red light and doesn't even notice. ]
You can sleep over without having to go home to someone else. That's - exciting.
['I don't need just anyone like that' and I can give you everything I have, now, I can - I can take care of you' are some of the best things Tate's had told to him, and they sing right into his heart. He's jerking himself a little firmer now, taking that praise like it's its own brand of dirty talk. His chest rises and falls a little deeper now, the more he thinks about how Derek owns him. Really, really owns him. There's no mistaking his pack - no abandonment on the horizon. For the next three months, Derek belongs to him as much as he belongs to Derek.]
Yeah. Yea... h.
[He gets a bit breathy there, for obvious reasons.]
[ Fuck. Derek's been calming down, bit by bit, but Tate is filling the car with his scent and his sounds and Derek doesn't have the control or self-denial needed to get through this without wanting to go another round. The beach is just up ahead, and Derek hits the last long stretch of road leading out there. ]
Don't come without me.
[ When he gets to the beach, he parks the car at a sharp, sudden angle, shutting off the engine as quick as he can. Derek's breath hitches when he tries to talk. ]
You wanna go inside, or do you want me to come back there?
[That's Tate's response, his hand still gliding over his cock - it's kind of disgusting but still hot that Derek's cooling cum is still leaking out of him like this. Marking him up to be a real sloppy mess, especially on a second round. He's still loose and admittedly sore, but not as badly as he was when they parted at the booth. Derek took some of his pain and Tate's already mended enough that when he arches his back to fuck into his fist, it's not total agony.
He's got one foot up on the back seat and one down on the floor of the car, knees already parted as he jerks himself off under his clothes. He wants Derek to pry the fucking door off in his haste to get back here, so he lets out another soft groan that's purposely wanton to make him scramble. Tate got a hit of pleasure knowing Derek couldn't wait to fuck him. He wants another dose of that, another fucking certainty that he's wanted by someone here.]
[ Fuck, fine. Derek makes this annoyed, short-tempered noise, rhythmically hitting the heel of his palm against the steering wheel as he impatiently gets the drivers door open. He gets out and almost trips on his way to the back, getting Tate's door open and ignoring the unpleasant tone from the car reminding them to shut the doors.
Tate looks - amazing, like always, and Derek doesn't climb in, not right away,he barely has room. He just takes Tate in a quick, upside-down kiss, using just enough teeth to show that he's annoyed with Tate for getting him going again before he's even made it to the fucking treehouse. ]
[Tate nips back, lips wet from their kiss - he's peeling his jeans farther open, slipping them down his hips with one hand and flashing Derek a sight of his cock in the other with a lazy laugh. He likes pushing his buttons, he likes - the challenge, the heat. He wants Derek to just pry him apart right now and the heat radiating off of him paired with the allured heartbeat and smell of sex in the air is an easy tell.
Tate complies only by moving his knee a slight bit, sloping his back more against the back of the seat than the bench itself - not creating a lot of space but there isn't much to begin with. He can feel a faint breeze coming in from the open door and just lolls his head back, dark eyes watching Derek as he makes a show of moving his hand farther down - biting his lip as he fingers himself.]
[ Tate's teasing him, and any other day, Derek might have been able to just roll his eyes and act unaffected - but this is their day, this is the start of three full months of being pack. All Tate has to do is look at him and Derek gets filled with this desperate, lonely need for him, and he doesn't have the wherewithal to hide it.
Derek makes another noise, wanton and frustrated, eyes stuck on Tate's dick, on his fucking hand. It's gonna be an awkward fit, so Derek strips down now to make it easier, taking a step back to start peeling off his jeans and underwear as quickly as he can, standing on one leg as he pulls off his boxers and slaps at the driver's door to close it. He gets bare from the waist down, dropping his clothes in a pile outside, and then he's crawling over Tate, shutting the back seat door behind him, too.
He's hitting his head on the roof and whispering hard, annoyed fuck oh my gods as he crouchwalks to the far seat, manoeuvring himself as best as he can. It takes a bit of work, but Derek ends up kneeling on the seat between Tate's legs, already exhausted from the effort of getting here - but he's warm and victorious when he tugs on Tate's wrist and takes over for his finger, dragging two of his own over Tate's hole and marvelling a little at the feeling of his own cum keeping him lubed and ready. Derek - Derek just wants to fuck him until daybreak. They can't stop. ]
[Tate laughs, just light and amused as Derek strips and joins him with a chorus of cursing in the cramped space. He doesn't care enough to chide him for not just walking around to the other door because he's starting to feel that same needy way. He wants Derek again, he wants him now and he wants to know he's got him. All he has to do is crook his finger and Derek comes to him, that's all he wants to have.
He's pushed his jeans down to his knees and his boxers too, working them off one leg before Derek comes crashing in to make him stop. The foot on the ground now has his clothes twisted around it, but he's mostly bare now - except for Derek's jacket that's still on him. He sits up on his elbows to try and shrug it off. It's deja vu for that suffocatingly trapped feleing of not being able to get his arms free. He freezes though, dropping back against the seat when Derek's fingers take over and he lifts his hips.]
Shit - c'mon, c'mon. Break me in a little more - I know you want to.
[ Fuck. Fuck, Derek wants nothing more than to stretch Tate open again, feel the tight, compressing warmth around his cock instead of his fingers. He's already an inch deep on Tate, his fingers sucked in like they're being fucking welcomed, like they belong to Tate as much as Tate belongs to him. Derek's so fucking needy, barely keeping himself from whimpering a little when he curls his knuckle and Tate tells him to break him. Neither of them are gonna be able to walk by tomorrow morning.
Tate tugs at his jacket and Derek sets his other hand on his chest, leaning his weight on his ribs for support while stopping him from moving his arms too much. Tate looks beautiful in his jacket. Derek doesn't want to lose that image. ]
Leave it on.
[ He finds a rhythm, fucking Tate with his fingers with minimal restraint. He's stroking through him with long, practice strokes, brushing up against his prostate every fourth or fifth thrust, but it's taking all his willpower to stop himself from going hard. They need to pace themselves - or at least attempt to. ]
We should - we should take more photos. I don't - I don't ever want to forget how you look right now.
[There's always a period like this, right before they get to it that seems to stretch on indefinitely. Derek's got his fingers in him, finding a rhythm in how he fucks him - deep and smooth, knuckles curved to his inner wall and making his leg bounce a little each time it rubs him the right way. He's hard now, cock rising in the loose curl of his fingers as he rocks his hips just gently enough to work with what Derek's doing.
Derek wants him in the jacket and - he's a bit annoyed, if only because he can feel sweat sticking to his skin inside it but it's fine. He'll bear through it, head lolled back and a challenged range of motion to his arms. All that matters is he can jerk off his dick and get a bit of a grip on Derek. His fingers skim his thigh but drop back down to the seat when he groans, low and hoarse.]
Okay? If... If you want.
[Tate can't tell if he really means now or not, but he's not about to say no. This isn't their first foray into it and he still remembers the feeling of Derek lifting his phone to capture a snapshot of him when he had his cock knotted into his face. The booth was fun for its own right, but - this? This is... something he can give Derek, much like the first time. He gestures to the floor of the car, where his device has fallen to.]
[ Man, he doesn't want Tate to bear through anything - Derek can feel the mild bubble of irritation emanating from Tate, and Derek rolls his eyes a little, more amused than anything else. ]
Just for a second. Look -
[ He pulls his hand from Tate's chest, fingers stilling in Tate while he gropes the floor blindly for his phone, and when he finds it, unlocks it and navigates to the camera app, he takes a few short, quick photos of Tate, stretched out beneath him. Derek thinks he looks beautiful like this - the tousled curls, the light sheen of sweat, the flush of pink on his chest, the contrast of pale skin against dark, black leather. Derek turns the phone around, showing Tate, finding a slower rhythm with each push and pull of his fingers. ]
Look at you. Tell me that isn't the hottest you've ever looked.
[Tate's never really had an issue with the way he looks, it was always other things that weighed on him in life and even after death. He hated hearing his mother praise him for his cherubic looks but when facing himself in the mirror he... felt nothing. He was, to his knowledge, average to okay looking and - hot, maybe, to some people. It's knowing that he turns people on that he likes, that victory in using what he has for his own gains. So he looks at himself in the photo and finds it briefly difficult to have an opinion. He looks lewd and he'd othertimes perhaps feel embarrassed or ashamed maybe at letting this exist - photos of him writhing with someone's fingers up his ass - but right now he's horny. He likes it, he decides, after a quick stare and a stealing glance upward at Derek.
Derek likes it. So Tate smiles slightly, lip twitching as he nods. Then he groans, feeling Derek's fingers in him and enjoying the debasement. His toes curl and he lifts up again, fucking up into Derek's hand and deciding then and there that they might as well... have some fun? He laughs, face red from exertion.]
I'm surprised you're not recording it. I might not ever look this hot again? Maybe you should.
[ Derek takes Tate's reaction as... shyness, over anything else. He knows bits and pieces of his relationship with his own appearance, and it's something Derek can actually relate to pretty well, which might be part of why he's doing this. Leaning into compliments, telling Tate he looks good, pairing that with healthy admiration for everything else about him - Derek wants to give him confidence, Derek wants to make Tate feel like he's perfect just the way he is without having to meet anyone's expectations or change to fit into their preconceived notions, and maybe telling Tate he looks beautiful when he's feeling good and falling apart is a step towards that.
So - he swipes the camera input over to video, lets his thumb hover over record - lets his thumb hover over stream to network - but he passes over that one. He starts filming Tate, lost, a little, in watching him on screen, arching his back and leaning back onto his fingers. Derek presses in a little deeper, a little faster, feeling cum run down his hand and making him almost shake with how badly he needs to progress this. Slowly, Derek draws his hand back, rubbing his last load over his cock, getting lubed and ready. ]
I hear people make money from this kinda stuff online now. Camming, or so-something.
[Tate's attempt at nonchalant teasing is botched when his monotone voice hitches, leg kicking a bit harder when Derek's fingers thrust into him deeper then they have before. He can feel himself flexing against his knuckles, the wet sound of Derek's hand a little louder as he speeds up. When he pulls away Tate makes a sound of distress, reaching down to cup his cock again and looks straight up at Derek - first through the camera, then into his eyes.]
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[Tate says that - quick and almost amused, because after everything's said and done? It is pretty funny. He gets comfortable on the back seat, arranging his legs and slouching enough that he's actually comfortable before he moves around to feel which pocket he put them in again. He sticks his hand in, but doesn't yet pull it out. They're tucked away from the world inside the car and - like the booth - it makes it their space. Tate's still so visibly relaxed, he ends up laughing.]
I don't know if I wanna see what they look like. What if I look like a total slut?
[He's - shifting again, this time drawing out the photos, which stack up in his hand.]
Jeeeeesus...
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That doesn't sound good.
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[He doesn't trust the sea not to carry these into someone else's horny hands. He's flipping through them with a few groans, one or two made by being jostled in how he's laying by the car should it go over a bump or two. But the rest of his attention is on flicking through the photos, caught at various intervals of them going at it. A lot of Tate from behind, perched and sinking into Derek's lap and Derek shredding his shirt.
To be honest, some of these make Tate feel aroused again - seeing what it looks like to have a cock up his ass? It's embarrassing, wholly, and yet his cock is twitching in his pants like it wants a little more. You can't, in the angle of this shot, really tell it's Tate aside from the messy blond hair. He'd probably jerk off to this if it wasn't him. Might... jerk off to it, even though it is him.
He keeps flipping through photos but decides it's time to be honest:]
Did you see the screen on the booth? The outside.
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Tate mentions the screen on the booth, and no, Derek didn't see that. He looks into the rearview mirror, tries to get a better glimpse of Tate, but it's hard, given where he's laying. Derek pays attention to the road again. ]
Uh. No. That doesn't sound good, either.
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[Or good ass, depending on what was probably on display. Tate is still preoccupied looking through the photos, trying to find one of Derek's dick that showcases how bizarrely huge it gets when he's really worked up. The more he looks through these and gets past the embarrassment of them existing, the more he... wants to keep them. Tucked away in a loose floorboard space in the loft, where only he can find them. Maybe he'll do that.]
It showed what was going on in the booth. So while we have the mementos, anyone nearby had a free show.
[Tate's - adjusted to the idea now, and now that he's removed from the location? He no longer cares about how it made him feel at the time. People aren't looking at him like a pet anymore, so... he can forget about it. He laughs again though, sitting up a bit to toss a photo over the passenger side headrest, letting it rest on the cushioned seat. It shows Derek pounding in to Tate, but with a little pixel border of balloons. Guess some of them had filters after all.]
Take a look at that one.
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He reaches back, sees the balloons, sees Tate's ass, sees his dick, and then he's rapidly slapping at Tate's hand to take it back. Nope. Still too soon. Definitely embarrassing. He'll look when he gets home. ]
Gonna make me crash the car.
[ God. God? God. He drives a little faster. ]
You're a bad influence on me, you know. I'm not fucking Stiles out in public. We use a bed, like normal people. Or, like - a car. Sometimes the couch. The shower. The kitchen, one time. But.
[ ... actually they got together in the first place because they jerked each other off in a room full of people, so. Derek, uh. Derek driiiiives a little faster. ]
Maybe I'm the bad influence.
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[But he's not sure how he feels about knowing where Derek's fucked Stiles, for some reason. Doesn't put him off but it also doesn't really interest him. It does remind him of the awkward handjob he shared with Stiles, something that makes his hip shift in a way he's grateful to have excuses to hide the reason for. Photos. Post-fuck bliss. Bumpy car. He hasn't thought about Stiles that way since that day, and he's gotta stick that back away in the recesses of his mind. Never happened.
He smiles though, smug and satisfied when Derek tells him he's going to be distracting and speeds up as a result. Tate can feel the car go faster and has no qualms with it. He'd survive a crash. So would Derek. Makes him think of a few things for a future ride, when he really is in the front seat with him and able to be even more of a distraction. Tate rests the photos on his chest and lays back against the seat, his hand slipping down his pants just to adjust himself and also... yeah, still covered in cum.]
I might actually keep a few of these.
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Not gonna stop you.
[ If Tate wants to keep the photos, Tate gets to keep the photos. Derek... likes that Tate isn't gonna throw all of them away, and he can't exactly hide that, given the smile that betrays him by creeping into his voice, but he's sure as shit not going to admit that he wants to keep some too. He just keeps driving, heading home. ]
I can tell what you're doing, you know. Your heartbeat's picking up.
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[Tate's immediate response is an embarrassed one, mostly because he wasn't actually going to touch himself the way it veeeery obviously looks like he was. His heart hitches predictably and there's heat in his face, his hand still tucked down his waistband with his fingers resting against his stomach. He sighs, like he's annoyed (at getting caught,) before relaxing away from that shameful twinge and then actually wrapping his fingers around his dick. Not exactly hard. Not exactly that horny. But.]
Just - keep your eyes on the road. And your ears outta my chest.
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That... was pretty fun. I don't think we've ever been together like that. I felt like if I didn't get my hands on you, I'd literally die.
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[Tate's teasing, evident by the tone of his voice and the thrilling thud of his heart when he gets to feel satisfied with the fact he was alluring to Derek. That he's got - a hook in him, something that he wants. That maybe he can't replace. Tate feels wanted and it makes him radiate a special kind of happiness, mingled with a sexual spark as he quietly jerks off lazily to the concept of them. He loosens his jeans to aid in the gesture - which is languid and slow, since he's not exactly popping a tent.]
I liked it. I uh, I really...
[Mmh. He lolls back his head so his face can't really be seen, and breathes in the scent of the seats as he tries to wonder why he's even saying this:]
I really like it when you get that... excited.
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[ It's... amazing, as always, to hear Tate admit that he likes the more animalistic sides of Derek, the parts of him so innately tied to his lycanthropy. He smiles a little less, but not because he's any less happy; he can hear the rustle of fabric and the sound of skin on skin, and suddenly this all feels a little more serious. ]
It was just - kind of a rush. Signing. It didn't hit me until we were getting our photos taken, but - we're in a contract. I can give you everything I have, now, I can - I can take care of you. Make every day feel amazing. I can give you a future, I can show you how much I care about you.
[ Faster, faster. Nearly at the beach, now. Derek misses a red light and doesn't even notice. ]
You can sleep over without having to go home to someone else. That's - exciting.
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Yeah. Yea... h.
[He gets a bit breathy there, for obvious reasons.]
I'm yours and I like it. I know.
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Don't come without me.
[ When he gets to the beach, he parks the car at a sharp, sudden angle, shutting off the engine as quick as he can. Derek's breath hitches when he tries to talk. ]
You wanna go inside, or do you want me to come back there?
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[That's Tate's response, his hand still gliding over his cock - it's kind of disgusting but still hot that Derek's cooling cum is still leaking out of him like this. Marking him up to be a real sloppy mess, especially on a second round. He's still loose and admittedly sore, but not as badly as he was when they parted at the booth. Derek took some of his pain and Tate's already mended enough that when he arches his back to fuck into his fist, it's not total agony.
He's got one foot up on the back seat and one down on the floor of the car, knees already parted as he jerks himself off under his clothes. He wants Derek to pry the fucking door off in his haste to get back here, so he lets out another soft groan that's purposely wanton to make him scramble. Tate got a hit of pleasure knowing Derek couldn't wait to fuck him. He wants another dose of that, another fucking certainty that he's wanted by someone here.]
If you think you can fit.
[Size joke. Haha.]
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Tate looks - amazing, like always, and Derek doesn't climb in, not right away,he barely has room. He just takes Tate in a quick, upside-down kiss, using just enough teeth to show that he's annoyed with Tate for getting him going again before he's even made it to the fucking treehouse. ]
Move. Let me in.
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[Tate nips back, lips wet from their kiss - he's peeling his jeans farther open, slipping them down his hips with one hand and flashing Derek a sight of his cock in the other with a lazy laugh. He likes pushing his buttons, he likes - the challenge, the heat. He wants Derek to just pry him apart right now and the heat radiating off of him paired with the allured heartbeat and smell of sex in the air is an easy tell.
Tate complies only by moving his knee a slight bit, sloping his back more against the back of the seat than the bench itself - not creating a lot of space but there isn't much to begin with. He can feel a faint breeze coming in from the open door and just lolls his head back, dark eyes watching Derek as he makes a show of moving his hand farther down - biting his lip as he fingers himself.]
I'm still pretty loose. You better hurry.
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Derek makes another noise, wanton and frustrated, eyes stuck on Tate's dick, on his fucking hand. It's gonna be an awkward fit, so Derek strips down now to make it easier, taking a step back to start peeling off his jeans and underwear as quickly as he can, standing on one leg as he pulls off his boxers and slaps at the driver's door to close it. He gets bare from the waist down, dropping his clothes in a pile outside, and then he's crawling over Tate, shutting the back seat door behind him, too.
He's hitting his head on the roof and whispering hard, annoyed fuck oh my gods as he crouchwalks to the far seat, manoeuvring himself as best as he can. It takes a bit of work, but Derek ends up kneeling on the seat between Tate's legs, already exhausted from the effort of getting here - but he's warm and victorious when he tugs on Tate's wrist and takes over for his finger, dragging two of his own over Tate's hole and marvelling a little at the feeling of his own cum keeping him lubed and ready. Derek - Derek just wants to fuck him until daybreak. They can't stop. ]
Jesus.
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He's pushed his jeans down to his knees and his boxers too, working them off one leg before Derek comes crashing in to make him stop. The foot on the ground now has his clothes twisted around it, but he's mostly bare now - except for Derek's jacket that's still on him. He sits up on his elbows to try and shrug it off. It's deja vu for that suffocatingly trapped feleing of not being able to get his arms free. He freezes though, dropping back against the seat when Derek's fingers take over and he lifts his hips.]
Shit - c'mon, c'mon. Break me in a little more - I know you want to.
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Tate tugs at his jacket and Derek sets his other hand on his chest, leaning his weight on his ribs for support while stopping him from moving his arms too much. Tate looks beautiful in his jacket. Derek doesn't want to lose that image. ]
Leave it on.
[ He finds a rhythm, fucking Tate with his fingers with minimal restraint. He's stroking through him with long, practice strokes, brushing up against his prostate every fourth or fifth thrust, but it's taking all his willpower to stop himself from going hard. They need to pace themselves - or at least attempt to. ]
We should - we should take more photos. I don't - I don't ever want to forget how you look right now.
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Derek wants him in the jacket and - he's a bit annoyed, if only because he can feel sweat sticking to his skin inside it but it's fine. He'll bear through it, head lolled back and a challenged range of motion to his arms. All that matters is he can jerk off his dick and get a bit of a grip on Derek. His fingers skim his thigh but drop back down to the seat when he groans, low and hoarse.]
Okay? If... If you want.
[Tate can't tell if he really means now or not, but he's not about to say no. This isn't their first foray into it and he still remembers the feeling of Derek lifting his phone to capture a snapshot of him when he had his cock knotted into his face. The booth was fun for its own right, but - this? This is... something he can give Derek, much like the first time. He gestures to the floor of the car, where his device has fallen to.]
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Just for a second. Look -
[ He pulls his hand from Tate's chest, fingers stilling in Tate while he gropes the floor blindly for his phone, and when he finds it, unlocks it and navigates to the camera app, he takes a few short, quick photos of Tate, stretched out beneath him. Derek thinks he looks beautiful like this - the tousled curls, the light sheen of sweat, the flush of pink on his chest, the contrast of pale skin against dark, black leather. Derek turns the phone around, showing Tate, finding a slower rhythm with each push and pull of his fingers. ]
Look at you. Tell me that isn't the hottest you've ever looked.
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Derek likes it. So Tate smiles slightly, lip twitching as he nods. Then he groans, feeling Derek's fingers in him and enjoying the debasement. His toes curl and he lifts up again, fucking up into Derek's hand and deciding then and there that they might as well... have some fun? He laughs, face red from exertion.]
I'm surprised you're not recording it. I might not ever look this hot again? Maybe you should.
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So - he swipes the camera input over to video, lets his thumb hover over record - lets his thumb hover over stream to network - but he passes over that one. He starts filming Tate, lost, a little, in watching him on screen, arching his back and leaning back onto his fingers. Derek presses in a little deeper, a little faster, feeling cum run down his hand and making him almost shake with how badly he needs to progress this. Slowly, Derek draws his hand back, rubbing his last load over his cock, getting lubed and ready. ]
We're turning you into a porn star.
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[Tate's attempt at nonchalant teasing is botched when his monotone voice hitches, leg kicking a bit harder when Derek's fingers thrust into him deeper then they have before. He can feel himself flexing against his knuckles, the wet sound of Derek's hand a little louder as he speeds up. When he pulls away Tate makes a sound of distress, reaching down to cup his cock again and looks straight up at Derek - first through the camera, then into his eyes.]
I'm waiting.
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