[ Nothing feels better than this. The pain bursting over his back as Tate scratches hard enough to almost, almost draw blood, the pressure of Tate's body milking his dick and demanding another load from him - it's stripping Derek free of whatever conscious thoughts he has, and he's barely aware of what he's doing when he bites shallow marks into Tate's neck and throat, pressing his entire body down on him with enough weight to make it hard for Tate to breathe.
It takes so much fucking force for Derek to tear Tate apart enough to hilt the full weight of his cock inside of him, but when he does, locking the two of them together in the enveloping heat of their own bodies, Tate blows his load. Derek doesn't, not yet, but the frantic spasms of his body and squeezing, clenching twists around his cock are making his toes curl and his vision go spotty, and Derek can't even whisper the encouraging things he always does when Tate comes, the whispers of good boy and keep going. He's just-- wrecked, pushing weakly into Tate despite already at his limit, tied in place by the swollen girth of his knot. ]
Nn.
[ There's cum on his stomach and blood on his shoulder, and the smell of sex and sweat in the air is making Derek needy and desperate. He pushes shallow, full-body thrusts into Tate to get what little friction he can when he's stuck this deep and incapable of pulling out, but it's the way Tate smiles at him, the way he looks satisfied and taken and his, it's the way his heartbeat ricochets around in Derek's own chest and makes him teary with affection and want and lust -- that's what makes him hit his edge. ]
C-coming. I'm gonna--
[ He yells, when he comes, body wracked with shudders that make his muscles scream with pain. He's holding eye contact, looking deep into black-brown colour as jet after jet of his load fills Tate up, locked into place by the unyielding seal of his knot. He collapses mid-climax, burying his nose back into Tate's shoulder and squeezing his entire body in the tightest bearhug he can, coming and coming and coming, and when he's finally, finally done, the world feels fuzzy and fake and underwater. He lets out a hard, rattling breath, and he just--
Stays there, on top of Tate, hypersensitive and still bucking hard into him every few seconds, even when there's nothing in him left. Fuck. ]
[Every little motion makes Tate react, muscles clenching and relaxing like he's being softly shocked. It's a weird feeling, much as it was when that knot was nestled behind his teeth - when Derek pulls back against him, he's forced to move with him as there's no give and sliding out. That hurts a bit - hurts a lot, actually - but Tate doesn't make a noise. He's too blissed out and fucking tired all of a sudden, still shuddering in the aftershock of his orgasm.
Sweat clings to his brow as he stares up at the roof of the car, feeling Derek's teeth scratch up his neck and throat. He looks into his eyes when he pulls back, staring right back at Derek when he comes - mesmerized by the look on his lover's face before curling his arms tight around him when he settles. His legs have relaxed but really have nowhere to go, the tight space of the car keeping them twisted up with Derek's.
This is the moment he's been wanting, the moment he's been looking forward to. They didn't have this, in the booth, because they had to scramble to put themselves back together and leave. They couldn't enjoy the afterglow the same way they couldn't take it farther than far. Tate felt but never felt Derek's knot then but he sure as hell does now as it still rocks into him even after he's blown his load. Tate's nails skim down his back, soothing swipes instead of dug in grooves. He can't really breathe easy but he manages because he likes the weight of Derek sitting on him like a rock.
He can't tell if he can feel Derek's cum pumping into him on account of the still-rigid cock, but he's realizing with a wry press of his lips to Derek's throat that the mess now is going to be faaaar worse than it was before. And he has no extra shirts to spare.]
[ This is the moment that Derek's been wanting, too. This warm, sleepy safety he only finds with the people closest to him - he's exhausted and boneless and hypersensitive, twitching and fucking shallow, upward thrusts into Tate with these intermittent little gasps, eyes closed tight, toes curling every time Tate scratches him or breathes against him. This is what he wants - this feeling of total, raw connection between him and his pack, this feeling of satisfaction and bliss that comes half from what he just did and half from knowing he made his beta happy. His submissive.
He's gonna be painfully hard until his body decides that Tate's been well and truly bred, and Derek's too well-fucked and happy to care. Tate makes some kind of quiet, throaty joke about the state of Derek's car, and Derek just laughs, sleepy and safe, kissing a few loving, affectionate kisses to Tate's neck. ]
Don't care.
[ Not his car, after all - he'll clean up, make things a little nicer, but his boss fucking expects him to get laid in the backseats of everything he borrows. That's Duplicity, for you.
Derek's too tired to lift his weight off of Tate, and he doesn't want to lose that connection, anyway, so he stays where he is, draped over him and breathing long, languid breaths against his skin through his nose. He's holding Tate as closely as he possibly can, soothing his hands up and down his back, wherever he can reach, and the combination of how good it feels to get laid and the excitement of everything they've done today chips away at the walls he keeps up. When he talks again, it's a whisper, said right up against Tate's ear, like he's afraid of being overheard. ]
I hope I'm enough for you. I want us to... always be like this.
[Tate laughs, light and genuine, when Derek declines to care about the soon to be messy state of his car. His head just lolls back while Derek's kissing his neck and he laughs, feeling surprisingly unanchored and light despite being pinned beneath Derek's bull-like weight and tethered to him by the absurd reality of his cock. He just feels like he's gotten sweet release, something that cleared his head and makes him feel steady on his feet again. Or on his back, in this instance.
His leg's cramping and he tries to move it, but there's really nowhere for his heel to find better purchase. Aside from that, he feels good - treasured, by Derek's wandering hands, and made to feel like he really is the only thing that matters to him. For now, anyway. That bubble will dissipate with sobering reality later, but for now - Tate's dopey and happy, eyes dulled with afterglow and a smile still touching to his lips on and off, like the small thrusts Derek still does instinctively.]
Yeah, you're good.
[Better than good. This might be the closest he's been able to feel to someone since coming here, and not for a lack of trying. Kavinsky was close, in the desperate need for need. Violet would've been ideal if she'd - loved him any. Derek still has someone else he considers his first, though, and always will. Tate will never find his perfect match.]
Dunno about - always being like this though. Might be inconvenient.
[ Derek can tell that Tate's starting to feel kind of trapped, the little wiggle of his leg giving it away as much as the uncomfortable twinges of pain Derek can sense coming from his body. It's... difficult to move, both from a physical standpoint and just out of how fucking tired he is, but when Tate jokes about this being, uh, inconvenient, he decides he's gotta give it a try. ]
Sorry.
[ He apologizes with a sleepy sort of mumble, putting all of his willpower into rolling onto his side, dragging Tate along with him like he doesn't weigh a thing. Derek shifts a little so that they're both facing the back of the seat they're laying on, breath hitching here and there when Tate squeezes reflexively around his still so sensitive cock, ankles straightening out every now and then when he wants to pound into Tate and can't.
They settle again, eventually, clumsy and difficult, and Derek wraps his arms around Tate's stomach and chest, not quite squeezing him but not quite not. Every time he exhales he blows air against the back of Tate's neck, and his eyes are closed like he could fall asleep like this. ]
You know what I mean, though. You... make me happy. Make me want to be a better person. I want... I want to give you everything in the whole wide fucking world, I want-- I want to change for you, I want to...
[ He wants to get it right, this time. He wants to be an Alpha to be proud of. Derek sighs, softly, his lips against Tate's shoulder, his voice cracking from tired misuse, dropped so low it's barely audible. ]
I just want to do everything right. You're my pack, you're-- you're worth so much to me. I never want to lose that feeling.
[Tate grunts when they move, voice caught somewhere in his throat as they shift - he clenches more than he'd like to, reminded with a little now uncomfortable shudder that Derek's still in him. Rigid, rather unmoving, it makes him ache a bit as his body stays stretched and taut around him rather than healing and tightening up. As his body cools, all he feels is slightly more sweaty in this leather jacket - but he butts his forehead against Derek's and then lets him mouth at his neck.
Derek's crooning all the right words - the things Tate wants and wants to be able to promise. He wants to be everything and give everything, to live so wrapped up and entwined with someone that they're one. Makes him wish he could've been that for Violet all the more, and he coaxes his fingers through Derek's dark hair before sighing and nuzzling in against his chest.]
You won't. We won't. We're pack now.
[Sort of. Tate's voice is low and reassuring, spoken with the softest murmur.]
It'll only get better from here. I'm yours, you're mine. That's how it's going to be now.
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no subject
It takes so much fucking force for Derek to tear Tate apart enough to hilt the full weight of his cock inside of him, but when he does, locking the two of them together in the enveloping heat of their own bodies, Tate blows his load. Derek doesn't, not yet, but the frantic spasms of his body and squeezing, clenching twists around his cock are making his toes curl and his vision go spotty, and Derek can't even whisper the encouraging things he always does when Tate comes, the whispers of good boy and keep going. He's just-- wrecked, pushing weakly into Tate despite already at his limit, tied in place by the swollen girth of his knot. ]
Nn.
[ There's cum on his stomach and blood on his shoulder, and the smell of sex and sweat in the air is making Derek needy and desperate. He pushes shallow, full-body thrusts into Tate to get what little friction he can when he's stuck this deep and incapable of pulling out, but it's the way Tate smiles at him, the way he looks satisfied and taken and his, it's the way his heartbeat ricochets around in Derek's own chest and makes him teary with affection and want and lust -- that's what makes him hit his edge. ]
C-coming. I'm gonna--
[ He yells, when he comes, body wracked with shudders that make his muscles scream with pain. He's holding eye contact, looking deep into black-brown colour as jet after jet of his load fills Tate up, locked into place by the unyielding seal of his knot. He collapses mid-climax, burying his nose back into Tate's shoulder and squeezing his entire body in the tightest bearhug he can, coming and coming and coming, and when he's finally, finally done, the world feels fuzzy and fake and underwater. He lets out a hard, rattling breath, and he just--
Stays there, on top of Tate, hypersensitive and still bucking hard into him every few seconds, even when there's nothing in him left. Fuck. ]
no subject
Sweat clings to his brow as he stares up at the roof of the car, feeling Derek's teeth scratch up his neck and throat. He looks into his eyes when he pulls back, staring right back at Derek when he comes - mesmerized by the look on his lover's face before curling his arms tight around him when he settles. His legs have relaxed but really have nowhere to go, the tight space of the car keeping them twisted up with Derek's.
This is the moment he's been wanting, the moment he's been looking forward to. They didn't have this, in the booth, because they had to scramble to put themselves back together and leave. They couldn't enjoy the afterglow the same way they couldn't take it farther than far. Tate felt but never felt Derek's knot then but he sure as hell does now as it still rocks into him even after he's blown his load. Tate's nails skim down his back, soothing swipes instead of dug in grooves. He can't really breathe easy but he manages because he likes the weight of Derek sitting on him like a rock.
He can't tell if he can feel Derek's cum pumping into him on account of the still-rigid cock, but he's realizing with a wry press of his lips to Derek's throat that the mess now is going to be faaaar worse than it was before. And he has no extra shirts to spare.]
Your car's going to be a mess in twenty minutes.
no subject
He's gonna be painfully hard until his body decides that Tate's been well and truly bred, and Derek's too well-fucked and happy to care. Tate makes some kind of quiet, throaty joke about the state of Derek's car, and Derek just laughs, sleepy and safe, kissing a few loving, affectionate kisses to Tate's neck. ]
Don't care.
[ Not his car, after all - he'll clean up, make things a little nicer, but his boss fucking expects him to get laid in the backseats of everything he borrows. That's Duplicity, for you.
Derek's too tired to lift his weight off of Tate, and he doesn't want to lose that connection, anyway, so he stays where he is, draped over him and breathing long, languid breaths against his skin through his nose. He's holding Tate as closely as he possibly can, soothing his hands up and down his back, wherever he can reach, and the combination of how good it feels to get laid and the excitement of everything they've done today chips away at the walls he keeps up. When he talks again, it's a whisper, said right up against Tate's ear, like he's afraid of being overheard. ]
I hope I'm enough for you. I want us to... always be like this.
no subject
His leg's cramping and he tries to move it, but there's really nowhere for his heel to find better purchase. Aside from that, he feels good - treasured, by Derek's wandering hands, and made to feel like he really is the only thing that matters to him. For now, anyway. That bubble will dissipate with sobering reality later, but for now - Tate's dopey and happy, eyes dulled with afterglow and a smile still touching to his lips on and off, like the small thrusts Derek still does instinctively.]
Yeah, you're good.
[Better than good. This might be the closest he's been able to feel to someone since coming here, and not for a lack of trying. Kavinsky was close, in the desperate need for need. Violet would've been ideal if she'd - loved him any. Derek still has someone else he considers his first, though, and always will. Tate will never find his perfect match.]
Dunno about - always being like this though. Might be inconvenient.
no subject
Sorry.
[ He apologizes with a sleepy sort of mumble, putting all of his willpower into rolling onto his side, dragging Tate along with him like he doesn't weigh a thing. Derek shifts a little so that they're both facing the back of the seat they're laying on, breath hitching here and there when Tate squeezes reflexively around his still so sensitive cock, ankles straightening out every now and then when he wants to pound into Tate and can't.
They settle again, eventually, clumsy and difficult, and Derek wraps his arms around Tate's stomach and chest, not quite squeezing him but not quite not. Every time he exhales he blows air against the back of Tate's neck, and his eyes are closed like he could fall asleep like this. ]
You know what I mean, though. You... make me happy. Make me want to be a better person. I want... I want to give you everything in the whole wide fucking world, I want-- I want to change for you, I want to...
[ He wants to get it right, this time. He wants to be an Alpha to be proud of. Derek sighs, softly, his lips against Tate's shoulder, his voice cracking from tired misuse, dropped so low it's barely audible. ]
I just want to do everything right. You're my pack, you're-- you're worth so much to me. I never want to lose that feeling.
no subject
Derek's crooning all the right words - the things Tate wants and wants to be able to promise. He wants to be everything and give everything, to live so wrapped up and entwined with someone that they're one. Makes him wish he could've been that for Violet all the more, and he coaxes his fingers through Derek's dark hair before sighing and nuzzling in against his chest.]
You won't. We won't. We're pack now.
[Sort of. Tate's voice is low and reassuring, spoken with the softest murmur.]
It'll only get better from here. I'm yours, you're mine. That's how it's going to be now.