[ yeah, yeah - derek doesn't bother replying. he finishes driving out to autonomy, parking, as he always does, somewhere dark and borderline inaccessible - the powder blue jeep is slightly more noticeable than anything sleek and black he had back home, but derek's not ready to trade her for anything else yet. he slips out of doscoe and shuts her up tight, heading inside autonomy to find tate behind the bar.
it's pretty nostalgic here. been a while since he's been in. derek didn't expect to feel nostalgic over anything in duplicity, let alone a club, but nostalgia's been hitting him a lot lately. he's in leather, like always - a black jacket, zipped up thanks to the weather, hiding the henley he has beneath. black pants, black gloves, black boots with black laces. he's very derek, today, which makes the bright red parcel he has in his hand, topped with a big, gold bow, stand out all the more.
he gets to the bar, and he doesn't set it down in front of tate. he just - throws it his way without warning. ]
Heads up.
[ if tate unwraps it now, he'll find... something. ]
[Tate's been cleaning the bar, running a rag over it and getting ready to switch over with another bartender who just arrived for their shift. He sees Derek through his peripherals, lifting his head to see Mr. Leather for just a few seconds before something's tossed his way. Tate scrambles to catch it, cursing as he drops his rag and crinkles red wrapping paper in a hasty grip to keep from dropping the box too.
He looks down at it, before back up at Derek, and then rolls his eyes as he peels open paper rather than waiting.]
[ You know - he knew Tate would make that joke. He knew it the second he bought the bowl. Knew it before he bought the bowl, for that matter. Somehow, he still finds himself getting annoyed.
Still - while he walks up to the bar, Derek takes out his phone, scrolling through to his photo gallery. ]
I found a dog. Abandoned, I think. She was in pretty bad shape when I found her. She's... she isn't good with people. She's - nervous, and she bites.
[ She was chained up by Derek's old mechanic place, free dog written on her like she was no different to a fucking car. If he were to take off his gloves, Tate would see the teeth marks on his hands that haven't healed, and if he rolled up his sleeves, there'd be scratched and lightly peeled skin on his arms, too. She doesn't react well to him, and it - it might be because he's a werewolf, but dogs aren't usually this aggressive with him when he flashes his eyes at them. They bow down. She seems to be too scared for that. ]
I don't know if you were serious about wanting a dog. I've been trying to rehabilitate her either way. Didn't want to leave her for someone else. I'll - introduce you to her. After today. If she's too much, or - or if you think she would be too much with the cats, then - I can keep her. But.
[ He gets his phone open and shows Tate some photos - she's a lab, or maybe just partially, given that she seems a little small. Derek wets his lips, holding the phone up to Tate and scrolling back with his thumb. She looks kind of small and unhappy, but Derek's clearly been taking care of her these past couple of days. She's looking much better in the later photos than the earlier ones. ]
[Tate's ready to tell Derek to fuck off for whatever he's getting at, but he catches him off guard. He'd assumed that the dog joke was nothing more than a joke after he made it, as Derek bitches about the cats at every turn and keeping them all afloat's been an interesting challenge. But then Derek talks about a dog and Tate lowers the parcel in his hands as if he's suspicious, untrusting of this - wary about being joked with.
He looks at the phone, brows pinched before he's reaching out to take from Derek's hand his phone and browse through it closer - Tate's attentive, looking at the images and flicking back and forth through them. The dog's real. The dog's not a joke. Derek's been taking care of a dog and is only now letting him know?]
[ Derek - shrugs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the bar. He watches Tate go through his phone, eyebrows narrowed. He's not sure how to read Tate's reaction, but - when has that not been the case. ]
The den's lonely. Windex still misses Stiles.
[ She's always looking around for him. Meowing at the bedroom door that Derek still never opens, as if he'll be waiting for her somewhere in there. Windex loves Derek, but she's also an outside cat, so she doesn't need him. This dog... is stressful, but she does need people in her life right now. Watching her improve and giving her all his attention has been... soothing. Like a project. ]
I like... having someone else at home.
[ Another shrug. He doesn't doubt that Tate will be better for her than he is. ]
And - she's yours. If you want her. Just - she's already pretty stressed out. I didn't want to just... bring her into the city, or... drag her out into the woods. You need to come over if you want to meet her.
I can come visit her - the den's probably best for her right now. Quieter, easier to access. I don't know how she'd stay at the treehouse, and I'd really want to keep her out by the woods. Someone just... left her?
[Tate circles back to that and it might be evident that something about that rubs him the wrong way. He hesitates in the processing of things as he picks up the rag and finishes putting away a set of glasses. He looks back up to Derek as he hangs up his apron and comes around the other side of the bar to give him his phone back. Still upset.]
How can people do that? That's - that's terrible. She deserves love. Does she have a name yet?
[ It's just... how the world works. Derek would be sad, if he wasn't so tired. People do that. Throw their pets away.
Derek takes his phone back when it's offered, and a part of him wonders if maybe this wasn't the best plan. He could've bought Tate a fucking pet-store puppy - Tate made a comment about wanting a dog, and Derek had to find the most complicated, difficult to train stray imaginable. Derek scratches at his temple, folding his arms over his chest, jacket crinkling. ]
I've just been calling her... dog. And - girl. So.
[Tate's still distant for a second, acknowledging that and getting himself unhung from the hook he stuck himself on. He blinks and looks back to Derek, emotions shifting back to their usual selves - he's tired from working but relaxed, scratching at his jaw while tipping his head at Derek.]
I like her. I want to keep her - want you to keep her. Whatever. We have to.
[He gestures sidelong.]
You want a drink or anything here or are we okay to go do our shit?
[ He probably should have something, right? That's what you do on your birthday - you drink. Luckily, your birthday is also about doing whatever the fuck you want, and Derek wants to avoid standing around, bone-dry sober, drinking foul-tasting bullshit he's never liked.
So - he nods towards the club, and if Tate wants to ride in Stiles' jeep rather than walk, then like, fine. Derek gets into the driver's seat and pulls out, making his way to Insincerity. He hasn't been here since access to the city was unveiled, and Derek, just like last time, feels pretty fucking skeeved out by the numbers inked onto the back of his hand. Duplicity and its sister cities always have a way of making him feel like a commodity, even as a Dom.
He drives, though, searching out the repair shop. ]
... You're sure about this? I know I probably don't need to ask, but - it's a big thing you're doing. It might not even work.
[Tate says, slumped low in his seat and rubbing at his eyes. He's stayed up most of the night and really could use a second wind, but with Derek around he's not really able to sniff it. So he runs his hand back through his hair, smoothing blond curls flat against his scalp while staring out the window.]
I don't have anything to lose, anyway. Might as well. So you don't need to keep asking. I'm in.
[ Doesn't take long to get to the repair shop, after that. It's not exactly the prettiest place - the walls seem to be in a perpetual state of disrepair, always in need of a fresh coat, and the sidewalk seems purposefully littered to offer something easy for patrons to promise to fix. Derek parks and heads inside, mildly annoyed by the way the bell rings over his head, and he just... nods towards Tate. It's quiet in here, so he keeps his voice low to avoid being overheard. ]
[Tate says, with no real confidence in what he's doing. There's an attendant who looks at them, smiling in a knowing way that makes Tate's skin crawl. He steps toward them and feels like they already know what he's here for before he's even opened his mouth. With one glance back at Derek, he explains that he's here to get something back. They nod, and he hesitates a second before continuing - elaborating on what it is, his missing heartbeat. They say they know precisely the promise that could get it, unless he wants to barter for something else - and Tate simply shrugs.]
What is it?
[They explain, giving Tate pause, that it's a promise to publicly participate in a sexual act - adding on cheerfully 'no better time and place than the present!' Tate shoots a look at Derek, feathers mildly ruffled.]
[ Yeah, see - there's no part of Derek surprised by where this went. Honestly, if anything, he's just relieved; he was half-convinced that they'd ask for something horrible from Tate in return, like a promise to give up his eyesight or a promise to get fucked by a dozen strangers in quick succession, and as unpleasant as this makes Derek feel, it's a sense of unpleasantness he's long since learned how to be accustomed to. He's... not sure if it'll go down quite so smoothly when he asks for his scar to be removed - but he's relieved, now, that Tate went first.
Derek flicks his eyes over to Tate, then to the attendant visibly leering at the two of them, waiting for Derek, as the dom, to make the first move. He sighs, tensing his shoulders and trying to will away whatever modesty he has holding him back. Things with Tate are so much better after their stay in the woods, but they're also... very, very private right now. Very slow-going. He wasn't ready to sleep with Tate again.
It is what it is, though. There's a workbench towards the back of the shop, where one or two workers are loitering, clearly interested in what's going down. Derek exhales, then looks back to Tate, nodding to the bench. ]
[Tate's not sure - he remembers the photo booth and while he got so swept into that and doesn't regret it, he still hates the feeling that came from exiting only to notice their show had been more public than anticipated. He didn't like the looks that came with people seeing him as an obedient submissive, like he really deserved to be on his knees in front of any and all dominants. He really is a shitty sub, in a lot of ways. He hates this place.
He looks to the bench with some resentment and then some resignation - at least if he knows it's purposely public, there's no surprises? Still, his skin itches as he moves over and feels like he's merely drifting to the bench. Barely feels it when he touches his hand to it, or when he hoists himself up to sit on the edge. His legs swing and he just - looks back to Derek, pale brows pinching.]
[ Man - he was joking. Tate gives him that please as if he wasn't, and Derek feels a brief flutter of guilt in his chest that he quickly tries to smother before it grows roots and makes this even harder to deal with than it already is. With another deep, long-suffering breath, Derek folds his arms and follows Tate to the bench, feeling stares boring into his back from the guy manning the front desk. He's... getting used to this, honestly. He doesn't feel half as much shame about fucking in front of an audience as he used to. Maybe that's good. Maybe that's bad.
Derek drops his arms, resting his hands on Tate's thighs. One of the other workers tips forward to get a closer look, and yeah, okay, Derek knows he's probably supposed to let that go, but with how uncomfortable and anxious Tate is, he kind of can't. He grits his teeth, shoots the guy a Look, and when he doesn't step back right away, Derek pulls out the big guns and flashes his eyes red. It's enough - Derek and Tate get their distance, with the guy quickly scrambling back, pretending to act unaffected. Derek sighs through his nose. ]
You'll be okay. I've got you.
[ The bench is low enough that Derek can sink to his knees and be at a pretty decent height for this. He pulls Tate forward by the waist, getting him closer to the edge of it, then carefully, carefully unbuttons his jeans. He's trying not to go too slow here, but he doesn't want to just whip Tate's dick out in front of everybody, either. ]
Just - think of how you'll feel after all of this. Your heartbeat - the bite. It's all gonna be worth it.
[Tate's always one flip of a switch away from changing his attitude, the direction of his mood - and he's sitting on the fence for that again here. Perched on the work bench, his sneakers slide against the tile floor as he breathes in deep when Derek settles down in front of him. He could just take a grip of his hair and be fine with this, he knows, but he's still unsettled from being asked to barter this way. The irony being he'd be just fine if he'd been the one to suggest it.
He curls his fingers into his shirt right above his belt line, tugging it back with a twitch of them. His boxers peek out through the open v of his zipper and he stares down at Derek's hands rather than his face. This is fine? It's just like the day they signed, way back when. Nothing matters but the bubble they're in. When it's over, it's over. They're in control.]
Yeah. Yeah, you're right...
[He'll lean into believing that, his head nodding gently. His leg twitches, then parts a little wider as he leans back - arms planted down on the bench on either side of him. He's a little bit more eager, more relaxed. More ready for this.]
[ Derek, similarly, is always one flip of a switch away from swallowing whatever he's feeling if doing so might make Tate happy. He... hadn't wanted to play into all the jokes about Tate's dick being his birthday present, because he hadn't wanted that to be the tone of their relationship this time around. Things have never been as rocky between them as they were when he first came back, and Derek wanted to take everything they are to one another a little more seriously, this time. Sex wasn't supposed to pay a role in their future together at all, let alone so casually.
But things have changed. Between camping, the promise of a heartbeat, the fledgling loyalty and the situation they've found themselves in now - Derek's willing to move past that. If sex is going to be a part of who they are, still, then so be it. Tate makes a nervous, joking little happy birthday, and Derek just... lets himself laugh, silent and sarcastic and falsely confident. He laughs like they're just - screwing around in the photobooth again. ]
Thanks.
[ Derek, ah, unwraps his gift, so to speak. This isn't going to be the most comfortable blowjob ever - he doesn't undress Tate, he only unbuttons his boxers through the gap of his zipper and slowly reaches inside, stroking Tate's cock in smooth, tender movements. He looks up, holding eye contact as he brings Tate's dick into the open air, ignoring any reaction from the people around him. He's only got eyes for Tate - intimate and personal. ]
[Tate lets out a soft little grunt when Derek gets his hands in his pants, stroking him over and making him let out a held in breath. His stomach tenses and relaxes, like it always does at first touch, and he stares into Derek's eyes because he feels like he's being drawn into them. It's so much easier to focus with tunnel vision like this - ignoring the world around them, pretending another drape blots out the world. Just like the photo booth.
Dick out, Tate gently nudges his jeans a little lower - keeping the zipper off of himself and adjusting to the fact he's out in the open. It's been almost a year since he was on his knees sucking Kavinsky off in the middle of a club so - he should be used the exhibitionism thing? Derek's the one on his knees this time, and if he didn't somehow still exude control, maybe that'd be a bad thing. But he looks every bit the part of a dom just trying to coax his sub through a hoop.]
You can suck my dick more often then.
[Same crisp type of humor but Tate's voice warbles ever so slightly, and his hand lifts to support himself on Derek's shoulder. The other still at his side - he's not sure if that makes him feel more or less comfortable, but he leaves it there for the time being with his fingertips digging into the fabric. He just keeps staring into his eyes.]
Jeez.
[He's hard from a few simple touches and some eye contact - he'd be embarrassed if this wasn't par for the norm with them.]
[ There we go. Derek's always so quiet, so sullen and impersonal, but for Tate, who has dug his way into his heart like a parasite, he's - vibrant. Doing what he can to make Tate happy comes easy - a smile here, a comment there. He's open with Tate in a way that he isn't with anyone else in Duplicity, so when Tate makes a joke to lighten the mood, trying to make himself steady and okay with all of this, Derek tries to encourage him. ]
I... want to. More often.
[ Derek likes it when Tate leans on his shoulder. He doesn't say as much, but he doesn't need to; he tilts his head so he can brush his ear against the side of Tate's hand, an affectionate and vaguely cat-like gesture. That jeez, shit, Derek likes that too - when he grins, it's not something he forces or does to make Tate feel comfortable, it's this proud, cocky reaction that comes from knowing Tate's starting to like this.
Someone coughs, a silent demand for Derek to get started, and he scowls, but he plays along. He's... loving, at first. When he leans in, he treats Tate's cock like something to be worshiped. Like something made of gold. He kisses the head, holding him gently in his fist - he tracing his tongue down to the base, where his stubble uncomfortably scratches against Tate's jeans. He strokes him in long, fragile strokes, every squeeze and touch from his calloused hand designed to be as perfect as he can be, and Derek...
Derek's heart is beating. Fast. He doesn't realize it until his throat's starting to burn with unbidden, unsaid emotion, and he doesn't know what's causing it, doesn't know what he's thinking. He just - tallks, voice soft and low so only Tate can hear him. ]
You were... beautiful. Out in the woods. Beneath me. I can't stop thinking about the way you looked at me. I loved - being that close to you again.
[ He - chuckles, weak and a little rough, looking up at Tate from between his legs, his hand slowly pumping him up and down. ]
[Tate grew up being told he was handsome, especially in comparison to his siblings - it was the one thing his mother could never let go of. Her perfect little cherub child, after all the others he finally came. Tate never really put stock into compliments about his appearance because of that, and also because he had no real connection to how he looked. He just existed. He knew he was attractive, he heard everything you could say about that but his life wasn't really affected by it. So compliments tend to bounce off, and he only really uses his looks to get what he wants - which may be the very reason why he cares right now. Derek says he's beautiful, which he could laugh at on another day, but it means something. Means Derek cares about him again, after that threat of it never happening.
Tate's - pleased. He smiles, just weakly and around the edges of his mouth. His lips stay parted the whole way through because of soft little gasps and pants, with Derek's tongue touching down his dick and his hand pumping him soon after that. Shit, this is a pretty good blowjob, now that he's blotting out all the factors he doesn't really care about. He nudges his hips closer, and curls his fingers into Derek's shirt.]
I missed you too.
[Tate says the words half in truth, half just to make sure he keeps Derek close. He's terrified of him turning away again, of leaving or thinking less of him. The opinions of certain people always have mattered to Tate more than they should, while what the rest of the world thought of him couldn't matter less. He wets his lips and leans back a bit, staring down into Derek's eyes from an angle.]
I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Do you promise?
[ When Derek first came back, he was - convinced, honestly, that he and Tate were done. No more friendship, no more pack. There wasn't a single part of him that believed Tate, at first, when he said that he signed with Kavinsky again because he had to, just like there wasn't a single part of him that believed Tate suddenly gave a shit about his own mortality after the war scared the fear of a new death into him. There were a few days there where Derek saw Tate as exactly who he was - selfish and conniving. Unkind.
And then Tate rode it out. Tate's been getting so much better at riding out Derek's reactions. He didn't cry, didn't fight, he just - promised to be better, than did just enough to convince Derek that he was wrong to have doubted him. Derek still hasn't signed Tate's name to the ledger, because Stiles hadn't done that, and there's some small, unconscious part of him that remembers that - but nobody's around to stop Derek from trusting him. From believing that this is - fine. That they're good again. That they'll always be good again. That this isn't just Jennifer again. Kate.
Yeah. Yeah, Derek promises. He doesn't answer verbally, but there's that smile again. Trusting and affectionate and so full of loyalty. Derek always looks so much younger when he smiles. ]
Alright - shut up. Let's get this over with.
[ After that - Derek's gonna really focus, now. Tate wanted this over fast, and Derek's not going to be sidetracked by whatever stewing affection is stuck beating behind his ribs. Derek takes a firmer hold of Tate's cock and sticks out his tongue, lightly dragging it over the underside of Tate's shaft. He's not worried about being noisy, or-- looking like a whore in front of these guys. He sucks the head of Tate's dick with loud, wet sounds, swallowing him down to the base, bobbing his head back up and leaving Tate shiny and slick with his spit. He hums softly and bobs forward again, pressing his nose to Tate's jeans and closing his eyes, swallowing while he easily, expertly deep throats the guy.
He comes up for breath, swipes his tongue over Tate's tip, tasting whatever precum he might have earned already. Derek takes Tate in his fist again, jerking faster now, the side of his fingers brushing over the most sensitive nerves in his head every time he strokes up. Slowly, Derek takes Tate's head back in between his lips, sucking hard and playing with him with the very end of his tongue, and he still holds eye contact. Still takes in every breath, every reaction, like that's the entire reason he's doing this. ]
[Even non-verbal, the promise means a lot to Tate. It means that he's got back one of the few relationships here that he's really invested in. And things with Derek are easier now that Stiles is gone, a thorn that had started to stick in his side. A lot of things are working out in that Tate feels he can draw more from what they have than he could before - less hoops, more reward. He's invested now and willing to keep doing whatever it takes to stay at this level of cherished, this level of wanted and... well, needed.
He lost a lot of people, here and back home, and finally he's feeling like he's coming out of a dip by doing okay. Derek came back and that defied the odds - so this is meant to be, right? He'll fight tooth and nail to prevent it being taken back away from him. All while, most likely, working against himself out of other blind and selfish needs. So for now his touch is tender, fingers raking back through Derek's hair as he shudders at that warm, wet touch of his tongue. He feels bolstered by Derek, able to keep from focusing on all the things that would make him uncomfortable here in lieu of enjoying the way he swallows down his cock.
Tate... stares. He's seen Derek from this angle before but there's something so overtly lewd about it now, where his dark eyes widen a few degrees and his knees turn inward as his feet press down against the floor. It feels good - fucking good - and he's saying such in breathy little mutterings under his breath, but he's not paying attention. He's just... hooked, leaning in and rolling his hips, trying his hardest not to just push Derek's face back down his dick to watch it yet again disappear.]
[ Judging by the long, low whistle from one of the men watching this all play out, their bystanders agree. Tate says it's good and there's the shuffling of feet as people move to get a better look, and Derek hesitates, just for a second, before he dives back down onto Tate's dick, swallowing him deep again. They're supposed to be doing this fast, and Derek - Derek wanted to ease Tate for a second there, wanted to tell him that they need to get Tate into the habit of saying sir. Thank you, sir, that feels good, sir - really play up this whole dom/sub thing, for once.
But they need to get this done. Derek swallows when he feels the head of Tate's cock pressing up against the very, very back of his throat, every suck and every quiet, purposeful hum sending vibrations through Tate. He spreads his fingers out beneath Tate's stomach and firmly pushes him back down against the bench, keeping him from fucking into his mouth like he might want to. Derek promised he'd take care of him, so - he's in charge.
He finds a rhythm, sucking and bobbing with circular twists of his head, taking Tate deep and then sliding back up. He's-- focused, getting faster now, breaking eye contact when he ends up losing himself in the moment, closing his eyes just to taste Tate and enjoy every part of this. The repair shop smells like the mechanic's in the Up, all motor oil and grease, but Derek kind of - likes that. It makes this feel familiar. Easier. ]
[Tate makes a slightly higher pitched noise, half bitten back - he doesn't want to be as wanton as he was when they were in the photobooth if only because he feels like he's lost a bit of his power here. There it was funny, being public - at least until they realized how public they were. To be overheard is one thing, but to be openly watched and admired? Tate doesn't want to play to the fantasies of others right now, but the only thing keeping him this side of uncomfortable is the fact it's Derek on his knees. He would've felt far more humiliated in a reversed situation, bowing to his alleged dominant and not serviced by him.
He's breathing shallow breaths, leaning back and still trying to squirm his hips upward - Derek stops that but he still moves, stomach flexing and his sneakers sliding on the floor. He grips Derek's shoulder, twisting his fingers into his shirt and pulling - starting to feel on the cusp of getting to his orgasm. Soft little 'yeah's give that away - his eyes fluttering shut.]
[ Derek can tell that Tate's getting close. He's - salivating, a little, making the inside of his mouth wetter and warmer and better, each hard, determined suck adding tighter, tauter pressure. There was a time when every blowjob Derek gave in this place was methodical and clinical and just designed to get things done, and with Tate wanting this over quickly, maybe that's the kind of blowjob he would have preferred - but right now, in spite of the surly attitude and furrowed eyebrows, Derek is openly enthusiastic. He wants to make this good for Tate, yeah, but more than anything, it's obvious that he's really, really enjoying himself.
He twists his fist over Tate's dick in furious strokes, wet sounds of rapid friction making Derek forget, for a second, that they're being watched. He pulls off of Tate with a soft, clearly aroused gasp for air, then plunges forward again, swallowing him to the root. The more Derek does this, the sluttier he looks - like he fucking lives for Tate's cock, like he's at his happiest when he's seconds away from tasting someone's load. He's hard in his jeans, and Derek doesn't touch himself, both hands too busy focusing on Tate, but he rocks his hips forward in gradual, barely there movements, unaware of what he's doing.
One of the guys says fuck yeah, cum in his mouth, and that's the only thing someone could've said to make Derek let Tate cum on his face right now. Mildly annoyed, Derek leans back on the balls of his feet the more frantically Tate starts to breathe, pulling his lips from his cock and flicking the tip of his tongue in circles around the head, instead. He strokes Tate faster, refusing to stop, looking up, holding eye contact. Silently asking him to come. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
it's pretty nostalgic here. been a while since he's been in. derek didn't expect to feel nostalgic over anything in duplicity, let alone a club, but nostalgia's been hitting him a lot lately. he's in leather, like always - a black jacket, zipped up thanks to the weather, hiding the henley he has beneath. black pants, black gloves, black boots with black laces. he's very derek, today, which makes the bright red parcel he has in his hand, topped with a big, gold bow, stand out all the more.
he gets to the bar, and he doesn't set it down in front of tate. he just - throws it his way without warning. ]
Heads up.
[ if tate unwraps it now, he'll find... something. ]
no subject
He looks down at it, before back up at Derek, and then rolls his eyes as he peels open paper rather than waiting.]
I'm not off the clock yet, asshole - but...
[Dog. Dish?]
Why are you giving me your dishware?
no subject
Still - while he walks up to the bar, Derek takes out his phone, scrolling through to his photo gallery. ]
I found a dog. Abandoned, I think. She was in pretty bad shape when I found her. She's... she isn't good with people. She's - nervous, and she bites.
[ She was chained up by Derek's old mechanic place, free dog written on her like she was no different to a fucking car. If he were to take off his gloves, Tate would see the teeth marks on his hands that haven't healed, and if he rolled up his sleeves, there'd be scratched and lightly peeled skin on his arms, too. She doesn't react well to him, and it - it might be because he's a werewolf, but dogs aren't usually this aggressive with him when he flashes his eyes at them. They bow down. She seems to be too scared for that. ]
I don't know if you were serious about wanting a dog. I've been trying to rehabilitate her either way. Didn't want to leave her for someone else. I'll - introduce you to her. After today. If she's too much, or - or if you think she would be too much with the cats, then - I can keep her. But.
[ He gets his phone open and shows Tate some photos - she's a lab, or maybe just partially, given that she seems a little small. Derek wets his lips, holding the phone up to Tate and scrolling back with his thumb. She looks kind of small and unhappy, but Derek's clearly been taking care of her these past couple of days. She's looking much better in the later photos than the earlier ones. ]
This is her.
no subject
He looks at the phone, brows pinched before he's reaching out to take from Derek's hand his phone and browse through it closer - Tate's attentive, looking at the images and flicking back and forth through them. The dog's real. The dog's not a joke. Derek's been taking care of a dog and is only now letting him know?]
For real? You'd be okay with her staying around?
no subject
The den's lonely. Windex still misses Stiles.
[ She's always looking around for him. Meowing at the bedroom door that Derek still never opens, as if he'll be waiting for her somewhere in there. Windex loves Derek, but she's also an outside cat, so she doesn't need him. This dog... is stressful, but she does need people in her life right now. Watching her improve and giving her all his attention has been... soothing. Like a project. ]
I like... having someone else at home.
[ Another shrug. He doesn't doubt that Tate will be better for her than he is. ]
And - she's yours. If you want her. Just - she's already pretty stressed out. I didn't want to just... bring her into the city, or... drag her out into the woods. You need to come over if you want to meet her.
no subject
[Tate circles back to that and it might be evident that something about that rubs him the wrong way. He hesitates in the processing of things as he picks up the rag and finishes putting away a set of glasses. He looks back up to Derek as he hangs up his apron and comes around the other side of the bar to give him his phone back. Still upset.]
How can people do that? That's - that's terrible. She deserves love. Does she have a name yet?
no subject
[ It's just... how the world works. Derek would be sad, if he wasn't so tired. People do that. Throw their pets away.
Derek takes his phone back when it's offered, and a part of him wonders if maybe this wasn't the best plan. He could've bought Tate a fucking pet-store puppy - Tate made a comment about wanting a dog, and Derek had to find the most complicated, difficult to train stray imaginable. Derek scratches at his temple, folding his arms over his chest, jacket crinkling. ]
I've just been calling her... dog. And - girl. So.
[ No, she doesn't. ]
no subject
[Tate's still distant for a second, acknowledging that and getting himself unhung from the hook he stuck himself on. He blinks and looks back to Derek, emotions shifting back to their usual selves - he's tired from working but relaxed, scratching at his jaw while tipping his head at Derek.]
I like her. I want to keep her - want you to keep her. Whatever. We have to.
[He gestures sidelong.]
You want a drink or anything here or are we okay to go do our shit?
no subject
[ He probably should have something, right? That's what you do on your birthday - you drink. Luckily, your birthday is also about doing whatever the fuck you want, and Derek wants to avoid standing around, bone-dry sober, drinking foul-tasting bullshit he's never liked.
So - he nods towards the club, and if Tate wants to ride in Stiles' jeep rather than walk, then like, fine. Derek gets into the driver's seat and pulls out, making his way to Insincerity. He hasn't been here since access to the city was unveiled, and Derek, just like last time, feels pretty fucking skeeved out by the numbers inked onto the back of his hand. Duplicity and its sister cities always have a way of making him feel like a commodity, even as a Dom.
He drives, though, searching out the repair shop. ]
... You're sure about this? I know I probably don't need to ask, but - it's a big thing you're doing. It might not even work.
no subject
[Tate says, slumped low in his seat and rubbing at his eyes. He's stayed up most of the night and really could use a second wind, but with Derek around he's not really able to sniff it. So he runs his hand back through his hair, smoothing blond curls flat against his scalp while staring out the window.]
I don't have anything to lose, anyway. Might as well. So you don't need to keep asking. I'm in.
no subject
[ Doesn't take long to get to the repair shop, after that. It's not exactly the prettiest place - the walls seem to be in a perpetual state of disrepair, always in need of a fresh coat, and the sidewalk seems purposefully littered to offer something easy for patrons to promise to fix. Derek parks and heads inside, mildly annoyed by the way the bell rings over his head, and he just... nods towards Tate. It's quiet in here, so he keeps his voice low to avoid being overheard. ]
You want to go first, or should I?
no subject
[Tate says, with no real confidence in what he's doing. There's an attendant who looks at them, smiling in a knowing way that makes Tate's skin crawl. He steps toward them and feels like they already know what he's here for before he's even opened his mouth. With one glance back at Derek, he explains that he's here to get something back. They nod, and he hesitates a second before continuing - elaborating on what it is, his missing heartbeat. They say they know precisely the promise that could get it, unless he wants to barter for something else - and Tate simply shrugs.]
What is it?
[They explain, giving Tate pause, that it's a promise to publicly participate in a sexual act - adding on cheerfully 'no better time and place than the present!' Tate shoots a look at Derek, feathers mildly ruffled.]
no subject
Derek flicks his eyes over to Tate, then to the attendant visibly leering at the two of them, waiting for Derek, as the dom, to make the first move. He sighs, tensing his shoulders and trying to will away whatever modesty he has holding him back. Things with Tate are so much better after their stay in the woods, but they're also... very, very private right now. Very slow-going. He wasn't ready to sleep with Tate again.
It is what it is, though. There's a workbench towards the back of the shop, where one or two workers are loitering, clearly interested in what's going down. Derek exhales, then looks back to Tate, nodding to the bench. ]
Go.
[ Sit down over there, he gestures. Also - ]
Still want that please.
no subject
[Tate's not sure - he remembers the photo booth and while he got so swept into that and doesn't regret it, he still hates the feeling that came from exiting only to notice their show had been more public than anticipated. He didn't like the looks that came with people seeing him as an obedient submissive, like he really deserved to be on his knees in front of any and all dominants. He really is a shitty sub, in a lot of ways. He hates this place.
He looks to the bench with some resentment and then some resignation - at least if he knows it's purposely public, there's no surprises? Still, his skin itches as he moves over and feels like he's merely drifting to the bench. Barely feels it when he touches his hand to it, or when he hoists himself up to sit on the edge. His legs swing and he just - looks back to Derek, pale brows pinching.]
Can we just do this fast?
[He's uncomfortable, but adding on quietly:]
Please.
no subject
Derek drops his arms, resting his hands on Tate's thighs. One of the other workers tips forward to get a closer look, and yeah, okay, Derek knows he's probably supposed to let that go, but with how uncomfortable and anxious Tate is, he kind of can't. He grits his teeth, shoots the guy a Look, and when he doesn't step back right away, Derek pulls out the big guns and flashes his eyes red. It's enough - Derek and Tate get their distance, with the guy quickly scrambling back, pretending to act unaffected. Derek sighs through his nose. ]
You'll be okay. I've got you.
[ The bench is low enough that Derek can sink to his knees and be at a pretty decent height for this. He pulls Tate forward by the waist, getting him closer to the edge of it, then carefully, carefully unbuttons his jeans. He's trying not to go too slow here, but he doesn't want to just whip Tate's dick out in front of everybody, either. ]
Just - think of how you'll feel after all of this. Your heartbeat - the bite. It's all gonna be worth it.
no subject
He curls his fingers into his shirt right above his belt line, tugging it back with a twitch of them. His boxers peek out through the open v of his zipper and he stares down at Derek's hands rather than his face. This is fine? It's just like the day they signed, way back when. Nothing matters but the bubble they're in. When it's over, it's over. They're in control.]
Yeah. Yeah, you're right...
[He'll lean into believing that, his head nodding gently. His leg twitches, then parts a little wider as he leans back - arms planted down on the bench on either side of him. He's a little bit more eager, more relaxed. More ready for this.]
... Happy birthday?
no subject
But things have changed. Between camping, the promise of a heartbeat, the fledgling loyalty and the situation they've found themselves in now - Derek's willing to move past that. If sex is going to be a part of who they are, still, then so be it. Tate makes a nervous, joking little happy birthday, and Derek just... lets himself laugh, silent and sarcastic and falsely confident. He laughs like they're just - screwing around in the photobooth again. ]
Thanks.
[ Derek, ah, unwraps his gift, so to speak. This isn't going to be the most comfortable blowjob ever - he doesn't undress Tate, he only unbuttons his boxers through the gap of his zipper and slowly reaches inside, stroking Tate's cock in smooth, tender movements. He looks up, holding eye contact as he brings Tate's dick into the open air, ignoring any reaction from the people around him. He's only got eyes for Tate - intimate and personal. ]
... I like seeing you like this.
[ From down here, on his knees. ]
no subject
Dick out, Tate gently nudges his jeans a little lower - keeping the zipper off of himself and adjusting to the fact he's out in the open. It's been almost a year since he was on his knees sucking Kavinsky off in the middle of a club so - he should be used the exhibitionism thing? Derek's the one on his knees this time, and if he didn't somehow still exude control, maybe that'd be a bad thing. But he looks every bit the part of a dom just trying to coax his sub through a hoop.]
You can suck my dick more often then.
[Same crisp type of humor but Tate's voice warbles ever so slightly, and his hand lifts to support himself on Derek's shoulder. The other still at his side - he's not sure if that makes him feel more or less comfortable, but he leaves it there for the time being with his fingertips digging into the fabric. He just keeps staring into his eyes.]
Jeez.
[He's hard from a few simple touches and some eye contact - he'd be embarrassed if this wasn't par for the norm with them.]
no subject
I... want to. More often.
[ Derek likes it when Tate leans on his shoulder. He doesn't say as much, but he doesn't need to; he tilts his head so he can brush his ear against the side of Tate's hand, an affectionate and vaguely cat-like gesture. That jeez, shit, Derek likes that too - when he grins, it's not something he forces or does to make Tate feel comfortable, it's this proud, cocky reaction that comes from knowing Tate's starting to like this.
Someone coughs, a silent demand for Derek to get started, and he scowls, but he plays along. He's... loving, at first. When he leans in, he treats Tate's cock like something to be worshiped. Like something made of gold. He kisses the head, holding him gently in his fist - he tracing his tongue down to the base, where his stubble uncomfortably scratches against Tate's jeans. He strokes him in long, fragile strokes, every squeeze and touch from his calloused hand designed to be as perfect as he can be, and Derek...
Derek's heart is beating. Fast. He doesn't realize it until his throat's starting to burn with unbidden, unsaid emotion, and he doesn't know what's causing it, doesn't know what he's thinking. He just - tallks, voice soft and low so only Tate can hear him. ]
You were... beautiful. Out in the woods. Beneath me. I can't stop thinking about the way you looked at me. I loved - being that close to you again.
[ He - chuckles, weak and a little rough, looking up at Tate from between his legs, his hand slowly pumping him up and down. ]
I missed you.
no subject
Tate's - pleased. He smiles, just weakly and around the edges of his mouth. His lips stay parted the whole way through because of soft little gasps and pants, with Derek's tongue touching down his dick and his hand pumping him soon after that. Shit, this is a pretty good blowjob, now that he's blotting out all the factors he doesn't really care about. He nudges his hips closer, and curls his fingers into Derek's shirt.]
I missed you too.
[Tate says the words half in truth, half just to make sure he keeps Derek close. He's terrified of him turning away again, of leaving or thinking less of him. The opinions of certain people always have mattered to Tate more than they should, while what the rest of the world thought of him couldn't matter less. He wets his lips and leans back a bit, staring down into Derek's eyes from an angle.]
I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Do you promise?
no subject
And then Tate rode it out. Tate's been getting so much better at riding out Derek's reactions. He didn't cry, didn't fight, he just - promised to be better, than did just enough to convince Derek that he was wrong to have doubted him. Derek still hasn't signed Tate's name to the ledger, because Stiles hadn't done that, and there's some small, unconscious part of him that remembers that - but nobody's around to stop Derek from trusting him. From believing that this is - fine. That they're good again. That they'll always be good again. That this isn't just Jennifer again. Kate.
Yeah. Yeah, Derek promises. He doesn't answer verbally, but there's that smile again. Trusting and affectionate and so full of loyalty. Derek always looks so much younger when he smiles. ]
Alright - shut up. Let's get this over with.
[ After that - Derek's gonna really focus, now. Tate wanted this over fast, and Derek's not going to be sidetracked by whatever stewing affection is stuck beating behind his ribs. Derek takes a firmer hold of Tate's cock and sticks out his tongue, lightly dragging it over the underside of Tate's shaft. He's not worried about being noisy, or-- looking like a whore in front of these guys. He sucks the head of Tate's dick with loud, wet sounds, swallowing him down to the base, bobbing his head back up and leaving Tate shiny and slick with his spit. He hums softly and bobs forward again, pressing his nose to Tate's jeans and closing his eyes, swallowing while he easily, expertly deep throats the guy.
He comes up for breath, swipes his tongue over Tate's tip, tasting whatever precum he might have earned already. Derek takes Tate in his fist again, jerking faster now, the side of his fingers brushing over the most sensitive nerves in his head every time he strokes up. Slowly, Derek takes Tate's head back in between his lips, sucking hard and playing with him with the very end of his tongue, and he still holds eye contact. Still takes in every breath, every reaction, like that's the entire reason he's doing this. ]
no subject
He lost a lot of people, here and back home, and finally he's feeling like he's coming out of a dip by doing okay. Derek came back and that defied the odds - so this is meant to be, right? He'll fight tooth and nail to prevent it being taken back away from him. All while, most likely, working against himself out of other blind and selfish needs. So for now his touch is tender, fingers raking back through Derek's hair as he shudders at that warm, wet touch of his tongue. He feels bolstered by Derek, able to keep from focusing on all the things that would make him uncomfortable here in lieu of enjoying the way he swallows down his cock.
Tate... stares. He's seen Derek from this angle before but there's something so overtly lewd about it now, where his dark eyes widen a few degrees and his knees turn inward as his feet press down against the floor. It feels good - fucking good - and he's saying such in breathy little mutterings under his breath, but he's not paying attention. He's just... hooked, leaning in and rolling his hips, trying his hardest not to just push Derek's face back down his dick to watch it yet again disappear.]
That's - that's good. That's really good.
no subject
But they need to get this done. Derek swallows when he feels the head of Tate's cock pressing up against the very, very back of his throat, every suck and every quiet, purposeful hum sending vibrations through Tate. He spreads his fingers out beneath Tate's stomach and firmly pushes him back down against the bench, keeping him from fucking into his mouth like he might want to. Derek promised he'd take care of him, so - he's in charge.
He finds a rhythm, sucking and bobbing with circular twists of his head, taking Tate deep and then sliding back up. He's-- focused, getting faster now, breaking eye contact when he ends up losing himself in the moment, closing his eyes just to taste Tate and enjoy every part of this. The repair shop smells like the mechanic's in the Up, all motor oil and grease, but Derek kind of - likes that. It makes this feel familiar. Easier. ]
no subject
He's breathing shallow breaths, leaning back and still trying to squirm his hips upward - Derek stops that but he still moves, stomach flexing and his sneakers sliding on the floor. He grips Derek's shoulder, twisting his fingers into his shirt and pulling - starting to feel on the cusp of getting to his orgasm. Soft little 'yeah's give that away - his eyes fluttering shut.]
C'mon... c'mon.
no subject
He twists his fist over Tate's dick in furious strokes, wet sounds of rapid friction making Derek forget, for a second, that they're being watched. He pulls off of Tate with a soft, clearly aroused gasp for air, then plunges forward again, swallowing him to the root. The more Derek does this, the sluttier he looks - like he fucking lives for Tate's cock, like he's at his happiest when he's seconds away from tasting someone's load. He's hard in his jeans, and Derek doesn't touch himself, both hands too busy focusing on Tate, but he rocks his hips forward in gradual, barely there movements, unaware of what he's doing.
One of the guys says fuck yeah, cum in his mouth, and that's the only thing someone could've said to make Derek let Tate cum on his face right now. Mildly annoyed, Derek leans back on the balls of his feet the more frantically Tate starts to breathe, pulling his lips from his cock and flicking the tip of his tongue in circles around the head, instead. He strokes Tate faster, refusing to stop, looking up, holding eye contact. Silently asking him to come. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)