If I'm going to be your dom, we need to talk about it. It's - it's good, to talk about it, right? If I did something, you'd want to hear. So I always wanna hear too, okay? You can trust me.
[Tate says you can trust me with willful enthusiasm - the kind of promise a teen makes, so hopeful to promise his life away for someone just because he's feeling things so strongly for the first time in his young life. Tate, if anything, was always dedicated to someone - hopeless, cruel and sometimes a psycho but so easy to find himself thinking he's loved, so it's alright.]
We don't have to do anything right now. But we can, if you want to. Or we can wait until after we sign.
[ Right - whether he means to or not, Tate's parroting back a lot of the same words Derek's said to him over the time they've shared together. Promises to open up more, a hopeful urging on Derek's part for Tate to allow him to take care of him. It feels like telling Tate at this point that he can't put his problems on his shoulders, or-- or that he can't fill him in on everything he's dealing with-- would be wildly hypocritical. Derek made Tate promise him his honesty. Can't exactly fault him for wanting honesty in turn.
Slowly, Derek withdraws some of the citations he brought over from home - not all of them, but a few scraps of paper that he stuffed into his pocket, all of them wrinkled and poorly folded, having been read and re-read a dozen times. He slides them over to Tate, reluctantly, feeling like he's signing away whatever little independence this city still affords him now, and - they're not as harsh as they could be, really. Something about being edged, something about toys, something about sensory deprivation. ]
There's... something about being bound, in one of those. Something about-- servicing. Orally. It's...
[Tate has another mouthful of rice and holds his fork between his teeth, biting down on the plastic as he reaches for the citations. He draws them closer, looking them over lazily and without a clear read of his thoughts. He doesn't have a lot of feeling toward them at all - they'll solve this, and that's that. He isn't moved to emotion the way he would be if he knew how much was really at stake here. It'll hit him later, if push comes to shove.]
We can just get them done, like you helped me with mine. Doing it together'll be like reclaiming it as our own. That's easy - this is easy. We can do this whenever.
[ Derek's done eating. He scratches his eyebrow and pushes his food away from him, bouncing his knee as he sinks further into his chair. Tate's taking this easy enough, and honestly, Derek's more upset about having to rely on someone than he is about getting in trouble in the first place - but he needs to really lay everything out on the table if he's come this far. Explore all his worries with someone interested in hearing about them. ]
I got two citations for being in the Up without permission. One for trying to hide my submissive tattoo. Three additional punishments for not-- paying up straight away. If I don't take care of this soon, or-- or if I get a fourth strike under my belt-- they're not going to just slap me on the wrist and let me go, they're not going to just-- give me another warning. They'll...
[ He wets his lips, looking down. What would they do? Send him to the People Zoo? The SLUT Center? Realignment? ]
[Tate's appetite is small and sated already, so he leaves the rest of his food untouched - taking the plate and putting it on the floor by his heels, where Blondie comes over to woof it down with enthusiasm. He then takes a sip of water from his cup and stands up, nodding his head upward toward the overhang of the loft.]
Go upstairs and get ready, I'll let the cats out and meet you up there.
[He's already doing so, opening the patio door - Blondie trots out to lay out there, and Tate's grabbing a gate he uses to block the bottom of the stairs so she won't come bounding up to be a disturbance.]
[ Staring down the barrel of this feels as shitty as it always does, but Derek's pretty scared of putting this off any more than he already has, so. His constant desperation for stability and his need for things to just work have him feeling grateful to Tate for not dragging this out any more than he has to.
Derek gets to his feet, dodging the wave of animals that crawl out of the woodwork and rush on outside, and it's funny - he's walked up to the loft a dozen times before, he's fucked Tate a dozen times before, but something about doing it because he's been-- assigned to, rather than because Tate's been assigned to, feels a lot like how they started. Back when Derek only fucked him because he needed to help Tate meet his quota. Shit, what happened to that?
He gets to Tate's bed and toes off his boots, sitting in the center while Tate fucks around downstairs, sitting criss-cross with his feet beneath his knees. He scratches at his beard and just kind of watches Tate from up high, anxiety building in his stomach as he waits.
Derek's not the type to just apologize, but man, he wants to apologize for all this. Feeling like a burden sucks. ]
[With business on the first floor settled, Tate's headed up - taking the stairs two at a time in bare feet and shrugging off his over-shirt along the way. When he stands by the foot of his bed - still a mattress sitting on the ground - he's just in a clinging t-shirt and jeans, hair pushed back from his eyes as he looks silently at Derek for a moment. Gears are turning behind his eyes, and he's... strategizing, you could say.]
You've got to do a few things - we can even double up? Bondage and toys at the same time kind of deal. That's what you've gotta do, right? I mean there's time frames...
[He pulls the citations from his back pocket, flipping through them lazily.]
Three hours of being available for oral, too. Doesn't specify giving, so. You're kinda in luck.
[ There's something vaguely comedic about seeing Tate run his way up here - like there's a part of him that's just excited to fuck. Derek doesn't smile - doesn't emote at all, really - but he feels a little less exposed, a little more comfortable. Better than he did before, at least. ]
I'm not supposed to...
[ He was told to edge for three hours during sex. Kept either right on the brink or just-- repeatedly pulled back from it as much as possible. That's not something Derek really wants to experience, because he doesn't really have the patience for that kind of treatment - but. ]
One of them-- I'm not allowed to come. For three hours. So.
That one might be tricky but - well, I owe you some pay back.
[Derek left Tate waiting a whole lot longer than three hours, so Tate actually laughs softly at that. Easy, he thinks, showing something of a mischievous smile as he goes toward a trunk he keeps next to his desk. He started filling it up with the shit they acquire, and it's not hard to find the lube and the vibrator which he pitches back to the bed. It bounces next to Derek, and Tate raises his brows as if to say remember her?.]
We'll tackle however many we can tonight. Tomorrow, the rest. E-fucking-Z.
[Tate leans back against his desk, folding his arms over his chest. Still grinning.]
[ Again, it's better rather than worse, seeing Tate have some amount of fun with this. He bounces the bed and Derek winces like it's no different to a loud noise and a headache, but looking mildly annoyed and unwilling to do something doesn't mean much, for Derek, who would look like this even if someone offered him a ticket straight home, all expenses paid. He narrows his eyes when Tate gestures to the toy and pointedly looks away when he's told to strip, sighing short and sharp through his nose. ]
This is gonna go a lot easier if you don't give orders.
[ But - he does as he's told. The jacket comes off first, then the shirt, same as always. There's no magic in this and very little anxiety - exposing himself is the easy part, these days. He hooks his thumbs under his waistband and steadily starts to pull down, but stops halfway down his thighs, looking at Tate with growing suspicion. ]
Listen, this isn't me enjoying your citations. This is separate shit - this is me getting to do to you what I've wanted since you paraded me around a grocery story even though my knees were weak.
[It'd been a very short outing, to say the least - but it did what it did to instill Tate with its thrill of exhibitionism before his pleas finally got him off in the back of Derek's car at the time. He sees there being two distinct things colliding for him beautifully, and he steps forward while similarly stripping down just to get the fabric out of the way. In just his boxers, he'll drop down to the edge of the mattress on his knees and crawl forward onto all fours - advancing on Derek but planting his hand on the toy next to him.]
[ He'd expected a dozen different comments from Tate, but-- not that. Derek's not one for blushing, but he's taken aback and mildly affected by the reminder of what they did not too long ago. The passing touches, the curious stares by one or two dominants who recognized the way Tate squirmed when he walked - the feel of a dial being slowly turned beneath the pad of Derek's thumb. Derek's mind scrambles a little. ]
That, uh.
[ He looks at Tate for a second or two too long, then slowly, slowly does as he's told. Before too long, he's bare and half hard, clearing his throat as he lays on his back, arm draped over his stomach as if he feels far more casual than he does. He holds eye contact - wild dogs have to assert dominance one way or another. ]
[Tate knows as he crawls forward a little bit more, pushing Derek's thigh to part so he can kneel between them, that this isn't what they're supposed to be doing. But the government's not about to know, right? As long as they do this - a dom and a sub, their word's got to matter. Tate's got the vibrator in his hand, the remote left next to Derek as he uses his other hand to uncap the lube - stroking the toy in a way meant to rile Derek up, slicking it with his hand as he keeps eye contact.]
We'll take turns. You let me practice my dominant act, then you can go all alpha on me after we're done the first session. If you can make it through - you can, right? Show me how to be a good dom by being a good sub.
[Tate knows that he's trying to pick at a scab here, to worm his way into Derek's head by saying the words he knows might help him. Appealing to Derek for help in self improvement, giving him back some of his own dominance by promising to submit in turn. It's an exercise, of course. Training.]
Alpha's need to teach their pack everything they know, right?
[ This sounds like bullshit. This doesn't even sound like good, manipulative bullshit, either - this just sounds like the coddling of a horny teenage boy who just wants to fuck and be fucked. Derek thins his mouth, pressing his lips together, eyes flicking from the toy in Tate's hand and back to his face. His dom's face? Jesus, that's unpleasant. A power dynamic so tilted and obscured by how things should be that he's not sure how to feel - power comes and goes in waves, he knows that better than anyone, he has that tattooed on his fucking back, but it's...
It's hard. This is hard.
But the realization that this is difficult has a weird kind of affect on Derek - this all just feels so pointless, like holding onto his dignity and his bad mood and digging his heels into the sheets isn't going to do anything in the face of a truly fucking ludicrous situation. His bad mood breaks a little and he kind of laughs, anxiety leaving him in one strong wave. "Show me how to be a good dom by being a good sub", Jesus. How far they've both fallen into corruption since Tate screamed in his face in orientation. ]
Christ, you're the worst.
[ But fine - fine. He drapes his other arm over his eyes and lets his legs part at Tate's touch, purposefully trying not to see the way Tate strokes the thing, his stupid ass body betraying him by getting kind of hard. Tate didn't appeal to him the way he might have wanted to - but the fact that he tried, that's what won Derek over. That's what reminded Derek why he trusts this kid, as foolish of a decision as that might be. ]
Okay, just - fine. What do you want me to do? Keeping in mind that I am twice your size. You're not going to be difficult to snap in half.
[He ends up laughing because he knows that didn't sound at all convincing, but he's still trying to emulate the Derek he's seen and the dom he's supposed to be. He's got a slick vibrator in the palm of his hand and wet fingertips that tease down between Derek's legs to feel up toward his hole, massaging lube against it before the curved edge of the toy's there to take over. He holds steady to the flared base, and gently applies pressure. He's clumsy with his motions in general, but he's - trying to stay steady, firm with the press forward that nudges into Derek and his eyes flick up to stare at his half covered face to watch for any sign of discomfort.]
[ It's-- still kind of difficult for Derek to bottom, on a purely psychological standpoint. It's happened once or twice with Tate, and while it's kind of an impossible secret to keep that he fucking loves this feeling, it's still hard for him to bare his throat to someone else, so to speak. The nerves in his body jolt when he feels the cool, slick touch of Tate's fingers, and he exhales, shaky, when he feels the head of the vibrator in their place.
His cock twitches, still only half-hard, a small bead of pre leaking from his tip as Tate eases the toy forward. Derek's still tight and not entirely ready for something this big, and he curls his toes in the sheets, pressing his arm tighter against his eyes until he sees spots. ]
[He doesn't expect Derek to stop him for a variety of reasons - he assumes Derek would believe he can take it, no matter what. And he doesn't want to call out a weakness he doesn't want to showcase, so why would he admit that? Tate's careful with still pushing the toy forward, easing up a little then pulsing forward again with a motion that's trying to loosen Derek up by toying with the first inch of him that Tate's able to get him spread. It's actually something that takes a studious amount of attention for Tate, so his head drops and he just - focuses on what he's doing, nudging Derek's legs to part further and continuing until he sees gradual progress.]
If it helps... this thing was in me before. Think about that? I had to work up to getting it in me too. And you made me keep it in me for a while - I liked that, even though I hated you for it. I think that was the horniest you've ever made me.
[Tate's talking in slow, low toned words - trying to get Derek more aroused, to get his dick rigid and his mind into the game. He wants to see Derek's hips rock, to have him want to be full the way Tate's learned to like this feeling himself.]
[ Yeah, Derek's not gonna tell Tate shit. He bites the inside of his cheek and drops his arm to his side, already starting to sweat - he frowns like he's annoyed when Tate guides his legs again, though he obediently moves to give him more space, and he leans heavily on his elbow, propping himself up with it. He's-- not really looking at anything, until Tate starts talking again, the heat crawling up from his chest and his neck and making his stomach drop. ]
Ah - fuck. Shut up.
[ He doesn't mean that. He doesn't want Tate to shut up. The dirty talk is going straight to his cock, getting him harder and harder, one hard twitch enough to get him fully erect. He swallows, and - if they were in opposite positions, he'd be able to say something back, he'd be able to talk about how good Tate looks all slutty and ready for him, but it's hard to think about anything other than the filling, perfect stretch of his ass. Derek isn't rocking his hips yet - but it won't be long. ]
[It took him some time to get used to the sexting, the nudes - and using technology to enhance a fuck's been pretty interesting so far. Phone sex was one of the easiest elements for him, the most familiar tech wise, so he has a preference. He's been thinking more and more about what things to say, and how, and what riles Derek up in particular. He nudges the toy in farther, working it in almost to the base.]
Whenever I talk about the things I want you to do to me, I know it makes you hard. Talking about how I need you, or I want you... Or how once I get you whining for me, I'm gonna ride you? It works, right? Look at you.
[Tate pushes harder on the toy, stretching Derek open a little more forceful- nearing the flared base's relief. He pushes to the point of it and past, waiting for the feeling of Derek flexing around it so that he can use one hand to cup him by the cock and start jerking him off.]
[ Practicing - that could mean a dozen different things, and Derek's too out of it, too distracted, to know how any single one of them might make him feel. He swallows, getting harder, every impulse in his body telling him to wrap his fist around himself and start stroking - but he doesn't, even as his fingers itch at his sides and want for more. Tate pushes and he pushes and he pushes and Derek does his best not to make a noise, but when that last final inch stretches him open, Derek makes one tiny, single grunt, the last shreds of his resistance breaking. ]
No. No, fuck-- fuck that. I'll let 'em punish me. I'm not gonna get through three hours of this.
[ He loves this feeling. Fucking adores it. Being pushed to his limits, overwhelmed, every sensitive nerve in his body feeling like it's on fire. He can barely remember how to swallow, barely remember how to breathe - his chest is rising and falling like he's close to hyperventilating, his abs are tense and flexing involuntarily, his hands are stretching and shrinking as he grabs and ungrabs the air, the sheets, anything. He draws one knee up an inch or two, as high as he can with the full length of this thing inside him, digging his heel into the mattress and shutting his eyes tight. It's such a sudden, immense change, brought on by the warm, welcoming touch of Tate's hand around his dick - but it's obvious he's been holding back. He's always so fucking overwhelmed like this.
Fuck. He swears, shaking his head fast, one sharp motion. ]
Gotta-- gotta take it easy. Gonna come if you keep saying shit like that. Okay?
[But Tate's not exactly so sure - they have to try, right? He grabs for his phone with slippery fingers, starting the timer after a little trial end error and leaves the phone up by the pillows so it can do the hard job of keeping track while Tate straightens up onto his knees and surveys Derek. His hand pulls away from his cock, and he just... watches. Watches him squirm and flex, half a smile frozen on his lips. No wonder Derek liked being in this position, watching and in control.
He picks up the remote, stroking his thumb over the dial but not yet turning it on. There's just a moment of pause, but then Tate's crawling back up off the bed and onto his feet - heading back to that trunk to absently look through it. Letting Derek sit, waiting and fighting his own instincts.]
Three hours is easy. Ish.
[He turns the dial on to low. Smirks to himself as he bends down nonchalantly, looking through the trunk for something.]
[ Gonna kick this guy's ass in a minute. All Derek has to do here is relax, but that's so much easier said than done - it's been a while since he's done this and he's kind of pent up, which would be difficult to deal with even if he and Tate were just-- hooking up normally. This is already a lot. He feels a little humiliated when Tate just leaves him there, taking his hand back and crawling off the bed - he was this close to grinding up into Tate's palm, and now he just feels stupid for getting so into this so quickly.
He swallows and stares up at the ceiling, managing his breathing and giving himself what little of a break he can - and when Tate touches that dial, Derek's not expecting it. The vibration takes him by surprise, buzzing right against his prostate, and he makes this unflattering noise that's just this short of loud. He moans, throwing his head back and arching his back, hips rising a little from the bed, and he shuts his eyes, biting down on his cheek to stop himself from making any more sounds. ]
[This part is just petty, and Tate shoots a look to Derek to say as much - smirking as he fondles the remote and pulls a few things from the chest. He goes back toward the bed, dropping them by the foot of it and kneels back down - crawling back between Derek's legs, bracing his hand against the muscle of his thigh in the process. He lifts up a leather strap and gestures to Derek's hands.]
I know this won't hold you but we can at least say we tried. Give me your hands?
[ This is wildly unfair. The part of Derek that fears losing his power, losing his-- status, be it as Alpha, as Dom, as whatever the fuck else, that part of him is struggling a little with all of this. By giving Derek a taste of his own medicine, it feels, to an extent, like all that energy Derek's put into making himself this firm and untouchable badass was kind of pointless. He can't predict what Tate's going to do next, and that makes him feel pretty fucking vulnerable.
He's still swinging back and forth between whether that's a good thing or not. ]
No. Fuck off.
[ Derek says that, but he reluctantly offers his arms to Tate, swallowing and squeezing tight around the toy, a shiver running down his spine. He wants to beat Tate's ass. That's what he wants. Whether he likes this feeling or not, he's gonna kick this dude's ass. He's gonna get such a fuckin' ass-kicking, mark Derek's words. ]
You can snap out of it if it feels too much. I know you can - jesus, I think I could snap out of these things if I really wanted to.
[Tate's talking about the vinyl straps - thin pieces he wraps around Derek's wrists, binding them together. He needs to think about it, winding them around before buckling the ends together. There's a tiny bit of stretch in the shiny plastic but it could be more comfortable - Tate should've found a way to attach cuffs to the floor by now, but that's just another reno for another day.]
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[Tate says you can trust me with willful enthusiasm - the kind of promise a teen makes, so hopeful to promise his life away for someone just because he's feeling things so strongly for the first time in his young life. Tate, if anything, was always dedicated to someone - hopeless, cruel and sometimes a psycho but so easy to find himself thinking he's loved, so it's alright.]
We don't have to do anything right now. But we can, if you want to. Or we can wait until after we sign.
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Slowly, Derek withdraws some of the citations he brought over from home - not all of them, but a few scraps of paper that he stuffed into his pocket, all of them wrinkled and poorly folded, having been read and re-read a dozen times. He slides them over to Tate, reluctantly, feeling like he's signing away whatever little independence this city still affords him now, and - they're not as harsh as they could be, really. Something about being edged, something about toys, something about sensory deprivation. ]
There's... something about being bound, in one of those. Something about-- servicing. Orally. It's...
[ It's-- it is what it is. ]
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[Tate has another mouthful of rice and holds his fork between his teeth, biting down on the plastic as he reaches for the citations. He draws them closer, looking them over lazily and without a clear read of his thoughts. He doesn't have a lot of feeling toward them at all - they'll solve this, and that's that. He isn't moved to emotion the way he would be if he knew how much was really at stake here. It'll hit him later, if push comes to shove.]
We can just get them done, like you helped me with mine. Doing it together'll be like reclaiming it as our own. That's easy - this is easy. We can do this whenever.
i fucked up & i'm adapting roll with me
[ Derek's done eating. He scratches his eyebrow and pushes his food away from him, bouncing his knee as he sinks further into his chair. Tate's taking this easy enough, and honestly, Derek's more upset about having to rely on someone than he is about getting in trouble in the first place - but he needs to really lay everything out on the table if he's come this far. Explore all his worries with someone interested in hearing about them. ]
I got two citations for being in the Up without permission. One for trying to hide my submissive tattoo. Three additional punishments for not-- paying up straight away. If I don't take care of this soon, or-- or if I get a fourth strike under my belt-- they're not going to just slap me on the wrist and let me go, they're not going to just-- give me another warning. They'll...
[ He wets his lips, looking down. What would they do? Send him to the People Zoo? The SLUT Center? Realignment? ]
I don't know what they'll do.
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[Tate's appetite is small and sated already, so he leaves the rest of his food untouched - taking the plate and putting it on the floor by his heels, where Blondie comes over to woof it down with enthusiasm. He then takes a sip of water from his cup and stands up, nodding his head upward toward the overhang of the loft.]
Go upstairs and get ready, I'll let the cats out and meet you up there.
[He's already doing so, opening the patio door - Blondie trots out to lay out there, and Tate's grabbing a gate he uses to block the bottom of the stairs so she won't come bounding up to be a disturbance.]
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Derek gets to his feet, dodging the wave of animals that crawl out of the woodwork and rush on outside, and it's funny - he's walked up to the loft a dozen times before, he's fucked Tate a dozen times before, but something about doing it because he's been-- assigned to, rather than because Tate's been assigned to, feels a lot like how they started. Back when Derek only fucked him because he needed to help Tate meet his quota. Shit, what happened to that?
He gets to Tate's bed and toes off his boots, sitting in the center while Tate fucks around downstairs, sitting criss-cross with his feet beneath his knees. He scratches at his beard and just kind of watches Tate from up high, anxiety building in his stomach as he waits.
Derek's not the type to just apologize, but man, he wants to apologize for all this. Feeling like a burden sucks. ]
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You've got to do a few things - we can even double up? Bondage and toys at the same time kind of deal. That's what you've gotta do, right? I mean there's time frames...
[He pulls the citations from his back pocket, flipping through them lazily.]
Three hours of being available for oral, too. Doesn't specify giving, so. You're kinda in luck.
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I'm not supposed to...
[ He was told to edge for three hours during sex. Kept either right on the brink or just-- repeatedly pulled back from it as much as possible. That's not something Derek really wants to experience, because he doesn't really have the patience for that kind of treatment - but. ]
One of them-- I'm not allowed to come. For three hours. So.
[ Add that into the mix. ]
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[Derek left Tate waiting a whole lot longer than three hours, so Tate actually laughs softly at that. Easy, he thinks, showing something of a mischievous smile as he goes toward a trunk he keeps next to his desk. He started filling it up with the shit they acquire, and it's not hard to find the lube and the vibrator which he pitches back to the bed. It bounces next to Derek, and Tate raises his brows as if to say remember her?.]
We'll tackle however many we can tonight. Tomorrow, the rest. E-fucking-Z.
[Tate leans back against his desk, folding his arms over his chest. Still grinning.]
Strip for me.
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This is gonna go a lot easier if you don't give orders.
[ But - he does as he's told. The jacket comes off first, then the shirt, same as always. There's no magic in this and very little anxiety - exposing himself is the easy part, these days. He hooks his thumbs under his waistband and steadily starts to pull down, but stops halfway down his thighs, looking at Tate with growing suspicion. ]
You're not supposed to enjoy this so much.
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[It'd been a very short outing, to say the least - but it did what it did to instill Tate with its thrill of exhibitionism before his pleas finally got him off in the back of Derek's car at the time. He sees there being two distinct things colliding for him beautifully, and he steps forward while similarly stripping down just to get the fabric out of the way. In just his boxers, he'll drop down to the edge of the mattress on his knees and crawl forward onto all fours - advancing on Derek but planting his hand on the toy next to him.]
Finish stripping. Please.
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That, uh.
[ He looks at Tate for a second or two too long, then slowly, slowly does as he's told. Before too long, he's bare and half hard, clearing his throat as he lays on his back, arm draped over his stomach as if he feels far more casual than he does. He holds eye contact - wild dogs have to assert dominance one way or another. ]
I was in charge. It's fine when I'm in charge.
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[Tate knows as he crawls forward a little bit more, pushing Derek's thigh to part so he can kneel between them, that this isn't what they're supposed to be doing. But the government's not about to know, right? As long as they do this - a dom and a sub, their word's got to matter. Tate's got the vibrator in his hand, the remote left next to Derek as he uses his other hand to uncap the lube - stroking the toy in a way meant to rile Derek up, slicking it with his hand as he keeps eye contact.]
We'll take turns. You let me practice my dominant act, then you can go all alpha on me after we're done the first session. If you can make it through - you can, right? Show me how to be a good dom by being a good sub.
[Tate knows that he's trying to pick at a scab here, to worm his way into Derek's head by saying the words he knows might help him. Appealing to Derek for help in self improvement, giving him back some of his own dominance by promising to submit in turn. It's an exercise, of course. Training.]
Alpha's need to teach their pack everything they know, right?
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It's hard. This is hard.
But the realization that this is difficult has a weird kind of affect on Derek - this all just feels so pointless, like holding onto his dignity and his bad mood and digging his heels into the sheets isn't going to do anything in the face of a truly fucking ludicrous situation. His bad mood breaks a little and he kind of laughs, anxiety leaving him in one strong wave. "Show me how to be a good dom by being a good sub", Jesus. How far they've both fallen into corruption since Tate screamed in his face in orientation. ]
Christ, you're the worst.
[ But fine - fine. He drapes his other arm over his eyes and lets his legs part at Tate's touch, purposefully trying not to see the way Tate strokes the thing, his stupid ass body betraying him by getting kind of hard. Tate didn't appeal to him the way he might have wanted to - but the fact that he tried, that's what won Derek over. That's what reminded Derek why he trusts this kid, as foolish of a decision as that might be. ]
Okay, just - fine. What do you want me to do? Keeping in mind that I am twice your size. You're not going to be difficult to snap in half.
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[He ends up laughing because he knows that didn't sound at all convincing, but he's still trying to emulate the Derek he's seen and the dom he's supposed to be. He's got a slick vibrator in the palm of his hand and wet fingertips that tease down between Derek's legs to feel up toward his hole, massaging lube against it before the curved edge of the toy's there to take over. He holds steady to the flared base, and gently applies pressure. He's clumsy with his motions in general, but he's - trying to stay steady, firm with the press forward that nudges into Derek and his eyes flick up to stare at his half covered face to watch for any sign of discomfort.]
That feel okay? Does it hurt?
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His cock twitches, still only half-hard, a small bead of pre leaking from his tip as Tate eases the toy forward. Derek's still tight and not entirely ready for something this big, and he curls his toes in the sheets, pressing his arm tighter against his eyes until he sees spots. ]
I-- yeah. Slower. Easy.
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[He doesn't expect Derek to stop him for a variety of reasons - he assumes Derek would believe he can take it, no matter what. And he doesn't want to call out a weakness he doesn't want to showcase, so why would he admit that? Tate's careful with still pushing the toy forward, easing up a little then pulsing forward again with a motion that's trying to loosen Derek up by toying with the first inch of him that Tate's able to get him spread. It's actually something that takes a studious amount of attention for Tate, so his head drops and he just - focuses on what he's doing, nudging Derek's legs to part further and continuing until he sees gradual progress.]
If it helps... this thing was in me before. Think about that? I had to work up to getting it in me too. And you made me keep it in me for a while - I liked that, even though I hated you for it. I think that was the horniest you've ever made me.
[Tate's talking in slow, low toned words - trying to get Derek more aroused, to get his dick rigid and his mind into the game. He wants to see Derek's hips rock, to have him want to be full the way Tate's learned to like this feeling himself.]
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Ah - fuck. Shut up.
[ He doesn't mean that. He doesn't want Tate to shut up. The dirty talk is going straight to his cock, getting him harder and harder, one hard twitch enough to get him fully erect. He swallows, and - if they were in opposite positions, he'd be able to say something back, he'd be able to talk about how good Tate looks all slutty and ready for him, but it's hard to think about anything other than the filling, perfect stretch of his ass. Derek isn't rocking his hips yet - but it won't be long. ]
Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that?
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[It took him some time to get used to the sexting, the nudes - and using technology to enhance a fuck's been pretty interesting so far. Phone sex was one of the easiest elements for him, the most familiar tech wise, so he has a preference. He's been thinking more and more about what things to say, and how, and what riles Derek up in particular. He nudges the toy in farther, working it in almost to the base.]
Whenever I talk about the things I want you to do to me, I know it makes you hard. Talking about how I need you, or I want you... Or how once I get you whining for me, I'm gonna ride you? It works, right? Look at you.
[Tate pushes harder on the toy, stretching Derek open a little more forceful- nearing the flared base's relief. He pushes to the point of it and past, waiting for the feeling of Derek flexing around it so that he can use one hand to cup him by the cock and start jerking him off.]
Remember - you can't come 'til I tell you.
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No. No, fuck-- fuck that. I'll let 'em punish me. I'm not gonna get through three hours of this.
[ He loves this feeling. Fucking adores it. Being pushed to his limits, overwhelmed, every sensitive nerve in his body feeling like it's on fire. He can barely remember how to swallow, barely remember how to breathe - his chest is rising and falling like he's close to hyperventilating, his abs are tense and flexing involuntarily, his hands are stretching and shrinking as he grabs and ungrabs the air, the sheets, anything. He draws one knee up an inch or two, as high as he can with the full length of this thing inside him, digging his heel into the mattress and shutting his eyes tight. It's such a sudden, immense change, brought on by the warm, welcoming touch of Tate's hand around his dick - but it's obvious he's been holding back. He's always so fucking overwhelmed like this.
Fuck. He swears, shaking his head fast, one sharp motion. ]
Gotta-- gotta take it easy. Gonna come if you keep saying shit like that. Okay?
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[But Tate's not exactly so sure - they have to try, right? He grabs for his phone with slippery fingers, starting the timer after a little trial end error and leaves the phone up by the pillows so it can do the hard job of keeping track while Tate straightens up onto his knees and surveys Derek. His hand pulls away from his cock, and he just... watches. Watches him squirm and flex, half a smile frozen on his lips. No wonder Derek liked being in this position, watching and in control.
He picks up the remote, stroking his thumb over the dial but not yet turning it on. There's just a moment of pause, but then Tate's crawling back up off the bed and onto his feet - heading back to that trunk to absently look through it. Letting Derek sit, waiting and fighting his own instincts.]
Three hours is easy. Ish.
[He turns the dial on to low. Smirks to himself as he bends down nonchalantly, looking through the trunk for something.]
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[ Gonna kick this guy's ass in a minute. All Derek has to do here is relax, but that's so much easier said than done - it's been a while since he's done this and he's kind of pent up, which would be difficult to deal with even if he and Tate were just-- hooking up normally. This is already a lot. He feels a little humiliated when Tate just leaves him there, taking his hand back and crawling off the bed - he was this close to grinding up into Tate's palm, and now he just feels stupid for getting so into this so quickly.
He swallows and stares up at the ceiling, managing his breathing and giving himself what little of a break he can - and when Tate touches that dial, Derek's not expecting it. The vibration takes him by surprise, buzzing right against his prostate, and he makes this unflattering noise that's just this short of loud. He moans, throwing his head back and arching his back, hips rising a little from the bed, and he shuts his eyes, biting down on his cheek to stop himself from making any more sounds. ]
Wait-- jesus. Fuck. Warn me next time.
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[This part is just petty, and Tate shoots a look to Derek to say as much - smirking as he fondles the remote and pulls a few things from the chest. He goes back toward the bed, dropping them by the foot of it and kneels back down - crawling back between Derek's legs, bracing his hand against the muscle of his thigh in the process. He lifts up a leather strap and gestures to Derek's hands.]
I know this won't hold you but we can at least say we tried. Give me your hands?
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He's still swinging back and forth between whether that's a good thing or not. ]
No. Fuck off.
[ Derek says that, but he reluctantly offers his arms to Tate, swallowing and squeezing tight around the toy, a shiver running down his spine. He wants to beat Tate's ass. That's what he wants. Whether he likes this feeling or not, he's gonna kick this dude's ass. He's gonna get such a fuckin' ass-kicking, mark Derek's words. ]
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[Tate's talking about the vinyl straps - thin pieces he wraps around Derek's wrists, binding them together. He needs to think about it, winding them around before buckling the ends together. There's a tiny bit of stretch in the shiny plastic but it could be more comfortable - Tate should've found a way to attach cuffs to the floor by now, but that's just another reno for another day.]
Blindfold's pushing it, right? Okay - okay, nevermind.
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