[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.]
[ Yeah - Derek's not a fan of this. Tate binds his wrists together and even though it feels like one hard flex would be enough to undo the whole thing, the idea of restriction alone makes his stomach twist. Derek doesn't complain, only raises his arms above his head to rest them more comfortably on the pillow behind him, but it's obvious that he wants to when he snaps at Tate for joking about a blindfold. ]
'Course it's fucking pushing it.
[ But - he wets his lips, not really sure what to say. He's getting punished for not being a good sub, after all - following the rules doesn't come easy for him, and if Tate wants to give him a rule or two that might push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable, Derek knows that that wouldn't be a bad thing for either of them, strictly speaking. Tate's gotta learn to fill his role here just like Derek does, even if the sadistic little shit doesn't seem like he needs much help with it. ]
You're supposed to be in charge, though. So. Do what you want.
[Tate asks quietly, though he's still uncertain himself. His hand strokes down Derek's thigh again, and he drops his gaze to his cock - reaching for it, fingers curling around its girth and giving a tentative pump. He knows what he's used to doing - what he thinks of, in this moment, because he either wants to get off or to get Derek off. Tate's been able to pick up a few skills and a lot of experience pleasuring people here because that's how you get ahead - by giving it. So as he jerks Derek off slowly, he considers his options.
This isn't supposed to be about getting Derek to come, though. Quite the opposite - so Tate tries to put his mind to what he's supposed to be leading here. He can tie Derek up all pretty and helpless but it's all aesthetics. He wets his lip, picking up the blindfold, just as shiny a vinyl as the rest of it and he crawls forward to straddle Derek's midsection. Looking down at him, he puts the mask on - letting it sit against Derek's forehead, asking to be lowered over his eyes.]
Try and - just try and go with it?
[He lowers the blindfold to put Derek in darkness.]
[ The more Tate touches him, the more difficult it is for him to think clearly. He winces and sucks in a breath, less like he's hurt or uncomfortable and more like he's just-- adjusting to a change in temperature. It's willpower alone that has Derek staying flushed to the sheets, even though the ghost of physical contact around his cock again has him frustratingly hard again. Tate says he doesn't know what he wants and Derek barely manages to think through his response. ]
I can't tell you. You have to figure this out. Take control.
[ His voice is surprisingly stable, given how overloaded he feels. He nods, mildly uncomfortable when Tate gets the blindfold on his forehead, though not enough to stop, flexing and unflexing his hands again as the world goes dark. His other senses, already heightened, seem all the more sensitive. He can hear every rustle in the sheets, every beat of Tate's new heart. He stretches his legs straight, trying to stay comfortable, more and more pre running from his cock, giving away that despite all his anxiety, despite the callous casualness in his voice, there is a submissive part of him that likes this. ]
But I enjoy... having you in the position I'm in now... for a few reasons. I can talk to you about them... if you think it would help you figure out what you want.
[Tate's voice is quiet but hopeful, and his body's weight shifts. He's up on his knees again, off of Derek's abdomen, so he can push down his boxers. The fabric, thin cotton, glides down his thighs and stretches across Derek's chest as Tate settles back and seats himself over Derek's cock - letting it rest up against his ass as he gets his boxers the rest of the way off and tossed aside.
He finds the moment - strangely isolating, because he's taken away the two things that connect him to Derek in moments like these. His hands, the touch of warm connection and his eyes - what Tate uses to read Derek's expressions, his likes or dislikes. He's suddenly undermined his own confidence, his legs splayed to either side of Derek's chest and his hands on his thighs as he sits forward and gets back on his knees.
Reaching behind him, Tate grasps Derek's cock - feeling the pre smeared over it, fingers dancing around the tip as his heart hammers against his chest. He's waiting to hear what Derek has to say, but he's already keen on what he might want his next step to be.]
[ Some unconscious part of Derek fills in the sights he can't see. He can picture Tate taking the last of his clothes off and his dick twitches with one sharp feeling of want, his tongue darting briefly between his lips, dry and cracked as they are. He's not taken by surprise when he feels weight resting against him, but being blindfolded like this gives everything more substance - the softness of Tate's skin, the slightness of his frame, the nimble dexterity of his fingers as they touch the sensitive curves of his head. Derek exhales, lips parted, unconsciously more expressive like this than he ever is without a blindfold. He looks wrecked already.
But he keeps his voice calm. ]
I like... being able to take care of you... when you're submissive for me. Everything you feel - pleasure, frustration, a need to be touched, fucked, kissed, anything - that's all because of me. I get to... be the one to make you feel good. I have ownership over-- how you feel, in any given moment.
[ Derek angles his head - he can't see anything other than a grey-ish black wall of fabric, but he can see blurs of shapes and lights where Tate should be. He swallows and tilts his chin up, looking where he thinks Tate's eyes might be. ]
You're mine, when you're like this. I don't have to share you with... whoever you're dating, or... whoever you're friends with. You belong to me, for a while. You exist - solely for me. Nobody else. I like that feeling.
[ Derek likes having people. Possessing them. Few, if any, as explicitly as Tate. ]
[Tate breathes out the words, goosebumps spreading across his skin - he likes that position too, the comfort of being cared for and knowing that there's trust well put in Derek to do whatever he needs to do to be there for him. He likes this position too, proving he can offer what Derek wants or needs as well, hopefully convincing him that he's trustworthy after giving so many reasons to doubt him in the past. The possessiveness is just a bonus, because he feels that too - he always does, when he gets close to people. Tate wants to be their world.
He works Derek's cock up between his cheeks, lowering himself onto him with a slow and steady stretch. He's tight, always is when they start this, but he's more practiced now with how to get through that by continuing. He feels Derek's cock split him open and keeps lowering himself, thighs trembling and his voice a caught garble of noise in his throat. His heart's picked up, giving away the strain and focus, and Tate's hands slip to brace himself against Derek's stomach.]
You can do anything you want to me, whenever you want. Just so you know that.
[ Derek had privately hoped they'd go this far, but he wasn't sure it would actually happen. Tate's so fucking tight, just like always, making Derek's breathing come ragged, blood coursing through his body and filing him with adrenaline. He swallows a few times, tries to keep his composure, but he can't help it when he slowly pushes his hips upwards, driving into Tate half inch by half inch, the weight and the heat of him so much more real without sight. ]
I... I mean.
[ He's gonna make a joke, it's there in his voice. Derek gestures with his hands, feebly prying his hands away from each other with a shallow fraction of his strength, making sure to keep his wrists bound together. Can't exactly do anything he wants to Tate right now, can he? ]
[Touche. Tate doesn't laugh but he's amused as he sinks lower, taking more of Derek into him before lifting back just a little to adjust. It's still a lot to take, but after a few strained seconds of adjustment, muscles flexing, he sits flush against Derek's hips and gyrates his hips ever so gently in a clock wise circle. His exhale is relieved, and Derek might not be able to see his smile but he can likely tell that it's there.]
Or you can tell me what you want to do to me. Or have me do to you.
[Another roll of his hips, and he's lifting up - just to sink back down, nice and slow.]
[ Derek just-- makes a noise, halfway between pleasure and frustration, rather than respond to Tate right away. His face is twisted into this needy, blind expression, unabashedly aroused when it isn't clearly annoyed. He doesn't want to wait three hours, he's not gonna last that long. Already, he wants to fuck Tate with all the strength he has, and it's a very, very thin layer of willpower that has him keeping his wrists tied together. ]
Thought you were supposed to be learning how to be a good Dom.
[ Tate should be the one telling him what he wants, Tate should be the one leading things - but Derek doesn't care enough about staying submissive to do more than make fun of him a little. On the contrary, he's gonna test the waters, now - see what he can get away with, see how much he'll be allowed to top from the bottom. If Tate still just wants to be controlled and led, Derek's more than willing to do that, and he's too blindly horny to give a shit about how that kind of powerplay might bite them in the ass one day.
With one hard snap of his hips, Derek fucks into Tate and buries himself in him, sharp and close to painful. He groans, gritting his teeth and talking through them, sweat on his neck. ]
[Derek thrusts up and Tate lets out a gasp, arching his back to ride it and falling back - hands against Derek's thighs to brace with a nervous squeeze of his fingers against the muscle. He's supposed to be dominant right now and Derek's calling him out, so it's a foggy maze in his head as to what to do next. But he has an idea with a sidelong look, before breathing in deep.]
Then go faster.
[He murmurs, ready to move with Derek - but also, in that same moment, clicking the dial of the vibrator up another notch.]
[ That brief window of smug, controlled satisfaction Derek earns for himself doesn't last for long, but fuck, it's good while it does. Hearing Tate gasp, feeling him tighten - it's fucking amazing, and Derek grins, teeth sharp and white, lifting his chin in a challenging, cocky tilt. Tate tells him to go faster but Derek can tell that his heart is racing, he can hear him try to even himself out. He doesn't see what's coming next.
The dial twists and Derek's grin falters, a strangled moan dying in his throat as he drops his head back. It's-- still not at full blast, but it's well past what he's adjusted to, and when Derek clenches down, he only makes it worse for himself. He bites down on his teeth again, hissing in air, closing his eyes behind the blindfold. ]
Telling-- telling me to shut my mouth doesn't make you a dom.
[ Derek's voice comes watery and hesitant, but he clears his throat halfway through, trying to sound stronger by the end. If he wanted to be a good sub, he'd melt a little, drop away, act like he can't follow a simple order - but Derek just wants to come, now more than ever, and he's gonna challenge Tate's authority to get there. He leans the backs of his hands against the headboard for support and steadily starts to find a rhythm, grinding up into Tate - he stays pretty deep even after pulling out a little, not having been given enough room here to really fuck, but he's moving faster, getting what he wants, even as the intensity of all this starts making it hard for him to think clearly. ]
[Tate's breath is shallow and he's riding what Derek's giving him, working himself against the lifts of his hips - feeling him stay deep but still grind and shift, working against his body in a way that makes Tate's toes curl. His knees dig into the mattress and he holds on tight to the remote, thumb ready on the dial but the rest of his body fighting to stay present in the moment. He could come from this, like this, with just a little more time and effort and Tate's head is blank when it comes to how to decide what to do next. So he keeps riding Derek, lifting and falling against him, before sitting flush and breathing in deep.]
Three hours. You have to - make it three hours without coming.
[Tate's finger slides against the dial, the vibration decreases. He stays seated on Derek, weight pushing down, his body flexing and tight around Derek's cock but not letting him move. Tate's staring at his face, obscured by the mask, and he strokes himself absently.]
[ Derek fights off that three hours bullshit with the hardest thrust of his hips yet, burying in deep and staying there, stretching Tate out with every inch of him. Yeah, throwing the three hour thing into this was his idea, but-- they're close to the full moon and it was a stupid idea to try this now, when Derek's grip on himself is as tenuous as it can ever be. He's not gonna listen.
Tate starts moving with him, he decreases the fucking vibration, and Derek's happy again, grinning wide. He picks up the pace, gets a little frantic and off-rhythm, which is kind of new for him - he fucks Tate in fast, sloppy, unpracticed thrusts, chasing after Tate every time he moves away and welcoming him back when he drops against him again, and when Tate starts to sink down, locking him in place, Derek does his best to keep fighting. He flexes his hands around the vinyl binding his wrists together, close to just-- breaking the thing so he can put his hands on Tate's ass and get him moving again.
But Tate successfully pins him in place and Derek huffs, frustrated, laying where he is and doing his absolute fucking best to not bring out the werewolf strength and do what he wants. He darts his tongue between his lips and opens his eyes again, staring at the masked shadow that would be Tate, if the blindfold didn't obscure his vision. Reluctantly, he does as he's told, parting his lips - but he's impatient, and if this isn't worth it, he's gonna go back to doing what he wants to do. ]
[Tate grits his teeth as he feels Derek throb and writhe beneath him, already doubting his own decision because it'd be so easy to crack and just... enjoy this. To welcome Derek to flip them over and fuck him with wild abandon, or to give him what he wants just like this - knees set into the mattress and Derek's cock plunging into him. He'd fuck him if the toy wasn't already doing that too, so he just takes a moment to close his eyes and regain composure.
Derek's lips part and Tate murmurs something approving before he's lifting up and off of Derek's dick entirely, his expression flickering through something regretful as he does so. He moves backward but not without pulling Derek's wrists - guiding him to sit up as Tate climbs off of him and back down into the space between his legs. Tate holds on to the remote with his other hand, as if daring Derek to disobey the next set of orders:]
Get on all fours. And keep your mouth open - wider, wider than that.
[ The longer Tate hesitates on this, the more daring Derek gets to be. That moment where Tate closes his eyes is enough for Derek to start finding a better rhythm, something more stable - he fucks into Tate faster, finds a better angle to push his hips upwards with, his mouth already twitching into another hopeful, satisfied grin, and he thinks, for a second, that he'll actually be allowed to come like this. That he'll be able to take what he wants, just as he always does.
But Tate seperates from him and Derek's kind of pathetic when he goes, the small ah of want he makes paired with the way he follows his hips after Tate, not leaving the warmth of him until he has to - and when he drops flat onto his sheets again he just looks frustrated, hard against his belly and clearly more annoyed than anything else. ]
But-- c'mon.
[ Tate guides him upright and Derek goes, reluctantly sitting up straight and flexing against the bindings around his wrist again, like he's testing the strength of them. He can't see what Tate's holding, doesn't know the threat he's making - but he'd disobey even if he did. Already, Derek's leaning back down again, almost laying completely flat in a matter of seconds. ]
First you tell me I'm a shitty dom, then you try to take over? You're a shitty sub, you know that?
[Tate says it with clear amusement, but he doesn't climb back up onto Derek despite how tempting it could be. It wouldn't take that long to get off at all while riding him and the thought has his stomach clenching and his hand on his dick. But he breathes in deep and turns the dial up not one but two notches - watching Derek with rapt attention to see if he's got a response to this at least. He'll leave it like that for a long pause before turning it down one, voice husky when he speaks aloud - like he's on the fence about relenting or making it worse again:]
I said on all fours. You're not coming until the timer rings.
[ That's the whole point of all this, isn't it? The citations he's racked up, the late fees, the constant, imminent fear of realignment - he wouldn't be dealing with any of it if he were better at being a sub. Derek's dismissive and annoyed, giving no indication that he's willing to move here, and that's when Tate twists the dial higher. Derek senses it before it hits, the irritation in his expression giving way to an apprehensive, slightly shameful eagerness - but it still hits hard when it does.
The vibrations intensify right against his prostate, and Derek gets through the first acceleration okay, hissing in air through his teeth and letting his eyes drift shut, but it's the higher setting that really fucks him up. He chokes on his breath as he moans and arches his back from the bed, grabbing at the sheets for support with what little freedom his hands have. His cock jumps and flexes against his abs, precum slapping against his skin and running in a river down his shaft, and when he thinks he's actually gonna come like this, when he starts to feel the frustrating, unsatisfying build of a hands-free orgasm, Tate drops the setting back down and lets Derek catch his breath.
He-- swears, more than once. Quiet fuck, fuck, fucks said under his breath. He opens his eyes, slightly watering, the ceiling spinning behind the boundary of thin black cloth. He doesn't move onto all fours right away, but the idea of being kept on that edge or pushed even more ferociously towards it is kind of daunting, and it's only going to make his impatience worse. Carefully, after another long, long, long stretch of silence, Derek does as he's told, moving and positioning himself on his elbows and knees, hands starting to get uncomfortable from being bound for so long. ]
[Tate almost adds on something to really drag the dog symbolism there but he doesn't, mostly because he just got Derek on all fours and if he starts snapping his teeth at him this could end poorly. So he just combs his hands through Derek's hair, raking his nails over his scalp and rewarding him with some careful touch - affectionate in how he runs his fingers through it, then drops one hand away to put it on his dick to guide it right to Derek's mouth.
With a gentle thrust forward, he waits to see how Derek takes to blowing him not only in this exposed of a position, but blindfolded and constricted as he is. Tate thinks its rather fascinating, and he's leaning his shoulders back to watch it with parted lips and a wide eyed fascination that may only be present because he knows Derek can't see the look on his face.]
[ This is getting to be a lot, for Derek. The safety of doing this with someone he trusts, whether or not he's right to trust the person in question aside, can only take him so far when it comes to mitigating the anxiety he gets from acting so submissive. He feels exposed and fragile, the touch to his hair only exacerbating those feelings - he feels controlled and restrained and outside of himself in a way that directly opposes all the things he wants to be. Powerful, dominant. Alpha.
But he's still so fucking hard.
Derek's silent when he feels the head of Tate's cock brush against his bottom lip, and he swallows, heartrate picking up. It takes a second or two for him to get over his hesitation and open his mouth like he's told, letting the underside rest against his tongue, warm and wet and stationary. Tate takes the lead, thrusting into him, and Derek, again, takes his time before he follows orders. He doesn't start sucking until Tate thinks he might not do his job at all.
He's gentle, almost exploratory. He's given oral before, obviously, but it's always been on his own terms, when pinning someone down and forcing an orgasm out of them while they squeezed his head with their thighs has been-- a gift, on his part, rather than dutiful service. There's more shame, in sucking cock because you're being told to. Derek's adjusting, but - slowly. ]
[The praise rolls off Tate's tongue like a breathy afterthought as Derek's lips part for his cock and his tongue slides against it. He's slow with it but Tate doesn't mind that - they're waiting for a timer anyway, so the slower the better. He gently rolls his hips forward before pulling back, finding a soft rhythm to feel the heat of Derek's mouth with and groans gently in response. His hands keep sliding through Derek's hair, holding on to it and his skull.
Part of him wants more from Derek - he's not sure what he's supposed to be doing with this lead he's been given, both in this moment and now within Duplicity as a dom. There's just more ownership, more responsibility, and Tate's been culled into submission for so long - and idealizing romance, sex, and all of that as an equal share of things. His life is still pretty scattered since the day he woke up without a line down his throat.]
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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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'Course it's fucking pushing it.
[ But - he wets his lips, not really sure what to say. He's getting punished for not being a good sub, after all - following the rules doesn't come easy for him, and if Tate wants to give him a rule or two that might push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable, Derek knows that that wouldn't be a bad thing for either of them, strictly speaking. Tate's gotta learn to fill his role here just like Derek does, even if the sadistic little shit doesn't seem like he needs much help with it. ]
You're supposed to be in charge, though. So. Do what you want.
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[Tate asks quietly, though he's still uncertain himself. His hand strokes down Derek's thigh again, and he drops his gaze to his cock - reaching for it, fingers curling around its girth and giving a tentative pump. He knows what he's used to doing - what he thinks of, in this moment, because he either wants to get off or to get Derek off. Tate's been able to pick up a few skills and a lot of experience pleasuring people here because that's how you get ahead - by giving it. So as he jerks Derek off slowly, he considers his options.
This isn't supposed to be about getting Derek to come, though. Quite the opposite - so Tate tries to put his mind to what he's supposed to be leading here. He can tie Derek up all pretty and helpless but it's all aesthetics. He wets his lip, picking up the blindfold, just as shiny a vinyl as the rest of it and he crawls forward to straddle Derek's midsection. Looking down at him, he puts the mask on - letting it sit against Derek's forehead, asking to be lowered over his eyes.]
Try and - just try and go with it?
[He lowers the blindfold to put Derek in darkness.]
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I can't tell you. You have to figure this out. Take control.
[ His voice is surprisingly stable, given how overloaded he feels. He nods, mildly uncomfortable when Tate gets the blindfold on his forehead, though not enough to stop, flexing and unflexing his hands again as the world goes dark. His other senses, already heightened, seem all the more sensitive. He can hear every rustle in the sheets, every beat of Tate's new heart. He stretches his legs straight, trying to stay comfortable, more and more pre running from his cock, giving away that despite all his anxiety, despite the callous casualness in his voice, there is a submissive part of him that likes this. ]
But I enjoy... having you in the position I'm in now... for a few reasons. I can talk to you about them... if you think it would help you figure out what you want.
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[Tate's voice is quiet but hopeful, and his body's weight shifts. He's up on his knees again, off of Derek's abdomen, so he can push down his boxers. The fabric, thin cotton, glides down his thighs and stretches across Derek's chest as Tate settles back and seats himself over Derek's cock - letting it rest up against his ass as he gets his boxers the rest of the way off and tossed aside.
He finds the moment - strangely isolating, because he's taken away the two things that connect him to Derek in moments like these. His hands, the touch of warm connection and his eyes - what Tate uses to read Derek's expressions, his likes or dislikes. He's suddenly undermined his own confidence, his legs splayed to either side of Derek's chest and his hands on his thighs as he sits forward and gets back on his knees.
Reaching behind him, Tate grasps Derek's cock - feeling the pre smeared over it, fingers dancing around the tip as his heart hammers against his chest. He's waiting to hear what Derek has to say, but he's already keen on what he might want his next step to be.]
Tell me.
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But he keeps his voice calm. ]
I like... being able to take care of you... when you're submissive for me. Everything you feel - pleasure, frustration, a need to be touched, fucked, kissed, anything - that's all because of me. I get to... be the one to make you feel good. I have ownership over-- how you feel, in any given moment.
[ Derek angles his head - he can't see anything other than a grey-ish black wall of fabric, but he can see blurs of shapes and lights where Tate should be. He swallows and tilts his chin up, looking where he thinks Tate's eyes might be. ]
You're mine, when you're like this. I don't have to share you with... whoever you're dating, or... whoever you're friends with. You belong to me, for a while. You exist - solely for me. Nobody else. I like that feeling.
[ Derek likes having people. Possessing them. Few, if any, as explicitly as Tate. ]
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[Tate breathes out the words, goosebumps spreading across his skin - he likes that position too, the comfort of being cared for and knowing that there's trust well put in Derek to do whatever he needs to do to be there for him. He likes this position too, proving he can offer what Derek wants or needs as well, hopefully convincing him that he's trustworthy after giving so many reasons to doubt him in the past. The possessiveness is just a bonus, because he feels that too - he always does, when he gets close to people. Tate wants to be their world.
He works Derek's cock up between his cheeks, lowering himself onto him with a slow and steady stretch. He's tight, always is when they start this, but he's more practiced now with how to get through that by continuing. He feels Derek's cock split him open and keeps lowering himself, thighs trembling and his voice a caught garble of noise in his throat. His heart's picked up, giving away the strain and focus, and Tate's hands slip to brace himself against Derek's stomach.]
You can do anything you want to me, whenever you want. Just so you know that.
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I... I mean.
[ He's gonna make a joke, it's there in his voice. Derek gestures with his hands, feebly prying his hands away from each other with a shallow fraction of his strength, making sure to keep his wrists bound together. Can't exactly do anything he wants to Tate right now, can he? ]
Dumb thing to say.
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Or you can tell me what you want to do to me. Or have me do to you.
[Another roll of his hips, and he's lifting up - just to sink back down, nice and slow.]
And in three hours? You can come. Great, right?
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Thought you were supposed to be learning how to be a good Dom.
[ Tate should be the one telling him what he wants, Tate should be the one leading things - but Derek doesn't care enough about staying submissive to do more than make fun of him a little. On the contrary, he's gonna test the waters, now - see what he can get away with, see how much he'll be allowed to top from the bottom. If Tate still just wants to be controlled and led, Derek's more than willing to do that, and he's too blindly horny to give a shit about how that kind of powerplay might bite them in the ass one day.
With one hard snap of his hips, Derek fucks into Tate and buries himself in him, sharp and close to painful. He groans, gritting his teeth and talking through them, sweat on his neck. ]
Faster.
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[Derek thrusts up and Tate lets out a gasp, arching his back to ride it and falling back - hands against Derek's thighs to brace with a nervous squeeze of his fingers against the muscle. He's supposed to be dominant right now and Derek's calling him out, so it's a foggy maze in his head as to what to do next. But he has an idea with a sidelong look, before breathing in deep.]
Then go faster.
[He murmurs, ready to move with Derek - but also, in that same moment, clicking the dial of the vibrator up another notch.]
If you can.
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The dial twists and Derek's grin falters, a strangled moan dying in his throat as he drops his head back. It's-- still not at full blast, but it's well past what he's adjusted to, and when Derek clenches down, he only makes it worse for himself. He bites down on his teeth again, hissing in air, closing his eyes behind the blindfold. ]
Telling-- telling me to shut my mouth doesn't make you a dom.
[ Derek's voice comes watery and hesitant, but he clears his throat halfway through, trying to sound stronger by the end. If he wanted to be a good sub, he'd melt a little, drop away, act like he can't follow a simple order - but Derek just wants to come, now more than ever, and he's gonna challenge Tate's authority to get there. He leans the backs of his hands against the headboard for support and steadily starts to find a rhythm, grinding up into Tate - he stays pretty deep even after pulling out a little, not having been given enough room here to really fuck, but he's moving faster, getting what he wants, even as the intensity of all this starts making it hard for him to think clearly. ]
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[Tate's breath is shallow and he's riding what Derek's giving him, working himself against the lifts of his hips - feeling him stay deep but still grind and shift, working against his body in a way that makes Tate's toes curl. His knees dig into the mattress and he holds on tight to the remote, thumb ready on the dial but the rest of his body fighting to stay present in the moment. He could come from this, like this, with just a little more time and effort and Tate's head is blank when it comes to how to decide what to do next. So he keeps riding Derek, lifting and falling against him, before sitting flush and breathing in deep.]
Three hours. You have to - make it three hours without coming.
[Tate's finger slides against the dial, the vibration decreases. He stays seated on Derek, weight pushing down, his body flexing and tight around Derek's cock but not letting him move. Tate's staring at his face, obscured by the mask, and he strokes himself absently.]
Open your mouth.
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[ Derek fights off that three hours bullshit with the hardest thrust of his hips yet, burying in deep and staying there, stretching Tate out with every inch of him. Yeah, throwing the three hour thing into this was his idea, but-- they're close to the full moon and it was a stupid idea to try this now, when Derek's grip on himself is as tenuous as it can ever be. He's not gonna listen.
Tate starts moving with him, he decreases the fucking vibration, and Derek's happy again, grinning wide. He picks up the pace, gets a little frantic and off-rhythm, which is kind of new for him - he fucks Tate in fast, sloppy, unpracticed thrusts, chasing after Tate every time he moves away and welcoming him back when he drops against him again, and when Tate starts to sink down, locking him in place, Derek does his best to keep fighting. He flexes his hands around the vinyl binding his wrists together, close to just-- breaking the thing so he can put his hands on Tate's ass and get him moving again.
But Tate successfully pins him in place and Derek huffs, frustrated, laying where he is and doing his absolute fucking best to not bring out the werewolf strength and do what he wants. He darts his tongue between his lips and opens his eyes again, staring at the masked shadow that would be Tate, if the blindfold didn't obscure his vision. Reluctantly, he does as he's told, parting his lips - but he's impatient, and if this isn't worth it, he's gonna go back to doing what he wants to do. ]
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Derek's lips part and Tate murmurs something approving before he's lifting up and off of Derek's dick entirely, his expression flickering through something regretful as he does so. He moves backward but not without pulling Derek's wrists - guiding him to sit up as Tate climbs off of him and back down into the space between his legs. Tate holds on to the remote with his other hand, as if daring Derek to disobey the next set of orders:]
Get on all fours. And keep your mouth open - wider, wider than that.
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But Tate seperates from him and Derek's kind of pathetic when he goes, the small ah of want he makes paired with the way he follows his hips after Tate, not leaving the warmth of him until he has to - and when he drops flat onto his sheets again he just looks frustrated, hard against his belly and clearly more annoyed than anything else. ]
But-- c'mon.
[ Tate guides him upright and Derek goes, reluctantly sitting up straight and flexing against the bindings around his wrist again, like he's testing the strength of them. He can't see what Tate's holding, doesn't know the threat he's making - but he'd disobey even if he did. Already, Derek's leaning back down again, almost laying completely flat in a matter of seconds. ]
I'm not done with this. Ride me.
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[Tate says it with clear amusement, but he doesn't climb back up onto Derek despite how tempting it could be. It wouldn't take that long to get off at all while riding him and the thought has his stomach clenching and his hand on his dick. But he breathes in deep and turns the dial up not one but two notches - watching Derek with rapt attention to see if he's got a response to this at least. He'll leave it like that for a long pause before turning it down one, voice husky when he speaks aloud - like he's on the fence about relenting or making it worse again:]
I said on all fours. You're not coming until the timer rings.
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[ That's the whole point of all this, isn't it? The citations he's racked up, the late fees, the constant, imminent fear of realignment - he wouldn't be dealing with any of it if he were better at being a sub. Derek's dismissive and annoyed, giving no indication that he's willing to move here, and that's when Tate twists the dial higher. Derek senses it before it hits, the irritation in his expression giving way to an apprehensive, slightly shameful eagerness - but it still hits hard when it does.
The vibrations intensify right against his prostate, and Derek gets through the first acceleration okay, hissing in air through his teeth and letting his eyes drift shut, but it's the higher setting that really fucks him up. He chokes on his breath as he moans and arches his back from the bed, grabbing at the sheets for support with what little freedom his hands have. His cock jumps and flexes against his abs, precum slapping against his skin and running in a river down his shaft, and when he thinks he's actually gonna come like this, when he starts to feel the frustrating, unsatisfying build of a hands-free orgasm, Tate drops the setting back down and lets Derek catch his breath.
He-- swears, more than once. Quiet fuck, fuck, fucks said under his breath. He opens his eyes, slightly watering, the ceiling spinning behind the boundary of thin black cloth. He doesn't move onto all fours right away, but the idea of being kept on that edge or pushed even more ferociously towards it is kind of daunting, and it's only going to make his impatience worse. Carefully, after another long, long, long stretch of silence, Derek does as he's told, moving and positioning himself on his elbows and knees, hands starting to get uncomfortable from being bound for so long. ]
You're such a little bitch.
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[Tate almost adds on something to really drag the dog symbolism there but he doesn't, mostly because he just got Derek on all fours and if he starts snapping his teeth at him this could end poorly. So he just combs his hands through Derek's hair, raking his nails over his scalp and rewarding him with some careful touch - affectionate in how he runs his fingers through it, then drops one hand away to put it on his dick to guide it right to Derek's mouth.
With a gentle thrust forward, he waits to see how Derek takes to blowing him not only in this exposed of a position, but blindfolded and constricted as he is. Tate thinks its rather fascinating, and he's leaning his shoulders back to watch it with parted lips and a wide eyed fascination that may only be present because he knows Derek can't see the look on his face.]
Suck.
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But he's still so fucking hard.
Derek's silent when he feels the head of Tate's cock brush against his bottom lip, and he swallows, heartrate picking up. It takes a second or two for him to get over his hesitation and open his mouth like he's told, letting the underside rest against his tongue, warm and wet and stationary. Tate takes the lead, thrusting into him, and Derek, again, takes his time before he follows orders. He doesn't start sucking until Tate thinks he might not do his job at all.
He's gentle, almost exploratory. He's given oral before, obviously, but it's always been on his own terms, when pinning someone down and forcing an orgasm out of them while they squeezed his head with their thighs has been-- a gift, on his part, rather than dutiful service. There's more shame, in sucking cock because you're being told to. Derek's adjusting, but - slowly. ]
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[The praise rolls off Tate's tongue like a breathy afterthought as Derek's lips part for his cock and his tongue slides against it. He's slow with it but Tate doesn't mind that - they're waiting for a timer anyway, so the slower the better. He gently rolls his hips forward before pulling back, finding a soft rhythm to feel the heat of Derek's mouth with and groans gently in response. His hands keep sliding through Derek's hair, holding on to it and his skull.
Part of him wants more from Derek - he's not sure what he's supposed to be doing with this lead he's been given, both in this moment and now within Duplicity as a dom. There's just more ownership, more responsibility, and Tate's been culled into submission for so long - and idealizing romance, sex, and all of that as an equal share of things. His life is still pretty scattered since the day he woke up without a line down his throat.]
Keep - Keep going. I want you to make me come.