[ 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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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.