[Derek returns the kiss and Tate knows that things are - set, for now. Like he's baited him in and the snare's around his neck, he has time yet to manipulate him the rest of the way before he pulls the rope taut. He kisses fervently, inviting Derek toward him only to find himself ordered to turn around - which is interesting. Derek usually prefers the face to face, that connection. But maybe what they both need right now is a little detachment.
Tate does as instructed, swallowing hard at the feeling of putting his back to Derek - and he puts one hand against the wet tiles in front of him. The room's rather humid now and he slicks back his hair with the other hand before letting it join the first, set out in front of him. He braces, but then looks back over his shoulder. His heart's picked up with anticipation.]
[ Tate looks good like this - braced against the wall, ass out like a slut. There's a lot that Derek should be thinking about right now, things worth confronting and things he shouldn't ignore, but he's throwing himself further and further into what they're doing, stoking his arousal with thoughts about fucking Tate until he screams and making him come without letting him touch himself. When Tate turns to look at him from over his shoulder, it's on a whim that Derek leans forward and kisses him again, arm around his chest to exert his strength and hold him still. Every part of him is forceful, now, from the tension in his muscles and the scratch of his beard to the demanding, almost selfish nature of how he kisses him.
Derek leans back and drops to his knees, water running down his hair and in a river down his spine. He sets his hands against Tate's ass and pries him apart, running the tip of his tongue in one quick, long stroke from the base of his balls to the rim of his hole. He gives Tate a second, maybe two, to get accustomed to the feeling before he's fucking him with his tongue, long, rapid swirls paired with hard squeezes of his hands, and when he closes his eyes he just - loses himself to this. ]
[Something about showers and sex should be more clumsy, but it works for them right now. Derek's weight leans against him from behind and they kiss, with Tate straining his neck to offer his open mouth between sucked in breaths and the gentle slide of one of his hands against the tile. He braces again as Derek moves, expecting them to get right to it - but when Derek sinks to his knees, Tate glances back over his shoulder again quickly as if surprised.
That first swipe of his tongue up against his hole makes Tate's lips part in a silent 'o', head turning to face forward again as he breathes in deep and sudden. He ends up pressing his forehead to the tiles which aren't even a cool relief, letting the water run in rivulets down his back as he shudders with the way Derek's eating him out. Pushing back against it with a backwards nudge of his hips, he groans lightly.]
[ To anyone who hasn't spent as much time with Derek as Tate has, it would be easy to take his silence as a lack of response. Tate moans for him and Derek says nothing, doesn't even hum under his breath, but there's a change in how he eats him out, slowing down to help Tate dwell in how good this feels. Each long swipe of his tongue is rhythmic and persistent, covering every sensitive nerve in flat laps and short, quick stabs, and when he drops his hand between Tate's legs, he strokes his cock with the same empathetic attention. He wants Tate to feel fucking amazing.
But he's still a little selfish, still too eager for his own good, and when Tate is ready and Derek's finished with trying to make him writhe, he stands and aligns himself behind him. The steam from the shower is fogging up the glass, and Derek smears his hand across the door to clear it, letting him see their reflection in the bathroom mirror - they look good like this. Tate, submissive and willing - Derek, dominant and in control. It's been months, and he still can't stand the collar so often around his neck.
Derek turns his attention back to Tate, dragging the head of his cock down his ass, teasing his hole without committing. He wets his lips and reaches out with his spare hand, running his fingers through Tate's hair, somewhere between affectionate and possessive. ]
[Tate's fingers curl against the tiles of the bathroom, grip slipping along them the more Derek spoils him with lavish attention from his tongue. A year ago Tate wouldn't have really pegged himself for liking this kind of thing - but here he is, hard and red faced from just a few swipes of a tongue up his ass. His head lolls back when Derek jerks him off, and he feels like his knees might go weak. More so when Derek's standing again behind him, like a shadow overhead, making goosebumps lift across Tate's skin.
'Beg me', he says. Tate laughs - heady and grinning, and leans back against the body behind him. He can feel the head of Derek's cock between his cheeks and he knows it's only a matter of seconds before he's going to have it in him - so he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.]
Please.
[The first word just - slips out, but then he pushes his weight back against Derek to emphasize it.]
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Tate does as instructed, swallowing hard at the feeling of putting his back to Derek - and he puts one hand against the wet tiles in front of him. The room's rather humid now and he slicks back his hair with the other hand before letting it join the first, set out in front of him. He braces, but then looks back over his shoulder. His heart's picked up with anticipation.]
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Derek leans back and drops to his knees, water running down his hair and in a river down his spine. He sets his hands against Tate's ass and pries him apart, running the tip of his tongue in one quick, long stroke from the base of his balls to the rim of his hole. He gives Tate a second, maybe two, to get accustomed to the feeling before he's fucking him with his tongue, long, rapid swirls paired with hard squeezes of his hands, and when he closes his eyes he just - loses himself to this. ]
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That first swipe of his tongue up against his hole makes Tate's lips part in a silent 'o', head turning to face forward again as he breathes in deep and sudden. He ends up pressing his forehead to the tiles which aren't even a cool relief, letting the water run in rivulets down his back as he shudders with the way Derek's eating him out. Pushing back against it with a backwards nudge of his hips, he groans lightly.]
Sh-Shit, Derek. That's - that's...
[It's good. Real good.]
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But he's still a little selfish, still too eager for his own good, and when Tate is ready and Derek's finished with trying to make him writhe, he stands and aligns himself behind him. The steam from the shower is fogging up the glass, and Derek smears his hand across the door to clear it, letting him see their reflection in the bathroom mirror - they look good like this. Tate, submissive and willing - Derek, dominant and in control. It's been months, and he still can't stand the collar so often around his neck.
Derek turns his attention back to Tate, dragging the head of his cock down his ass, teasing his hole without committing. He wets his lips and reaches out with his spare hand, running his fingers through Tate's hair, somewhere between affectionate and possessive. ]
Beg me.
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'Beg me', he says. Tate laughs - heady and grinning, and leans back against the body behind him. He can feel the head of Derek's cock between his cheeks and he knows it's only a matter of seconds before he's going to have it in him - so he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.]
Please.
[The first word just - slips out, but then he pushes his weight back against Derek to emphasize it.]
You got me ready. I want it.