[ that was what he was planning to do. he's already at the door when tate messages him back, toeing on his sneakers and searching for his keys. a few seconds later and derek's out the door, house locked up behind him, walking straight through the woods towards the treehouse - it takes two minutes, maybe three for derek to get there, but he already has a sense of who this is before he reaches the front step up. no heartbeat, no signs of any breaking and entering... if there's nobody here but tate, he knows where his lead lies, and if there's nobody here at all, then someone's clearly fucking with him.
derek doesn't knock. he never does. he heads on it - same as always. ]
[Derek barges in and Tate's not sure what he was expecting this to come to or how this is about to unfold, but for a moment there's silence in response. Only Tate lifts his head from the loft and looks down, blond hair mussed and a pillow under his chin as he stares down at Derek from the bed. He's only in boxers and curls one bare arm under his pillow while working it a bit further under him, acting tired if just for effect.]
What?
[He rests his chin in the pillow, concealing a lazy smirk.]
[ even now - even now - the idea of distrusting tate, of thinking he's anything other than tired, just like he says he is, runs so against the grain of what's been hammered into him over the course of this relationship. tate is trustworthy, tate is kind, that's what derek's told himself. the alternative - all that time spent on him - is simply too horrible to consider. derek hesitates, like he doesn't know what to do. if tate doesn't know what he's talking about, then - he's not sure what his next step should be.
but he shakes it off. shakes off the hesitation, charges ahead, keeps on the one road he's following because it's the only road in front of him. derek isn't accusing tate of anything, but the tone is there in his voice as he folds his arms and stares at the bed, jaw tense. ]
[Tate stares at Derek for a moment longer, brows raised and his hand combing back through his hair before he sluggishly sits up. The sheets are twisted around his legs but he works himself free, sitting right at the edge of the loft and letting one of his legs hang over. His phone is sitting next to him, still on their conversation, and he debates the merits of continuing to pretend there's nothing going on.
But if he does that and he gets found out, would that be worse?]
[ Derek has a choice, here. He could jump down Tate's throat, ask him what he was thinking. Blow up a little, lean into his anger over the fear he felt, being watched by someone threatening his friends, watched the same way hunters had watched him as a boy. Anger would feel good. Anger always feels good.
Or he could keep the peace. Derek stared at Tate, long and hard, eyes stating above the chest. A long, long delay passes before he grabs his phone and responds through text. ]
What did it say? On the bathroom stall. There had to be something filthy enough to inspire you to reach out to a stranger.
[Tate's still not sure what to do, how to act - but there's a buffer of distance between them and he feels a bit more bolstered in how he's acted when his phone buzzes. He turns his head and looks down at it, scooping it up and reading over the text - heart hitching gently, and a smile ghosting his lips.]
it wasn't really your name but think stuff like 'wanna be bred? call ###' made me think of u while at work
[He looks back down at Derek, a quick glance.]
then u started talking about reggie and i got a bit jealous sorry?
It's... fine. I mean, no, it was actually kind of awful for a moment there, but.
[ another pause. he figures tate is deflecting his attempt at staying in character because it's worth more to him to talk this out than it is to actually get off, so. he follows his tone. ]
I thought someone was pranking me. He's the only dipshit I know dumb enough to try that. Then I told him I was blowing him off. For you. Specifically. Not entirely sure where the jealousy comes in.
[Jealousy may not be justified, but that has to be.]
i was trying to make sexting a thing am i supposed to just be like "hey, it's tate. i want you to fuck my brains out like a back alley slut" asking for future revisiting
That is exactly what you're supposed to say. I would have been here in seconds. I could have been blowing my third load in you by now if you'd only played your cards better.
[Tate says aloud with a hint of humor to his voice, trying to play with Derek here again - before looking back down to his phone. He's still smiling, letting it linger in the corners of his mouth before he types a bit more - sluggish but trying. He's a little nervous, evident by the way he glances down, because this feels a lot more stupid when you're both in the same room.]
have we ever really tested how many times u can go at it properly? like really run you to the limit
[ Once Derek finishes reading Tate's message, he - hesitates, looking up at the loft to look at Tate. Tate's got his eyes on his phone and Derek feels like he should type, but - he pockets his phone, instead, foregoing all this. ]
No.
[ It's a good thought. It's a great thought - he's never really done that, been able to let loose for as long as he likes, but. He's gotta shut this down before Tate gets eager and stupid and thinks he can handle a werewolf at full strength all on his own. Seems like the kind of short-sighted bullshit Tate would do. ]
Sounds hotter than it would really be. You'd get hurt, or - tired. I wouldn't want to do that to you.
[Tate answers when he realizes Derek's no longer going to play the texting game, abandoning his phone and swinging his leg over the loft's edge. He shifts closer so he's sitting right on the edge of it, boxers hiked up one thigh and his hand gripping the mattress as he gazes down. Derek's probably right in that past a certain point of pressure and pleasure, Tate'd start to get agitated - be exhausted enough to want to stop, even if he's doing it mostly to see how much he can please Derek. He wants to be the only one who can, and if Reggie can keep up with that werewolf libido? Tate wants to too.
He thinks he can, anyway. What perk is it to heal back to your dead state all the time if you don't make use of it? It's not like this would permanently ruin him, or really debilitate him for more than a day - two, at the most. Could even be practice in seeing how far he can recover and how fast. He cocks his head to the side, intently eyeing Derek.]
I can take it and you know it. You can't break me, you know. I don't even think you could kill me if you tried.
[ Derek's mildly frustrated, just because he feels like they're circling some of the things they've circled before - Tate's unwillingness to take care of himself, Tate's cavalier attitude towards his own life and safety. This wasn't really where he wanted the conversation to go, but now that they're done with the distance at all, he makes his way up to the loft, talking as he climbs. ]
I don't like hurting you. That's all.
[ The breathplay Tate's so fuckin' into is difficult enough, sometimes. The scratches and the bites that sometimes draw blood feel good in the moment, but Derek always feels horrible when they're coming down after. He makes it to the bed and stands with his arms crossed, looking down at Tate. He's worried saying the wrong thing will make Tate leave or blow up, but. What's new. ]
You're precious to me. Doesn't matter if you'll heal. I want to take care of you. Can't do that if I'm exhibiting enough force to have killed you, if you were alive.
[Tate's heard this before, he's known that Derek despite the roughness - always has that elusive feeling of remorse after hurting him. While Tate can't quite empathize with how that feels - he knows why Derek feels that way. It's wrong to hurt the people you love, even if it's with that love you've hurt them. But he can't quite ever understand what it is to feel that way himself, other than bowing his head when he's done wrong and getting frustrated with his inability to do good innately.
He hasn't turned completely, but one leg is folded under him after he pivots on the loft's edge. Looking at Derek, his eyes search him over and he wonders if they're going to be stuck in the usual rut of this conversation. Where Derek is too good, too pure, to let out his inner beast and Tate will again remain the one who can't prove himself to be useful albeit slightly masochistic.]
But when we do things together... I like the way it hurts, because it's safer with you. I know you'll stop if I tell you to. And I like being able to offer you something nobody else can - you really could fuck me with all your might, you know. I'd be fine.
[The last few words are muttered softly, before he flops back on the bed. Legs give a bit of a kick before he worms his way back onto the mattress fully, stretched out with his arms folded behind his head. Inviting, he hopes. Tempting, if nothing else.]
[ If Tate wasn't tempting, Derek wouldn't have done half the things he's already done with him. Wouldn't have fucked him when they were constructing the treehouse. Wouldn't have been so easily wrapped around his little finger all those months back, going from holding an arm over Stiles' chest to keep Tate away from him to standing at the foot of his bed in the treehouse worrying about hurting him. Tate stretches out and Derek goes quiet, for a second, but ultimately presses his lips together in a line and sternly shakes his head. ]
Self-control isn't an easy thing for me to get back once I give it up.
[ That's part of why he holds onto it so tightly - he's seen what it does to people who let go. Derek is resilient, someone who wants to be better, and giving into his base instincts without the right imperative just isn't who he is. ]
[Tate's been thinking about this a lot, actually. For a long time he's been considering how he feels about the whole thing - putting it off, inadvertently or otherwise. He didn't want to commit and he's still not wholly sure he wants to, in a selfish way. It means giving up a lot of things, surrendering so much more than he really is willing to surrender. But every time he says 'wait' or 'in a little while from now', he risks Derek feeling rebuffed just enough to never trust him again. Risks Derek growing tired of him, tired of waiting, and leaving. Worse yet, he risks losing him to Reggie entirely.
So while he may not truly want this on all levels, he does seek the sense of connection it would theoretically bring. But he has to wonder about the authenticity of that - Reggie's a beta for Derek already, but they don't have the undeniably, all-encompassing bond that Tate wants with Derek. Will being a beta really do that for him? Or is he just still hoping for far too much?
He wets his lips, lifting up a hand to take a hair away from his mouth - using the moment to stay silent before his dark eyes flick to Derek. He wants to own him, to be - fucking undeniably the only thing in his world. Part of him already knows that's not possible yet...]
[ Another temptation, another split decision to make. He's thought of biting Tate since the day they fucking met, at one degree or another - it's funny, how much simple things were when he first arrived. A Dominant, unsigned, playing with the idea of biting multiple submissives and forming a pack out of his contracts. How much easier his life might have been had he stayed unconnected. Animalistic. Tate would have been his first bite. His best.
In the end, despite the look of want that briefly flashes over him, Derek just rolls his eyes, dropping down to rest his knees on the bed. This isn't what Tate wants, not really, Derek's not stupid. Not after so many rejections. ]
You're thinking with your dick.
[ Derek reaches out, sets his hand on Tate's thigh, then moves even closer. Maybe he's using a tactic Tate's used on him before - distracting him with sex, the kind of thing that used to make his skin crawl - but so be it. His fingers move up Tate's leg until his hand is at his boxers, and Derek holds eye contact as he starts to stroke Tate through the fabric, coaxing him into getting hard. ]
C'mon. I don't have to go all out to make you come. I've never had trouble getting you off before, have I?
[If Tate could just relax into this relief, he would. But he needs to find a way to keep their complicated mess of delays going, so he arches his back a bit at first touch. Derek's hand is stroking him and he briefly clasps his own over it, stretching out his leg on the bed and staring up at Derek almost fully distracted by the physicality of what he's doing before returning to himself with a soft little moan.]
You deserve a lot more than you've been getting.
[Whether that's the ability to fuck until sated or in having the betas he wants, Tate does want to please Derek. Desperately so. He wants his neverending approval, and doesn't like it when it feels like he's disappointed him. His hand gingerly raises to touch at Derek's neck, pressure applied by the fingertips to try and coax him closer.]
Would you still bite me where you said you would? Or would you pick somewhere else?
[ Tate's pushing, so - Derek has no choice but to push back. He could argue, say what it is he thinks he deserves, or even buy into the talk of being bitten until the dirty talk and the promise of what he could have gets him so hard that he caves and does something stupid - or he could distract Tate a little harder. ]
Shh.
[ When Derek presses his lips to Tate's, it's to progress what they're doing as much as it is to shut him up. He goes hard pretty much immediately, brushing his bottom lip with his tongue in a plea for access as he brings his hand up the leg of Tate's boxers to stroke his dick with renewed urgency. He kisses him for as long as Tate will allow, flicks and swirls of his tongue paired with the strong, slow jerk of his fist, and when he pulls back, he doesn't go far. ]
[Tate kisses him back because it's what feels right - even if he's still conflicted about whether or not he's doing the right or wrong thing in this instance. His lips part and his tongue swipes over Derek's, and he breathes in deep through his nose - murmuring a pleased noise against his mouth when he starts really jerking him off. He's hard fairly quick, especially now that Derek's hand is under the layer of cotton that's now tented and darkened with a pool of pre cum.
He could push it, keep talking - but that could sour the mood. He'll have to keep up with it, though, so Derek remembers that he's tried. It sits like weights in the forefront of his mind, only shifting around as he obeys a command and slowly rolls over to lay with his belly to the bedding. He uses his thumb to push down his boxers, letting them slide down his hips and then digs his forearms down underneath him to brace. The triskele on his arm is particularly dark black against his pale skin in the moment, his eyes focusing down on it.]
Even if we - don't yet... will you call me your beta?
[ Tate's always, always been like this. Pushy, manipulative, trying to convince him to do things either on a whim or because he wants more from Derek than Derek's been willing to give him. This is already straining him, and Derek's hand hesitates, his expression shifting to something more unreadable. He can't tell, sometimes, if Tate doesn't realize that the shit he says hurts him or if he just doesn't really care. ]
C'mon, Tate.
[ Derek lets Tate move, grabbing his boxers with one hand and dragging them off Tate's body once they're at his thighs. He leans over him, kissing his neck, grazing his shoulder with his teeth or brushing his nose against the shell of his ear, little things to try and keep Tate horny and distracted. There was a time when Tate would do fucking anything, to have Derek sleep with him. That's not enough anymore. ]
Just enjoy this. You don't - have to be anything else for me to want you.
[Derek's slinking over him and he feels the weight of his body, heavy and solid behind him. He likes that feeling of goosebumps spreading over his skin and the flickering feeling in his chest of his heart going haywire. Maybe he did miss that after all or maybe he's just become so aware of how much Derek likes it that he now likes it too. That's how it tends to be with Tate. He wants to be what the people he loves want him to be. With a few notable exceptions.
His fingers curl into the sheets and he wets his lips, voice oddly stilted. His head bows and this has been weighing on him since the woods. The feelings of jealousy, the rage and inferiority. He breathes in sharp, holding it for a beat before spitting out his next few words curtly.]
I'm not asking to make you want to fuck me. I'm asking because - I want to know.
[His heart hitches again, and his voice feels foreign. His eyes are misting.]
[ Derek does his best to maintain the course, little scratches of his beard against Tate's throat as he kisses the side of his throat with renewed vigor, dropping his weight further on Tate until his cock is pressed against his ass through his clothes. He's not hard, not yet, but he doesn't really get a chance to change that - Tate spits out something angry, puts up a wall Derek's not willing to just ignore or break through, and, reluctantly, Derek stops.
With a sigh, Derek rolls off of Tate and lays on his back beside him, staring at the ceiling for a second to gather his thoughts. It wouldn't be a lie, to tell Tate he considers him his beta, he's said it a dozen times before - but it's such a dangerous thing to play with right now, when Tate's trying to push him into taking things further. Hurting him, or - committing to something he by no means has ever shown a real, tangible, serious desire to commit to, outside of using the bite as some kind of bandaid. ]
You're pack to me whether or not I bite you. That's what - that's why you have this.
[ Derek reaches out without looking, not needing to use his eyes to find the tattoo on Tate's arm. He looks at Tate, instead, while his thumb finds the curls of the triskele and strokes over it, and when he sets his teeth together and wants nothing more than to stop talking and let this conversation die, he pushes himself to continue it. ]
Why are you so upset about this? You should know how close we are. This - this jealousy, lately, it's... you don't need it. I'm the one who should be jealous, after...
[ The orgy. Kavinsky. The three of them. Fuck, what an awful night. ]
[Tate lays on his stomach for a little bit longer after Derek rolls off, wondering if he's fucked it up - missing the familiar looming weight of him and the sex that they almost just had. He can feel traces of Derek's teeth against his neck and he touches it before slouching over on his side, adjusting his hips with his cock hard and hardly hidden. His lips stick together before trembling just a bit - he's telling him he doesn't need to be jealous. What a joke.]
I saw the way you look at Reggie, the way you two...
[He's petty. He's hurting and he's so incredibly jealous it's unbelievable. His brows knit and he looks at Derek like he knows he's done wrong because how could he not - he can't logically explain the gut wrenching jealousy that makes him want to spit out bile and gag on his own insecurities.]
I want that. I want to know without a doubt that we have that. Not something different, or better - I want that for us too. I don't want to make you mad bringing it up but it's just important, I think, that we talk about it. I know you want it too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
derek doesn't knock. he never does. he heads on it - same as always. ]
Tate.
no subject
What?
[He rests his chin in the pillow, concealing a lazy smirk.]
no subject
but he shakes it off. shakes off the hesitation, charges ahead, keeps on the one road he's following because it's the only road in front of him. derek isn't accusing tate of anything, but the tone is there in his voice as he folds his arms and stares at the bed, jaw tense. ]
That's all you're giving me? "What"?
no subject
But if he does that and he gets found out, would that be worse?]
You gonna help me get off or what.
no subject
Or he could keep the peace. Derek stared at Tate, long and hard, eyes stating above the chest. A long, long delay passes before he grabs his phone and responds through text. ]
What did it say?
On the bathroom stall.
There had to be something filthy enough to inspire you to reach out to a stranger.
no subject
it wasn't really your name but
think stuff like 'wanna be bred? call ###'
made me think of u while at work
[He looks back down at Derek, a quick glance.]
then u started talking about reggie and i got a bit jealous
sorry?
no subject
I mean, no, it was actually kind of awful for a moment there, but.
[ another pause. he figures tate is deflecting his attempt at staying in character because it's worth more to him to talk this out than it is to actually get off, so. he follows his tone. ]
I thought someone was pranking me. He's the only dipshit I know dumb enough to try that.
Then I told him I was blowing him off. For you. Specifically.
Not entirely sure where the jealousy comes in.
no subject
[Jealousy may not be justified, but that has to be.]
i was trying to make sexting a thing
am i supposed to just be like
"hey, it's tate. i want you to fuck my brains out like a back alley slut"
asking for future revisiting
no subject
I could have been blowing my third load in you by now if you'd only played your cards better.
no subject
[Tate says aloud with a hint of humor to his voice, trying to play with Derek here again - before looking back down to his phone. He's still smiling, letting it linger in the corners of his mouth before he types a bit more - sluggish but trying. He's a little nervous, evident by the way he glances down, because this feels a lot more stupid when you're both in the same room.]
have we ever really tested how many times u can go at it properly?
like really run you to the limit
no subject
No.
[ It's a good thought. It's a great thought - he's never really done that, been able to let loose for as long as he likes, but. He's gotta shut this down before Tate gets eager and stupid and thinks he can handle a werewolf at full strength all on his own. Seems like the kind of short-sighted bullshit Tate would do. ]
Sounds hotter than it would really be. You'd get hurt, or - tired. I wouldn't want to do that to you.
no subject
[Tate answers when he realizes Derek's no longer going to play the texting game, abandoning his phone and swinging his leg over the loft's edge. He shifts closer so he's sitting right on the edge of it, boxers hiked up one thigh and his hand gripping the mattress as he gazes down. Derek's probably right in that past a certain point of pressure and pleasure, Tate'd start to get agitated - be exhausted enough to want to stop, even if he's doing it mostly to see how much he can please Derek. He wants to be the only one who can, and if Reggie can keep up with that werewolf libido? Tate wants to too.
He thinks he can, anyway. What perk is it to heal back to your dead state all the time if you don't make use of it? It's not like this would permanently ruin him, or really debilitate him for more than a day - two, at the most. Could even be practice in seeing how far he can recover and how fast. He cocks his head to the side, intently eyeing Derek.]
I can take it and you know it. You can't break me, you know. I don't even think you could kill me if you tried.
no subject
I don't like hurting you. That's all.
[ The breathplay Tate's so fuckin' into is difficult enough, sometimes. The scratches and the bites that sometimes draw blood feel good in the moment, but Derek always feels horrible when they're coming down after. He makes it to the bed and stands with his arms crossed, looking down at Tate. He's worried saying the wrong thing will make Tate leave or blow up, but. What's new. ]
You're precious to me. Doesn't matter if you'll heal. I want to take care of you. Can't do that if I'm exhibiting enough force to have killed you, if you were alive.
no subject
[Tate's heard this before, he's known that Derek despite the roughness - always has that elusive feeling of remorse after hurting him. While Tate can't quite empathize with how that feels - he knows why Derek feels that way. It's wrong to hurt the people you love, even if it's with that love you've hurt them. But he can't quite ever understand what it is to feel that way himself, other than bowing his head when he's done wrong and getting frustrated with his inability to do good innately.
He hasn't turned completely, but one leg is folded under him after he pivots on the loft's edge. Looking at Derek, his eyes search him over and he wonders if they're going to be stuck in the usual rut of this conversation. Where Derek is too good, too pure, to let out his inner beast and Tate will again remain the one who can't prove himself to be useful albeit slightly masochistic.]
But when we do things together... I like the way it hurts, because it's safer with you. I know you'll stop if I tell you to. And I like being able to offer you something nobody else can - you really could fuck me with all your might, you know. I'd be fine.
[The last few words are muttered softly, before he flops back on the bed. Legs give a bit of a kick before he worms his way back onto the mattress fully, stretched out with his arms folded behind his head. Inviting, he hopes. Tempting, if nothing else.]
I trust you.
no subject
Self-control isn't an easy thing for me to get back once I give it up.
[ That's part of why he holds onto it so tightly - he's seen what it does to people who let go. Derek is resilient, someone who wants to be better, and giving into his base instincts without the right imperative just isn't who he is. ]
I could end up biting you.
[ A real bite. It's what he'd want to do. ]
no subject
So while he may not truly want this on all levels, he does seek the sense of connection it would theoretically bring. But he has to wonder about the authenticity of that - Reggie's a beta for Derek already, but they don't have the undeniably, all-encompassing bond that Tate wants with Derek. Will being a beta really do that for him? Or is he just still hoping for far too much?
He wets his lips, lifting up a hand to take a hair away from his mouth - using the moment to stay silent before his dark eyes flick to Derek. He wants to own him, to be - fucking undeniably the only thing in his world. Part of him already knows that's not possible yet...]
Then bite me.
no subject
In the end, despite the look of want that briefly flashes over him, Derek just rolls his eyes, dropping down to rest his knees on the bed. This isn't what Tate wants, not really, Derek's not stupid. Not after so many rejections. ]
You're thinking with your dick.
[ Derek reaches out, sets his hand on Tate's thigh, then moves even closer. Maybe he's using a tactic Tate's used on him before - distracting him with sex, the kind of thing that used to make his skin crawl - but so be it. His fingers move up Tate's leg until his hand is at his boxers, and Derek holds eye contact as he starts to stroke Tate through the fabric, coaxing him into getting hard. ]
C'mon. I don't have to go all out to make you come. I've never had trouble getting you off before, have I?
no subject
You deserve a lot more than you've been getting.
[Whether that's the ability to fuck until sated or in having the betas he wants, Tate does want to please Derek. Desperately so. He wants his neverending approval, and doesn't like it when it feels like he's disappointed him. His hand gingerly raises to touch at Derek's neck, pressure applied by the fingertips to try and coax him closer.]
Would you still bite me where you said you would? Or would you pick somewhere else?
no subject
Shh.
[ When Derek presses his lips to Tate's, it's to progress what they're doing as much as it is to shut him up. He goes hard pretty much immediately, brushing his bottom lip with his tongue in a plea for access as he brings his hand up the leg of Tate's boxers to stroke his dick with renewed urgency. He kisses him for as long as Tate will allow, flicks and swirls of his tongue paired with the strong, slow jerk of his fist, and when he pulls back, he doesn't go far. ]
Roll over. Lay on your stomach.
no subject
He could push it, keep talking - but that could sour the mood. He'll have to keep up with it, though, so Derek remembers that he's tried. It sits like weights in the forefront of his mind, only shifting around as he obeys a command and slowly rolls over to lay with his belly to the bedding. He uses his thumb to push down his boxers, letting them slide down his hips and then digs his forearms down underneath him to brace. The triskele on his arm is particularly dark black against his pale skin in the moment, his eyes focusing down on it.]
Even if we - don't yet... will you call me your beta?
no subject
C'mon, Tate.
[ Derek lets Tate move, grabbing his boxers with one hand and dragging them off Tate's body once they're at his thighs. He leans over him, kissing his neck, grazing his shoulder with his teeth or brushing his nose against the shell of his ear, little things to try and keep Tate horny and distracted. There was a time when Tate would do fucking anything, to have Derek sleep with him. That's not enough anymore. ]
Just enjoy this. You don't - have to be anything else for me to want you.
no subject
[Derek's slinking over him and he feels the weight of his body, heavy and solid behind him. He likes that feeling of goosebumps spreading over his skin and the flickering feeling in his chest of his heart going haywire. Maybe he did miss that after all or maybe he's just become so aware of how much Derek likes it that he now likes it too. That's how it tends to be with Tate. He wants to be what the people he loves want him to be. With a few notable exceptions.
His fingers curl into the sheets and he wets his lips, voice oddly stilted. His head bows and this has been weighing on him since the woods. The feelings of jealousy, the rage and inferiority. He breathes in sharp, holding it for a beat before spitting out his next few words curtly.]
I'm not asking to make you want to fuck me. I'm asking because - I want to know.
[His heart hitches again, and his voice feels foreign. His eyes are misting.]
Tell me you think of me like that.
no subject
With a sigh, Derek rolls off of Tate and lays on his back beside him, staring at the ceiling for a second to gather his thoughts. It wouldn't be a lie, to tell Tate he considers him his beta, he's said it a dozen times before - but it's such a dangerous thing to play with right now, when Tate's trying to push him into taking things further. Hurting him, or - committing to something he by no means has ever shown a real, tangible, serious desire to commit to, outside of using the bite as some kind of bandaid. ]
You're pack to me whether or not I bite you. That's what - that's why you have this.
[ Derek reaches out without looking, not needing to use his eyes to find the tattoo on Tate's arm. He looks at Tate, instead, while his thumb finds the curls of the triskele and strokes over it, and when he sets his teeth together and wants nothing more than to stop talking and let this conversation die, he pushes himself to continue it. ]
Why are you so upset about this? You should know how close we are. This - this jealousy, lately, it's... you don't need it. I'm the one who should be jealous, after...
[ The orgy. Kavinsky. The three of them. Fuck, what an awful night. ]
no subject
I saw the way you look at Reggie, the way you two...
[He's petty. He's hurting and he's so incredibly jealous it's unbelievable. His brows knit and he looks at Derek like he knows he's done wrong because how could he not - he can't logically explain the gut wrenching jealousy that makes him want to spit out bile and gag on his own insecurities.]
I want that. I want to know without a doubt that we have that. Not something different, or better - I want that for us too. I don't want to make you mad bringing it up but it's just important, I think, that we talk about it. I know you want it too.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)