[ It's a fast response, said with a shake of his head. He doesn't believe that Tate's not a good person. That first comment, the one about Derek being too nice, he doesn't believe that, either - all his aggression, all his cold fronts, all the things he's done, none of them make him nice - but defending that pales beside the urge to chase off Tate's self-doubt before it takes hold of him.
Derek drops onto his side again, barely two or three seconds of consideration passing before he does. He moves in close, holding the side of Tate's jawline, smoothing his thumb across his cheek until Tate meets his eyeline. Derek's frowning, clearly unhappy, but he's not exactly going anywhere, either. ]
Look at me. I don't believe that. We're having a fight - that's all.
[ Doesn't mean he loves Tate any less. Doesn't mean he couldn't say a dozen good things about Tate, if Tate asked him to do so when they weren't in the middle of - whatever the fuck it is they're in the middle of now. Derek puts some steel in his voice, keeps it stern. ]
[Tate crumples back easily, slinking down onto his elbow to let Derek hold his jaw - he's resistant for a beat before he looks at him, mystifyingly dark black eyes focusing on Derek's - staring into the hazel of them, trying to find something in there to hold on to. He's not a good person, so many people have told him so. The things he's done? Nice people don't just do that. But it wasn't all for a lack of trying, at least to start. He wants to be better, he told Dr. Harmon that much. So he relaxes like he's lost tension in his muscles, and he starts to lean ever closer to Derek.]
I want to believe that.
[Needs to be told that, needs to want that. He sighs.]
[ Derek doesn't exactly want to fight, either, and he's had enough of them with Tate by now to know how to diffuse them. He focuses on soft touches, on prolonged eye contact. Curling Tate's hair behind his ear, looking at him with wide-eyes until the world feels a little more still. He only talks again when it feels safe to. ]
I'll talk to Reggie. I don't want him at your throat like that.
[ And - he knows this is dangerous, but the cavalier way Tate brought up Kavinsky, the idle comparison as if Derek's negative feelings for the guy are in any way comparable to Tate's to Reggie's, it - sticks to him. Despite his better judgment, Derek asks what he wants to ask, still playing with Tate's hair, voice soft. ]
[Tate answers, just to stake that in because as much as he wants to lean into soft touches he feels like he's got one foot hovering over a snare trap. Derek asks about Kavinsky in that way he always does and Tate doesn't understand how he can get so angry with him for associating with him - and not try to see it from Tate's view, too. They have that much in common, maybe. They frustrate each other.]
[ Besides the orgy, yeah. Derek frowns, clearly unhappy with that response, hand going a little tense, but he doesn't stop stroking Tate's cheek and playing with his hair. He's silent, even after Tate mentions Reggie's party, stewing in whatever anger he feels. ]
Okay.
[ But his hand comes to a stop, eventually, and he draws it back. He's not fighting, but he's - confused, because Derek was at that party from pretty much start to end. He saw Reggie, Nick. Noah. Kavinsky. A ton of people. Didn't see Tate. ]
[He murmurs, holding still against Derek's hand with his eyes briefly averted. He's not about to explain it, why he hid in the woods and saw more than he bargained for. Or let Derek know that that was one of those moments that pumped fuel into his jealousy's fire. But he breathes in slowly, looking off to the side at a crooked picture frame on his desk.]
You went into the woods with Reggie. I didn't want to interrupt.
[Plus, he can't add on, he was pretty wasted thanks to Kavinsky forcing pills down his throat. Somehow that's not something he wants to bring up right now, even though he'd feel like it was a decent defense for how he got so trashed. He looks back at Derek, brows raised.]
I left after I realized how annoying the birthday boy was. I shouldn't have gone in the first place.
[ It doesn't take long for Derek to realize what Tate must've seen, and - rather than feel shame, or-- or anger at being spied on, or anything like that, Derek just feels a sense of closure, finally understanding what it is Tate's been so upset about. Now that he knows, maybe he can fix things. ]
That's what this has been about?
[ It makes sense, now - the spike of jealousy, the text messages. The way Derek probably ruined Tate's mood by assuming Reggie was the one behind that anonymous message. He sighs, leaning forward, trying to gather his thoughts. For now, at least, Kavinsky stops being an important part of this conversation. ]
It was-- I get why you'd be upset. I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else. I know that that's - just how the city works, but - I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't seen that.
[Past a point, anyway. He's sullen for a moment like he's confessing to it openly - that he saw enough to be jealous and slightly vindictive over. Because he had, after all. He doesn't really care to admit it but the way Derek reacts isn't overtly negative. He looks up to him sluggishly, doe eyed and wary for a beat. That's how the city works, indeed.]
But yeah, I guess? It bothered me.
[Tremendously.]
Not exactly something you can bring up easy, either.
[ Derek didn't expect he'd stay, no, but the look he gives Tate says that if the positions were reversed, he himself wouldn't be so quick to leave. He'd - want to see Tate like that, want to dwell in the jealousy and the anger, just because Derek makes poor decisions like that all the time. That's, again, how the city works.
But he sits up, again. Tries to change the flow of the conversation. They were getting into something, earlier, and now that Derek sees a way out through that, he's going to try and take it. Without warning, Derek straddles Tate's hips, rolling him onto his back by force, if he has to. He drops his weight down, braces his hands on his chest, and raises his eyebrows, forcing himself to look vaguely playful and energetic. Better than miserable and guilty and still kind of angry. ]
Let me make it up to you, then. However you like. You're my Dom, aren't you? Give me an order.
[ He drums his hands on Tate's chest, maybe a little too hard. ]
Just... not with the bite. I can't - I won't bite you just to prove that I care about you. It's worth more than that.
[Derek's hungry looks are hard to miss, and as he settles on Tate's hips - Tate watches his face, soaking up the expression with mild intrigue. It's with a slightly uncomfortable shift that Tate adjusts to the weight, one of his hands resting on Derek's thigh as his cock twitches back to attention beneath him. He searches Derek's face after he speaks, trying to determine the authenticity of this. Derek hates being a sub. But - this isn't the same as being out on the street, is it?]
Okay.
[Head lolling to the side, he has to think for a moment - and lets his eyes wander to the small trunk beneath his desk. He lifts a hand lazily, pointing to it, and Derek will easily know what he's gunning for on sight. Where else is he supposed to keep the accumulation of toys?]
I want you to pick something you like from there. After you get naked for me... in a strip tease.
[ Easy enough. Derek's not a dancer, not by any means, so once he huffs out a laugh and slips his thumbs beneath his waistband, he's not planning on giving the best strip tease anyone's ever gotten. He holds eye contact, rolls his hips, grinds down against Tate as he moves, but that's as active as he gets. He drags out the whole process, bringing everything he's wearing from the waist-down down to his knees in long, slow pulls, stopping and starting again when Tate starts to look impatient. He doesn't let Tate touch him, always grabs his hand and pushes it down against the bed when he tries, and before long, Derek's tearing off the last of what he's wearing, straddling Tate's waist again, completely bare.
Next step. He nods towards the toys. ]
For you or for me?
[ Because - well, if Tate were most Doms, he'd assume he was gunning for the latter, but Tate's kind of selfish, sometimes. Wouldn't be surprised if he was just asking Derek to get him off. ]
[Tate's a little breathy when he says that, keeping his head back and his hair fanned out around him like a halo. Derek's gotten him hard again - not that it would've been hard with all that friction, that half-assed show that still got Tate's eyes following the cut lines of Derek's torso. Moments like that, where even when he's not allowed to touch, Tate's able to just... examine someone so intimately without reproach. After a year here he doesn't really feel much toward his previously closeted feelings, not the same shame at least, but time to time he still feels insecure. But not like this, not with Derek.]
For you, maybe. So pick something decent... I want you to show me all the things you want to do to me but on your own body first.
[He licks his lower lip in a slow cat-like swipe.]
[ Not a great order, apparently. Derek rolls his eyes, getting to his feet all the same, but it's obvious by the time he wanders over to Tate's toys that he has no intention of following that order. He pushed Tate into taking the lead, but Derek's general sense of defiance and inability to do as he's told is still going strong, it seems. He rummages around until he finds something he likes. ]
Can't fuck myself that hard.
[ It's the plug they've used before, rose pink and, luckily, recently charged. He brings it back to Tate, standing on his knees at the end of the bed, lube brought with him from the chest, as well - he's not hard, and he looks kind of bored, but he still lazily throws Tate the remote as he uncaps the lube and starts working the toy, getting it ready. ]
This is for you.
[ Because - apparently - he doesn't trust Tate to take the lead, after all. If he wants to distract Tate with sex, he figures he should be doing something he knows Tate will like. ]
[Tate says in a tone of voice that's more amused than admonishing, because he spreads his leg a bit wider apart and brings up his knee so his heel's resting against the mattress. He stares at Derek almost suspicious, wondering if he's really going to be so boldly defiant. Should he be punishing him for this? Or encouraging it? Either way, Tate likes the sight of Derek drawing closer.]
[ Tate's amusement only encourages Derek, who leans into his defiant streak like it's where he lives. He's grinning, now, dropping down on his knees to curl his lube-slick hand around Tate's cock, gliding over him just fast enough to keep him alert. He hums, thoughtfully, like he's actually considering the order, but he never really was. ]
Make me.
[ He strokes Tate faster, always running hot enough to make the tight heat of his palm even warmer. He closes his fist around Tate's head and squeezes, massaging in circular pulls as he holds the plug with his other hand, looking at Tate with his eyebrows raised. ]
Or tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to make you come.
[He's quick to admit that, voice lathered with latent want as Derek pumps him with a sick fist. He sighs, toes curling and his hips rolling with the motion, but it's with a quick swallow and a quirk of his lips that he has more to add on to that. Make me, says Derek. Such a challenging little shit.]
But if you're not going to put the toy in you, you better put me instead.
[ He's taking this as an admission of defeat, from Tate, who acts like he's in charge despite doing exactly what Derek told him to do. He's caving, giving Derek the right to take control again, and Derek just laughs, clearly feeling like he's won something. He can't hide the smugness in his voice. Doesn't even try. ]
That's what I thought.
[ He takes his hand from Tate's cock, shifting closer on his knees and bringing his fingers to Tate's hole. He's as gentle as ever, slowly pressing his fingertips into his entrance and stretching him open, coating him with lube to make this easier, and then with very little ceremony, he brings the plug to Tate's entrance instead. He's jerking Tate off again as he gently penetrates him, easing the plug in inch by inch. ]
[Said with a fondness despite the way he rolls his shoulders back, arching his back and reacting positively to Derek's continued touch. Maybe he should've fought harder, but - what's he supposed to do when he actually does like it this way? When he knows Derek does too? He doesn't mind giving in if it pleases him, in the latter case. It helps secure what they have. That said, he does still make commentary as he breathes in slow and deep - trying not to clench around the toy when it replaces Derek's finger. He's tight as ever.]
A year of - of being your sub rubbed off on me, yeah? Am I supposed to just unlearn it all and be a dom now... I don't - ah, I don't fucking... thi-
[He groans rather than finish that, feeling the toy sink into him and press against his prostate with a slow, dull fullness that makes him feel so much more alert. He breathes in a little faster, color bleeding across his pale skin as the exertion makes him seem so much more lifelike. So much more alive.]
[ The teasing, the comments, the affectionate antagonizing, those are all things that Derek likes, too. Tate thinks that Derek's going to ride him, and Derek's laughing again, still that smug piece of shit Tate accused him of being. Slowly, he starts to pull the toy out of Tate again, leaving him empty with just the tip of the plug against his hole before he slowly, slowly fucks it back into him. Derek's slow and methodical, fucking Tate with the toy as he jacks him off, watching every arc of his back and fresh burst of color across his skin. ]
[Any attempts to sound demanding are demeaned by the fact Tate's arching gently when the toy exits him, pressing to it when it teases reentry. It's still something to adjust to, stretching around it with his teeth clicking together but his head so easily distracted by the fist around his dick. The redness that brushes over his face is a mix of pleasure and frustration, because Derek likes to put him in these positions. Where he makes Tate feel helpless in a way he likes, but still kind of objects to.]
[ Oh, that's quite the threat. Derek rolls his eyes, pumping his fist all the way down to Tate's balls, holding them in his hand and tugging lightly just to remind him of the position he's in. He can make all the threats he wants, but at the end of the day, Derek's the one in control, here. Derek's always the one in control. ]
You don't think I'd blink out of here? You really wanna test that?
[Whether Tate can or can't do that when getting closer and closer to the cusp of an orgasm is debatable, but he sure does let his heartbeat flicker ominously in and out of existence for a second. It's like static, the way for just a fraction of a second he looks a little paler - hollowed out and dead in comparison to the flushed faced and alive kid he's become this year. Throwback to the way Derek first met him, it seems.]
[ Maybe he'll leave after he comes, once Derek's worked his climax out of him with every slick, strong stroke of his fist, but Tate's too weak-willed and selfish to bail on him now, of all times. Derek starts jerking Tate a little faster, searching out the remote for the plug, running his thumb over the dial without turning on the vibration just yet. He gestures with it, bringing the remote to Tate's attention, talking calmly and quietly as his hand just moves faster and faster, holding him tighter with each stroke. ]
Turn your heartbeat off again and I won't use this.
[Not a genuinely made demand, but Derek's got Tate worked up the way he wants him - impatient, grinding on his own gears to try and stay stubborn when all he wants now is to go where his dick's guiding him: to a happy ending. He wants to have Derek make his eyes roll back and in that horny uptick of want, there isn't a thing too far for Tate's craving right now. He digs his nails into the bed and rolls his hips - rather angrily.]
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[ It's a fast response, said with a shake of his head. He doesn't believe that Tate's not a good person. That first comment, the one about Derek being too nice, he doesn't believe that, either - all his aggression, all his cold fronts, all the things he's done, none of them make him nice - but defending that pales beside the urge to chase off Tate's self-doubt before it takes hold of him.
Derek drops onto his side again, barely two or three seconds of consideration passing before he does. He moves in close, holding the side of Tate's jawline, smoothing his thumb across his cheek until Tate meets his eyeline. Derek's frowning, clearly unhappy, but he's not exactly going anywhere, either. ]
Look at me. I don't believe that. We're having a fight - that's all.
[ Doesn't mean he loves Tate any less. Doesn't mean he couldn't say a dozen good things about Tate, if Tate asked him to do so when they weren't in the middle of - whatever the fuck it is they're in the middle of now. Derek puts some steel in his voice, keeps it stern. ]
You're a good person.
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I want to believe that.
[Needs to be told that, needs to want that. He sighs.]
And I don't want to fight.
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I'll talk to Reggie. I don't want him at your throat like that.
[ And - he knows this is dangerous, but the cavalier way Tate brought up Kavinsky, the idle comparison as if Derek's negative feelings for the guy are in any way comparable to Tate's to Reggie's, it - sticks to him. Despite his better judgment, Derek asks what he wants to ask, still playing with Tate's hair, voice soft. ]
When was the last time you saw Kavinsky?
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[Tate answers, just to stake that in because as much as he wants to lean into soft touches he feels like he's got one foot hovering over a snare trap. Derek asks about Kavinsky in that way he always does and Tate doesn't understand how he can get so angry with him for associating with him - and not try to see it from Tate's view, too. They have that much in common, maybe. They frustrate each other.]
He was at Reggie's party.
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Okay.
[ But his hand comes to a stop, eventually, and he draws it back. He's not fighting, but he's - confused, because Derek was at that party from pretty much start to end. He saw Reggie, Nick. Noah. Kavinsky. A ton of people. Didn't see Tate. ]
I was at Reggie's party. I didn't see you there.
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[He murmurs, holding still against Derek's hand with his eyes briefly averted. He's not about to explain it, why he hid in the woods and saw more than he bargained for. Or let Derek know that that was one of those moments that pumped fuel into his jealousy's fire. But he breathes in slowly, looking off to the side at a crooked picture frame on his desk.]
You went into the woods with Reggie. I didn't want to interrupt.
[Plus, he can't add on, he was pretty wasted thanks to Kavinsky forcing pills down his throat. Somehow that's not something he wants to bring up right now, even though he'd feel like it was a decent defense for how he got so trashed. He looks back at Derek, brows raised.]
I left after I realized how annoying the birthday boy was. I shouldn't have gone in the first place.
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That's what this has been about?
[ It makes sense, now - the spike of jealousy, the text messages. The way Derek probably ruined Tate's mood by assuming Reggie was the one behind that anonymous message. He sighs, leaning forward, trying to gather his thoughts. For now, at least, Kavinsky stops being an important part of this conversation. ]
It was-- I get why you'd be upset. I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else. I know that that's - just how the city works, but - I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't seen that.
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[Past a point, anyway. He's sullen for a moment like he's confessing to it openly - that he saw enough to be jealous and slightly vindictive over. Because he had, after all. He doesn't really care to admit it but the way Derek reacts isn't overtly negative. He looks up to him sluggishly, doe eyed and wary for a beat. That's how the city works, indeed.]
But yeah, I guess? It bothered me.
[Tremendously.]
Not exactly something you can bring up easy, either.
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But he sits up, again. Tries to change the flow of the conversation. They were getting into something, earlier, and now that Derek sees a way out through that, he's going to try and take it. Without warning, Derek straddles Tate's hips, rolling him onto his back by force, if he has to. He drops his weight down, braces his hands on his chest, and raises his eyebrows, forcing himself to look vaguely playful and energetic. Better than miserable and guilty and still kind of angry. ]
Let me make it up to you, then. However you like. You're my Dom, aren't you? Give me an order.
[ He drums his hands on Tate's chest, maybe a little too hard. ]
Just... not with the bite. I can't - I won't bite you just to prove that I care about you. It's worth more than that.
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Okay.
[Head lolling to the side, he has to think for a moment - and lets his eyes wander to the small trunk beneath his desk. He lifts a hand lazily, pointing to it, and Derek will easily know what he's gunning for on sight. Where else is he supposed to keep the accumulation of toys?]
I want you to pick something you like from there. After you get naked for me... in a strip tease.
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Next step. He nods towards the toys. ]
For you or for me?
[ Because - well, if Tate were most Doms, he'd assume he was gunning for the latter, but Tate's kind of selfish, sometimes. Wouldn't be surprised if he was just asking Derek to get him off. ]
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[Tate's a little breathy when he says that, keeping his head back and his hair fanned out around him like a halo. Derek's gotten him hard again - not that it would've been hard with all that friction, that half-assed show that still got Tate's eyes following the cut lines of Derek's torso. Moments like that, where even when he's not allowed to touch, Tate's able to just... examine someone so intimately without reproach. After a year here he doesn't really feel much toward his previously closeted feelings, not the same shame at least, but time to time he still feels insecure. But not like this, not with Derek.]
For you, maybe. So pick something decent... I want you to show me all the things you want to do to me but on your own body first.
[He licks his lower lip in a slow cat-like swipe.]
That's your order.
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Can't fuck myself that hard.
[ It's the plug they've used before, rose pink and, luckily, recently charged. He brings it back to Tate, standing on his knees at the end of the bed, lube brought with him from the chest, as well - he's not hard, and he looks kind of bored, but he still lazily throws Tate the remote as he uncaps the lube and starts working the toy, getting it ready. ]
This is for you.
[ Because - apparently - he doesn't trust Tate to take the lead, after all. If he wants to distract Tate with sex, he figures he should be doing something he knows Tate will like. ]
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[Tate says in a tone of voice that's more amused than admonishing, because he spreads his leg a bit wider apart and brings up his knee so his heel's resting against the mattress. He stares at Derek almost suspicious, wondering if he's really going to be so boldly defiant. Should he be punishing him for this? Or encouraging it? Either way, Tate likes the sight of Derek drawing closer.]
At least give it a try.
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Make me.
[ He strokes Tate faster, always running hot enough to make the tight heat of his palm even warmer. He closes his fist around Tate's head and squeezes, massaging in circular pulls as he holds the plug with his other hand, looking at Tate with his eyebrows raised. ]
Or tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to make you come.
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[He's quick to admit that, voice lathered with latent want as Derek pumps him with a sick fist. He sighs, toes curling and his hips rolling with the motion, but it's with a quick swallow and a quirk of his lips that he has more to add on to that. Make me, says Derek. Such a challenging little shit.]
But if you're not going to put the toy in you, you better put me instead.
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That's what I thought.
[ He takes his hand from Tate's cock, shifting closer on his knees and bringing his fingers to Tate's hole. He's as gentle as ever, slowly pressing his fingertips into his entrance and stretching him open, coating him with lube to make this easier, and then with very little ceremony, he brings the plug to Tate's entrance instead. He's jerking Tate off again as he gently penetrates him, easing the plug in inch by inch. ]
Breathe. Take it easy.
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[Said with a fondness despite the way he rolls his shoulders back, arching his back and reacting positively to Derek's continued touch. Maybe he should've fought harder, but - what's he supposed to do when he actually does like it this way? When he knows Derek does too? He doesn't mind giving in if it pleases him, in the latter case. It helps secure what they have. That said, he does still make commentary as he breathes in slow and deep - trying not to clench around the toy when it replaces Derek's finger. He's tight as ever.]
A year of - of being your sub rubbed off on me, yeah? Am I supposed to just unlearn it all and be a dom now... I don't - ah, I don't fucking... thi-
[He groans rather than finish that, feeling the toy sink into him and press against his prostate with a slow, dull fullness that makes him feel so much more alert. He breathes in a little faster, color bleeding across his pale skin as the exertion makes him seem so much more lifelike. So much more alive.]
C'mon - please? Get on my fucking cock already.
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[ The teasing, the comments, the affectionate antagonizing, those are all things that Derek likes, too. Tate thinks that Derek's going to ride him, and Derek's laughing again, still that smug piece of shit Tate accused him of being. Slowly, he starts to pull the toy out of Tate again, leaving him empty with just the tip of the plug against his hole before he slowly, slowly fucks it back into him. Derek's slow and methodical, fucking Tate with the toy as he jacks him off, watching every arc of his back and fresh burst of color across his skin. ]
I don't think I need to ride you to get you off.
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[Any attempts to sound demanding are demeaned by the fact Tate's arching gently when the toy exits him, pressing to it when it teases reentry. It's still something to adjust to, stretching around it with his teeth clicking together but his head so easily distracted by the fist around his dick. The redness that brushes over his face is a mix of pleasure and frustration, because Derek likes to put him in these positions. Where he makes Tate feel helpless in a way he likes, but still kind of objects to.]
That's two strikes. Three and you're out.
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What's going to happen when I'm "out"?
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[Whether Tate can or can't do that when getting closer and closer to the cusp of an orgasm is debatable, but he sure does let his heartbeat flicker ominously in and out of existence for a second. It's like static, the way for just a fraction of a second he looks a little paler - hollowed out and dead in comparison to the flushed faced and alive kid he's become this year. Throwback to the way Derek first met him, it seems.]
Don't call my bluff.
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[ Maybe he'll leave after he comes, once Derek's worked his climax out of him with every slick, strong stroke of his fist, but Tate's too weak-willed and selfish to bail on him now, of all times. Derek starts jerking Tate a little faster, searching out the remote for the plug, running his thumb over the dial without turning on the vibration just yet. He gestures with it, bringing the remote to Tate's attention, talking calmly and quietly as his hand just moves faster and faster, holding him tighter with each stroke. ]
Turn your heartbeat off again and I won't use this.
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[Not a genuinely made demand, but Derek's got Tate worked up the way he wants him - impatient, grinding on his own gears to try and stay stubborn when all he wants now is to go where his dick's guiding him: to a happy ending. He wants to have Derek make his eyes roll back and in that horny uptick of want, there isn't a thing too far for Tate's craving right now. He digs his nails into the bed and rolls his hips - rather angrily.]
I fucking hate you.