i liked the way you just did what i asked without questioning it. i like it when you do that stuff. means you really care about me. i care about you too, you know.
[Which is why he's sending a photo of himself very much naked, albeit lounging on the main level sofa of the treehouse. He's got one hand over his dick, but not a lot's left to the imagination otherwise.]
[ a pause. he'll come to tate - derek's already been packing up a bit, but he rushes through the tail end of it while he texts. ]
I still do what you ask. I still take care of you. I try to, at least. It's harder, now.
[ being a sub. ]
I didn't ever question you because I was scared of upsetting you. If I question you now, it's just because we've moved beyond that. That's a good thing. Healthy.
[Whatever you can call this now - he still doesn't know if he holds a candle to what Derek had with Stiles, but he still hopes for that kind of devotion. He still has such an empty chest, wanting to leech warmth and affection out of any source. Derek's doing good to feed him it, but will it ever sate him the way it should? He doesn't know. He just knows that he needs to keep a hold of this and never, ever let it go. He'll do whatever it takes to protect this feeling.]
[ if they weren't in duplicity, if there wasn't so much baggage between them, if he hadn't seen tate at what derek falsely believes to be his worst - there's a dozen different reasons behind derek saying that he likes what they are, even if he thinks they could be more, but he's distracted and only half here when he says as much. it's just - a gut reaction.
he finishes cleaning up before long, heading upstairs into the den to change. he showers, fast as he can, washing away the sweat and the sun that comes from working outside, but only a few minutes later he's in clean clothes and making his way to the tree house. his hair's still wet as he wanders through the woods. ]
Never been called a dickface before. Least of all after an I love you.
[Something sobering about the fact Derek's reply is 'we could be better', paired with a delay before he comes over. Tate's taken a little ride so far with this conversation, driving it through seduction to mockery and back again but now he's left sitting up in the living area of the treehouse feeling... uncertain by what was just said. We could be better. That has a weight to it that Tate takes on a little too personally, curling forward and chewing on his nails. He sits in silence until Derek dotes on him with another few words.]
[ The cats are outside, unsurprisingly, eyes turning to stare at Derek the second his footsteps start crunching over dead leaves. It's getting hotter, now, and the woods isn't the easiest place to be right now, especially for Derek, who already runs hot as it is - he'd spoken to Tate before about moving him to the den back when the treehouse needed maintenance, and the conversation never really went anywhere, but he's gonna try again. Beats sweating through his clothes. ]
Yeah. I'm coming up.
[ A couple of seconds later, Derek's heading inside, swallowing the second he sets his eyes on Tate. He's - beautiful, of course, like he always is, falsely angelic. Derek isn't the type to overthink how he should act, but he's still torn between thinking Tate wants this to be a serious meeting or assuming he's just fucking with him, about to put clothes on the second Derek walks closer to the couch. He's not sure what to do. ]
[And just like Derek runs hot, Tate often runs cold - he hasn't broken a sweat in the treehouse, and his skin has an unnatural pallor to it when he sits forward and briefly puts parts of himself in shadow. Then, just as quick and vivid, he looks every part the lively spirited teenager he wants to be, color not yet rushing to his face but his eyes catch the light with a glimmer against their jetblack.]
Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]
[ In these last few months, maybe even a little longer - maybe even since Stiles left - sex with Tate has been more casually familiar than the intense, guilt-ridden thing it used to be. Derek never really pieced it together, after caving and promising to help Tate with his quota, that there was more at play during Tate's initial seduction of him than just fear of the city and desperation to get away from his Dom. He never really realized that Tate had staked a claim on him, that first time they fucked in the treehouse. Never really realized that Tate never had a problem meeting his quota.
But this doesn't feel casual. There's no jokes or sarcasm, no underlying atmosphere of taunts and teasing, when Tate beckons him over and grips onto his shirt. Rather than just-- relaxing in his win, relaxing in his routine, Tate's taking something of a lead, soon kissing Derek in a way that gets him hard and makes him feel wanted in a way he hasn't really felt for a while. The way he's touching Derek, pulling him in close, it's - a lot, already. Not in a bad way.
Derek kisses back, slow, at first, trying to match Tate's pace, but those little breaths and ticklish touches against the back of his neck are driving him kind of crazy. Before long, Derek's stepping forward and guiding Tate back towards the sofa, running his hands down Tate's bare sides and brushing his thumb across the small of his back. He's kissing harder, moving a little faster, and it only takes a few seconds before he's pushing Tate down and tearing off his own shirt. ]
[Derek reciprocates and Tate is coaxed into relaxing with that in mind, feeling successful in his ways of pulling him toward him and sinking his claws in ever deeper. He keeps the kiss going, ebbing and flowing from more heated locking of lips to soft, subtle kisses and drags of his lips over Derek's as he shifts his weight back and follows the guide toward the couch. His heel hits up against the furniture before he settles back farther, crumpling down easy against the too-soft cushions while looking up at Derek as he strips off a shirt that's still damp from the shower he just had.
Tate hikes up one leg, spreading both wider apart with one hanging over the edge of the sofa and it's as much an act of seduction as it is submission - both being things he knows Derek reacts positively to. There's a certain art to the showing of the belly, the complete animalistic trust then put on display. He stretches up one hand toward Derek's pants, hooking in his fingers to the waistband and tugging.]
Come here.
[He repeats again, breathy and demanding in the way he tugs again - wanting Derek's weight to settle over him and prying at him until he can get him to topple down just the way he wants. Tate slopes back against the cushions and breathes in deep, his heart a steady hum inside his chest. Serene. Aroused, yes, but pleased and unafraid. He wants to have this moment and draw it out as long as it can last.]
[ Tate's being demanding, which is as exciting for Derek as the open show of submission. He's all-- eager, for Derek, tugging him forward by the belt and making Derek laugh and rock forward without completely losing his balance. The second time Tate pulls him forward, Derek lets himself fall, dropping down onto Tate, straddling his leg and touching his side. Nose to nose, he takes another kiss, faster than the last, again and again, grinning between each break.
He grinds into Tate, rolling his hips forward as they make out, fucking into Tate's thigh through his clothes. For the first time in a while, Derek doesn't know what to do with his hands, too overwhelmed by choice - he reaches back and hooks his thumb beneath his belt, tugging his pants down a few inches, but he gets distracted when his fingers roam down Tate's chest or neck or curl around his dick. ]
Must've really missed me.
[ There's a cockiness in Derek's voice, misguided though it might be. He thinks Tate's eagerness can be explained away by impatience, if nothing else - he'd messaged Derek when he was horny, got distracted, and now they're back to this and Tate just wants to come. He doesn't even make the connection between his behaviour and the message Derek sent him. ]
[Derek settles over him and Tate's pleased with that, using his own hands to push Derek's pants down farther. Slipping his fingers beneath the fabric to feel the curve of his hips and ass, he moves said fabric lower after loosening the belt and fastenings - grinning at the way Derek ruts against him. He likes the feeling of holding the reins, feeling Derek simmer with lust just because of him. That's want, that's need, and that's what Tate so desperately wants of Derek in turn.
'Must've really missed me', he says, and Tate snorts gently between kisses - playing it off or just simply amused by the ego. He pushes Derek's pants as far down his thighs as he can get them before hooking one of his arms back around Derek's neck, hauling him in so he can bite at his lower lip and then work his way down his neck. He still has a sweet smell from the shower, noticed as he noses against his neck and lifts his hips to better position himself beneath Derek with legs still widely splayed.]
Definitely missed part of you.
[One hand then between them, the way he gropes at Derek's cock underlines the point.]
[ Before Duplicity, sex had never been a shortcut to better things, for Derek. The emotional vulnerability, his own negative experiences, the fear of being disappointing - in a lot of ways, sex was a difficult minefield for him to navigate. Here, though, and with Tate especially, it's an easy way to skip past any tension brewing between them, unknowingly or otherwise. Tate's making him want him. It's so much easier to want than it is to do anything else, and for these twenty minutes, this hour, this night, however long they spend together - Derek can let himself be irresponsible, for once in his life. He can take that shortcut towards feeling better. ]
Subtle.
[ Once Tate touches him, the urge to push beyond all the making out and just fuck starts rising through Derek. He gives Tate a second to feel him, to really take in just how hard he's made him already, but then he's peeling back, tearing off the rest of his clothes and getting buck naked, the slightly undignified hop as he tears off his last pant leg probably enough to expose how eager he is. He jumps back on the couch again a little too quickly, fast and heavy as he leans over Tate again and practically mauls his neck, scraping his teeth against his throat between each kiss. He reaches down, finds Tate's wrist, and guides his hand towards his cock. ]
[Tate's breath escapes him in a little huff when Derek's teeth graze his neck and he feels the edges of them lift light welts that melt away just as quickly as they came. This is one of those times they tangle together with such vivid connection that it really makes Tate feel alive, makes him feel like he isn't stuck in a constant state of yearning anymore - he's achieving something, he's having something. Someone. Derek's willing and wanting and Tate ties into that, his fingers curling clumsily around Derek's cock and stroking him once before pressing his head to his cheeks.
It's not exactly dignified, the way he wriggles on the couch to try and better offer up an angle of himself, but he's teasing Derek against his hole all the same - smearing the generous pre but only applying the lightest of pressure. He wants Derek to push harder, but it's not until he's doing this that Tate realizes he's so caught up in the moment that he's just working on instinct. Jumping right to it.]
Don't make me beg. I just - I just want to feel you, okay? I want us to fuck our brains out.
[ He's always liked having that kind of power over people. Always liked being the reason why someone would writhe and cry out and come for him. If Tate hadn't brought up begging, Derek would have fucked into Tate the second Tate guided him to his hole, but now Derek wants to tease and provoke and earn some of that frustration he likes so much. Tate wants him pretty bad right now, more than he has in a while, and Derek selfishly wants to stoke that fire a little. Make him want him even more.
He's never begged Tate, really. Never needed to. A part of him wonders how Tate will react, being on the other side of things. Derek slowly, slowly grinds his cock against Tate's hole without breaching him, gliding along the outer rim and up his taint, teasing and being the tiniest bit cruel by not just giving Tate what he wants. He leans forward, drops his weight against him, and he drops his lips to Tate's ear, whispering softly, making his voice as quietly desperate as he can while he just - pleads. ]
Please, Tate. Please. I need to fuck you, I - I fucking need it. I need you.
[ Nobody else, he whispers. Derek bucks his hips forward, grinding against Tate even harder, pretending to be impatient, pretending like Tate has power. Every word, every syllable, shakes with barely contained lust and a neediness so unlike him. He kisses the corner of Tate's jaw, right beneath his ear, and he grips his waist until he leaves marks with his fingers. ]
[Derek turns things on their head when he starts mewling soft words like that into the shell of his ear, and Tate reacts vividly with a sharp inhale and a hard writhe beneath his body. It doesn't help that Derek's cock is rutting against him - just ever so shy of entering him the way he wants. The way he's this close to begging for, just like Derek wants. 'You look good like that,' he says. Tate laughs lightly, breathy against Derek's neck as he kisses it and rolls his hips upward.]
I want you to - I want you to fuck me, just like you need to. As hard as you need to.
[He's breathing shallow between every few words, hand combing through Derek's hair as their bodies slink against one another. He feels a sheen of sweat already rising over his face, in the crook of his arm. His heel slips against the sofa cushion and he hikes one leg up and around Derek's back, using it to pull him in against him.]
[ As hard as you need to, Tate says, making Derek laugh softly under his breath. He can see what Tate's really asking for, the same way he always does when Tate says things like that - he's never been okay with Derek holding back, he's always wanted to be torn apart and fucked in a way Derek never gives him. Always wanted to push Derek to the edge of his self-control in the hopes that he'll embrace the brutal, animal parts of his nature and fuck Tate until he breaks. ]
Hmm.
[ He noses Tate's jawline, encouraging him to tilt his head to the side so he can kiss and bite the side of his throat more frantically. He's not shooting Tate down, but he's still just grinding against him, throwing his weight into each dry thrust as he teases Tate more and more. He drags the wait out, makes Tate think this is all they're going to have today, foreplay and kissing and sharp pinpricks of teeth against his throat - but even Derek's patience has its limits.
Derek drops his hand to his cock, curling his fingers beneath the head as he rolls his hips forward. He guides himself into Tate, that first penetration still as tight and as difficult to breach as it always has been - Derek bites down on his teeth as a line of sweat runs down his temple, and with one hard thrust forward, he fucks the first inch of his dick into Tate. Derek just grunts, exhaling hard through his nose as he adjusts to the vice-like heat, his hand gripping Tate's shoulder tight for balance. ]
[Derek finally fucks into him and like always, there's this - jolt that runs through Tate at being pried apart. They don't often work hard at foreplay and when they fuck it's usually a snap decision over anything he's got time or effort to put into prepping for. But it only hurts to start, then he gets acclimated and pulls through with gritted teeth. Derek's not even into him halfway, he can tell, but all the same it sends color across his face and makes him rock upward trying to feel more of him.
His heart is hammering in his chest and staring up at Derek like this, wide eyed and purposely vulnerable, there's a bolstered sense of connection. Tate chases that feeling by prying Derek down against him with his hands, hands that slide over his sides and ribs, that curl around his back and hold him to him by the nape of his neck. Tate encourages the rocking of their hips, wanting Derek to feed more of himself into him and continues every little attempt to start a rhythm. He's breathless himself by the end of only a handful of seconds.]
I want to do this all night... just - just us, just this. Okay?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
i liked the way you just did what i asked without questioning it.
i like it when you do that stuff. means you really care about me.
i care about you too, you know.
[Which is why he's sending a photo of himself very much naked, albeit lounging on the main level sofa of the treehouse. He's got one hand over his dick, but not a lot's left to the imagination otherwise.]
i can come to you if you want
no subject
I still do what you ask. I still take care of you.
I try to, at least. It's harder, now.
[ being a sub. ]
I didn't ever question you because I was scared of upsetting you.
If I question you now, it's just because we've moved beyond that.
That's a good thing.
Healthy.
no subject
What we are.
[Whatever you can call this now - he still doesn't know if he holds a candle to what Derek had with Stiles, but he still hopes for that kind of devotion. He still has such an empty chest, wanting to leech warmth and affection out of any source. Derek's doing good to feed him it, but will it ever sate him the way it should? He doesn't know. He just knows that he needs to keep a hold of this and never, ever let it go. He'll do whatever it takes to protect this feeling.]
I love you
dickface.
no subject
[ if they weren't in duplicity, if there wasn't so much baggage between them, if he hadn't seen tate at what derek falsely believes to be his worst - there's a dozen different reasons behind derek saying that he likes what they are, even if he thinks they could be more, but he's distracted and only half here when he says as much. it's just - a gut reaction.
he finishes cleaning up before long, heading upstairs into the den to change. he showers, fast as he can, washing away the sweat and the sun that comes from working outside, but only a few minutes later he's in clean clothes and making his way to the tree house. his hair's still wet as he wanders through the woods. ]
Never been called a dickface before.
Least of all after an I love you.
no subject
guess things could be better.
no subject
Yeah.
I'm coming up.
[ A couple of seconds later, Derek's heading inside, swallowing the second he sets his eyes on Tate. He's - beautiful, of course, like he always is, falsely angelic. Derek isn't the type to overthink how he should act, but he's still torn between thinking Tate wants this to be a serious meeting or assuming he's just fucking with him, about to put clothes on the second Derek walks closer to the couch. He's not sure what to do. ]
... Hey.
no subject
Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]
no subject
But this doesn't feel casual. There's no jokes or sarcasm, no underlying atmosphere of taunts and teasing, when Tate beckons him over and grips onto his shirt. Rather than just-- relaxing in his win, relaxing in his routine, Tate's taking something of a lead, soon kissing Derek in a way that gets him hard and makes him feel wanted in a way he hasn't really felt for a while. The way he's touching Derek, pulling him in close, it's - a lot, already. Not in a bad way.
Derek kisses back, slow, at first, trying to match Tate's pace, but those little breaths and ticklish touches against the back of his neck are driving him kind of crazy. Before long, Derek's stepping forward and guiding Tate back towards the sofa, running his hands down Tate's bare sides and brushing his thumb across the small of his back. He's kissing harder, moving a little faster, and it only takes a few seconds before he's pushing Tate down and tearing off his own shirt. ]
Fuck.
no subject
Tate hikes up one leg, spreading both wider apart with one hanging over the edge of the sofa and it's as much an act of seduction as it is submission - both being things he knows Derek reacts positively to. There's a certain art to the showing of the belly, the complete animalistic trust then put on display. He stretches up one hand toward Derek's pants, hooking in his fingers to the waistband and tugging.]
Come here.
[He repeats again, breathy and demanding in the way he tugs again - wanting Derek's weight to settle over him and prying at him until he can get him to topple down just the way he wants. Tate slopes back against the cushions and breathes in deep, his heart a steady hum inside his chest. Serene. Aroused, yes, but pleased and unafraid. He wants to have this moment and draw it out as long as it can last.]
no subject
He grinds into Tate, rolling his hips forward as they make out, fucking into Tate's thigh through his clothes. For the first time in a while, Derek doesn't know what to do with his hands, too overwhelmed by choice - he reaches back and hooks his thumb beneath his belt, tugging his pants down a few inches, but he gets distracted when his fingers roam down Tate's chest or neck or curl around his dick. ]
Must've really missed me.
[ There's a cockiness in Derek's voice, misguided though it might be. He thinks Tate's eagerness can be explained away by impatience, if nothing else - he'd messaged Derek when he was horny, got distracted, and now they're back to this and Tate just wants to come. He doesn't even make the connection between his behaviour and the message Derek sent him. ]
no subject
'Must've really missed me', he says, and Tate snorts gently between kisses - playing it off or just simply amused by the ego. He pushes Derek's pants as far down his thighs as he can get them before hooking one of his arms back around Derek's neck, hauling him in so he can bite at his lower lip and then work his way down his neck. He still has a sweet smell from the shower, noticed as he noses against his neck and lifts his hips to better position himself beneath Derek with legs still widely splayed.]
Definitely missed part of you.
[One hand then between them, the way he gropes at Derek's cock underlines the point.]
no subject
Subtle.
[ Once Tate touches him, the urge to push beyond all the making out and just fuck starts rising through Derek. He gives Tate a second to feel him, to really take in just how hard he's made him already, but then he's peeling back, tearing off the rest of his clothes and getting buck naked, the slightly undignified hop as he tears off his last pant leg probably enough to expose how eager he is. He jumps back on the couch again a little too quickly, fast and heavy as he leans over Tate again and practically mauls his neck, scraping his teeth against his throat between each kiss. He reaches down, finds Tate's wrist, and guides his hand towards his cock. ]
Prove it. Show me.
no subject
It's not exactly dignified, the way he wriggles on the couch to try and better offer up an angle of himself, but he's teasing Derek against his hole all the same - smearing the generous pre but only applying the lightest of pressure. He wants Derek to push harder, but it's not until he's doing this that Tate realizes he's so caught up in the moment that he's just working on instinct. Jumping right to it.]
Don't make me beg. I just - I just want to feel you, okay? I want us to fuck our brains out.
no subject
[ He's always liked having that kind of power over people. Always liked being the reason why someone would writhe and cry out and come for him. If Tate hadn't brought up begging, Derek would have fucked into Tate the second Tate guided him to his hole, but now Derek wants to tease and provoke and earn some of that frustration he likes so much. Tate wants him pretty bad right now, more than he has in a while, and Derek selfishly wants to stoke that fire a little. Make him want him even more.
He's never begged Tate, really. Never needed to. A part of him wonders how Tate will react, being on the other side of things. Derek slowly, slowly grinds his cock against Tate's hole without breaching him, gliding along the outer rim and up his taint, teasing and being the tiniest bit cruel by not just giving Tate what he wants. He leans forward, drops his weight against him, and he drops his lips to Tate's ear, whispering softly, making his voice as quietly desperate as he can while he just - pleads. ]
Please, Tate. Please. I need to fuck you, I - I fucking need it. I need you.
[ Nobody else, he whispers. Derek bucks his hips forward, grinding against Tate even harder, pretending to be impatient, pretending like Tate has power. Every word, every syllable, shakes with barely contained lust and a neediness so unlike him. He kisses the corner of Tate's jaw, right beneath his ear, and he grips his waist until he leaves marks with his fingers. ]
Please? Please.
no subject
I want you to - I want you to fuck me, just like you need to. As hard as you need to.
[He's breathing shallow between every few words, hand combing through Derek's hair as their bodies slink against one another. He feels a sheen of sweat already rising over his face, in the crook of his arm. His heel slips against the sofa cushion and he hikes one leg up and around Derek's back, using it to pull him in against him.]
Please. Just like you want to.
no subject
Hmm.
[ He noses Tate's jawline, encouraging him to tilt his head to the side so he can kiss and bite the side of his throat more frantically. He's not shooting Tate down, but he's still just grinding against him, throwing his weight into each dry thrust as he teases Tate more and more. He drags the wait out, makes Tate think this is all they're going to have today, foreplay and kissing and sharp pinpricks of teeth against his throat - but even Derek's patience has its limits.
Derek drops his hand to his cock, curling his fingers beneath the head as he rolls his hips forward. He guides himself into Tate, that first penetration still as tight and as difficult to breach as it always has been - Derek bites down on his teeth as a line of sweat runs down his temple, and with one hard thrust forward, he fucks the first inch of his dick into Tate. Derek just grunts, exhaling hard through his nose as he adjusts to the vice-like heat, his hand gripping Tate's shoulder tight for balance. ]
F-Fuck.
no subject
His heart is hammering in his chest and staring up at Derek like this, wide eyed and purposely vulnerable, there's a bolstered sense of connection. Tate chases that feeling by prying Derek down against him with his hands, hands that slide over his sides and ribs, that curl around his back and hold him to him by the nape of his neck. Tate encourages the rocking of their hips, wanting Derek to feed more of himself into him and continues every little attempt to start a rhythm. He's breathless himself by the end of only a handful of seconds.]
I want to do this all night... just - just us, just this. Okay?