[ This break they're in the middle of, between Derek blowing a load down Tate's throat and getting ready for a third or forth round, was entirely for Tate's benefit. With the moon rising higher and the sweat having cooled and dried on his skin, Derek's more than ready to keep this going, but he wanted to give Tate time to chill and recover and decide if they've done enough tonight. He's sitting on the corner of the mattress, leaning back on his hands and peering down at Tate, patient but - yeah - still hard. When Tate rolls over, teases him, acts like Derek even needs the invitation --
Well, that's when Derek tells him to shut up. He pulls Tate closer, handling him with ease, hands on his waist as he drags him where he wants him. A few seconds later, and Derek's manhandling Tate into the pose he wants - chest on the mattress, ass up, knees apart, Derek firmly behind him. He barely gives Tate a chance to catch his breath before he's reaching between his legs and stroking Tate's cock, his other hand still just above his ass, indecisive about whether or not he wants to smooth his palm soothingly against his skin or spank the motherfucker raw. Derek's never been good at making decisions. ]
Shouldn't tease me. You know what'll happen.
[ There's no warning, when Derek's tongue circles the rim of Tate's hole, probing inward in delicate flicks. He jerks Tate off in firm, commanding tugs, spreading his tongue flat and dragging it across sensitive skin. ]
[Derek is disgustingly predictable with how he's affected by the suggestion of doggy style, manhandling him into a position that Tate allows himself to be molded into. His knees still feel a bit sore but he doesn't care, digging them into the mattress and feeling Derek direct his thighs to part and then quickly after starting to stroke him. Tate's not as hard as Derek, but he's still recovering from blowing his last load and unlike a certain someone, he'll need a moment.
Not to say that those moments need to be wasted on empty, boring waits - so when Derek's tongue laps up against him, Tate's whole back arches. He has his own indecisive moment of stuttering between choices, rolling his hips first toward Derek's hand and then ultimately pressing back against his mouth to better feel the wet slip of his tongue. His body shivers, goosebumps sliding down his arms and his toes curling against the bed as he crosses his arms and rests his face against them, uncomfortable but in the best of ways.]
I'm not scared of the big bad wolf.
[But he is shuddering again, letting out a particularly lewd noise. 'Fuck-']
[ Tate gets a rise out of Derek easily enough, just like he always does. Derek's thinking with his dick too much to really process the teasing for what it is; he just growls, easily challenged and easily manipulated, as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Tate's cheek to pry his ass apart, tongue working harder and more invasively against his hole. He's relentlssly swirling his palm in a circle against Tate's too-sensitive head until he practically forces him back into a full erection, and only then does he stop jerking him off, pulling his hand back to smack Tate's ass, just light enough to sting.
Derek focuses on eating Tate out for far longer than he normally would, but he's actively trying to make him squirm, actively trying to drag this out and punish Tate for thinking Derek was done. He touches the small of Tate's back to hold him steady, tongue driving further into him in wet, twisting circles, unashamed by the strings of saliva running down Tate's taint or the raw scratch of his beard against his skin. Derek is relentless, fingertips squeezing soft imprints against his back, soft, tickling breaths and gentle, unbidden moans coming from behind Tate. ]
[Tate gets out one good laugh before he's swallowing it all back down into a garbled noise of pleasure, unable to find a comfortable way to rest his head. Chin on the backs of his arms, forehead pressed down, head tilted to the side and back - he goes through several iterations of a pose, sweat beading on his brow the more into it they go. Derek's tongue presses deep into him and has the predictable effect of having Tate squirm, thighs pressing inward with a flex and his fingers curling into the bedsheets, dragging them off one corner of the mattress the more intense Derek is in toying with his hole.
Pre drips from the tip of his cock against the bed below as Tate grinds forward, wanting Derek's hand to keep jerking him off now that he feels the ache to come returning. Instead all he has is a stinging ass cheek and a wanton sigh, and his teeth squeak together with how hard he's clenching his jaw. He could lay there feeling the rhythmic pulse of Derek's tongue against his hole, but now he's impatient now that he's back to being horny and lead along by his dick. His voice cracks when he tries to speak:]
[ This is what Derek was waiting for - Tate showing some sign of submission, some sign of being corralled into the place Derek wanted him to be. He doesn't give Tate any reason to believe that he's letting up on him; he just keeps fucking Tate with his tongue, hard, rhythmic flicks filling him as his hand kneads his ass, perfectly controlled and focused. He wants to overwhelm Tate with unsatisfying but consuming, eclipsing teasing, never giving Tate enough, but almost giving him too much, at the same time. He wants to make Tate suffer. ]
Thought you said I wanted a break.
[ He pulls back, resting his jaw, dragging his thumb down Tate's ass and pressing it lightly against his hole. He doesn't penetrate him completely, but he pretends like he will; he adds pressure, circles the edge, his other hand braced against Tate to keep him from pushing back and taking more than he's given. Derek's voice is soft, kept almost too low to be heard on purpose, like he wants Tate to have to strain to hear him. To earn the right to hear him. ]
[Tate makes that less than dignified sound while pressing back against Derek with an itching need, feeling the thick breadth of his tongue lapping against him in warm, teasing strokes. It's always like this - Tate snipping a few comments and barking too much, quick to turn tail when Derek steps forward to assert himself; he's dominant again, keeping Tate precisely where he wants him and Tate should feel more annoyed at how easily he falls into the submissive role around him. It does piss him off, just a little, just because there's the faintest bruising of his ego in moments exactly like this where he has to devolve into begging to be given more than a thumb tip.
Teasing's more fun when you keep control of it. Tate's lost that control and he really needs to work at that for next time. It won't leave him a squirming, writhing mess. He's got his cheek down against the mattress, one eye looking back at Derek over his shoulder at an awfully uncomfortable angle. He's pushing back despite Derek's iron grasp, bruises bound to dig into his thigh and hip - any stretch of skin that Derek's got a hold of to keep him where he is.]
You're not proving me wrong, not using your dick like this.
[ Derek makes sure to balance his hold on Tate based entirely on what would feel worse, in the sweetest, most frustrating sense of the word. When Tate stays obedient, squirming without trying to resist or make silent, urging demands, Derek holds him tight, keeps him stable, holds him down exactly where he doesn't want to be. When he doesn't, when he pushes back against Derek and actively fights against his grip, that's when Derek lets go entirely, moving back so that Tate presses into nothing, losing whatever semblance of touch Derek had afforded him in its entirety. The grazing, teasing touch of his thumb, the still present laps of his tongue - Tate loses them both, when he tries to get more of them. ]
Maybe you were right, then.
[ Nothing about the heavy, almost mocking tone of Derek's voice indicates that he believes that for a second. He's taunting Tate into backing down; telling him to admit he was wrong, give Derek the victory over whatever pointless, teasing argument that they're having. He's silently urging him to just collapse, submit, and beg to be fucked without artifice. Derek punctuates his point by dragging his tongue down Tate's hole in a long, slow line, all the way to his cock, hand squeezing his ass after another sharp, immediate swat. ]
[Tate lets out a slightly despairing grunt when Derek relents on giving him anything, knowing he's going to pressed under his thumb until he pushes one way or another. If he leans into being a brat though, he knows that Derek won't hesitate to pull away entirely and make him sit it out. That things could turn colder before they return to something hot, and so he huffs out a hot breath and slinks to rest as soundly down against the mattress as he can, dissolving down into it as a boneless mess. He's staring forward and away, chin on his arm and tension sitting between his shoulder blades out of pure stubbornness.
Derek's tongue feels like a match being re-struck however, and Tate's again arching toward him with that renewed sense of neediness; he's not ready to slump away and sulk, or to be cut off from getting what he wants. His lips are against his wrist when he finally speaks, slurring somewhat out of laziness and a touch of petulant whining:]
No.
['I wasn't right.' As close to that as he'll go. He jumped when Derek slapped his ass and the noise he let out was accompanied by a hiss through his teeth. He's blinking a few times like he's still processing it but his eyes are a bit wider, more alert. Overall he's more aroused, waiting to see if Derek'll keep it up. But before he even lets that sit as a possibility, his voice threatens to once again crack.]
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[ This break they're in the middle of, between Derek blowing a load down Tate's throat and getting ready for a third or forth round, was entirely for Tate's benefit. With the moon rising higher and the sweat having cooled and dried on his skin, Derek's more than ready to keep this going, but he wanted to give Tate time to chill and recover and decide if they've done enough tonight. He's sitting on the corner of the mattress, leaning back on his hands and peering down at Tate, patient but - yeah - still hard. When Tate rolls over, teases him, acts like Derek even needs the invitation --
Well, that's when Derek tells him to shut up. He pulls Tate closer, handling him with ease, hands on his waist as he drags him where he wants him. A few seconds later, and Derek's manhandling Tate into the pose he wants - chest on the mattress, ass up, knees apart, Derek firmly behind him. He barely gives Tate a chance to catch his breath before he's reaching between his legs and stroking Tate's cock, his other hand still just above his ass, indecisive about whether or not he wants to smooth his palm soothingly against his skin or spank the motherfucker raw. Derek's never been good at making decisions. ]
Shouldn't tease me. You know what'll happen.
[ There's no warning, when Derek's tongue circles the rim of Tate's hole, probing inward in delicate flicks. He jerks Tate off in firm, commanding tugs, spreading his tongue flat and dragging it across sensitive skin. ]
no subject
Not to say that those moments need to be wasted on empty, boring waits - so when Derek's tongue laps up against him, Tate's whole back arches. He has his own indecisive moment of stuttering between choices, rolling his hips first toward Derek's hand and then ultimately pressing back against his mouth to better feel the wet slip of his tongue. His body shivers, goosebumps sliding down his arms and his toes curling against the bed as he crosses his arms and rests his face against them, uncomfortable but in the best of ways.]
I'm not scared of the big bad wolf.
[But he is shuddering again, letting out a particularly lewd noise. 'Fuck-']
Bet you want a break.
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Derek focuses on eating Tate out for far longer than he normally would, but he's actively trying to make him squirm, actively trying to drag this out and punish Tate for thinking Derek was done. He touches the small of Tate's back to hold him steady, tongue driving further into him in wet, twisting circles, unashamed by the strings of saliva running down Tate's taint or the raw scratch of his beard against his skin. Derek is relentless, fingertips squeezing soft imprints against his back, soft, tickling breaths and gentle, unbidden moans coming from behind Tate. ]
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Pre drips from the tip of his cock against the bed below as Tate grinds forward, wanting Derek's hand to keep jerking him off now that he feels the ache to come returning. Instead all he has is a stinging ass cheek and a wanton sigh, and his teeth squeak together with how hard he's clenching his jaw. He could lay there feeling the rhythmic pulse of Derek's tongue against his hole, but now he's impatient now that he's back to being horny and lead along by his dick. His voice cracks when he tries to speak:]
C'mon - you got me wet enough.
[He wants to feel him.]
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Thought you said I wanted a break.
[ He pulls back, resting his jaw, dragging his thumb down Tate's ass and pressing it lightly against his hole. He doesn't penetrate him completely, but he pretends like he will; he adds pressure, circles the edge, his other hand braced against Tate to keep him from pushing back and taking more than he's given. Derek's voice is soft, kept almost too low to be heard on purpose, like he wants Tate to have to strain to hear him. To earn the right to hear him. ]
Acted like I needed one.
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[Tate makes that less than dignified sound while pressing back against Derek with an itching need, feeling the thick breadth of his tongue lapping against him in warm, teasing strokes. It's always like this - Tate snipping a few comments and barking too much, quick to turn tail when Derek steps forward to assert himself; he's dominant again, keeping Tate precisely where he wants him and Tate should feel more annoyed at how easily he falls into the submissive role around him. It does piss him off, just a little, just because there's the faintest bruising of his ego in moments exactly like this where he has to devolve into begging to be given more than a thumb tip.
Teasing's more fun when you keep control of it. Tate's lost that control and he really needs to work at that for next time. It won't leave him a squirming, writhing mess. He's got his cheek down against the mattress, one eye looking back at Derek over his shoulder at an awfully uncomfortable angle. He's pushing back despite Derek's iron grasp, bruises bound to dig into his thigh and hip - any stretch of skin that Derek's got a hold of to keep him where he is.]
You're not proving me wrong, not using your dick like this.
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Maybe you were right, then.
[ Nothing about the heavy, almost mocking tone of Derek's voice indicates that he believes that for a second. He's taunting Tate into backing down; telling him to admit he was wrong, give Derek the victory over whatever pointless, teasing argument that they're having. He's silently urging him to just collapse, submit, and beg to be fucked without artifice. Derek punctuates his point by dragging his tongue down Tate's hole in a long, slow line, all the way to his cock, hand squeezing his ass after another sharp, immediate swat. ]
Were you?
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Derek's tongue feels like a match being re-struck however, and Tate's again arching toward him with that renewed sense of neediness; he's not ready to slump away and sulk, or to be cut off from getting what he wants. His lips are against his wrist when he finally speaks, slurring somewhat out of laziness and a touch of petulant whining:]
No.
['I wasn't right.' As close to that as he'll go. He jumped when Derek slapped his ass and the noise he let out was accompanied by a hiss through his teeth. He's blinking a few times like he's still processing it but his eyes are a bit wider, more alert. Overall he's more aroused, waiting to see if Derek'll keep it up. But before he even lets that sit as a possibility, his voice threatens to once again crack.]
Make me apologize.