[ 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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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.