Barry's words comes out in a deep, raspy voice and Derek's brain feels like it melts a little, short-circuits and reforms to care about this and only this, about Barry's dick in his mouth and those slender, clever fingers in his hair. He wants to talk, but he doesn't even know what he would say so he just tries to convey his need through a long, shuddering whimper.

"Mm," Derek says, muffled, when what he really means is please. He's never once entertained the idea of letting someone fuck him, but this isn't just someone. It's Barry, and there's no part of himself that Derek wouldn't trust him with. He thinks of Barry inside him, pushed in deep where no one else has been, and he whines deeply as his nails scratch light pink lines down the back of Barry's thighs.

For so long, he felt dirty. He felt like he had been sullied, tainted somehow by the hunter that lured him in and took his body before taking his family. Barry washes that feeling away with his reverent touch, but Derek can't deny that the thought of Barry touching him someplace entirely new doesn't make him tremble with need. He's sure that desperate, aching need shows on his face and Derek stares up at Barry helplessly, openly and a little in awe, before he sucks just that little bit harder and lets his tongue curl around head with another soft moan.