The first time they got into this, it was heated and messy, and they were arguing. Derek doesn’t remember much of how it went, or what they were fighting about in the first place, but he had grabbed her by her hair and kissed her so hard that he’d broken skin. The blood was sharp on his tongue as she gasped into his mouth.
He threw her on the bed once he’d managed to get a hold of himself, walking around it and watching her, smelling her excitement. He didn’t care much about it then, only acting on instinct as he tied her up to the bed. And though she was struggling against him as he wrapped the rope around her waist and between her legs, and her heart was racing so loud it was deafening, he knew at once that she’d wanted him to do it.
He’s not sure what it is for her - they don’t really talk about it much, if at all - maybe she likes having him in control, or feeling helpless to someone else, but it doesn’t matter anymore. After a year of doing it, they’ve gotten it down to an art, and asking at this point seems strange.