A large part of Isaac was still sure that he had somehow been wrong, and that Derek didn't really want him like this; that he would walk in and find awkward friendship, as he had before. It was like falling into a dream again, when Derek took him in his arms.
Isaac's hands curled under the hem of his shirt, taking it off so quickly, he was afraid it might rip. Unlike when he had been with Lydia, there was no neat folding of the garment. He needed Derek's touch too intensely.
"Sir," he sighed, against Derek's lips, as he returned the kiss. Isaac was a solid inch taller than his Master, but somehow it still felt as though all the power rested with the other man.