Christine (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} spaghettitoes) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} spaghettific,@ 2012-09-01 00:26:00 |
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| Entry tags: | bbtp, rating: nc-17, sterek, teen wolf |
Teen Wolf Fic
Title: Like a Karate-Kid Jedi-Mind-Trick Sex-Master Thing
Author: Spaghettitoes
Fandom(Pairing): Teen Wolf - Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,600
Summary: Stiles is a virgin - Derek has a solution to that.
Disclaimer: I have nothing whatsoever to do with Teen Wolf or MTV but if they wanted to pay me to write for them I wouldn't object.
A/N: I'm not really a stickler for the variable age of consent and won't get into a long discussion on it but I needed a reason for Derek to be building up to sex with Stiles and *ahem* Derek is totes respectful of the law and of Stiles complying with it *nods*.
Highlight for Warnings: * First time (obviously!), Stiles POV, not very kinky which can be disturbing to many, hahaha you're still reading these, Crack, if I had anything to do with Teen Woof Jackson would have turned into the werebutterfly we were promised, Warning section that's bigger than the fic*
Beta: Amo-Amas-Amat and Wildepet
Stiles, if you didn’t know, is a virgin and it bothers him, it torments him, it hangs over him like the sword of Damocles, haunts him like...well, like virginity haunts a teenage boy...man. He is so a man, despite the virginity thing because boys do not hang out with werewolves and former-kanima-werewolves or kick bad-guy ass or rock magic mojo, and the many awesome things Stiles has done since this whole business began.
Being a complete and utter badass with all of the awareness and intelligence in Beacon Hills Stiles figured out a while ago that Derek was up to something. All the random tasks he was given inexplicably were annoying at first, like Derek was trying to keep him busy or out of the way. Then it was tips for things, or general observations and Stiles just mentally shrugged what the hell, if Derek had decided to make Stiles his BFF then he’ll just go along with it and enjoy the view.
After a while Stiles realised that, along with the best friend thing, Derek was somehow making him stronger, like physically stronger. All those stupid little chores, that dumb-ass repetitive work was actually giving him some awesome muscle memory and when shit hit the fan (which it has a habit of doing, if you hadn’t noticed) his body knew how to do the things he had to do.
“I know what you’re up to!” Stiles had wagged his finger knowingly at Derek, who only looked incredulous and raised a single eyebrow as Stiles smiled and continued, “So go ahead and do your Mister Miyagi thing. But I am on. to. you.”
Derek had smiled, honestly smiled. Not a chatting-up-a-deputy smile but a small, honest, slightly admiring smile. After that things got weird but being a good padawan (because yeah, the skinny, awkward kid in Karate Kid hits a bit too close to home) Stiles just took it, trusting that somewhere between Derek’s personal confidante and Stiles becoming an ass-kicking machine, it all made sense.
So yeah, the virginity thing. Don’t get the wrong idea, Stiles isn’t the driven snow or anything. He’s pretty sure that what he and Jessica did that summer was Frenching (fun questions to type into Google kids!) and he’s spent enough time with the internet to know that hey folks, being bi leaves you lots of options! It’s just that, from his track record, it’s mostly more ways of being rejected. But it is the kind of thing that weighs on you, especially when shit comes up that sort-of rubs it in your face. Like your best friend suddenly hooking up as if the world’s going to end and just looking so damn content about it. Scott breaking up with Alison doesn’t even help because (well for one, Stiles isn’t a complete bastard) he just starts bonding with Isaac in a heartbreakingly unsubtle oh hey maybe I’m bi too and what if I just do everything before you Stiles old buddy way.
It’s not until maybe a week before his eighteenth birthday that the penny drops because it’s pretty hard not to notice that your extremely-hot werewolf-Jedi-master is getting handsy. Now Derek always has been a bit free with Stiles in that regard although usually more in the standing in your personal bubble until you shut up sense. Now though, instead of barked orders Stiles is being moved bodily with directing touches and once he was just picked up and placed elsewhere. Instead of being dragged or pushed away from harm Stiles is covered with about two-hundred pounds of werewolf, making up a rather nice smelling (and Christ is he smiling?) shield from the psycho of the week. Add that to the fact that nothing, nothing is said when Stiles gets a massive boner because someone decides that yeah listening to Stiles’s argument about why Peter is an ass is all well and good it would be far better to listen while working out shirtless.
Stiles is busy reliving this episode at home - for sociological understanding of course - when he finally realises (or accepts?) that yeah, that was done on purpose. Stiles would feel completely violated for being Jedi-mind-tricked into a relationship (because shit, it is isn’t, he’s not imagining that?) except that, if there’s one thing that could be better than being Derek Hale’s BFF who gets to occasionally appreciate the view it’s being the person that said werewolf hottie is planning on getting in the sack.
And shit, Stiles would be choked up that Derek was waiting for him or slightly impressed that he really does take that within-the-law thing seriously but holy-crap Batman, Stiles only has a few days to squeeze in some serious study time. School and werewolf crap and your dad being all my boy is becoming a man doesn’t leave you much time to effectively Google blow-job techniques and he’d really, really like to not-suck (ha!) at this since it’s finally gonna happen.
His birthday is awesome and everyone makes an effort, which is nice because Stiles likes being reminded that he’s not a failure as a son and friend. Between all the food and the gifts, the horrendously embarrassing things his dad does and the number of women who get all bleary-eyed and tell him how proud his mom would have been, Stiles forgets he’s on to a sure thing that night. Well, forgets in the sense that there’s this pleasant hum underneath his skin most of the day that he just accepts as normal until he walks into his bedroom and there’s a box on his bed.
A plain, store-bought, gift box that he’s seen a dozen variations on that day, only his window’s open and it’s on his bed. When he rips the lid off he about seizes up in delight at the bottle of lube and condoms because unsubtle but holy virginity-destroying hell this is real, who needs subtle?!
Stiles throws the gift and his phone into a backpack along with some clean clothes (he is not hoping his current ones get ripped to shreds, not at all) before writing a note for his dad and leaving it on his bed. Being the loving, thoughtful son he is Stiles then sneaks quietly from the house and is gone.
The lights were on and Stiles burst into the Hale house, unsurprised to find that Derek was alone, sitting on the sofa with a book in his lap.
“Yeah like you’re reading.” Stiles dropped his bag and walked forward, stopping with two steps between him and the sofa.
“I read.” Derek closed the book and looked up at Stiles and hell yeah that was a smile.
Stiles closed the distance and sat uncertainly beside Derek, tapping his fingers anxiously on his knees. “So...all this time?”
“Yup.”
“Anything else you did without me knowing?”
“You knew.”
Stiles would have had a witty retort, something to completely level Derek with his razor sharp mind but he was right there, next to Derek, who was pumping out some kind of werewolf pheromone or something. The only logical thing to do was leap, literally, at the opportunity.
Derek caught him (spectacularly) and kissing commenced with appropriate vigour. Frenching, Stiles knew it and this was it, in fact it was a spectacular example of it because Derek was doing things that Jessica Cole probably didn’t even know existed. Stiles was happily making all sorts of debauched noises around Derek’s mouth and was enjoying the broad hands gripping his sides, toying with his clothes.
Between one of the occasional pauses Stiles took to breathe he sank his fingers into Derek’s hair and tightened his knees against Derek’s side, “Flip me.” He nodded to the side and smiled encouragingly, “Come on mister big bad wolf.” He tugged Derek closer so their lips met again, grinning proudly when Derek gripped his waist and spun him round.
Stiles had realised, while being so valiantly ‘protected’, that one of his ninja skills was strength, which came in very handy with a horny werewolf on top of you. Stiles grinned, “My, what a big...” A roll of his hips and Derek effectively silenced Stiles, something he would hopefully remember in future.
Stiles was surprisingly impressed by the concentration and agility he retained to start unbuttoning Derek’s shirt. It was even better when Derek sat up and dragged his own shirt off impatiently, looking down at Stiles appreciatively. After taking a moment (in which Stiles got to fully appreciate that holy fuck he turned Derek Hale on) Derek reached down, propping himself up with his left hand as the claws on his right extended and picked carefully at the collar of Stiles’s t-shirt.
There was no avoiding the moment where Stiles bunched his hands into fists, punching the air as Derek ripped through his t-shirt with unprecedented caution. In the time Derek took to huff a laugh in Stiles’s direction Stiles closed the space between them in another engrossing kiss. He pushed (seriously, pushed which means there was understanding and cooperation) Derek back and up, reasserting himself on top to shuck off his coat and sit poised on Derek’s knee, tugging at his frayed t-shirt, “Still not gone.”
Derek yanked Stiles closer by the hips, the friction of their jeans in the quick move ignored, and sunk his face into the crook of Stiles’s neck. His ministrations were an effective distraction and Stiles was leaning into the strong hands on his back, making yet more noises he didn’t know he was capable of producing, when he heard the rip of fabric and felt a cold dart of air against his skin before the ribbons of his shirt were pulled away and broad hands spread against his body. They moved accurately, taking in every contour with the dedication of someone who had been looking at something forbidden for a long time. Stiles could feel entirely accurate in this description because he was doing exactly the same, receiving excited little nips to his shoulder every time his hands went somewhere sensitive.
Stiles sank his hips deeper into Derek’s lap, pulling away slightly to arch back in Derek’s grip and look at him. Stiles first clasped his hands behind Derek’s neck but let them wander across his shoulders and through his hair when it became self evident that Stiles was in no way required to support his own weight. He pawed his right hand through Derek’s hair and across his jaw and Derek let him, waiting patiently as though Stiles were about to say something profound. Instead he leaned in, trailing his tongue gently across Derek’s lips before persuading them open and kissing him slowly, every movement a focused caress. Humming approvingly as he leant back Stiles smiled, “Upstairs?”
Derek nodded, a smile ghosting across his features, “Upstairs.”
“I think you should carry me.” Stiles was calm, seriously and - in his head at least - amazingly cool in his assertion.
“Carry you?” Derek eyebrows quirked up and Stiles resisted the urge to lick them (and dammit he now had adequate justification for a sexy To-Do list).
Stiles nodded, “You are trying to seduce me aren’t you?”
Derek suppressed a bigger smile as his hands slid down Stiles’s sides, his thumbs rubbing hypnotic circles just above his hip bones as he growled deep in his throat, a growl that Stiles could feel rumbling through his body, “I am.”
There was no opportunity for elation or even to admit success once the rumbling vibration had stopped because the hands at his waist tightened and in one dizzying movement Stiles was thrust through the air and thrown over Derek’s shoulder as he stood up.
There are opportunities in one’s life where you get to assess your circumstances and hanging from Derek’s shoulder was one of these. The process for Stiles was instantaneous and simultaneous with his vision returning to focus, Derek’s backside the constant foreground to the moving floor beneath them.
“That’s more like it!” Exclaimed Stiles happily, slapping Derek’s left cheek enthusiastically and appreciating the huff of laughter he felt jolt him up and down. “Wait stop!”
Under Stiles’s wriggling instruction Derek walked backwards, “What’s wrong with...”
“Bag!” Stiles stretched down with complete trust in Derek, grabbing the bag and smacking Derek on the flanks again, “Hi-ho talk, dark and broody!”
Derek’s laughter was lost to Stiles as he charged back into the corridor, taking the stairs two or three at a time before bursting into the bedroom.
Thrown onto the bed Stiles suppressed his glee to frown dramatically, “No rose petals?”
The bag was dragged from Stiles’s hand and dropped to the floor as Derek launched himself onto the bed over him, pinning Stiles in place with the dedicated attention of his mouth around Stiles’s left nipple. At the same time he unbuckled Stiles’s belt, whipping it from his waist to the dual sound of the belt cracking and Stiles squealing (manfully). Stiles clawed his hand through Derek’s hair, letting it drag across his fingers as Derek moved his attention across Stiles’s chest. The buttons on his fly popped as Derek ripped it open, sliding his hands carefully under the waist band.
“Oh god, stop please.” Squirming, Stiles gasped and looked down at the now frozen Derek, stroking his hair reassuringly as he fumbled to rise up on one elbow, “I want to watch you.”
Derek quirked a smile and kept his eyes locked on Stiles as he crawled down, pushing the rough denim over Stiles’s hips and crouching at the foot of the bed to whip them off.
“Now you!” Stiles insisted cheerfully, trying to scramble forward but stopped as Derek grabbed his legs and tugged, forcing Stiles onto his back. Derek started to kiss and lick his way from Stiles’s left knee up his inside thigh. His movement was mimicked on the other side by the insistent caress of his hand as Derek crouched, eyes closing as he tasted Stiles’s inner thigh and moaned.
Derek nuzzled (fucking nuzzled and licked) Stiles’s pubic hair as his hands curled around and drew up his thighs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against his stomach again. Stiles moaned and tugged at Derek’s shoulders, torn between anticipation and doubt. “Fuck, don’t have me committed but...christ!” Derek had gently taken Stiles’s dick in his left hand, stroking it casually as he used the other to lever himself up and even with Stiles. Derek looked down at him questioningly, waiting for the rest of the sentence, little realising that Stiles’s entire body was shutting down all extraneous functions (which includes thought and coherent speech apparently) in response to his touch.
Derek quirked a smile, “I thought so.” He started to lower himself down again when Stiles finally found the coordination to drag him back.
“Too soon. I will, without doubt...” Stiles panted, pawing at Derek’s face, “Lots I wanna...”
Derek kissed him in what could only be described as a pointed manner and his hand was not so casual any more. “This is just act one.” He whispered against Stiles’s skin and moved slowly down, kissing, licking, biting holy-fuck at Stiles as he went.
Expecting a comprehensive description of the moment Derek first wrapped his lips around the head of Stiles’s erection would be asking a lot not only of him but of the English language. Stiles expressed himself with an admirable series of expletives and, torn between gripping the headboard and Derek’s head, clapped his hands to the side of his own head, fingers curling as he tried to vocalise his admiration for Derek. While some of the comparisons and compliments that leapt from his mouth may not have been extremely eloquent the intention was apparently clear because Derek continued with gusto. He was doing inhuman things with his tongue which, in all fairness he is allowed to do and he hummed at just the right moment, forcing a further burst of profanity from Stiles which he felt compelled to apologise for.
Derek had laughed faintly - soundless and undetectable but for his current position - and started to move the hand which Stiles had assumed was at the base of his cock in a purely supporting role. This, he’d read about this but it was entirely fair to say that the literature provided by the internet had not done it justice and Stiles concluded that this, undoubtedly, was because Derek was extremely gifted in the art.
Having, for the first time in existence, no control over his orgasm was entirely novel to Stiles and he grasped at Derek, his fingers scoring white lines across his skin momentarily. Derek was disinclined to listen and Stiles felt his entire body stutter, Derek allowing his hips freer movement and just taking every uncoordinated and enthusiastic movement Stiles made as he surfed atop an orgasm of epic proportions.
Staring incredulously at Derek, Stiles rediscovered the function of his lungs and felt himself slowly descend from the heady levels of ecstasy he had achieved. Derek rubbed his cheek tauntingly against the soft skin of Stiles’s hip, kissing the same spot once before stretching himself up to rest along Stiles’s side. Stiles reached out with his hand and pulled Derek’s mouth open, peering in cautiously.
“All gone.” He was awed and uncertain how to react but Derek huffed with a small smile and after a second’s hesitation he pulled Derek close and kissed him. Tentative at first the kiss became tender and drawn-out as Stiles followed the taste. His appreciation for the tongue that tangled and caressed his expanded.
Derek caressed his hand absentmindedly up and down Stiles’s side, who said nothing at the way he was intently watched - adoringly and not anything stalkery or unnerving at all. Feeling the strength return to his limbs Stiles gently nudged Derek backwards, spreading him out across the bed and rising up to crouch beside him.
Rubbing his hands together, Stiles smiled, “My turn!” Ignoring the slight tremble in his hands, Stiles unzipped Derek’s jeans, slipping his right hand inside to press down the length of Derek’s erection, taking some time to repeat the motion. Derek groaned happily and pushed against his hand, the motion hypnotising and the idea that Stiles was capable of eliciting such a reaction from Derek prevented any other thought from entering his head.
“Stiles!” Derek groaned, “If you make me come in my shorts I will rip your throat out.”
Laughing Stiles jumped into action; he straddled Derek’s legs and slid his hands under the waistband, pulling the last of Derek’s clothes down, bouncing off the side of the bed as he pulled them off completely. Stiles jumped back onto the bed, crawling up between Derek’s legs until Derek pulled them up so his feet rested on either side of Stiles.
“You...” Stiles found some little qualm in addressing Derek’s penis directly but didn’t let it faze him, “I’ll get to you properly in a minute.” He ran his hands quickly up Derek’s legs, taking more time to draw them back down his thighs, long thumbs pressing insistently on the inner thigh until he rested his hands on Derek’s hipbones.
“Any preferences?” Stiles asked, looking up with a degree of anxiety that he knew he failed to hide.
Derek reached up, cupping his hands around Stiles’s face and pulling him into another long, engaging kiss. A sneaky move that left Stiles pressed along Derek’s completely naked body and broke the list of options that were scrolling in his brain. Instead of bracing himself on Derek’s shoulders Stiles found his hands were caressing and exploring them, spreading down to take in every undulating muscle in his arms as Stiles traced kisses down Derek’s neck.
Humming with a sense of approval Stiles thought redundant he used his hand to gently tilt Derek’s head back, licking a clear line from Derek’s jugular notch to his chin, swooping in to capture his mouth again. After a careful analysis of his options - which could best be summarised as start at the top - Stiles moved down, unable to suppress a smile when he latched his mouth around Derek’s left nipple and was rewarded with a gasp. He experimented with different actions, sucking, licking, biting (because apparently that’s something Derek likes and Stiles thinks he does too) and is so pleased with the response that he ventures further.
Stiles explores Derek’s torso without order or a plan, moving from nipple to navel and back again, making frequent unplanned visits to his abdomen or following some natural curve of muscle. As he explored with his mouth his hands were less energetic but no less enthusiastic and intermittently Derek was forced to dissuade him from some action, ticking in particular seemed to be forbidden. When not being a spoilsport Derek combed his hands across Stiles’s limited hair and down his neck and shoulders, the pawing approval encouraging him on.
“Hello again.” Derek huffed a laugh as Stiles settled once more between his legs. He stroked Derek’s erection gently while tracing his tongue along the line of his hip bone, nipping his teeth at the jut of his hip. “Just remember, first time handling one of these.”
Derek laughed very loudly at that and Stiles looked up incredulous to spy two very arched eyebrows and a smug werewolf.
Stiles gesticulated within the small area he now occupied between Derek’s thighs, “Different approach! All the angles will be different, things are reversed...” Firmly wrapping his right hand around the base Stiles found himself sitting, leaning against Derek’s right thigh and absentmindedly nuzzling it as he stroked Derek’s erection up and down. He tried subtle twists of his hand, undulating his fingers and swiping his thumb across the head, enjoying how Derek hissed and stifled the responding movement of his hips.
“Tell me if I’m being a cock-tease.” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s hip, giving in to the urge to gently nip at the flesh there.
Derek reached out, stroking Stiles’s face, “I’ll wait.”
Scoffing, Stiles dipped his head and after tentatively licking the head, engulfed Derek’s erection enthusiastically. He was unprepared for how Derek’s thrust up but after coughing and Derek’s awkward apologies he resumed, his experimentation obviously welcomed. Derek made the most unusual sounds and Stiles studied the causes, his favourite being when Derek growled his name wantonly.
A few moments of constant...action and Stiles had to admit that his jaw was starting to hurt and he was running out of ideas. Some coping strategies are just built in, there was no doubt what Stiles’s was as he mumbled his self-doubt to Derek who first gasped something incomprehensible then pulled Stiles away.
“What, what did I do something wr...” Derek grabbed Stiles’s wrist and ran his tongue from heel to fingertips, “wrrrrong?” His next question was moot as Derek pushed the hand back to his waiting erection.
“Can’t believe...” Derek groaned approvingly because Stiles was on message now and those digits know what they’re doing. Slightly off centre but still flush along Derek’s body Stiles smiled as Derek kissed him, “Cock...” More kisses and who knew Derek could be so chatty, “In. your. mouth.” Stiles hummed smugly and increased his pace, adding a twist of his wrist which he knew (because karate-kid Jedi-mind-trick fucking talent hello!) would destroy his werewolf’s newly discovered vocal ability.
Stiles craned his neck to watch, mouthing at Derek’s shoulder, semi conscious of his desire until he was thrown into the air with Derek’s juddering orgasm and he watched the fascinating liquid spray over his hands and Derek’s stomach. Stiles was reaching down when Derek pulled him back up, a firm No issued before he was kissed.
“Dude, no fair!” Stiles spoke with the first breath he could get although his words lost their reproach against Derek’s heavy breathing.
Derek took his wrist again, holding it firmly until he calmed to look at Stiles in a far too sensible manner for someone who just got the hand-job of his life. “Werewolf...turning? What, did you think the bite is just magic?”
Stiles pecs-plants (‘cause he can do that now) “So it’s like an STD?”
Derek’s fingers scratch across the nape of Stiles’s neck, “Exactly. Better safe than sorry.”
Derek pulled away, much to Stiles’s chagrin, opening a drawer beside the bed and pulling out a wipe that he used to clean himself. Stiles watched with a faked pout as Derek cleaned his hand. “Awww, that your thinking-of-Stiles supplies?”
Derek said nothing but the mildly amused expression hid the totally-adoring-you-right-now thing Stiles knew was there.
All cleaned up and kneeling on the bed Stiles shimmied forward on so he mirrored Derek and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, “No more spanking the monkey for you, you lucky bastard.” Derek definitely laughed but covered it up by kissing Stiles and pressing their bodies together.
Derek cupped Stile’s backside in both hands and held him close, encouraging the gentle roll against his thigh, “Act two already?”
“As soon as you stop being naked and pressed against me this will stop being an issue. Okay maybe not right away but when we’re in separate buildings you won’t have to deal with it.”
The pressing didn’t stop, in fact was compounded by kneading and a general hicky-making agenda that Derek appeared to have adopted. With a clear, red mark on his collar-bone Derek stopped and licked it, “Still, it’s quite a workload I’m taking on here.”
Stiles may or may not have laughed self-effacingly, “But you’ve got super-werewolf-stamina right?”
There was a hum of approval against Stiles’s neck seconds before teeth latched onto his earlobe and that tongue started to do things that made him feel dizzy.
“So...uhh...” Distracting is what it was, if Stiles didn’t know better (and at this point he seriously doubted that he did) he’d think Derek was just encouraging his current situation, “You...You seem to have an idea what’s happening here. I’m thinking – oh holy god – I’ll just follow your lead.”
Derek moved along his jaw to kiss him again and Stiles felt fairy certain that he would never tire of Derek’s tongue; it was unbelievably agile and determined on exercising its full potential on Stiles’s body. In response Stiles found himself groping and clawing at every part of Derek. He was so effectively distracted that he didn’t really register how they moved around the bed so purposefully or that Derek was only holding him with one hand.
When Stiles found himself leaning over and passionately kissing Derek but unable to impose himself atop his god-like werewolf he stuttered to a stop and slowly studied Derek.
“Holy crap what are you doing?” Derek had reached one hand behind himself and Stiles peered hesitantly round to where Derek’s fingers disappeared inside his body. He sort of watched for a minute, fascinated and turned on if maybe just a little intimidated. “Is that for me?”
Derek nodded, looking more than a little wrecked. “Better suit up.”
A wave of expletives followed Stiles to the floor, where he rummaged through his bag, bringing the lube out of it with a condom - although Derek seems to have his own supply. When he returned to the bed Derek has turned around and is bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he just keeps on...and fuck it Stiles knows when opportunity is knocking. He darts into place, caressing Derek’s back as he watches, his hand sliding down to tentatively touch Derek’s hand. Deciding that he’s helping, Stiles pours lube onto his hands and just helps spread it around where it’s needed. When Derek somehow got Stiles’s fingers in there instead of his own he said every curse he knew, only it sounded far too reverential.
Stiles acknowledged he was fully fucking Derek with his hand when the other man moved, bracing his fore arms against the mattress and angling himself like he was there, presented for Stiles. Stiles - who couldn’t stop swearing and whose fingers were reaching uncertainly for the spot he knew could just break Derek apart. He moved closer (yes, yes in position lets not dirty the fact that Stiles was functioning on instinct right now because his brain was a wibbling mess of incoherence) and gave in to the urge to just bite the firm ass in front of him.
Derek picked up the condom that had been left on the mattress and ripped it open with his teeth before handing it backwards to Stiles. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Stiles took it, trying to roll it on with his left hand because the right hand was busy making the huge mass of broody muscles in front of him make noises that any civilised Joe would think Derek Hale did not know existed.
“I could just keep on...fuck, your ass.” Biting was a theme, a definite theme.
“That’s the plan Stiles, you not on board?”
“I...” Now was not the moment for reflection and self doubt; there’s probably a book on etiquette or something that says thou shall not doubt thine self when presented with the finest ass in existence. “Yes! Right, okay. Just...y’know, feel free to give feedback.”
Tennyson, Shakespeare, Mark-fucking-Twain and Byron all rolled together (and isn’t that an image) could not have found the words to describe the transformation from tentative teenager to column of living ectasy that Stiles underwent. All words escaped him so he gave an almighty groan as he carefully sunk as deep as he could, almost coming apart when Derek echoed him with a deplorably satisfied moan.
Settling into place Stiles fell forward and spread himself across Derek’s back, “Give me a minute or well...that’s all we’ll have.”
Derek laughed softly and Stiles followed, burying his face between Derek’s shoulder blades as though it were necessary to hide his red face. He tried moving gently, a tiny...circle that did little more than confirm where he was but Derek made this noise, this approval and Stiles could feel, could sense a disturbance in the force that just told him how much the man beneath him was forcing himself not to move.
“Maybe we should talk about baseball.” Stiles suggested, lips discovering a whole new network of muscles to explore.
“Or Lacrosse.” And Derek definitely moved then, pushed back just a little with a curl of his back. Stiles laughed openly at that and moved a little.
“You ever played?” Dear diary, today I tried to maintain a casual conversation about the most ridiculous team sport in the world (after synchronised swimming) while screwing the hottest guy on the planet.
Below him a No was disrupted by a grunt and Stiles instinctively moved more, enjoying just how vocal (if non-verbal) Derek could be when motivated.
Stuff started going through Stiles’s mind, stuff about listening to the alpha, about how werewolves communicated differently. And insane things, like the moon and the effect it has on the tides, tides which moved so consistently and with a steady rhythm against the shore...and fuck maybe Derek had just Jedi-mind-tricked him into knowing everything because damn if they weren’t just moving together perfectly now.
Derek met Stiles’s every thrust and Stiles felt fairly confident in his aim because Derek was incomprehensible. The sheets and then the mattress were punctured by Derek’s extending claws and the ruffle of fur along his jaw was wet with sweat against the pillow.
Throwing his head back to take heavy gasps of air Stiles fought the urge to close his eyes, “Want me to stop?”
“Throat – out – teeth.” Words! He formed words and Stiles was so proud he leant forward again to lick a strip across Derek’s shoulder, thrusting harder as he slid his hand from Derek’s hip, curving it around his waist and thigh to where a strained erection was waiting for him.
“You first this time.”
Derek rose up on his arms, throwing his head back as Stiles matched his hand to his hips and focused for all his life’s worth on holding back what seemed out of his control. Derek growled and snarled for a moment before hanging his head and letting out the most, almighty and unbelievably human moan as orgasm shook his body. Stiles fell after him with all of his usual coordination, muttering oaths and promises against Derek’s skin which he would deny to anyone but Derek.
Derek, oh god Derek. They had fallen to the mattress together at some point and Stiles started pet Derek’s waist, his hand drawing up and down tenderly. There were a hundred questions and uncertainties threatening to push into Stiles’s head so instead he focused on the minute details of Derek’s skin.
After a minute Derek nudged up gently with his hips, “If you insist on cuddling I can think of more comfortable positions.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable.” Hummed Stiles, swirling patterns on Derek’s skin.
“Wet patch.”
Stiles groaned and pulled back, realising with considerable regret that disposing of the condom was now his responsibility. After whipping away the top blanket Derek held out a waste bin for Stiles who grinned happily, throwing the condom away before diving under the remaining covers.
Happily tucked under cover Stiles made a grabby hands motion towards Derek as he returned, padding slowly across the room all naked and tousled. Stiles smiled with pride, I did that.
Stiles wrapped himself around Derek the instant he was in bed, pleased with the arm that encircled him in response.
“Don’t talk.” The warning was tired and affectionate, the voice issuing it thoroughly shagged out.
“Wouldn’t dare.” Ensuring the perfect entanglement of limbs Stiles buried his face into Derek’s neck and snuffled there sleepily, “Need all my energy for tomorrow.”