Work Text:
Stiles is trying to get a better look at the witch without being noticed through the trees. Erica, Scott, Boyd and Isaac are trapped in a mountain ash circle, and it looks like the witch is working on something else but he is not sure what. He’s half listening to Lydia and Allison as they try to work out the best plan for dealing with her while they wait for Derek who was across town when shit hit the fan. Stiles texted him with what was going on and Derek sent a typical brief reply of “Be there ASAP.” Yes, he used a period because he’s too old to be comfortable ignoring punctuation. Oh, Sourwolf.
Stiles attention is then dragged back to the witch when a fucking circle of fire surrounds the wolves, and it looks like it’s just outside the line of mountain ash. Clearly this is some sort of ritual, but for now the wolves are okay. With the added complexity of the fire, Stiles wonders if it is spelled and will require additional magic to remove. Maybe they can use Derek and Allison to distract and capture the witch while he and Lydia can try to deal with the magic.
Without warning, a dark blur flashes past them and it takes Stiles seconds to realize it was Derek, who is now heading straight for the witch. Oh no, shit, they need to keep her alive to figure out how to de-spell the fire! By the time he sucked in a breath to try to stop him, Derek had slashed her throat with his claws, roaring at her as she falls to the ground and bleeds out onto the damp grass. It all happened so quickly, and as she fell the circle of fire died out, apparently extinguished with her death. Derek was still wolfed out, panting and twitching as he stood over her body. Stiles, Lydia and Allison quickly run out to break the circle of Mountain Ash to release their friends.
No one said anything for a few long moments, all still shocked at the speed with which Derek violently neutralized the witch. Finally Stiles snaps out of the collective stupor and feels a deep fear-based rage build inside of him.
“Derek, what the actual fuck?! You just murdered the witch! Do you have any idea how lucky we are that killing her didn’t hurt the rest of the wolves stuck in that circle? Dude, seriously! There’s no way you knew the fire would die out, what if it didn’t? What if we needed her to de-spell it or something? Fuck, that was the most irresponsible and horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Which is saying something, given how long I’ve known you!”
Derek is still panting, back stiff with tension and his fists are clenched. Stiles can see blood dripping from where his claws were digging into the flesh of his hands. “Derek, for god’s sake will you look at me? Have you finally gone Peter Hale style crazy on us?”
“Stiles!” Lydia calls his name sharply. Stiles is broken from his tirade and looks at Lydia. She is giving him an inscrutable look, clearly a warning but he doesn’t understand why.
“What? What Lydia? You know I’m right. We got fucking lucky. There was absolutely no reason for him to go Rambo on the witch. Why am I the only one acknowledging this?” Stiles looks around and all the wolves look somewhat distraught. He looks back at Derek who has finally calmed down enough to return from his beta shift. He is staring at Stiles and the look freezes him in place. Derek’s eyes are cold, yet somehow also devastated. Stiles doesn’t understand what is happening but he worries that he has fucked up even worse than Derek. Before he has a chance to say anything, Derek turns his back on all of them and runs back into the woods.
Stiles is staring at the spot where Derek disappeared into the trees when Lydia surprises him by jumping into his line of sight and digging a pointed finger into his chest. “What the FUCK is wrong with you? You know, for someone who is so genuinely smart, you are a complete disappointment. And I can see that you still have no idea what you did. I can’t handle you right now.” She stomps off, grabs Allison and Scott and heads to her car. Stiles looks over at the others. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” The don’t say anything, they barely leven ook at him, but follow along since they need a ride home.
After dropping off the rest of the wolves to their respective houses, Stiles goes home and flops down on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out why everyone seems pissed at him. He wasn’t wrong, Derek took a stupid risk by killing the witch. And it’s not that Stiles didn’t consider the possibility that she would need to be killed if they couldn’t stop her any other way, but that was only after making sure it was the best decision. That it was the right thing to do. But Derek didn’t think, he just reacted. Like he always does. Stiles is a planner and Derek is shit at making plans. This is one of the reasons that they constantly have so much tension between them.
Stiles sighs to himself, well, and the fact that Derek is probably sick to his stomach from the smell Stiles puts off around the beautiful wolf. He can’t help that he appreciates a pretty face. And ass. And abs. Fuck.
Stiles groans in frustration, and almost jumps when he hears his door creak open. “Jesus Dad, I don’t need you trying to kill me too!”
“Who tried to kill you? You said you’d keep me updated on anything supernatural!?”
“Sorry, just a figure of speech. No one tried to actually kill me tonight. I was just stuck in my head and the door creaking open startled me.”
The Sheriff walks into the room and sits on the bed next to Stiles. “What’s going on, son? You look upset.”
Stiles drags his hands over his face, still supremely frustrated with everything that happened tonight. “We were battling a witch, she had most of the wolves trapped in a circle of mountain ash and another circle of fire, probably working on some sort of sacrifice-based ritual. We were working on a way to subdue her and figure out if we needed any magic to get them out of the circle when Derek blasted through and took her out. It turns out that killing her got rid of the fire and we were able to break the ash barrier, but that’s only because we got lucky, Dad. It could have worked out that killing her left us with no way to break the fire ring. It was so stupid and dangerous.”
The Sheriff nods his head and waits, knowing that his son wasn’t finished. “So I screamed at Derek, told him everything I just said to you, how he never thinks and how he could have put the betas at even greater risk by killing her.”
Stiles looks at his Dad who is just looking right back, not nodding but also not acting like he’s done anything wrong. Feeling the need to justify himself, regardless, Stiles lets out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t wrong. It was not the right thing to do. It worked, but.. but what if it didn’t?”
The Sheriff places his hand on Stiles shoulder and squeezes. “Are you feeling bad about what you said to Derek?”
Stiles feels a tear about to leak out of the corner of his eye, so he closes them tightly. “Derek looked devastated and just walked away. Ran, actually. Lydia, she made me feel like I was the one who was in the wrong, acted like I’m an idiot and was missing something obvious. I’ve been trying to figure it out and have no idea.”
“Well, it seems to me that you probably need to go talk to Derek. And before you start shaking your head, you are calmer now and in a better state of mind to clear everything up. Maybe if you two talk you can get on the same page. But you’re not going to get any sleep until you have this resolved. I know you, kid, you’re just going to stay up all night torturing yourself about what you did wrong, what could have gone wrong. Just go try and find him, clear it up.”
He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder one more time, then gets up and walks out of his room. With a sigh, Stiles sits up and grabs his wallet and phone so he can go and try to talk to Derek.
_____________
Stiles tried at the loft, but the Camaro wasn’t parked outside and all the lights were out. On his way to the Preserve to see if Derek was lurking at the old Hale house, he passes the Beacon Hills Memorial Cemetery. He is surprised to see a dark Camaro-shaped vehicle parked on the side of the road near the entrance. The cemetery is closed at this time of night so you can’t pull into the parking lot, but it looks like Derek just parked off the road and maybe hopped the fence to get in? Stiles parks behind him and gets out of the jeep.
Stiles knows this place well, he visits his mother often, and in recent years has added visits to the Hale family grave. He walks quietly, but assumes that if Derek is here he will hear him way before Stiles spots him. He gradually makes his way through the cemetery, toward the quiet spot where the Hale family, Derek’s family, rest. As he rounds the bend, even in the dark, he can see that Derek is there. But something is wrong. Derek is on the ground. Stiles panics and runs over and is shocked by what he sees. Derek is fine, just sleeping. The remains of tears drying on his cheeks. The side of his face is against the grass directly in front of the grave marker, his fingers fisted in the grass, even in his sleep.
Stiles stumbles back and falls to his knees. He’s never seen Derek cry, never seen him relaxed enough to sleep in anyone’s presence, let alone outside in a graveyard by himself.
Oh my god. Of course. Mountain Ash. Fire. That fucking witch triggered memories of the attack on Derek’s family. How could Stiles not have realized it. He lets out a shocked sob and quickly covers his mouth to try to quiet himself, afraid to wake Derek up. Too late, Derek suddenly sits up and stares at Stiles who is now openly sobbing.
“Derek, I’m so… fuck. So sorry. I didn’t think about what the witch was doing, that it would remind you of the fire. Fuck, I’m.” Stiles can’t look at him, closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing under control. He shakes his head furiously, needing to calm down and apologize, make this right. “I get it, I understand now. I’m so sorry man, I was so wrong. I take back everything I said.” Stiles starts hiccupping and fears that he now looks about as attractive as Dawson Leary, of the ugly crier fame.
“It was the smell.”
Stiles quiets down because Derek just spoke. He opens his teary red eyes and looks at him.
“The smell was so similar to the house, all the mountain ash and smoke. I don’t think I even thought about what I was doing. I was just on her.” Derek looks down at the ground, shoulders slumped. “I put every one of you at more risk. You were absolutely right, Stiles.”
“Fuck, Derek no, don’t layer this on as another thing to feel guilty about.” Stiles scrambles up and kneels directly in front of Derek, grabbing his face with both hands to make eye contact. “Stop. Listen to me. Do we blame soldiers who come back from war when they are terrified by the sound of fireworks? You experienced legitimate, horrific trauma and it leaves a mark. This is NOT your fault. Listen to me with your wolfy ears. I’m telling you the absolute truth, this is NOT your fault.”
Derek just stares at Stiles, his beautiful green eyes glassy and sad. “If, in the future, you want to work on how to respond to these triggers, that is absolutely something we can do. But you will not blame yourself for following your instincts. Yes, I had a point that we got lucky, we all know it. But I don’t blame you, Derek. I was fucking blind to not understand what happened. I am so sorry that I made what was an awful night even worse for you. Lydia and the rest of the betas were absolutely right to give me the cold shoulder.” Stiles pauses, trying to make his voice less shaky. “Can you forgive me? I’m the one who has no excuse for his behavior tonight.”
Derek just closes his eyes and nods, Stiles’ hands still holding his face.
Relief washes over Stiles and without thinking he rests his forehead against Derek’s, eyes closed just like the wolf’s. “Thank you. Thank you. I’m so sorry, Derek. Please let us be okay.” Stiles is whispering a stream of words, almost a prayer that Derek will be alright and won’t resent him any more than he already did.
Suddenly Stiles feels Derek’s arms reach out and pull him in so that he is basically sitting in his lap, strong arms banded around his back as Derek buries his face into Stiles neck. After the startle, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders, his face burrowing into Derek’s hair. They cry and hug and Stiles realizes he has never felt as close to someone else as he does with Derek right now.
_____________
It’s Saturday morning and Stiles is lounging on his bed, freshly showered and belly full from breakfast. Even though he slept hard last night after his emotional apology to Derek, he still feels exhausted. It’s probably all the crying. It’s been a while since he cried so hard and for so long, and history tells him that he will have puffy and red eyes for the rest of the day and feel sleepy. Good thing it’s a Saturday.
A nock on his door jars him from his wandering thoughts. “Come in Dad, I promise I’m decent.”
Stiles almost falls out of bed when Derek’s face pokes in as the door opens. “Hey. Your Dad let me in, he was on his way out to the station and found me, and I quote “lurking”, on the porch. He said you were up here and to just come up and find you.”
“That’s fine dude, it’s just a surprise to have you visit through my actual door. Nice change.” Stiles tries to smile, but after all the emotional cuddling and crying, he has no idea how to act around Derek today.
“So, are you okay? Last night was pretty rough. Is everything alright?”
Derek looks uncomfortable, but he walks the rest of the way into Stiles’ room, takes off his leather jacket and sits at his desk chair, facing the bed. “I guess I just wanted to thank you.”
Stiles is fairly certain his mouth is hanging open, in either an obscene or disgusting fashion. He hopes for the former. “What? I mean, why? What the? Why on earth?”
Derek looks up at him before speaking. “Stiles, people assume the worst of me all the time. When you got mad last night, it was nothing new. Sure, I was still recovering from my reaction to the scent and what I did, and I guess I hoped that by now you wouldn’t think I’m some crazy killer like my uncle.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. I forgot that even came out of my mouth. Fuck, you are NOTHING like Peter. I cannot convey this enough!”
A small half smile crosses Derek’s face, almost meets his eyes. “Thanks. But anyway, what you said is par for the course with me. I just, I guess I want to thank you for taking the time after, to realize what was going on with me, to not decide I’m a monster and no more explanation is necessary.”
And fuck, Stiles is on the verge of more damn tears. He shudders out a breath, trying to keep his emotions in control because it’s Derek who needs support, not him.
Derek continues on, seemingly unaware of how much he is affecting Stiles. “I know that Scott worries that he is a monster now that he’s a werewolf. But, I was born this way, I was never taught to think of us as evil or anything other than normal. So, I don’t know, these last few years where everyone sees me as a murderer and inherently evil, someone who can’t be trusted, it’s been more difficult for me than I think I was even aware of. That’s why, what you said last night at the cemetery, it was really important to me.”
Derek pauses, makes intense eye contact with Stiles. “You’re important to me. Hearing you say you understand what I was going through, thank you. Thank you for seeing me as more than a monster.”
Derek’s looking at him with such openness and trust, and Stiles loses his battle against the tears. Quickly wiping an arm across his face to erase the traces. “Fuck. I haven’t cried this much since my mom died.” He shakes his head to focus. “Derek, you do not need to thank me for that, ever. It should be expected. And to those other people, my prior self included, who don’t really see you, fuck them.”
Derek smiles, stands up and walks towards Stiles who is now sitting on the side of the bed. And in his currently emotional state, who is to judge him for getting even more weepy at how beautiful Derek looks in his dark jeans and tight green Henley in the bright morning light. Derek surprises Stiles by pulling his face into his stomach and hugs him, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair.
Now, here’s the thing. Stiles was pretty fucking tired this morning. Usually he does his first jerk of the day during his morning shower, but since he knew his Dad was headed to the station he opted out of his normal routine and planned a slow, leisurely session in bed once his the Sheriff was out of the house. Now, with his feelings all over the place, his forehead resting tightly against DEREK’S ABS, and with Derek’s fingers dragging enticingly against his scalp, Stiles dick has officially decided to join the party.
Oh my god, what’s happening. Why is Derek touching me. Please don’t let Derek stop touching me. If Derek keeps touching me I’m going to blow a load in my sweatpants and that would be pretty embarrassing. Oh my god, stop thinking about Derek touching me and blowing loads.
Now Derek’s abs are vibrating under Stiles’ face and he looks up at the gorgeous man to see he is losing the battle against laughter. “Of fuck, did I say all of that out loud?! NO, no, no, no.”
Stiles decides hiding his face in Derek’s stomach is the absolute best course of action. Until, of course, Derek’s hands go under his arm pits, lift him up and back so he is lying on his bed again, no way for him to hide his face. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to objectify you right now, but my emotions are all over the place, and I mean, you are you. You know what you look like, and you never touch me in nice ways, and my young body was confused. Please don’t kill me.” All of this was said in a fast, high pitched voice with his eyes closed, not willing to see Derek’s rejection, which he knows is coming.
But he is wrong. Rather, he feels pressure on the bed and a very hot, hard body pressing down on him. Stiles opens his eyes and is stunned silent by Derek’s beautiful face hovering inches over his own. In his bed. Oh. My. God.
“Stiles, you’re important to me. Do you understand?”
“Honestly, I’m so confused right now, but I’m more than happy to continue on and figure it out eventually.”
Derek laughs lightly and his warm breath washes across Stiles’ face. Derek then nuzzles his face against Stiles neck, but this is so much different from the cry/cuddling of the night before. Derek is dragging his slightly chapped lips and his rough beard up and down his neck, and it feels fucking amazing. Then Stiles feels wet heat and realizes that Derek is licking and sucking on his neck. The low, aching moan he lets out has Derek respond by grinding his hips down into Stiles.
Oh. My. God. Derek is hard. His dick is hard, because of me. Overcome, Stiles grabs Derek’s head and pulls him up to his face and doesn’t wait, just kisses him. It starts off with too much teeth, wet, sloppy and needy. But it slows into something almost reverent, their tongues rubbing and exploring, hands gently moving and caressing faces, arms and backs.
Needing a break for air, Stiles turns his face away and pants. “Derek, I’ve wanted you forever, you must have known.”
Derek is now pulling Stiles’ shirt up and over his head, smiling at what he sees, his eyes dark with appreciation and lust. “Yeah, fuck, of course I could tell. But I didn’t realize before last night that you cared about anything more than what I look like. I can’t do casual anymore, I can’t be with someone I don’t trust. So actually, we need to be clear about that now before anything else happens.”
Stiles tries not to give Derek an “Are you an idiot?” face, but he’s sure he fails. “Derek, of course I care! I’ve been crying tears of shame and guilt because I thought I hurt you. I mean, obviously you are the hottest thing I’ll probably ever see or get my hands on, but I also know you are just as much of an asshole as me, and that you will always have my back when I need you. Of course I care. What I can’t understand is how someone like you would ever, in any alternate reality, be interested in a skinny pale spaz like me.” Stiles pauses, and suddenly things become alarmingly clear to him.
“Oh my god, are you sure? Fuck, is this a reaction to all the emotional upheaval in the last 12 hours? I really don’t want to accidentally take advantage of you being more emotional or anything. We can totally pause here. I think we would both be incredible upset if you realize tomorrow that you don’t want this. Fuck, Derek I can’t do this if it might be taking advantage of the situation.”
Stiles tries to sit up and get some physical separation, frantic at the idea that he almost hurt Derek again. But Derek places his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, keeping him on the bed and instead lies back down, covering him like a blanket and forcing Stiles to look directly into those incredible Hale eyes. “Stiles, shhh. Just breathe and listen to me. You don’t need to worry about my emotional state. To be honest, I’ve wanted you for a while, but my trust issues and horrible romantic experiences were holding me back. Even though it happened under shitty circumstances, last night was exactly what I needed to feel comfortable enough to finally do this, to try to have what I’ve been wanting. So, as long as you are consenting and interested in being with me, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Stiles pulls Derek down for a slow, sweet kiss. He pulls away to look at him again. “I have to warn you. Once my affections find a worthy target, it’s pretty hard to shake them. You can talk to Lydia about this if you need a reminder. If we do this, I’m not going to want to let you go.”
Derek just smiles and kisses Stiles. They don’t go any further that morning, just lazy kisses and cuddles, and it’s perfect.
______________
Later that afternoon, Stiles is sitting on the floor in front of his bed, playing Call of Duty when his Dad wanders in.
“Hi there, you’re looking better today. Did you and Derek get everything figured out? I have to say, he looked almost nervous when I found him on the porch this morning.” The Sheriff chuckles and Stiles smiles at him as he pauses the game.
“Yeah, Dad. I found him last night and we talked, may have even cried a bit. I was such an ass, it didn’t occur to me that the fire and mountain ash triggered all his memories from the Hale house fire. I *think* I convinced him that having a PTSD response was not something he should feel guilty about. There should be no judgement when it comes to mental health, and he definitely has a legitimate reason to have had that reaction. I’m just lucky he forgave me for screaming at him.”
The Sheriff sits on the bed next to Stiles and pats his son on the head. “I’m glad you two figured it out. But tell me, why then was he here this morning?”
Stiles can feel his face and neck getting red and he clears his throat, refusing to look directly at his father. “Well, I guess Derek isn’t used to people taking the time to realize they may have been wrong about the assumptions they make of him. Since I found him last night, figured out what was going on in his head and apologized to him, I guess he was grateful? Anyway, he wanted to thank me for not thinking he was a monster. God.” Stiles shakes his head at how sad the thought made him.
His dad ruffles his hair in a way only an affectionate parent can do. “Well, I’m glad. He’s had a tough few years and could use people giving him a break once in a while. I suppose if he can get over you accusing him of murdering his sister, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d forgive you for fear-shouting at him.”
Stiles smiles, thinking that there may be other reasons Derek was so ready to forgive him. Ones that are decidedly sexy and make his insides feel all warm and happy.
“So son, what aren’t you telling me?”
Stiles turns to look at his Dad, giving him the most innocent face he knows how to muster. “Sorry? What do you mean?”
Without much warning, his Dad is tugging on the collar of his t-shirt and poking his neck. “Where, may I ask, did this come from? Or I should rephrase, from whom did this come?”
Stiles slaps his hand over his neck and runs to the bathroom mirror. “Motherfucker!”
“Language!”
“Oh my god, oh my god.”
“Stiles. Out with it.”
Stiles is officially a new variety of tomato and slowly turns to look at his smirking father. “Well, um. So yeah, I should probably let you know now that I’m not entirely heterosexual.”
Stiles freezes, realizing he just came out to his father. Oh my god. “Stiles, as long as you are safe and everything is consensual, you can be any kind of sexual you want. You’re of legal age, and you know I love you and just want you to be happy.”
What the hell is it with the tears today? Stiles is crying, just a little bit, and getting the best kind of hug from his dad. The kind of hug that telegraphs all the love and strength he could ever need. “Thanks Dad, I love you too.”
His dad is rubbing his back in a comforting way, which is why Stiles was not prepared for the forthcoming Stilinski snark. “That’s fine, I’m happy for you and Derek. I’m assuming you are with Derek, that is. But I’m telling you right now that I don’t want to know, hear, or see anything. You will not wax poetic about his glorious facial hair, nor how it feels when he uses it in ways I don’t want to think about. Mild PDA is allowed, but I really don’t want to have to bleach my eyes on a regular basis, so keep any sexy times to yourselves.”
“Dad, oh my god! Stop, please please please stop! You are the worst. Honestly. What, do you think I want to blow him in the kitchen while you’re making dinner?”
His dad’s face turns a dramatic shade of purple and he starts coughing uncontrollably. “You are the worst! Worst son! Get out of here, go find your boyfriend so I can pretend those words were never spoken.”
Stiles laughs hysterically. “Sorry old man, you really shouldn’t have tried out-embarrass me. You know I have no shame.” He laughs as his dad practically runs away.
However, now he has a mental image of blowing Derek and fuck, yeah, time to go.
_______________
Stiles is about to knock on the door when it’s opened by Isaac. “Hey Stiles, what are you doing here?” Stiles notices that Isaac is making a weird squishy face, like he’s smelling something weird.
“Here to see Derek.” Stiles just wanders in, deciding not to worry about whatever it is that Isaac may or may not be smelling.
“Hey Boyd, Erica, where’s our mighty Alpha?”
Before either have a chance to respond, Derek appears at the top of the spiral stairs. He’s wearing low hanging dark grey sweatpants, and apparently nothing else. Stiles may have cursed out loud, or maybe it was just in his head.
Behind him he hears Isaac. “Oh my god, I can’t. Erica, please let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t know, might be fun to watch and listen.” Then Erica screams and Stiles is able to tear his gaze away from Derek for a moment to watch as Boyd drags her out of the loft over his shoulder and Isaac runs to follow them along.
“Rude.” Derek is suddenly right in front of him, how the hell did he move that fast? “Whoa!”
Derek is crowding into Stiles’ space and fuck does he love it. “Stiles, you’re here. I could smell you from upstairs.”
“Um. Is that good or bad?”
Derek plasters his face in Stiles’ neck, dragging in deep breaths. “Fuck Stiles, your smell. I want to bottle it so I can use it to jerk off whenever you aren’t around.”
“Oh my god, are you a dirty talker? I’m dead. Holy shit.” Stiles grabs Derek’s face and attacks him with a kiss that is almost too desperate, but he just doesn’t care. He tries to back up toward the couch, but Derek is holding him steady.
“Derek come on, I’m dying to blow you, let me get on the couch and get your dick in my mouth.”
Stiles would swear on the life of his beloved father that Derek growled. Honest to god growled. Suddenly Stiles is airborne, strong hands gripping his thighs and lifting him up to then be placed (dropped) on the couch. After bouncing and readjusting his mind to the rapid movement to the couch, he sees that Derek is standing indecently close to him, in nothing but his low hanging pants that are now starting to tent.
Stiles looks up at Derek and sees that he is staring back, his eyes blazing alpha red and he’s panting. He reaches up and rubs his hands over Derek’s stomach, enjoying the smooth skin as it dips along all his delicious muscles. “So listen, you need to know I’ve never done this before, but I really, really want to if you are okay with that. Full and enthusiastic consent is required.”
Derek makes another growly noise and then pulls his pants down so that they puddle around his ankles. And, of course he was going commando. Holy shit.
“Given that you seem to have gone pre-verbal, I’m taking that as a yes. Okay, oh my god this is happening. Just, like, tell me if there’s something you don’t like.”
Stiles takes a moment to appreciate Derek’s cock, because while most dicks are nothing to write poetry about, Stiles thinks that what he is looking at is pretty special. It’s uncut which he sort of expected, and the head is peeking out from the foreskin, hard and red and leaking a small bead of precum. Also, Derek is a big boy, but thankfully he’s no so huge that the idea of taking him in is impossible.
Stiles slowly drags his fingers down Derek’s torso and runs them up and down his hard cock. The slide of the foreskin is new and fascinating, and he can’t believe how different it feels to have someone else’s dick in his hands. As he slides his hands up and down, Derek makes small jerky movements, like he’s holding himself back from fucking into Stiles’ hands.
Stiles then moves his hands around to cup Derek’s ass, one hand on each cheek. “Oh god, I’ve spent so much time dreaming about this ass, and it’s fucking perfect. Come here.” Stiles pulls Derek closer and finally gets his mouth on him.
He takes his cock in slowly, making sure not to scrape his teeth against the sensitive skin. He’s surprised that it’s not too difficult. He does have a pretty big mouth, so maybe he’ll be a natural. He hears Derek gasp and feels Derek’s thumb moving softly against his cheek. He looks up, trying to imagine how he looks with his mouth stuffed with cock.
“Fuck, Stiles. Look at you, so perfect for me. Knew your mouth would be fucking heaven.”
Stiles groans from the dirty talk, hoping to god he doesn’t blow a load in his pants, untouched. He then starts building up a rhythm, and while he isn’t able to get all of Derek in, he’s happy to practice often to build up to deep throating. He thinks Derek is still enjoying himself. Stiles experiments by rubbing his tongue on the sensitive underside just below the head of Derek’s cock, and is rewarded with a hot dollop of precum. He plays with the foreskin, sliding his tongue under and around it, finding the whole experience fascinating and fucking arousing.
He reaches his hands back to Derek’s ass and starts scraping his blunt nails down the taught muscle. Derek seems to love this and starts making those jerky movements again, like he can barely hold himself back. Stiles gets one hand around the root of Derek’s cock and jerks it in time with his sucking. His jaw is starting to hurt, but he thinks that Derek is getting close. A minute later and Derek is pulling on his hair and Stiles pulls off with a sloppy pop.
“Fuck Stiles, I’m almost there, open your mouth for me.”
Oh my god, this is like real life porn, he’s gonna come on my face. Stiles opens his mouth, tongue hanging out, as Derek strips his cock violently. After less than a minute Derek shouts and shoots come all over Stiles. Some gets on his tongue, and the rest seems to go all over his face. His eyes are closed from a long-ago learned lesson that semen in the eye hurts.
The next thing he knows, Derek is kneeling and LICKING the come off Stiles face. Although, he thinks he may have rubbed a bit in around his neck. Kinky fucking werewolves.
Stiles is feeling a combination of weirdly tired, energized, sated, but also insanely turned on. Sex with another person is a whole different experience, apparently. Derek is making a happy rumbling noise from deep in his chest and Stiles can’t help but laugh because he sounds like a giant house cat.
“Stiles, what do you want? Can I taste you too?”
“Oh my god, yes. Anything. I give you blanket permission to have your way with me. I will let you know if there’s something I don’t want.”
Derek grabs Stiles and pushes him so his face is toward the arm rest of the couch, face down, ass up in the air like he is fucking presenting. Then Derek reaches around and undoes Stiles’ pants and slowly pulls them and his boxer briefs down his legs. Stiles kicks out a bit to get them off completely and then settles back on his knees, turning his head around to look at Derek when nothing happens.
The word “moonstruck” comes to mind when Stiles tries to describe the mesmerized expression on Derek’s face. Which, haha, moon, werewolf. But yeah, Derek seems completely transfixed on his ass. After the longest 30 seconds in Stiles recent memory, he is ready to turn around and make sure Derek is okay. Just as he starts to move, Derek breaks free from his ass-trance (tr-ass-nce?) and grabs Stiles hips to keep him in place. Stiles watches and can feel his own dick getting even harder as Derek lowers his face, realizing where this is heading.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. This is in my top 3 list, this is happening. You’re really ab.. nghhhhh.”
Stiles rambling stops abruptly when he feels Derek’s warm, heavy tongue lap directly across his hole. The wet heat on that sensitive muscle is hard to describe, and the knowledge that it’s Derek’s tongue makes it even hotter. Derek is rimming him. Stiles Stilinski, spastic sidekick, is getting rimmed by Derek Fucking Hale. He hopes he never wakes up from this alternate reality.
Derek pulls away and Stiles actually whines, don’t judge. He turns back to look at what is happening and sees Derek is sucking on his fingers with an almost angry expression on his face. “Oh. Fuck. Yes, Derek, fuck put those in me.”
Derek smirks and starts rubbing a wet finger around Stiles’ hole. Feeling desperate, Stiles tries pushing back, trying to get Derek’s finger in him, already! “Dammit, Derek. Put it in me. It’s not like I don’t do this to myself all the time, you won’t hurt me.”
Derek’s eyes shutter closed and a low rumbling sound comes from deep in his chest. When he opens his eyes they are glowing red and doesn’t that middle finger just push right in.
“FUCK! Fucking fuckety, yes! Shit keep going, oh my god.” Stiles is doing everything in his power to fuck himself on Derek’s finger, which feels SO much different from his own. Then Derek’s adding a second finger and Stiles is feeling that familiar burn, but even though his fingers are longer than Derek’s, Derek is getting in deeper and filling him up so much better. Stiles can never get this kind of angle, and my god what a difference.
Derek is still making the pleased rumbling sound when he hooks his fingers and starts dragging them directly over Stiles’ prostate. Stiles is lost in the exquisite feelings shooting throughout his body, no control over the desperate noises coming from his mouth as he continues to ram himself on Derek’s fingers. Then Derek slides his other hand around and starts jerking Stiles cock in time with the finger fucking. It takes only another 10 seconds or so before Stiles experiences the most powerful and intense orgasm of his life. His whole body seizes up, and the prostate massage seems to generate even more come as Stiles shoots his load all over the couch cushion below him. Derek gentles his fingers and the jerking, adding sweet kisses against Stiles’ sweaty spine, and gently pulls his fingers out. Stiles whines again, but is so spent that he pretty much collapses onto his own mess on the couch. Derek manhandles him so that he is between Stiles and the back of the couch, the big spoon, rubbing soothing circles on Stiles’ stomach as he nuzzles the back of Stiles’ neck.
Once Stiles has his senses back, he takes a moment to appreciate that he’s enjoying post-coital snuggling with Derek just as much as the actual coitus (he needs to stop watching Big Bang Theory, but coitus it is). “Well, Cuddle Wolf, I’d say that we passed the test on physical chemistry.”
Derek mumbles in agreement, but seems to be unwilling to remove his face from where it is buried in Stiles’ neck.
Stiles smiles and grabs Derek’s hand so he can tangle their fingers together. “Look, it’s been an emotional 24 hours. I just want you to know that this is real for me, okay? My dad approves, the pack definitely know, and I promise to be good for you. For as long as you’ll have me. I’m not trying to be dramatic or pushy, but communication was part of our problem earlier. So, yeah, I just wanted you to know what I’m feeling.”
Stiles doesn’t really expect a long reply, let along a declarative monologue from Derek. But he is getting better at translating Derek-speak and gets exactly the response he needed from the wolf. Derek pulls him in even tighter and as he nuzzles the back of Stiles’ ear, he hears Derek whisper, “My Stiles”, followed by sweet kitten kisses. “Yes, yours. And you’re my Sourwolf. Not going to let you go.”