A/N: So this is my first foray into writing for Teen Wolf, and I have to thank the amazingly talented and beautiful lucawindmover for introducing me to this show, and Stiles and Derek and Lydia. Seriously, how did I live without them? This story was initially supposed to be a fluffy one-shot written as a present for luca, and then somehow it just started spiraling out of control. It went from, "I should write a Sterek PWP" to this complicated, emotionally devastating and uplifting series that will include Sterek, Stydia, and Sterydia. And lots and lots of sex. Right now I'm working on the third installment, and I think there's going to end up being four total. I hope that you all love this as much as I've loved writing it, and please, if you do, let me know! Reviews are love and the only way I know it's worth continuing to post. :)
"Oh my God, Derek," Stiles exclaimed. He surveyed the loft in shock. "What in the hell did you do in here?"
Derek glanced around, seeing the place through Stiles' eyes. "I bought some furniture?" he guessed uncertainly.
"You decorated!" Stiles marveled, trailing his fingertips over a black-framed painting before whirling around and poking at a flat red bowl full of black and gray river stones, accidentally dislodging it. The bowl teetered and Derek caught it before it went over the edge, shooting Stiles an annoyed scowl. "It looks like a real human person lives here! Which is kind of ironic, actually, because none do."
"Get out," Derek grumbled, and Stiles flashed him his most charming grin.
"You don't really mean that," he objected, and Derek flashed him his most deadpan stare.
"I live someplace with nice things now. All you have to do is trip once and they'll all be gone."
Stiles looked as if he wanted to object, but after a brief moment of consideration he shrugged, acknowledging the truth of the statement. "Grace isn't my strong suit, I'll give you that." He flopped down onto the couch, which was a squishy, pillowy thing made of burgundy microfiber, swiveling his head back and forth as he leaned into the cushions and examined the layout and the pillow placement. He wiggled his ass, testing out the comfort and sighing blissfully. "I know you didn't pick this out," he accused. "So who helped you? Someone with taste, I bet. Was it Lydia? I bet it was Lydia. She has lots of taste. Except why would she help you decorate? It's not like you two are buds, and she doesn't spend a lot of time here. Wait, does she? Are you guys friends? When did that happen?"
"Stiles." Derek's sharp voice cut him off mid-babble. "No one helped me."
"Are you sure?" Stiles asked skeptically. He squinted up at Derek, gauging the expression on the wolf's face. It was implacable, which was the only expression he had besides angry. It told Stiles absolutely nothing. "Because I would have thought your taste in furniture would tend toward spartan and, y'know, scary. Stuff that says 'keep out' and 'you are not welcome here'. Maybe a coffin or something."
"I'm not a vampire." The words came out through gritted teeth.
Stiles shrugged. "Maybe not, but you're about as devoid of life and personality as one."
Derek shot him a withering stare, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation. "I have plenty of life in me," he protested.
Stiles raised one eyebrow, grinning. "Oh yeah? Prove it," he challenged. "I bet you couldn't do anything interesting if your life depended on it." Derek growled in aggravation and Stiles rolled his eyes. "That doesn't count. Growling is your second language, and it's definitely not interesting. It's not even scary anymore."
Derek's handsome face was screwed up in an angry frown-ah, there's the other expression, thought Stiles with an inward smirk-when suddenly there was something new. A slow, spreading smile that instantly put Stiles on edge and simultaneously caused an unexpected twist in his stomach.
Derek eased down on the back of the couch, sitting next to Stiles' shoulders. Stiles unthinkingly tipped his head back to look up at Derek, who hadn't said a word. He just continued to smile. "What the hell is wrong with your face?" Stiles blurted out. "You know if you're not careful it could freeze like that. Or at least that's what my dad always told me and Scott when we would make scary faces at the delivery guys who came to our door. Although to be honest, that threat didn't really work on us because we thought it would be awesome to have our faces freeze like that."
"Do you ever shut up?" Derek asked with a rueful sigh.
"Me? No. Not really."
"I think I know of a way to do it." And before Stiles had a clue what was happening, Derek reached down and twisted a handful of his shirt in his grip, pulling him up off of the couch. Stiles' feet flailed and he scrambled to get them underneath him, wincing when he realized he was putting his dirty Vans right on Derek's brand-new furniture. He ended up seated on the back of the couch beside Derek and he turned wide, apologetic eyes on the other man, hoping he wasn't about to get dumped over the back of it and onto his ass.
All thought fled from his mind, however, when Derek's lips met his instead. They were firm and yet surprisingly soft. Stiles found himself focusing on inane thoughts because his brain just couldn't comprehend what in the world was happening to his mouth at the moment. He felt like he was detachedly observing himself from above. Derek's fingers slid around the back of his neck, gripping tightly and pulling him closer. Stiles' hands slid up Derek's chest, his palms running over the older man's nipples and causing a groan to rumble in his chest, before moving upward and curling over his shoulders. Derek responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping between Stiles' lips and gently exploring the recesses of his mouth. Stiles idly wondered where this tender, passionate Derek had come from. Instead of the angry, scowly, growly wolf he'd come to know, this was a man who clearly took infinite care with his lovers.
The mere thought of the word caused him to panic, pushing hard on Derek's chest. The wolf broke the kiss, pulling back questioningly but not speaking.
Stiles leaped from the couch, stumbling when his shoe caught on one of the cushions. He tumbled off face-first and ended up splayed out on the floor. Groaning, he lifted himself off the charcoal-colored area rug and flipped so that he was sitting, leaning back and resting his upper body weight on his palms. "Do I even want to know what that was all about?" he questioned warily. His chest was heaving and his breath was short, and he refused to think about the reason for it.
"You challenged me. I won," Derek replied simply.
"Okay, yeah, but I did not challenge you to kiss me!" Stiles protested. He sat up, drawing his knees to his chest and hunching over as if he was protecting himself against Derek.
Derek smirked. "I'm a werewolf, Stiles. I'm not oblivious to how your heartbeat and your scent change when you're around me."
"It's not because I'm in love with you, you asshole!" Stiles shot back. "You intimidate the hell out of me! There, I said it. You're the big badass wolf and you're all growly and you could rip my throat out if I piss you off enough, which, let's face it, is something I'm especially good at. So yeah, my heartbeat speeds up sometimes."
"You really don't realize it, do you?" Derek murmured, surprise coloring his voice.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Realize what?" he snapped. "That you're a giant dick sometimes? Because newsflash, yeah, I realized that. A long damn time ago, as a matter of fact."
A laugh erupted from Derek's lips, and Stiles was so shocked that his mouth fell open and he gaped at the other man. "Your heartbeat doesn't speed up because you're intimidated, Stiles," he said softly, a predatory grin curving his lips. "It speeds up because you're attracted to me."
"Oh, come on!" Stiles scoffed. "You can't possibly know that. A fast heartbeat doesn't tell you anything except for someone's heart is beating fast. There's no way to know exactly what's causing it."
"The scent of arousal doesn't lie," Derek replied quietly, and Stiles felt his heart jump. The grin widened.
"I think I'd know if I was aroused," Stiles argued. "I don't get a giant hard-on when I'm around you so I call bullshit on your nose and oh my God why am I still talking to you about this? I'm leaving, Derek. Goodbye." He scrambled to his feet and headed for the door to the loft. He had his hand on the handle but turned, a little freaked out and yet unsurprised to see the wolf studying him intently. "I actually came over here to let you know Scott is wondering if you have an answer for him yet. You know, about joining the pack."
Derek stared at him for a moment, the expression on his face as stoic as ever. Stiles felt a brief flash of knowledge that he was able to elicit several other emotions from the normally stone-faced former alpha, and with it came a sense of satisfaction and pride that stunned him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably while he waited for Derek's response. When it came, it made his chest tighten. "I think that's up to you now, isn't it?"
Disconcerted, Stiles tugged open the door and fled the loft, slamming it shut behind him. He stood on the other side, his heart and his mind both racing. Only one thought dominated his brain. "What in the hell just happened?"
lllll
Stiles avoided Derek for the next several days. He made excuses for why he couldn't go to the loft when Scott needed to, and he was always busy if anyone asked him to do anything that involved Derek in any way. If Scott noticed his odd behavior, he thankfully didn't mention it.
During that time, Stiles also avoided thinking about what Derek had said, the way he'd looked, the way he'd smelled and felt and how his skin had been hot even under his thin T-shirt. He'd especially avoided thinking about Derek's future with the pack depending on him. As time wore on and his vigilance against such thoughts relaxed, they began to slip past his defenses and worm their way into his mind, specifically while he was sleeping.
On the fourth morning after their unsettling encounter, Stiles woke up with a faint sense of discontent. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt like there was something his brain was trying to tell him. He managed to work his way through the rest of the day, getting a B on his trig test and scoring an actual goal during lacrosse practice for once, but wasn't able to nail down what it was that was bothering him so much. It wasn't until he was driving home that the realization struck him, and his eyes widened.
Before he could think twice about it he was pulling a U-turn in the middle of the street, nearly taking the Jeep up on two wheels. He frantically pulled on the steering wheel, trying to correct and set his baby down gently. The vehicle landed with a thud and he winced, patting it consolingly on the dashboard and making a silent vow to take it in and get the shocks looked at, just in case.
It didn't take long before he was standing in front of the door to the loft, taking a deep breath and raising his fist to knock. He hesitated, his arm hovering in midair, and then the decision was taken away from him when the door slid open and Derek was standing on the other side. Stiles blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh, you're here. Right, of course you're here, you live here. Who else would be here?" He ran a hand nervously through his hair, cursing himself for his babbling. It was a mostly endearing trait normally, but there were times when he just wanted to kick himself for not being able to shut up for two freaking seconds.
"Did you need something?" Derek queried mildly, and Stiles nodded before he could talk himself out of it. Derek stepped aside and Stiles practically jumped through the door, waiting anxiously for him to close it.
"So, ah, how did you know I was here?" Stiles asked, suddenly wishing he was anywhere else. He really didn't want to ask the question that was actually on his mind.
"I could smell you," Derek answered with a shrug.
Stiles made a face. "That is so unbelievably creepy," he muttered under his breath, and Derek smirked at him.
"I'm a werewolf. We've covered this."
"Right, right. You and your freaky supernatural senses that mean ordinary guys like me don't stand a chance of keeping anything private," Stiles grumbled. Derek stared at him placidly, not saying a word. Stiles almost expected him to bust out with some kind of taunt, but he seemed content to wait Stiles out.
"So I was thinking. About what you said, and, uh, did, the other day?" He waited for an acknowledgement from Derek but continued to receive the steady look that indicated neither interest nor disinterest. Stiles blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. Apparently he was going to have to do this all on his own, without any help. Asshole. Definitely an asshole. "And I realized that you gave yourself away." Derek raised one eyebrow inquisitively, but remained silent. "Damn it, Derek, would you freaking say something?"
"What should I say?" he asked in a practical tone, crossing into the living room and seating himself in the black leather armchair. "I'm waiting for you to spit out what you're trying to say."
Stiles made a face at him but acknowledged that was probably a legitimate reason not to talk. He was just full of anxiety at being the center of attention for what was likely going to be a very awkward conversation. He followed Derek into the living room and sank down on the couch, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his thighs. "You said that you smelled arousal on me, and could hear my heartbeat speeding up, and you attributed all that to me being attracted to you. What you didn't consider is that as much as you're an asshole, you're not a bad guy. So you wouldn't have kissed me if you didn't want to, because otherwise, per your previous thought that I want to jump your werewolf bones, you would have been committing a very cruel and unkind act. And you wouldn't be cruel or unkind to the people who potentially will be part of your pack." He finished up his monologue triumphantly, expecting to see embarrassed awareness creeping into Derek's eyes. Instead, he smiled.
"What makes you think I didn't consider it?" he returned easily, and Stiles' jaw dropped.
"Wait, what? You did it on purpose, because you knew you wanted to? It wasn't some latent desire bubbling under the surface that you refused to acknowledge?"
"You mean like you?" he replied in amusement.
Stiles sputtered. "I thought you were straight!" he exclaimed in frustration. Color flooded his face when he realized he was basically admitting that Derek had been right all along.
Derek sighed. "You're overthinking it, Stiles," he said gently. "It's commonly known in the werewolf community that our sexuality is fairly fluid, although I'm not surprised Scott's never mentioned it."
"What do you mean, fluid?" Stiles repeated skeptically.
"When werewolves mate it's for life, but they can have sex without mating," Derek explained patiently. "Werewolves are an anomaly in the animal world because animals normally mate for procreation, but humans have sex for pleasure, and werewolves are both."
"I'm not following," Stiles said, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"We don't care about things like gender. It doesn't matter. We're drawn to the heat, the scent, the raw desire." He stood up, and Stiles instinctively followed suit. Derek took a step toward him, crowding his personal space. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the look on Derek's face told him the wolf was very aware of it.
Stiles himself was hyper-aware of every movement and he swallowed thickly when Derek lifted his hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck. Derek's eyes never left his, burning into him with an intensity that left Stiles a little breathless. Heat curled in his stomach and he faintly recognized that his body had rendered him a liar. Derek smiled wickedly and Stiles knew he was a lost cause.
Derek's mouth descended slowly, giving Stiles time to take a step back, but he surprised himself by tilting his chin upward to accept the mouth that claimed his. A small groan bubbled up in his throat when Derek's tongue tangled with his, both fighting for dominance. Stiles allowed his hands to map the other man's chest as he worked them upward before sliding his arms around Derek's neck. He tightened his hold, bringing their bodies flush together, and when he felt the hard length pressed against his hip he jumped awkwardly, instinctively dropping his arms and attempting to back away.
In response, Derek just gripped his neck tighter and held him firm, breaking the kiss but not the connection. "Trust me," he whispered against Stiles' mouth, nipping lightly at his lips. Stiles felt the scrape of fangs against his skin and oddly enough, the momentary panic melted away. He was reminded how ferocious and deadly the man in front of him could be, and yet he was anything but in this moment. Derek was his partner in this, and Stiles did trust him. The realization was enough to relax him completely. Derek knew his needs and desires better than he knew them himself, so he would let Derek be the one to guide him.
Derek sensed his surrender and pressed forward, re-aligning their bodies. He moved his hand from Stiles' neck to his hair, threading his fingers through the thick strands and gripping so firmly it was almost painful. Stiles' mouth opened in a groan and Derek took advantage, slanting his mouth over Stiles' and gently biting his lower lip. Stiles tilted his hips forward and yanked hard on Derek's shoulders, melding their bodies together. A hiss of surprised pleasure escaped Derek's lips and Stiles smiled against them.
"You're learning fast," Derek mumbled, the fingers on his other hand tunneling through Stiles' silky hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him harder into the kiss.
Stiles returned it fervently, his tongue crashing against Derek's, curling around it, battling for supremacy. His nails dug into Derek's neck and the wolf growled low in his throat. The sound thrilled Stiles and had an instantaneous reaction on his body. Derek chuckled into his mouth before pulling away, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Haven't you heard?" Stiles panted, his lips curving up in a satisfied smirk. "I'm pretty damn smart when I need to be. I suck at school, except hey, I got a B on my trig test today. But the life thing, I get that. Sometimes."
Derek leaned in and bit Stiles' earlobe, pulling downward with his teeth before releasing it. His lips pressed against the side of Stiles' neck, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that had Stiles squirming in pained pleasure. His erection was causing an uncomfortable bulge in his pants and Derek cupped him gently, stroking his fingers over the hard length. "If you want to back out, now is the time to do it."
Stiles gulped. He wasn't sure he was ready, but he was certain that he couldn't stop now. So despite his trepidation he shook his head, telling Derek he wasn't going to back out.
Derek moved back in to capture Stiles' mouth under his again, while at the same time slipping the button on his jeans from its loop. He grabbed the zipper tab and pulled it down, agonizingly slowly, and Stiles ached from the sensation of having Derek's hands so close to him and yet so far away. "You're going too damn slow," he complained once he pulled back.
"You don't want to rush this," Derek promised, his eyes flashing a brilliant blue, and Stiles swallowed hard.
Reaching down to grip the hem of his shirt in both hands, he lifted them up and tugged the shirt over his head, throwing it on the couch. He felt a frisson of heat sizzle through him when Derek admired his bare chest, a gleam of desire lighting the other man's gaze. Stiles stared steadily into Derek's eyes, the intensity rising until it became almost overwhelming. "You're right, I don't want to rush it," he acknowledged finally. "But I'm done waiting, too. Make your move, Hale."
Derek growled and hooked his fingers through Stiles' belt loops, yanking him forward and biting down hard on his lower lip. Stiles hissed and felt himself harden even more, which he'd previously thought was impossible. Before he knew it, his jeans and boxers were being pushed down to his knees and his cock sprang free. Derek's fingers closed around him gently and Stiles' head dropped back as a groan of ecstasy burst from his throat.
The groan trailed off into a whimper as Derek's hand worked up and down slowly, his grip loose to avoid causing pain from too much friction. Stiles arched into his stroking motions, trying to get closer to the pleasure that was just out of reach. It felt like when he was trying to say something that was right there on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get it out. Not that that particular scenario happened to him often, but he'd experienced it once or twice and knew what it actually felt like.
"Wait," Derek said softly, and Stiles almost protested out loud when the wolf's hand released its hold on him and he stepped away. He was relieved to see Derek stop before making it out of the room, instead sliding open a drawer underneath what appeared to be a curio cabinet.
"A curio cabinet? Really?" he blurted out. "Because you need a prominent place to store anything breakable, what with all the fights that go down here. That seems logical." Derek glanced up at him with a frown.
"It was here three days ago," he pointed out defensively. "You didn't make fun of it then."
"I was a little preoccupied with the hot wolf kissing me senseless," Stiles retorted. "I stopped noticing your furniture about the time you smiled that 'I'm going to charm the pants off you, literally' smile at me."
Derek broke into the aforementioned smile as he pulled out what he'd been in search of. Stiles rolled his eyes at the bottle of lube in the other man's hand, attempting to stave off the wave of nerves that washed over him. "Aaaand you keep lube in your pseudo-living room. Why do I get the feeling I'm not the first person to be seduced in here?"
"Stiles?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Stiles wisely listened to Derek, for probably the first time ever when it didn't involve life or death. He felt silly standing there with his pants around his knees and his cock hanging out-or, more to the point, standing straight up like a flag pole-so he awkwardly kicked off his sneakers and shucked the remainder of his clothes. Then he felt even sillier to be completely naked in front of a fully-clothed Derek.
The embarrassment faded as he watched the hungry look bloom on Derek's face, and a feeling of pride and disbelief surged through him. He couldn't believe that Derek Hale, the badass former alpha who had terrified and intimidated him for as long as he could remember, was looking at him like he was a feast that he couldn't wait to devour.
As Derek re-approached him he tugged his shirt over his head and threw it on the leather chair, and it was Stiles' turn to stare in stupefied awe at the glorious sight in front of him. Derek was the personification of male perfection. He was sculpted and hard and gracefully, beautifully lethal.
When Derek had closed the distance between them he uncapped the lube and began to tilt it upside down in his hand, but Stiles stopped him. "I want to touch you first," he said quietly. He didn't care if it was just supposed to be about the sex, that wasn't how he operated. He couldn't separate sex from affection, and he didn't want to try. He was relieved when Derek simply nodded.
Stiles lifted his hand, pressing his palm to the center of Derek's chest. His fingers fanned out, feeling the muscles flex instinctively under his touch, and he bit back a smile. It was nice to know that he actually affected Derek, that it wasn't just about him being willing and Derek going, "Yeah, okay." He twisted his wrist, letting his fingertips brush lightly over Derek's right nipple. The look on Derek's face when his eyes drifted shut encouraged Stiles to lift his other hand and rub his thumb back and forth across the left one, teasing it into a hardened peak.
Without warning, Derek's hands shot up and gripped Stiles' wrists tightly, stilling his movements. "Lower," he rasped, tugging gently, guiding Stiles' hands down until they rested above his hips. Stiles replaced his fingers with his mouth, drawing one nipple between his tongue and upper teeth while his hands worked to get Derek's jeans open. The older man hissed, threading his fingers through Stiles' hair and massaging his scalp languidly.
Stiles scraped his teeth over the nipple as he pulled back, having gotten the button undone and the zipper pulled down. He met Derek's eyes, simultaneously drawn to and annoyed by the steady, patient gaze directed at him. Derek was letting him take the lead here-okay, mostly, he got a little demanding there for a second, but that's a werewolf for you-and it was both empowering and terrifying. His experience with a penis ended with his own. Granted, he knew what to do to himself to make it feel good, but he doubted that was going to be enough for Derek. And he had zero experience with mouth-on-penis action; though, if he were being honest, it wasn't for lack of trying. It had been a boring day and he'd watched Clerks one too many times. The lesson to be learned was that he wasn't willing to remove a rib to be able to give himself a blow job.
"I, ah, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here," he admitted, his voice shaking imperceptibly from nerves. "I really want to, obviously, but I'm a little bit freaked out if I'm being totally honest, and I don't want to embarrass the living hell out of myself, you know? Which I'm already doing, so never mind, that ship has sailed."
Derek chuckled quietly, and Stiles was yet again amazed that he had the power to not only make the man smile, but to laugh. "It's okay," he reassured the younger man. "I'll teach you." He took Stiles' hand, lacing their fingers together, and slid them down the front of his jeans. Stiles' breathing hitched when his and Derek's entwined hands cupped his bulge, and the thought flew through his mind dazedly that he was going to need a lot of lube to take that monster.
Then Derek was pulling their hands back up, just enough for their fingertips to hit the waistband of his briefs, and their hands were underneath the material, sliding back down, and his fingers were wrapped around Derek fucking Hale's cock. He felt a little light-headed. Derek made a noise in the back of his throat that had Stiles grinning and gripping a little tighter, stroking up and down leisurely.
After a few moments Stiles was starting to feel much more comfortable, and as his comfort level increased, so did his boldness. He knew he only jerked off because it was what was available to him, but he always wanted more. He assumed Derek would feel the same. Taking a deep breath, Stiles withdrew his hand-to noises of protest from Derek-hooking his fingers in Derek's belt loops and his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. He looked up through his eyelashes at Derek's face as he slowly sank to his knees, pulling his jeans and briefs along as he went. Stiles could hear Derek's breaths become shallower, and he ducked his head so Derek couldn't see the wide smile that spread across his face.
The smile disappeared quickly when he realized he was face-to-face with Derek's cock. A cock that he was about to take into his mouth. The thought was enough to make him ache with desire, but he was anxious. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to please Derek. He didn't want to fumble like an inexperienced idiot. Of the three, there was only one thing he was sure he was going to do.
As if he could hear Stiles' thoughts, Derek placed his hands on Stiles' shoulders and kneaded them comfortingly. "It's okay," he promised. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
The assurance was all he needed. Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek's cock again; firmer, more confident this time. And with only a brief moment of hesitation, he lowered his face and took Derek between his lips.
Derek tipped his head back and exhaled sharply, half-sighing, and his fingers found their way back into Stiles' hair. They tunneled through the brown strands over and over again, a soothing rhythm that began to keep pace with his strokes. Stiles moved his head up and down, slowly at first, uncertain, but as he began to get used to the strange feeling of having another man's cock in his mouth, he began to quicken his pace.
His tongue swirled over the thick shaft, his lips sliding down while his fist pumped upward. He couldn't take all of Derek, not yet anyway, so he made sure to work his mouth and hand in tandem. His fingers tightened and relaxed as he twisted his wrist, varying the pressure and speed of his movements as he continued to bob his head. He soon realized that his throat was relaxing and he was able to take in a little more each time. Finally, he through wryly. An extracurricular activity I have a natural affinity for.
Derek's moans had started out soft but were growing in volume, and suddenly he yanked on the fistfuls of Stiles' hair he'd clenched between his fingers. Stiles almost choked in surprise, unprepared as he was to swallow so much of Derek's cock. Immediately Derek released him, his face contrite when Stiles pulled back to look up at him warily.
"You're much better at this than I expected," he said by way of apology, and Stiles shrugged, blushing slightly. Derek's hand covered his where it was still loosely gripping his cock, gently sliding it up until it slipped over the head and then he was holding nothing. Derek tugged him to his feet and he tilted his head enough to look up into Derek's eyes, finding himself captivated by the man's hypnotizing stare.
Derek lifted his hands to Stiles' face, his thumbs pressing along his jaw line and lifting his chin up to receive his kiss. Stiles stepped in to him, closing the minimal distance between the two of them; a heady feeling rushed through him when their bodies brushed against each other. His cock twitched when it pressed up against Derek's, his desire fueled by the fact that Derek was trailing a hand down his side and stopping to massage just over his hipbone.
"I need more," Stiles whispered. His words were muffled by Derek's lips on his, but it didn't matter. The wolf already knew, and was prepared to give Stiles what he was asking for.
Breaking the kiss, Derek reached for the lube he'd placed on the coffee table. Stiles' heart started racing and Derek glanced over at him with a slight smile. "You don't need to be nervous," he promised. "I would never hurt you."
"That would be a first," Stiles muttered, and Derek frowned at him. "I mean, not that you've ever really hurt me. Well yeah, okay, you have. A lot, actually. I seem to recall my face meeting multiple hard surfaces."
"Foreplay," Derek offered, his lips quirking as he attempted to hold back a smile.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Stupid werewolves," he grumbled. "I could do without violence as foreplay."
Derek stepped toward him, his face intense, and Stiles swallowed through a suddenly very dry throat. "What would you have me do to seduce you, then?" he asked, his voice dark as sin.
"Uh, this. This is good."
The power behind Derek's stare didn't dissipate as he grabbed Stiles' shoulder and spun him around. Before Stiles could protest, Derek's finger was trailing teasingly down his spine and he was pretty sure he was going to come right then and there. He tried to suppress a shudder of desire when Derek's hand stopped just at the top curve of his ass, his fingers biting into Stiles' hip.
He wasn't sure what was happening for a moment, but then cool, wet fingers were sliding between his ass cheeks, massaging firmly into the tight ring of muscles. Stiles instinctively tensed and Derek paused in understanding. When Stiles felt himself relax a little he nodded, and Derek resumed working the lube into his ass to prepare him. After a moment one of Derek's fingers slipped inside him, thrusting back and forth slowly to get him used to the sensation. Stiles moaned, pushing back a little to get closer to him. A second finger joined the first, stretching him gently until a third could be added.
When Derek was certain that Stiles was as ready as he could be, he pushed him to his knees. Stiles bent over and pressed his forearms into the soft, squishy couch, thankful that the rug underneath him was plush and would hopefully protect his knees. He had a feeling he'd be rocking back and forth on them in no time.
And then, while he was trying desperately to alleviate his nerves by focusing on mundane things like the furnishings, Derek's cock nudged its way between his cheeks and the head of it bumped up against his lubed-up entrance. He pushed forward slowly, easing in, and then Derek was inside him. Stiles ached from the sensation of needing more, and even though the invasion left his muscles burning a little, he moved his hips backward in order to take Derek in a little bit deeper. The thought briefly crossed his mind to make a "pain in the ass" joke, but for once his brain recognized the concept of "right place, right time", and he kept his mouth shut.
"How do you feel?" Derek asked from behind, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Stiles considered the question seriously. "It hurts," he admitted. "But it also feels incredible, and like this isn't even close to being enough."
Though Stiles couldn't see him, Derek smiled fiercely. He gripped Stiles' hips with strong fingers and carefully thrust forward. Stiles gasped at the feeling of being completely full, and the burning, aching sensation eased until all he could feel was intense pleasure. His own cock was painfully hard and he was afraid he'd embarrass himself by losing control and coming all over Derek's couch.
Derek didn't help matters by reaching around and sliding his lubed-up fingers around Stiles' cock, stroking back and forth as his hips pulled back and then plunged forward, a little harder this time. Stiles dropped his head, his forehead nearly touching the couch, panting quietly from struggling to maintain some semblance of control. He could feel his mind going blank and he tried frantically to think of something else besides how damn good it felt to have Derek inside him.
A picture of Lydia popped into his head and he groaned in frustration; thoughts of her would only make it worse. He wondered what she would think if she knew what he and Derek were doing right now. Would she be disgusted? Shrug her shoulders and say she knew all along that Stiles was gay? Would she be turned on, thinking about him and Derek together?
Then Derek drove into him harder than ever, and all thoughts of Lydia disintegrated. He felt like he couldn't breathe; the pleasure was so overwhelming and all-consuming that he knew he wouldn't last much longer. "Derek," he gasped, clenching down in order to still the other man's movements. "Stop for a second."
"Am I hurting you?" Derek asked in concern, immediately halting the forward thrust of his hips.
"No. God no. This just feels so fucking fantastic that I'm about to come," he admitted, a little embarrassed about how quickly he was approaching the edge of oblivion.
"Look at me." The quiet command had Stiles glancing over his shoulder curiously. Derek leaned forward slowly; the motion caused his cock to gradually press deeper into Stiles until he was buried to the hilt. Derek captured Stiles' lips with his own and when the younger man's mouth opened under his, their tongues met in an explosive kiss that stole the breath from both of them. When Derek pulled back, he shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We have all night."
With that, he picked up his pace. His hips eased forward slowly at first, then faster, until he was pistoning into Stiles. Both of them were breathing harshly as they worked feverishly to hit that peak; their joined bodies glistened with sweat and their faces twisted in pleasure. Stiles' knees, as predicted, were sliding across the rug and banging into the front edge of the couch. He tried to grab handfuls of the pillowy cushions to hold himself upright, but every time Derek lunged forward, his powerful body rocked Stiles so hard that he lost his grip on the fabric.
Stiles had avoided touching himself because he was afraid the second he did, it would all be over. When Derek panted into his ear that he was close, Stiles finally allowed himself to lose control. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and began pumping rapidly, feeling the spiraling sensations starting in his toes and working their way throughout his entire body. He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes as sweat beaded on his forehead. When the ecstasy became too much for him, he surrendered to the bliss and his body erupted. He cried out as his cock spurted in short bursts until he was empty, and he half-collapsed against the couch.
Derek's orgasm wasn't far behind. Stiles' shouts of pleasure spurred him on to his own, and he gritted his teeth when he could feel it begin to overtake him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Stiles' spine reverently as his body jerked, and then he was filling Stiles with his own release. He continued to drive forward until his cock was too soft to do so; only then did he reluctantly stop, though he still leaned heavily against Stiles, his cheek pressed to the younger man's shoulder. They remained there for a moment, their chests heaving from exertion as they struggled to regain their breath. Then Stiles broke the silence.
"Um, Derek? Could you get off me? You're heavy and I think my knees are going to give out in about two seconds."
With a tired chuckle, Derek rolled off of him and collapsed on the rug beside him. Stiles flipped so that he was sitting instead of kneeling, wincing exaggeratedly at the unexpected soreness in his tender backside. He melted backward into the couch, his head flopping onto the seat so that he was staring at the ceiling.
"Give me a minute," he wheezed, and Derek cocked his head in confusion.
"To do what?"
"I need to stop feeling like a boneless bowl of Jell-o before I can get dressed and get out of your hair," Stiles explained.
Derek shook his head firmly. "You're not leaving," he protested.
The vehemence in his tone caused Stiles' head to pop off the couch. He turned to Derek, his eyes betraying both his suspicion and his hope. "You don't want me out of here now?"
Derek sighed. "Stiles, do you really think so little of me? I'm not going to kick you out."
"You don't have to kick me out to want me out," Stiles huffed.
"I don't want you out," he clarified softly. He lifted himself onto the couch and gestured for Stiles to do the same. When he had, Derek eased down and pulled Stiles with him. "Contrary to what you might think, I actually like this part."
Stiles blinked in surprise. He could maybe see Derek cuddling with a woman, but with a man? Of course, until a few days ago he couldn't see Derek with a man at all. Luckily for him he now had a very vivid understanding of how comfortable the other man was with having a same-sex partner, but the cuddling part he still had a hard time grasping as being something Derek enjoyed.
Derek apparently understood his hesitance, so he simply slid his arm around Stiles' shoulders and tightened until their bodies were flush against each other. He could feel Stiles' half-hard cock pressed against his thigh, and his leg slid between Derek's until his knee nudged the wolf's growing erection. They ignored their arousal for the time being; as Derek had proclaimed earlier, they had all night.
Stiles held himself stiffly for a few moments, but eventually he relaxed and sank against Derek's chest. He threw one arm over Derek's abs, his hand curling around the other man's back and stroking lightly with his fingertips. Despite Derek assuring him that this was something he wanted, Stiles was still very uncertain about overstaying his welcome.
Lifting his head, Derek shifted until Stiles' head was tucked underneath his chin. His fingers played over Stiles' hip, brushing back and forth idly over the sensitive skin. They were silent, both of them replaying the afternoon's events back in their minds. For Derek, this new relationship was comforting; for Stiles, it was confusing, exciting, and a little bit overwhelming.
A thought suddenly struck him. "Do you like the cuddling because you're a wolf, and wolves need the connection and physical comfort of their pack? Or is it because you lost your family and you've been alone for so long?" The idea brought a sense of understanding and helped him feel more at ease with the way he was snuggled into Derek's side.
After a few moments, Stiles realized Derek hadn't answered. He tipped his head back, his chocolate eyes taking in the stricken look on Derek's face. It told Stiles that he'd unwittingly hit the nail right on the head. Part of him felt remorse at causing that kind of reaction, but another part was triumphant that he'd recognized one of Derek's issues-and grateful that it was something he could help with.
"You know you're not alone anymore, right?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "You have a family now. You have a pack. If you want it."
The words broke Derek's trance and he glanced down, swallowing hard. "I told you whether I join the pack or not is up to you."
Stiles sighed. "Really, Derek? At this point do you think there's any question what I want you to do?"
A soft snort of laughter had Derek's mouth curving up in an affectionate smile. "Maybe I just want to hear you say it," he teased.
"I can't be emotionally blackmailed," Stiles retorted, pretending to be miffed.
Derek hauled Stiles up so that he was sprawled over his chest, smirking up into the younger man's startled face. "Fine. I'll call Scott in the morning and let him know I accept."
Stiles exhaled in relief. "Good. Because I didn't want to have to track you down and talk you into submission."
Derek lifted his hips, nudging his erection against Stiles'. "I think you have a much more powerful method of persuasion at your disposal."
Grinning, Stiles braced himself on his hands and dropped his face to Derek's, planting a quick kiss on his lips. Derek responded by grabbing the back of Stiles' head and holding him there, turning the quick kiss into a languorous one. Their tongues lazily caressed each other, their lips moving against each others' sensually. Stiles shifted his legs so that he was straddling Derek's hips, their cocks rubbing together teasingly.
Pulling back a little, Stiles inhaled deeply. Derek gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes, and Stiles shuddered in anticipation. "Any chance I can persuade you to take this to your bed? This couch is awesome, but I have a feeling it can't handle round two without sustaining a little damage. Or, y'know, a lot."
Derek gave him a hungry look that curled his toes. "Fuck the couch," he growled. "That's what I hired a decorator for."
"I knew it!" Stiles exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew there was no way you did this on your own!"
"Stiles?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and kiss me."