AN: For anyone's who's read my fic, Your Scent, this fic will sound familiar. I originally uploaded this story as a second chapter to the aforementioned fic. I wasn't happy with the flow of it, so I decided to leave the other one as a one-shot and give this one its own space. Be warned, there is explicit sexual content in this fic. Hope you enjoy it!
Derek props himself up on one elbow, a soft look on his face as he gazes down at Stiles' sleeping form, his mate's cooling back bathed in moonlight as he trails his fingers from one mole to another, mapping a constellation of unique beauty marks that have defined Stiles since childhood.
He's kissing each spot as he goes when Stiles stirs, blinking himself awake. Derek doesn't stop his adoration of Stiles' body.
"Mmm."
"Nice?"
"Yeah." Stiles smiles, staring at Derek through sleepy eyes.
"Good."
Smile never leaving his face, Stiles turns languidly onto his back, prompting Derek to move his kisses to Stile's stomach, tongue dipping into his navel.
Derek can feel Stiles' moan rumble in his lower abdomen; he grins, looking up at Stiles through thick lashes.
"Ready to go again?" Derek grasps the base of Stiles' semi-hard cock, stroking it from base to tip and down again.
Stiles moans. "Babe, I don't think my ass can take another go," he chuckles, making his body sway. He runs his hands through Derek's hair.
"I guess I have been a little too overeager today." Derek kisses the tip of Stiles' cock, gliding his tongue down the hardening length, thumb massaging behind Stiles' balls.
Another moan escapes his mate.
"No kiddin'," Stiles breathes out, tongue moistening pink lips. His hold tightens on Derek's hair.
Derek growls low in his throat.
Stiles caresses Derek's cheek, thumb running over his lower lip.
"I suppose I can squeeze out one last round." Stiles guides Derek's mouth over his cock. He winks.
Never one to deny his mate, Derek grins and opens wide.
Stiles' yells, cock sensitive from being spent over and over throughout the day.
Derek takes Stiles all the way in, swallowing until the head bumps the back of his throat. He stays still, eyes rolling back at the heavy cock pressing down on his tongue and heady scent invading his every pore. Nose buried in Stiles' coarse pubic hair, his every inhale deepens as he presses into his mate.
He slowly draws back, his slurps reverberating around Stiles' bedroom, hot mouth sucking the tip and tongue flicking over the slit, drinking the pre-come oozing out.
He sets up a slow rhythm, taking Stiles in deep and withdrawing until his lips encircle the tip, his tongue tracing every texture of Stiles' cock.
His head bobbing up and down, he strokes along Stiles' length, his spit drooling down and pooling in Stiles' pubic hair. The lean body beneath him becomes a sweaty, trembling mess, long legs clamping tightly around his head.
"AHHH!" Stiles moans. His hands have Derek's hair in a viselike grip.
Derek hums around Stiles.
"OH, GOD! YES!"
Fuck, Stiles sounds wrecked. His moans and screams a hoarse echo bouncing off the walls. Derek takes a hold of Stiles' thighs and spreads them, Stiles' pointed toes digging into the mattress below. He moves his tongue behind Stiles' balls, pressing wide into the skin between scrotum and anus, massaging Stiles' prostate, firm strokes pumping the hard cock.
"OH, GOD, DEREK, YES!" Stiles sits up and flops back onto the mattress, its springs screeching in tandem with Stiles' body thrusting into the circle of Derek's fist, overflowing pre-come providing the perfect lubricant for Derek's callused hand.
Derek kisses the tender skin of Stiles' inner thigh, teeth nipping at the flesh. Stiles' shudder makes his own cock twitch, a painful reminder of his ignored hardness. He moves back up over Stiles' cock, his thumb replacing his tongue while his mouth envelopes Stiles once more until he feels the first spurt of come hit his tongue. He swallows. God, yes, he becomes delirious.
He pulls off, Stiles' whimpered disappointment hitting his sensitive hearing, but then he's covering Stiles with his body, hips locking in between Stiles' thighs, his hard, aching cock finally making contact with Stiles' spurting one. He thrusts –hard. Their slick cocks glide and slot into place. Smooth thighs wrap tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
"Fuck, baby, so beautiful," he breathes into the shell of Stiles' ear, his mouth slowly moving down the length of Stiles' milky throat, sucking and biting, tongue flicking out to soften the pain while he continues to thrust. "You moan so pretty for me. Just for my ears."
The sound of skin hitting skin is deafening.
"Yes, just for you. Only you."
He feels Stiles' grip tighten around his shoulders. Stiles seeks out his mouth, plunging his tongue into Derek's. Their dueling tongues adding to the symphony of sounds their bodies are making.
"Harder, Der. Harder," Stiles breaths into Derek's heat.
He doesn't disappoint.
One final thrust, and he's coming. He throws his head back and howls. Spurt after white, hot spurt shoots out of him to mix with Stiles' own loud release, both of their cocks quivering and settling, as though out of breath after a long marathon.
Stiles struggles to catch his breath. "I think this-," he gulps, "-is where I ascend to heaven. You've managed to release my soul via my cock."
Derek laughs.
"Drama queen."
"You love me."
Derek looks into Stiles' eyes, his own breathing coming in short. "I love you." He seals his lips with Stiles', kissing the boy he thought was way out of his reach.
Minutes later they're lying on rumpled sheets, clean of drying come, sweat cooling off their damp bodies.
Stiles lifts his head from Derek's shoulder, head cocked to the side, listening.
Derek figures he's checking for sounds from his dad.
"He's not home."
"Oh." Stiles looks down at him, eyebrow lifting, silently asking Derek to elaborate.
"He came by earlier. Barely made it to the porch before he hightailed it back into his cruiser and left."
Derek smirks.
"Do you know you're super loud when I fuck you from behind?"
The smack Stiles lands on his stomach has Derek cackling into Stiles wavy locks. He kisses Stiles' cheek, breathing in his mate's sweet scent.
His heart constricts at how close he'd come to missing out on this moment, on all the other moments he's had with Stiles since returning from London; since he stopped denying his wolf's howling yearning for his mate. A mate Derek had been adamant in ignoring since he'd laid eyes on hazel ones and lanky limbs wrapped in sarcasm and reluctant bravery, so sure the pull he felt toward the teen was nothing more than annoyance rearing its head at Stiles' incessant talking and penchant for diving head first into danger. The need to protect, to care, to possess so present yet so frightening; Derek needed to take a step back and detach.
"Hey." Stiles bumps his nose into Derek's chin. "No dwelling on the past, okay?"
"How do you know that's what's on my mind?"
"You look guilty whenever you do." Stiles kisses Derek over his heart. "You came back. That's what matters, okay." He presses a kiss to Derek's rough cheek.
Derek envelopes Stiles in his arms, nose buried in his shoulder as he inhales, his eyes prickling. "I'm so sorry I left you."
"Don't apologize for wanting to leave this hell hole." He takes Derek's face in his hands, fire in his eyes. "You don't owe anyone anything, do you understand?!"
Derek shakes his head. "That's not true. I owe you everything."
Stiles' eyes water.
"I sensed the pull between us, and I ignored it. Ignore you. Ignored my wolf. Even after you saved me. Put yourself in danger for me, your friends. I purposely acted indifferent. You scared me, and I coward away from my feelings." He reaches up to wipe away a tear rolling down Stiles' smooth cheek.
Stiles' wipes at the wetness gathering around Derek's eyes.
"I left you," he whispers, and continues, "To deal with the aftermath of the Nogitsune on your own, and I'll always be sorry for that." Tears finally fall.
"I wasn't alone. My dad was here. He helped me through it; still is."
Derek nods. "And so, will I."
"I know." Stiles kisses Derek. "For what it's worth," Stiles starts, "I understand why you needed to get out of here. Please don't apologize to me or anyone else for wanting to be safe and happy."
"I'm safe and happy with you."
Stiles huffs out a wet laugh and gazes deep into Derek's eyes. "Thank you."
Just then Stiles' stomach grumbles. They look at each other, and burst out laughing.
"Seems like anymore deep introspection will be shelved for another time. C'mon, I'm famished." Stiles grins, eyes red but dry, as he pulls Derek up.
Derek sits on the edge of the bed, watching Stiles' naked back as he walks to one of the many boxes littering his bedroom floor. He pulls out an oversized pullover cardigan, a cardigan that looks suspiciously like one Derek wears often but hasn't been able to find, lately. He grins. He comes up behind Stiles and wraps his arms around him, nose immediately buried deep into the hollow of Stiles' throat. That smell, oh, that smell. It's him and Stiles. Their scents mixed together. He will never tire of it. It's solid proof of their bond, of belonging to each other.
"Perfect." He kisses Stiles' pulse.
"There you go again, getting high off my essence," Stiles says lightly.
"I've been looking for this sweater for weeks." Derek mumbles into Stiles' neck, pulling at the hem of the cardigan.
"My sweater now." Stiles looks over his shoulder at Derek and winks, knowing Derek is more bark than bite where his clothes are concerned. He knows his mate's weakness, and in this, he'll take full advantage.
Stiles continues to get dressed. Derek does the same.
"So, diner?"
"Curly fries?"
"Y'know it."
Derek looks back, Stiles has added his leather jacket to his ensemble. His clothes dwarf his mate.
"Gotta text dad. Let him know I'll be going out. Hopefully, he's not too pissy I prevented him from coming home," Stiles says with a sheepish smile.
"I'm sure he managed to find a place in which to hole himself up," Derek says, a knowing smirk on his lips.
"Hmm, Parrish."
"You know?"
"Of course, I know. I'm not so dense. They keep making googly eyes at each other," Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. "They're not subtle," he mumbles, and then, "Wait, you know?!"
Derek nods. "Your dad reeks of Parrish essence."
Stiles laughs. "Oh, God, I can't believe you said that!" he shrieks. "'Parrish essence,' that's a good one!"
"Please, don't tell your dad I said that. I don't want him thinking I go around sniffing everyone." Derek shudders. There are some smells he wishes he can go without knowing they exist.
"I won't. Not until they're ready to go public. Then I'll share."
Stiles rushes out of his room, cackling, when Derek lunges at him.
"It's not that funny, Stiles!"
"It totally is!" Stiles yells from the first floor.
Derek shakes his head, trying hard not to laugh.
"And put your pants on!" he yells, picking up Stiles' jeans on his way down.
"What?" Stiles looks down at himself, turning and posing. "I look cute like this. The cardigan totally covers all my bits."
Derek growls.
"It barely covers them," he says, handing Stiles his jeans. "And I'm the only one allowed to lay eyes on them."
"So possessive."
"You love it."
"You're lucky I do," Stiles winks coquettishly.
"Yes, I am," Derek replies, a huge, proud, grin adorning his chiseled face.
"Now, come," Stiles commands on his way out the door, fully clothed. "My curly fries await."
Derek follows, his future looking brighter and brighter.
"Definitely, perfect."