"I'm driving Allison home." Scott told him, giving him a suggestive look.
"Doing your own kind of celebrating, huh?" Stiles guessed.
He wished he could be annoyed at the fact that Scott was getting some and he wasn't, but honestly he was just happy that he and Allison had worked things out. Listening to broken hearted ballads for three weeks had really gotten annoying.
"What are you going to do?" Scott asked.
Stiles shrugged. "Isaac decided to take advantage of the fact that he has an entire house to himself and I think he's throwing a party."
"A party." Scott repeated. "A werewolf party."
"Humans invited too." Stiles put in, pointing to himself. "And I don't know about you but I could really use a few drinks after everything tonight."
For once, since this entire fiasco had started so many months ago, things had been set right. Gerard was gone. Dead. Not coming back. Jackson was no longer the kanima (long story) and Lydia… well, she was back to being half-insane instead of full on, totally crazy. Things were good.
Scott just shrugged. "Don't have too much fun." He told him before turning and heading towards his car where Allison was waiting.
Stiles watched them drive away before getting into his jeep and heading towards the Lahey house. Even from inside his car he could hear the music pouring out of the house and the occasional shout from the guests within. He grinned to himself and sat there for a moment, basking in the fact that things were actually okay.
Inside the house the music was much louder. He wasn't aware that Isaac knew this many people. Actually, he probably didn't. This kind of thing always happened at parties. Invite a few people, they invite a few people and so on until you've got enough people in the house to make it burst.
Isaac was in the kitchen, talking with Erica and Boyd, drinking vodka straight from a bottle. When Stiles walked in he threw an arm around his shoulder and pressed the bottle into his hand.
"On me." he said before pushing Stiles into the throng of the party.
It didn't take him long to get drunk. He didn't drink enough to have any kind of tolerance and a few shots later the room was spinning and he was feeling pretty damn good about everything.
He danced with too many people to remember, some girls some guys. He couldn't remember what they looked like or what their names were but it didn't matter. There was something kind of awesome about being drunk, Stiles decided. Throwing away your inhibitions and just letting loose, no thinking about dead parents or werewolf best friends.
Or hot werewolf alphas, he added silently, his eyes catching a pair of grey ones across the room. Derek disappeared before he could catch up to him.
But eventually the party died down and Stiles decided it was time to go. Vacation over, back to the real world.
He thanked Isaac for everything and headed towards his jeep.
It took him a few tries to get into, having locked the door he now found himself struggling to get the key in the hole to unlock it.
"I can't drive." He muttered after he finally opened the door. He leaned against the open door and ran a hand over his face. "Great."
Out of nowhere someone tugged the keys out of his hands with ease. His head jerked up and he came face to face with those grey eyes once again.
"I'll drive." Derek said in a way that left no room for negotiation.
"Eye eye, Captain." Stiles stumbled out, going so far as to solute Derek.
Derek rolled his eyes and ignored it, sliding into the drivers seat.
"Be careful with her." Stiles said solemnly, patting the dashboard. "She's all I got."
Derek raised an eyebrow as he started the ignition. "Has anyone ever told you you're an annoying drunk?" He wondered.
"Has anyone ever told you," Stiles countered, poking Derek's arm. "That you're attractive?"
Derek growled and pushed Stiles hand away. "Don't touch me."
Stiles didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he leaned in closer to Derek, invading his personal space. Somehow, Derek managed to ignore him enough to pay attention to driving.
"It's not healthy, you know." Stiles said seriously. "Your aversion to human contact."
"I don't have an aversion to human contact." Derek informed him. "Just an aversion to you."
Stiles shook his head. "Liar."
Derek didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead, watching the road in front of him. His hands clenched on the steering wheel, though.
Stiles tilted his head back against his seat and closed his eyes before placing a hand on Derek's thigh. "See?" He commented, squeezing it. "Nothing wrong with contact."
Derek's eyes slid down to the hand groping his leg and something surged through him. Something he couldn't place. Maybe annoyance or anger. Maybe something else. He didn't push it away, though. Instead he chose to ignore it.
"Maybe we should desensitize you." Stiles murmured, grinning with his eyes still closed. Suddenly his hand moved up, just a bit but enough to make a huge difference.
Slowly, he rubbed up and down on the denim of Derek's leg and Derek jerked the car to the right for a second before getting back on a straight line.
Stiles' hand slid upwards again, this time to the top of his jeans. He pushed the shirt Derek was wearing upwards and splayed his hand on Derek's stomach, fingers curling in the trail of hair that led downwards.
Without another thought, Derek pulled onto a side street. There was no lights on in any of the houses and he pulled over to the side of the road, his breathing heavy.
Stiles smirked, pleased with himself. Not only was Derek not pushing him away, but he could always blame his behaviour on the amount of alcohol he consumed that night. No one had to know that he'd actually been thinking about running his hands along the planes of Derek's abs, or licking down his stomach, or having Derek's large hands circle around him and-,
And suddenly he was hard, his dick straining against the material of his jeans, too tight to accommodate him. He looked over at Derek to see if he noticed but the other boy was just sitting their, knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands into fists of the wheel. Stiles could hear his short, low pants of breath which really didn't help the situation in his pants.
"I said not. To. Touch. Me." Derek ground out through his clenched jaw, turning towards him. His eyes weren't flashing red like Stiles had kind of expected. They weren't their usual grey-blue/green.
Stiles raised his eyebrows. "So you're going to pretend that you didn't like it?" Stiles asked him, tilting his head to the side. Acting on instinct, he leaned forward and hooked a finger in the waistband of Derek's jeans. Derek hissed and jerked his body back, hitting the seat behind him hard.
Taking this as a go ahead, Stiles reached over and used his other hand to pop the button on Derek's pants. Derek didn't make a move to stop him, so he continued, slowly unzipping them until the top splayed open, revealing a pair of black boxers that clung to his hips.
Stiles thought about how good it would feel to grind his own hips against them, the feel of Derek's hardness pressing against him.
Stiles pushing one of his hands inside Derek's pants, staying above the boxers. He grabbed Derek through them, not at all surprised to find Derek hard and waiting. Stiles looked up at him and his eyes were closed and his head was leaned back, exactly how Stiles had been only minutes ago.
He'd always figured that Derek would be pretty big and he wasn't disappointed. He didn't have small hands but he struggled to wrap them around Derek's cock, so instead he gently slid a finger up and down the material covering it, pausing to gently circle the tip once.
"Stiles," Derek growled, bucking his hips upward.
"Don't like being teased?"
Derek's eyes flicked open and he pounced, his body pushing through the small space of the jeep to pin Stiles against the passenger door. His eyes had turned almost black, clouding over with lust. He pressed his lips against Stiles and Stiles' eyes popped open in surprise.
This was just about getting off, Stiles told himself. That was what it was supposed to be about. Him drunk and coming on to Derek and Derek being to horny to stop him. It wasn't supposed to be intimate, but Derek ruined that the second he kissed him.
"You want to play games?" Derek whispered in his ear, making him shiver. "Because trust me, Stiles, I can play too."
He pressed a single kiss to the skin right below his ear and goosebumps broke out on Stiles' skin. A deep, animalistic sound escaped him as Derek ground his hips against his.
Derek slid a hand up his shirt all the way to the top until a finger hooked over the collar and then jerked downwards.
"That was expensive." Stiles muttered as his shirt gapped open, cut with an almost surgical precision.
Derek pretended to not hear him and trailed a line of kisses from his neck down his chest before grabbing his jeans on both sides of the zipper and pulling, snapping the button off.
Stiles balled his hands in Derek's shirt and pushed so that he was sitting up, his chest and Derek's chest pressed together, neither of them dominating the other.
He couldn't tell if it was his heart or Derek's, or maybe both, that was beating crazily fast but it didn't matter. All that mattered was pushing Derek's shirt over his head, revealing the hard, tanned skin beneath.
Derek actually gasped, taken completely off guard, when Stiles grabbed him by the hips, his fingers digging into the skin their, and pulled him even closer against him. Maybe, Stiles mused, they would just keep pushing and pulling at each other until they burned up, the fire spreading inside of them until they just combusted, exploded, destroyed each other.
That wouldn't be so bad as long as it kept feeling so good.
Since his pants were already unzipped, Stiles had no problem pushing Derek's pants down to his knees. For just a second Stiles paused, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the sight before him. Then he remembered that he could do more than just look. He could touch, explore, taste-
He needed to stop himself before he finished the race without even starting it. He wanted this to last. And he wanted to see how long Derek could last.
He slid a hand down Derek's back and cupped his ass, giving it a hard squeeze before tugging on his boxers and pulling them down to join his pants.
"Holy shit." Stiles blurted.
To be continued.
Authors note: I don't write much smut so I apologize if this isn't the greatest, and any encouragement is totally appreciated. :)