It's not that he doesn't enjoy these days, where the pack is together in one place having a good time without any real cares or concerns (because Derek is thankful, for Christ's sake) but he's having some cares and concerns of his own… a private dilemma of morals that directly coincide with his alpha's… what? Best friend? Brother? Second-in-command? Although, now that Derek thinks about it, Stiles isn't really 'Second' in the pack. More like the second head on the hydra, if anything. Or maybe the right head of Cerberus while Scott was the center and Derek was the left… in any case, Derek felt a mixture of emotions about his alpha's 'brother' and almost every single one of them had to do with the way Stiles touched himself.
The stupid kid was ungodly unaware of his body to the point that Derek lost sleep on listing the possibilities of Stiles actually doing all of it on purpose! No one could be that oblivious, no one. In the end it all came down to the way Stiles rubbed his body when he danced, mainly the way his fingers scratched over the path of hair under his navel when his shirt rode up while lifting his other arm, during the ends of their hangouts. All of the pack would gather in Derek's and Cora's studio apartment (it was an actual studio apartment, no broken walls, hot water, and windows they could actually see out of with a view that wasn't cringe-worthy) and they would eat, drink, catch up, sometimes they'd gather and then leave together somewhere, like a movie or a club-but always they gathered here. Why? He wasn't too sure, probably in order to keep loved ones out of the more serious pack-stuff, but even more probable was the fact that everyone in the pack was young, excluding Derek.
Jackson had come back after graduation and he and Lydia got back together after half a year of conversation and working out the hard stuff. After Lydia convinced Jackson to join Scott's pack (it didn't take much convincing, Jackson had grown during his time away) and after Derek and Cora returned (also to join Scott, because why not? Peter had brought them together in a sick and twisted way and defeating him together was the way to go, plus Derek liked Scott, for his own reasons) the supernatural stuff just kind of ebbed away. Beacon Hills returned to being a small and quiet town, mostly, and with a strong pack like the one Scott now lead, well, the town was under great supervision. Protection, Scott liked to say, but really it didn't need protecting when packs far and wide heard the rumor of a True Alpha there. No omega was dumb enough to try and take down a True Alpha, and many were nervous to try and join such an established pack (Derek doesn't know who started that rumor, but he chuckles whenever he thinks about it [he'd heard it in New York after saying goodbye to extended family there who'd asked him about it]).
Now, though? Now everyone was grown-up (not really) and able to buy their own way into clubs legally (no one could buy alcohol yet besides Derek, but why bother when he couldn't even get buzzed?). It was nice. Nicer than before, at least. Once in a while something weird would happen; Faeries, night-beasts, witches… but they had it under control (which was nice as fuck, Derek wasn't going to lie!). And the fact that Scott was as great an alpha as his mother once was-was good enough for Derek. Scott had given him a pack-a family-again and he was grateful. That and Cora had practically threatened him to a gruesome end if he didn't take her back to Beacon Hills to reconnect with everyone again.
"And you wonder why you can't get a date…" Isaac sighs as he flops onto the couch, a light sheen of sweat dusting his brow from the exertion of dancing so hard (in competition with Stiles).
Stiles looks offended when he spins around, hips rolling to the beat of the current song. "I can too get a date, I just choose to wait!" His face is elated when he adds, "That rhymed!"
The others are either dancing or watching from the couch, hands clapping or holding drinks. It's been a long night of dancing at the only club in town (Jungle) and was spent mostly beating away gropers (Derek will never live down any of tonight's events thanks to Cora's ability to be at the wrong place at the right-fucking-time). Stiles spent the night not being asked out, though he missed the parts where Derek was glaring at anyone who dared to get within a ten foot radius and also looked interested in taking him home. There would be none of that.
"Oh, come on! Stiles could have had any guy on the dance floor tonight. I just think they were afraid of asking you out because of the way you swing your arms when you get excited." Cora teases and it's mostly true. When a song comes on that Stiles really likes he swings into a fit of jitters and arm-flailing that could rival any martial arts form. "I mean maybe if you put your hands in your pockets…" she continues to tease Stiles but everyone is laughing, even Stiles, but Derek realizes a moment into their guffaws that he's not laughing, not even chuckling, because Stiles has found a use for his hands and it's to grab the center support beam for the studio and use it like a dance pole.
It's lewd and amazing and he slithers up the damn support beam like a perfect fucking sex-snake and Derek will never be able to walk by that support beam and not see Stiles like this… Stiles' hands on the cool surface, stroking over it and down his own stomach and his goddamned shirt has ridden up exposing his smooth skin and thick hair and the way he rolls his hips up and onto the beam like it's a body he seriously wants to ride-
"Everyone out." Derek says, tone flat and leaving no room for discussion.
Some of them try, anyway…
"Out!? Why?"
"I wanted to sleep over!"
"Aw, Der', c'mon…"
"No. Out. All of you out." He repeats as he turns off the music and proceeds to turn around and point to the door. "Now. Go. Or I'm going to pull my own dick out and show it to you."
It's the most honest he's been with the entire pack in one place where it doesn't involve confessions of the darker kind and crying.
"OhmiGod, please don't." Isaac whines and gathers up Allison as fast as he can.
Jackson and Lydia don't need to say anything, they just pick up and march out with Cora asking them if they can at least let her stay until morning-please.
Scott has a hand on Stiles' shoulder, a smirk playing across his goofy features as he impedes his friend's failed hasty retreat. "You shouldn't drive." He explains, but Stiles didn't drive tonight, anyway. In fact Stiles hasn't even had an alcoholic drink tonight because, yeah, illegal (and the bartender at Jungle knows Stiles by now and refuses him alcohol anyway). Scott had picked him up in his mom's car. "Let Derek give you a ride, tonight."
Derek is both impressed and appalled at Scott's innuendo of what's about to go down. But he's thankful, anyway (Scott may be a doofus when it comes to danger and protecting those he loves, but he's quick as a whip and sweet and honest and he only wants what's best for his pack, romance and sexy-times included [God bless him]).
Everyone has filed out of the apartment, door closed and silence seeping into the cracks of the floorboards, when Stiles finally exclaims, "But you drove me here, Scott!" Scott is long-gone by now so the only person he can turn to with an affronted look on his face is Derek, whose face is definitely not affronted at all. In fact it's pretty pleased and a lot hungry. "Dude..?" Stiles sort-of asks, his body turning and face going all kinds of confused (and intrigued) and it's even more exciting than the time he dove from the cliff into the river with the pack when he and Cora came back from their time away.
"Sleep with me." Derek offers, voice unwavering and hopeful.
"Stay the night?" Stiles asks and the way he says it means he's fishing for what Derek means. For some reason Derek understands why. Stiles still believes he's not much to look at, not much of a catch… he's wrong, of course. The guy isn't perfect, Derek doesn't pander to that sort of romantic bullhonky, but he is everything that Derek needs. Obnoxiously honest, painfully hopeful and drastically proactive to reaching his goals. Or at least reaching the goals he thinks really matter-like school, family, the pack and enjoying his life without a person to call his own. Even though Stiles complains about his lack of love-life he sure as Hell doesn't throw himself at every Tom, Dick, and Harry.
"You can stay the night if you want. I'd like it if you did. What I want before the sleeping starts, though, is to have sex with you." Derek finally explains. He won't beat around the bush, not this time. There's no reason to and the way Stiles' face lights up with a deep blush and his eyes get this gleam… it's worth the bluntness.
"Yeah-yes. Please." The words are said in huffs, like Stiles is breathing them out instead of actually saying them. "But is it hookup sex? One-night-stand sex?"
"It's 'please wake up with me tomorrow so we can get breakfast with your Dad' sex."
"Ew, don't put my Dad in the same sentence as sex." Stiles whispers the word sex like he can barely say it with his Dad in the same string of words and Derek smiles, waiting. "I would like that." Is Stiles' answer before he adds. "Cora can come, too."
"Ugh, please don't bring up Cora when we're talking about sex…"
"I thought we were talking about breakfast?"
"You won't be talking for long. You won't be able to say a word that isn't my name or-"
"Jesus Christ, just come here and kiss me."
Derek does. He moves so fast that he's unable to stop their bodies from fully colliding and is kissing Stiles into the next room within moments. Their mouths are ungracefully smooshed together and teeth clack from between their lips in a slightly painful way. It's uncoordinated and sloppy, but it's also new and exciting and Derek is having the time of his life right now because he's kissing someone he's had a crush on for the past who knows how long. If the way Stiles whines and kisses him back with as much hunger is anything to go by then Stiles is having as much of a good time with this as he is.
For a long beat of semi-silence, in which the room is only filled with sudden gasps, moans and bitten off curses, Derek moves them towards his room. He's all for living room sex, something hot and fast on his couch, maybe. Hell, he'd be up for hallway wall sex, but he's really wanting to just spread Stiles out and take his time on him, make him unravel and put him back together… yeah, that sounds so much better at the moment. So that's what he does; he stalks forwards with Stiles gasping and grabbing his shirt and they both stumble, Derek's ability to not fall on his face even though they're still kissing and touching each other while walking them to his room is really coming in handy right now.
"Hm…" Derek hums, his chest vibrating from the sound.
"What? What?" Stiles breathes between kisses before tumbling backwards onto the bed that Derek has ushered him to.
"Nothing, just a pun-it was nothing."
"What? I've kissed you stupid…"
"Sort of." Derek admits and then he's stirpping out of his shirt, fingers hooking on the back of it and tugging it over his head before he moves to unbutton and rid himself of his pants. He's going commando today because it's laundry day, but the way Stiles sucks in a surprised breath means it's okay.
And Stiles is stripping, too, though he's mainly wriggling around on the top of the comforter while fighting his clothes. It's a little terrifying to see Stiles shuck out of his pants and underwear in one go, leaving him in just some tube socks (Derek has no idea where the flannel and t-shirt went), but Stiles' cheeks and neck are flushed and when Derek zeroes in to soak up every inch of Stiles' body with his gaze alone he's flooded with something more than just lust. Derek's chest fills with warmth and longing and maybe pride or perhaps affection. Honest to God affection that means he's attached to and fond of Stiles. It means he respects Stiles and likes having him around, not just because he's sexy and sort of amazing, but because he's also strong and kind and Jesus Christ, Derek feels his own face heat up
and probably turn bright red because he's being internally sappy…
"Are you almost done ogling me, big guy? Cause I don't mind it, but my dick does… sort of… I may have a thing for-oof!" Stiles is cut off as Derek all but flings himself onto the bed. It's not graceful, which is weird, but what Derek lacks in finesse (in this particular moment) he makes up for with his consideration to detail.
Derek laps over the blush on Stiles' neck, down to the clavicle and the small divot where his tongue can circle into. Stiles' hands are stroking down Derek's sides and that is quite nice, except for the fact that Derek is a little ticklish so he grabs Stiles' wrists and pins them above Stiles' head with one hand and continues his track down Stiles' body. The nipples are next, each one either lapped at or tugged with teeth while the other is pinched and teased with enthusiastic fingers. All of Derek's ministrations are careful, yet precise; he's going to worship Stiles' body and when Stiles keens under Derek's tongue, laving around Stiles' navel, Derek realizes he's uttered those words aloud.
"It's true, Stiles. I'm going to make your body bend to me while I fuck you, while I make you scream and forget everything but the feeling of me inside you. You'll forget how to string up your words together and tomorrow you'll have the reminder of tonight with you wherever you go-the pack will smell me all over you, inside and out and everyone who isn't pack will know you're mine by the marks I'm going to give you."
"Wow, okay, yes. Yes to that." Stiles answers, hands hovering over Derek's head like he's not sure what to do with them.
"What?" Derek asks, eyebrows shooting up in inquiry. He can tell Stiles is nervous and if everything he's saying isn't reassuring then he was sure that his actual actions would have been.
Stiles doesn't seem to be calmed by those things at all. "I just… why now? You've never said anything about this happening before."
"I have a list." Is Derek's simple answer and it earns him an incredulous glare from the man under him. "Jesus, fine; one: I wanted you to be legal. I don't want two blemishes on my record-"
"Manslaughter isn't a blemish, dude."
"Exonerated!"
"Yeah, okay, next."
"Two: I wasn't… ready… yet. I needed to get past my bullshit, okay? I'm better now than I was before, mentally. It was for the best."
Derek waits for a snarky remark, but Stiles seems to have taken this second explanation to heart and only nods in understanding instead. It's confirmation that Stiles has grown, too, and not just physically. The guy has grown into his own mind, catching up to the place where he is free to truly express himself but also control himself long enough to not kick his own foot into his mouth. It's nice and Derek is forever thankful that he waited. Stiles waves an impatient hand and it reminds Derek that Stiles may have grown a lot since graduation, but he's still Stiles.
"Three, and final bullet on my list: the way you fucking move when you dance-and the way you touch yourself like no one is watching-I couldn't take it anymore."
"Woah woah woah. The way I dance? Touch myself? Dude! Weird!"
"It's my list of reasons." Derek says simply.
Apparently that's that because Stiles waits a fraction of a second before pulling Derek up by the ears to kiss him.
It's heated and driven, like Stiles is telling Derek secrets between their lips that he refuses to voice aloud to the room. Derek understands and he kisses back his own secrets to Stiles so that they are breathless by the time they've run out of things to silently share. Stiles is breathing heavily, wet breath puffing over Derek's mouth as they just stare at each other. Derek is also breathing hard, but he holds his breath when he sees his reflection in Stiles' gaze. This is a big step for him, for them, and he won't mess it up by forgetting his earlier promise.
"I want to do things to you, with you, like this." Derek tries to confess, but it's garbled and a bit sappy. "I mean… I mean I want to do this kind of stuff with you all the time, but more."
"Derek, man, I know what you want." The admission shocks Derek into silence and Stiles take it as his cue to continue. "You want something that will last, something that means… something. You want a relationship that won't burn you up and leave you a pile of ash. You want something good and new and maybe not perfect, but definitely something that makes you happy. Something worth it. I want that, too."
"Stiles… what the Hell are you talking about?"
"Cora told me all about it a while back."
"Fucking Cora…"
"Dude, I've had a massive boner for you for a couple of years now. Since you came back, at least. Before that you were just some guy who ruined Scott's life without proactively being the source, ya know? You were always there causing trouble-"
"I was causing trouble?"
"You're a troublemaker! Look at where you are right now!" Stiles waves his hand to the general vicinity of the area between his own legs and Derek can't help but scoff and push down, his hip pressing over Stiles' half-hard length, causing Stiles to moan. "See? Troublemaker!" his voice cuts out as Derek repeats his ministrations. "Hey-it's not a bad thing. Just, dude, come on. I want this, too." Stiles' voice has gone softer, more serious, and Derek just waits with baited breath for him to finish. "I want you. In all the ways you'll let me have you."
"We're gonna talk about this more tomorrow." Derek decides for the both of them and it really says something about his progress that he wants to actually talk it out. He knows they'll have to sooner or later and he'd rather do it sooner when he still has a false sense of bravado. "Right now I want to suck you off."
And Derek does just that. He scoots down again to continue his exploration down Stiles' body. He licks and bites and sucks his way over every inch of skin until he's mouthing Stiles to full attention. Stiles' dick is hot and heavy in Derek's hand when he strokes him, Derek's palm softer than Stiles' because of his werewolf healing (it keeps his skin silky smooth as opposed to Stiles' human calloused hands). Beneath him, Stiles writhes. The scene before Derek is amazing and even if he had the will to look away and focus on the task at hand he just wouldn't. Every nerve in Stiles' body is singing to Derek, trust and excitement at the forefront of his pulse.
Stiles' hips buck up, pushing his dick into Derek's fist until he's basically fucking himself in Derek's grasp. Derek watches until he can't anymore and then lowers himself down so that he can open his mouth and gulp Stiles in. The heady taste of Stiles makes Derek groan, hands pressing down on Stiles' hips to keep him from bucking too hard into his throat. There will be time enough to let loose later. Right now all Derek wants to do is take his time enjoying Stiles; his taste, the sounds he makes and the way his hands just grasp at everything but land on nothing at the same time. Derek sucks on Stiles for a bit, tongue laving over the head of Stiles' cock and then cheeks hollowed out when taking him in fully. It's intoxicating to hear Stiles gasp and moan out Derek's name and finally, finally, Stiles combs his fingers through Derek's hair and just rests them there, sometimes scratching against Derek's scalp because of a twist of Derek's tongue on him.
"Gonna-fuck, Derek, gonna cum, please-" Stiles begs, thighs shaking from the effort of holding back, though Derek doesn't know why he would in the first place.
"Wanna taste you, Stiles. Give it to me." Derek's voice is throaty, lips swollen and tongue heavy as he gives Stiles permission to cum down his throat before taking his length in again.
The way Stiles rides his orgasm is something Derek will never forget. Stiles bucks into Derek's open mouth and his hands scrabble for purchase on Derek's slick shoulders. Long fingers dig divots into Derek's skin and Stiles chokes out this breathy chorus of curses that are music to Derek's sensitive ears. It takes a few moments for Stiles to catch his breath before he starts to chuckle, chest rising and one arm slung over his eyes. Stiles' legs are open and limp and Derek rests his temple on one of Stiles' thighs while he licks his lips clean and watches his handiwork finish its course through Stiles' body.
"You want me to-" Stiles makes an aborted movement to grab at Derek and lift him up, but Derek just shakes his head and crawls up to kiss Stiles instead.
"No. You're nice and relaxed now, ready to be opened up for me." Derek murmurs into Stiles' mouth and Stiles all but elbows Derek in his haste to pull his own arm away and nod into the kiss.
"Yes, okay, please do that." Is what Stiles pleads and Derek obliges.
Derek reaches into his side table, pulls out some lube and a condom which earns him a puzzled chuckle from Stiles. "What?" Derek asks as he settles back onto the bed and pulls a pillow under Stiles' rear.
"I didn't know werewolves had to use condoms. I thought they couldn't carry diseases."
"They can't, but it's for you." Derek explains, then reiterates, "It's for you if you want them."
"Oh my God, you love me, don't you? You honest to God seriously went to the store and bought condoms for me even though you can't give me any diseases-and I obviously don't have any. You bought them to make me feel better." Stiles is astonished, in a good way, and his smile is delighted and something else that Derek doesn't quite name.
"But you're not a virgin." Derek tries, but Stiles nods.
"I am technically… I use toys on myself, my fingers sometimes, but I've never had a real live dick in my ass-"
Derek kisses him then. He can't believe Stiles is actually a virgin, not that it's a bad thing or even weird. It's nice and Derek won't, for a minute, flatter himself by thinking that Stiles had waited for him, but Stiles is giving him his first time. Virginity isn't something Derek ever seriously thought hard about-it's just a word that was made up to put importance on something that shouldn't be important… but sharing a first time with someone is important. It's about trust and communication and that means more to Derek than virginity does-and fuck if he isn't completely turned on by the fact that Stiles can openly admit to opening himself up with toys and his own fingers.
"I take it you like that?" Stiles gasps between bites from Derek as Derek starts marking up Stiles' neck.
"A lot. Thank you." Is Derek's answer before he starts moving Stiles' limbs about.
Stiles' body is still relaxed and pliant from his first orgasm, so Derek pulls him down the mattress a little, along with the pillow under his butt, and folds his legs up by the knees. Stiles takes his cue and grabs his own legs with slick palms and relaxes back into the covers. Holding himself open for Derek seems natural for him and Derek just exhales slowly to keep his own composure. It's hot and a little scary. The trust that Stiles exhibits now is a secret kind that Derek will not break, ever.
"When was the last time you opened yourself up?" Derek asks softly as he squirts lube onto his fingers. There's a heavy beat of silence where Derek just warms up the lube on his fingers and Stiles is pointedly not answering him. "Stiles?"
"Yesterday…"
"Good-"
"Good?!" Stiles is pink in the face, hands doing this weird motion where they bob from different points on his own body and over the mattress like he's unsure of whether or not to cover up his junk or face.
"Yes. Good. This way you won't be too tight. You'll stretch easier. How often do you stretch yourself when you-"
"Not too often, but a lot more often than before." Stiles won't look Derek in the eye and there a few reasons that come to mind as to why. Derek won't think on them too hard.
"That's good, Stiles. Very good." Derek praises and leans forward a little, one slicked up finger rubbing over Stiles' hole. "Tell me if you become uncomfortable or if I hurt you." Derek says, hushed, and Stiles nods, mouth open and voice coming out in short puffs. It says a lot about their shared trust that Derek doesn't prompt Stiles for a verbal agreement; he fully trusts Stiles to speak up and he's sure Stiles trusts him to stop should something like that happen.
Pushing the first digit into Stiles' hole is easy. Derek's finger is slick with lube and Stiles is relaxed enough that it just slips right in. Stiles makes a tiny sound as Derek wriggles his finger a little, testing just how tight Stiles is with one finger in him. The muscles contracting around Derek's finger are intense and Derek is more than satisfied that Stiles has enough confidence in himself to experiment the way he's been doing. It makes things a tiny bit easier, on both of them, so Derek makes a mental note to bring it up to Stiles later (at a point in time where he can clearly explain to Stiles that yes, masturbating on an olympic level was a great fucking idea, please continue so we can have sex a lot).
Definitely breakfast conversation, that.
"You still with me?" Stiles suddenly asks, bringing Derek back from his inner musings. "Come on, big guy, give me another." He adds and opens his legs wider, his fingers gripping the backs of his knees to help keep him open without cramping his thighs.
Derek adds a little more lube to his fingers and slides two into Stiles, earning him a sigh and a little tilt and shift of hips from the boy at his fingertips. Two feels just fine for Derek, the stretch still easy and the way Stiles moves with his wrist, hips finding a shallow rhythm as Derek fucks into Stiles' ass with careful precision, means he's feeling fine, too. Derek adds a third when Stiles starts to grunt impatiently and this time the stretch takes a second to register. Stiles' body is humming, his dick half-hard as he takes in the sensations of Derek's probing fingers, and there's a swift moment of relaxation as Stiles' body adjusts to a third intrusion. Once he's relaxed enough to move he does and Derek quickly starts fucking into him again, fingers stretching and twisting so that Stiles' muscles will stay relaxed and open.
It isn't until Derek takes his fingers and starts searching inside Stiles with purpose that Stiles starts letting out all of his choked in noises and verbal exclamations. "Fuck, Derek, do that again, please-" Derek presses and strokes a finger right over Stiles' prostate causing Stiles to let go of his legs in favor of gripping the sheets and using his heels to push his hips harder onto Derek's hand. "Yes-come on! Right there, right fucking there!"
It's all Derek can do to not touch himself, to not relieve himself while Stiles gets off on just his fingers alone. Stiles reaches one hand up then and starts stroking himself off, palm dry and length only leaking precum. Derek's quick to halt his motions to grab for the lube and squeeze some onto Stiles' open hand. "Read my fucking mind…"
"Go on, finish yourself off. I want to see you cum again."
"Derek…" Stiles goes back to stroking himself off and once Derek starts fucking into him again, fingers poised to find his prostate on every other inward stroke, Stiles finds a rhythm to match.
A dozen more pulls and a gruff, "Come on, Stiles, let me see it." from Derek are what get Stiles off, cum streaking up Stiles' belly and chest, coating his skin and making Derek growl low in his chest. The scent is almost overwhelming, salty and heavy and completely Stiles.
"You're beautiful like this, Stiles, just perfect." Derek nuzzles into Stiles' temple, hands stroking up Stiles' thighs as he rides out the last of his orgasm, legs and stomach still twitching from the intensity.
"Dude… you sure I can't help?" Stiles finally says, though when he tries to reach for Derek, who is achingly hard and leaking everywhere, the werewolf just shakes his head and pulls himself out of reach, one hand batting away Stiles'.
"Wanna save it. Let me put this on." Derek reaches for a condom and grabs the lube, but a shaky hands halts his progress. "Stiles?"
"I'm really touched that you bought the condoms, Derek, but if you're okay with it I'd like to nix them and just go without." His heart beat is steady, though flurried from his post-orgasm high.
"I'm okay with that."
"Good, I'm ready, come on. I mean don't hurry or anything, but I sort of need you in me now-like-right now, because you threatened to flash your big, beautiful dick at everyone in order to get them out of the apartment."
Derek chokes on a chuckle as he lubes his length up, cheeks going pink. "I-"
"Don't even lie: you wanted me so bad you would have actually followed through with that threat. I bet you would have done a meatspin just to get them all out five seconds faster."
"Obviously." Derek says friskily and lines himself up at Stiles' entrance. The head pops through easily enough and sliding in slowly takes a bit of time and patience, but it's completely worth it. Heat engulfs him, Stiles' ass taking him in perfectly and adjusting as though their bodies were made for one another. Stiles is breathing evenly, relaxing his muscles and stretching his legs until Derek's comfortably sheathed entirely, which is when Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist and hooks his ankles together to trap him there. "You-"
"Yeah, m'good. You can move now-" Stiles' words are cut off by a high whine caused by Derek's hips pulling back and then pushing forward, driving him in and out of Stiles' body in a slow pace.
Derek keeps his rhythm, which is slow and easy, for as long as he can. Stiles is biting out tiny whimpers and his hands are anchored into the bedclothes at his sides. There's sweat beading over Stiles' skin that Derek laps up, lips brushing over Stiles' pulse point and moving on to mark other spots of skin that are unmarred-he's leaving the best and worst stubble burn and he's not even sorry.
"Shit, Derek, faster. Please. I need more-" Stiles starts to beg, voice high and breathy, his hips trying, to no avail, to get Derek moving faster, heels digging into Derek's ass to try and get him going.
"Alright, just-here, hold on…" Derek moves around a little, shifting so that he can adjust Stiles and get into a better position to start fucking Stiles like he means it. The moment he starts bucking with real force the room gets hotter, their breaths coming more frantically and the world gets smaller. Their skin slaps together, Derek's hips pistoning into Stiles, and it makes the best noise. Coupled with Stiles' now unchecked cries, the room echoes with sound.
"Fuck, Derek, keep going, please don't stop!"
"You're so tight, just for me, Stiles, made for me-"
"Yours, yours Derek-fuck, just like that-"
There's a lot of hurried touches, where Stiles' hands are no longer rooted into the bed and are instead grabbing every part of Derek that he can reach; his fingers are digging into Derek's shoulders, arms, smoothing over Derek's face and neck and behind Derek's head to card through damp hair and scratch over the tattoo that keeps Derek's center anchored. Derek's hands are grabbing Stiles by the hips, moving him up and down so that fucking him gets deeper with every thrust, one hand travels to marvel at an expanse of skin before returning to its post. It's all of these sensations and the sound of Stiles screaming his name that have Derek tipping over the edge, cartwheeling into the abyss and fizzing out as he comes. White edges around his vision and he feels a warm hand soothing his side when he comes to. For a moment he feels like he's floating, body slumped and mind foggy with pleasure.
"Heavy…" Derek hears a faraway voice say and instantly chuckles, rolling away easily even though Stiles sort of rolls with him so that Derek is laying under a sprawled out Stiles. "Better." Stiles breathes and smiles.
"You didn't cum that time." Derek says once he's caught his breath, hand resting on Stiles' rear to feel the cum that drips out of his used hole.
"No way, dude; I came twice before and once this morning. I'm tapped out." Stiles snuggles forward and starts tugging at the sheets until Derek helps and covers them both. "You can help me out tomorrow morning when we shower-cause this pasty party going on right now is going to be disgusting in the morning and eating breakfast with my dad-"
"And Cora."
"-And Cora, is going to be weirdly uncomfortable without all of the dried up jizz."
"I don't want to think about your dad and Cora and jizz all at the same time."
"Good. That's a good thing."
"Maybe we can skip breakfast tomorrow and stay in." Derek offers, but Stiles is sleepily shaking his head 'no'.
"You already said breakfast with my dad-"
"And Cora."
"-Yes, and Cora. Anyway, we're doing the breakfast thing." Stiles gets comfortable tucked into Derek's side before he quietly adds, "You're totally my boyfriend, right? I can introduce as 'my boyfriend'?"
Derek huffs out a laugh, but answers that yes, they are now, technically, boyfriends.
The next morning, at breakfast, Stiles is gawking at his father at their own kitchen table. Derek and Cora are both there, but Derek's expression is amused while Cora is cackling so hard that she starts choking on her (turkey) bacon and needs her arm lifted up by the sheriff.
"Dad!"
"What?" Dad says with a sly smile. "I have the right to tell as many embarrassing stories as I can remember. It's your fault for never bringing anyone home before."
"Not my fault…"
The conversation leaves behind embarrassing stories and turns to the more hilarious side of Stiles' attitude, mainly the stories that involved the Stilinski's being banned from two parks, the public pool, the skating rink and Allen's Alley Cafe, all because of something Stiles either did or said within those vicinities.
"Why would you tell someone that?!" Cora bursts into a new wave of laughter that causes the rest of the table to join her.
"I don't know!" Stiles defends between chuckles. "He asked me what she looked like and I just answered with what her face looked like at that moment!"
"Claudia always did make the weirdest faces… we have an album dedicated to all of the pictures Claudia 'ruined' by either making a weird face or somehow sneaking into the picture in the background to purposefully make a weird face."
"Your mom was a pro photobomber!" Cora cheers around a bite of waffle.
"We were almost kicked out of Disneyland one year because she kept dragging Stiles around to photobomb the pictures they take in front of that castle. They have those professional photographers stand around to take pictures you purchase later and she was warned so many times to stop jumping and sneaking into the pictures that they almost escorted us out of the park."
"What were you doing when she was photobombing innocent people?" Derek tries and he finds the conversation easy and familiar, like he's always had these types of breakfast conversations with Stiles' father.
"I was standing around pretending I didn't know them."
"Oh my God, Dad, whatever. You were taking pictures on the disposable-it's all in the album."
"You have proof?!" Cora goes into an array of 'please show me the album!' and 'are there albums of Stiles' naked baby butt?' that go on until breakfast is over and the table has been cleared.
Cora and the sheriff migrate to the living room, where from the kitchen Derek can hear them pouring over the albums Cora had begged to see. At his side, Stiles washes dishes while Derek dries them and once they're finished they share a quick kiss. Derek knows that maybe they're moving a bit (a lot) fast, and they sort of hashed it out this morning when they woke up, showered, got off and then showered again. They've agreed to take things slow. They're already friends who have major crushes on each other and although they're mostly over the bad things that have happened to them, there's still shit to work out.
"You really okay with hearing stories like this every time you come over? He's just going to greet you with a story every time he answers the door now…" Stiles sighs as they make their way to the living room. Derek can hear a shrill 'no way' as the sheriff starts a story with 'so Stiles grabbed a turkey neck one time during Thanksgiving when his grandfather was down and...' They round the corner just as Stiles' dad finishes the story with 'waved it around in a circle and I had to perform the heimlich on the old bastard to get the roll out of his throat'.
Derek takes in the sight before him, Stiles' dad telling scarring stories of Stiles' childhood to his sister with Stiles at his side and an arm wrapped around his waist. "Yeah." Derek says, with a smile. "I'm okay with that."