Sparkling white tiles glisten in each lowly lit shower stall. Faint noises of clear plastic curtains being opened and closed silence the two boys that occupy the second stall to the right. The older and more hairy one clasps his large hands over the light pink lips of his younger companion. After the quiet giggles are stifled, Derek smirks at Stiles and slowly traces his fingertips along each peek and valley of the neck of his lover. In his mind, he is playing a mesmerizing game of connect-the-dots with the moles on his flushed pink canvas.
"Shit shit shit," Stiles croaks as his foot slips on a pile of water and his body slams ass-first into the wall. Derek's reflexes aren't quick enough and he only grabs the slender torso of Stiles after his back comes in contact with the white linoleum tiles that approximately measure three inches across. Derek listens to the rapid thuds that emanate from Stiles' ribcage. The sounds of footsteps climb into his ears.
"Shhh." Derek presses one thick index finger onto Stiles' mouth and receives a warm tongue in response. By the lightness of the footsteps, Derek knows the weight and height of the body that's attached to the feet that tap along the slippery floor.
It's a girl.
She's petite, Derek can tell. She smells of cinnamon and something that stings the insides of his nostrils. His eyes burn and water, just slightly. He moves to the very corner of the confined space and hunches down, whimpering slightly. Stiles lifts an eyebrow, wrinkling his forehead more than usual. The masculine and sinew werewolf has turned into a scruffy puppy, tail between its wavering legs. Stiles is confused and doesn't know what to do. Or what's happening.
"Wolfsbane," Derek whispers through bared teeth, his white fangs peeking out of his rough mouth. His chest rumbles and a soft growl escapes out of his throat and through parted lips.
"What? Where?" Stiles' head whips around and his face does that thing where he becomes a baby deer. When his eyes widen to twice their normal size, they brighten and go from being a dark brown to a soft hazel with specks of green and gold.
"That girl," Derek nods his head in the direction she's in, "reeks of that fucking plant."
Stiles whips a fluffy white towel off of the hook and clumsily wraps it around his hips. Derek's eyes wander along the brown tuft of curls that lie above the towel. Soft lines angle from Stiles' stomach in a V shape, towards his crotch. The loosely knotted towel catches in a tiny crack in the corner of the stall and slides off of his wet body. When Derek tries to warn Stiles of his loss of coverage, Stiles just waves his hand behind him and continues to angrily walk off into the mirrored section of the college bathroom. Unaware of his still hard penis being exposed, he yells out to the small dark-haired girl. "What the hell are you doing in the men's bathroom?"
A head full of mahogany waves twirl around. Piercing blue eyes meet Stiles'. The fluorescent peachy skin of the diminutive young adult could almost blind someone. In her hands is a light blue shower caddy, filled with an assortment of shampoos and soaps. A similar white towel to the one that once hugged Stiles' lower body now clutches the girl's upper body. Her eyes flutter from Stiles' mole-ridden face to his penis. It's slender and curls slightly toward him where it reaches his stomach.
"What are you looking at –" Stiles realizes why her eyes linger at his lower body when he looks into the mirror behind her.
"I tried telling you," Derek laughs from the other side of the room. He's leaning against the tiled wall between two showers and his chest rises and falls quickly from his laughter. His eyes are still red and watering from the toxic herb that flies through the air, but his strong body is recovering faster than a human's and he's learned how to adjust.
"I'm Melanie," the pale college student says through a smirk and pearly white teeth. Stiles squeals and runs like a girl toward Derek and snatches his towel back. After he wraps it around his body, tightly this time, he buries his head in his hands in embarrassment. Melanie starts to laugh along with Derek and explains that the girl's bathroom is always too crowded, and at 11 o'clock at night she didn't expect that anyone would be showering when she planned to. She then hurries to the far side of the bathroom, away from the boys, and carries on to take a steaming hot shower.
Stiles is reluctant to still have sexual escapades while there's a weird wolfsbane-soaked chick in the same area as him and his wolf. Derek grabs onto his shoulders and slides his hands up to his chin, cupping his face and kissing him aggressively. Stiles loosens up and wraps his arms around Derek's muscular back, digging his nails into his shoulders. Stiles' hair flops down in an awkward shape when the warm waterfall from the showerhead splashes down onto his scalp. He drags his nails down his larger lover's back, leaving red beads of blood in long pink lines. Derek lets out groans as his skin heals over the scratches. He picks Stiles up by his toned ass and presses him up against the wall, holding his body with one arm and rubbing his balls with his free hand.
Stiles' cock is now throbbing with anticipation, begging for attention. Derek squeezes Stiles' balls a little too hard for his liking, and he's taken back by the painful sensation at first. After a few seconds, Stiles begins to beg for more, begins to crave more discomfort, begins to need the feeling of agony rushing through his body.
"Torture me," a shaky breath flows through gritted teeth. Hair starts to ripple through Derek's temple and his claws detract into Stiles' skin. Derek grins at the sound of the fragile pink skin breaking. Stiles forces a fake smile to cover up how nervous he truly is.
In one swift movement, Derek carries Stiles to the counter. He presses Stiles' body up against the mirrors and slips two fingers into his hole. He curls them and watches the faces that Stiles makes. Derek begins to pump his long appendages in and out of Stiles' fragile body, matching the rhythm of their quickened breath. Suddenly, Derek stops. Stiles' lips curl in disappointment.
"Please," Stiles begins to beg, "fuck me already." Derek took this as his cue to wrap his hand around his dick and position the tip right on Stiles' now loosened butthole. Stiles spits out obscenities and grips onto the counter's edge. Derek slowly pushes his hips forward, inching his way inside of Stiles. To Stiles, it feels like forever; a wonderful yet painful eternity. Finally, all of Derek's huge cock is in. He whips his hips forward and backward, hitting Stiles' prostate with almost every thrust. Stiles screams Derek's name and shuts his eyes, slowly caressing his reddened cock. "Derek Derek DEREK," Stiles moans freely into the air. Derek knows what he wants, and pulls himself out of Stiles, moving his attention to the erect penis in front of him. He lowers himself so he's on his knees and nibbles on Stiles' thigh, lightly letting his fangs sink into the soft flesh. Dragging his tongue over Stiles' balls and onto the shaft of his cock, he feels his legs trembling. Breaking his previous slow manner, he shoves all of Stiles inside of his mouth, letting Stiles grab onto his hair and guide him up and down. Derek chokes when the head of Stiles' cock hits the back of his throat. That's his favorite part.
Stiles bucks his hips up into Derek's face and warm spurts of cum fly into Derek's burning throat. Stiles pants and flops his head back into the mirror behind him as Derek licks every last drop of cum and sweat off of his body.
"Stiles. Look at me." Derek strokes his cock, jacking himself off until he comes. He likes it when Stiles watches. Just knowing that the love his life has his eyes glued on such a personal and intimate thing makes him content. He wants Stiles to know that he can take care of himself. He has the power.
After the two of them catch their breath, they sit under the counter next to the pipes that hang from the sinks. Their limbs are entangled and Stiles' head is resting on Derek's shoulder. When they are silent, they realize the water rushing from the shower on the other side of the room.
The girl.
She walks passed them, her red hair dripping wet. A black phone is in her hand nearest to Derek and Stiles.
"Yes, this is Melanie Argent. How may I help you?"