"C'mon," Stiles laughed as he flopped back onto the couch, "My dad won't be home 'til morning, and there's definitely room for two here."
He patted the small space next to his thigh, giving Derek what was probably supposed to be a come-hither look, even if it seemed more like he was squinting to read something far away. Derek didn't look like he was convinced, and so Stiles sighed dramatically.
"Fine. Guess I'll just get myself off, and you can just go away and brood in a corner or whatever it is that you do for fun." Shifting himself into a more comfortable position, Stiles let one leg hang off the edge of the couch as he drew the other up, a hand coming to rest just above where his shirt had risen to display a small strip of flat stomach.
"I don't brood," Derek grumbled as he stared at Stiles, trying to come across as unimpressed. The expression was a little difficult to pull off when all he wanted to do was get his tongue onto the little bit of skin that had been revealed.
"Uh-huh," Stiles murmured absently, nails now lightly scratching through his dark happy trail, each movement of his fingers letting his shirt rise slightly higher until a good two inches of pale skin and lean muscles were exposed to Derek's flaring red eyes. Nostrils flaring with the building scent of Stiles' arousal, the werewolf made to take a step towards where his boyfriend was getting oh-so-comfortable on the couch, only to freeze in place when Stiles raised a hand in the unmistakable sign for 'stop', his other hand smoothing down his shirt until that enticing skin was covered up again.
"No way, dude. Pretty sure we had an agreement: I'm gonna reacquaint myself with ol' righty here, and you have to find some way to entertain yourself until I decide that I'm done." The mischievous grin that Stiles shot Derek's way was a hundred times hotter than his earlier attempt at a sexy expression, which really was just like Stiles. Derek found himself most attracted to Stiles when he was being himself, not when he was trying to emulate whatever television and porn had told him was sexy.
Not that Derek was unhappy about the amount of porn that he knew Stiles watched, because some of the ideas that his boyfriend came up with...damn.
Fighting down the urge to readjust himself in his suddenly way too tight jeans, Derek kept his face perfectly blank, even though he knew that his red eyes were giving away exactly how much Stiles was affecting him. It shouldn't have been hot to be told that he couldn't get laid, especially because the Alpha was supposed to give the orders instead of taking them, and yet Derek found himself taking a step back. "Fine, no touching. I won't come any closer."
Stiles fiddled with his belt buckle, long fingers tapping out a frenetic rhythm on the tarnished metal and drawing Derek's gaze towards his boyfriend's crotch. "I don't know," Stiles drawled out slowly, still grinning, "I don't think I could concentrate on getting it up with you staring at me like that."
Derek quirked an eyebrow up at the obvious lie, eyes tracking over the bulge in Stiles' jeans and his enhanced vision picking up the slight jerk of the hardening cock trapped under layers of denim and cotton underwear. "You seriously want me to go and just leave you here, alone?"
"I never said you had to leave the house. Just the room."
And suddenly, Derek clicked to the game that Stiles was playing. Flashing Stiles what Cora referred to as his wolfish smile, Derek turned towards the stairs, casually flicking the younger man a wave over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you need me for something, I'll be upstairs. In your bed."
Derek could hear Stiles grumbling nonsensically to himself as he unbuckled his belt, the sound of clicking metal obvious to Derek's enhanced hearing; and now that he was out of Stiles' sight he allowed himself to put a hand on his own dick, shifting it into a slightly better position.
He made sure to focus his hearing on the floor below, making out the sounds of everything from Stiles' pounding heartbeat to the rustling of clothes as the younger man threw his layers of shirts to the floor. Settling back against the head of Stiles' bed, Derek lightly palmed at his crotch, though he kept the pressure light. There was no point in going too far before Stiles had even gotten started, especially as Derek knew that Stiles knew that Derek could hear everything going on below him.
Shifting slightly on top of Stiles' unmade bed, Derek let the smell of the room drive his arousal higher: he could smell Stiles' sweat and come here more than anywhere else, and it was incredibly hot to him in a way that he was never going to bother trying to explain to the human, especially as he could smell himself mingling with Stiles' scent, the nature of their relationship obvious to anyone with a supernatural sense of smell. Stiles had mentioned that Scott no longer seemed totally comfortable in this room, a fact that filled Derek with no small amount of satisfaction.
Now, Derek had never really been one for watching porn. When he was younger, sure, he saw a bit, but where a human could be satisfied just by seeing and hearing sex, Derek's werewolf senses needed more. There was no substitute for hearing racing heartbeats that a camera couldn't pick up, or the all-consuming smell of lust and arousal that flooded a room and clung for hours, if not longer.
The situation that Derek currently found himself in was a hundred times better than watching porn. He might not have been able to see Stiles, but his other senses and memories were allowing his mind to paint a perfect picture of what was going on below him.
Stiles was letting out quiet, breathy moans as he stroked himself, the sounds of lubed skin against its like slow and drawn out, like the human was teasing himself just as much as he was teasing Derek. The layout of the Stilinski house didn't allow Derek to smell Stiles, but the older scents in the bedroom were more than enough for him, his cock pulsing as he made to release it from his jeans and underwear.
Wrapping a hand around himself, Derek forced himself to match the slow pace he could hear Stiles taking, despite the fact that he was nearly desperate to go faster, harder, better. Stiles made him feel like he was a teenager again, ready to go off with only the slightest stimulation. It was an exhilarating feeling.
"Derek," Stiles moaned from the floor below, Derek easily picking it up despite the fact that Stiles' voice was low and breathy. The werewolf's grip on his cock tightened, hips jolting upwards as his leg muscles stiffened and relaxed.
"I know you can hear me," Stiles continued, totally oblivious to the things his voice was doing to Derek, "so I'm gonna tell you exactly what I'm thinking about right now."
A low growl escaped Derek's mouth as his eyes flashed red, teeth suddenly lengthening and pushing into his bottom lip. It was a good thing he'd had so much practice at jerking off with claw-tipped fingers when he was younger and less disciplined, because the dull ache in his fingers was telling him that he was close to doing himself some serious damage if he wasn't careful with his grip. He managed to keep his hands entirely human, though, even if he wasn't entirely sure how much control he had left in him.
"Remember the first time we fucked on the full moon?" Stiles trailed off into a little groan, Derek biting down on his lip to stop himself from letting out some incredibly embarrassing noise. Logically, he was sure that Stiles couldn't hear him, but the whole point of this little game was to pretend he was unaffected, like he wasn't a few seconds from storming downstairs and taking Stiles right there on the couch, common decency be damned.
"Fuck," Stiles breathed, the sounds of his hand on his dick speeding up, "I don't know if I've ever come as hard as I did that night. Thought I wouldn't be able to walk for a week."
Of course Derek remembered that night. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget it: he'd been fairly reticent about having sex during his time of least control, but after Stiles had sat him down and forced him to have a real talk about it, he'd realised that he really didn't have anything to worry about. Even at his worst, he'd never let himself hurt Stiles badly: the crushing guilt about the way he'd knocked the human around when they'd first met was bad enough, and there was no way he'd ever do anything worse than that to the man he loved.
He was just lucky that Stiles had forgiven him for how much of an asshole he'd been back then, and had trusted him enough to truly allow the werewolf to let loose.
That night had been brutal, in the best possible way. Even with the small, not-quite-lethal amount of wolfsbane he'd made Stiles keep next to the bed in an airtight vial in case of an emergency, it had taken Derek a while to feel comfortable enough to give into the pull of the moon, but Stiles' constant reassurances had eventually let him know that it was okay to release himself. It had been the first time he'd ever knotted someone, but it definitely hadn't been the last.
"The way you felt, fucking me so hard that I saw stars...goddamn stars, Derek. I didn't even know that was a thing!" Thumb playing with the leaking, exposed head of his dick, Derek threw his head back, the smell of Stiles' pillows driving him crazy. "I was so full of you, my ass stretched around your cock as you took exactly what you wanted; I thought I was gonna die. Death by pleasure, due to miraculous multiple orgasms caused by my werewolf boyfriend: I can't think of a better way to go."
There was a sound like a container opening, and Derek's hips thrust hard up into his hand as he realised what Stiles was doing. He wasn't surprised that there was apparently lube hidden in the living room: Stiles had probably been planning this for a long time.
"My fingers are nothing compared to how good your dick feels, Derek, but since you're up there I s'pose I'll take what I can get." Derek growled, his free hand curling into a tight fist as he tried to keep himself under wraps. Stiles' laboured breathing and rocketing heartbeat were proof enough of how much he was enjoying this, and Derek wasn't about to ruin his boyfriend's fun.
He could hear little whimpers as Stiles slipped one long, thin finger into himself, the couch creaking as he writhed around like he always did when he was really getting into it. Even without the visuals, the audio cues Stiles was giving off were enough for Derek to imagine every movement, every expression from the gorgeous man in the room below.
"Ugh, my fingers aren't even as good as your hands...I feel like I could come just from you fingering me, holding me down with a hand on my back as you took your time, teasing me and drawing it out until I'm sobbing. Would you like that, Derek?" Stiles didn't wait for a response, following it up by moaning, "Because I'd love that."
Derek had to pull his hand off his dick for a few moments, tugging lightly on his balls in an effort to calm down. His efforts were in vain the moment Stiles started talking again, voice deepened by arousal and desperation.
"I don't even know how you manage to find every fucking little thing that gets me right off. I never thought I'd like having a tongue in my ass, but dear god you know how to eat me out right." The noises of Stiles fingerfucking himself stopped, only to come back faster and louder as he presumably slipped another finger inside.
"I just..." He trailed off into groan, which Derek knew from experience was the sound Stiles made whenever his prostate was first hit. "I just love having any part of you on any part of me, any way I can get it."
Derek was done.
Claws sprouted from his fingers as he practically leapt off the bed, kicking off his jeans while he stormed down the hall, bypassing the stairs completely and instead launching himself over the banister before landing comfortably in the front room. He saw Stiles' head pop up from over the back of the couch in the next room, a smug grin on his flushed face, hair sticking out in all sorts of directions.
"You're not planning on leaving, are you? Things were just getting interesting..."
Derek growled, sharp teeth on full display, and he could smell the spike of Stiles' arousal from the little display of dominance. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."
In a flash he was braced over Stiles' naked body on the couch, knees planted on either side of Stiles' legs and clawed hands carefully resting on the couch arm. "You're a mouthy little shit, you know that?"
Stiles just grinned even wider, pulling his fingers out of his own hole and instead wrapping them lightly around Derek's erection that he hadn't tucked back in his underwear, pulling once, twice before letting go. "Well then, I guess you'd better convince me to put up with you breaking the rules of this little game."
Retracting his claws- though he was a little ashamed by how much effort it took him to regain that bit of control- Derek grabbed the back of Stiles' thighs, pulling him down the couch and lifting his legs until Stiles was almost bent in half. Stiles' eyes went wide and he moaned from the strength Derek showed as he moved him around, the knowledge that Derek could do whatever he wanted but would never abuse that power somehow incredibly hot.
Derek's thumbs pulling Stiles' ass apart, the werewolf licked the rim of Stiles' hole, the pink skin shining with lube and stretched out from the fingers that had just been inside it. The taste that was purely Stiles was almost completely hidden by the chemical bite of the lube, but Derek chased the flavour he wanted, hands tightening on Stiles' ass as the younger man groaned and writhed on Derek's tongue.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, Derek..." Stiles bit out through shuddering breaths, his hands grabbing the back of his knees so tightly that his fingers were leaving red dents behind. Derek took that as encouragement to push his tongue as far as it would go, hearing the frantic pounding of Stiles' heart as the boy gasped for air.
"Holy shit, D-Derek, you gotta stop or I'm gonna come."
Derek didn't particularly want to stop, but he pulled back anyway, flicking his tongue at the rim of Stiles' hole before tracing upwards, leaving a trail of saliva over Stiles' balls and up the underside of his cock. Long fingers tightly circled the base of Stiles' cock, the boy trying desperately to hold off the orgasm that Derek could smell building.
"You asshole," Stiles tried to snap, but it came out as more of a moan than anything else, making Derek smile.
"Did you want something, Stiles?"
"If you don't get your goddamn dick in me within the next five fucking seconds, I'm gonna...uh...well, I don't know what I'll do, but I promise you, it won't be pretty. Got it?" Skin flushing an enticing red, Stiles pulled his legs back even further, spreading them so that Derek could have absolutely no doubt what he wanted.
"Pushy," Derek muttered under his breath, reluctantly letting go of Stiles' ass so that he could grab the lube.
"Hurry up," Stiles whined, Derek rolling his eyes and leaning forward so that he could kiss Stiles with the boy's legs bending awkwardly between them. Pulling back, Stiles' bottom lip between his teeth, Derek slowly let go, the hand not holding the lube scratching through Stiles' hair.
"Your mouth tastes like ass," Stiles griped, clearly trying to be funny.
Derek just raised an eyebrow.
Pouting, Stiles used one of his raised legs to tap Derek on the back with the heel of his foot. "Less of the judging, more of the fucking, okay? Also, why are you still wearing a shirt? Get that shit off, c'mon man."
The dark green Henley was quickly flying across the room, Derek sitting back on his heels with Stiles' legs draped over his shoulder. His underwear was biting into his thighs where it had scrunched down, but Derek was more concerned about getting his hard dick covered with lube, and making sure to replace what he'd licked out of Stiles' hole.
Stiles had one of his hands back around the base of his cock as Derek easily worked two fingers into him, his free hand holding Stiles' hip to the couch so that the younger man couldn't thrust too wildly.
"Derek, now."
Nodding, the werewolf pulled his fingers out of Stiles with a filthy wet sound, feeling the boy clench around him and let out a quiet whine. His hand grabbed his dick, and Derek slowly slid inside Stiles' hole, gently pushing through the slight resistance while Stiles' legs jerked, one flopping over the back of the couch while the other stayed on Derek's shoulder, tapping into the side of his neck.
"Fuuuuuuck," Stiles moaned, his hips shuddering slightly as he coaxed Derek into bottoming out, balls resting on the crack of Stiles' ass. One hand still on Stiles' hip, Derek reached out with the other to grab onto the arm of the couch behind Stiles' head, bracing himself as he started sliding out before shoving home again. Although he loved giving it to Stiles long and slow, the little bastard had teased him too much already and it was taking a lot of willpower not to just hammer him through the couch.
"C'mon," Stiles panted as Derek built up pace, "fuck me like you mean it. I wanna feel you tomorrow, Derek, want everyone to know that I'm walking funny because you screwed me so well."
Although it sounded like Stiles was giving him permission to go all out, Derek didn't want to hurt his lover like he knew it would be so easy to accidentally do. Still, though, they'd done this enough for him to know exactly how Stiles wanted it, and he was happy to oblige.
The couch was creaking with every hard thrust, but the sound was nearly buried under Stiles' gasps and groans, Derek soaking up every noise and every push of Stiles' body against his own. One of the boy's hands was frantically working his own dick, and the other was scrabbling at the couch cushion, desperately searching for something to hold onto as he was rocked back and forth.
Sweat dripping down his chest, Stiles' noises took on a whole new pitch when the leg over Derek's shoulder started twitching even more wildly, a sign Derek knew well as the signal that he was about to come.
"Don't hold back, Stiles, don't resist," Derek grunted, hand sliding across Stiles' stomach and past his leaking cock, fingers teasing across his balls. "Come."
Without the hand holding his hips still, Stiles was free to buck wildly, mouth making nothing except breathless noises as he came, dick spurting whitish fluid up his stomach. Leaning forward while making sure not to put too much pressure on Stiles' raised leg, Derek used his superhuman co-ordination to run two fingers through the mess while slightly slowing his thrusts, licking at his fingers.
"Oh my god," Stiles panted, "don't do that, you prick!" His cock jumped once more, letting out a weak burst of come before slowly softening.
"You okay?" Derek asked, still keeping up a steady pace, though it was slower than before.
"Yeah, yeah," Stiles bit out, "keep going." Derek let his head hang down as he picked up with his thrusts, hand flexing on the arm of the couch with a slightly alarming creak of wood.
Well, it would have been alarming, if Derek had managed to hear it over the sound of Stiles gasping and mumbling nonsensically to himself. The smell of Stiles' come was affecting him just as much as it always did, and he was pretty sure that he wasn't too far off himself.
"Stiles, can I..."
"Yes," Stiles exclaimed as his eyes flew open wide, Derek lifting his head to meet the excited stare. "Fucking knot me, wolfman."
Stiles' lax body was sliding up and down the couch with each and every one of Derek's frantic thrusts, the knowledge that he didn't have to restrain himself exciting Derek to no end. It wasn't often they were able to do this, but with no interruptions expected, they weren't about to pass up this opportunity.
Grunting with exertion and his quickly-building orgasm, Derek could feel a strangely pleasurable tugging sensation at the base of his dick and he breathed deep, encouraging his body to give into its primal urges.
"Here we go," he groaned over the top of Stiles' tired pants, resistance starting to build up against his thrusts as the base of his cock grew. His knot wasn't that big, but Stiles loved it, loved feeling stuffed full and tied together for the fifteen minutes or so it generally took before they could part.
There was a sharp bite of pain coming from the younger man as he shoved his knot inside Stiles one last time, and he quickly rested his hand on top of Stiles' chest, drawing away any discomfort and revelling in the way the shock of sensation counter-pointed to his orgasm. His knot fully thickened, Derek let out a growl as he started to spill inside Stiles, pleasure making his hand tighten on the couch arm until there was a loud cracking sound.
"Shit."
Stiles sounded wrecked from his orgasm and the feeling of Derek tied inside him, and Derek was struggling to feel bad while he was still coming inside his lover, but he knew he was in for hell later.
"Did you seriously just break my couch?" A tiny bit ashamed, Derek nodded, and Stiles sighed. "You feel too damn good for me to be unhappy right now, but you are so paying for that."
Starting to feel a little cramped, Derek slowly moved Stiles' legs until they were both laying comfortably, Derek still on top but trying to keep from putting too much weight on Stiles. "Sorry."
"Idiot," Stiles muttered even as his arms wound around Derek's neck, fingers twisting around the messy strands of his hair. "You're lucky that I love you."
"Love you too," Derek grunted as his cock started to spill inside Stiles again, ducking his head until his nose was in the junction of Stiles' neck and shoulder. He didn't know how they were going to explain the damage to the Sheriff, but for now, none of that mattered: he was locked together with Stiles, breathing in the smell of his orgasm and sweat, and he just really couldn't give a fuck about anything else right now.