Well, it's been a long wait. Like, unfairly long, and I apologize. I literally have been too lazy to find the time for writing until today. So, here it is- the sex filled chapter you've been waiting for. Enjoy, Devynn. (She still hasn't given me that Butterfinger)

x~x~x

Derek's apartment was clean. Scary clean. Stiles drug the pad of his fingertip over a picture of a pretty girl with brown hair and crazy cheekbones. He inspected it for dust, and was amazed when it came back mark-free. In fact, it actually looked cleaner. Damn. Shuffling nervously, Stiles casually pulled the front of his pants out a little to check the condition of his boxers. Luckily, they were gray, so he was pretty sure there wouldn't be any visible spaghetti sauce or ice cream stains. Hopefully. Letting go of the front of his pants with a snap, Stiles smiled at Derek as he turned around.

"Want anything to drink?" He asked, his voice rough and tough and Stiles' pants weren't going to be stain free much longer.

Shifting his shoulder in a shrug, Stiles walked a little further into Derek's apartment, eyeing the shiny metal kitchen. His fridge was glossy and black, which matched his marble countertop that gleamed in the low lighting. His sink was long and curved; the color of brushed metal. He had a knife block, completely stocked and sitting at an angle on his shining counter. Stiles swallowed nervously and edged away from the counter, watching as Derek grabbed two clear glasses from his cherry wood cupboard.

"I'm assuming being the owner of a bar pays well?" Stiles asked, leaning back against Derek's sleek black couch.

"Being the owner of a popular bar pays well," Derek responded, flicking his eyes up as a small grin graced his face.

Stiles raised his eyebrows, coming closer to Derek so that he could lay his forearms against the cold counter. "Popular?"

Derek's smile widened as he twisted around to reach for a something at the top of his cupboard. His muscles flexed and pulled tauntingly at Stiles, and he had to bite his lip to keep from taking a picture. When Derek turned back around, he held a bottle of red wine. The label was 'PINOT NOIR' which meant absolutely nothing to Stiles, considering all the alcohol he had ever consumed was beer from his cheap stash at home or the shots he occasionally took when he went out. He wasn't going to count the wine he had had at church. He was pretty sure that was grape juice, anyway.

Stiles reached for the clear wine glass and twirled it between his long fingers, holding it with the tips of his fingers and sticking his lower lip out, jutting his chin. Swirling the cup around with his wrist loosely, Stiles said, "Now fill my cup, wine boy,"

Derek didn't look particularly impressed at being called 'wine boy' but he filled it up anyways, stopping a little over half-way. Stiles dropped his act and frowned at the cup as Derek set the bottle down and took hold of his own glass.

"Why did you only fill it up half-way?" Stiles whined, squishing his nose at Derek. He found himself surprisingly at ease here in Derek's expensive apartment, with his fancy wines and tight shirts.

"It allows you to taste it more. Savor it," Derek said, bringing the glass to his lips and letting a small mouthful slip in. He closed his eyes and held the wine there for a moment, then swallowed it. Stiles stared down at his own glass, hiding his growing smile. Derek was a wine nerd.

"Your one of those people?" Stiles mocked, swallowing a gulp of his drink rather quickly, choking along the way. Derek watched him recover with a smirk on his face before responding.

"One of what people? Wine-drinkers?"

"No, wine nerds," Stiles heaved, wiping tears from his eyes and blinking as he removed his glasses for a moment.

Derek looked momentarily confused before he rolled his eyes. "I just happen to like wine, Stiles."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, and shrugged. "That's a bit surprising. Considering you own a bar and all."

Derek smiled devilishly again, like he had when Stiles had mentioned is bar before. He swirled his wine around his cup, gazing over at Stiles with hooded eyes. Stiles wasn't sure if he found it creepy or seductive. Glancing quickly away, so as not to become a raging horn dog in the middle of the afternoon, Stiles tried to steer the conversation into a safe-zone.

"So, what's the bars name?"

Derek placed his glass on the counter and started to draw circles on his counter top, smirking up at him again. "It's called Duke's. You've heard of it?"

Stiles turned around and stared at Derek. "You own Duke's?" Horror was crawling up the back of his spine like little spiders. How many times had he gone there, looking to get pass out drunk and succeeded? How many times had he made a fool of himself in front of the entire bar by trying to dance sober? Humiliation burned up the sides of his stomach, up along his neck and came to a fiery rest in his cheeks. Derek watched his reddening face with an amused grin, taking another sip of his wine.

"How many times have you seen me there?" Stiles asked, running desperately through some of his worst bar scenes. He couldn't remember which bar it was at, but he did remember what happened. He had gotten so intoxicated that he had tried to dance with the body guard, trying to convince him that he was actually Kevin Bacon and he had to save the town. He had ended up walking away in a storm, ripping his own shirt in half (something he was still rather proud of) and blind-folding an unsuspecting girl from behind with one of the halves. Shortly after he had fallen to the floor and had been dragged away to a back room by one of the workers, where Scott had found him an hour later, passed out. Stiles winced as Derek contemplated his answer, pouring himself more wine.

"Quite a bit. Did you ever get that shirt of yours stitched back up?"

Oh God.

Oh God.

Stiles sank slowly to the counter top, pressing his burning cheek against the cold, slick surface, closing his eyes. Then something occurred to him. "You knew who I was, at the dog park, didn't you?"

Derek suddenly became very interested in his fingernail, picking at the perfectly rounded edges. "Yeah, I mean, kinda. I didn't know you, I just knew you liked to get really drunk."

Stiles smiled widely and blushed, wondering if Derek had been coming to the dog park just because of him.

Derek blushed harder, and Stiles realized he had spoken out loud.

"Not at first, you know," Derek coughed and stood up, walking over to his living room. He stood there, tapping his finger against his ridiculously large bicep. "But then I recognized you and…"

"Started stalking me?" Stiles put in helpfully.

"No! Just, timing my dog park trips with Duke so they'd match yours. That's not stalking."

Stiles smiled and set his glass down, crossing his arms. "Then how come you never talked to me? And why did we get into an argument?"

Derek rolled his eyes and thrust his hands into his pockets, finally looking back at Stiles. "I'm not good with people. And you're very annoying. And loud."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek, pushing off the counter. "I am not annoying, or loud. If I was, would I be standing here?"

"Yes," Derek responded, watching Stiles with once again hooded eyes. "I have a thing for loud and annoying,"

A fire exploded inside of Stiles and he sat down quickly, trying to handle the sudden loss of blood in his head. Derek watched him sit down, then he turned quickly and pushed the on button for his TV. "It's too early in the afternoon for that," he muttered, clearing his throat.

Stiles was momentarily confused, until he figured out what that was. More blood left his head and he grabbed the nearest pillow and folded it over his lap.

"What movie do you want to watch?" Derek asked, crouched low on the ground, sorting through his DVDs. His jeans were pulled gloriously tight over his ass, and Stiles had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out and just grabbing. Clearing his throat, he asked what his options were.

"Uh, mostly action. All the Marvel movies, both Kill Bills, Die Hard, Kick-Ass." Derek glanced behind him, and Stiles bit his lip.

"Kill Bill."

Smiling happily, Derek slipped the DVD out of its case and placed it in the DVD player, pressing play. Before he sat down, he walked over to the wall and switched the light off, so the only light was the soft glow of the TV. Stiles rested his head against the cushion and settled down, only stiffening slightly when he felt Derek take a seat next to him, heat radiating off his body like a furnace. The music started playing, and they fell silent.

x~x~x

About four hours and two both Kill Bill movies later, Stiles stretched and went limp into Derek's soft couch. Beside him, said man groaned and rubbed at his eyes, arching his back. Stiles was too sleepy to hold back. He reached over and trailed his hand over the swell of Derek's shoulder, following the bone up to his neck and back down his spine. Derek had gone very still, everything but his heaving chest held very still. Stiles moved closer, placing both hands on Derek, one on his back and another on his stomach, where he could feel the hard press of his abdomen. He let out a small whimper, inching his hand farther along Derek's soft shirt. Derek let out a burst of air, and swiftly turned on Stiles, trapping his wrists in one of his hands, pulling Stiles' arms above his head.

"Derek," Stiles whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. He had met this man yesterday. They had known each other for even less time. Why was he in his apartment, about ready to let him fuck his brains out?

Derek growled and bent forward, capturing Stiles' lips with his own warm and furious ones, sliding against Stiles' crotch as he straddled him, burying him in his scent.

Oh yeah.

That was why.

Stiles groaned and arched into Derek, his fingers aching to wind through Derek's thick hair and tug, to hear Derek grunt, to make him growl again. He pressed his lips harder against Derek's the sound of their mingled breathing heavy in the air. Derek moved against him, pushing his jean-clad erection roughly against Stiles' own. Letting out a strangled gasp, Stiles jerked up hastily, trying to maintain the sweet friction. Derek groaned into Stiles' ear, and the smaller boy was almost sure that would be the end of him. Gasping as Derek thrust against him again, Stiles bucked his hips anxiously.

"Take your damn shirt off," he panted, staring up at Derek's sharp jawline. The older man smirked and leaned closer, nibbling along Stiles' ear. He shivered and whimpered.

"How about you rip it off?"

For some reason, Stiles gasped and closed his eyes, feeling his erection tighten almost painfully inside his jeans. "Jesus," he muttered, opening his eyes again only to be ensnared by Derek's ferocious gaze, and an evil smile on his face. He released Stiles' hands and straightened, obviously allowing him to give it a try.

Stiles, thoroughly annoyed and anxious to get back to the grinding and kissing, glared at Derek. "I can't do it now,"

Derek smiled and palmed Stiles' erection. "Yes you can," he murmured, causing Stiles' eyes to roll back in his head.

His hands starting moving up Derek's hard chest without his consent, coming to a rest at his collar, where he gave a small tug. Derek was breathing heavily, his biceps flexed and standing out impressively. Stiles' cock jumped and he groaned, fisting his hand in Derek's shirt and giving another feeble pull.

"Bastard," Stiles whispered, arching as Derek laughed lowly and slowly ground his hips against Stiles. "I can't do it,"

Derek leaned down and bit at Stiles' lower lip pulling it back with him as he leaned back up, trailing his hands up his chest. Stiles let his hands fall away so he could watch as Derek curled and pulled his hands through his hair. Then his hands came to a rest at his collar, and he placed his hands over Stiles', bringing them back up to his shirt. Stiles closed his eyes and suddenly felt something move. He opened them back up and Derek pulled his hands down, his muscles flexing. There was suddenly a loud ripping sound and Stiles watched as Derek tore his shirt right down the middle, revealing the hardest, most toned chest Stiles had ever seen.

"Oh shit," Stiles whimpered, his fingers venturing over Derek desperately, longing to feel every inch of Derek, know every spot that made him arch and growl and bite. "You're so hot," Stiles gasped as Derek rocked harder against him and came back down on him, his lips hard and needy and warm and Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and bit at his lips, panting hard.

"Now your turn," Derek muttered, lifting Stiles shirt quickly over his head and tossing it to the floor, and Stiles bit his lip and arched into Derek's touch, loving the way his hands scorched his chest and made his breath catch in his lungs. Derek's hands brushed over Stiles' nipple and the man gave a strangled gasp and grabbed at the couch under him.

Derek's eyes darkened and he growled again and Stiles died. He wanted to take that sound and hold it in his hand. But then Derek's hand was tweaking Stiles' nipple and all thoughts fled his mind. A whine rose from his throat as his body jerked and bucked under Derek's touch.

"You like that?" Derek grinned and lightly trailed his hand down Stiles', fingering his zipper. Stiles' nodded and Derek swiftly pulled it down, dragging Stiles' jeans down quickly so they bunched around his knees. Stiles breath exploded out of his lungs when Derek slowly circled his fingers around the rock hard bulge pressing against his boxers.

"D-Derek," Stiles moaned, his hands curling behind his head as he arched into Derek's touch.

"Mmm," Derek hummed as his fingers slid under the elastic of Stiles' boxers, dragging them down as his fingers inched closer to Stiles' throbbing cock.

And then his hand was on Stiles. "Shit," Stiles moaned, quivering as Derek slowly began pumping his fist up and down, twisting his wrists and trailing his thumb over the slit.

"Oh God, Derek, please, please, don't stop," Stiles panted, his hands suddenly curled in his own hair, pulling as he fought not to come.

"Jesus, Stiles, I want to make you scream," Derek husked and encompassed Stiles' throbbing erection with his mouth.

Stiles did scream. He arched off the couch and shook with his desire, with the raging and pure need mixing with the intense pleasure, blinding and white, coursing through his body. Derek's tongue was hot and smooth, roving over his shaft and up over his slit, causing Stiles to choke on another moan. Derek moved his head up with a delicious pop and ran his hands over Stiles' thighs, one hand moving to cup his balls.

"You're going to come for me, Stiles" Derek ordered, his other hand returning to Stiles cock, his eyes never leaving the writhing man. As his hand moved along Stiles' shaft, he leaned forward and bit at Stiles' nipple, rolling his balls. Stiles gasped and quivered under his touch, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Stiles," Derek breathed, "come."

The world went white. Stiles' voice was hoarse as he screamed out again, his fingers clenching, his glasses tumbling off as his body was wracked with endless blinding, dizzying pleasure.

As the world slowly came back to Stiles, he felt Derek lift him in his arms, and Stiles barely registered the walls as they passed into Derek's bedroom. The soft cotton comforter pressed against his back a Derek set him down on his bed.

"Derek," Stiles murmured, curling his hands above his head.

Derek's lips lifted the slightest as he reached for something inside of his drawer.

"You've done this before?" Derek asked lowly, popping the lube open and squirting some into his hand and rubbing it over Stiles' entrance. He jumped at the cold sensation but sighed, spreading his thighs. Derek groaned and ran his hands down Stiles' thighs, biting his lip. "Yes?"

Stiles nodded, lifting his hips to encourage Derek to move things along. The older man's eyes darkened, and suddenly he became predatory again. He pulled his jeans down quickly and kicked them off, forcing Stiles' legs even wider apart, running his slick fingers over his entrance again, trailing them up to his balls, which he rolled slowly between his digits, making Stiles arch and moan, his cock jumping again, filling.

"You're mine this time," Derek growled, and Stiles groaned. Oh, God, Derek was possessive. His cock jumped again and he rocked his hips eagerly.

"Yeah, yours," Stiles agreed, and Derek thrust a finger inside him, his eyes never leaving Stiles as he watched the man buck desperately against his hand.

He added two more fingers, stretching Stiles out, and he curled them experimentally inside of him. Stiles groaned and hastily moved to grab Derek's hand, his eyes meeting the older man's.

"Fuck me, Derek," Stiles pleaded, and Derek moaned low in his throat. Then he slicked himself up.

Derek lined himself up with Stiles' entrance and thrust forward, suddenly encompassed in Stiles' warmth. Derek let his head hang forward as he breathed heavily through his nose, running both hands over Stiles' thighs, trying to keep himself from pounding into Stiles until they both came so hard they couldn't move.

Stiles was writhing under him, his hands traveling up Derek's chest, slick and smooth with sweat. "Okay," he breathed.

Derek lost it. He pushed into Stiles' all the way, as fast as he could go, their skin slapping, Stiles' high-pitched whining driving him mad. Derek leaned over Stiles with a growl and grabbed his face, forcing him to stare at him as he pounded him. Stiles' eyes were glazed over with lust, his plump lips slack as his body rocked in time with Derek.

"You're so gorgeous," Derek whispered, crushing his lips to Stiles, then burying his face in the crook of his neck, feeling Stiles' legs wrap around him, forcing him deeper. "I want to make you come so hard, you won't be able to walk." Derek growled, biting Stiles' neck.

"Derek, please," Stiles gasped, his hands clawing at Derek's back. Derek increased his speed, and Stiles stiffened, his mouth opening as he was brought closer and closer to the edge. Derek reached down between them and slowly pumped Stiles', groaning as he heard Stiles' choked version of his name as he came. As Stiles clenched around him, Derek's thrusts became more erratic and he finally felt his release in a burning white heat scorching through his entire body, making his fingers tingle as he emptied himself inside of Stiles.

"Stiles," Derek ground out, biting into the unmoving man's neck, then nuzzled his way up to his lips, which he kissed softly. He felt a soft pressure in return. Derek dropped his head on Stiles' smooth, pale chest, trying to regain his breathing.

There was suddenly a soft snuffling at the edge of the bed, and Derek lifted his head. Stiles made a small noise, and the snuffling stopped. Then suddenly there was a slight growl. Derek's eyes widened. He had completely forgotten about Duke. Stiles shifted his head slightly towards the sound, his eyes glazed over, his cheeks pink. Derek gave him another quick kiss. Then he slowly pulled out and got down from his bed. Duke was standing there, holding the shreds of Stiles' shirt in his mouth, his eyes wide with innocence. He must have smelled Marty.

"Shit," Derek muttered, staring at Duke's now wagging tale.

Stiles head suddenly appeared over the edge of the bed, and when he saw his shirt in tatters, he took Derek by surprise and smiled.

"Guess you'll have to take me shirt shopping now, huh?"

x~x~x

Thank you for reading! Leave a review to tell me what ya think. Love,

-IC