Derek, Stiles and everything else

Body love

A week later. Evening.

Stiles was just thinking about Derek when the man in question appeared outside his window; sweaty and positively feral looking. His knock rattled the window frame. Excessive use of force, Stiles noted. He knew that he was supposed to disapprove of this possessive, predatory thing Derek had got going on, but, nope. He thought that it was super hot.

'Cute outfit,' Derek remarked, once he was inside the bedroom. Stiles looked down at what he was wearing and made an unhappy noise.

'I didn't want you to see me in my pyjamas.'

'I noticed that your father was fighting crime by way of paperwork at the station, which meant that he'd left you defenceless,' Derek said. Okay, weird segue, Stiles thought.

'You've come to protect me?'

Derek shook his head and smirked.

'I'm here to... pounce,' he announced as he began to back the younger man into a corner. The sudden increase in volume and vehemence startled Stiles. He shuffled until he felt something solid at his back. Derek didn't hesitate and gently forced him face first into the wall.

'You're a deeply disturbed individual, you know that?' Stiles mumbled. Derek hummed and licked his neck. Hands appeared on either side of Stiles' head. Derek pressed his imposing chest against Stiles' back, effectively caging him.

'Work with me, Stiles.'

'Ehm, what? Are we, like, role playing? What am I supposed to do?' Stiles inquired. Some guidance would be nice, since it was his first time and everything. Years of online role playing games had not prepared him for this.

'Be yourself, only with less talking,' Derek ordered.

'I can do that.'

'Shh,' Derek whispered. He licked at the tender spot between Stiles' neck and shoulder and cooled the skin by blowing on it softly. Then he repeated that on the other side, which was, wow. Stiles braced his hands against the wall and let his head drop back onto Derek's shoulder. Tongue-tied by how exciting this was, Stiles stayed silent.

'I'm the danger, Stiles,' Derek rumbled. He was using his growly, dominant voice again. And, yes, it was still hot. This will probably ruin it, Stiles realised, but he couldn't stop himself.

'Is that a Breaking Bad reference?'

The pressure at Stiles' back lessened until it disappeared completely. Unashamed, Stiles moaned at the loss of physical contact.

'What's wrong with your pyjamas?' Derek asked. Stiles took a moment to compose himself before turning around.

'Okay, you're not gonna get this, because you look good in anything. But pyjamas are the opposite, the antithesis, of appealing. Mere mortals do not look appetising in pyjamas.'

'Let's get you out of them then,' Derek suggested. It was a solution oriented approach that Stiles could definitely get behind. Derek threw him down on the bed, crawled on top of him and... rubbed his face all over Stiles. That was becoming something of habit of Derek. It was peculiar behaviour; even for a werewolf.

Stiles had looked it up. Dogs lick your face to show their affection, right? Apparently, cheek-rubbing was more of a cat thing. It was called bunting and cats did it to leave their signature scent. The idea of Derek marking him for his own was pretty cool.

There was one drawback, however. Derek's five o'clock shadow. Would it kill him to clean shave for once? One day very soon the sheriff was going to notice that his son was always sporting mad stubble burn and what then? Well, then maybe he'd finally believe that Stiles was bisexual.

'Your Don Johnson stubble is chafing me raw,' Stiles muttered. Derek responded by stripping him naked and leaning back to study him. Stiles froze. Derek frowned.

'I'm just...' Stiles attempted to explain. 'I feel like the wrong person is undressed here. You're hot. I'm... me.'

Derek's frown deepened.

'What are you even talking about? You're incredibly sexy.'

'I am? You think so?' Stiles stammered.

'You're an idiot. I'm constantly this close to dry humping your leg. I want to rip your clothes off every time I see you. It takes a massive amount of willpower to not rut against you at the moment and you're worried that I'm not physically attracted to you? Moron,' Derek scolded. His fingers lightly skimmed over Stiles' taut stomach and that single touch caused all rational thought to fly out of Stiles' head. Not that there was a lot of rational thinking going on in there to begin with, but, still...To imagine that Derek might be experiencing basically the same thing was insane.

'Ask me what I like about your body,' Derek instructed.

'Okay. What exactly...?'

'Your hands.'

'Well, unusual answer, but I'll take it.'

'Your wrists.'

Stiles blinked. Derek simply continued.

'Your hair. Whatever style, I don't care. Your ass. Your ears. Your neck. I love how long your neck is. I just want to lick it, bite it, suck it. Bruise you so everyone knows that you're mine.'

'Honestly, I might take you up on that later. Thanks,' Stiles said, smiling. Hickeys. Teeth marks. Perfect. If those don't clue my dad in then I don't know what will, he reasoned.

'I'm not finished. Stiles, I love your skin. It's so smooth and warm. Your shoulders alone are enough to turn me on. Hell, they don't even have to be bare. Do you have any idea how great your shoulders look in a shirt?'

'I did not know that. That means a lot to me, considering I barely have shoulders.'

Undeterred by Stiles' interruptions, Derek kept cataloguing everything he liked about his mate's body.

'I love your bony elbows. Your wicked smile. Your cheekbones. The gold flecks in your eyes. The way you smell. You know when you peel the skin off an orange and the mist gets into your nose? And it's so sharp that it prickles your nose and you almost have to sneeze? Sort of bitter, but not unpleasant. That comes closest to describing what your scent is like. I love your moles. Hmm, your lips. I especially love those.'

To make sure that he wasn't forgetting something, Derek summed up some things twice, but Stiles didn't mind in the least. At the end of Derek's list, Stiles was grinning from ear to ear.

'That was awesome! That was also everything. You really like everything about me?'

'You look so good. How can you not get that I'm crazy about you?' Derek asked. Stiles paused for a second and then got out the big question.

'Then why don't you want to have sex with me?'

'You're the one who shot that down,' Derek immediately objected.

'Ehm, no. I think I'd remember nixing sex.'

'You said that you were a virgin.'

'And? That was a heads up; not a no trespassing sign.'

'It just about killed me, but I said that we didn't have to do anything that night. Or any other night. That I'd wait until you were ready,' Derek recounted as Stiles' mouth slowly fell open. He raced through his memories. Curiously, his recollection of that night didn't include Derek being a patient boyfriend. Not that explicitly, anyway. Nope, Stiles was not falling for this alternate version of history.

'Literally none of that happened, Derek.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'So, tell me, why haven't we yet?'

Silence.

'Oh my God!' Stiles exclaimed. 'Get naked. We're going to do it right now.'

(***)

One minute later.

'You don't have an ounce of fat on you, do you? And you're so pale!' Stiles mused.

'Like you aren't the palest, skinniest dork within a thousand mile radius,' Derek countered. 'Lucky for you it turns out that's my type.'

'Are you saying that I'm adorkable?'

'No, I didn't say that.'

'It's clearly what you meant.'

'Remember what I said about less talking?'

'Shutting up now.'

(***)

The next morning.

Derek paused as he was about half-way out of the window. He turned to check out Stiles in pyjamas.

'By the way, this look? Does it for me.'

'You know what would really convince me? If you made the noise. You know the one. Aw, come on, you great big scary wolf of mine. Do it,' Stiles pleaded. Derek didn't roll his eyes as expected. Neither did he glare. He cleared his throat, focused on a point past Stiles' shoulder and weakly growled 'rawr.'

'According to urban dictionary that means 'I love you' in dinosaur,' Stiles said. This time Derek did roll his eyes. Then he tilted his head. He might even have perked up his ears. Stiles wondered whether Derek could actually do that in human form or if it was another example of his overactive imagination.

'Your father's coming,' Derek warned. 'Love you. Bye.'

And he was gone. After a brisk knock, Stiles' dad entered. He warily peered into every corner of the room before addressing Stiles.

'I could have sworn I heard... Were you just talking to someone?'

'Derek slept over. I hope that's okay? We've been dating for a while now, like I told you, so I thought it would be okay. Sorry. I know that I should have asked,' Stiles half-explained, half-apologised.

'Stiles, stop it. You're starting to freak me out. I don't know how you come up with these things. And to be able to keep a straight face too,' the sheriff chuckled and shook his head. Stiles sighed. So, denial. Still. Super.