Some months later:

Stiles wore his black plug for an hour before he took it out in the shower. It had been a tiring, long day and he felt like sleeping for hours, but his mind still spun with all the impressions and he wanted Derek to help him calm down. He went into the bedroom naked, only a towel wrapped around his hips in case he bumped into Cora on his way through the hall. Derek lay in bed, reading a book, wearing his glasses and with the bedside lamp lit.

When Stiles closed the bedroom door, Derek looked over the rim of his glasses, and directed his smoldering gaze at Stiles. Stiles waited as his boyfriend lay his book on the nightstand, taking an agonizingly long time to place his bookmark in before he turned back to Stiles.

Stiles gave him the towel and opened the nightstand drawer, handing Derek the lube. "Place the towel under your hips?"

Derek lifted his pelvis, doing as Stiles told him, then looking expectantly at Stiles. "This for me?" He shook the lube.

"Yeah, coat yourself?" Stiles' voice was hoarse with anticipation, gaze glued to Derek's movements as the man squeezed the liquid out in his hand, jerking his dick with it. Derek was half hard when he dried his hand on the towel. Stiles had been hard on and off ever since his journey home earlier, thinking about what he wanted to do when he was finally in Derek's bed.

He got up on the mattress on his knee. "Scoot over." Derek lifted his hips to the middle of the bed, dragged his pillow to him, before he looked up, gulping thickly. Stiles placed one knee on each side of Derek's hips, braced himself with one hand on Derek's chest, the other one he used to grip his boyfriend's cock from behind, and steered it to his hole. The head of Derek's dick slipped easily inside, and Stiles moaned as he arched his back, grabbing his balls so Derek could have a perfect view.

Both men let out a long groan as Stiles sat down, buried to the hilt on Derek's cock.

Stiles opened his eyes to meet Derek's heated gaze. His boyfriend's eyes were dark and hooded, his mouth slack, and a heady feeling came like a whip in his diaphragm at the sight. His own face felt like it had the exact same expression; want and need. Derek's cock felt so good inside him, but seeing what it did to the man, how much he loved what Stiles did, was the hottest thing ever.

"Fuck, Der, you feel so good!" he groaned, lifting up on his knees before sinking down again. Derek's warm hands came to rest on Stiles' chest, roamed around and up to his shoulders where they settled.

"Hold on," Derek said, and started fucking Stiles, pressing his hips up and up and up, making Stiles fall forward, grabbing the headboard. Derek's cock sent sparks shooting all through his body, making euphoria spread, all of him tingling.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," he chanted, watching Derek biting his lip, concentrating, his dark gaze glued to Stiles'. "Missed you so much."

It became too much, too soon, and Stiles let go of the headboard, straightened his back and started jerking himself off as he rode. Derek's gaze darted all over Stiles' body, taking in all of him, drinking him in, watching the head of Stiles' dick emerging in front of the circle of his thumb and index finger again and again.

"Wanna see you come," Derek whispered, "I've been thinking about it."

Stiles whimpered pathetically, leaking precome all over his own hand, and onto Derek's stomach, coating his happy trail with it. Derek gasped as Stiles' movements became erratic and he arched his back like a bow, his orgasm hitting him like a punch in the gut, making him hunch over.

Stiles' whole body sang when he came to himself, sagging down onto Derek's come-covered chest. He buried his face in Derek's neck as the man grabbed his asscheeks, racing to his own end, coming deep inside Stiles, groaning right in Stiles' ear.

Stiles' body was covered in goosebumps so he took the effort to pull the covers over them before he snuggled up against Derek, whose hand came up to stroke Stiles' hair.

"How did it go?" Derek mumbled against his forehead.

Stiles cleared his voice. "I already told you. He was convicted of murder and sent to prison, but given a clean bill of mental health. The fact that he acted in self-defence and the proof that his father had abused both him and his mother for a very long time took away a lot of his years in prison, though."

Derek hummed. "I'm glad."

"Oh, and my boss called me earlier practically begging for me to come back now that I'm all cleared. I told her I loved my job there, but my place is now here in Beacon Hills."

Derek looked down, searching for Stiles' gaze. "Will you talk to your dad soon, then, about you all moving in here?"

Stiles smiled softly. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Derek smiled back, stroking Stiles' hair again. "Tell him I'll make my office downstairs his bedroom, if he wants it."

Stiles yawned, his jaw cracking. "Perfect." He snuggled his face into the crook of Derek's neck, feeling sleep approach when his whole body jerked. "I saw something weird today. When Lahey was guided out of the courtroom by the guards, he turned, looking back at me right before the door closed behind him. And—I don't know how to describe it exactly, but it seemed like his regular blue eyes flickered with gold? It must have been a trick of the light, right?"

The End

Thank you for reading!