Author's Note: Have a bit of morning-after fluff thrown in with your sexytimes!

**NSFW**

After a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth, once Derek managed to drag himself out of bed, they'd both fallen asleep, Derek curled around Stiles' back, their legs entwined.

The sun was barely in the sky when Stiles opened his eyes again. The bedroom was painted in early morning gold, wide slats of light just beginning to inch their way across the floor. They'd shifted positions in their sleep and Stiles nuzzled into Derek's stomach, his nose twitching when it was tickled by the thin trail of hair below Derek's navel. Stiles' fingers curled where they lay on the inside of Derek's thigh and he smiled serenely at the low rumble in Derek's chest.

Derek's hand found its way into Stiles' hair, his fingers dragging through the soft locks, his nails raking lightly at Stiles' scalp. Neither of them spoke, unwilling to be the first to break the quiet peacefulness of the morning, the gilded afterglow of a night spent drowning in nothing, no one, but each other.

Stiles drew slow spirals on Derek's thigh, pressed a kiss on the bare skin just above where the sheet was tangled indecently low around Derek's hips. Derek hummed, his fingers slipping down to cup the back of Stiles' neck, kneading gently. The next brush of Stiles' lips ghosted at Derek's Adonis belt and another pleased rumble vibrated through him. Stiles smiled into Derek's skin, his lips singeing and his tongue snaking out to dampen the burn.

"Stiles." Derek's sandpaper whisper shattered the silence as it trickled down Stiles' spine.

Pushing up onto his knees, Stiles crawled between Derek's legs. He laid his palms flat on Derek's thighs, spreading his fingers and gliding them up. He purposefully avoided touching Derek's dick, his thumbs skirting the very edges of Derek's groin but sliding up and away without lingering.

Derek made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat but Stiles only smiled wider, leaning forward to follow the path of his hands with his mouth. Derek shuddered beneath Stiles, his skin flushing a mouthwatering shade of pink. Derek's hands slipped back into Stiles' hair, pushing through his strands and coming to rest hotly on each side of his neck as Stiles worked his way up Derek's body. He licked into the ridges of Derek's muscled stomach, biting and sucking at such a leisurely pace that Derek was a panting puddle of raw nerves by the time Stiles finally reached his mouth.

Derek gripped Stiles' hair in his fisted hands, dragging their mouths together. The kiss started out dirty and wet but Stiles took control, guiding Derek's tongue into a lazy tangle with his own. Stiles settled his body between the spread of Derek's thighs, chests flush and hips aligned. His hands explored Derek's sides, slipping down to curl behind his knees and hiking them up around Stiles' ribs. He swallowed Derek's moan, rolling his pelvis down and feeling his heart skip when Derek wrapped his legs around him, his heels digging into the globes of Stiles' ass.

Stiles broke the kiss, gasping for air and meeting Derek's intense gaze. They rocked together, their bodies moving without hesitation, their eyes locking for a long moment. Derek's chest felt cavernous, his heart heavy and swollen where it thudded behind his ribs. Neither of them had spoken, outside of Derek saying Stiles' name which he hadn't actually intended to do, and the moment had taken on a heightened awareness, an added layer of something heady and charged that made Derek's blood thicken in his veins. Sure, Derek loved hearing Stiles talk, enjoyed watching his lips form perfect words that set Derek's skin alight. But this... It was almost surreal, the two of them clinging to one another in the quiet light of morning, so wrapped up in themselves that the world outside of them ceased to exist. It was intense and intimate in a different way than the night before, though it still made Derek feel like he was losing his mind, along with another piece of himself he was too terrified to name.

Stiles bit down sharply at the angular edge of Derek's jaw, dragging him back from wherever he'd slipped off too. "Where did you go?" Stiles asked breathlessly, stilling his rutting hips and tilting his head in question.

"Sorry." Derek apologized. "I'm here. I promise, I'm right here." He leaned up as he pulled Stiles' lips back to his, meeting him halfway.

Stiles sank into it, tasting the razor edge of desperation on Derek's tongue. The kiss picked up momentum, Stiles letting Derek take what he needed without protest. He wasn't sure what was going on in Derek's head, wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he did his best to give as good as Derek gave. He nipped his way down Derek's chin, down to the bump of his throat. Stiles worried at Derek's neck, his teeth catching on the straining tendons and drawing pained whimpers from deep in Derek's throat.

Stiles hushed him soothingly, but didn't stop his mouth's ministrations. He pulled away just long enough to lick his palm before pushing it down between their writhing bodies and then he was back to working over Derek's neck.

Derek let out a hoarse groan, his back bowing off the bed, when Stiles' hand closed around his cock. His hips bucked up but Stiles just pressed him down harder, pulling him in long, smooth strokes. Derek fucked up into Stiles grip as much as he could, which wasn't a whole hell of a lot with Stiles pining him to the bed with his hip. Derek was engulfed with heat, every molecule in his body vibrating, every nerve alive and sparking. Lava, hot and thick, pooled in Derek's belly and Stiles just kept stripping his cock, grinding his own erection into the space behind Derek's balls, the tip of his dick nestled between Derek's cheeks.

"Come on, Derek." Stiles murmured, gravel rough and smooth as silk. He pressed his forehead to Derek's, burnt amber boring down into transcendent green. "I want to feel you come. I need to feel it."

Derek's teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as he fought back the keen that threatened to spill from his mouth. Stiles taking control was hotter than it had any right to be and Derek was drowning in it. Stiles pumped Derek's cock fast and hard a few more times and then swiped his thumb over the dripping head, his wrist twisting just so, and Derek fucking lost it. His body went rigid, his legs locking so tightly around Stiles that the teen could only grind against him, smearing come where Derek shot between them. Derek's head fell back, his mouth open as Stiles' name was ripped from his chest, the single word strangled and broken.

"Holy God." Stiles hissed, burying his face into the side of Derek's neck as he worked him through it. He rocked against Derek, his own pre-come smoothing the way as his cock slipped a little closer to Derek's hole. Derek shuddered under him, a full body shiver that made his body shift just right, and Stiles bit down hard on Derek's shoulder as his own orgasm crashed through him.

Breathing raggedly, Stiles collapsed on Derek's chest, his face smooshed into one solid pec. Derek's legs fell open limply but his arms held Stiles close. They laid together in a sweaty tangle of bodies, neither of them eager to move.

"Morning." Stiles eventually mumbled, his lips catching on Derek's skin as they brushed over it.

Derek chuckled warmly, his hand sliding up and down Stiles' spine. "Good morning."

"It really is." Stiles sighed, nuzzling in and kissing Derek's chest, right above his heart.

Derek clenched his teeth around the words that wanted to be spoken, knowing that that particular moment was the worst possible moment to say them, while simultaneously wondering if he was ready to say them at all. He hadn't spoken them out loud to anyone other than Scott, Melissa, and Lydia since his parents and sisters were killed. The powerful urge to say them now was disconcerting and made Derek feel even more off-kilter than he had since the moment he met Stiles.

"It was, anyway." Stiles, oblivious to Derek's snarl of thoughts, pushed himself up, wincing at the tacky come that had begun drying between them and was no doubt uncomfortable in the cleft of Derek's ass. Stiles grimaced apologetically at Derek as he carefully pulled away. "I have to go. My dad's expecting me at breakfast."

Derek nodded, knowing that this moment was coming but taken by surprise by how opposed he was to Stiles actually having to leave his bed. "I understand."

Stiles frowned, his lip sticking out endearingly. "You sure? I don't want you to think that I'm an asshole for pulling a hit and run."

A genuine laugh burst out of Derek, much to Stiles' amusement. "I already know you're an asshole, Stiles. That ship has sailed." Stiles just smiled wider, his eyes lit up with laughter. "Go see your parents. If I keep you here neither of them will ever be okay with this."

Stiles hesitated but leaned down to press a kiss to Derek's mouth before climbing off of him and heading for the bathroom. "You know, I think my mom might actually be sort of okay with us." Stiles called over the sound of running water. "She wasn't nearly as pissed as my dad."

Derek thought that was understating, or maybe overstating, things just a little. "Just because she wasn't overtly angry doesn't mean she accepts a twenty-six year old fucking her teenage son." Derek shouted back.

Stiles emerged from the bathroom and tossed a cool cloth at Derek. "Good thing you're not twenty-six yet." He smirked while Derek wiped the come off his stomach. "Besides, she doesn't know we're having sex. Hell, we weren't having sex until last night. I really think she might be okay with it. And, if she's okay with it, she can talk my dad around."

Derek snorted. "We'll see about that."

Stiles ducked the cloth when Derek chucked it at him, leaping onto the bed and laughing buoyantly when Derek caught him around the waist, flipping them before Stiles could land on Derek's chest. Derek kissed him soundly, cutting off his laughter but not the smile he wore. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, peppering happy kisses over his face while Derek chuckled.

"You're ridiculous." Derek said, his tone helplessly amused.

"You love it." Stiles pushed another kiss to Derek's lips before shoving him away and clambering off the bed.

Derek stared after him and tried to ignore his brain as it screamed, "Yeah, I really do."

Once fully dressed, Stiles knelt back on the edge of the bed and dropped a lingering kiss on Derek's lips. "I really have to go." He said apologetically. "I'll text you later?"

"I have to work this afternoon so, I'll call you when I'm done." Derek ran a hand through Stiles' hair, realizing he was actually going to miss him when he left.

"Okay." Stiles nodded, gave Derek one more kiss and then turned around and left.

Derek stared at the empty doorway long after he heard the front door slam shut, trying to work out exactly when he'd fallen head over heels in love with a mouthy teenager whose father could kill Derek and make it look like an accident.

Stiles managed to make it back to the cabin before either of his parents were out of their bedroom, but just barely. He'd been in the shower for all of five minutes when Isaac was poking his head through the bathroom door and telling him to hurry up, Mom was awake and wanted to talk to him. Stiles rushed through his shower and quickly dried off, throwing on jeans and a plain white t-shirt before stumbling out onto the deck where Claudia was waiting.

Stiles could tell she just woke up, her eyes still a little puffy with sleep, her hair, the same warm shade of brown as his, pulled up in a messy top-knot, her baggy sweater half hanging off one shoulder.

"Hey, Mom." Stiles said nervously, trying not to think about the smattering of bruises, stubble burn, and bite marks littered under his clothes. "Isaac said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Hey, baby." Claudia smiled tiredly at her youngest son, patting the Adirondack chair beside her own for him to sit.

Stiles sat at the very edge of the seat, his knees bouncing restlessly as he waited for his mother to speak.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on with you and the dance instructor?" Claudia asked, leaning her chin in her hand and watching Stiles carefully.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in place and fighting the blush that wanted to rise on his cheeks. "Derek. His name is Derek." Stiles croaked.

"Derek, then." Claudia corrected, her tone soft and so very much the understanding mother.

"He's... We're... I don't..." Stiles stuttered, picking at the edges of his fingernails and scratching at his jaw.

"Stiles." his mother mercifully cut in, "Do you care about him?"

Stiles didn't acknowledge or deny it, but he had a feeling Claudia didn't need it.

"And does he feel the same way?" she asked gently.

Stiles thought about the way Derek held him while they slept, the reverent way he kissed Stiles' lips, how Derek had been so determined to take things slow between them. "Yeah. I think he does." he said after a minute, his voice small.

Claudia sighed heavily and stood from her seat to perch on the arm of Stiles' chair. Stiles leaned his forehead against her thigh, a familiar and comforting habit he developed so long ago he couldn't even remember the first time he'd done it, and Claudia rubbed her hand over the back of his head, smoothing down his hair. "Your father will come around, baby. Just give him some time, yeah?"

Stiles smiled and made a mental note to tell Derek he was right. He turned his head, resting his cheek on her leg. "You're not going to yell at me and tell me what a stupid mistake it is to get involved with an older guy while on vacation?"

Claudia's lips turned up at the corners. "Stiles, you may be my son but you're not a child. You're eighteen years old and I know that your father and I have done well in raising you. You're smart enough to make your own choices, no matter what we might think about it." She paused, tugging gently at Stiles' hair until he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Have you two thought this through?" she asked. "Summer won't last forever. You're going to New York in a few weeks and where will that leave Derek?"

Stiles' chest squeezed at the reminder about Columbia and that this summer eventually had to come to an end, one way or another. "He lives in Wolfwicke." Stiles muttered, his throat tight.

"So, you see him when you come home on breaks." Claudia considered it. "Is that enough? For either of you?"

Stiles swallowed around the nervous nauseousness that suddenly assuaged him. He could feel the familiar edge of anxiety well up in his throat at the idea of even suggesting going against the plan his parents laid out for him, for his life."Mom, what if I-" he cut himself off, panicking and feeling his chest full on constrict, the sensation of a thousand rubber bands squeezing his lungs making him heave for breath.

"Easy." His mother encouraged, rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades. "Take a few deep breaths."

Stiles did as she told him, sucking in as much air as he could before blowing it out again. It took a few excruciatingly long moments of Claudia murmuring gentle words and anchoring him with a her soothing touch, but he finally managed to stave off a full blown panic attack. He was still breathing hard and shallow, his palms damp and clammy, but he didn't feel like a cinder block was balancing on his chest anymore. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision where it had gone a little hazy.

"Try again." Claudia prompted.

It took him another minute before he screwed up the courage to speak. "What if I don't want to go to Columbia?" Stiles blurted and then winced, his shoulders hunching forward in preparation for his mother's angry but gentle scolding.

Claudia didn't reply at first, her eyes roaming her son's face searchingly, as though looking for something specific. Finally, when Stiles was starting to fidget in his seat, she leaned forward and fixed him with serious eyes. "Stiles, if I asked you why you didn't want to go to one of the best schools in the country, would Derek's name be among the reasons?"

"Yes." he answered immediately and honestly. "But, this isn't about Derek, Mom."

"Then tell me what it is about. Help me understand."

Stiles took a steady breath, turning in place to better face his mother, and then did his best to explain. "I don't want to go to Columbia because I don't want to be a lawyer. Or a judge, for that matter. I'm sorry, Mom. I know that you and Dad want me to do this, but it's not what I want."

"And what it is that you do want, Stiles?" Claudia asked, her tone deliberate but not angry, which threw Stiles off.

"Um. I, uh, I want to apply to the Police Academy." he admitted, not looking his mother in the eye, instead staring out at the lake. "I want to stay in Beacon Hills and work at the Sheriff's station, like Dad."

When his mother didn't outright dismiss the idea, not even speaking out against it, Stiles reluctantly turned his head back toward her. He was startled, and more than a little confused, to see the delicate smile tugging up the corners of her lips.

"You're not mad?" he questioned, brows tipped down to match his frown.

Claudia's smile curled a bit more and she shook her head fondly. "I'm a little disappointed that you waited until now to tell me this, but I can't say that I'm all that surprised." Stiles gaped at her, his response sticking in his throat. "Isaac always wanted to be a doctor. When he got his acceptance letter to Cornell he was the happiest I've ever seen him. Until he got his med school acceptance, that is. But, you... I wondered when your letter came from Columbia. You were happy but there was something almost sad under it. You never said anything, so I thought maybe you were just nervous about going to school on the other side of the country."

Stiles looked guiltily down at his hands, his fingers wringing together. "I'm sorry, Mom. I should have told you."

"Yes. You should have." she agreed. "So, why didn't you? I know you, sweetheart. You've never been afraid to speak your mind. Your father and I raised you boys to stand up for yourselves, and to be able to talk to us."

"I was afraid." Stiles nearly whispered. "You and Dad have wanted law school for me since I was in junior high. Back then, I thought I wanted it too. I really did. But now... Dad's going to be disappointed and I hate that I'm the one who's doing that to him."

"Stiles, your father loves you." Claudia wrapped her arms around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "You and Isaac are the greatest thing to ever happen to us. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that either of you could ever do to change how much we love you. Your father might be upset for a while, but eventually he's going to understand that you made the right decision for yourself and he's going to be proud of that."

"You really think so?" Stiles asked hopefully. His mother being so understanding made him feel like an idiot for having waited so long to talk to her about college. It also made him feel guilty for not telling her about Derek in the beginning. Maybe if he had, things would be different now.

"I do." Claudia smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Talk to him, Stiles. Arguably, the timing could be better, but the sooner you rip off the band-aid the sooner it can start to heal."

"He's already angry with me." Stiles muttered miserably, remembering the disappointment in his father's eyes the night before.

"He is." Claudia nodded. "But you can't fix it until you face it. Talk to him."

Stiles pulled out of his mother's arms, surreptitiously rubbing at his prickling eyes. He looked up at Claudia, his heart aching just a little less than it had when they'd started talking. "Thanks, Mom." At her quizzical expression he added, "For understanding my wanting to stay in Beacon Hills. And, for not hating Derek just because of who you might think he is."

"I trust your judgment, Stiles. If you care about him as much as I think you do, he can't be who your father wants to believe he is. I do expect a proper introduction, however, once you and your father have worked things out."

Stiles smiled as he stood from his chair, pulling her up with him. "I think Derek would like that."

"Now, come on." Claudia pulled Stiles toward the door. "We have a breakfast to get through."

Stiles' chest tightened at the reminder but with his mother's hand wrapped around his, he followed her back into the cabin.

Breakfast turned out to be one of the most strained meals Stiles had ever shared with his family. Throughout the entirety of the meal John ignored Stiles as much as possible, never looking him in the eye and only addressing Isaac or Claudia directly.

Stiles was slouched down in his seat, pushing grapes around on his plate with a fork and wishing he could simply melt into his chair and blink out of existence, if only so his dad might actually look in his direction. He tried distracting himself with thoughts of Derek but when blood flooded south at the memory of Derek inside him, he quickly abandoned that plan.

"Good morning, Stilinskis." Jackson greeted, appearing beside their table, clipboard in hand.

"Oh, good morning, Jackson." Claudia gave him a friendly smile.

"Have you signed up for Saturday's talent show?" Jackson asked around the table, his eyes lingering when they passed over Stiles. "Stiles already volunteered to help with props."

Stiles rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flip Jackson the bird in front of his parents. Jackson smirked at him as though he'd done it anyway.

"We're leaving tomorrow." The Sheriff said stiffly, his eyes never leaving the bowl of oatmeal he was working on.

"Tomorrow?" Stiles balked, bolting upright in his seat and staring wide-eyed at his father.

"John." Claudia laid a hand on his arm at the same moment Isaac said, "But I already signed up to sing."

Stiles' heart thumped heavy and rapid in his chest as he stared at his father.

"We're paid up until Sunday, John." Claudia reminded her husband, her hand stroking his forearm. "The boys are excited for the show."

John sighed heavily, his gaze unwavering on his wife's face. "It was just an idea. I thought we could beat the traffic. Nevermind, we can stay if you want." He covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze before turning to his oldest son. "So, Isaac, what were you planning to sing?"

Isaac launched into a list of songs he was thinking about using, effectively cutting off any other discussion on the subject of leaving. Stiles fell back heavily in his chair, blowing out a pent up breath and giving his mother a reassuring nod when she turned concerned eyes on him.

While his father hung on every word Isaac spoke, Stiles went back to shoving grapes around his plate and resolutely ignoring the vacant sensation in his stomach.