Derek was left alone at the showers while Stiles went to lock the door that connected the club to the changing room. Although Derek knew that if anyone really wanted to get in, they would, he didn't see the point at arguing about it since Stiles was none the wiser about the existence of Werewolves. And he planned to keep it that way.
By the time he got back, Derek had his back turned at Stiles, because he wanted to avoid the certainly erotic sight of the boy taking his jeans off and the look on his face while Derek stripped off his own clothes. A look he was so not imagining right now. He really couldn't picture how Stiles was just standing there awkwardly, uncertain of what to do next for the five seconds it took Derek to take his shirt off and unbuckle his belt.
He really wasn't. He was just listening and he knew Stiles hadn't really moved a muscle and that his heart was racing. 'Even a normal person with normal hearing would be able to tell, honestly. Right?' Derek tried to convince himself. Stiles would look down at his tight jeans now and toe off his black Converses shoes, all the while having a mix of nervousness and embarrassment for a face. A face that wasn't as clear on Derek's mind as it seemed, now that he was just staring at the wall. Yeah. He was pretty sure that the moment he turned around he would realize the face in his head had nothing to do with the real thing.
Then Stiles would take off the suspenders, letting them fall down but still keep them attached to his pants while Derek toed off his own shoes. And they would both take their pants off basically at the same time. But Stiles would almost lose his balance and fall down at the effort of pulling the tight tissue off. His hand slapping the wall for balance and the ruffling of the material were all Derek needed to deduce what had happened and to keep fueling his imagination.
Stiles was probably biting nervously at his lip now, trying his hardest to focus on getting his pants off in one piece and not on Derek's half naked back. Derek found himself mildly smiling at the boy's clumsiness and bent down to take off his socks, pick up his clothes and fold them neatly, giving Stiles the time he needed to finally get himself out of those pants.
When Derek finally turned around, Stiles had a bundle of clothes in one hand and his shoes in the other, but he'd followed Derek's lead and kept his still bulging underwear on. He refused to look anywhere but at the ground, and just turned around to put his clothes on one of the two shelves placed on each side of the door, where the boys usually kept their work soap bars and fresh towels.
While Derek had on white boxers, Stiles was wearing black ones. Derek admired the contrast with his pale skin as he followed to put his clothes next to the boy's, his thoughts already a mile per minute at all the marks he could leave on Stiles' neck, if only he could lick and suck on it. And on his shoulders, if only he could nip on them. And on his back, if only he could pin him to the wall and get his way with him. He let out a frustrated sigh that almost sounded like a growl.
"So. Nice tattoo." Stiles interrupted his thoughts. They were both standing next to each other facing the shelf that had Stiles' messy pile of clothes on one side and Derek's neat one on the other. Derek looked at him from the corner of his eyes, and wasn't surprised to see him blushing.
"Thanks. Get the soap." He ordered to Stiles as he took his boxers off, placed it next to his clothes and started towards the shower next to the one he knew the boy had used earlier. If he was being cautious, he would have chosen the shower completely opposite to the one Stiles was going to use. But he had already thrown cautious out the window the moment he suggested to accompany the boy back here. Cautious Derek was long gone, now replaced with a new version of himself he refused to accept existed: On The Edge Derek.
And On The Edge Derek wanted to be as close to Stiles as possible without touching him. He turned to the wall and turned on the water as the boy finally made it to the shower next to his, soap in one hand as the other got the water running for himself. Derek couldn't release the tap for ten long seconds as he took in the view of Stiles completely naked and now wet body standing beside him.
So close.
Derek could hear his own heart now pounding almost as fast paced as Stiles'. They were both standing side by side, bodies facing the wall in a silent agreement to just take some time to appreciate that warm feeling. The water ran down their skin, caressing and embracing, and Derek thought it made a reasonably good substitute for the warmth of Stiles' – ahem, another body.
He looked at Stiles from the corner of his eyes, who had brought his hands up to smooth back some hair that was plastered to his forehead. He had his eyes closed, lashes looking amazingly thicker, lips slightly parted and skin turning a pinkish color wherever the steamy hot water would hit it first. Derek couldn't take his eyes off of him. The way the lean muscles on his abs were stretching, the contrast between his pale skin and his happy trail, how his hard cock would somewhat bob around at the movement.
He was beautiful. And Derek just really, really, really wanted to touch him.
All he had to do was stretch his arm. That's it. Just a stretch of his arm and he would be touching that pale, mole dotted, smooth skin. But then touching wouldn't be enough. Then, he would want to hold, to scratch, to rub, to pinch, to grasp. He would want to lose control. And he couldn't do that. He belatedly realized that Stiles was ogling him too now, so he tried to gather himself.
"Just clean the wall first." He said after clearing his throat. The old smell of Stiles' semen was still teasing him, not to mention adding up to the boy's fresh scent of arousal.
"And your… head." He added, as Stiles gave a nervous laugh and moved to do as he was told. He didn't seem to mind the authoritarian tone Derek was using, or the fact that he was the one calling the shots. Somehow, giving orders to Stiles helped him keep control over himself. It gave him a sense of discipline, as if being able to pull the strings that moved the boy made Derek responsible for anything that happened to him. And he didn't want anything bad to happen. So as long as he was the one running things, he would keep his hands away from Stiles and therefore wouldn't have a chance to hurt him.
Glad to notice Stiles had washed away the scent from his earlier jerk off session, Derek decided it was time to get things started. The smell of Stiles' arousal, free of the thicker blend from his come, resulted in a harmonious interplay of citrusy, mossy and slightly leathery notes. It gave Derek a heady feeling of contentment – other than the wrecking I-wanna-fuck-you-senseless feeling.
'But that will be over soon', he calmed himself, 'Soon, we're gonna start jerking off and I'm going to be in control throughout the whole process. Even when…' He mentally groaned. What about when Stiles start oozing precome? He couldn't be sure if he'd be able to restrain himself then!
"We should also use the soap to –" He started, not really sure how to finish the sentence.
"Help with lubrication? Yeah, it works a lot better than water. I was just… thinking about that." Stiles chimed in timidly.
'And smother down a bit of your scent.' Derek told himself, but gave Stiles a nod instead.
They reduced the water pressure so that it was just enough to keep them wet, but not too much that it would wash away the soap. Derek watched with hungry eyes as Stiles fixed his hair back again before biting his lower lip and start working the soap bar expertly between elegant hands. He looked overly focused, as if performing a very important task, Derek noticed. When his hands were finally coated on it, Stiles looked up to meet Derek's intent eyes on his.
Again, he blushed.
"You're nervous." Derek stated more than asked, offering a hand to ask for the soap. Stiles handed it to him.
"N – no." He answered anyway. Derek chuckled at his obvious lie. They were facing each other, and somehow during the soap exchange they had moved in closer, as the water ran mostly down their backs now. By Derek's calculations, if one of them gave half a step forward, the tip of their cocks could touch. This was as close as they were going to get. He took a deep breath and placed the soap on a soap holder.
"Can I ask… what do I smell like?" Stiles blurted out.
"I'll tell you if you're a good boy." He deadpanned. Although Stiles wasn't really aware of the torture he was putting Derek through with all this, he still resented him for it. In Derek's mind, the boy deserved a lot of teasing and he was going to give it to him in any way he could. Anticipating the effect it was going to have on Stiles, he just went on to wrap both hands around his cock and start coating it in soap.
Stiles jaw immediately dropped at the sight of Derek jerking his hands up and down his cock at an agonizingly slow motion, as if he had no care in the world. He could almost see Stiles' hard on throb as he did it, because (of course) he had not taken his eyes off the boy.
"Wha – what am I, twelve? I'm eighteen, you know?" He blushed and came really close to pouting. Derek found it utterly amusing. Amusement being a rather sophisticated emotion, feeling it then gave Derek an extra push towards remaining one hundred percent rational. It was pretty controversial how now Stiles was helping him stay in control, although he still wasn't doing anything on purpose. It was sort of unnerving how the boy had so much power over Derek already, and he wasn't even aware of it.
"Stiles. I believe we have more pressing matters at hand. Well… at least I do." He said as he intently spared a look down at their boners. How Derek wished he could touch Stiles'. "You should start taking care of that before –"
He paused before he had a chance to say just the stupidest thing. 'Before I decide to give you a hand? Really, Derek? Enough puns for today.' He cleared his throat and quickly added, "before someone decides to come check what's taking us so long."
"Right." Stiles breathed out, finally coating his cock in the special soap. That eased Derek's nerves immensely, just being certain that when things really heated up the soap would mostly neutralize the most intense scents. He dropped his left hand and set up a slightly less slow pace going up and down his cock, never taking his eyes off of Stiles, who seemed to want to commit Derek's entire body to memory.
His eyes were everywhere. Mostly on his cock, but really, Stiles was taking his time to stare him up and down, his eyes burning with want and a hint of shame. He was clearly having an internal battle with himself.
"I'm sorry. I guess… I am nervous." Stiles told him, his hands moving in time with Derek's.
Derek knew he fit the world's general beauty standards. He knew that by those standards, he was attractive. People demonstrated that often, in the way they would treat him or throw themselves at him. He never really thought much about it, to be honest, that was just a fact in his everyday Hollywood life. People thought he was desirable not only because of his looks, but also because of his status as a successful and famous person.
But he never imagined this. People that never really met him in person getting turned on and even masturbating to his image. Seeing it right now, Stiles masturbating with that look in his eyes and getting to watch the whole thing was definitely one of the hottest experiences in his life. The whole idea was so obscene, yet so intimate. Hell, this was more intimate than sex. He wondered if Stiles felt the same way. If Derek's eyes on his skin were just as piercing as Stiles' were, making him feel a feather like touch wherever they wandered over. It made him shiver.
"No need to be. Just show me what you did earlier. I'm… curious. Walk me through the process." Did his voice always sound this rough? He couldn't bring himself to care, his brain thoroughly concentrated on that delightful feeling slowly starting to build up in his gut.
"Uh…" Stiles tried to stifle a little moan biting his lower lip. "Um, how?"
"How did it start?" Their voices were low over the constant murmur of the water running. If it weren't for their proximity and maybe the fact that Derek was a Werewolf, they wouldn't be able to hear each other.
"I was just telling my friends about… us bumping into each other this afternoon."
"And that made you hard?"
Stiles swallowed hard. "Yes."
"Why?" Derek knew he was pushing his luck, but making questions was his way of directing the course of events – and he just wanted to get as much out of Stiles as he could.
"Why do you think?" Stiles certainly wasn't having any of that, and Derek knew he should have known better. He caved.
"And then what?" Not that the rest of the story didn't seem just as interesting.
"They left. And I – I started thinking about you."
"Elaborate." He ordered more than suggested, the word provided from a deep, dangerous place inside his mind. They must have fastened their speed a bit at this point, because Stiles was now taking fairly deeper breaths and was more than happy to oblige.
"I imagined… things. Like, what it would feel like to have your hand around my cock." His voice faltered at the last word. Derek had to grip at his own member a little harder, just to make sure he didn't decide he wanted to satisfy to boy's curiosity. If Stiles noticed how much he was restraining himself, he gave no indication. His eyes just kept on wandering from Derek's body to his face and vice versa.
"How good it would feel if – ah… if you jerked me off." He kept going. "You would press your body against my back and wrap your arms around me to hold me in place." Stiles took a moment to wet his pink lips which had gone dry from his occasional panting.
"And?" Derek pressed on, impatient to hear the rest of the story. The soap was starting to dry, so he got a few drops of water on his cock to make it slippery again. Stiles did the same, face revelling with the sensation of his now much more slick member.
"And then you'd kiss, ahn – and nibble at the skin on my neck and shoulders." Stiles voice came out almost a hiss. Derek watched with burning eyes as he leaned his head forward to give the water more access to those same parts he'd just mentioned, eyes closed for the few seconds he remained in that position. Their hands were moving at a more disconnected speed now, with Stiles going a tiny bit faster.
Derek knew he was replaying the fantasy inside his head. Although he instantly missed the trail Stiles' wandering eyes had been leaving all over his skin, there was something about seeing him so connected to his own pleasure that was just as appealing to Derek's aroused mind. He really hated himself at that moment. For not being able to touch Stiles and make all his fantasies come true, even if to satisfy his own selfish needs. And for daring to want to touch the boy although he knew he had no right to, considering the risks that would carry to Stiles' life that the boy himself wasn't even aware of!
Derek knew that if Stiles had known, he would have never made that offer. But as twisted as it may sound, the guilt and self-hatred were all just adding up to his constantly raising dam of pleasure.
"Fuck." Escaped from Derek's mouth through gritted teeth and the hand around his cock picked up more speed. "Keep. Going." He all but growled out at a now panting Stiles. The fact that his words were for some reason sounding too close to growls set off an alarm in the back of his mind.
"I just, ah, arched my back, ah, the water slid down over my asshole and I – I'm really fucking close." Stiles whined out the last part. So was Derek. He was really fucking close to coming, to turning and to crossing the line that he had drawn to not touch Stiles.
"Turn around. Show me." Derek barely managed to say. He knew his eyes would turn blue any second now. Stiles didn't hesitate, immediately understanding his request, and the last thing still human Derek saw before the boy obliged was him desperately pumping his cock, with a desperate look on his face. Derek really couldn't think of a word other than 'desperate' to describe him.
Actually, he just couldn't think at all.
If he could, he wouldn't have lunged himself forward, pushing Stiles closer to the wall and out of the running water's reach.
Suddenly there was so much going on. Derek was too aware of the warmth of Stiles' tense and arched back muscles against his torso, at the same time that he knew his eyes were shifting to a bright blue color.
Then there was the exhilarating smell of the first drops of cum as the boy buckled his hips forward with every wave of pleasure that hit him, just as Derek's nails and teeth turned into claws and fangs, elongating inhumanly fast.
At the same time that his hair thickened and grew out covering more of his skin, came the groaning and panting that slipped out the boy's mouth in between moaned words that sounded a lot like "Derek", and the wolf registered in some dark corner of his mind that it was the first time Stiles called him by his first name.
His cock throbbed in his hand at the feeling of its tip rubbing against Stiles' clenching entrance, ass cheeks held open by the boy's hand. Derek's whole body stiffened and time seemed to stop for an agonizing millisecond.
Until the dam broke.
Derek found his release just as the shift was completed. Derek had never felt so liberated. He was grunting and groaning, pumping his member furiously, fucking into his hand like he wanted to fuck the boy and the very first spurt of his cum hit Stiles right in between the ass cheeks. But before Derek could process anything that wasn't his bursting orgasm, the boy's legs gave in and he was on his knees, forehead and both hands on the wall for support as he gasped for air.
On his way down, spurts of cum hit him over his back, on one of his shoulders and Derek made a point of getting the last, shorter spurts at the back of his neck and wet hair. He couldn't help it. He wanted Stiles to smell of him. Even if just for a few seconds, he wanted to feel what it would be like if Stiles were his.
The boy didn't seem to mind that Derek had come all over him. But then again, he had no idea how much scenting was related to claiming amongst Werewolves. And right now, having him smell of Derek's cum was highly satisfying to his fogged, mostly primitive wolf mind. So satisfying it was soothing, and it started guiding him back to human form. Nails, teeth, fur, eyes. Everything back to "normal" by the time he got down on his knees, to check on Stiles, who hadn't really moved since he fell down –thank God! The boy was still panting a little.
Derek was spent too, so he didn't really restrain from wrapping his arms around Stiles and gluing their bodies together. He skimmed his hands over the boy's chest, sure that his wolf wasn't coming out again anytime soon. Plus, it was so hard not to cuddle, when he smelled like… he was Derek's. Stiles let out a contented sigh at the feeling of skin against skin and Derek felt more than listened to the boy's steadying heartbeat against his own.
"So this is how you got your own cum on your forehead." Derek whispered as he nuzzled into Stiles neck.
He huffed out a tired chuckle. "Hey, it's the third time I jerk off in one day, cut me some slack here." Derek didn't have anything to say to that, so he just lapped at the spot behind Stiles' ear, going with the flow of his cuddly feels.
"So we're allowed to touch each other now?" Stiles said, giving Derek more access to his neck.
Derek interrupted the lapping on Stiles' neck just to give him a half-heartedly insulted "no", before going back at it again.
Stiles chuckled, making Derek's arms around him quiver slightly with the movement of his chest. "You know, you look so serious and annoyed all the time, but you're just a big puppy, Derek. It's adorable, really."
Those words served as a great wake up call, because Derek immediately stopped his cuddling and lapping and gave the back of Stiles' head a quick death glare before getting up. It was totally ineffective of course, since the boy wasn't even looking at him, but the urge to glare at people had always been a part of Derek's nature that he valued.
"Come on, we gotta shower." He said, helping Stiles up, who let out a soft grunt in protest. Derek could see he was still a bit weak in the knees, so they just shared the same shower so that Stiles could hold on to him as he washed away all evidence of their activities from the boy's body.
But really, what was he thinking acting like a freaking dog, with all the cuddling and licking? He might as well just have turned in front of Stiles since the beginning, since he was so eagerly providing him with a bunch of clues about what he is. He sighed. He had to be more careful.
It was hard for Derek not to feel a tinge of disappointment as his scent was slowly washed away by the soap, replaced with a warm subtle woody scent that he was learning is natural from Stiles' skin when he's in a neutral mood.
Seriously, though, Derek had to stop categorizing all of his scents. The list of things he had to stop doing around Stiles was somehow getting longer and longer.
"You promised." Stiles said in a tired voice, as Derek spread the soap over both his arms. "I was a good boy. Now tell me what I smell like."
"Actually, you promised to punch me in the face if I touched you, and I still don't see you doing that. So no, you weren't a good boy." Derek answered matter-of-factly.
"Well, if you're so keen on it, I can still punch you now."
Derek just glared at him. "Here." He said twirling the soap between both hands before handing it to Stiles. "You finish cleaning up, I'm gonna wash the wall. We don't have all night."
Ok, so he was brooding because Stiles didn't smell like him anymore.
"I'm sorry, ok? It's just… I didn't mind it that you were touching me, you know? There was other stuff going on in my mind at that moment, believe me… or nothing at all." He stopped to think for a second. "Yeap, if I had to describe it, I'd say my mind was completely blank. But you obviously –"
"Stiles." Derek said stealing the soap from his hand. "Go get dressed, you're good to go." He really was, Derek was the only one that still smelled of anything remotely related to sex. Even the wall just smelled of... cold tiles.
"Oh, ok. Thanks for the… help." He ran his hands through his hair one last time before getting out of the shower, sparing an appreciative look at Derek's abs that didn't go unnoticed and heading to the changing room. Derek couldn't help the small smile that pulled up his lips as he started showering.
He was done in less than two minutes. He dried himself up with one of the clean towels he found next to his pile of clothes and was about to start getting dressed when something caught his attention. He was annoyed to notice that he had stained his only underwear with precum earlier. It wasn't much, but he knew he couldn't wear it again that night, not if he was going back to the club. Which he was, thanks to his pervert of an uncle. And any Werewolf out there would be able to smell it on him.
He would have to go commando.
He put his boxers aside with a huff and started getting dressed, all the while mentally calling Peter the worst names he could think of. He wished he could just go home. And maybe even take Stiles with him…
No. He was becoming too familiar with the boy already – a human of all things. Familiarity is not good. Familiarity creates attachment, and attachment creates feelings. And feelings, well, it's all downhill from there.
The clear of a throat interrupted his thoughts, followed by Stiles' voice.
"I'm basically ready. You ready?"
"No. I need a favor." He cut to the chase, heading into the changing room to sit down on the bench close to Stiles. Derek just needed to put on his shoes. "And a blow drier."
"Right. No worries, what happens in the showers, stay in the showers." Stiles joked as he got up. He got a duffle bag and took a blow drier out of it, handing it to Derek.
"Thanks." He said picking it up with one hand as the other held up his bundled up underwear to Stiles. "Can you keep this in your bag for me? I'll come and get it at the end of your shift." Stiles' eyebrows just shot up, remaining like that for a full five seconds, eyes blinking before he reacted in any way.
"O… K. Right." He picked it up gently from Derek, blushing lightly. "Sorry, I'd offer you some clean underwear, but I only had one spare change. I could wash it and give it back to you tomorrow. Or something. I mean, it's kinda my fault that this," he stopped to point a finger at it, "happened." He laughed nervously.
"It's ok. Not your fault. You didn't mean to." Derek got up to find the closest plug for the blow drier. It was just better if no one knew he had taken a shower too, hence why he needed to dry his hair.
"Yeah… what if I did?" Derek didn't have to look at Stiles to know he was watching him carefully and that he had an annoying smirk plastered on his face. Derek just didn't get it. One moment Stiles is all manners, rambling, and blushing cheeks, and the next he's this fiery little tease, dissecting every little reaction he gets out of Derek as if taking mental notes for a freaking index on his sexual response.
He chuckled and shook his head as he turned the blow drier on, deciding not to fuel this conversation any longer. He hoped the noise and his lack of an answer were as clear a message as the implicit "shut up" he never said.
AN: So! Basically a whole chapter of smut and cuddling :D this took me forever to write, I know, and I'M SORRY for the long wait, but university got the best of me and I've been having some writer's block (feeling all high and mighty calling myself a writer ahaha). It's just that I wanted it to be at the very least of decent quality, because YOU DESERVE IT! So I made it longer than usual to make up for the wait, and I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! Were you expecting Stiles and Derek to bang each other already? You were, weren't you? *smirks*
Please somebody tell me I'm not the only one obsessing over Dylan O'brien and his annoyingly sexy, pink lips. I mean, SERIOUSLY. STOP LICKING AND BITING ON THEM! Argh.