I can't even believe how well the first chapter of this story was received. You guys rule so hard, thankyouthankyouthankyou!

Thank you, also, to my wonderful new beta, MsPunkRock. I'm so happy to share the process with you. :)

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf does not belong to me, but Tyler Hoechlin is in my kitchen making popcorn for the finale. Oh wait, no, that's not right...

So here it is: Derek's fantasy! Enjoy!

School was the last place Stiles wanted to be right now. The teacher was droning on about Chemistry (or was he in Algebra?), his ass still hurt like hell from his 'stranger' fantasy on Saturday (damn, Derek), and to top it all off, he was fighting off a persistent hard-on just thinking about what the older man would have planned for their next rendezvous (double damn, Derek).

No matter how hard he had begged—and he'd done the best begging of his life—Derek would not tell him what his fantasy was, much less when it would be carried out. Not even a little hint. And Stiles was going fucking insane.

He pulled his backpack strategically into his lap and imagined handcuffs, whips and chains. A leash and collar, because Derek seemed like he might be that kind of guy. He imagined positions found only in the Kama Sutra, Derek's hands on him, rubbing, slapping, pushing, and creating pleasure that made Stiles want to cry out.

And, okay. He needed to get out of class. Right now.

"Dude. Dude."

Stiles looked over, his cheeks flushed and his breath shallow, and answered in a whisper, "W-what?"

Scott looked a mix between disgusted, confused, and deeply amused. "Calm the fuck down."

"What…what are you talking about?"

"Advanced smell; it's grossing me out, dude. Go take care of it."

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. "Minor detail, there, buddy. I can't move," he hissed.

Scott's reply was cut off by a kid walking into the classroom, handing the teacher a pass, and scurrying out of the room. Stiles was mildly curious as to why the kid had seemed scared shitless, but it was put out of his head as the teacher looked up and directly at him.

"The principal wants to see you, Mr. Stilinski."

Nonono, oh fuck.

Scott had his head down on his desk, shoulders shaking in obvious laughter, and Stiles sincerely wanted to hit him. He took a deep breath and stood, backpack still positioned almost casually in front of him, and made his way out into the hall.

The main office was eerily quiet. No ringing phones, no secretaries…nothing. Not a stitch of movement. Stiles considered turning tail and running, because this was not right, but instead he crossed the room to a smaller office off to the side. He hadn't even raised his hand to knock before a quiet command sounded from behind the closed door.

"Come in."

What the fuck? Stiles didn't move.

"I said, come in, Stilinski."

And oh shit. He knew that voice. He swung the door open.

"The fuck are you doing here, Derek?"

The lycan raised an eyebrow from where he sat behind the desk. "Excuse me? Is that any way to speak to your principal?"

"I don't know. My principal isn't here."

"You cheeky little—" Derek stood up.

"Where is everybody? Oh god, you didn't kill them, did you?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking drama queen. I didn't kill anybody. I just…convinced them to take the rest of the day off."

Stiles watched him warily. "You…convinced them. But how—"

The older man had him pinned to the wall before Stiles could finish his thought. "No more questions. Understood?"

Stiles blinked up at him and sighed. "Fine, Derek."

The taller man raised his eyebrow dangerously, glowering down at him.

"Uh, fine…Mr. Hale?"

Stiles ran his suddenly dry tongue across his lips when Derek's eyes flashed to that scalding blue. He flushed; the wolf was seriously going to make him do this.

"Yes, sir," Stiles breathed out, ignoring Derek's smirk of approval before he added, "kinky bastard."

And then he was bent over the desk, his cheek pressed against the hard mahogany and Derek's hand centered on his back. Stiles heard the clean sound of ripping, teeth grinding as his shirt was yanked off of him.

"Are you serious?" Stiles sputtered, turning his head to glare wide-eyed at the man above him, "How the fuck am I supposed to go back to class without a fucking shirt, Derek?"

The breath was knocked out of him when Derek's hand fell sharply across his ass, and Stiles pressed his forehead against the cool desk, gasping. Derek aligned their bodies perfectly as he leaned over the boy's back to lick at his neck.

"Who says you're going back to class?"

And then he rolled his hips and Stiles saw stars, panting because this was so, so hot and wrong and nnngh they shouldn't be doing this. He rolled his own hips back in time to feel Derek's hard cock through his jeans and with a whimper, clutched the sides of the desk until his knuckles turned white.

By now, Stiles was so hard it was painful. They needed to get this show on the road.

"Derek."

He was rewarded with another slap on his ass that shouldn't have been as arousing as it was, and he choked against the tingle that ran up his spine, arching his back into Derek's palm and chewing on his own tongue.

"S-sorry, sir."

The wolf's low chuckle filled the room and bounced around inside Stiles' skull. He stared intently at the dark wood, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Derek slowly hooked one thumb beneath the highschooler's jeans, past the waistband of his boxers, while the other hand expertly reached around to unbutton, caress, unzip, and tuck his hand inside to wrap around Stiles' length.

At which Stiles certainly did not scream out.

A few lazy strokes had the kid gasping and wheezing, and Derek smiled to himself. This was just too fucking easy. He pulled his hand away, smile widening at Stiles' mewl of loss, in favor of yanking down the offending clothing to let them pool at the kid's ankles.

There was a dull thunk and he turned his head over his shoulder, staring bug-eyed, because why was Derek kneeling behind him? The wolf's hands trailed up the backs of his thighs, coming up to rest gently on his ass, and Stiles heart beat just a little bit faster. He wasn't serious—?

But then he felt the other's warm breath against his skin, fingers spreading him apart, and Stiles was just about to ask what Derek was doing when he felt that familiar tongue flat against his entrance, prodding and swirling and wonderful. And holyshit he couldn't see straight. The most embarrassing yelps and cries fell thoughtlessly from his lips because where the hell had Derek learned to do that with his tongue?

"You've been bad, haven't you, Stilinski?"

The boy writhed and whined underneath his touch, "Yes, oh, fuuuck, so fucking bad!"

And then Derek pushed in two digits, lapping at the puckered skin that was stretched around his scissored fingers.

Stiles couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe. Derek was actually trying to kill him.

With his eyes closed, Stiles couldn't see one of Derek's hands trail up and over the desk, pressing a small button on a microphone in the corner to record and project every soft whimper, every single desperate sob.

With his thoughts distracted, Stiles couldn't realize that every student and teacher in the entire school was hearing him beg for Derek to just fuck him already.

Now the fun would begin.

Derek stood quickly, shedding shirt, jeans, and boxers, and lined himself up. He leaned over the boy's body again, nipped at Stiles' pulsing jugular.

"What do you want?" He whispered, voice husky and low in Stiles' ear, finger still pressing the loudspeaker button.

"You, God, please, just fuck me," the boy groaned in return, voice thoroughly wrecked.

Derek pushed just the head of his cock in, hand wrapped around Stiles' shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck you how?"

"Hard, please, so hard, s-sir!"

And who was Derek to refuse to a plea like that? He slammed his hips roughly to the willing body below him, not allowing Stiles a moment to adjust because he knew the lacrosse player neither needed it nor wanted it. The wolf pounded furiously, growling and groaning and this was such a good idea.

There was no way Stiles was going to last long. He was doing his best to hold on as it was, but he was too far gone. The sounds tearing from his throat were jumbled, screams and pleas with no definitive structure; he couldn't even remember which muscles to use to form words, and—oh god, what was his name again?

Derek's hips crashed forward, growing erratic and all the more desperate to bring them both to the edge, Stiles' frenzied chanting echoed in his own moans. He leaned over the body beneath him once more to bite the younger man's shoulder blade, hips faltering, and he finally ground out a final, muffled groan as he shuddered through his orgasm.

And he loved the way Stiles came right after with a loud cry, just from the feeling of being filled even more.

They panted, chests heaving and muscles fluttering from the aftershocks. Derek lifted his finger off of the microphone button with a small smile. He pulled from the smaller body gently.

"Stiles?"

The kid laid his cheek against the cool desk, eyes closed, and hummed in acknowledgement.

"You okay?"

"Mmm, very. 'M great. Never would've pegged you for a 'public place' kind of guy," he murmured, opening his eyes to glance back at Derek with a sated grin that the wolf returned, inwardly laughing because Stiles truly didn't know just how 'public' they were.

A dull knocking sound and angry yells were heard from outside the main office; Derek stiffened and hastily began to pull on his jeans.

"I hate to cut the afterglow short, seriously, but we really need to go," Derek told Stiles softly, punctuating his words with a lick to the small of the boy's back.

Stiles stood as well, bending to yank up his own clothing, his eyes wide with paranoia as he took in the muffled noises from the hallway. "What's going on out there?"

Derek eyed him with a smirk, "Probably a few teachers trying to get in... see what was going on in here."

"What? But how did they—"

"Here," the wolf cut him off and handed Stiles his own shirt, "put this on. We have to get out of here."

And he walked to the window and jerked it open while Stiles stared at him. "Derek?"

"Come on, let's go. They won't be slowed down by a locked door for long."

And Stiles followed him out the window.

Derek hadn't driven but two miles from the school before Stiles' phone buzzed with a new text.

Dude. Not what I meant when I said to go take care of it.

Stiles stared down at the screen, face red. "I think Scott heard us."

"Uh, everyone heard us," Derek chuckled.

The younger's head jerked over to gape at the wolf. "What?"

The toothy grin on the older man's face was unnerving, to say the least. He shrugged nonchalantly, "You're Beacon Hills' newest porn star."

"I… but, but, what did you—?"

"Loudspeakers," Derek said almost conversationally. Stiles made a small noise in the back of his throat and dropped his head into his hands.

"Oh, god. I hate you so much."

"No, you don't. Relax, no one even knows it was us. Well," he paused, "except for Scott. Who'll probably tell Allison. And girls talk, ya know, so I'm sure Lydia will find out. And Jackson." Another pause. "But besides them…"

Stiles lifted his head to look at the lycan, his eyes blazing with disbelief and embarrassment despite his small smile. "Oh my god. I'm so getting you back for that."

And Derek couldn't help but be just a little bit excited.

Oh, that Derek. I seriously wish that shit went down at my school.. ;) Review, pretty please!

I hope you all enjoy the finale!