THIS HAS BEEN EDITED.
SMUT HAS BEEN REMOVED.
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The pack's house was nice. Stiles wasn't entirely sure if it was just nice or if he was enjoying actually being inside of it without supervision. In any case…it was nice.
"You want anything to drink?" Derek offered, hand straying dangerously close to Stiles' belt already.
Stiles forced himself to take a breath.
"Actually," he could feel each impact of his heart pounding, "yeah. That'd be good."
Derek pulled back just a bit, smiling softly.
"Okay. Kitchen's this way."
He followed him through to the back of the house, leaning against a counter and accepting a glass of water.
"Okay?"
Stiles nodded, heart still pounding.
He wasn't going to say it out loud, not now. But he'd made a decision.
Derek didn't comment further and Stiles wondered if he had figured it out. Not that it was especially difficult to figure out.
They were about to have sex and Stiles was fighting off a panic attack.
If it walks like a duck…
But it was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Because Stiles wasn't taking the lead on this one.
If Derek bit him, he'd bite back.
Making the decision itself had been rather terrifying and of course he was a bunch of jangling nerves.
Now it was just a matter of seeing if it would happen.
Derek shrugged out of his jacket before tossing it over a chair. He approached slowly and Stiles managed to set the glass on the counter before he sloshed water out of it.
He paused significantly and Stiles' stomach swooshed downward so fast he felt dizzy. If Derek offered to back off or said 'we don't have to do anything' he thought he would die.
"I'm ready," he said instead.
Oh Stiles thought, the words hitting him like a visceral strike.
"Yeah?" he managed, voice a bit hoarse.
Derek twined their hands in answer, tugging him back towards the stairs.
They made it to the top of the stairs and just around the corner before Stiles was pressed into the wall, Derek mouthing at his neck.
He shivered, spine arching and head tilting back.
Derek's hands were slipping under his shirt and settling low on his belly and Stiles pressed forward, hands moving over Derek too.
His searching fingertips hit the hilt of Derek's dagger and he carefully wrapped a hand around it before tugging it free.
Derek's hand caught his wrist and he pulled back enough to shoot him a questioning glance.
"No slicing today."
"I wasn't aware you minded," Derek returned, lips curling.
"I don't," Stiles allowed with an eye roll, "just not today."
"There's another under the pillow," Derek said, taking it and balancing it over the banister effortlessly.
"Paranoid much?"
"Just thought I'd warn you."
"Thanks I guess."
Derek only shrugged before kissing him again.
Stiles sighed just slightly into it.
"Come on," Derek murmured into his jaw, "I want you in my bed."
"Fuck yes." He couldn't help a grin, laughing outright when Derek picked him up and carried him through the next doorway. "Impatient," he teased even as he wrapped his legs around him, thighs gripping tight.
Derek's shoulders trembled with laughter but he didn't say anything else, kicking the door shut.
Curiosity got the better of him and Stiles couldn't help twisting to look around at Derek's room.
A bed was shoved in the far corner, bigger than Stiles' own, and surprisingly made neatly. Two windows shared the wall opposite them and two doors were on the wall to their left. A bathroom and, Stiles guessed, a closet.
"Does it pass inspection?" Derek asked, nose skimming up along Stiles' throat.
"You have a very, ah, sterile sense of style," Stiles worked out, tempted to laugh at how breathless he was.
Derek set him down on the dresser diagonal from the bed, hands settling on his hips.
"Shut up," he hummed.
"Ah-make me."
Fingernails dug in, blunt but making Stiles cry out all the same.
He arched closer to Derek, wanting more the same moment he wanted to pull back and tease.
He tried to take a breath, glad his mouth was free for the moment.
But it had been so long. So long since they'd been alone. So long since they'd kissed. Really kissed. Tongues rolling together and teeth pinching lips. And Derek's hands under his clothes. Fuck his brain was going to short wire just like this. He didn't want to go slow. He didn't want to drag this out or try to make it special. He wanted Derek under him.
"Fuck," he ground out, hands twisting in Derek's shirt. "Derek-fuck."
"Relax. We've got time."
"I've never been good with the whole patience thing," Stiles half laughed, "don't you know that by now?"
"Want me to take the edge off?"
"Doesn't really seem fair," Stiles stalled.
"Stiles it's nearly been a month."
Stiles pulled up an eyebrow because even rounding up you wouldn't make it a month but he let it pass. Maybe the tension was making it seem longer than it was.
"Taking it slow will be good for me," Derek told him, breath ghosting over his throat. "For…" His eyes flared and fangs slid out in an apologetic smile.
Stiles barely bit back a groan.
"You're such a cheater."
"You trust me?"
And Stiles wanted to laugh at that. Just a little.
"Yeah," he said anyways, because it seemed like Derek was waiting for an answer.
Derek hummed quietly, kissing his lips quickly before backing up half a step and slipping right down Stiles' body.
They lay in a sticky heap for much longer than was decent, not that Stiles was conscious for all of it, before finally stumbling to the bathroom and cleaning up with a washcloth. Stiles tossed it into the sink behind him, Derek pressing close and kissing him.
They kissed lazily, Stiles' fingertips straying to Derek's neck repeatedly.
Finally he turned around and risked a glance in the mirror.
"Wow," Stiles sighed, fingers drifting over the raised ridge of skin. It was pulled tight, flushed pink. It was fascinating.
"Mm," Derek hummed, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before peering into the mirror too. A fingertip drifted over his neck, blemish free.
"Not fair," Stiles pouted.
"I can still see it," Derek told him. "Other wolves will be able to too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He blinked at him, mouth turning for just a second before his attention returned to his neck.
"What?"
"Hm?"
"What is it?"
"It's more traditional to mark the neck," Derek explained after a moment.
"Oh."
Stiles eyed the bite mark just at the top of his chest more severely. His fingers stroked over it protectively.
"I think it's perfect," he said. "Everyone who needs to know will know anyways."
"Will they," Derek kissed the side of his neck then, hair tickling Stiles' jaw.
"Yeah," Stiles breathed.
He leaned back against Derek a bit more, still stroking over his mark.
"I love it," he told Derek seriously. "I really do."
Derek's arms snaked around his waist, hugging him tight.
"I love yours too."
"Good," he paused deliberately, "there's no getting rid of me now."
Derek kissed him again.
"Never."
"Is it wrong to be really turned on right now?"
A grin broke over Derek's mouth.
"It's a natural reaction, yeah."
Stiles turned back into the bedroom, tugging Derek with him.
He winced as he hit the bed, immediately trying to find a more comfortable position and ending up on his side.
"Huh," he exhaled, frowning at his half hard dick.
Derek sat cautiously, keeping a bit of space between them.
"I could," he offered hesitantly, "I should-"
"No."
"I didn't mean to," Derek tried then, "I couldn't…control myself."
Stiles could feel his frustration perfectly.
"Stop," Stiles told him, shifting closer. "So I'm a little sore I'll be fine."
Derek curled close to him.
"Stiles let me do this. Please."
"I'm fine Der-"
"Please."
Stiles frowned at him, Derek's guilt somehow morphing into his own at not just letting him do it.
"You said with your permission," Derek said softly, warm hands creeping over Stiles' hips. "It's nothing. I'll show you."
Stiles hesitated and Derek pouted at him. He pouted.
"Alright, alright, but don't get used to it," he grumbled.
He rolled onto his stomach carefully, propping up the unbitten half of his chest with a pillow.
Derek spread his thighs gently before rubbing the backs.
"Put your hands on mine."
"Um. Okay."
Stiles stretched back awkwardly, managing to layer his hands over Derek's.
"Just breathe."
He felt the heat first, just like before. But then there was a pinching sensation and the pain moved, flaring brighter before slipping away. It was there and gone in a matter of heartbeats, melting like the sun.
"Nothing," Derek repeated, "I told you."
He flipped Stiles over before he could protest, slipping over him and kissing him.
"Feel so good," he breathed between kisses, "so…warm…and…mine."
Stiles sighed, gripping Derek's neck.
"I know," he returned, wishing he could wiggle closer.
"I mean it's all," Derek turned to the side to speak, one hand covering Stiles' mark hotly, "like retracing lines that were already there but still it's so- good. Like coming home."
"There's no place like home, Dorothy," Stiles grinned.
Derek pinched his hip with his free hand.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Derek groaned before laughing quietly.
"You really shouldn't make it so easy for me," Stiles murmured, fingers pushing through Derek's hair. "Maybe one day you'll be better."
"I guess I can't ask you to change," Derek mused, a knee slipping between Stiles'.
"No you can't," Stiles agreed, very carefully staying still.
Derek kissed him again, teeth catching at Stiles' lip and pulling.
Stiles moaned as his skin flushed warm. It was a rapid change in direction but he didn't mind.
"Holy shit," he said as his brain ground to a halt.
Derek pushed himself up on one hand, eyebrows arched as he looked down at him.
"What?"
"I just realized you're the only guy I'm ever going to sleep with. Ever."
Derek smirked.
"Sorry you missed your chance at the hot teen orgy."
"Oh my god you had an invitation and didn't tell me?" Stiles accused, pure mock outrage and too fast tongue.
Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles would swear it was fond.
"You're the only guy I'm ever going to sleep with too remember?"
He hadn't but he didn't admit it out loud.
"We are so lame," Stiles sighed.
"Lame?" Derek echoed. "You weren't complaining when you fainted."
"Maybe I faint at the sight of blood," Stiles suggested.
"That must be a very troubling condition."
Derek was unconcerned, kissing his jaw lightly.
Stiles would be perfectly content to spend about the next two months in bed with Derek, for a lot of reasons, but mainly because he'd only lasted about sixty seconds and that time needed to be improved.
He wasn't as mortified as he thought he'd be, asserting that it hadn't been awful for their first time. Derek had agreed, kissing his temple, and they'd made their way back to the bathroom.
…
Getting dressed was nearly impossible.
Derek was being clingy.
"Are you sure you have to go?" he questioned yet again.
Stiles nearly groaned.
"You know I do. I just got out of prison remember?"
"Can I sneak in your window tonight?"
"If you lend me a pair of boxers I'll consider it."
Derek rumbled, pressing closer to his back.
"What's mine is yours," he offered magnanimously.
"You're kind of adorable like this," Stiles told him as Derek hopped out of bed and crossed to the dresser.
Stiles half expected him to have a wagging tail.
"Don't get used to it I'm high on endorphins," Derek told him seriously, returning with a pair of plaid boxers. It was softened with a smile as their fingers brushed and Stiles' lips curled in response.
"I'd be higher on endorphins if I didn't have to go."
Derek sobered for a moment.
"The nap killed us."
"Yes. But it was a good nap."
"I'll see you in a few hours," Derek said, dropping a placating kiss to the top of his head.
Stiles sighed, mostly to himself, before standing and wiggling into Derek's boxers. He pulled on a sock next, crossing to his jeans.
Derek tossed him his shirt before pulling his own jeans on, not bothering to fasten them.
Stiles' eyes traced the v of exposed flesh for several moments too long. By the time he'd managed his jeans Derek was handing him his other sock, both shoes hanging in his other hand.
"What would I do without you?" he questioned lightly.
"Lead a painfully normal life I suppose."
Stiles let his nose wrinkle.
"Who wants that?"
Stiles drove back carefully, one hand on the wheel. Bursting through the door sweating would only confirm his guilt. He needed to look relaxed. He needed to be relaxed. After all he and Derek had just had a Lord of the Rings marathon and fallen asleep. No sex. None at all. The DVD's were even in the passenger seat, his alibi. Maybe there had been some making out…maybe. He shook his head ruefully. He really had to get better at lying to his father.
The door had barely snapped shut behind him, he hadn't even opened his mouth, when his father said,
"I don't want to know," not even looking up from the Grisham novel he was reading.
"Is this reverse psychology," Stiles questioned, patting Gus on the head as he approached, "is a parenting book tucked inside that one?"
"No," his father said simply, still not looking up.
Stiles waited several beats to see if his father was going to say anything else.
He didn't.
"Well okay then."
His father sighed.
"It's the first day you've been unsupervised for hours Son. Give me some credit here please."
He glanced up in time to see Stiles' blush and Stiles knew he was sunk.
"We could have held off," he muttered to himself, "we just didn't want to."
There was no response as his father's glasses were settled back on his nose and he was reading silently again.
Stiles shrugged to himself and headed for the stairs.