Stiles' head still felt like it was swimming. When he got up this morning the only thing on his schedule was "getting bodied" with Beyoncé and mowing the lawn. Nowhere on that list was making something happen with Operation Woo the Sourwolf. Hell, making something happen was probably the understatement of the century. Sex was planned. Actual sex. With two people – Stiles and Derek. Not Stiles and Pornhub.

There was a God.

The warm spray of water was the only thing that Stiles could focus on. If he didn't his mind would wander to places that it really had no business. Wait… What exactly was he supposed to do when it actually happened? The sex. In porn there was a lot of phony dialogue… Did people really do that? Was he supposed to cry out for more? Say something with the phrase 'hot wet mouth'? Maybe he should practice. The water was loud enough so that no one would hear.

"Yeah, Derek! Right there, baby!" No. Baby seemed phony. Alpha. He liked Alpha. It was a turn on. "Fuck yeah, Alpha!" Closer, but maybe not so excited.

"Stiles? You alright in there?" His father called awkwardly from the other side of the door. Apparently the shower hadn't been loud enough. "Go away, dad! I'm fine!" Yeah, he'd never get laid in this house. Not while his father was around with his bionic ears. Speaking of enhanced senses he wondered where Derek had gone… Before he got in the shower he told him that he had to run but would be back before he was done.

How long was he supposed to be in the shower? Where could he have feasibly gone in the fifteen minutes it took for Stiles to wash the grime and grass clippings off his body? He was dealing with a Super Alpha Werewolf though. Time constraints didn't mean the same to him as it did for the average person.

"Save some hot water for the rest of the neighborhood, son!"

Dads.

"Dad! I think I've got this under control! Thanks for your concern!" His father's constant pestering wasn't really doing anything to improve Stiles' nerves. When he actually thought about it he couldn't blame him. Not even two hours ago he'd walked in on his son and a much older man in a very compromising position. If anything Stiles was lucky. Things could've gone much worse.

Too bad he wasn't actually thinking about it. The only thing that held his attention for more than a few seconds was Derek. Well, Derek's body. Semantics. Stiles didn't stay much longer in the shower; the water wasn't doing anything to clear his head now.

He stood in the mirror, just kind of looking at himself. A mountain of pale flesh with a little bit of muscle mass – he wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. Was he Derek, hot? Hell no. But some how he actually managed to woo his Sourwolf. Score one for the awkward guy!

Stiles dried off and got dressed, but there was still no sign of Derek. He'd probably pull some Edward Cullen shit and materialize in his bedroom again.

Nope. Still no sign of Derek. Nervousness was beginning to set in. What if Derek decided that this wasn't what he wanted? The first time could've just been adrenaline and he'd since come to his senses. Shit. Stiles dropped face first into his mattress and groaned. Too good to be true, he really should've known better. Maybe he was forever suited to be the sidekick, the secondary character that is meant to make everyone else look better without actually getting anything in return.

Worst of all Stiles was horny.

He cast a glance at his closed door. At least he'd have the experience from earlier burned in his brain forever. His hand traveled to the front of his jeans, raising his hips off the bed so he'd have better access. Without much thought he shoved a hand down the front of his pants and handled himself roughly. He inhaled sharply, it wasn't the same but some kind of relief was certainly better than nothing.

He breathed out a soft puff of air as he ground his hips into his fist, eyes still closed tightly trying to recall the memories that he'd just made earlier in the day. The way Derek smelled, the feel of his muscles on top of his body, the way his cock felt through his pants. Derek's cock was a thing of beauty… Well from what he could tell. It was certainly more sizable than his own. With his free hand Stiles pulled the button of his jeans and tugged down his zipper.

Forehead pressed into the mattress as dry humped against his bed, hands warm against his flesh. A soft moan passed his lips as a picture of Derek came clearly in his mind. Derek at his most attractive, standing there in a wife beater and black jeans, leather jacket thrown over his shoulder.

He was smirking but his eyes held that dark intensity that he loved so much. Stiles' mental eyes focused on the wide expanse that was Derek's chest. The sheer size of it intimidated and intrigued Stiles all at once. He mentally reached for them palms laying flat against them. Derek's skin was so much warmer than his own. So much firmer.

Stiles' hips continued, slowly moving in and out of his tight fist. Sexual frustration ebbing away – giving way to his own comfort. His hands traveled down Derek's chest and settled on the bulge in his crotch. It wasn't difficult to pull that memory to surface. It was almost funny how easily Stiles remembered the dimensions. In his fantasy he wasn't as shy as he knew he'd be in the off chance that this happened for real. He stuck his right hand down Derek's pants and gripped his erection, not able to suppress the moan that came from him both in his fantasy and in real time.

Breaths were becoming more and more ragged as he writhed into his bed, fantasy feeling more real than ever. One hand was on Derek's taut stomach, lifting the thing material of his wife beater – other hand stroking his length in the confines of those dark jeans. Stiles wondered why the fantasy version of himself refused to remove the erection from its sheath, maybe because he'd never actually seen the real thing and was blocking the urge to ruin reality with an overdone fantasy.

So far his fantasy consisted of things he'd done in one way or another. It made sense. Well… It made sense to him. Only Stiles could overanalyze a fantasy sex situation. Whatever. He repositioned himself on the bed, rolling onto his back opening his eyes so that he could prop himself up on his pillows. Eyes opening, he skimmed the room briefly before delving back into his fantasy. At least in his mind he could have Derek anyway he wanted him. His own cock was out of his jeans now, the denim pooling at his thighs as he began to stroke himself again, eyes squeezed tightly as he pictured Derek's lips on his neck again.

His hand pumped his length furiously – at least he was going to get some kind of release. "Mm, Derek." He whispered softly to himself as he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit in it. What teenage boy kept lube readily available anyways? Stiles used his own saliva to slick his cock, which only served to intensify what he was already feeling. His fantasy was becoming more and more vivid as he pushed past the mental boundaries he'd put up for himself.

Derek was clad only in his black boxer briefs, and try as he might Stiles couldn't will him out of them. Fuck.

Actually maybe there was a way. He pushed his jeans and underwear a bit further down his thighs. This was risky. He hadn't even locked his door, but he was certain his father would know better than to barge in again. Hormones were driving Stiles right now as he sucked two fingers into his mouth. If his mental version of Derek was going to be as stubborn as the real one he'd have to really commit. Pulling the digits from his mouth, Stiles brought the saliva-slicked fingers to his entrance – pointer finger pressing against the tight ring of muscle.

"Shit." He breathed out before biting down on his lip, a very new sensation washing over him. Stiles had wanted Derek so badly, but never even experimented with the idea of anal penetration till now. What he felt was something he couldn't describe. There was a pressure and it hurt, but it didn't hurt in a way that he wanted it to stop. It hurt in a way that left him wanting more. He pushed the finger in deeper, teeth bearing down harder as well to keep from yelling out his satisfaction.

This wasn't a moment that he wanted his father to intrude on.

Stiles slowly removed the finger and pushed in a second, the width of his digits stretching his entrance. He breathed out a low moan, mainly because he wasn't trying to make his lip bleed which was sure to happen if he bit down any harder. Deciding to experiment a bit more, Stiles began to open and close his fingers. Curling them. Bringing them back together. Each movement pleasured him in a way that the last didn't.

Fuck. Maybe he didn't need Derek. He has his hands and his vivid imagination. Mental Derek was on call whenever he wanted him, not like real Derek who got a guy all worked up and ditched him while he was in the shower.

Stiles would be pissed about that later.

Right now he was focused on the fingers in his ass and the tight grip he had on his own dripping cock. This had to be the most intense masturbation session that he had ever had, and it was all thanks to his absentee Sourwolf. He wasn't sure whether to love him or hate him. Hate him, definitely. Because discovering how amazing his fingers felt inside of him, Derek's cock would've felt that much better. Stiles was honestly surprised at how much he enjoyed his ass being worked over. He'd overheard Danny talking about sexual classifications during gay sex. What was it called when you loved to have cock in your ass?

Oh. Power Bottom.

Stiles Stilinski: Power Bottom.

Interesting thought.

One that he actually thought he could get behind, despite the fact that he'd never had an actual dick in his ass. Whatever.

Another quick position change. Stiles was now on all fours, head buried in his pillow – teeth clenched against the smooth fabric of his pillowcase. His pants pooled as his knees, right hand pumping his cock while two fingers on his left hand probed at his own hungry hole. He was whining softly into his bed, orgasm threatening to spill over at any given moment. Sweat was forming on his brow, his shirt beginning to cling to his hot skin as he pumped both hands in their respective positions.

His head was now moving on its own accord, literally rutting against the mattress. He was going insane. The mental version of Derek had finally slid his substantial length into Stiles, but his mind still wouldn't allow him to form a mental picture of it. Stubborn ass Derek turned him around before taking his underwear off.

Stiles' mouth was open now, but no sound came out. His sexual high was so intense that he was actually rendered speechless. Unheard of.

"Who'd have thought that this is what it took to shut you up."

As per usual, Stiles flailed – scrambling to pull his comforter around himself. The voice hadn't registered to him. All he knew was there was someone talking when previously it'd just been him and his breathing. Stiles felt almost safe in his little hovel underneath his comforter shielding himself from any onlookers.

"And you told me not to start without you. Looks like you almost finished without me." Derek said shaking his head lightly.

Despite knowing it was Derek that caught him and not someone else, Stiles remained in his sanctuary. He was probably the brightest shade of scarlet right now. The guy he'd been fantasizing about had caught him in the act. In hindsight it shouldn't be as embarrassing seeing as a few hours ago Derek was gearing up to fuck him.

"I thought you ditched me." Stiles murmured, clinging to his comforter. He tried not to sound too… Disheartened. It would probably go unnoticed by Derek considering he lacked a full spectrum of human emotion. Not that Stiles would know one way or the other considering the fact that he refused to look at Derek.

"I told you I'd be back."

"Before I got out of the shower." He started; falling back against the bed letting the lower part of his legs stick out. "As you can see I've been out of the shower for a while."

Was Derek actually laughing at him, again? Truthfully, it was probably a funny sight. A sexually frustrated teenager essentially throwing a tantrum because he hadn't gotten what he wanted when he wanted it.

"I had something to take care of first." The way Derek spoke was strange. It was authoritative, but gentle at the same time. Like Stiles was free to ask more questions if he wanted to though Derek would've preferred he didn't. The younger boy was quiet for a fraction of a second as his brain tried to work out the tone.

"You picked now of all times to run errands?" Stiles' voice was incredulous. "What'd you do? Go pick up some puppy chow for the kids?"

"You're actually mad." There was more humor in Derek's voice. Weird. What was stranger was that Derek actually picked up on his shift in mood. It wasn't a difficult thing to notice, obviously. What was out of the ordinary was that he was actually upset. Anger wasn't an emotion that Stiles frequented, so when it crept into him just now he wasn't consciously aware of it. Oh and let's not forget that Derek was clearly amused by it.

"No. I'm not mad. I'm fucking horny and I've been blue balled twice."

Derek laughed, one of those breathy little sounds like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Stiles heard him rustling around, pulling at his comforter. Part of him wanted to hold onto it and make Derek work a little harder, but he resisted. Derek had lifted it just enough to poke his head in.

"If you come out of there we can actually do something about it."

And there was the smirk.

Fuck! It wasn't a dream. Derek Hale was still going to be a willing participant in the deflowering of Stiles Stilinski… Well, partial deflowering seeing as his own fingers had been doing a pretty good job of it just a moment ago.

Stiles conceded and pulled the covers off of his body. "Give me a second to fix myself." He said, pulling his shirt up and over his head. This one was gross already.

"I can't believe you were actually fingering yourself."

"Shut up." Stiles almost spat as he stuffed himself back into his jeans and clasped the button.

"Were you thinking about me?" Derek asked, that fucking smirk spreading across his lips again.

"No, ass. I was thinking about Jackson." Biting sarcasm tasted so good with a side of blue balls. Stiles bent over to pick up another t-shirt. Upon standing again Derek shoved him into the wall again, except this time Stiles was facing the wall and Derek was pressed against him from behind. Stiles beat his head lightly against the wall, unable to resist bucking his hips backwards into Derek – who was still surprisingly hard.

"Doesn't seem like you were thinking about Jackson." Derek said, hand gripping Stiles' hip tightly as he writhed his crotch into Stiles' ass. "I'm pretty sure this is all mine." Derek growled in Stiles' ear. Confidence hung on his every word, and if that wasn't enough he slapped Stiles hard on the ass. "Your Sourwolf, remember?"

Damn it he knew how to play hardball. Spanking was getting filed away as one of those kinks that Stiles enjoyed. Did Derek refer to himself as Stiles'? Interesting turn of events. He'd never thought in a million years he'd have such a privilege.

"Okay, okay. I was fantasizing about you." Stiles conceded without a fight. Besides, he wasn't really in a position to put up much of one anyways. He was too busy writhing against that bulge.

"Look at you, all eager. How good was I?" Derek seemed to be having too much fun with all these, which made Stiles roll his eyes. "How about you fuck me for real and you'll see for yourself." Stiles said, and Derek growled again. It was filled with something. Now that uncontrolled anger that he usually had, but with a sexual desire that had chills running down Stiles' spine.

"Let's go."

Stiles knew one thing for sure… His fantasy was going to have nothing on reality.