A/N: And...porn. :-)

Kissing Derek was so surreal. There were these two overlapping figures of who Derek was, intermingled in Stiles' brain: young Derek, who kissed soft and slow, like he only had a little experience but was fully confident that he could give Stiles what he wanted—he cared about what Stiles wanted. Then there was older Derek, always present in Stiles' mind, because he had known Derek first, known him longer, and he wondered—hoped—that older Derek would kiss like this too, maybe a little firmer, with even more confidence because he was freaking Derek Hale, but still, like this—like nothing in the world was more important than Stiles.

Derek tasted sweet and fresh—untainted. He slipped his hands around Stiles' waist, right around the edges of his shirt, the way he had in the locker room with Stiles' jersey, teasing the skin beneath. Stiles reached out to do the same, feeling his own red hoodie and the soft, thick fabric before he pushed his fingers up underneath and felt up along Derek's lightly muscled stomach.

Derek hissed.

"Ticklish?" Stiles asked against Derek's lips.

"Sometimes. A little," Derek whispered back.

"I love learning new things about you," Stiles sighed, leaning his forehead against Derek's as they caught their breaths. It was still so strange to stand like that with Derek and have Derek be that slight inch shorter than him. "I just…want you to remember this, if…I…I want you to remember."

Derek silenced him with another kiss, just a chaste capture of lips. Then his hazel eyes fluttered open and he stared into Stiles' warm brown that were so close. "We've known each other for…for months, right? I know for me…this me…it's only been a few days, but…being with you…feels like I was always here, like you were always here, like…"

"Like maybe we did this all before in another life, it's so damn easy?"

"Yeah…" Derek smiled, wide enough to show his crooked canines. "My mom says…that's what it feels like…when you find your mate."

Stiles swallowed, trying to think of how to calm himself down enough to not screw this up. He leaned back just slightly, his hands settled comfortably now on Derek's bare waist beneath the hoodie and borrowed T-shirt. "So…if I'm your mate…how does…you know…maintaining the pack work?"

Derek's brow furrowed, not understanding.

"You know…it's not like…we can have puppies," Stiles explained awkwardly.

Realization dawned and Derek laughed. "Maintaining the pack doesn't just mean…puppies," he said, only scrunching his face in distaste a little at the reference. "The pack can grow in all sorts of ways. Like the Bite. I'm covered—I have my pack. It's not about taking over the world, you know. It's about building a family and taking care of each other. I think this pack is doing a pretty good job of that so far."

Stiles could think of a few examples of how they so weren't—but then, given the circumstances, they should all be dead or worse by now, so he supposed they were doing pretty damn good.

He also had to stop and ponder for a moment that Derek had basically just confirmed that same-sex couples were totally A-Okay in wolf packs, because…puppies and the Bite basically came down to the same thing—more wolves—so the details didn't matter. The rest was just…fate. This was fate.

"And I don't…have to be a wolf, too?"

"Not unless you really want to be, but…I kind of like you just the way you are."

Stiles' fingers faltered on Derek's skin, and he squeezed a little when he resettled his grip, like he needed to be sure Derek was real. He'd never thought anyone would like him just the way he was—not even Scott or Dad.

Slipping one hand around to the dip in Derek's lower back, Stiles tugged Derek closer again, pressing firm against his lips and going in all the way—deep—to feel the heat of his mouth and tongue. Derek was always so warm. Stiles felt warm now, too, so warm…

Using his grip on Derek to turn them, Stiles pivoted and swayed into position, before he finally pulled out of the kiss again and pushed on Derek's chest so that he fell onto the edge of the bed. Derek looked pleasantly surprised as Stiles climbed onto his lap, knees bent and thighs settling on either side of Derek's hips. They were both already firm and straining against the constriction of the denim between them.

Stiles sighed deeply as he settled into place, taking Derek's face in his hands and pulling their lips together again. "I've always wanted to do this…" he whispered, just before their lips met. He had, too. With Derek—older Derek. He'd imagined it so many ways. Derek in Stiles' passenger seat in the jeep; Derek in Stiles' desk chair; Derek on the veterinary exam table; and so many other scenarios where Stiles would just climb onto Derek's lap, into Derek's life, and lay claim.

Little mules of pleasure formed in Derek's throat as Stiles rocked their hips together. Sure, Stiles had envisioned other scenarios, where Derek pushed him up against hard surfaces and had his wicked way with him, but…Stiles preferred this, preferred the part of Derek that would surrender and let someone else do all the work for a change, which Stiles knew—he knew—was still inside of the older Derek somewhere.

But young Derek was here now, and he gave in completely, without even a raised eyebrow of protest. He slid his hands around to Stiles' back, to the edge of his jeans, and slipped inside Stiles' boxers to the soft skin and curve of his ass beneath.

Stiles was so in over his head. He wanted this, all of it, right now, and no sensible part of his brain was functioning anymore to stop him.

His breath came in heavy pants when he let his lips rest, forehead against Derek's again as he unzipped the hoodie and pushed it from Derek's shoulders. The shirt underneath said 'DON'T PANIC'.

Damn Hitchhiker's and its perfect timing, Stiles thought.

"Stiles…" Derek breathed out, pupils blown and cheeks flush as he looked up at him.

"Umm…you've…done this before, right?"

Derek smiled and shook head.

Crap, that meant Kate had been his first. That meant…Stiles could be Derek's first.

Stiles stared at the words on Derek's shirt and tried to take them to heart, taking in slow, deep breaths.

"Stiles…it's okay," Derek said, slipping his hands out of Stiles' jeans and pulling Stiles closer by the waist. "I want to. I want to. Please…"

Everything in Stiles' brain was rapidly turning to mush. He tried to think through the process for this. Step 1) remove clothes. Step 2) touch Derek everywhere. Step 3) lube.

Did he have anything for lube? Then Stiles remembered the warming oil he had originally gotten for a banged up shoulder after lacrosse practice—that's totally what it had been for originally. He may have found other uses since.

"You aren't required to do complex physics equations, you know," Derek smiled up at him.

Stiles focused on the matter at hand, on Derek's hands on his waist, and his hands on Derek's shoulders. His jeans felt painful; he wanted to take them off—right now.

Deciding against any attempt at coherence, Stiles opted for a returned smile, and went for the hem of the 'DON'T PANIC' T-shirt, lifting it over Derek's head and off. Stiles tore his own shirt off as well, tossing it behind him somewhere into the abyss of the room. Derek was a little more filled out than Stiles was, but Stiles didn't feel as skinny or scrawny as he had always imagined he would in comparison to the older Derek. He actually felt pretty good, considering Derek stared at his bare chest like it was a tasty treat.

Derek took the initiative and pulled Stiles' into an embrace, nuzzling his nose into the base of Stiles' hairline, which was strangely familiar and comforting. Then Stiles peeked down over Derek's shoulder at his back, and grinned a little—the tattoo was there, but Stiles wondered if Derek even knew about it, since he had always assumed it had been something Derek got done later in life…in memoriam.

Stiles wanted to press his hips down into Derek's, but his jeans were too tight; he had to get out of them. "Slide back," he said, and they scooted up the bed, disentangling from each other to undress the rest of the way, only Stiles wasn't fully prepared for Derek to just…slide his shorts right down with his jeans, exposing his very prominent hard-on to the room, with only a small dusting of dark hair trailing up to below his navel.

Derek laid there, propped up on his side, wholly comfortable being naked, while expectantly watching Stiles shimmy out of his jeans beside him. Stiles was lying on his bed next to a naked Derek Hale. He quickly pulled his shorts off too.

It was weird, and so awkward, and Stiles thought he might have a stroke with how his heart was racing. But then Derek reached for his face, bringing the attention back to their eyes and just them, there together. Derek kissed him, deeply again, like he wanted to climb right inside of Stiles, and really, that didn't sound bad at all. Their bodies formed together naturally, like some magnetic pull, and the clashing of their erections made Stiles' shudder.

Stiles had to do something or he'd lose his nerve—maybe his mind. So he pressed a palm to Derek's chest and let his hand drift slowly lower, reminiscent of last night, when Derek had trailed bold fingers over Stiles' then still covered cock. Derek's skin was burning hot when Stiles' reached below his waist and wrapped his fingers tight.

"Stiles," Derek said in protest, or maybe just surprise, bucking forward into Stiles' hand.

"I can't believe I'm touching you…" Stiles murmured aloud, staring down the length of their bodies at how they were tangled, and how his hand was—

"Well…touch me, then."

—not moving, but should be. "Sorry," Stiles said, since he didn't know what else to say, but at the same time, he let his hand move, loosening and then tightening his fingers, and stroked.

The gasp Derek released was the most beautiful sound.

Stiles continued on, trying to think of this in the same way as when he touched himself, imagining the speed and tightness he liked, and applying that to Derek. It definitely seemed to be working, but Derek was too dry, even with leaking precum helping Stiles' strokes, so he removed his hand and lifted it to his mouth to lick a strip of wetness.

Suddenly, Stiles tongue was in Derek's mouth instead of licking his own palm, and he didn't really know how that had happened, but his hands were pinned up by his shoulders, and Derek's body was half sprawled atop his with Derek's now familiar firmness pressing into Stiles' thigh. The precum that remained on Derek made Stiles' skin itch as he thrust against him.

Derek pulled away to let Stiles gasp for breath only to slither down his body, low enough that Derek's head was…was...his lips were…

"Shit, you're…gonna kill me, I swear," Stiles gasped out. "Seriously, you don't…you don't have to…"

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek said with his wide grin, and somehow it was such a normal Derek thing to say that Stiles imaged the older Derek there, lips parting as they descended on him, and…it wasn't heartbreaking or nerve-wracking to think that way. Stiles didn't want one or the other version of Derek—he just wanted Derek, and everything that entailed.

Derek's naturally higher temperature meant that the inside of his mouth was just…hot, making the heat in Stiles' belly grow too hot too fast to match it, and he had to struggle to keep his hips from surging upwards. He glanced down again to find Derek's eyes closed, but when they opened…they flickered red, as he inhaled deeply of the hairs at the base of Stiles' cock. If Derek had a thing for Stiles' scent then that was definitely where it was most concentrated.

Seeing Derek so enthralled by what he was doing made the whole act that much sexier. And the more Derek's mouth wrapped around him, with Derek's tongue stroking at the underside of his cock, the more Stiles just wanted to grab Derek and…and…

Stiles gripped Derek's shoulders tightly, urging him to look up. "In…in the drawer…there's…" He nodded, as if that alone finished his sentence, which it seemed to, since Derek nodded in reply.

Leaving Stiles' body unfairly cold on the bed, Derek crawled over and opened the drawer in the nightstand, smiling when he found the small bottle with an orange cap and held it up.

"I had this…shoulder injury…"

Derek eyed Stiles with humored skepticism.

"It's been useful," Stiles added. "Come here…" He reached for Derek, urging the other boy to return to his side. Stiles didn't know how to make this next decision, so he was glad that Derek had the lube and would have to make the decision for them.

Which was why it surprised Stiles and sent a little jolt of electricity down his body when Derek pressed the bottle into his hand. Stiles licked his lips—stared at the bottle. He opened it and poured some into his hand like he had meant to lick his palm before, and immediately reached down to grip Derek with the silky liquid. It was warming oil, and Derek was already so hot.

Stiles turned in toward Derek, scooting closer, and let his erection slide against Derek's and into the heated oil. He wanted to just rut forward into that sweet friction, harder and harder until he came.

"Stiles…" Derek said softly, gently taking Stiles by the wrist. "It's okay." He pulled Stiles' hand lower, past the velvety skin beneath his cock…to the waiting opening between his legs.

Stiles' heart rate slowed—maybe stopped. He hadn't anticipated this. At the end of the day, he had always assumed their positions would be reversed. Because…because he trusted Derek, and he just wasn't used to the idea of Derek ever being trusting enough of someone else for…that. Not that Stiles was about to argue.

He let his fingers, which were already coated in the oil, press gently against the small, budded entrance. He kept his eyes locked on Derek's as he pressed a finger inside, mesmerized by the whole idea of what they were about to do, and how Derek's brow scrunched, and then relaxed, and then his eyes rolled back as Stiles stroked his finger along a curve.

The tight space was so smooth, made slick by the oil, and stretched wider at a slow but steady pace as Stiles worked his finger around. The angle was difficult, but he wanted to be able to keep contact, their erections both pressing into each other's hips as he kept his hand wedged between them…and slipped a second finger in.

Derek moaned and moved in time with Stiles' internal strokes, the oil making them slippery and sticky everywhere below their waists. Eventually Stiles pulled his hand away, adding more oil to his hand and coating himself with tender tugs—since he didn't trust that a few good pulls wouldn't send him right over the edge.

When Stiles was ready, and Derek looked so relaxed and ready, Derek rolled onto his stomach and lifted his hips. The very position—seeing Derek Hale in that position—sent little quivers through Stiles belly. He lifted up onto his knees behind Derek. At first, just to check how prepared Derek was, Stiles returned his two fingers and worked them around, amazed at how much more open Derek felt simply by being in this new position. He slipped in a third finger, confident that Derek was well-prepared, even if Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he was prepared, because this was him and Derek, and under these crazy circumstances, neither of them had ever done this before, and if Stiles took too long to think about all the reasons this might not be a good idea, he would totally lose his nerve.

So he didn't think, he just pressed himself against Derek and pushed in, slow and agonizing once the tightness started to surround him. He listened for Derek's breathing, for every sound Derek was making to be sure it was still okay. Derek gasped and moaned and finally pleaded with Stiles to just do it, and there was a growl tinging his voice right up until a roar left him as Stiles stroked home.

Stiles formed himself over Derek's back, pressed his face against the tattoo, and breathed in, feeling the dampness of Derek's skin, and the intense heat between them that was almost more than he could bear with the added warming oil. Then, gripping Derek's hips, he pulled back…and pushed in again, starting a steady rhythm that he kept tight control over in case Derek made any noise or gesture to indicate he wasn't enjoying this.

Stiles had to grin at the constant stream of 'very much enjoying this' that soon started falling from Derek's lips. Making Derek moan and ramble out incoherent mumblings of words and, occasionally, Stiles' name was like no other ego boost in the world. And Derek felt amazing. The tightness, the heat, the ease with which they connected…

Letting his hand trail over the tattoo a moment, Stiles' returned both hands to gripping Derek's hips, feeling the moment of completion already rapidly approaching—he was just happy he had lasted this long. But he wanted to know if Derek was there with him.

Reaching around Derek's hips with one hand, Stiles found Derek's oily and super-heated cock with his fingers, only wrapping them tight for a moment and pumping once before Derek's breath hitched, and Stiles felt added heat strike his hand.

Stiles grinned wider, lifted up again, and let his pace pick up. He was still conscientious of Derek, still struggling to not be too rough, but even after having already come himself, Derek moaned loudly in response to every thrust, and Stiles was soon spilling out his release too.

He collapsed against Derek's back, feeling sticky and exhausted. "You know…" Stiles said, "…I think…you might be the best thing…that ever happened to me."

They panted together a bit longer, until they had the strength to roll into positions next to each other on the bed. Derek's hazel eyes looked back at Stiles with such adoration, Stiles felt his heart beat stutter.

Derek's smile was so sated—so happy. "I think I love you too," he said.

tbc...

As much as I was looking forward to writing that, I'm really looking forward to the last two chapters. :-) More soon!

~Crimson1