A/N: I am so sorry for how late this is, but with the launch of Incubus, my novel, normal work things, BigWorldNetwork DOT com things, preparing for Chicago Comic Con in August, and various trips including family ones...this summer has been insane. I honestly have had no time. But here you are in apology...some nice dirty sex. Plus a surprise at the end, hehe.

Enjoy! And don't forget to check out Incubus on BigWorldnetwork DOT com if you enjoy my slash writing!

Once More with Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series

Chapter 3: Next Time

Stiles trembled down the full length of his body, which was currently held tightly against an apparently horny Derek Hale, Stiles' fists clenched in the alpha's shirt, and hips pressed firmly forward. He opened his mouth to say something snarky in response to Derek having to do him tonight, but was cut off as Derek kissed him again.

Stiles hummed. Derek's tongue was pleasantly invading the recesses of his mouth, his large hands sliding up and down Stiles' still somewhat damp skin from having taken a shower after practice. His shirt remained discarded on the nearby bench, his lacrosse stick between their legs on the ground. Stiles released a shuddery breath as Derek's mouth moved over his jaw and down his neck. There was this spot below Stiles' ear that made every part of him turn to jelly when Derek so much as sniffed it, and damn him and his awesome werewolf ways, because Derek bit down with a gentle but still firm claim right there.

Blinking through the darkness, knowing they were alone and that there was no reason for anyone else to return, Stiles figured he might as well take advantage of the moment. He released his grip from Derek's T-shirt, sliding his hands down and then up underneath the fabric to feather at Derek's belly.

Derek hissed. "Stiles…"

"Poor, ticklish puppy," Stiles spoke into Derek's hair, pressing their heads together and letting his hands tickle further along where Derek's jeans started. He wanted to slide his hands right down past the denim.

"Don't call me that," Derek warned, though there wasn't much malice in it.

"I can always go back to Youngblood."

A low rumble vibrated in Derek's throat, and a moment later, Stiles felt the alpha bite with just a little more possession at the juncture of his throat and collarbone. It wasn't enough to break skin or risk passing on the actual Bite, but it made Stiles tremble again and sink deeper against Derek. His knees shook at the combined sensations of Derek latched onto his neck, arms encasing him, while he slipped a hand down the front of Derek's jeans like he'd been wanting to and found Derek straining and burning hot.

Another rumble sounded from Derek's throat, making Stiles' chest tingle. "I told the others to take the night off," Derek said as he released his teeth but kept his face and warm breath by Stiles' neck. "The den is empty…and I have a surprise for you. A few surprises actually."

This was going to be a far better Friday night than Stiles had anticipated. "Shouldn't we start heading there, then?" he said eagerly.

"In a minute."

Stiles bit back a yelp as Derek's arms suddenly moved underneath him, hoisting him up so that his legs found natural holds around Derek's waist. The shift in positions pulled Stiles' hand from out of the front of Derek's jeans, which was a shame, but being lifted and practically slammed back into the lockers was a recurring fantasy Stiles was not about to waste.

Their lips reconnected and Stiles gripped either side of Derek's stubbled face. The scratchiness still took some getting used to, but he didn't mind. Although he did wonder how much younger Derek might look if he shaved.

Stiles bucked his hips forward, though their positions had him too high up on Derek's waist to connect the way he wanted. Still, pressing into firm muscle made him aware of just how ready he was to christen the locker room. Though, now that he thought about it, someone had probably already had sex in here before. Probably Jackson.

Damn, did Stiles' internal monologue really need to learn to focus.

Derek let the press of his body hold Stiles against the lockers while he moved his hands slowly up Stiles' sides and simultaneously brushed over his nipples. That helped with Stiles' focus immensely. But as he'd been really looking forward to this and could already feel himself embarrassingly close to finishing early, he managed to grip Derek's neck and pull their heads apart.

"Dude…sixteen-year-old here. I need…a breather." And he was gasping for breath enough to prove it.

Derek chuckled darkly—huskily. That was something Stiles knew he would only ever get from the adult Derek before him, and he loved every bit of that sound. "Okay," Derek said, moving his hands back to Stiles' hips and beginning to gradually lower him to the ground. "Wouldn't want to rush things with what I've got waiting. Hurry up." He released Stiles with a slight stumble back to the ground, then smacked the side of his ass.

Stiles gaped. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he could get used to this weird Derek mesh—where some part of him was healed, and funny, and playful—but he was really looking forward to discovering every last nuance of the new alpha.

He still rolled his eyes with a huffed, "Creeper," before scooping up his T-shirt, though.

Derek remained leaning back against the opposing lockers while Stiles finished dressing and gathering his things. Stiles was fully aware the entire time of the strain to Derek's jeans—and his own—which didn't seem to be dissipating.

Scott's mom in a cheerleading outfit! he thought quickly.

That didn't help nearly as much as Stiles had assumed it would. Damn Melissa for being so hot.

Dad in a cheerleading outfit! he tried again.

Stiles sighed in relief. Much better.

"Okay!" he turned back to Derek with enthusiasm, lacrosse bag and backpack slung over his shoulder. Of course even looking at Derek stirred his desires right back up again, so he swallowed thickly and moved past the alpha toward the exit. He wanted nothing more than to continue where they had left off, but somewhere without any threat of someone walking in on them. "Let's roll out!" he added dramatically, and reveled in the way Derek laughed—not only because Stiles was being ridiculous, but because Derek knew exactly what he was referencing.

Stiles practically skipped from the Camaro to the entrance down into the den. He slowed once he reached the steps, not wanting his more often than not bad luck to give him a sprained ankle for his enthusiasm. Derek managed to get to the bottom of the steps first and made him close his eyes.

"There's a very silly, sentimental part of you, Mr. Hale. I kinda like it," Stiles said as he groped blindly forward for Derek to lead him. He felt Derek's large hand close over his wrist and gently begin tugging him along.

"Shut up," Derek said matter-of-factly—not coldly like he used to. "I've been meaning to get to this for some time. You just gave me the motivation I needed."

Now Stiles was intensely curious, and he nearly tripped in his excitement even with Derek guiding him. He wasn't about to peek, though. He loved surprises.

Finally, Derek brought him to a stop. "Okay. Take a look."

Stiles opened his eyes…and at first wondered what gypsy magic Derek had performed to teleport him somewhere else, because he could hardly believe he was looking at the den. It was clean, and organized, and all around presentable. It was…decorated.

The large open area with mats and obstacles for sparring was still intact and mostly the same, but Stiles could tell that the floors, walls, everything had been carefully wiped down; the mats repositioned, and any makeshift weapons or other items they used during sparing had been carefully put away on brand new shelves against the wall.

The upper area beside the train car, which often acted as their gathering space, actually looked hospitable, with the sofa and chairs organized around an actual coffee table, with end tables, and even a little office space with desk and computer.

The train car itself was cleaned and sparkling, with curtains blocking any view inside. Stiles couldn't wait to see what Derek had done to the interior.

"I take it the second portion of my surprise is in there?" Stiles asked, knowing his smile had to be splitting his face, he was so amazed with what Derek had done to the place.

Derek merely smirked in reply. "I know this isn't a permanent residence by any stretch," he said, walking forward into the 'living room' area. "But we can make this work for now. There have been times, especially now that Chris is helping…that I've wanted to rebuild the house." He turned back to look at Stiles squarely, his expression somber but not as overcome with grief as it once might have been. "My house."

Stiles felt a wave of grief on Derek's behalf, but he understood. Of course he did. He remembered how important it was to rebuild so many metaphysical things after his mom died; the chance to actually rebuild Derek's old family home had to be the best kind of therapy Stiles could imagine. He just never thought Derek would actually go there.

He had always figured it would be too much, too hard, but now here Derek was, willing to face the past head on and rebuild—literally.

"I'll help," Stiles said firmly. "Everyone will. Of course I am completely inept with any and all power tools, and can't help haul heavy loads more than, like, 50 pounds without collapsing, but I can…direct. And bring snacks."

Derek laughed and shook his head. He crossed the space between them and gripped Stiles' wrist a little more firmly than before. "Come on."

Sprites of anticipation danced in Stiles' belly as Derek led him to the train car. And once he stepped over the threshold, the inside easily beat out everything else Derek had done to the place, because it wasn't just clean and organized, it was gutted, all of the seats and poles and other 'train car' elements gone, leaving an open space with enough room for a few rugs, a dresser, a place almost like a closet where Derek could hang some clothes, and…a bed.

It was only a twin—nothing else would fit in the narrow space—but it was there, with new sheets, a comforter, everything. There wasn't anything ridiculous like lit candles or dreamy music playing. There was just a lamp on in the corner that cast some soft light, and the covers of the bed were pulled back—inviting, simple.

So very Derek.

"Wow…this feels like some cheesy romance movie. Pinch me, please," Stiles said.

Derek released his wrist and smacked him in the arm. "It's just a bed. Which I'm expecting you to get on. Now." He grinned wickedly.

Stiles shivered. He was still a little hard from the locker rooms. The promise of what was to come had kept him from completely softening—somehow—and now he felt himself pulse anew at what was right in front of him. "Clothed or unclothed?" he asked, somewhat serious.

"I can help with that."

The air in Stiles' throat stuck halfway from escaping as a gasp when Derek stepped into his space and went straight for his jeans. Sure, they'd done this before. Twice—sort of. And the locker room had been hot. But this was somehow…different. More so because Stiles knew Derek planned to switch positions from last time, and Stiles had never done that before.

His jeans were loose enough, that once Derek undid them and tugged them past Stiles' hips, they fell the rest of the way to the floor. Stiles kicked out of his shoes while Derek lifted his T-shirt up over his head. Stiles was wearing the Batman underwear—pure coincidence, he'd swear to his grave—but he saw how the sight of them made Derek smile in amusement.

"Mmm…" Derek hummed, leaning into Stiles until his back hit the wall of the train car. He slid a hand down the front of Stiles' shorts and grabbed on tight to the bulge within, giving a few firm, promising strokes inside the fabric.

Stiles whimpered.

"You're too hard to resist," Derek said with a husky chuckle, before just as quickly releasing Stiles and using both hands to slide the underwear down his thin hips. Then Stiles was standing there, naked, in nothing but his socks. "Now…get on the bed and lie down—on your back."

When Derek pulled away slowly, eventually turning to head for the dresser, Stiles knew his knees were a little weak, but managed to scramble to the bed as ordered. He kicked the covers down to the foot of the bed once he got on top, and laid back with his head on the pillows, lifted up just enough to watch Derek.

The sexy alpha was gathering something from the bottom dresser drawer—a few somethings. It wasn't until Derek moved closer and set those somethings on the flat-topped chest at the foot of the bed that Stiles realized what the items were. A bottle of lube—expected and understandable. And…something else. It was fairly small, and purple, and shaped a little like a…shark?

Stiles opened his mouth to ask about it but was struck dumb as Derek began to slowly peel his own clothing away. He lifted his shirt off first, which really should have seemed like such a common occurrence to Stiles—seeing Derek Hale shirtless—that it shouldn't have fazed him, but the sight made him bite his lip anyway. Derek held eye contact with Stiles as he teasingly undid his jeans. He, as it turned out, wasn't wearing any underwear today, and the very idea that Derek had been commando during their locker room escapades, made Stiles' cock twitch.

"There's so many things running through my head…things I want to do to you—with you. But I figured we should start simple." Derek smiled and climbed onto the bed, fully nude. Stiles was still wearing his socks, but he felt too awkward to remove them now. He didn't think he could move, wondering what Derek had planned.

"So…umm…should I…?" Stiles stammered

"Just…relax," Derek said, as he crawled up between Stiles' legs, which Stiles parted only too willingly. "Relax," Derek said again, and lowered himself over Stiles to capture a kiss—firm, quick, a subtle swipe of his tongue—then he pulled away.

Derek's hands pressed to the flat of Stiles' chest, spreading outward in tandem over Stiles' shoulders and down his arms. They moved up again, following a reverse path, then drifted lower down Stiles' belly. As they began to move down Stiles's hips, they kept separated, along the outside of his thighs, rather than grazing the dripping and sensitive area at the center. Derek continued all the way down Stiles' legs.

When he reached Stiles' sock-clad feet, he chuckled. To Stiles' relief, Derek plucked them off and tossed them over his shoulders. Stiles stifled a squeak. He had already been naked in all the ways that mattered, but his final buffer was gone now. It made him feel even more tingly, and sensitive, and eager.

Derek repeated his gentle caressing of Stiles' body, moving up his legs but following the same course he had started with. Once he reached Stiles' stomach, he traveled down again. This time he moved in closer to the center, down the grooves of Stiles' hips and the inside of his thighs, while still expertly avoiding Stiles' now very much leaking cock that was practically jumping to be touched.

Derek didn't touch it. He moved his hands down Stiles' inner thighs and up again, then carefully, gently palmed the velvety skin of his balls to massage them.

Whimpers formed in Stiles' throat and spilled into the air. "Dude…" Stiles said, unable to keep his hips from arching in anticipation. He knew there was purpose to all of this, but he felt like he would go out of his mind if Derek didn't touch him—really touch him—soon.

And just at that moment, when Stiles knew incomprehensible gibberish was about to come pouring from his lips, Derek did. Sudden and all encompassing, Derek's large palm gripped the head of Stiles' cock, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure as he spread the excess of precum down the full length to the base.

"Ah!" Stiles nearly shouted, the initial tease and avoidance making actual contact feel that much hotter, and he yearned to be touched again and again as he thrust up into Derek's grip.

Of course then Derek pulled his hand away and began his trailing caresses again.

"Derek."

"You'll thank me," was all Derek said in reply, grinning mischievously all the while, which made Stiles want to smack him and kiss him at the same time.

"Okay, okay…who says I don't want to already? It's just…fuck." Stiles pressed his head back into the pillow as Derek moved from trailing up his stomach all the way down to give a few more playful tugs before sliding away again.

"That's the plan," Derek promised.

Stiles lifted his head once he'd caught his breath, wondering just what the plan was here, when he felt and saw Derek move away completely. He scooted down the bed to reach for the supplies on the chest, setting them higher up on the bed beside Stiles for easier access. Stiles stared at the shark…thing again, before being distracted by Derek pouring some of the lube into his hands.

One heated look from Derek was all Stiles needed before he lifted his legs up into a bent position and spread his legs wider. Derek smirked sideways as if to say 'you're so easy' which Stiles totally would deny if Derek actually said that—he was only easy for Derek.

The lube was cool as Derek poured a slow trail onto Stiles, so that it dribbled down his length, over the curve of his balls, and lower. Derek was kind enough to pump his hand through the slick liquid a few times and palm the velvety skin at the base again, before the first press of a finger.

Stiles buzzed, relaxed and wanting. He knew that was the point, but when Derek only let the tip of his finger slip in, Stiles moaned, "Come on."

"Patience."

"Don't have any."

"Like I don't know that already. Try anyway."

"Urrm…" Stiles tilted his head back again, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. Derek didn't want to rush him, didn't want to risk hurting him, he got that, but he'd never been so loose and open and ready for something in his life.

The first press up to the knuckle made Stiles gasp, and his eyes sprang wide. He moaned into every little internal 'come hither' gesture Derek made, stroking that perfect little bundle of nerves inside him. Stiles had contemplated playing with it before, but had never quite gotten up the never to press a finger all the way in. Having Derek do it felt amazing.

And Derek took his time. Just one finger, consistently working and stroking, then he'd pull out for a few seconds to smooth his hand up Stiles' cock again, then return to stretching him. It was only when Stiles' brain was about to melt that Derek finally moved on to the next level.

The second finger felt far easier to take in than Stiles had initially anticipated, but he was so relaxed by now, so turned on and practically ready to come, that he cursed beneath his breath and bucked up to get across that he really was ready for more, god damn it!

Still, Derek kept with two fingers for another minute or more, steady and methodic, despite the heat in his eyes that proved he was having a hard time keeping himself in check.

Finally, Derek pulled away and snatched up the shark.

Okay, so it obviously wasn't shark-shaped, really, and Stiles could see now what it actually was. The 'fin' was a curve to more comfortably fit the grooves of a hand. Derek gripped it just so and poured a little lube along the end, which was definitely not shaped like a shark head.

It was small compared to, well, Derek, but still a bit wider than his two fingers had been, as well as slightly longer. Stiles nodded when Derek met his gaze.

The initial press was…different. Tighter, fuller, but not painful—not after how meticulously Derek had prepared him. Once the bulb of the toy's head was in, Stiles nodded for Derek to press in further. He called out loudly when Derek did—more like screamed.

"Stiles…?"

"Oh god, do that again."

Derek chuckled. He proceeded with the same careful, slow, damn near torturous pace, stretching Stiles all the more with each thrust of the handy purple toy that Stiles so wanted to ask about—like, where did Derek buy that thing? Had he already owned it? Because either way Stiles really wanted video footage of Derek purchasing it.

And he might have asked more about it if he wasn't currently melting into a puddle of Stilinski on the bed. He noticed that Derek had ceased his occasional strokes along his cock, which was making Stiles leak precum all down the length again, feeling as though a single light touch would cause him to come with an unmanly yelp.

So of course that's when the purple toy of awesomeness—which Stiles might still call 'the shark' just so they had some secret sex lingo to use when they were around friends—was set aside, and Derek poured a few swirls of lube onto himself. Onto his modest but really quite perfect cock, that was still significantly larger than the toy, but not so daunting that Stiles was above begging.

"Oh my god, coz seriously, like, you have no idea, just right now, right now, please." There may have been a full sentence in there somewhere.

Stiles realized then, as Derek descended on him, that the poor Alpha hadn't had so much as a single stroke for himself, though he looked pretty damn pleased with what he was about to get. And he was so careful, just as slow and gentle as he'd been the whole time, despite the strain on his face that told a story of cracking control. Stiles even saw the alpha's eyes flash red and heard a slight tearing in the sheets as Derek dug his hands into the covers besides Stiles' hips with what Stiles assumed were claws.

That Derek still held control, right up until the moment when he bucked that last bit forward and made Stiles moan uncensored toward the ceiling, just made it easier for Stiles to fully surrender.

Stiles lifted his legs and trapped Derek in place with his heels pressing into Derek's perfect ass. They held there for a moment, deeply connected, while Derek allowed Stiles the time to fully adjust. Stiles reached up to grip the back of Derek's neck, tugged at the little hairs there, and smiled when Derek met his eyes—flickering red to golden brown.

Derek shifted, lifted, and thrust in again, picking up pace slowly but steadily as Stiles urged him on. He'd imagined this being more difficult, more painful, but Derek had taken such painstaking precautions to prevent that, he barely even noticed the occasional pinch of tightness. Oh, he'd feel it later, he was sure, but right now his senses were on overload and he was loving every minute of it.

Derek lifted a clawed hand to touch Stiles, then thought better of it.

Stiles noticed, grinned wide, and took a hand to himself instead, watching Derek the whole time, eyes locked—except for those moments when Derek turned his eyes on the sight of Stiles stroking himself and licked his lips.

Stiles was so far gone, he came within a few short minutes. His muscles tensed as he did, and Derek let out his first moan, a sound Stiles never got tired of hearing.

The difference after coming was that Stiles felt even more relaxed, even more open, and the awesome tingly feeling didn't dissipate. He tightened their connection with his heels digging even deeper into Derek's ass, and rode out his partner's finish with a continued tirade of moans and agreements and utterances of 'fuck' and 'Derek' and 'holy shit, I love you'.

Derek pulled out of Stiles when he came, spilling onto Stiles' stomach with a cringe and then a satisfied smoothness to his forehead. Watching Derek come—above him, on him—was enough that Stiles felt his cock twitch to life again, though he knew he was too tired for a round two. At least not right now.

Derek remained poised over him, Stiles' legs quaking from how they had been stretched apart as he set them back onto the mattress, and they simply stared for a few moments. Derek's eyes were hazel again, and filled with affection. With gratitude and awe. The moment was perfect. Flawless.

"My, my…" interrupted Peter's wholly evil and unfair voice amidst the silence, "…what have you two been up to while I was away?"

TBC...

More soon! Thanks for reading!