Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4706702.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      devirginizing, Top_Derek_Hale, Bottom_Derek_Hale, Top_Stiles_Stilinski,
      Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, First_Time, Loss_of_Virginity, Anal_Fingering
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-01 Words: 7923
****** A Sacrificial Virgin ******
by darksylvia
Summary
     Stiles goes to Derek for help in getting rid of his virginity. For
     his own safety, obviously. (Post 303 "Fireflies" gapfiller.)
Notes
     I started this immediately after that episode and then got distracted
     by all the other people writing awesome "Derek devirginizes Stiles"
     fics. I finally decided to finish it, you know, two seasons after
     that episode. But have some smut!
     I couldn't find a beta, so if you see any weirdness, corrections
     welcome.
See the end of the work for more notes
Stiles hadn't really cared that much about his virginity, before the whole
sacrificial virgins and threefold gruesome death thing. It wasn't that he
hadn't thought about it - a lot - but he'd kind of just been focused on finding
someone who could stand him, and the idea that they might have sex with him too
had seemed overly optimistic. And now, well, he couldn't get Heather out of his
head. He could still feel her mouth, which had tasted a little like alcohol and
her waist, which felt vulnerable and weirdly female in a way he hadn’t
expected. But even that was eclipsed by the picture he carried in his head of
her dead face on stainless steel morgue table.
Then after his initial terrifying realization of what the victims had in
common, it processed that he should get rid of his virginity with extreme
prejudice. Fuck, he would go to Jungle right now and lose it in a bathroom to
the first a horny dude who didn’t ask how old he was, if he wasn't terrified of
the possibility that the killer would somehow be the one to find him.
He needed to have sex with someone who most definitely wasn't the killer, and
who understood that it was literally a matter of life and death, no hyperbole
necessary. Scott might do it if he begged, but Stiles wasn't sure if either of
them could actually handle that, or even be able to stay hard long enough to
make it happen. The mechanics made him feel gross and squirmy. Allison - well,
even if she was amenable to taking one for the team, which she probably
wouldn't be, because how fucked up was that? - but even if she was, her father
would probably shoot Stiles, and Scott might help. Isaac? Stiles tolerated the
dude, but underneath his perfect curls, Stiles was pretty sure there lurked -
understandably - the kind of issues that came out all sorts of wrong,
especially in combination with sex. He felt like Isaac didn’t have control of
the predatory side of the whole werewolf business. He dismissed Boyd and Cora
for obvious reasons of werewolf insanity and also already suffering enough
recent trauma. Which left Peter and Derek.
That was when he started feeling selfish and conflicted. He was pretty sure
Peter would fuck him, if he asked. But Stiles was still really fucking
terrified of Peter, and oh, yeah, did not trust him at all. For all he knew,
Peter actually was the one sacrificing virgins.
Having sex with Derek, on the other hand, was a little too appealing. Stiles
kind of, sort of, already wanted to bone Derek. Except Stiles had some pretty
terrible suspicions about Derek and his sex life. He was pretty sure he wanted
Derek more than Derek would want him, and asking him to have sex with Stiles
would feel manipulative.
So Stiles stewed on it until he couldn’t any more. After freaking out for
thirty six hours and only truly sleeping for like six of those, in between all
the fucked up internet research he was doing on virgin sacrifices and what they
could be used for, and having terrible waking hallucinations of Heather's face,
Stiles somehow found himself in his jeep at ass o'clock in the morning driving
to Derek's loft.
He felt blank from lack of sleep, kind of soothingly not responsible for any
dumb actions he was about to take, but underneath was the same terror he’d been
living with for days, because he really, really did not want to die. Even the
thought sent his pulse rocketing and he had to shove it out of his head fast in
order to keep calm and drive.
It took a few long minutes after he'd banged on Derek’s door for him to finally
hear footsteps, and then the door was dragged back and Derek was standing on
the other side, his habitual glare in place, but no worse than usual. He didn't
look like he’d just woken up, but he did look tired.
"What is it, Stiles?" he said.
"I, um," Stiles ran a hand over his head. "I need a favor."
Derek sighed as he stepped aside for Stiles to enter.
"Where is everybody?" Stiles asked, scanning the loft and hoping he sounded
casual.
"Isaac's with Scott. Boyd and Cora are upstairs, sleeping it off. Peter's
fucked off to wherever he lives, I guess. What's the favor?"
"It's - " Stiles licked his lips nervously and paced around the table as he did
it, avoiding looking at Derek's bed, right in the middle of the floor.
"Okay, this is embarrassing, but I'm just gonna say it, like ripping the
bandaid off or whatever." Stiles swallowed around what felt like an apple
lodged in his throat. "Will you have sex with me?"
Derek blinked, his habitual expression of part-glower, part-mainpain not even
wavering. Stiles watched him for a few seconds, and felt less nervous than he
had before he'd said it. Now it was out on the table. The worst thing that
could happen was Derek would say, incredulously, what the fuck, Stiles, and
Stiles would go home and think of a plan B.
But the longer the silence stretched, the more conscious Stiles was of the fact
that Derek had not, in fact, said anything.
Finally, Derek frowned, which was just a little more frowny than his normal
expression, and ran a hand over his face as if he was just too tired to
contemplate life before he finally said, "Are you sure it's me you want to
ask?"
"Uh, yeah," said Stiles, confused.
"Why?" Derek said, looking equally confused, and great, now they were both
confused.
"Well," Stiles hedged, suddenly a lot more awake, while he identified about six
thousand things he shouldn't say in the space of a few seconds, until he was
left with pretty much nothing he could say, especially when Derek could tell if
he was lying. He finally settled on, "I literally and emphatically do not want
to die a virgin."
Derek made an impatient face and said, "Why me? Why not Scott or…" he trailed
off and Stiles nodded at him.
"Yeah, you see my problem. See, the last person who wanted to have sex with me
is laying on a table in the morgue. And I'm pretty sure I couldn't, with Scott,
even if he could with me."
"But you could, with me?" Derek still looked puzzled, but it was overlaid now
with that overly patient condescension he used on Stiles so much of the time,
and maybe it was the familiar ground, but Stiles' apprehension evaporated.
"Yeah, with you," Stiles said, annoyed. "I know you, I know you're not the
killer, I'm hoping that maybe you don't want me to die, and you know, seeing
you naked wouldn't exactly be a hardship for me or anyth - " Stiles cut himself
off because Derek's expression had intensified, no blinking, the condescension
completely gone, and just like that Stiles was nervous again.
"Sorry?" Stiles said. "I wasn't trying to objectify you or whatever, and I get
that I'm not, like anyone's ideal, and I don't even know if you swing that way,
so maybe we can just pretend I didn't ask and go back to being whatever we are
- collaborators in the fight for Beacon Hills?"
Derek stayed intense, and gave a short, sharp shake of his head resulting in
his eyes flashing red, and Stiles couldn't help the way his heart stuttered in
his chest.
"Let me get this straight," said Derek, apparently not seeing any irony in that
sentence what-so-ever as he started stalking toward Stiles. "You want me, a
person of interest to the police, to take your virginity, you being the minor
son of the county Sheriff, in order to save your life?"
"Yes," said Stiles, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice. He
straightened his spine and stood his ground when Derek crowded him against the
edge of the table, his arms braced on either side, almost but not quite
touching him.
"We've both broken more important laws than that this last year, and I can
guarantee you I'm not going to be telling my dad about this, just like I
haven't told him about werewolves or fucking--," Stiles waved a hand "--Hunters
and Kanimas." Stiles felt a surge of renewed stubbornness come over him. "I
really don't want to have my throat slit or my head bashed in, or be strangled
to death. And you're the only one I know that I one hundred percent want to see
naked, and that I can ask without sounding insane."
And, ha, there, Derek looked taken aback. When Stiles licked his lips
nervously, he saw Derek's eyes flicker down to them. Stiles, ever the
adventurer, decided to test the boundaries a little bit. So he leaned forward
and caught Derek's mouth. Stiles knew he wasn't bad at this, at least. He might
be a virgin, but he had made out with more than a few people in his time,
mostly at dumb junior high parties, but still.
It felt like a small miracle when Derek kissed back.
Derek's hands closed on Stiles' arms in a manner that was just forceful enough
to be debilitatingly hot. Then Derek tilted his head and really started
participating, his mouth and his hands hot on Stiles' skin.
When Derek broke the kiss, Stiles found himself clutching ineffectually at
Derek’s shirt, and short of air. Derek gave him a distinctly wolfish smile,
more like when he was a newly turned alpha and asked, "Are you still sure you
want this from me?"
It hit Stiles that Derek was possibly trying to intimidate him, what with the
trapping him against the table and the red eyes and the hard grip. But he had
to know it wasn't going to work, right? For one thing, if Stiles wasn't scared
away by being slammed into bedroom doors or threatened with teeth at the start
of their association, he doesn't know why he would find some aggressive kissing
and manhandling intimidating now.
He was actually ten percent more sure, so Derek's plan had horribly backfired.
Which, to be fair, was pretty much business as usual.
Stiles was not feeling tentative any more. He leaned in and reconnected with
Derek's mouth, licked quick and teasing against his bottom lip, and then inside
just a little bit. He pressed forward so they were chest to chest. Then he
tightened his hold and angled his head so he could kiss Derek deep and wet.
That seemed to be the magic "no I'm not joking, let's have sex" kiss, because
suddenly Derek moved his hands down to Stiles' ass and easily lifted him onto
the table. Stiles obligingly wrapped all of his limbs around Derek, which Derek
seemed to like, if you could judge by the way he stepped closer and nipped
Stiles’ lip.
After several more kisses, Derek muttered a small “fuck” into his mouth,
scooped him up and took several steps toward the bed, only to peel him off and
toss him down.
"Wha--" he got out, before Derek followed him down, and the kissing
recommenced.
It was some time later, the exact length of which Stiles was hazy about, that
Derek yanked his mouth away and flattened a hand against Stiles' chest to keep
him from following.
"How do you want to do this, if we're going to do this?" Derek asked.
"Uh, I figured," Stiles paused and felt a sudden unwanted attack of nerves come
crawling up from his stomach. "I don't know what counts as virginity, exactly.
I was hoping we could do everything? I mean, well, both ways? Just to be
absolutely sure."
"Right," said Derek, drawn out, like he was a little skeptical, but going along
with it for now, which - it was Stiles' virginity, so Derek could just deal
with Stiles' plans.
"So, how do we…start?" Stiles asked.
"I'm not sure, I've never been with a guy before," said Derek, gruffly.
"What, really?" said Stiles, kind of appalled. "Are you sure you want to do
this then?"
Derek gave him a familiar exasperated glare and said, "It's not that I haven't
thought about it, or that it bothers me, I've just never actually done it. So
we'll just take it slow. Take off your clothes."
He got off the bed, knelt beside it, and dug out a bottle of lube from some
sort of drawer, along with a few condoms.
"Yeah, right, good plan," said Stiles, a sentence he had never said
unsarcastically to Derek and probably would never say again. But he sat up and
started pulling off his clothes. He got his shirt off, his shoes off, had
unzipped his jeans and was shimmying out of them when he stopped and realized
Derek was staring, frozen, still kneeling on the floor.
"What?" he said, mid-shimmy. Derek stood up abruptly and climbed back into the
bed, dropping condoms and lube so he could hook hand around Stiles’ thigh - his
bare thigh - and yank him sideways, closer. Derek's hands were warm and Stiles
had seen them clawed and terrifyingly strong, and now they were firmly,
attentively curled around Stiles' thighs, knees, calves, removing his jeans,
until one hand circled Stiles’ ankle as the other pulled his clothes free.
Stiles couldn't even think of anything witty to say. He just kind of gaped up
at Derek for a long moment, Derek's hands still hot on him and finally he
croaked out, "You too. No clothes time starts now."
Wordless, Derek pulled his shirt over his head one-handed and then got to work
on his jeans, but Stiles suddenly realized he wanted to be involved. Mostly he
hindered, but there was just all this muscle and skin, and he never thought
he'd have a thing for chest hair, but apparently he did, and he needed to touch
it immediately.
"I'm not even sure how - " started Stiles, "Like, how does one even get this
ripped? What sort of sit ups could you possibly do to get this little ridge of
muscle, for instance," and Stiles traced a finger over the side of Derek's abs.
Derek twitched and caught his hand. "Are you - was that - are you ticklish?"
"Dont even think about it," said Derek, before he leaned in and kissed Stiles
again. There was a hand cradling his head, and one winding its way down his
back in a leisurely manner, and Stiles was half high on nerves and half high on
lust, so basically he was one hundred percent high.
Derek captured both of Stiles' hands and coaxed them down to Derek's hips.
Stiles got with the program and pushed Derek’s pants down, broke the kiss so he
could look between them and watch. He wanted to see what Derek’s dick looked
like.
Derek’s dick looked normal enough, though uncircumcised, and maybe not quite as
long as Stiles’. Derek's uneven breathing made his mostly-hard dick bob a
little against his stomach, but he made no move to hurry things along, resting
one hand loosely on Stiles’ shoulder and the other hanging at his side. The
breathy noise he made when Stiles ran his fingers over the head of his dick was
purely awesome.
It only just hit him then, really, that it was supposed to go inside Stiles at
some point, if he wanted to be really, really sure he was devirginized by
whatever definition the sacrificer was using. It was simultaneously a really
hot and faintly scary thought, and he hadn't realized how much he'd been
relying on Derek to be the experienced one with this. Now they were going to
have to figure it out together, which he supposed wasn't much different than
most of their interactions thus far.
"Do you want to - go first?" asked Derek, gratifyingly breathless. "I mean -
it's probably the safest since you can't hurt me."
Stiles frowned at him.
"Was that negging? Did you just neg me? I assure you that I'm not going to hurt
you, because uh, yes I could hurt you and yeah, you'd just heal from it, but
I'm pretty sure there should be no one getting hurt during sex at all."
Derek rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
And now suddenly, Stiles was filled with the most incredible determination to
make this mindblowingly awesome, as a personal 'fuck you' to Derek's martyrdom.
Forget that he was a virgin, forget that he'd only ever seen this in porn, and
forget that he had no idea how to finger someone else, he at least knew the
principles of what he had to do to make this not suck.
"Okay, way to make a guy feel confident." Stiles took his hand off Derek's
dick, which made Derek choke back some sort of noise of protest. "Lay down."
He let Derek settle and they both helped wrestle Derek’s jeans and underwear
the rest of the way off his ankles. Stiles knelt carefully between Derek's
splayed legs, grabbed the lube and set it near Derek's hip, but leaned forward,
bracing himself over Derek.
Stiles paused for a long moment, trying to think of how to phrase it and
finally said, "Tell me if I do something you don't want me to," and then
brushed his lips against the stubble of Derek's jaw like he'd been wanting to
do basically since forever. It was softer than he'd thought it would be. He
kissed the place where Derek's jaw met his neck and then sucked on it a little.
Derek let out an unsteady breath and Stiles knew he was on the right track, but
"mind-blowing" required a little something more.
Without even thinking about it, he ran his hands down Derek's arms, but he
overbalanced a little and ended up with his face smashed into Derek's shoulder.
Derek caught him by his biceps and righted him with a small soundless laugh
escaping, so Stiles scraped his teeth over Derek's collarbone in retaliation,
which turned the laugh back to a breathless noise.
Stiles wasn't done touching. He'd been seeing Derek's bare chest for months
now, and he was not going to waste possibly his only opportunity to touch it.
He ran his knuckles over Derek's abs, testing that ticklishness. Derek caught
his wrist, but when Stiles met his eyes, he let go, and Stiles continued up,
brushing over one of Derek's nipples. That got a startled quickly stifled
noise, so Stiles rubbed his thumb over it, and watched Derek's eyelashes
flutter.
He moved his hands down to cup Derek's waist and, trying to appear confident,
put his mouth on Derek’s nipple instead. That got him a louder sound, rough and
surprised, like Derek hadn't known he was going to make it. Stiles startled a
little when Derek wrapped a warm hand around the back of his neck, and the
resulting scrape of teeth caused Derek to arch slightly into him.
"Christ, Stiles," he said. "I didn't even know - " but he cut himself off.
Stiles had to stuff down the smug smile he could feel trying to spread over his
face in order to keep paying Derek’s nipples the attention they deserved. By
that time, Derek wasn't even trying to hold back his little noises or the
restless, helpless way he moved against Stiles' mouth.
Stiles decided to take it a little further south. Derek scratched gently at the
base of his scalp and then he ran his hand over Stiles' head, squeezing his
neck as Stiles kissed down the valley between Derek's unreal abs.
"Unreal," he muttered into them, equal parts resentful and grateful. He bit
lightly just above where his hands were wrapped firmly around Derek's tapered
waist, and Derek twisted into it, his fingers tightening in Stiles' hair.
Stiles' tongue collided with the head of Derek's dick almost by accident, but
after a frozen second, Stiles didn't pull away. Instead Stiles deliberately
wrapped his tongue around the tip and earned a choked cry from Derek.
I am licking Derek's dick, he thought to himself, waiting for it to get weird.
And it was a little, but it was a lot more hot than it was weird, and before he
could let himself start to over think it, he closed his mouth over the tip and
sucked a little. Derek made a strangled sound that had a passing acquaintance
with the syllables of Stiles' name and straight-up yanked his hair so hard it
hurt just a little bit - but more shocking was that it felt like an electric
current had shot through Stiles grounding itself out through his dick.
"Oh. That - Oh," Stiles muttered.
"Sorry," Derek muttered, and took his hand away.
Stiles backed off a little, looked down at Derek's dick, and then with no more
hesitation, dove back in to see if he could take it deeper.
"Fu-, Sti-," said Derek, who was seemingly incapable at the moment of full
words, let alone sentences. Stiles got a hand around the base of Derek's dick,
angled it better, and slid it into his mouth. Derek's response was to wrap one
of his legs around Stiles and tremble, like it was taking everything he had not
to thrust up. It was one of the most gratifying things Stiles had ever
experienced, and it made him bold. He took a deep breath and tried to take more
of Derek's dick.
Then he had to pull off real quick, coughing, his eyes watering. Okay, later
for that then. Clearly it actually did take practice.
"Sorry," he said, around the coughing.
"Just as well," said Derek. "I don't want to come before…" He trailed off and
averted his eyes. Stiles thought he could make out just the slightest hint of
blush across Derek's cheekbones and it took everything Stiles had not to gloat
over it. He had a feeling any teasing at this point would throw a wrench in the
devirginizing.
Once he'd caught his breath, he became aware of how he was kneeling between
Derek's spread legs, Derek's cock red and wet, resting against his stomach,
moving with each of Derek's uneven breaths.
"So…" said Stiles, trying to get his brain going. "I've never fingered another
guy. Have you done it to yourself?"
"A little," said Derek. Then, like it cost him to admit it, "Never more than
one finger." He was looking a little off to the side, blank-faced.
Stiles felt a surge of genuine fondness wash over him, mixing around with the
lust, and now he suddenly wanted to get Derek off not to prove anything, or
even to get rid of his pesky life threatening virginity, but just to make Derek
feel really good.
"I've, um, done more than one on myself. I know what I like so, just, uh. Tell
me if you want me to slow down or do something different or - "
"Stiles," said Derek, finally looking him in the eye again. "Just do it."
"Yes. Okay," said Stiles. He took a deep breath, grabbed the lube, and flipped
the cap, poured some over two of his fingers. He flexed them, rubbed his thumb
over them to warm it up, looking between Derek's legs. He glanced up at Derek,
but Derek's eyes were focused with a flattering intensity on Stiles' hand.
"Okay. I'll just - " Stiles moved forward, slid his unlubed palm reassuringly
over Derek's thigh, nudging it further apart, and then palmed Derek's ass to
lift him a little bit so he was braced on Stiles' knees. He slid a finger from
behind Derek's balls slowly down until it rested against Derek's hole, just
letting him get used to the pressure of it. He nudged the tip inside a little,
felt Derek let him in, and nudged a little further. Stiles kept expecting Derek
to clench down, tense up, but though his breathing got erratic, his body opened
right up until he had one finger in to the knuckle.
"Holy God," Stiles muttered. He pulled it out just a little and then pushed
back in. He could feel how warm and tight Derek was, could feel his pulse. It
was kind of terrifying how vulnerable Derek was to him right then, werewolf or
not.
"You can move it, you know," Derek said. Stiles thought he was aiming for
annoyed, but mostly he just sounded breathless.
"I'm getting there, big guy." Stiles, feeling bold, wrapped his other hand
around Derek's dick and gave it a stroke at the same time as he pulled his
finger out and thrust it back in.
Derek made a hoarse noise and rolled his hips. Stiles kept it slow and then
added another finger, tentatively, but Derek just took that one like he’d taken
the first, his body opening up and his eyelashes fluttering, and various
muscles on his chest flexing as he arched into it, and Jesus Christ, Stiles
might come just from watching him.
Stiles tried to add a third too soon and Derek’s body clenched down around him
in protest, “Sorry, sorry,” muttered Stiles, sliding his fingers out.
Derek curved forward in a half sit-up and caught his wrist. “Don’t stop,” he
said, and if Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think there was a thread of
desperation in his voice. “Just...try again slower.” He pulled Stiles’ hand
back until his fingers brushed Derek’s hole, and they both seemed to have
trouble breathing at that point. Then Derek laid back down and Stiles pressed
back inside of him, just a little, just two fingers, and worked them in and
out, slow and firm. After a little while, Derek caught his eye and nodded, so
Stiles very carefully fitted a third finger alongside his other two and pushed
slow-slow-slow. He watched Derek’s face, looking for any sign he should stop,
some minutes later added a fourth, and was rewarded by getting to see the way
Derek’s eyes went soft and unfocused, the way his lips parted and his eyebrows
relaxed out of their habitual shape. It made him look younger and so vulnerable
that Stiles had to glance away.
When Derek was taking Stiles’ fingers easily, his breath hitching on every
thrust, Stiles pulled them out and leaned over to get a condom. He got the
package open but then got distracted by Derek wrapping a firm hand around the
back of his neck and hauling him in for a kiss, so their bodies were pressed
completely together. Stiles’ dick lay alongside Derek’s and both of them were
rolling their hips into each other, kissing open mouthed and out of breath.
“Here,” said Derek, snatching the condom out of Stiles’ hand and nudging him
back enough for Derek to reach down between them and put the condom on Stiles.
He held his breath, trying to will away how close he was to just coming all
over Derek without even getting his dick anywhere useful. “Okay,” said Derek.
“Slow.”
“Right,” said Stiles, nodding too much. “Yes. Slow.”
He started to brace himself over Derek and then thought better of it, kneeling
again and gripping Derek’s hips to slide him back up into Stiles’ lap. Then he
shifted his hips until they were lined up, nudged, testing. The head of his
dick pressed inside before he met resistance and he felt his whole body seize
up with how good that felt. He leaned - fell, let’s be real - forward, bracing
himself over Derek and rocked in a little harder.
He was halfway in when he noticed Derek wasn’t making any noise at all. He
looked up quickly to check, and choked at the sight of Derek, arms flung over
his head and clutching the edge of the bed, his head thrown back, eyes closed,
lips parted. Almost involuntarily, Stiles thrust forward the rest of the way,
couldn’t help how his arms trembled. Derek made a noise, a sort of satisfied
sound like nothing Stiles had ever heard from him before. Stiles had to press
his forehead into Derek’s chest hard, and just hold his breath for a long
moment while he tried not to go off like rocket.
“Hey,” said Derek, his voice rough, but his tone gentle.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Stiles muttered. He felt a broad hand stroke
down his back.
“You can come if you want,” said Derek. “I’m pretty sure this counts. We could
take a break and then I could, um, do you.” The awkwardness, and maybe even the
way Derek sounded understanding about it, drew Stiles back from the edge just
enough that he remembered his mission. Derek was going to fucking enjoy this or
his name wasn’t Stiles Stilinski.
“Fuck you,” Stiles muttered indignantly.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” said Derek, smug and laughing, but still a
little breathless underneath.
Stiles forced his arms to work again, lifted his head and fixed Derek with a
glare. Then he shifted his knees out a little to give him better balance, with
the added benefit of spreading Derek’s legs further apart. The look that
crossed Derek’s face was amazing, all soft pleasure, like his brain had gone
off line. Stiles had had no idea Derek would look this good getting fucked and
now he would never be able to unsee it.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hips back just a little and thrust. The
pleasure of it nearly made him black out for a second, but he breathed through
his nose and did it again, drew a little further out, pushed a little harder
back inside. By his third thrust, Derek was moving with him, demanding a
rhythm, his eyes fluttering like he wanted to keep them open but couldn’t.
He could feel sweat start to ease their slide against each other, could hear
Derek grunt when Stiles got it just right, so he followed that noise until
Derek was clutching him - his hair, his neck, his ass - their breath coming
shuddery and fast.
“Stiles,” Derek rasped, desperately working himself into each of Stiles’
thrusts. Stiles moved one hand so that it was over Derek’s shoulder, balanced
himself as well as he could without stopping the roll of his hips, and reached
between them to get a hand on Derek’s dick, no longer even thinking about what
he was doing, just determined to get Derek off before Stiles collapsed or came
or both.
Derek’s hand wrapped around his, tightened, and then Stiles could feel Derek’s
whole body tense and curl inward, the hand that was on Stiles’ ass held on so
tight, he could barely thrust, and then it was non-issue, because Stiles was
coming right along with Derek, so hard his toes curled and he vaguely felt his
calf cramp, and it didn’t even hurt because Derek’s body dragging his orgasm
out of him felt so good.
He collapsed on Derek, gasping - probably unattractively, but whatever - and
waited until his brain had scraped itself back together. When he was a little
more aware again, he realized Derek was...petting him. He carefully pried his
hand from where he’d been clutching Derek’s arm, tucked his head a little
further into Derek’s chest for a brief moment and then pushed off. He knew this
part - Beacon Hills High had pretty good sex ed - and grabbed the condom so he
could ease himself out. He tied it off and then felt stupid and awkward because
he had no idea where Derek’s trash was. They’d just fucked and Stiles didn’t
even know where the trash was in Derek’s apartment.
Derek nudged him with a foot and nodded his head toward it, nearer the kitchen.
Stiles got up, all of his limbs wobbling, and made his way over, hating how he
suddenly felt exposed and weird. Was this how everyone felt after their first
time? He tossed the condom and then dithered, wondering if he should just go
crawl back in like it was no big thing or if he should clean off or what.
“Stiles,” said Derek, exasperation in his voice. “Come back here and stop
making it weird. We’re not finished yet.”
“Yes,” said Stiles. “Of course. Right.” He nodded once, like he was agreeing
with himself and then shook his head and strode back to the bed, wanting to get
in where Derek couldn’t see all six feet of his awkwardness, wandering around
like a massively inexperienced tool.
It was still awkward for a few moments, right until Derek let out an annoyed
breath, slid an arm under Stiles’ shoulders and aggressively rearranged him
until they were spooning, Derek’s knees tucked behind his. Stiles would have
expected that to feel awkward, too, but it wasn’t, it was a relief. He could
feel the jittery embarrassment that had been building in his chest die back
down, Derek’s breath against his neck, their chests moving in time.
“Only if you want to,” said Derek, after a long moment.
“Wha-” Stiles said, having started to drift off.
Derek shifted the arm around Stiles and when he spoke Stiles could feel it all
the way through his back into his own chest. “This probably counted. We don’t
have to do it the other way if you’re uncomfortable.”
“We’ve gotta be thorough,” Stiles muttered, and then, feeling like he owed it
to Derek to at least admit it when he’d already let Stiles fuck him, added,
“Besides, I already told you - it’s not a hardship. I want to. I mean, uh. If
you’re okay with it.”
“Yeah,” said Derek. He ran a hand over Stiles’ head. “You’re pretty good at
this,” he said, sounding fond, “for a virgin.”
Stiles elbowed him. “Don’t front, I rocked your world.”
Derek didn’t deny it, but paused and said, “Guess I’m gonna have to do the
same,” but he didn’t make any move to start anything right away. They both lay
and breathed quietly, and Stiles didn’t even try to guess what time it was,
only that it was still dark outside Derek’s loft, and inside it was softly lit
and warm. He felt settled, like the horrifying images of the past few days were
at a slight, safe distance.
Stiles must have dropped off to sleep, because the next thing he knew he was
flat on his back with Derek leaning over him. He twitched before he was quite
awake and Derek backed off.
“‘S everything okay?” Stiles asked, then cleared his throat.
“Yes,” said Derek. “Boyd and Cora are still asleep.”
“Oh,” said Stiles, sitting up. “That’s good.” His brain came online slowly. He
looked at Derek blearily. “Sorry I passed out on you,” he said.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. Then he grinned more sharply and said, “You only
snored a little.”
“I do not - !” Stiles started indignantly, reaching a hand out to give Derek’s
shoulder a shove. Derek didn’t budge at all, his grin softening into - dare
Stiles think it - fondness.
Stiles cleared his throat. “I still wanna…” he trailed off. “But first I’ve
gotta pee and also drink some water, in that order, so.”
Derek backed up, and waved a hand at the bathroom. It wasn’t long before Stiles
was back, feeling refreshed and better than he had in days.
Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed, just in his boxers, so Stiles joined
him. They were silent for a while, until Stiles said, “Thanks, dude.”
Derek raised a questioning eyebrow. “For the devirginizing,” Stiles clarified.
“It’s not - how did you put it? - it’s not a hardship for me,” said Derek.
“Oh,” said Stiles. “So even before, you thought I was - “
“You’re still underage,” said Derek. He paused and added, “And kind of
annoying,” though his fond tone took the sting out of the words.
“Only for another month! And you think I’m funny when I’m annoying.”
They kind of grinned sideways at each other and allowed the silence to take
over again.
Finally, Derek half turned on the bed and asked, low and gentle, “Can I kiss
you?” It was just a little diffident, like he thought there was still some
small chance Stiles would say no. Stiles felt familiar exasperation bubble up
in him. He reached out, hooked a hand behind Derek’s neck, and drew him in.
“We’re really good at this,” mumbled Stiles against Derek’s mouth some minutes
later, surprised to find they’d sunk down horizontally. “Like, really good.” He
broke the kiss and wrangled one of his legs around Derek, kneeing him in the
stomach once or twice in the process. “Sorry, sorry,” said Stiles, arching his
body and grabbing at Derek to try and encourage him back down.
Derek didn’t budge for a second and Stiles glanced at his face to be sure he
hadn’t crossed a line or something, but Derek was wearing his most infuriating
smirk, braced unmoving over him, his superior werewolf strength clearly a
source of amusement for him. Stiles gave him an unimpressed look, but Derek
held firm for a second longer, then sank his weight against Stiles.
“What?” said Stiles, when Derek didn’t immediately recommence with the kissing.
Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared down at him with a
hard-to-read expression on his face.
“Nothing,” he said, eventually, and leaned down to kiss him once on the mouth,
on the jaw, and on his ear. He sucked the place just underneath and Stiles
couldn’t stop the rough noise that broke from his throat. He was almost certain
he’d never made that noise before in his life and he was torn over whether he
was mortified or too turned on to care. But Derek seemed to like it, because he
bit, gently, and then again below it, and again at where Stiles’ neck and
shoulder met. Stiles was vaguely aware that there were probably some hickeys
happening, too, but everything was kind of hazy with pleasure and friction.
When he felt Derek’s dick drag along the juncture of his thigh, he pulled some
brain cells back together in order to shove Derek off a little and say, “Hey,
devirginizing. Not that the grinding isn’t amazing, but we’ve got priorities
here.”
Derek snorted into his neck, but obligingly backed off in order to figure out
where the lube and condoms had gone during Stiles’ nap. Once they were located,
he sat back and looked down at Stiles with a frankly arousing look of
calculation. Still, Derek’s plans always needed Stiles’ input.
“I’ll start,” said Stiles. “But you can help if you want.” He grabbed the lube
and got to work.
He had nearly as much practice at this as he did jerking off, but it was much
weirder with an audience. The intent way Derek watched him had him torn neatly
between embarrassment and arousal, and it was keeping his dick in a weird half-
hard limbo that he didn't really know what to do with. He was just about to
start making terrible comments about everything when Derek cupped a hand around
his inner thigh, spread it a little further out, and pressed the tip of his
finger in alongside one of Stiles'.
That was - okay, that was hot. Derek kneed up a little further between Stiles'
legs and grabbed the lube. He rubbed some on his fingers and watched Stiles'
own fingers with a focused intensity that had Stiles' insides winding up in
anticipation. Derek smoothly added one of his own fingers on Stiles' next
thrust. Stiles couldn't help the surprised breath he sucked in, or the way his
hips moved into it, and after that there was no more hesitance from Derek. He
moved with Stiles’ fingers at first, but then nudged Stiles' hand away and took
over, concentration written all over him. He slid two of his fingers in,
twisted slow and careful, crooked his knuckles to bump along Stiles' insides,
and then did it all over again.
Stiles knew he was gasping, his mouth hanging open, and he couldn't stop
himself. Derek smoothed a hand up his thigh, over his stomach, just barely
touching his dick and Stiles arched into the contact and almost came.
"Three?" asked Derek, his eyebrows lowered and intent. Stiles nodded several
times and gasped, "Yes." When Derek started to press them in, Stiles had to
wrap a hand around his dick to stop himself from coming. He could feel the
stretch, but by this time he wanted it so bad, it didn't really hurt. He was
the one to reach down and grab Derek's hand, tuck his pinky in, and guide all
four of Derek's fingers inside him.
"Jesus, Stiles," said Derek, quiet and strangled.
"I can't - " said Stiles. "You need to - " Stiles fumbled around and found a
condom, and threw it at Derek's chest.
Derek barked out a laugh and carefully withdrew his fingers.
"And hurry up," said Stiles, trying to take a deep breath.
"Hold on," Derek laughed. "I've never had to try and get a condom open with
lube everywhere." But he got it open without having to resort to claws or
teeth, and carefully rolled it on. "Okay," he said, palming Stiles' thighs and
then leaning forward. "Is this how you want - "
"Yes," said Stiles. "Come on." Derek positioned his dick, and pressed just
slightly. "Save me with your dick."
Derek choked on a laugh and slid half way in. Stiles moaned. He'd never
understood what people in movies and porn were making so much noise about. It
was pretty easy to stay quiet when he jerked off. This was a whole different
situation. Without knowing quite how, he already had a hand clenched in Derek's
hair, and a heel digging into Derek's ass.
Derek leaned down on one elbow and used his other hand to wrap Stiles' other
leg over his hip. Then he looked Stiles in the face and nudged a little further
forward.
"Okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," said Stiles. And he was. Derek's dick wasn't exactly small, and it felt
bigger than it looked. Stiles could tell, as Derek inched forward, how this
could hurt, if you did it too fast. There was a tiny, electric undercurrent of
pain, or mostly the threat of pain, like his nerves were gearing up to
complain, but never quite got to that point. Mostly it felt both weird and good
at the same time. It was almost a surprise when Derek's hips hit his ass.
"Still okay?" asked Derek, close enough that Stiles could feel his breath on
his lips.
"I think," said Stiles slowly, experimentally circling his hips, "that I'm more
than okay, actually. You're clear to try some moving." It was very pleasing to
hear Derek's breathing get even rockier than it already was with every roll of
Stiles' hips. Derek braced himself on his hands over Stiles, shifted his hips
back a few inches and thrust back in. And that was when it went from good to -
"Oh, Jesus christ, do that again."
Stiles was having trouble focusing on anything but Derek's dick, but he caught
a glimpse of a wolfish grin, and maybe a flash of fangs, so he did what he
always did: pushed whichever of Derek’s buttons he could reach. He grabbed a
double handful of Derek's ass, squeezed, and yanked him forward. That got him
some red-eye.
Stiles grinned.
"I figure we're well past the growly thing you did where you tried to scare me
away, so I'm going to take that as a compliment."
Derek blinked his eyes, and the red was gone. He was still breathing hard, but
he managed to give Stiles a sarcastic eyebrow tilt. He didn't say anything,
just twisted his hips inward in a way that had Stiles bowing his back and
feeling like he lost a few seconds somewhere. Stiles could feel his blood,
could feel the frustrated anticipation pulsing through him, sparking higher
with every one of Derek's thrusts, with the way his dick throbbed in time.
Stiles couldn't keep his hands still. He ran them all over Derek's body just to
feel how all his muscles moved as he worked in and out of Stiles, to feel the
sweat dripping off him, the smooth skin over his arm muscles planted on either
side of Stiles.
"I want - Derek." Stiles sucked in a breath. "Please just - "
"What, Stiles," said Derek, his mouth parted, and his eyes intent. "Tell me."
"I want to come on your dick," gasped Stiles. Stiles threaded a hand down
between them and got a hand around his cock.
"Fuck," Derek said, eyes clenched closed. "Then you'd better do it quick,
because I can't - you look - "
Derek sat up a little, spreading his knees for balance and then hooked a hand
under Stiles' thighs, spreading them further and folding them toward Stiles'
chest so that he could sink down closer, braced on his elbows instead.
He twisted his hips out and snapped them back in like a machine, like he'd
never get tired, and Stiles was having trouble deciding what felt best: Derek's
dick or the relief of his own hand around his dick.
"C'mon, Stiles," said Derek. "You're not a virgin any more. You're safe. I'll
keep you safe. Let go."
"Oh," said Stiles, and promptly came all over himself, clenching down around
Derek's dick, his hands digging into whatever part of Derek he could reach, his
thighs digging into Derek's sides. He couldn't breath it felt so good.
Derek was thrusting shallowly, riding out Stiles's orgasm, but just as Stiles
was coming down enough to see again, he pulled almost all the way out, thrust
back in, hard, as far as he could go, and gave a strangled grunt. Stiles could
feel the pulse of Derek's orgasm, and his own body weakly echoed it, one more
aftershock before he collapsed back on the bed, boneless and mindless, and
tired as fuck.
"This is the first time in a week I haven't been afraid," mumbled Stiles. Derek
threaded his fingers through Stiles' hair, soothing, the scrape of his stubble
rough against Stiles' chest.
"Good," he murmured, and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ sternum. Then, with a sigh,
he dragged himself up, off Stiles, and slowly, holding the condom, pulled out.
He tied it off and climbed off the bed. Stiles watched him with his eyes half-
closed, almost too tired to stay awake in spite of his earlier nap.
"Can I stay a little longer?" he asked, when Derek got back, holding a wet
paper towel from the kitchen which he used to give Stiles a cursory wipe.
"Of course, Stiles. You should sleep anyway. Here, get under the covers."
"You're gonna stay, too, right?" asked Stiles, his voice scratchy and
plaintive, and he was too sleepy and content to feel embarrassed about it.
"Yes. Move over a little. We have plenty of time before morning." Derek slid in
with him, moved him over, and arranged their limbs together. It felt so warm
and safe here, not alone, and with a werewolf he trusted wrapped around him. He
might live after all. The threefold death no longer called to him, telling him
he was next. He was entirely not a virgin any more, and judging by the events
of tonight, there was a chance this wasn't a once-only event. Maybe he could
convince Derek to let him practice.
"We have to make sure no more virgins die. We have to talk to Lydia."
"We will. Go to sleep stiles."
Stiles slid into sleep tucked into Derek’s chest, the rasp of his breath and
soft stubble grounding him in the safety of the night.
End Notes
     I feel like someone might have specifically used the line "Save me
     with your dick" before? And if so, I sincerely apologize for stealing
     it. I left it in because it just felt like such a thing that Stiles
     would totally say in canon, like if he'd managed to get Danny to
     agree, haha.
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