Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/489087.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Jackson_Whittemore, Lydia_Martin, Scott
      McCall, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Dom/sub_Undertones, First_Time, Rimming, Blow_Jobs, Emotional_Hurt/
      Comfort, Role_Reversal, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Rough_Sex, Body_Worship,
      aka_stiles_finally_bottoms, Power_Dynamics
  Series:
      Part 3 of My_Regrets_Are_Few
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-17 Words: 2629
****** All These Nightmares Escape My Head ******
by secondstar
Summary
     Stiles knows Derek. He knows just what he wants, what he needs.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Letting Stiles in was the hardest part, in all honesty. Derek wasn’t one to
trust, one to submit but it felt right. Stiles quieted his mind, kept voices of
inadequacy as an Alpha at bay, kept him grounded, kept him sane. So much had
gone wrong in such a short time that Derek needed Stiles. Stiles who was smart,
who cared about everyone, who was human.
It wasn’t about dominance, really. It was about giving himself over, for a
time, to Stiles. Stiles took care of him, made him feel loved. Derek hadn’t
felt as though anyone cared for him since, well. Since Kate, and even then that
was feigned lust. Then the death of his family, the death of his sister, his
Alpha. Derek was in mourning. He barely had the time to register her death
before all this shit happened.
Now, in peace time, the thought of her being gone settled in his mind. She was
gone, really gone. Derek had cried. Full out, tears streaming down his face in
the shower, pulling at his hair, crying. Stiles had been at school, of course.
Derek thought he had wanted to mourn for her alone, but then he yearned to be
held, to be touched. He wanted Stiles’ scent around him at all times. Stiles
always left his clothes around, knowing that Derek wanted them there.
“Werewolves,” Stiles would joke with a smile before kissing Derek goodbye.
Stiles was on lockdown enforced by his father, a curfew that shouldn’t be
breached. The result was less time with him, but more time with Derek’s pack.
Derek found that he didn’t want to be alone, that being alone meant he would
only have himself as company and that was when he thought about Laura, about
everything.
He kept Scott, Jackson, and Isaac busy, keeping thoughts of Laura in the back
of his head, because the pain of her loss was never far off. She would creep
into his mind at odd times, mostly in day to day conversation when he least
expected it. Suddenly, he would need a moment. No one noticed but Stiles when
this happened, because he was Stiles. Stiles noticed everything. A slip of a
hand under the table, resting on Derek’s thigh calmed him, or a quick pat on
the arm as if saying, “It’ll be okay.”
 
Derek liked the days when Stiles came to watch he and Peter teach Isaac, Scott,
and Jackson, to train them. Most of the time he sat off to one side, making
smart ass comments every time that Scott messed up.
Sometimes, Lydia even came. Derek kept all thoughts of possessiveness over
Stiles at bay. He knew Stiles was his and he was Stiles’. Stiles had been in
love with Lydia for ten years, but she was with Jackson, who was in his pack.
Derek had no reason to worry, to be territorial. He might have known that, but
Jackson didn’t.
He felt the Beta’s anger, his jealousy rising as Stiles and Lydia talked over
something that Lydia was translating. Stiles’ hand was on her back casually,
and she was smiling. Derek put a hand to Jackson’s chest, stilling him, his
eyes flashing red, reminding Jackson who was in charge. Jackson bristled, his
jaw clenching.
“Don’t ,”Derek growled. Jackson grunted, his eyes watching them intently. “Or
you’ll regret it.”
“Derek.” Stiles’ voice rang out, causing him to turn his attention towards him.
“Lydia wants to get pizza for later, and a movie,” he said, walking up to them,
looking back and forth for a second, then stopping. “Am I... are you two....?”
He didn’t want to interrupt Derek. This was Derek’s pack, his territory as
Alpha. Derek dropped his hand from Jackson, glaring at him as a reminder to
remain calm.
 
“Pizza sounds good,” Derek said, nodding his head.
 
“Pizza!” Scott yelled from where Isaac had him pinned to the ground in a
training exercise. Lydia walked up, rummaging through her purse to find her
keys.
“It’s getting dark, so Stiles and I will be back soonish,” she smiled, leaning
towards Jackson, a hand on his arm as Jackson instinctually turned his cheek
for her to kiss lightly. Stiles only exchanged a look with Derek, his hands in
his pockets.
“We’ll be back,” he said, following Lydia to her car. “Bye Scott!” Stiles
called out as he got into the passenger side. With that, they left. Jackson was
still seething, but his anger ebbed.
“Do not take your aggression out on humans,” Derek bellowed. “Ever.”
“He had his hand on her,” Jackson said through gritted teeth.
“Your emotions are heightened, Jackson. You know that she loves you, that
Stiles wouldn’t jeopardize that. They are friends. Are you denying Lydia a
friend? After everything she has gone through?” Derek asked. Jackson’s
shoulders sank as he shook his head. “That is what I thought.”
 
It was Friday night, so Stiles’ curfew was later, which made Derek happy. The
pizza was devoured in record timing and movie night consisted of Scott and
Isaac eating two and a half bags of popcorn alone as they sat on the floor,
Lydia falling asleep in Jackson’s lap in the recliner, and Stiles sitting next
to Derek on the couch. The thing about being in a room of werewolves was that
they could smell everything. They could smell arousal, annoyance, frustration,
and need. Stiles had a hand on Derek’s thigh throughout the movie, his thumb
moving slightly over the fabric. Derek, his arm on the back of the couch, did
not touch him. Stiles put his head against Derek’s arm, though, and looked at
him every minute or so, a small smile playing across his lips. Derek tilted his
head, wanting to ask what Stiles was thinking, but he knew that Stiles wouldn’t
answer him, not with everyone in the room.
The end of the movie couldn’t come soon enough, in Derek’s mind. Everyone knew
to leave, they could smell the mix of emotions in the room. They knew exactly
when to call it a night. Scott was the last to leave, asking Stiles about
lacrosse practice in the morning. One on one, just them. Stiles nodded,
smiling.
“Yeah dude, definitely,” he answered as Scott made his way to the door. As soon
as it was shut, Derek’s hand slid down from its perch on the back of the couch,
landing on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles shifted, laying his head on Derek’s
shoulder. “What was that about, with Jackson earlier?” Stiles asked as he
intertwined his fingers with Derek’s free hand. Derek pulled Stiles closer to
him, resting his chin on Stiles’ head, closing his eyes, taking note of Stiles’
heart rate, of the smell of him.
“You had your hand on Lydia’s back,” Derek whispered. “Jackson was ready to
attack.” Stiles sat up, looking at Derek, his lips pursed.
“You weren’t-”
“No, no. Not me. You two are friends,” Derek assured him. Stiles nodded slowly,
sighing.
“So you stopped Jackson from lashing out at me?” he asked, tilting his head to
one side and biting his bottom lip. Derek laughed, smiling. Stiles always knew
how to make something seem not as bad, not as life threatening. If it had been
a full moon...well. For one thing Stiles wouldn’t be anywhere near the pack on
a full moon, not if Derek could help it.
“I wouldn’t have let him get near you,” Derek answered, almost with a growl.
“I could take him,” Stiles joked. Derek grunted, frowning.
“Oh, no. No you don’t. You are not being a sourwolf right now,” Stiles said,
straddling Derek, tickling him. Derek squirmed, laughing beneath Stiles.
“That’s better,” he whispered, kissing Derek on the lips. Derek sighed into the
kiss, needing it. Stiles noticed, of course. “You alright?” he asked. Derek
thought, for a moment, about lying.
“Rough day,” he answered, and Stiles understood.
“It gets easier,” Stiles whispered, his hands resting on Derek’s chest. “I know
right now, it seems so raw, like a part of you died with her.” Stiles sighed,
rubbing his head as he bit his lip, trying to find his words. “I still miss my
mom. Some days, I don’t want to get out of bed because it's like... what is the
point? She won’t be downstairs drinking coffee in her bathrobe. She won’t tease
my dad about how he can’t make an omelette to save his life.... She won’t be
there. But some days, when I think about her, I smile. It is okay to think back
on someone and remember the little things they did, and think about how you
didn’t realize you loved them for those little things.” Stiles stopped, his
fingers clenching around Derek’s shirt. “It’s okay that you are mourning
Laura.”
Derek closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the couch. He sat
there, Stiles in his lap, in silence.
“I just wish she was here,” Derek whispered.
Stiles kissed him, then, and Derek’s thoughts of Laura escaped him. There was
no one else at that moment, no pain, no sadness. Only Stiles. He had Stiles, he
had his pack. When the kiss ended, Stiles rolled off of him, standing slowly.
For a second, Derek was afraid that Stiles was going to leave him, go home.
“Come on, big guy,” Stiles said, taking Derek’s hand and trying to pull him up
from the couch. Derek couldn’t help but laugh, helping himself up with no help
from Stiles’ meager attempt. Stiles led them to Derek’s bed, unmade from the
night before. Stiles flung himself onto the bed, gnawing on his bottom lip
coyly, his legs open and inviting. Derek lifted an eyebrow.
“What?-” He asked, confused. This was not the norm. Normally, Stiles straddled
him, took control. This, this made Derek hard almost immediately, his mouth
watering at the sight.
“Do you want me?” Stiles asked, his voice wavering for only a second, letting
Derek see a hint of insecurity that Stiles never showed him. It made Derek’s
cock throb in his pants. Derek nodded, once. “I want you to fuck me.” Stiles
whispered, his own hand pulling his shirt up a few inches, then sliding down
inside his pants, beneath his underwear. Derek growled low in his throat,
crawling onto the bed and possessively kissing Stiles, getting to do what he
never got to before now.
He would take his time fucking Stiles. Stiles let Derek take his hand into
Derek’s mouth, licking each finger slowly, sucking on them. Stiles moaned, his
heart rate already picking up as blood flowed south. Derek stripped Stiles of
his shirt, then rid him of his jeans, his socks. Stiles lay there, head tilted
to one side, watching Derek move, watching him run his hands up Stiles' legs,
his thighs, his stomach as his mouth descended between Stiles’ legs. Stiles
arched his back as Derek took Stiles into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles whimpered, his hands reaching for Derek’s hair, tugging as
Derek cradled Stiles’ balls in one hand, his tongue licking up Stiles’ shaft,
taking his time tasting him. Stiles’ toes curled as Derek’s hand moved, his
fingers brushing against his tight hole. Stiles shifted, panting. Derek could
sense Stiles’ anxiety, and pulled back, concentrating on blowing him,
concentrated on making him feel good. Cheeks flushed, Stiles pulled Derek from
him, a trail of spit connected Derek’s mouth to Stiles’ dripping cock. Stiles
moaned at the sight, and Derek came up to kiss him on the lips. Stiles breathed
Derek in, his hands cupping Derek’s face as they kissed.
“I’m going to get the lube,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ cheek, his stubble
rubbing against the sensitive flesh. Stiles’ hand wrapped around his own cock
as he watched Derek walk to the bathroom to retrieve the supplies, stroking
himself until he returned. Derek smirked, looking Stiles over. “Flip over,”
Derek said, and Stiles did. Derek wasn’t sure what surprised him more, how much
his dick twitched at the sight of it, or how Stiles actually did what he asked.
Either way, he dropped to his knees, pulling Stiles to the edge of the bed and
spreading his cheeks wide. He nipped Stiles’ cheek with his teeth, enough to
make Stiles gasp, before he pressed his tongue against Stiles’ opening. Stiles
squirmed beneath him, moaning and gasping for breath at the breach, and the new
feeling of Derek stretching him slowly. Derek took his time, opening Stiles up
for him. One finger, slick with lube, pressed inwards, letting Stiles get used
to the feeling. Derek wanted to make this last, knowing that Stiles would be
sore, and the fact that he would bend over for him tomorrow, and the next day,
and the next...
At the second finger, Stiles yelped. Derek slowed his pace, curling his
fingers, hitting a spot that made Stiles shiver, made him groan.
“There, again,” Stiles called out through loud, panting breaths. Derek did as
Stiles asked again, and again until he was lost in pleasure. Derek added
another finger, stretching him wide. A sheen of sweat covered Stiles’ body as
time went on and Derek licked up his spine as he stood, ridding himself of his
constricting jeans. Stiles rolled over, his lips red from obvious biting. He
sat up, the palm of his hand pressing against Derek’s taut stomach, looking up
at him with watery, blown eyes that wanted nothing more than to be fucked.
Derek ripped open the condom he had grabbed, and rolled it on. Stiles licked
his lips as he watched Derek do it, his eyes widening as Derek grabbed his
hand, pulling him off the bed into a standing position.
“Derek-” Stiles started, his voice shaking, unsure of what Derek was doing.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, kissing him hard. Stiles moaned into the
kiss, letting Derek walk him around the room. Suddenly, Derek picked Stiles up
and within seconds, Stiles’ legs were wrapped around Derek’s waist. “Oh,”
Stiles said, letting out a shuddering breath. Derek grinned, holding Stiles
with one arm as his other lined himself up at Stiles' entrance. Stiles pressed
his forehead against Derek’s shoulder, his face burying itself in the crook of
Derek’s neck. “Oh, shit,” Stiles hissed as Derek plunged into him, holding onto
Stiles’ waist for leverage, to apply pressure. “Oh, shit,” Stiles repeated as
he started rolling his hips against Derek’s cock. Stiles moaned, pressing his
lips against Derek’s neck, scraping his teeth, biting down. Derek slammed
Stiles against the wall, using it to his advantage to fuck up into him. Stiles
gasped over and over, unable to move against Derek’s thrusts. Stiles gripped
himself, stroking fast, hard. He was close to coming, Derek could smell it on
him.
“Come for me, Stiles,” Derek whispered, his voice gruff. Stiles nodded, biting
his swollen lips and moaning as he came, making a mess on Derek’s chest. Stiles
shuddered, laughing for a moment, a hand on the back of Derek’s neck while the
other gripped his ass tight.
“Your turn.” Stiles said as their lips crashed together in an intense kiss.
Derek moaned, feeling his own climax build. “Come on, Derek,” Stiles gasped,
his fingers raking down Derek’s back, leaving red marks. Derek came, refusing
to stop pounding into Stiles until he was completely spent. Derek walked them
back over to the bed, pulling out of Stiles slowly. Stiles plopped down onto
the bed, sighing as his own hands ran through his short hair. Derek disposed of
the condom, wiped off Stiles’ mess, then joined him in bed, his arms wrapping
around him. As soon as Derek’s lips touched Stiles’ skin, his neck, Stiles
hummed in happiness, his eyes closing.
“You make me forget, you know,” Derek whispered.
“Hmm?” Stiles asked, half asleep.
“Make me forget my nightmares.”
End Notes
     Beta'd by tessalonso@lj
     I only really had three ideas for this little verse, but who knows...
     I do like writing about them like this!
     Thank you to those of you who have commented! It has meant a lot :D
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