Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/898311.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Content, Sexual_Inexperience, Kissing, Hand_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-25 Words: 1720
****** Basketball Shorts and Highlighters ******
by sffan
Summary
     The UST between Derek and Stiles finally reaches a tipping point.
Notes
     Minor spoilers for S3. Takes place somewhere between "Chaos Rising"
     and "Motel California" in a version of the universe where Derek/
     Stiles actually happens.
     Heavily influenced by those Tumblr images of Hoechlin in the
     basketball shorts and Stiles' oral fixation.
     Big huge thanks, as always, to emungere for the beta.
Stiles is at Derek’s loft doing research, instead of at home, because he really
didn’t want to explain to his father his sudden interest in human sacrifice.
He’s doing his best to focus on the papers in front of him, rather than on
Derek, who Stiles can just see out of the corner of his eye, putting himself
through a brutal workout in nothing but a pair of clingy basketball shorts that
leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Derek’s little grunts of exertion
are not helping Stiles’ concentration issues. Not one little bit.
This thing between him and Derek has been building pretty much since the day
they met, but lately there seems to be an added edge to it – a frisson of more
every time they look at each other. Stiles knows he isn’t imagining it, knows
Derek feels it too, sees it in his eyes. It’s ill-advised, inappropriate,
illegal, and Stiles, quite honestly, just doesn’t give a fuck. His father is
ten years older than his mother, the only difference is that she was twenty
when they met. He just can’t figure out how to take it past heated looks and
not-entirely casual contact. He can’t bring himself to make the first move. He
can’t be the one to cross this boundary. He’s just not brave enough.
Stiles frowns, realizing how far off his research his attention has drifted. He
twirls the pencil between his fingers and chews on the highlighter in his
mouth, drawing himself back inward and downward, and re-reads the paragraph in
front of him for the second time.
Between one line and the next, there’s a tugging on the stool he’s perched on,
and, suddenly, he’s spun around. Stiles flails his arms and drops the pencil.
Before he has a chance to regain his equilibrium, the highlighter is pulled out
of his mouth with a pop, and then Derek’s mouth is on his. This kiss is
nothing, nothing like the one he’d gotten from Heather. Her kiss had been soft
and sweet, and, despite what she wanted from him, innocent. This kiss is hard,
hot, and insistent. Stiles feels it in his toes. After a second or two of ‘holy
shit Derek is kissing me’ brain freeze, Stiles gets with the program and kisses
Derek back.
Derek’s hands cup his face, tilting his head to a better angle, as he continues
to plunder Stiles’ mouth. Stiles slides off the stool, hands reaching out to
steady himself as his legs go wobbly. As his hands curl around Derek’s body –
smooth skin pulled tight over the highly-defined muscles, hot and slightly
slick from his workout – Stiles gasps. Somehow, he’d forgotten that Derek was
half naked. Derek takes advantage of Stiles’ open mouth and deepens the kiss.
As their tongues brush for the first time, Derek makes a broken noise and he
pulls Stiles closer – one hand curled around the back of his neck and the other
sliding under his t-shirt, burning against the small of his back.
With their bodies pulled tight together, Stiles can’t help but become
completely aware of the hard press of Derek’s dick right up against his own,
and Stiles is hit with the sudden knowledge that Derek is not some fumbling
teenaged virgin. He’s older; he’s probably got tons of experience. He probably
wants to have sex. With him. Right now. And in that moment, Stiles realizes
something very important about himself, so he pulls away from Derek’s
devastating mouth and gasps out, “Wait, stop.”
Derek draws back slowly to look at him. “Stiles?” The hand cupping the back of
Stiles’ head loosens and slides down to his shoulder. Derek looks like sex
incarnate: blown pupils, flushed skin, lips soft and wet from their kisses.
Stiles takes a deep breath.
“I don’t think I’m, I’m not sure if I - ” Stiles stumbles and stutters,
completely unable to get the words to come out in any coherent fashion, dying
(he’s certain) of embarrassment, feeling like an idiot for trying to say what
he’s trying to say. He knew before, with Heather, with his ridiculous request
to the entire boys’ locker room, but he had pushed the knowledge away, too
excited at the prospect of finally getting to have sex, and too scared to die
because he was still a virgin, but the more time he had to think about it, the
more he knew he just couldn’t. He just wasn’t ready yet.
Derek goes completely still for a second. Stiles can practically see the walls
inside Derek’s head going back up as his expression starts to flatten out, and
then Derek loosens his grip on Stiles and begins to step away. Stiles panics.
This isn’t what he wanted. Or what he meant. He grabs Derek’s arms to stop him.
“Wait, wait. I don’t mean stop touching me!” Stiles continues to fumble for
words. “I want you to touch me. Oh god, do I ever, just not, I, shit. I just
don’t think I’m ready for, you know, sex. Like sex sex. But I’m good for other
things. Other things that are sex-like, but...”
“Stiles,” Derek interrupts quietly. “If you can’t say it, you’re not ready to
do it.”
“Oh my god, you did not just say that! You did not just PSA me!” Stiles
exclaims, rolling his eyes hard. Derek just stares back at him. He raises an
eyebrow at Stiles as the silence stretches out.
“Fine, fine,” Stiles says and he can feel his cheeks flaming with
embarrassment. “I want you to touch my dick, jerk me off. I would also really
like to do the same to you. Like you have no idea how much. It’s a fantasy of
mine, second only to – ” This time, Derek interrupts him with his lips.
It’s like a switch has gone off – the kiss is wild and frantic, mouths slipping
apart, just to crash back together again as they clutch and pull at each other.
Stiles’ shirt is up and off him in a blink, Derek’s hands huge and firm against
him as they slide against his skin. They make their way blindly towards the bed
in the middle of the room.
Somehow, Stiles ends up flat on his back naked, with Derek, still in his
shorts, obscenely tented around his erection, straddling him. Derek curls over
Stiles’ body as he leans down to kiss him. Derek brushes his thumbs firmly over
his nipples, and Stiles gasps and arches into the touch as Derek grins against
his mouth. Derek teases him with gentle fingers as he leaves soft, wet kisses
down Stiles’ neck and chest, as he makes his way downwards replacing his
fingers with his mouth, licking and sucking until Stiles is writhing and
breathless and his cock is leaking steadily against his stomach.
Derek’s mouth returns to Stiles’ as his hand drifts down to Stiles’ cock. At
the first touch of Derek’s hand on him, Stiles squeaks out, “Oh god.” He always
knew it would feel good to have someone else touch his dick, but he had no idea
it would feel this good. It’s intense, and amazing, and overwhelming, and he’s
shaking as Derek’s hand tightens around him and starts to stroke with the
perfect amount of pressure and speed, thumb brushing right against that little
bundle of nerves that makes pleasure zing through him. Stiles can’t stop the
sounds spilling out his mouth or the sharp, gasping breaths he pants out as his
orgasm builds, any more than he can stop the way his hips move in time with
Derek’s hand.
“Derek, oh fuck, Derek, I’m going to – ” Stiles’ whole body locks up, and his
back arches right off the bed as spurt after spurt of come splatters all over
his stomach and halfway up his chest. Derek strokes him through it, thumb
sliding slowly over the head of his cock, rubbing at the slit, as more come
slowly dribbles out, until Stiles collapses under him, shaking with
aftershocks.
“Oh my god, get down here and kiss me,” Stiles says breathlessly, reaching up
to pull Derek down on top of him. Derek rolls them onto their sides and they
trade slow, wet kisses while Stiles tries to stop twitching.
“That was awesome,” Stiles pronounces after he catches his breath, grinning
broad enough that his dimples appear. He kisses Derek again and starts sliding
his hand down Derek’s chest. Derek’s fingers curl around his when he gets to
his stomach, stopping their downward journey.
“You don’t have to,” Derek says quietly, his voice gentle.
Stiles laughs and grins at Derek. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve been waving
your dick at me all morning in these shorts of obscenity. Do you think I’d give
up my chance to get my hands on it?”
While Derek looks at him in a cross between confusion and shock, muttering
something about ‘distractions and fucking oral fixations’, that Stiles pays no
attention to because he’s too busy tugging at the waistband of Derek’s shorts
until Derek gets the hint and wriggles out of them. Before he’s even all the
way out of them, Stiles wraps his hand around Derek’s cock. If there’s anything
Stiles could claim to be an expert at, it’s jerking off. He’s also watched a
fuck-ton of porn, and he uses every trick he’s ever seen to get Derek off. The
‘research’ had apparently paid off, since it doesn’t take long before Derek is
clutching at his arm tightly enough to leave bruises and gasping, “Fuck,
Stiles, fuck,” in a broken voice against his shoulder as he shudders through
his own orgasm.
“Fuck,” Derek says shakily, looking completely wrecked. “Where the hell did you
learn to do that?”
Stiles grins wickedly and says, “Trade secret.”
Derek laughs and shakes his head. He leans in for a kiss, and Stiles yawns in
his face.
“Sorry, sorry. Orgasms make me sleepy.” Suddenly unsure of himself, Stiles
starts to sit up and says, “I should go – ” Derek stops him with a gentle hand
on his arm.
“Or, you could stay, have a nap with me, and then when we wake up, you can tell
me about that other fantasy of yours,” Derek says, with a tiny smile quirking
the corner of his mouth.
Stiles smiles. “Or I could do that.” He settles back down next to Derek.
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