Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/664577.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Human, Lingerie, Food, Banter, Chocolate, Cake,
      Bottom_Derek_Hale, Top_Stiles_Stilinski, Sweet_Sixteen, Ptera's_TW_Bingo,
      Both_Derek_and_Stiles_are_underage, Car_Sex
  Series:
      Part 2 of Derek's_Sweet_Sixteen
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-31 Words: 3979
****** Cake Murder ******
by pterawaters
Summary
     Derek's finally having his sixteenth birthday party, if he and Stiles
     can arrive with the cake intact, that is.
Notes
     Written for the "chocolate" square on my Teen Wolf Bingo Card. It
     will make more sense if you read I'm_in_Love_with_How_You_Feel_
     (Sixteen_Candles) first.
See the end of the work for more notes
Feeling more smug than hurt (possibly because awesome sex always put Derek in
the best mood), Derek gallops down the stairs the morning after his sixteenth
birthday and walks into the kitchen. His mother stands at the counter, drinking
her coffee and making one of her lists. She looks up when he comes him and
says, "Hey, sweetheart. Did you get your homework done last night?"
Since his mother can always tell somehow when he's lying, he replies, "Most of
it."
"Stayed too long at Stiles' house?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
Derek blushes. "I was only ten minutes late for dinner. Which we didn't have."
He goes to the refrigerator and pours himself a glass of milk.
Sighing, Mom says, "I know, I know. Megan's wedding is going to be the death of
me, I swear. At least there's only a month left before it's over with."
Derek nods and sets his glass down on the island between them. He licks the
milk from his upper lip and says, "Speaking of days of the month, do you know
what yesterday was?"
Mom's eyebrows draw together and she shakes her head. "Yesterday...yesterday
was the sixteenth. Did you have a game? I'm sorry, Derek, but the mid-week
games are–" She cuts herself off and Derek can see the blood drain from her
face. "Oh, god! It's March! We forgot your birthday!"
Derek taps his nose silently.
"Oh, my god!" Mom groans, hurrying around the island to grab Derek by his
forearm. "I am so sorry! We'll– God help me, but we'll have a party this
weekend, if it kills me. I promise."
Derek laughs and says, "Okay. But please don't die. And..."
"And what?" Mom looks eager to please, so Derek knows this is his chance.
"And I'm not sure a party is gonna cut it. A guy only turns sixteen once, you
know, and everyone forgot. I'll forgive you, because I'm a good son, but a car
sure would make it easier."
Mom frowns and sighs dramatically. "You know your father and I are paying for
your sister's wedding. We can't afford to just buy you a car. What's wrong with
you and Laura sharing the coupe?"
Derek rolls his eyes. "Only that she drives it to work after school every day
and that it smells all girly. I can't pick people up in a car that smells like
hibiscuses...es!"
"It's lavender–"
"Whatever."
Mom gives Derek a long look. And then she sighs. "I'll see what I can do."
Before Derek can make any victorious gestures, Mom cuts him off. "But! You'll
have to pay for insurance and gas and any repairs, just like the rest of your
siblings. Which means getting a job."
Derek shrugs. Lacrosse season is almost over, so he'll have time to work. Not
that he has any skills. Maybe he can get Gabe to hook him up with a job at the
hardware store he used to work at during high school. It had to pay pretty well
if it only took Gabe three years to save up for the Camaro, right?
                                    ~~**~~
That Saturday, Derek's parents present him with Subaru station wagon that's
even crappier than Stiles' blue Jeep. Derek sighs dramatically, but he takes
the keys and tries not to sound sarcastic when he thanks his parents. "I'm
gonna go get Stiles. He wanted to see my new 'ride' before the party."
"Oh, Derek?" Mom stops him with a hand on his arm. "Would you run by Sweetheart
Bakery on your way and pick up the cake?"
Derek knows for a fact that Laura never had to lift a finger for any of her
birthday parties, but he swallows that touch of resentment and says, "Sure. See
you guys later."
Derek doesn't want to rush things with Stiles, so he goes by the bakery first,
picking up his own damn birthday cake. At least when he peeks in on it, he sees
that his mom remembered to order chocolate frosting and that his name is
spelled right. When he was eleven, his cake said, "Happy B-day, Derrick."
Everyone had laughed. Except Derek, that is.
When Derek gets to Stiles' house, he walks right in, waving at the Sheriff as
he heads up the stairs to Stiles' room. Stiles nods as Derek enters the room,
but he's too engrossed in his computer to give an intelligible greeting.
Derek bends down to lay his chin on Stiles' shoulder and asks right in his ear,
"Were you at my eleventh birthday? I can't remember."
Absently, Stiles replies, "The one where they spelled your name wrong? Yeah,
totally."
The reply makes Derek smile. Stiles was always sort of in the background of his
life, not really a friend, but not an enemy either. They rarely had the same
class in grade school and had totally different groups of friends until Stiles
and Scott joined the lacrosse team freshman year. Things just sort of
snowballed from there.
Heh. Snowballed.
Before Derek thinks to read what Stiles is so invested in, Stiles closes his
laptop and swivels his chair around. "Well? Let's see this magnificent beast of
yours!"
Derek draws his eyebrows together. "Your dad's right downstairs..."
Rolling his eyes, Stiles stands up and replies, "The car, dumbass." He grins
and steps into Derek's personal space. "Though I haven't got any complaints."
Returning the smile, Derek closes the distance between them and wraps his arms
around Stiles' waist as he presses their lips together in a kiss that isn't so
much, "Hello!" as it is, "Oh, God! Why has it been twenty-four hours since we
last kissed?!"
Stiles returns the kiss, sucking at Derek's lower lip and pulling before
plunging back in. With his tongue. Derek moans a little, cutting off the sound
because he's suddenly painfully aware that Sheriff Stilinski is right
downstairs and he's not looking forward to being caught with his pants down.
For the fifth time.
Derek steps back, using his hands on Stiles' ribcage to hold him at arm's
length. "Let's go take a look at the beast."
Laughing with his tongue pressed just slightly through his teeth (God, why
can't Derek kiss him all the time, ever?) Stiles nods. "Yeah, c'mon. Let's go."
He grabs a hoodie and a thin, wrapped present from underneath it, which looks
like a DVD case if Derek had to guess.
Pointing at the gift, Derek says, "You already gave me my present the other
day." He feels his cheeks heat up at the memory.
"Family friendly version," Stiles insists, tapping on it. Yeah, the rattling
sound definitely gives the impression that it's a DVD. Hopefully Stiles'
version of "family friendly" doesn't include anything X-rated.
Derek follows Stiles out of the house, wincing when the station wagon comes
into view. He watches as Stiles pauses for a moment before starting forward
again, moving with an extra-casual swing to his arms and hips. "It's no
Camaro," he says, an assessing frown on his face as he circles the car. "But,
that's a lot of trunk room. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Derek frowns and shakes his head. "I'm never thinking what you're thinking."
"Those back seats fold down, don't they?" Stiles points at the back seat and
motions for Derek to unlock the doors. Derek fumbles in his pocket for the key
fob and presses the button twice to unlock the back doors.
Stiles leans in, pokes around a little and then folds down half of the back
seat. He stands up and grins at Derek over the roof of the car before ducking
back in, crawling in, and folding down the other half. The space in the back of
the station wagon is almost as big as his bed at home, but wider and not as
tall. Derek opens the back door and sticks his head in. "Okay, now I'm pretty
sure I am thinking what you're thinking. Abandoned lot behind the old paper
factory?"
Stiles pulls Derek forward by his shirt collar and kisses him. "Baby, you read
my mind."
Derek backs out and goes to the driver's seat, fitting his brand new key in the
ignition. He turns to tell Stiles to move the cake out of the passenger's seat
and onto the floor or something, but he's too late. Derek watches in horror as
Stiles drops into the seat without looking, the cardboard of the cake box
crumpling loudly under his ass.
Eyes wide, Stiles looks over at Derek and his jaw drops. "Uh-oh."
"Shit."
"Was that important?" Stiles asks, gingerly climbing back out of the car. "Was
that your birthday cake?"
Derek nods.
"Oh, my god! Your mom is gonna kill me!" Stiles winces as he kneels on the
driveway and teases the lid of the box away from the cake, most of the
chocolate frosting coming with it. "Yeah, this is well and truly hosed."
Sighing, Derek says, "I guess we're not having cake at my party."
"No," Stiles says, replacing the lid on the box and moving the whole thing
between the seats and into the rear, shoving it so it slides toward the hatch
back. "No. Fuck that. Take me to the bakery. I'm getting you a new cake."
"You don't have t–"
Stiles grabs Derek's face and kisses him, meeting his eyes and saying, "I know
that, dumbass. But I want to, okay?"
Derek starts the car.
                                    ~~**~~
It takes all the time they have left before Derek's parents are expecting them
back at the house for the bakers at Sweetheart to make up a replacement cake.
They charge Stiles $75, which is three times what the cake is worth. Derek
starts to vow that he'll never come back here again, but then he realizes that
Sweetheart is the place that bakes the strawberry pie that Derek would
literally kill someone for. He keeps his mouth shut.
The party goes as well as Derek had been expecting and his parents have no idea
that the cake they paid for (like they paid for the car he wheedled out of
them) was destroyed. Derek vows to himself never to speed and always to check
his blind spot. And never to let Stiles drive his car. Derek would do anything
for Stiles, but he won't do that.
Laura gives Derek a new leather jacket (oh, yeah, she was feeling the guilt
over forgetting his birthday), Gabe gives him a new lacrosse helmet, Megan
gives him a mini-fridge that he knows she got as a wedding present from their
Great Aunt Lucille. And Stiles gives Derek Halo 4.
Most of the guests leave after cake and presents, but Scott and Isaac stick
around to "help" Derek and Stiles break in the new Halo game. Eventually,
though, Stiles leans over Derek's shoulder and whispers in his ear, "My
curfew's in two hours. I'm thinking you need to 'take me home' now, if you get
my drift."
Derek smiles and dies on purpose to end the game faster.
"Time to go!" Derek says, leaning forward and turning off the X-box. "You guys
gotta go. I'm giving Stiles a ride home."
"He's on my way," Isaac says, standing up and rolling his shoulders until the
joints crack. "I could drop you off, dude."
"Dude," Scott says, shaking his head and directing Isaac away by the shoulders.
"No."
Stiles and Derek laugh as they watch their friends go. Stiles' hand finds its
way into Derek's and Stiles asks, "Good day so far?"
"So far," Derek agrees.
                                    ~~**~~
Derek hardly finishes parking his car behind the old paper factory before
Stiles is out of his seatbelt and climbing into the back. His ass wiggles a
little too intentionally as he climbs, so Derek smacks it before he follows.
Stiles laughs. The sound makes Derek's chest warm, which is good considering
the fact that even though the day was warm, the March night is quickly turning
frigid.
Stiles settles cross-legged near the very back of the open space, hunched over
so his head doesn't hit the ceiling. He grins and pulls the smashed cake box
into his lap. "I kind of feel like I got away with murder, you know?"
Rolling his eyes, Derek fits himself next to Stiles, curling around him and
playing with the hem of his shirt. "Cake murder?"
"Totally." He sticks his finger in the mess of chocolate and then into his
mouth. "Dead cake still tastes good."
Derek doesn't answer. He's too busy watching as Stiles takes another dollop of
icing and sucks it off his finger. He blushes when Stiles catches him watching.
"Yeah?" He offers the next bite of icing to Derek, chocolate smeared over the
spit-shine on his skin. Just then, the interior light times out and flicks off,
plunging them into darkness. Derek gets a cheek full of frosting. "Oh, my god,
dude! Sorry!"
Before Derek can brush the icing away with his hand, Stiles grabs Derek's chin
and leans in, licking a wet stripe up Derek's cheek. He laps a few times,
clearing the icing away, and when he pulls back, Derek's face feels sticky with
the residue and cold as Stiles' spit dries. He's also half-aroused. "Stiles."
"Yeah?"
Derek gets a hand on Stiles' hip and pulls him closer, away from the cake. "You
can't just do that and..."
Laughing, Stiles finds his lips in the semi-darkness, and kisses him. His
chocolate-flavored tongue sweeps into Derek's mouth, bittersweet and hot. Derek
groans.
The cake box rustles and then Stiles climbs over Derek, pushing him so his back
lands against the scratchy carpet of the upholstery. He fits his hips between
Derek's legs and lets his weight press Derek down. He doesn't weigh that much,
but it feels comforting and Derek's hands automatically drop down Stiles' sides
to rest on his ass.
Stiles' weight shifts to one side and then he says, "Here," pressing a
chocolate-smelling, sticky finger to Derek's lower lip. Without thinking, Derek
reaches out with his tongue and pulls Stiles' finger into his mouth, licking
and sucking at the icing. Stiles groans and rolls his hips. "Shit, Derek. Damn,
your mouth!"
Derek can't wait anymore. He pushes up the back of Stiles' shirt and sweater
before sticking his hands down the back of Stiles' pants. What he finds
covering Stiles' ass is much lacier than he was expecting. "You're wearing
them?"
"Duh. It's your birthday party." Derek can hear the self-satisfied grin in
Stiles' voice. "I figured special occasion, special underthings!"
"God! And you've been wearing them all day?"
"Yep."
No torture devised by man or god could be worse than the fifteen seconds it
takes Derek to flip them over, bang his head on the ceiling of the car, and
pull Stiles' jeans open and down. There's barely enough light from the
streetlamps about a block away, but Derek can see a slight contrast between
Stiles' white skin and the dark red of the lacy boxer briefs he's wearing.
Groaning, Derek lets his fingers explore the texture of them over Stiles' hot
skin, working his way from hips toward the center.
"Fuck, Derek. God – shit, just..." Stiles huffs in frustration. Derek runs the
palm of his hand up the hard line of Stiles' cock, pressing the fabric into
Stiles' skin. "Yeeaaahhh. Yeah, baby."
The wrecked tone in Stiles' voice has Derek so hard he's starting to ache with
want, so he struggles out of his pants and underwear before crawling over
Stiles and straddling him. Rolling his hips down so Stiles' lace-covered cock
fits snugly between his ass cheeks, Derek asks, "Yeah?"
Stiles groans and thrusts his hips, pulling Derek into a wet kiss. Abruptly he
pulls back, his head hitting the floor with a soft thump. "Shit. I don't have
any ... this isn't my car. Did you think to stock up?"
"Not the car," Derek says. "But ever since the park that one time–" "Which we
never, ever talk about, Der."
Smirking, Derek reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket (which he
hasn't taken off yet partly because it's cold out, but mostly because Derek
wearing it turns Stiles on). He pulls out a packet of lube, a condom, and a
single-packaged wet wipe. "Used to be a boy scout."
Stiles laughs happily. Derek expects him to go into the long and involved story
about how he got himself and Scott kicked out of boy scouts, but Stiles takes
the packet of lube and says, "Scoot up a little."
Derek does as asked, holding his body on all fours over Stiles so his chest is
roughly lined up with Stiles' mouth. He doesn't ask Stiles to shove his t-shirt
up and mouth his nipples, because Derek has issues with using words to ask for
things. Some days he has no problems and others he feels like the words won't
come. Stiles reaches up anyway and pushes at Derek's t-shirt until it's bunched
under his armpits, the leather of his jacket sticking to the slightly sweaty
skin on his back. When Stiles starts sucking on Derek's left nipple, the
tingling-tugging sensation distracts Derek so much that Stiles has covered his
asshole with lube and has one finger steadily pressing in before he knows
what's going on.
One finger never feels quite right. It isn't broad enough and Derek knows
Stiles does this slowly to keep from hurting him, but Derek feels impatient and
greedy. He manages to choke out, "More. C'mon!"
Stiles huffs in laughter and bites Derek's chest, away from the nipple so it
doesn't exactly hurt, but the pressure and taunting threat of teeth make Derek
gasp and then groan. Quietly, so that Derek has to strain to pay attention and
understand him, Stiles says, "...keep them on while you ride me, baby. Get them
all dirty again. Even after I washed them, they still smelled a little like
you. God, Der! Fucking need you. Need–"
Groaning in frustration, Derek grabs Stiles' hand and shoves it out of the way
before sitting back on his knees (hitting his head on the ceiling) and pulling
the waistband of Stiles' underwear down just far enough to free his cock.
"Where'd the lube go?" he asks impatiently. He's empty and wanting and in no
mood to wait any longer.
Stiles presses the packet into Derek's hand the wrong way around so that lube
gets all over his wrist, but Derek doesn't stop to complain. He simply swipes
up as much as he can and strokes down Stiles' cock (which Stiles covered with
the condom while Derek was messing with the lube) to get it slick enough.
Throwing his head back, Stiles laughs, but Derek can tell it's the kind of
laugh that Stiles makes when he's avoiding embarrassing himself by whimpering
instead. It's a good kind of laugh.
Derek finally, finally sinks down onto Stiles' cock, taking him in as fast as
he can manage, which is still slower than he wants. When he bottoms out,
Stiles' hands are heavy on his hips, fingertips creeping around toward Derek's
ass, and Derek can feel the lace of Stiles' underwear rubbing against his inner
thighs. He rolls his hips slightly to get a feel for how this is going to work
in the back of his car, and somehow the cramped quarters, the limitation, make
that slick dragging, full sensation even better. "Fuck."
"Yeah," Stiles agrees, rolling his own hips and adjusting his angle until Derek
groans and gives a sharp thrust, just right.
Before Derek can really work up a rhythm, the smell of the chocolate cake hits
him, forgotten until now. An idea crosses his mind and he acts on it without
thinking it through. Derek flips open the lid of the box and runs a finger
through the icing before setting it against Stiles' lips. Stiles sucks on his
finger without hesitation, saying around the digit, "Mm, thanks, dude."
Derek laughs and rolls his hips again, rubbing Stiles' tongue with his finger
and remembering how the hot, rough surface feels against his skin, on his dick.
"Can't have you starving either," Stiles says when Derek pulls his finger out
to trace the softness of Stiles' lips. One of Stiles' hands leaves Derek's hip
and reaches across Stiles' body and between them until it reaches the cake box.
"This is your dead birthday cake, after all." He grabs a crumbly piece of the
marble cake between his fingers and curls halfway up so his abs are flexed and
hard under Derek's dick. Stiles sets the cake just in front of Derek's mouth,
but Derek needs a moment to get his eyes forward again. The change in position
moved Stiles' cock just enough that Derek thinks he's embarrassingly close to
coming.
After a few deep breaths, Derek feels more in control, so he reaches out and
takes the bite into his mouth, licking at Stiles' fingers. He can't quite see
Stiles' face, but Derek imagines that his mouth is slack and his eyes wide,
watching Derek eat. Stiles is always watching, watching the way Derek moves and
speaks and thinks. It used to make Derek feel overwhelmingly self-conscious,
but after everything he and Stiles have done together, discovered together,
there's nothing left to feel embarrassed about.
Stiles falls back, but Derek follows the movement with his hands and notices
when Stiles stops halfway, propping himself up on his elbows. "Perfect," Derek
says through the last few crumbs of cake in his mouth before he swallows them.
Derek means the angle Stiles has his hips at, the amount of tension he's
keeping on his cock to help Derek along, but Stiles laughs and murmurs,
"Flatterer."
Ducking down, Derek kisses Stiles and increases his pace. He can feel the
urgency of his body building with every thrust down and every grind of his cock
against Stiles' stomach. He whimpers.
"Me too," Stiles assures Derek, rolling his hips in time with Derek's thrusts.
"God, fuck. Der, these panties! They're tugging on my ass every time we move.
It's making me want to bend over for you. Can you imagine it? Over the hood of
this god awful station wagon? Out the hatchback, my feet planted on the
concrete and my ass in the air, these god damn panties pushed just out of the
way?"
Derek's orgasm hits him like a freight train and he wants to stop moving and
gasp but he can't so he holds his breath and keeps fucking going while his cock
leaps and pumps out all over Stiles' stomach. Groaning, Stiles falls back,
grabs Derek's hips and fucks up into him a few more times, hard and fast, until
he's snorting breath through his nose like a bull and grinding his cock up into
Derek as it shudders.
Satisfied, Derek collapses down on top of Stiles, one forearm brushing the side
of the cake box. Oh, cake! He gives Stiles a hug and mouths at the side of his
neck a few cursory times before reaching back to hold the condom on Stiles'
cock as he pulls away. Now that he's sweaty, the air starts to feel really cold
all of a sudden, so Derek quickly finds the wet wipe and cleans himself up
before handing it off to Stiles to use and getting dressed.
"Good Birthday, mark 2?" Stiles asks as he wipes down his stomach and pulls the
condom off, wrapping it up in the used wipe.
"Definitely," Derek agrees, taking a larger piece of cake and starting in on
it. "Though I think you're giving me an underwear fetish."
Laughing, Stiles steals a cake filled kiss before grabbing his own smashed
piece. "There are worse fetishes to have than an underwear fetish, Der. Like
... like necrophilia."
"Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore."
Stiles' peal of laughter fills the car and Derek gets a piece of cake shoved
into his face.
End Notes
     Thanks for reading! You can come visit me on tumblr if you'd like.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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