Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12622436.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Road_Trip, Season/Series_06, it's_a_complicated_relationship, Explicit
      Sexual_Content, Explicit_Language, Loss_of_Virginity, sort_of_exes,
      Stiles_is_a_little_bit_magic, Derek_is_still_grumpy, Flashbacks
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-03 Words: 5303
****** Four Day Drive ******
by My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary
     It's a long drive from North Carolina to Beacon Hills. Good thing
     they have got each other.
Notes
     My take on what happened between Stiles going to arrest Derek and
     when they arrive in Beacon Hills. This fic posits a previous sexual
     relationship between Derek and Stiles while Stiles is still underage
     hence the tag.
The first motel is just off I421. It’s a run down place, a real flophouse with
crumbling plaster and peeling paint and rooms that smell too strongly of
bleach. It makes Derek’s already entrenched scowl darken even further and
Stiles wonders just what the hell they were both thinking when they took off
from pretty much everyone in the FBI and the Raleigh police that had been in on
the whole raid.
He’s still not sure just how he did it, but the spell he cast (completely
inadvertently he might add) had them all running past him and Derek as they
came out the warehouse and not paying them any mind at all. Just as well
because he was yelling his head off.
His foot is still throbbing, even though a brief check has revealed that his
toe is a lot more intact than it feels like it is. Derek had grunted at it and
shoved him in a car and taken off without so much as a good-bye. Stiles does
wonder if he’s been missed, but seeing as he pretty much glamoured his way onto
the team going in to arrest Derek, he doesn’t think he has.
He looks across at Derek, the way the light from the streetlamps falls across
his eyes and turns them almost colourless. He’s staring straight ahead and
Stiles knows he’s pissed. He can read Derek far better than anyone else can,
read him the way only someone that truly knows him could.
‘I didn’t do it for you.’ he says before Derek says something. ‘I did it
because Gerard and Kate are back and we need your help.’ He hisses at how the
way he’s just moved makes the pain in his foot flare.
Derek doesn’t say anything. Instead he looks towards the side of the road and
Stiles sees the sign that reads vacancy in red neon. He sighs as Derek pulls
the car into the lot and parks.
‘Stay here.’ He gets out and slams the door shut and Stiles watches him stalk
over to the reception.
************
It starts after the Nemeton.
Stiles finds himself waking at odd hours and then not being sure if he’s asleep
or awake. He can’t focus on anything. His meds don’t help and he’s so damn
tired it’s an effort to even put one foot in front of the other. He’s always
cold, always scared and he just wants it to stop for a minute so he can fucking
breathe.
Then they start saying that word, the word that strikes fear deep inside him.
It’s the word that took his mother away and Stiles watches how it crushes his
dad, the way he tries to hide just how terrified he is. Stiles tries to pretend
he’s better than he is, but the sleepwalking and the lost time make it very
clear that he’s not. After a while he kind of comes to realise that he’s
probably dying, just like his mom did, and all he can think about is how it
will kill his father having to go through that again.
So he walks. He walks after school and in the middle of the night when he wakes
up and can’t go back to sleep.
He has no idea why he ends up standing outside the loft in a downpour that has
him drenched in seconds. Then again, the way his mind is drifting lately it may
well have been hours he’s been standing there.
He finally gets himself moving, his feet dragging and his sneakers squeaking
when he gets inside the building. He takes the freight elevator up to the top,
shivering as the chill sets in bone deep. He has his hands shoved in his
pockets, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed so he doesn’t see the door is
already open when he gets there until a towel is shoved in his face.
‘You’re getting water on the floor.’ Derek says and lets him in.
**********
Their room is small and smells like bleach, just as predicted. There’s a
bathroom with grimy tiles and Stiles can see the way Derek is forcing himself
not to recoil from the whole place. He’d once told him that werewolves hated
hotels - too many smells - and a small part of him is happy he’s uncomfortable.
He moves to take the holster from his hip and watches how Derek’s eyes widen
just a tiny bit as he takes in the gun that Stiles now carries. It’s a Sig .45.
He’d wanted a Glock but his dad had talked him out of it and Stiles is secretly
glad. All the other interns have Glocks and he kind of stands out. Some of the
weapons instructors have commented on his choice with approval and it always
gives Stiles that little glow he gets inside when someone praises him.
‘Let me see.’ Derek orders and Stiles bites back a slightly hysterical laugh at
how he’s kneeling in front of him, taking his shoe off.
‘You’re kind of hairy for a fairytale prince, dude.’ he says.
‘Yeah, well you’re mouthy enough to be a princess.’ Derek shoots back and it’s
like they’ve never been apart.
**********
Derek makes him sit on one of the chairs and disappears. Stiles thinks he’s
gone to go call Scott to come and get him and is surprised as hell when he
comes back down from the top floor and hands him some dry clothes.
‘You’re still wet.’ he says by way of explanation when Stiles just looks at
him. ‘Get changed and I’ll get you some coffee.’
Stiles watches him walk away and then at the clothes. They’re nothing fancy,
just a pair of sweats and one of the ubiquitous henleys that Derek wears, but
they’re dry and when he puts a hand to them, they are also warm. He stands up,
but his feet are numb and it takes forever to even get his sneakers off. He’s
still dressed when Derek comes back, two mugs in his hands. He see Stiles still
standing there and huffs. He puts the coffee down on the table and comes over
to him.
‘Lift.’ He’s brusque and Stiles doesn’t understand until he gives him that
look. ‘Lift your arms, asshole.’
Stiles obeys, his shoulders aching, and Derek tugs the hoodie and t-shirt he’s
got under it over his head. It’s weird. Stiles is used to Derek running around
with no shirt on, but he’s never been like this in his presence. He folds his
arms over his chest and Derek chucks the clothes on the floor. He picks up the
discarded towel and hands it to Stiles.
Stiles looks at the towel. It’s navy blue and surprisingly soft but he makes no
move to do anything and Derek eventually takes it from him. He comes forward
again and Stiles flinches ever so slightly, then closes his eyes as Derek
starts towelling him off. He’s gentle, his big hands manipulating Stiles into
different positions before he moves behind him and rubs the towel over his wet
hair. When he’s done, Derek loops the towel around his neck.
‘Jeans too.’ He rumbles and Stiles tries, he really does. His hands are
freezing though and he can’t get the button undone and eventually Derek pushes
his hands away and does it for him. He’s clearly trying to be clinical about it
but Stiles can hear his breathing this close up, the way it’s a little uneven.
Derek’s fingers brush his bare skin and the touch burns all the way through
him. He looks at him, watching how Derek’s focused on his task but then glances
up and it’s all Stiles needs.
He leans in before Derek moves away.
************
‘It’s not that bad.’ Derek’s got his Oscar the Grouch face on.
‘Dude, I don’t know what the fuck you’re looking at but that is bad.’ Stiles is
grimacing as Derek cleans the blood away with a wet hand towel and then settles
his hand on his ankle, black lines streaking up his arm.
‘Tis but a flesh wound.’ he deadpans and Stiles snickers in spite of himself.
His sourwolf can be pretty damn funny when he isn’t being a mopey bastard. ‘We
do need to get you some antiseptic though. Make sure you don’t get gangrene.’
He gets up and gives Stiles a look that threatens death if he doesn’t comply.
‘Don’t fucking leave this room.’
‘Wasn’t planning on it because in case you hadn’t noticed they shot me in the
goddamn toe!’ Stiles yells after him as Derek grabs the car keys and slams the
door behind him.
**********
The kiss is off centre and Derek pushes him away gently before it can really
get going, but Stiles’ mouth is tingling. Derek is looking at him questioningly
and Stiles holds his gaze without backing down.
‘You going to tell me I’m too young?’ he asks, challenging. ‘Because I’ve been
tortured and drowned and nearly every damn day I think I’m losing my mind just
a little bit more. Fucking you isn’t going to do anything to me that I don’t
want.’
‘Stiles.’ The growl is low pitched and Stiles can feel the vibrations of it
when he puts his hand on Derek’s chest, can feel how Derek’s heart is thudding.
‘My dad thinks I’m sick. Like my mom was.’ His voice is shaking. ‘Melissa does
too. They made me have tests.’ He locks eyes with Derek. ‘And I really don’t
want to die a fucking virgin.’
‘You don’t know what you’re asking me.’ Derek’s voice is broken. He tries to
look away and Stiles catches him, lifting his other hand to Derek’s face so he
can feel his stubble scratch at his palm as he forces Derek to meet his eyes
again.
‘Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll go.’ He can hear the way he sounds, the
pleading in his voice. Derek just stares back at him, his green eyes
unfathomable. He looks like he’s fighting himself, fighting this inevitability
that they both feel. Stiles sometimes thinks that it’s like he’s the adult,
that he’s the one in control. He notices the way Derek’s shaking under his
hand, nostrils flaring as he drinks in Stiles’ scent.
‘I can’t do that.’ he finally says and Stiles leans back in, resting his
forehead against Derek’s jaw.
‘I want this.’ he says, trying to make his voice sound stronger than he feels.
‘Even if it’s only once.’
‘It won’t be once.’ Derek murmurs back. ‘If I get to have you once, I’ll never
let you go.’
‘I can live with that.’ Stiles whispers and kisses him again.
This time he doesn’t miss.
************
Derek comes back with half a drugstore and a bag that smells like all Stiles’
dirty food dreams come to life. He makes grabby hands at it and Derek gives it
to him, a half smile on his face when Stiles makes indecent noises upon opening
it.
‘You bought me curly fries.’ he crows. ‘I knew you loved me.’
‘I never stopped.’ Derek replies and fuck if that doesn’t take the wind out of
Stiles’ sails.
***********
Derek gives up on his jeans and just picks him up like that, carrying him up
the stairs to the room he never lets anyone see. When they get inside, he lays
Stiles down on the bed and runs the backs of his fingers along his cheekbone.
‘You need to sleep.’ he says and Stiles holds out his arms.
‘I need you.’ he replies and that’s enough to make Derek’s eyes flash blue and
climb on top of him. His body is like a furnace radiating heat and Stiles curls
into him instinctively. He gets his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls him down
to meet him halfway. Derek growls and kisses him harder than he did downstairs
and Stiles gasps a little as he feel the first brush of Derek’s tongue against
his mouth, opening willingly and letting him in.
This is unlike anything he’s ever felt, anything he’s ever thought he would
have. He’d known he was in trouble since the beginning, since dreams of red
hair changed to dark and the soft curves under his hands changed to angles and
corded muscle. He’s wanted Derek since he’d first realised that maybe he was
into guys every bit as much as girls, coveting him for himself.
Now he slides his cold hands under Derek’s shirt, feels skin and muscle and
bone as Derek licks the little noises he’s making right out of his mouth. He’s
so hard it hurts and when Derek comes down on him, Stiles can feel how hard he
is too and it makes him crazy. He hikes his legs high on Derek’s hips and
grinds up against him and Derek makes a strangled noise and the next thrust
down is with intent. It makes Stiles whine and he knows he needs this like air.
‘Off.’ he demands, yanking at Derek’s shirt and Derek sits up on his heels and
reaches back, abdominals flexing as he pulls it off and throws it on the floor.
His eyes are burning and Stiles’ gaze drops to the bulge in his jeans. He’s
thought about this far more than he should have and he wrestles himself onto
one elbow and reaches out, not even able to form words as he whimpers and
watches Derek drop one hand to stroke over his cock, hand rasping against the
denim.
‘Please.’ Stiles wants so badly but he can’t articulate any more than that.
Derek’s eyes flash again and then his whole face goes feral where he’s staring
at Stiles’ jeans like he wants to rip them right off of him. He comes back over
him, hands working to get Stiles' jeans off and they end up on the floor as
well. He runs both hands up Stiles’ thighs and Stiles throws his head back,
that simple touch making him spread his legs. He raises his hands to lie beside
his head, knowing what it will do. He’s not stupid, he’s researched this and
knows how shows of submission will drive Derek’s wolf to want to claim him, to
fuck him and leave marks all over him like he’s fucking owned.
‘Stiles.’ There’s danger in the way Derek says his name but he doesn’t care.
‘I want you.’ It’s the most honest he’s ever been. ‘I want you to fuck me.’
Derek’s off the bed, shucking his jeans and briefs in one swift movement and
then he’s naked and Stiles can’t stop staring. It’s hard not to when Derek
looks so fucking beautiful it makes his head hurt.
He’s seen other guys naked before. You can’t be in a school locker room without
getting an eyeful but Derek’s cock is the only one he’s really interested in
getting a good look at and it doesn’t disappoint. There’s a brief second where
he’s apprehensive because, holy shit, Derek’s not a small guy and he’s in
proportion pretty much everywhere.
‘You sure?’ he asks and he’s breathless and that makes Stiles almost cry,
knowing he’s made Derek motherfucking Hale hard and out of control for him.
‘So fucking sure.’ he says and lifts his hips invitingly. ‘Get down here and
take me.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Now Derek’s glaring at him. ‘You’re going to be uncontrollable
after this, aren’t you?’
‘Depends on how hard you fuck me.’ Stiles bites back and he knows he’s playing
with fire, but it burns so brightly and feels so good he doesn’t care if he
kills them both doing this.
**********
The curly fries are gone and Stiles’ toe is medicated and bandaged and feeling
a whole lot better now that he’s had some werewolf mojo. Derek’s in the
bathroom brushing his teeth with his newly acquired toothbrush and it makes
Stiles smile because one thing he had never realised before that night so long
ago was that Derek takes dental hygiene very fucking seriously.
It’s a werewolf thing apparently.
He’s on the bed watching some shitty cop show when Derek comes out. He’s taken
his shirt off and his hair is spiky from water and he looks like he needs to
sleep for a week so Stiles shifts across the bed and makes room for him. Derek
hesitates and then comes to sit next to him. The bed dips under his weight and
Stiles thinks about all those nights when he would sneak out and go to the
loft, spending the long hours before dawn tucked into Derek’s arms. It had been
one of the worst times of his life but also the best because somewhere between
that first time and the last he’d fallen in love so hard he still wasn’t over
it.
‘We’ll need to get an early start.’ Derek says. ‘I’ll drive and you can
navigate.’
‘Sure thing, big guy.’ Stiles doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t want to be
close, just worms his way under Derek’s arm. ‘Can we stop to look at giant
balls of twine alone the way?’ He’s managed to settle in against Derek’s side
and feels him sigh before he drops a fond kiss on the top of Stiles’ head.
‘If that’s what you want.’ he replies.
**********
Stiles is pretty sure he’s about to blow.
Derek’s on his hands and knees, nosing along the line of Stiles’ cock under his
boxers and his own leaving smears of precome on the bed covers. His breath is
warm and Stiles can feel it like there’s no barrier between them.
‘You smell good.’ Derek growls. ‘You smell like mine.’
He lifts his head and smiles and it goes right through Stiles like one of
Allison’s arrows. He can’t breathe properly, only pant helplessly as Derek
drags his tongue over thin cotton, dampening the material and making Stiles
grip the pillow under his head like he’s going to rip it in half.
‘You’re going to kill me.’ he grits out and Derek laughs, warm and knowing, the
vibrations travelling right up Stiles’ cock.
‘I thought you were dying anyway.’ he replies and then drags Stiles’ boxers
down and runs his tongue up the length of his cock, flicking it just under the
head.
Stiles has no comeback to that at all so he just lets go and comes all over
Derek’s stupidly gorgeous face.
***********
‘So where have you been?’ Stiles asks. He’s sleepy now, warm and comfortable
and a little bit high from the extra strength Tylenol Derek’s given him.
‘Around.’ Derek’s smiling, Stiles can hear it in his voice. ‘I went down to
Brazil for a bit, then back up through the south. Lots of shit going down.
Hunters.’
‘Were you with Braeden?’ Stiles wants to bite back the words, make it less
accusatory but he’s not above being a petty bitch when the occasion demands.
‘No.’ Derek says it easily, not rising to the bait. ‘She took off pretty much
after we left.’
‘So no grand romance then?’ Stiles wants to stop himself but it’s been killing
him for a year.
‘You fucked Malia.’ Derek counters. ‘You were dating her. We broke up because
you said you weren’t ready for what was going on and then you fucked her.’
Stiles winces. He knows that was a dick move for all involved and he’d take it
back if he could.
‘We’re not…’ He trails off. ‘It was a mistake.’
‘No shit.’ Derek rumbles and Stiles pokes him in the ribs.
‘Hey.’ He glares up at him. ‘I get credit for coming to get you, okay? I have
probably just fucked whatever future I might have in law enforcement because I
saw this asshole I used to know coming up on the FBI’s most wanted list.’
‘I didn’t ask you to save me, Stiles.’ Derek points out like it’s the most
logical thing in the world and just for that Stiles bites him on the jaw.
‘Fuck you, Derek.’ he says the same way he’d say I love you.
**********
They get the come cleaned off Derek’s face and now they are both lying on the
bed top to tail. Stiles is not really sure he has the hang of it and his
forehead is creased in concentration as he contemplates Derek’s cock.
‘It’s not going to bite you.’ Derek’s voice is almost a laugh so Stiles flips
him off and puts his hand on him and grins when Derek goes slightly cross eyed.
‘I want you to put this in my ass.’ he declares and now Derek’s laughing for
real.
‘Sweet talker.’ he smirks and Stiles bites him on the hip, holding on hard
enough to leave imprints of his teeth when he lets go. He goes back to his
inspection. Derek’s not cut like he is and he finds it fascinating. He strokes
along the shaft, his hand already wet. Derek’s cock is leaking all over him and
he’s keen on finding out what it tastes like, but he’s still a little unsure of
the mechanics.
‘You know I’m starting to feel like show and tell.’ Derek says and runs his
hand down Stiles spine.
‘How will it fit?’ Stiles frowns. ‘You’re pretty big.’ He catches the raised
eyebrow and snorts. ‘I mean I have done extensive research on this, but I have
very little actual fieldwork under my belt as you well know.’
‘Jesus fuck.’ Derek falls back on the pillow. ‘Why did I think you’d actually
shut up once I got you into bed?’
‘Wishful thinking, buddy.’ Stiles moves and then licks tentatively at the head
and Derek nearly goes through the ceiling by the sounds of things. He tastes
clean, almost salty, and Stiles smiles. He’s watched enough porn to know what
should feel good so he lifts himself onto his elbows and slides his mouth over
Derek’s cock and hopes for the best.
*************
‘How the fuck do they even do that?’ Stiles is frowning at the TV. He’s got his
head on Derek’s chest and one of Derek’s hands in his hair. Their legs are
tangled together and he wants this to be the way he dies.
‘Flexibility and a whole lot of commitment.’ Derek replies because of course
Stiles found the cable porn channel and now they’re watching two guys go at it
like there’s no tomorrow.
‘We never did that.’ Stiles mutters. ‘Why did we never do that?’
‘Because there are limits to what the human body can do.’ Dereks says and noses
at him. ‘You should be sleeping.’
‘I’ll sleep when you do, big guy.’ Stiles retorts but he’s exhausted so there’s
no heat in it. He yawns and slides one hand under Derek’s shirt. ‘I forgot how
warm you are. Like my own personal werewolf hot water bottle.’
‘And here I thought you loved me for my huge cock.’ Derek snorts and Stiles
laughs at him because there are so many reasons he loves his stupid sourwolf
but the big dick is definitely a one of them.
***********
‘Fuck.’ Derek’s claws are out and that is a very good sign.
Stiles moans around him and keeps at it. He’s built up a good rhythm now,
getting used to the way Derek twitches in his mouth, the slightly acrid taste
on his tongue. Christ knows he always thrown himself into everything he tries
with enthusiasm and sucking cock is no exception.
‘God…’ Derek growls. ‘Get the fuck back here.’ He’s got one hand resting on
Stiles’ back, the tips of his claws tickling the skin.
Stiles pulls off and glares at him.
‘No.’ He runs his tongue over the head of Derek’s cock, dipping into the slit
and lapping up the silky secretions. ‘I want to see if I can make you come.’
‘If that’s all you wanted we could have done that a while ago.’ Even on the
edge of orgasm, Derek’s a snarky fucker. Stiles decides to punish him by deep-
throating the fuck out him. Unfortunately, experience is required as is the
need to breathe and he has to come back up for air. That’s when he’s
unceremoniously hauled back up so Derek can stick his tongue in his mouth.
Stiles fights back, slobbering all over him, and Derek’s growling like a
motherfucker. He drags Stiles across him and, hello dicks rubbing together
which is awesome. Derek runs his fingers through his hair and pulls him close,
licking into Stiles mouth.
They break apart and Derek’s gone, his eyes glowing blue.
‘You still want me to fuck you?’ he growls and Stiles nods frantically.
‘Like yesterday.’ he whines and then makes a very undignified sound as Derek
moves and he faceplants into the bed. He’s scratching around in the nightstand
and comes back with lube and a condom and Stiles grabs it from him and launches
it off the bed.
‘What the hell, Stiles...?’ Derek starts and Stiles shushes him.
‘I’m a virgin and you’re a werewolf, asshole.’ he snipes. ‘Go big or go home.’
‘Fuck.’ Derek’s voice is flat. ‘You’re a demanding little bastard.’
‘You fucking know it.’ Stiles retorts and then watches as Derek uncaps the lube
and wets his fingers. ‘Fuck yeah, get them in me.’
Derek rolls his eyes at him and gets on his knees between Stiles’ spread legs.
He starts out slow, just rubbing lightly over him and Stiles bites his lip hard
and whines through his nose. He feels the first push, feels his body fight the
intrusion and then Derek’s back over him, nudging at him gently with his nose
and making soothing little growls.
‘I got you.’ he breathes. ‘Give it up for me.’
Stiles takes a deep breath and then the tip of Derek’s finger goes in and it
burns a little but it also feels incredibly good.
‘Holy shit.’ he pants. ‘Oh my fucking God…’
‘That’s it.’ Derek’s moving his hand slowly but surely and it goes all the way
in. ‘Fuck, the way you feel…’ He puts his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling
deeply. ‘The way you fucking smell.’ He’s pumping his hand slowly, and Stiles
can feel himself relaxing into it. The drag is just enough to feel really good
and then Derek twists his finger and it’s like a lightning bolt has just shot
up his spine.
‘Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!’ he blurts out and Derek snorts into his neck.
‘Think I found your prostate.’ He sounds smug and Stiles bites him on the
shoulder.
**********
‘Why did you let me in that night?’ Stiles asks. Derek’s arms tighten around
him. They are back to chest, lying in the dark with the TV still on but the
volume turned down.
‘Because I loved you even back then.’ he replies. ‘Because I love you now.’
Stiles closes his eyes and kisses the hand he’s holding.
‘I love you too, sourwolf.’ he murmurs and goes to sleep.
************
Derek’s up to three fingers and Stiles has found religion if his language is
anything to go by. It’s stretching and burning in the best way possible and he
wants to come so badly that it’s making him cry.
‘Just fucking stick it in!’ He doesn’t care if he sounds like a bitch.
‘Please…’
‘Say please again.’ Dereks kneeling over him, one hand pinning both of Stiles’
to the bed. ‘It makes me so fucking hard.’
‘Blow me!’ Stiles snaps. He arches up into Derek’s hand and whines. ‘Come on
you son of a bitch, fucking fuck me already.’
He’s not expecting Derek to yank his fingers out the way he does and then he’s
being flipped over like he weighs nothing, going face down into the bed.
Derek’s fingers dig into his hips as his ass is hauled up and his legs pushed
apart. He stills, moaning uncontrollably as he hears Derek go for the lube, the
slick sound of his hand on his cock.
He doesn’t go in for the kill right away. Instead he rubs the head of his cock
over Stiles a few times, and Stiles bites down on the bedcovers and
contemplates taking Derek right down with him. He’s about to yell at him but
then Derek pushes in and it knocks the air right out of Stiles’ lungs.
Derek’s fingers had felt thick but it was nothing compared to this and he
hisses, sharp and pained. Derek runs his hand down his back and there’s that
lovely warm pull as he eases the pain enough to get all the way in, bottoming
out and then stilling so Stiles can adjust. He comes down to brace himself
along Stiles’ back and kisses his ear.
'You okay?’ he asks and Stiles nods. He can feel the sweat on Derek’s skin, the
way his body slides slick along his back and it makes everything feel so much
dirtier. He hadn’t expected just how it would affect him, but now he wants it
all, wants to feel Derek slamming into him.
‘Do it.’ He grits his teeth. ‘I want it hard.’
‘Stiles.’ There it is again, that benediction that Derek gives him. He pulls
back a little, both hands now on Stiles’ hips, and then he drives in with a
powerful thrust that knocks them both forwards. It’s enough to pull a cry from
Stiles, a desperate sound that is quickly lost in the noise their bodies make
on impact, the wetness of the lube adding its own accompaniment.
Derek doesn’t give him any quarter. He pounds in hard like Stiles wanted and
Stiles moans and swears his way through it, his cock leaking onto the bed below
him and his face in his arms. The angle is absolutely devastating, Derek’s cock
nailing his prostate on almost every thrust and it takes all of five minutes
until he’s coming so hard it blinds him for a few moments. He knows he’s making
a hell of a lot of noise but even through it he feels the way Derek shudders
and hears him growl, bearing down hard around the thickness inside him until
he’s hauled back all the way onto Derek’s cock as he comes as deep as he can
go.
************
‘I think I may have made a big mistake.’ Stiles grumbles. ‘Maybe I’m not cut
out for being shot.’
He’s still in bed, watching Derek come out the shower. He’s naked and towelling
his hair and Stiles could sit and watch the play of muscles all day.
‘I disagree.’ he replies. ‘I think you’re the perfect person for being shot.’
Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.
*************
Derek’s considerate afterwards. He cleans them both up and wraps Stiles up in
the bedcovers and drapes himself around him, nuzzling at his neck.
‘Next time I want you to bite me.’ Stiles says and closes his eyes.
*************
‘So if we go back and vanquish the ever present evil, will you stay?’ Stiles
asks. They are back in the car and heading down the interstate towards
Tennessee.
Derek glances at him and then slides a hand onto Stiles’ thigh.
‘If you want me to stay. I’ll stay.’ he says. ‘You just have to ask me.’
‘Consider yourself asked.’ Stiles snorts. ‘I suppose I should call everyone and
tell them you’re on the way back with me.’
‘We’ve got about four more days of driving and cheap motels.’ Derek replies.
‘Four days of you to myself. So no, you’re not calling anyone.’
‘Oh?’ Stiles grins. ‘And just what do you plan to do to me in these
aforementioned cheap motels.’
‘Fuck you until you actually shut up.’ Derek smiles, that beautiful heartfelt
smile that makes Stiles go weak in the knees.
‘I don’t know.’ he replies because while Derek is undeniably an asshole, so is
he. ‘You got a lot of making up to do.’
‘Yeah?’ Derek takes hold of his hand and brings it up to his mouth, biting
lightly at Stiles knuckles. ‘I can live with that.’
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