Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1127442.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Oral_Sex, ADHD_writing, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      First_Time_Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-09 Words: 1413
****** From The ADHD Brain of Stiles Stilinski ******
by justsomerain
Summary
     Stiles has always had difficulty focusing, and having Derek on his
     knees in front of him does little for his attention span.
Stiles would be the first to admit that Derek and he were not on the best of
terms, what with the suspecting him of killing people, and him trying to
forcefully persuade his best friend to join his pack by recruiting others to
fight for him.

And there was the whole sneaking into people's houses unannounced. See,
vampires and other spooky creatures tended to have rules about entering houses
uninvited, but Derek had made it very clear that those type of rules were
either complete bullshit or just didn't apply to werewolves. (Though come to
think of it, Lydia didn't have any issues with rules like that, so maybe it was
just one big bullshit rule.)

But Derek seemed to have a knack for breaking and entering when Stiles was
about to... Well, you know, being a sexually frustrated teenager means a man
needs his privacy every now and again. It was always a scramble to get
everything back into place before that fucking asshole would raise an eyebrow,
stoic as ever.
For somebody who didn't like him, Derek sure broke into the house Stiles lived
in a lot.

Sure, Derek was unlikeable on the best of days, and generally speaking he had
been pretty fucking bad at being an Alpha, losing two out of the three teenaged
werewolves he had made in what must have been a record time, but there was one
thing that even Stiles couldn't deny, no matter how much sarcasm he threw at
it.

Derek Hale, despite being a stoic asshole who was probably even worse at being
a werewolf than Scott was, was attractive as hell.

For Stiles it didn't really matter if people were male, or female, or whatever,
he'd figured out as much even before Scott had been bitten, generally speaking
being hot and kind of intimidating did it for him. See also Lydia Martin, Danny
Māhealani, Erica Reyes, Cora Hale, Boyd. Hell, even Jackson Whittemore had
occasionally starred in Stiles' fantasies. (Hey, like he could help being
sexually attracted to people who were, if you really looked at it, kind of
assholes.)

But yeah, basically the point was that Derek Hale breaking and entering to
glare at him and be a stoic asshole was generally counter productive to the
sexual frustration. Not to mention the constant casual shirtlessness. Because
for real dude, how is that even fair?

Scott had said that no you totally can't smell people's arousal dude, that's so
totally a myth, but really, Stiles wasn't all too sure about that.

Either way, Derek Hale had managed to disturb Stiles' maybe slightly perverted
fantasies about him more than once. (Actually, probably more like more than a
dozen times. But who was keeping track, right?)

He wasn't entirely sure how some things actually worked when applied in
reality, oh the trials of being a virgin, but he was pretty certain that he
knew exactly what he wanted to do to Derek. Or have Derek do to him. (If all
those crushes on attractive, intimidating assholes, and all the videos he'd
jerked off to, were any indication Stiles was pretty certain he wouldn't mind
being on the receiving end of being hit and bitten and scratched. During sex.
Not during normal day to day life. Really, no.)

What he hadn't expected was that despite being an intimidating, angry asshole,
Derek Hale was not the type to do such a thing.

And what he hadn't expected at all was Derek Hale on his knees in front of him,
begging to blow him. Or that he'd like the idea of that.

In his fantasies it'd always been Stiles being the subservient ones, with the
object of his fantasies generally looming over him, commanding him to do
whatever pleased that person. (Unsurprising, with his oral fixation a lot of
that involved licking and tasting the other person.)

To be on the receiving end of somebody kneeling in front of him was probably
already enough to distract him if his brain chemistry wasn't fucked up, but as
it was it left him just a little incapacitated. But in a good way, you know.

Stiles also wasn't entirely sure just how it had gotten to this, one minute he
was about to relieve sexual tension, the next Derek Hale was inside his room,
all hungry blue eyes and growling and basically kissing himlike there was no
tomorrow.

From there it had sort of degenerated to both of them breathing heavy and
Stiles clawing his hands into Derek's hair before Derek had dropped to his
knees in front of him, and proceeded to ask him if he could, please.

Admittedly, usually Stiles prided himself in always having an answer to
everything but really, what are you supposed to say when one of the people who
tends to star in your sexual fantasies actually drops to his knees to blow you?

After stammering out a mostly coherent answer, that was paired with an amount
of arm flailing, all he could do was grab a hold of the edge of his desk behind
him, leaning back to look down at how Derek Hale, grumpy asshole former-Alpha
Derek Hale made quick work of further undoing his trousers, pushing them down
Stiles' skinny hips, pulling down his boxershorts with it, in one go.

He'd been semi-hard before Derek Hale had basically thrown himself at him, and
if he had to be completely honest, Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he would have
gotten anywhere near this hard on his own.

As Derek licked a wet stripe up his cock for a moment it flashed through
Stiles' head that maybe this was just a fantasy gone too far. Hallucinations
could feel real, right? But as quick as that thought had come it went, his
knees buckling slightly in the process.

Fuck, the things he had imagined Derek Hale doing didn't live up to actually
feeling it. After what seemed like an eternity of nothing happening at all
except the both of them breathing heavily, Derek licked around his head, before
wrapping lips around him, his mouth hot and wet, and Stiles couldn't help but
buck his hips up.

"Fuck. Fuck."

His fingers dug into the underside of his desk, as that hot mouth swallowed
more of his cock, and Derek wrapped one hand around Stiles' left hip to stop
him from twitching his hips, the other wrapping around his shaft, slowly
stroking up until lips met circled fingers.

"Fuck. Dude."

Stiles groaned (ok, fine, so maybe it was more a whimper), nothing he had tried
with his own hand had prepared him for this, for hot, wet, a hand around his
cock, and the sight of Derek Hale on his knees in front of him. The sight of
Derek’s dark head of hair bobbing up and down, with the occasional glimpse of
his dick moving into the ex-Alpha’s mouth.

He could feel his balls contracting far sooner than he had hoped, hoping beyond
hope that he would have been able to last at least a little longer than this.
Stiles flexed his hands, hips unconsciously trying to thrust, but kept well in
place by Derek's grip, as he worked hard on Stiles' dick, pressing and moving
the hand wrapped around the younger boy's shaft, lips slick on hard flesh.

"Derek... Please."

Stiles was incapable of bringing out much more than that, grunted, stuttering
it out as his head suddenly cleared, as if he could see everything, and he bit
his lip hard, groaning as he could feel his cock throbbing and hardening. All
while Derek kept his mouth around him, hot and wet, his hand moving fast on
Stiles' cock, swallowing his cum.

"Fuck, dude."

As sudden as it had started, it stopped, while in his head the cogs spun faster
than even usually, and his muscles relaxed. He could see Derek get up, wipe his
mouth with his arm, before glaring menacingly at him, eyebrows drawn together.

"Not a word."

It took a moment for the words to make sense Stiles. (Just nod and agree
stupid, dude, imagine if this were to happen more often.) Seemingly satisfied
with the answer the darkhaired werewolf turned on his heels, to climb out of
the window to disappeared as fast as he usually did.

Not bothering to pull up his trousers Stiles sat down at his deskchair, his
brain still turning as he looked down at his crotch.

"Holy fucking shit."

Well that was going into his spankbank.
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