Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/524956.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Gender_Changes, PWP, Control_Issues, Under-
      negotiated_Kink, Consent_Play, Consent_Issues, Lack_of_Safewords, Dirty
      Talk, Derek_has_intimacy_issues, Cis_Girl!Stiles, Cis_Girl!Derek
  Series:
      Part 1 of the_devil_wants_to_know
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-30 Words: 1667
****** (I'm Begging You) Before It Ends ******
by andhopeto
Summary
     Stiles has a bad habit of running headfirst into dangerous situations
     and then refusing to leave, even when it looks like she's never going
     to make it home again, let alone in time for curfew.
Notes
     Warnings listed in tags explained in end notes for those who want/
     need them before reading.
See the end of the work for more notes
Everything about her is warm. Too warm, Stiles found the first night they'd
lain in bed together, for Stiles to even play at modesty. Dereka had laughed at
Stiles that first night, not quite meanly, but with little kindness in her
tone, when Stiles had pulled her t-shirt back on to cover her breasts as they
curled up together in Stiles' bed.
"Why hide?" Dereka had asked, sliding a hand up under the hem, fingers brushing
the soft skin of her stomach before cupping one of Stiles' breasts. "I've
already seen it all."
Stiles had scowled at that. But then Dereka had pinched her nipple and licked
the back of her neck; Stiles had squirmed, feeling more wetness pool between
her legs.
Dereka had that effect on her.
Even now, when they had been doing this, whatever this was, not that Stiles
could quite say, for four months now. Dereka would crawl through her window and
climb into Stiles' bed with her, wrapping herself around her body. Sometimes
she would drag dirt and leaves with her into bed, and Stiles would whine, and
Dereka would shut her up with a wet-hot kiss.
As much as Stiles hated the cleanup the next morning, she didn't have any real
complaints about those nights.
"You're thinking too loud," Dereka says into her ear, breath a warm caress
through her hair. Dereka sounds worn, tired, like she hasn't slept since the
last time she made her way into Stiles' bed three nights ago and fucked her
open with her fingers for what had felt like hours. Stiles had fallen asleep
that night sated and utterly confused.
Dereka's fingers had been wet with more than just Stiles. She had obviously
planned that night out because she had come prepared with a small bottle of
personal lubricant. Just thinking about Dereka walking into the pharmacy on 7th
and Main and setting lube on the counter in front of whatever little old lady
had been manning the register at the time made the tips of Stiles' ears burn
pink with her blush.
Dereka had a knack for making Stiles come. Stiles only had about a fifty
percent success rate when left to her own devices. She was too easily
distracted; it was a simple thing to be fantasizing about Buffy and Faith
making out, naked, but then those thoughts could very swiftly turn into what if
they got attacked by flesh-eating demons then and there. And no one wants to
think about flesh-eating demons when they're trying to get off. At least Stiles
didn't.
But Dereka? She not only had a knack for making Stiles come, but also a knack
for keeping Stiles' focus on her. Whether she was pushing Stiles into walls, or
demanding Stiles look something up for her, or spreading Stiles' legs open wide
and licking her way up the insides of her thighs.
"How can I think too loud?" Stiles complains, feeling insulted. She squirms in
Dereka's hold until she rolls around to face her, her eyes straying to Dereka's
breasts on reflex before moving up to her face. Stiles can't help it. Dereka
has amazing breasts.
"Your whole body moves when you're thinking too much, like because you're not
saying anything out loud, the rest of your body has to say it for you."
"Oh." Stiles stares, and stares, and then blurts out, "Why don't you ever let
me reciprocate?"
And with that, Dereka's sleepily indulgent, albeit vaguely annoyed, expression
is gone, masked. She looks wide awake now, eyes moving to behind Stiles toward
the window, like she's getting ready to bolt.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, stay," Stiles says, crawling over Dereka as though
that could possibly stop her or even slow her down. "Stay?" she says again,
although this time it's a question. She's straddling Dereka's hips, hands on
either side of her gorgeous, curved waist. Stiles notices these things, even
when she's trying to be her most persuasive.
Dereka sighs, like she's just lost something.
"You want to reciprocate." It's not a question, it's Dereka sounding defeated.
And that's a weird notion, Dereka, defeated by Stiles and sex. It doesn't seem
quite right.
"Uh. Is that a trick question?" Stiles says anyway. "I mean, duh, yeah, of
course I do. Assuming of course that you're okay with that, and actually want
me to touch you. I'll understand if you don't?" And wow, that really wasn't
meant to be a question, but Stiles could feel her words running away from her
and was trying to stall them.
Dereka breaths. Stiles isn't sure if it's a breath of laughter or just a loud
exhalation to make room for new, necessary air in her lungs.
"Go ahead. Touch me, then."
Stiles stares in awe, hands sliding up from the mattress to under Dereka's
breasts, thumbs brushing the skin there. She stops abruptly and pulls her hands
into her lap, sitting up straight.
"Wait, but, what do you like?" Stiles asks. Dereka frowns at her so deeply that
Stiles is verging on concern for the wrinkle lines she'll have in the future.
"What?" she asks. "It's a legitimate question! I mean, I like everything. You
didn't even have to try and I was begging for more. Hello, recently a virgin
here, remember?"
"Oh my god," Dereka says in what can only be described as horror under her
breath.
"But you're all," and Stiles' hands do a complicated gesture that even Stiles
isn't quite sure what message they are trying to convey, "and gorgeous and I'm
kind of afraid if I touch you the wrong way, you'll be more inclined to bite my
face off instead of getting me off, and I really don't want that, because as
much as I enjoy our little heart-to-hearts against brick walls, I much prefer
it when you make me scream because your head's between my legs rather than
because your eyes are getting red and creep-- oh shit! That was not an
invitation!" Stiles yelps in fear. But she doesn't move off of Dereka's lap.
Stiles has a bad habit of running headfirst into dangerous situations and then
refusing to leave, even when it looks like she's never going to make it home
again, let alone in time for curfew.
Dereka's eyes are red now, yes, but she's smirking, and her fangs have not yet
come out to play. She rolls the both of them over so that Stiles is once again
on her back tonight, and presses her body down against her.
"Has anyone ever told you that you look especially arousing when you're looking
slightly homicidal?" Stiles whispers, wide-eyed. "Oh god," she whines without
taking a breath between sentences, "there is something seriously wrong with
me."
"I'm going to fuck you again," Dereka says, leaning in to nip at Stiles' neck.
"Oh, I am so completely up for that, you have no idea."
"I'm going to fuck you," Dereka continues, expression wicked, "but I'm not
going to make you come until you're so close you're begging for it."
"Holy god, Dereka, I get it, you like dirty talk. Now please, just touch me."
Stiles whines, both hating and loving the way Dereka's fingers are just lightly
brushing over her labia, her clit, her inner thighs still slick from earlier.
"No, Stiles. Because once you beg me to make you come, I will. I will fuck you
until you're begging me to stop, and then I plan on fucking you some more."
Dereka looks deadly serious, and angry, like Stiles' impatience to get Dereka's
hands and mouth on her is painful to deal with.
"No means no," Stiles quips, hips jerking into Dereka's feather-light touches.
"No, Stiles. You tell me no right now, and I leave until another night when I
feel less like fucking you until you can't walk. Or you say yes, and I fuck you
until I decide I want to stop, not you."
Stiles can't hold back a soft moan at the thought of Dereka holding her down,
fucking her open with her fingers until Stiles is sore and pleading for her to
stop, to give it a rest, Dereka ignoring her pleas and pushing in another
finger, lowering her mouth to Stiles' clit, working her over until she's coming
again and again, unable to figure out if she wants Dereka to stop or keep
going.
"I don't even have to be able to hear your heartbeat to see how excited that
makes you," Dereka murmurs, leaning forward to claim Stiles' mouth in a kiss.
When she lifts her head to speak again, Stiles can feel her breath right
against her mouth. "Do you want that, Stiles? Do you want me to fuck you until
you can't take it any longer, only to keep going and fuck you some more?"
"You need to work on your dirty talk," Stiles lies. But she nods. She nods and
spreads her legs and as much as she wants to hide her face in her embarrassment
of how badly she wants Dereka to take shameless advantage of her body, she
can't bring herself to do it.
"Stiles," and Dereka looks somewhat pained, "I need you to say it. I need you
to tell me it's okay."
And Stiles gets it. She does. Dereka doesn't ever lose control. Ever. She puts
all the other werewolves to shame when the full moon rolls around. She shifts
when she wants to shift. That's it. But here, in bed with Stiles, she wants to
lose some of that control. She wants to let go and do whatever she wants to
Stiles' body. But she's in control now. And she refuses to let even the
slightest bit of it go until she has explicit permission.
"Do it. Fuck me. You can hurt me if you want to. Make me scream. I'm yours."
Dereka's smile is warm, but sharp. "You'll regret having said that in the
morning."
Stiles' smile, by contrast, is eager and defiant. "No. I won't.
End Notes
     Warnings: With Stiles' consent, Dereka intends to have sex with
     Stiles even after Stiles is begging her to stop. There is no
     discussion of safewords.
      
     This is part one of a (likely) four-part series, one f!Derek/
     f!Stiles, one f!Derek/m!Stiles, one m!Derek/f!Stiles, and one with
     canon m!Derek/m!Stiles. Stories are all connected by theme, not by
     the story told within. Each story can be read independently of one
     another, although I do recommend reading the entire series to get the
     full picture.
     My working title for this series was 'Derek has intimacy issues', and
     that basically tells you all you need to know about the theme.
     Story and series titles are both from Fiona Apple's song, 'Criminal'.
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