Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1314187.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent, Isaac_Lahey, Lydia_Martin
  Additional Tags:
      Miscommunication, Canon_Divergent, Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, First_Time, rom
      com_bs, wallowing, Self_Pity
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-16 Words: 10147
****** Let's Not Talk About It ******
by hannah_baker
Summary
     “You can’t have a platonic romantic relationship,” Scott said when
     Stiles had tried to explain what had happened the previous night.
     “I’m not saying it’s platonic. Obviously making out isn’t platonic.
     But it’s not like, romantic. I’m not waxing poetic about his gorgeous
     hazel eyes or how ridiculous his biceps are-”
     “Really?” Scott asked, interrupting him. “Because it sounds like you
     are.”
     Or, the one where Stiles' relationship problems could be solved so
     easily by talking about it. So naturally he doesn't.
Notes
     Just feeding my desire to write some miscommunication/romantic comedy
     BS. Ye olde "answering one fucking question completely will literally
     solve everything," AKA, the plot of season one, hah.
     Allison, Scott, and Isaac are in the poly relationship of my dreams -
     the poly relationship that should have been.
     This is set post 3a, non-3b canon compliant.
     Oh, and there's a little Stiles/Lydia, but it's all in the past, not
     romanticized, and everyone is pretty thoroughly over it.
See the end of the work for more notes
The first person Stiles Stilinski wanted to turn to with his freshly minted
broken heart was Scott McCall.
However, Scott was busy. And hey, Stiles didn’t blame him. It was date night,
which is apparently a lot of work when you’re trying to negotiate how your
brand new poly relationship is going to work. Stiles refused to feel bitterness
at the thought of Scott banging two people who are hopeless for his dick when
Stiles was, well, still clinging to his virginity, for whatever reasons. No,
really. Stiles was happy for him. Somewhere. Somewhere in the depths of his
broken heart was a sense of pride that his best buddy was getting the D and the
V at the same time.
Date night also crosses Isaac and Allison off the list of people Stiles could
complain to - not that he would have called Isaac anyway. Lydia is off the
list, as she is the heartbreaker in this situation, and while Stiles may be a
little bit of a masochist (at least insofar as he likes the idea of getting
spanked) he does not need Lydia telling him again all the reasons why he can’t
be her boyfriend, a handful of amazing make outs notwithstanding. 
Boyd is dead, Erica is dead, Cora is in South America. Jackson has remained,
mercifully, in London. Stiles was sure his dad wouldn’t let him drink during
his pity party, so he’s off the list too. 
Which is how he finds himself in the lobby of Derek’s sleek new apartment
building, half a bottle of Jack in his backpack, pushing the intercom button
for D. Hale. Peter probably picked this place out for him - Stiles tried to
imagine any of Derek’s previous abodes having an intercom/buzzer security
system. 
“What do you want, Stiles,” Derek said, voice raspy but obviously exasperated
over the intercom.
“How’d you know it was me?” Stiles asked surprised, temporarily pulled out of
his misery by the idea that Derek can somehow just sense him. Did they have
some kind of magical connection he wasn’t aware of?

“There’s a video feed of the lobby,” Derek said, and the magic was gone. Back
to moping.
“Jesus, did Peter pick this place out or something?” Stiles asked, voicing his
suspicions. Although he too might invest in a video feed if his previous alarm
system only went off when a pack of alpha werewolves was pretty much already in
his apartment.
“Why are you here, Stiles?” Derek said, voice straightforward. Stiles cut to
the chase.
“I’m in need of bro time and Scott is having crazy porn star sex,” he whined.
“I have booze.”
Derek buzzed him in. 
Stiles rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor, six floors from the top, and
walked down the long hallway to the apartment in the far south corner. Derek
opened the door for him before he knocked.
Derek still didn’t have a lot of things. His apartment obviously came
furnished. It was a little ostentatious, expensive looking, but Stiles was
honestly just glad Derek had a real door now. Derek looked different in it,
older somehow, and Stiles was still trying to make “adult” and “Derek” exist
together in his mind. It was difficult. 
“Lydia dumped me,” Stiles said, the corners of his mouth sinking into a pout
that felt like it belonged on his face. Like he’d been born to pout. It had
been a hard hour and a half since he’d been dumped, he was aloud to frown. “Or,
well, she told me that I couldn’t be her boyfriend and that if that’s what I
wanted from her, then we had to stop making out.” 
“Did you need to be her boyfriend?” Derek asked, as he walked further back into
his apartment to the kitchen and got down a couple highballs and put a single
big chunk of ice in the bottom of both of them. Stiles trailed after him. Derek
pulled a bottle of expensive bourbon from his cupboard, ignoring the shitty
bottle of whatever Stiles thought was acceptable liquor, and poured them each a
drink. He gave Stiles the lighter pour. 
“I needed something more than between-classes make outs,” Stiles said. “And
apparently I’m not a casual sex guy as I found out tonight.” 
“What made you think you could have casual sex?” Derek said. 
“I resent that,” Stiles spat back, knocking back half his drink in one gulp. He
was slowly getting used to the warm way liquor burned the front of his face as
it went down.

“That’s expensive. You’re supposed to sip it,” Derek said. “You know yourself
better than to think you would be in for a casual relationship.” 
“You can sip your expensive ‘I don’t get drunk I just like the taste of
whiskey’ shit, and I’ll stick to Mr. Daniels,” Stiles said, finishing off his
glass and pulling his own bottle from his backpack. Derek swiped it from out of
his hand. “And why can’t I? I mean, apparently I can’t but, like, why?” Stiles
lamented his apparently monogamy-hungry dick. Seriously. What the hell was
wrong with him.

“You’re not getting drunk here,” Derek said and shoved the bottle into his
cupboard next to his own collection. Stiles said nothing. He just ditched his
empty cup on the counter and wandered into the living room, flopping his body
down on Derek’s couch. His previous couch had spent more than one night in an
alley. Anything was an upgrade, even the modern angles of whatever black
leather and chrome bullshit filled his living room. 
“And you’re too loyal for that,” Derek said, then clarified, “casual sex.” The
thing Stiles had learned about Derek in the past month-ish since he made his
return to Beacon Hills was that Derek actually paid a lot of attention. He
remembered what he was told, and was good at making connections to fill in the
bits he wasn’t told. He actually knew Stiles and his crew pretty well. 
“When faced with the reality of almost having sex with Lydia Martin but two
short hours ago, I couldn’t make myself do it. Like, she was this thing I built
up in my head and then she was a real person and - I don’t know dude. You
know?” He twisted his head to find Derek hovering in the doorway of the
kitchen. “I thought we were going to have our first actual date, but then she
just wanted sex. I can’t believe I was actually disappointed by that.” 
Derek rolled his eyes and followed him into the living room, sinking down in
the chair by the couch, his drink still in hand. “Unless your girl problems
involve corpses, I really can’t relate to you,” he said plainly, and Stiles
couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “She was your hopeless crush, right?” 
“Totally hopeless. I was on a ten year plan to win her heart,” Stiles
explained, letting his misery dictate his hyperbole. 
“You should let go of the concept of romance. You fall in love with a girl, you
let her have your virginity, she burns down your house. Or she’s a serial
killing psychopath. Find someone you trust and don’t hate. That’s my plan.”
Derek’s delivery was dry, but honest. It was like he was talking about his
feelings without actually talking about his feelings. 
“You have a plan?” Stiles asked, mouth agape as he twisted his body into a
sitting position so he could fix a stare on Derek. 
“There are seven billion people on this planet,” he said simply. “It doesn’t
have to be complicated.” His statement sounded practiced, like he said it to
himself in the mirror every morning. Like Cora made him repeat it to her over
and over before she let him out of her sight again. 
“I’m not sure whether to focus my energy on the fact that you still have hope,
or the fact that you’re including every person on earth in your search,” Stiles
replied, his curiosity thoroughly peaked. He was addicted to the little Derek
Hale puzzle pieces he’d been putting together over the last year - the last
four weeks since he came back to Beacon Hills in particular. Lydia who?
“I’m not actually searching right now. But I’ve thought about it. Children
obviously don’t count,” Derek said with an eyeroll. He took a theatrically long
suffering sip of his drink. “Or the elderly.”
“But boys count,” Stiles said, narrowing his eyes at him. 
Derek sighed. “Yes Stiles, boys count.”
“They count for me too,” he said, aiming for nonchalance. And missing pretty
blatantly. Derek chuckled. 
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Derek said, grabbing the remote off the coffee
table and turning on the largest flat screen TV Stiles had ever seen outside of
a Best Buy. “One of my qualifications is ‘someone I don’t hate.’” 
“But the other is trust, buddy. You trust me so much it’s not even funny
anymore.” The smile Stiles fixed on Derek was big and honest. He wasn’t really
trying to get into Derek’s pants, but flirting never hurt anyone. They had a
thing going, and Stiles was calling it friendship, damnit. 
“You can stay and nurse your broken heart and metabolize the drink you had,”
Derek said. Stiles almost thought it was a generous offer, considering the fact
that he’d just dropped in on him with his tale of woe. “I’m picking the movie.”
“And I’m picking the pizza toppings,” Stiles said, pulling out his cell phone
to Yelp a pizza place that would deliver. He mouthed credit card at Derek and
was pleasantly surprised when Derek pulled his wallet out of his pocket and
slipped out a card. That wasn’t hate, Stiles thought as he rattled off Derek’s
card number to the woman on the phone. 
- 
Derek’s apartment building was a twenty minute drive from his house, and Stiles
surprised himself with how easily - and often - he justified making that drive.
Derek and Scott were getting to a friendly place, and it was nice to have a
space to hang out with no parents, as well meaning as all of theirs were
(although then he thought about why there were no parents watching over Derek
and had the wherewithal to feel like kind of an asshole about it). 
Plus there was a security system that kept Peter out. 
However, as much as he loved Scott and Allison, and as hard as he was trying to
get along with Isaac, being around any combination of the three of them was too
much for Stiles to handle. And Derek for that matter.
“Get out, both of you,” he barked at Isaac and Scott after trying to give
gentle hints that making out on the couch during It’s Always Sunny in
Philidelphia is not polite. Isaac had his hand pretty far up Scott’s shirt, and
good lord. It was making Stiles wish for the days when Scott was head-over-
heels for just Allison. Just one person to moon over and stick his dick in.
At least Scott blushed a little on the way out, while Isaac made it quite clear
to everyone in the room what his intentions with Scott’s body were. Scott was
Stiles’ brother. He couldn’t handle that. What was worse was that he couldn’t
help the fact that the hot-and-heavy making out that was going on next to him
on the couch made him a little horny. 
“Another day in the life of Stiles Stilinski. My best friend is not only the
Batman to my apparent Robin but also the Don Juan to my 40 Year Old Virgin,”
the lament felt fresh in the wake of their leaving. 
“Which Robin are you?” Derek asked casually. He wasn’t a big comic nerd, but he
knew about Batman. Stiles wasn’t about to probe into his fixation. He didn’t
need to in order to understand how Derek related to him.
“Whattdaya mean?” Stiles asked, slouching deeper into Derek’s couch. 
“Dick Grayson or Jason Todd?” Derek’s eyebrow quirked up at him. 
“You’re expecting me to say Jason Todd, because Scott is the Dick Grayson to
his own Batman, and I would totally be cool with guns. But I’m just gonna throw
you a curveball here and let you know that my favorite Batman sidekick is
Batgirl. Barbara Gordon. So suck it.” 
“Because of her intelligence,” Derek assumed.

“Well I’m not about to win any trapeze awards, that’s for sure,” Stiles said.
“Though as soon as I declare my fear of heights some asshole will come kidnap
me and duct tape me to the top of the tallest building in Gotham, but whatever.
I’m afraid of heights.” 
“I’d come get you,” Derek said, shooting Stiles a look that was relaxed and
almost affectionate, and in that moment Stiles realized that he very well may
be the person Derek trusts more than anyone. 
“Maybe I’ll grab a roll of duct tape and steal myself into the night then,”
Stiles said, pushing Derek’s flirt back to him.
“You don’t have to put that much effort into it if you want it.” Derek’s voice
was soft, almost shy. The Derek who came back to Beacon Hills after the
Jennifer Blake incident was a different Derek. He’d let Cora go again, but it
was like having some one-on-one Hale time had settled something in him. He
seemed more human, less monster. 
“Well then what would I have to do?” Stiles was more curious about making out
with someone with a beard than anything. Plus Derek was perhaps the most
objectively attractive person in Beacon Hills. And he’d heard Derek’s
relationship advice. Trust first. He trusted Derek. Kissing him didn’t mean
they’d have to get married or anything. 
“Come here,” Derek said, tipping his head back in a sexy come-hither that made
something in Stiles’ stomach drop. He couldn’t help his uncoordinated scramble
off the couch as he moved toward Derek’s chair. It was plush and big, and Derek
grabbed his hand and helped guide Stiles down to settle on his lap. 
Derek’s careful gaze made Stiles’ cheeks burn. Derek let his fingers trail the
path of Stiles’ jaw delicately as his eyes washed over him, slow, like
something precious. Lydia had never looked at him that way, that was for sure. 
Their lips connected slow and soft, and the similarity between Lydia and
Derek’s kissing style was apparent - Stiles was solidly in the passenger seat.
Derek’s lips were full and lush, and he tasted faintly of the bourbon he liked.
His fingertips held Stiles’ chin delicately in place more effectively than a
vice grip, tilting his face gently to get the perfect angle for each kiss. 
Stiles’ hands rested limp on Derek’s shoulders, but he didn’t give a shit. The
kiss was too intense to calculate a grope at that moment. Groping could wait. 
Derek’s hands dropped from Stiles’ face to his hips, pulling him close and
dominating his mouth. Stiles let his arms curl around Derek’s shoulders,
letting his body weight sink him further into the kiss. 
It was delicious, feeling Derek’s body beneath him. Stiles had never kissed a
boy before, much less a man, and Derek’s body was exactly the opposite of the
female adolescents with whom he’d gained his previous experience. Derek’s hands
were strong and large and hot on his hips, sending sparks up his spine when
fingertips slipped up under the hem of his t-shirt. He knew Derek could rip him
to pieces. He could feel the kinetic energy under Derek’s skin. But he could
also feel Derek’s control. 
Stiles felt safe in his embrace, safe in the little sounds of pleasure that
were coming from Derek, safe when Derek’s hand came up to gently cup the back
of his head while the other hooked around his waist. 
Derek kissed Stiles for ages, until he could barely feel his mouth, until he
needed help getting out of Derek’s lap. His legs were on the edge of falling
asleep from the way he’d been straddling him, but Derek steadied him with a
hand on the small of his back. He stayed close as Stiles got his bearings. 
It had never crossed his mind that he would see Derek Hale like this, relaxed
and soft-eyed as he waited for Stiles to move. “Do you want me to go home?”
Stiles asked awkwardly, looking up at the clock on the wall to see that they
had spent almost an hour lost in their kiss - so long that Stiles mourned the
loss of body heat and the way Derek’s hands trailed slowly up and down his
sides. 
“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” Derek said, his voice rough, as though
making out with Stiles had taken a lot out of him. Stiles paused. Derek’s lips
were swollen and he had done that. He felt like that should be a breaking news
headline somewhere in the world. Stiles didn’t have enough twitter followers to
do the news justice on his own. Derek’s breathing was steady but labored, his
hair all over the place, lids low with residual lust.
“Curfew,” Stiles said quietly, his focus almost completely on how far away
seven inches between two bodies felt when he wanted zero. 
Derek kissed him at the door, just a chaste brush of his lips, and Stiles’
knees trembled. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” Derek said quietly
into his mouth. Stiles irrationally wanted to hold that breath in, to keep
those words. It wasn’t a declaration of anything, or a promise. This wasn’t a
romance. But it could be nice, having someone to kiss. And maybe it could help
him get over whatever road block he had with having sex with Lydia. Sex with
Derek wouldn’t be romantic, but it also wouldn’t be casual. He’d liked kissing
Derek. He felt safe. It seemed like a pretty good plan to him. 
- 
“You can’t have a platonic romantic relationship,” Scott said when Stiles had
tried to explain what had happened the previous night. They were running
errands for Melissa in a thinly veiled attempt at getting back on her good side
after they had accidentally broken the front living room window. For the second
time. 
“I’m not saying it’s platonic. Obviously making out isn’t platonic. But it’s
not like, romantic. I’m not waxing poetic about his gorgeous hazel eyes or how
ridiculous his biceps are-”

“Really?” Scott asked, interrupting him. “Because it sounds like you are.” 
“I’m just giving an example of what it could be like if I was romantically
attracted to him. I’m just physically attracted to him. And I told you about
his theory of dating, right?” Stiles was driving away from the grocery store
toward the dry cleaner. That was another part of the apology - a promise that
her car would be her car for the whole month. Scott would get around on his
bike, or get Stiles to drive him when they had cargo, like groceries. 
“I can’t believe you are taking romance advice from him,” Scott groaned. 
“I understand, dude. Kate, Miss Blake, whatever. But it makes sense, right?
Your heart makes you blind to people’s faults, or in Derek’s case makes him
blind to the murderous rage that apparently adds a pleasing glow to the
complexion. Whatever. We don’t have to worry about that bullshit. I trust him,
you know? And he’s a good kisser. I feel like this could be a good thing.”
Stiles worried the dial on the radio, even though it was turned so low he
almost couldn’t hear it. Scott batted his hand away to correct the frequency. 
“And then one of you will get romantic feelings and the other will get hurt.
How is this not on the list of concerns right now?” Allison had done a lot of
research on interpersonal relationship communication. Meaning she had a well-
used account on a poly message board. Scott was all about open relationship
communication right now. 
“This is just going to be an easy thing, dude. A little physical relationship,
no worries about buying roses. It’ll be easy.”
- 
The next three weeks were easy. When he was with Derek it was amazing. Derek
was affectionate in a way that Stiles hadn’t expected, like being in the same
room with Stiles without touching him was painful, or impossible. Stiles
learned how good Derek was with his body, whether that meant figuring out the
most comfortable way to arrange themselves on the couch to watch a movie, or
how deft and talented his hands were when Stiles’ back ached from when
Greenburg had tackled him at practice. 
Whatever they had going on wasn’t a secret either, which was a relief to
Stiles. He didn’t have to act differently around Derek when they were around
other people. Derek still kept him close when they weren’t alone. An arm around
his shoulders, or their fingers tangled together casually. They just saved the
making out for when they were alone. 
And it was only making out. And a little heavy petting, let’s be real. 
It was so nice and easy that Stiles began to let his guard down. It was the
Saturday night after midterms when Stiles forgot to set his “leave Derek’s now
to get home before curfew” alarm on his phone. Derek cooked him dinner, just
some pasta, nothing radical, and they ate in front of the TV. They decided to
marathon old episodes of the X-Files to make themselves feel better about their
lives. 
Stiles was full of pasta, content, and warm. Derek had twisted their bodies
together on the couch and was absently playing with the short hairs on the back
of Stiles’ neck. Stiles let himself sink into the feeling that Derek was the
only other person on earth. If this were true, Stiles thought he’d be pretty
okay with it. He was tired enough that processing that thought wasn’t at the
top of his to-do list. 
The full, warm, and sleepy combination was a recipe for disaster. 
He woke hours later to the sound of his phone ringing, the buzzing making it
clatter across the hard glass top of Derek’s coffee table. 
“Fuck,” Stiles breathed against Derek’s chest as they both grappled with their
consciousness. Derek grabbed his phone and pressed it into his hand. “Fuck fuck
fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he answered the call. “Hey, Dad.” At
least his voice was convincingly raspy with sleep. 
“Hey kid, I just drove by the house, no Jeep in the driveway. Where are you?”
His dad’s voice was concerned but also distracted. Stiles could hear his
scanner in the background. 
“I’m at Derek’s,” he explained, happy that he hadn’t exactly disclosed the
nature of his and Derek’s relationship yet, even if they weren’t technically
boyfriends or whatever. Stiles still didn’t really know what they were. “I fell
asleep accidentally.” 
“Well we’ve pulled over three drunk drivers tonight so far, and it’s twenty
minutes to bar close. You’d better stay where you are,” his dad said. “If it’s
okay with Derek.” He didn’t sound like he was angry… 
“Of course you can stay,” Derek said, trying to paw Stiles back to where he’d
been cuddled against his chest. Stiles’ sleepy body complied. 
“Yeah I’m good, Dad,” he said, the warmth of Derek lulling him slowly back to
sleep. Derek hung up his call and hoisted him cruelly off the couch. 
“No, no, I’m sleeping,” Stiles whined, as Derek forced him to walk down the
hall to his room. They didn’t spend much time in Derek’s room - Stiles thought
it was because Derek was staunchly trying to keep him virginized forever - so
Stiles wasn’t adept at navigating it on his own. He hit his shin on the edge of
Derek’s bed frame on the way to the bathroom and was immediately a little more
awake. 
“You can use my toothbrush if you need to,” Derek said, and while the offer was
sweet, Stiles couldn’t imagine the feelings he’d have to have for someone to
want to use their toothbrush. He just gargled with some mouthwash and called it
good. 
Derek helped him struggle out of his flannel and khakis and threw a pair of
sweats to him that were so soft on the inside that Stiles had to wonder if
they’d ever been washed. Derek’s toothbrush? Gross. Derek-scented cozy soft
PJ’s? Yes, please. Derek just stripped down to his boxer briefs and pulled back
the bedding before pushing Stiles into it and crawling in after. 
Derek manhandled him so his back fit snugly against his chest, mouthed a quiet
‘Night against his neck and fell straight to sleep. Asshole. Stiles wished it
was that easy for him. He was tired, but now his shin was throbbing and he was
terribly fixated on the fact that this was the first night he was spending in
someone else’s bed. Someone who wasn’t Scott. Derek likely would have been able
to suss it out on his own had he cause to think about, but this was a Moment. 
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark of Derek’s room, lit by the soft aqua glow
of the alarm clock that hadn’t been set for the morning. Derek’s room had a
little more personality than the rest of his apartment, and Stiles’ heart ached
when he spotted a collection of photographs on Derek’s dresser. He could just
barely make out one of two girls, one of whom was Cora. 
Sleeping next to Derek was exciting in a quiet, almost mundane way. A warm body
wrapped around his own. It was nice. But the longer Stiles struggled to get to
sleep the longer he thought about how much Derek must trust him to be asleep,
unguarded, and completely vulnerable around him. It set off a spark in his
stomach that Stiles recognized as being far from their platonic-makeout-
boyfriends deal.
He let his mind wander to the future, to the prospect of keeping Derek. He
thought about how it would be hard when he went away to college (unless Derek
came with him) and about how sweet he would look holding a baby. Something
about imagining them together was comforting, and he fell asleep just short of
thinking about what Scott would say in his best man speech. 
- 
“Fuck,” Derek said, waking Stiles just by shifting away from him. Stiles whined
low, far back in his throat, and tried to nuzzle back into Derek’s chest. “It’s
almost noon,” Derek said, pushing Stiles onto his back, his face hovering close
over his. “Wake up,” he said with a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. 
Stiles pulled their bodies flush, feeling Derek’s morning wood against his
thigh. He wrapped a hand around his arm and held on tight, knowing that this
was the moment when Derek usually pulled away. He’d realized something the
night before. He wanted Derek to be the one who took his virginity. He wanted
that. And not just to get over Lydia, or get past whatever roadblock he had.
“Stiles,” Derek said, a low warning, no fire behind it. 
“Derek,” he responded, a long-fingered hand threading through the hair on the
back on Derek’s head before pulling him into a brief kiss. “I want it to be
you. Be my first.” His voice wasn’t sexy or plying. He wasn’t trying to seduce
Derek into anything. “I trust you.”
Derek smiled down at him, pressed one more kiss to his lips, and pulled away.
“I trust you,” he returned, using one hand to push Stiles gently back into the
mattress. “But we’re not going to when we both have morning breath and the
rumbling of your stomach was what woke me up,” he said. Stiles held on as he
tried to pull away.
“But like, later today, right?” Stiles asked. 
“You have homework?” Derek asked. He always asked that. Once he made Stiles
bring his calculus homework with him when he came to hang out to prove that it
was done. 
“Only a little,” Stiles lied. He can see it in Derek’s face, the recognition of
the lie. 
“Let’s go get some breakfast, then you go home and do your homework,” Derek
said, retreating into the bathroom for a shower. “And I’ll be good on my
promise. Soon.” 
Stiles groaned,threw one arm dramatically over his eyes, and pushed his boner
down with the other. So close. 
- 
“Still doesn’t sound platonic to me,” Allison said, after patiently listening
to Stiles’ woes during lunch. 
“It doesn’t matter how it sounds,” Stiles argued. “We’re just like, physical
friends.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” she continued, scraping her spoon at the
bottom of her yogurt cup. “It’s the exact same look that Isaac gives Scott.
It’s beyond friendly. It’s absolutely adoring. Not to mention the dopey way you
return it.” 
“You know nothing, Allison Argent,” Stiles said.
“I know plenty about relationships, thank you very much. Besides, you asked.
And here is my answer: You’re falling in love with him. And it’s fine. It’s
good, actually. The falling. It’s,” she paused for emphasis. “It’s
exhilarating. And you shouldn’t deprive yourself that.” 
“I’m not going to be the one to bring feelings to the table after it was
explicitly set out at the beginning of our relationship that it was just trust
and… I dunno. Bodies.” Stiles picked at his fries. They were soggy, uninspired.
They were cafeteria fries. 
“Firstly, you’re not the only one in your relationship with feelings, I promise
you. And secondly, was it explicitly stated? Or are you just reading into
something and chickening out of actually asking Derek about it?” 
“The fact that we’re having this conversation right now is proof of the
chickening,” Stiles said.
“Well, let me tell you a little about relationships, Stiles,” Allison said, the
air of because I am now an expert present. “You have to talk about what’s going
on with you. You clearly are feeling things that are valid-” 
“I never said I was feeling anything,” Stiles said. 
“Yes you did,” Allison shot back. “You’re having feelings, and the landscape of
your relationship is changing. You owe it to the both of you to talk that
through. It’s unfair not to.”
“Please for the love of god stop being right about talking it over,” Stiles
whined.
“You’re great at talking,” Allison said. “Lydia told me about the night she
ended it. You reportedly articulated yourself very well.” 
“That’s because she was dumping me. No hope left. I could very easily fuck this
all up by bringing it up.” 
“Stop being such a baby,” Allison said, finishing her pizza and standing to
take her tray to the trash. 
Stiles just dropped his head to the table and stayed like that for a while. 
- 
Stiles had resolutely decided against talking about it. It didn’t need talking
about. 
The rest of his week had been unfortunately pretty Derek-free. His dad had
begun to question the amount of time he was spending not at home, and so he was
making a big show out of cooking dinner and working on his homework at the
dining room table as his dad picked through the case he was working on across
the table from him. There were no dead bodies, so Stiles wasn’t interested. 
Derek texted him a lot though. Just little things throughout the day. Late that
Wednesday night his phone buzzed with a ‘wish you were here’ message that made
Stiles’ heartbeat pick up. He was getting worried about how bad he had it for
Derek. Worried that his feelings were going to fuck everything up. He was
determined to keep playing it cool. 
The next time he saw Derek was that Friday night. As a reward for staying home
all week, his dad had granted him a sleepover, though he had been under the
impression that Scott and Isaac were going to be there. The next time Stiles
has a sleepover with both Scott and Isaac will be the day he spoons out his
eyes and shatters his eardrums. A best friend can only handle so much. 
Ugh. He was nervous. 
He stopped himself from buying Derek flowers, and instead picked out a novel
that he’d been mentioning. Something thick and heavy and literary. It didn’t
appeal to Stiles at all. Then he went to the bakery on the way to Derek’s and
gets a two-person little fruit tart, which seemed pretty romantic to him, and
looked very fancy, thank you very much. He used the rest of the drive to pep-
talk himself into keeping things relaxed and keeping his feelings out of this. 
Derek looked confused when Stiles opened the door.
“Why does that bakery box have gold ribbon on it?” Derek asked, closing the
door behind Stiles, eying him suspiciously. 
“Because I got it from Delilah’s, and that place is fancy,” Stiles said, as
though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 
“Is it your birthday?” Derek asked. 
“No.”
“Is it Scott’s birthday?” 
“You know Scott’s birthday,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “I just wanted a
fancy treat,” he lied. 
“Okay,” Derek said, taking the bakery box and putting it in the fridge. Stiles
showed him the book in his hands, and set it down on the side table next to the
chair he knew Derek liked to read in. 
“Hey,” he said, trying to make his eyes do the bedroom thing that he knew drove
Derek crazy. He slipped his hoodie off his shoulders and pulled Derek into a
kiss. 
“Mmmm,” Derek mumbled into Stiles’ lips. “Hey yourself.” Stiles wasn’t going
crazy. He wasn’t being too aggressive. He slipped his hands up the back of
Derek’s shirt and pressed them flat against Derek’s hot skin. This, so far, was
allowed. He was allowed to touch Derek pretty much anywhere, except for places
that would be blurred on TV.
Derek held Stiles’ face in his hands, sinking deeper into the kiss that he’d
had to wait almost a week for as he felt Stiles’ hands drop lower, one of them
ducking below the waist of his jeans, under his underwear to make an
unprecedented grope. He could tell he surprised Derek from the stutter in his
lips, the small gasp of breath. But Derek didn’t make him stop. 
Stiles basked in the feeling of Derek’s bare ass against his own skin. Derek
was fit; his ass was sculpted, tight muscle, and Stiles appreciated every fiber
of it. Derek pulled him a little closer. Stiles backed him up against the wall
of the short hallway to Derek’s room, extracted his hand from Derek’s pants,
and got to work on his belt. Derek was a little distracted by the kiss, and
didn’t protest until Stiles was on his knees in front of Derek, pulling his
jeans off of his hips. 
“What are you doing?” Derek asked, looking down into Stiles’ doe eyes, bright
and needy. Stiles’ red tongue peeked out of his mouth to wet his lips as
attractively as possible. 
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Stiles asked, trying, more than anything,
to not sound like such a fucking teenager about it.
“It looks like you’re about to try to do something that we haven’t talked about
yet,” Derek said. Derek was being incredibly weird about sex. Stiles couldn’t
figure it out. 
“We did talk about it. You said you’d take my V card.” It was a moment that
Stiles had been playing over and over in his head since last Sunday morning.
Waking up next to Derek, Derek promising him that they would have sex, then
Derek buying him pancakes and bacon and kissing him so sweetly as he dropped
Stiles back off at his car so he could go home and be a responsible student and
son. 
“Stiles, I,” Derek started, pulling his jeans back onto his hips and zipping
them back up. “I don’t think we’re both at the same place with this, and it’s
making me a little uncomfortable,” Derek said. Stiles could see the concern in
his eyes in a way that was almost older-brotherly, if that was a comparison he
could make without wanting to puke. So Derek knew. Derek could tell that Stiles
was getting in too deep with this, and he thought they should cut it out. “I
think I should tell you -” 
“No, it’s okay, I get it,” Stiles said. Never in his life had the act of
standing up felt so shameful. He felt dirty and alone and empty. He grabbed his
hoodie and put it on with his back turned to Derek. 
“Stiles, I don’t think you understand,” Derek said, but Stiles understood
perfectly fine. 
“Yeah, I said I get it.” Stiles spoke only the stiffest, most awkward words.
Words that felt a lot like the ones that he said to Lydia Martin on that day
almost two months ago when she’d broken his heart. Though now, in retrospect,
the feeling was nowhere near how broken he felt now.

“Hey,” Derek said, walking over to where Stiles was, his hand on Derek’s door
knob. “You can still stay and hang out if you want. We can still do that.” 
“I’d better go,” Stiles said, needing to leave before Derek saw him cry. Derek
moved in to give him a hug, but Stiles rebuffed him with a flat palm out.
“Please don’t,” Stiles said, and slipped out the door. 
When Lydia had told him that they couldn’t date, it had felt like a complete
and total let down. One that pizza and a little booze and one of his bros fixed
relatively easily. His heart ached for about a week before he realized that
Lydia was a great friend, and that not having sex with her was a good
decision. 
Stiles stumbled into the elevator of Derek’s building with hot tears streaming
down his face. The sobs would come later, when he was alone in his bed at home.
He wouldn’t call Scott, or Lydia. He wouldn’t tell his dad about it. The only
person he wanted to talk to about it was Derek. And Derek didn’t want him
anymore. 
- 
“I really don’t need an I-told-you-so,” Stiles said, in the back seat of
Allison’s Camry as he tagged along on their Saturday night date. Later they
would go back to Allison’s without Stiles, because her dad was out of town at a
gun show in Maryland, and Allison had the biggest bed. Until then, they were
all suffering from Stiles’ pain. 
“And then he just said it was making him uncomfortable and asked me to leave,”
Stiles said, his feet up in Scott’s lap, seat belt nowhere to be found. If they
got into an accident, he trusted Scott to keep him alive.
“You already told us that,” Isaac said from the passenger seat, and Allison
shushed him.
“Why is he here again?” Stiles asked, glaring at him.
“Why are you here? On date night?” Isaac asked back. 
“Touché,” Stiles said, pulling the hood up on his sweatshirt defensively. 
They pulled into the ice cream shop - Scott’s cure-for-a-broken-heart idea -
and got out. Allison bought Isaac’s cone, and Scott bought Stiles’ hot fudge
sundae. Stiles almost started crying again. 
“Should I have left the fucking fruit tart there? I’m sure he opened it up and
saw the fucking fruit tart and thought sure am glad I dumped that stupid clingy
kid,” he lamented, in the middle of the conversation that the rest of them were
having ten minutes later at a booth in the back of the shop. Allison looked
like she was getting to the edge of her patience, but sipped her shake quietly.
Isaac rolled his eyes. Scott patted him on the back. 
“And it was because he wasn’t interested?” Allison asked. She wanted all the
facts so she could fix things. She was good at fixing things. She wasn’t so
great at just listening to him complain. 
“Well I was clearly interested. I bought him a book and a fucking fruit tart. I
pretty much begged him to let me get on his dick.” 
“Too much,” Isaac said. “I don’t want to think about Derek’s dick.” 
“I wish I could stop thinking about Derek’s dick,” Stiles said, slumping in his
seat even further than he already was. “Or about Derek’s hands, or his scruff,
or how it felt to cuddle with him on the couch.” 
“Way too much,” Isaac said. “I think it’s actually nearing the end of this
portion of the date.” He gave Scott a please get your friend out of here look
at the same time that Stiles gave him a can you believe how rude this guy is??
look. Scott looked torn. 
“Fine,” Stiles said, sipping the last bit of melted ice cream out of the bottom
on his dish, and slipping out of the booth. “Drive me home and go have the kind
of sex that I will never have in a million years.” 
Scott was the only one who blushed. 
- 
Five more days past. On Thursday night, he got a call from Derek. He resolutely
ignored it. Maybe they could be friends later, but right now Stiles’ heart
still felt raw. He’d spent six solid days since Derek had sorta dumped him, and
he’d spent every single second thinking about him. 
He shook his head to displace the thoughts. His missed call notification glowed
from the face of his phone. He unlocked it, deleted the notification. He almost
deleted Derek’s contact too, but with all the supernatural bullshit they had to
put up with, that would have been a counterproductive move. Not worth the
catharsis.
He logged into his WOW account and tried to find a few people to play with. He
still couldn’t get Derek Hale out of a single crevice in his mind. 
He was proud, however, at the fact that he didn’t let himself sad jerk off to
thoughts of Derek’s body, lips, and hands. So that was a first for the week. 
- 
“Derek’s acting weird,” Isaac said at lunch the next Monday. 
“Derek is always weird,” Stiles said, trying not to think about how quickly his
brain derailed from the discussion of possibly going camping next weekend at
the mention of Derek’s name. 
“Derek’s being exceptionally weird,” Isaac said. “Reclusive. Snappy. Mopey.
It’s annoying.” 
“What do you want me to do about it?” Stiles asked, giving Isaac the most
confrontational look possible. 
“Go make up with him. Then make out with him. He’s obviously miserable,” Isaac
said. 
“He was the one who didn’t want me,” Stiles said. “He probably thinks I’m too
clingy and a bad kisser too. Go find him a not clingy good kisser.”
“Oh, honey,” Lydia said, taking a bite of the lunch she brought from home. She
never ate cafeteria food. “You’re a fine kisser. Not bad at all. Maybe a little
adventurous with your tongue, but in a usually fun way.” Stiles gave her a half
smile. 
Before Derek, the news that Lydia Martin thought that he was a good kisser
would have made him instantly come in his jeans. Now it felt more like a
motherly pat on the head. Pretty neutral, though still nice. It did feel good
to know that he and Lydia had lost their post-break up awkwardness. Getting
past it was never a guarantee, which is why it’s not always a good idea to
start kissing your friends. Stiles tried very hard to ignore the memories of
the days when he thought that kissing Derek would never lead to pain, and would
be a generally good idea.
“We could take him camping with us,” Allison said. “Cheer him up a bit.” 
“Allison, you are officially voted off the island,” Stiles said. “Remember how
awful it was after you and Scott broke up? Imagine camping with him after
that.” 
“We can’t just leave him behind. He’s sad,” Isaac said. 
“Since when do you care what happens to Derek Hale?” Stiles asked. 
“I care since making him potentially happy will make you miserable,” Isaac
said. Scott kicked him under the table. Stiles and Isaac’s relationship was
still chugging along at a steady struggle. 
“Maybe we should just not go camping,” Lydia said. “Sounds like hurt feelings
all around.” 
- 
In the end, Isaac, Scott, and Allison decided to go alone. Fine. Go have as
much sex as you want in the woods, Stiles thought. He didn’t even care.
He cared a lot. Though he was glad he wouldn’t have to share a tent with Derek.
- 
“Please come with us,” Scott begged. It was officially two weeks since Derek
had broken up with him. He had a hefty collection of unanswered and unreturned
phone calls and a text message from every day since the first call. Each was
the same. Please call me. Stiles hadn’t called. 
“I’m not going into the wolf’s den. It’ll be a disaster,” Stiles argued, his
resolution on not hanging out with everyone tonight at Derek’s was thick. Thick
as steel. Thick as carbon fibre. Thick as molasses. Thick as syrup. Thick
as...ugh. Water. 
“I’ll protect you,” Scott said. And because Scott only had the best intentions,
Stiles said yes. But he drove separately, and reserved the right to leave
whenever he wanted. Like immediately, for example. 
- 
He was almost offended that Derek’s building looked exactly the same on the
outside. Stiles wasn’t exactly the same. Scott pressed the buzzer for his
apartment, and they all piled into the elevator, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Isaac,
and Lydia. Lydia gave his hand a little squeeze before the elevator doors
opened on the eleventh floor, and Stiles only barely held back a groan. 
Scott didn’t even knock as he walked in.
“Hey Derek,” he called. Stiles was at the back of the group, and couldn’t see
anyone inside yet. 
“Hey guys,” Derek’s voice shouted from the bedroom, and Stiles’ stomach
dropped. He’d missed hearing Derek’s voice more than he was willing to admit.
He got a sudden flood of everything that he’d missed. Getting cozy on Derek’s
couch, the way Derek’s sheets felt against his cheek, the way Derek used to
follow him around the room as though they had some kind of proximity charm cast
on them. He only got three feet into the apartment before he got his first urge
to turn tail and run. 
“Stiles,” Derek said, the surprise on his face clear as he walked into the
room. He was wearing a tight henley that bunched where it was rolled up on his
forearms, and the scruff on his face looked like it was at least a day past
where he usually kept it. He gave Stiles a look that he couldn’t read.
“Oh shit, look at the time,” Allison said, and suddenly his friends had dipped
out of the apartment. Stiles could hear their feet padding quickly down the
hall before he could even process the fact that they were leaving him alone
with Derek.
Derek let out a sad little laugh. “These are the lengths they have to go to to
get you in the same room with me, I guess,” Derek said. His eyes were sadder
than Stiles had ever seen them. Derek usually wavered around angry. Grumpy at
least. He’d seen him happy plenty of times too, especially between the start
and stop of their brief...whatever it was. He’d never seen Derek’s eyes look so
hopeless. 
“I can leave, if you want,” Stiles said, hoping that Derek would let him go,
but also never wanting to ever be out of Derek’s presence. 
“Please don’t,” Derek said. He was clearly struggling through what he was
supposed to do now that they were back together. “Do you want a drink?” he
asked, and Stiles nodded emphatically. Yes. A drink would help a lot.
Derek poured him the same whiskey he’d given him on the night that Lydia had
broken up with him. He hadn’t kissed Derek on that night, but he thought of it
as the start of something. The liquor tasted like late night kisses, and
reassuring text messages, and the surprising softness of the palms of Derek’s
hands. It tasted like how hard it was to not talk to him for two weeks.
“I miss you,” Derek started, after downing his entire drink in one gulp, the
way he’d advised Stiles was the incorrect way all those weeks ago. Stiles kept
slowly sipping at his, savoring it as something to do so he didn’t have to look
at Derek, knowing that when he was done with his drink, he’d probably have to
go home. The last sip would taste like how it felt to walk out of this
apartment, closing this chapter of his life forever. 
“I’m not sure what I can do about that,” Stiles said. Derek just wanted trust
and sex. Stiles wanted… Derek made Stiles want everything. 
“Stay. Stay with me. I’m not sure how to make this work, but I shouldn’t have
told you to stop. I just thought that you deserved to know-” 
“I know. That you were uncomfortable with my feelings for you.” Stiles felt his
face heat with the embarrassment of those words. He wasn’t sure why it was so
horrible to admit that you feel much more strongly for someone than they do for
you. He just knew that it felt like being strung up by a meat hook. 
“What?” Derek asked. 
Stiles only clarified because he couldn’t imagine making more of an ass of
himself. “You saw the book and the fucking pie and noticed how clingy I was
getting and you thought ‘hey, I told this kid I’d kiss him but wasn’t looking
for anything romantic.’”
“When did I say I wasn’t looking for anything romantic?” Derek asked, looking
at Stiles as though they had been in completely different relationship over the
past few months. 
“At the beginning. You said-” 
“I said I was looking for trust. And then I established that I trusted you. I
wanted that. I wanted my next romantic relationship to grow out of a foundation
of trust. I thought you knew that I meant for this to be romantic. That I want
to be your boyfriend.” Stiles felt like a stupid kid. 
“I thought you wouldn’t have sex with me because you knew I didn’t want to do
it casually and so when you saw me getting attached you had to cut the cord.
Let me know that it was supposed to be a casual thing.” 
“Stiles, I knew you didn’t want casual sex, so I wanted to tell you that I love
you before we had sex. I wanted to give you more than just sex.” Derek’s voice
cracked. Stiles looked into his eyes for the first time since they began this
conversation. He’d been wrong before. They didn’t look sad. They looked
exhausted. Ruined. He looked like he might have been crying, or like he hadn’t
gotten any decent sleep lately. Stiles still thought he looked stupidly
beautiful. 
“You what?” Stiles asked in a tiny whisper.
“Stiles, I fell in love with you. And I didn’t understand why you ran off that
day.” 
“I brought you a fruit tart,” Stiles said, brain hazy with what was happening. 
“Another reason I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t answer my calls. Scott
asked me why I had broken up with you. I didn’t realize that I had.” He reached
across the small gap between them and took Stiles’ hand. “I missed you.”
Stiles took his hand and pulled him close, pressed in as tight as he could, and
wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders. He pressed their cheeks together,
ran his hands though Derek’s thick hair, and finally pulled back only enough to
kiss him. He kissed him the way he had two weeks before, with a gentle
insistence. With a declaration. But this time with something else too. A
request for permission. 
“Team Polyamory has been nagging me to talk about our relationship with you,”
Stiles admitted when he broke the kiss, leaving Derek looking like he didn’t
fully understand what was going on. He pressed another kiss to Derek’s lips
before going on. “But I was too cocky for that. Actually too nervous. Way too
nervous. Nervous to fuck this up. Because I thought even using the word
‘relationship’ in front of you would make you run away.” 
“Never,” Derek said, letting his hands cup Stiles’ jaw as he stole a kiss.
Stiles couldn’t believe that he’d spent two weeks without this. Two weeks
thinking that Derek didn’t want him. And now he had to spend the rest of his
life knowing that he should always just listen to Scott, and Stiles didn’t know
if he was ready for that. 
Derek pressed him up against the fridge, gripped his hips, let his fingertips
trail over the bumps of every one of Stiles’ ribs. His kisses moved to Stiles’
neck. 
“Couch or bedroom?” Derek asked, pulling away to look into Stiles’ eyes. Stiles
was hanging onto Derek’s shoulders like he was about to be forcefully
separated.
“Bedroom?” Stiles asked. 
“Yes,” Derek said. 
“Bedroom,” Stiles confirmed, and Derek herded Stiles down the hall, his hands
on the small of Stiles’ back, urging him forward. Stiles crawled onto Derek’s
bed, the bed he had only woken up in once. He found the middle and propped
himself up on his elbows crooking a finger to beckon Derek to him. Derek
crawled after him, catching Stiles’ lips in a kiss as he guided Stiles down,
flat on his back. Stiles though he could feel how quickly Derek’s heart was
beating, but maybe it was his own. 
Derek kept kissing him for longer than Stiles could stand. Stiles was used to
suffering through his erections when he made out with Derek in the past. It was
all fairly chaste, and Stiles knew the boundaries. Derek’s dick had been off-
limits. Tonight was different though. Stiles could feel the slight stutter of
Derek’s hips as he struggled between what he wanted and the control he was used
to needing. He snaked a hand between them and cupped Derek’s bulge through his
jeans. 
Finally Stiles pushed Derek off of him and onto his back, and straddled his
waist. “I just realized that I didn’t say it back. I mean it back. I thought it
back. I wanted to say it back. I haven’t said it back yet. Fuck.” 
“Then fucking say it,” Derek said. His lips were swollen in exactly the way
Stiles loved, and he pressed one hand over Derek’s heart before he smiled. 
“I love you.”
Derek beamed at him, returned the declaration, and ripped Stiles’ shirt off. He
wasn’t fucking around anymore. They detangled themselves for just long enough
to disrobe. It wasn’t very romantic, just the two of them mostly taking off
their own clothes. When they were both bare, Derek directed Stiles back to the
center of the bed and ran a reassuring hand over his skin. 
Everything had been fast two seconds before, but as soon as Stiles was laying
out in front of him, Derek slowed down. He trailed kisses from Stiles’ jaw to
his chest, teeth worrying his collarbone, rough pink tongue flicking over pert
nipples. He dipped his tongue into Stiles’ belly button and nibbled on his hips
a bit before he paused hovering over the curve of Stiles’ dick. 
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice rough from arousal. 
“Yes, yes, please, yes,” Stiles said, pushing back up onto an elbow so he could
watch exactly what Derek’s mouth was about to do to him. Derek licked up his
shaft, finishing with a flick of his tongue on the tip. 
Derek kept one hand on Stiles’ thigh, stroking slowly to ground him. “Is this
okay?” he asked, looking up into Stiles’ eyes.
“It’s way past okay. Please, please keep going,” Stiles said. He was hoping it
didn’t sound like begging to Derek, because it kind of sounded like begging to
Stiles. 
Derek took just the head into his mouth as he slowly began stroking the base
with his hand. Derek’s mouth was warm and engulfing, and Stiles’ hips jerked
involuntarily as Derek pulled slowly back. It felt better than anything Stiles
had ever done before. He thought it would feel more or less like it felt when
he jerked off in a hot shower with body wash, but it was nothing like that. 
Until this point, every ounce of pleasure Stiles had ever gotten from his dick
had been at his own hand. Now, Derek controlled everything. Having someone else
touch you immediately felt better, hotter, wilder, sweeter, nicer. He watched
himself slip slowly into Derek’s mouth until Derek’s nose was nestled into the
bed of his pubic hair. He could feel the press of Derek’s tongue on the
underside of his dick, and the taut circle of his lips around the base of his
dick. His head swam with the combined sight and feel of it. 
Derek sucked and licked and kissed. He let one of his hands play with Stiles’
balls, and Stiles sighed, feeling, for the first ever time in his life, like
the feeling of his approaching orgasm was unfortunate news.
“Whatever you’re doing is super effective,” Stiles choked out, threading the
fingers of one hand through Derek’s hair. Derek looked up at him with a cocky
smile, and began delivering his motions faster, sucking harder. His tongue
pressed harder against his dick, and he used his hand to pump the base of his
dick while his mouth worked on the tip. 
Stiles came almost silently, though he certainly wasn’t still. His body
spasmed, his arms shook, his chest heaved heavy breath after heavy breath.
Derek only pulled away after Stiles was done riding out his orgasm, a smile
playing on his lips as he licked them.
“That’s obscene,” Stiles said. “I want to do it a thousand more times.” 
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Derek said, his smile a little more shy after laying
down next to Stiles. He looked happy and content, which was a look that Stiles
wanted to dedicate his life to. Derek was still hard, so Stiles pressed in
close to him, kissed his orgasm right off of Derek’s lips, and reached for
Derek’s erection between them.
Derek’s dick felt so different from his own. It was thicker and slightly
longer, and lacked that slight curve his own had. Plus, it was Derek’s, which
meant that touching him made Derek sigh and gasp and moan, each one feeling
like a present, a little reward. Jerking someone else off lacked the instant
feedback loop that he had when he masturbated, but the sounds that Derek was
making was a good enough roadmap. 
Derek pressed Stiles back into the mattress, devouring their kiss as he
thrusted his hips up into Stiles’ tight grip. Stiles thought he should try to
vary his motions, try to be creative, but he couldn’t think of anything with
Derek’s hazel eyes so close to his own, Derek’s breath on his ear. It was
distracting, and Derek seemed pretty content with the thrusting he was doing.
Stiles decided to not worry about it. After this he wouldn’t be a hand job
virgin anymore and he could work on technique. Until then, he let himself enjoy
the weight of Derek in his hand, the feel of Derek’s lips on his own, the
knowledge that he was losing his virginity in the exact bed he wanted to with
the exact man. 
Derek’s thrusts became shorter, and Stiles tightened his grip as Derek’s orgasm
spilled over his fingers and onto his stomach. Derek’s kiss went from intense
to distracted as his orgasm shot through his body, and he rested his forehead
against Stiles’ as he came down. 
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, their eyes so close together Stiles could
have sworn he could see entire galaxies in Derek’s. 
“Sex is awesome,” Stiles said, immediately moving to press their bodies back
together, but Derek held him where he was and grabbed a few tissues off his
night stand. 
“Let’s get you cleaned up a little.” Derek wiped him clean before pulling him
close, kissing his jaw slowly up to his ear. He placed one little kiss in the
space behind his ear. Stiles could feel the smile on Derek’s lips. He could get
used to this. 
- 
“You could have made so many better choices over the past few weeks,” Scott
said the next day. 
“I’ll give you the link to that poly message board. Read about communication
strategies, please,” Allison said.
“That's my boy,” Lydia winked. 
“You’re possibly the stupidest person I know,” Isaac said.
Stiles dropped his head to the table at the diner they were all getting dinner
at. He was an idiot. But Derek’s hand came up to rub his shoulders. 
“I love you,” he said. Stiles could tolerate the I-told-you-so’s for that. 
End Notes
     Obsessively reblogging every photo of a smiling Tyler Hoechlin on my
     tumblr.
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