Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/940714.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, mentions_of, Allison_Argent/Isaac_Lahey/
      Scott_McCall, Aiden/Lydia_Martin
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin, Allison_Argent,
      Isaac_Lahey, Alan_Deaton
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Episode:_s03e12_Lunar_Ellipse, Dreams_and_Nightmares, Alternate
      Universe_-_Canon, First_Time, Anal_Sex, Self-Lubrication, Knotting, Dream
      Sex_and_Real_Sex, Rimming
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-25 Words: 6053
****** Moving on From Him is Impossible ******
by linksofmemories
Summary
     “Stiles, I’m right here,” Derek said, taking his face in his hands.
     “Look at me, okay? I’m real.”
     “You’re not.”
     “Of course I am, you idiot,” Derek said, taking one of Stiles’ hands
     and pressing it over his heart. “Does that feel fake to you? I’m real
     and I’m right here.”
Notes
     NOTE: Dennifer never happened in this fic and Stiles and Derek
     flirted a ton in 3A but never got around to admitting actual
     feelings. Okay, carry on.
He should have taken it all into more consideration.
Of course at the time he didn’t care about whatever darkness was going to be
around his heart. His dad was missing and about to be ritually sacrificed; a
little darkness in the future looked like an easy price to pay. Honestly he had
been more concerned about being legally dead for hours—that had seemed more
terrifying.
Besides, darkness wasn’t a new thing to his heart. His mom had died and he had
been the only one there to comfort her in her last moments. Guilt had consumed
him for months, years, after it had happened. Guilt that her death was his
fault. Guilt that his father drinking was his fault. And then he started
feeling guilty about the panic attacks and had felt guilty about feeling
guilty.
So…darkness. Not a new thing to him.
He had just never thought about how all-encompassing it could be sometimes. At
school he was fine, too focused on U.S. History or Pre-Calculus or Physics to
really pay it much attention. Hanging out with Scott or Lydia or Allison or
Isaac or Danny or Ethan or Aiden (or all of the combinations of those) was fine
too because he had friends to distract him. Being with his dad was fine too.
Everything was fine except for when he was alone. Or when he just didn’t have
his guard up.
He could be reading or doing homework (or masturbating, he was a growing boy
after all) and it’d be fine because he was focused.
But he’d be daydreaming or nodding off or zoning out and it would all crash
into him. His mom was dead because of him. Heather was dead because of him.
Lydia had almost gotten strangled because of him. His dad and Ms. McCall and
Allison’s dad could have died because of him. Scott had been forced to join
forces with Deucalion because of him.
Derek and Cora were gone because of him.
Or maybe it was just Derek who had left that guilt and blame on him.
He didn’t even know why. He liked Cora, she was beautiful and strong and never
took his shit, but it just wasn’t… substantial. His knowledge of her was
limited and despite the idea of him liking spending more time with her, it just
never really hit home for him.
Probably because Derek had been gone for close to two months and it had turned
from “Derek and Cora leaving” to “Derek leaving”.
Of course it was just Stiles’ luck to sit across Lydia at lunch a few days
after Derek left to feel nothing for her. Nothing romantic anyway. He loved
her, always had and always would, but it was stronger now. Stronger in a way
that didn’t even translate into him wanting to hold her close or kiss her.
Aiden did that and Jackson had too and he didn’t have any desire to be the next
in line for that role. She was his friend, probably his second best after
Scott, and he loved and admired her and now respected her (something he
realized he hadn’t really done for the first seven years of knowing her).
She was sitting next to Allison and eating with one hand and writing down
physics equations with the other. He would have swooned months ago, but now all
he felt was jealousy at her for being ambidextrous.
“What?” she asked, eyes not moving from her textbook.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“You’re not even looking at me.”
Lydia gave a heavy sigh, putting down her pen before looking up at him. “What’s
with the look?”
He wasn’t in love with her anymore. It just wasn’t there and part of him felt a
little empty, but at the same time it felt like it was filling up with
something else. Something like longing and waiting and stupid way too late
realization.
Her strawberry blonde hair used to be his inspiration for sonnets in English
class and now it was just beautiful, not special. She was beautiful and smart
and confident but the only thing about her that gave him butterflies were her
green eyes.
And it wasn’t even because they were her green eyes.
“Oh,” she said simply. “Good for you.”
She went back to her textbook and he looked around the table, the only person
having noticed the exchange being Allison who was now eyeing him cryptically.
“I’m not going to ask,” she said, giving him a small smile (not having to ask
because of course she already knew) before turning to talk to Isaac.
That night was the first nightmare about Derek. The other ones had been about
his mom or his dad getting stabbed or Scott standing with the flare in his
hands or Lydia being strangled.
But tonight it was all about Derek and it was the worst nightmare he had ever
had.
It started off simple enough. They were talking about something that he
couldn’t bring himself to care about. It was just talking, simple conversation,
easy words back and forth. And then they weren’t talking and Stiles was lying
in his bed and Derek was on top of him and their shirts had disappeared
somewhere.
This definitely wasn’t his first wet dream about Derek Hale, but it was the
most real. All of the other ones had been before Stiles had known Derek, cared
about Derek. It had been when he had started to realize that he stared at guys
just as long as he stared at girls. And it wasn’t like Derek would ever find
out that Stiles fantasized about the man’s body.
But now it wasn’t about Derek’s body, it was about Derek.
Derek who was kissing him breathless and pressing his hands against his skin
and calling him “sweetheart” and “baby” and telling him how beautiful he was
and how perfect he was and how tight he was.
He had woken up to Derek telling him how much he loved him as he fucked into
him. His pants were damp and he was shaking and sweating. Stiles turned his
head into his pillow, feeling more pathetic than he ever had because there was
no way. There was no fucking way he would ever have that.
Derek was gone and he didn’t have any interest in Stiles and definitely wasn’t
in love with him.
It was the worst thing the darkness had ever done for him: showing him what he
wanted more than anything and then just making him wake up feeling shamed and
alone.
So he tried his best not to think about Derek or anything that reminded him of
Derek. Finally Lydia found out about it and she agreed with his plan of
excluding all things Derek Hale from his life.
She set him up on a double date with her, Aiden, and a sophomore girl named
Zoe. Zoe was younger than he was with blonde hair and brown eyes. She was pale
and short and skinny and clumsy and talkative. The first letter of her name was
even on the other end of the alphabet than Derek’s.
And she was nice and funny and they had a great time, Lydia grinning and
looking extremely pleased with herself throughout mini golf and dinner. He
drove Zoe home and walked her to her front door and she had leaned forward,
hands on his shoulders and lips zooming toward his and he had turned his head.
The awkwardness was palpable in the air and he was frozen with her lips on his
cheek, sticky from lip gloss. She pulled away and they looked at each other,
him cringing and her looking shocked and hurt.
Guilt filled him up and he was about to tell her that it was him, not her, and
oh God could he be more cliché?
“Oh,” she said, pressing her lips together and looking at her feet. “I knew it
was too good to be true anyway.”
“What?”
“Older guy, way too good-looking for me, having been the star of the lacrosse
championship last year,” she continued. “I was so excited when Lydia asked me
to come along and you-you don’t even—”
There were tears. Fuck there were tears and all he could think about Derek not
crying if Stiles had given him his cheek to kiss and fuck he was a horrible
person.
“You’re still so in love with her you can’t even focus on anyone else.”
She disappeared into her house then, leaving him feeling dumbstruck on her
front porch. It made sense that she saw it that way. Stiles had talked to Lydia
for the majority of the night, but that was because they were friends. Aiden
hadn’t minded since he was used to it, but of course Zoe felt neglected and saw
it as him being in love with her still.
He had gone home and darkness had crumbled away at him the entire drive. He
felt guilty and responsible and when he went to bed he was sure he was going to
dream about having Zoe’s blood on his hands.
Instead he dreamt about Derek again. It was post-sex this time and Stiles had
his head pillowed on Derek’s chest while the older man stroked his back.
“I love seeing you like this.”Dream Derek said (because he was big on using
“love”).
“Shut up.”
“No, I do,”Dream Derek insisted. “You’re happy and warm and content and God, it
makes me want to make you beg all over again.”
“I don’t beg,”Dream Stiles said, pressing his face against Dream Derek’s skin
in embarrassment.
“Always do,”Dream Derek assured. “It’s so perfect, Stiles. You’re so loud and
responsive. Always take what I give you without any complaint or hesitation.
Next time I have you I want to do it in front of a mirror, so you can see.”
Dream Stiles groaned in mortification, shaking his head against Derek’s skin.
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I want you to be able to see what I see. See
what you look like to the man who loves you more than anything.”
He always woke up when Dream Derek started talking about how he loved him. It
was the ultimate kick in the gut and often he woke up crying, curled around his
pillow.
Because no one was ever going to love him like Derek did in his dreams. Hell,
Derek himself probably wasn’t capable of loving him like that.
It was the harsh truth and he was determined to accept it. But it was
practically impossible to do so.
The first semester of their junior year was coming to an end and he was in the
locker room changing after gym class. Scott and Isaac were talking about
something and he was zoning them out, not in the mood for their horrible
attempts at flirting (and if Allison were there it’d be even worse).
He popped his head out of the top hole of his clean t-shirt and was greeted
with a very nice sight. Vince, a senior, was leaning against the lockers in
front of him, shirtless and dripping from a shower and only wearing a towel. He
had dark hair and light eyes and a very nice chest and Stiles found himself
pleasantly surprised at the appraising look he was giving Stiles.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
Scott nudged him in the back with what had to be encouragement.
“I’m free,” Stiles shrugged, trying not to make his voice sound too shrill.
He had plans with Scott but if the nudging was anything to go by, he probably
wouldn’t care.
“Good,” Vince said, a slow smile making its way onto his face.
Stiles didn’t regret going to his house with him until they were on Vince’s bed
and a hand was making its way up his shirt. He was frozen and an uneasy feeling
was building up in his stomach. A hand cupped his cheek and he met blue eyes
and it just felt so wrong.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” a voice much too deep said. “It’s your first time,
right? Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.”
He would have been so lucky to have this as his first time. To have Vince who
was older and experienced (but not too older and experienced). To have someone
who would make it good and safe for him.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“There’s this guy…”
There was a little look of surprise on Vince’s face until it just turned into a
smile. “A guy, huh?”
“Yeah, he, uh, moved away a few months ago and I never got to tell him.”
“You’ve got his number, right?”
“He changed it.”
Calling Derek’s number had been the ballsiest thing he had ever done. But then
an automated number telling him that the line had been disconnected had made it
all seem useless.
“What an asshole,” Vince said. He dropped down on the bed next to Stiles,
taking his hands off of him. “And as much as I’d love to give you a spiel about
how I’d never do something like that, I’m leaving for Princeton in a few
months.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
They ended up watching a movie and Vince walked him to his Jeep, taking his
face in his hands and kissing him. (“Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for a
while.”) And then he told him with complete seriousness that it would have been
an honor to be the first person to have Stiles underneath him and that he was
sorry that he had missed his chance.
He felt overheated when he got home, collapsing onto his bed and not knowing
what to think about anything. His first thought was that he should have
forgotten about Derek for just one night, should have just ignored his stupid
feelings. He should have had sex with Vince and let himself be a normal
teenager who wasn’t pathetically caught up on some guy who would never see him
that way.
Derek had probably forgotten all about him by now. He was probably in a nice
apartment with Cora. She would be going to school and he would probably be
finishing up college courses. He probably had a girlfriend now, some gorgeous
woman who wasn’t psychotic, someone who loved him and made him dinner every
night.
And now he hated someone he had never even met before. Someone who might not
even exist.
Of course Derek plagued his dreams that night. It was more graphic than all the
others and it was more meaningful. It was heavy lovemaking and made Stiles ache
with so much want he didn’t know what to do.
Dream Stiles was panting against Dream Derek’s mouth, hands twisted in the
sheets and body shuddering underneath the older man’s. Dream Derek was
whispering all of these things in his ear about Stiles being his only one and
his baby and his sweetheart and his everything. It was more than he could take
and even Dream Stiles was coming undone more so than usual.
Derek’s hands felt so real on him, so insistent and sure. Stiles didn’t even
know when he had started to thrust into him, but he had, hot and hard and
persistent and his knot (which Stiles had only become recently acquainted with)
catching on his rim. But it was gentle in its own way and way too slow for him
to even really appreciate it. He wanted more and he vocalized it, Derek
grinning and only being too happy to comply.
He tried to reach out to touch Derek, but his hands were tangled in the sheets
and Derek’s thrusts were making him weak and he felt like he couldn’t breathe
and—
“Stiles! Stiles, wake up!”
He inhaled so sharply it hurt and his eyes sprung open. He was shaking and the
strong hand on his shoulder wasn’t helping. Stiles turned his head, seeing a
horrified Scott and a concerned Allison and yep, Isaac leaning against his
doorframe looking confused.
“Why are you—?”
“Your dad just left for work and he said to head up to your room and wake you
up and, uh, we found you.”
Mortification flooded through him and he moved away from Scott, trying to hide
his lower half with the covers. It wasn’t working though because he was shaking
almost violently and Scott moved forward, grabbing his shoulders again.
“Dude, I think we need to take you to Deaton.”
“No,” he said quickly. “It was-it was a sex dream, okay? Everyone has them,
it’s not—”
“Stiles, we’re taking you to Deaton.”
He wanted to punch Scott for using his Alpha voice and he didn’t even know why.
All he could do was nod shakily and Allison shooed Isaac out of the room,
following him out. Scott got him a clean t-shirt and boxers along with some
sweatpants and a hoody.
“It’s cold out,” Scott said seriously and Stiles would have laughed about Scott
doting on him if he wasn’t feeling so weak.
Stiles took the clothes, expecting Scott to leave. His best friend took a seat
at his desk, covering his eyes with one hand and motioning him to continue with
his other. He sighed heavily, getting out of bed and almost falling over
because his legs felt so weak.
“You okay?” Scott asked, eyes still shielded.
“Fine,” Stiles mumbled, trying to stand again.
He couldn’t though and he let out a noise of embarrassment, leaning his elbows
on his knees and placing his face in his hands. “Can you get Allison to help?”
“Of course.”
Scott helping him out would be horrible. They had seen each other naked, but
not after, well, sex related things. Allison felt like his sister and he knew
she would treat this as clinically and less awkward as possible.
She gave him a hug when she came in, running a hand through his hair and
holding him for a few moments. She smelled like vanilla body wash and Scott’s
cologne and Isaac’s peppermint shampoo and he really didn’t want to look into
that.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, giving him a small smile before holding
up a finger and heading into the bathroom.
It was less than 30 seconds when she was back with a warm washcloth, his
toothbrush and toothpaste, and a cup of water. She took off his shirt first and
then his pajama pants (that were damp in the crotch area, but Allison didn’t
say anything or make a face) before wiping his sweat away with the washcloth.
“You want to do down there?” she asked, eyes darting to his wet boxers.
“Yeah,” he nodded, grateful when she looked away while he pushed his boxers
down his legs.
By the looks of it he had come more than once and there was also some kind of
clear liquid on the boxers as well. He ignored it (even when he shifted
slightly and felt wetness between his cheeks) and grabbed the washcloth,
cleaning himself and then ungracefully yanking the clean pair on.
Allison helped him get changed the rest of the way before grabbing his
toothbrush and toothpaste. He brushed his teeth, spitting into the washcloth
before gurgling the water and spitting it back into the cup. Allison combed her
fingers through his hair before calling out for Scott.
The trip to Deaton’s only added to his mortification since Isaac carried him
out of his room and into Allison’s car. By the time he was in Deaton’s backroom
(sitting in a chair with a newly arrived Lydia perched on the armrest) he was
basically done. He was still shaky and tired, but more embarrassed than
anything.
“I think we’re all overreacting,” he said.
“I don’t think we are, Stiles,” Scott said, looking to Deaton. “We’re not, are
we?”
“Definitely not,” Deaton agreed. “I didn’t think I would need to warn you three
about this happening when the darkness wrapped around your hearts. Well, not so
soon anyway.”
“You didn’t tell us the whole story?” Stiles asked, anger bubbling up inside of
him.
“Would anything I’d have to say change your mind about saving your father?”
No. Of course not.
“The darkness realizes that what you three did was valiant,” Deaton continued.
“It wants to reward you all by showing you glimpses of what you want the most.
Realistic visions that are often more fact than fiction. Sound familiar?”
The question was proposed to Scott and Allison who sheepishly looked at each
other before looking at Isaac who was smiling softly. Stiles really just didn’t
want to know.
“The visions stop when the dream becomes a reality,” Deaton explained. “But the
longer it doesn’t become a reality, the more… intense the dreams become.”
There was a long silence with everyone looking worriedly at Stiles. He was
still trying to let it all sink in. These dreams were only going to get worse
and the only way to stop it was for Derek to fall in love with him and there
was no way in—
“I’m going to look for Derek,” Scott declared.
“I wouldn’t suggest forcing this, Scott,” Deaton said.
“And I wouldn’t suggest doing it at all,” Stiles cut in. “And how the hell do
you even know it’s Derek?”
Lydia squeezed his shoulder and he looked at her. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“No it’s not,” he said quickly. The looks he was getting from everyone didn’t
really help though. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t care, okay? And these
dreams are just… pathetic and not real.”
“They’re not real now, Stiles,” Deaton explained. “But they are possible
visions of the future.”
Sleep didn’t come easy that night, especially with Scott wanting him to text
him every hour to assure him that he was okay. His dad was working and the
house was cold and alone: the perfect setting for a nightmare.
His mom dying and his dad getting stabbed and Lydia getting strangled and
Scott’s tearful goodbye before leaving with Deucalion and Derek lying on the
floor unconscious at the hospital. It was all combined into one dream, all of
his stupid terrors playing on a loop.
“Stiles?”
God this was not what he needed after today.
“Stiles!”
His eyes opened and Derek was standing there, concern on his face and hand
raised in the air like he wanted to reach out and touch.
“I know you’re not real, okay?”
“Stiles?” Derek repeated, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What—”
“I know this is a dream,” Stiles sighed. “I’m gonna wake up and you’re gonna be
gone again. So just shut up, all right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek said. “Stiles, I’m right here.
I’m back in town, I thought I’d visit you.”
“But why would you visit?” Stiles asked. “Seriously, you don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is,” Stiles said, sitting up and glaring at stupid Dream Derek. “I’m
just Scott’s best friend. I’m the stupid sidekick. I’m nothing to you. Why
would you visit me? I-I can’t stop dreaming about you and I love you so much,
but you’re not even real. You’re never going to be real because you left me
before I could tell you so there’s no way you’re ever coming back.”
Shock came over Derek’s face and Stiles just wanted to wake up. He wanted to be
alone or to at least have normal Dream Derek back. This Derek wanted to sit on
his bed though, almost cautiously like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
“Stiles, I’m right here,” Derek said, taking his face in his hands. “Look at
me, okay? I’m real.”
“You’re not.”
“Of course I am, you idiot,” Derek said, taking one of Stiles’ hands and
pressing it over his heart. “Does that feel fake to you? I’m real and I’m right
here.”
He had never touched Derek before. Dream Derek had always touched him, but
Stiles had never laid his hands on him before. But here he was with his hand
feeling the strong steady beat of Derek’s heart and the rise of his chest.
Stiles looked around the room, seeing the dark messy place it had been when he
went to sleep, not the perfect room he had seen in his dreams. And this wasn’t
Dream Derek. Dream Derek was confident and well-rested and naked. This Derek
was unsure and tired and completely dressed (leather jacket included and Stiles
had really missed seeing him wearing one).
He had really missed him.
“You’re crying.”
And fuck, he was, wasn’t he?
“And you told me that you love me.”
Oh God he finally has a real life Derek Hale in his bed and this is how the
world wants to repay him?
“Can you just ignore that I said that?” Stiles asked, trying to sound hopeful.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you, you idiot,” Derek said. “And you’re the only reason I came
back.”
Stiles practically lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck before
they were falling onto the mattress. Derek coiled his arms around his back,
pulling back to look at Stiles.
“Scott told me about what was happening,” Derek said. “But I was already
packing my bag anyway.”
And that really was the most romantic thing Stiles had ever heard.
Derek rolled them over and Stiles was able to feel how it really was to be
under Derek’s weight instead of just dreaming about it. Also how Derek’s mouth
felt against his.
It was so different from all of his other kisses. It wasn’t fast and
inexperienced like with Heather. Or panicked and overwhelmed like with Lydia.
Or smooth and knowing like with Vince. It was desperate and rough, Derek’s
strong hands holding him close and his beard scratching against Stiles’ skin.
He felt lightheaded and breathing through his nose was becoming increasingly
difficult since he had to think about breathing. But Derek slipped his tongue
into his mouth and he couldn’t find himself caring about breathing. His mouth
moved to his neck and Stiles greedily gulped in air, hands clutching at Derek’s
shoulders and legs spreading to let Derek settle down on top of him and get
even closer.
A hand found its way under his shirt and he quickly shook his head, grabbing
Derek’s wrist to stop him.
“Not yet,” he said.
“Why not?” Derek asked, pulling back.
“I just-I don’t know,” Stiles said. “Did Scott tell you in detail what was
happening?”
Derek shifted slightly and yep, he had been told. “I don’t care what you
dreamed about Stiles, I just care that you actually want me back.”
“You thought that I didn’t?”
“Yes,” Derek said. “I’m too old for you, too broken.”
“No you’re not,” Stiles said. “I’m too young for you and too fucked up, we’re
even.”
That got him a tired sigh and in that second Derek really did seem too old for
him. “Stiles, we need to talk about things.”
“You were the one asking why we weren’t having sex yet.”
“Well you were right, we shouldn’t yet.”
“You’re just saying that because the dream version of you was really good at
sex.”
“Stiles.”
“Like really fucking good,” Stiles said. “I came in my pants more than once a
night.”
“Jesus, Stiles.”
“Seriously, I kind of wish this was a dream right now so that you’d—”
“We should talk.”
“There’s plenty of time for talking,” Stiles said. “We can talk to your heart’s
content in the morning. But right now I really just want to know what sex
actually feels like and you’re the only person I want to do that with.”
The words hung in the air between them, Stiles looking up at Derek with as much
confidence as he could muster and Derek looking down at him with a weird mix of
dumbstruck and awe. And then Derek was letting out a groan. “Fuck.”
He pulled Stiles to the head of the bed, his head bouncing on the pillow,
before Derek’s mouth was on his again. Stiles tangled his fingers in Derek’s
hair, kissing fervently even though it was kind of going against the slow and
tender kissing Derek was doing.
They paused, looking at each other. Stiles honestly hadn’t been expecting this.
And he didn’t know whyhe hadn’t been expecting this. In his dreams (visions,
whatever) Derek had always been sweet and loving so why wouldn’t he be in real
life?
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles said, not even 100% sure of what he was saying. “Yeah,
just. Derek please.”
He kissed him again and this time it was just like out of one of the dreams.
Derek was cradling the back of his neck and their mouths worked against each
other so slowly and softly. And it was nice because they did have plenty of
time. His dad wouldn’t be home until the morning and Stiles didn’t have school
tomorrow and he assumed that Derek was here to stay.
Derek’s tongue sunk into his mouth, pushing past his teeth and licking into
him. It was messy and spit was probably going to go everywhere when they
parted, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wrapped his arms around
Derek, so caught up in being able to feel him and touch him rather than just
wishing that he could.
Two hands slipped under his pajama pants and boxers, cupping his ass and
gripped it tightly. Derek’s fingers teased the crack a bit and Stiles moaned
stupidly into his mouth, bucking up against him.
“God, baby you’re already wet,” Derek groaned, lips moving to Stiles’ jaw. “How
the fuck are you this perfect? Like you were made for me.”
And he probably was made for Derek. The wetness thing was new and after an
extremely short (and awkward) conversation with Deaton he found out that it was
normal for his situation. That the darkness was trying to prepare him for when
the visions came true.
At first he felt a little violated that his body was doing some not normal
changes, but right now he really just didn't fucking care.
Derek pulled away then and that was something that he did care about. He opened
his eyes to see where he had gone to see Derek standing up and taking his
clothes off. The more he took off the more he started to become the Derek who
had filled his nights for the past few months. He became more confident and
sure and less haggard by everything.
When he got back on the bed he wasn’t wearing anything and Stiles swallowed
nervously, remaining plastered to the bed. Derek leaned down, kissing him again
before tugging at the bottom of his shirt.
“Don’t you dare hide from me.”
His shirt made its way over his head and then Derek wasted no time pulling down
his sweatpants and boxers. He felt his face heat up and when he made to move
his face away Derek placing two fingers against his jaw, keeping his head
still.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
He kissed him again and it was starting to make him lightheaded. Derek made him
lightheaded and impatient more than anything else in the world. Because he
wanted Derek now and he knew that he wasn’t going to get that.
The kisses traveled downward, moving to Stiles’ nipples and then even farther
down. He bypassed his cock, that was hard and leaking against his stomach, and
elected to run his tongue along his hole. Stiles arched up on the contact,
feeling like his breath had been stolen from him.
He’d have to remain breathless though because Derek continued to lap at him and
it was only making him even wetter. He couldn’t remember the last time he had
been this on edge and the answer was probably never. Because nothing was like
this. Nothing was like having Derek here with him in bed and doing all of these
things to him.
Derek’s tongue slipped into him and Stiles whimpered, biting his lip and
squeezing his eyes shut. His slick was dripping steadily from him now and Derek
was lapping it up so fast that Stiles didn’t think even a drop of it hit his
sheets. That was until Derek pushed two fingers inside of him and curled just
right.
His vision blotched out and he bit his lip harder, trying to control what he
was feeling.
“None of that,” Derek said, his voice heavy. “I wanna hear you. Come on,
sweetheart, let me hear you.”
A third finger was easily added and then curled again. This time Stiles just
let himself cry out because Derek loved it and he wasn’t going to take that
away from him. He continued to massage his prostate, Stiles completely helpless
under Derek’s touch.
“Enough,” he panted out. “Please, Derek, just—”
“I know,” Derek said quickly, removing his fingers from inside Stiles. “I know,
baby.”
Their lips found each other and Stiles hiked his legs up on either side of
Derek’s waist, trying to move things along. That got him a chuckle from Derek
before he finally felt the older man press inside of him. The weight of him
made Stiles dizzier than the stretch but Derek grounded him, hands on his hips
and kisses planted all over his face and neck.
The thrusts started, slow and shallow, until Stiles groaned in frustration.
“Derek, come on, fuck me. Don’t do this stupid-stupid slow shit, just-ju-
j—fuck.”
He seriously couldn’t breathe then, his mind was hazy and he felt so overcome
as Derek pounded into him. His fingernails dug into the skin of Derek’s
shoulders and he tilted his head back, just letting go.
And that was when it all started to feel like the dream again. Because Derek
started talking and calling him “sweetheart” and “honey” and “baby” and “love”
and every other sappy name that Stiles was going to tease him with later. And
he went on and on about how much he loved him and how perfect he was and it was
just too much. It was way too much and his mind was just going somewhere else
because then he was practically begging Derek to knot him.
Derek cursed and pressed their mouths together again, his knot pushing into him
and Stiles tightening around him and them both finally coming.
                                    OoOoOoO
He was afraid to open his eyes when he woke up. He was so fucking terrified
that it was all just another dream. Deaton did say that they got more and more
intense as they continued.
“I’m real,” Derek’s voice said. “I’m right here, Stiles.”
His eyes opened slowly and the first thing he registered was that he was lying
on the floor. The next was that he was using Derek’s chest as a pillow. He
looked up into Derek’s green eyes and smiled because there really wasn’t
anything else for him to do.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“Good morning indeed,” Derek said, pressing his lips to his forehead.
“Why are we on the floor?”
“Uh, the bed’s a little…”
“Wet?”
“Yeah.”
Stiles felt his face heat up and he busied himself by snuggling into Derek’s
chest and splaying his fingers over his stomach.
“I love it,” Derek said, hand coming down to gently cup Stiles’ ass to
emphasize his point. “We’ll save so much money on lube.”
“Did you just make a joke?”
“I might have.”
He smiled at Derek before moving up and folding his arms across Derek’s chest.
“I like you making jokes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Derek ran a hand through his hair and he leaned into it, enjoying every single
touch he was being given. “We’re supposed to talk now.”
“I know,” Stiles said. “You can start with where you were the past few months.”
“I could,” Derek agreed. “But there are a few other things I want to do first.”
“Like what?”
“I really want you to ride me.”
Stiles felt his mouth fall open, having it soon be occupied by Derek’s tongue
as he was sat on the older man’s lap. Talking was important. But talking could
definitely wait.
Because Derek was finally right in front of him and there were a few things he
wanted to do first before they seriously started to talk.
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