Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/838326.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Trauma, Erectile_Dysfunction, Past_Sexual_Assault
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-11 Words: 3393
****** Pretty Much a Big Deal ******
by Dira_Sudis_(dsudis)
Summary
     Written for badsexfest: Derek has trouble getting and maintaining an
     erection. Can be funny, or angsty if you want to tie it to his past
     with Kate. Or both! I like a nice mix of humor and angst. Whether
     there's a happy ending (lol no pun intended) is up to the filler(s).
     ...Yeah, I went the trauma route. Brace for Derek's horrible sexual
     history and long-term trauma. And a happy ending!
Notes
     Many thanks to Miss Molly Etc for beta, and Iulia and Celli for
     encouraging (or at least failing to discourage) this!
     And thanks for the prompt, anon, I am halfway convinced that this is
     actually totally true about Derek now.
It had gotten to be a thing that happened: Stiles got a little carried away
with making out and started grinding on Derek, and Derek flinched back from the
press of Stiles's hard-on. There were a few options at that point--the first
few times, Stiles had gotten embarrassed by his dick being so far ahead of the
game and took off for the bathroom to do something about it. The problem with
that was that Derek inevitably had disappeared by the time he got back.
Stiles had discovered, though, that if he just shifted politely away from
Derek, Derek would politely ignore Stiles's overeager dick and keep making out.
Derek's hands always stayed pointedly above Stiles's waist; Derek had said they
should take it slow, that he wanted to. He'd explained his horrific romantic
history like someone giving the disclaimer in a prescription drug ad--may lead
to lifelong trauma or horrible death--so Stiles understood wanting to take it
easy and not feel like he was taking advantage of the teenager and that whole
deal.
On the other hand, Stiles's dick was hard, again, and his hot boyfriend had
just inched away from it, again, and they'd been going at it for a while. They
were both shirtless, hands had been wandering, and this had to be going
somewhere. Stiles really wanted to be going somewhere, at least. He really
wanted Derek to stop pulling away like Stiles's need for friction was a badly-
timed fart.
Stiles didn't think before he did it, he just dropped his hand to Derek's
crotch. He didn't know exactly what he expected, but it definitely wasn't to
find Derek's dick utterly and undeniably soft under his jeans. For a second
Stiles was just puzzled, like he'd flipped a light switch and nothing happened.
He rocked his hand curiously against Derek's cock. It was definitely there,
definitely not getting up.
Then Derek's hand clamped down on Stiles's wrist, shoving his hand away as
Derek scrambled back off of Stiles's bed. Stiles pushed himself the other way
and half fell off the other side before popping to his feet. His heart sank--
and his erection wilted--as he realized that he had Crossed A Line.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Stiles put out his hands in a combination of apology and
illustration of all the space between them now, too far for unwanted touching.
"I didn't mean to--I just--"
And then it caught up with Stiles. They'd been making out for the better part
of an hour, and Stiles had been about two minutes of dry humping away from
coming in his pants, and Derek hadn't even been turned on at all.
"Wait, did you--aren't you--" Stiles stopped and took a breath.
Derek was standing half turned away from Stiles, like he was seriously
considering going out the window, straight through the blinds and the glass.
Stiles had a great profile view of the perfectly smooth front of Derek's jeans.
Derek was frowning, but it looked more like concentration than anger or
horrible violation.
Stiles licked his lips, closed his hands into fists to steady himself against
the horrible free-fall feeling of realization. "Dude, if you weren't into me at
all, you could have just said. Why are you dragging this out?"
Derek looked actually startled when he looked back at Stiles, his face going
open and blank with surprise for a second. "No, Stiles, I--"
"Dude, the heart wants what it wants, and so does the dick, okay? I get it, you
like me, but I'm obviously not--" Stiles waved his hands at Derek's crotch,
starting to feel actually kind of sick with the realization of how long he'd
been strung along, how much Derek must pity him. "Doing it for you."
Derek went on just staring at him for a few more seconds, and then shook his
head. "That's not--Stiles, you do. I do. Want you."
"Oh my God," Stiles flailed, his whole body protesting. "I know I'm not a lie
detector, but--"
"I can't," Derek said, not loudly but somehow brutal as a punch. He looked a
little winded himself, and it was Stiles's turn to give him the blank stare.
Derek closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths. When he squared his
shoulders and looked at Stiles again he had that grimly determined look on his
face that usually meant he was about to ask Stiles to perform an amputation, or
stay behind while everyone else went into danger, or something else equally
wrong and impossible.
"It's not about you," Derek said, his voice coming out low and rough. His
shoulders were hunched, his fists clenched against his thighs. "I do want you,
I--you have no idea the number of times I've thought about you and...."
"Dude, I'm seventeen, I may have you beat there," Stiles said, hazarding a
smile even as he tried to figure out what Derek meant when he said he couldn't.
Was this the downside of werewolves mating for life? No sex before werewolf
marriage? But....
"I can't," Derek said slowly, forcing the words out in short phrases like he
was out of breath, like it was a physical effort to get them out. "Perform. If
I'm with anyone. Not since--not since I was younger than you."
"Oh, fuck," Stiles said, because that was just the shitty cherry on top of the
sundae of horror and death that was Derek's sexual history. Kate Argent had
taken Derek's virginity and also ruined sex for him forever. "But you--I'm not
arguing or anything, but you said you'd been with guys? After--high school?"
Derek shrugged stiffly. "Don't have to get it up to go down on someone or get
fucked."
Stiles wrapped his arms around his stomach, holding himself still. He was
starting to get vertigo from the new vistas of awful that kept opening up, but
Derek actually seemed to relax slightly.
"If you want that," Derek said. "We could. I would--that... works for me,
sometimes."
"Sometimes," Stiles repeated faintly, wondering if there was any chance he
could get it up to fuck Derek knowing Derek probably wouldn't get anything out
of it. But he'd said-- "When you say works for you, do you mean, like...?"
Stiles watched Derek's jaw work, and suddenly wished that they weren't standing
on opposite sides of his bedroom to have this conversation. He also didn't know
how to move any closer to Derek without spooking him out the window.
"I get hard sometimes," Derek said, staring at the wall off to one side of
Stiles's face. "Get off. It helps if I'm not thinking about it too much."
"Okay," Stiles said, and started trying to make sense of this, putting all the
information in order and figuring out what to do with it. That was easier than
picturing anything that had happened to Derek with anyone else ever. "So you
have, actually, had sex with people since--since this got to be a problem. And
it worked for you. Sometimes."
"Not reliably," Derek emphasized, his gaze snapping back to meet Stiles's.
"Not--I'm not going to be able to not think about it with you, not anytime
soon. But if you want more now, I'm willing--"
Derek actually shifted his weight toward the bed, but he looked about as
excited about it as he'd looked about Stiles cutting off his arm--less,
actually, because he wasn't going to die if Stiles didn't. Determined, yeah,
but not happy. That wasn't a kind of willing that Stiles wanted to get his dick
anywhere near.
"No, I'm not if you're not," Stiles said, waving Derek off, because this was
honestly the least turned on Stiles had been since that time Finstock taught
Health class. "You also said you think about me, right? You meant thinking
about me while jerking off, right? You do that?"
Derek's shoulders dropped into their normal, relaxed-by-Derek's-standards line,
and he rolled his eyes. Stiles managed not to actually pump a fist in triumph
at that return to normalcy.
"Yes, Stiles. I jerk off."
"So it's mostly about feeling, like, safe, right?" Stiles theorized, relief
bubbling up in his chest. This was fixable; they could totally handle this.
"You could--you could learn, probably. Ha, I get to train you for once! You can
totally learn, we can set up a whole program to get to sex. We could try, like,
on the phone first, and then when you're good with that we can Skype, or--oh,
hey, we could totally do a webcam thing where you can see me but I can't see
you, and then--"
"Stiles," Derek snapped, but snapping was good, snapping meant Derek was
frustrated or maybe annoyed, and Stiles would take either of those over Derek
being tense and miserable.
Stiles stopped talking and smiled as he waited for Derek to argue.
Derek glared, folding his arms across his bare chest, and said, "So I actually
get to touch you again when, in this plan of yours?"
For half a second Stiles was trying to guess how long all the intermediate
steps might take, and then he realized what Derek was actually saying, and how
Derek's folded arms were more of a shield than a gesture of irritation.
"Dude, you can touch me--" Stiles said, and then got stuck on the realization
that Derek's misery as he explained hadn't just been about stuff that happened
before, it was this, right now. Derek felt awful about having to admit he
couldn't get it up and had wanted to just run--which was what he had done the
first five times.
Derek's mouth and shoulders drew in tighter the longer Stiles didn't finish
that sentence.
Stiles did, actually, know the right thing to say, so he blurted it out before
Derek could actually implode. "Derek, wait, no, I love you even if your dick
doesn't work!"
Derek's arms uncrossed and his jaw dropped, the annoyed look falling away into
shock. That was when Stiles realized that he'd said that thing that they'd both
been scrupulously avoiding saying for weeks now. And he'd said it in probably
the weirdest and least flattering way he could have come up with if he'd
planned it for a month.
Derek just stared at him for a few seconds, and then he cracked up.
Stiles grinned and darted around the bed as Derek kept laughing, staggering
backward to lean against Stiles's desk; he had one hand over his face as his
whole body shook. Stiles reached for him when he got close enough, hooking his
fingers into Derek's belt loops. Derek reeled him in and leaned his forehead
against Stiles's bare shoulder, winding down to little helpless bursts of
giggles.
"I was saving that up," Stiles informed him, and the proud tone was completely
sincere, because he'd made Derek laugh. "For just this occasion."
Derek just snorted and shook his head, but he looked up, looping both arms
around Stiles's neck as he met his eyes.
"I love you despite your tendency to hump my leg," Derek said, straight-faced,
just a hint of laughter shaking the last couple of words.
"Oh, I see what you did there, reverse dog joke, awesome," Stiles said, rolling
his eyes, but Derek tugged him into a kiss, closing his arms around Stiles and
pulling him close, skin-to-skin as their mouths opened to each other.
The kiss was light, mostly just their lips dragging against each other. It was
an awkward angle--Derek seemed much more focused on keeping Stiles held tight
against him than on the kiss itself--but Stiles was okay with that. It was
good, actually, he thought, tilting his head, licking cautiously into Derek's
mouth. It would have been bad to stop on a down note. This would put them in a
good place to start fixing things.
Stiles cautiously settled his hands on the bare skin of Derek's back, and Derek
opened a little space between them, pushing back into Stiles's touch. Stiles
swept his hands up and down, nothing sexy, just touching as they went on
trading little kisses, the kind that sounded dirtier than they were from the
constant wet sound of their mouths parting and coming back together. Right
about the time when Stiles's mouth started getting dry, Derek's hand slid into
Stiles's hair, tilting his head back and to one side and putting his mouth out
of range for more kisses.
For a second nothing else happened. Stiles opened his eyes and found Derek just
looking at him--not his eyes, but his mouth, and then lower, and then back to
his mouth.
"Derek?"
"Stiles," Derek said, like that was an answer, but he moved. He nuzzled at
Stiles's jaw, and the pulse point just under his ear, and then pressed his face
into the side of Stiles's throat.
Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deep, tightening his arms around Derek and
trying his best to smell like I love you and this is okay and whatever you
need. It was a little difficult because Derek's hands were on him, and he could
feel the heat pouring off Derek's skin everywhere they weren't quite touching.
Every breath Stiles took brought him the smell of Derek, that combination of
sweat and hair product and leather that went straight to Stiles's dick. Derek's
lips dragged against Stiles's throat, and the hand that wasn't keeping Stiles's
head tilted back slid down to the top of Stiles's jeans, keeping him close.
"Uh," Stiles said, wincing when even that sounded kind of breathless and worked
up. He wasn't hard yet, but he could feel his dick starting to stiffen, and
tried to angle his hips away from Derek's.
Derek rubbed his chest against Stiles's and tightened his arm around Stiles's
waist, flattening his hand on Stiles's hip.
"Stay," Derek mumbled. "Good boy."
"Ha ha," Stiles said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think sad don't
make Derek feel bad thoughts while Derek was licking the spot where his
shoulder met his neck. "Uh, Derek, seriously, I--"
"I told you," Derek said, bringing his hand up from Stiles's hips to press into
the small of his back, bringing him in tight. "I don't mind you humping my
leg."
"Actually you said despite, which sort of indicates--"
Derek's teeth closed firmly on Stiles's collarbone.
"Okay, point taken," Stiles managed, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.
Derek licked the spot and Stiles let out a whimper. He rubbed helplessly
against Derek, his semi hardening with every twitch of his hips.
"I like the way you smell right now," Derek said, which was sort of self-
evident since he had his face pressed into Stiles's skin, but... good to know.
"I like feeling the way you get hot; I like all the little noises you make. The
way you taste. Those times before, when I left, I went home and got off
thinking about you jerking off in the bathroom because you were so turned on
from kissing me. One time I didn't even get there, I had to pull over and do it
in the car."
"Nggh," Stiles said. He was definitely hard now, definitely grinding helplessly
against Derek even if Derek wasn't pushing back, but a little useful corner of
his brain was making a note of that data point.
"I could hear you," Derek added. He tilted Stiles's head the other way and
started nuzzling at the opposite side of his throat, because he was a weirdo
about symmetry. "The first time--I listened. That was why I took off before you
came back, I knew you weren't thinking about me being able to hear you. I knew
you'd be embarrassed if you came back and it was obvious I heard, and I didn't
want you to not. Do that."
"Oh, fuck," Stiles gasped, digging his fingers into Derek's skin, trying
desperately not to come just from the thought of Derek listening to him coming.
"I want to see, though," Derek said, sliding a hand down onto Stiles's ass,
lifting him onto his toes to press him closer. Derek could probably feel every
twitch of Stiles's dick through his jeans now, even without wolf senses. "If
you'll let me."
"Hey, yeah," Stiles said, his voice going high and wavering. "Whatever you
need."
"Thanks," Derek said, sounding amused. This was probably funny if you weren't
the one about to come in his pants; it was probably like being the sober one
when somebody else was drunk. Stiles felt a little drunk right now, skin
tingling and the top of his head getting light. "You wanna take off your pants?
Or just do it like this?"
"You, uh--wait," Stiles said, pushing a little against Derek, and this time
Derek let him back away, dropping his hands and letting Stiles think. "Do you
want to watch me? I mean, do you want me to jerk off while you watch?"
"Not from across the room," Derek said. "Close up."
Stiles closed his eyes, pressing two knuckles into his forehead to try to
think. "Bed?"
"Sure," Derek said, and brushed his entire body gratuitously against Stiles's
as he passed him on his way to the bed. Stiles turned, watching, as Derek sat
down against the headboard, tucking a pillow comfortably behind his back. He
splayed his legs out as wide as those tight jeans would allow, and Stiles
couldn't help looking again, but--no, nothing. But Derek's dick wasn't the
point.
Derek patted the spot between his legs. Stiles nodded and shoved his pants and
boxers down and off before he could think about it too much, scrambling onto
the bed on his hands and knees. Derek tugged him into a kiss, only a little
frantic and breathless, before he turned Stiles around and made him sit with
his ass pressed up against Derek's crotch, his back to Derek's bare chest.
Stiles leaned back into him, letting his head fall back against Derek's
shoulder, showing his throat as he splayed his legs out over Derek's, his jeans
surprisingly soft against Stiles's bare thighs. Derek settled one hand in the
center of Stiles's chest, over his pounding heart, and nuzzled at Stiles's
neck.
"You smell better naked," Derek observed, and Stiles grabbed his dick, groaning
helplessly. He couldn't help jerking himself fast and rough--too fast, kind of
dry, but--
He felt Derek squirming behind him, and then froze as Derek's hand appeared
right above his pumping fist, holding the lotion bottle.
"Yes," Stiles said, loosening his grip. "Please."
Derek squeezed out a dollop of lotion--it wasn't that Stiles had never noticed
how obscene that looked, but it was a thousand times more so when it was Derek
pouring it directly onto his dick. Stiles shivered at the cold, at the want
coiling hot and low in his belly. He made himself open his hand, smearing the
lotion around, and then got back to it. Derek dropped the lotion and settled
his hand on Stiles's thigh, and Stiles could feel how fast Derek was breathing
against the side of his throat.
"The best thing," Derek said conversationally, over the frantic slick sound of
Stiles's hand working over his dick, "is that when I go home and sit just like
this on my bed and put my hand on my dick, it'll be so easy to picture you
right here with me like this."
"Oh, fuck," Stiles gasped, arching back into Derek a little as he came into his
own fist with Derek's hands on him. He felt dizzy and floaty, jacking himself
through it on reflex, and Derek's arms tightened around him, holding him close
until he went limp. Stiles opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, slowly
becoming aware of the mess in his lap and the sweat between his back and
Derek's chest.
"This is good, too," Derek murmured. "Now I can picture how it is after."
Stiles nodded sleepily. Never let it be said that he stood in the way of
anybody's pursuit of knowledge.
"And when you're sure you're okay jerking off in front of me," Derek murmured,
"then maybe you'll let me jerk you off, and then when you're good with that I
can go down on you...."
Stiles thought it would be hypocritical to argue, so he didn't.
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