Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10176539.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin, Erica_Reyes,
      Isaac_Lahey
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-08 Words: 7548
****** Sometimes To Win You've Got To Sin ******
by distortedreality
Summary
     Bending. Towels. Kissing. Masturbating. Those were the four
     ingredients for Stiles’ Masterplan To Seduce Derek Hale. Hopefully it
     turned out better than any of Stiles’ other ideas.
     Alternatively, the four ways Stiles tried to get Derek to fuck him,
     and the time that Derek did.
Notes
     Title taken from Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab
Stiles had always been a little bit attracted to Derek. That first moment in
the woods when Derek appeared out of goddamn nowhere, all leather with a
ridiculous tall-dark-and-handsome vibe, had made Stiles do a double take. Even
though he was 99 percent sure that the dude was probably a serial killer, he
still found himself regretting not wearing tighter jeans and anything aside
from the shirt he had grabbed from the floor of his wardrobe. You’d have to not
have eyes to say Derek was unattractive. There was no big gay freak out, no
awkwardness, no when-am-I-going-to-see-him-again stress; Stiles just became
pretty hot for Derek. Really, the guy was a douche. That kind of helped the
whole ‘no feelings’ part of the equation. He was just a nice thing to look at.
Stiles was hung up on Lydia, anyway. He’d still take strawberry blonde curls
and a short skirt over chiseled abs and a murder-stare any day of the week.
Stiles didn’t really care about sex any more than a normal teenage kid (which
is still plenty), until some dickwad started killing virgins. Then his lack of
sexual prowess became a matter of actual life and death. It was around that
point that Derek started taking center stage in Stiles’ fantasies. He’d popped
up before – particularly since he stopped clean shaving his jaw, every bit of
stubble was like an extra second of starring in Stiles’ private time – but now
it seemed like every time Stiles tried to envision plush lips and long legs he
started thinking of calloused hands and eyes that flashed red. Not that his
dick was exactly complaining.
It was around the time Stiles was somewhat shamefully looking at customized
dildos that he decided he needed to fuck Derek by whatever means necessary. The
fantasies were becoming a freaking addiction that was, quite frankly,
embarrassing. He’d fought werewolves and hunters and a kanima and he’s badassin
his own opinion. But Derek freaking Hale somehow managed to flip an internal
switch with his ridiculous eyebrows and Stiles has no idea how to flip it back.
So sex. Sex is the answer. Really, when is it not? Judging by his past douche-
ness, Derek would probably be an all-about-me kind of lover, so all Stiles
would need was a single fuck to get Derek out of his head. Probably.
The biggest issue was, Derek didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in
Stiles. Aside from directing annoyed grunts his way he pretty much ignored
Stiles. For a moment Stiles debated regressing to middle school and asking
Scott to put in a good word for him but no.The only thing more mortifying than
planning how to seduce Derek Hale would be Scott teasing him about his plan to
seduce Derek Hale.
“How do you get someone who hates you to sleep with you?” Stiles leant against
the locker next to Lydia’s as she pulled her books out in a stack, meticulously
neat and colour coded. She leveled a look at Stiles and raised her eyebrows.
“Do I even want to know?” she asked as she pushed her locker shut.
“Probably not,” Stiles admitted. “But you should help me anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter if they like you or not,” Lydia tapped her finger against
her lip as they walked down the hall. “It matters that they’re attracted to
you. Or at least could be.”
“But how. I mean, look at me.” Stiles gestured to his overall person. “You know
firsthand that I’m terrible at seduction. I don’t exactly exude sexual
prowess.” Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Just be alluring,” she started, ignoring the desperate look Stiles sent her
way. “Find times to take your shirt off. Bend over all the time, or – oh –
shower and come out in a towel. That always got Jackson going.” Stiles wasn’t
sure if he would ever find himself in a situation where he could casually wear
only a towel in front of Derek, but it was basically the only lead he had.
Thank god for those extra lacrosse sessions he had with Scott over the summer,
at least he’d effectively eliminated all pudge from his stomach area. The
easiest of Lydia’s ideas was bending over, so bend Stiles would.
Idea number one started out ridiculous. The upside of people being sacrificed
by some Celtic dickheads was that Stiles was seeing Derek way more often than
in the past, even if it was for strictly supernatural purposes. And nohe hadn’t
practiced bending over in front of the mirror to see which way made his ass
look the best. Maybe.
                                      /*/
“Stiles,” Scott hissed from across the table in Derek’s loft, eyes flicking
over to the man of the hour leaning against the wood at the head of the table,
whose head was still buried in a research book. “Are you having muscle spasms
or something?” Stiles glanced up from the book he had ‘accidentally’ knocked to
the ground, making sure to spend an extra second grabbing it before
straightening up.
“Nah, man, why would you say that?” Stiles flashed what he hoped was a casual
smile at his best friend.
“Because that’s the fourth book you’ve shoved to the ground in the last ten
minutes,” Derek supplied. Not at all helpfully, in Stiles’ opinion. The fucker
hadn’t even looked up.
“Look, maybe there’s a loose page somewhere in here that could be helpful
that’s just waiting to be dislodged,” Stiles retorted. Weakly, but still. He
spent a few minutes pretending to read a page in a stupidly thick book that
smelled of mildew before sighing and pushing his chair away from the table.
“Anyone for a coffee, or a tea, or whatever Derek stores in this place?” Scott
waved him off but successbecause Derek finally looked at him.
“There’s tea bags in the bottom right cupboard. I’d say help yourself, but you
were already planning to do that.” Derek was so deadpan. Since when was deadpan
sexy. Stiles needed to hold a question session with his dick because this
really was questionable. All the bending over was really starting to kill his
lower back, but Stiles vowed to keep his ass in the air, even if it killed him.
Lydia Martin was nothing if not smart, and she was clearly desirable, which was
a quality Stiles lacked. He rummaged around in the cupboard for a considerably
longer time period than required, especially considering there were about five
things in the cupboard and the tea bags were right at the front, but it was
worth it to see Derek glancing in his direction when he stood up and turned
around. Derek was leaning more to the annoyed end of the scale rather than the
aroused end, but maybe that was all his face could do. Stiles was yet to see
any different. He still wouldn’t turn down a hate fuck from the guy. Stiles
brewed three cups of tea, one significantly less full than the rest. He hid one
behind the kettle and made his way back over to the table with the cups in his
hand. He set one down in front of Derek with a smile – which was not returned –
and tripped over the leg of the chair he’d been sitting on. At least he hoped
it looked like he tripped and not like the awfully fake monstrosity that it
was. He rushed to the kitchen to grab a towel and bent to soak the tea up off
the floor.
“Really sorry, Derek. You know me, all klutz and no coordination,” Stiles
joked. His back was really starting to hurt. Derek just raised his eyebrows at
him. Stiles almost let out a cheer when Derek’s eyes brushed over his ass as
they returned to the book in front of him. Mission tea spill was a success.
Derek didn’t say anything when Stiles immediately returned to the table with a
fresh cup of tea, but his eyes shifted between the fresh cup and the site of
the tea massacre, a puzzled expression on his face.
                                      /*/
Stiles was 100 percent sure his legs were going to separate from his body, or
shrivel up from loss of circulation, or something else equally horrible. He had
bought a pair of black skinny jeans off Amazon but he was fairly sure they had
sent him cling wrap shaped like jeans. It had taken ten minutes just to get
them up over his hips, and if he met any monsters at all today he would just
have to stand there and get his ass kicked because there was no wayhe would be
able to fight or run or even breathe in these things. He had barely been able
to drive his Jeep over to the clinic. Knee movement was apparently a no-go for
people who wore these things on a regular basis.
“Planning on moonlighting as a stripper, Stilinski?” Erica grinned as he made
his way into the backroom of the clinic. Slowly, because walking at a fast pace
was absolutely not going to happen.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Stiles shot back. Scott raised an eyebrow at
him and Stiles grinned back. He noted that Derek was leaning against a wall
facing Scott and Dr. Deaton across the table, so Stiles made his way over to
the same side as Derek. He rested his elbows on the low table and adjusted his
body so he could breathe, first of all, and so that Derek would get a nice view
if he chose to partake in it. He barely heard anything Deaton said, choosing
instead to focus on growing eyes in the back of his head so he could see if
Derek was looking at him at all.
As they all filed out to the parking lot together, Erica grabbed his ass as she
walked past, winking at him. Stiles slapped at her hand playfully, glancing
back behind him out of habit to see who was following him. And yeshe’d caught
Derek staring at his ass. He wanted to say something alluring but because he
was Stiles he had absolutely nothing in his repertoire and could only resort to
grinning at Derek, who looked slightly embarrassed. So even if his legs dropped
off from lack of circulation, he could call that part of the plan a success.
                                      /*/
Part two of Stiles Masterplan-To-Seduce-Derek-Hale happened almost by accident.
Stiles and Scott had happened across a body in the woods and somehowit had
gotten shoved on top of Stiles. Freaking Scott. Derek had turned up as Stiles
was attempting to wipe his bloodied hands on Scott’s shirt as Scott growled at
him in a decidedly non-threatening manner. Derek had just shook his head and
told Stiles to go home, which no,he was covered in the blood of a dead body and
his dad was the freaking Sheriff, so that wouldn’t go down well.
“Don’t make us blame a murder on you again,” Stiles joked. Derek just glared at
him.
“You can shower at the loft then,” Derek said, telling Scott to call in the
body after they were all a reasonable distance from the scene.
It was weird being at the loft without Scott. Stiles didn’t exactly frequent
Derek’s new place of residence, and when he did come it was strictly for
research purposes. He was never sure if the place was invitingly secluded or
just plain creepy. It didn’t help that Derek seemed to be allergic to
furniture. And colour. And just any form of homely décor.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Derek pointed, handing him a towel. It was
bright blue.
“That’s about the most colourful thing you own, isn’t it,” Stiles grinned. “I
half expected you to have stuff that was that shade of grey that has like no
colour in it at all.”
“Don’t get blood on anything, I’m not cleaning up after you,” Derek replied.
Once under the spray, Stiles realized his golden opportunity. Towel + wet
Stiles = aroused Derek. Or something like that. Once out of the shower he spent
way too long staring into the mirror trying to get his hair looking sex mussed.
Not that he knew what that looked like since, hello, virgin. The towel was a
whole different ballgame. It had to be at the perfect level on his hips to show
his hipbones, but not low enough to see whether or not he’d manscaped. Unless
Derek liked that stuff. Shit. Eventually the towel was properly attached to
Stiles’ body, and if he turned the hot water on full blast and stepped into the
steam to get prime water beading on his torso right before he walked back out,
then nobody else needed to know. He walked down the hallway doing what he hoped
was a strut or something. Derek was sitting on the couch reading a book –
research probably – and Stiles’ dick twitched because damn.He cleared his
throat and Derek glanced up, dragging his eyes up Stiles’ body before reaching
his face. Stiles internally thanked the gods again for extra lacrosse
practices.
“Did you need something?” Derek asked. He seemed to be having a hard time
keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face.
“Yeah, uh, my clothes were all bloody so I thought it’d be pretty pointless to
put them back on. Could I borrow a shirt?” Stiles ran a hand through his hair,
waiting for Derek to respond. The extra few seconds it took him were like
freaking music to Stiles’ soul. His dick soul.
“Yeah, I’ve probably got something that will fit you.” Derek walked through to
his bedroom to a small dresser under a window. After a moment Stiles followed
him, stopping a few inches closer than where he would normally stand in
relation to Derek. He hoped he noticed. Derek rifled through his shirts for a
moment before pulling out a white one and handing it to Stiles. He glanced at
him before pulling out a lower drawer and reaching for a pair of grey sweat
pants.
“Thanks, dude,” Stiles smiled. He took a few steps away from Derek and turned
so his back was to him and dropped the towel. He smirked at Derek’s sudden
intake of breath and the few moments it took before the other man walked out of
the room. Though Stiles didn’t have visual confirmation that he’d hit the
target for that one, it’s not like Derek would have been staring at his
scandalously uncovered shoulders. And when Derek stumbled over his words as he
told Stiles he should be heading home, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Stiles,
he called that a victory.
                                      /*/
Stiles managed to implement that step of the plan twice more, to his
satisfaction. Derek didn’t look any less flustered with each time. Which was
oddly humanizing, since Derek didn’t let his persona shift very often. Hell, he
didn’t even talkmost of the time, just relied on his freaking eyebrows to make
the words for him. Operation Towel, Act Two happened at Stiles’ house. Scott
had him researching Celtic crap up into the night before Stiles finally had a
breakthrough, and messaged both Scott and Derek before crashing hard at around
3 am. So when Derek showed up at his house six hours later, he had refused to
talk to him without a shower and breakfast. Derek had groaned and sped off to
whatever takeaway place was closest while Stiles hopped in the shower. After
Derek had been gone ten minutes, of course. He couldn’t waste such a perfect
opportunity. Derek had been in Stiles’ room when he sauntered back in, his
towel wrapped as low on his waist as he could safely maneuver it. He hadn’t
missed Derek’s jaw tightening and his eyes flicking over Stiles’ body as he
walked in. Stiles had spent five solid minutes forcing Derek to choose between
a black shirt and a red shirt for Stiles to wear – while he sat in his towel,
of course – before Derek had started to full out growlat Stiles until he gave
Derek the information he’d actually come for. Stiles played the growls over and
over in his head as he touched himself on his bed after Derek had left,
wondering if he ever made those kinds of sounds in bed.
The final Act in Saga a la Towel was thanks to Scott, who decided he needed
Derek to meet them right at that moment to work out some wolfy business. Stiles
hadn’t really cared, and Scott paid him no mind, until Stiles grinned at him
when he mentioned Derek was on his way.
“So he’s coming here? To the pool?” Scott nodded. Luck was certainly on Stiles’
side. He stuck firmly to the shallow end until Derek came into his line of
sight. Stiles exited the pool in the most dignified manner he could muster,
which was to say, not at all dignified, and walked over to where Derek was
arguing in a low voice with Scott, who was lounging on a deck chair.
“Long time no see, Der,” Stiles grinned.
“Hasn’t it been like three days since you saw him?” Scott asked. Stiles ignored
him. He was far more interested in the way Derek’s eyes followed his towel as
he wrapped it around his waist. He could have sworn Derek gulpedwhen he ran a
hand through his wet hair, pushing it up into a disarray. Before he could stop
himself Stiles winked at Derek. Fucking winked.Though it went over better than
he might have guessed, since Derek's cheeks appeared far redder than they had
been the minute before, and he made an excuse to make a hasty exit. Stiles had
to push away thoughts of blowing Derek in the pool showers when he washed the
chlorine from his hair later that day.
                                      /*/
“I need more ideas.” Stiles threw his bag onto the seat next to Lydia, who was
twirling one of her curls around a pencil. She cocked on eyebrow at him. “The
ideas you gave me the other week were good – they’re working. But I need more.
He’s getting there, but I need, like, a final push or something.”
“So it’s a he?” Lydia studied him for a moment. “It’s not Scott is it?”
“God no. please never say that again.” Stiles didn’t need those mental images.
“I guess you could make him jealous? That might only work if he’s a certain
type, though. Don’t do that if he’s all sweet and innocent.”
“Lydia, you’re fantastic,” Stiles smiled. His Math books just became marginally
less interesting. Jealously might actually work on Derek. He was kind of
possessive, being an Alpha and everything.
“I feel like this arrangement might work better if I actually knew who you were
crushing on,” Lydia offered up. Her eyes were fixed on Stiles as she studied
him.
“Nope. No way. Also, not crushing. Strictly NC-17 business,” Stiles fumbled
over his words and somehow managed to knock his textbooks to the floor.
“Right,” Lydia replied, rolling her eyes.
                                      /*/
Stiles decided Scott was fucking with him when he told him he’d invited Derek
to Greenburg’s party, and the invite had been accepted. Parties didn’t exactly
seem like Derek’s scene. His scene was running around in the woods and hanging
around in burnt buildings and railway carriages, and things like that. Not
normal teenage stuff.
“Yeah right, like Derek would ever come to a party you’d invited him to.
Scratch that, like Derek would ever come to a party, or do anything fun at
all.” Stiles downed the drink he was holding, scrunching his face as the heat
of the alcohol moved down his throat. He should probably stop drinking if Derek
was making an appearance, or else he’d probably do something stupid like
declare his ridiculous boner for the guy, and he didn’t think they were quite
there yet. But one more drink couldn’t hurt. Or possibly two.
Stiles was tearing up the dancefloor when Derek slipped into the room, easily
finding Scott who was leaning up against a wall subtly jiving to the Top 40
song pumping through the speakers. Derek leaned in the say something in Scott’s
ear, causing Scott to point Stiles out in the crowd. As Derek’s eyes found him
in the crowd his vision was suddenly obscured by someone else’s face. A face
that was pressed against him. He’d blame it on the alcohol, but he kissed the
person back without a thought. When he pulled back a few moments later the
brunette blew him a kiss and disappeared into the crowd. He glanced over at
Derek and saw him glance over at the same time, meeting his eyes. Derek looked
way less phased than Stiles hoped, but it gave him an idea. He moved to the
music through the crowd until he found a tall guy with dark hair and a
smattering of stubble. He moved into the guy’s personal space, not wanting to
go straight for it lest he get punched in the mouth. The guy didn’t seemed to
mind, so once Stiles was sure Derek was watching, he pressed his mouth to the
other guy’s, licking in with his tongue and molding their bodies together. The
guy was a good kisser, all wet tongue and roaming hands. He smelled good too,
though not like Derek. The guy’s hands came down to rest on his ass, pulling
Stiles into his body as they danced. Stiles didn’t need to glance over to know
that Derek was watching. He could feel his gaze on him, and he couldn’t not be,
let’s be honest. Stiles stayed like that, kissing the random guy within an inch
of his life, until his jaw started to protest. He moved backward with a smirk,
and made his way back through the crowd, pressing into bodies that moved with
the rhythm as he went. Scott had moved elsewhere, but Derek was still in the
same spot, leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand. His pupils were
slightly blown and he looked an odd mix of pissed and aroused. Success.
“See anything you like?” Stiles teased. Derek’s eyes rested on him for a moment
before flicking back to the crowd.
“Maybe,” he replied. That was all the affirmation Stiles needed.
“Want to dance?” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him back towards the
crowd.
“Not really my thing,” Derek replied, though he didn’t pull his hand back.
“Is any of this really your thing?” Stiles asked, gesturing to the room and the
people around them. “You’re here so you may as well have a good time.” Derek
just stared at him for a moment before nodding and downing the rest of his
beer. Stiles let out a whoop and tugged Derek behind him, making his way to the
center of the room. The song was a good one, and Stiles felt the music move
through him, his hips swirling and shoulders bopping. He grabbed Derek’s hands
and forced him to move to the beat.
“Come on, Der, live a little,” Stiles yelled, throwing his head back to sing
the chorus of the song. Derek was staring at him, looking almost awed or
something. Stiles decided to believe that he wasn’t in awe of his terrible
dance moves. Stiles laughed as he grabbed Derek’s hips and moved them around in
an awful rendition of the Salsa, leaving them to linger on his hips a few
moments longer than he otherwise would have. When he looked up Derek was
smiling at him and, wow,ok. Derek actually had a beautiful smile, and it was
the first time Stiles had really seen it.
“You should smile more often, it’s a good look on you” Stiles yelled above the
music, leaning into Derek’s ear. Derek grabbed his arm as he moved back away,
keeping Stiles in his personal space for a moment. Stiles was close enough that
all he would need to do was move forward a few inches and he could be kissing
Derek. Derek’s eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed as he searched Stiles’
face, grey-green eyes flicking from Stiles’ lips to his eyes and back again.
Just as Stiles began to lean forward Derek pulled back, blinking like he was
yanking himself from a trance.
“I should go,” Derek said so quietly that Stiles had to strain to hear him over
the music. Stiles bit his lip and nodded, letting go of Derek’s hand that he
hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Derek stared at Stiles for a few moments
before moving through the crowd, stealing glances over his shoulder every few
moments, back to where Stiles was still standing. Even though he hadn’t been
able to kiss Derek, Plan Jealously had certainly worked like a charm. Or maybe
it was his enthusiasticdancing. Stiles shrugged and made his way into the
kitchen, grabbing a beer from a cooler as he went past.
                                      /*/
Stiles swore Derek was trying to make him pay for making him dance at the
party. The next day Derek had texted him solidly. The problem with the texts
was that they were about research. A fuckton of research, to be exact. And
apparently Stiles was solely responsible for said research. Every ten minutes
his phone would buzz with a new clue or piece of info or idea from Derek. If
Derek’s own personal brand of seduction was forcing Stiles to work then he
really needed to update that one. Derek also started dropping by at random
times to see how the research was going, and to bring Stiles mounds of books to
work through. Why Derek couldn’t do that himself Stiles didn’t know.
When Derek shoved his window open on the Wednesday night Stiles was sitting in
his bed with the sheets all rumpled, face flushed and cheeks burning. Derek had
paused for a moment, sniffing the air before turning bright red himself and
muttering an apology before exiting the room as quickly as he’d come in. But it
gave Stiles an idea. Derek had to catch him jerking off. The problem was
timing. The guy wasn’t exactly a master of communication, so it was a game of
chance as to when he’d decide to grace Stiles with his presence, and Stiles
couldn’t exactly stay hard for the entire day on the off chance Derek might
come over. In the end, he covered his windowsill in mountain ash and shot Derek
a text telling him to come through the front door because of some made up
excuse that definitely wouldn’t hold up if he was asked about it.
The first time the doorbell rang Stiles panicked. He was wearing his training
sweats and an old shirt and definitely didn’t look like a sex god, or whatever
he was trying to portray. He ran into Derek in the hallway just outside his
room, and mumbled an excuse about being about to jump into the shower.
“You can stick around though, I’ll only be a minute. Mi casa es su casa, and
all that.” He rushed through his shower until a lightbulb went off in his head.
Derek has werewolf hearing, and Stiles’ plan was to jerk off within his
vicinity. Stiles smirked to himself and ran his hand down his torso, gripping
his already hardening cock. He squeezed some shower gel onto his palm and got
to work, hamming up his moans slightly to make sure Derek heard him. His breath
hitched with every flick of his thumb across the head, and he came across his
fist with a whimper that sounded vaguely like Derek’s name. He didn’t bother to
dress, just wrapped a towel around his waist for old times’ sake, and made his
way back to his bedroom. Derek was sitting on his desk chair gripping the wood
with one hand, his cheeks flushed and his pupils wide. Stiles grinned at him,
his breath catching in his throat when he noticed the bulge in Derek’s jeans.
Stiles opened his mouth to make Derek an offer of mutual satisfaction, but
Derek was already out of the desk chair, slipping past Stiles and practically
sprinting down the stairs and out the front door.
The second time Derek rang the doorbell and Stiles heard his dad let Derek in
he got hard immediately. He rushed over to his bed, pulling his pants down and
gripping the base of his dick, matching his strokes with each creak of the
floorboards that signaled Derek getting closer to his room. He almost came as
soon as he saw the knob turn and the door open, Derek stepping into the room
and pushing the door shut behind him. He froze when his eyes fell on Stiles,
who pretended to look surprised, pulling a pillow half over his dick.
“Uh, hey, Derek,” Stiles grinned. His dick twitched when Derek didn’t respond,
his eyes still fixed on Stiles’ half-covered cock. When Derek didn’t move for a
moment Stiles began to pull at his cock slowly, just enough for Derek to see
his arm muscles working. He bit his lip and moaned quietly when he twisted his
fist at the head of his dick, sending drops of precum onto his fist. Derek’s
eyes were still fixed on his hand, but his nostrils flared. Stiles definitely
noticed the growing tent in Derek’s pants.
“You can take a seat if you want,” Stiles offered, gesturing towards the desk
chair. Derek paused for a moment before taking the direction, sliding into the
chair facing Stiles. Stiles pushed the pillow off his dick and began to move
his hand at a faster pace, breath hitching with each down stroke. He was
already way too close, and having Derek sitting and watching was awakening a
new kink or something. He reached down to cup his balls with one hand,
squeezing at the base of his dick to try and ward off the orgasm for a moment
longer. He stuck two of his fingers in his mouth and wet them, pushing his
tongue all over the digits. He locked eyes with Derek as he pushed one knee up
to his chest and pressed two fingers into his hole, coming almost immediately.
Ropes of cum shot up his chest and he clenched around his fingers, moaning out
Derek’s name. When he came down he saw Derek had pulled his cock out and was
cleaning his own cum from his fingers. He smirked at Stiles but didn’t say
anything as he left the room, doing up the zipper on his jeans as he walked.
“That was a good research session, we should do it again some time,” Stiles
yelled after him. After the sound of the front door closing echoed up to
Stiles’ room, he allowed himself a hearty fist pump before cleaning the
mountain ash from his windowsill.
                                      /*/
Derek was nowhere to be found for the next week. Derek was usually hard to
find, but he had apparently dropped off the face of the earth after their
voyeuristic masturbation session. Scott had taken to punching Stiles in the arm
every time he mentioned Derek, which must have been a shitload if the yellow
and purple bruise on his arm was anything to go by. The negative side effect of
seeing Derek’s recently-orgasmed person was that Stiles was unable to get off
to anything else. While Derek had been infiltrating his self-love sessions for
a while, Stiles was now unable to orgasm unless he was thinking about Derek.
Which was an issue. Variety is the spice of life, and all that. Stiles was
becoming desperate. So desperate that Isaac had stopped answering the door
whenever Stiles came by the loft.
It took Derek two weeks to resurface, and he came back pissed. Apparently he
told Scott where he’d decided to take his little trip to, but Stiles wasn’t
privy to that information.
“Didn’t realize you guys were certified BFFs now,” Stiles scoffed. “Did you
make him a friendship bracelet? Braid each other’s wolf fur?”
“Don’t be a dick,” Scott replied, pelting the ball at Stiles hard enough for
him to let out a whine of pain when it collided with his ribs.
“I’m just saying, he’s been MIA for weeks and he comes back and only wants to
talk to you? What’s with that? You his new favourite beta or something?” Stiles
returned the ball with a pitiful amount of force.
“Dude, just go talk to him. Weren’t you guys hanging out before? Maybe he’d
like to see you.” Scott’s optimism was admirable.
“I can’t just go seehim. People don’t see Derek, he sees them,” Stiles threw
down his stick and flopped to the ground beside it. “He’s like the abominable
snowman, or Bigfoot, or something. You can’t find him unless he wants to be
found.” Scott rolled his eyes at him as he took off his helmet.
“Just go, Stiles.” Stiles didn’t answer.
                                      /*/
Stiles went, of course. He waited until night and drove over, parking his Jeep
next to the Camaro. He had debated bringing some kind of wolfsbane stick or
something to poke Isaac with when he inevitably didn’t let him in, but Isaac
wasn’t home. Derek answered the door at Stiles’ knock, looking surprised to see
him.
“Are you ok? Has something happened?” Derek pulled Stiles into the loft and
shut the door, his eyes searching Stiles’ face and body for injuries or
something.
“Uh, no. Just hanging out,” Stiles replied, rubbing his hand over the back of
his neck. This was a stupid idea. Stupid Scott and his stupid ideas. Derek’s
eyes narrowed and he gave Stiles a once over again.
“What are you really here for?” Derek asked. He walked away from Stiles back
towards the kitchen. “You’ve never turned up here before for no reason.”
“My reason is that I wanted to see your little wolfy face. You’ve been MIA for
a while,” Stiles offered up. Derek was boiling the kettle, and it looked way
too domestic for Stiles to handle. Apparently Derek had not only awakened a
deadpan kink and a voyeurism kink, but also a domesticitykink.
Derek didn’t offer up any information as to where he’d been, so they sat in
silence while Derek made two cups of tea. He slid one onto the counter in front
of Stiles.
“Maybe don’t walk anywhere with that one, you might pretend to trip over
again,” Derek said, and the fucker winked. Stiles stopped short.
“Guilty as charged,” he joked, taking a sip of the tea. Somehow Derek had made
it exactly how he liked it without him having to say anything.
“It took me a while to work out what you had against my floorboards,” Derek
started as he rested his forearms on the counter, sipping his tea. “And then
you started wearing tight pants and magically becoming shirtless every time I
was around. It took me telling Erica and Isaac a joke about how you were
kissing those people at that party and trying to get me to dance with you that
I got it. Well, they got it and laughed at me until I got it.” Derek leveled
his gaze at Stiles who was attempting to look cool while also freaking out
internally.
“And what did you work out?” Stiles asked weakly, setting his mug on the
counter. Derek was moving around the counter to stand behind Stiles, his breath
hot against his ear.
“I figured out your M.O., Stiles. But I don’t want to tell you, I want you to
tell me.” Derek’s lips were practically touching the back of his neck sending
sparks shooting down Stiles’ spine.
“Tell you what?” was all Stiles could muster up.
“Why you’ve been doing all this. What you want from it,” Derek chuckled,
trailing a finger down Stiles’ arm. Stiles gulped.
“Well, you’re a good looking guy and I’m a guy who likes good looking guys, so
I thought it could be mutually beneficial.” Stiles felt a wave of confidence
surged through him and he whirled around, grabbing Derek by the back of the
neck and pulling him in. “I want you to fuck me, Derek. Hard or slow or
whatever way you want it just as long as you do it. I want to suck your cock
and feel your cum on my skin and I want to hear what you sound like when you
cum,” Stiles whispered in Derek’s ear. He pulled back to see Derek’s pupils
blown wide, his mouth parted slightly. Derek grinned and pulled Stiles off the
bar stool by his thighs, wrapping his hands around them and leaving Stiles to
cinch his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek deposited him on the large wooden
table, stepping in between his legs and pushing their chests together. Stiles
leaned in as soon as Derek moved forward, pressing their mouths together and
moving his tongue in a swipe of wet heat. Derek moaned and curled his tongue
around Stiles’, running his hands up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles curled his
tongue around Derek’s, causing Derek to bite his lip, leaving them panting into
each other’s mouths.
“Fuck,” Stiles whispered as Derek palmed him through his jeans. He could feel
Derek’s hard length pressing into his thigh, and he wanted to get his mouth on
it. “Let me blow you. Please.” He didn’t think he could muster up much else.
Derek smirked and pulled off his shirt before unzipping his jeans, letting them
fall to the floor. He kicked them off leaving him in just his boxer briefs,
hard cock straining at the thin material and leaving a clear outline that made
Stiles’ mouth water. He whimpered and fumbled with his own shirt and jeans,
letting Derek pull those off too and throw them to the side. Derek squeezed him
once before grabbing his arm and pulling them over to the couch, sitting on the
edge and pushing Stiles down in front of him. Stiles stared at Derek’s crotch
for a moment, running his hands up the insides of Derek’s thighs.
“I haven’t, uh, before so give me some cues, alright,” Stiles said. He glanced
up to see Derek nodding, and pulled down Derek’s briefs. His cock was slightly
larger than Stiles’ and about the same thickness. It was bright red at the tip
and already oozing precum, which gave Stiles a boost of confidence. He took the
head into his mouth and began to suck, channeling all the porn he’d been
watching recently. Derek moaned and Stiles felt a hand run through his hair,
pushing him further down Derek’s length. Stiles complied, curling his tongue
down the side of Derek’s cock and hollowing his cheeks. He worked the base with
his hand, dropping the other the press into Derek’s thigh, his fingernails
leaving little half-moons in the skin. Derek whimpered and tugged softly on
Stiles’ hair, pulling him back up for air. Judging by Derek’s absolutely
wrecked face he hadn’t done too bad of a job. Stiles smirked, which made
Derek’s eyes darken. All of a sudden he was lying on his back on the couch with
Derek hovering over him, sucking marks onto his collarbone. Stiles moaned
loudly when their cocks brushed together. Derek thrusted down, pushing his cock
between Stiles’ thighs and back behind his balls. Stiles wasn’t proud of the
desperate sound he made, tilting his hips up and digging his nails into Derek’s
back.
“See anything you like?” Derek teased, parroting Stiles’ line from the party
back to him.
“Maybe,” Stiles grinned, biting down on Derek’s neck making him moan. “But I’d
like it a bit more if you could put your fingers to use.” Derek licked over a
mark he had made on Stiles’ collarbone and pulled back, ignoring Stiles’ whine
of disapproval. He scooted over to the coffee table on his knees, opening up a
small side drawer and pulling a bottle of lube and a condom from the back. He
moved back over to Stiles, sitting on the couch and pulling him into his lap.
Stiles popped the cap on the lube and drizzled some down Derek’s fingers, which
quickly found their way to Stiles’ hole. He slapped Derek on the shoulder after
a few moments of him just running his fingers over where Stiles wanted them,
trying to hurry him up. Derek bit his shoulder in response, and Stiles
shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did. Finally he pressed two fingers into
Stiles, rocking them back and forth slowly as they moved farther in. Stiles
moaned again and pushed back onto them, shoving them all the way in.
“I can take three,” he gasped into Derek’s neck, wrapping his hand around both
of their cocks and jerking them slowly. Derek complied, pressing a third finger
in and brushing against Stiles’ prostate.
“You look so pretty when you arch up like that,” Derek whispered into Stiles’
chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Stiles squeezed a hand around the base
of their cocks, not wanting to cum. Derek scissored his fingers and pressed a
fourth in, stretching Stiles open wide. He pulled his fingers out all too
quickly and Stiles whimpered at the sudden emptiness.
“You don’t need that,” he nodded towards the condom Derek was ripping open.
“I’m not getting cum all over my couch,” Derek replied, rolling it down his
length. Stiles repositioned himself so that the head of Derek’s dick was
pushing against his hole, and grabbed it by the base as he slowly sunk down.
Derek made little aborted thrusts from under Stiles, trying to keep himself
under control until Stiles was fully seated. After a moment Stiles began to
move, rocking back down on Derek’s cock and twisting his hips slightly to draw
moans from the other man. Derek had one hand dug into Stiles’ ass, the other
pulling him in by his neck to kiss Derek deeply and messily, their breaths
being pushed out with every downward thrust. Derek knocked Stiles’ hand away
from where he had been jerking his cock in time with the thrusts and replaced
it with his own.
“I’m close,” he said, biting down on his lip as Stiles changed the angle
slightly. Stiles nodded and sped up his movements, pushing up and slamming down
onto Derek’s dick. Derek started jerking Stiles faster, making white spots pop
up on his vision and they came together, Stiles grinding down onto Derek’s cock
and throwing his head back, Derek tugging on Stiles’ cock with his face buried
in Stiles’ neck. They stayed like that for a while, panting onto each other’s
skin. Stiles glanced down to see red marks popping up all over his collarbone
and leaned forward to bite Derek’s in retaliation, frowning as the mark faded
almost instantly.
“It’s not fair that you can mark me up but I can’t mark you,” Stiles pouted,
running his finger over the spot where the mark disappeared. Derek didn’t
reply, just maneuvered them so they were lying on the couch facing each other.
Stiles made a face at the sensation of Derek slipping out of him, which made
Derek chuckle.
“So, was that what you’d hoped for?” Derek asked. His eyes kept darting over
Stiles’ face, resting on his parted lips, his flushed cheeks, and his rumpled
hair.
“It was better,” Stiles grinned. He brushed a stray eyelash from Derek’s cheek
and moved to sit up. “Should I go? I don’t really know what to do from this
point.”
“Do you want to go?” Derek asked, his eyes locked on Stiles’. Stiles paused for
a moment, glancing down at Derek splayed out on the couch.
“Not really,” he replied. “We could make pizza?”
“That sounds good,” Derek smiled at him. “You can, uh, stay over if you want.”
He looked so small in that moment, tensing up slightly as if he expected Stiles
to laugh in his face.
“Well, I already know you have clothes that fit me so, really, it would be a
waste not to,” Stiles joked. He tapped Derek’s jaw with his finger and pulled
him into a kiss, lips soft and almost chaste against his own. Derek pushed him
back and smiled wide, running one of his hands down Stiles’ arm. Stiles moved
to pull his jeans back on but stopped and called out to Derek. “Back where it
all began, hey,” he joked as he bent over to pick them up. Derek was on him in
a second pulling him into another kiss and smirking against his mouth.
“As long as you do that naked you can bend over anytime you want,” he joked,
slapping Stiles’ ass lightly. After Stiles had pulled on pants and stashed the
lube back in the drawer he made his way over to where Derek was pottering
around in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the fridge. He stood close to
Derek, not sure how much touching they should be doing since he didn’t even
know what they were as of that moment. Derek cleared that up for him almost
immediately, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close. And later when
Stiles was leaning up against Derek’s chest as they watched Netflix on the
couch, he knew he wouldn’t even have to ask. He knew what they were, and his
plan couldn’t have worked better.
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