Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1058896.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Fantasy, Wet_Clothing, Wet_Clothing_Kink, Explicit_Language,
      Ficlet, Porn, Awkward_Sexual_Situations, Short, Imagination
  Series:
      Part 13 of The_Sterek_Porn_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-26 Words: 658
****** Take the Weather With You ******
by Saucery
Summary
     Derek in a see-through T-shirt. The end.
Notes
     The title is taken from this Crowded House song.
See the end of the work for more notes
===============================================================================
 
Stiles is in Derek's loft with the rest of the pack, busy rattling off the
specifics of his latest anti-villain strategy, when Derek walks in from the
rain. He's - he's wet, all over, water gleaming on his veined forearms like
oil, and his shirt is practically molded to his torso, somehow more obscene
than if Derek were naked, because the transparent white cotton clings to
Derek's six-pack and his bulging pecs and makes it perfectly obvious just how
hard his nipples are, pebbled with cold, dark and visibly erect through his
shirt.
And Stiles just… loses track of what he was saying, stuttering to a halt, eyes
widening and jaw going slack and mouth flooding with saliva, because he wants
to lick that, all of that, and make Derek's body shine with spit the way it
does with rain, make Derek's limbs glisten with sweat and strain.
Stiles can't stop imagining how soaked Derek's underwear must be, either, under
those sodden jeans, the soaked fabric of Derek's Y-fronts outlining the shape
of his dick, heavy and long. Oh, how Stiles needs to put his mouth on that,
needs to blow hotly against it just to feel Derek shiver, because Derek's just
come in from the freezing downpour and Stiles's breath would be like fire
against his chilled skin, even through a layer of cloth. Stiles's tongue would
be even hotter, painting searing stripes up Derek's thinly-covered dick, which
would grow bigger by the second, until Stiles could taste Derek through his
underwear, spurts of pre-come making it even damper, the rising scent of musk
mingling with the scent of rain.
And that's when Stiles realizes he's drooling - actually, literally drooling -
and that the rest of the pack is staring at him, expressions ranging from
appalled (Scott) to epiphanic (Isaac) to bored (Cora) to strangely hungry
(Peter).
They can smell him, damn it, they can all smell him, and what's even worse is
that Derek can smell him and Derek will hate him for it, except…
Except Derek isn't looking away.
He's looking at Stiles, and there's a new heat in his eyes, a banked heat that
promises to flare into an all-consuming blaze at the slightest provocation, and
Stiles wants to be in that blaze, wants to be at the throbbing, pulsing center
of it, alight with sensation, Derek's fangs scraping his neck -
"Well, that does it, I'm going home," says Scott, and Isaac follows him out
like a lost puppy.
Cora harrumphs. "I'm not going anywhere because I live here," she says, "but if
you two wanna do the nasty, that's none of my business. Just promise me you'll
stick to Derek's soundproofed room and try to keep it down."
"Don't be a spoilsport, dear," Peter chides. "Why should they keep it down?"
Stiles, manfully ignoring Peter's maybe-voyeurism, doesn't once move his gaze
from Derek's.
Until finally, Derek heads for his room, and as he passes by Stiles, he quietly
murmurs: "Bring me a towel from the cupboard in the hallway. I have to dry
off."
Stiles nods vigorously and unsticks his throat and manages to say, "S-sure,
I'll just - you go on ahead and I'll bring you your towel, and that's all I'll
be doing, towel-delivery, right? I mean, we won't be - we won't - uh - "
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Cora mutters, "Derek already has a towel in his bedroom,
dumbass, can't you recognize an excuse when you hear one?"
And so Stiles ends up delivering an unnecessary towel to Derek's room, except
that it proves to be very necessary indeed, when it comes to wiping away the
mess they make on the floor and on Derek's desk and even against the door.
It's a rewarding experience, especially when Stiles learns that it is possible
to raise Derek's core temperature from cool to scorching within a matter of
minutes, by the simple, judicious application of Stiles's tongue.
Stiles has officially graduated from seeing to touching.
Score.
 
===============================================================================
                                     fin.
 
End Notes
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