Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2323484.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Mentions_of_Stiles_Stilinksi/Malia_Hale,
      Mentions_of_Derek_Hale/Braeden, Tiny_hint_at_Scott_McCall/Isaac_Lahey
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, PWP, with_a_little_plot, Season_4_Spoilers, Angst, Humor,
      Darach_made_them_do_it, Schmoop, Connect_the_Dots, Missing_Scenes_for_all
      Seasons, Stamina_Problems, Multiple_Orgasms, Misunderstandings
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-18 Words: 2785
****** That sex thing ******
by kat_fanfic
Summary
     Apparently, his life was one big cosmic joke - a comedy show created
     by a bored deity even - because what else could explain the fact that
     when he was sixteen, Derek Hale walked into his life.
As it turned out, Stiles didn’t really like the whole sex thing.
His natural clumsiness – which had gotten him into trouble many times before,
especially if he happened to be standing right in front of a pretty girl, or
boy, for that matter – was boosted by teenaged hormones, and not even his
cuteish good looks could make up for his tendency to make an ass of himself on
a regular basis.
The first time he popped a boner, he was in class. He looked down into his lap,
looked up at Mrs. Martin who was just getting upright again, fallen piece of
chalk in hand, and then glanced over at Lydia.
“Awkward,” Scott commented from the next seat.
“Dude,” Stiles answered, heartfelt.
Life continued in that fashion. He pretty much knew from the get-go that he
liked boys and girls alike, and as a rule, he found everyone, and everything,
attractive. If someone bumped into him in the corridor – instant erection. If
one of the guys gave him a noogie during Lacrosse practice – major awkward
boner (mostly because jock strap).
He was turned on by Lydia snarling at him, found Danny’s aloofness immensely
hot, and if it weren’t for the fact that Scott was like a brother to him? Yum.
“Stiles,” Scott hissed at him, that one afternoon they’d spent playing Madden
and had ended with him spilling grape juice all over Scott’s new sweater. The
same sweater that now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Man, quit staring
at me.”
“Um,” Stiles murmured, his eyes retracing the path a stray droplet had taken
down his friend’s chest. Up the hill and in the dip, and down the hill and –
ohhh, treasure trail….
“Stiles!”
Maybe he should have known that there was more to it than just random kinks.
Apparently, his life was one big cosmic joke – a comedy show created by a bored
deity even – because what else could explain the fact that when he was sixteen,
Derek Hale walked into his life.
Derek, who incorporated everything Stiles had ever found to be a turn-on. He
was eternally grumpy – and there was just something about the way his eyebrows
would draw together that sent a tingle down Stiles’ back.
He could be quiet and introspective – although not in a Danny way, but more of
a tragic, ‘Dark Knight’ kind of way, which, yeah. Hot.
He had an athlete’s body, lean and well-defined, with the sort of muscles that
spoke of real strength rather than empty gym bulk and Stiles was pretty sure
that if he wanted to, Derek could break him in half. Easily.
“Hey,” he said to Scott one night, after having helped Derek get rid of a
creepy werewolf stalker who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Did you know that
being threatened with bodily harm is, like, totally hot?”
Scott rolled his eyes at him. “It’s called BDSM, Stiles. Look it up.”
Stiles did. But even though his undersexed body found great pleasure in the
things the internet made easily accessible, nothing he found could ever compare
to the reality of a menacing Derek Hale. The man was creepy and scary, and had
a tendency to just appear in his room at random times – looming included.
Basically, he was every teenage boy’s wet dream, if that particular teenage boy
happened to be gay. Or bisexual. And aroused by either meanness, stubble,
mortal danger, or leather jackets.
“Okay, maybe it’s just me,” he admitted as he helped Ms. Blake clean up dead
bird bits.
Thing was, not only was his hard-on trigger-happy at the best of times, he also
had no stamina. Like, at all.
The first time he tried to have sex, that time with Heather in the wine cellar,
he came as soon as their lips touched. It would have been really embarrassing,
except he had the convenient excuse of having to get condoms. After his frantic
search in the bathroom, he spent a few precious minutes cleaning himself up,
all the while cursing his over-zealous prostate gland.
Of course, after that night, he cursed his rampant dick for other things than
copious amounts of come.
“It wasn’t your fault that Heather went missing,” Lydia tried to console him
the next day.
Stiles continued to glare at his crotch. “No. It’s his.”
In retrospect, he mused later, he probably wouldn’t have tried to get in
Derek’s pants if it hadn’t been for the very real threat of a virgin-killing
Druid. Derek was not exactly known to take surprises very well, and ‘ta-dah,
have my dick so I won’t die’ pretty much took the cake.
Later, Stiles would blame mortal fear for the fact that he took the first
opportunity to throw himself at Derek, baby monkey style.
Derek blamed the fact that he let it happen on the feelings he had for Stiles.
“Uh,” Stiles gasped, moments later, writhing between the proverbial rock and
hard place – namely, Derek and the wall of his apartment. “Yeah, uh, uh… oooh!”
Stopping abruptly, Derek lifted his head from his neck and looked down. “Did
you really just come in your pants? I didn’t even touch you.”
Stiles moaned, pressing his twitching cock against Derek’s leg. “’s good,” he
slurred, pretending not to see Derek’s eye-roll.
“This,” Derek exclaimed, gesturing between them and Stiles heart sank because
sure, at some point Derek may have thought this was a good idea but he’d
clearly come to his senses now –
“This,” Derek repeated, gesturing again, “does not count as having sex.”
“Oh,” Stiles breathed, “So, I’m still a virgin?”
Derek gave him a look.
Stiles grinned. “Hey, I’m in danger here, wanna do something about it?”
Eyes widening, Derek glanced down again. “Huh,” he grunted, rocking into
Stiles’ renewed hardness. “That was fast.”
It took Stiles two tries to last longer than thirty seconds with Derek’s hands
on him. To be fair, Derek had great hands; strong yet smooth, – apparently,
werewolves didn’t get callouses and wasn’t that a neat fun-fact? – with long,
knowing fingers that touched him just so…
“Jesus,” Derek murmured, peering at his wet hand, “it just never stops.”
Drawing his eyebrows together, he glanced at Stiles from under ridiculously
long lashes and slowly brought his index finger up to his mouth.
Stiles stared, transfixed, as Derek slowly slipped it past his full lips,
tasting. Stiles whimpered, his spent cock twitching as he watched Derek suckle
at his come-soaked finger like a popsicle. “Fuck,” he gasped, his whole body
shaking as another wave of lust rushed through him at the sight. “Derek.”
“Tastes like blueberries.”
Stiles let out a groan, the renewed hardness almost painful. “Breakfast,” he
managed to say. “Pancakes.”
The moment Derek sank down to his knees, mouth hovering over his crotch, his
breath so very warm on his sensitized skin, Stiles’ eyes rolled back into his
head and with a low grunt he came all over the Alpha’s face.
It was like something out of a porn sequence. Him with his jeans barely undone,
his still half-hard dick hanging out of the flap, and Derek who had tilted his
face up towards it to let the last drops pulse directly onto his tongue.
Breathing heavily, Stiles let his hand hover over the man’s closed eyelids.
With barely-there pressure, he brushed away the white globs clinging to thick
brows and three-day old – if perfectly groomed – stubble. Beneath his
fingertips, Derek held perfectly still, a light tremor the only evidence that
he was as affected as Stiles was.
“If I was to suck you now,” Derek said, low-voiced, still without opening his
eyes, “you think you’ll last longer?”
“Hell, no,” Stiles groaned, the very idea bringing him to the brink again. It
was like a flood-gate had been opened the moment he’d decided to lose his
virginity to Derek and now his dick just wouldn’t stop. “You gonna do it
anyway?”
Derek flashed him a grin, murmured, “since you asked so nicely,” and went down
on him.
Stiles’ head snapped back, the wet hot suction sizzling along his cock and
trickling down his spine. He moaned, a long, drawn-out sound that came from the
very core of his being. Nothing had prepared him for this. “Oh, yeah,” he
panted. “Fuck, Derek, yes! So good…”
Obviously, there was no answer, but with a low rumble of contentment, Derek
took him whole, swallowing around him.
Stiles yelped as he slid fully down Derek’s throat, thrown into orgasm hard and
quick by the incredible tightness. The pulses felt like molten lava as he shot
his meagre load, balls finally depleted.
“Oh god,” he gasped as he shuddered through the aftershocks, “oh god, oh god,
what, how…?”
Pulling back, Derek sat on his haunches. He looked very smug. “I should have
known you were a screamer.”
Stiles blushed. “You try not to make a sound while your dick is gobbled up by a
fucking hoover,” he grumped. His knees were trembling and he looked longingly
over to the bed. “Think we can lay down for a bit? Or,” he amended with a
slight grimace. “I could, you know, go, if you wanted me to.”
“You’re an idiot,” Derek said, matter-of-fact, and got up in one smooth
movement. His pants were visibly tented and Stiles felt his mouth water.
Stepping up, he didn’t stop to think as he wrapped his arms around Derek’s
waist and pulled him into an experimental kiss. Pushing their hips together, he
murmured, “want me to do something about this?” against Derek’s swollen lips,
grinning as he tasted himself on his tongue.
Derek looked at him gravely. His eyes were half-lidded and dark with desire.
“You don’t have to,” he hummed. “It’s not exactly a quid pro quo kind of
thing.”
“Ah, I see,” Stiles nodded, “but I’m pretty sure that reciprocation is part and
parcel of a successful devirginizing process."
“In that case…” Taking his hand, Derek placed it between them, on top of the
warm bulge. It was with a strange sense of accomplishment that Stiles noted how
Derek’s breath shuddered as he gently squeezed it, tracing the outline of
Derek’s cock with a light touch designed to tease rather than stimulate.
“Yeah,” Stiles murmured, feeling the erection twitch beneath his touch. “I can,
yeah, I can do this.”
Moaning lowly, Derek suddenly grabbed him, pulling him over to the bed. They
tumbled onto it, Stiles landing on top of him, straddling Derek. Pressed
together where it mattered most, they started moving at the same time.
It didn’t take long for Derek to come, and Stiles felt a rush of elation when
the Alpha couldn’t quite stifle a cry of fulfillment.
“Wow,” Stiles murmured, flopping onto the mattress.
“You know,” Derek rumbled as he pulled Stiles close as if it was the most
natural thing in the world to cuddle after life-saving sex. Their bodies,
Stiles noted asently, fit perfectly together. “I’m still not sure that it
worked.”
About to drop off now the he was sated, Stiles murmured, “hm?”
“I’m just saying. There’s a lot more we could do to,” he hesitated,
“devirginize you.”
Adrenaline raced like fireworks through his blood and in an instant, Stiles was
wide-awake. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Are you saying that it wasn’t enough?”
“Relax,” Derek said, manhandling Stiles on top of him. He had a peculiar
expression on his face. “You’re safe now.”
“How can you be sure, though?” Stiles asked, propping himself up on Derek’s
shoulders. “It’s not like there is a brand on my forehead that reads ‘just got
laid’! We didn’t even, you know,” he gestured vaguely to indicate that no
intercourse had taken place.
“Might as well be a sign there.” Stroking a hand down his back, Derek let it
rest on his hip.
Stiles frowned down at him. “How’d you figure that?”
Derek gave him a crooked grin and tapped his nose. It was, Stiles had to admit,
a little bit adorable.
Stiles let that thought settle. “So let me get this straight,” he said, after a
pregnant pause where he tried to come to terms with the fact that he’d just
called Derek adorable, if only in his head. “You can smell virgins? For real?”
“Why does that surprise you? You know we can smell sickness in a person, and
even detect emotions in a scent.”
“Still,” Stiles complained. “That’s just, so weird. Wait, does that mean the
guys will be able to smell it on me?” ‘Smell you’, is what he didn’t ask,
though it was heavily implied. “What am I supposed to tell them when they ask?
Oh man, I’ll never live it down that I came to you with this.”
For a few heartbeats, Derek just looked at him. “I don’t care,” he finally
said, slowly. In another smooth, ninja-like move, he dumped Stiles on the bed
and got up. He slipped his shirt off with a grimace of distaste. “Tell them
what you want, Stiles. I’m taking a shower.”
“Sure,” Stiles murmured, distracted by the vast expanse of skin Derek had so
generously exposed for him. “I guess I’ll think of something. Hey, uh, you want
to maybe do this again sometime?”
Derek gave him a funny look. “This?”
“Yeah,” Stiles gestured between them. “Nookie, hide the sausage, whatever you
want to call it. After all, you said that there’s and I quote ‘a lot more we
could do’.”
“I changed my mind.” Derek was already halfway up the stairs before the words
reached Stiles’ brain. “Let yourself out, make sure to pull the door in the
lock.”
Feeling bereft and a little bit like he was about to do the walk of shame,
Stiles stared after him. “Yeah,” he murmured. Stuffing himself back into his
pants was humiliating, especially since it didn’t do much to hide what he’d
been up to.
Wondering when the approachable and even gentle Derek from minutes ago had
turned into the taciturn SOB nobody even liked anyway, Stiles left without a
backward glance.
“I think sex is way overrated,” he informed Scott and Isaac as they sat in
Scott’s room sharing a bottle of cheap scotch.
Isaac looked at Scott.
Scott blushed.
Stiles looked back and forth between them, sure that he was missing something.
Unsurprisingly, over the next few weeks, Stiles and Derek’s relationship took a
turn for the worse. They didn’t see each other much and when they did, more
often than not their attempts at conversation dissolved into petty fights and
arguments.
The whole Nogitsune possession time was a blur and then he had Malia to take
care of. He really liked her a lot, even if there were times when she was so
unmistakably a Hale that Stiles felt a little sick to his stomach. Making love
to Malia was nice, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something essential
was missing every time they did it.
And then came the long nights he lay awake, staring at the walls of his
bedroom, remembering. Malia didn’t talk to him, wouldn’t even look at him
anymore, because he had lied to her about Peter.
And it hurt to know that he’d lost her, but what hurt even more was the
realization that he had seen the look on her face before, on someone he never
expected he had the ability to hurt.
Fearing for one’s life on a regular basis had one advantage, he thought the
moment he laid eyes on a mortally wounded Derek, lying in the Mexican dirt,
unable to heal.
“It helps getting priorities straight,” he murmured days later, after the dust
of that damned church had settled and he and Malia were firmly back in friend
territory. Braeden had left without Derek, and although he didn’t want to get
his hopes up, to Stiles, it felt like a sign.
“Oh yeah?” Derek was clearly unimpressed. Turning into a full wolf had given
him his health and strength back, but there were things that couldn’t be healed
by evolving.
“Yeah,” Stiles whispered, and this time when their lips met, he poured
everything into the kiss. Every bit of frustration, anxiety, and terror that
had so defined the last year. He shared the wondrous feeling of having forged
life-long friendships, as well as the elation of knowing that when all was said
and done, there was one person he could always turn to.
“And who’s that?” Derek mumbled, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked
smile.
Stiles pulled back. “I think,” he mused, “that it’s always been you, Derek.”
This time, they didn’t come up for air for a long time.
And as it turned out, Stiles did like the whole sex thing after all. He did
with Derek.
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