Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1118980.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Jennifer_Blake_(background)
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Partner_Betrayal, Hate_Sex, Angry_Sex, Underage_Sex, Wall_Sex, Frottage
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-04 Words: 714
****** oh how the mighty fall ******
by HaleHole_(SweetFanfics)
Summary
     hopira asked for: I want a fic/drabble/prompt in which Derek and
     Jennifer are together and Stiles goes all protective/jealous over
     that. So, he go to Derek’s loft and start to ask him why is he
     trusting so quickly in her and things like that. The discussion grow
     and they end up having hate!?sex.
Notes
     warning for partner betrayal (and Stiles being underage/16)
This all wrong. This isn’t the way Stiles thought it would be, his first time
that is. The worst part of it (probably maybe possibly potentially most
likely), is that the fact that Derek and Ms.Blake are going out isn’t what’s
sticking out as ‘wrong’ to Stiles. Nor is the fact that he and Derek were
yelling things at each other barely 20 minutes ago.

No, he’s more pissed that the the wrong part is that his back is being rubbed
raw against bricks and that he liked that shirt God dammit! “Why do you always
have to be such an impulsive ass?!” Stiles hisses, hands tugging hard on
Derek’s jeans zip. He may or may not be trying to break it in retaliation. 

Derek’s hands slap his away, pulling the material down and away so that he can
slide his bare hips against Stiles, cock rubbing against the younger man’s
hips. “I don’t know.” Derek pushes out through clenched teeth, eyes dark with
anger and something Stiles doesn’t want to think too deeply about. “Why can’t
you keep your nose out of other people’s business?”

This is wrong. He’d imagined his first time in a bed, with someone soft and
curvy (preferably with long, strawberry blonde curls and a citrus sweet scent).
Not against the wall with his jeans hanging off one foot and a guy lining their
cock so right that Stiles’ head slams back into the bricks. He grunts at the
pain, hips fucking up into Derek’s hand (so big so hot so tight its just right
just perfect). “B-because it’s oooo fuck tighter yeah like that! my…my business
too.”

"Fuck." Derek curses, nose and teeth tugging his t-shirt collar to the side
before he latches onto Stiles’ neck like he’s a vampire or something and begins
to suck and bite until Stiles feels like an oversized teething toy. "Why can’t
you trust me? I know what I’m doing!"

That is just so fucking hilarious that Stiles has to laugh (It doesn’t matter
if it comes out sounded fucking wrecked because it’s the principle of the
matter). “Trusting someone who you barely know doesn’t sound like that at all.”
How he manages to get that out in one breath, Stiles doesn’t know. But he’s
glad he does before the angry look that Derek gives him (coupled with the angry
thrust up against his cock) steals his breath away.

One large hand sinks into his hair and tugs his head back. Tears sting Stiles’
eyes and a whimper crawls up and hides under his tongue. “Maybe it’s
because she trusts me.” Derek snaps, hips and hand moving at a frantic, brutal
pace that’s keeping Stiles on the edge of breathlessness. 

The last three words hurt, hurt more than they should. How can Derek not trust
him? It’s not like he hasn’t saved his life on more than one occasion. Or
helped him out in one way or another without asking for anything in return.
What the hell else is he supposed to do to get this idiot’s trust? Grow boobs
and get hair extensions? “Fuck you.” Stiles retaliates, pushing his hand down
between them. 

It’s all wrong when he tries his best to make Derek orgasm first. He wants to
see Derek break first, like it’s some kind of fucking competition. This wasn’t
supposed to happen - he wasn’t supposed to stare in awe when Derek’s face
crumples into an expression of pained pleasure as he comes in sticky spurts
over Stiles’ hand, he wasn’t supposed to get jerked off by a rough hand that
was surprisingly gentle on him and he definitely wasn’t supposed to know how
stubble burn felt on his chin and cheeks.

"I don’t get you." Stiles says after they’ve gotten dressed again, wanting to
fill this new chasm that’s sprung up now between them. He fingers the torn edge
of his plaid shirt, wondering what lie he can spin to explain the tear. 

Derek looks tired, more tired than Stiles has ever seen. “I don’t get you
either.” That…Stiles feels a lump growing in his throat, choking off whatever
else he had planned on saying. So he shakes his head, ignores the burn in his
thighs and walks out of the loft without looking back.
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