[ stiles' thumbs trace the edges of derek's jaw up to the hinge, stroking a lazy line just below each ear, and he just - exists in this moment, lets it hang suspended for as long as he can. he pours himself into it, lets go of every moment he's ever spent trying to convince himself that his feelings for derek will never amount to anything, and that it's okay.
but it's not true. it can't be true, and derek may not love him now, but maybe he could, eventually. derek cares about him, and that's an undeniable truth. that's something stiles can hold onto just as carefully and as he's holding onto derek's face, his lips warm and dry and soft, and parting under stiles'.
derek's hands push at him and pull him out of that weird pocket of time. stiles moves easily, letting derek walk him backwards, trusting him not to let him trip and make an idiot out of himself. he stays close, unwilling to let enough space in between them that they're forced to stop kissing, his hands drifting a little clumsily from the sides of derek's throat to his shoulders, his biceps. the back of his knees stop him at the edge of his bed, but momentum carries him backwards, tilts him off balance. he uses derek as an anchor, gripping his arms and using him to press himself up, push himself closer, tilt his chin up just a fraction of an inch so he can chase after the tongue that slides over his lip and the scrape of teeth that goes straight to his dick.
stiles' abdominals tighten reflexively as derek drags his hands over them, and he's only just started to sink his tongue into derek's mouth when there's suddenly a hand gripping at his cock, and the quiet, filthy groan he presses past derek's lips can't be helped. derek breaks away from him to breathe and stiles tilts his head back just to get some cooler air on his too-warm face and into his lungs, his hands moving and touching and pulling anywhere he can get them on derek's skin, hips grinding slowly into the press of derek's palm. ]
God..
[ stiles makes it easier for derek, unintentionally, baring the length of his neck to him just as derek leans back in to put his lips on his throat. stiles' breath shudders out of him, his stomach flexing as derek slides his hand past the elastic of his pants, curls his fist around his cock, bites down into his fucking shoulder, and stiles— he likes it too much. the gentle but concentrated press of teeth, the dull, aching suggestion of a bruise, the sting.
stiles' unoccupied hand flies up, fingers pushing into the short hairs at the back of derek's head and he just holds him there for a beat, keeps him there with a heavy press of his hand for only a moment, until he wants more. he needs more of this, of derek.
the edge of his bed pushes into the bend of his knees as derek urges him down and stiles lets gravity pull him the rest of the way, dragging derek down with him with one hand on the back of his neck. his other hand curls into the front of derek's sweatpants, fingers pulling at the elastic, unsure if he wants to drag him closer or drag them down or both. he misses and brushes a clumsy kiss over the space between derek's lower lip and his chin, then takes both of his hands off of derek and starts to scoot himself backwards the second derek starts to tell him to lay down.
and then he freezes, and it's like he's only just been hit with the reality of what's happening, what's about to happen. he's got his weight balanced between one hand and one elbow, legs stretched out a little in the space he gained when scooting back, cock hard and straining under the thin, blue flannel pajama pants, and he just. looks at derek for a few very long seconds, chest heavily a little, lips red and a little swollen. he feels nervous, suddenly, and anxious and excited, and he focuses on that, the excitement, the anticipation of something he's probably thought about dozens of times before now. he wants derek so fucking badly and derek wants him too and—
stiles nods, a little vaguely at first, and then with more confidence as he wets his lips. his heart rabbits in his chest. ]
Okay. It's okay, I have— hold on, let me just. Two seconds.
[ he scrambles a little awkwardly then, twisting onto his side and stretching half of his body out over the edge of his bed, one hand braced on the floor, the other reaching for the drawer at the bottom of his dresser. he fumbles a little, barely able to reach the handle, but then he's dragging it open and pushing a thicker hoodie aside and it takes less than a few seconds to find what he's looking for.
stiles leaves the drawer open, pulling himself back in and twisting back over. he drops two condoms (just in case something - malfunctions, okay) and a slightly-less-than-half-used bottle of lube on the mattress, and then he wiggles his hands down in the space between himself and derek, and he pushes both of them down the front of his sweatpants and touches his dick as he leans up to kiss him because if he stops to think, there's a very high chance he might psyche himself out. ]
no subject
but it's not true. it can't be true, and derek may not love him now, but maybe he could, eventually. derek cares about him, and that's an undeniable truth. that's something stiles can hold onto just as carefully and as he's holding onto derek's face, his lips warm and dry and soft, and parting under stiles'.
derek's hands push at him and pull him out of that weird pocket of time. stiles moves easily, letting derek walk him backwards, trusting him not to let him trip and make an idiot out of himself. he stays close, unwilling to let enough space in between them that they're forced to stop kissing, his hands drifting a little clumsily from the sides of derek's throat to his shoulders, his biceps. the back of his knees stop him at the edge of his bed, but momentum carries him backwards, tilts him off balance. he uses derek as an anchor, gripping his arms and using him to press himself up, push himself closer, tilt his chin up just a fraction of an inch so he can chase after the tongue that slides over his lip and the scrape of teeth that goes straight to his dick.
stiles' abdominals tighten reflexively as derek drags his hands over them, and he's only just started to sink his tongue into derek's mouth when there's suddenly a hand gripping at his cock, and the quiet, filthy groan he presses past derek's lips can't be helped. derek breaks away from him to breathe and stiles tilts his head back just to get some cooler air on his too-warm face and into his lungs, his hands moving and touching and pulling anywhere he can get them on derek's skin, hips grinding slowly into the press of derek's palm. ]
God..
[ stiles makes it easier for derek, unintentionally, baring the length of his neck to him just as derek leans back in to put his lips on his throat. stiles' breath shudders out of him, his stomach flexing as derek slides his hand past the elastic of his pants, curls his fist around his cock, bites down into his fucking shoulder, and stiles— he likes it too much. the gentle but concentrated press of teeth, the dull, aching suggestion of a bruise, the sting.
stiles' unoccupied hand flies up, fingers pushing into the short hairs at the back of derek's head and he just holds him there for a beat, keeps him there with a heavy press of his hand for only a moment, until he wants more. he needs more of this, of derek.
the edge of his bed pushes into the bend of his knees as derek urges him down and stiles lets gravity pull him the rest of the way, dragging derek down with him with one hand on the back of his neck. his other hand curls into the front of derek's sweatpants, fingers pulling at the elastic, unsure if he wants to drag him closer or drag them down or both. he misses and brushes a clumsy kiss over the space between derek's lower lip and his chin, then takes both of his hands off of derek and starts to scoot himself backwards the second derek starts to tell him to lay down.
and then he freezes, and it's like he's only just been hit with the reality of what's happening, what's about to happen. he's got his weight balanced between one hand and one elbow, legs stretched out a little in the space he gained when scooting back, cock hard and straining under the thin, blue flannel pajama pants, and he just. looks at derek for a few very long seconds, chest heavily a little, lips red and a little swollen. he feels nervous, suddenly, and anxious and excited, and he focuses on that, the excitement, the anticipation of something he's probably thought about dozens of times before now. he wants derek so fucking badly and derek wants him too and—
stiles nods, a little vaguely at first, and then with more confidence as he wets his lips. his heart rabbits in his chest. ]
Okay. It's okay, I have— hold on, let me just. Two seconds.
[ he scrambles a little awkwardly then, twisting onto his side and stretching half of his body out over the edge of his bed, one hand braced on the floor, the other reaching for the drawer at the bottom of his dresser. he fumbles a little, barely able to reach the handle, but then he's dragging it open and pushing a thicker hoodie aside and it takes less than a few seconds to find what he's looking for.
stiles leaves the drawer open, pulling himself back in and twisting back over. he drops two condoms (just in case something - malfunctions, okay) and a slightly-less-than-half-used bottle of lube on the mattress, and then he wiggles his hands down in the space between himself and derek, and he pushes both of them down the front of his sweatpants and touches his dick as he leans up to kiss him because if he stops to think, there's a very high chance he might psyche himself out. ]