[ it probably shouldn't be so attractive to stiles, the way derek tears the foil wrapper open with his teeth. that's a normal thing most people do, something stiles has done himself plenty of times before because it's just - easier, when your hands are a little shaky with adrenaline, and damp with sweat or slick with lube or. whatever else. he's torn open a decent number of condoms with his teeth but not once did he ever think he could look even remotely attractive doing it, which is probably still true, but derek makes it looks so. mmngh. he tears at the packaging quickly and aggressively like its wasting his time, like the condom should be on his dick already jesus christ. it reminds him, rather suddenly, of derek toppling the table in his apartment because it was in the way of him getting his hands, his mouth on stiles as quickly as possible.

stiles doesn't think he's ever been wanted the way derek seems to want him, and it just. it feels so, so good. stiles has never had this before and he doesn't really know what to do with the attention, the burning need for him from someone else, but he knows that he likes it. he knows that he loves it. he's been starved of attention when it counts, and derek is just. he's been giving it to stiles in ways derek might not even realize, and it's dangerous, because it just means it'll be that much easier to hurt stiles. but stiles trusts him not to.

stiles curls one fist around derek's cock, splays the other across his inner thigh as derek leans down to give him the kiss he'd silently been asking for. stiles is nervous. he's so, so nervous and he knows it's pointless to try and hide it because derek's the one who taught him about chemosignals and pheromones, but stiles tries to hide it anyway because he's not just nervous, and he doesn't want to ruin things before they even get off the ground. or - into bed. whatever. he's nervous, but he's also really, really excited and even though his hands still tremble slightly, it has less to do with him being anxious and more to do with the desire for - everything. he wants to do so much, right now, immediately. he feels illuminated. this is happening a lot faster than he ever imagined it would, when he allowed himself to indulge in stupid, late-night fantasies, but it's also not happening fast enough.

he feels a little frantic, but he finds a weird sort of peace in the press of derek's mouth against his, and he leans into it, arches up. he sighs through his nose, a tiny, muted sound riding the tail end of his sigh as he pumps his fist just once, just one slow drag from the crown of derek's cock down to the root. derek inches back enough to say something, and he touches stiles' wrist, and it takes stiles a second to realize that his hands aren't trapped by the awkward stretch of elastic, because derek has pushed his sweatpants down to his thighs and. stiles has never actually had an actual chance to see derek like this. it was dark in the barracks and everything was tight and close and secret.

stiles takes his hands away. uncurls his fingers and lets his other hand slide down the inside of derek's thigh as he lets it fall away, and he watches with mild fascination - jesus, derek has a really, really beautiful dick, and that's not a thought stiles ever imagined would cross his conscious mind, but god damn it is it true - as derek sets the latex, and stiles almost asks if he can do it instead, if he can roll it down because he just wants to get his hands back on derek, but derek is—

derek is grinning. like, it's not just a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth, he's grinning and it's honestly kind of beautiful but it also makes stiles stomach twist with nerves. derek laughs, and stiles' low-buzzing anxiety spikes a little, because he doesn't know what's funny here and if derek is laughing at stiles— stiles can take a lot of ribbing—

derek kisses him again and for whatever reason, it puts stiles at ease and floods him with warm relief and he finds himself smiling a little against derek's mouth, and - oh. oh, that's why derek is laughing. what a fucking dick. what an idiot, stiles hates him. stiles hates him, except he doesn't, at all, and instead of taking offense, he's quick. he pushes forward, and he kisses derek back, and he murmurs against his lips in between pressing kisses to his mouth. ]

I mean [ kiss ] if you're worried they're too big [ kiiiiss ] we can buy a size down [ kiss ] you ass.

[ he's only kidding too, and he's oddly quieted when derek kisses the tip of his nose. his face flushes lightly, his neck and his throat rosy with a faint blush, and when he feels the brush of a kiss against his forehead, he's consumed with. something. he's consumed with warmth and affection and love, and his fingers still for a moment against derek's stomach, slowing their drag. his nose burns a little and he closes his eyes and he takes a second, half a second just to breathe.

derek's hand feels heavy on his shoulder as he stands. stiles opens his eyes, and he blinks, and his heart starts to rabbit in his chest again because derek is naked in front of him and stiles is still wearing, like - all of his clothes and that's probably not conducive to this going any further. he inhales, and he scrambles, and he shoves his pajama pants and his boxers down his thighs and he kicks them off, resting back on his elbows when derek leans over him.

he doesn't bother with his shirt. stiles never bothers with his shirt, but derek slides his hand up underneath it and stiles feels this quick little shot of panic dart through him. he doesn't hate his body, he doesn't necessarily think he's unattractive, but he's - self-conscious, and that's not anything new. he's that kid that changes his shirt as quickly as possible in the locker room back at school, layers a t-shirt under his sleeveless jersey, doesn't own a tank-top. he's surrounded by beautiful people with beautiful bodies - scott, liam, malia, derek -, and it's just easier to. not give himself any reason to compare. stiles isn't as scrawny as he used to be. he's made up of corded muscle and pale skin and a solid bone structure, but next to his friends, next to a lot of people, stiles is.

he's that stupid scarecrow derek was joking about a while ago.

stiles only pauses for a second, and he decides to just push forward and keep this moving. derek is straddling one of his thighs and his hand is pulling gently at the bottom of his shirt. stiles breathes out and he leans up and he kisses the side of derek's neck, scrapes his teeth a little on purpose. ]

On, c'mere.

[ he drags his nose along the column of derek's throat, shifting his weight over onto one elbow so he can reach up to hook his other arm over the back of derek's neck, dragging him down as he leans back and stretches out. he swallows, bumping his nose against derek's cheek for a moment as he lines their mouths up, fumbling blindly for the lube he dropped - somewhere. he pats around clumsily, drawing one knee up, and when his fingers thump against the cool plastic of the bottle, he snatches it up. ]

H-hey, so. Listen, you're - [ he bites gently at derek's bottom lip, sighs a little shakily against his mouth. his heart feels like it's in his throat. ] I've never— not like - this, with someone else, and it's. It's not a big deal, I'm not trying to make it a big deal because I really don't care I just want to - do this right, I want to get this right, with you—

[ and he needs to shut the fuck up before he kills the mood entirely. ]