[ a size down, stiles says, and derek's shoulders shake with silent laughter. for all his impatience to get ahead of this and to just fucking have stiles, derek is easily swayed into slowing down by each kiss, each touch, every graze of stiles' hand over his cock or his neck or in the base of his hair. stiles' nose bumps against derek's cheek, and derek laughs again, chasing after him until their lips meet. he's - happy.
and maybe he shouldn't be, after stiles' nightmare. his calf muscles are still sore from how fast he ran to get down here, his lungs still ache if he tries to breathe too deep. when derek touches stiles' stomach and he panics, derek can taste the fear in him, and he freezes in place. just for a second, he's jumping back to the moment he first read stiles' text message and remembered veracity, remembered the taste of blood and gunpowder, and wondered if another kidnapping was happening. he's ready to disengage, if he needs to. ready to give stiles space, if this is too much, or if he's asking for more than stiles is willing to give him.
but everything evens out just as quickly, and derek relaxes. stiles' shirt is staying on, and the panic that ran through him was just - panic. a knee-jerk reaction to derek touching him in a way he might not be ready for. that's okay. derek would prefer stiles' shirt to be gone, but he's not going to force the issue. he does want to see stiles, but - well, he's still seeing stiles. he's seeing stiles when he's comfortable, he's seeing stiles how stiles wants to be seen. that's more than enough for him.
derek slides his hand out from beneath the hem of stiles' shirt and nods, pressing another countless kiss against the corner of stiles' lips, and then another, and another. stiles talks, and derek listens, leaving a trail of kisses down his cheek, over his jawline. he relaxes, even as stiles talks over himself and frets about what's coming. this is - a search for reassurance, maybe, and that's something that derek thinks he can help with.
granted, he's close to just saying stiles, shut up to break stiles out of this feedback loop he seems to be stuck in, where he's worried about what's happening, and then worried about how he's worried about what's happening, and then worried about how he's worried about how he keeps worrying. that's not what derek does, though, because he wants to do this right, too; he listens, and he lets stiles talk himself out, and he lets himself be guided down closer to the bed.
he's doing his best to seem unaffected, by most things. acting like the shiver that ran up his spine when stiles' grazed his teeth over his neck was just - a shiver, nothing more, nothing worth focusing on. staying quiet, keeping his eyes forward, after stiles strips himself of his pants and his boxers, like he doesn't care at all. acting like the fact that he's straddling stiles so closely that his balls are straight up on his fucking leg is just - par for the course. like he's had his balls on his leg a thousand times before. like there's nothing particularly novel about derek's big-ass werewolf balls just resting on stiles' bare-ass thigh. like that's normal.
but he can't hide the way his voice wavers, when he finds it. the excitement in him, the nerves. the way he drops his own eyes, finally, to look at stiles' cock, and the way his mouth goes dry and his lips part and he gets a little speechless at the sight of him. the way it takes a second for him to actually talk, because his brain needs to kickstart into gear again. he takes a breath. ]
This... is a big deal. For me. It's okay, if it's not a big deal for you, but it is for me.
[ and he means that. if stiles just wants this to be physical - fine. if stiles doesn't think sleeping with derek is a "big deal", if this is just supposed to be framed as a way to comfort him after his nightmare, then-- then. fine. if stiles really doesn't care about doing this for the first time, with derek - if this isn't something he wants to attach too much sentimentality to, then - then. then. derek can't do much about that.
and it doesn't matter, anyway. stiles still trusts him, and stiles still wants this, and if that's as far as this is going to go, then that's still a huge fucking honor. derek is used to misinterpreting other people's feelings. he just... won't let himself think about the kiss. about the kisses. about how easily they all keep coming to him, after how hard it was to even kiss him once, back in the barracks.
not a big deal. just sex. derek gets it. that's what this place is. stiles still needs reassurance, and derek still needs to make his feelings clear, in case it's too much for stiles and he wants to back out. ]
I'm going to take care of you. We can stop at any time. I just... [ derek's eyebrows pinch together, and he struggles to word how he's feeling. ] I want to be with you, so you're not - going to fuck this up. You're doing everything right just by being you.
[ and-- and he's going to be normal. he's going to be human. he's going to keep his pulse low, even as it quickens with arousal and anxiety, and he's going to count alpha, beta, omega in his head when he feels something in him howl and bite and scratch to get out. if this is the first time stiles has been with someone like this, derek can't... tarnish that, by being himself. stiles is the only human he's ever met who thinks werewolves are more than just monsters - and derek is terrified of doing something to change his mind.
stiles has the lube, and rather than take it from him, derek has another idea. he brings his hand to his mouth, he collects saliva, and he licks his palm, getting it wet. slowly, derek drops his hand between stiles' legs and tightens his slick, warm hand around his cock, stroking slowly, up and down. he twists his palm over his head, he presses his thumb against the underside of his crown, and the two of them have done this before, but it's so much different, feeling him like this. alone, in a place that isn't exactly theirs, but feels more like a home than the barracks ever could. ]
Stiles... just-- just to be clear? This isn't about - this isn't just physical. For me.
[ he strokes a little faster, and he straddles stiles a little more, putting more weight against his thigh. he's-- impatient. again, his eyebrows knit tightly together, and he tries to work through his feelings. in the end, he's thinking too hard about himself, about this, about stiles, and he can't keep doing that, because it would be so, so easy for him to lose his nerve. he just - looks at stiles, then, softly lit by the apartment, and he hopes he was right about all those little moments. about stiles' kiss meaning so much, about i want you and i need you being-- emotional. he wants so badly for this to be a big deal. ]
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and maybe he shouldn't be, after stiles' nightmare. his calf muscles are still sore from how fast he ran to get down here, his lungs still ache if he tries to breathe too deep. when derek touches stiles' stomach and he panics, derek can taste the fear in him, and he freezes in place. just for a second, he's jumping back to the moment he first read stiles' text message and remembered veracity, remembered the taste of blood and gunpowder, and wondered if another kidnapping was happening. he's ready to disengage, if he needs to. ready to give stiles space, if this is too much, or if he's asking for more than stiles is willing to give him.
but everything evens out just as quickly, and derek relaxes. stiles' shirt is staying on, and the panic that ran through him was just - panic. a knee-jerk reaction to derek touching him in a way he might not be ready for. that's okay. derek would prefer stiles' shirt to be gone, but he's not going to force the issue. he does want to see stiles, but - well, he's still seeing stiles. he's seeing stiles when he's comfortable, he's seeing stiles how stiles wants to be seen. that's more than enough for him.
derek slides his hand out from beneath the hem of stiles' shirt and nods, pressing another countless kiss against the corner of stiles' lips, and then another, and another. stiles talks, and derek listens, leaving a trail of kisses down his cheek, over his jawline. he relaxes, even as stiles talks over himself and frets about what's coming. this is - a search for reassurance, maybe, and that's something that derek thinks he can help with.
granted, he's close to just saying stiles, shut up to break stiles out of this feedback loop he seems to be stuck in, where he's worried about what's happening, and then worried about how he's worried about what's happening, and then worried about how he's worried about how he keeps worrying. that's not what derek does, though, because he wants to do this right, too; he listens, and he lets stiles talk himself out, and he lets himself be guided down closer to the bed.
he's doing his best to seem unaffected, by most things. acting like the shiver that ran up his spine when stiles' grazed his teeth over his neck was just - a shiver, nothing more, nothing worth focusing on. staying quiet, keeping his eyes forward, after stiles strips himself of his pants and his boxers, like he doesn't care at all. acting like the fact that he's straddling stiles so closely that his balls are straight up on his fucking leg is just - par for the course. like he's had his balls on his leg a thousand times before. like there's nothing particularly novel about derek's big-ass werewolf balls just resting on stiles' bare-ass thigh. like that's normal.
but he can't hide the way his voice wavers, when he finds it. the excitement in him, the nerves. the way he drops his own eyes, finally, to look at stiles' cock, and the way his mouth goes dry and his lips part and he gets a little speechless at the sight of him. the way it takes a second for him to actually talk, because his brain needs to kickstart into gear again. he takes a breath. ]
This... is a big deal. For me. It's okay, if it's not a big deal for you, but it is for me.
[ and he means that. if stiles just wants this to be physical - fine. if stiles doesn't think sleeping with derek is a "big deal", if this is just supposed to be framed as a way to comfort him after his nightmare, then-- then. fine. if stiles really doesn't care about doing this for the first time, with derek - if this isn't something he wants to attach too much sentimentality to, then - then. then. derek can't do much about that.
and it doesn't matter, anyway. stiles still trusts him, and stiles still wants this, and if that's as far as this is going to go, then that's still a huge fucking honor. derek is used to misinterpreting other people's feelings. he just... won't let himself think about the kiss. about the kisses. about how easily they all keep coming to him, after how hard it was to even kiss him once, back in the barracks.
not a big deal. just sex. derek gets it. that's what this place is. stiles still needs reassurance, and derek still needs to make his feelings clear, in case it's too much for stiles and he wants to back out. ]
I'm going to take care of you. We can stop at any time. I just... [ derek's eyebrows pinch together, and he struggles to word how he's feeling. ] I want to be with you, so you're not - going to fuck this up. You're doing everything right just by being you.
[ and-- and he's going to be normal. he's going to be human. he's going to keep his pulse low, even as it quickens with arousal and anxiety, and he's going to count alpha, beta, omega in his head when he feels something in him howl and bite and scratch to get out. if this is the first time stiles has been with someone like this, derek can't... tarnish that, by being himself. stiles is the only human he's ever met who thinks werewolves are more than just monsters - and derek is terrified of doing something to change his mind.
stiles has the lube, and rather than take it from him, derek has another idea. he brings his hand to his mouth, he collects saliva, and he licks his palm, getting it wet. slowly, derek drops his hand between stiles' legs and tightens his slick, warm hand around his cock, stroking slowly, up and down. he twists his palm over his head, he presses his thumb against the underside of his crown, and the two of them have done this before, but it's so much different, feeling him like this. alone, in a place that isn't exactly theirs, but feels more like a home than the barracks ever could. ]
Stiles... just-- just to be clear? This isn't about - this isn't just physical. For me.
[ he strokes a little faster, and he straddles stiles a little more, putting more weight against his thigh. he's-- impatient. again, his eyebrows knit tightly together, and he tries to work through his feelings. in the end, he's thinking too hard about himself, about this, about stiles, and he can't keep doing that, because it would be so, so easy for him to lose his nerve. he just - looks at stiles, then, softly lit by the apartment, and he hopes he was right about all those little moments. about stiles' kiss meaning so much, about i want you and i need you being-- emotional. he wants so badly for this to be a big deal. ]