[ the more he does this, the more confident derek feels. it's music to his fucking ears, the way stiles breathes out that oh my god, like derek wasn't wrong to hype him up for this. like he's enjoying himself as much as derek hoped he would. it's-- actually been a long, long time since derek's done something like this, and there's a pretty big difference between getting on your knees for a stranger when you're nineteen, lonely and trying to figure out who you are, and then... this. trying to make someone you care about feel loved and wanted and as desirable as they really are.
he loves this. he loves stiles' voice, he loves the shape of him on his tongue, he loves the way his jaw is already starting to ache. if he leans into stiles' hand when it's pressed against his hair, silently encouraging him, asking for more - well, nobody has to know.
when he pulls off and stiles assures him he's okay, derek wants to kiss him. wants to share the taste of him between them, wants to hear stiles moan when he realizes he can taste his own precum on derek's tongue. he doesn't, because stiles takes that moment to compliment him, instead, and derek's glad that his filter's at it's weak point. he laughs, stroking stiles slower, tries to get him to last. thankfully, derek's got enough control over himself at this point not to get too flustered. ]
I know. [ he grins, cocky and pointed, the tip of his tongue pressed against one of his canines. he presses his lips together, chases away the smile, and he wraps both of his hands around stiles' cock, resting on his elbows. he leans down, leaves a kiss against the V of his hips, then rests his ear against his thigh as he looks up at him, almost adoring. ]
But - you're hotter. To me.
[ which might sound like he's just trying to butter stiles up, but honestly, it's the truth. at any other point in time, derek might have thought twice about saying something like that, if only because he would know that stiles wouldn't have the confidence or at least enough of a lack of skepticism to believe him. scratch that - he knows stiles wouldn't believe him to such a degree that he would assume derek is making fun of him.
but that's not what derek's doing. not at all. he knows he's the one with the jawline, the arms, the one with the body that gets admired and used and taken advantage of by people like kate, by people like veracity, but stiles is the one with the eyes, the hands, the nose, the moles, the neck, the smile, the personality. the dick. derek loves this fucking dick even more than his own, jesus christ.
but rather than let stiles argue, derek goes back to work, dragging his tongue down the underside of stiles' cock until he hits the base. he sucks on his balls, each in turn, letting his eyes drift closed. he hums again, that same soft, appreciative, unconscious hum, and then he's lapping his tongue back up to stiles' tip, keeping him wet and a little sloppy. he sets his hands against stiles' hips, holding him down, and then sucks him in again.
stiles seems to fill his mouth even more than before, once derek takes him in again, but maybe it's just that he's started to feel empty without him. again, he's not exactly slow when he escalates things; he's methodical and constant, trying to give stiles a second to be overwhelmed by whatever new sensation derek puts on him but not letting him take enough of a break to breathe. he'll add suction, then take stiles a little more, he'll moan and send a solid vibration down stiles' dick, then take him a little more. the tip of stiles' cock taps against the back of his throat, but derek doesn't gag. he breathes through his nose, opens his throat, then takes him down all the way.
he presses his nose to stiles' skin, to the tidy patch of hair that meets him there, and every fucking inch of stiles' cock stretches derek's jaw apart. there's a muscle just beneath his cheek that's really starting to hurt and his lungs are almost burning with the need to breathe, before too long, but derek doesn't pull away until his eyes are watering and his body's making him cough. he pulls back, drooling a little, a strand of spit connecting his tongue to stiles' cock when he eases off. ]
Fuck.
[ he wipes his hand over his eyes, stopping them from watering, and then, pleased, he does it again without waiting for stiles' go ahead. he deepthroats him, faster this time, much less exploratory. he loops his arm beneath stiles' waist and he pulls him up from the ground, trying to get him to fuck up into his face and really feel as much of the wet confines of derek's mouth as he can, and derek lasts longer this time, it takes a while for him to need to breathe, but then he's gagging and has to pull back, disconnecting from stiles and sitting upright on his knees, just for a second.
his cheeks are red. his whole face is red, actually. he's sweaty, just on his forehead and by his sideburns, and he swallows and rubs his hand over his throat to try and get it to work right. stiles earns another smile, but it's softer, less teasing. purely aroused. the smile fades, and derek looks down at stiles' cock, lazily stroking it with one hand. he wants... more. he wants more.
derek bends back down, and he tugs on the waistband of stiles' sweats, urging him to lift up his hips so he can strip them off completely. again, before even giving stiles the chance to react, derek gets annoyed with him for being so fucking slow. ]
I want these off. They're in the way.
[ he tugs harder, but the sweats don't come off - he just sort of manhandles stiles a little, pulling him forward a few inches, forcing him to slide his ass across the carpet. it pulls stiles away from the back of the couch and drops his back more directly onto the floor, and derek takes a short, hard breath, nostrils flared and lip curled like he's in one of his particularly grumpy moods. he looks at stiles, raises his eyebrows as high as they can go, widens his eyes. it's kind of hard to look this pissed off when you're very visibly covered in signs that you've been sucking dick, but derek's talented. ]
Seriously - help me out. Get these off. Don't make me bring out the claws. I'm not above Wolverine-ing you.
[ he's threatening to shred these sweats, and, look. he'd do that. of course he'd do that. stiles saw what he did to the table. ]
no subject
he loves this. he loves stiles' voice, he loves the shape of him on his tongue, he loves the way his jaw is already starting to ache. if he leans into stiles' hand when it's pressed against his hair, silently encouraging him, asking for more - well, nobody has to know.
when he pulls off and stiles assures him he's okay, derek wants to kiss him. wants to share the taste of him between them, wants to hear stiles moan when he realizes he can taste his own precum on derek's tongue. he doesn't, because stiles takes that moment to compliment him, instead, and derek's glad that his filter's at it's weak point. he laughs, stroking stiles slower, tries to get him to last. thankfully, derek's got enough control over himself at this point not to get too flustered. ]
I know. [ he grins, cocky and pointed, the tip of his tongue pressed against one of his canines. he presses his lips together, chases away the smile, and he wraps both of his hands around stiles' cock, resting on his elbows. he leans down, leaves a kiss against the V of his hips, then rests his ear against his thigh as he looks up at him, almost adoring. ]
But - you're hotter. To me.
[ which might sound like he's just trying to butter stiles up, but honestly, it's the truth. at any other point in time, derek might have thought twice about saying something like that, if only because he would know that stiles wouldn't have the confidence or at least enough of a lack of skepticism to believe him. scratch that - he knows stiles wouldn't believe him to such a degree that he would assume derek is making fun of him.
but that's not what derek's doing. not at all. he knows he's the one with the jawline, the arms, the one with the body that gets admired and used and taken advantage of by people like kate, by people like veracity, but stiles is the one with the eyes, the hands, the nose, the moles, the neck, the smile, the personality. the dick. derek loves this fucking dick even more than his own, jesus christ.
but rather than let stiles argue, derek goes back to work, dragging his tongue down the underside of stiles' cock until he hits the base. he sucks on his balls, each in turn, letting his eyes drift closed. he hums again, that same soft, appreciative, unconscious hum, and then he's lapping his tongue back up to stiles' tip, keeping him wet and a little sloppy. he sets his hands against stiles' hips, holding him down, and then sucks him in again.
stiles seems to fill his mouth even more than before, once derek takes him in again, but maybe it's just that he's started to feel empty without him. again, he's not exactly slow when he escalates things; he's methodical and constant, trying to give stiles a second to be overwhelmed by whatever new sensation derek puts on him but not letting him take enough of a break to breathe. he'll add suction, then take stiles a little more, he'll moan and send a solid vibration down stiles' dick, then take him a little more. the tip of stiles' cock taps against the back of his throat, but derek doesn't gag. he breathes through his nose, opens his throat, then takes him down all the way.
he presses his nose to stiles' skin, to the tidy patch of hair that meets him there, and every fucking inch of stiles' cock stretches derek's jaw apart. there's a muscle just beneath his cheek that's really starting to hurt and his lungs are almost burning with the need to breathe, before too long, but derek doesn't pull away until his eyes are watering and his body's making him cough. he pulls back, drooling a little, a strand of spit connecting his tongue to stiles' cock when he eases off. ]
Fuck.
[ he wipes his hand over his eyes, stopping them from watering, and then, pleased, he does it again without waiting for stiles' go ahead. he deepthroats him, faster this time, much less exploratory. he loops his arm beneath stiles' waist and he pulls him up from the ground, trying to get him to fuck up into his face and really feel as much of the wet confines of derek's mouth as he can, and derek lasts longer this time, it takes a while for him to need to breathe, but then he's gagging and has to pull back, disconnecting from stiles and sitting upright on his knees, just for a second.
his cheeks are red. his whole face is red, actually. he's sweaty, just on his forehead and by his sideburns, and he swallows and rubs his hand over his throat to try and get it to work right. stiles earns another smile, but it's softer, less teasing. purely aroused. the smile fades, and derek looks down at stiles' cock, lazily stroking it with one hand. he wants... more. he wants more.
derek bends back down, and he tugs on the waistband of stiles' sweats, urging him to lift up his hips so he can strip them off completely. again, before even giving stiles the chance to react, derek gets annoyed with him for being so fucking slow. ]
I want these off. They're in the way.
[ he tugs harder, but the sweats don't come off - he just sort of manhandles stiles a little, pulling him forward a few inches, forcing him to slide his ass across the carpet. it pulls stiles away from the back of the couch and drops his back more directly onto the floor, and derek takes a short, hard breath, nostrils flared and lip curled like he's in one of his particularly grumpy moods. he looks at stiles, raises his eyebrows as high as they can go, widens his eyes. it's kind of hard to look this pissed off when you're very visibly covered in signs that you've been sucking dick, but derek's talented. ]
Seriously - help me out. Get these off. Don't make me bring out the claws. I'm not above Wolverine-ing you.
[ he's threatening to shred these sweats, and, look. he'd do that. of course he'd do that. stiles saw what he did to the table. ]