[ of course derek has to be cocky about it. stiles tells him he's hot and derek pulls a fucking han solo and it should be annoying. it is annoying, but it's also a very derek thing to say and stiles is weirdly charmed, and only ten percent of that comes from the fact that derek just made a star wars reference in the middle of a fucking blowjob. probably unintentionally, but the parallel is still there and stiles' brain has already made the connection. han solo was kinda hot. derek hale is so, so much hotter.
stiles smiles, but he does it in a way that makes him look like he's purposely baring his teeth. he rolls his eyes, lulls his head a little, and breathes out quietly when derek curls both hands around him. his cock flexes in response to the gentle kiss derek presses to his hip, to the barely-there scrape of derek's scruff before he's resting his cheek on stiles' thigh.
he looks so fucking beautiful. maybe stiles is a little lust-drunk, but derek looks so god damn attractive and soft, and the way he looks up at stiles makes stiles' heart flutter and his stomach swoop. stiles cards his fingers through derek's hair, slow and gentle and affectionate. he looks a little stupid with love, doesn't even really try to hide how much he likes derek.
stiles is skeptical, just like derek thought he would be. derek calls him hot, calls him hotter, and it sounds so impossible to stiles - pale and thin and speckled, frenetic and fragile in comparison - that it has to be a joke. derek's just telling him what he thinks stiles wants to hear — and he's right. stiles does want to hear it. even if he doesn't actually believe derek, it still makes his cheeks a little rosy and sends a flush of color down his throat.
he opens his mouth to argue. tell derek to shut up at the very least, but derek puts his mouth back on stiles cock and the only thing that comes out of stiles' mouth is a tight, breathy squeak of a sound when derek pays attention to his balls. his toes curl and uncurl at the same time that his fingers do, tugging gently in derek's hair, and he barely catches a second to breathe before derek sinks his mouth down over stiles' dick, hands heavy and firm over his hips.
stiles arches. it's not much, not with derek pinning him down at the waist, but he bows his back slightly, tightens the muscles at the base of his spine. derek just keeps taking more and more of him into the hot, wet heat of his mouth, slowly easing down another inch, and another until he hits the back of his throat, and stiles' eyes fly open. he has no idea when he closed them, but he opens them now and he looks down and - that's a bad idea. he looks at derek with his lips stretched around his cock, with his tight jaw, so close to fitting his entire dick in his mouth, and it's so fucking hot that it drags stiles very close to the edge very fast.
and then derek opens his throat, and he sinks the rest of the way down, and stiles has to squeeze his eyes shut. he doesn't want to come, not yet, not so easily, but if he keeps watching derek, if he keeps looking at what derek is doing for him, it'll be over whether he wants it to be or not.
the fit of derek's throat around his cock is tighter than stiles expects. it feels fire-hot and his tongue feels silky-soft pressed to the underside of his dick, and it takes everything stiles has to keep himself from rolling his hips forward to seek out even just another centimeter of smooth, tight warmth. he drops his head back and he drapes his arm over his eyes, and even with half of his face covered he looks like he could cry.
he feels the convulsion of a cough more than he hears it. when derek starts to ease back, stiles suddenly feels a little desperate, immediately misses his mouth on him. he lift his head up and he holds onto the back of his own head, and he should have just kept his eyes closed because that little thread of spit that stretches from derek's tongue to his dick is probably one of the hottest things stiles has ever witnessed. ]
Fuck.
[ he says it at the same time as derek, weak and whispered, but as much as he wants derek's mouth back on him, as much as he wants to use the hand on the back of derek's head to pull him back down— as much as he wants to drag the tip of his dick over derek's lower lip— he's glad for the break, glad to take a second to try and get his shit together so he doesn't blow his load less than five minutes into this like some horny teenager. which he is, but that's not the point.
derek gives him about three seconds. three seconds to fill his lungs and calm his nerves and it's just barely enough time for stiles to get a grasp on what few shreds of self-control he has left. it's a very loose grasp, though, because as soon as his dick slides past the back of derek's throat again — stiles holds him there. he doesn't mean to, doesn't even stop to think about it as he presses his hand over the back of derek's head, firm and heavy. encouraged by derek lifting his hips, stiles thrusts up twice, slow and easy, only pulling back an inch or two so he can slide right back into the narrow squeeze of derek's throat.
it's too much, though. it's way too much for stiles to handle, fucking into derek's mouth, and he stops himself so he doesn't end this prematurely, his entire body shaking with the effort. he takes his hand out of derek's hair and he forms a fist and he brings it to his mouth, sinking his teeth around a knuckle, hard enough that he's in danger of splitting the skin, but he doesn't care. the tiny flare of pain helps him focus.
he's panting a little by the time derek sits up, chest rising and falling with short, needy breaths. his heart is pumping hard, blood rushing loudly in his ears, and derek smiles at him. he's sweaty and he's red and he's so, so beautiful when he smiles at stiles, and stiles can only manage a dorky, embarrassing little lopsided smile in return.
stiles lifts his hips almost instinctively when derek pulls at his sweats, pressing his feet into the carpet and arching his lower back, a little clumsy and uncoordinated and heavy-limbed, but derek doesn't give him any time before he's dragging him him closer and taking away the support of the couch. stiles laughs around a soft, startled yelp, and he just feels - so incredibly happy and horny for a moment that he can't do anything but lay back, arms flung out on either side of him, cock hard and red and heavy against his abdominals, grinning like a big, stupid idiot up at the ceiling.
holy fuck. holy fuck, what a day. stiles lifts his head to look at derek, because he's happy and he just - wants to look at him, wants to see him. derek looks pissed, which shouldn't turn stiles on even more, but it does, because he also looks like he's just had stiles' dick all the way down his throat, and stiles likes that it's obvious.
he snorts when derek threatens him, lifting his hips and curling up a little so he can reach the waistbands of his pants and his underwear. he shoves them down to his knees with both hands, then sits up halfway so he can grab at the material bunched around his calves. ]
You're way, way more attractive than Hugh Jackman. Like, mmno - [ his knee pops as he kicks his legs free. ] - ow, jesus - no contest.
[ stiles drops his sweatpants in a pile off to the side, only barely conscientious of the soda soaking the carpet. he looks up at derek, reaches out with one hand to tug at the bottom of his shirt like he's trying to get derek's attention even though derek has been paying him pretty close attention thus far. he curls his other hand around his cock, gives it a couple lazy pumps to make up for the loss of derek's mouth. ]
no subject
stiles smiles, but he does it in a way that makes him look like he's purposely baring his teeth. he rolls his eyes, lulls his head a little, and breathes out quietly when derek curls both hands around him. his cock flexes in response to the gentle kiss derek presses to his hip, to the barely-there scrape of derek's scruff before he's resting his cheek on stiles' thigh.
he looks so fucking beautiful. maybe stiles is a little lust-drunk, but derek looks so god damn attractive and soft, and the way he looks up at stiles makes stiles' heart flutter and his stomach swoop. stiles cards his fingers through derek's hair, slow and gentle and affectionate. he looks a little stupid with love, doesn't even really try to hide how much he likes derek.
stiles is skeptical, just like derek thought he would be. derek calls him hot, calls him hotter, and it sounds so impossible to stiles - pale and thin and speckled, frenetic and fragile in comparison - that it has to be a joke. derek's just telling him what he thinks stiles wants to hear — and he's right. stiles does want to hear it. even if he doesn't actually believe derek, it still makes his cheeks a little rosy and sends a flush of color down his throat.
he opens his mouth to argue. tell derek to shut up at the very least, but derek puts his mouth back on stiles cock and the only thing that comes out of stiles' mouth is a tight, breathy squeak of a sound when derek pays attention to his balls. his toes curl and uncurl at the same time that his fingers do, tugging gently in derek's hair, and he barely catches a second to breathe before derek sinks his mouth down over stiles' dick, hands heavy and firm over his hips.
stiles arches. it's not much, not with derek pinning him down at the waist, but he bows his back slightly, tightens the muscles at the base of his spine. derek just keeps taking more and more of him into the hot, wet heat of his mouth, slowly easing down another inch, and another until he hits the back of his throat, and stiles' eyes fly open. he has no idea when he closed them, but he opens them now and he looks down and - that's a bad idea. he looks at derek with his lips stretched around his cock, with his tight jaw, so close to fitting his entire dick in his mouth, and it's so fucking hot that it drags stiles very close to the edge very fast.
and then derek opens his throat, and he sinks the rest of the way down, and stiles has to squeeze his eyes shut. he doesn't want to come, not yet, not so easily, but if he keeps watching derek, if he keeps looking at what derek is doing for him, it'll be over whether he wants it to be or not.
the fit of derek's throat around his cock is tighter than stiles expects. it feels fire-hot and his tongue feels silky-soft pressed to the underside of his dick, and it takes everything stiles has to keep himself from rolling his hips forward to seek out even just another centimeter of smooth, tight warmth. he drops his head back and he drapes his arm over his eyes, and even with half of his face covered he looks like he could cry.
he feels the convulsion of a cough more than he hears it. when derek starts to ease back, stiles suddenly feels a little desperate, immediately misses his mouth on him. he lift his head up and he holds onto the back of his own head, and he should have just kept his eyes closed because that little thread of spit that stretches from derek's tongue to his dick is probably one of the hottest things stiles has ever witnessed. ]
Fuck.
[ he says it at the same time as derek, weak and whispered, but as much as he wants derek's mouth back on him, as much as he wants to use the hand on the back of derek's head to pull him back down— as much as he wants to drag the tip of his dick over derek's lower lip— he's glad for the break, glad to take a second to try and get his shit together so he doesn't blow his load less than five minutes into this like some horny teenager. which he is, but that's not the point.
derek gives him about three seconds. three seconds to fill his lungs and calm his nerves and it's just barely enough time for stiles to get a grasp on what few shreds of self-control he has left. it's a very loose grasp, though, because as soon as his dick slides past the back of derek's throat again — stiles holds him there. he doesn't mean to, doesn't even stop to think about it as he presses his hand over the back of derek's head, firm and heavy. encouraged by derek lifting his hips, stiles thrusts up twice, slow and easy, only pulling back an inch or two so he can slide right back into the narrow squeeze of derek's throat.
it's too much, though. it's way too much for stiles to handle, fucking into derek's mouth, and he stops himself so he doesn't end this prematurely, his entire body shaking with the effort. he takes his hand out of derek's hair and he forms a fist and he brings it to his mouth, sinking his teeth around a knuckle, hard enough that he's in danger of splitting the skin, but he doesn't care. the tiny flare of pain helps him focus.
he's panting a little by the time derek sits up, chest rising and falling with short, needy breaths. his heart is pumping hard, blood rushing loudly in his ears, and derek smiles at him. he's sweaty and he's red and he's so, so beautiful when he smiles at stiles, and stiles can only manage a dorky, embarrassing little lopsided smile in return.
stiles lifts his hips almost instinctively when derek pulls at his sweats, pressing his feet into the carpet and arching his lower back, a little clumsy and uncoordinated and heavy-limbed, but derek doesn't give him any time before he's dragging him him closer and taking away the support of the couch. stiles laughs around a soft, startled yelp, and he just feels - so incredibly happy and horny for a moment that he can't do anything but lay back, arms flung out on either side of him, cock hard and red and heavy against his abdominals, grinning like a big, stupid idiot up at the ceiling.
holy fuck. holy fuck, what a day. stiles lifts his head to look at derek, because he's happy and he just - wants to look at him, wants to see him. derek looks pissed, which shouldn't turn stiles on even more, but it does, because he also looks like he's just had stiles' dick all the way down his throat, and stiles likes that it's obvious.
he snorts when derek threatens him, lifting his hips and curling up a little so he can reach the waistbands of his pants and his underwear. he shoves them down to his knees with both hands, then sits up halfway so he can grab at the material bunched around his calves. ]
You're way, way more attractive than Hugh Jackman. Like, mmno - [ his knee pops as he kicks his legs free. ] - ow, jesus - no contest.
[ stiles drops his sweatpants in a pile off to the side, only barely conscientious of the soda soaking the carpet. he looks up at derek, reaches out with one hand to tug at the bottom of his shirt like he's trying to get derek's attention even though derek has been paying him pretty close attention thus far. he curls his other hand around his cock, gives it a couple lazy pumps to make up for the loss of derek's mouth. ]
I coulda been into it, though...