[ for a second, stiles thinks derek is going to say it back. stiles told him he didn't expect him to return his feelings, and he meant that, but derek says i and stiles heart jumps, and he's stupid enough to allow himself to get his hopes up a little bit, in that quick span of five or so seconds of pregnant silence. his breath catches a little as he inhales, but he doesn't hold it.
and derek doesn't say it back — but that's okay. it's okay. even if stiles' chest aches for a moment with mild disappointment, it's okay. because derek doesn't want him to take it back and he doesn't want to just be friends and maybe that's enough for stiles. maybe this is more than he deserves.
stiles startles a little when derek suddenly pitches forward, his hands gripping over his shoulder blades as he's tilted back. he can't help the quick spike of anxiety that jolts through him, convinced for a moment that derek is just - dumping him out of his lap so he can get up or so he can leave, even though they literally just talked about neither one of them wanting to go, but anxiety quickly turns into arousal as derek grips the front of his shirt, pinning him down with a heavy fist to his chest. desire pulses through him put of nowhere, buzzing through his nerves and warming his skin and quickly filling his partially softened cock.
he makes room between his thighs for derek without being asked. stiles tilts his knees apart, and it's a little slutty, with his feet pressed flat against the mattress and his knees drawn up into low peaks and his thighs spread, shirt drawn up a little past his stomach with derek holding onto a fistful of it the way he is. he doesn't care, probably doesn't even know what he looks like. he just wants derek closer. he wants him so much closer.
stiles draws in a deep breath, and as he stares up at derek, he very deliberately tilts his chin up, lifts it just an inch, maybe two, baring a little more of his throat to him. he knows exactly what he's doing, keeps his eyes on derek's even as he tilts his head back, looks at him through the splay of his lashes, over the subtle shape of his cheekbones.
the press of derek's finger makes stiles' body jerk slightly, but he quickly relaxes, an anticipatory shiver racing up his spine. he breathes out a shuddery breath, and he takes one hand away from derek's shoulder to splay it across the thin blanket stretched underneath him, loosely curling his fingers in the threadbare fabric. he snakes his other hand down into the space between them and grips his cock, slowly dragging his fist up from the root up to the tip, and when dereks finger presses in, there's only minimal discomfort.
stiles keeps pumping himself lazily, eyes still half lidded as he watches derek. he nods before derek can even finish - yes, yes, stiles wants that, he wants there to be an us, he wants its so fucking badly. he wants to kiss derek so fucking badly, he wants derek to fuck him so fucking badly. he wants derek, however derek will allow stiles to have him.
stiles cranes his head up, closes up that half an inch of space but another half so there's barely any space left. he curls his other hand around derek's wrist and he squeezes around the bone, but he doesn't try to take his hand away. he likes being pinned down like this. ]
Yeah, yeah, yes, I want it. I want that too. [ he's close, so he's quiet, murmurs the words like they're something kept secret, meant only for derek. stiles stretches his neck so he can kiss him, pushes up against his fist just so he can reach, so he can kiss derek with an open mouth, pulling gently at his lower lip with his teeth only to sooth the scrape with smaller, feathery kisses ] We can be an us, we can be whatever - we can be whatever you want.
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and derek doesn't say it back — but that's okay. it's okay. even if stiles' chest aches for a moment with mild disappointment, it's okay. because derek doesn't want him to take it back and he doesn't want to just be friends and maybe that's enough for stiles. maybe this is more than he deserves.
stiles startles a little when derek suddenly pitches forward, his hands gripping over his shoulder blades as he's tilted back. he can't help the quick spike of anxiety that jolts through him, convinced for a moment that derek is just - dumping him out of his lap so he can get up or so he can leave, even though they literally just talked about neither one of them wanting to go, but anxiety quickly turns into arousal as derek grips the front of his shirt, pinning him down with a heavy fist to his chest. desire pulses through him put of nowhere, buzzing through his nerves and warming his skin and quickly filling his partially softened cock.
he makes room between his thighs for derek without being asked. stiles tilts his knees apart, and it's a little slutty, with his feet pressed flat against the mattress and his knees drawn up into low peaks and his thighs spread, shirt drawn up a little past his stomach with derek holding onto a fistful of it the way he is. he doesn't care, probably doesn't even know what he looks like. he just wants derek closer. he wants him so much closer.
stiles draws in a deep breath, and as he stares up at derek, he very deliberately tilts his chin up, lifts it just an inch, maybe two, baring a little more of his throat to him. he knows exactly what he's doing, keeps his eyes on derek's even as he tilts his head back, looks at him through the splay of his lashes, over the subtle shape of his cheekbones.
the press of derek's finger makes stiles' body jerk slightly, but he quickly relaxes, an anticipatory shiver racing up his spine. he breathes out a shuddery breath, and he takes one hand away from derek's shoulder to splay it across the thin blanket stretched underneath him, loosely curling his fingers in the threadbare fabric. he snakes his other hand down into the space between them and grips his cock, slowly dragging his fist up from the root up to the tip, and when dereks finger presses in, there's only minimal discomfort.
stiles keeps pumping himself lazily, eyes still half lidded as he watches derek. he nods before derek can even finish - yes, yes, stiles wants that, he wants there to be an us, he wants its so fucking badly. he wants to kiss derek so fucking badly, he wants derek to fuck him so fucking badly. he wants derek, however derek will allow stiles to have him.
stiles cranes his head up, closes up that half an inch of space but another half so there's barely any space left. he curls his other hand around derek's wrist and he squeezes around the bone, but he doesn't try to take his hand away. he likes being pinned down like this. ]
Yeah, yeah, yes, I want it. I want that too. [ he's close, so he's quiet, murmurs the words like they're something kept secret, meant only for derek. stiles stretches his neck so he can kiss him, pushes up against his fist just so he can reach, so he can kiss derek with an open mouth, pulling gently at his lower lip with his teeth only to sooth the scrape with smaller, feathery kisses ] We can be an us, we can be whatever - we can be whatever you want.