[ sweetheart is pretty disgusting. stiles laughs, acts like he's way more offended by this than he really is, and derek just smiles, the tiniest bit sleepy. words aren't enough to describe how much derek hale fucking loves stiles stilinski.
he's still wearing his ring, bound tight on his left ring finger, cold against stiles' cock but slowly warming up. stiles leans into him and looks at him with those big, bright eyes, and derek steadily gets him harder. his eyes drift over every millimetre of stiles' face, taking him in - somewhere he nicked himself while he was shaving, a loose eyelash, a tinge of color on his cheek that might be there or might not be, it's too dark to tell. he's jerking stiles off softer and lazier and kinder than he ever has before, all sweet and subtle and comfortable. ]
Lame.
[ he could argue. complain about how two S noises would make scent sound more like sssssssssssscent, but it's a pointless tactic that he'd be able to chop the fuck down the second he deployed it. instead, derek's leg moves forward, tangling between stiles' and anchoring him close. securing him to his body, staying entwined.
derek takes his hand back. just for a second. he looks at stiles, maintains eye contact in the dark, then steadily draws his hand up to his own tongue. he licks his palm, gets it wet, smiling almost knowingly as he drops his hand back between stiles' legs and takes hold of him again. he jerks a little faster, now. ]
C'mon. Keep talking. You're at your hottest when you're asking stupid questions. Or - no, wait, fuck, you're at your hottest when you're being a nerd. Tell me how you feel about George Lucas, or something.
no subject
he's still wearing his ring, bound tight on his left ring finger, cold against stiles' cock but slowly warming up. stiles leans into him and looks at him with those big, bright eyes, and derek steadily gets him harder. his eyes drift over every millimetre of stiles' face, taking him in - somewhere he nicked himself while he was shaving, a loose eyelash, a tinge of color on his cheek that might be there or might not be, it's too dark to tell. he's jerking stiles off softer and lazier and kinder than he ever has before, all sweet and subtle and comfortable. ]
Lame.
[ he could argue. complain about how two S noises would make scent sound more like sssssssssssscent, but it's a pointless tactic that he'd be able to chop the fuck down the second he deployed it. instead, derek's leg moves forward, tangling between stiles' and anchoring him close. securing him to his body, staying entwined.
derek takes his hand back. just for a second. he looks at stiles, maintains eye contact in the dark, then steadily draws his hand up to his own tongue. he licks his palm, gets it wet, smiling almost knowingly as he drops his hand back between stiles' legs and takes hold of him again. he jerks a little faster, now. ]
C'mon. Keep talking. You're at your hottest when you're asking stupid questions. Or - no, wait, fuck, you're at your hottest when you're being a nerd. Tell me how you feel about George Lucas, or something.