[ stiles was wrong. this is torture. listening to his boyfriend misquote star wars on purpose - and stiles knows he's doing it on purpose, he's not fucking stupid - is like. it's worse than the millions of times he's made a star wars reference in front of scott only or it to go over his head, or the one time he made a sarcastic comment about needing carbonite for something, and liam was ready to go to the fucking - carbonite store to pick some up.
listening to derek intentionally get a line wrong just to get under stiles skin - well, it works pretty much exactly how derek hoped it would. all he says is luke, and stiles sucks in a deep breath like he's getting ready to go off on him - but derek plays dirty, starting to jerk him faster, building him up and building him up until he's panting quietly, distracted enough that he can't even lecture him the way he deserves to be.
and then, right when he starts to concentrate, right when he really starts to focus on the feel of derek's fingers wrapped around him, warm and slick with precome, lightly calloused, the smooth surface of his ring, god, that fucking ring, on his left hand hand, like they're fucking married— right then is when derek eases back, slows his strokes, teases him away from the edge with another sleepy kiss that he loves more than he can even begin to explain.
and derek finishes the line. luke, i am your father. wrong, wrong, incorrect, bzzt. stiles knows he's being goaded, and he knows he shouldn't take the bait, but it's just so — unfair, that derek is going to get away with this. because he is. because he takes his hand off of stiles' dick and that's the opposite of what he wants, but his only protest is a soft, slightly confused little 'hey?' before he realizes that derek isn't going anywhere, he's just. readjusting. sitting up, straddling his thigh - looking all kinds of soft and cozy with the covers pooled around him.
stiles' hands settle against his thighs, sliding up a couple inches and then back down. he arches his neck when derek kisses it, sighing through slightly parted lips, and takes one of his hands off of derek's legs so he can give his cock a couple gentle strokes, already missing derek's touch. he watches derek peel his shirt up and off through half-lidded eyes, a little heavy with sleep, but also lust and love and every ounce of attraction and affection stiles feels for him.
i need to fuck you, derek says, and stiles' sleepy brain piece the last sentence and this one together while derek finishes, and he's nodding because he thinks they should fuck too, he definitely wants to fuck right now, immediately, and derek wants to fucking i love you, i know and—
stiles laughs. he throws his arm over his eyes and he laughs, and it sounds kind of pained, like he doesn't even want to be laughing, like he knows this is just delaying what they both really want, even if it's only by a few seconds, but. ]
Oh my god, you gotta— I am your father, and I need to fuck you? You gotta stop, I'm— I'm gonna have more nightmares, this is the - this is the worst.
[ it's not the worst. it's definitely not the worst and it couldn't be any more obvious. stiles slides his arm up so it rests just above his head, looking up at derek, sleepy and fond, like he loves him. because he does. ]
I love you.
[ so he tells him. not so derek can han solo him— well, not just so derek can han solo him. stiles sits up on his elbows, leans as close as he can without having to sit up all the way, and kisses the closest part of derek he can reach - which is his rib cage, just below his right pectoral. he presses his forehead against him, then tilts his head enough so he can look up. ]
... Is it okay if I fuck you? I really, [ stiles dips his head a little, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the middle of derek's chest, leaving another one against his ribs. ] really want to, if that's okay...
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listening to derek intentionally get a line wrong just to get under stiles skin - well, it works pretty much exactly how derek hoped it would. all he says is luke, and stiles sucks in a deep breath like he's getting ready to go off on him - but derek plays dirty, starting to jerk him faster, building him up and building him up until he's panting quietly, distracted enough that he can't even lecture him the way he deserves to be.
and then, right when he starts to concentrate, right when he really starts to focus on the feel of derek's fingers wrapped around him, warm and slick with precome, lightly calloused, the smooth surface of his ring, god, that fucking ring, on his left hand hand, like they're fucking married— right then is when derek eases back, slows his strokes, teases him away from the edge with another sleepy kiss that he loves more than he can even begin to explain.
and derek finishes the line. luke, i am your father. wrong, wrong, incorrect, bzzt. stiles knows he's being goaded, and he knows he shouldn't take the bait, but it's just so — unfair, that derek is going to get away with this. because he is. because he takes his hand off of stiles' dick and that's the opposite of what he wants, but his only protest is a soft, slightly confused little 'hey?' before he realizes that derek isn't going anywhere, he's just. readjusting. sitting up, straddling his thigh - looking all kinds of soft and cozy with the covers pooled around him.
stiles' hands settle against his thighs, sliding up a couple inches and then back down. he arches his neck when derek kisses it, sighing through slightly parted lips, and takes one of his hands off of derek's legs so he can give his cock a couple gentle strokes, already missing derek's touch. he watches derek peel his shirt up and off through half-lidded eyes, a little heavy with sleep, but also lust and love and every ounce of attraction and affection stiles feels for him.
i need to fuck you, derek says, and stiles' sleepy brain piece the last sentence and this one together while derek finishes, and he's nodding because he thinks they should fuck too, he definitely wants to fuck right now, immediately, and derek wants to fucking i love you, i know and—
stiles laughs. he throws his arm over his eyes and he laughs, and it sounds kind of pained, like he doesn't even want to be laughing, like he knows this is just delaying what they both really want, even if it's only by a few seconds, but. ]
Oh my god, you gotta— I am your father, and I need to fuck you? You gotta stop, I'm— I'm gonna have more nightmares, this is the - this is the worst.
[ it's not the worst. it's definitely not the worst and it couldn't be any more obvious. stiles slides his arm up so it rests just above his head, looking up at derek, sleepy and fond, like he loves him. because he does. ]
I love you.
[ so he tells him. not so derek can han solo him— well, not just so derek can han solo him. stiles sits up on his elbows, leans as close as he can without having to sit up all the way, and kisses the closest part of derek he can reach - which is his rib cage, just below his right pectoral. he presses his forehead against him, then tilts his head enough so he can look up. ]
... Is it okay if I fuck you? I really, [ stiles dips his head a little, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the middle of derek's chest, leaving another one against his ribs. ] really want to, if that's okay...