[ stiles isn't average. derek doesn't see stiles as anything even close to average. half of derek's muscles come from fear - from working himself to the bone, from making his hands bleed, as he did everything he could to run and get stronger and survive. his looks, the angular profile and chiseled jawline, the things that make him desirable - they're a burden, more than anything. a reminder that kate only kept him alive because she wanted to fuck him, a reminder that jennifer - who he hasn't even met yet - won't just use him as a guard dog, but use him for fucking fun, too.
scott doesn't have stiles' eyes, bright and amber and beautiful. danny doesn't have the freckles, the moles, the cute little marks that derek wants to press his lips to every time he sees them. jackson doesn't have his nose, malia doesn't have his lips, liam doesn't have his fucking hands. derek has never lied about how attractive he finds stiles, how perfect he believes him to be, how fucking wonderful he is, how fucking beautiful. he's not going to start now.
stiles rummages around in the box of condoms they keep by the bed and derek's eyebrow twitches, but he doesn't say anything yet. he plays with stiles' thigh while he waits for him to settle, ghosting fingertips over soft skin, pressing his lips here and there, just to feel him. stiles' fingers push back through his hair and derek... honestly, derek's never felt better, more safe, than he does here and now, and maybe he never will again. he doesn't think his heart has it to be this intensely, overwhelmingly full. he doesn't understand how all of his feelings for stiles just keep getting bigger. he didn't know he had it in him to love this much.
and then stiles is moving him, getting him into position, and derek willingly obliges. he's on his back with his head at the foot of the bed, and he doesn't need to look at stiles in order to trust him. he arches his neck back, bobbing his adam's apple as he swallows, and he stares glassily at the ceiling high above them. it's - stupid, that he keeps smiling, but he does. it's like every time he tries to press his lips back together to stop it, he can't. he's happy and he's safe and, okay, now he's starting to enjoy the anticipation. even if he is impatient.
stiles asks to see his face, and derek's smile is still there, but far softer. derek stretches out his leg straight, curling his toes, willingly spreading them apart so stiles can have easier access to his body, and the sweeping feeling of nervous vulnerability that settles in his stomach is - kind of exciting, too. if he were with anyone else, he wouldn't just feel so completely and inexplicably taken care of, but stiles? stiles makes him want to give up every ounce of control, give up all the power and assertive dominance he strives to have as an alpha. stiles makes him want to be taken care of. ]
You don't have to ask.
[ anything's okay, if he's with stiles. anything and everything. the world outside this room could tear itself apart, raze itself to the ground, and as long as the two of them were still here, safe and warm and together, he would, without a doubt, survive. this, though? being able to look in the eyes of somebody he loves - being able to completely, hopelessly surrender himself to the arms of the one fucking person he wants to be with until the day he dies, a feeling he's getting more and more sure of every time he fucking looks at him -
yeah. this is okay. fuck, he's getting carried away. ]
Just - as long as this is good for you.
[ because that's all that matters to him, really. he knows he's going to love this, because he knows he loves stiles, but he wants to be sure stiles will love this, too. stiles leans down for a kiss and derek puts his elbows in the sheets, leaning up to meet him, and for all the soft, sleepy energy they've had here, the way they've been whispering more than talking because it's so late, derek puts a lot of energy into this. he takes stiles' light kiss and runs with it, making it deeper, more demanding, and he doesn't go so far as to turn something romantic and beautiful into something lewd, something openly fuelled by his arousal, but fuck, he could. he easily, easily could.
derek leans back on his elbow, dropping his eyes to stiles' hands, and then back up. he puts his weight on one arm, reaches the other to stiles' cock, and gently, slowly starts to jerk him off, holding his length like it's something precious. he strokes stiles and holds eye contact, smile widening again in the dark, and then - quietly - he makes a request. ]
No protection. I want...
[ he doesn't hesitate, exactly, because he feels so fucking safe, so fucking supported, but there's always going to be that flutter of fear in his chest when it comes to stiles. always this baseless fear of being rejected by the one person whose rejection he honestly couldn't bear. ]
no subject
scott doesn't have stiles' eyes, bright and amber and beautiful. danny doesn't have the freckles, the moles, the cute little marks that derek wants to press his lips to every time he sees them. jackson doesn't have his nose, malia doesn't have his lips, liam doesn't have his fucking hands. derek has never lied about how attractive he finds stiles, how perfect he believes him to be, how fucking wonderful he is, how fucking beautiful. he's not going to start now.
stiles rummages around in the box of condoms they keep by the bed and derek's eyebrow twitches, but he doesn't say anything yet. he plays with stiles' thigh while he waits for him to settle, ghosting fingertips over soft skin, pressing his lips here and there, just to feel him. stiles' fingers push back through his hair and derek... honestly, derek's never felt better, more safe, than he does here and now, and maybe he never will again. he doesn't think his heart has it to be this intensely, overwhelmingly full. he doesn't understand how all of his feelings for stiles just keep getting bigger. he didn't know he had it in him to love this much.
and then stiles is moving him, getting him into position, and derek willingly obliges. he's on his back with his head at the foot of the bed, and he doesn't need to look at stiles in order to trust him. he arches his neck back, bobbing his adam's apple as he swallows, and he stares glassily at the ceiling high above them. it's - stupid, that he keeps smiling, but he does. it's like every time he tries to press his lips back together to stop it, he can't. he's happy and he's safe and, okay, now he's starting to enjoy the anticipation. even if he is impatient.
stiles asks to see his face, and derek's smile is still there, but far softer. derek stretches out his leg straight, curling his toes, willingly spreading them apart so stiles can have easier access to his body, and the sweeping feeling of nervous vulnerability that settles in his stomach is - kind of exciting, too. if he were with anyone else, he wouldn't just feel so completely and inexplicably taken care of, but stiles? stiles makes him want to give up every ounce of control, give up all the power and assertive dominance he strives to have as an alpha. stiles makes him want to be taken care of. ]
You don't have to ask.
[ anything's okay, if he's with stiles. anything and everything. the world outside this room could tear itself apart, raze itself to the ground, and as long as the two of them were still here, safe and warm and together, he would, without a doubt, survive. this, though? being able to look in the eyes of somebody he loves - being able to completely, hopelessly surrender himself to the arms of the one fucking person he wants to be with until the day he dies, a feeling he's getting more and more sure of every time he fucking looks at him -
yeah. this is okay. fuck, he's getting carried away. ]
Just - as long as this is good for you.
[ because that's all that matters to him, really. he knows he's going to love this, because he knows he loves stiles, but he wants to be sure stiles will love this, too. stiles leans down for a kiss and derek puts his elbows in the sheets, leaning up to meet him, and for all the soft, sleepy energy they've had here, the way they've been whispering more than talking because it's so late, derek puts a lot of energy into this. he takes stiles' light kiss and runs with it, making it deeper, more demanding, and he doesn't go so far as to turn something romantic and beautiful into something lewd, something openly fuelled by his arousal, but fuck, he could. he easily, easily could.
derek leans back on his elbow, dropping his eyes to stiles' hands, and then back up. he puts his weight on one arm, reaches the other to stiles' cock, and gently, slowly starts to jerk him off, holding his length like it's something precious. he strokes stiles and holds eye contact, smile widening again in the dark, and then - quietly - he makes a request. ]
No protection. I want...
[ he doesn't hesitate, exactly, because he feels so fucking safe, so fucking supported, but there's always going to be that flutter of fear in his chest when it comes to stiles. always this baseless fear of being rejected by the one person whose rejection he honestly couldn't bear. ]
I want you to come in me. If that's... cool.