[ the room is still and dull and quiet for a little while longer, but stiles' last text changes that. it's okay, i'm fine, he says, and derek very pointedly sits up in bed, rustling the sheets and moving the mattress, shifting back until his back's against the wall. he doesn't say anything, but he makes enough of a show of what he's doing to get his point across - he's not going to sleep. ]
I don't want to sleep without you. I can stay awake.
[ stiles doesn't want to talk about this. about any of this. stiles wants to go back to stupid jokes or pretending to be alone or-- or something, and that's fine, they can do that in time, but derek still has more shit he wants to say. if his thumbs tap over his screen more spiritedly than they should this late at night, it's just because he's anxious. ]
I don't think you're stupid. I don't want you to keep anything to yourself. I don't care how small or paranoid your worries might be. We're a team. I want to support you. Through everything. I'll do better about my little things, too. Bring them up more. Like - Like, I'm still worried you think that I think you're messy. Because of the full moon. I don't. I never thought that. I want you to feel comfortable here. I don't want you to feel like you can't leave your shoes wherever you kick them off. I don't want you to worry about hanging up your towel after you use it. I don't mind.
[ it's a lot of movement and a lot of noise in comparison to the rest of the night so far, but even so, stiles is still tired enough that, without turning over, it takes him way too long to figure out what derek's doing. getting comfortable, he assumes, settling back in to doze off again, but derek's texts say otherwise. stiles furrows his eyebrows a bit at his phone, then slowly turns over onto his back, tilting his head up a little to look at derek for a moment.
he watches him text. if he were a little more awake, he'd probably realize just how creepy it is to just lay there staring up at someone who is literally composing a text message to him as if they aren't a foot apart from each other, but - he's a little bit captivated by the shadows cast over derek's face by the dim light from his phone. he looks sharp and soft at the same time.
stiles chews on his thumbnail, phone in his other hand as he reads. ... and he doesn't say anything at all. instead, he just puts his phoned down and he turns onto his side and he scoots closer to derek until his chest is kind of in derek's lap and his arm is curled around his torso and his cheek is pressed against his ribs.
he just - breathes. closes his eyes and slips his hand up underneath derek's shirt just to feel a little bit closer, and it feels - better. this feels better. it's a while before he untangles himself enough so he can reach for his phone, still draped halfway into derek's lap, texting with one hand. ]
You already apologized. And it wouldn't hurt for me to be a little more organized. You weren't exactly wrong. Anyway. Doesn't matter. I'll try to be more open about Everything I guess. I'm not really used to anyone listening to me and wanting to know what I think as much as you do Things got kind of bad for a little bit back home, not that long before me and Scott showed up here And it's not something I really want to get into right now just because it's super late and it's a lot and it's probably better to talk about it when I'm not exhausted, and less Emotionally vulnerable from lack of sleep But the point more or less is that it kind of messed me up a little when it comes to talking about stuff anymore and sometimes I forget that you weren't part of that I don't know how I forget because I spent so much time kind of wishing that you were But that's not fair to you because you listen to me and you pay attention and you've always done that So I'm gonna try to do better too.
stiles makes him feel better. the anxiety that had been building up in derek's stomach, amassing together and making him feel hollow and outside of himself, eases away with the touch. stiles presses against him and derek just-- sighs, relaxed, like he's easing an ache in his body. he reads through stiles' messages with lightly glassy eyes, and then he just...
he puts his phone down. he locks it, shutting off one of two light sources their bedroom has right now, and he lays down, despite the show he put into sitting up. he rolls towards stiles, manoeuvring as carefully as he can so as not to dislodge the hand resting on his skin beneath his shirt, and he pulls his arm over stiles' side. his eyes are half-shut, and he's just-- staring, softly, at stiles' lips. his nose. parts of stiles he loves. ]
All I want is to be here for you.
[ he's talking, now, voice hoarse from a lack of use. he could clear his throat, help make it stronger, but - he doesn't, because he's worried speaking too loudly or making too much noise will break the ethereal, quiet moment he's already intruding on by speaking. ]
You're... a lot of things to me. I could write a list. Top of it would be - you're the guy I call babe before freaking out for five minutes in a quiet panic, trying to determine whether or not I sounded like a stupid frat boy. I can apologize more than once, if I want to.
[ a pause. ]
I shouldn't be the outlier. People should listen to you. You're beautiful, and you're smart, and your instincts are amazing. You deserve more respect.
[ and... derek takes another pause. his voice stays low. apologetic, almost, even though he's not apologizing. like he just - naturally feels like he's imposing. ]
But I want... to know everything about your life. Everything. The good, the bad. All the things I should have been there for. We don't have to talk now, but... soon.
[ derek puts his phone down without saying anything and again, stiles briefly wonders if this is the end of their conversation. it's late. derek's probably exhausted, and stiles should let him get a little more sleep before the sun comes up and signals the official start of a new day. he puts his own phone down, lets it fall out of his hand kind of carelessly and lets it land wherever. he doesn't need it - the only person he really talks to is derek anyway.
stiles does his best to let derek get comfortable, but he's unwilling to take his hand off of him, letting his fingers slide and ghost over warm skin as derek moves around and settling his palm somewhere near the center of his back once derek's settled down. he's tired but he's not. derek looks sleepy though - soft, and his voice is low and a little bit rough with disuse. stiles listens, his fingers drawing lazy, shapeless patters on either side of derek's spine.
he almost forgot about the babe incident, but as soon as derek brings it up, stiles laughs, breathy and quiet and softly pleased. he sighs as derek presses on, his smile fading only slightly so it's more of a suggestion near the corners of his mouth than an actual, physical thing. derek's tone changes a little, but it's enough to shift stiles' mood a little as well. he sighs again, eyes watching his lips form around his words in the dark.
stiles wants to talk. not right now, but - he wants to tell him about a lot of things. doesn't want to tell him about a lot of things, too, just because he's afraid of what derek might think, how he might feel about him after. but he trusts derek. he trusts derek more than anything. loves him more than anyone he's ever loved.
stiles nods. it's subtle, but it's sure, and he slides his hand a little higher up derek's back, shirt bunching up around his arm. he shifts a little closer, just because he can. ]
Soon. Yeah... okay.
[ he smiles, and it's a little thin, but it's still genuine. carefully, he tilts his head down slightly to bump his nose against the underside of derek's jaw, just breathing there for a moment. and then he laughs, the same way he did before, words a low murmur. ]
I can't believe you called me babe. God. [ stiles tilts his head back just enough so he can look at derek. he doesn't say anything else for a solid five seconds, and then, like he's surprised by himself: ] … Can't believe I'm kind of into it.
[ as stiles shifts closer, derek does the same. he inches forward, sliding his hand over stiles' waist and up the hem of his shirt, just - trying to get as much bare, physical contact as he can. there's still a part of him that worries about getting too close and triggering stiles' insecurity; even after the full moon, he's worried about pushing stiles too far. he's worried about pressuring him to take off his shirt when he's not ready, he's worried about touching parts of stiles' body that he's not entirely confident in.
but he fucking loves stiles. loves him more than anything. he loves him, and he wants to touch him, and he wants stiles to know he's as physically attractive as derek thinks he is. they've done this enough times now that derek doesn't really second guess himself or struggle with how to hold him, but when he slides his hand further and further up beneath stiles' shirt, letting it ride up a few inches in the dark, there is a part of him that wonders if stiles is going to stop him.
he splays his hand flat over stiles' chest, just - touching. stiles nudges against his jaw, laughs a breath against his throat, and derek swallows, adam's apple bobbing in the darkness. he leans forward, kissing the top of stiles' head, and he lets his hand drift down, drift lower, until it's right against his side. ]
Had other ideas, too. Like "sweetheart". Pretty gross, right?
[ he brushes his thumb over stiles' hip, making long, smooth strokes. in the dark, he can't see much of stiles without turning on the big, scary red headlights, but he can adjust pretty quickly. derek shuffles down the bed another few inches so they're closer, more face to face, and he can see stiles' eyelashes, the cute upward peak of his nose. he can see his lips, slightly apart.
derek wants to kiss him. he slips his fingertips down stiles' waistband, leaving his hand against his thigh, and it's - comfortable, more than sexual, like he's just trying to keep his hand warm. it's... just comfortable at first, at least. derek lets his hand sink a little lower. a little closer. ]
C'mon. Keep playing with me.
[ slowly - methodically - derek curls his hand around stiles' cock, letting it rest in his hand. very gently, and very practiced, he starts to jerk him off beneath his clothes, holding eye contact and keeping his voice as absolutely quiet as possible. this quiet, this warmth, this-- obvious attraction, this intense, unshakeable amount of love and pride he feels whenever he looks at stiles-- it reminds derek of the barracks, and he just... ]
Which letter is silent in scent? You didn't take a stance. Like a coward.
[ there is no part of stiles that considers telling derek to stop. as much as he lacks the amount of confidence needed to do something as simple as being in front of someone without his shirt on, stiles is not uncomfortable in the slightest with derek touching him. it's someone else looking at him, being able to see that judgement in another person's eyes that makes him anxious and uneasy and too self-aware to be comfortable.
but he got through it with derek. even if derek was a little... distracted and pre-occupied and overridden by a deeper instinct to really notice all of stiles' flaws, stiles still got through it, and that's - progress. he breathes in deep when derek spreads his hand over his chest, like he just wants to feel him closer, push himself into the touch. he breathes out, letting his eyes close as his hand drifts down his side, stomach tensing only because it tickles a little.
and then he laughs, opening his eyes just so he can shoot derek an exaggerated, faux-disgusted look. ]
Oh, that's disgusting.
[ except it isn't, not really. something he'd have to get used to hearing coming from derek, but he doesn't think he'd hate it if he occasionally tossed out an affectionate pet name every once in a while. stiles lifts his hand just an inch or so when derek starts to move, letting him wriggle and settle before he lays his hand back down against his spine.
and then derek's hand inches lower, dips under the elastic of his waistband, settles against his thigh. stiles waits for a beat, but he just feels... safe. he feels comforted, at first, until derek's hand starts to move again, dipping lower, drifting inward, and stiles still feels safe, he always feels safe, but he also feels the distant pull of mild arousal start to warm him.
stiles sighs, slow and heavy. he swallows, lips parting a little, and if he subtly shifts his legs almost like an invitation before derek even gets his hand on his cock, well - stiles isn't exactly ashamed. he has to swallow again, wetting his bottom lip as his fingers flex gently against derek's lower back. he wants to close his eyes, but derek's looking at him, and he can't make himself look away. ]
Um. Mm. [ stiles' voice is just as quiet, still a little bit hoarse. he doesn't bother to clear his throat. he smiles kind of lazily after a moment, eyes still open, but half-lidded. ] Neither. They both just sound like... like an 'S'. You hear 'em both.
[ 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.
[ it doesn't register right away why there's a sliver of something cool sliding against his cock, overpowered by the gentle warmth of derek's fist circled around him. it's just - a subtle contrast of feeling, and it's kind of nice, and stiles' sleepy brain tells him it's good even if he hasn't really tried to process why derek wearing the ring he got him while jerking him off with the same hand is - attractive.
stiles pinches derek's back in retaliation, but it feels more like a lazy knead than anything else. it's not lame, it's just - smart. you can hear both letters, they just sound the same, and if he wasn't so easily distracted by the slow, soft pulls of derek's fist, he'd make his point.
as it stands, stiles' cock thickens easily under derek's attention. he shifts his legs again when derek slides his in between them, lifting one of his knees an inch to make it that much easier for derek to stay close, and though he's content to just let derek stroke him, he can't help the way he starts roll his hips forward to meet him, so, so slowly, so subtly.
and then derek takes his hand away. stiles makes a soft, disappointed noise in the back of his throat, mostly unintentional, vaguely needy, his eyes snapping up to meet derek's. his lips part like he means to ask him why he'd tease, but the words fall short. derek draws his hand up, licks his own palm. stiles' toes curl a little, thighs squeezing gently around derek's leg, voice a rough whisper just because he can't manage anything else with derek smiling at him like he knows just how easy stiles can be. ]
Jesus.
[ he punctuates it with a breathy little 'ah' when derek takes him back in his hand again, wet and hot and stroking a little bit faster than before. stiles' eyes flutter closed, his hand on derek's back drifting to his side, blunt fingernails dragging lightly.
derek tells him to keep talking which - sounds like a lot of effort right now, but he's also flattered. and also somewhat amused that he asks him to talk about fucking george lucas of all things. he doesn't want to talk about george lucas.
but he'll talk about star wars. ]
George Lucas is - George Lucas, who cares. [ stiles does, a little, just not right now. ] There's this one line in - in episode five. Vader says it, everybody quotes it.
[ stiles blinks his eyes open to look at derek, vision a little fuzzy in the dark. he slides his hand up derek's torso, up under his shirt, palm sliding over his pec. he's still got his ring on, too, never takes it off. ]
D'you know what I'm talking about? What's the line?
[ all derek wants to do is take care of stiles. if he can't sleep, too blocked in by nightmares and anxiety, half-built by derek himself for maybe not being reassuring enough about the rosalind thing - well, he just wants to make it better. he wants to help stiles get through tonight, even if they stay in this bed together until it loops right around to 3am again and they finally fall asleep. he wants to stay cozy and safe, bubbled away with stiles somewhere good.
stiles says jesus, and derek's kind of cocky when he smiles, this time. his teeth show, until he presses his lips together and screws his mouth to the side, trying to hide the instant, overwhelming pride he feels in turning stiles on. the precision in how he gets stiles off is almost surgical. he alternates between slow and teasing to faster and tighter, always easing back and going slower whenever stiles starts to wake up too much. he wants to keep stiles boneless and lazy and happy.
completely and utterly taken care of. ]
Is this a daddykink thing? You want me to say I am your father while I'm jerking you off?
[ because - hey, he'll do anything for stiles, just give him the hat and the badge number to recite. derek moves in a little closer, folding his other arm underneath his ear to use as a makeshift pillow. stiles' boxers are starting to get in the way, so derek stops jerking him off just long enough to pull them down his thighs, freeing him under the covers, just out of sight.
he runs his fingertips down the middle of stiles' cock, and - that's when he kisses him. it's sleepy and lazy, the kind of kiss you give when you're just waking up on sunday morning, happy to wake up next to the person you love. derek closes his eyes into it and wraps his fist back around the head of stiles' cock, playing with the tip with his thumb, and he leans back, opening his eyes half-way. ]
Would it turn you on more if I got my trivia right, or... would it be hotter if I misquoted it and you got the chance to correct me?
[ don't lie, either - derek's pretty sure stiles gets a thrill out of being right, but he also seems to like it when derek proves what a secret fucking nerd he is, so. he's genuinely curious about which card would yield better results. ]
[ this is torture, but it's the kind of torture that happens so slowly, drawn out and measured and disguised as something desirable that torture just seems like too harsh of a word for it. derek's consistently inconsistent, teasingly slow and soft one minute, firm and fast the next, but always keeping him right in that sweet spot being too relaxed and too awake. he feels - sleepy and warm and quietly needy. frustrated, disgustingly in love.
derek almost kills the mood. well, not really, because stiles is too into this gentle, lazy affection thing they've got going on right now to let it die so easily, but his hips go from pushing forward in slow, easy pulses to completely still. his face screws up a little bit, but it's hard for him to hide the resigned amusement he feels toward derek and his stupid fucking commentary.
he pinches his nipple in retaliation, gentler than he should. derek... still knew what he was talking about, even if he somehow evaded the whole point of the question, but - still a turn on. derek being mostly accurate about something star wars related definitely still does something for him. ]
No, it's not a— god, shut up, don't - don't ruin this.
[ 'this' having less to do with movie trivia and more to do with derek's hand on his dick, but still. he pushes his hips forward again, slides his cock through derek's fist just in case he needs the clarification. he lifts his body as helpfully as he can manage to help derek ease his boxers down, sighing with a little bit of relief as he freed from the restrictiveness of his underwear.
it's not the light drag of fingertips that makes him shiver, but the kiss derek brushes against his mouth. it's so soft and so gentle and sleepy that stiles almost melts into it, eyes sliding closed just as derek fits his hand back around his crown, slick with precome. he whimpers softly, catching the note in the back of his throat, and when derek leans back, stiles chases after him for a moment without realizing it, not ready for him to stop kissing him like that just yet.
derek starts to say something though, so stiles does his best to be polite and lets him speak, backing off a little so he can look at him, tongue wetting his lower lip. he likes that it's dark - it feels more intimate, and he can still make derek out in the very low light, but right now he kind of wishes he could see the color of his eyes and not just the murky, unsaturated blur of his iris.
stiles huffs a weak little laugh, adjusting his arm underneath his pillow so it doesn't start to fall asleep on him. he laughs because he needs to stall - because he honestly doesn't have a sure answer for derek. on the one hand - he does really enjoy being right about shit, but on the other hand, being surprised by derek's range of pop culture knowledge is pretty fucking special, too.
stiles bites at his lip, dragging his hand down the front of derek's torso, over to his hip where he squeezes. ]
It - mh. Depends on what we're talking about. You still haven't really answered my question. We could - we could find out. What's the full line? C'mon.
[ derek's doing his best not to react to all the little things stiles is doing that makes him fall further and further in love. the twist in his expression, the fucking-- nipple pinch, which does earn an upside-down swat to the face with derek's free hand. stiles even punctuates what he means by fucking fucking into derek's fist, and that's so fucking cute and stupid and hot and stiles-y that derek barely manages to stop himself from kissing him again.
stiles asks for the full line again, and... derek gets it wrong.
but the thing is, he gets it wrong on purpose, and it's a low ball, easily pitched for stiles to bat away. derek's already implied he knows the line in question gets misquoted pretty often, and he's already implied he knows what the line in question actually is. he gets it wrong because he wants to hear stiles talk and correct him while derek tries to bring him closer and closer to coming. ]
Luke...
[ he jerks a little faster. faster, then faster still. he moves his fist up and down stiles' cock until stiles' eyes look just on the verge of being more alert, and then he stops, getting slower, slower. derek leans in, taking another one of those soft, chaste kisses, grunting against stiles' lips when stiles squeezes his sides. when he finishes quoting vader wrong, smirking like he knows full fucking well what he's doing, he's breathing against stiles, really letting him feel the line. ]
I am your father.
[ and then - he's moving. he's pulling away from stiles, taking his hand off his cock and sitting up on his knees. he's still over stiles, just a little, straddling his thigh, the covers that hadn't already been kicked off rolling down derek's back and pooling behind him. lightly, he leans down, kisses stiles on the neck, and - maybe he's waking him up more than he means to, now, maybe he's taking away the quiet. he hopes not by much. ]
And... uh.
[ he sits back up, leaning down, resting on stiles' leg. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side. something falls, and derek won't realize until later, when he steps out of bed to shower, that he just knocked over stiles' cup of water. ]
I need to fuck you. That's - I'm not quoting the movie anymore. I just need to fuck you. I need you to fuck me. I need some kind of fucking, and I need it right now, and if you want to tell me you love me so that I can I know you, I'm more than okay with that.
[ look, he's really into hearing stiles talk about nerd shit. ]
[ 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...
[ it's so, so hard not to break character and just-- laugh, right in stiles' face, as he watches him struggle to process derek's cardinal fucking sin of acting like a Basic Star Wars Bitch. he doesn't, of course - makes it through, just like he makes it through stiles' eye-covering laugh and good-natured ribbing without just fucking kissing him again and again and again, even while his heart flutters in his chest like he's seeing stiles smile for him for the first time all over again. resisting that urge might be the hardest thing he's ever done.
stiles sets him up, giving him an i love you, and while derek looks down at him, full of love and admiration, looking at stiles like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky, all for him, he.... well, he fucks up. stiles says he loves him and derek just trips over the i know, hitting a dam in his brain that just doesn't want to break. stiles loves him. stiles loves him? sometimes it hits him, and this is one of those moments, that stiles fucking loves him. derek can't bring himself to han solo this. ]
I love you, too. I love the way you smile. I love your laugh. I love how you're always there for me. I love this fucking ring. I love... I love you, Stiles.
[ ... baaaabe, he almost adds, before immediately losing his nerve. he thinks misquoting star wars twice in one minute might give stiles a fucking hernia, and adding an awkward, clumsy pet name to the mix wouldn't be doing him any favours.
but it's fine. everything's fine. everything's fucking great, actually, and his life wouldn't be a tenth as great as it is right now if he didn't have stiles here with him, warm and sleepy and-- happy, hopefully, at least half as happy as derek is. stiles kisses his rib cage and it's so close to his heart that derek feels stupid, sentimental, unnecessary tears hurting the back of his eyes, and he has to swallow and collect himself and bend down, kissing the very top of stiles' head in return.
stiles wants to fuck him. christ, derek wants nothing more. ]
I... really, really want you to fuck me.
[ derek leans back against stiles' thigh, pulling away from the kiss, as much as he loved it. his hand traces a line down stiles shirt, over the firm beat of his heart to his lightly-toned-but-mostly-not stomach, and even further down to his cock. derek takes him in hand again, stroking him slowly, slower than before. just keeping him hard. ]
But... uh.
[ he wets his lips, and - he brings his other hand back to stiles' stomach, his right hand, the one without the ring. he curls his fist in the fabric and gives a tentative, almost apologetic tug, and then looks closer at stiles in the darkness. ]
Can you... take this off? You don't have to. I just - like seeing you.
[ that... is definitely not how the line goes. han solo is too arrogant and cocky to do anything like telling leia how he really feels about her - but stiles doesn't give a single fuck that derek gets this line wrong. derek is so much better than han solo anyway. if you put han and derek next to each other and told stiles he could spend the rest of his life with only one of them, he'd pick derek, no questions asked. he'd pick derek every single time.
so it's okay, that derek tells him he loves him instead, that he loves stiles' laugh and his smile and the dumb ring he had made for him from a piece of a leaf blower's engine. they can quote and misquote star wars at each other another time, but right now stiles is just so, so incredibly intent to just be close to derek, to have these quieter moments where stiles feels reassured and protected and loved more than he honestly deserves to be loved.
stiles' eyes water, too. derek presses a kiss to the top of his head and stiles presses his face against the space where the two sides of derek's rib cage join together in the middle, moving both of his arms so he can drape them loosely around his waist, fingers splayed against his back. he's... slightly emotional and horny as fuck but he doesn't feel - frantic or desperate about it. stiles just wants to feel close, as close as he possibly can, as connected to derek as physically possible. he doesn't even really care if derek turns him down, if he says he'd rather fuck stiles instead - just as long as they're connected, that's all that really matters to him.
but derek doesn't turn him down. derek says he wants it too, and it's only then that stiles' sleep-slow brain catches up to him and he realizes what he's just asked for. it helps that it registers after the fact, so he has less time to be anxious about being let down easy if derek wants something different - but he doesn't. stiles' heart still trips up a little anyway, on a slight delay.
he wants to kiss him again wherever he can reach him, but derek pulls away to sit back. stiles' fingers push lazy little circles into the muscle at the bottom of his spine, head tilted back just slightly so he can look derek in the face. he breathes deep as derek trails his hand down his front, breathes a heavy sigh as he closes his hand around him again, strokes him lazily.
and then derek says but, and it's fine, but it still makes stiles pause for a second. he has no idea what's coming, isn't really collected enough to even begin to guess what the stipulation is here, and he's both nervous and not. he wets his bottom lip, eyebrows shifting slightly to show that he's paying attention, even if it's a little difficult to do with derek's hand on his dick.
the little pull at his shirt isn't even enough for him to be able to put together what derek is about to ask for, so he's left looking a little thrown and a little dumb and a little bit lost when derek finally makes his request. he... wants him to take his shirt off. stiles has only had his shirt off in front of derek a handful of times, and most of those times it's been quick and practiced, changing out of one shirt and into another the same way he would do in the locker room at school just to get it over with. there was the full moon, too, but both of them had been a little overwhelmed, derek by the moon and stiles by derek.
this feels different from that. it is different from that, and stiles feels nervous - but not nearly as much as he thought he would. he stares up at derek for a few long moments, eyes shifting minutely. his lips part. he opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to say anything at all, so he just nods instead, small and subtle - and sure. the fact that it's a choice, that derek makes sure he knows he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, makes it that much easier to oblige.
stiles sits up and leans forward, brushing another kiss against derek's chest like he somehow steels some confidence in doing so. he lingers for a moment, then tilts back, letting his hands slide off of derek so he can grab at the bottom of his own shirt. stiles only hesitates for a moment, and then he pulls his shirt up.
and he get stuck. only for a second, his elbows stretching the material awkwardly and trapping one of his arms, but it's long enough for him to get super embarrassed about it because he can't even take his shirt off without being a mess, so by the time he frees himself and sets his shirt down off to the side, his cheeks and his throat are red and kid of blotchy and he won't look any higher than derek's chest. he tries to move on quickly, to distract from - himself, really, by curling his fingers into the elastic of derek's waistband and giving it a little tug, like, off, please. ]
[ try as he might to believe otherwise, derek isn't, and never will be, han solo. he'd be flattered, if he knew stiles would choose him over literally the most charismatic dude in all of fucking space. he also wouldn't buy it, because it's han fucking solo, but he'd appreciate the lie.
stiles takes his shirt off without saying anything. that quiet nod, sure as it is, does wonders to ease some of the trepidation derek feels from asking, and any worries derek might have been feeling get slowly, warmly replaced by anticipation. they've screwed around like this before - but honestly, the full moon is kind of a blur. he's going to be completely sober, completely aware of himself, when stiles fucks him. he's going to feel this.
and that's-- thrilling. holy shit, he's hard.
there's something vulnerable about being fucked, about handing the lead over to someone else, but derek doesn't feel even the tiniest shred of fear. just - excitement. steadily waking him up. he wets his lips, feels his heartbeat pick up and his skin feel hot when stiles brushes a kiss over his chest, and it's not that he feels smaller, or like less of an Alpha, but he does feel, briefly, like he's giving up control. he - kind of likes that feeling.
stiles takes off his shirt and derek does his best not to laugh when it gets hooked over his elbow. he gets free, looks fucking adorable, and there's a second or two of awe as he just takes him in, sees the way his pale skin glows in the thin strips of moonlight bleeding in through the window. while stiles tugs on his pants and urges them off, derek obliges, leaning in to kiss the top of stiles' forehead again before he does. he eases away from stiles and draws his knees up, stripping himself of the rest of his clothes, and for the first time in a long time, he feels kind of self-conscious about being naked.
but - again - he wants this. he's excited.
derek lays down on his side right alongside stiles, his cock thick and heavy and hard, resting half on his stomach and half on the bed. experimentally, like he's still not sure if this is allowed, he brushes his fingertips up stiles' bare side, over his chest, back down his hip. he swallows, leaning forward, pressing his lips to stiles' thigh, closing his eyes and holding still for a second.
he eases back. he's resting his ear on stiles' leg, looking up at him from below, reaching down between his own legs to work the length of his cock in lazy, practiced swirls. he's more alert, but he doesn't want to ruin the atmosphere they've been making. slow, soft sleepiness, even now. he's not sure how long he'll be able to keep that going before he's begging stiles to really, really ruin him, but. for now, the cozy vibe they've built between them is working. ]
Tell me how you want me. On my back, or... maybe my hands and knees.
[ whatever stiles wants, stiles' get. derek strokes his cock a little faster, like he's enjoying the anticipation. he's not. he just wants to get fucked. ]
[ stiles doesn't have to be looking at derek to know that derek is looking at him. he can feel it, the same way most people can feel when someone is watching them from afar, but stiles doesn't feel unsettled by it, he doesn't feel intimidated or paranoid. he just feels... unsure, mostly, quietly anxious, like his body's going to be the thing that chases derek away, and not his clumsiness or his abuse of sarcasm or his inability to stay focused sometimes. and his body is fine - in the back of his mind somewhere, stiles knows that he's not bad looking - but derek is a werewolf, and he's always been surrounded by werewolves, beautiful people with bodies built to run and fight and protect. and stiles doesn't look like him. he doesn't look like scott or liam or malia, he doesn't look like jackson or - even freaking danny, who was just as human as stiles is, but still still tanned and toned and able to stand next to everyone else and still look like he belonged.
stiles is just. average. and he's okay with that, mostly. he's been offered more than once now, to become something better, and each time he's turned it down. so average is his own choice, it's what he's able to settle for - but it's not so easy to believe someone else might settle for it too.
derek kisses his forehead, and it honestly does a lot to calm him, to make him feel alright. he breathes a quiet sigh, untucking his fingers from derek's waistband when he leans back to take everything off. stiles watches him for a beat, awed by his everything, really, and then takes the second or two while derek is busy to twist and lean over the edge of the bed, blindly feeling around. he puts his hand in something cold and wet, blinks blearily with mild confusion, but can't bring himself to investigate, continuing to pat at the floor until he finds the small bottle of lube that he's looking for. eventually, they'll get a night stand, and stiles will be able to find the lube in the drawer by muscle memory alone. he fumbles for another second or two, fingers dipping into the box of condoms pushed up against the side of the bed.
when he pulls himself back up, derek's already laid out beside him - and he's beautiful, lightly tanned skin and tight muscle highlighted by the pale light of the moon spilling in through some of the windows. stiles slowly sets the lube and the condom down on the bed somewhere within reach, and just looks at him for a moment. derek touches his fingertips against his side and trails them upward, dragging them lightly over bare skin, and it's not as if derek hasn't touched him everywhere before, it's not like derek has never had his hands underneath stiles' shirt, touching him in all the same places, but it's just - different, like this. derek can see every part of stiles, every inch of skin that he's touching, and it doesn't stop him at all, and that makes stiles feel - well, it's an indescribable feeling, really, but it's somewhere close to overwhelmingly loved.
derek kisses his thigh, lingers there for a moment, and stiles can't resist. he pushes his fingers through derek's hair, slow and gentle, runs his fingertips over the nape of his neck. he watches with tired, lust-cloudy eyes as derek strokes himself, wants to reach down and bat his hand away so he can do it for him the way he should have been doing this entire time.
tell me how you want me derek says, but stiles just wants him everywhere, all the time, in every way. he knows what derek is asking even before he suggests a couple different positions, but stiles doesn't know how he's supposed to choose. he wets his lips, pushing his fingers through derek's hair again, his other hand curling around the crown of his own cock and stroking slowly as he thinks about what he wants.
god, he really wants derek to ride him. he wants to lie back, he wants to feel the weight of him pressing him down, the warmth of him surrounding his cock, the strength of him as he works his thighs. but he also wants him on his back, he wants to hold derek's legs up a little, hands cupped behind his knees, and watch as his cock slides into him, slow and deep.
stiles swallows around a soft sound, fingers dropping to the base of his cock for a moment to give it a tight squeeze before he starts to move, reaching to push and kick his boxers the rest of the way off of his legs before turning and pressing a gentle hand against derek's shoulder, hoping to ease him onto his back. ]
I... want to see your face.
[ he swallows, wets his lips, shifting over and up to put one of his knees between derek's legs. stiles puts a hand on his thigh, carefully easing it out to make more space for him, and then settles on both knees between derek's legs, resting back on his haunches with his knees slightly spread, cock hard and heavy. after a moment, he tilts forward, bracing his hands on either side of derek by his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him lightly. ]
... Is this okay?
[ his hand slides over the sheets a little, fingers closing around the bottle of lube as he waits for approval. ]
[ 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. ]
[ there is no universe in which stiles can realistically imagine that being with derek wouldn't be good. good is an understatement as it is, but being with derek in any capacity is more than stiles could ever ask for, more than he deserves in any world or in any timeline - but it still touches him kind of deeply, that derek would make a point to make this about stiles just as much as it is about derek.
stiles has never done this before. not outside of the full moon, and he'd never say what happened on the kitchen counter doesn't count, but this, here, is the first time he's gone so far as to ask to switch things up from the norm. and the norm is great, what they regularly get up to is fucking fantastic, but there's something about this night that makes him want to - not necessarily prove something to derek, but to just - provide, in ways that derek usually provides for him instead.
he's nervous. god, he's fucking nervous, but it's okay, because he also feels safe. he doesn't feel scared, just a good kind of anxious, a low simmering excitement. he smiles, and he kisses derek, and when derek takes it further and turns something chaste into something deeper and more intimate, something a little more aggressive, stiles is there. he meets him with equal enthusiasm, drawing in short breaths through his nose, opening his mouth, testing the strength of derek's tongue against his own.
he's panting a little bit by the time derek eases back, his arms starting to shake a little from holding himself up. he drops himself down to his elbows, which narrows the space between them some, but still leaves enough room for derek to reach down and take his cock in hand. stiles sighs, breath warm against derek's cheek. he lifts his head after a beat or two, wanting to look at derek, to see his face just like he said, and derek is looking at him already. he's smiling, and stiles' stomach flips lightly, his heart pattering in his chest.
stiles starts to smile back at him, hips rolling slow and lazy to meet the slide of derek's hand, right up until derek tells him what he wants. his hips stutter and then still, and stiles' eyes widen just the tiniest bit, just centimeter, a millimeter.
no protection, he says, which is fine - that's not entirely new anymore, but he follows that with i want you to come inside me, and - stiles nearly comes right there, right over derek's hand. he drops his head, forehead thumping gently againt derek's chest, hips rolling into his fist again, just once, like he's imagining it. stiles makes a quiet sound, akin to a soft moan. he's still got the lube in his one hand, held in a tight fist now. ]
Jesus... Christ. [ yeah. yeah, that's cool. he's cool with that. stiles smiles suddenly, pressing a rough laugh into derek's chest. he lifts his head after a moment so he can look at him, smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. ] Dude, I am so cool with that.
[ despite his light ribbing, though, he softens, leaving another kiss at the base of derek's throat before he sits back up, gently easing derek's hand off of him so he can rest back on his haunches again. he's got the lube in his other hand, flicks the cap open with a push of his thumb.
he gets nervous again. anticipatory, even though he's still gotta do some prep work before he can even think about pushing his cock into derek. he swallows, shifting his gaze down to his hands, looking past them for a moment at derek's thighs, the way they're spread, his dick, thick and heavy between them. fuck, he's so stunning it hurts.
a little messily, stiles dribbles some lube over the fingers of his left hand, just the index and middle fingers for now. he uses his chin to snap the cap back on, dropping the bottle into the sheets a little off to the side. he uses his thumb to spread the lube over his fingers, slides his right hand one of derek's tight and circles it around to the back of his knee, trying to get him to bend his leg a little, move it up and out. ]
You have to— [ he has to stop to swallow, his voice soft but a little gravely. stiles glances up to look derek in the face for a moment, then looks back down at what he's doing. carefully, gently, he slides the pad of his thumb over the tight ring of muscle, hand trembling just the slightest as he slowly spreads some of the lube on his fingers around. ] You have to tell me if you don't like something. Promise me.
[ stiles waits for a beat, then adjusts the angle of his hand so he can push the tip of his middle finger against derek's hole, gently adding pressure, gently easing inside. his heart is beating fast in his chest, eyes jumping back and forth between his hand between derek's legs and his face, his other hand still spread under the back of one thigh, thumb stroking slowly. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I don't want to sleep without you.
I can stay awake.
[ stiles doesn't want to talk about this. about any of this. stiles wants to go back to stupid jokes or pretending to be alone or-- or something, and that's fine, they can do that in time, but derek still has more shit he wants to say. if his thumbs tap over his screen more spiritedly than they should this late at night, it's just because he's anxious. ]
I don't think you're stupid.
I don't want you to keep anything to yourself. I don't care how small or paranoid your worries might be.
We're a team. I want to support you. Through everything.
I'll do better about my little things, too. Bring them up more.
Like -
Like, I'm still worried you think that I think you're messy. Because of the full moon.
I don't. I never thought that. I want you to feel comfortable here. I don't want you to feel like you can't leave your shoes wherever you kick them off. I don't want you to worry about hanging up your towel after you use it.
I don't mind.
I love you, too.
I'm sorry.
no subject
he watches him text. if he were a little more awake, he'd probably realize just how creepy it is to just lay there staring up at someone who is literally composing a text message to him as if they aren't a foot apart from each other, but - he's a little bit captivated by the shadows cast over derek's face by the dim light from his phone. he looks sharp and soft at the same time.
stiles chews on his thumbnail, phone in his other hand as he reads. ... and he doesn't say anything at all. instead, he just puts his phoned down and he turns onto his side and he scoots closer to derek until his chest is kind of in derek's lap and his arm is curled around his torso and his cheek is pressed against his ribs.
he just - breathes. closes his eyes and slips his hand up underneath derek's shirt just to feel a little bit closer, and it feels - better. this feels better. it's a while before he untangles himself enough so he can reach for his phone, still draped halfway into derek's lap, texting with one hand. ]
You already apologized.
And it wouldn't hurt for me to be a little more organized. You weren't exactly wrong.
Anyway. Doesn't matter.
I'll try to be more open about
Everything I guess.
I'm not really used to anyone listening to me and wanting to know what I think as much as you do
Things got kind of bad for a little bit back home, not that long before me and Scott showed up here
And it's not something I really want to get into right now just because it's super late and it's a lot and it's probably better to talk about it when I'm not exhausted, and less
Emotionally vulnerable from lack of sleep
But the point more or less is that it kind of messed me up a little when it comes to talking about stuff anymore and sometimes I forget that you weren't part of that
I don't know how I forget because I spent so much time kind of wishing that you were
But that's not fair to you because you listen to me and you pay attention and you've always done that
So I'm gonna try to do better too.
no subject
stiles makes him feel better. the anxiety that had been building up in derek's stomach, amassing together and making him feel hollow and outside of himself, eases away with the touch. stiles presses against him and derek just-- sighs, relaxed, like he's easing an ache in his body. he reads through stiles' messages with lightly glassy eyes, and then he just...
he puts his phone down. he locks it, shutting off one of two light sources their bedroom has right now, and he lays down, despite the show he put into sitting up. he rolls towards stiles, manoeuvring as carefully as he can so as not to dislodge the hand resting on his skin beneath his shirt, and he pulls his arm over stiles' side. his eyes are half-shut, and he's just-- staring, softly, at stiles' lips. his nose. parts of stiles he loves. ]
All I want is to be here for you.
[ he's talking, now, voice hoarse from a lack of use. he could clear his throat, help make it stronger, but - he doesn't, because he's worried speaking too loudly or making too much noise will break the ethereal, quiet moment he's already intruding on by speaking. ]
You're... a lot of things to me. I could write a list. Top of it would be - you're the guy I call babe before freaking out for five minutes in a quiet panic, trying to determine whether or not I sounded like a stupid frat boy. I can apologize more than once, if I want to.
[ a pause. ]
I shouldn't be the outlier. People should listen to you. You're beautiful, and you're smart, and your instincts are amazing. You deserve more respect.
[ and... derek takes another pause. his voice stays low. apologetic, almost, even though he's not apologizing. like he just - naturally feels like he's imposing. ]
But I want... to know everything about your life. Everything. The good, the bad. All the things I should have been there for. We don't have to talk now, but... soon.
no subject
stiles does his best to let derek get comfortable, but he's unwilling to take his hand off of him, letting his fingers slide and ghost over warm skin as derek moves around and settling his palm somewhere near the center of his back once derek's settled down. he's tired but he's not. derek looks sleepy though - soft, and his voice is low and a little bit rough with disuse. stiles listens, his fingers drawing lazy, shapeless patters on either side of derek's spine.
he almost forgot about the babe incident, but as soon as derek brings it up, stiles laughs, breathy and quiet and softly pleased. he sighs as derek presses on, his smile fading only slightly so it's more of a suggestion near the corners of his mouth than an actual, physical thing. derek's tone changes a little, but it's enough to shift stiles' mood a little as well. he sighs again, eyes watching his lips form around his words in the dark.
stiles wants to talk. not right now, but - he wants to tell him about a lot of things. doesn't want to tell him about a lot of things, too, just because he's afraid of what derek might think, how he might feel about him after. but he trusts derek. he trusts derek more than anything. loves him more than anyone he's ever loved.
stiles nods. it's subtle, but it's sure, and he slides his hand a little higher up derek's back, shirt bunching up around his arm. he shifts a little closer, just because he can. ]
Soon. Yeah... okay.
[ he smiles, and it's a little thin, but it's still genuine. carefully, he tilts his head down slightly to bump his nose against the underside of derek's jaw, just breathing there for a moment. and then he laughs, the same way he did before, words a low murmur. ]
I can't believe you called me babe. God. [ stiles tilts his head back just enough so he can look at derek. he doesn't say anything else for a solid five seconds, and then, like he's surprised by himself: ] … Can't believe I'm kind of into it.
no subject
but he fucking loves stiles. loves him more than anything. he loves him, and he wants to touch him, and he wants stiles to know he's as physically attractive as derek thinks he is. they've done this enough times now that derek doesn't really second guess himself or struggle with how to hold him, but when he slides his hand further and further up beneath stiles' shirt, letting it ride up a few inches in the dark, there is a part of him that wonders if stiles is going to stop him.
he splays his hand flat over stiles' chest, just - touching. stiles nudges against his jaw, laughs a breath against his throat, and derek swallows, adam's apple bobbing in the darkness. he leans forward, kissing the top of stiles' head, and he lets his hand drift down, drift lower, until it's right against his side. ]
Had other ideas, too. Like "sweetheart". Pretty gross, right?
[ he brushes his thumb over stiles' hip, making long, smooth strokes. in the dark, he can't see much of stiles without turning on the big, scary red headlights, but he can adjust pretty quickly. derek shuffles down the bed another few inches so they're closer, more face to face, and he can see stiles' eyelashes, the cute upward peak of his nose. he can see his lips, slightly apart.
derek wants to kiss him. he slips his fingertips down stiles' waistband, leaving his hand against his thigh, and it's - comfortable, more than sexual, like he's just trying to keep his hand warm. it's... just comfortable at first, at least. derek lets his hand sink a little lower. a little closer. ]
C'mon. Keep playing with me.
[ slowly - methodically - derek curls his hand around stiles' cock, letting it rest in his hand. very gently, and very practiced, he starts to jerk him off beneath his clothes, holding eye contact and keeping his voice as absolutely quiet as possible. this quiet, this warmth, this-- obvious attraction, this intense, unshakeable amount of love and pride he feels whenever he looks at stiles-- it reminds derek of the barracks, and he just... ]
Which letter is silent in scent? You didn't take a stance. Like a coward.
no subject
but he got through it with derek. even if derek was a little... distracted and pre-occupied and overridden by a deeper instinct to really notice all of stiles' flaws, stiles still got through it, and that's - progress. he breathes in deep when derek spreads his hand over his chest, like he just wants to feel him closer, push himself into the touch. he breathes out, letting his eyes close as his hand drifts down his side, stomach tensing only because it tickles a little.
and then he laughs, opening his eyes just so he can shoot derek an exaggerated, faux-disgusted look. ]
Oh, that's disgusting.
[ except it isn't, not really. something he'd have to get used to hearing coming from derek, but he doesn't think he'd hate it if he occasionally tossed out an affectionate pet name every once in a while. stiles lifts his hand just an inch or so when derek starts to move, letting him wriggle and settle before he lays his hand back down against his spine.
and then derek's hand inches lower, dips under the elastic of his waistband, settles against his thigh. stiles waits for a beat, but he just feels... safe. he feels comforted, at first, until derek's hand starts to move again, dipping lower, drifting inward, and stiles still feels safe, he always feels safe, but he also feels the distant pull of mild arousal start to warm him.
stiles sighs, slow and heavy. he swallows, lips parting a little, and if he subtly shifts his legs almost like an invitation before derek even gets his hand on his cock, well - stiles isn't exactly ashamed. he has to swallow again, wetting his bottom lip as his fingers flex gently against derek's lower back. he wants to close his eyes, but derek's looking at him, and he can't make himself look away. ]
Um. Mm. [ stiles' voice is just as quiet, still a little bit hoarse. he doesn't bother to clear his throat. he smiles kind of lazily after a moment, eyes still open, but half-lidded. ] Neither. They both just sound like... like an 'S'. You hear 'em both.
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.
no subject
stiles pinches derek's back in retaliation, but it feels more like a lazy knead than anything else. it's not lame, it's just - smart. you can hear both letters, they just sound the same, and if he wasn't so easily distracted by the slow, soft pulls of derek's fist, he'd make his point.
as it stands, stiles' cock thickens easily under derek's attention. he shifts his legs again when derek slides his in between them, lifting one of his knees an inch to make it that much easier for derek to stay close, and though he's content to just let derek stroke him, he can't help the way he starts roll his hips forward to meet him, so, so slowly, so subtly.
and then derek takes his hand away. stiles makes a soft, disappointed noise in the back of his throat, mostly unintentional, vaguely needy, his eyes snapping up to meet derek's. his lips part like he means to ask him why he'd tease, but the words fall short. derek draws his hand up, licks his own palm. stiles' toes curl a little, thighs squeezing gently around derek's leg, voice a rough whisper just because he can't manage anything else with derek smiling at him like he knows just how easy stiles can be. ]
Jesus.
[ he punctuates it with a breathy little 'ah' when derek takes him back in his hand again, wet and hot and stroking a little bit faster than before. stiles' eyes flutter closed, his hand on derek's back drifting to his side, blunt fingernails dragging lightly.
derek tells him to keep talking which - sounds like a lot of effort right now, but he's also flattered. and also somewhat amused that he asks him to talk about fucking george lucas of all things. he doesn't want to talk about george lucas.
but he'll talk about star wars. ]
George Lucas is - George Lucas, who cares. [ stiles does, a little, just not right now. ] There's this one line in - in episode five. Vader says it, everybody quotes it.
[ stiles blinks his eyes open to look at derek, vision a little fuzzy in the dark. he slides his hand up derek's torso, up under his shirt, palm sliding over his pec. he's still got his ring on, too, never takes it off. ]
D'you know what I'm talking about? What's the line?
no subject
stiles says jesus, and derek's kind of cocky when he smiles, this time. his teeth show, until he presses his lips together and screws his mouth to the side, trying to hide the instant, overwhelming pride he feels in turning stiles on. the precision in how he gets stiles off is almost surgical. he alternates between slow and teasing to faster and tighter, always easing back and going slower whenever stiles starts to wake up too much. he wants to keep stiles boneless and lazy and happy.
completely and utterly taken care of. ]
Is this a daddykink thing? You want me to say I am your father while I'm jerking you off?
[ because - hey, he'll do anything for stiles, just give him the hat and the badge number to recite. derek moves in a little closer, folding his other arm underneath his ear to use as a makeshift pillow. stiles' boxers are starting to get in the way, so derek stops jerking him off just long enough to pull them down his thighs, freeing him under the covers, just out of sight.
he runs his fingertips down the middle of stiles' cock, and - that's when he kisses him. it's sleepy and lazy, the kind of kiss you give when you're just waking up on sunday morning, happy to wake up next to the person you love. derek closes his eyes into it and wraps his fist back around the head of stiles' cock, playing with the tip with his thumb, and he leans back, opening his eyes half-way. ]
Would it turn you on more if I got my trivia right, or... would it be hotter if I misquoted it and you got the chance to correct me?
[ don't lie, either - derek's pretty sure stiles gets a thrill out of being right, but he also seems to like it when derek proves what a secret fucking nerd he is, so. he's genuinely curious about which card would yield better results. ]
no subject
derek almost kills the mood. well, not really, because stiles is too into this gentle, lazy affection thing they've got going on right now to let it die so easily, but his hips go from pushing forward in slow, easy pulses to completely still. his face screws up a little bit, but it's hard for him to hide the resigned amusement he feels toward derek and his stupid fucking commentary.
he pinches his nipple in retaliation, gentler than he should. derek... still knew what he was talking about, even if he somehow evaded the whole point of the question, but - still a turn on. derek being mostly accurate about something star wars related definitely still does something for him. ]
No, it's not a— god, shut up, don't - don't ruin this.
[ 'this' having less to do with movie trivia and more to do with derek's hand on his dick, but still. he pushes his hips forward again, slides his cock through derek's fist just in case he needs the clarification. he lifts his body as helpfully as he can manage to help derek ease his boxers down, sighing with a little bit of relief as he freed from the restrictiveness of his underwear.
it's not the light drag of fingertips that makes him shiver, but the kiss derek brushes against his mouth. it's so soft and so gentle and sleepy that stiles almost melts into it, eyes sliding closed just as derek fits his hand back around his crown, slick with precome. he whimpers softly, catching the note in the back of his throat, and when derek leans back, stiles chases after him for a moment without realizing it, not ready for him to stop kissing him like that just yet.
derek starts to say something though, so stiles does his best to be polite and lets him speak, backing off a little so he can look at him, tongue wetting his lower lip. he likes that it's dark - it feels more intimate, and he can still make derek out in the very low light, but right now he kind of wishes he could see the color of his eyes and not just the murky, unsaturated blur of his iris.
stiles huffs a weak little laugh, adjusting his arm underneath his pillow so it doesn't start to fall asleep on him. he laughs because he needs to stall - because he honestly doesn't have a sure answer for derek. on the one hand - he does really enjoy being right about shit, but on the other hand, being surprised by derek's range of pop culture knowledge is pretty fucking special, too.
stiles bites at his lip, dragging his hand down the front of derek's torso, over to his hip where he squeezes. ]
It - mh. Depends on what we're talking about. You still haven't really answered my question. We could - we could find out. What's the full line? C'mon.
no subject
stiles asks for the full line again, and... derek gets it wrong.
but the thing is, he gets it wrong on purpose, and it's a low ball, easily pitched for stiles to bat away. derek's already implied he knows the line in question gets misquoted pretty often, and he's already implied he knows what the line in question actually is. he gets it wrong because he wants to hear stiles talk and correct him while derek tries to bring him closer and closer to coming. ]
Luke...
[ he jerks a little faster. faster, then faster still. he moves his fist up and down stiles' cock until stiles' eyes look just on the verge of being more alert, and then he stops, getting slower, slower. derek leans in, taking another one of those soft, chaste kisses, grunting against stiles' lips when stiles squeezes his sides. when he finishes quoting vader wrong, smirking like he knows full fucking well what he's doing, he's breathing against stiles, really letting him feel the line. ]
I am your father.
[ and then - he's moving. he's pulling away from stiles, taking his hand off his cock and sitting up on his knees. he's still over stiles, just a little, straddling his thigh, the covers that hadn't already been kicked off rolling down derek's back and pooling behind him. lightly, he leans down, kisses stiles on the neck, and - maybe he's waking him up more than he means to, now, maybe he's taking away the quiet. he hopes not by much. ]
And... uh.
[ he sits back up, leaning down, resting on stiles' leg. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side. something falls, and derek won't realize until later, when he steps out of bed to shower, that he just knocked over stiles' cup of water. ]
I need to fuck you. That's - I'm not quoting the movie anymore. I just need to fuck you. I need you to fuck me. I need some kind of fucking, and I need it right now, and if you want to tell me you love me so that I can I know you, I'm more than okay with that.
[ look, he's really into hearing stiles talk about nerd shit. ]
no subject
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...
no subject
stiles sets him up, giving him an i love you, and while derek looks down at him, full of love and admiration, looking at stiles like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky, all for him, he.... well, he fucks up. stiles says he loves him and derek just trips over the i know, hitting a dam in his brain that just doesn't want to break. stiles loves him. stiles loves him? sometimes it hits him, and this is one of those moments, that stiles fucking loves him. derek can't bring himself to han solo this. ]
I love you, too. I love the way you smile. I love your laugh. I love how you're always there for me. I love this fucking ring. I love... I love you, Stiles.
[ ... baaaabe, he almost adds, before immediately losing his nerve. he thinks misquoting star wars twice in one minute might give stiles a fucking hernia, and adding an awkward, clumsy pet name to the mix wouldn't be doing him any favours.
but it's fine. everything's fine. everything's fucking great, actually, and his life wouldn't be a tenth as great as it is right now if he didn't have stiles here with him, warm and sleepy and-- happy, hopefully, at least half as happy as derek is. stiles kisses his rib cage and it's so close to his heart that derek feels stupid, sentimental, unnecessary tears hurting the back of his eyes, and he has to swallow and collect himself and bend down, kissing the very top of stiles' head in return.
stiles wants to fuck him. christ, derek wants nothing more. ]
I... really, really want you to fuck me.
[ derek leans back against stiles' thigh, pulling away from the kiss, as much as he loved it. his hand traces a line down stiles shirt, over the firm beat of his heart to his lightly-toned-but-mostly-not stomach, and even further down to his cock. derek takes him in hand again, stroking him slowly, slower than before. just keeping him hard. ]
But... uh.
[ he wets his lips, and - he brings his other hand back to stiles' stomach, his right hand, the one without the ring. he curls his fist in the fabric and gives a tentative, almost apologetic tug, and then looks closer at stiles in the darkness. ]
Can you... take this off? You don't have to. I just - like seeing you.
no subject
so it's okay, that derek tells him he loves him instead, that he loves stiles' laugh and his smile and the dumb ring he had made for him from a piece of a leaf blower's engine. they can quote and misquote star wars at each other another time, but right now stiles is just so, so incredibly intent to just be close to derek, to have these quieter moments where stiles feels reassured and protected and loved more than he honestly deserves to be loved.
stiles' eyes water, too. derek presses a kiss to the top of his head and stiles presses his face against the space where the two sides of derek's rib cage join together in the middle, moving both of his arms so he can drape them loosely around his waist, fingers splayed against his back. he's... slightly emotional and horny as fuck but he doesn't feel - frantic or desperate about it. stiles just wants to feel close, as close as he possibly can, as connected to derek as physically possible. he doesn't even really care if derek turns him down, if he says he'd rather fuck stiles instead - just as long as they're connected, that's all that really matters to him.
but derek doesn't turn him down. derek says he wants it too, and it's only then that stiles' sleep-slow brain catches up to him and he realizes what he's just asked for. it helps that it registers after the fact, so he has less time to be anxious about being let down easy if derek wants something different - but he doesn't. stiles' heart still trips up a little anyway, on a slight delay.
he wants to kiss him again wherever he can reach him, but derek pulls away to sit back. stiles' fingers push lazy little circles into the muscle at the bottom of his spine, head tilted back just slightly so he can look derek in the face. he breathes deep as derek trails his hand down his front, breathes a heavy sigh as he closes his hand around him again, strokes him lazily.
and then derek says but, and it's fine, but it still makes stiles pause for a second. he has no idea what's coming, isn't really collected enough to even begin to guess what the stipulation is here, and he's both nervous and not. he wets his bottom lip, eyebrows shifting slightly to show that he's paying attention, even if it's a little difficult to do with derek's hand on his dick.
the little pull at his shirt isn't even enough for him to be able to put together what derek is about to ask for, so he's left looking a little thrown and a little dumb and a little bit lost when derek finally makes his request. he... wants him to take his shirt off. stiles has only had his shirt off in front of derek a handful of times, and most of those times it's been quick and practiced, changing out of one shirt and into another the same way he would do in the locker room at school just to get it over with. there was the full moon, too, but both of them had been a little overwhelmed, derek by the moon and stiles by derek.
this feels different from that. it is different from that, and stiles feels nervous - but not nearly as much as he thought he would. he stares up at derek for a few long moments, eyes shifting minutely. his lips part. he opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to say anything at all, so he just nods instead, small and subtle - and sure. the fact that it's a choice, that derek makes sure he knows he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, makes it that much easier to oblige.
stiles sits up and leans forward, brushing another kiss against derek's chest like he somehow steels some confidence in doing so. he lingers for a moment, then tilts back, letting his hands slide off of derek so he can grab at the bottom of his own shirt. stiles only hesitates for a moment, and then he pulls his shirt up.
and he get stuck. only for a second, his elbows stretching the material awkwardly and trapping one of his arms, but it's long enough for him to get super embarrassed about it because he can't even take his shirt off without being a mess, so by the time he frees himself and sets his shirt down off to the side, his cheeks and his throat are red and kid of blotchy and he won't look any higher than derek's chest. he tries to move on quickly, to distract from - himself, really, by curling his fingers into the elastic of derek's waistband and giving it a little tug, like, off, please. ]
no subject
stiles takes his shirt off without saying anything. that quiet nod, sure as it is, does wonders to ease some of the trepidation derek feels from asking, and any worries derek might have been feeling get slowly, warmly replaced by anticipation. they've screwed around like this before - but honestly, the full moon is kind of a blur. he's going to be completely sober, completely aware of himself, when stiles fucks him. he's going to feel this.
and that's-- thrilling. holy shit, he's hard.
there's something vulnerable about being fucked, about handing the lead over to someone else, but derek doesn't feel even the tiniest shred of fear. just - excitement. steadily waking him up. he wets his lips, feels his heartbeat pick up and his skin feel hot when stiles brushes a kiss over his chest, and it's not that he feels smaller, or like less of an Alpha, but he does feel, briefly, like he's giving up control. he - kind of likes that feeling.
stiles takes off his shirt and derek does his best not to laugh when it gets hooked over his elbow. he gets free, looks fucking adorable, and there's a second or two of awe as he just takes him in, sees the way his pale skin glows in the thin strips of moonlight bleeding in through the window. while stiles tugs on his pants and urges them off, derek obliges, leaning in to kiss the top of stiles' forehead again before he does. he eases away from stiles and draws his knees up, stripping himself of the rest of his clothes, and for the first time in a long time, he feels kind of self-conscious about being naked.
but - again - he wants this. he's excited.
derek lays down on his side right alongside stiles, his cock thick and heavy and hard, resting half on his stomach and half on the bed. experimentally, like he's still not sure if this is allowed, he brushes his fingertips up stiles' bare side, over his chest, back down his hip. he swallows, leaning forward, pressing his lips to stiles' thigh, closing his eyes and holding still for a second.
he eases back. he's resting his ear on stiles' leg, looking up at him from below, reaching down between his own legs to work the length of his cock in lazy, practiced swirls. he's more alert, but he doesn't want to ruin the atmosphere they've been making. slow, soft sleepiness, even now. he's not sure how long he'll be able to keep that going before he's begging stiles to really, really ruin him, but. for now, the cozy vibe they've built between them is working. ]
Tell me how you want me. On my back, or... maybe my hands and knees.
[ whatever stiles wants, stiles' get. derek strokes his cock a little faster, like he's enjoying the anticipation. he's not. he just wants to get fucked. ]
I could ride you.
no subject
stiles is just. average. and he's okay with that, mostly. he's been offered more than once now, to become something better, and each time he's turned it down. so average is his own choice, it's what he's able to settle for - but it's not so easy to believe someone else might settle for it too.
derek kisses his forehead, and it honestly does a lot to calm him, to make him feel alright. he breathes a quiet sigh, untucking his fingers from derek's waistband when he leans back to take everything off. stiles watches him for a beat, awed by his everything, really, and then takes the second or two while derek is busy to twist and lean over the edge of the bed, blindly feeling around. he puts his hand in something cold and wet, blinks blearily with mild confusion, but can't bring himself to investigate, continuing to pat at the floor until he finds the small bottle of lube that he's looking for. eventually, they'll get a night stand, and stiles will be able to find the lube in the drawer by muscle memory alone. he fumbles for another second or two, fingers dipping into the box of condoms pushed up against the side of the bed.
when he pulls himself back up, derek's already laid out beside him - and he's beautiful, lightly tanned skin and tight muscle highlighted by the pale light of the moon spilling in through some of the windows. stiles slowly sets the lube and the condom down on the bed somewhere within reach, and just looks at him for a moment. derek touches his fingertips against his side and trails them upward, dragging them lightly over bare skin, and it's not as if derek hasn't touched him everywhere before, it's not like derek has never had his hands underneath stiles' shirt, touching him in all the same places, but it's just - different, like this. derek can see every part of stiles, every inch of skin that he's touching, and it doesn't stop him at all, and that makes stiles feel - well, it's an indescribable feeling, really, but it's somewhere close to overwhelmingly loved.
derek kisses his thigh, lingers there for a moment, and stiles can't resist. he pushes his fingers through derek's hair, slow and gentle, runs his fingertips over the nape of his neck. he watches with tired, lust-cloudy eyes as derek strokes himself, wants to reach down and bat his hand away so he can do it for him the way he should have been doing this entire time.
tell me how you want me derek says, but stiles just wants him everywhere, all the time, in every way. he knows what derek is asking even before he suggests a couple different positions, but stiles doesn't know how he's supposed to choose. he wets his lips, pushing his fingers through derek's hair again, his other hand curling around the crown of his own cock and stroking slowly as he thinks about what he wants.
god, he really wants derek to ride him. he wants to lie back, he wants to feel the weight of him pressing him down, the warmth of him surrounding his cock, the strength of him as he works his thighs. but he also wants him on his back, he wants to hold derek's legs up a little, hands cupped behind his knees, and watch as his cock slides into him, slow and deep.
stiles swallows around a soft sound, fingers dropping to the base of his cock for a moment to give it a tight squeeze before he starts to move, reaching to push and kick his boxers the rest of the way off of his legs before turning and pressing a gentle hand against derek's shoulder, hoping to ease him onto his back. ]
I... want to see your face.
[ he swallows, wets his lips, shifting over and up to put one of his knees between derek's legs. stiles puts a hand on his thigh, carefully easing it out to make more space for him, and then settles on both knees between derek's legs, resting back on his haunches with his knees slightly spread, cock hard and heavy. after a moment, he tilts forward, bracing his hands on either side of derek by his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him lightly. ]
... Is this okay?
[ his hand slides over the sheets a little, fingers closing around the bottle of lube as he waits for approval. ]
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.
no subject
stiles has never done this before. not outside of the full moon, and he'd never say what happened on the kitchen counter doesn't count, but this, here, is the first time he's gone so far as to ask to switch things up from the norm. and the norm is great, what they regularly get up to is fucking fantastic, but there's something about this night that makes him want to - not necessarily prove something to derek, but to just - provide, in ways that derek usually provides for him instead.
he's nervous. god, he's fucking nervous, but it's okay, because he also feels safe. he doesn't feel scared, just a good kind of anxious, a low simmering excitement. he smiles, and he kisses derek, and when derek takes it further and turns something chaste into something deeper and more intimate, something a little more aggressive, stiles is there. he meets him with equal enthusiasm, drawing in short breaths through his nose, opening his mouth, testing the strength of derek's tongue against his own.
he's panting a little bit by the time derek eases back, his arms starting to shake a little from holding himself up. he drops himself down to his elbows, which narrows the space between them some, but still leaves enough room for derek to reach down and take his cock in hand. stiles sighs, breath warm against derek's cheek. he lifts his head after a beat or two, wanting to look at derek, to see his face just like he said, and derek is looking at him already. he's smiling, and stiles' stomach flips lightly, his heart pattering in his chest.
stiles starts to smile back at him, hips rolling slow and lazy to meet the slide of derek's hand, right up until derek tells him what he wants. his hips stutter and then still, and stiles' eyes widen just the tiniest bit, just centimeter, a millimeter.
no protection, he says, which is fine - that's not entirely new anymore, but he follows that with i want you to come inside me, and - stiles nearly comes right there, right over derek's hand. he drops his head, forehead thumping gently againt derek's chest, hips rolling into his fist again, just once, like he's imagining it. stiles makes a quiet sound, akin to a soft moan. he's still got the lube in his one hand, held in a tight fist now. ]
Jesus... Christ. [ yeah. yeah, that's cool. he's cool with that. stiles smiles suddenly, pressing a rough laugh into derek's chest. he lifts his head after a moment so he can look at him, smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. ] Dude, I am so cool with that.
[ despite his light ribbing, though, he softens, leaving another kiss at the base of derek's throat before he sits back up, gently easing derek's hand off of him so he can rest back on his haunches again. he's got the lube in his other hand, flicks the cap open with a push of his thumb.
he gets nervous again. anticipatory, even though he's still gotta do some prep work before he can even think about pushing his cock into derek. he swallows, shifting his gaze down to his hands, looking past them for a moment at derek's thighs, the way they're spread, his dick, thick and heavy between them. fuck, he's so stunning it hurts.
a little messily, stiles dribbles some lube over the fingers of his left hand, just the index and middle fingers for now. he uses his chin to snap the cap back on, dropping the bottle into the sheets a little off to the side. he uses his thumb to spread the lube over his fingers, slides his right hand one of derek's tight and circles it around to the back of his knee, trying to get him to bend his leg a little, move it up and out. ]
You have to— [ he has to stop to swallow, his voice soft but a little gravely. stiles glances up to look derek in the face for a moment, then looks back down at what he's doing. carefully, gently, he slides the pad of his thumb over the tight ring of muscle, hand trembling just the slightest as he slowly spreads some of the lube on his fingers around. ] You have to tell me if you don't like something. Promise me.
[ stiles waits for a beat, then adjusts the angle of his hand so he can push the tip of his middle finger against derek's hole, gently adding pressure, gently easing inside. his heart is beating fast in his chest, eyes jumping back and forth between his hand between derek's legs and his face, his other hand still spread under the back of one thigh, thumb stroking slowly. ]