[ stiles wants him to stay. derek's teeth, razor-sharp and serrated, scratch subtle, white lines down the thin, easily tearable skin of his neck, and stiles still just wants him to stay. derek breathes out in heavy, hard pants, crooning little moans and grunts against him as stiles' fingers tangle in his hair, and his whole body feels like an exposed nerve ending. he's heightened and sensitive and alive. the full moon itches at his skin, even from here, hidden inside and out of its reach. he's not coherent enough to wonder how much worse this could be if they were under the full burst of its light.
the noise stiles makes when he's forced up against the wall is almost enough to make derek come. that little noise, tense and thin, like he's fucking submissive, like strong-willed, independent stiles is helpless and horny, all for him - it's almost too much for derek to bear. it's breathtaking. derek wants more. he pins him to the wall even tighter.
stiles makes another noise as derek enters more of him, and then another, and another, and the tiles shudder beneath derek's feet as his leg trembles, bouncing his heel against them, thudding a repetitive echo through the shower. he curls his toes and his fingertips and makes himself calm down, pressing his cheek against stiles shoulder for support and scratching him with sharp, wet stubble. stiles' hand pressed over his makes derek feel like he's melting.
derek pushes in more, and more, and more, one millimetre, then another, and stiles suddenly whines out in pain, making derek go completely stock still with an alarmed start. his mind is telling him, distantly, with whatever capability it has for coherent thought left, that he needs to pull out before stiles hurts - but stiles says don't take it, stiles tells him to stay, stiles tells him he wants to feel the pain, and derek almost loses his fucking mind.
he nods. he nods, even though stiles can't really see him, and he kisses up his back again, over his scar, up to his shoulder. stiles reaches back and gives him a lopsided, incomplete kiss, and when he tells him he loves him, derek just - whines.
stiles fucks himself on derek.
it's a lot. it's too much, when derek's so hypersensitive already, so desperate for touch. derek's heaving breaths against stiles' ear, and it's hard to say if he sounds like he's drowning, desperately trying to stay above the water, or if he's been hunting like an animal, running on all fours through the woods until his body gave out from exertion. he rests against stiles' shoulder and looks like he's the one getting fucked, with half-lidded eyes glossed over with lust. stiles eases back on derek's cock and derek looks like he's having a fucking religious experience. ]
More. Stiles.
[ he's done his best to make this easy for stiles, but - he - can't, not anymore. he needs to fuck stiles, needs him now. derek stands up, stretching out his spine. derek takes the arm he has wrapped around stiles' stomach and splays it out on his lower back, instead, pushing him down and silently urging him to arch his back. his other hand reaches up to stiles' hair, grabbing a fistful of it, and lightly, very lightly, he pulls, arching stiles' neck back. he pushes forward with his hips, fucking stiles into the wall with one hard, brutal jolt, and as he fucks a full inch and a half of his cock past the rim of his entrance, Derek's eyes roll into the back of his head.
he's swearing. maybe. he can't tell, he might have blacked out for a second. derek's chest hurts. roughly, derek starts to find a rhythm, dragging the head of his cock back through the tight passage of stiles' hole, pulling out to the ring. he grunts, pushes his hand forward, pressing stiles' face against the wall. ]
Stiles--
[ he's starting to swell. he can feel it - not just at the base of his cock, but all of him. he's getting bigger, thicker, inside stiles. derek's hips are moving on their own accord, getting faster, pressing deeper, stretching out stiles well past his body's limit, and the more he does, the more of him that fills stiles up, the bigger, more difficult it gets. derek hunches forward again, heaving those same heavy, almost violent breaths, and he tugs stiles' hair again to have better access to his throat from the side. he kisses him, just once, violent but tender. he's barely half inside of stiles, and he feels like he's too much for him.
but - ]
Stiles, there's-- more of me.
[ and - and he doesn't know if stiles is going to be able to handle it, he doesn't know if it's going to hurt too much. being knotted. derek keeps fucking him, because he can't fucking help it, he doesn't think he can stop, not now, but maybe-- maybe it's already too much. ]
[ derek asks him for more. derek tells him he wants more and all stiles can do is tell him he knows - because he does. because he wants more too. the words spill out of him on the end of a shuddery sigh, breathy and a little desperate as stiles continues to roll his hips back in tiny thrusts, driving himself just a little further back onto derek's cock each time, centimeter by deliciously agonizing centimeter. all he wants to do is sink all the way down, take as much of derek's cock as his body will physically allow, but the stretch is already tight, painful but - tolerable.
derek straightens up, and though he's no even half inside yet, it changes the angle of his cock just enough that stile' breath catches for a moment, muscles tensing not with pain, but with pleasure. he makes a soft sound, tilting his head forward against to lean it against the tiles and curling his toes. derek takes his arm away, slides it out from between his stomach and the wall, sets it against his lower back instead, keeping him pinned. stiles - kind of hates it, only because it means he can't keep fucking himself on derek's cock, not while he's being held in place. he whines quietly, though it's a frustrated sound more than anything else, but it melts into a soft moan as derek's fingers sink into his hair.
he's not expecting him to pull - but there's no resistance. stiles arches his neck, shoulder blades inching together, his lower spine bending subtly over the solid line of derek's forearm holding him down. and derek fucks him. he pushes into stiles, hips snapping forward hard and sudden and unforgiving, and it's only and inch, maybe two, but it's more than stiles expects all at once, and it hurts. he bites his teeth together hard, biting back and tense groan, the tendons in his neck flexing with the tension that snaps through his shoulders. and then the pain starts to ease. derek keeps fucking into him, sliding just those few inches in and out, forward and back, and stiles' jaw relaxes just as derek guides his head forward and pushes his cheek into the wall.
stiles opens his mouth, but all that comes out of him is a soft, sighed oh, one of his hands dropping to down to circle around his own cock, fingers closed tight over the tip. derek says his name, and stiles' entire body shudders with the sound of it. he can feel himself getting tighter around derek he more derek fucks into him - but that's not it. he's not getting tighter, derek's just getting bigger, thicker and harder and the stretch as derek sinks deeper—
for a moment, stiles feels like he can't breathe. he feels overwhelmed, but it's not the kind of overwhelmed that makes him feel panicky or scared or out of control. it's just - a lot, but stiles has never wanted anything or anyone so fucking badly in his entire life. stiles draws in a quiet gasp of a breath, and even though the slide of derek's cock is starting to hurt again, stiles just keeps meeting his hips with small, measured backwards pushes of his own.
stiles pumps his cock with long, solid strokes, nodding his head as best as he can with derek still holding his cheek to the wall. there's water in his eyes, dropping down from his hair, collecting in his eyelashes, running down the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth, down his chin, his throat.
he's done his research. after scott was bitten in the woods and started exhibiting strange behavior, stiles dedicated his time to figuring out what it was that was affecting his friend, and once he'd figured it out, he'd only researched further. myths and legends and lore - anything he could get his hands on, regardless of credibility. he researched wolves, too, their behavior, habits, their biology, all of it just in case. all of it, just because he knew if he didn't, nobody else would.
stiles has - some idea of what might be happening now, what is about to happen if he doesn't stop derek now — but he doesn't want to stop. the very last thing stiles wants to do right now is end this before it's even really started. this - is part of derek, part of who he is, influenced by the full moon or now - and stiles loves him. stiles loves every part of him, wants every part of him, ever side, man and wolf and everything in between.
stiles squeezes his fist around the base of his cock, pushes his hips back with a brief clench of his teeth. he reaches back, pawing at derek's flank again as he fucks into him, hand shaking, words a little slurred. ]
It's okay. It's okay, I want it, I want this. I want you. Derek—
[ he wants everything derek is, everything derek wants to give him, he'll withstand and work through whatever pain to get to that sweet, warm, bone-melting pleasure derek has never failed to deliver. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
the noise stiles makes when he's forced up against the wall is almost enough to make derek come. that little noise, tense and thin, like he's fucking submissive, like strong-willed, independent stiles is helpless and horny, all for him - it's almost too much for derek to bear. it's breathtaking. derek wants more. he pins him to the wall even tighter.
stiles makes another noise as derek enters more of him, and then another, and another, and the tiles shudder beneath derek's feet as his leg trembles, bouncing his heel against them, thudding a repetitive echo through the shower. he curls his toes and his fingertips and makes himself calm down, pressing his cheek against stiles shoulder for support and scratching him with sharp, wet stubble. stiles' hand pressed over his makes derek feel like he's melting.
derek pushes in more, and more, and more, one millimetre, then another, and stiles suddenly whines out in pain, making derek go completely stock still with an alarmed start. his mind is telling him, distantly, with whatever capability it has for coherent thought left, that he needs to pull out before stiles hurts - but stiles says don't take it, stiles tells him to stay, stiles tells him he wants to feel the pain, and derek almost loses his fucking mind.
he nods. he nods, even though stiles can't really see him, and he kisses up his back again, over his scar, up to his shoulder. stiles reaches back and gives him a lopsided, incomplete kiss, and when he tells him he loves him, derek just - whines.
stiles fucks himself on derek.
it's a lot. it's too much, when derek's so hypersensitive already, so desperate for touch. derek's heaving breaths against stiles' ear, and it's hard to say if he sounds like he's drowning, desperately trying to stay above the water, or if he's been hunting like an animal, running on all fours through the woods until his body gave out from exertion. he rests against stiles' shoulder and looks like he's the one getting fucked, with half-lidded eyes glossed over with lust. stiles eases back on derek's cock and derek looks like he's having a fucking religious experience. ]
More. Stiles.
[ he's done his best to make this easy for stiles, but - he - can't, not anymore. he needs to fuck stiles, needs him now. derek stands up, stretching out his spine. derek takes the arm he has wrapped around stiles' stomach and splays it out on his lower back, instead, pushing him down and silently urging him to arch his back. his other hand reaches up to stiles' hair, grabbing a fistful of it, and lightly, very lightly, he pulls, arching stiles' neck back. he pushes forward with his hips, fucking stiles into the wall with one hard, brutal jolt, and as he fucks a full inch and a half of his cock past the rim of his entrance, Derek's eyes roll into the back of his head.
he's swearing. maybe. he can't tell, he might have blacked out for a second. derek's chest hurts. roughly, derek starts to find a rhythm, dragging the head of his cock back through the tight passage of stiles' hole, pulling out to the ring. he grunts, pushes his hand forward, pressing stiles' face against the wall. ]
Stiles--
[ he's starting to swell. he can feel it - not just at the base of his cock, but all of him. he's getting bigger, thicker, inside stiles. derek's hips are moving on their own accord, getting faster, pressing deeper, stretching out stiles well past his body's limit, and the more he does, the more of him that fills stiles up, the bigger, more difficult it gets. derek hunches forward again, heaving those same heavy, almost violent breaths, and he tugs stiles' hair again to have better access to his throat from the side. he kisses him, just once, violent but tender. he's barely half inside of stiles, and he feels like he's too much for him.
but - ]
Stiles, there's-- more of me.
[ and - and he doesn't know if stiles is going to be able to handle it, he doesn't know if it's going to hurt too much. being knotted. derek keeps fucking him, because he can't fucking help it, he doesn't think he can stop, not now, but maybe-- maybe it's already too much. ]
no subject
[ derek asks him for more. derek tells him he wants more and all stiles can do is tell him he knows - because he does. because he wants more too. the words spill out of him on the end of a shuddery sigh, breathy and a little desperate as stiles continues to roll his hips back in tiny thrusts, driving himself just a little further back onto derek's cock each time, centimeter by deliciously agonizing centimeter. all he wants to do is sink all the way down, take as much of derek's cock as his body will physically allow, but the stretch is already tight, painful but - tolerable.
derek straightens up, and though he's no even half inside yet, it changes the angle of his cock just enough that stile' breath catches for a moment, muscles tensing not with pain, but with pleasure. he makes a soft sound, tilting his head forward against to lean it against the tiles and curling his toes. derek takes his arm away, slides it out from between his stomach and the wall, sets it against his lower back instead, keeping him pinned. stiles - kind of hates it, only because it means he can't keep fucking himself on derek's cock, not while he's being held in place. he whines quietly, though it's a frustrated sound more than anything else, but it melts into a soft moan as derek's fingers sink into his hair.
he's not expecting him to pull - but there's no resistance. stiles arches his neck, shoulder blades inching together, his lower spine bending subtly over the solid line of derek's forearm holding him down. and derek fucks him. he pushes into stiles, hips snapping forward hard and sudden and unforgiving, and it's only and inch, maybe two, but it's more than stiles expects all at once, and it hurts. he bites his teeth together hard, biting back and tense groan, the tendons in his neck flexing with the tension that snaps through his shoulders. and then the pain starts to ease. derek keeps fucking into him, sliding just those few inches in and out, forward and back, and stiles' jaw relaxes just as derek guides his head forward and pushes his cheek into the wall.
stiles opens his mouth, but all that comes out of him is a soft, sighed oh, one of his hands dropping to down to circle around his own cock, fingers closed tight over the tip. derek says his name, and stiles' entire body shudders with the sound of it. he can feel himself getting tighter around derek he more derek fucks into him - but that's not it. he's not getting tighter, derek's just getting bigger, thicker and harder and the stretch as derek sinks deeper—
for a moment, stiles feels like he can't breathe. he feels overwhelmed, but it's not the kind of overwhelmed that makes him feel panicky or scared or out of control. it's just - a lot, but stiles has never wanted anything or anyone so fucking badly in his entire life. stiles draws in a quiet gasp of a breath, and even though the slide of derek's cock is starting to hurt again, stiles just keeps meeting his hips with small, measured backwards pushes of his own.
stiles pumps his cock with long, solid strokes, nodding his head as best as he can with derek still holding his cheek to the wall. there's water in his eyes, dropping down from his hair, collecting in his eyelashes, running down the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth, down his chin, his throat.
he's done his research. after scott was bitten in the woods and started exhibiting strange behavior, stiles dedicated his time to figuring out what it was that was affecting his friend, and once he'd figured it out, he'd only researched further. myths and legends and lore - anything he could get his hands on, regardless of credibility. he researched wolves, too, their behavior, habits, their biology, all of it just in case. all of it, just because he knew if he didn't, nobody else would.
stiles has - some idea of what might be happening now, what is about to happen if he doesn't stop derek now — but he doesn't want to stop. the very last thing stiles wants to do right now is end this before it's even really started. this - is part of derek, part of who he is, influenced by the full moon or now - and stiles loves him. stiles loves every part of him, wants every part of him, ever side, man and wolf and everything in between.
stiles squeezes his fist around the base of his cock, pushes his hips back with a brief clench of his teeth. he reaches back, pawing at derek's flank again as he fucks into him, hand shaking, words a little slurred. ]
It's okay. It's okay, I want it, I want this. I want you. Derek—
[ he wants everything derek is, everything derek wants to give him, he'll withstand and work through whatever pain to get to that sweet, warm, bone-melting pleasure derek has never failed to deliver. ]
Derek, please.