Worrying about myself is included in worrying about you. I need you to be okay for me to be okay. Totally selfish, I know. I can hardly live with myself.
Hold on. You think a BJ is equal to a month's worth of dishes??? Those two things aren't equivalent at all. Also, that's not how this works? That's like going into a restaurant and asking for I don't know - a bottle of wine? And letting the restaurant decide how much it's going to cost after you've finished the whole bottle. No one would do that.
[ rich people would probably do that, but shut up? not his point. ]
Anyway. I got about as far as "maybe I'll get something done" before I got super woozy thinking about the pain and getting stabbed by a needle 1-20,000 times, so. You know about as much as I do.
Okay. Okay, then. I promise I'll be careful. I'm sorry if you've been worrying about this. At all.
[ and he's sorry if all the yelling at camp harmony that got them both put into time out a couple of times is why stiles is worrying particularly hard about derek not worrying about himself. heeee tries not to let the guilt get to him, but he's derek hale, so. moving on. ]
I don't think they're equivalent. That's my point. I don't know what I'm going to charge you with. It could be anything. Any price. That's the gamble you'll have to take. Pretty much what relationships are all about.
You could sleep through it. Theoretically. I mean, if I'm quick enough, I might be able to take your pain from you before you even feel it. You could sleep, I could tattoo you, and you could wake up without ever knowing it happened. Wouldn't feel a thing. It'd be like getting your tonsils out. Or being fucked by that Theo kid.
I don't even know what to say to you right now. I think that's the worst thing you've ever said to me.
[ he's joking. well - it is probably the worst thing derek's ever said to him, but he can take a joke, however much he fucking despises theo's entire existence and all the bullshit stiles had to go through because no one wanted to listen to him, and theo knew it.
it's funny, but it's not. either way, because it's derek that's saying it, stiles can roll with it. ]
I'd rather die on the operating table a thousand times. In no world would I willingly fuck Theo. But also let's get this straight: he would never get to fuck me. He would never be so lucky.
[ how fucked up is it that it takes hypotheticals about fucking one of his worst enemies to make him talk himself up? anyway, that's not even the point derek is trying to make. ]
I wouldn't want to sleep through it though. Gotta make sure you don't draw dicks on my face. Or put that stupid double-ring shit somewhere on my body.
[ sorry not sorry, scott. your tattoo still and always will suck. ]
I mean, I was speaking generally. Really didn't want this to turn into you talking about getting fucked by another guy. Even negatively. Even hypothetically. I mean, I nearly said Peter instead of Theo. I thought - hey, that's a funny joke. Calls Peter out for being a lousy lay. Probably hurts his feelings. But then I thought - no. Weird. Don't say that about your uncle. Didn't think it would still get weird despite my best efforts to avoid such an ending. Should've seen it coming.
Not going to draw dicks on your face. Or boobs on your arm. You're going to have to give me some kind of guidance here, though. Or else just trust me to do something you'll like.
Let's just brush that one under the rug. Not my favorite thing to think about in any sense.
[ theo doesn't deserve anyone's time in any capacity as far as stiles is concerned, so. moving on.
for the next minute or so, stiles doesn't really say anything else. it's impossible for derek to know this - or maybe he could guess, maybe he knows stiles well enough - but stiles spends that minute chewing on the skin around his thumb nail, a little anxious, just because he's not exactly sure what derek will say.
you'd think he'd have some kind of idea, but it's... very easy for stiles to psyche himself out sometimes. self-doubt and second-guessing are, sometimes, his downfall. eventually, though, he takes his hand away from his mouth and texts with both hands, quick before he can change his mind. ]
I was thinking about maybe getting a triskele? Small, nothing anywhere near as big as yours, maybe not the same place, but.
[ ... ]
I don't know. The... mark on my neck tells the people who recognize what it is that I'm yours, right? But this would be different, you know? This would let everyone know what pack I belong to.
[ not that he's particularly worried about people knowing or not knowing, and it's not like packs traditionally get their symbol tattooed in general, but. it's something he's thought about more than once since starting his job at the tattoo shop.
he keeps typing. ]
But obviously the triskele is like a Hale thing, so it's totally cool if that's not... cool. I could just get a piercing or something. No big deal.
[ derek's always had a sixth sense for how stiles feels. the silence doesn't mean much, at first - maybe a customer came in, maybe stiles got caught up in cleaning, maybe harley told him to get back to work, or something - but the minute stretches out enough for derek to wonder what if, and when stiles finally gets back to him with something raw and real, derek's pretty confident in thinking stiles was tripping over his thoughts.
it - means a lot, what stiles wants. derek's message is a little delayed, too, but he types fast, when he knows what it is exactly he wants to say. he doesn't want stiles to sit there stewing in his own anxiety, wondering if derek is trying to figure out how to reject his proposal, or something. as if he would ever. ]
I've been thinking about getting more ink, too. Something on the front of my body, instead of on the back. Behind me. An anchor, maybe.
[ stiles is... immediately relieved that derek doesn't shut him down or reject him. he could have handled it if he had, tucked his tail (ha) between his legs and sulked about it at work for a bit while trying not to drown in his own embarrassment, but - well, he doesn't have to. he exhales, not realizing until then that he'd been holding his breath, and sinks a little more into his chair, smiling a little to himself. ]
I thought for sure you'd go for something shitty. Can of Mountain Dew, something dweeby and mocking.
[ he's kidding, obviously, trying to gloss over how touched he is at the idea of derek getting something done for him. that's not at all what stiles was implying or expecting. an anchor. it's still weird to stiles that he could be that important to anyone. ]
An anchor could be cool, though. Where would you put it? Somewhere on your front, obviously, but.
[ the last thing derek would do is reject stiles. fuck, if he's honest, he wants to pack up his shit and walk all the way to the down so they can do this right now. his chest is vibrating with energy and he's biting his teeth down against each other, trying not to be too overwhelmed. the primal, primitive part of him loves the idea of stiles being his, like that. claimed, publicly, seen as his wherever he goes. the more emotional part of him - ]
Don't want to be corny and say over my heart. So.
[ the more emotional part of him is talking about getting a fucking anchor tattoo over his heart. ]
Left pec. Maybe. I don't know. What about you? Could get it right on your cheek. Big, swirly spiral, right there for the world to see. Face tattoos can be pretty rough, you know. You feel your skull literally vibrating against your brain.
Okay, stop. You're gonna make me barf at work and I cannot afford that blow to my rep.
[ his "rep". okay. also, it's unclear if he's nauseated over the idea of derek getting an anchor over his heart, or the thought of a needle in his face and his skull rattling. actually, it's probably pretty obvious which one it is. ]
Jesus.
[ he takes his feet off of his desk, lets his weight bring him forward in his chair so h can lean his arms against the desk. ]
Maybe my wrist? Or my forearm, on the inside. I like the idea of it being somewhere visible. But I'm also kind of into putting it somewhere only you know about.
[ not like - on his ass or anything, but it's rare that stiles is less than 50% dressed around other people, so. the chances of it being kept hidden would be pretty high. ]
[ he knows stiles does not believe for one fucking second that he has a rep, and he knows it's wildly unnecessary to pile onto him by pointing that out, but oops, too late, it's done. derek assumes that stiles is talking about the needle in his face, once he brings up nausea, less because he thinks stiles is above roasting his ass when he says something overly romantic and emotionally vulnerable, but more because he doesn't think stiles would say that as an initial, immediate response to something derek genuinely wants to do, however couched in casual irony the suggestion might be. ]
Could have two. One on your arm. Another somewhere else. Right above your thigh. Small. Something to press my lips against every time I'm down there.
[ god. the thought of getting tattooed twice sounds like literal insanity - however, stiles is... very, very into the mental image of derek down between his legs, mouth hot and featherlight as it brushes against ink meant for him only. his leg starts to bounce a little and he swallows, quietly clearing his throat.
it's... weird, to feel both anxious and aroused over getting a tattoo. or, well - tattoos. who the hell is he anymore? his thumbs fumble for a moment. ]
Maybe. I don't hate the idea. Kinda... weirdly hard over it, actually. Not sure how I feel about that.
[ he already is, actually. there's a little bit of a delay again as derek just... lets those thoughts of stiles percolate in his brain for a while. ]
I doubt we'd get it finished.
Maybe we would. In my head, it's this - close, intimate, sexy experience. Taking away your pain while I mark you as mine in a way that only I'll ever know about. But. In reality, you'd probably complain about it being ticklish or painful even while I'm taking your pain away. You'd kick me in the face. I can tell.
[ stiles should have more to say. he should have a hell of a whole lot more to say than this, but all he comes back with is: ]
You could tie me down, if you're so worried about it.
[ okay. no. he does have more to say, it just takes him a minute to pull himself out of whatever daydream he's half-slipping into already. ]
I'd be good. I promise. Okay, no, I can't promise that. But I'd try really hard to stay still.
[ ... ]
You're really good at knowing how to make me feel good. And it'd be important enough to me to make sure we'd get it finished. That it looks good. Just like yours.
You're never good. You're never still. Wouldn't want you to be. Both things I like about you.
[ they're getting into dangerous territory, now. swerving away from everything they're supposed to talk about, replaced instead by images of stiles spread eagle on his bed, wrists bound by the soft, secure tug of silk ropes. derek needs to do anything other than pursue this - stiles is at work - but... ]
I'll make you relaxed. Before we do it. Get you boneless. Tired. Sweaty and panting and red. You won't be able to move. Barely be able to breathe. You'll be staring up at the ceiling, feeling the sky spinning, exhausted and exilirated and alive. That's when I'll mark you.
[ is stiles wasn't so distracted by the rest of derek's reply, and the fact that he's half hard under his desk, at work, the small, bratty side of him would probably try to argue that he's plenty good, and plenty capable of keeping still.
as it stands, stiles wants nothing more than to go home right now. but going home early would require asking harley, and he's not about to walk out onto the floor half hard. over his dead body.
( besides, with his luck, he'd catch a glimpse of someone's bloody, inky arm and pass out in the middle of the shop with half a boner. how the fuck would he live that down? he'd have to quit, never leave the den again. )
he shifts in his chair, crossing his ankles under the desk and parting his knees a little, weight braced on his forearms. hunched a little over his phone. ]
You're kind of making me want to practice tonight. After work. You know - make sure you can put your money where your mouth is before we put something permanent on my body.
[ it's weak dirty talk, stiles is very aware. weak goading, too, but half of his brain is focused on keeping his hands on his phone, above his desk, instead of below it, working into the front of his pants. ]
[ honestly, of all the half-boners harley must have seen in the shop by now, stiles' would hardly (ha ha) be the worst. still, it's a good point, and derek finds himself having to move, if he's going to really focus on this conversation. its been years since he's needed to close his bedroom door for privacy, but he still does it after heading towards the bed, out of some long unbroken habit he grew into as a teenager.
he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs slightly apart, and writes something that - might push stiles' boundaries a little, but who's going to walk into the office at this time of day, honestly? there's just been a flood cleanup - nobody's going to be rushing out to get a tattoo right now. ]
You still gonna have the energy? You know - after I make you come now.
[ well. stiles lays his phone down flat for a second, puts his hands on the desk on either side of it, palms down. he breathes out for a second, eyes darting upwards as he glances at the door. closed, but not locked, just in case any of the artists need to talk to him about something - reordering supplies that may have been lost or damaged in all of the flooding, changing their rates to compensate for money lost while the shop wasn't open, etc.
he could just get up and lock it though. cover his ass by saying he was taking his allotted 30 minute break, if anyone does try to come in while he's... occupied.
stiles picks his phone back up, wets his lips. catches his bottom one under the edge of his upper teeth. ]
You think after being with you for this long that I haven't built up some stamina? I should be offended. But if you're posing a challenge
[ it's a talent, really, how derek manages to make everything sound so condescending and dismissive while also being pretty clearly loving and affectionate. when derek starts talking, he just... talks. says what he's thinking. ]
First time I touched myself thinking about you - we were still back home. We'd spent eight hours in that pool. Trying to stay alive. You kept me above water. Kept me breathing.
[ derek remembers going home. remembers thinking about what stiles did for him. the lifeline he was for him. he thought about the surprisingly strong grip of his hands. the determination to keep him afloat. the stamina. he laid in bed, and his heart was still in his throat, and he thought of stiles saying an abomination, looking at derek like he wasn't the aberration he grew up to believe he was, but a strong, beautiful existence that can be corrupted the same as humanity could. stiles told him he wasn't the disease. that he was just like him. ]
Kept thinking about that time I pushed you against your bedroom door. The time after that where you made me take off my shirt for your friend. Danny. The back of the police car. The woods outside my house. All I could smell was you. The chlorine. Kept imagining how much different all those days could have gone. If I'd pushed you against the door a little harder. Taken my clothes off a little slower. Locked the car from the inside. I was angry. Young. But.
[ ... ]
Would have fucked you. Even back then. Would've fucked you against the bedroom door. Pounding your cock in my fist while I knotted you. Would've kept you all to myself from the start, if you'd let me.
[ stiles gets as far as first time i touched myself thinking about you before he's pushing his chair back, almost a little too suddenly in his scrambled to get up so he can lock the door before he gets too distracted. it probably speaks volumes to how easy he is when it comes to derek, how well he knows himself, how distracted he knows he'll get within a matter of seconds.
he nearly knocks his chair over when he gets up, but he's quick to lock the office door, even quicker getting back into his seat so he can pick his phone up off the desk where he left it. his thumb drags up the screen, pulling derek's text up as he reads, heart already quickening.
the first time stiles touched himself while thinking about derek wasn't after the pool, but sooner. the same day stiles and derek and scott all ran into each other in the woods while looking for scott's stupid inhaler, stiles went home and jerked himself off that night, thinking about the sound of derek's voice, the way he stared at them, the power he seemed to hold just fucking standing there - came within thirty seconds, hardest he'd ever came at the time.
he remembers the pool too, though. after. once the adrenaline had worn off, once everything was calmer, he remembers winding down, combing over the details - remembering the solid pressure of derek's hand on his chest as he turned his back to a fucking kanima so he could push stiles away. keep him safe at the expense of putting himself at risk. he didn't even like stiles - or so stiles had thought - but something about it felt... significant. important. fucking - attractive, and when he spilled over his fist that night, it was to the image of derek's eyes staring back at him the way he had after stiles had reassured him that he was no monster.
stiles slides down into his chair as he reads on, taking one of his hands and resting it on his stomach for a moment like he's trying to be slick or subtle. he lets it slide down, passes his palm over his dick, hard and gently straining against his zipper. every single moment in time between them that derek lists, stiles remembers in vivid detail, but fuck if it doesn't rile him up to hear derek tell his side of things. he exhales slowly through slightly parted lips. swallows as he flexes his fingers slowly around his dick. ]
First time I ever thought about you like that was after you found me in the woods.
[ found us, he should say, but he's only focused on them right now, and certain people don't ever need to be a part of his fantasies, thank you. ]
I couldn't stop thinking about going back out into the woods. Making up some excuse. I imagined you being there. Waiting, maybe. Knowing I would come back. Wanting me to.
[ jesus. it's... been a while since he's thought about this. their first meeting, the strange, new feelings awakened in him, not quite new, but stronger than they'd ever been until then. stiles drags his palm back up, thumbs at the button at the front of his pants. ]
The only thing that stopped me from coming back was the fear of being wrong.
[ and probably a few other things, too. but mainly that. mainly the potential for disappointment. ]
I thought maybe you were going to kiss me when you'd shoved me against the door. Don't ask me why. Would have let you, though. I would have let you do anything.
I wish I'd told you that I loved you in the summer.
I saw you look at my lips. I pushed you against the door. You looked at my lips. I thought about it, after that. Just came to my head. "Is this what he wants?". "What would happen if I gave it to him?". Life would have been a lot easier for me if I'd listened to thoughts like those.
[ or harder for the both of them - after kate, and after jennifer, derek wasn't in any position to feel that way for someone. if he'd acted on things with stiles sooner than he did, he could have broken his heart. what if stiles had told him he loved him during the summer, and then - and then derek came back, and jennifer still got her claws in him? what if they'd kissed under the stars in stiles' jeep, shared clumsy handjobs while the suspension squeaked and rocked beneath them, and then - and then everything still happened the way it had happened?
derek's pants are tight. he twists his thumbs in his waistband, pulls them down past his thighs. ]
I have you, though. Made it here. Made it with you. I can kiss you against a door any time I want. Can kiss you anywhere.
[ he thinks about stiles, sixteen, inexperienced, his age when he was with kate, pounding his cock in his childhood bedroom to the thought of derek taking him on the ground, breeding him in the dirt. derek's breath comes a little faster as he types. ]
Could kiss you in your office. Pin you against it. Kiss your neck. Get on my knees. You could cover my face with your load and I'd thank you for it. Drag my tongue along the base of your cock so I don't miss a drop. Probably would've broken both your ankles if you'd tried to pull that shit on me back then.
[ if derek had kissed him then - pushed him up against his door, stared him down, and then shut him up - stiles doesn't know where it would have taken the two of them. it's hard to imagine how things would have turned out. they were both different people back then compared to the people they are now, but stiles doesn't think it's possible that it could have turned out terribly. maybe he's just naive, though - maybe he just doesn't like to think of the possibility of an unhappy ending for the two of them.
and none of it really matter, anyway, because derek's right; derek has him, and stiles has derek, and even in a place that's put them through the wringer almost, if not more than beacon hills ever had, they've managed to carve out a life here, as normal as possible. they have a house, a home, they have memories and moments and - and fucking rings. stiles has the shape of derek's mouth on his shoulder, and they're talking about getting tattoos, for fuck's sake.
stiles is happy. duplicity aside, stiles is happy, and he's got so much fucking love to give derek that frankly, sometimes it just feels stupid. and derek loves him too. derek hale fucking loves him too, and that's probably the craziest part of it all.
actually, the craziest part is that stiles is seriously considering telling derek to come to the shop so they can fuck in this office, where anyone could walk in, anyone could hear them. stiles fumbles with his zipper, shoves his hand into his underwear, grips his cock loosely. he feels... paranoid, but also a little - thrilled? what the fuck is he even doing. ]
What? If I'd told you I love you, or if I'd tried to come on your face?
[ one is more realistic than the other, but he can't help but fuck with derek a little. ]
Broken ankles are a piece of cake.
[ after ritualistic drowning, possession, being inside of his jeep while a hellhoud flipped the whole fucking thing over, being bitten by some psycho lamprey kid, etc. - maybe broken ankles wouldn't have been too bad in the long run.
kidding - broken ankles would have fucking sucked, but. still.
anyway. blowing his load over derek's face - not something he does very often, but definitely something he really, really enjoys when he does get the opportunity. probably enjoys it a little too much, honestly, but whatever. stiles lifts his ass slightly so he can push his pants down just enough for him to get his dick out, but not far enough that he can't yank them back up if someone decides to bust down the door like a maniac. ]
Could I fuck your throat? If you were here, would you let me?
[ he gets his hand around his dick, strokes it slow a couple times, imagines derek's hot, wet mouth. he should probably lick his palm to make it feel a little more real, but he feels embarrassed even thinking about it for some reason, and honestly, this feels good enough. ]
Can I call you? Texting is hard. I wanna hear you talk to me.
[ he could probably manage texting, but this would absolutely be a lot easier if he didn't have to worry about hitting all the right letters, and could just talk instead. listen to the sound of derek's voice, low and deep and gravelly. he fucking loves the sound of derek's voice, especially when he's spitting straight up filth. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I need you to be okay for me to be okay.
Totally selfish, I know. I can hardly live with myself.
Hold on.
You think a BJ is equal to a month's worth of dishes???
Those two things aren't equivalent at all.
Also, that's not how this works?
That's like going into a restaurant and asking for
I don't know - a bottle of wine? And letting the restaurant decide how much it's going to cost after you've finished the whole bottle.
No one would do that.
[ rich people would probably do that, but shut up? not his point. ]
Anyway.
I got about as far as "maybe I'll get something done" before I got super woozy thinking about the pain and getting stabbed by a needle 1-20,000 times, so.
You know about as much as I do.
no subject
Okay, then.
I promise I'll be careful.
I'm sorry if you've been worrying about this. At all.
[ and he's sorry if all the yelling at camp harmony that got them both put into time out a couple of times is why stiles is worrying particularly hard about derek not worrying about himself. heeee tries not to let the guilt get to him, but he's derek hale, so. moving on. ]
I don't think they're equivalent. That's my point.
I don't know what I'm going to charge you with. It could be anything. Any price.
That's the gamble you'll have to take.
Pretty much what relationships are all about.
You could sleep through it. Theoretically.
I mean, if I'm quick enough, I might be able to take your pain from you before you even feel it.
You could sleep, I could tattoo you, and you could wake up without ever knowing it happened. Wouldn't feel a thing.
It'd be like getting your tonsils out.
Or being fucked by that Theo kid.
no subject
I think that's the worst thing you've ever said to me.
[ he's joking. well - it is probably the worst thing derek's ever said to him, but he can take a joke, however much he fucking despises theo's entire existence and all the bullshit stiles had to go through because no one wanted to listen to him, and theo knew it.
it's funny, but it's not. either way, because it's derek that's saying it, stiles can roll with it. ]
I'd rather die on the operating table a thousand times.
In no world would I willingly fuck Theo.
But also let's get this straight: he would never get to fuck me.
He would never be so lucky.
[ how fucked up is it that it takes hypotheticals about fucking one of his worst enemies to make him talk himself up? anyway, that's not even the point derek is trying to make. ]
I wouldn't want to sleep through it though.
Gotta make sure you don't draw dicks on my face.
Or put that stupid double-ring shit somewhere on my body.
[ sorry not sorry, scott. your tattoo still and always will suck. ]
no subject
I mean, I nearly said Peter instead of Theo. I thought - hey, that's a funny joke. Calls Peter out for being a lousy lay. Probably hurts his feelings.
But then I thought - no. Weird. Don't say that about your uncle.
Didn't think it would still get weird despite my best efforts to avoid such an ending.
Should've seen it coming.
Not going to draw dicks on your face. Or boobs on your arm.
You're going to have to give me some kind of guidance here, though.
Or else just trust me to do something you'll like.
no subject
Not my favorite thing to think about in any sense.
[ theo doesn't deserve anyone's time in any capacity as far as stiles is concerned, so. moving on.
for the next minute or so, stiles doesn't really say anything else. it's impossible for derek to know this - or maybe he could guess, maybe he knows stiles well enough - but stiles spends that minute chewing on the skin around his thumb nail, a little anxious, just because he's not exactly sure what derek will say.
you'd think he'd have some kind of idea, but it's... very easy for stiles to psyche himself out sometimes. self-doubt and second-guessing are, sometimes, his downfall. eventually, though, he takes his hand away from his mouth and texts with both hands, quick before he can change his mind. ]
I was thinking about maybe getting a triskele?
Small, nothing anywhere near as big as yours, maybe not the same place, but.
[ ... ]
I don't know.
The... mark on my neck tells the people who recognize what it is that I'm yours, right?
But this would be different, you know?
This would let everyone know what pack I belong to.
[ not that he's particularly worried about people knowing or not knowing, and it's not like packs traditionally get their symbol tattooed in general, but. it's something he's thought about more than once since starting his job at the tattoo shop.
he keeps typing. ]
But obviously the triskele is like a Hale thing, so it's totally cool if that's not... cool.
I could just get a piercing or something. No big deal.
no subject
it - means a lot, what stiles wants. derek's message is a little delayed, too, but he types fast, when he knows what it is exactly he wants to say. he doesn't want stiles to sit there stewing in his own anxiety, wondering if derek is trying to figure out how to reject his proposal, or something. as if he would ever. ]
I've been thinking about getting more ink, too. Something on the front of my body, instead of on the back. Behind me.
An anchor, maybe.
[ ... ]
Something that makes me think of you.
no subject
I thought for sure you'd go for something shitty.
Can of Mountain Dew, something dweeby and mocking.
[ he's kidding, obviously, trying to gloss over how touched he is at the idea of derek getting something done for him. that's not at all what stiles was implying or expecting. an anchor. it's still weird to stiles that he could be that important to anyone. ]
An anchor could be cool, though.
Where would you put it?
Somewhere on your front, obviously, but.
no subject
Don't want to be corny and say over my heart.
So.
[ the more emotional part of him is talking about getting a fucking anchor tattoo over his heart. ]
Left pec.
Maybe.
I don't know.
What about you?
Could get it right on your cheek. Big, swirly spiral, right there for the world to see.
Face tattoos can be pretty rough, you know.
You feel your skull literally vibrating against your brain.
[ that's not true, but. hey. ]
no subject
You're gonna make me barf at work and I cannot afford that blow to my rep.
[ his "rep". okay. also, it's unclear if he's nauseated over the idea of derek getting an anchor over his heart, or the thought of a needle in his face and his skull rattling. actually, it's probably pretty obvious which one it is. ]
Jesus.
[ he takes his feet off of his desk, lets his weight bring him forward in his chair so h can lean his arms against the desk. ]
Maybe my wrist? Or my forearm, on the inside.
I like the idea of it being somewhere visible.
But I'm also kind of into putting it somewhere only you know about.
[ not like - on his ass or anything, but it's rare that stiles is less than 50% dressed around other people, so. the chances of it being kept hidden would be pretty high. ]
no subject
[ he knows stiles does not believe for one fucking second that he has a rep, and he knows it's wildly unnecessary to pile onto him by pointing that out, but oops, too late, it's done. derek assumes that stiles is talking about the needle in his face, once he brings up nausea, less because he thinks stiles is above roasting his ass when he says something overly romantic and emotionally vulnerable, but more because he doesn't think stiles would say that as an initial, immediate response to something derek genuinely wants to do, however couched in casual irony the suggestion might be. ]
Could have two.
One on your arm.
Another somewhere else.
Right above your thigh. Small.
Something to press my lips against every time I'm down there.
no subject
it's... weird, to feel both anxious and aroused over getting a tattoo. or, well - tattoos. who the hell is he anymore? his thumbs fumble for a moment. ]
Maybe.
I don't hate the idea.
Kinda... weirdly hard over it, actually.
Not sure how I feel about that.
[ ... ]
You'd have to do that one at home.
no subject
I'll get distracted.
[ he already is, actually. there's a little bit of a delay again as derek just... lets those thoughts of stiles percolate in his brain for a while. ]
I doubt we'd get it finished.
Maybe we would.
In my head, it's this - close, intimate, sexy experience. Taking away your pain while I mark you as mine in a way that only I'll ever know about.
But.
In reality, you'd probably complain about it being ticklish or painful even while I'm taking your pain away.
You'd kick me in the face.
I can tell.
no subject
You could tie me down, if you're so worried about it.
[ okay. no. he does have more to say, it just takes him a minute to pull himself out of whatever daydream he's half-slipping into already. ]
I'd be good.
I promise.
Okay, no, I can't promise that.
But I'd try really hard to stay still.
[ ... ]
You're really good at knowing how to make me feel good.
And it'd be important enough to me to make sure we'd get it finished.
That it looks good. Just like yours.
no subject
You're never still.
Wouldn't want you to be. Both things I like about you.
[ they're getting into dangerous territory, now. swerving away from everything they're supposed to talk about, replaced instead by images of stiles spread eagle on his bed, wrists bound by the soft, secure tug of silk ropes. derek needs to do anything other than pursue this - stiles is at work - but... ]
I'll make you relaxed. Before we do it.
Get you boneless. Tired.
Sweaty and panting and red.
You won't be able to move. Barely be able to breathe. You'll be staring up at the ceiling, feeling the sky spinning, exhausted and exilirated and alive.
That's when I'll mark you.
no subject
as it stands, stiles wants nothing more than to go home right now. but going home early would require asking harley, and he's not about to walk out onto the floor half hard. over his dead body.
( besides, with his luck, he'd catch a glimpse of someone's bloody, inky arm and pass out in the middle of the shop with half a boner. how the fuck would he live that down? he'd have to quit, never leave the den again. )
he shifts in his chair, crossing his ankles under the desk and parting his knees a little, weight braced on his forearms. hunched a little over his phone. ]
You're kind of making me want to practice tonight.
After work.
You know - make sure you can put your money where your mouth is before we put something permanent on my body.
[ it's weak dirty talk, stiles is very aware. weak goading, too, but half of his brain is focused on keeping his hands on his phone, above his desk, instead of below it, working into the front of his pants. ]
no subject
he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs slightly apart, and writes something that - might push stiles' boundaries a little, but who's going to walk into the office at this time of day, honestly? there's just been a flood cleanup - nobody's going to be rushing out to get a tattoo right now. ]
You still gonna have the energy?
You know - after I make you come now.
no subject
he could just get up and lock it though. cover his ass by saying he was taking his allotted 30 minute break, if anyone does try to come in while he's... occupied.
stiles picks his phone back up, wets his lips. catches his bottom one under the edge of his upper teeth. ]
You think after being with you for this long that I haven't built up some stamina?
I should be offended.
But if you're posing a challenge
[ ... ]
I accept.
no subject
Best lay I've ever had.
[ it's a talent, really, how derek manages to make everything sound so condescending and dismissive while also being pretty clearly loving and affectionate. when derek starts talking, he just... talks. says what he's thinking. ]
First time I touched myself thinking about you - we were still back home.
We'd spent eight hours in that pool. Trying to stay alive. You kept me above water. Kept me breathing.
[ derek remembers going home. remembers thinking about what stiles did for him. the lifeline he was for him. he thought about the surprisingly strong grip of his hands. the determination to keep him afloat. the stamina. he laid in bed, and his heart was still in his throat, and he thought of stiles saying an abomination, looking at derek like he wasn't the aberration he grew up to believe he was, but a strong, beautiful existence that can be corrupted the same as humanity could. stiles told him he wasn't the disease. that he was just like him. ]
Kept thinking about that time I pushed you against your bedroom door. The time after that where you made me take off my shirt for your friend. Danny.
The back of the police car.
The woods outside my house.
All I could smell was you. The chlorine.
Kept imagining how much different all those days could have gone.
If I'd pushed you against the door a little harder.
Taken my clothes off a little slower.
Locked the car from the inside.
I was angry. Young. But.
[ ... ]
Would have fucked you. Even back then.
Would've fucked you against the bedroom door. Pounding your cock in my fist while I knotted you.
Would've kept you all to myself from the start, if you'd let me.
no subject
he nearly knocks his chair over when he gets up, but he's quick to lock the office door, even quicker getting back into his seat so he can pick his phone up off the desk where he left it. his thumb drags up the screen, pulling derek's text up as he reads, heart already quickening.
the first time stiles touched himself while thinking about derek wasn't after the pool, but sooner. the same day stiles and derek and scott all ran into each other in the woods while looking for scott's stupid inhaler, stiles went home and jerked himself off that night, thinking about the sound of derek's voice, the way he stared at them, the power he seemed to hold just fucking standing there - came within thirty seconds, hardest he'd ever came at the time.
he remembers the pool too, though. after. once the adrenaline had worn off, once everything was calmer, he remembers winding down, combing over the details - remembering the solid pressure of derek's hand on his chest as he turned his back to a fucking kanima so he could push stiles away. keep him safe at the expense of putting himself at risk. he didn't even like stiles - or so stiles had thought - but something about it felt... significant. important. fucking - attractive, and when he spilled over his fist that night, it was to the image of derek's eyes staring back at him the way he had after stiles had reassured him that he was no monster.
stiles slides down into his chair as he reads on, taking one of his hands and resting it on his stomach for a moment like he's trying to be slick or subtle. he lets it slide down, passes his palm over his dick, hard and gently straining against his zipper. every single moment in time between them that derek lists, stiles remembers in vivid detail, but fuck if it doesn't rile him up to hear derek tell his side of things. he exhales slowly through slightly parted lips. swallows as he flexes his fingers slowly around his dick. ]
First time I ever thought about you like that was after you found me in the woods.
[ found us, he should say, but he's only focused on them right now, and certain people don't ever need to be a part of his fantasies, thank you. ]
I couldn't stop thinking about going back out into the woods.
Making up some excuse.
I imagined you being there. Waiting, maybe.
Knowing I would come back.
Wanting me to.
[ jesus. it's... been a while since he's thought about this. their first meeting, the strange, new feelings awakened in him, not quite new, but stronger than they'd ever been until then. stiles drags his palm back up, thumbs at the button at the front of his pants. ]
The only thing that stopped me from coming back was the fear of being wrong.
[ and probably a few other things, too. but mainly that. mainly the potential for disappointment. ]
I thought maybe you were going to kiss me when you'd shoved me against the door.
Don't ask me why.
Would have let you, though.
I would have let you do anything.
I wish I'd told you that I loved you in the summer.
no subject
I pushed you against the door. You looked at my lips.
I thought about it, after that.
Just came to my head. "Is this what he wants?". "What would happen if I gave it to him?".
Life would have been a lot easier for me if I'd listened to thoughts like those.
[ or harder for the both of them - after kate, and after jennifer, derek wasn't in any position to feel that way for someone. if he'd acted on things with stiles sooner than he did, he could have broken his heart. what if stiles had told him he loved him during the summer, and then - and then derek came back, and jennifer still got her claws in him? what if they'd kissed under the stars in stiles' jeep, shared clumsy handjobs while the suspension squeaked and rocked beneath them, and then - and then everything still happened the way it had happened?
derek's pants are tight. he twists his thumbs in his waistband, pulls them down past his thighs. ]
I have you, though.
Made it here. Made it with you.
I can kiss you against a door any time I want.
Can kiss you anywhere.
[ he thinks about stiles, sixteen, inexperienced, his age when he was with kate, pounding his cock in his childhood bedroom to the thought of derek taking him on the ground, breeding him in the dirt. derek's breath comes a little faster as he types. ]
Could kiss you in your office.
Pin you against it. Kiss your neck. Get on my knees.
You could cover my face with your load and I'd thank you for it. Drag my tongue along the base of your cock so I don't miss a drop.
Probably would've broken both your ankles if you'd tried to pull that shit on me back then.
no subject
and none of it really matter, anyway, because derek's right; derek has him, and stiles has derek, and even in a place that's put them through the wringer almost, if not more than beacon hills ever had, they've managed to carve out a life here, as normal as possible. they have a house, a home, they have memories and moments and - and fucking rings. stiles has the shape of derek's mouth on his shoulder, and they're talking about getting tattoos, for fuck's sake.
stiles is happy. duplicity aside, stiles is happy, and he's got so much fucking love to give derek that frankly, sometimes it just feels stupid. and derek loves him too. derek hale fucking loves him too, and that's probably the craziest part of it all.
actually, the craziest part is that stiles is seriously considering telling derek to come to the shop so they can fuck in this office, where anyone could walk in, anyone could hear them. stiles fumbles with his zipper, shoves his hand into his underwear, grips his cock loosely. he feels... paranoid, but also a little - thrilled? what the fuck is he even doing. ]
What?
If I'd told you I love you, or if I'd tried to come on your face?
[ one is more realistic than the other, but he can't help but fuck with derek a little. ]
Broken ankles are a piece of cake.
[ after ritualistic drowning, possession, being inside of his jeep while a hellhoud flipped the whole fucking thing over, being bitten by some psycho lamprey kid, etc. - maybe broken ankles wouldn't have been too bad in the long run.
kidding - broken ankles would have fucking sucked, but. still.
anyway. blowing his load over derek's face - not something he does very often, but definitely something he really, really enjoys when he does get the opportunity. probably enjoys it a little too much, honestly, but whatever. stiles lifts his ass slightly so he can push his pants down just enough for him to get his dick out, but not far enough that he can't yank them back up if someone decides to bust down the door like a maniac. ]
Could I fuck your throat?
If you were here, would you let me?
[ he gets his hand around his dick, strokes it slow a couple times, imagines derek's hot, wet mouth. he should probably lick his palm to make it feel a little more real, but he feels embarrassed even thinking about it for some reason, and honestly, this feels good enough. ]
Can I call you?
Texting is hard.
I wanna hear you talk to me.
[ he could probably manage texting, but this would absolutely be a lot easier if he didn't have to worry about hitting all the right letters, and could just talk instead. listen to the sound of derek's voice, low and deep and gravelly. he fucking loves the sound of derek's voice, especially when he's spitting straight up filth. ]