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. ]
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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. ]