I was shaking because I was enraged over how stupid you are. Kinda different.
Also I hate you? If I get up and you say JK Murder in this bed.
[ he huffs, loudly, and pointedly takes derek's hand out of his hair so he can get up to make a fucking sandwich he could have made like two minutes ago when he was in the kitchen the first time, but nooo.
stiles rolls over on derek's legs, his back popping quietly, and then he sits up, hunched over his phone as he texts. ]
You're lucky I don't hate you. Like, so lucky it's disgusting. I just laid down. I was comfortable.
[ but he's getting up. he almost kicks over his water, so that's cool, but it's fine. stiles shuffles back out of the room, dragging his ass back to the kitchen. ]
You were shaking because you were a scared baby boy with a truckload of shit in his diaper. But fine. PB&J.
[ god, the urge to say JK once stiles is out of sight is fucking phenomenal, but he lets him go. he doesn't even want a sandwich, really, but he's in too deep now to admit it. sorta just misses feeling stiles' hair between his fingers. sorta just misses not taking the opportunity to dare him to kiss him, corny as that might've been.
whatever. he is pretty fucking hungry. derek sits up in bed, stretching out his legs, making his knees pop. his ankles. ]
Truth. Seems like you're unhappy with my bravery and penchant for diving into the unknown.
[ stiles isn’t going to give derek the pleasure of him acknowledging his dumbass baby comment - mostly because he’s busy taking out the bread and the peanut butter and the jelly. and a knife. and a napkin, fuck plates. he’s super quiet about it though, a habit formed from years of trying not to wake his dad up in the middle of the night.
he leans to read his phone, laying two slices of bread out, but he takes some time to really thinking about something to ask. he gets one slice of bread covered in a thin layer of peanut butter and half of the other side smeared with jelly before he wipes his fingertips and fumbles with his phone. ]
[ derek stretches his arms over his head, then just - sinks further into the mattress. he's not going to go to sleep again, even though he could - but it's nice to just close his eyes and drift off for a second. his phone vibrates and he slaps around the sheets for it, swiping it unlocked and blearily letting his eyes adjust to stiles' last message.
and... it's... confusing. ]
What? Where did that come from?
[ wait - hold on. that's not a no, and apparently he needs to take an emphatically hard stance here? he's not sure if this is a joke, or... what, so he's not sure what tone he's supposed to bring to this, but he is a little worried about what prompted the question. it's very... specific. ]
[ stiles is momentarily distracted by the cat lazily brushing up against his leg, circling around his other one before it wanders off into the dark again. he briefly considers following after it just to pet it a couple times, but he remembers that he's in the middle of making a sandwich - in the middle of a dare. he pick the knife back up, covers what's left of the bread with jelly, and then carefully lays the peanut butter slice over it, lining up the edges.
his phone vibrates on the counter, the sound of it muffled slightly by the folded up napkin pinned underneath it. stiles slices the sandwich into two rectangles, stacks them on top of each other, then picks up his phone. he blinks, eyebrows pulling together. ]
What? No. God, no. She's like - the equivalent of an aunt. No.
[ he pauses to scratch at his eyebrow with his thumb, then start to put everything away, texting one-handed. ]
Sorry, that was kind of out of nowhere. On my birthday, I was texting her about the possibility of not coming into work and she was asking me all kinds of questions and basically wouldn't let me off the hook unless I told her what I was doing that was so important. So I told her it was my birthday and that someone wanted to take me on a date, but I didn't mention you specifically, just. You know. My boyfriend. She kept trying to pry a name out of me so I finally told her because I just wanted to go out with you already. She asked me why I didn't want to name you, so I told her the truth: I wanted to protect our relationship. Our relationship is just... ours, you know? It's not anyone else's business unless we want it to be.
[ stiles tears off another napkin, turns back to the sandwich on the counter, but decides to get the rest of this out while it's on his mind. ]
She said she understood, said something about her... boyfriend? Husband? Back home, and how some people like bragging about their relationship but that she preferred not to. So I was like - okay, hold on. I'll brag about you to anyone who will listen, it's honestly a miracle you like me, have you seen me, have you seen you, blah blah blah. And she said something. Hold on.
"I have indeed seen him. With any luck, it won't be reserved to just looking forever."
And I... thought maybe I misunderstood what she meant, but she just kind of brushed me off when I asked. I don't know. I'd just finished telling her how excited I was to go on a date with my boyfriend and how important it is to me to look after what I've got, and she just... basically was like "that's cool, fingers crossed that I get to fuck him soon", like. It came off like such a sure thing? I mean obviously that's not what she said but that's what it felt like and I guess it's been bugging me for a while. Work kinda sucks now.
Anyway, sorry. It's all really stupid. Should have just picked dare, huh? If you want something to drink with this you can just have some of my water.
[ and maybe less than a minute later, he's padding back into the bedroom with both halves of a sandwich in one hand and a napkin in the other. he seems... mostly okay. just exhausted and maybe mildly embarrassed, a tiny bit anxious, but fine in general. he presses the sandwich and the napkins into derek's hands, leans to press a lingering kiss against his forehead, and then climbs over him into bed, dropping his phone against his chest. he picks it up after a second and sends a quick follow-up. ]
I pick dare only if you're not gonna make me get up again. Otherwise, truth.
[ this is - a lot, and derek's... derek has a dozen different feelings about it all and isn't quite sure where to start. surprise takes the lead. weird, defensive anger comes second. predominantly, though - worry. stiles' birthday was a while ago, and if something's been eating at him since then, he feels like kind of an incompetent boyfriend for not fucking figuring it out. he's supposed to... know him. really know him. he's supposed to be better at understanding people. better at understanding the ones he loves, at least. better than he used to be.
derek takes the kiss without really reacting, just batting his eyes up and watching stiles sink into bed. he draws his legs up, lets him in more easily, and just... fidgets with the napkin around his sandwich. if he wasn't all that hungry before, he's certainly not now. he takes a bite all the same. ]
It's not stupid.
[ he's just - sorry he didn't pick this up sooner. the pb&j feels like cardboard in his mouth, but he takes another bite, dusts his fingers off on his shirt. he looks at stiles for a long little while, trying to decide if this is something to... stop talking about over text, but. maybe the distance helps. maybe the distance is why stiles talked to him about this in the first place. ]
Look - realistically - I know that being exclusive is difficult, in a place like this. This city is... forceful, and it's manipulative. Kate was the same. It's. It is what it is. I get it.
[ it's hard. and he hates it. but he - gets it. on some level. sort of. maybe he doesn't. fuck. he just feels like he's trying to be mature and realistic and sensible when he's not entirely sure he's capable of doing that. he types a few messages, erases them. he rolls on his side, so stiles can't see him type. ]
But I'm not... going to just... Sleep around. I don't want to do that. I want us to feel normal. If you... do anything with anyone... I won't hold it against you? I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either. This city thrives on... on extenuating circumstances, and necessity, and things like that, to get people together. So. I just. No. I'm not going to just... fuck every person who finds me halfway attractive. Rosalind included. But if you end up... trapped in a fucking hotel room with someone, or... or held a gunpoint by another fucking Veracity soldier, or-- or even just... find yourself in a position where you feel like you have to do something with someone... I won't. Hate you. For that. I'll just hate the city.
[ christ this is hard. why the fuck did they play this game. he answers truth by, you know. doubling down on making shit difficult. ]
I know you keep a lot of worries to yourself. Things like this. Maybe things that happened back home. You shoulder shit. It's what you do. But. Is there anything I can do to... make you more comfortable with opening up to me about things that affect you?
[ it's not derek's fault that he hasn't noticed, mostly because there really hasn't been anything to notice. stiles goes to work, where things are fine because he forces them to be, and then he leaves, and before there was a cat in their home there was a cat in the down, and he'd spend an hour after work just kind of - hanging out with it, feeding it while decompressing and letting go of all the bottled up tension and anxiety so he wouldn't bring it home.
it's been bothering him, but he also knows it's stupid, so it - hasn't been bothering him as much as it could if he were less aware. he doesn't think derek is the kind of person to sleep around, he doesn't think derek would do anything to intentionally hurt him. he understands the bullshit ways of this city, the choices people are and aren't given. it was stupid of stiles to ask, and the more he lays here reading through derek's texts, the more embarrassed he feels about the whole thing. god, way to look incredibly insecure.
and now derek thinks he's not comfortable talking to him. so that's great. this is cool. stiles should have just gotten out of bed and moved to the living room and forced himself to watch a movie and just let derek sleep. he sighs, and he turns onto his side to face derek, moving his legs so they touch derek's. the distance does kind of make it easier to just say shit without stumbling over his anxiety, but - he kind of doesn't like the physical distance right now, even if it's minimal. ]
I'm not uncomfortable opening up to you I swear I'm not, I promise I'm not Sometimes I just keep things to myself because I'm aware that whatever's on my mind is stupid. And I'm not saying that so you'll tell me it's not. I know I'm being stupid or paranoid sometimes and there's no point in stressing someone else out over a non-issue. Like this is a non-issue. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But all of that, everything you just said - that goes for you, too. I won't be mad at you if you're pushed into something, if you have to I don't know, mess around with someone else because this city is a nightmare. Just maybe don't tell me about it? Which I know is kind of selfish of me to ask I mean if you need to talk about something I want you to come to me, I always want you to come to me no matter what But if it's just to tell me that you did whatever with whoever and you liked it I'd just. Rather not know so I don't spend a million years feeling inadequate or whatever Hey this is really Can we go back Scent vs sCent Actually you should probably go back to sleep I didn't mean to wake you up I should have just written all of this in my journal and put on a movie in the living room
[ stiles sighs and tilts back over onto his back. he pulls his legs up so his knees are slightly bent, decides that's not comfortable and slides his legs back out, and then rolls again so he's on his stomach arms outstretched and his chin tucked between them, phone in his hands. ]
[ stiles is shutting down. he's curling in on himself and hiding and saying things about himself that derek kind of hates reading - saying he's stupid, saying he's selfish, worrying about being inadequate against some hypothetical stranger that could never compare to him. derek's uncomfortably still next to him while he reads, and-- honestly, it takes a long time for him to reply. the light on his phone goes dim before he does. ]
It's not selfish, but - I wouldn't do that. I don't want to know, either.
[ that's not true. he'd want to know. of course he'd want to know. he wants to know if stiles has been with anyone now, because he has to have been, at least once. it's just - he'd get jealous, and he'd get angry, and for all the efforts he's trying to make here, all the attempts at maturity and being reasonable and shit like that, he - isn't. mature. he isn't reasonable. someone would get hurt. he would hurt someone over this.
derek drags his hand down his face. he feels sick, and he can't keep eating, so he just... sets his sandwich down on the floor next to stiles' drink. ]
[ even with the brightness turned down, stiles can tell when derek's phone times out by the way the whole room dims just a little more, just a little darker. it - kind of sucks, that derek doesn't say anything back, and it makes him feel a little ill and a lot uncomfortable, but this also isn't really a conversation he wants to have anymore, so he just let's it go. maybe derek's just doing what he said and going back to sleep, which is good. one of them should get a decent night's sleep.
stiles shifts a little, turning over onto his side away from derek, one arm tucked up underneath his pillow, the other curled loosely against his chest. he hears derek shift around slightly, feels the mattress dip a little when he leans to put his sandwich down, but he just assumes it's derek getting comfortable. he's got his eyes closed, so he doesn't notice the light from derek's phone illuminating the room a bit. his phone vibrates by his hand shortly after, and he opens his eyes and picks it up.
stiles takes a second, types out a couple different replies that he immediately deletes because they're all stupid and pointless and he's just. tired. and exhausted. and yes he wants to sleep but he's been trying to sleep for like - four hours now. every since the both of them first crawled into bed for the night. he just. can't. ]
What I want and what I'm gonna get are two different things. I'm awake. You don't have to be. It's okay, I'm fine.
Edited (i'm dumb & fucked around with keywords without checking the little box so heyyy) 2019-05-01 05:26 (UTC)
[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I didn't ask for mercy.
Dare.
Don't make me get up.
no subject
I know when you're afraid.
You were fucking shaking. Incapable of dealing with loss.
Dare you to get up.
Dare you to go make me that PB&J after all.
no subject
Kinda different.
Also I hate you?
If I get up and you say JK
Murder in this bed.
[ he huffs, loudly, and pointedly takes derek's hand out of his hair so he can get up to make a fucking sandwich he could have made like two minutes ago when he was in the kitchen the first time, but nooo.
stiles rolls over on derek's legs, his back popping quietly, and then he sits up, hunched over his phone as he texts. ]
You're lucky I don't hate you.
Like, so lucky it's disgusting.
I just laid down. I was comfortable.
[ but he's getting up. he almost kicks over his water, so that's cool, but it's fine. stiles shuffles back out of the room, dragging his ass back to the kitchen. ]
Truth or dare.
Think long and hard about it.
no subject
But fine.
PB&J.
[ god, the urge to say JK once stiles is out of sight is fucking phenomenal, but he lets him go. he doesn't even want a sandwich, really, but he's in too deep now to admit it. sorta just misses feeling stiles' hair between his fingers. sorta just misses not taking the opportunity to dare him to kiss him, corny as that might've been.
whatever. he is pretty fucking hungry. derek sits up in bed, stretching out his legs, making his knees pop. his ankles. ]
Truth.
Seems like you're unhappy with my bravery and penchant for diving into the unknown.
no subject
he leans to read his phone, laying two slices of bread out, but he takes some time to really thinking about something to ask. he gets one slice of bread covered in a thin layer of peanut butter and half of the other side smeared with jelly before he wipes his fingertips and fumbles with his phone. ]
Would you fuck Rosalind?
[ hey so this is also not a fun game. ]
no subject
and... it's... confusing. ]
What? Where did that come from?
[ wait - hold on. that's not a no, and apparently he needs to take an emphatically hard stance here? he's not sure if this is a joke, or... what, so he's not sure what tone he's supposed to bring to this, but he is a little worried about what prompted the question. it's very... specific. ]
No. No?
Why? Would you?
Have you?
no subject
his phone vibrates on the counter, the sound of it muffled slightly by the folded up napkin pinned underneath it. stiles slices the sandwich into two rectangles, stacks them on top of each other, then picks up his phone. he blinks, eyebrows pulling together. ]
What?
No. God, no.
She's like - the equivalent of an aunt. No.
[ he pauses to scratch at his eyebrow with his thumb, then start to put everything away, texting one-handed. ]
Sorry, that was kind of out of nowhere.
On my birthday, I was texting her about the possibility of not coming into work and she was asking me all kinds of questions and basically wouldn't let me off the hook unless I told her what I was doing that was so important.
So I told her it was my birthday and that someone wanted to take me on a date, but I didn't mention you specifically, just. You know.
My boyfriend.
She kept trying to pry a name out of me so I finally told her because I just wanted to go out with you already. She asked me why I didn't want to name you, so I told her the truth: I wanted to protect our relationship. Our relationship is just... ours, you know? It's not anyone else's business unless we want it to be.
[ stiles tears off another napkin, turns back to the sandwich on the counter, but decides to get the rest of this out while it's on his mind. ]
She said she understood, said something about her... boyfriend? Husband? Back home, and how some people like bragging about their relationship but that she preferred not to. So I was like - okay, hold on. I'll brag about you to anyone who will listen, it's honestly a miracle you like me, have you seen me, have you seen you, blah blah blah. And she said something. Hold on.
"I have indeed seen him. With any luck, it won't be reserved to just looking forever."
And I... thought maybe I misunderstood what she meant, but she just kind of brushed me off when I asked. I don't know. I'd just finished telling her how excited I was to go on a date with my boyfriend and how important it is to me to look after what I've got, and she just... basically was like "that's cool, fingers crossed that I get to fuck him soon", like. It came off like such a sure thing? I mean obviously that's not what she said but that's what it felt like and I guess it's been bugging me for a while. Work kinda sucks now.
Anyway, sorry. It's all really stupid.
Should have just picked dare, huh?
If you want something to drink with this you can just have some of my water.
[ and maybe less than a minute later, he's padding back into the bedroom with both halves of a sandwich in one hand and a napkin in the other. he seems... mostly okay. just exhausted and maybe mildly embarrassed, a tiny bit anxious, but fine in general. he presses the sandwich and the napkins into derek's hands, leans to press a lingering kiss against his forehead, and then climbs over him into bed, dropping his phone against his chest. he picks it up after a second and sends a quick follow-up. ]
I pick dare only if you're not gonna make me get up again.
Otherwise, truth.
no subject
derek takes the kiss without really reacting, just batting his eyes up and watching stiles sink into bed. he draws his legs up, lets him in more easily, and just... fidgets with the napkin around his sandwich. if he wasn't all that hungry before, he's certainly not now. he takes a bite all the same. ]
It's not stupid.
[ he's just - sorry he didn't pick this up sooner. the pb&j feels like cardboard in his mouth, but he takes another bite, dusts his fingers off on his shirt. he looks at stiles for a long little while, trying to decide if this is something to... stop talking about over text, but. maybe the distance helps. maybe the distance is why stiles talked to him about this in the first place. ]
Look - realistically - I know that being exclusive is difficult, in a place like this. This city is... forceful, and it's manipulative. Kate was the same.
It's. It is what it is. I get it.
[ it's hard. and he hates it. but he - gets it. on some level. sort of. maybe he doesn't. fuck. he just feels like he's trying to be mature and realistic and sensible when he's not entirely sure he's capable of doing that. he types a few messages, erases them. he rolls on his side, so stiles can't see him type. ]
But I'm not... going to just...
Sleep around. I don't want to do that. I want us to feel normal.
If you... do anything with anyone... I won't hold it against you? I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either.
This city thrives on... on extenuating circumstances, and necessity, and things like that, to get people together.
So. I just.
No.
I'm not going to just... fuck every person who finds me halfway attractive. Rosalind included.
But if you end up... trapped in a fucking hotel room with someone, or... or held a gunpoint by another fucking Veracity soldier, or-- or even just... find yourself in a position where you feel like you have to do something with someone...
I won't. Hate you. For that.
I'll just hate the city.
[ christ this is hard. why the fuck did they play this game. he answers truth by, you know. doubling down on making shit difficult. ]
I know you keep a lot of worries to yourself. Things like this. Maybe things that happened back home.
You shoulder shit. It's what you do.
But.
Is there anything I can do to... make you more comfortable with opening up to me about things that affect you?
no subject
it's been bothering him, but he also knows it's stupid, so it - hasn't been bothering him as much as it could if he were less aware. he doesn't think derek is the kind of person to sleep around, he doesn't think derek would do anything to intentionally hurt him. he understands the bullshit ways of this city, the choices people are and aren't given. it was stupid of stiles to ask, and the more he lays here reading through derek's texts, the more embarrassed he feels about the whole thing. god, way to look incredibly insecure.
and now derek thinks he's not comfortable talking to him. so that's great. this is cool. stiles should have just gotten out of bed and moved to the living room and forced himself to watch a movie and just let derek sleep. he sighs, and he turns onto his side to face derek, moving his legs so they touch derek's. the distance does kind of make it easier to just say shit without stumbling over his anxiety, but - he kind of doesn't like the physical distance right now, even if it's minimal. ]
I'm not uncomfortable opening up to you
I swear I'm not, I promise I'm not
Sometimes I just keep things to myself because I'm aware that whatever's on my mind is stupid. And I'm not saying that so you'll tell me it's not. I know I'm being stupid or paranoid sometimes and there's no point in stressing someone else out over a non-issue.
Like this is a non-issue.
I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you.
But all of that, everything you just said - that goes for you, too.
I won't be mad at you if you're pushed into something, if you have to
I don't know, mess around with someone else because this city is a nightmare.
Just maybe don't tell me about it? Which I know is kind of selfish of me to ask
I mean if you need to talk about something I want you to come to me, I always want you to come to me no matter what
But if it's just to tell me that you did whatever with whoever and you liked it
I'd just. Rather not know so I don't spend a million years feeling inadequate or whatever
Hey this is really
Can we go back Scent vs sCent
Actually you should probably go back to sleep
I didn't mean to wake you up
I should have just written all of this in my journal and put on a movie in the living room
[ stiles sighs and tilts back over onto his back. he pulls his legs up so his knees are slightly bent, decides that's not comfortable and slides his legs back out, and then rolls again so he's on his stomach arms outstretched and his chin tucked between them, phone in his hands. ]
Sorry. I love you.
no subject
It's not selfish, but - I wouldn't do that.
I don't want to know, either.
[ that's not true. he'd want to know. of course he'd want to know. he wants to know if stiles has been with anyone now, because he has to have been, at least once. it's just - he'd get jealous, and he'd get angry, and for all the efforts he's trying to make here, all the attempts at maturity and being reasonable and shit like that, he - isn't. mature. he isn't reasonable. someone would get hurt. he would hurt someone over this.
derek drags his hand down his face. he feels sick, and he can't keep eating, so he just... sets his sandwich down on the floor next to stiles' drink. ]
Do you actually want to go to sleep?
no subject
stiles shifts a little, turning over onto his side away from derek, one arm tucked up underneath his pillow, the other curled loosely against his chest. he hears derek shift around slightly, feels the mattress dip a little when he leans to put his sandwich down, but he just assumes it's derek getting comfortable. he's got his eyes closed, so he doesn't notice the light from derek's phone illuminating the room a bit. his phone vibrates by his hand shortly after, and he opens his eyes and picks it up.
stiles takes a second, types out a couple different replies that he immediately deletes because they're all stupid and pointless and he's just. tired. and exhausted. and yes he wants to sleep but he's been trying to sleep for like - four hours now. every since the both of them first crawled into bed for the night. he just. can't. ]
What I want and what I'm gonna get are two different things.
I'm awake.
You don't have to be.
It's okay, I'm fine.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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...
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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.
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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. ]
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