Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, some big huge corporation does.
Written for stop_drop_howl. Inspired by the prompt “the morning after.”
Dawn has just started pinking the sky when Stiles gets in his jeep and heads for the Hale house. He’s practically vibrating with irritation and sitting still is nearly impossible. He pulls up to the house, barely hitting the brakes before shifting into park and killing the engine. He takes the steps two at a time, congratulating himself for not tripping and falling and killing himself as he stumbles through the front door.
There’s no answer, but the Camaro is in the drive and besides, Stiles knows Derek wouldn’t be anywhere else today. He’s just choosing to be a butt.
“Damn it, Derek, get your furry butt out here!”
He wants to say he has a bone to pick with Derek, but the dog jokes only go so far before Derek gets pissy. As it is, there’s a heavy sigh from the top of the stairs.
“We’ve talked about this, Stiles. My ass isn’t furry.”
Stiles snorts. “Fine, fine, it’s gorgeous. And in huge freaking trouble. Why the hell would you do that to me?!” Derek’s smile is so smug that Stiles wants to smack him on principle. “You knew I was having dinner with my dad last night. How the hell could you leave me a message like that?”
Derek’s expression goes all faux sympathetic. “I thought you’d want me to call you when you got back in town.”
“Well, yeah, to make sure I was home. To make sure that I hadn’t had an accident. To tell me you missed me. Not for that!” Stiles glare is epic.
Derek, apparently, is immune because he saunters down the stairs and goes into the living room. He pauses and turns to look at Stiles, who hasn’t moved from his spot in the middle of the foyer. “You didn’t like my message?”
That pout is ridiculous. And stupid. And kinda sexy. Damn it.
“You know I did, asshole. I liked it so much I spent the entire dinner with my dad squirming around like I had ants in my pants. He probably thinks I have some nasty STD or something.”
Derek has the gall to actually laugh at that. “Werewolf. Can’t give or get those.”
“Yeah, well, my dad and I don’t talk about things involving my werewolf boyfriend and sex. He prefers to think we aren’t having it.”
Derek snorts and Stiles smiles at that. Like that was even possible. Derek is walking sex and Stiles is a walking hormone. Derek crosses his arms over his chest and the dark green Henley he’s wearing pulls ridiculously tight. Stiles might or might not have a reaction to that.
“So the next time you come home after being stuck at school for eight weeks without a break, I should… what?”
Stiles flails. “How about not leave me a voicemail that’s nothing but you jacking off and moaning my name?”
One dark brow arches. “When can I leave you those kinds of messages?”
“Any time I’m not with my dad. Dude, I had to spend all night with a hard on that wouldn’t go away. I jerked off, like, three times last night! It almost killed me to wait until Dad left for work this morning.” Stiles sighed heavily. “It’s not easy being the dutiful son when all you want to do is jump your hot werewolf boyfriend.”
“Why are you still waiting?”
It takes Stiles about a second to decide that continuing to be irritated with Derek over his incredibly hot, if ill-timed voicemail, is stupid and standing in the way of Derek getting naked. He launches himself at Derek, laughing when Derek gives an exaggerated ‘oof’ and lets them fall back to land on the huge monstrosity of a sectional that is Derek’s couch.
Derek chuckles. "Hello, Stiles."
"Did you miss me?"
Stiles snorts because he doesn't have to be a werewolf to know that's a lie. He bites at Derek's jaw in rebuke. Derek playfully snaps his teeth at him and Stiles has to resist the urge to reach down and rearrange the sudden problem he's having. Derek’s warm fingers wrap around Stiles’ nape and pull him down for a kiss. It’s slow and easy until Stiles moans softly, shifting on top of Derek. Derek groans and his tongue traces Stiles’ bottom lip before delving inside. It’s like a switch gets flipped in both of them. Derek’s kiss becomes harder, more possessive, and Stiles can’t keep his hands from mapping Derek’s body through his clothes. He tries to pull up the Henley, lets out a frustrated noise because it’s trapped underneath Derek. He breaks the kiss and tugs at Derek’s shirt.
“Come on,” he groans out. “Off, get this off.”
Derek lets out an annoyed huff at being deprived Stiles’ mouth, but he lifts up enough that he and Stiles can pull off the offending shirt. Derek doesn’t bother to wait for Stiles to start touching him before he goes right back to attacking Stiles’ mouth. Stiles moves until he’s straddling Derek, hands tight on Derek’s hips. The kissing is frantic, needy, and Derek is already rock hard underneath Stiles. Stiles slides a hand down until he can palm Derek’s erection through his jeans, thrilling at Derek’s low moan. It’ll never not be awesome that he can make Derek sound like that.
“Want you to fuck me,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s mouth.
Derek shudders underneath him, nips not-so-gently at Stiles’ bottom lip. “Patience is a virtue.”
“So’s abstinence, but you don’t see me practicing that.”
Derek’s groan is heartfelt; Stiles grins down at him and not-so-gently squeezes Derek’s cock. Derek curses and jerks up to flip them over. Stiles laughs as he spreads his legs and lets Derek settle between them.
“’Bout time you got with the program, dude.”
“Stop calling me dude.”
Derek sounds grumpy, but he’s removing Stiles’ clothes like they’ve personally offended him so Stiles counts it as a win. He helps by undoing Derek’s jeans and getting a hand on his naked dick, thumbing over the wet head and teasing along the shaft. Derek grunts softly and surges in for a kiss.
Stiles isn’t sure how they manage to get naked when they’re each distracting the other, but eventually Derek does drape himself over Stiles, miles of naked skin rubbing against his. Stiles moans softly and lets his hands wander down Derek’s back to grab his ass.
“You’ve got a really great ass.”
Derek chuckles, bites at Stiles’ bottom lip before starting a slow slide down Stiles’ body. Stiles wants to protest because he was loving the feel of Derek’s body against his, but he’s pretty sure he knows where Derek is going and only an idiot would stop that. Derek drops down to kneel on the floor in front of the couch and maneuvers Stiles’ body until he’s where Derek wants him. Apparently where Derek wants him is sprawled out like a porn star; ass right on the edge of the couch, legs spread obscenely wide. Stiles can feel his face heating, but then Derek’s licking a wide stripe along the length of his cock and all Stiles can do is moan. He reaches down to thread his fingers in Derek’s ridiculously soft hair.
“God, Derek, please.”
Derek licks gently over the sensitive head of Stile’s cock before teasing the length with soft licks. Stiles tugs on his hair and Derek follows the wordless command, taking Stiles into his mouth and sucking enthusiastically. Stiles writhes on the couch, hips shifting restlessly as Derek drives him crazy. When Derek pulls off with an obscene pop, Stiles nearly whines.
He doesn’t have time to form a full protest before Derek grins wickedly at him then lowers his head. Stiles’ breath catches in his throat as Derek licks wetly over his hole.
Derek shuffles closer, tongue teasing circles around Stiles’ hole before nudging gently then darting away again. Derek loves rimming him, and usually Stiles is too embarrassed to really enjoy it. But it’s been so long since he’s had Derek’s touch that he doesn’t even care, just spreads his legs wider and lets Derek have him. Derek gives a low growl and tightens his grip on Stiles’ thighs, and when his tongue touches Stiles this time, there’s definite pressure. Derek alternates long, slow licks of his tongue with more and more insistent pressure until Stiles loosens enough to let him in. When Derek’s tongue pushes inside him for the first time, Derek’s moan is louder than Stiles’. Stiles shudders, fingers scrabbling at Derek’s shoulder.
“Oh fuck, Derek… Jesus…”
Just the sounds Derek is making, like eating Stiles out is doing something for him, are enough to melt Stiles’ brain. He twists on the couch, slides his hand down to wrap his fingers around Derek’s bicep.
“C’mon, really need you to be fucking me right now.”
Derek pulls back to sit on his heels, drags his discarded jeans to him and pulls a small bottle of lube from a pocket. “Do you want my fingers?”
Stiles shakes his head. “Just want your dick.”
Derek’s eyes never leave Stiles’ as he quickly slicks his cock then kneels up between Stiles spread thighs. Stiles runs a lazy hand along his cock, cups and squeezes his balls as Derek moves into position. Derek rubs the head of his cock over Stiles’ hole, but doesn’t push in.
Stiles’ tone is supposed to be threatening, but he’s pretty sure it just comes off as desperate, especially when Derek grins at him. Derek teases him a little more then carefully pushes just the head of his dick into Stiles. Stiles groans and pulls one knee up toward his chest, opening himself more for Derek. Derek lets go of his cock and leans up over Stiles, non-sticky hand sliding around the nape of Stiles’ neck to pull him into a kiss. Stiles opens eagerly, sucking enthusiastically on Derek’s tongue. Derek pushes gently, sinking slowly into Stiles and swallowing the moans Stiles makes as Derek eases into him. When Derek’s completely buried inside Stiles, they both still, Derek breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against Stiles, breath coming in harsh pants.
He isn’t the only one having trouble taking a full breath. Stiles feels like his lungs are on fire and he’s so full it’s nearly painful. He’s fucking missed this, missed the feeling of Derek so deep inside him that Stiles doesn’t remember what it’s like for them to be apart. But as good as it is, he wants more. He sucks in a breath then very deliberately squeezes around Derek’s cock. Derek’s head shoots up and his eyes are glazed as he groans out Stiles’ name.
“Do it,” Stiles pants. “Fuck me.”
Derek doesn’t say anything (which is normal; Derek isn’t exactly verbal once the actual fucking has started), but he does pull slowly out of Stiles before slamming back in. Stiles doesn’t need an answer other than that and he arches up to take Derek in as Derek starts fucking him in long, hard strokes. Stiles himself is reduced to wordless whimpers and harsh pants as Derek moves inside him. Derek’s mouth finds his and Stiles doesn’t know why they ever stopped kissing. Derek’s mouth is amazing; hot, wet, and perfect and he somehow manages to match the rhythm of his tongue with his cock. Stiles is a lucky, lucky man. He’ll tell Derek that if he ever gets his brain back.
Derek pulls back and the intensity of his thrusts slows as he looks at Stiles. Stiles groans, reaches down to palm his cock while Derek watches. He whimpers a protest when Derek slows even more before pulling out completely.
“Turn over for me.”
Stiles is scrambling to comply almost before his brain processes the command. He rests against the back of the couch, knees on the edge of the cushions and spread wide. Derek grabs his hips and pulls until Stiles’ ass is tilted at the perfect angle then pushes back in. He thrusts a couple of times before pulling out completely. Stiles groans when Derek pushes in then pulls back out immediately, teasing Stiles and making him shake. He’s embarrassed at the soft whines that spill from his throat, but it’s agonizing torture to have Derek teasing him over and over like that. Finally, Derek sinks back inside and stays this time, fucking Stiles with short strokes that barely move his cock. He’s constantly brushing over Stiles’ prostate and it’s so good that Stiles is sure he’s going to die from it.
Derek slowly builds the pace back up until he’s fucking Stiles even harder than before. Every thrust forces Stiles’ breath out in a rush and he feels dizzy, light-headed from the pleasure Derek is giving him. He reaches down to stroke his cock, but Derek grabs his wrist before he can touch himself.
“No! Derek, please. I’m close.”
“Want you to wait for me.”
“Then you better hurry up or I’m going without you.”
Derek laughs and pulls out, gripping Stiles’ hip and turning him back around. He kisses Stiles lazily as he pulls Stiles into a sitting position on the end of the couch. Stiles shifts uncomfortably, feeling pretty squelchy in general thanks to the lube and copious amounts of werewolf precome. Maybe Derek knew what he was talking about when he insisted on a leather couch, even though Stiles had made fun of him for it. He arches a brow in poor imitation of Derek’s signature move when Derek grabs the bottle of lube.
“Uh, dude, pretty sure I’m good here.”
Derek’s arched brow leaves Stiles’ in the dust (competitive bastard) as he reaches out with a lube-slick hand to grasp Stiles’ cock. Stiles moans and leans against the back of the couch.
“Uh, okay. Not what I thought you’d go for, but I can live with a hand job.”
Derek just smiles as he slowly works Stiles’ cock until it’s shiny and slick. He lets go and moves up to straddle Stiles’ legs. It’s a testament to how far gone Stiles is that it isn’t until he’s faced with Derek’s broad back and perfect ass that he realizes where this is going.
“Oh my God.”
Derek should probably be auditioning for porn because he’s seated himself on Stiles in a needlessly complicated and acrobatic way, one of Stiles’ legs in between his and his torso twisted in what has to be an uncomfortable way as he leans back to kiss Stiles while he positions Stiles’ cock at his entrance. Stiles hands are shaking on Derek’s hips and he forces himself to stay still as Derek slowly lowers himself down.
Derek is tight, incredibly so, just like every time they’ve ever done it this way and Stiles has no idea which one of them is shaking the hardest when Derek is finally sitting on Stiles’ lap with Stiles buried completely inside him. Stiles does manage to appreciate the contortions Derek’s body can do when he starts to move on Stiles, those perfect abs pulled tight. Stiles runs his hands along Derek’s sides as Derek builds up the pace, fingers skimming down and over Derek’s balls, already drawn up tight.
“So not gonna last, dude.”
Derek groans and twists even further so he can kiss Stiles. “Just let me… fuck, Stiles.” Derek’s breath is coming in increasingly sharp pants. “I’m close.”
Stiles wraps his fingers around Derek’s dick and starts to stroke him, thumb pressing under the head where Derek is incredibly sensitive. Derek’s whole body jerks and he actually whimpers when Stiles does it a second time. Derek’s hole tightens almost painfully on Stiles and then he’s coming in a rush that takes Stiles by surprise. Derek comes so hard that the first pulse hits Stiles’ cheek. Stiles moans and somehow has the presence of mind to keep stroking Derek through his orgasm even though the hotness is melting his brain.
Derek stills on Stiles’ lap, the last twitches from his nearly-spent cock echoing through the muscles gripping Stiles tight. Stiles’ drops his head onto Derek’s shoulder, breathing fast and loud as he tries not to come. Derek kisses his sweaty temple then carefully lifts up and off Stiles’ dick.
“Derek, please, I can’t…”
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Derek drops to his knees between Stiles’ legs and pushes his knees up. He pushes two fingers roughly into Stiles, rubbing firmly against Stiles’ prostate as he licks at Stiles’ rim. Stiles cries out as his whole body locks just before his own release hits. Derek is relentless, fingers working deep in Stiles’ body as he licks at tender skin until Stiles is completely wrung out. Stiles drops back onto the couch, chest heaving as he drags in air. Derek’s making low, satisfied noises between his legs and Stiles has to tug his hair to get him to pull his fingers out. Derek licks at him one last time then drags his tongue up Stiles groin to bite his hip. He licks at the mess Stiles has made on his stomach, bypassing Stiles’ sensitive cock. He runs the flat of his tongue all the way up Stiles’ body until he’s spread out over Stiles like a blanket and lazily kissing his mouth.
“Holy shit, dude.”
“Stop calling me dude.”
Stiles laughs and lets Derek manhandle him until he’s lying on his side, back pressed against the couch and Derek pressed against his front. Derek’s face is buried in the curve of Stiles’ neck and he’s breathing slow and deep.
“Weirdo,” Stiles says affectionately.
“You smell good now.”
“Yeah, cause that’s not creepy at all. I almost took out my own eye with your jizz, d…erek.”
Derek snorts; Stiles doesn’t have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes.
“No, seriously, man. I’m covered in your jizz and my jizz and it’s really gross. Totally gross. We should shower. Then eat. Then fuck some more. Maybe fuck in the shower.” He yelps when Derek pinches his ass. “Hey, not all of us have werewolf healing! That’s gonna bruise, fucker.”
Derek lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re ruining my afterglow.”
Stiles laughs and leans down to kiss Derek. “Okay, fine. I can be quiet.”
Derek shifts closer and Stiles rests his chin on Derek’s head, glad that Derek can’t see the sappy smile on his face. He closes his eyes, determined to manage at least five minutes of lying still with Derek wrapped around him. It’s not like it’s a hardship.