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Put a spell on me, please?

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So Derek mostly doesn’t mind being a werewolf. His mother was, so he was born one, and he’s always been one, and with modern advances it’s really not all that hard or dangerous to be one, quite honestly.

But being a pubescent werewolf fucking sucks.

Like, that shit sucks for everyone mostly? But in Derek’s case, if he doesn’t want to out himself (which he doesn’t, if he can help it. The times they are a-changing, but there’s still a pretty bad stigma and he just… no thank you. Not right now.) he has to be careful what he says. Which sometimes means shouldering through stuff that other folks can ask questions about, or talk to their buddies about, or look up answers about… and he can’t. He can’t be sure if what he’s dealing with is a teenager-specific thing? Or if it’s a werewolf teenager thing. And he doesn’t want to accidentally bring up something and have everybody just know. And between the years of persecution and hunting and culture extinguishing Werewolves have gone through, and the extremely short lives most historically lead, and the fact that so few werewolves ever had kids, so teen-aged born wolves were so rare…

Yeah, there wasn’t a lot of information to be had.

Which is why the knotting caught him by complete surprise.

It felt awesome, though.

The first (and second and third and and…) time was safely in his bed, after the lights were out, under the covers with the hangings closed. Derek knew most of the other guys did the same-- the upstairs of the Hufflepuff dormitory fairly reeked of it sometimes, even if the curtains were spelled to keep them from hearing each other (thank god). But sitting there in the aftermath and weak light of a quiet lumos (because what the fuck had that been, he had to see), looking at the massive mess he had made compared to usual, Derek began to realize he had a problem.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Only jerk off in the shower? Bring his towel with him and never have a clean one again? Leave the biggest most embarrassing mess ever for the poor houselves? Walk around so covered in it, even non-wolves could smell him?

No. There had to be a spell that could fix it. There were all kinds of cleaning spells! Only, most of them were supposed to smell nice, and it was usually so overpowering that it made him sneeze until he left the room. And the one he knew that didn’t have a smell made him itch unbelievably badly… and that was almost worse than leaving the mess, or walking around covered in jizz all day.

But when two weeks of research netted him nothing, and Stiles was getting more curious and less patient than ever with him constantly ditching their usual study dates and hangouts to “go be broody and secretive in the library, like a big doofus”… Yeah. He knew he had to bite the bullet and ask Stiles for help.

He and Stiles were friends, good friends, best friends, had been ever since the spider bite incident in first year (or, really, since he brought Stiles candy to apologize for the spider bite thing… and promptly wound up in the bed next to him in the hospital wing for two days… it was a whole thing). And Stiles had been in on the werewolf thing ("That’s so fucking cool! Holy shit!” “Mr. Stilinski! Ten points from Slytherin!” “Fuck.” “And detention.” “Crap.”) from pretty early on… So at least there was that that he didn't have to deal with, asking Stiles for help.

Further, Stiles was always super vocal and upfront about how much he jerked off… so Derek figured he might even just happen to know a spell that would work. Save them more research.

But then he had to get up the nerve to ask. Why did he have to be so nervous around Stiles all the time, anyway, huh? Why couldn’t he be cool? Stiles over-shared and flirted and made innuendos and stuff all the time around everyone, but Derek was pretty sure he was the only one who blushed and stammered over it. He didn't think it was because he was a prude, or anything. He jerked off too often to be a prude… but seriously, he wished he could just, like, casually pick up on the rules everyone else seemed to know. It sucked. And one day, he was pretty sure, Stiles was going to notice and realize Derek was, in fact, weird and awkward and… a doofus. That he didn’t fit. Just, come to his senses and bail, save himself the trouble.

So it took another week for him to figure out how to ask about the spell. Casually.

“Like, for after you jerk off?”

Derek blushed, but nodded.

“Sure I do, quite a few. But, like, why now, all of a sudden?” His eyes creased at the corners, mouth starting to tilt into a grin. Derek was so screwed. “Dude, did you just start jerking off?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Are… are you trying something really kinky? Is it a wolf thing?”

“No! Well. Kinda?”

Derek hemmed and hawed a little… but he finally came clean about it. It wasn’t like he had a better justification for what he wanted to know.

Stiles. Was. Ecstatic.

“Dude you gotta… I'll totally show you some spells but... can I see?”

“What?! No!”

“C’mooooon,” Stiles whined. Derek refused to find it endearing.

“Stiles! Can you- no! You cannot… I’m not an, an exhibit!”

And Stiles backed off immediately, apologizing.

“No, dude, shit, I’m sorry! That wasn’t, of course that’s not…”

And Derek knew that wasn’t what Stiles meant, but being offended over that gave him time to think… and it was maybe a little bit speciesist, even if Derek knew Stiles was just curious about everything. And, well. Stiles had asked? So maybe it wasn’t… maybe it was okay? Did it matter that he… that he got a little hard just thinking about doing that while Stiles watched him?

And Stiles was looking dejected and a little embarrassed, and he never looked embarrassed, and maybe that’s what gave Derek the courage to say-

“Okay.”

“I just, I… okay?”

Derek blew out a breath.

“Okay. Yes. I’ll do it. You can watch.”

And Stiles stopped waving his arms alarmingly and fist-pumped.

But then came the planning, because neither one was allowed in the others’ dorm after hours. So that complicated things, them having to find a place to do this. And a time. It had to be a time when they wouldn’t be missed, so a free period, or after class would be best… but that was also when everyone else was around and doing the same thing.

Finally, they got wise: a Hogsmead weekend. Three quarters of the school would be down at the village, plus a bunch of the staff. They would meet up in the library, pretend to be studying, pretend to have left some books back in their dorm, and go… probably to the Hufflepuff dorm, Derek thought. Because the Slytherin dorm wasn’t very romantic. Not that they were trying to be romantic! Or well, Derek didn’t think they were. But, like… yeah. Stiles eventually suggested it, even, saying Derek would be most comfortable there… and Derek liked that Stiles was thinking about it. Thinking about him. He liked it a whole lot.

And the plan went down pretty well. They didn’t get much studying done in the library, what with how often they were checking their watches… but no one asked them anything, either. They hurried back to the Hufflepuff dorm (without looking like they were hurrying), and there wasn’t anyone there.

On such a beautiful May day, even the students who couldn’t go to the village were outside.

And then they were there.

Stiles had never actually been up to the dormitories in Hufflepuff-- when they did get together, they tended to stay in the common room. Derek was a little bit nervous that the staircase was gonna pull one of it’s tricks and send Stiles sliding down… but it didn’t.

Their dormitories weren’t actually that different, he knew, though. Hufflepuff had windows that looked out over the greenhouses to the water. Slytherin, on the other hand, was far enough underground that the windows, unless you asked them to show you something else, looked out into the lake.

Like into the lake. Water plants, mossy rocks, fish, grindylows… the occasional mer person… some of the older kids claimed they’d seen the giant squid… but Stiles said he was pretty sure it kept well away.

Once they were done looking out the window, though… it got a little awkward. Derek looked around and, seeing no chairs (why would there be chairs now?? There hadn’t been chairs before?? Why was he so bad at this…) he gestured for Stiles to sit on his bed. Stiles carefully sat on the very end, while Derek awkwardly settled in closer to the headboard.

His hands fluttered nervously.

“So… do I just… start?”

Stiles looked just as unsure, now the situation was in front of them. But he was the one who got them into this, Derek figured, so he could just fix it.

“Uh, sure?”

Derek flushed, but his hand went for the hem of his jumper. And then paused, and started for his fly instead, and then paused again.

“Do you… should I be, like, n-naked? Or do you want… should I just have… it out?”

Stiles shrugged.

“I mean, however you wanna do… it. Is fine. It’s your…”

Stiles gestured… to everything.

Derek swallowed, and toed off his shoes. He swung his legs up onto the bed, and closed his eyes, pulling off his jumper in one move.

He didn’t… he wasn’t sure he wanted to get completely naked. That would be weird, right? And like, he was usually wearing pajama pants when he did this anyway… but it was a warm-ish day, and the dorm was always warm, so he figured he definitely wanted less clothing on at least, or he was going to turn into a panting, red-faced, unattractive mess.

Which, did he want to be attractive? Did Stiles want him to be attractive? Stiles was, Derek was pretty sure, just interested in his dick. Also sitting on the end of his bed. And… blushing?

That was… was he doing something wrong already? Did… did Stiles not want…

But Stiles was staring fixedly at Derek’s pants. So.

Derek closed his eyes, and unzipped himself.

He wasn’t really hard yet, but his body knew this position and he was a teenager so, despite the embarrassment, he had a little bit of chub going already.

Not quite brave enough, and a little self-conscious (what if he wasn’t… the right size? Like, yeah, Stiles was here to see his knot… but what if he didn’t like… what if he didn’t want…), Derek slid his pants off, but left his boxers on.

He tried to shove his anxiety aside and think sexy thoughts. They were here. He might as well do it. He focused on his breathing, and how his hand felt cupping his dick through his boxers. He massaged a little, and started to rub, making sure to catch the head. It was easier as he filled in, and his dick started to lift up his boxers, to press against the waistband.

It was just at the stage where he would normally take himself out, when he realized Stiles had gone completely quiet. Was he, was he holding his breath? Derek opened his eyes.

Stiles was sitting cross-legged now, hands almost white where they gripped his thighs, face flushed, eyes riveted. Derek felt his stomach clench.

“This, uh. I don’t. My, uh, knot, doesn’t um… not ‘til I’m, you know. Close. This is going to take a minute?”

Stiles nodded really fast.

“Is that-?”

“Totally!” Stiles voice kind of squeaked.

Huh. Okay then. Maybe it was okay. Maybe Stiles was nervous. Or…

Derek let his eyes drift away from Stiles’ red face to… oh. Stiles was hard.

Oh.

Oh shit. Oh that… that worked for him. A lot.

Fuck.

Stiles jerked a little, as Derek slid his hand into his boxers, and Derek realized he must have cussed out loud. He didn’t often do that, but Stiles’ eyes on him, breathing speeding up as Derek pulled himself out, squirmed his shorts a little lower, and snugged the waistband under his balls… yeah. ‘Fuck’ pretty much summed up how he was feeling.

It was heady.

Derek started to jerk himself off in earnest, and when he paused to spit on his hand, since he didn’t want to stop and change position to go for the lotion in his bedstand, Stiles surprised him by pulling out his wand, leaning forward, and muttering a charm.

And then everything was. Slick. Oh god. Oh this was not going to take very long. Derek kind of thought he should be more embarrassed than he was… but yeah, no, mostly he just felt really good.

He needed to get Stiles to teach him that spell too.

With that image in his head, the actual sight of Stiles definitely definitely hard in his pants and not looking away from Derek at all, and the rising smell of their combined arousal, Derek kind of relaxed his restraint and let himself go for it. He could feel the throb at the base of his dick, and his fist started moving faster on his shaft and head, while he brought his other hand to bear, alternating between his balls and circling where his knot would form with tight-hot-good pressure, just like a partner might, some day, when they were alone together, like he and Stiles were now, moving together, in each other, locked in pleasure-

“Stiles.” Was that his voice? He’d never tried to talk like this…

“Uh-huh?”

Stiles was still red, and Derek could see his pupils were dilated. He was breathing almost as hard as Derek was, and he kept licking his lips…

“Stiles. I, uh. I’m close. I’m really… how do you want me to-?”

Derek was really really close. He knew he had to slow down, take his hand off his knot, or he wasn’t going to make it much longer at all. Even then…

“Um. You’re good? Uh, can it, can I be closer-”

Derek nodded vigorously, scooting a little further back and sideways so Stiles could clamber up closer to him… which Stiles immediately did, hand on his crotch adjusting himself as he sat again, eyes practically glued to where Derek was fighting the urge to just go town.

Derek turned a little more to face him, and forced his hands to stop so he could show Stiles where he was just starting to swell, a ring, a bulb of tissue a little darker than the rest, nestled right down at the base.

“Can-” Stiles broke off, cleared his throat, actually met Derek’s eyes. Derek almost came right there. “Can I touch it?”

Derek couldn’t breath.

“Sure.”

Or maybe he could.

Stiles reached out and touched it, delicately, just the pads of his first two fingers.

Derek came.

He couldn’t help it. He fisted himself tight tight tight and Stiles’ hand was there too, and he knew he was making a mess, could feel wet spatters against his legs… but for once he couldn’t hear them over the rush of his own blood and the white-hot pleasure racing through him as he ground up into their combined hands again and again and again…

“Fuck.”

And that time it didn’t come from Derek. Forcing his eyes open, not knowing when he closed them, trying to focus through the full body convulsions he was still kind of having, Derek saw Stiles working furiously at his fly with the hand not on Derek.

“Sorry, man, I hope this is okay. I just, I’ve gotta- shit!”

Stiles had his own dick out and his fist flew over it for a moment before he was coming too.

All over Derek.

It was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him, and another wave of orgasm crested and broke.

After a few moments, when the pleasure had receded a little (receded, but Derek was still coming a little, more than a little, less intense but still, uh, voluminous, waves now and again), and they were both just panting into the silence, Stiles spoke again.

“So that was awesome.”

Derek hummed affirmatively, not ready to come down from the bliss yet, both their hands still gently squeezing his knot.

“How long… how long does it stay for?”

Derek sighed. Stiles was nothing if not intractable, once he had his mind made up to know something.

“Uh, mm, maybe another ten minutes? It’s not always-” Derek broke off for a moment, arching his hips a little as another wave rolled through him, “-not always exactly the same, you know?”

Stiles looked him right in the eyes again. Determined. Sure.

“I’d like to.”

Was that… did he mean?

Stiles’ hand spasmed on Derek’s knot a little, betraying his nerves and making Derek groan.

“I mean, if you’re…” he looked less sure now, starting to panic and babble and his grip went a little slack. “If you’re also interested? I mean, I don’t want to just… but dude, if you can’t tell, I’m so into you-”

Derek cut him off by kissing him. Like he’d wanted to do, he could now privately admit, for months. Maybe years.

Stiles froze, and then kissed him back, surging up into him, shoving him backwards and sideways so they were flat on Derek’s little four-poster bed.

By the time they finally came up for air, Derek’s knot had gone down, and they were both soft and sticky and sated and completely gross… but Derek figured it wouldn’t take too much to get going again, if they wanted to.

Teenagers and werewolves for the win.

“Aww, dude, I wasn’t done looking!” Stiles pouted at Derek’s dick, which Derek tucked away before his waistband started to chafe any more.

Derek couldn’t help it. He grinned and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

“Come shower with me, and maybe you’ll get another chance.”

Stiles grinned, pulled his shirt off, and threw it in Derek’s face before launching himself off the bed.

“Last one there has to figure out blowjobs first!”

Magically, no one caught them streaking.

Also, Derek won, but Stiles and his curiosity and oral fixation didn’t actually mind.

And they missed the house-elf who popped into the room, wrinkled his nose, snapped his fingers, and popped out again, vanishing the mess with no trouble. It was just as well, since it took quite a while for the boys to get back around to actual wand-work.