Derek has no idea how he ended up in this situation, but he has to admit he's pretty fuckin' happy.
He'd gone in for a touch up on his triskele-- no big deal, it was just looking a little faded-- and wound up being worked on by the most beautifully gawky mole-spotted androgynous tattoo artist he'd ever seen in his LIFE. Stiles, they said their name was, and when he (acting on a hunch) asked what pronouns they preferred, they gave him the most blinding grin he'd ever seen in his life and said “They. And hey, thank you. Really.”
And the minute they finished and wiped away the ink and blood, they had waved away his wallet with a “No way, man, this took ten minutes. Besides, you made my freakin' day coming in here, looking like that with your muscles and your everything and asking me my pronouns. I couldn't charge you a dime.” And then they had the gall to wink. Wink, with their lips curled into a dirty little smirk.
So Derek did the only sensible thing and offered to at least buy them dinner.
And now, three hours and a lot of making out later, here they are, sprawled gloriously naked in Derek's bed, Derek's tongue flicking slowly over the moles of Stiles' torso like an obscene dot-to-dot. They weren't as coated in tats as most artists seemed to be, just a few gorgeous pieces here and there, some words in what looked like Arabic wound around a delicate wrist. They had tiny, perfect breasts and a beautiful little inch-long clit-- dick?-- set between glistening folds. Derek couldn't decide where to start, but he figured it was probably a good plan to just ask.
“God, you're fucking gorgeous,” Derek rumbled into Stiles' skin.
“You should-- ahhh-- you should talk, have you seen yourself, fuck, you're like some kind of-- ohhh, do that some more-- like a model or a god or some kind of fucking werewolf--” Stiles gasped, between laps of Derek's tongue.
“Mmm.” Derek sat back and gazed up into Stiles' wide eyes. “Tell me, babe, what do you like?”
“Fucking-- you,” Stiles accused, pointing a finger at him, “are too goddamn perfect for words. And I,” they pointed at themself, “don't like vaginal penetration but I like everything else and I really, really want you to suck me. And then I want to suck you. Please. Fuck.” The last word was a gasp as Derek leaned back down and sucked Stiles' little erection into his mouth. Stiles' back arched and their head fell off the edge of the bed, helpless little moans and sighs spilling from their mouth as Derek sucked and lapped.
He stroked the flat of his tongue up Stiles' labia, flicking the tip over their pulsing clit. Stiles was twisting their hands in their own hair, humping their hips up against Derek's mouth. Derek moaned at the movement, his cock aching, throbbing between his legs. He brought one hand up to Stiles' thigh, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo covering the area, sucking harder, and Stiles keened.
“Oh fuck, oh god, are you-- you're turned on by my-- Derek!” His name turned into a long, sobbing moan as Stiles' body convulsed with orgasm. They lay panting for a moment, Derek stroking their thighs as he waited for them to recover. Stiles cracked open one eye and grinned at him.
“Fucking hell, that was awesome. Okay, big guy, your turn.” Flipping over and twisting agilely on top of him, Stiles slid down Derek's body and swallowed Derek's cock in one smooth stroke. Derek practically choked on his own tongue at the heat and wet pressure, barely restraining himself from thrusting his hips.
“Stiles-- I'm not gonna-- not gonna last long,” he panted, already feeling his balls draw up tight. He knew that watching wasn't going to help him last, but he couldn't help it, not when Stiles was gazing up through their ridiculous long eyelashes, moaning around his cock.
Stiles slid off just long enough to gasp “Yeah, give it to me Derek, I want it,” before tilting their head and sucking Derek down until his cock was lodged deep in their throat. What could Derek do besides comply? He came helplessly, mindlessly, groaning through clenched teeth as his orgasm was torn from him. Stiles swallowed eagerly, not letting go until Derek was writhing from overstimulation and pushing weakly at Stiles' head.
Stiles crawled back up the bed and flopped bonelessly next to Derek, wrapping their limbs around him like a beautiful speckled octopus.
“Stay?” Derek murmured into Stiles' ear, one hand stroking their cheek, the other wrapped around their slim waist. Stiles burrowed their face into Derek's shoulder, nodding happily and then grinning up at him again.
“Of course. I gotta make sure you take care of my hard touch-up work back there, don't I?”