The first night, Stiles didn’t have a problem holding out from Derek. When they’d both managed to put their work aside, the first night, and crawl into bed, Stiles had used the old, “I have a headache,” excuse, that was only partially a lie. He’d been going over some old case studies sent in from Spring Valley’s police department for hours, even though none of them were time sensitive, and his eyes were a little tired and he could use the sleep. So, when Derek had started trailing his fingers up Stiles’ back, like the younger man liked, Stiles had quickly shifted away, said his piece, and shut the lamp next to his side of the bed off. Once the light was off, Derek withdrew back to his side, got comfortable, and closed his eyes. He knew if the light was off, then sex was off the table.
The second night, the third afternoon when they both got home from work, and the third night were more difficult. The afternoon had been especially hard to decline. Stiles loved afternoon sex, the spontaneity of it. But he’d told Derek the night before that he thought he was coming down with a bug and held to that excuse with everything he had.
By the end of the first week, Stiles was miserable. Constantly saying no was exhausting. Why had he ever thought this bet was a good idea?
And he didn’t know what was going on with Derek.
Stiles thought he and Derek had a wonderful sex life. They made time for each other usually three or four times a week. And they weren’t little ‘quick, let’s get off and then back to work’ moments. They were full on body worship, enjoy every second possible, hug, kiss, and cuddle moments. Even their most frenzied fucking had an air of lovemaking to it. Stiles loved Derek and Derek loved Stiles. They proved it to each other a thousand different ways every day.
But in the past week, Derek had attempted to initiate sex seventeen different times. He’d tried to join Stiles in the shower two mornings. He’d surprised Stiles with lunch at the police station and then tried to give him head while hidden under Stiles’ desk. In all honesty it was something that had done a couple times in the past, since Stiles had gotten his own office. But when Derek had slipped down onto his knees and tried to undo Stiles’ belt and zipper, Stiles had jumped up and chastised him for trying something at work. Stiles felt a little bad for that one… but he had to win the bet.
It was halfway through the second week and Stiles was ready to pull his hair out. Derek was using one of his own moves against him.
Dinner had started off well enough. Derek had done the food shopping for the week so Stiles had made dinner, steaming up some fish and veggies. It was delicious, if he did say so himself. And after they’d finished washing and drying the dishes, they’d moved to the living room to relax and watch some trashy reality tv. (Derek would never admit it, but he enjoyed it as much as Stiles.)
“You know, I’m thinking of something sweet.” Derek sat up straighter on the couch and stretched. His shirt rose up a little, drawing Stiles’ eyes. Stiles wasn’t blind or stupid; he knew Derek was a work of art that had somehow come to life. When he had Stiles attention, Derek reached under his shirt to rub at his chest, forcing his Henley up higher.
“Uh,” Stiles squeaked. “No. No thanks. I’m good.” He waved Derek off as the werewolf got up from the couch and strode to the kitchen. When Derek returned a moment later, Stiles couldn’t help but gulp. Derek had taken a popsicle out of the freezer.
“What uh…” Stiles swallowed again. “What are you doing? You don’t even like popsicles.” Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d see Derek willingly eat a popsicle.
“I don’t love them,” Derek admitted slowly as he licked the frozen treat from the bottom back up to the top, just like Stiles did all the time. “But it’s still pretty good.” Moving back to his seat on the couch, Derek slid closer to Stiles. “And I thought…” Derek winked. “You might want to share with me.” Then Derek engulfed most of the popsicle and sucked almost lazily on it. Stiles felt his jaw drop as all the times his sexy werewolf had taken his time licking Stiles from head to toe came to mind. Starting with his face, Stiles could feel his whole body flush thanks to his memories and the real life sex god he had in front of him.
It wasn’t fair; the popsicle thing was his, ok, popsicle/lollypop thing. When he and Derek had first started dating, they’d decided to take things slow. They both had a lot of baggage and didn’t want to screw things up. Just cause they’d been there for a lot of each other’s baggage didn’t mean it was easy to carry. And so when Stiles had wanted to tease Derek, without getting handsy, he’d get a popsicle or lollypop and have his wicked way with it. Sometimes, even after several years together, Stiles would still use that trick, mostly when they were in public, and teasing Derek meant he might get ‘punished’ later.
When Derek pulled the popsicle out of his mouth, several seconds later, with a loud pop, Stiles forced his attention back on the television; it wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t made easier when Derek leaned over to whisper in Stiles’ ear, “Are you sure you don’t want even the smallest lick?” Derek’s breath ghosted over Stiles’ skin, warming him up before Derek cooled him back off with a sticky kiss right below his ear.
“No-pe.” Stiles hoped his voice hadn’t really cracked and it was just something he’d heard on the tv. Caught up on how his voice sounded, Stiles didn’t even realize what he was doing when he tilted his head to the side to give Derek more access to his neck. He was startled into realization when Derek let his popsicle drip on his neck. “Uh what?” Stiles tried to ask before Derek leaned down to lick the grape juice off his neck.
With his free hand, Derek pushed at Stiles t-shirt until it was bunched up by his clavicle. Before Stiles could stop him, Derek ran his popsicle from one of Stiles’ nipples to the other. “Oh shit, that’s cold!” Stiles cried out. Then sucking hard enough to leave a mark, Derek kissed Stiles’ nipples and then moved lower. Every so often he’d run the popsicle against Stiles’ skin and then he lick and nip at the juice until there was no trace of it.
Stiles couldn’t help it; he was hard. It wasn’t the first time he and Derek had brought food into bed with them, even though this was actually on the couch. “Derek- Derek I,” Stiles tried to protest, really he did. But it wasn’t until Derek decided to push his hand into Stiles pants and cup him that Stiles found the will to stand up. “You know-“ Stiles back away from the couch. “I’m actually thinking of just going to bed.”
Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrist and grinned up at him. “That sounds great. You know, I bought a new bottle of chocolate sauce at the supermarket. I could go grab it and then we could go and have some more dessert.”
Pulling his wrist from Derek’s grasp, Stiles shook his head. “Not tonight, sourwolf. I’m thinking of really going to bed. Besides you don’t want a popsicle and chocolate sauce, you’ll ruin your physique. And not would not just be my loss, but everyone’s loss, because damn you’re gorgeous.”
“Stiles.” Derek frowned. “It’s not even 8:30.”
“Yeah, I know…” Stiles giggled nervously; he hadn’t realized it was quite so early. “But I had a big day at work and I’m beat.” Quickly he bent over to kiss Derek on the cheek. “I love you,” he said sincerely. “Good night.”
Derek leaning back on the couch and sighed. “Yeah, sure Stiles. I love you too. Good night.”
“Hey!” Stiles reached over to pinch Derek’s side. Then he ran his fingers over Derek’s purple lips. “Say it a little more convincingly than that. I love you.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek sighed again, but this time he had an amused smirk on his face. “I love you too.”