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Gentle? I Think You're Mistaken

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Stiles walked into the coffee shop and spotted Derek immediately, sitting in the somewhat secluded back corner. His heart went a little nuts at the sight, for two reasons: One, because Derek was the hottest person Stiles had ever laid eyes on, ranking approximately ten points above the surface of the sun, and two, because they were meeting to discuss things. Sexy things.

Derek was the one who'd asked for it, telling Stiles they needed to talk in person with a text message. At first, Stiles had been worried Derek was regretting That Night, but Derek had assured him that wasn't the case.

Still, being a scrawny teenager whose first year at college hadn't been the orgy of sexual experimentation that he'd hoped for, Stiles had just a skoosh of anxiety about it. Plus, Derek was very clearly way more experienced than he was.

Okay, so maybe his anxiety was at more than a skoosh.

Stiles wove through the tables and plopped into the seat across from Derek, who smiled and pushed a mug toward him. "Black, two sugars, right?"

Stiles nodded, feeling weirdly pleased that Derek knew his coffee order. "So, why did you want to meet?"

Derek chuckled. "Straight to the point, huh?"

Stiles refused to get defensive. He shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Well, you said it wasn't bad."

"It's not. I just wanted to discuss a couple of things in a less... charged setting."

Stiles smirked. "You mean when you don't have your tongue in my ass?"

He'd hoped to make Derek blush, but Derek's green gaze only grew more heated. "Among other things."

Wow. That was... wow. Okay. Stiles shifted in his seat and tried to surreptitiously adjust himself, because otherwise everybody in the coffee shop would know he had a boner. "Okay, so... what?" he asked, hoping to get the conversation back on track.

Derek clasped his hands on the table, and if Stiles didn't know better, he'd swear he looked nervous. "You may have noticed that I have... dominant tendencies."

Was that what this was about? Stiles could almost taste relief. "Dude, I'm in college and I have Internet access. I know what BDSM is."

"That doesn't mean you want to engage in it," Derek said. "If you'd prefer to keep this vanilla—"

"No!" Okay, he probably sounded a little too eager there. Stiles made an effort to rein in his enthusiasm. "No, man, I am all aboard the kink train."

The nervous look faded into a soft smile. "Good to know," Derek said. "Would you mind telling me a bit about your sexual history?"

Stiles almost choked on his coffee. "What?! I'm clean, I swear!"

Derek raised his eyebrows. "That wasn't why I was asking, but you bring up a good point. We'll both need to get tested, and until we do, we'll be using condoms."

"But we didn't last time." Stiles did not whine.

"A lapse of judgment on my part." Derek frowned. "I should have worn one."

"Dude, it wasn't—"

"Stiles." Derek's tone went stern. "Even if I haven't been with anyone since my last clean test, you should never just take someone's word for it. So. We're getting tested and using condoms. No arguments."

Stiles hunched his shoulders at the rebuke. "Okay. Why did you ask, then?"

"To get an idea of where you are in terms of experience." Derek counted off on his fingers. "What you've done, what you've liked, if there's anything you absolutely don't want to try. If you've never had anal sex, for example, I'd like to know if there's a certain way you'd like to do it for your first time."

Stiles fidgeted and tried to ignore the way heat crept up the back of his neck. "Yeah, I don't—it doesn't matter. I just kind of want to get it over with, you know? I don't need wine or flowers or any sappy shit."

Derek's eyebrows twitched up, and he looked like he was fighting a smile. "So I take it that means you've never had anal?"

"Only things I've had in my ass are my fingers, your tongue, and a vibrator I like to call Miguel."

Derek threw his head back and laughed aloud at that, and Stiles flushed all over. The girl at the counter gave them a dirty look before she flounced back out the door.

"You just want to get fucked, then," Derek said, when he finally got himself under control.

Stiles hoped he looked casual, and not as red as he felt. "Yes. Just, you know, fuck me and get it over with so we can get on to the good stuff."

Derek smiled, but this one was full of a heat that made Stiles's whole body respond. "Okay, tell you what. Why don't you come over on Friday, we'll 'get it over with,' and then we'll have a more detailed discussion?"

Holy shit. They were actually going to do this. It wasn't going to be a one-time thing. Stiles had to grab his chair to keep from bouncing in his excitement. "Yes. So many kinds of yes."

"Okay." Derek sat back and took a sip of his coffee. "And we'll discuss this more on Friday, but if we're ever doing something and you want to stop for any reason, just say 'red.'"

"Like a stop sign?" Stiles asked.

"Exactly. Well, stop light. Green means 'go,' yellow means 'slow down, we need to talk before proceeding,' and red means 'stop everything immediately.' It's a safe word."

Stiles had read about those, but hadn't come across them being used in his forays through the Internet. "Have you ever used it before?"

"I've had one with every partner I've ever had. I've only used it three times, though."

Every partner. Stiles cringed internally at the reminder that Derek had a lot more experience than he did. "Why'd you use it?"

"Because I needed the scene to stop," Derek said. "Or because they needed the scene to stop, and we needed to talk about it either way. It's important to talk about it. Otherwise, you can get into bad situations."

"Have you ever been in a bad situation?"

Derek's lips thinned. "Not personally. But I know people who have been."

From the look on Derek's face, Stiles could tell this was an important point. "All right. Communication vital, got it. And red means stop."

"You've got it." Derek smiled. "So, Friday, seven, my place?"

Stiles's throat went dry. "I'll be there."


From Derek Hale: Taking Mia to her aunts'. Let yourself in.
From Derek Hale: I'll call when I'm on my way home.

Stiles did as the text requested. He'd been given a key last year, when he'd spent the summer watching Mia three days a week. Most people probably wouldn't count that among the highlights of their summer, but Stiles had loved it, loved spending time with Mia.

And if her dad was the sexiest man Stiles had ever laid eyes on, well, what did that hurt?

Stiles had suspected he might not be entirely straight, but the first time he'd met Mr. Hale—Derek—he'd jumped pretty fast from "bicurious" to "bisexual." He'd never thought then that Derek would return his crush, but Stiles wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'd just enjoy this as long as it lasted.

He walked into the kitchen and stopped. On the table was a veritable cornucopia of sexual paraphernalia—lube and condoms and three butt plugs in varying sizes. There were also feathers and ribbon and rope, handcuffs and a paddle, a crop and a leather whip. Just the sight of it all was enough to send Stiles's imagination galloping, and he only had to imagine Derek's lubed fingers pressing against his ass before he was half-hard.

His phone rang, and Stiles scrambled to answer it. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Derek asked.

"Your house," Stiles said. "Nice spread on the kitchen table, by the way."

Derek chuckled. "Glad you approve. I want you to use it."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles hoped he sounded way more coy than he felt. "What do you want me to do, Mr. Hale?"

If he didn't know better, he'd swear Derek growled over the phone. "I want you to strip and open yourself up. I want to walk into the house and find you ready for me to fuck you. Think you can do that for me?"

Fuck. Stiles stopped breathing for a moment. "Yeah," he finally croaked out. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

"Good. I'll be home in fifteen minutes."

Derek hung up, and Stiles went back to staring at the table. He wanted to do what Derek asked, but he also wanted to do more. Wanted to make it so Derek didn't even remotely regret any of this.

He picked up one of the plugs and grinned.


Stiles had been bent over the kitchen table, the second-largest plug in his ass, for only a few minutes when he heard the front door open.

A thrill ran through him—the thrill of Derek walking in and seeing him like this, like—

Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor and paused right before they reached the kitchen. Stiles swore he could feel eyes on him, and his skin prickled with awareness.

He wiggled, shifting the plug inside him, and had to bite his lips to keep back a moan. That felt... really good.

"Well." Derek cleared his throat. "What have we here?"

Stiles propped his chin up on one hand and looked over his shoulder, just enough to see Derek standing in the entrance to the kitchen, still dressed in his work clothes: slacks and white dress shirt and a tie, black hair still styled and his stubble carefully sculpted.

Stiles didn't know if he wanted to ruin him or be ruined by him. Both seemed like good options.

He gave what he hoped was a saucy wink. "Welcome home, Mr. Hale."

Derek's pale eyes raked over his body, making Stiles feel exposed and desired at the same time. Derek walked over and ran one of his big, warm hands over Stiles's bare thigh, all the way up and over his ass. Stiles shuddered at the touch, and let out an actual whimper when Derek's fingers took hold of the plug. He twisted it, and Stiles trembled all over, heat racing across his body and leaving him shivering in its wake.

Big hands kneaded his ass. "You like being filled like that? Does it feel good?"

Stiles's arms shook, and all he could do was nod as he lay back down on the table, the smooth wood cool against his fevered skin.

Derek lightly traced around his rim, where the plug stretched him wide, and Stiles bucked back into it with a whine. He didn't even know he could make that noise, and he would have been embarrassed, but Derek let out a soft rumble that sounded like approval and ran his hands over Stiles's back. Stiles arched into the touch.

"Good boy," Derek murmured. "You did such a good job getting yourself ready for me. You look so pretty like this. Makes me want to take a picture, so you can see how good you look for me."

Stiles was pretty sure he was already harder than a baseball bat, but the soft praise in Derek's voice was almost too much for him. He clutched at the smooth wood surface of the table even as his ass clutched around the plug, sending another wave of heat racing over his body.

Derek was close enough now that Stiles could feel the brush of his slacks against the back of his legs, and something about that—that Derek was completely clothed while Stiles was bent naked over the table—made his blood pound faster, until he was dizzy with it.

"You still want me to fuck you?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded so fast he nearly brained himself on the table. "Yes, please, Mr. Hale."

"Okay." Derek leaned over, his whole body a line of heat just inches from Stiles's back, and kissed him right between the shoulder blades. "You're so good, such a good boy for me. I'll give you just what you want."

Stiles felt zoned out already, a little weightless, and like he could come at any moment, all from a few touches and whispers. He hated when he felt the heat of Derek's body move away, but then he heard the sound of a buckle being undone, a zipper unzipping, and anticipation coiled tightly in his gut. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek grab a condom and the lube, and then he heard the sound of both opening a moment later.

"I'm leaving the plug in while I get ready," Derek said, his voice soft and soothing. "You shouldn't be empty. Good boys should always be filled up when they ask, shouldn't they?"

Before Stiles could formulate a response—not like he could, his brain had apparently gone offline—Derek grasped the plug and pulled it out, and then Stiles felt the slick head of his cock pressing against his ass.

He whined, trying to shove himself back on Derek's dick, but Derek grabbed his hips and held him still with those firm hands. "Slowly," he said. "Just to make sure I don't hurt you, all right? Let me get inside you slow and then I promise, I'll fuck you nice and hard. I'll take good care of you."

Stiles was almost out of his mind with how much he wanted Derek's cock in him, but he didn't try to drive himself back again. He trusted Derek to take care of him; he was just afraid he was going to blow his load the moment he had Derek only halfway inside him.

Derek rubbed his thumbs in circles over Stiles's hips, and then began pushing inside him achingly slowly, an inch at a time. He was a little larger than the plug, but not much, and Stiles could have wept with how good the stretch felt. He had thought it would be similar to the plug, but it wasn't; Derek was hot and slick and had more give to his cock, even hard as he was. He slid in a bit, and then pulled back out, and then slid in a little further before Stiles had time to miss the feeling of being filled.

Stiles tried to say how much he liked it—hell, fucking loved it—but he couldn't; he couldn't even speak but to let out little noises that sounded like sobs.

Derek kept one hand on his hip and stroked the other over his back. "God, Stiles, you feel so good, you're doing so good. Does that feel good to you?"

Stiles nodded, his cheek pressed to the cool smooth table, sticking slightly with the sweat. "Yes," he said, though how he managed to say that, he had no idea. "Please. Please."

"Good boy," Derek said, and Stiles fucking whined.

After an eternity and before he knew it, he felt Derek's thighs press against his ass, fingers gripping his hips so tight Stiles would probably have bruises, and Derek was panting like he'd run a race.

Some tiny part of his mind thought I did that, and then Derek began to move minutely, just shifting his hips and his cock inside Stiles, and thinking about anything other than that fantastic feeling dropped to the bottom of Stiles's priority list.

He'd never felt so good, so full, so perfect in his life. Dildos had absolutely nothing on Derek and his dick.

"Feel good?" Derek asked, voice rough and hoarse. "You want more?"

"More," Stiles said. That word was easy, that word he could do, and fuck, he wanted more. "More, more, more, more—"

Derek began to fuck him harder, the speed of his thrusts increasing with each passing second. Stiles clawed at the table, unable to do much more than let Derek fuck him, hard and steady, the rhythm of it better than any plug, any dildo that he'd been able to use himself.

He was aware of his lips moving against the table, saying something, but he had no idea what, lost in the fog of lust, his entire existence spiraling down to the point where he and Derek were connected, to the thrusts that rocked his entire body.

"So good," Derek whispered breathlessly. "God, Stiles, you feel so good, so fucking good..."

Far too soon, he felt his balls tighten up, the sense that he was going to come soon hitting him, and he only had time to sob out Derek's name before he was coming untouched, the orgasm rocking him so hard he swore he felt weightless, felt the edges of his vision go blurry.

Behind him, he felt Derek shove fully inside him and still with a choked-off Stiles, before he half-collapsed on Stiles's back and pressed shaky kisses into his skin.

Wow. That had been... wow. Stiles was sure he could find words for it later, but right now his brain was broken. He'd been fucked so hard he couldn't think, and all he could hear was the sound of his ragged breathing and unnaturally loud heartbeat.

After another few minutes, Derek straightened and pulled out of him, and Stiles could only make his complaint about that audible through whiny grunts.

Derek chuckled and stroked a hand up and down his back. "I'm just going to clean us both up a bit, and then we're going to go sit on the couch and talk, all right?"

Stiles's mouth was (surprisingly) still not online, and he wasn't entirely sure he could move any of his limbs, so he just glared in the general direction of the table.

He heard the sound of the sink running, and then Derek set a glass of water on the table next to him before he knelt behind him, and then Stiles felt the soft warmth of a towel between his legs, wiping him off. He was sensitive enough that each brush of the towel made half his body twitch.

Finally, Derek set the towel aside and rested his hands on Stiles's sides. "Come on, stand up and have some water."

"Can't move," Stiles finally said. "You broke me. I broke."

There was a soft huff of laughter, and then holy shit, Derek was peeling him off the table—actually peeling; Stiles's sweaty skin was sticking to the wood, and that was pretty far from comfortable—and then picking him up fucking bridal style.

"Oh my God," Stiles said, gaping at Derek. "How are you moving?"

"Magic," Derek deadpanned. "Grab the water."

Stiles did, and took one sip before he realized how thirsty he was, and downed half the glass before Derek got them into the living room and settled on the couch. "Holy shit, who knew sex was so dehydrating?"

"Are you okay?" Derek asked seriously. "Do you need some more water?"

Stiles shook his head and set the glass on the coffee table. "No. No, I'm good."

Derek smiled, and Stiles realized then that he was still completely naked, sitting on Derek's lap on the couch, and Derek was still fully clothed. He swore he could feel the blush start at the bottom of his back and work its way up to his face. "Um..."

"What?" Derek turned to him and frowned. "What is it? Do you need something?"

Stiles ducked his head to hide his blush, but he had a feeling that wouldn't do any good. "No, I just realized I don't have any clothes on."

"Oh. Do you want me to go get you some? Would you be more comfortable?"

"No." Stiles cuddled a little closer to Derek, and Derek obediently looped an arm around Stiles's waist and nuzzled his neck. "No, this is fine."

Derek pinched his side lightly, making Stiles jerk back. "Sit up for a minute."

Before Stiles could ask what the hell he was doing, Derek stood up and undid his tie, sliding it out of his collar and tossing it onto the back of the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt with a flourish, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair that Stiles kind of wanted to rub his face all over. Huh. He'd never imagined himself as being into hairy dudes but apparently Derek was challenging that perception.

Derek then unbuttoned his slacks, sliding them down over tight green boxer briefs that hugged his very, very well-muscled thighs. He kicked the pants aside and the boxer briefs followed, leaving him completely naked and apparently very unconcerned about it.

Stiles gaped. He couldn't help it. Sure, he'd had Derek's dick in his mouth and his ass—and it was a very nice dick—but he hadn't seen all of him this.

Derek sat back down on the couch and hauled Stiles back against him. "There. Now we're on equal ground."

There was a line of heat along his side where his bare skin touched Derek's, and Stiles was pretty sure his brain had completely short-circuited at the thought. ""

Once again, Derek's beautiful face contorted in a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I'm supposed to concentrate with," Stiles waved his hand over Derek's naked body, "this staring me in the face?"

Derek's face smoothed out, and he actually laughed. "Well, you're expecting me to concentrate with all this," he said, and mimicked the motion at Stiles.

The sound of his laughter made Stiles tingle all over, and it was a crying shame his refractory period was longer than three minutes.

"Seriously, would you prefer we both put clothes on?" Derek asked. "I just want to make sure we're on equal ground while we're talking. I'm fine either way, but it's whatever will make you comfortable."

Stiles shook his head so hard he was surprised it didn't go flying across the room. "Nope! No. Believe me, this is totally fine."

It may have been Stiles's imagination, but he was pretty sure Derek looked relieved. "Okay. Good." Derek leaned forward and picked up a notepad and a pencil, and then settled one arm back around Stiles's waist, tugging him closer. "Let me know if you need anything."

Stiles nodded toward the pad and pencil. "What's that for?"

"Notes. Remember how I said we were going to talk?" Derek held up the pad. "We're going to talk, and I'm going to make notes."

"Oh." Stiles suddenly felt very young. "What... what are we going to talk about?"

"What you'd like to do, what you don't like to do, what you're not opposed to trying, any hard lines you have that you don't want to cross." Derek squeezed his side. "You said you had a sexual bucket list. What are some of the items on it?"

"Um, like fantasies, or just stuff I want to try?"

"Both," Derek said. "For example, would you want to be tied up at all?"

Well, that was an easy question. "Yes. Definitely yes."

Derek hummed and scribbled on the notepad. "Did you like it when I called you a good boy?"

Stiles felt his dick try to get back in the game, even though he was only a few minutes off of the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life. "Yeah. Yeah, I... really like that. A lot."

Derek wrote praise kink on the paper, under light bondage.

"Why light bondage?" Stiles asked. "What's the difference?"

"It's just to start," Derek said. "We'd restrain your hands, or your feet, see how you like it. And if it turns out you do, then we can move up to the heavier stuff, if you're not opposed."

Okay. That made sense. "Do you like the heavier stuff?"

Derek shrugged. "I enjoy it more when it's clear my partner's really into it. Like you said the other night, I get off on bossing you around."

Stiles had to get another drink of his water. He'd learned he really liked being bossed around when it was Derek doing the bossing. "Oh. Gotcha."

Derek set his pencil down and turned so he was looking Stiles fully in the eyes. "I'm not into a twenty-four-seven Dom-sub relationship, and I'm not personally into pain. However, if pain is something you'd want to try, I'd be up for it."

Yeah, the idea of pain didn't exactly get his motor going. "No," Stiles said. "No, I think I'm okay without doing pain. Except maybe spanking. Does that count?"

"Depends on what we use." Derek scribbled spanking onto his paper, and then drew a line down the center of the page and wrote pain on the other side of it. "But we can discuss it in more depth when we actually decide to do it, figure out what's comfortable for you. What about cross-dressing?"

That... had never occurred to him. "Like, me cross-dressing or you cross-dressing?" Stiles asked. "And what exactly do you mean by cross-dressing?"

"Wearing lace panties, tights, high heels, lingerie. And to answer your first question, either." Derek's smile went a little feral. "Or both."

Stiles tried to picture Derek in lace panties and high heels, and it broke something in his brain. "I... don't know," he said honestly. "But I'd be willing to try it."

Derek wrote cross-dressing – maybe on the paper.

Stiles took a deep breath. "What if I had, like, a scene I wanted to try or something?"

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"I, um... so last year I had this really hot professor—he was a complete dickbag, though, so that kind of sucked—but I had fantasies of, like, getting fucked in his office or blowing him under the desk."

Stiles hid his burning face in Derek's neck. He couldn't believe he'd just said all that, but those hate-jerks sessions had been pretty awesome.

Derek rubbed a hand soothingly up his side. "Was it the teacher-student relationship, or abuse of authority?"

"Um, the forbidden part, and the abuse of authority, I guess," Stiles said. "I mean, I never really thought about it. And probably the chance of getting caught? Like, I was always fantasizing about being in his office, never anywhere else. Oh, wait. The lecture room one time."

Derek huffed a soft laugh. "So, the risk of getting caught turns you on?"

"Definitely." Stiles shivered at the thought, and that time he did feel himself getting hard again. "Oh, most definitely."

"Hm." Derek turned his head and nuzzled Stiles's hair above his ear. "So have you ever done anything in public?"

Stiles heated all over at the memory. "I used to—back in high school, I would drive out to the Preserve and jerk off in my Jeep. The deputies didn't patrol out there often, but it was enough that, you know, there was a chance."

"You liked the idea of one of them catching you?" Derek's voice dropped low. "Or maybe stopping to help you out?"

Oh shit. Those memories had heat coiling at the base of his spine, and Stiles fidgeted. He didn't know why he was trying to hide his arousal; it wasn't like he could, not with Derek sitting right there. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little more breathless than he'd have liked. "I think—yeah."

"You want us to go out to the Preserve?" Derek said, his voice still doing that low rumbling thing that made Stiles get harder. "Maybe take the Camaro somewhere just off the road, where we can still see the cars going by?"

Stiles wanted to say something, he did, but Derek was giving him a look that made his voice dry up entirely, and all he could do was make a little whimpery noise.

Derek set the notepad aside and pulled Stiles onto him so that he was straddling his lap. Once again, Stiles felt exposed, naked and spread as he was, his cock half-hard between them. But Derek was just as naked as he was, and with a glance, Stiles could see he was interested in the proceedings as well.

"Just imagine it," Derek said, running his hands up the outside of Stiles's thighs, up and over his ass. "Sitting out there in the middle of the Preserve, bending you over the hood of my car, fucking you right there where anybody could see. If they slowed down long enough, they could watch. See how pretty you are, the way you take my cock."

His fingers, warm and rough, traced down the center of Stiles's ass to circle his hole, still sore and slick and sensitive. Stiles bucked into the touch, not sure if he wanted more of it or wanted it to stop, only sure he wanted something.

"You green?" Derek whispered in his ear, warm breath and stubble tickling him.

It took Stiles a minute to remember what he was talking about. "Y—yeah," he said. "Green. I like... dirty talk. That's good."

"Do you now?" Stiles could hear the grin in Derek's voice. "I'll be sure to add that to the list."

Stiles wanted to say something snarky, snap back at him, but then Derek pushed two fingers inside him and wow, that was a noise Stiles would never have thought himself able to make.

"Bet you could come just like this, couldn't you?" Derek said, the rumble of his voice meshing with the movement of his fingers and making Stiles's brain do all sorts of things. "Just from my fingers in your ass. Maybe I'll make you fuck yourself on them sometime. Maybe that's what I'll do at the Preserve, just spread you wide and finger you till you can't take it anymore."

Stiles whined and tried to push back, tried to get filled a little more, but Derek just teased him, rubbing his fingers around the rim a bit before slightly pressing back inside.

"You make such a pretty picture like this," Derek said. "All flushed and panting just for me."

Stiles nodded dumbly. "Yeah." He leaned forward, almost close enough to kiss Derek, but not quite. "Just for you."

He wasn't sure of the reaction he expected, but it wasn't for Derek to surge forward and kiss him, plunging his fingers deeper into Stiles at the same time. Stiles cried out into the kiss, and Derek swallowed it, sucked on his lip, and continued fucking him steadily on two fingers. Stiles was going to go insane with how good it felt.

"Damn right," Derek said, his voice rougher now. "Just for me, your pretty ass and that gorgeous cock. You liked getting fucked, didn't you? Liked it when I got my cock all the way inside you? How long have you needed me to fuck you, Stiles?"

"Years," Stiles whimpered desperately against his mouth. "Needed to be good for you."

"You are. Fuck, you're so good. Such a good boy for me." Derek latched onto his neck, sucking hard there and then kissing it. "Made just for me, weren't you?"

"Uh-huh," Stiles said, because it was all he could manage. He wanted—he wasn't sure what he wanted, but he only knew he wanted Derek to keep talking to him like that, wanted to be good, wanted Derek to keep fucking him with his fingers, wanted Derek to keep him that way. "Please."

"Please?" Derek repeated, kissing the corner of Stiles's mouth. "You want to come? Or you want me to keep talking to you, keep telling you all the things I want to do to you?"

"Yes," Stiles gasped out, not sure which he was saying yes to. Both sounded fantastic.

"Mm, good boy." Derek moved his free hand from Stiles's hip to his dick, and stroked him so gently Stiles nearly wept. "I think you're going to come for me again. I haven't gotten to see your face when you come, and I want to. Want to see how pretty you look when you fall apart."

Stiles whined, and then Derek was thrusting three fingers inside him, stretching him, not as much as his dick had, but it was still enough that he felt the burn of it. He wanted more, wanted every single spark of pleasure Derek's movements sent through him. The hand on his cock was dry, and it should have been painful, probably would have been if he wasn't so goddamned turned on he needed any kind of friction.

Derek fucked him with three fingers in his ass and slowly stroked his cock, and all Stiles could do was dig his fingers into the back of the couch and take it. His whole body trembled with the strain of being on edge, his balls tightening, hips thrusting back and forth as he chased the feeling Derek drew from him.

Derek leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Good boy. You're doing so good. You're going to come for me now, aren't you?"

Before today, Stiles would have said he couldn't come just from hearing someone's voice, but that was before he heard the low rumble of Derek's voice telling him he was good and asking him to. He came so hard he swore he could feel it in his toes, vibrating all the way up his body. He made noise, some slurred combination of "fuck" and "Derek," and then his entire body went boneless and he slumped, shivering.

Derek stroked his warm, rough hands up Stiles's back, and Stiles burrowed forward into his chest, because he couldn't stop shaking and Derek was like a comfortable blanket. He could probably fall asleep here, cuddled up against Derek like this.

He let out a contented sigh, and Derek chuckled. "Come on. Let's go take a quick shower, get you warm again, and then we'll have some dinner. Sound good?"

Stiles nodded, rubbing his face over Derek's chest hair and shuddering. "But what about you? And your paper?"

Derek hugged him tighter. "Don't worry. We've got all night to finish both."