Stiles pushed away from his desk with a groan, running a hand over his short hair as he stood up and paced over to his window, intent on pulling it closed to keep out the distracting noise of spring. He was already fighting the urge to take more Adderall than was perhaps healthy when he’d heard the rumble of a big engine driving by. After that his mind wandered as far away from Chemistry as possible, drifting from motorcycles to men riding motorcycles to men riding…
“Stiles!” The brunet jumped, turning quickly just a foot from his window to find his dad leaning against his doorframe. “How’s it going?” the sheriff asked, crossing his arms as if bracing himself for the worst.
“Trig homework is done and I’ve read, like, half of my history article.”
“And the other half?” Stiles’ dad relaxed his stance slightly.
“Is boring so I switched to something else.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders and screwed up his nose a bit. “Did you know that the French Revolution wasn’t nearly exciting as something should be when it involves beheadings and riots and hot chicks in wigs and…” Stiles trailed off as his father’s look slipped from amused to confused. “What? I watched a movie.”
Sheriff Stilinski chuckled, shaking his head as he straightened up and adjusted the gunbelt hanging low on his waist.
“Stiles…” The older man paused before smiling slightly. “Good job. I’m proud to see you actually attempting to graduate.” Stiles opened to his mouth but the words slipped into nothing as his dad continued, “It only took you being two months from finals to do it.”
Stiles waved his dad away before turning back to the window with a sigh, stepping up to it to pull it closed. He raised his hands to grab the sill but found himself letting his eyes roam around the scene outside instead, taking in the trees and houses and small mechanic’s shop on the corner. A late model maroon car was in the small driveway, hood up and tool chest waiting. Stiles watched as a tall, dark haired man walked out of the shadowed garage area, white t-shirt bright in the morning sunlight.
The man stretched his hands far above his head before he started working, pulling his t-shirt tight across his chest and allowing the bottom to slip up his stomach slightly. Stiles found himself entranced, watching the man move sinuously as he twisted his waist slightly, before ducking under the hood of the car, shirt pulling up to reveal a strip of skin above his trousers. All thoughts of homework drifted away with the birdsong as the teenager watched the man work, muscles in his back shifting slightly in the sunshine as he moved around the car, grabbing tools and ducking in and out of the dark engine compartment.
His phone ringing snapped him out of his stupor, pulling him away from the window and the man in the sun.
Stiles glanced away from his computer when he heard the motorcycle roar past his house again, this time while he was attempting to teach Scott to joy of conic sections despite the other boy insisting on relationship advice instead. He moved away from the computer quickly, ignoring Scott’s amplified protests, and looked out the window. There was no cycle to be seen but the tall mechanic was back, slipping out of a dark jacket as he spoke to a man in front of the shop. Stiles immediately jumped to conclusions, imaging the man on the back of a Harley, leather snug over tight muscles, moonlight glinting off of metal.
It was enough to thoroughly distract him from anything other than his hormones and he quickly gave Scott a lame excuse and switched off his monitor, moving back to window to see if the mechanic was still in sight. The dark haired man was still talking to the bald owner, his teeth showing as he grinned widely. Stiles found himself shudder as he watched the man’s mouth move, imagining the same lips moving over his skin.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as the other man moved, turning away from his conversation to glance down the street, eyes trailing over the houses that lined it as if looking for something or someone. Stiles’ felt his breath hitch in his chest when the man’s eyes seemed to meet his, despite the distance and shadows that Stiles knew protected him from the other man’s gaze.
The teenager bit off a disappointed groan when the mechanic disappeared into the shop, his fantasies drifting away like pollen on the breeze. He closed his eyes, running his hand down his chest as he remember the way the man’s toned arms pulled at the sleeves of his shirt as he worked. His brain easily flicked from cotton to skin, making it sweat slick and scented with grease and gasoline.
The brunet drifted over to his bed, dropping down to sit on the edge and leaning back on one hand, the other slipping under the waistband of his trackpants to curl around the erection that was pressing against the material of his boxers.
“Fuck,” he cursed, his hand moving quickly against the threat of fathers and friends. He glanced out the window as he jerked off, imagining he could still see the other man. He wondered what he’d look like leaning over Stiles the same way he’d leaned over that car, his hands working the younger man with the same practiced ease. Would his voice be rough? Would he whisper in Stiles’ ear as he brought him off with quick, assured movements?
Stiles bit on his lip as he fisted himself harder, leaning back further on his bed as his hips began to push him into the curl of his fingers. He paused long enough to lick his palm, reveling in the taste of precum on his tongue even as he gripped himself again and moved faster. Streams of words, profane and illustrative, bounced around the back of his throat as he held them back, grunting quietly as he felt the climax building inside of him.
A motorcycle roared to life. Stiles echoed it as he came.
“Crap! Damnit! Stupid… thing!” Stiles slammed his car door closed, spinning to toss his keys out into the yard where he’d inevitably end up on his hands and knees in five minutes looking for them. He paused when he realized that someone was watching him from the sidewalk. Not just watching… chuckling.
“It might work better if you were nicer to it.” The teenager turned completely to find the dark haired mechanic smiling at him from the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his dark grey work trousers.
“I…I… you… what?” Stiles stuttered, tongue tripping over itself as the man stepped closer, one hand coming out to slide along the side of the old Jeep. Stiles could see the grease staining his blunt nails as the man stopped just a few feet away. He was wearing a black t-shirt this time but the dark material didn’t little to hide the muscles beneath the cotton.
“The more you love your vehicle, the nicer it’ll be to you.” The man smiled at him again, teeth catching the sunlight.
“Says the strange man in my driveway,” Stiles responded, mentally patting himself on the back for keeping the childish squeak out of his voice. He fought the urge to take a step towards the man as his blue eyes glinted with amusement.
“Heard the motor refusing to turnover from the shop,” he explained. “I thought I’d come lend a hand since we’re slow today.”
“Yea, you were just sitting outside earlier.” Stiles closed his mouth with a snap before bluffing his hole deeper. “I mean… I happened to glace out the window when I was changing after lacrosse practice and saw you. Not that I watch you when I’m naked. Because that would be… weird.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed slightly for a moment before he glanced up at the house, eyes tracking over the second floor windows. Stiles’ was the only one without drawn curtains and the teenager was reminded of the last time the man had glanced in his direction.
“So…” he started, pausing for a moment to clear his throat when the man’s eyes snapped back down to his. “So, it won’t start. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” the other man said lowly. He held his hand out expectedly and Stiles automatically dropped his keys into the dirt lined palm. The mechanic pulled open the door, causing Stiles to take a step to the side as the mechanic leaned in to pop the hood and try to turn the engine over again. The teenager couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted over the man’s back, slipping quickly down his spine to the way his ass curved down to meet strong thighs.
The other man didn’t even glance at him as he straightened up and walked around to pull the hood up. Stiles followed, oddly quiet as he watched the man’s fingers slide over wires and tubes, running from one part to the other. He watched as the man reached up to scratch his jaw, a streak of engine oil left behind that Stiles found himself staring at even as the man straightened up.
“Hey!” Stiles’ eyes snapped upward when the man snapped his fingers at him. “I asked if your dad was home.”
“No,” Stiles responded quickly. “I mean… no. He’s on weird shifts this week so he won’t be home until later.”
“Well, tell him to call in the morning and one of us will run by with the handheld diagnostic. If it’s just the battery or alternator then we can jump it long enough to get his car to the shop.”
“It’s not his car,” the younger man interrupted. The mechanic cocked an eyebrow at him. “It’s mine. In my name and everything. Not that a car title is the best eighteenth birthday present a guy’s ever got. ‘Happy Birthday, Stiles! Here’s the car you already own!’ But…”
“Stiles?” the mechanic cut off Stiles’ rambling so quickly that the teen could only nod. “Will you be around in an hour or so?”
“Can’t really go anywhere,” Stiles said, gesturing at the Jeep. The other man seemed nonplused by Stiles’ sarcastic tone.
“I’ll be back then.” The mechanic moved quickly, dropping the hood down with an echoing bang and tossing Stiles his keys which, by some miracle, he managed to catch with limited fumbling. The older brunet slid past him quickly, headed back in the direction. “By the way,” the man called out, walking backwards down the sidewalk in a way that would have Stiles on his ass in no time. “I’m Derek.”
Stiles watched as he turned and disappeared beyond the neighbor’s hedgerow before giving into the urge to sag against the warm metal of the dead car. He ran a hand over his face and bit the inside of his cheek in the hopes of getting his wayward sex drive in check.
In the hour that passed he took a cold shower, looked at baby pictures, and even Googled venereal diseases all in the name of not jumping the older man. By the time Derek was knocking on his door he could artfully describe three different types of pustules but one look at the sharp nose and chiseled jaw was enough to make every other thought fly out the window. Stiles quickly realized that his vocabulary had also disappeared, his jaw hanging slack as Derek greeted him, small computer device in hand.
The man had changed his black t-shirt for a white Henley, long sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His trousers were exchanged from snug fitting jeans and the smear of oil on his face was gone.
“Hi,” Stiles managed to force out as he fought every urge he had to stare at Derek’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“Testing device,” Derek said, holding up the small computer in his hand, “and, just in case, I have a battery charger in my bag.” Stiles followed the man as he turned and walked back towards the Jeep in the driveway. He knew the mechanic was still talking but he eyes had gotten caught by the sleek motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped walking until Derek had stepped up to him, leaning in close enough that Stiles could smell the grease one his skin.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the other man asked, following Stiles’ eyes. “Strong but gorgeous. Heaven between the thighs.” The teenager nodded quickly, glancing to the side to take in Derek’s profile in the waning sunlight.
“Yea,” he said softly. Derek turned and smirked at him for a moment before moving back to the Jeep, holding his hand out expectantly. Stiles obligingly pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them over, standing back to watch Derek work. The older man was quick, never awkward in his movements as he maneuvered his way under the hood with the computer in hand. Stiles’ brain flicked through a dozen conversations they could have had in the time Derek took to hook the device up and allow it to run, glancing up at the teenager once as he waited, pale eyes appearing darker as the sun set.
“Looks like it’s the alternator,” Derek said after a moment, straightening up and unhooking the tester. Stiles wasn’t sure how to respond, feeling woefully unmasculine and swearing to himself he was going to Google that at his first opportunity. “It’s too late to take care of it now but I can order the part tomorrow and have it by Friday.”
“Okay…” Stiles said slowly, watching as Derek reached into his back pocket and took out a business card.
“Call me Friday afternoon,” Derek said softly, stepping forward to hand the card over. Stiles glanced down as their fingers slid along each other as the object changed hands.
“Okay.” Derek grinned at Stiles, eyes flitting over the younger man’s body for a moment before coming back up. “Friday. Call you.” Derek’s grin widened and Stiles mentally kicked himself. “I’m normally much cooler than this,” he insisted. He didn’t think Derek was convinced.
“See you on Friday, Stiles,” the man said, staring at Stiles for longer than was necessary before walking over to his motorcycle and climbing astride it. Stiles didn’t even feel shy about staring as Derek pulled a small black helmet from the saddle bag and slipped it on, hands clipping it quickly before he started the motor with a jerking kick. The other man didn’t wave before he left, merely revved the engines after catching Stiles’ eye and pulled off into the dusk.
The deep vibration of that revving engine starred in Stiles’ fantasies for the next several nights. And a few mornings. And one lone 2am fantasy that was fueled by too much caffeine and too little shame.
Stiles may or may not have convinced Scott that skipping out at least an hour or two early before the end of their senior year was a God Given Right. He also would plead the fifth about changing three times before talking Scott into giving him a jump so that he could make it to the shop. Not that he was too nervous to actually call Derek. Or that he wanted to see if the other man was surprised to see him, pleasantly or otherwise.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Scott asked, glancing down at his phone as he did so.
“No, that’s okay, go…” Stiles’ words trailed off as Scott hopped back into his car, waving through the window as he pulled out of the Stilinski’s driveway, phone already at his ear. Stiles rolled his eyes before climbing back into his Jeep and driving down the street, pulling into the garage’s front drive. He hesitated after getting out, turning for a second to convince himself that he still wasn’t a girl.
“Stiles.” The teenager would refuse to acknowledge the fact that he jumped when his name was growled in his ear. He turned on his heel, nearly toppling over, to find Derek grinning at him. “You didn’t call.”
“I… Scott gave me a jump.” Stiles stood perfectly still as Derek’s eyes roved over his chest. The shirt he’d settled on wasn’t as loose as he normally wore and his collarbones cut across the slight v-neck. The man’s eyes were like an animal’s looking over a potential meal.
“And then left you to be alone with a strange man,” Derek said, looking back up at Stiles’ face. “Nice friend.”
“Very nice, actually,” Stiles said, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep them still. He nodded to his Jeep which was still idling next to him. “So?”
“Pull it closer, turn it off, and pop the hood.” Derek turned and disappeared back into the shop, leaving Stiles behind to catch his breath before hurrying to do as the other man said. He was just trying to force the prop under the hood when Derek showed up again, pressing up against him to take over the process. Stiles took a moment to feel the heat coming off of the other man before he stepped away, not turning to look at the mechanic until he’d reached a small bench at the side of the building.
Derek was already bent over the Jeep, muttering to himself quietly before he straightened up. His eyes glanced around until he found Stiles watching him.
“It’s a pretty easy fix,” the older man said, walking over to stand in front of Stiles with his hands on his hips. “You can go inside if you don’t want to wait out in the sun.”
“No! No… no, nope. Totally okay.” Stiles gripped onto the edges of the bench as if Derek would simply pick him up and carry him away which, while a really good mental image, wasn’t likely to actually happen. Today.
“If you say so,” Derek said slowly, turning his head slightly. He didn’t say another word after that, turning all of his focus back to the repairs, all of Stiles’ attention focused on him.
Derek’s shirt stretched tight over his back as he worked, the warm afternoon sun heating the skin underneath until the cotton stuck to his sweaty shoulders. Each time he straightened up, Stiles found his eyes following the lines of Derek’s back down to his thin waist as it twisted. The mechanic paused at one point, taking a step back from the car to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. The muscular stomach that was momentarily on display was enough to fuel Stiles’ fantasies for the next month, at least.
Stiles had almost gotten lost in one of those fantasies when he heard Derek say his name again, muffled slightly as he tightened something near the engine.
“Head inside and Tuck will take care of the paperwork.” Derek straightened up again and reached for a small red towel, rubbing roughly at his hands to work off the grease layered on them.
“Right, umm, yea. How much is this? I mean, I have the money or rather I have a credit card with my Dad’s name on it.” Stiles stood up shakily and found himself crossing and uncrossing his arms as he spoke.
“Well…” Derek glanced away for a moment and then turned his full attention back to Stiles. The heat behind his blue eyes was enough to freeze the eighteen year old in place. “We have a Friends and Family discount but we’d have to be friends for that.” Derek took a long step forward, pushing close to the limits of Stiles’ personal bubble as he lowered his chin slightly to stare Stiles right in the eye. “Can we be friends?”
“Yup,” Stiles squeaked. He was about to protect his burgeoning manhood but Derek only grinned at him before stepping away again, circling the car.
“I’m taking your Jeep for a test drive,” he said as he dropped the hood with a bang. “See if you can manage to sign on the dotted line before I get back.”
Derek getting back happened to coincide with Sherriff Stilinski driving by, and seeing both Stiles and his newly repaired Jeep sitting in the garage’s driveway, pulled in and started questioning both Derek and Tuck, the owner, about the repairs, the business, and eventually the oddly warm spring. By the time he had realized that dinner time had come and gone, Stiles was leaning bored against the side of his Jeep watching Derek slip into his black leather jacket.
Derek glanced at the Sherriff, still discussing tire tread with Tuck, and turned back to Stiles with a small smirk on his face.
“I suppose I’ll see you the next time you break something,” he said, soft enough that the other men couldn’t overhear. Stiles took a step forward and did his best to appear nonchalant.
“Or every three months or three-thousand miles, right?” he asked, rubbing a hand nervously across the back of his neck. Derek bit back a laugh, instead pulling on his helmet. He called his goodbyes to the owner and Stiles’ dad before winking at the teenager and pulling off, the engine echoing as it roared down the street.
“Oh God,” Stiles groaned as he pressed his shoulders harder into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as his hand moved down. He licked his lips, tasting sweat there, and the salty flavor on his tongue just made him groan, body twisting on damp sheets. His free hand slid along the inside of his thigh, muscles clenching and fingers twitching as he skirted along the inside until his thumb was pressed up against the underside of his balls.
Taking a deep breath, he consciously slowed the hand moving over his cock as the other began to trace lightly over the cleft of his ass, fingertips catching as he pressed against the ring of muscles there. He pressed harder, dry pressure sending jolts straight to his cock that had he seriously considering whether or not he could buy lube without his father finding out from some well-meaning corner store clerk.
And then his phone rang.
“Fuck!” he grunted as he rolled and fell out of the bed with an uncoordinated thud. He crawled across the carpet to grab his phone on impulse, answering it without even thinking about his panting breaths or rough voice. “What?”
“Stiles?” The teenager closed his eyes tightly in the solitude of his room, going through every profane word in his head.
“Derek! Hey. Hi. What’s, um…” Stiles suddenly became very aware that he was naked and horny and scrambled as silently as he was possible back to his bed and under the covers. “What’s up?”
“Your dad told Tuck you needed an oil change soon,” Derek said smoothly. Stiles bit back a groan as his low voice did things to his nether regions that had nothing to do with the words he actually spoke. “I thought we could schedule you.”
“You…” Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment to check the clock. “You called to schedule an oil change at 8 oclock at night?”
“I was changing and your number fell out of my pocket.” Stiles could practically hear Derek shrugging. Actually, he could hear Derek moving around, cloth bunching and whispering around him. It was enough to get his imagination going full steam ahead and he couldn’t hide the way his breath hitched.
“But if you’re busy…” Derek’s voice was lower now, quieter. Stiles dug his nails into his thigh through the sheet but it wasn’t nearly enough of a distraction. “What is it you’re doing, Stiles?” His name curved around the older man’s tongue. “You’d think lacrosse practice just let out with the way you’re breathing.”
“I… I was just…” Stiles swallowed thickly, suddenly at a loss for words as Derek’s silence pressed into him.
“Just… what?” Derek practically purred in his ear and, okay, Stiles was still a teenaged boy. His cock leapt underneath the thin sheet and Stiles didn’t even fight the urge to press his free hand against it. “What were you doing? What are you doing?”
“I can’t… You can’t…” Stiles stuttered over his words as his hand slipped under the sheet of its own volition. Derek’s breath seemed heavier as he whispered into the phone and Stiles took that as all the permission he needed to finally wrap his hand around his leaking cock. “Oh god,” he whispered on his next breath.
“Would you like to know what I am doing, Stiles?” The way Derek said his name sent shivers straight down to his toes. The other man didn’t wait for a response before continuing on. “I came home, stripped out of my clothes, and jumped into the shower, turning it up so hot it turned my skin red. I wasn’t just trying to get clean,” he said slowly, “I was trying to clear my head. I was trying to forget the way you watched me all day, the way the sweat smelled on your skin when I shook your hand, the way the sun glinted off your eyes each time I peeked at you from under the hood.”
“I could hear the way your breath changed whenever I moved around,” Derek continued, his breathing becoming louder in between his dark words. Stiles licked his lips as he fought the urge to speed up his hand, wanting to draw this out as long as he held the other man’s attention. “I think it took me twice as long as it usually would to get that work done, I was so distracted.”
“Distracted?” Stiles asked suddenly, ignoring the way his voice sounded so needy. The older man’s laugh echoed through the phone.
“Oh yes,” he said slowly. “All I could think about was what I wanted to do to you.” The sounds of cloth moving on the other end of the phone were replaced by the more obvious sound of skin sliding over skin. “I imagined dragging you into the garage. Bending you over the work bench. Stripping you down in the shadows where anyone could walk in on us.”
Stiles groaned then, not even trying to hide the way Derek was making him feel. Another deep chuckle in his ear and the other man continued.
“I thought about wrapping my hands around your hips…” Derek moaned lightly. “Digging my fingers in until my nails bit through, scratching in dark oil that would stain you, mark you as mine.” Twin moans this time as Stiles shut his eyes tight and let his imagination take over. “I would take you right there. You would be so tight and hot and ready for me. You would beg me for it, wouldn’t you, Stiles?”
“Yes,” Stiles forced out. His hand was moving like a blur now and every word Derek said stoked the fire building at the base of his spine.
“Good.” Derek’s voice sounded wrecked, rough and low and everything Stiles had ever imagined. “I want you to beg. You were made for it.”
“Oh holy fuck!” Stiles bit down on his lip and tightened his fist around the base of his cock, refusing to come just yet. He could hear Derek hissing over the phone, the moist slide of his own hand and cock coming through clearly.
“Tell me, Stiles,” Derek said firmly.
“I… I would beg.” Stiles swallowed as Derek’s breath hitched. “I would get down on my knees if that’s what you wanted. I would suck you cock and let you pull my hair… let you fuck me… or bite me or… or do anything you wanted so long as I could have you. I need…”
“Yes,” Derek moaned, his breath fast and hard, “tell me what you need, Stiles.”
“I need… I need…” Stiles’ hand sped up until he was certain half the neighborhood could hear the sounds slipping free of his throat. “I need to come,” he whined.
“So come.” Derek’s voice was so cool and soft that Stiles froze for a hair’s breadth before his orgasm overcame his stillness, his shout seeming foreign in his ears even as he spurted all over his fist and stomach and chest. He could hear the man on the phone come as well, growling low in his ear, his name coming out like the hiss of the Serpent in the Garden of Eden.
“Fuck,” Stiles breathed out after what felt like hours. His muscles were still switching as his messy hand fell limp to his side. He glanced at it, considered getting up for almost ten seconds before letting it drop again.
“Maybe next time,” Derek chuckled. Stiles was pleased that the other man sounded at least half as wrecked as he felt.
“Right… next time.” Stiles stared at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath, listening to Derek do the same thing. “So, umm… about that oil change…?”
Stiles took a deep breath before starting the walk up the garage driveway. Then he stopped, turned, breathed, and turned back, forcing one foot in front of the other. It was a sound method until he spotted Derek. The other man was leaning over his work bench, a stack of papers in front of him and a pen stuck between his teeth as he shuffled through him. He didn’t turn as Stiles stepped closer, humming under his breath as he marked one of the pages before flipping it into another pile.
“They make computers to do that now, you know.” Derek looked up quickly, his sharp teeth accentuated by the pen stuck between them. He smiled as he pulled it out and tossed it aside.
“I like being more hands on,” the mechanic said slowly, turning to face Stiles as he leaned his hip against the table.
“That makes sense,” Stiles said, gesturing wildly towards Derek, “what with you being a mechanic and, you know, working with your hands and… stuff.” The teenager grimaced, mentally kicking himself as Derek narrowed his gaze slightly. “Right so,” he continued on before the other man could kick him out, “You mentioned an oil change and I figured I should schedule it and I… lost your number.”
“Was that last part supposed to be a question?” Derek straightened up and Stiles had to stop from backing away on instinct. The teen only licked his lips as Derek stalked towards him, stopping close enough that Stiles could smell the grease on his skin and something sweet on his breath.
“So…” Stiles stopped as Derek reached up and slowly ran a finger along his neck. “Umm…”
“I mentioned some other things too,” Derek said quietly, eyes fixated on his hand as it moved further down Stiles’ chest. The younger man wondered if the brunet could feel his heart about to explode. “Something about this garage and this table and you…” Derek’s eyes jumped back to his face and Stiles felt like that one look was enough to make him really, really embarrass himself.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not something I could call and schedule,” Stiles managed as Derek’s hand settled on his belt. The other man’s eyes tracked over his face to his lips and back again before he began to smile, slow and wolf-like.
“Maybe next time.” Derek backed away suddenly, leaving Stiles swaying towards him before he could right himself. “Is your dad home?” the older man asked as he turned and walked back towards the table, digging around in a bag there.
“No,” Stiles said, his voice cracking midway through. “No. He just left actually.” He unconsciously licked his lips again when Derek turned back to him, keys in hand.
“Good. I’ll give you a five minute head start while I lock up.” Stiles stared at Derek’s back as he turned away and headed further into the garage. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before running back down the driveway, rushing to his house.
Getting up to his room he tossed aside laundry and kicked away books until it looked halfway decent. He glanced out the window and saw Derek heading down the sidewalk, sunglasses catching the sun as he crossed the street. Stiles cursed at himself, scrambling in the drawer next to the bed until he found the little bottle of lube he’d managed to get his hands on.
“Condoms!” he squeaked, smacking himself in the forehead. “I don’t have condoms.” He spent twenty whole second thinking about whether it was worth the mental trauma to go looking for some in his dad’s room when the doorbell rang.
Derek’s face when Stiles answered the door didn’t change at all as he walked through the house and followed Stiles up to his room. He was weirdly impassive, eyes so focused on the younger man that Stiles felt like he was naked. The thought the make sure he wasn’t actually crossed his mind at some point before Derek stepped forward and effectively pinned him against his bedroom door.
“Do you remember what I told the other night?” Derek asked, pressing in close so that his breath ghosted over Stiles’ neck.
“About the, umm, bending over?” Derek made an affirmative tone as he ran his lips along the curve of Stiles’ ear. “And the… um… the marking.”
“You liked that part,” Derek said lowly. “I remember the way your breath changed. A lot like it did just now.” Stiles gritted his teeth as he felt Derek shift against him, the hard on he’d had since the moment he walked in the door obvious as the other man rubbed against him.
“Do you want me to mark you, Stiles? Make it so everyone knows that you belong to someone else?” It was like Derek had looked through every porn he’d ever favorite and Stiles could do nothing but nod. “Good.”
Is was the only warning Stiles got before Derek latched on to the soft spot where neck met shoulder, lips and teeth worrying the skin there while Stiles focused everything he was on not coming in his pants. The older man’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close as Derek spun them and forced Stiles to walk backwards towards his bed, all without letting up the assault on Stiles’ neck.
“Derek,” Stiles groaned, laughing nervously when his knees hit the bed and he started to fall backwards. The older man straightened up and stared at him hungrily, his lips swollen and red and all Stiles could look at. Stiles pulled at him, dragging him down as he laid back so that the other man had to climb onto the bed to follow him, elbows bracketing Stiles’ head as he leaned over him.
The first kiss wasn’t soft or sweet or gentle. It was rough and messy and biting and Stiles moaned against Derek’s mouth as his hips pressed up into the other man’s. Derek’s hands came in to hold onto Stiles’ face as they continued to make out, Stiles’ legs spreading so that Derek could settle between them, their erections pressing together through layers of jeans and cotton boxers.
“What happened to… to the… bending over and taking and shit?” Stiles fought for each breath as Derek pulled away.
“Maybe next time,” Derek said, holding himself up on one hand so that the other could run over the bruise that had blossomed on the teenager’s neck. He pressed into it slightly and Stiles’ hips bucked up before he could think about it.
“And this time?” he asked softly, fighting back a sudden pique of stage fright. Derek grinned down at him, moving his hand down to rest on Stiles’ hip.
“I’m not an animal, Stiles,” the older man said quietly, straightening up more until he was kneeling between Stiles’ thighs. “And somehow I doubt this is something you’ve done on a regular basis.” He reached out and tugged at the bottom of Stiles’ shirt, pulling it up and over the boy’s head. “If I break you now then what will I play with next time?”
“Wait,” Stiles reached down and stopped Derek’s hands where they had begun to loosen his belt. “Next time?”
“Not an animal,” Derek said again, “not someone who does one-night stands either.”
Stiles was midway through pointing out that it was hardly nighttime when Derek twisted in his grip and his wrists were suddenly pinned over his head.
“Not an animal or a one night stand but if you don’t shut up and get naked then I’m going to ruin your jeans, tie you to your bed with your belt, and leave you wanting. Got it?” Stiles nodded silently as Derek leaned in and growled at him. His cock also gave an interesting leap which, yea, was probably something he should think about further when a sexy man wasn’t trying to strip him.
Derek let go and reached for his belt again, pulling it roughly until he could tug it free and toss it across the room. Stiles helped then, getting out of his jeans and boxers as Derek stood up and stripped out of his own clothes. The other man moved so quickly that Stiles had just tossed aside his second sock when Derek was back on top of him. He didn’t even fight back the urgent noise he made as the other man’s hot skin rubbed against his own, smelling of sweat and oil and need.
“I’m going to die,” Stiles sputtered as Derek’s cock slid along his own.
“Not today,” Derek responded, repeating the motion another half dozen times before sitting back and patting Stiles’ hip. “Turn over.”
The teenager didn’t even think to question until he was already on his knees, ass in the air with Derek’s hands running over his back reverently. He hadn’t even properly put together the right words to question when he felt something hot and wet pressing against his ass.
“Oh God, I’m going to die!” He dropped his head towards the bed as Derek continued to work over his opening, tongue slipping over it until Stiles began thrusting back against him. The other man’s hands were firms on his hips as Derek continued to work the muscle loose, Stiles wordlessly encouraging him with every groan and whimper. Whimpers became a single shout when he felt Derek’s tongue slip inside him, wiggling slightly before withdrawing. It happened again and again and again until Stiles begged for more.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for more,” Derek said, straightening up for a moment to press a kiss on the base of Stiles’ spine.
“I’m ready!” Stiles insisted. “I’m ready. I’m so ready that I’m… I’m… really, really ready.” Derek chuckled behind him but it seemed to be enough to set him back to task, his tongue dipping back into Stiles. The teenager was seriously considering whining to get his way when he felt something firmer pressing in beside Derek’s tongue, the pressure burning slightly until the fact that he could feel the rest of Derek’s hand flatten against his ass.
Derek moved his finger in and out slowly as his tongue continued to circle along and inside, slicking him up and stretching him out. A second finger moved in before he got to the begging stage and that burn was worse, making his breath catch until gentle words spoken against his hip soothed him.
“Doing so good,” Derek said before running his tongue along the place the teenager’s ass was clenching around his fingers. “So good. So hot and soft and ready.” Stiles whimpered again, pressing back against Derek until the man began moving his fingers slowly, scissoring them slightly every few strokes until he could move quicker with ease. Stiles was moaning, his cock leaking and his balls pulling up tight as Derek pressed something deep inside of him.
“Hurry up or stop or something,” Stiles stuttered out.
“You need to be more specific,” Derek said smoothly, his fingers continuing their pace. Stiles closed his eyes as tight as he could as the pressure built. “What do you want?”
“To come,” Stiles forced out between his teeth. “I want to come. I want you to make me come and then fuck me so hard I can’t breathe.”
Derek moaned behind him and shifted quickly, grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table and slicking up his fingers before sliding them back inside Stiles without a warning. His free hand moved to Stiles’ cock, wrapping around it and tightening at the base, holding him steady as Derek fucked his fingers into his ass.
“Just a little more patience,” Derek reassured as Stiles growled at him. “Just… a little… more.”
The third finger was a surprise and felt like it was splitting Stiles in two. He would have fought against it if it wasn’t for Derek beginning to stroke his cock at that instant, slicked hand moving in a pace that was fast and firm and had Stiles panting. Stiles started blabbering, begging to come, begging Derek not to stop, cursing and moaning and demanding.
“Now, Stiles,” Derek whispered into his ear. “Come now.” His thumbnail grazed the head of Stiles’ cock and it was enough to push the teen over the edge, shouting and grunting as Derek continued to work him through his orgasm, pulling on his cock and stretching his ass until he was finished.
“Wait,” Stiles managed as Derek started to pull away.
“Not going anywhere,” Derek said so quietly it barely made it past the roaring in Stiles’ ears. The younger man forced his eyes open and turned his head enough to see Derek tearing open a condom that had magically appeared next to them. Stiles was about to question it but decided God must want him to have sex because the next thing he knew Derek was back behind him and the pressure against his ass was firm and thick and very much not the older man’s fingers.
Derek slid into him slowly, Stiles’ loose muscles fluttering around his cock until he was bottomed out, hips pushed up against Stiles’ ass.
“Fuck.” Derek breathed the word out and Stiles could only nod in agreement, his spent cock twitching as Derek pulled out and pushed back in just as slowly. The burn cleared the fog the orgasm had left behind but it was quickly abating with Derek’s steady pace. Eventually Stiles began to move with him, hips rotating slightly.
“Is now a good time to mention that I can breathe?” Stiles looked back over his shoulder and met Derek’s fierce gaze with a smirk. “’cause I can.” Derek’s eyes narrowed and the fingers digging into his hips tightened until Stiles knew there would be bruises.
“I can fix that.” It was all the warning the teenager got before Derek began moving in earnest, pulling out and slamming back in hard enough to force Stiles to drop from his hands to his elbows, fingers twisting in the sheet. He moaned unashamedly as Derek fucked him, the other man grunting each time he pushed in, nails starting to dig into Stiles’ skin the longer he went.
Stiles was pretty sure he was saying something although his brain was buzzing and his cock was hard again so he wasn’t actually sure if anything was making it past the moans and whimpers. He just pushed back each time Derek pushed forward until the other man’s rhythm began to falter. Derek shifted then, wrapping one arm around Stiles’ waist and forcing him up until his back was pressing against Derek’s chest.
“God, you’re tight,” Derek grunter into his ear as he continued to move inside him. “So fucking tight. And pretty quiet for someone who likes to talk so much.” Derek’s hand rested on Stiles’ sternum, pressing him backwards even as Derek forced his hips forward with each thrust. His free hand wrapped around Stiles’ cock and the teenager found himself moving closer to his second orgasm of the day.
“I want you to come again.” Derek ran his tongue down Stiles’ neck and then bit down near where one bruise already marred his skin. “I want to feel you on my cock.” Stiles chocked on his words as Derek’s hand sped up, pulling at his cock in counterpoint to the thrust of the older man inside of him.
“Derek,” Stiles moaned, reaching one hand back to twist his fingers in the other man’s hair and giving it a tug. “Derek!”
Stiles wasn’t sure if it was his name or the sharp tugging pain or just time for an explosion but Derek stilled behind him for a half second before his hips slammed back against him, his cock twitching in Stiles’ ass as he came fast and hard. Just the thought that he’d made the other man come was enough for Stiles to follow him into oblivion, crying out his name once last time before covering his hand. Derek’s hand didn’t stop stroking until his hips stopped grinding against Stiles’ ass and then both men dropped onto the bed, Derek’s clean hand coming to rest on Stiles’ back as they caught their breath.
“Wow!” the teenager gasped out. He screwed his eyes closed and buried his face in his pillow as he felt rather than heard the laughing man beside him. Derek’s fingers drew idle circles in the sweat at the small of Stiles’ back as the clock next to the bed ticked loudly in the otherwise silent room.
“So…” Stiles started after his breathing had evened out and his head had stopped spinning.
“Yes, we can do that again.” Stiles felt Derek shift next to him and turned to see the other man leaning on his elbow. “No, not right now. Yes, maybe later tonight. No, I’m not sleeping here, mostly because your father has a gun and, legal or not, he’d still probably shoot me. Yes, you can call me tomorrow or whenever you’d like. Anything else?”
“Ummm…” Stiles turned to face him completely and screwed up his nose. “Do you like frozen pizza? Or frozen burritos. Or frozen… peas. We have peas.”
“You’re an idiot.” Derek’s smile blunted the comment. “And I hate peas.”