The drive back to the loft was quiet and tense. Neither Stiles nor Derek wanted to speak, because they knew that they’d probably say even more terrible shit that they didn’t really mean. After all, that’s how fights typically worked. The only problem was that Valentine’s Day—the day of love—wasn’t supposed to be filled with anger and fighting between loving boyfriends.
When the two feuding lovers got up into the loft, Stiles immediately noticed all of the bright red rose petals that had been tossed delicately around the open space. There were beautiful paper lanterns set around the loft in various places—their soft, flickering light helped illuminate the dark loft. Derek’s bed had also been revamped with loads of plush pillows, new silk sheets, and a bottle of unopened champagne.
It was clear that Derek had put a lot of work into the loft’s Valentine’s Day décor, but Stiles wasn’t in the mood for anything Derek had planned. And honestly, neither was Derek. An argument in the woods about getting attacked by a wild manticore was enough to completely shatter the mood. And it was all Derek’s fault.
He almost died…again.
“I’m taking a shower.” Derek growled under his breath, heading off towards the hallway bathroom.
“Do whatever.” Stiles snipped. “I’ll use the one in the guest bedroom. Where I’ll be sleeping for the night. Away from you.”
The two huffed at practically the same time and sluggishly moved around to their separate destinations. Keeping their distance was probably the best action. It would keep them from bickering and tugging at an already open argument. Things just needed to quietly resolve and flutter away.
When Derek got out of his shower, he walked back towards the main area of the loft where his bed was located. He could still hear the guest bedroom’s shower still running, which meant that Stiles was taking an extra long dip under the water like he always did. Wasting water seemed to be his specialty and because of Derek’s already frustrated state, it just dug under his skin and made him more annoyed.
Derek dropped his wet towel and grabbed a pair of clean boxer briefs from the small dresser beside his bed. He slipped them on and ran his hands through his damp hair. He looked down at the decorated bed—longingly at first. He had spent such a long time getting everything together. He had wanted to make it an extra special surprise after a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, but the damn manticore attack fucked everything up.
And then Stiles had had the audacity to get pissed at Derek for wanting to fight off the beast. As if there had been any other choice. Refusing to kill the beast would have just meant letting it fly off into the night, probably to another city to kill innocent people. Derek made the choice to defeat it, but got pretty banged up from the battle. Stiles lost his shit after it was all finished. Apparently, he didn’t like seeing his boyfriend always bloodied and severely injured.
Derek frowned at the bed and grabbed the bottle of champagne off of the sheets. He set it down on the ground and went to grab at the sheets to fling off the rose petals. As his fingers gripped the edge of the silk, he heard a loud thud and a resounding grunt from Stiles down the hall. Instantly, his instincts kicked into gear and he darted off toward the guest bedroom.
“Stiles!” Derek yelled worriedly.
He barged into the bedroom, but Stiles wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The sound of the shower’s water continued to play on, so Derek twisted open the locked doorknob of the bathroom door and pushed it open. As he stepped into the steamy room, he saw Stiles sitting down in the tub—rubbing angrily at his elbow and looking up to Derek with a glare.
Derek kneeled down at the side of the tub and instinctively cradled the side of Stiles’ neck with one of his hands as he gently grabbed Stiles’ injured arm with his other hand. He examined Stiles’ arm for a moment, only to realize that it definitely wasn’t broken—just bruised. The only thing injured was Stiles’ pride. He was flushed slightly red with embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” Derek asked.
Stiles’ facial expression softened. He nodded and turned off the shower faucet. “Yeah, I just slipped on some shampoo. I’m fine.”
Derek helped Stiles up and out of the shower. He grabbed a clean towel from the available towel rack and worked to dry off Stiles’ wet body and hair. It seemed as though they had completely forgot about the argument that they had just been in. None of that really mattered anymore.
“I’m sorry.” Derek whispered, dragging the soft cloth of the towel down Stiles’ bare chest. “I don’t mean to worry you so much when I go out there and fight against these monsters. But I have—”
“I know…I know…” Stiles mumbled guiltily. “I should be apologizing. I was just being a fucking asshole for no reason. I should be used to this kind of life already. I’m dating a werewolf for fucks sake…a werewolf that I love…so much. And I hate seeing you bleeding and hurt.”
Derek set the used towel aside on the bathroom counter and cradled the sides of Stiles’ head with his hands. “I love you.”
The two leaned in and connected their mouths in a soft kiss that eagerly grew more passionate. Derek’s nails dragged down Stiles’ naked side, marking up the beautiful skin with faint red lines. He picked Stiles up into his arms—sucking on his neck—and carried him out of the bathroom to the main area of the loft.
By the time Derek laid Stiles down onto the rose petal covered sheets, Stiles was a moaning mess. He was hard and flushed against Derek’s muscular body. Stiles’ warm and somewhat damp skin against the softness of the silk sheets and the breezy coolness of the loft was euphoric. He just let his eyes fall shut as Derek’s mouth explored his body.
Derek took him apart slowly and softly. He started at Stiles’ neck and carefully moved down to Stiles’ chest, where he took one of Stiles’ nipples into the warmth of his mouth. He sucked and twirled his tongue around Stiles’ nipple until he felt it get hard in-between the tiny nibbles of his teeth. He loved feeling Stiles writhe and arch upwards into his body.
Stiles’ fingers grazed through Derek’s hair. He pushed Derek’s head downwards, down to his navel, his abs, and down to his own throbbing hardness. He desperately longed for Derek’s mouth around his cock and Derek was more than happy to comply with Stiles’ swift direction.
Derek grasped one of his hands around Stiles’ beautiful cock. He pumped it a couple times and then eagerly took Stiles into his mouth without hesitation. Derek hummed happily around Stiles and started to bob up and down the length—using his fingers to prod around Stiles’ hot hole.
Stiles was laid out on his back, meanwhile Derek was laid out on his stomach. His feet dangled innocently off the edge of the bed, whilst his mouth worked over Stiles’ leaking cock with orgasmic relentlessness. Derek grinded his own erect cock down into the firmness of the mattress as he sucked and slopped around Stiles. Giving Stiles so much pleasure was one of the biggest turn-ons that Derek could ever hope to experience.
“Derek…” Stiles groaned, curling his toes into the sheets.
Derek pulled off of Stiles’ cock with a lewd pop and grabbed his thighs. He pulled Stiles’ legs apart, lifted them up slightly, and then pressed his mouth against Stiles’ hole. He worked his tongue into Stiles with crude rhythm, twisting out sweet moans from Stiles. The boy was lost for understandable words…and rightfully so.
Eventually, Derek sat up slightly and pushed two of his fingers into Stiles with ease. Stiles gasped loudly, tilting his head back in pleasure. He grabbed and clawed and pulled at anything that he could—grabbing fistfuls of rose petals and fabric. Derek smiled down from where he remained above Stiles.
“You’re so beautiful for me.” Derek purred, pulling down his boxers and stepping out of them.
Derek stroked himself and situated himself on the bed between Stiles’ open legs. He pressed the head of his leaking cock against Stiles’ wet hole and eased himself into Stiles without any resistance. Stiles groaned and grabbed onto Derek’s forearms—tugging him in closer for a kiss. It only forced Derek’s cock deeper into Stiles’ hole which drew a breathy whimper from Stiles’ lips.
“God, Derek.” Stiles grunted, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist. “Fuck me.”
The thrusts started slow and powerful—enough to knock lustful slurs of want out of Stiles. Derek kissed at sucked at Stiles’ upper torso and neck as he rocked and thrust into his heavenly boyfriend beneath him. Ultimately, Derek’s thrusts grew faster and rougher. Stiles practically hiccupped moans every time Derek’s thick cock slammed up into him.
With Derek pressed so flatly against Stiles as he fucked, Stiles’ cock was caught in-between Derek’s cut abs. They seemed to slide easily against Stiles’ throbbing cock with the help of sweat and Stiles’ leaked pre-cum. It started to stimulate Stiles in a way that made him twitch and dig his nails into Derek’s back in pleasure. He was getting extremely close to shooting his load and Derek was unaware to the stimulation he was giving Stiles’ cock.
Stiles started to pant out in heavy breaths. The inescapable feeling of twitching pleasure shot throughout his body as Derek repeatedly slammed into his prostate. The lower half of his body seemed to jolt and thrash in sync with Derek’s movement. All he could really manage was holding onto the hulking mass of unbelievable muscle on top of him.
Suddenly, Derek’s thrusts grew even more rapid and punishing than they previously were. He stared directly into Stiles’ half-lidded eyes with a look of fierce determination. With a couple more finishing pounds, Derek stilled and poured his load into Stiles’ ass with a pleased grunt. He collapsed on top of Stiles and felt himself pulse inside of Stiles’ heat.
The feeling of Derek’s cock pushed directly up into his prostate—twitching and cumming—was more than Stiles could bear to take. Almost painfully, Stiles’ orgasm took him over and let him paint wet heat between both his and Derek’s sweaty bodies. He cried out Derek’s name and dug the heels of his bare feet into Derek’s lower back, locking him into place. Derek took the opportunity to shower Stiles’ face with warm pebbled kisses.
“We need to have make-up sex more often.” Derek mumbled.
Stiles chuckled softly and combed his fingers through Derek’s hair in a languid, repeated fashion. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Derek.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”