As if Stiles’ life wasn’t already insane enough, his inconvenient thing for Derek somehow morphed into a thing for Derek’s armpits.
It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t find all of Derek ridiculously attractive – because obviously he was perfect in every way if you overlooked his anger management issues. Derek was ridiculously hot, like straight out of gay porn hot (and Stiles would know). But there was something about Derek’s armpits in particular that made Stiles feel like he was losing his grip on his sanity. They were on display entirely more often than Stiles felt was fair or reasonable. Derek seemed to own a huge collection of tanks and not nearly enough T-shirts, and whenever he stretched or reached for anything Stiles’ attention was somehow drawn to the soft vulnerability of the skin on the underside of his arms, and the tantalizing tuft of dark hair that was revealed.
Derek had thawed and relaxed a little now that the pack had finally bonded after uniting to deal with the Alpha Pack. Derek seemed to tolerate Stiles more these days. Stiles wasn’t sure that Derek actually liked him – liking might be a little strong – but he put up with Stiles’ company, and even occasionally cracked a smile at one of Stiles’ jokes. Stiles couldn’t deny how much he loved seeing that curve of Derek’s lips when it was for him. It happened so rarely that each smile Derek bestowed felt like a gift.
The armpit deal was sealed when Stiles turned up alone at Derek’s place one day after school. He screeched to a halt in his jeep, grabbed his laptop and jogged over to the door, then lifted his hand to knock.
“Come in, Stiles.” Derek’s voice echoed from inside before Stiles’ hand had even made contact with the wood. Stiles would never get entirely used to freaky werewolf senses, even though he was surrounded by the supernatural.
“I hate it when you do that,” he grumbled as he pushed open the newly sanded and varnished front door. “Can’t you just pretend sometimes? Just go along with it and let me knock as though you’re a normal person?”
Stiles’ words trailed off as he took in the sight of Derek doing pull ups from the door frame in the living room. Stiles walked closer. Derek was shirtless, sheened with sweat, and the rhythmic up and down motion of his body and the bunching of his muscles made Stiles’ thoughts immediately go to very dirty places. His gaze locked onto Derek’s torso and slid over it appraisingly.
Fuck, he was getting hard. Look away, Stiles, look away!
Stiles tried, he really did. His gaze slid sideways, trying to get away from the smorgasbord of sexy werewolf deliciousness that was flexing in front of him – all rock hard abs, distracting nipples and bulging biceps. But Stiles only made it as far as Derek’s right armpit and was completely unable to look away. How was it possible that even his armpits were perfect? Black hair, stark against Derek’s pale skin, was almost hidden as he pulled his body up each time. But then as Derek lowered himself down again it was fully visible, shockingly dark against the soft-looking skin that surrounded it.
Stiles took a shuddering breath, and that only made matters worse, because even his puny human senses could detect the rich tang of Derek’s sweat that surrounded him. Stiles’ body inevitably reacted, his knees going weak as more blood rushed to his dick.
Derek didn’t stop. His movements continued, all power and grace and effortless strength. But when Stiles dragged his gaze to Derek’s face, Derek was watching him. His green-gold eyes were knowing, and the hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
“What can I do for you?” He smiled properly now, teeth shining white in the dim light of the old house.
“I... uh...” Stiles’ mind was blank.
He knew that he’d come here for a reason, but all he could think about was that black whorl of hair in Derek’s armpit and how he wanted to look at it again. He wanted to bury his nose in it and breathe Derek in. He even wanted to lick it. And that should have been gross, but Stiles was obviously some kind of sick armpit pervert, because the thought of his tongue moving over that hair and making it wet with his spit was making his dick so hard he was about to burst out of his pants. He shifted his laptop to cover it.
Laptop. Yes! That’s why he was here.
“There’s something here I need to show you. Derek was still doing pull ups, making them look effortless. His eyebrows drew up and he grinned suggestively as he looked down at the laptop covering Stiles’ crotch.
“Okay.” He dropped, landing with feline grace – which was kind of ironic for a werewolf when you thought about it.
Stiles turned and walked over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward to hide his boner as he powered up his laptop. Derek came and stood beside him, leaning with his arms on the table as he waited. The heat radiated off him; Stiles could feel it through the thin fabric of his plaid shirt. He jiggled his knee, unable to contain his nervous energy and need and want without something spilling out.
“Look,” he said, tapping on the mouse pad and jabbing his finger at the screen, grateful for the distraction at last. A photograph of a gruesome half-eaten deer carcass filled the screen. “Someone posted this on Facebook earlier, but the police made them pull it. My dad’s investigating it. Suspicious animal attacks... again.” Stiles shook his head. “But Scott overheard Deaton talking to Dad and they have no idea what could have done this. There’s no local wildlife that kills like this.”
Derek leaned closer and Stiles caught a whiff of his scent again. The dark, rich musk of him made Stiles’ leg bounce faster as he willed his erection away.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Derek said. Stiles turned to look at him and Derek was frowning, mouth turned down. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Not yet,” Stiles admitted. “But I came here first in case you knew anything. I thought it might save time; but if there’s something on the internet I’ll find it.”
He pulled out his laptop cable. “I’m going to need caffeine.” He wanted to get Derek away from him so he could concentrate. He kept his voice light. “And you should go shower, you smell like you’ve been chasing rabbits and rolling in dead things.”
Derek glared, but his lips twitched and his eyes flickered to Stiles’ groin. Stiles felt his cheeks heat as he turned his attention back to the screen. Yeah. He was so busted.
His life sucked.
It was a couple of weeks after armpit-gate and Stiles had long given up trying not to think about Derek’s pits while he was jerking off because it was impossible, okay? They were there whether he wanted them in his thoughts or not, lodged into his subconscious like a festering splinter under a fingernail, only sexier. That patch of soft black hair against smooth skin and hard muscle kept popping into his head, and Stiles was pretty sure it wasn’t coincidence that the image usually triggered a shamefully powerful orgasm, leaving him shaking and weak in the aftermath.
Tonight, the pack was gathering at the Hale house for a meeting to discuss the animal attacks. There had been several since the first that had started the police investigation. Mostly on deer but a couple of horses had been savaged too. There had been some security footage from the stables from where a horse had been taken, and Stiles had managed to get hold of a copy. Their best guess from the grainy images was that they were dealing with a chupacabra. Sure, you weren’t supposed to get them in California but nothing surprised Stiles anymore. This one had obviously strayed farther north than usual and had landed up in Beacon Hills, the magnet to all weird and not-so-wonderful creatures.
When Stiles arrived – half an hour late and starving because it was one of those days – the living room at the Hale house was full of people.
“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late.” He looked around the room, searching for Derek’s disapproving face and judgy eyebrows.
Scott and Allison were draped all over each other in one armchair, Jackson and Lydia in another. Erica was stretched out across the couch with her head in Boyd’s lap and her feet in Isaac’s. She was running her fingernails over Boyd’s torso as Isaac’s hand slid over her denim clad thighs, making her giggle and squirm.
Stiles didn’t even want to know what was going on with those three. He was sexually frustrated enough without imagining how that particular sex sandwich might go. Stiles really didn’t need to be reminded that he was the only person in the pack who wasn’t getting laid, except for Derek – he assumed. Because despite looking like a fallen angel sans actual wings, Derek apparently wasn’t getting any either. And yes, this was something Stiles had discussed with Scott, who insisted that he’d be able to smell it on Derek if he was having sex with anyone. Stiles supposed that Derek’s state of celibacy could only be down to his trust issues, because he knew that Derek could turn on the charm when required. He could totally get laid if he wanted to.
Speaking of Derek... “So, where the hell is Derek?” Stiles asked, taking a seat on the second couch. “I know I’m hardly in a position to criticize tardiness tonight, but it’s very uncool for an alpha to be late for his own pack meeting. We should eat all the snacks before he gets here as revenge.”
“I have no idea where he is.” Lydia shrugged. “But Jackson and I have a homework project to finish so if he doesn’t get here soon, we’re taking off. This wasn’t meant to be a long meeting anyway, nobody has much to report.”
“We’re supposed to be going to the movies.” Scott frowned and looked at his watch, then at Allison. “If we go now we could get milkshakes first. It doesn’t look like Derek’s coming anytime soon.”
They sat around for another ten minutes, sharing what little new information they had about the killings. There had been one more reported case in recent days, but Stiles had kept them all in the loop by email anyway so there really wasn’t much more to say.
“Come on, boys.” Erica peeled herself off Boyd and Isaac’s laps and held out a hand to each of them. “Take me home.”
The three of them were still shacked up in the railway carriage, despite Derek’s offer of rooms in the Hale house. They seemed to like it there. Or maybe they just liked their privacy. Werewolf senses made it hard to come by in shared accommodation and perhaps they didn’t want to rub Derek’s muzzle in their little ménage arrangement.
The ‘boys’ got up and flanked her as they made their way to the door. “Tell Derek we’re sorry we missed him.” Erica blew a kiss to Stiles over her shoulder.
“Sure.” Stiles nodded. “Bye, guys.”
Lydia was standing now and looking expectantly at Jackson. She arched a perfect eyebrow. “This homework isn’t going to do itself you know.”
Jackson got up and slid his arm around her shoulders. It was still weird seeing them back together, happy at last. Stiles was honestly pleased for them now, glad that they’d found each other again. His uncontrollable crush for Derek had obliterated any residual feelings that Stiles had for Lydia. She was nothing more than a friend to him now.
After Lydia and Jackson had said their goodbyes and the door had closed behind them, Stiles caught Scott looking at his watch again.
“Oh, just go!” Stiles flapped his hands at them. He knew they were desperate to get away. Allison still hadn’t admitted to her dad that she’d started dating Scott again, so their time together was limited. “Go, and make out in the back row or whatever it is you do at the movies. I’ll hang around for awhile in case Derek shows.”
“Are you sure?” Scott asked, uncertain.
But Allison grinned brightly, jumping up out of Scott’s lap, ready to leave. “Thanks Stiles.” She blew him a kiss.
“Yes I’m sure, and you’re welcome.” He rolled his eyes at them. “Now, get out of here!”
Left alone in Derek’s house, Stiles raided the kitchen. The lack of decent food was pathetic. He honestly wondered how Derek survived on a diet of breakfast cereal and the occasional sandwich. Surely he must need more protein than that to keep those muscles? Maybe he ate a lot of take out.
Stiles was sitting at Derek’s kitchen table eating a bowl of Heart to Heart cereal when he finally heard the front door opening. “About fucking time, Man,” he called. “I’m in the kitchen. The others had stuff to do – by which I mostly mean each other – so they took off. I was hungry so I made myself at home but your cupboards are pretty bare. You really need to do more grocery shopping...” His voice trailed off as Derek strode into the kitchen. “Fuck! What happened to you?”
“I found it.” Derek’s voice was grim and Stiles could see from the set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw that he was in pain. “Well technically I found one of them, and its mate found me.”
The fabric of Derek’s thin white tank was ripped in several places and Stiles could see the blood welling from some deep scratches that hadn’t healed yet. He was dirty too, with smears of mud on his clothes and dry leaves in his hair as though he’d been rolling around.
“What was it?” Stiles asked, moving closer to inspect the damage. He circled around Derek and found deeper cuts on his back, claw marks that had torn deep into his flesh. “These are nasty, we need to get you cleaned up so you can heal properly.”
“You were right.” Derek’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “It was a chupacabra. Well... two of them in fact. I caught the scent while I was out running and found the male first. But the female came out of nowhere, she dropped onto my back while I was dealing with her mate.” He started to peel up his tank, hissing as the material caught where the blood was starting to clot at the edges of the wounds.
“Let me.” Stiles took over, easing Derek’s top up gently, taking care not to tug at the new skin that was trying to heal. He slid it up and over as Derek lifted his arms obediently for Stiles to undress him. His body was hot and sweaty from running, his scent strong and heady as Stiles inhaled. He kept his eyes on Derek’s injuries and away from temptation. Now was not the time to be ogling. “Sit down,” Stiles instructed. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Stiles took his time. Derek leaned forward over the kitchen table, his body tight with tension as Stiles cleaned the deep gashes on his back as gently as he could. The dirt from the creatures’ claws was slowing the healing process, so he had to get it out. Derek stayed utterly silent as Stiles dabbed at the wounds with cotton padding soaked in warm water. There were eight gashes on Derek’s back in all; four parallel lines from each shoulder down to Derek’s shoulder blades where the beast had pounced on him before he’d managed to throw it off. It had just missed the ink of Derek’s tattoo, the gashes just half an inch away from the outer edges.
Stiles worked his way from left to right, and by the time he reached the second set of four, the first couple on the other side of Derek’s back had nearly healed. The new skin was pink and slightly shiny where the cuts had knitted closed. Stiles knew from experience that they would be invisible within a few hours, as though they had never been there at all. It never ceased to amaze him.
When he’d finished working on Derek’s back he straightened up, stretching the kinks out of his spine for a moment. “Turn around.” He put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, enjoying the smoothness of that warm skin under his fingertips.
Derek shifted his chair around and faced Stiles. “I can do these myself.” He gestured to the scratches on his chest. They were more superficial than the ones on his back had been.
Stiles shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ve got it. You should keep still while those gashes on your back heal up. You’ll be good as new in fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks.” Derek’s lips curved into that smile that Stiles loved.
Stiles refreshed the water in the bowl and crouched down beside Derek’s chair to inspect the damage. Most of the cuts on Derek’s chest were already healing well, so Stiles just gave them a quick clean where there were any that were still open and washed the dried blood away with a washcloth. Derek sat passive, letting Stiles take care of him, and Stiles tried not to notice how Derek’s nipples tightened as he drew the cloth over them, leaving them damp and erect. Stiles pushed down an inappropriate jolt of arousal. Derek was injured, Stiles needed to focus on that.
“There’s just this one still to do.” Derek lifted his arm and Stiles winced.
The last gash that needed attention was deep. It was evil-looking, with ragged edges that ran around Derek’s ribcage and up his flank. “That one looks nasty.” Stiles frowned. He stood and took the bowl to the sink to fetch some more fresh water; the stuff left in the bowl was stained red from Derek’s blood again.
“Yeah, it was from the male’s back foot. He managed to get a good slash at me before I ripped his head off.”
Stiles’ eyes jerked up. Derek was grinning, teeth glinting dangerously in the dim light, the dark stubble on his jaw rough and touchable. Stiles’ nipples tingled as he imagined how it would feel scraping over his skin.
“Lift your arm up.” Stiles squeezed the excess water from his cotton ball and set to work, biting on his bottom lip in concentration as he cleaned this last, long scratch that marred the perfection of Derek’s torso.
He started at the bottom, where the cut was deepest. Derek hissed, his body jerking as Stiles dug deep to get out a piece of dirt that was lodged in there. “I’m sorry.” He looked up. Derek’s face was expressionless. “Get on with it.”
“Okay.” Stiles worked his way up slowly, making sure that the wound was perfectly clean. He finally reached the newly healed skin just below Derek’s armpit where the cut had been shallower and Derek’s body had already worked its magic. There was dried blood covering the pink skin, so Stiles wiped that away and Derek jerked again. Stiles looked up, questioningly. “Does that hurt?”
“Ticklish,” Derek hissed through gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” Stiles said again, but he couldn’t help the smirk that quirked his lips.
“You’re loving it, you liar. I can smell it on you.” Derek glared at him, but there was a hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his lips.
Stiles was loving it. He loved taking care of Derek like this, and he loved that Derek trusted him enough to let him. He loved that Derek was ticklish, because who knew? But most of all he loved the softness of that secret, pale skin high up on Derek’s ribs that he’d never been able to touch before. The mood between them had shifted subtly. Derek was nearly healed now and Stiles was no longer afraid of hurting him. His attention was starting to wander away from his first aid duties and Stiles found himself beginning to notice the little details about Derek’s body that the unusual proximity was allowing him to see.
Stiles dipped his cotton ball in the bowl one last time, and watched as his tentative swipe at the now-clean skin under Derek’s arm caused a trail of goose bumps to rise in response to the cold water. Derek flinched slightly, but kept his arm up for Stiles.
Stiles’ gaze slid over Derek’s torso and saw that his nipples were still tight, maybe from the cool water. But the thought that it might be due to Stiles’ touch, however clinical and platonic, sent a flush of heat through Stiles’ body that made his dick start to fill. He knew he should move away fast, clear away the mess of bloodied cotton pads and let Derek shower and change. But he had Derek here, close, letting Stiles touch him, and Stiles wasn’t ready to let that go. He indulged himself just for a moment longer – how could a few more seconds hurt? He let himself look at the tufts of black hair in Derek’s armpit as he breathed in the heady scent of Derek’s skin, so close to his nose, warm under his fingertips as he traced the fading line of the scar on Derek’s ribs. He could feel the hardness of them under the layers of muscle and counted as his fingers skated over them. One, two, three, four...
“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was uncertain. Stiles couldn’t look at him, because he knew that if Derek couldn’t already smell his arousal he would certainly be able to see it written all over Stiles’ face. Stiles forever sucked at hiding his emotions.
“There you go.” Stiles’ voice wobbled as he pulled his hand away. “Good as new.”
His knees protested as he straightened up. He might only be seventeen, but crouching for that long wasn’t comfortable for anyone. He still avoided Derek’s eyes, but before Stiles could turn away, Derek’s hands came up and grasped his hips, strong and unyielding.
“Stiles,” Derek said again, and this time it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. “Look at me.”
A flush burned through Stiles, crawling over his face and neck as his heart surged. He slowly dragged his gaze up and Derek’s eyes pinned him, holding him as surely as the hands on his hips. The greeny-gold of Derek’s irises was almost entirely eclipsed by black and Stiles’ pulse jumped with crazy hope and confusion.
“What?” Stiles’ voice stuck in his throat, coming out as an embarrassing squeak that made his flush deepen. It felt like his whole body was on fire, the heat centered on his dick where it throbbed, aching in the confines of his jeans.
“It’s not just you, Stiles.” Derek’s gaze dropped to Stiles’ crotch where the outline of his erection was mortifyingly visible, tenting out the front of his pants.
“What?” Stiles said again. His voice was still at a pitch where only bats should be able to hear him – or maybe dogs. This nearly made him snort with nervous laughter, but Derek’s hand grasping his wrist derailed his thoughts.
Derek pulled, and then pressed Stiles’ palm against the bulge in his jeans and there were no words to adequately describe the sound that Stiles made when he felt the unmistakable hardness of Derek’s dick under his hand. It was maybe somewhere between a whimper and a gurgle with a hint of fuckfuckfuck, I can’t breathe. Stiles was still staring at Derek, unable to look away, and he watched as a flush crept over Derek’s cheekbones and his lips parted as his erection flexed against Stiles’ palm.
“Oh my God... you... you’re... what, really?” Okay so maybe the words made little sense, but Stiles felt that his tone of hapless confusion and utter disbelief made his feelings pretty clear.
Derek’s eyes flared red and he grabbed Stiles’ belt loop and pulled. Stiles stumbled and ended up in Derek’s lap, his hands braced on the hard, smooth planes of Derek’s chest. Derek reached up and his firm hands gripped Stiles’ face, fingers curling behind his neck as Derek pulled him inexorably, inevitably down into what Stiles realized was his first real kiss. Real, as in someone kissing him because they really wanted to, not because a bottle was pointing at them at a party, or because somebody had dared them to do it.
Stiles had often imagined how a first real kiss might go, and it was absolutely nothing like this hot clash of lips and tongue and teeth. Derek’s stubble dragged over his chin and cheek as Stiles tilted his head, thrusting his tongue in deeper. This kiss blew everything that Stiles had imagined out of the water. It was messy and desperate and perfect. Stiles could feel Derek’s cock against his as they ground together, and Derek moaned into his mouth, a small, needy sound that nearly broke Stiles completely.
He tore his lips away, gasping for breath and felt the hot slide as Derek licked over his throat, the scrape of teeth and Derek’s fingers biting into his hips as he thrust up against Stiles again.
“Fuck, fuck... timeout. I don’t want to come yet. Derek, please!”
Stiles gripped Derek’s head, his fingers twisting into the thick strands of hair. Stiles had no fucking idea what was going on here, other than the immediately obvious. There was touching and kissing, and were probably going to be orgasms. He was all in favor of that, but if this was going to be the only time he ever got to do this then he wanted to make the most of the opportunity, and coming in his pants after two minutes of kissing would be a fucking waste. He wanted to explore more than just Derek’s mouth.
Derek pulled away and grinned, his eyes dark and hooded, the red gone again. “Hold on tight.” He stood in one swift movement and Stiles yelped as his legs wrapped instinctively around Derek’s waist.
“Jesus!” He clung like a monkey. Could this be more undignified? “A little warning would have been... ahhh!” Derek’s mouth was on his neck again, biting and sucking and hurting in a really good way. “Don’t you dare leave a mark!” Stiles warned him. “I’m not wearing a turtleneck for a week, this isn’t the 1970s, and I really don’t want to have to explain this to my Dad.” Derek’s chuckle was muffled by Stiles’ skin, but the biting turned back to licking, which Stiles was totally on board with. And then Derek was kissing him again until Stiles forgot all about dignity, because it was totally overrated.
Derek somehow managed to carry Stiles through the house, up the stairs and to his bedroom without coming up for air. He sat on the edge of the bed, Stiles still wrapped around him and they shuffled back, until Derek was lying back on the bed with Stiles straddling his hips, their lips still locked together in a wet, hot slide of awesomeness.
Derek’s fingers were plucking at Stiles’ buttons and the sound of one pinging off and skittering across the floorboards made Stiles break the kiss to help him. “Here... let me.” He finished unbuttoning and pulled it off, throwing it blindly across the room. Derek’s hands were already pushing up his T-shirt, skating warm over the soft skin of Stiles’ belly, grazing his nipples and making him arch into the touch. He lifted his arms and helped to wriggle it over his head, tossing it aside before pausing and looking down at Derek for a moment.
They stared at each other, their gazes roaming hungrily over each other’s bodies.
Stiles looked at Derek like he’d never allowed himself to look before, like he’d always longed to. He took in those washboard abs, the perfect nipples, tight and dark and looking like they wanted to be touched. He ran his fingertips over them, then pinched lightly and felt Derek’s hips hitch under his ass. His gaze got caught on the almost-healed scar that ran up Derek’s ribcage. He trailed his finger up it. “Is this okay now? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Derek’s voice was rough, with an edge of impatience. “It’s fine, just a little sensitive.” He shivered as Stiles’ fingertip moved higher and he lifted his arm above his head so that Stiles could see where the scar ended, just an inch below his armpit.
Before Stiles had time to think about what he was doing he had leaned forward and was using his tongue on the scar, licking smoothly along the livid pink line. He could taste the salt and sweetness of Derek’s skin and the faintest copper tang of old blood. When he reached the top of the mark he kept moving, pressing kisses to the soft skin until his nose was buried in that soft, black hair. His cock surged, twitching and leaking pre-come in his underwear as he pressed his face in and breathed. “Oh fuck,” Stiles whimpered. The warm musky scent overwhelmed him. It was almost too much, to finally be here, doing this.
Derek chuckled, a deep rumble that Stiles felt against his cheek as he nuzzled, running his lips over the hair until he reached the skin on the underside of Derek’s arm and paused to suck and lick. “Really, Stiles?” Stiles heard amusement in Derek’s tone, but his voice was a little breathless too, so Stiles assumed this was all good. “I knew you liked seeing me work out but I always figured it was a muscle thing.”
“It’s an all of you thing.” Stiles’ breath made the hairs move and tickle his chin, and Derek squirmed. “The muscles are good too, but Jesus, Derek. I don’t know. It’s just a thing okay? Your armpits are hot. Deal with it.”
He pulled back, sitting up to look down at Derek spread out on the bed beneath him. Derek grinned up at him lazily, and Stiles’ eyes narrowed. He grabbed Derek’s other arm and pushed it up, pinning both wrists over Derek’s head so he could see both armpits now, dark and soft and delicious.
“I never knew you were so kinky.” Derek hitched his hips again, his cock pressing up insistently.
“Well there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
Derek was nothing like Stiles would have imagined in a sexual situation. He’d always thought Derek would be all power and control and taking charge. But here he was, letting Stiles pin him to the mattress. But Stiles knew that with one move Derek could flip them over and Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to stop him. That knowledge sent a thrill through Stiles. He lowered himself over Derek and turned his attention to the other side of his torso. He kissed and licked his way from nipple to pit until Derek was squirming against his touch, his breath coming in gasps. He arched up against Stiles, rubbing their cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. “Too many fucking clothes,” he complained.
Huh, yeah. Derek’s armpits were too distracting, clearly. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Stiles sat up and fumbled with Derek’s fly, unbuttoning and unzipping and freeing his cock – thick, sticky-wet and uncut – and then doing the same for his own. He dove back down, moving his hips, sliding their dicks together as he licked back into Derek’s armpit, making the hair wet and slick with his spit.
Derek squirmed under him. “Shit! That tickles, stop!”
“Spoilsport.” Stiles huffed, but then he had to pause to get rid of a stray hair that was caught in his teeth, so maybe he’d steer clear of the licking anyway. Armpit licking was probably sexier in theory than in practice, he decided, but the nuzzling was awesome. He moved his hips faster, his breath becoming ragged as he got close.
“Sit up,” Derek begged. “I want to see you come.”
Stiles scrambled up, his legs were still tangled in his jeans, but he managed to straddle Derek’s belly. Derek lifted his head to watch as Stiles jerked himself furiously now, riding the crest of the wave, poised to crash over any second. He could feel the movement of Derek’s hand working his own cock, bumping against Stiles’ ass on the upstroke. God, he was so fucking close. “If you jizz in my armpit you will be licking it off,” Derek warned him. “Even if it does tickle. Actually I’ve got a better idea.”
He grabbed Stiles’ hips and pulled him up his chest, eyes fixed on Stiles’ dick and lips parting hungrily. Stiles nearly jizzed all over his face when he realized what Derek wanted. He barely managed to get the head of his cock past Derek’s lips before he was coming, spurting into Derek’s mouth as Derek sucked him down and worked his cock with long slow pulls of his mouth. Finally, Stiles stopped pulsing and shuddering. He was dimly aware that Derek had a hand on his own dick again. “Did you come yet?” Derek shook his head, mouth still full of Stiles’ softening prick. “Good. I want to suck you too.”
Stiles navigated his way down Derek’s body, legs still shaking from the aftermath of coming harder than he’d ever come in his life. He lay on his side, pulling on Derek’s hip till he rolled to face him. He flicked his eyes up to meet Derek’s. “Okay, standard disclaimer from the virgin here. I’ve never done this before, so apologies in advance if I suck really badly – pun intended.”
Derek’s laugh was soft, but his hands were gentle as he cupped Stiles’ cheek and ran his thumb along Stiles’ lips, parting them before nudging the head of his cock inside. Stiles licked around the head, tasting salt that made his mouth water, before opening wider and starting to suck in a messy, sloppy rhythm. It was easier than he’d expected, and somehow he found that he knew what to do – partly by instinct and partly from impressively thorough research using the medium of gay porn. God bless the internet. He gagged a little when he tried to take Derek too deep, so he pulled back, using his hand at the base and focused on the head. He tongued Derek’s foreskin, fascinated by how he could slide his tongue under it, then he rolled it right back and licked around the rim which made Derek moan as his fingers tightened against Stiles’ scalp. “Close,” he growled.
Stiles took that as a warning, and he appreciated Derek’s consideration as a blowjob virgin, but there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to see this through. If a blowjob was worth doing then it was worth doing well. Who knew when Stiles would next get the opportunity to suck cock, let alone Derek’s cock? There was no way he was pulling off until Derek had come.
He sucked like a pro, sliding his lips over the rim with each stroke until Derek made a strangled sound, fingers clutching at Stiles’ shoulders in a bruising grip as his cock pulsed against Stiles’ tongue, filling his mouth with salty spurts. Stiles gave himself a mental high five as he managed to coordinate swallowing while still sucking gently, his hand moving lower to cup and squeeze Derek’s balls as his dick began to soften in Stiles’ mouth.
When he finally pulled away, Stiles couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across his face. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand where they were slick with spit and a little come that had escaped.
“Get up here.” Derek’s voice was a soft growl and his eyes were luminous as he stared right at Stiles. He was looking at him as though he’d never really seen him before. Stiles could understand that. Everything was different now. Once you’d had someone’s dick in your mouth there was no going back to how it was before. Even if this was only a one-time thing – and Stiles really hoped that it wasn’t – nobody could take away Stiles’ knowledge of the sounds that Derek made when he came, or the memory of his heavy cock in Stiles’ mouth.
Stiles licked his lips nervously as he wriggled up the bed, hampered by his stupid underwear and pants that were trapped around his thighs. He still had socks and shoes on for fuck’s sake. He lay facing Derek, his hand resting tentatively on the bare skin of Derek’s hip.
“Can you stay tonight?” Derek asked gruffly. He looked nervous and defensive, as though he was expecting to be knocked back.
“Sure.” Stiles didn’t even try to hold back the goofy smile that stretched across his face. “Dad’s working tonight anyway, I told him I might stay at Scott’s.”
An answering smile spread over Derek’s face, and he leaned in, reaching for Stiles and pulling him closer. And this time, when Derek kissed him, it was exactly how Stiles had always imagined a first kiss would be – soft, gentle, a little uncertain, and it felt like the beginning of something.