It was one of those overcast days that really messed with Stiles's sense of time. By the end of lacrosse practice the sky was darkening as though it was hours later; Stiles already had his headlights on when the skies opened up as he was driving home. The run from the Jeep to the front door left him dripping.
His dad wasn't home, so Stiles stripped down to his boxers as soon as he'd locked the front door behind him. He carried his wet clothes directly to the laundry room before he headed upstairs, dangling his sodden backpack from his fingers, to find dry ones.
Stiles stopped short in the doorway of his bedroom. Derek was lying facedown in Stiles's bed, his head tucked into the cradle of his folded arms. He was stripped down to his underwear just like Stiles was, though probably not for precisely the same reason, since Derek's stuff was all neatly folded up on a chair.
Derek had gotten here before the rain started. He'd been waiting.
Two things were equally clear at that second. Stiles hesitated there in the doorway, hands on the doorframe, while he tried to get his head around both of them.
This was going to be a thing they did, now.
And if they were doing this today, it had to mean Derek was finally going to stop obsessively patrolling for that witch they'd run out of town last week. He wouldn't be here, in Stiles's bed like this, if he weren't ready to go off-duty. And he was in Stiles's bed again, like this.
Stiles found himself smiling, as much for one as the other. It had been nearly a month now since that time he turned around from his homework and found Derek mostly naked and entirely silent in his bed. He'd been pretty sure he hadn't fucked it up, but Derek had never mentioned it--not that Stiles really expected him to voluntarily talk about it afterward when he couldn't show his face during, so it wasn't like he'd asked, either--but this was the ultimate evidence. Here Derek was again, mostly naked and silent and waiting for Stiles.
"Hey," Stiles said softly, rocking on his heels without quite moving from the threshold. "There's a very quiet werewolf in my bed."
Derek shifted--Stiles couldn't help noticing he spread his legs wider as he did--and nodded without raising his head from his arms.
Stiles stepped into the room, running his hands through his wet hair and then wiping them, for lack of anywhere else, on his already-damp boxers. He'd spent a few days, after the last time, thinking about what he would do and what he would say if Derek ever wanted this again. He'd given up on that after a week or so, and then the whole witch fiasco blew up. Now that they were here again Stiles couldn't remember what he'd planned out, except that he knew there was one thing he had to say.
He walked over and sat down beside Derek's hip. He kept his hands in his own lap but pressed close, so Derek would be able to feel him.
"I don't know if you could hear me over the rain or smell me when I walked in," Stiles said quietly, trying not to break the stillness of the dim gray room with the white noise of the rain outside. "But I'm glad you're here. I always want you in my bed, and you can be as quiet as you want, whenever you want. You know that, right?"
Derek's shoulders twitched toward a shrug and then stilled. Stiles waited, breathing evenly, concentrating on the steady, honest beat of his own heart. After a minute, Derek nodded.
"Yeah, you know I won't try to lie to you, man," Stiles said, reaching up to rest one hand on Derek's shoulder. "We're good. I don't know how long you were waiting for me--do you need anything?"
Derek shook his head and then shifted enough to show Stiles one of his hands, unprompted. Four fingers out straight, their signal for all clear.
"Good," Stiles said, and looked around the room, shuffling priorities and schedules. He had to make the mental shift from Tuesday after lacrosse practice to Derek needs me without dropping anything important.
His dad was working all night, which Derek no doubt knew. Stiles didn't have much homework he couldn't put off, but he knew that once he really got into this with Derek he wasn't going to remember he had to review uses of the subjunctive for that Spanish quiz tomorrow. It was just one quiz, but Stiles had to hold the line against letting werewolves distract him from school; his dad and Derek would both, in their own ways, come down hard on him if he didn't.
Plus he still kind of needed to figure out what the hell he was doing here, and studying would let him stall until he thought of something. Last time he'd just been winging it, but now he had all these thoughts about what it meant that Derek did this with him. It was kind of a huge deal that Derek trusted him enough to let go like this, and, okay, if Stiles started freaking out Derek was going to notice and he wouldn't be able to relax.
Stiles bit his lip and looked deliberately up and down Derek's body, stretched out on his bed: Derek's feet, pink soles exposed, Derek's bare legs spread, the perfect shape of Derek's ass under his black boxer-briefs, the groove of his spine leading up into the swirls of his tattoo, the slump of his shoulders as he buried his head in his arms. Stiles concentrated on what was right in front of him--I get Derek, this is all for me, I'm gonna get laid--and let that kind of excitement be the thing that made his heart beat faster. He didn't mind Derek knowing he was thinking about that, and it wasn't hard not to get carried away with it.
Stiles ran his hand from Derek's shoulder down his back and up again, and then squeezed. "If you're okay just chilling out for a while, I'm gonna grab my flashcards. I'll lie down with you for a while and look them over, and then I'm all yours, okay?"
Derek nodded, going so far as to flick his four fingers toward the desk, shooing Stiles at the same time he flashed their signal. Okay, okay, okay.
Stiles snorted and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of Derek's shoulder, and then he got up and got the flashcards. When he came back, he set them down next to Derek's elbow before climbing carefully onto the bed. He draped himself over Derek's side and propped his chin on Derek's shoulder.
Derek was warm, something that Stiles never quite remembered until he was skin-to-skin or sharing a bed with him. Stiles was still damp and chilly from the rain, and he snuggled closer, tucking his toes under Derek's feet and his left hand under Derek's chest. Derek twitched a little but didn't pull away from Stiles's chilly extremities.
With his free hand Stiles propped the flash cards against the headboard.
"Esperar que," he muttered, trying to press the phrase into his brain despite everything else clamoring for his attention. "Insistir en que, mandar que...."
He couldn't help fidgeting a little, rubbing his feet against Derek's, flexing his fingers against Derek's ribs. Derek stayed still, not pushing him away or pinning him down. Even as his mouth kept moving around the shapes of words, Stiles was thinking, Okay, I can work with this.
Derek wasn't going to ask for anything; asking would mean acknowledging he wanted anything in particular. He wasn't going to push Stiles one way or another, not even to make him hold still, not even to demand his undivided attention.
Being quiet was a big part of this for Derek, the opposite of the way he usually demanded what he wanted. Not just quiet as in not speaking, but quiet as in keeping still, not moving unless Stiles moved him. It was Stiles's job to decide what was going to happen, and all he was going to get from Derek was the hot-and-cold reactions of flinches or pleasure. Or relaxation, although Derek already felt pretty relaxed.
Stiles wondered if Derek had gotten a nap in before Stiles showed up; he opened his mouth to ask and then remembered he was supposed to be practicing Spanish verb phrases.
"Preferir que," he murmured instead. "Querer que."
Derek tilted his head back and forth an inch or so, like he was itching his nose against the pillow, and then went still again. He rested heavily on Stiles's hand tucked under him, his body loose where Stiles was pressed against him. Clearly Derek was okay with this, for now.
Stiles went on, muttering his way through his flash cards, going through the whole set twice. When he was pretty sure he had them he closed his eyes and counted them off on his fingers, and then put the cards out of the way on the headboard shelf and turned his whole attention to Derek, who'd lain still under him the entire time.
Derek's breathing was slow, and the beat of his heart, when Stiles shifted to lay his ear against Derek's back, was a steady two-beat thump. He seemed to be almost asleep, and Stiles was warm now, and nestled against Derek's back with his eyes closed.
Stiles could go to sleep himself; they could nap together through the rest of the gray afternoon. Maybe when Derek woke up he'd be back to normal, and Stiles wouldn't have to figure out how to do this. Stiles wouldn't be responsible for him anymore--and Derek seemed happy enough just to lie here. Stiles wouldn't even be letting him down, not really. He didn't know for sure that this was supposed to be a sex thing, just because it had gone that way last time. Maybe all Derek really wanted was the cuddling and the quiet.
He felt a burst of ashamed relief at the thought that he could just fall asleep and not have to do anything else. Before he could either decide what that meant or go for it, his stomach growled so loudly he would have been tempted to check for creatures under the bed if he couldn't feel the sudden hollowness of his guts.
Stiles huffed a long, put-upon sigh against Derek's back, thinking in comfy, tired irritation about having to go all the way down to the kitchen and make something to eat. It would mean leaving Derek alone here, which he was pretty sure was totally against the rules of this, whatever it was. Derek had handed himself over to Stiles, and Stiles wasn't supposed to just fucking wander off in the middle of it.
He could tell Derek to come down with him, maybe, but it would be hard for Derek to hide his face, and Stiles couldn't really imagine whatever this was surviving outside the confines of his bed. It would pop like a soap bubble if they tried to take it downstairs.
"Oh!" Stiles said, abruptly remembering, and he flailed off the bed, looking around frantically. His backpack was lying on the floor in the doorway, where he'd dropped it and forgotten all about it when he saw Derek lying before him. Stiles darted over to the bag, yanking it inside and shutting the door while he was thinking of it.
He'd hit the vending machine after lunch and stashed a Snickers bar, knowing he wouldn't want to wait for dinner after today's lacrosse practice. The wrapper was slightly damp but it was otherwise unruined, and Stiles's stomach grumbled some more in anticipation of the chocolate and peanuts and caramel and nougat, even if he still hadn't figured out what the hell nougat was.
Stiles almost ripped it open and crammed it into his mouth right then; sadly it was the thought of how much he must look like Gollum--crouched there nearly naked and clutching his food--that stopped him first. After that he realized that he'd abandoned Derek, who was lying on the bed now looking rigid. He had his shoulders drawn up like he needed to hide behind them, and his knees pressed down into the bed like he might push himself up and run.
"Fuck, sorry," Stiles said, scrambling back to the bed and laying himself flat over Derek, covering every available inch of skin with his own. "Sorry, sorry, I suck, I didn't think. I'm back, I'm here. Show me your hand?"
Derek vented an audible breath and relaxed a little. All four fingers were sticking out when Stiles picked his head up to look at Derek's hand. He kissed the top of Derek's shoulder in apology and gratitude. Stiles hadn't fucked up too badly yet.
He reached over for the Snickers bar and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, taking an awkward bite of candy with his cheek resting on Derek's back. The rush of saliva was almost painful as the candy hit his tongue; he made an involuntary blissful noise, and he felt Derek's full-body twitch in response.
Stiles went still for a second, and then he chewed carefully and swallowed. He lifted his head to look down at the back of Derek's neck, which didn't tell him anything in particular except....
"Oops, I'm being a slob," Stiles said, and ducked his head to lick up the fragments of chocolate he'd littered on Derek's skin.
Derek didn't twitch this time, but he squirmed in a promising way. Stiles was careful and thorough, licking up the line of Derek's spine and meandering down to the place where his neck met his shoulder. He trailed sloppy open-mouthed kisses across Derek's skin and did a little squirming of his own, his dick hardening. He shifted his hand toward Derek's hair and then realized he was still holding most of a candy bar.
Right. Stiles took another bite, smaller this time but still scattering bits of chocolate on Derek's shoulder. He used his fingertips to pick some of them up while he chewed, and licked away the smears his fingers left. Derek stayed still under him this time, and Stiles considered that while he nuzzled at Derek's faintly chocolate-smelling skin and rocked his half-hard dick against Derek's ass. Time to try something a little different.
He eyed the rest of the Snickers and then broke off a piece. "Man, I'm a slob and I'm rude, what was I thinking? Here, have some."
Stiles reached around, tucking his hand down into the narrow space between Derek's folded arm and the side of his face. Derek shifted and turned his head just enough for Stiles's fingers to reach his mouth.
Stiles tucked his face against the back of Derek's shoulder so Derek would know his eyes were covered and Stiles couldn't see his face, and then all his attention was swallowed up by the way Derek's lips closed around his fingers as he took the bite of candy. Stiles let the heel of his hand rest lightly against Derek's cheek as he chewed and swallowed. Derek silently returned Stiles's favor, licking his fingers clean with wet, lingering strokes.
"Sharing is caring," Stiles agreed, his voice almost steady as he took his hand back to grab the rest of the candy bar. Derek took it when Stiles offered, this time letting his teeth scrape gently against the side of Stiles's fingers in the process. Stiles pressed his fingers lightly against Derek's lips while he chewed, and after Stiles had felt him swallow, Derek's mouth opened again, taking Stiles's fingers in as readily as he'd accepted the candy. Derek licked, first, and then sucked at them in soft, wet, unmistakable suggestion.
"Yeah," Stiles said, shuddering a little as he worked his fingers back and forth in Derek's mouth, echoing the involuntary push of his hips against Derek's ass. He was almost fully hard and he could see how this was going to happen, now that he wasn't just freaking out about how to do this right for Derek. "Fingers. One more time."
Stiles raised his head as all four of Derek's fingers wiggled, and Stiles said, "Okay. That's good. Maybe--scoot down?"
Stiles peeled himself away from Derek as Derek started to push down the bed. Neither of them went far; Stiles still had his fingers in Derek's mouth, and Derek was still working his tongue against the pads of Stiles's fingers. Stiles tried to say something about stopping that which came out as a broken, breathless noise.
A few seconds after that he half-heartedly pulled his hand away, and Derek let his mouth fall open to release it. Stiles rested his cheek against Derek's shoulder while he wriggled out of his boxers.
Derek was settled by the time Stiles finished, lying further from the headboard with his feet dangling off the end of the bed and his head tucked down into his folded arms. Stiles took a breath, kissed Derek's shoulder, and sat up, shifting around to lean back against the headboard. He splayed his legs out wide, his thighs parted around Derek's shoulders, his dick poking up and his balls hanging down a few inches above the thatch of Derek's hair.
"Okay," Stiles said, reaching forward and closing his hands on Derek's upper arms, tugging very gently. "Closer, now, come here."
Derek pushed up in a sinuous movement, opening his arms to drape them up over Stiles's thighs. He slid his head up the bed without lifting it, pressing into Stiles's crotch until his hair was tickling the insides of Stiles's thighs and brushing against his balls. Stiles wriggled and made a helpless noise, trying not to actually pull away.
He put one hand over the back of Derek's head, petting gently down over his hair to the back of his neck, which made Derek shiver a little. Derek tilted his head without Stiles asking him to, so that Stiles could feel Derek's breath against the inside of his thigh. Stiles looked up toward the ceiling as he kept his hand moving, back and forth from bare skin to the short hair just above it.
Derek nuzzled Stiles's thigh, and then touched his mouth to it, open and damp but not moving, just breathing against Stiles's skin. Stiles closed his eyes and put his other hand on his own dick, stroking himself slowly, considering angles and figuring out his next move.
"Come here," he said finally, cupping his hand to the nape of Derek's neck and making the slightest tugging motion without any actual grip. It wasn't about force, after all. It was about giving direction, about not making Derek choose when or where or whether to move.
Derek's arms flexed, his weight resting briefly on them, pressing Stiles's thighs flat to the bed. Stiles had a flash of awareness of being held down--so normal with Derek the rest of the time, so incredibly out of place now--and then Derek's forehead was resting against Stiles's hip, his nose pressed to the crease of Stiles's groin.
"Good," Stiles managed, swallowing hard. "Good, that's perfect. Just what I wanted."
Stiles stroked himself again, slowly. He felt Derek's breath hitch, felt the muscles in his arms tense and release.
"Here," Stiles said, and the angle was awkward but Derek pushed up enough to make it work as Stiles closed his hand on the base of his dick and tilted it toward Derek's mouth.
Derek's lips parted easily on the head of it, accepting it. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and let out a noise that sounded like pain at just that sensation, just the way Derek let him do this. He tightened his fingers just enough to back off the sudden rush of pleasure from Derek barely touching his dick.
"Good," Stiles added after a second, though he knew Derek had to know that, had to be inhaling nothing but the smell of how good that was and how close Stiles already was to getting off on it. "Soft, that's right. Just let me."
He felt Derek's lips part a little further, mouth falling open. Stiles pushed in slowly, making himself savor the drag of Derek's lips, the heat of Derek's mouth slowly engulfing his cock, the slide of the glans over the slick-soft give of Derek's tongue. "So good--fuck--"
His hips pushed involuntarily, just an inch, but Derek stayed perfectly still, his mouth open and welcoming and easy around Stiles's dick. Stiles pulled back an inch and slid in again as sweat broke out all over his skin. Stiles looked down the line of Derek's body--Derek still had his underwear on, but Stiles could see the rock-hard tension of his ass and his thighs, muscles clenched to keep himself still. Stiles raised a foot and ran the sole down Derek's thigh, and Derek gasped around Stiles's dick, which made Stiles shiver and almost forget what he meant to say.
"You can move," Stiles managed, after a second, and rubbed his foot up and down, waiting for the muscle in Derek's leg to relax. "Move as much as you want, dude, it's okay. But I'd like it if I got to be touching you when you come."
Derek made a small, choked-off noise in his throat and ground his hips against the bed. Stiles closed his eyes again and hitched his hips, working a little more of his dick into Derek's mouth. That brought his fingers, circling the base of his dick, up against Derek's lips as the head of his dick bumped against the back of Derek's throat.
"Suck," Stiles directed breathlessly. "Just--"
Derek obeyed with one soft suck--and swallow--around his dick, and then let his mouth go slack again. Stiles shifted his foot up to rest on Derek's ass, slouching lower on the bed, and Derek tilted his head, following Stiles's dick, keeping it all the way in his mouth.
"I'm gonna," Stiles said, and opened his hand from around his dick, shifting it to Derek's cheek. Derek sucked again, and his ass moved under Stiles's foot as he ground his dick against the mattress.
That was as much encouragement as Stiles needed. He pushed in slowly, achingly careful, into the tight heat of Derek's throat. Derek swallowed around him, and Stiles's whole body jerked. His head knocked back against the shelf behind him and rattled everything on the headboard as his fingers clenched in Derek's hair.
It made him aware, suddenly, of how entirely, utterly different this was from every other time Derek had ever gone down on him. Stiles didn't have to be careful most of the time, not only because he couldn't hurt Derek if he tried but because Derek was usually holding him down and going at his dick, working it over according to his own plans for getting Stiles off fast or slow. This was the weird mirror-universe version of the same act, Derek just accepting Stiles, letting him do what he wanted. It was hard to believe that Derek was as indestructible as ever right now; when he went quiet and bashful it seemed like he had to be physically breakable, too.
Stiles went with that impulse, gentling his grip and petting Derek's hair. He bit down hard on his own lip as he started moving again. His whole body trembled with the effort of holding back as he rocked his hips, thrusting his dick slowly in and out of Derek's mouth. Derek's arms stayed braced over Stiles's thighs, and Derek kept writhing against the bed, not quite in rhythm with Stiles's careful thrusts.
Stiles grabbed the top of the headboard with the hand not stroking Derek's hair, and put both feet down on the bed, helping to brace himself as he pushed up into Derek's mouth. Even so, his legs started shaking with strain before too long, his control failing him. Derek's random moments of sucking and swallowing got more frequent, silently encouraging him. Stiles moved faster as he felt himself getting close, his balls tightening and pleasure heating his belly and zinging through his spine. His fingers closed without thought, holding Derek's head steady for a last few frantic thrusts as he came.
Derek's mouth kept working lazily over Stiles's dick as Stiles collapsed, gasping, against the headboard. Stiles let his hand slide to the back of Derek's neck, shivering through the aftershocks.
"Can you--come here," Stiles finally managed, tugging at the back of Derek's neck.
Stiles kept his eyes closed and his head tilted back, letting his whole body stay nonthreateningly limp and still. Derek gave his softened dick a last gentle suck and then let it go.
Derek pressed his face against Stiles's stomach, and Stiles let his hand slide down to Derek's shoulder. He gave it a light, encouraging squeeze, and Derek pushed up a little further, pressing his face to Stiles's chest and then tucking his face into the side of Stiles's throat, his knees pressed up to the insides of Stiles's thighs.
"Good," Stiles said, hooking his arm around the back of Derek's neck and running his right hand down Derek's side. Derek was holding himself rigidly still, so Stiles didn't even bother checking before he tugged Derek's underwear down, raising his left foot to hook his toes into it and help pull it down.
Stiles felt Derek's sharp, gusty exhalation as his underwear slid down. He kept his leg hooked over the back of Derek's thigh and reached for Derek's cock with his right hand. Derek shuddered all over as Stiles curled his fingers around it, but Derek stayed utterly still, not pushing into Stiles's fist, not kissing or licking or nuzzling.
"It's okay," Stiles murmured, tilting his cheek against Derek's hair and moving his hand in a firm stroke up and down Derek's cock, which was as hard and hot as the rest of him. Derek caught his breath for a second and then gasped, and Stiles knew better than to make him wait.
Derek started to make a soft, involuntary noise on every breath after a couple of minutes, more than a gasp but not quite a moan. His hips twitched, shoving his dick into Stiles's grip in little sharp motions, and Stiles's fingers were slick with pre-come.
"I've got you," Stiles murmured, twisting his wrist a little. "Come on, it's okay, I've got you."
Derek's weight was suddenly hard against Stiles's shoulders, and Derek's breath cut off again as his dick jerked in Stiles's hand. Come splashed down against Stiles's belly, and Derek had barely finished before he was slumping bonelessly against Stiles, his whole body buckling in slow motion.
"Yep, okay," Stiles murmured, shoving Derek back while he was still up on his knees and scooting down himself to lie with his head on the pillow. Derek fell down onto him, squeezing the air from his lungs slowly and making sure that they would definitely be stuck together with Derek's come by the time either of them was awake enough to care.
Stiles hooked both legs over Derek's, settling one arm over Derek's shoulders and the other at his waist. He kissed Derek's hair where he could reach without moving, thinking that if he just went to sleep it wouldn't matter too much that he couldn't take a deep breath under Derek's weight. Naptime. He'd known that was part of the plan.
Derek made a low sound against Stiles's throat--not words yet, but not silence and not an involuntary sex-noise. Stiles smiled. Dark as it was with the rain still falling steadily outside, it was hardly even dinner time. They had all night. In an hour or two Derek would wake up and want food, and by then he'd probably be ready to meet Stiles's eyes, even if they were never going to talk about this.
"I've got you," Stiles said softly, one more time before he fell asleep. He was pretty sure that when he woke up Derek would be ready to get him back.