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Less Than Average

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Stiles likes to talk, it’s true. And he especially likes dirty talk, knows that it usually helps whoever he’s with really get turned on. Sometimes he even ends up rambling off ideas they’re interested in trying, which works out well for both of them.

So when he’s sitting in Derek’s lap, eagerly grinding forward, and he whispers, “I can’t wait to have that big alpha cock inside me,” he’s expecting Derek to moan and pull him closer. Or maybe just carry him straight to the bedroom.

What he’s not expecting is for Derek to tense up beneath him, and to sort of reflexively shove him back.

“Derek, what—” Stiles gets out, before he catches the hurt look on Derek’s face. “What’s wrong?” he says then, hands gently settling on Derek’s shoulders.

“I don’t have—” Derek gets out before he’s looking away, though he relaxes under Stiles’ hands. “I’m not—people are always disappointed. That I’m,” he says, and just stops, jaw tensed.

Stiles tries to wait him out, he does, but he really needs to know what’s going on with his boyfriend. They’ve been taking things pretty slow the whole time they’ve been dating, but Derek had pulled Stiles into his lap this time, so Stiles had figured he was ready. He feels a twinge of guilt, wondering if he pushed Derek too hard. “That you’re what?” he asks worriedly.

“Less than average,” Derek mumbles quietly.

It’s a rather prolonged moment before Stiles realizes Derek is talking about his dick. And that he thinks Stiles is going to be disappointed—

“Oh god, no,” he says quickly, and takes a deep breath. “I was just running my mouth, like I always do. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t actually expecting you to be, you know, huge.”

Derek finally meets his gaze then, but he still looks worried, and Stiles finds his hands creeping up, his thumbs resting at the edges of Derek’s jaw. “Look, you’re already incredibly hot, and honestly just an amazing person. Nothing about you could disappoint me.”

Derek doesn’t quite look like believes him. He swallows audibly, then blurts, “And some days I’d rather be fucked, so there’s that too.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “I assure you, that is not a bad thing,” he says conspiratorially, leaning in closer. “I’m always happy to switch things up myself.”

“Oh,” Derek says, looking surprised.

Stiles grins, gives him a soft kiss. “You know, I can prove that I’m not disappointed, right here and right now,” he offers, a little bit playful. If Derek says no, he’ll climb out of his lap, and they’ll watch a movie like they’d originally planned.

“I, um. How can you be sure?” Derek asks, looking nervous again.

Stiles curls a hand around the back of Derek’s neck and squeezes, trying to reassure him. “Derek, I like you a lot. Which means I like every bit of you,” he says, plainly honest. “Even parts I haven’t seen yet.”

“Then you should, um.” Derek clears his throat, his cheeks lightly flushed. “You should show me.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll stop at any time, okay? Just let me know if you need me to.”

He waits for Derek’s confirmation, then smiles and leans in to kiss his neck. He wants to get Derek turned on again before he goes for anything too intense.

He doesn’t want to rush Derek.

Stiles lets his hands drift down to Derek’s hips, then they dip under his shirt, trailing along the waistband of his jeans. He scratches his nails lightly against Derek’s lower back, and he arches into it with a quiet sound of pleasure. Stiles grins, nuzzles against Derek’s stubble before bringing his hands around, letting them skate across Derek’s abs.

The muscles flutter beneath his palms, and Stiles kisses Derek one more time before sliding out of his lap. Derek automatically spreads his legs to let Stiles fit between them, and looks down at him with wide eyes.

Stiles rucks Derek’s shirt up, pops the button of his jeans. But then he pauses, lightly traces a hand over the bulge of Derek’s hard cock through the material. It sends a surge of arousal through him, knowing that he did this, that he got Derek this turned on.

Derek gently bucks his hips up into Stiles’ palm, eyes fluttering closed as it adds pressure, and that reminds Stiles to get back to it.

He slowly pulls down the zipper, then slips his hand into Derek’s boxer briefs and pulls out his cock.

It feels like Derek is holding his breath as he does, and Stiles knows he’s still worried. But he’s actually pleasantly surprised. It’s a really nice looking dick. It fits well in his hand, and while it may be less than average, it’s certainly not tiny. Though, he supposes if someone was expecting an alpha werewolf to be hung, then this might seem…small.

Seems just right to Stiles, though.

He leans in, takes a couple of teasing licks, and hears Derek’s breath whoosh out of him. Grinning, Stiles closes his lips around the head of his cock, sucking hard. Derek’s thighs tense under him, obviously trying to keep still, and Stiles feels smug as he slowly drags his tongue across the tip of Derek’s dick.

Derek jolts at that, obviously surprised, and his hand comes down to softly settle on the back of Stiles’ head. He seems to really be enjoying it, so Stiles decides to settle in, and give Derek’s cock the full treatment. It deserves to be appreciated.

He slides his lips lower, then comes up again, slowly bobbing his head as he takes in as much of Derek as he can. He works at it for a while, enjoying the feeling of Derek in his mouth, then pulls off to check on him.

Derek’s leaned back on the couch, flushed and panting, and that’s just what Stiles wanted to see. He nudges Derek’s thigh playfully. “Here’s an upside to having a small cock—I could blow you for hours without my jaw getting tired.”

“Oh,” Derek says, but he doesn’t get any further than that before Stiles is diving back down, taking Derek all the way in, until his nose is brushing Derek’s stomach. He hears Derek gasp as he does, and he swallows around him before pulling back up to suck on the head.

It’s tough, but Stiles finally manages to pull himself away, and he climbs carefully back into Derek’s lap.  “You know, I’d love to take a ride on that some time,” he says, leaning in close.

“I—really?” Derek says, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Stiles says dreamily. “We could do quickies too, it’d be great.”

Derek raises his eyebrows questioningly, and Stiles grins.

“There was this guy I used to date, he had a huge cock. Took me forever to get prepped enough for him to fuck me. We practically had to schedule it in advance,” he says, shaking his head.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” Derek asks suspiciously, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Depends. Is it working?” Stiles asks cheerfully.

When Derek laughs, he figures it must be. He reaches down, curls a hand around Derek’s cock and lightly strokes. His own dick is aching in his jeans, but it can wait a little longer. “So, what do you want to do?” he asks. “Now that you know that I’m game for anything.”

“I want you to finish sucking me off, then I want you to fuck me,” Derek says. “If that’s okay.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, leaning in to kiss him. “It’s more than okay.”




It doesn’t take much to get Derek off. He’s already been turned on for so long, both from Stiles’ previous ministrations and the discussion of fucking. So all Stiles has to do is fondle Derek’s balls, knuckles pressing into the soft skin behind, while he sucks hard on the head.

Derek’s hips spasm suddenly, his cock twitching against Stiles’ tongue as he comes. He shudders as Stiles keeps gently sucking, and his fingers comb through Stiles’ hair and down the back of his neck appreciatively.

Stiles relaxes into it, letting Derek’s softening cock slip from his mouth as he leans his head against Derek’s stomach. He sighs with contentment. Though his own cock is still hard, he’s perfectly happy to stay like this for a while.

Derek’s hands trail across his shoulders, then dig in, lightly massaging, and Stiles’ eyes flutter shut. He’s dated a lot of people, had a lot of sex, but he’s not sure anyone’s ever cared about him the way Derek does. And he doesn’t ever really say it, not in words, but his hands slowly smoothing down Stiles’ back say a lot.

He feels Derek fold over him, feels it through his shirt when Derek presses a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Let’s move this somewhere more comfortable,” he says quietly, then straightens up again.

Stiles lingers where he is for a moment, one hand still curled around Derek’s hip. He takes a deep breath, nuzzles teasingly against Derek’s stomach, then slowly pulls away.

He sends Derek a smile, and Derek gives him an answering grin as he gets up, heads for the bedroom. He slips off his shirt as he does, and Stiles almost trips over his own feet in his haste to follow him.

It’s not long before Stiles has stripped down, with Derek equally naked under his hands.

Derek is wonderfully responsive, and Stiles takes his time opening him up, loving the way his abs clench and his back arches. He makes quiet sounds as Stiles pushes inside, getting louder as he begins to thrust.

He keeps his hands on Derek’s hips, but he doesn’t try to hold him, lets Derek rock back, working himself on Stiles’ cock. Derek’s already hard again, and Stiles feels a little jealous.

Though he does like seeing Derek like this, lips parted in pleasure as his thighs clench around Stiles’ hips, his body meeting Stiles’ every thrust. 

 It’s obviously been a while since Derek’s been fucked, because he’s very eager, driving himself toward an orgasm fast.

Stiles tries to hold off, wants to make it last, but it’s too good to resist. And when Derek comes, hand fisted around his dick and his whole body shaking, Stiles’ orgasm rolls through him a few moments later. He collapses down on Derek’s chest, breathing hard and shivering through the aftershocks.

It’s a while before he can lift his head and look at Derek, but when he does, Derek is smiling.




Of course, Stiles has to show Derek that he really does want to ride his cock, because Derek still doesn’t believe him.

Derek’s slouched back on the couch, his loose sweatpants not hiding his hard cock at all. They’ve been talking about sex, and Stiles is feeling just as turned on. “Can I ride you?” he asks, because he’s been very tempted these past few weeks, and he really feels like getting fucked.

Derek’s cock twitches, but he just says, “You…really want to?”

Yes,” Stiles says, almost at the point of begging. “Can I?”

Derek’s starting to look flushed, and his eyes flick to the front of Stiles’ jeans before he nods. “Um, yeah.”

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Stiles knows that’s due to insecurity, not a lack of interest. Derek’s still afraid he’ll be disappointed.

He grins and leans in, kissing Derek as he curls his fingers in the waistband of Derek’s sweats. He tugs, and Derek lifts, and he gets them down around Derek’s thighs. He shoots Derek a sly look when he sees he’s not wearing any underwear.

“I wanted to be comfortable,” Derek grumbles.

And that’s fair. Derek’s big on cuddling, and he likes to be as comfortable as possible when he does. They’d been snuggling together today, drowsy and warm, until Stiles’ mind had drifted to sex. Then, of course, he’d started talking about it. Neither of them had class today, so he hadn’t seen any harm in it.

He steps away from Derek, just far enough that he can peel his tight jeans and boxer briefs off. He catches Derek eyeing him hungrily, and he can’t help his smirk. He strips his shirt off on his way to the bedroom to grab the lube.

When he comes back, he sees that Derek’s taken his own shirt off, and Stiles pauses for a second to admire him, because Derek doesn’t like to show his body much. He slides back onto Derek’s lap, knees bracketing Derek’s hips, and reaches between them to slick up Derek’s cock.

Derek’s eyes flutter shut as Stiles slowly strokes him, and he drags his lips across Derek’s jaw for a moment, letting the anticipation build, before he pulls his hand away. He reaches behind himself, and he’s just begun pushing a finger inside when Derek’s eyes open.

He blinks for a second, dazed, before he realizes what Stiles is doing, and he sees the wave of arousal cross Derek’s face. He lays a hand on Stiles’ thigh, says tentatively, “Next time, can I do that?”

“Fuck, yes,” Stiles groans, already sliding another finger in. “I’m just doing it this time because I’m impatient.”

Derek laughs then, keeps laughing right up until the moment Stiles is sliding down onto his cock. His low, rumbling moan matches well with Stiles’ breathier one as he slowly inches down, feeling himself opening up for Derek.

His hands clench on Derek’s shoulders as he finally settles all the way down into Derek’s lap. He feels Derek’s thighs tense beneath him, then relax, as Derek waits him out.

Stiles appreciates that, because he’s feeling a little overwhelmed, surrounded by Derek like this. It’s good, though, and he pulls Derek into a kiss as he begins to roll his hips. Derek makes a muffled sound, and his tongue slips into Stiles’ mouth as his hands grip Stiles’ hips, encouraging his rhythm.

Just as he suspected, Derek’s cock feels perfect inside him, just the right size to send hot sparks of pleasure through him as he grinds down.

He breaks the kiss, panting, then tucks his face against Derek’s neck as he begins to move in earnest. He doesn’t have the thigh strength to lift himself every time, but he rocks forward with a lot of enthusiasm, and he feels like that makes up for it.

Derek definitely doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“You can move too,” Stiles breathes, feeling how tense Derek is.

Derek immediately begins to tilt his hips to match Stiles’ movements, easily moving under his weight, and it makes Stiles shudder hard, because sometimes he forgets that he’s having sex with a werewolf. Derek could probably fuck him against a wall, no problem.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and the thought just drives him on faster.

Derek grabs the back of his thighs, pulling him in closer as he thrusts up, and it hits that spot perfectly inside him.

“Yes, there,” he says, and he gets out a few more ragged breaths, his whole body straining, before he’s slamming down hard onto Derek as he comes.

He pants against Derek’s neck, holding on tight as Derek makes a sharp, bitten-off sound, and begins to drive up into him, fast and jerky. His hands pull at Stiles’ hips, and he tries to move with it, wanting Derek to get off.

Derek spreads his thighs, giving him more leverage to thrust up, and Stiles groans as that wrings another burst of pleasure out of him. He knows Derek must be getting close, though, can feel him drawing tighter, and suddenly the tension snaps as Derek surges up under him, shuddering as he comes.

Stiles gently rolls his hips, feels Derek twitch beneath him as he continues to orgasm. Despite the fact that he’s spent, it sends a little thrill of arousal through him. If he weren’t so sated, he’d start moving, see if he could get Derek to come again.

Instead he’s content to press kisses against Derek’s neck, and think about whether or not they could manage this in the back seat of the Camaro.

Derek’s hands let go of his hips, move to settle warmly at his lower back, holding him close. Stiles figures he’d better say something before he ends up falling asleep.

“See, I told you,” he says, wiggling a little, just to make Derek shiver. “That you were the perfect size.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, pulling him into a kiss.

And this time, Stiles knows that Derek actually believes him.