Derek Hale is a fucking tease. And Stiles can't be held responsible for his actions.
Stiles lets himself into the loft lugging a full grocery bag, drops it on the counter with a crunch and starts pulling out bags of snacks. It's his turn for food and he knows that Derek never keeps anything 'processed' in his cabinets, but also tends to eat more than his share of cheeseballs when someone brings them over. Stiles has bought an entire tub meant just for Derek and is moving to hide it in the cabinet when someone coughs behind him.
He turns slowly to find a lanky, shirtless stranger glaring at him and pushing an earring into his ear.
"Who are you?" Stiles demands, brandishing the cheeseballs at him.
"Zach. Derek's in the shower," the guy looks him up and down before turning his back to tromp up the stairs.
"Ohhhh. Zach. Explains it all," Stiles mutters to himself. He hears this Zach character, with his stupid earring, saying goodbye to Derek.
"I'm headed out. There's some kid downstairs by the way."
Stiles bangs the fridge close. "Kid?! I'm twenty two! Twenty. Two," he mumbles, slamming the coffee pot pieces together. He looks up at the sound of two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. Zach is being followed by Derek. In a towel. He's still damp and his hair is slicked back out of his face; the towel far too tiny to cover anything.
"Hey Stiles," Derek waves with one hand while the other clutches the scrap of fabric near his hip bone. Stiles swallows and scowls at him.
Derek ignores him and stops Zach from opening the door. He turns him around and presses him against the metal door before kissing him. He's doing a pretty throrough job, what with all the noises Zach's making. The moans and wet sounds are the only thing that can be heard in the entire echoing space. Stiles huffs and makes a show of checking his wrist even though no one's paying any attention to him. He nudges one of the water cups with his elbow until it bounces to the ground and clatters across the tile.
Derek breaks the kiss and smiles at Stiles. Zach looks a little dazed and has to be gently guided out of the door by Derek.
"Go put some pants on, you big whore," Stiles demands before flopping onto the couch and scooping up the remote.
Derek still doesn't say anything, but flings the damp towel over Stiles head when he walks by. Stiles snatches it off and cranes over the side of the couch to watch Derek's ass before it disappears up the stairs.
Stiles can't decide which is worse. Derek in sinfully tight jeans or Derek in soft sweatpants. He concludes that both are equally terrible. He's in the soft sweatpants today, with apparently no underwear, because even Erica is staring at his sweatpants dick. Then winking at Stiles. He considers smothering himself with a throw pillow.
Lydia and Stiles are on a mission to update the bestiary, so she insists they all spend the first part of pack nights working on it. Derek points out inconsistencies and any other things he remembers his mom telling him, and Stiles dutifully adds it to the book.
Derek sits right next to him on the massive couch and hands him a cup of coffee in his favorite mug. It says 'Basic Witch' on it, and he uses it all year round. He takes a sip and sighs happily. Derek buys the expensive beans and knows exactly how Stiles likes it.
Despite having his own copy of the bestiary, Derek chooses to read with his chin hooked over Stiles' shoulder. When he talks, his breath gusts across Stiles' ear and rumbles through his body, whilst Stiles valiantly ignores all the smirks from the rest of the pack. His laptop hides the visible evidence of his hard on and as far as he's concerned it's rude to smell people. Therefore, it's not happening.
Lydia announces that she's bored and it's time for a movie. While everyone is distracted by vetoing 'The Notebook' again, Stiles makes his exit. Of course, Scott notices and stops him as he's climbing into the Jeep.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah. Just uhhh...not feeling well," he rubs his stomach and makes a sad face at Scott.
"Okay, sure, buddy. You know...you could just ask him to stop."
"Stop what? Nothing to stop or ask to be stopped or...who are you even talking about?" Stiles squeaks and tries to pull the door shut.
Scott doesn't release it. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
"Oh my God, Scott!" Stiles bangs his head against the steering wheel. "No! There's nothing to talk about."
Scott laughs and releases the door, letting it slam shut.
Stiles doesn't need to talk to Derek. The time for talking is over. He has a plan. But first he needs to get home and jerk off. Derek Hale is a fucking tease.
Derek likes to sit in the living room after pack nights and soak up the residual smell of happy betas. He's sitting in Stiles' spot and smiling at nothing when he hears the jeep roll in and Stiles stomping his way up the stairs. Stiles bursts in and slams the door shut so hard it bounces back and doesn't close all the way. Throwing his hands up he closes it gently and latches it shut.
Derek watches, pleased, as Stiles stalks toward him, wild and angry. His hair is standing on end and his lips look shiny and red from being bitten. Derek slides down a little and spreads his legs, a tight feeling in his chest.
"You're an asshole!"
Derek lifts an eyebrow at him.
"Take off your pants."
Derek lets the other eyebrow rise to join its mate and gapes at Stiles.
"That's right," Stiles wrestles his way out of his shirt, getting caught halfway and finally throwing it across the room. "You heard me. Take off your pants."
Derek stands up and steps closer. "What are you talking about?"
Stiles toes out of his shoes and kicks them across the floor, working on his own belt buckle with his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he struggles. He gets it undone and pushes his jeans down to the ground. He isn't wearing anything underneath and his cock is hard and pressed against his stomach, smearing precum into the hair there. All at once, Derek can smell it. The lust and cum and lube.
"You smell like lube?"
"It's rude to announce how people smell," Stiles steps up right into his space and stabs a finger into Derek's chest.
Derek can barely breathe and everything feels hazy. Stiles smells so good and he's been teasing the guy since he was legal but he's never seen him like this.
"Fine. I'll do it then," Stiles slips his hands into Derek's sweats and pushes them down. He steps on them to push them the rest of the way and then shoves Derek back to sit on the couch. "I knew you weren't wearing underwear. You're such a fucking show off."
He puts a knee on the couch beside Derek and swings his other leg over to straddle him, settling his ass down into his lap, pressing their chests together. Derek can feel his mouth hanging open and his heart is hammering wild in his chest. He automatically settles his hands on Stiles' hips and can feel his cock growing with a lap full of warm, wriggling Stiles.
Putting both of his hands on either side of Derek's face, Stiles tilts his head up to look at him properly. "You're a fucking tease and I can't take it any more. But I need you to say you want this. That it's not all just a game."
His amber eyes are wide and flicking nervously away and back again.
"I fucking want this," Derek growls and leans forward to capture Stiles' mouth. He opens up with a moan and tastes like the coffee from earlier. Derek slides his hands down underneath Stiles' ass and spreads his cheeks. He only means to press one finger against Stiles' hole, but lets out a shocked noise when it slips in easily, with plenty of give. He breaks the kiss and stares at Stiles as he presses in a second and third finger.
"You got ready for me?"
"Yeah. Didn't know how big you were, so I guessed," Stiles shrugs, panting as he moves his hips in circle, fucking himself back on Derek's fingers. "Fuck me, Derek. Please."
Derek snarls and knows his eyes are changing color as he lets his fingers slip free. Stiles makes a keening noise and lifts up on his knees. Derek can feel Stiles leaking cock rutting against his abs.
"No," he growls, gripping Stiles' hips tighter and smearing lube against his skin. "You don't come until I say. Until I'm inside you and fucking you."
"Then fucking fuck me already!" Stiles demands.
Derek smiles and rubs his fingers across Stiles' wet hole again, rubbing the excess across his dick. He grips himself around the shaft and guides in. Stiles parts easy and almost sucks him in. Gritting his teeth, he tries to go slowly but Stiles curses and drops himself back down, swallowing his length in one movement.
He knows he's going to leave bruises on Stiles' pale hips from the shock of it. He's scorching hot inside and Derek drops his head to rest on Stiles' chest, waiting for the go ahead. Stiles is gasping above him, his hands gripping his shoulders as he shifts. He's breathing through his nose as Derek slides his hands around to Stiles' sweaty back and presses his palm right above his ass, draining some of the pain away.
"Oh...fuck," his voice slurs, and he threads his hands through Derek's hair. "Okay...move."
Derek lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and starts rocking his hips upward. He doesn't have much leverage but Stiles is making delicious little noises every time he rocks up, and he's happy to stay here buried deep and his face pressed into Stiles' neck.
"More," Stiles pulls sharply at Derek's hair and he feels the pleasure radiating down through his spine with a shiver. He doesn't say anything, just grips around Stiles' thighs and lifts him up. He slips out and they both make a disgruntled noise, Stiles' bordering on a whine. Derek lets him sit back a little but just so the tip breaches his hole. As Stiles tries to drop down again, Derek uses his strength to hold him hovering. He mouths at Stiles' neck, marking him with his teeth, knowing he's going to look amazing with Derek's bruises across his pale skin. Stiles lets out a huff and wiggles, trying to get Derek to fuck him.
"What the fuck, dude?!" Stiles moans, grabbing his hair and wrenching his head back to glare down at him.
"Look at you. You want my cock so bad. I bet I could just lay here and you'd just fuck yourself on it wouldn't you?"
"Shut up," Stiles stutters and his cock gives a little jerk.
"Tell me how much you want it. And maybe I'll give it to you," he leans further back into the cushions, tipping Stiles towards his chest. He wishes he could see what they look like from behind, with his dark hands pressed against Stiles' skin and his hole stretched obscenely around his cock. He'll have to find a mirror for next time, he thinks.
"You're an asshole."
"You've told me that already. Tell me something new," Derek grins up at him and pushes only a little further in. He can feel the way Stiles' insides contract and his eyes flutter closed.
"I hate you," Stiles sighs. "Fine. I want it. I want it every time you touch me. I want you to bend me over the coffee table and fuck me in front of everyone. I fucking knew your cock would fill me up. I went home and had to fucking jerk off thinking about you after every single meeting. Please, please, please fuck me," his tone started out bored and mocking at first, but the pleas were sincere and almost breathless.
"All you had to do was ask," Derek bites Stiles' lip and pushes in slowly. He's still holding Stiles aloft and doing most of the work, thrusting his cock in and out of Stiles, moving at a glacial pace, because he knows if he goes any faster he'll blow his load in the first few seconds.
Stiles is pulling tight on his hair and sobbing his name, begging for him to go faster and harder. He moans loudly and comes all over Derek's stomach and chest, then goes limp. Derek growls and flips them around so Stiles is sprawled on his back, his legs spread wide. Without ever slipping out he hitches Stiles' legs up around his waist and gathers him up, wrapping his arms around Stiles' back and using his shoulders as leverage as he fucks into him. Staring deeply into Stiles' eyes, with one last thrust he lets out a howl as he comes.
Collapsing on top of Stiles and snuffling into his collarbone, he's still mostly hard and doesn't want to pull out yet. His wolf is purring and wants Stiles to smell like him for as long as possible. He shifts his hips a little and can feel his come leaking out around where they're joined.
"Gerroff me," Stiles smacks him on the back and Derek grumbles, but pulls out and lifts himself up. He makes to move but Derek grabs him around the waist and drapes a leg across him, tucking Stiles' back up against his chest and lets out a rumble.
"Are you purring?" he can hear the smile in Stiles' voice but ignores him.
They lie there for a few more minutes until Stiles' fidgeting gets to be too much. Derek huffs and lets him go.
"Sorry dude. It's just...getting kind of sticky," Stiles levers himself off the couch and disappears into the bathroom. Stretching out as far as he can, hearing his joints crack, Derek rumbles some more.
"You're like a great big cat. Worst werewolf ever," Stiles has a damp cloth and rubs it across Derek's chest and groin. "I think you're going to need a shower. You've got dried come in all your manly chest hair."
Derek laughs and pulls Stiles on top of him. "Nap first."
He closes his eyes but Stiles' heart is beating too fast so he cracks an eye open. "What's the matter?"
Derek doesn't bother to point out he can hear the lie, just opens his other eye and glares at the top of Stiles' head. "Are you regretting it?"
"That's a lie," his own heart starts rabbiting.
"I don't. Really," Stiles props his chin up in his hand to look down at Derek. "I just didn't know it would be this hard."
His voice sounds resigned and sad.
Stiles laughs a little, "Well nothing, right now. But give me thirty minutes."
"Stiles," Derek fixes him with a stern look, but feels his mouth curve into a smile involuntarily.
"I just. I know how you are. And I thought..." he shifts and sits up fully, pushing Derek's legs out of the way, bringing his legs up and resting his chin on his knees.
Derek sits up with him, resisting the urge to force him to lie with him again. "How am I?"
"You're you. You don't do relationships. You have lots of sex with lots of different people. And I thought if I called you on your teasing that we'd get it out of our system or something."
Derek stares at his toes, suddenly remembering he was naked, and feels a shiver run through his body. "Do you want it out of your system?"
Stiles swallows and doesn't respond at first. "I thought so. It's hard to watch you with everyone else," he shrugs a shoulder and smiles.
"And now you don't think so?" Derek furrows his eyebrows.
Stiles reaches out and smoothes them out with his thumb. "No, it's more like I know it'll be impossible to do now."
"I don't understand."
"It's okay, I'm a complex guy. It's not your problem, really. I just don't want this..." he waves a hand between them." to be awkward."
"So. You don't want to be with me." Derek stiffens and clenches his fist.
"What? You don't want to be with me. Or anyone for that matter."
"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," Derek bites out.
Stiles only stares at him with huge eyes.
"I do. I do want to be with someone," he sighs and puts his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. "Why is this so hard to say? I want to be with you. I thought that was obvious."
"Obvious!? You've known me for years and never once said anything! All you do is flirt with me and fuck other people," Stiles throws his hands up in the air.
"I was trying to make you jealous," Derek mumbles into his hands, feeling his ears turn red.
"You were...trying to make me jealous. Me?" Stiles whispers to himself. "Well it worked, big guy!"
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
Their words stumble over each other and they stop and laugh. Derek reaches out and gently tugs Stiles closer, happy when Stiles lets him. He presses his mouth to Stiles', and the kiss is awkward because neither of them can stop smiling.
"You're an idiot," Derek tells him.
"Well, you're an asshole."
"You've told me that one before. Tell me something new."
"You're a huge asshole. But you're my asshole."