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I'll Be Your Thrill

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Derek runs his hands through the shampoo in his hair, working the suds out. It’s his second shower of the day, but he likes to be clean, especially before his Skype sessions. When he’s moved on to rinsing the soap off his body, Derek hears the quiet thump of shoes on the hardwood of the stairs. He can make out the steady thud of a heartbeat when he slows his motions in concentration.

For a brief moment, he thinks he must be imagining it, but he tracks the rhythm of the heart as its owner comes closer. All at once, Derek scrambles to shut off the shower head and push back the curtain to grab his towel.

Stiles ?” He tucks the towel around his waist after barely running it over his body.

The bathroom door opens just as he reaches for it, and he’s hit in the face with the familiar scent of airplane/people/ Stiles . He braces an arm against the doorsill when his knees go weak at the unexpected sight.

“Surprise?” Stiles smirks, eyes tracking up and down Derek’s body.

His smile softens and he steps forward, hands coming up to cradle Derek’s face between his palms. “Hey.”

It’s been almost two months since they last saw each other, and it was supposed to be another two weeks before Stiles got to come back home for the summer. The kiss, when their lips meet, is firm and grounding. Derek closes his eyes and basks in the feel of Stiles’ scraggly beard against his own stubble, the chapped flesh that catches against his.

Parting—but only going so far as to press his forehead against Derek’s—Stiles sighs with his whole body. “Hey, baby.”

Derek blinks his eyes open and smiles. “Hi.” He wraps his hands around Stiles’ waist, fingers twisting in the material of the t-shirt. He wants to rip every last piece of clothing off Stiles and rub himself all over him, feel him everywhere.

Stiles knows him well enough that he can guess what Derek must be thinking. He chuckles and asks, “Do I have good timing, or what?” He works the towel loose from around Derek’s waist and lets it drop to the floor. “Getting all clean for our scheduled Skype date?”

“Yeah,” Derek gives in and tucks his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss against his pulse. He inhales and tastes the scent of his mate.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks the unwilling question. He wants him here, but he knows Stiles has school and work Monday. The last thing Derek wants is to be a distraction.

Stiles cards his fingers up through the back of Derek's wet hair releasing a sprinkle of cold water down Derek's neck and shoulders.

“I have to catch the last flight out tomorrow night, but I don't have class Monday morning. The professor cancelled.” He smiles and backs off just a bit. “I had a little extra money saved, and I found a good deal on airfare.” He shrugs. “So here I am.”

Derek beams. “Here you are.” He can't stop staring at Stiles, can't believe he's here right now. “Have you eaten? I can heat up something for you.”

Stiles groans. “I could eat a fucking horse. You sure you don't mind?” His teasing smirk is because he already knows Derek absolutely doesn't mind.

Derek rolls his eyes. “What a hardship, making food for my boyfriend who came all the way back home to surprise me.” He cards his fingers through Stiles’ messy hair. “One thing though…”

He tips his head forward to kiss Stiles. Their lips part on contact. Stiles sighs against him and touches his tongue to Derek’s. It’s soft, easy. Fingers tighten at Derek’s waist and tug him closer so Stiles can slip a leg between his. Derek was half hard by the time they first kissed. He moans at the rough contact between his cock and Stiles’ jeans.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles against his chin. He lets go of Derek long enough to get his pants open and out of the way, pushed down to mid thigh.

Foreheads touching still, Derek watches as he takes their cocks in hand, wrapping his fingers around the swollen heads.

“You didn’t wear underwear.”

He swipes his palm over the head of their cocks to spread the precome beading up. Stiles grins, making a pleased sound.

“Fuck.” Derek groans.

One of Stiles’ hands drifts down to Derek’s ass, grabbing a cheek tightly. “I missed you.” His voice is breathy.

Derek pushes his hips back, the movement encouraging Stiles to slip his fingers along Derek’s crack and rub at his opening. Stiles’ cock is leaking steadily now—always so wet when he’s turned on—and the smell of it hits Derek all at once.

It’s the scent of need and want and lust. Wholly Stiles and one Derek could pinpoint anywhere, in a crowd of thousands. Maybe it would be weird to say that out loud, but something about the smell of Stiles turned on, precome pooling in the slit of his cock, makes Derek feel peaceful. All those years working together and growing around each other, he was privy to the scent of Stiles’ lust. Stiles wasn’t predatory about his desire. He didn’t make Derek feel like he was something to conquer—or worse, manipulate. When they finally got together, it felt natural and safe.

Derek licks a stripe up Stiles’ neck and buries his nose into that scraggly beard Stiles is so proud of. When Stiles’ other hand comes up to hook around Derek’s shoulders and pull him closer, Derek comes. It’s over too soon, and the orgasm felt like it was ripped from him.

Stiles curses under his breath, the word choked with a deep moan. He wraps his hand around Derek’s where he’s still stroking the both of them. Derek shudders at the added stimulation. His come is smeared over his knuckles, and Stiles smooths it down his own cock. He jerks off quickly, squeezing Derek’s fingers beneath his own until he’s spilling over and panting Derek’s name.

“Okay.” Stiles says after a long minute of the two of them just breathing, pressed up against each other.

Derek nuzzles his face along Stiles’ neck and watches as Stiles absently rubs their come over his hips. He was already feeling wobbly and loose, but watching Stiles mark himself so casually has Derek locking his knees and leaning further into Stiles. He nips Stiles lightly on the collarbone.

Awkwardly kicking off his jeans, Stiles tries speaking again. “Fuck, that was a nice welcome.” He chuckles.

Derek smiles against Stiles’ skin.

“Okay, big guy.” Stiles takes Derek by the hips. The come on his fingers is sticky. “I don’t think I can stay vertical much longer.”

Bracing his arms against the door Stiles is still pressed against, Derek pushes back so he’s standing mostly on his own again. “I should make you that food now.” He kisses Stiles’ cheek. “And you should probably take a shower while I get dressed.”

When Derek pushes away from the door so he can grab a washcloth to wipe off with Stiles reels him in by the waist. “I don't know. Pants will ruin my fantasy of you cooking dinner for me in the buff.”

Chuckling, Derek kisses Stiles. “I think that’s a health code violation.”

Sighing heavily, Stiles pouts. “Fine. I don't want you to hurt yourself, anyway. Do me a solid and wear the really loose, ratty sweatpants? The ones that leave nothing to the imagination?”

“We’ll see.” Derek pushes Stiles out of the door with a promising smile.


Derek made a roast for dinner earlier, intending to eat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. He warms some of that, along with green bean casserole and mashed potatoes for Stiles.

“So less cooking, and more microwaving.” Stiles comes up behind Derek and plasters himself to Derek's back. His nose traces along Derek's neck in a very distracting manner. “Not that I'm complaining.”

Derek pushes back with his hips—a lazy tease—and the microwave dings.

Nipping at the juncture of Derek's neck, Stiles groans. “I don't know what I want more, you or food.”

“What was that that happened in the bathroom fifteen minutes ago?” Derek asks, amused. He can feel the unconcerned shrug Stiles gives in return.

“Really good foreplay.” Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s spine.

Laughing, Derek uses his back to push Stiles away, so he can reach the microwave and get the plate out. “I think it was a little more than that, but if you say so. Food first, then you can have me. Deal?”

Stiles takes the plate from him with a smile. “I like that plan.”

“You didn’t bring your own clothes?” Derek raises an eyebrow when he turns to find Stiles is in a pair of Derek’s sweatpants, light grey and worn from age.

The two of them match—shirtless and in sweatpants.

Stiles shrugs, and a small smile ghosts over his lips. “Are you really going to complain about that?” He gives Derek a pointed look.


While Stiles eats, he fills Derek in on how his day went. It's just like how their Skype sessions begin, and Derek finds himself melting into the familiarity of it. Being around Stiles helps calm Derek. His voice and the rhythm of his words, but it's his scent that truly makes Derek feel settled.

“Hey.” Stiles knocks his foot against Derek's under the table, and he smiles softly when Derek traps it between his ankles. “I missed you.”

He'd been in the middle of a story about baggage claim when he cut himself off to say that. It makes Derek wonder what Stiles saw on his face.

“I missed you too. I'm glad you're here.” He taps the edge of Stiles’ plate. “Finish up.”

“Aye, aye.” Stiles gives a silly little salute with his fork, and tucks back into his food. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

The gratitude sparks a warmth in Derek that he gets any time he's able to do something for someone he cares about. He had never been meant for alpha status, and it took Derek a long time to settle into the role. Once he did, however, the emotional reward he got from helping his betas soothed that helpless feeling that he’d been carrying for so long. The responsibility of being alpha is a heavy burden, and often leaves Derek wondering if he’s making the right choice or giving the right advice. It’s equally rewarding though.

Derek is pulled from his thoughts by Stiles’ spoon scraping along his plate as he finishes eating. Stiles pushes the plate away and stands up to come closer to Derek. He runs his fingers through Derek’s hair and over his cheek.

His voice goes a little deeper when he says, “I think we should head up to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Hearing the directive in Stiles’ tone sends a shimmer of want through Derek.

Immediately, Derek responds. He tilts his head into the palm cupping his jaw. “Okay.”

Stiles presses a kiss to his forehead, and takes Derek by the hand to help him stand. The walk upstairs is short. Derek lets Stiles tug him along the way, and smiles softly when Stiles looks over his shoulder at him. Once the door is shut, Stiles presses him against it.

Over the past couple of years, Stiles has filled out with hard won muscle. Derek knows he eats better these days—lots of lean proteins and low carbs—and works out almost daily. Thinking back to the boy he knew when Stiles was in high school, Derek is always a little amused by the change in routine. He loves it too.

He would have loved Stiles no matter what his body looked like, but Derek can’t deny he enjoys the strength Stiles has now. He likes how much wider Stiles’ shoulders are, and how his arms are roped with muscle in a way Derek’s has never quite achieved. He likes that Stiles can match him almost evenly when it comes to strength—that Stiles can make Derek feel practically soft in comparison.

Now, Stiles has him caged against the door, arms either side of his head. Derek’s pulse quickens at the close proximity and what he knows is coming next.

“Have you been good for me, baby?” Stiles asks, gaze dragging up and down Derek’s torso.

“Yes.” Derek answers, melting against the door behind him.

Stiles gently tugs Derek in by the chin and kisses him lightly. “What do you want?”

Their Skype sessions usually end with some kind of sex. Despite the quick fuck they had earlier, he still wants more.

“You,” is the simplest and truest answer Derek has.

He’s rewarded with Stiles tugging him away from the door and towards the bed. “Get undressed and lie down.”

The room is bathed in a soft, golden light from the single lamp Stiles switched on. Derek can see in low light just as well as he can midday, but limited lighting helps ease him into a more relaxed state. Once he has stripped out of his pants, Derek lies down on his back and lets his eyelids fall. He idly uses his hearing to track Stiles as he moves around the bedroom. The quiet glide of fabric on skin, the muffled fall of Stiles’ feet on the carpeted floor—Derek sinks into the familiar sounds. He has missed this.

“You look like you’re falling asleep.” Stiles’ words carry humor in them. He’s somewhere by the foot of the bed now.

When Derek cracks an eyelid to look at him, he finds Stiles has slight smile on his face and his hands propped on his waist. The breadth of his chest and shoulders are enhanced by his stance. It’s almost impossible to see the gangly kid Stiles used to be when confronted with the more mature and filled out body he has now.

“Just waiting.” Derek explains with a smile of his own.

He slides one foot along the bed until his knee is bent and thrums his fingers along his abdomen where his hands rest. Derek can smell the sudden shot of lust that rushes through Stiles in that moment. Stiles cups himself through the front of the sweatpants and rolls his palm over the tip of his cock in a casual gesture. The expansion of Stiles’ pupils as he looks at Derek has heat and anticipation coiling low in Derek’s stomach.

Stiles asks, “What are you waiting for?” He still hasn’t made a move to join Derek on the bed.

He knows Stiles is giving him a choice here. It can be what they usually have, or it can be something else. Derek feels his face heat at the realization. He wets his lips, thinking quickly.

Stiles has been away for almost ten weeks for school. Derek is more than willing to wait, however, if it means Stiles is furthering himself and doing something that makes him happy. The distance isn’t impossible, and it isn’t going to be forever. They text and Skype regularly, but there isn’t anything like having Stiles here in person.

Derek takes a long breath and tries to quiet the racing of his heart. Surly even Stiles can hear it.

“I’m waiting for you, Daddy.” It takes everything in him to hold Stiles’ gaze.

There’s a hesitance in him every time they start this. Derek is older, an alpha werewolf. He can’t quite get over the spike of humiliation that occasionally works through him at the thought of wanting to give over his control. He closes his eyes for a moment.

Wanting Stiles to take charge and take care of him isn’t a shameful thing.

It helps that Stiles is never anything but enthusiastic.

Almost a year ago, Stiles had confessed that being allowed to do this not only turned him on, but made him feel good. As much as Derek revels in having someone care so deeply about him, Stiles loves doing that for him just as much.

Now, Stiles makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “I like the sound of that.” He bites his bottom lip, and the hand on his bulge tightens over the length of his cock.

The uneasy feeling that swirled through his gut at the first mention of “Daddy” fades into scorching arousal. He can smell where precome is starting to bead up in the slit of Stiles’ cock, and he can see the flush down Stiles’ neck and chest.

Stiles lifts his free hand, palm up, and Derek watches the air move up his forearm into a swirl around his fingers. The air pressure of the room shifts with the spark of Stiles’ magic, and the hair on the back of Derek’s neck stands up.

“I wanna hold you down.” Stiles’ thumb is pressing into the underside of his cock.

The next time Derek wears those sweatpants, he’s going to be thinking about this night.

Derek squirms at the idea, wanting it and still a little apprehensive over it. He can break out of most restraints, and neither of them like the idea of introducing wolfsbane into their play. It’s usually enough for Stiles to say “stay still” or “stay there” for Derek to exercise self-control. Stiles’ magic is the only thing that won’t truly hurt him yet still be strong enough to keep him in place no matter how much he struggles.

Stiles drops both hands to his side and kneels on the bed by Derek’s feet. “Hey.” His voice is firm and calm. “Tell me your safeword.”

“Red.” Derek breathes out. His shoulders had tensed at the suggestion of being held down by Stiles’ magic, but he relaxes them now. Stiles wouldn’t hurt him; he knows that. “Do it.”

Bracing a hand on Derek’s chest, Stiles leans down and drops a string of light kisses along Derek’s jaw and up to his mouth. The brush of their lips sends a warm swoop through Derek. It’s followed by the silent rush of static electricity over his skin as Stiles works his magic along Derek’s skin.

The next words are spoken against Derek’s ear. “Like this. I want to see you, baby.”

He has no reservations about that. “Yes, Daddy.”

Stiles smiles at him and sits back. “Hold onto the headboard.”

When Derek moves to comply, he can feel the invisible tendrils of magic tighten around his forearm and wrist. Once his fingers are wrapped around the metal bars that make up the headboard, he tries sliding his hands up and finds he can’t move them at all. Derek tilts his head back to look at his hands. The golden hue of the magic wrapped around his wrists is only visible when Derek uses his wolf sight. The tint of it and the barely there warmth radiating from Stiles’ magic is reassuring as much as it is exhilarating.

Stiles’ words draw Derek’s attention. “You good?” He slides back off the bed so he can shuck the sweatpants off.

Derek nods his head, distracted by the sight of Stiles completely naked. “Yes.”

“Yeah, you are.” Stiles smirks and practically prowls back up the bed to settle between Derek’s spread legs. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

Derek’s face heats, and he strains forward for a kiss. His arms positioned over his head keep him from getting very far. Stiles chuckles and smooths his hands up Derek’s chest slowly, thumbs catching over the erect buds of his nipples along the way, until he can frame Derek’s neck between his palms.

“You’ve been carrying too much on your shoulders lately, huh, baby?” Stiles tone is quiet.

Derek didn’t think they would be having this conversation here, like this, but he isn’t exactly surprised. He makes a small noise.

Stiles answers with an open mouthed kiss over the sensitive skin just above Derek’s adam’s apple. The prone position Stiles has him in and his teeth grazing across Derek’s skin there sends a shiver through him.

“Let me help.” Stiles whispers. His tongue rasps against the edges of Derek’s stubble.

Derek sighs, full body, and nods his head. “Please.”

Guilt swims up in his chest, but he pushes it away. Now isn’t the time, and he knows that isn’t what Stiles wants him to feel right now. Stiles’ words are meant to ease his burden, remind him that Derek isn’t alone in any of this anymore.

Stiles changes tactics, slithering down Derek’s chest to suck on a nipple. His teeth are rough against the bud, tugging at it over and over. A shocked breath is pulled from Derek and he arches up into it. When Stiles’ cock slides against the join of Derek’s thigh and groin, Derek becomes conscious of his own hardness where it juts into the air. Stiles is purposefully not touching it, not even a glance of skin on skin there.

When he lets go, the air is almost ice cold against Derek’s wet and abused nipple. Derek grunts, fingers readjusting on the bars he holds onto. The magic wrapped around his hands and wrists ghosts over his skin with the movement, a reminder.

“Every time we Skype, I get to see you, but I can’t touch you.” Stiles laments, letting his bottom lip catch on chest hair as he mouths towards Derek’s other nipple. “It drives me crazy, baby. I want to crawl through the computer screen and submerge myself in you.”

Derek moans. He’s been telling himself that he’s satisfied with their video dates, phone calls, and texts. And it is enough to get him through. But he still misses Stiles. The longing he hears in Stiles voice every time they talk and the smell of his conviction now sustain Derek, grounding him in one more small way. He’s just as important to Stiles as Stiles is to him.

The bite over his other nipple—teeth digging into the smoother flesh surrounding the bud—pulls a louder groan out of Derek. His knees clamp around Stiles’ hips, and he tries rocking his hips up. The tip of his cock barely brushes against Stiles’ abdomen.

“Need you.” Derek pleads.

After so long with just his imagination, fingers, and toys, Derek wants to feel Stiles inside him again. He wants Stiles to push inside, drive him over the edge, and fill him up.

Stiles licks Derek's nipple once. “I've got you.”

Then he's sliding down the bed. Derek's knees fall apart once more to give access.


Stiles waits until Derek is looking at him before taking Derek's cock in his mouth and going down all the way to the base. The hot, wet heat is enough to take Derek's breath away, but when the head of his cock pushes into Stiles’ throat it's almost too much. He can feel the gush of precome that spurts out. Stiles swallows carefully, working his tongue along the underside of Derek's cock. After a handful of seconds, Stiles pulls off completely with a deep noise of satisfaction.

“I missed the way you taste.”

Stiles winks at Derek before licking down the shaft and towards Derek's balls. He tongues at them, almost playfully. Both hands come up to catch Derek under the knees and push, encouraging him to hold a half-crunch. Derek squirms a little, anticipating what happens next. When Stiles kisses his entrance deliberately, with a soft and slow motion, Derek shakes a little.

Remembering to breathe is difficult when Stiles starts working the tip of his tongue along Derek's rim, tracing it. It feels as if every single nerve ending in Derek's body suddenly relocated to his ass. His nipples tighten, and his skin flushes warmer in response to the tongue nudging inside him.

When Derek pushes for more, his abdominals flex. This isn't about coming yet—and Derek can't finish like this anyway—but he can't stop himself from straining for something extra. His cockhead sweeps across his belly leaving a thin trail of precome. He can feel his pulse in the throb of it already.

Stiles keeps up an unpredictable rhythm with his tongue. He will fuck in shallowly for a minute then go back to lipping and licking along his crease and hole.

The quick pace of Stiles’ heart combines with the labored sound of his breathing to drive Derek a little more crazy with need. He wants to feel Stiles’ heartbeat against his own as Stiles fucks him for real. He wants to share breath with his mate until it's as if the two of them are a single being.

“Daddy, please.” He begs, arching his neck back.

This is a beautiful torture.

Stiles takes pity on him after one last long pass of his tongue over Derek's opening. He kisses the inside of one knee, smearing spit over the skin.

“I want to make you wait, but you're so ripe for me. I don’t think I can wait.” Stiles' voice is rough with arousal. His eyes are almost completely black.

He uses his grip behind Derek’s knees to spread him wider as he sits up between Derek’s legs. Stiles takes his time to curve his palms up over the caps of Derek’s knees and down his thighs. When he leans over Derek to reach the bedside table, Stiles grinds their cocks together and moans. Derek leaves his legs in the position Stiles placed them, but he pushes up with his heels to take advantage while Stiles is distracted. He rolls his hips, getting glorious friction where he wants it most.

Derek lets out a breathy laugh when Stiles fumbles with the drawer and drops the bottle of lube twice before he gets a good hold on it.

Stiles bites at Derek’s chest in retaliation. “Yeah, yeah.” His smile is sweet when he looks at Derek.

The pop of the cap catches Derek’s attention, which makes Stiles chuckle.

“I’m gonna get you good and wet.” He assures Derek. The heat in his gaze and the way he bites his bottom lip has Derek rutting against Stiles’ cock. “You’re not coming until I say.”  

“Fuck.” Derek groans when Stiles pushes his hips down to the bed with one heavy hand. He’s nodding his head when he says, “Whatever you want, Daddy.”

Stiles grips himself at the base for a moment, staring at Derek. Then he lets go to pour some lube into a palm while Derek watches. Once the bottle is closed, he tosses it to the other side of the bed and coats his fingers. The lube glistens in the light, and Derek clenches as he thinks about how good those fingers will feel inside.

Stiles starts with two fingers instead of just one because Derek is already a little relaxed.

“Daddy.” Derek breathes the word out when Stiles presses up and against his prostate. The feeling washes over him.

Stiles shushes him softly and then kisses up Derek's throat. “Taking it so good.”

Three fingers and enough lube to make everything feel slick, and Stiles is pulling back to stroke himself a few times. He sits there between Derek's thighs and looks at him.

“I love you.”

Derek flexes his fingers, wishing he could reach out and touch Stiles. He'd like to run his hands over that ridiculous beard that he still hasn't quite grown into yet. He wants to pull Stiles as close as possible.

He settles with saying, “I love you too.”

The smile that lights up Stiles’ face sparks that old warmth inside Derek that is all home/happiness/complete . He smiles softly in return.

Stiles leans and brushes a kiss against one of Derek's knees. “Ready, baby?”

When Derek nods, Stiles slides closer. The push is one solid move, and both of them moan at the feeling. Derek uses his grip on the headboard to brace against when Stiles bottoms out. The stretch and the fullness is exactly like he remembers, his body remembers.

Yes ,” he groans deeply.

Stiles sets a brutal pace at first. Each thrust has their skin smacking together, and Derek finds himself pushing his shoulders back into the mattress for balance. He watches Stiles’ biceps tense where he holds himself up over Derek. The fact that Stiles has enough power to physically move him makes Derek feel almost delicate.

Stiles hunkers down and pushes his arms beneath Derek, holding him. He gasps Derek's name. His movement slowly into a languid roll that brings relief to Derek’s cock where it rubs against Stiles’ stomach. Stiles is hitting his sweet spot on almost every thrust by this point, plucking a litany of pleas from him. He's so close .

“You want it?” Stiles asks from where his face is tucked into the crook of Derek's neck. “Want me to come deep inside you, baby?”

Derek moans and digs his heels into the back of Stiles’ legs, urging him deeper. “ Please .”

It seems like the only word his mouth knows right now. He wants Stiles, all of him.

“You're going to smell like me. You're mine.” Stiles bites the tendon of Derek's neck.

“Daddy!” Derek cries out, too close to the edge and no easy way to keep himself from coming. It's sheer will power that slows him down.

Stiles nods his head. His heartbeat is loud and rabbit fast. It matches the tempo of Derek's own.

He snaps his hips twice more, deliberately angling to get Derek just right. “Now, baby. Come with me.”

Derek comes so hard his balls ache a little. He rocks into the motion, rubbing up against Stiles and clenching against Stiles’ cock where he can feel his mate spasm and fill him up.

“Don't go.” Derek crosses his ankles around Stiles’ waist. His arms are shaking where he's gripping the headboard tightly.

Stiles lifts up enough to look at Derek and kiss him.

“Not going anywhere, baby.” He gently nuzzles Derek's face. “I gotta pull out though, or I'll collapse on you.”

Derek makes a noise that Stiles interprets accurately.

“No,” Stiles chuckles, “you put out too much heat for that to be comfortable.” He pecks Derek on the cheek, reaching back to ease Derek's legs down.

Cool air hits Derek's chest and hips when Stiles sits up and carefully pulls out. He squirms at the loss, and closes his eyes. His entire body is relaxed, satiated.

Stiles flops onto the bed, adjusting his position. Derek hears him toss the lube back into the bedside table drawer.

“Oh.” Stiles says almost to himself.

Derek looks over to see Stiles has found his plug. The sight of it makes him moan weakly, wanting it.

When Stiles faces him, he's grinning. “How about it put this in your pretty little ass?” He turns so he's kneeling in the bed next to Derek, free hand running down his thigh. “Keep you full.”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Derek nods and lifts his hips.

Stiles rubs the bulb of the plug over and around Derek's entrance to get it slick. The nudge of it inside is enough to make Derek's breath stutter, but soon enough the widest part is past his rim, with the base sitting snugly against it. Derek tests the feel, pressing his hips down against the bed and clenching. It feels incredible.

“You're gorgeous like this.” Stiles traces a finger around the base of the plug.

Derek melts further into the bed, eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open right now. He feels like he's floating, warm.

The magic holding his hands in place slowly dissipates, replaced with both of Stiles’ hands at his wrists. Thumb brush over his pulse points, coaxing.

“Let go for me, baby. You don't have to stay still for me anymore.” Stiles speaks lowly. He works his thumbs into the meat of Derek's palms once he has access. “Perfect.”

Derek makes another sound and rolls onto his side, towards Stiles.

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees.

He gathers Derek in a hug.

With his face against Stiles’ chest and surrounded by the scent of them together, Derek wants for nothing.