Work Header


Work Text:

Following Stiles had started as a little obsession of Derek's. Stiles is human but Stiles is pack. You protect pack, so you protect the human. Obsessively. Or so Derek tells himself, that’s the only reason.

It’s the reason why he follows Stiles, if he goes anywhere after school. It's the reason why he sits outside Stiles’ window until he hears his heartbeat steady at night and the reason why he only goes home when he knows Stiles is asleep and safe.

It had started after a recent close call, where Stiles had been taken by some passing wolves, without a pack. Just two of them.

Totally by chance they had crossed Stiles’ path. They must have scented pack on Stiles and they’d grabbed him late one evening in August, as he’d walked home from Derek’s house. The temptation of snatching up a member of an Alphas pack had obviously proved too much for them.


Scott, Stiles and Lydia had been helping Derek renovate the Hale property all summer. It had many benefits for Derek, settling his wolf, surrounded by pack but it had come at a price to Stiles.

That one particular day, Stiles had asked Derek to borrow one of his old Henley’s to paint in. He’d turned up alone, muttering something about Scott ditching him for Kira again and he’d promptly got to work helping Derek paint.

Stiles had looked tanned, happy and the paint specks covering his face had made Derek happier than he’d felt in years. He could smell his own scent mingling with Stiles’ and it made his wolf itch to claim him, to make him smell even more like him.

He’d kept catching Stiles’ eye all day and they’d been smiling at each other shyly. He kept accidentally bumping into him even though the rooms they were painting were huge and by the time the sun had set, Derek was tempted to just kiss him. He knew he was attracted to guys, but he’d never been with one. Never wanted one so much as he wanted Stiles. It scared him.

When Stiles had left that evening, he’d slung his own T shirt around his neck and said goodnight to Derek, walking off with the Henley still on.

Derek had shaken his head after him and he swore Stiles was swaying his hips just to torment him, as he walked away.

It had taken Derek two hours to realise he was missing that night, because Stiles usually text him when he arrived home. Derek had been watching his phone, waiting and feeling like a loser for doing it.

The text was casually abusive usually, about how Stiles should be charging Derek labour, to pay for ointment for his aching back, or something about how he’s too tired to text, but managing it anyway.

That night the text hadn’t come and Derek had made his way to the Stillinski house, a panic settling into him.

He’d smelt the other wolves just off the path leading out of the woods and he hadn’t even called Scott for back up. His wolf had taken over, like it did usually when it came to Stiles. Stiles’ scent was all over the bushes there and on a few trees, like there had been a struggle. Some of Stiles’ blood was on the path.

Derek had tracked them to a small house not far from the woods. It had a for sale sign in the front yard. Whoever had Stiles had definitely brought him here. The closer Derek had got, the more Stiles’ scent had tainted with fear.

By the time Derek arrived at the house he was shifting involuntarily into full wolf. He was a ball of barely contained rage, clothes falling away. He’d crept around the back of the house and through a window, he’d seen Stiles tied to a chair and his face was bloody and his lip split. He still had Derek’s grey, paint speckled Henley on.

One of the wolves came into view and ran his hand up Stiles’ leg and the next thing Derek knew he was in a strange kitchen, glass everywhere, naked as the day he was born, covered in blood and there were two men, that smelt like wolves, laying at his feet. They didn’t look like they’d be getting up any time soon.

Stiles had grabbed hold of him as soon as he’d cut him free, clinging to him and soothing him. Derek had thought it was ridiculous that he was the one that needed calming down. He should be looking after Stiles. He shouldn’t have let him get taken.

Stiles had stroked his arms, whispered soothing things like how he was sorry he’d scared him and how they hadn’t touched him, only beat him. Only. Typical Stiles, playing down the hurt.

Derek had kept his distance when Stiles went back to school. It had been his proximity to Derek that had gotten him taken and hurt in the first place.

Derek stayed away. Well, on the surface anyway. All that had led to the obsessive “protecting”...


It came to a head one hot September Friday evening.

Stiles had finished school at 4pm like usual and had walked out with a tall blond boy that Derek didn’t recognise the sight or scent of. Derek could see them chatting easily and bumping shoulders as they went, as if they knew each other well.

Derek could also hear them from his parking spot near the trees, outside the school, just out of sight of the front entrance.

“Dude we have to try it, I’ve heard it’s mind blowing,” Stiles is talking animatedly, waving his hands around.

“Yeah sure Stiles. Well I know it is, guess you’ll just have to see for yourself,” the blond boy sounds like he’s hanging on every word Stiles is saying and is looking at Stiles intensely as he speaks.

“Cool. Let’s go then Al,” Stiles is grinning and getting his car keys out of his bag.

“Yeah sure Stiles,” Derek childishly mimics and is instantly annoyed at himself for being so infantile, with absolutely no good reason.

No good reason he’s willing to admit out loud just yet, anyway.

Derek’s little eavesdropping session is ended when he sees both teens climbing into Stiles’ battered blue jeep. Who is this blond guy?

Derek follows them in his Camaro, expecting them to go to the coffee shop on the Main Street, like Stiles usually does, but Stiles surprises him and drives straight to his own street.

Derek’s frowning deeply by the time he pulls his car in down the road, out of immediate sight of the Stillinski home.

Stiles never brings anyone home to his house, apart from Scott or maybe Lydia. Or at least he hasn’t since Derek’s been watching.

Derek has been feeling fairly calm lately, there hasn’t been much activity since the snatching incident and watching Stiles from afar helps calm him even further. Calm or pine sadly. Same difference.

So why does he feel like he wants to rip that blond guys head off right now? What did Stiles call him? Al. That was it. Albert probably. Or Alfonso.

“Yeah, definitely looks like an Alfonso,” Derek thinks and he feels a tiny bit better about the situation.

Derek gets out of his car and walks a little closer, trying to hear any conversation that may be happening. He watches from the trees opposite the Stillinski home as Stiles locks the jeep up outside and both boys walk up the path, Stiles still chattering away easily.

“Al” is giggling loudly and when Stiles nearly trips over his own feet, Derek strains to hear the conversation, cocking his head to get a better sound.

Stiles’ key turns in the lock and he wishes he could un-hear Stiles’ next words as soon as he hears them.

"Hey, my dads gone until Monday, so we've got all night if you want?! You’ll have to teach me though, I’ve never tried it before,” Stiles is smiling at the blond guy, tucking his chin a little.

"Don't be silly, I'm here to teach you everything I know! Plus you already said, it’s going to be mind blowing,” Al actually winks at Stiles and chucks him on the chin and they both walk in Stiles front door.

It takes Derek ten minutes to regulate his breathing, stop growling and for his teeth to shrink. He tastes copper where he bit into his lip.

“They're gonna fuck... “ Derek’s furious. He has no right to be, he knows that, but he can't stop himself.

“He's pack, that's why,” he thinks, “Pack and it's my choice who he fucks. No, that can't be right.”

He knows there's more to it. But all he can think is that Stiles, virgin Stiles (or so he assumes after their little talk about the Druid sacrifices a month ago) is going to fuck stupid blond Al all weekend. Derek is really really not ok with it. Less ok than he ever imagined he’d be.

Derek shakes his head and drags himself home, quite dazed at the strength of feeling coursing through him. He even leaves the car, not trusting himself not to total it. He can barely concentrate.

He feels like a kicked puppy, no pun intended, although Stiles would have been all over that dog joke, he thinks.

He goes on a hunt to clear his head, let’s the wolf take over. It's late when he comes back to his recently decorated house and he’s soaked in sweat and animal blood. The full transformation leaves him feral at times. It’s worse if he changes mid anger.

Derek stands frozen when he enters the house for the second time that evening and he inhales deeply. The smell of Stiles both soothes and enrages him again. He’s not physically here though. Just his lingering scent, even from a month ago. It's in the couch, it's in the walls. Everything is Stiles. He can’t get away from him. He doesn’t really want to, he realises.

He walks the house, just scenting, wallowing, breathing deeply.

There's a hint of all the pack, even Erica and Boyd from their last visit, but it’s mainly Stiles. All the cabinets in his kitchen have been repainted, so they're no longer soot blackened but a pale yellow. The walls are a subtle white with a tinge of blue.

The back portion of the house where the fire was the worst has been totally demolished and in its place is a little porch, making the layout a little smaller, but there's a little swing on it and there's a book on top of it.

He picks it up and it's an old worn book, title of which he can't even pronounce and it's dog eared right through. He runs his fingers over it gently before putting it back on the swing. It has a post it on the front, with Stiles’ writing on.

“Try it sourwolf, you’ll like it,” it says.

He knows it’s Stiles’ from last weekend. He’d knocked his door and Derek had hid from him, thinking it would just be easier to make a clean break. He wouldn’t be the reason Stiles got hurt again.

He’d read the book then put it back in case Stiles came back to check. He had loved it. Stiles was right.

He shuts the back porch door. The living room is sparse, no furniture, but the walls are painted and the floor is sanded and clean. Clearing out all the debris alone had taken them days and Stiles was there, bright and early, coffee in hand, helping on every one of them.

He walks up to his bedroom on the 1st floor and there is bedding on his bed that Stiles chose. He's everywhere. He's in the walls, like every paint stroke was done by him.

Derek strips off his torn jeans, the only thing remaining after his run and gets into the hot shower.

He’s still thinking of Stiles when he runs his hand down his torso and grips his hard cock. He takes his time stroking himself, letting the water course down the dark hairs on his chest and he has to brace his hand on the shower tile when he comes, because it’s so intense and he groans out loud.

“Stiles,” he whispers, like it’s a secret, as he comes in his hand and his knees shake.

He’s so fucking fucked.


When he gets out of the bathroom his phone is glowing angrily on his bedside table, where he left it before his run, with five missed calls and four unread texts.

He dries off and drops his towel, grabbing some black boxers and shoving them on and thumbs through the messages.

Every single one is from Stiles. His heart pangs. The first text is timed 8:05pm.

"Dude, is there a reason your car is on my street corner? Me and my buddy are walking to get Pizza, u around to join?"

Typical thoughtful Stiles he thinks, then snorts at the boys naïveté. He doesn’t know anything about Derek’s feelings. Like he'd want to third wheel their virginity party.

There's another text at 9:00pm.

"Dude, walking back and your cars still here... Got a dodgy feeling, text me back so I know you're ok!"

It's wrong but his wolf gives a little gloat at the fact Stiles is worried about him. Even when he's about to fuck Stupid Al.

The third text at 10:02pm is the one that makes him feel guilty.

"Answer the phone man or I'm calling Scott. I don’t care that you’re avoiding me because I was all touchy feely that night you rescued me, I’m sorry I made it weird, but just send me an ‘ok’, let me know you’re alright? Please!"

The missed calls, Derek notes, are between 10:00pm and 10:30pm. The last text makes him quit gloating and dial Stiles number. He hasn’t intentionally made him worry.

The text shows 10:32pm, just half hour ago.

"Scott not answering. Total panic now. Where are u???? Hacked your phone locater and its at your house, heading up now, got weapon.”

He's dialling Stiles’ number and it takes him a full half a second to realise he can hear ringing from inside the house. Phone to ear, Derek walks out onto his landing only to be hit by something very heavy in the back of his head.

He spins grabbing his assailant, his brain trying to catch him up, which is the only reason Stiles is up against the wall gasping for breath, throat in the Alphas hand rather than ripped out and in teeny pieces.

Stiles drops his bat.

"It's me!" Stiles rasps.

Derek drops him immediately but doesn't back out of his space, breathing hard.

"You hit me," he’s aware he’s growling.

“You’re ok!” Stiles is starting to sound less surprised and more accusatory. Derek doesn’t step back from where he has him pinned to the wall, hands either side of his head.

“Yeah, looks like,” Derek’s starting to find it hard to think when Stiles is so close.

He smells great and Derek’s fighting the urge to bury his face in his neck. He’s still angry for the Al situation, his voice is coming out snarky. He knows he has no right to be mad, but he is.

“Er dude... you know you don’t have a shirt on? Not that I’m opposed to shirtless bodies pressing me into walls and all...” Stiles licks his lips, seemingly realising who he is saying this to and trails off. His eyes flick to Derek’s mouth.

“Yeah but I bet you’d rather it be Alfonso doing the pressing,” Derek mutters.

“What?” Stiles goes from accusatory to downright confused. “Who the fuck is Alfonso?”

Derek feels like he’s in for a penny in for a pound. He’s already really embarrassed so he may as well let it out.

“The guy you fucked after school today,” Derek goes to pull away but Stiles grips his wrists in each hand.

“Alex?!” Stiles is trying to catch Derek’s eye, who’s currently looking at the floor. He sounds incredulous, like he can’t believe he’s actually having this conversation,

“Whatever his name is,” Derek’s still finding it hard to breathe, Stiles smells different. He has this other guys scent on him... not all over him, but definitely more than Derek’s happy with. His wolf has him pushing his body a bit closer to Stiles, trying to erase the scent with his own.

“How do you know about Alex?” Stiles is looking at him more shrewdly, his brow furrowing. He’s getting angrier by the second but he doesn’t let go of Derek’s arms.

“Just do,” Derek’s eyes flash red again and his eyes go to Stiles lips, where his tongue has darted out to wet them.

“Need a little more than that Der. How do you know about Alex?” Stiles voice is firm now.

“I’ve been watching you... just to make sure you’re safe. I heard you say your dad was gone and the blond guy, Alex or whatever said he would teach you everything he knew. Then I left,” Derek thinks it’s the most he’s ever said in one go.

Stiles face softens a bit and his thumbs start making circles on Derek’s wrist. Derek closes his eyes and very nearly gives in to the temptation to nuzzle his face into the side of Stiles neck. He just about manages not to.

“Der... What do you think happened with Al?” He says.

Derek growls again.

“Whatever you’ve made it in your head, it didn’t happen. If you think I’d be having sex and invite you to join for pizza, don’t you think that’s a bit odd?” He’s saying.

Derek just shrugs and looks down. He doesn’t move out of Stiles’ space though.

“Wait, listen. I didn’t. We were having a session on the new Nintendo game. Scott hates Mario and Alex had it a week before me, so he’s really good. We said we’d have a gaming session. I didn’t think it would do any harm to widen my friendship circle seeing as Scott’s off with Kira all the time and you prefer being alone after... er... you know,” he says breathily.

“Oh,” Derek’s quiet. His cheeks are burning but he’s starting to feel really pleased. “I do like being alone. You’ve never respected that before though.”

Stiles returns his small smile.

“I thought something had happened to you...” he whispers, thumbs still drawing circles on Derek’s wrist.

“No. But something happened to you,” Derek whispers back.

“You’re the only person still carrying that Der,” Stiles sounds wiser than his 18 years.

“It was because of me,” he says, looking into Stiles dark brown eyes. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

“No, you came and got me. Don’t you think if I’d smelt like Scott, the same thing would have happened?” He talks slowly to Derek, as if he’s dumb and it’s really obvious.

“But it didn’t. It was because of my shirt,” Derek says quietly.

“What this one? But man, I love this shirt,” Stiles tugs on the hem of his shirt and Derek looks down and realises it’s his Henley. Stiles has obviously washed it, but it’s still got paint flecks on it and he’s giving Derek a small, shy smile.

Derek growls softly again, unable to take his eyes off Stiles long fingers, playing with the bottom of the Henley.

“I don’t know why you’re punishing me for what happened Der, or yourself, but I miss you man,” Stiles soft words have Derek’s eyes snapping up to meet his.

“I don’t want you to fuck Alex,” he says before he can stop himself. Well that just slipped out.

“I didn’t, so there we go, but why not?” Stiles looks an odd mix of hopeful and curious. His scent is sweetening and Derek breathes deeply.

“Because I don’t,” he growls again.

“Why though Der, use your words? Does he smell bad? Is this a pack thing?” He says and his pulse is quickening.

“No,” Derek’s feeling brave and realises he needs to take this chance.

“Then what Der? Say it..” Stiles breathes from inches away, he can feel his breath ghost across his own lips. When did they get that close?

“I want it to be me,” Derek chokes out and lets it hang.

“You want to fuck Alex?” Stiles looks like his brain has broken. His mouth is hanging open.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek grits out and promptly seals his lips to Stiles’.

It’s like a switch has flipped and Stiles opens his mouth and brings his hands up to Derek’s neck and they’re sealing their body’s tight against each other.

It’s hot and perfect. Stiles groans into his mouth and it’s the most incredible first kiss Derek’s ever had. Stiles smells amazing, the scent of Al fading and he tastes even better than he smells.

Derek takes a step back before he loses it completely. He wants to consume him. Stiles thumps his head back against the wall looking wrecked. His pink lips are shiny and red with Derek’s spit and where he’d kissed him hard. He can smell Stiles pre-come and he can see the outline of his dick, hard through his jeans.

Derek subconsciously licks his lips. Stiles rakes his eyes over Derek’s body and he remembers he’s only got boxers on. Boxers that aren’t doing much to hide his thick leaking cock.

“Thank fucking god. I was beginning to think I’d got it wrong,” Stiles says quietly.

“No, you got it so right,” Derek is still all red eyes and deep breaths, “I just didn’t know how badly I wanted it until I thought of you with someone else.”

“Derek there is no one else. I’ve waited two years for you to stick your dick in me, please don’t make me wait any longer,” Stiles grins again.

“It’s selfish. You’ll get hurt,” Derek tries one last time to allow Stiles an out. He doesn’t think he has the strength to refuse him again.

“We’ll use loads of lube,” Stiles is laughing. He knows what Derek really meant. He wants it all anyway.

Derek comes back to him and gets his hands underneath his Henley and touches the bare skin on Stiles back. He shivers and wiggles into Dereks body and kisses him again.

“I want my shirt back,” Derek smiles into his mouth. Stiles giggles and Derek loves the sound.

“You can have it, I’ve jerked off approximately 100 times in the past month while wearing it, I can’t even look at it without getting hard. It’s a problem,” he sniggers.

Derek knows he’s not joking because his heartbeat is steady.

Derek pulls his mouth away.

“Why have you got it on now?” He says still clutching Stiles like he might disappear.

“When I saw the Camaro earlier I got all sad. I thought you’d gone to the good pizza place without me, so I made Alex go there instead of the chicken place. You weren’t there though. That’s why I text you. So I told Al I wasn’t feeling well, I put your shirt on and crawled into bed and moped. For ten seconds. Then I jerked off pretending you were watching me.”

He’s still not joking, his heartbeat’s steady.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek is so gone on him, he needs to get him into his bed. He wants to taste him. He rolls his hips into Stiles and they both groan loud when their hard dicks rub together.

“Then I started to worry when I checked on your car and it was still there,” Stiles sounds out of breath now.

“Thought you were with someone else,” Derek continues pressing himself into Stiles hips and keeps kissing him between sentences, not wanting to stop.

“I told you. Only you. Always,” Stiles heartbeat is still steady.

Derek does stop at that. He knows that this thing between them is going to be permanent. He can feel it vibrating in his very bones but he needs to make sure Stiles knows. Even if it scares him off, he wants him to be sure. He won’t be able to let him go after this.

“I’m in love with you,” he says looking Stiles deep in the eyes, watching for his reaction.

Stiles blinks and keeps staring, face unusually impassive.

“I have been for a while. Before the summer. Maybe a year. Maybe longer,” he continues, still watching Stiles, who’s making no movement and is uncharacteristically still and quiet.

“Are you going to say anything?” Derek has to prompt him when he can’t take the silence any longer.

“Well I was waiting for you to say something I didn’t already know dumbass,” Stiles is still just blinking slowly, smiling widely now.

“What?” Derek is so confused.

“I know all that. Why do you think I’ve been hanging around you all this time? I’ve been waiting for you to make your move. Then all that shit happened in the summer and you backed right off. I was giving you one more week of brooding and I was going to strip off and knock on your door,” he’s laughing again.

Derek thinks it’s so easy with him, he wants this forever.

“I want this forever,” he says.

“Me too sourwolf, me too,” and Stiles has sealed his lips to his again and it’s more urgent this time.

“Wait, wait one more thing,” Derek groans out, “I’ve never been with a guy before. You’re the first I’ve wanted to. I’ll try to make it good for you.” He feels like Stiles should know, but he’s still embarrassed.

“Oh wow that is so so hot,” Stiles palms his dick, “Well I’ve never been with anyone at all so I’ll try to make it good for you too!”

It feels like the easiest conversation and Derek marvels at just how much Stiles puts him at ease. He kisses him again.

Derek unbuckles Stiles’ belt and unzips his jeans then runs his hands down under the waist band. He grips Stiles’ ass in his hands. The answering guttural moan Stiles makes into his mouth has him gripping Stiles by the thighs and picking him up. He backs him into the wall.

Stiles’ unbuckled jeans are low on his hips and Derek pulls Stiles boxers over his ass with one hand while supporting him with the other. Go werewolf strength.

Stiles is biting his lip and Derek wants to hear him again, so he runs a hand down his now exposed ass and lingers near his tight hole.

Stiles pushes away from the wall when Derek ghosts his hand over him and Derek begins nipping and sucking a mark into Stiles neck.

He’s already feeling like he’s going to come.

“Der, please take me to your bedroom and fuck me before I come all over you,” Stiles pleads.

He walks them both to his bed and eases Stiles down onto the mattress. He pulls Stiles’ jeans off along with his boxers and he eyes Stiles’ long hard length hungrily. He kicks his own boxers off and grabs his thick cock and strokes it once, loving the way Stiles is looking at him.

“Oh my god, stop looking at me like that,” Stiles groans like he’s in pain and grips the base of his dick, presumably to keep from coming.

Derek thinks he’s amazing. Stiles reaches up to tug the Henley off but Derek puts a hand on his chest to stop him, crawling up the bed and up Stiles body.

“You’re keeping that on,” he growls.

“Oh yes sir! You like it when I wear your things huh,” Stiles is playful and it’s all feeling so easy to Derek, he wonders why he hadn’t given in sooner.

“I love it when you wear my things. It makes me want to mark you up. It makes me want to lick you all over and then come on you, inside you. Everywhere. Then you can wear my things even more and everyone will know you’re mine,” Derek has no idea where that came from, blame his wolf.

It seems to do something for Stiles though. He grinds his hips up into Derek.

“Oh god, yes yes to all of that and I’m definitely yours,” Stiles’ is whimpering.

“I want to taste you,” Derek licks into his mouth again, unable to stop kissing him.

“Yeah, my dick is on board, so on board,” Stiles keeps up his babbling.

Derek flips him over so Stiles is facing down and he palms his ass in his hands. He runs his nose between Stiles cheeks breathing him in and his fangs drop.

“Not your cock just yet... I want to taste you here,” he manages around his teeth.

Stiles just groans and rubs his dick into Derek’s sheets and wiggles his ass back at Derek. He’s taking that as a yes.

When Derek licks over Stiles tight hole for the first time, he thinks he’s going to come. He’s careful with his fangs but he licks into him again and again. He tastes fantastic, smells amazing.

Derek knew he would. He fucks him with his tongue mercilessly and when he gets a finger into his now slick hole, Stiles cries out and comes, dick untouched, yelling Derek’s name.

Derek flips him back over and kisses him, letting him taste himself and he needs to come or he’s going to pass out. Stiles seems to get the message.

“Up up up,” he moans, hoarse and pulls Derek further up his body until Derek’s straddling his face.

He opens those beautiful, red, wet lips and he pulls Derek’s thick cock toward his mouth.

Derek’s looking down at him open mouthed and he has to close his eyes when Stiles licks over his leaking head and promptly swallows him down.

Derek’s trying so hard not to buck his hips but Stiles’ little noises are driving him mad. When Stiles grabs him by the hips and rams Derek down his throat, he’s done for. As soon as he feels Stiles swallow around him, he looks down and sees big brown eyes that are watering. Stiles’ pupils are blown wide and he mimics Derek’s earlier action and drags his finger down and finds Derek’s hole and runs his finger over it.

Derek comes hot and hard right down his throat, as Stiles, his perfect Stiles, takes it all. He’s panting when he collapses next to him.

If that’s not a promise to Stiles that he’s going to let him fuck him later, he doesn’t know what is. One touch and he’d come. He loves him and wants him in all the ways.

He grabs Stiles’ hand and it’s so intimate it makes Derek’s chest ache. Stiles rolls on top of him and plasters himself along Derek’s chest, fingers trailing through the dark hair there.

“That was insanely hot,” he sounds hoarse and Derek’s spent dick gives an interested twitch at the thought, that it was because he’d just been choking on his dick. It pleases him. It pleases him a lot.

Stiles seems to be having similar thoughts, if his semi hard dick pressing into Derek’s stomach, is anything to go by.

“You know I’m going to put my dick in you later right? That was so incredibly hot,” Stiles says again, in case Dereks’ not getting it.

“I know. I want everything Stiles,” he promises him quietly, like it’s a confession.

Derek rolls Stiles onto his back again, kissing him the whole time and he manages to get a hand across to take his lube out of his bedside drawer.

He coats his fingers and eyes never leaving Stiles, he inserts two fingers into his already wet hole.

He’s so tight it makes Derek bury his face into his neck. They’re both panting and hard again in seconds, Stiles rubbing his dick into his hip, as Derek fucks him on his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he tells Stiles, because he is.

“Me? Have you seen you? You’re amazing Der. I love you so much,” and it’s the first time Stiles has said it.

Derek feels like he’s going to burst he’s so happy so instead he decides to show Stiles just how pleased he is and he adds another wet finger to his stretched hole.

He’s three fingers deep in Stiles when he can’t take it anymore. He is loose enough that Derek’s sure he can take it.

He lines his dick up and Stiles dick leaks another drop of pre-come which Derek licks off before lining up again. He presses into him slowly and has to stop when he bottoms out.

He’s hot, he’s tight and he’s so perfect, Derek’s scared he’s going to shoot his load then and there.

“Are you ok, does it hurt?” He runs is hands up and down Stiles’ sides, checking for signs he’s in pain.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. This is amazing. You feel amazing. Der please move,” he’s breathing heavy and smells more like arousal than he ever has.

Derek can’t move, he’s going to come.

“Der, fuck me now, or I’m going to come and this will be over embarrassingly fast,” Stiles grits out.

Derek laughs and realises they’re on the same page, probably always have been and gives his hips a little experimental roll.

Both of them moan loud and Derek can’t help but fuck into him harder. He almost loses himself entirely when Stiles arches his back and clamps his legs around him. Stiles is panting out a little chorus of “fucks” and “Derek’s” and Derek can feel his orgasm coming.

He picks up the pace and Stiles seems to sense it. He gets a hand around his own dick and Derek slaps him away, replacing it with his own.

“Der I’m gonna come, fuck me hard, I want to feel you tomorrow,” he grits out and slams his head back on Derek’s pillow, closing his eyes like he can’t take it.

“Stiles, look at me,” Derek’s panting, “I want to see you when I come, fuck I’m so close,” he jerks Stiles’ dick and pounds into him relentlessly at the same time.

“Oh my fuck, Der, let me fuck you, I’m going to fuck you after this, please,” Stiles is babbling again and it’s so hot. Derek wants. He wants that. He wants Stiles to fuck him.

Derek comes, fucking deep into Stiles and Stiles’ orgasm hits him hard because he arches right off the bed, pulling Derek in even closer. He comes all over Derek’s hand and both of their chests and Derek wants to see that again and again.

As he comes, Stiles clenches his hole tight down on Derek’s thick dick and Derek shouts from the sensation, still coming and he’s never felt anything so incredible in his entire life.

He doesn’t want to pull out of Stiles when they both start breathing more normally, so he just lays carefully down on top of him, Stiles’ legs still around his hips. He strokes up and down Stiles’ thighs and kisses him gently.

“That was brilliant,” Stiles says, still a little breathlessly, “I knew you would be perfect.”

“You’re perfect for me,” Derek says and cringes a little because it sounded so cheesy, but he meant it.

Stiles doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to like this perfect business.

“You have a perfect dick. You have a perfect mouth. You have a perfect body. You have perfectly cute teeth and perfectly angry eyebrows,” he’s outright giggling now and Derek kisses him just to shut him up.

He can feel that he’s getting hard again inside Stiles because of all the wriggling. He’s never wanted anyone so much.

“Stiles,” he says seriously. Stiles stops giggling and stares at him.

“What?” He looks genuinely worried.

“You can keep the Henley,” he deadpans.

“Ha!” Stiles’ barked laugh almost deafens him in one ear.

“You have a perfect sense of humour. You have a perfect thick mouthwatering.... ohhhhh,” and he’s cut off again by Derek growling and rolling his hips into him.


Derek’s playful growling and Stiles’ giggling are what Scott hears when he’s walking up Derek’s porch steps the next morning.

“Oh hell no, no no no!” he shouts and turns and jogs straight back to the woods.