Laying here now, body twitching and jerking uncontrollably in Derek’s bed from another awesome orgasm, Stiles sadly wonders how on earth he didn’t notice the first time.
Not even the second or third or fourth times either.
It makes him cringe internally thinking about his obliviousness, but he’s determined not to beat himself up about it though, because when you’ve got a whole hunka man sexing you up real good it’s pretty hard to notice anything else. Particularly, one he’d been so certain was not even remotely interested in anything he’d had to offer, aside from checking the structural integrity of the nearest wall by slamming him into it. Although admittedly, it had been a while since he’d felt the hard press of brick or drywall against his shoulder blades like that and a warm hand, fingers splayed wide, at the base of his throat that he’d once pretended was there possessively rather than to punish. To be honest, he kinda missed it.
Stiles didn’t think of himself as being particularly unobservant, in fact he prided himself on seeing things that others didn’t, but if Derek Hale was anywhere in his vicinity the blinkers went on and he tunnel-visioned so hard and fast onto the man he couldn’t see the metaphorical forest for the wolf.
Those first few times there could’ve been an invasion with aliens bursting through the loft’s main door with face-melting ray guns demanding he submit to their vigorous anal probing with tentacles to save the planet (he blames binge-reading fan fiction late at night for that little fantas-…ahem…nightmare) and it wouldn’t have even pinged on his consciousness. Or that letter he’d been expecting from Hogwarts for years now, the one letting him know that it’s a real place and he’s more than a spark, he’s a wizard - it could’ve finally come flying through the window and hit him right between the eyes and he still wouldn’t have noticed anything but the man holding him so tight. Kissing him so passionately. Fucking him so hard.
Looking back, it was definitely the fifth time that Stiles actually noticed. Sitting naked in Derek’s lap on his beat up couch, riding him astride at a pace that was still urgent, but without that frantic ‘I’m going to die if you don’t get inside me right this minute’ desperation he’d possessed as a virgin.
Maybe, just barely without.
When Stiles’ thighs had started to twinge and cramp badly his moans no longer just in pleasure, Derek had simply grabbed his hips and easily started lifting him up and down, fucking him onto his big cock. Pulling him so far off his shaft that the corona of his fat knob would tug on the nerve-laden rim of Stiles’ ass with a distinct pop before pushing him back down in a powerful balls-deep surge. Again and again he was shuttled up and down in single-minded pursuit of satisfaction, his or Derek’s, both or neither it didn’t seem to matter. The wave of heat that had crashed over him at the thought of Derek using his ass like his own personal ‘fleshlight’ had his own cock so hard it felt like something was going to burst and his mouth gaped, slack and loose, in sheer unbridled lust.
As Derek manhandled him into whatever speed or position he wanted, the words that had been spilling uncontrollably from Stiles’ lips had stuttered and stalled on his tongue as his brain was short-circuited with such over-whelming arousal. He’d read the phrase ‘gonna fuck you mute’ somewhere online once, but had not believed it was at all possible, particularly in relation to himself.
It’s no secret that Stiles has always been a talker. It didn’t matter where or when – at the movies, in the middle of a test, the lacrosse field, a pack meeting - his mouth didn’t discriminate. His Mom had sworn he came out of the womb babbling a mile a minute so it didn’t really surprise him that during sex it was an absolute given it would be as much a verbal encounter as a physical one.
It was like all inhibitions as well as his traditional virginity (because technically his hole definitely had carnal knowledge of his favourite dildo prior to a real live dick) were pounded out of him through his ass and so his mouth rattled out whatever it darn well wanted to into Derek’s unsuspecting ears. The first time, causing the wolf to pause and give him a startled look, before his wide eyes flared the brightest red he’d ever seen from them and his thrusts increased in power and intensity. The more he spoke the harder Derek fucked, a totally win-win situation as far as Stiles was concerned.
So the moment his brain was fried and his mouth no longer capable of uttering a single word during that 5th round, a prickle of unease had started at the nape of his neck and rippled down the length of his spine as he realised that without him talking the loft was silent. The dearth of sound was extraordinary, sure there was sex noises. The slap of skin against skin rang loud in the space, a grunt or growl of pleasure and that was just him, the heavy breathing of exertion - it was all there, but Derek was silent. Painfully, noticeably silent.
Whereas, Stiles had left the other man with no doubt from the get go as to his thoughts on Derek’s everything.
His cock – ‘so big and so ‘ubble’…come on you know what I mean suckable and fuckable…stop laughing and just get it in me.’
His abs – ‘I am officially a believer, there is a God because holy heck Derek, they’re a miracle, created by divine intervention and I’m gonna lick every muscly inch of them. Hallelujah.’
His eyes – ‘no idea what the hell that colour is, but they’re so beautiful I could look into them forever, just fuck me while I do.’
Because he couldn’t filter to save his life or his pride no matter how hard his Dad encouraged him over the years to try, those comments were interspersed with words and thoughts that weren’t just about the physical attractiveness of the wolf. Words that included ‘want’ and ‘need’, ‘amazing’ and ‘wonderful’ would burst forth uncontrollably each and every time. Thoughts that reflected on ‘being together’ and to his utter mortification a detailed analysis on the F-word, ‘feelings’. Comments that made him blush to think about later on, but much to his relief Derek hadn’t freaked out and to his greater consternation hadn’t even mentioned them, so Stiles had resolved not to think about it.
He’d never been good with resolutions though.
The quiet of that fifth time had been unnerving, but Derek hadn’t let him dwell on the silence maybe picking up on his unease. He’d growled loudly and started lifting his hips up off the couch cushions, fucking his ass faster and harder and Stiles had loved it. From the very first it seemed he was a natural for ass fucking – needing bigger, harder, deeper and more all the time - and with Derek happy to provide and tapping his prostate with every powerful stroke, Stiles had begun to wail Derek’s name. The wolf’s eyes had flared red and hot, focused on his lips with a hungry intensity that sent Stiles’ groin into a spasm, his cock spurting out streams of hot cum onto Derek’s abs. With a howl and a distinct set of full-body shudders, Derek came in his ass, Stiles’ hips near-enough creaking under the tight grip of his fingers.
Exhausted, Stiles had slumped against Derek’s bare chest, uncaring of the slick slide of cum and sweat that had gathered there. Derek’s steady low rumble of contentment combined with his hands running gently up and down Stiles’ spine and thighs soothed the last of the tension away and he’d let himself relax completely pushing the memory of that strange silence to the back of his mind.
Until the next time.
And then the time after that. And so on and so on.
With each encounter Stiles had struggled to quiet himself when Derek was giving him such pleasure that his eyes literally rolled back in his head, it was so damn good. Derek was seemingly a wolf on a mission, determined to give him one incredible orgasm after the other, leaving him limp and shattered, his throat raw from screaming. Eventually, with willpower he’d never known he possessed, he’d somehow been able to bite his tongue or his lip and hold back the flow of words that bubbled in his throat and each time he’d lasted longer without saying anything and each time he’d wished he hadn’t. It was starting to drive Stiles crazy, that awful silence hanging between them, thick and heavy as though waiting to be filled.
He couldn’t be sure if Derek was conscious of it or not, but as soon as Stiles stiffened in awareness the wolf seemed to wrap himself around Stiles even tighter trying to fuck him into oblivion with his teeth biting firmly into Stiles’ shoulder or the back of his neck to keep him in place as he mounted him. Afterwards, Derek would give him a long inscrutable look, one that examined his lips intently and made Stiles’ stomach churn, before he’d move to the bathroom to gather face washers and towels that he’d warmed first before cleaning him up with a gentle tenderness that made Stiles’ chest hurt. It was something Derek had done from the very first.
The first time they’d come together was when they’d been ready to jump from the bank into the murky looking waters of the mid-size lake in the furthest corner of the Hale Pack’s territory. An Encantado had kidnapped Jackson of all people, declaring themselves to be madly in love and had retreated to the largest body of natural water in the area to consummate that attraction.
“Are we gonna do this then?” Stiles had asked Derek, the rest of the pack scattered around the edges of the lake in case the wolf-napper tried to make a break for it once Derek as Alpha and Stiles as his Emissary confronted it. “I mean it’s Jackson…and Flipper down there seems to be able to ignore that he’s a douche, but give Jackson a bit of time and that’ll soon change and he’ll be bobbing up in no time.”
Derek had simply glared, his eyebrows at a vicious slant, which Stiles had taken to interpret as ‘if you’re not in that water in 2 seconds I’m going to drown you myself’. Which really wasn’t that big a threat because Stiles wasn’t terribly sure that they would be getting out of the dark depths that rippled and swirled below them even with the shamanic totem from the Amazon that Deaton had assured them would neutralise the river dolphin shifter anyway.
God knows what had possessed him, but if he was going to his watery doom then he was going to do something that he’d wanted to for a long time even if he got a punch to the face for it. With both hands he yanked on Derek’s Henley and hauled him in for a kiss to take with him to the afterlife.
For one breathless moment, Stiles’ lips had been pressed tight to Derek’s and amazingly no punches had been thrown. Stiles had released him slowly, stunned at his own daring, to meet Derek’s eyes and what he’d seen there had made him meep in shock. They were hungry. Derek licking his lips and looking at him like he was the last meal he’d ever have was not what he was expecting to see.
Derek’s stare had him twitching uncontrollably and for the life of him he didn’t know what to think, laughing nervously. “Well, lets get Jackson before he’s scarred for life by having a fish mack on him.”
He’s pretty sure that the growling sound that emerged from Derek’s mouth then was his name and it had sent an electric jolt of lust through his spine. Derek hauled him in close, an arm wrapping around his waist, his nose running up the length of his neck to his ear.
“We’ll get Jackson first and then yes Stiles we’re gonna do this.” That Derek had taken his words and applied a whole new context to them in a voice so deep and guttural had made his legs weak at the implication, but not so weak that he didn’t jump in to the lake with grim determination to find their missing pack mate as soon as fucking possible.
They’d gotten Jackson back and Stiles had disappointedly headed home in his Jeep thinking Derek had second thoughts when he’d driven off with Lydia and a damp and fishy-smelling Jackson in his SUV. Only to start trembling uncontrollably in excitement, his heart racing, when his bedroom window had opened and a leather jacketed sex God climbed in and didn’t leave until the sun was peeking between the blinds the next morning.
They’d never talked about it, never given a definition as to what they were to one another and it seemed that when the pack was around Derek tried to keep his distance. Sometimes he thought that he and Derek…well he’d hoped that there was something more there between them aside from the sex. The way their eyes connected and rolled in sync when Scott said something ridiculous or the warmth in a fleeting soft smile whenever Stiles walked through the loft door for another pack meeting after being apart, whether it was only minutes, hours or days since they’d last seen each other had fuelled that hope.
That no one else in the pack seemed to notice when surely he must’ve smelled occasionally like he’d bathed in ‘eau de Derek’ made him feel a bit sad too. If Scott had noticed and asked then Stiles would’ve caved and told him everything so at least he’d have someone to confide in about his own hopes and doubts, but he knew that his best friend sometimes couldn’t see beyond his own belly button lint to what was happening around him so when no comments or demands for an explanation ensued he wasn’t terribly surprised. Nor was it the fact that another Hale did notice.
One night Peter had inhaled deeply and stared at Stiles for such a long time that it made him squirm uncomfortably until Derek sat beside him on the couch, their thighs pressed tight together. Passing Stiles his favourite pizza still in the box that he’d rescued from the plague of locusts that was the pack in a feeding frenzy whenever the pizza delivery guy arrived, Derek had pointedly glared back at his Uncle. Peter had smirked then and given Stiles such a salacious wink it had made him blush. Retaliating, Stiles had thrown a cushion at zombiewolf’s head only to watch it fall short to the floor in pieces as Peter blew across the claws of one hand before they retracted with an emphatic ‘snick’. It felt like approval of sorts.
They still argued and bickered like they always had and Stiles’ appreciation of Derek’s deadpan sarcasm had grown, he’d once thought that Peter had all the Hale sass, and was strangely pleased to find he was wrong. What had downright startled him before they’d even started getting frisky together was when he realised that he actually liked talking to the man. He’d once thought of Derek as being a wolf of few words, to be honest more grunts and growls than actual words, so to find that he enjoyed their conversations – the range of subjects, the depth of knowledge and the openness to each other’s point of views – was a surprising revelation that he delighted in.
It was only when they were physically intimate that the doubts attacked Stiles’ confidence. Derek didn’t say a word then, not even his name when they were fucking, almost like he was deep in concentration.
It seemed to Stiles that void of soundless expectation that lay between them when they had sex was becoming an ever-widening gulf of separation that he didn’t think he could bear anymore. Not that the sex was awful, the heat and the passion that burned bright between them didn’t allow for that as even a remote possibility and Stiles always came away sated beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of.
Sated, but not content. The physical fulfilment swiftly dissipating by an emotional hunger that craved and demanded a response equal to itself to be truly satisfied. As much as Stiles wished he could play ostrich and bury his head in the sand he couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. He was head over heels in love with Derek Hale, there was no pretending this was just a hook up or scratching a mutual itch for him anymore and he couldn’t let this carry on or he’d end up hurting worse than he already was.
Which is how he’d ended up here, laying in Derek’s bed and willing his vision to return to normal without the specks from the orgasm blindness that he’d decided was a natural occurrence of having all his blood leave his brain for his nether regions (nether being one of his favourite words). Not exactly what he was intending that afternoon when he’d mentally berated himself into being all adulty about it and driven to the loft with the sole purpose to have a grown up conversation and find out exactly what was going on between them.
He needed to know for his own sanity whether they were Derek and Stiles - simply two guys, friends because at the very least they were that now, that were releasing some tension with each other, or Derek AND Stiles together together, with all those pesky feelings and emotions that were stubbornly resistant to all of Stiles’ attempts to ignore them.
That plan had derailed at the speed of light when Derek had opened the door with sexy as hell bed head and a yawn. Those slumberous heavy-lidded eyes had crinkled deliciously at the corners as he smiled sweet and easy, scratching low on his flat belly exposing a totally lickable line of skin between his t-shirt and his sweatpants as he rasped out a sleep-roughened ‘Hey’.
And Stiles was gone, so very, very gone. Wanting to curse him as much as kiss him because afternoon naps and adorably sleep-rumpled werewolves just wasn’t playing fair, not when he was trying to be all mature about shit. Throwing himself at the other man and not even considering for one moment that a just woken wolf wouldn’t catch him as he wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and kissed the sleep fuzzies right out of him. His faith was justified. Derek caught him, slammed the door shut behind them and carried him off to his bed without missing a beat.
Panting heavily and mentally kicking himself for his complete lack of willpower, Stiles lay in Derek’s bed staring at the ceiling, now that he could see it properly speck free, with his ass aching to perfection and his dick softening rapidly as it slipped from between the wolf’s lips. The mattress dipped and shifted as Derek rolled naked from between his thighs and off his side of the bed, lips red and puffy from sucking, as he headed towards the bathroom ensuite.
It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that Derek avoided making eye contact as he left.
A tight band of grief wrapped around his chest and Stiles drew in a quick succession of shuddering breaths, his shoulders heaving. Nothing had changed, only the fact that he couldn’t stay around the man that he loved knowing that he didn’t feel the same and Stiles wasn’t into torturing himself like that.
Forcing his loose limbs to co-operate was an effort. After an orgasm that intense he normally couldn’t move, but there was no way he could tolerate Derek’s attentions afterwards. Not today. The thought that he did it not because he wanted to or cared enough for Stiles to, but rather out of obligation or duty was a painful one and Stiles knew Derek well enough now to know that he took all his responsibilities seriously. Did those responsibilities include aftercare for his human fuck-buddy? He was starting to think so.
Dragging his skinny jeans up his thighs and over his hips Stiles hears a noise from behind him. Turning his head he sees Derek standing frozen in the doorway of his ensuite, towels in hand, and dismisses the echo of that high pitched whine as imagination.
“You’re going.” Somehow Stiles doesn’t think that Derek’s asking a question.
Nodding, he buttons his jeans and scans the floor looking for his shirt, cursing internally for being too slow. “Yeah…sorry, I gotta go.”
When he lets himself look at Derek’s face, he’s taken aback by the hurt that’s starkly visible there and yeah…sneaking out after…that’s a pretty douchy thing to do.
“I can’t-“ Stiles’ voice catches, but he manages to forge on. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”
Picking up the red t-shirt that’s been nearly pushed under the end of the bed, he pulls it on over his head before gathering up his socks and battered Converses and tucking them under his arm. He’ll put them on when he’s safe in the Jeep because right now all he wants to do is get the hell out of there before the temptation of Derek’s bed and Derek’s arms and Derek’s everything lures him back in.
Fleeing across the room he has the door part way open when a hand reaches over his shoulder and pushes it closed once more.
Swallowing hard, Stiles doesn’t dare to look back over his shoulder, fixing his gaze downwards he sees his bare feet. Toes curling, heart thundering beneath his breastbone he can feel the heat of Derek’s body soaking through the fabric of his clothes.
“Don’t go.” The plea is softly spoken against the exposed nape of his neck, a soft warm breath against his skin and yet to Stiles it’s as though he’s being battered by a raging storm front. “Please.”
Such a simple word and yet so very powerful, regardless of whether you’re the petitioner or the receiver. Stiles’ breath hitches and he lets his forehead fall against the wood of the bedroom door, its cool against his fevered skin. He doesn’t have the strength to deny the man. A moan of distress slipping past his lips at his weakness and the heat at his back disappears.
“Don’t…I’m sorry. I’m sorry Stiles. Go if you want to, I won’t try and stop you much as I-“ There’s a note of what Stiles can only describe as pained at the start before Derek seems to compose himself once more and finishes with a deceptively calm. “Just go.”
Deceptive because Stiles knows that tone, he knows that’s not the case at all. Derek had used that same tone of voice when he had to bluff his way out of a showdown with an encroaching pack from a nearby territory knowing that it was just Stiles and Peter to back him up, Stiles with his trusty bat and a badly sprained ankle as well. The rest of the pack weren’t expected back from their away game in San Jose for the State Lacrosse Championships until much later that night. It had fooled the other pack’s Alpha, but it doesn’t fool Stiles now anymore than it had back then.
Slowly he turns around and with that ability he’d once prided himself on, he lets himself truly see.
Derek’s jerkily yanking on the sweatpants and shirt he’d been wearing earlier, still going commando as he’s prone to do which had delighted Stiles so very much with the easy access the first time he’d let his hands wander below Derek’s waistband. His face is tight and drawn, eyes fixed on the floor.
It’s not the expression of a man who doesn’t give a damn and it makes Stiles tremble.
“Do you want me to stay?” Stiles asks quietly. Derek ignores him gathering the towels and taking them back into his bathroom. He’s only out of sight for a few moments, re-emerging only to pause in the doorway again, looking so lost that it makes Stiles’ chest hurt to see and he realises that Derek had been giving him an opportunity to leave and he hadn’t taken it and now neither of them seemed to know what to do with that.
“Do you want me to stay?” Stiles asks again.
Derek shrugs his shoulders. “Only if you want to.”
“No Derek, do you want me to stay?”
They stare at one another and Stiles can feel his pulse throbbing in his neck so hard and fast he thinks it must be clearly visible from the way Derek’s eyeballing his throat with a wild gleam in his eyes that he’s not seen him direct his way before.
“Why?” Derek twitches at the question, eyebrows forming a deep ‘V’ on his forehead and Stiles doesn’t want to be deliberately cruel, but he needs to know even if it means pulling an answer out of the wolf one word at a time.
Derek stares at him and his lips open and part as though he’s going to say something before snapping shut, his nostrils flare and he tilts his head from one side to the other as though he’s trying to crack his neck and release the tension.
Which makes Stiles think that Derek’s bedroom probably isn’t the best place for this conversation, particularly with his bedsheets all rumpled and the scent of sex and cum lingering in the air. It would be better downstairs Stiles decides, where they can talk without the evidence of their sexy times in their face and he turns to the door.
“Maybe-“ Before he can get another word out or so much as blink Derek’s swept him up into his arms, pressing him back into the door. Just like old times Stiles thinks slightly hysterical. His Converses fall to the floor and he tries to wedge his arms up between them, determined not to let himself be sidetracked by the feel of Derek’s body against his.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You stopped. Why did you stop?” Derek asks fiercely, almost angrily. His hands gripping Stiles’ biceps firmly, not hurting, but Stiles gets the strongest impression that Derek’s barely holding back from shaking an answer out of him. “What did I do wrong?”
“Stop what?” Stiles says frantically.
Derek stares into his eyes and there’s a desperate cast to his features as he husks out “You stopped talking.”
“Wha…what?” Stiles stammers in disbelief. “What do you mean? I’ve never stopped talking to you.”
“You did. When we were first together-“ Derek scents along Stiles’ jaw and cheek as he presses his hips in tight, making it quite clear exactly what he means by ‘together’ and Stiles’ heart starts to race. “-you would tell me all the time how much…”
Derek trails off, his eyes darting to a point somewhere above Stiles’ left shoulder and he can see the red flush that sits high on the wolf’s perfect cheekbones and extends up to the tips of his ears.
“How much I want you.” Stiles finishes for him and Derek slowly nods.
“No one’s ever said to me the things you did. That you needed me in your life…that I made you happy. How I was amazing.” Derek shifts his gaze back to Stiles’. “You let me inside you and all the time I could hear you talking and it made me feel that I was more than a body to be used. That I was worth more than a quick fuck.”
Stiles’ lips quiver hearing the anguish in Derek’s voice.
“You are worth so much more than that.” He manages to choke out.
“Then why did you stop? I kept listening and waiting, but there was nothing. I knew that there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what and I was afraid that you’d changed your mind, that I wasn’t all those things you told me. That somehow I’d lost you.” Derek clutches at him fiercely, his hands bruising. His mouth turned down so sadly that Stiles has to blink away the stinging burn building in his eyes.
Shaking his head in denial, Stiles lifts his hands from between them and cups Derek’s face, letting his fingers stroke tenderly over the rasp of stubble barely holding back a whimper as Derek desperately nuzzles into them.
“You are all those things I said. You’re kind and generous. Intelligent, dangerously self-sacrificing, not to mention sexy as fuck, particularly when you’re dissing on someone and you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” Stiles smiles shakily at the wolf. “You’re a good man Derek Hale and I love you.”
Derek’s eyes widen with surprise and his breathtaking smile of relief and wonder is so dazzling to Stiles it seems that for one moment Derek radiates such intense happiness that it’s like standing in sunlight, before a shadow crosses his features and a furrow swiftly forms once more between his eyebrows. “Then why-“
Stiles puts his fingers over Derek’s mouth. “You weren’t the only one listening and waiting.”
Derek’s face blanches and he winces in sudden understanding. “Oh Stiles.” Derek says so sadly and brokenly that Stiles flinches. Derek tries to pull away, but Stiles clings to him stubbornly, afraid that if he lets go he’ll never get him back.
“I can’t believe I’ve been so blind…so selfish.” Derek shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought you knew. You’ve always seemed to know what I’m thinking, what I’m planning…how I’m feeling. It’s like I’m an open book to you.”
Stiles snorts, he wishes that he were able to read Derek like that. Maybe they wouldn’t be in this position now if he could. “You were never that to me Derek. I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about us, that maybe I was making it all too obvious what I felt for you.”
“Because it’s private, it was none of the pack’s business and you know that there would’ve been comments and jokes and I didn’t want to put pressure on you…on us. Not when it was all so new and important. I didn’t want you to be hurt and it seems that I was the one doing it anyway.” Derek pauses, his eyes flickering over Stiles’ face, seeming to examine each feature like he’s never seen it before. “There were times…I knew you were attracted to me, but I never dared hope that you felt the same way.”
Something wild and desperate surges through Stiles and his voice cracks. “The same way?” He questions.
Derek’s jaw clenches and the struggle on his face is so clear to Stiles that he draws the wolf’s head to his and lets their foreheads rest against each other.
“You can tell me anything.” Stiles whispers into the intimate space. “Just between you and me. Okay.”
Derek huffs and it sounds more like from amusement than annoyance. Stiles waits patiently and eventually Derek starts to speak, slowly almost painfully.
“I met a boy in the woods on the second worst day of my life and I didn’t know it then, but that pale skinny boy with the awful buzzcut-“ Derek smirks as Stiles blurts out an affronted “Hey, no dissing the buzz.”
“-and the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen…I didn’t know that this stubborn, brave, loyal boy would save me from the worst that Beacon Hills could throw at us…that he would save me from myself.” Derek holds him even tighter like he’s trying to merge them together into one being. His lips brush over Stiles’ chin and along the line of his jaw, lingering on the couple of moles there that Derek’s always seemed partial to licking and kissing.
“I tried to keep you away…pushed you, hurt you so you wouldn’t come near, but you didn’t back down, ever. All it did was make it harder.” Derek nips the hinge of his jaw drawing out goosebumps. “I can’t help myself when I’m with you, you make me feel so much…things I’d promised myself I wouldn’t and couldn’t afford to ever again. With everything we faced together that boy became a man I simply can’t resist. So beautiful, so smart with a wicked sense of humor and a body that makes me hurt to be inside you all the time. That first night you kissed me, I could feel my world shake and I knew there was only one thing I could do.”
Stiles’ cheeks burn hearing these words that he never ever dreamed he would. Derek’s lips curve into a smile against his skin and with a sigh he tilts his head so that the wolf can access the vulnerable line of his throat. A shiver quaking through him at the rasp of Derek’s tongue as he licks along that line.
“Knew what?” Stiles demands impatiently, greedy to hear more.
“Do you know what happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object?” Derek rumbles against his flesh.
“They surrender.” Stiles rolls his hips dirtily against Derek’s. “Oh my God, that’s so hot that you’re quoting from DC.” He moans breathlessly. “You are right?”
“Unstoppable, irresistible that’s what you are to me Stiles and I surrendered completely. I let go of all my fears.” Derek draws his head slowly back until they can stare into each other’s eyes and Stiles is pretty sure that his face is a perfect match to his wolf’s, of flushed cheeks and blown pupils. “I trust you with all of me, with my pack, my life…with my heart. So hear me say-“
Stiles’ vision begins to go out of focus as Derek leans in close, his lips hovering over Stiles’ so they share the same breath, and he has to close his fluttering eyelids to stop the dizzying rush of want.
“I love you.” Derek whispers as he presses his mouth to Stiles’ and the kiss is as sweet and tender as the emotion that fills Stiles’ heart.