Stiles has to admit he never, not once, thought he’d ever had Erica Reyes to thank for one of the best fucks of his life.
But as he’s lying down on his back by Derek’s side, skin shiny with sweat and sticky with come, trying to catch his breath, feeling all loose limbed and fucked out and with the dildo she gave Derek for his birthday as a gag gift still lodged deep in his ass, he has to give it to her.
Because Erica Reyes is awesome and Stiles is proud to call her family.
Even if Derek vehemently disagrees.
Stiles maintains that the horrified face Derek makes and the startled yelp he lets out when he gets into their apartment is probably one of the best things he’s ever seen and heard.
And he’s been in close contact with both Derek’s ass and dick.
He knows what he’s talking about.
But there’s something so ridiculously precious and endearing about seeing the deer caught in the headlights look Derek’s giving everyone as he takes in the balloons taped on the ceiling and the cake on top of their living room table and the birthday hats Stiles, his family, and his friends are wearing.
It kind of makes Stiles want to coo.
And then kiss him all over.
And he knows all of that shows on his face when Isaac makes a strangled noise near him.
Stiles doesn’t care.
His boyfriend is adorable as fuck, shut up.
“I’m—,” Derek swallows, looking around with wide eyes. “What.”
“Happy birthday!” Stiles yells, bounding off to him, throwing his arms around his neck, and smacking a kiss on his lips. “This is your surprise party, you’re welcome.”
“What,” Derek repeats, sounding faint.
“Stiles organized everything,” Laura tells him. “We only had to show up.”
“And bring gifts,” Erica adds, her eyes glinting as she leans against Boyd’s chest.
Stiles narrows his eyes at her, because he knows that look. That look means she’s up to something.
But he’s distracted from that by Derek’s hands on his hips, fingers digging into his sides.
“You organized me a surprise birthday party?” Derek asks, awed.
His mouth is even parted in surprise, bunny teeth showing in between soft pink lips.
Stiles kisses him again, long and deep.
And also slips a little bit of tongue.
He doesn’t even stop when Boyd clears his throat.
Or when Erica whistles.
Or when Isaac makes another strangled sound and Laura fake gags and Peter starts slow clapping.
Derek’s lips are red and used and shiny with spit when Stiles pulls back, eyes glazed over.
He looks gorgeous. But Stiles thinks he might look even better with a birthday hat on.
“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Stiles smiles, dragging Derek fully into the apartment. “Now go hug everyone so we can get this party started.”
Derek does, giving him a blinding smile and another kiss before he lets himself get hugged and kissed and slapped on the back by everyone. He even lets Peter run a hand over his hair and squeeze the back of his neck without shying away or snapping.
Stiles is proud.
So proud that he yells out, “Shots!” and Derek is the first to get one.
Laura and Isaac follow behind, Peter shaking his head when Stiles offers him one.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” Peter says, watching Laura as sticks her finger in the icing of one of the Oreos cupcakes on the table and wipes it on Derek’s cheek. “I have business to take care of. But thank you for inviting me, Stiles, and for doing this for Derek. It’s been a while since I've last saw him this happy.”
Stiles waves him off. “No problem, dude. My pleasure.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Peter smirks, giving him a once over.
“Yeah,” Stiles shakes his head, turning around. “I don’t think so.”
And then bids them all goodbye, swiping one of Stiles’s tequila bottles on his way out.
Stiles doesn’t have time to protest. And that’s because Boyd and Erica are doing shots off each other on Derek’s couch, and Stiles is not sure if he’s comfortable with the amount of skin he’s seeing from them or not.
He might be.
Not that it’s anyone’s business.
But seeing Erica lick salt off of Boyd’s stomach, take a shot, and suck at the lime between his lips does give Stiles an idea, though.
An idea Derek seems to be totally up for it, because as soon as Stiles looks his way, tilts his head in Erica and Boyd’s direction, and wiggles his eyebrows Derek’s taking his shirt off.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Stiles says as soon as he gets close to him, greedy hands sliding up and down Derek’s naked chest.
Derek’s naked and hairy chest.
Stiles still remembers stumbling into Derek’s bathroom one morning only to freeze and his mind turn blank when he saw Derek smearing shaving cream on his chest.
He’d never really questioned the smoothness of Derek’s torso before that happened, too busy licking and worshipping at every inch of skin he could find. But when faced with the evidence that Derek shaved, Stiles was quick to tell him that hair didn’t bother.
Like, at all.
And that if Derek was only doing this because he thought Stiles wouldn’t like his body hair, then he could stop.
So Derek stopped.
And he didn’t take up shaving his chest again, but that might be because Stiles loves rubbing his face against it and tangle his fingers through it and tug at it when they’re in bed.
And also when they’re in public, sometimes, kind of like now.
Not that he’s rubbing his face against Derek’s chest, no.
And he also doesn’t scratch his nails lightly over Derek’s nipples, enjoying the way his boyfriend shudders and presses back into his touch.
But Stiles does push him down on the loveseat, Derek’s legs handing over the side, kneels down, and licks a stripe from the waistband of Derek’s jeans to his belly button.
“Erica,” Stiles says loudly, reaching a hand. “Salt me.”
Erica does, handing Stiles the salt shaker and watching with avid eyes as Stiles sprinkles it on Derek’s skin. He also doesn’t have to ask for a lime wedge before Boyd is giving one to Derek, who promptly sticks it between his lips.
“Ready?” Stiles looks up at Derek, grinning.
Derek’s only answer is to lift his hips up a little and raise an eyebrow, expectant.
Stiles sighs dreamily.
How did he ever get so fucking lucky?
“Stiles, if you don’t lick the salt from your boyfriend’s stomach in the next five seconds, I will,” Erica threatens, smirking when Stiles glares at her.
“Erica, if you want to have drunk sex tonight, you won’t,” Boyd warns, giving her a pointed look when Erica turns to him.
“Can I tie you up?” Erica asks hopefully.
“Can I not have to hear this conversation?” Isaac says to no one in particular.
“Can I cut the cake?” Laura pipes up, biting into a cupcake and getting frosting on her upper lip.
“Can you all shut up so Stiles can lick me?” Derek snaps, holding the lime wedge in his hand.
Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Laura all slowly turn to him, faces blank.
And Stiles watches in fascination as Derek’s cheeks start pinking in embarrassment when he realizes what he’s just said.
“I vote for that,” Stiles says breathlessly.
And then bends down to trace his tongue over the salt on Derek’s stomach, takes a shot, and sucks at the lime now back between Derek’s lips.
Only to spit it out as soon as he’s done, going back in to kiss Derek for real, open mouthed and wet and completely inappropriate for the audience they have.
Even though Laura’s caught them in worse positions. Like when Stiles’s dad was in town and they stopped by the apartment and caught Derek with his mouth on Stiles’s dick, not that they ever mention that. Ever. To anyone. Because it didn’t happen.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Laura says, getting a hand on the back of Stiles’s pants and pulling.
Stiles lets out a cry when that makes his jeans so tight his balls hurt, falling on his ass on the floor clutching at his crotch while he glares at Laura.
“Yes, Laura,” Derek scowls at his sister. “I was enjoying that.”
“Me too,” Erica nods.
“Ropes,” Boyd reminds her. “Maybe clamps, if you’re lucky.”
Stiles thinks he’s never seen Erica snap her mouth shut so fast.
“Do we have more tequila?” Isaac asks faintly. “Because I need more tequila.”
“We’re doing presents before you two decide it doesn’t matter that we’re here and start screwing,” Laura tells them, crossing her arms over her chest. “And then cake. I want cake.”
“We wouldn’t,” Derek’s scowl deepens as he sits up on the loveseat, leaning forward so he can wrap his arms around Stiles’s shoulders and rest his chin on the top of Stiles’s head. “Seriously.”
Laura gives him an unimpressed look.
“We really wouldn’t,” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t like to share. Even if it’s just looking.”
Laura goes from unimpressed to grossed out in three seconds flat. It must be a record.
Erica looks like Stiles just killed her kitten.
And Isaac takes a big gulp of tequila, straight from the bottle, looking like he’s seriously considering drowning himself before having to listen to anymore of this conversation.
“So, presents or cake first?” Derek prompts, undoubtedly taking pity on Isaac.
“Cake,” Laura claps her hands, delighted.
“I vote for presents,” Erica says, the glint back in her eyes.
“What’s with all the enthusiasm?” Derek narrows her eyes at her. “They’re not even your presents.”
“Yeah, Erica,” Boyd widens his eyes at Laura. “It almost looks like you’re planning something.”
“If you ruin this party I swear to heavens I’ll steal all your condoms,” Stiles points a finger at her.
“Like I’d ever ruin a party,” Erica sniffs. “I only know how to make them better. And you wouldn’t dare. Boyd would rip your nip rings out if you did.”
Boyd nods in agreement.
Derek covers Stiles nipples protectively with his hands.
“Here,” Laura sighs, grabbing a box covered with a reindeer gift wrapper from the pile on the coffee table and shoving it at Derek’s chest. “Mine first. Maybe then you’ll get to cake.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “You can just have your slice if you want, we don’t care.”
“Thank fuck,” she says, giving her back to them and walking to the table.
“You’d at least think she’d stay here to see you opening your present,” Stiles mumbles.
“It’s not like I don’t know what she gave me.”
Stiles tilts his head at him in question.
“Laura gives Derek the same birthday present every year,” Isaac explains. “And by that I mean she just renews his yearly gym membership.”
“Lame,” Stiles mouths, getting a nod in agreement from Boyd.
“Thank you, Laura!” Derek throws over his shoulder, pleased.
“You’re welcome,” Laura says, smiling with pure glee as she cuts a huge slice of birthday cake and treats herself.
“My turn,” Isaac says, taking the present with a snowman wrapper and giving it to Derek.
His gift is a book on old-school skin art, something that makes Derek brighten in interest and and then get up so he can give Isaac a hug. He says something low enough so only Isaac can hear, and whatever it is makes Isaac’s face break into a smile.
Boyd is next, throwing Derek a simple black bag and staring at him unblinking when he opens it.
And then smiling when Derek looks inside and promptly freezes up.
“What?” Stiles glances from Derek to Boyd and back again. “What is it?”
When neither of them answer and he starts noticing the blush creeping up Derek’s neck, Stiles gets up from the floor and sits down next to Derek, peering over Derek’s shoulder and into the bag.
“Do you like it?” Boyd asks, smiling slowly when Derek chokes on his tongue.
“What is that?” Stiles pokes Derek’s side.
Derek doesn’t answer.
Boyd does it for him. “It’s called a Prince Albert.”
Several things happen at once.
The tequila bottle slips from Isaac’s hold and rolls to the floor, spilling alcohol all over Derek’s living room floor.
Laura misses her mouth and accidentally drops cake into her cleavage, so stunned she doesn’t even bother to clean herself up.
And Erica gasps loudly and slaps a hand on Boyd’s chest, eyes wide as she whispers, “You bought him a dick piercing?”
Boyd doesn’t answer her.
Instead he turns to Stiles, tilts his chin up, and says, “You’re welcome.”
And blinks again.
And then one more time, because he’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven.
“Did I die and go to heaven?”
“Does your idea of heaven have your boyfriend with a dick ring?” Isaac asks weakly, grabbing the bottle from the floor and draining what’s left.
Stiles’s dick twitches in his pants.
Because yeah, his idea of heaven certainly involves Derek and it could involve Derek with a dick piercing.
“Derek,” Stiles twists his head to his boyfriend, who’s still staring down at the bag.
And then slowly looks up.
“If I do this—”
“If I do this,” Derek says again. “It’s gonna take over a month to heal.”
“Two to four months,” Boyd offers.
Stiles’s shoulders slump.
Fuck, that’s longer than his nipple rings and Stiles almost died when he had to wait months before Derek could play with them again.
“And I won’t be able to have sex for a while,” Derek keeps going. “And when I do, we’re gonna have to wear condoms until it’s all healed up.”
Stiles deflates completely.
“But sex,” Stiles whines. “And feeling you.”
Derek glances at the bag again, before seeming to come to a decision.
“Thanks for the gift, Boyd,” Derek clears his throat. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to accept it now.”
“But dick piercing,” Stiles pouts.
“That’s okay,” Boyd waves him off. “You can keep it. And if you ever change your mind.”
“I’ll talk to you.”
“Can I watch if you do it?” Erica perks up.
“No,” Derek, Stiles, and Boyd say in unison.
And now Erica is the one pouting.
You know, until the glint is back and she picks up her present, wrapped in snowflakes gift wrapper, and hands it to Derek.
“I hope you like it,” Erica grins.
Derek takes is slowly, looking at it with suspicion.
Stiles does too, moving so he’s mostly hidden behind Derek’s back, one of his arms coming around Derek’s waist. That way he’ll be protected if anything jumps out of the box.
Not that anything jumps out of it when Derek opens it, no sir.
Because right there, lying snug in the middle of cut out golden paper, is a dildo.
A huge dildo.
A twelve inch light colored skin dildo complete with balls, to be exact.
Derek looks mortified.
Laura just curses under her breath, grabs Isaac by the wrist, and drags him to the kitchen, away from all of them.
Erica grins smugly and says, “His name is Deep Dickin Derek. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Stiles’s brain starts working again at that.
“Yes,” Erica nods, looking far too pleased with herself. “He’s an ejaculating dildo. You can fill his balls up with liquid if and squeeze it, and he’ll come in you.”
“Uh,” Stiles says smartly.
Maybe because all the blood is rushing to his dick.
“Stiles,” Derek hisses, recognizing the look on his face. “This won’t fit.”
“It will,” Erica pipes up. “I could even help you two with that. If you want.”
“No,” Derek, Stiles and Boyd say again.
Stiles even goes as far as adding, “I know this is a thing for you, but not for us. We’re not cool with people watching us, even if it’s someone we know and love. So I’m sorry, but that won’t happen. Not ever.”
Erica blinks, looking equal parts accepting and hurt.
“And like I said,” Derek pats her on the leg. “It’s not like it’ll fit.”
“Dude, guys get fists up their butts all the time. We can make this work if we want to.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Derek tells him. “And not all the time.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. We can buy one of those plug kits and work our way up to it. We might not be able to get it all the way in, but we can do it.”
Derek gives him a long look.
“But do we want to do it?”
Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.
And then pointedly looks down at the bulge quickly forming in his pants.
“Okay,” Derek licks his lips. “But you’re the one getting fucked with it.”
Stiles grins, throwing his arms around Derek’s shoulders, smacking a kiss on his lips, and yelling, “Happy birthday to me!”
They work up to it.
Derek buys the plug kit a week after his birthday and wastes no time getting Stiles naked and stretched open so he can slide the smaller plug inside of him.
Not that Stiles minds.
Quite the opposite, actually.
You know, given the way he presses his ass back into it and moans loudly when Derek starts sliding the plug in and out of him slowly.
It’s the best.
And it only gets better as they move up in size as the weeks progress, Stiles coming with Derek’s hand on his dick and Derek’s lips on the back of his neck, clenching around the plug inside of him.
It takes a few more weeks for Derek to feel comfortable enough with the ability of Stiles’s butt to take something bigger than his cock and the biggest plug to try and bring the dildo into play, though.
But when he does, Stiles is on him so fast he accidentally bumps into Derek’s dresser and sends half the stuff on top of it to the floor.
“Fuck,” Derek grunts, getting his arms around Stiles’s waist and trying to keep them from toppling over.
“Yes, please,” Stiles murmurs, nipping at Derek’s bottom lip.
Derek laughs at him, tracing his tongue over the seam of Stiles’s lips between licking into his mouth. Stiles moans softly, getting his fingers tangled through Derek’s hair and pulling him closer as they kiss.
Stiles takes his time tasting Derek, knowing later he’ll probably be too out of it to get his brain to cooperate with the rest of him so he can kiss his boyfriend while they fuck. He makes the most of it, sucking on Derek’s tongue and biting softly at his lips, keeping at it until they both have to pull back if they want to keep breathing.
Derek looks like a fucking gorgeous mess already, worked up and flushed, and Stiles doesn’t need to rock his hips forward to know Derek’s on his way to getting hard.
But he does it anyway, grinning when Derek’s breath hitches.
It’s not like he can resist.
“Bed?” Stiles asks, nuzzling Derek’s cheek. “Or do you want me to get down on my hands and knees right here on the floor?”
Derek makes a noise like he’s dying, and next thing Stiles knows he’s being picked up and thrown over Derek’s shoulder.
Stiles would complain.
You know, if it wasn’t for the way that gets him level with Derek’s ass.
Derek’s fucking incredible, beautiful, amazing ass.
Stiles’s mouth starts watering.
And then he’s getting his hands on the waistband of Derek’s pants and tugging them and Derek’s underwear down.
But he only manages to get a few good gropes and place a wet kiss to Derek’s left butt cheek once before he’s being thrown on the bed, bouncing on the mattress a couple of times.
Stiles pouts, bottom lip sticking out.
“I was having fun with that.”
“The only ass that gets to have fun tonight is yours,” Derek tells him, kicking his pants and briefs off.
“You can rim me after I’m done with you,” Derek promises. “If you can stay awake that long.”
“Do you have any idea how many times we’ve been late to stuff because I was busy with my tongue up your ass?” Stiles smiles, unbuttoning his pants as he watches Derek take his shirt off. “I can always make time to eat you out.”
“And I thank you for that,” Derek says, riding Stiles of his jeans. “But tonight is my turn.”
“I guess I can let that happen.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t want to get the dildo inside you more than you want to get your mouth on me.”
“I never want anything more than I want you,” Stiles brings a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek, thumb tracing his bottom lip.
Derek smiles, small and warm, and ducks his head so he can press their lips together in a soft kiss.
A soft kiss that quickly turns heated when Stiles spreads his legs and Derek finally settles between them, their cocks brushing together, Stiles’s nipple rings scraping over Derek’s chest hair.
Ah, Derek’s chest hair.
Stiles runs his fingers through it, tugging a little before finding one of Derek’s nipple and pinching it.
Derek clamps his teeth on Stiles’s bottom lip in retaliation, and then breaks their kiss in favor of mouthing at Stiles’s jaw, sucking marks into his neck and collarbone, making his way down Stiles’s chest so he can get at Stiles’s nipple rings.
And the feeling of Derek’s mouth on his nipples and his teeth catching against the bars never fails to make the blood rush straight to Stiles’s dick.
And the way Derek starts rolling his hips and his hand find its way to the wolf inked on Stiles’s side helps.
Stiles loves that Derek keeps touching it, tracing the outlines with his fingers, sometimes kissing and biting and licking at the mark he put on Stiles’s ribs.
That makes Stiles itch to get another tattoo, let Derek draw something permanently on his skin again.
He makes a mental note to bring it up with Derek later. You know, when he’s not trying to get fucked into oblivion by a dildo with his boyfriend’s name.
Right now he buries his fingers on Derek’s hair and pushes his chest into Derek’s mouth, moaning and gasping the more Derek sucks and laps at his sensitive nipples.
It’s only when they’re red and puffy and Stiles’s chest is covered in stubble burn that Derek moves on and down, sticking his tongue into Stiles’s belly button and smother his laugh against Stiles’s hip when Stiles yelps and tries to squirm away.
“Sex foul!” Stiles yells, punching Derek lightly in the shoulder.
Derek snorts, giving Stiles’s thigh a slap in return.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You should make it up to my dick,” Stiles tells him, grabbing the base of his cock and tapping the head against Derek’s cheek, leaving a trail of precome on his skin. “He’s the one that’s suffering.”
Derek rolls his eyes, but opens his mouth and lets Stiles feed him his dick, pink lips stretching prettily around it as he starts to suck Stiles off.
Stiles watches, entranced.
So much so he doesn’t even see Derek grabbing the lube they keep stashed under the mattress and coating his fingers until he feels them between his cheeks, pressing against his hole.
He pushes into Derek’s hand, tugging at Derek’s hair so his dick can slip out of his boyfriend’s mouth.
“I wanna come with it in me,” Stiles says breathlessly. “It can be in your mouth, but first I want it in me.”
Derek nods, pulling his fingers out and tapping Stiles on the hip so he can turn on his stomach.
“Easier like this,” Derek says, although Stiles doesn’t need an explanation. He’s taken a lot of dick in his life to know this position makes it easier.
“As long as you touch me, I’m good.”
“Like I’d keep my hands off of you,” Derek murmurs against the small of his back, fingers going back to opening Stiles up.
Stiles hides his face between his crossed arms, presenting himself to Derek, getting lost in the feeling of Derek’s fingers inside of him and Derek placing kisses over his back, his cheeks, the backs of his legs.
He’s wet and sticky with lube, feeling it trail between his legs as Derek makes sure he’s prepped enough for what’s going to happen.
“You ready?” Derek asks, running a hand up and down Stiles’s side.
“Yep,” Stiles nods, looking over his shoulder at him.
“You know we’re probably not gonna get everything in,” Derek says, picking the dildo up from the bed and waving it around. “It’s too big for that.”
“I know,” Stiles licks his lips, eyes blown. “We’ll just go as far as I’m cool with and then you can fuck me with it like that.”
“Okay,” Derek gives him a small smile. “Need a safeword?”
Stiles thinks about it.
They rarely do anything that might need one, but this time it might be a good idea since there’s a real possibility Stiles will feel overwhelmed by having something this huge in his ass.
“Just say red and I’ll stop,” Derek promises him.
“I will,” Stiles says. “Now come here and kiss me.”
Derek grins and does as he’s told, giving him a wet and sloppy and completely filthy kiss.
“Color,” Derek asks against his lips.
Stiles licks a stripe from his chin up to the tip of his nose. “Green.”
Derek wrinkles his nose in mock disgust, kissing Stiles’s shoulder before pulling back.
He slips his fingers inside of Stiles’s one more time, teasing him, before Stiles can hear him opening the lube and slicking the fake dildo.
“Ready?” Derek repeats, making Stiles huff.
And then reach behind himself and hold his cheeks open, bracing himself against the bed with his shoulders.
“C’mon, big guy.”
Stiles takes a deep breath when he feels the head of the toy pressing against his rim, letting it out when Derek starts pushing it inside.
It’s a stretch, burning a little as Derek keeps going, and Stiles can do nothing but gasp and dig his nails into his own skin.
“Good?” Derek’s hand move from his hips to cup Stiles’s ass cheek, thumb brushing against his stretched rim.
“I— Yeah,” Stiles shivers, breath hitching, hands falling to clutch at the sheets under him. “It’s— Green. Keep going.”
Derek slowly starts fucking Stiles with it, bringing his hand up to tug at Stiles’s nipple rings, kissing his way up Stiles’s back to mouth at the back of his neck, his own dick bumping against Stiles’s thigh.
Stiles is having trouble concentrating.
He’s having trouble deciding if the combination of Derek’s tongue tracing the shell of his ear, his fingers playing with his nipples, and the dildo sliding in and out of his ass is one of the best things that ever happened to him or the worst.
He’s thinking the best.
Especially when Derek changes the angle of his hand a little and the head of the plastic cock brushes against Stiles’s prostate, making him moan so loud that Derek startles and accidentally pulls the dildo out of him.
“Derek,” Stiles whines. “Give it back.”
“Sorry,” Derek mumbles, but he still doesn’t put the toy back inside Stiles. “Do you want to turn around?”
“I want Derek back in my ass,” Stiles snaps, but still shifts so he’s lying on his back. He pulls his legs up to his shoulders with his hands behind his hips, and he knows he makes a good picture—wet with lube and stretched—when Derek’s eyes zero in on his ass and his mouth drops open. “Well?”
Derek curses under his breath, not wasting any time before he’s back to fucking Stiles with the toy, this time hard and fast and so fucking good Stiles’s eyes roll back in his head.
And then Derek wraps a hand around Stiles’s dick.
Stiles kind of stops thinking after that, mind blanking as pleasure runs through his body as Derek jerks him off and fucks him with the biggest dildo they own.
It’s fucking heaven.
And it’s no surprise when all it takes for Stiles to come is that plus Derek ducking his head down, slotting his mouth over one of Stiles’s nipples, and sucking.
Stiles arches off the bed, clenching around the fake Derek as he spills over Derek’s hand and all over his stomach.
He thinks he loses consciousness for a little bit.
Because next thing he’s aware of is Derek flopping down beside him and pampering his neck and the side of his face with kisses, rutting against Stiles’s thigh as he looks for his release.
“No,” Stiles mumbles, pushing at Derek’s shoulder. “Your ass. You promised.”
“I don’t think you can move right now,” Derek says, eyes shining in amusement.
“Sit on my face,” Stiles suggests. “You can jerk off while I eat you out.”
Derek swallows at that.
Derek moves, and he does it so fast Stiles almost gets kneed in the face.
He doesn’t complain, though, because soon enough he has Derek’s ass right there on his face.
Ah, Derek’s ass.
Stiles licks his lips.
And then starts eating Derek out.
He maintains that doing this is probably his favorite thing in the whole world, especially with the way Derek keeps making these tiny little soft sounds of pleasure, hand working his own dick.
Stiles doesn’t care that his face is getting covered with his own spit and that breathing is proving to be a little difficult. He just enjoys fucking Derek open with his tongue, leaving him sloppy and wet as he rides Stiles’s face.
He slips his thumb alongside his tongue, fingering Derek as he eats him out. It takes only about a minute of that before Derek’s thighs start shaking, the movements of his hands quicken, and he tips over the edge, getting come all over the headboard.
The only reason he doesn’t put his entire weight on Stiles’s face and smothers him with his ass is because Stiles pushes him off, rearranging them until Derek’s on his side and Stiles is beside him, lying on his back.
Not that Stiles thinks that’ll be a bad way to go.
Suffocation by the most gorgeous ass in the entire world.
There are worse deaths.
Derek curls his hand around the wolf on Stiles’s side, like he always does when they cuddle after sex.
Or just are in the same bed, really.
As much as Stiles has a tattoo kink, Derek is the one that can’t get enough of the ink on Stiles’s skin.
“That was amazing,” Stiles sighs dreamily, blinking up at the ceiling.
He knows he has a goofy smile on his face.
He can’t say he cares.
Not even when finally he pulls the dildo out of his ass, hissing a little.
“You got come on your hair,” Derek mumbles, patting Stiles’s on the chest. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
Stiles turns on his side, throwing a leg over Derek’s hip and snuggling close.
“Like I said,” Stiles grins, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s chest hair. “Amazing.”
And when Stiles gives Erica a coconut cake — the words I appreciate the deep dickin written on it with yellow frosting — only to have her get this resigned look on her face, he feels a little sad that she’ll probably never try to give Derek a dildo as a gift ever again.