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Don't Talk With Your Mouth Full

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“Will you move in with me?”

Stiles chokes, gagging harshly around Derek’s cock. He blinks furiously, tears streaming down his face as his throat spasms around Derek. Drool leaks out of the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and pooling at the hollow of his throat.

It’s so wonderfully filthy that Derek can’t help but thrust again. Stiles gags again, the sound guttural and intense and so fucking hot.

They’ve been doing this for so long that Stiles rarely gags anymore, and Derek can’t help the smug rush of satisfaction that coils low in his stomach at hearing it again. It’s the same one that scorched through him the very first time they did this, all of those months ago.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’s missed it.

Fucking hell, how he’s missed it.

Watching Stiles now, on his knees and slobbering all over his cock, makes Derek want to hear it all over again—at least it does up until enough blood finally rushes to his actual head and he realizes that there’s a good reason why Stiles is gagging.

“Shit, sorry!” Derek pants, hips twitching as he restrains himself from fucking into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles pulls off of Derek’s cock quickly, gasping as he sucks in short little breaths. He looks up at Derek, wide-eyed and flustered, his chin spit-slick and shiny. “You really had to ask me that when you had your dick in my mouth?”

Derek flushes and averts his gaze. “Sorry, I—sorry.” He untangles the hand he has buried in Stiles’ silky hair and starts petting him gently. “I’ve just been thinking about it for a while now and, well, I guess it just kind of slipped out.”

For a few moments, he can’t make heads or tails of Stiles’ expression.

And then he sees it.

Stiles’ eyes go soft and his pupils dilate. Derek hears Stiles’ heartbeat start to race, how his breathing becomes even choppier.

In this moment—one in a long line of filthy, sexy, ridiculous moments—Derek sees Stiles’ love for him.

For them.

“Yes,” Stiles rasps out, words hot and heavy and full of promise. His tongue flicks out and runs worshipfully along the throbbing length of Derek’s cock. Stiles pulls back long enough to look Derek in the eyes and repeat, “Fuck, yes Derek. I would love to move in with you.”

The wolf in Derek growls in satisfaction, and he can’t help the flash of his eyes as he realizes what just happened.


In his den.

With him.

And if Derek gets his way, it’ll be forever.

It hits him almost like a physical blow, the realization that he’s found the one for him.

His Stiles.

His Stiles, who’s suckling softly on the head of Derek’s cock, a wicked glint in his eyes and his hands stroking up and down Derek’s naked thighs.

Stiles pops off his dick with a wet sigh, tilting his face so that it rests under Derek’s cock as he jerks him off. “I can see cartoon hearts in your eyes, Der. I love you, too, by the way. But I also love your dick down my throat, so chop-chop, Sappywolf.”

Derek practically purrs, hand tightening in Stiles’ hair once again. “Oh, baby,” Derek coos, “all you had to do was ask.”