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Let Me Take My Time With You

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Derek liked sex. He liked romantic and intense sex, and fiery-hot sex. Happy, fun, sex was just as delicious as fucking out frustrations or using it to soothe away a bad day.

What Derek loved, though, was lazy, domestic, casual, slow, sex. Glacially slow, drawn out, fucking. The kind that had no real start or end, no inciting moment or big finale. That didn’t need built up to or coming down from.

He had endless patience for it and a supernaturally enhanced body that not only let him get away with it without getting sore from overusing his mouth or holding a position for too long, but practically rewarded him with the stamina to go as long as he wanted and orgasms that could drag on until his entire body ached.

As if made to match him, Stiles had an endless patience for being fucked. Soaking in over-sensitivity and wading through it instead of it turning to pain or discomfort. And he had a libido that Derek was obsessed with.

Stiles put his entire body at Derek’s disposal, happy to be interrupted from almost anything, but just as happy to let Derek do as he pleased in the background.

There were nights that Derek opened Stiles up on his lap as they watched a movie, just to slide into him and stay still for the rest of it, letting the satisfaction of just being inside Stiles be enough stimulation to stay thick for an hour. If it was a movie marathon, Stiles could tease him into coming without either of them needing to look away from the screen or get their hands dirty, then hold Derek inside until the final credits rolled and they finally had to separate. That is, if they didn’t just fall asleep as is.

It was a Sunday, and neither of them had work or errands or plans. The couch was their intended domain until it was time for bed. Stiles had praised the reclining seats on either side of it since the day they bought it, delighted at being able to face the television while reclining with his feet up, without giving up sitting next to Derek or their friends. No solitary armchairs, or uncomfortable neck aches like on a standard couch.

Derek didn’t need to hesitate before shifting to lay stretched out along the couch, propping himself up over Stiles’ stretched out lap. All it took to ask was letting his nose drag from the waistband of Stiles’ sweats, down to where his thighs met.

Stiles hummed easily and used one hand to turn the television’s volume down a few ticks to keep any distracting, sharp noises to a minimum for Derek’s sake. Then, without prompting, he raised himself up slightly and slid his sweats down to his knees. Settled and still watching the screen, his right hand slid down to rest at the back of Derek’s head, scritching softly at the base of his hairline. “Go ahead.”

He wasn’t hard, but that wasn’t the point of this.

Derek moved a few gentle fingers over Stiles’ crotch, through the short, wiry hair, to press down and pull back slightly on the slightly stretched skin of his sack. Humming again, Stiles shifted his thighs to let Derek adjust him until his balls were settled close to the base of his soft dick and well within reach. That was the only thing he’d even needed his hands free for, so when he was done, Derek tucked one hand behind Stiles’ bare back, and the other between Stiles’ left flank and the arm of the couch, curling his own arm to give himself a place to rest his forehead if he needed it.

Stiles kept his pubic hair trimmed decently short, a habit that they might joke about, but that Derek appreciated. After all, Stiles did it for him, to give him as easy access as possible, and make cleanup that much simpler. Derek spent a…satisfying amount of time with his face in Stiles’ lap, and the small act made a big difference over time.

He didn’t need to move any hair to the side to have a clear view of Stiles’ dick, or to wrap his mouth around it. The soft skin was cool and fragile, and he was gentle as he twined his tongue over it, warming it and getting a soft, “Feels good,” from Stiles.

Pulling carefully, he laid Stiles’ dick out in a line, then teased at it in long and short licks. He didn’t go fast or push hard, just trailed his tongue along the skin he could reach. Occasionally, he lapped at the head or outlined the ridge between it and the shaft.

There was almost no response from Stiles. He continued watching what was on the television and petting at Derek’s neck and hair, but that was all.

This was exactly what Derek wanted. He loved having sex so ingrained in their routine and life that Stiles was able to enjoy a show, while Derek enjoyed him. That it didn’t need immediate attention, because they had all the time in the world to let it go somewhere. He could suck Stiles’ dick for ten minutes straight without it getting hard, and still know that Stiles wasn’t just putting up with it, he thought it felt good.

There were times when Derek could breathe on Stiles and get him achingly hard in seconds, but this had its own appeal. The appeal of lazy, casual arousal. Of taking their time.

And fuck, did Derek want to take his time today.

He didn’t pay attention to how many minutes passed, or to whether Stiles had switched shows or not. Derek let his mind wander entirely, laving at Stiles’ balls and sucking them into his mouth one at a time. He gave every inch of skin equal amounts of attention, until it all smelled like a perfect blend of himself and Stiles.

Eventually, Stiles let out a slightly longer breath, and his dick began to fill, slow and easy. Derek didn’t try to encourage it or speed it up, just went about his business while Stiles’ dick got thicker and warmer in increments.

When he was hard enough that his shaft began to rise above his pelvis, Derek sucked him down again, as light and gentle and slow as he could.

Actually sucking Stiles’ dick was a little trickier than just using his tongue, because even if he didn’t need to worry about oversensitivity, there was still the chance for chafing or friction burn. But Derek was long practiced at keeping it slick and comfortable. He’d gotten past his gag reflex years ago, and it was useful for making sure Stiles didn’t get rushed from fucking against anything, allowing his length to just keep sliding in until he was done, rather than bumping at the back of Derek’s mouth.

Derek did his best to walk the line between consistency and variation. He switched between long pulls, light licks, and teasing mouthing, but kept his speed and intensity the same. Even once Stiles began to twitch in and against his mouth, and he was so thick it took real effort for Derek to keep his teeth from catching on the velvety heat, Derek didn’t speed up.

Stiles’ first orgasm was as easy and calm as the entire lead up to it had been. Derek had laid his temple against his arm, resting his neck at an angle that still allowed him to suck kisses into the base of Stiles’ shaft. It also gave him a view of Stiles’ face, and by sheer chance, Derek got to watch his eyelids flutter softly as he came, his lips parted but making no sound. He didn’t even lose focus on what he was watching as his dick bobbed above his abdomen, painting his lower stomach with lazy shots of come.

After enjoying the show for a couple seconds, Derek went back to work as though Stiles weren’t mid-orgasm. His balls were still going tight in time with his dick’s throbbing when Derek sucked on them again and teased at the very base of the vein running along the underside of his dick.

He was just mouthing his way back up, when Stiles sagged and inhaled a little shakily. “That was nice,” he breathed.

Derek didn’t pull Stiles into his mouth again until the come stopped dripping from his slit, but then, he continued their regularly scheduled programming. Stiles didn’t do more than sigh at the slide of his sensitive cock being wrapped first in Derek’s lips, then his tongue, as Derek cleaned the come off the head and slit.

When he’d first started doing this, Derek had expected to be stopped, if not right after Stiles came down, then at least once he’d begun to go soft again. But Stiles had only moaned happily at the continued attention, and Derek had been too busy getting dizzy from the flash of a dozen new fantasies to question it.

Up to the first orgasm was like getting settled in, but working Stiles down off it and through to the next one was when he hit his stride. When he found the perfect angle to just lick, messy and pleased, without having to even shift positions unless he wanted to switch to sucking.

It took longer, obviously, to get to orgasm two. It meant waiting for him to go soft again in the first place, then a beautifully relaxed period of just feeling good, before he began to thicken, slower than last time.

Derek still wasn’t paying attention to any clocks or the beginnings or ends of episodes in the background, sinking into a near meditative state as he pleasured both of them at once, but it had to have taken at least an hour between the first orgasm and when Stiles got properly hard again, if not more.

The come from before had mostly dried over Stiles’ skin, since there was no reason to stop and clean it up when they would just be adding to the mess soon anyway. More than his dick was heating up now; his whole body was becoming pleasantly warm, despite the cool of the loft’s air and the fact that he had no shirt on.

Stiles was buried at the back of Derek’s throat this time when he began to twitch, but Derek didn’t have to rush to pull off in time for the first splash of white to hit next to Stiles’ belly button. The quiet moan he let out was a short scale, tripping downward in tone until it was almost more like a sigh.

With his lips around the unendingly interesting base of Stiles’ cock, Derek lifted his eyes and got a glimpse of Stiles blinking rapidly through the moment.

The come went farther up, less lazy dripping and more long stripes, almost up to his chest.

Again, Derek would wait until he’d finished before cleaning up at least his dick, but in the meantime, he upped his game just slightly.

The length of this was supposed to stretch as long as possible, so he had no plans to change his speed, but Stiles’ second orgasm meant tightening his grip with his lips, sucking a little harder, and teasing a little more.

Stiles’ hand spasmed a little on Derek’s head as he enveloped Stiles’ come-streaked dick with the first real pressure since they started, but his only actual response was a drawn out, “Good,” so Derek had no intentions of stopping.

Right around this point was usually where Derek was hit all over again with the absolute lack of limits he faced.

There was no such thing as too much feeling, with Stiles’ body. As long as there was no actual pain, the overdose of pleasure never soured. If Derek wanted to, and he had before, he could lap at the head of Stiles’ dick over and over—a move that would make anyone else beg for a break—until he came, and Stiles would not only come beautifully, but would smile blissfully about the whole thing.

He’d never actually given Derek a limit for how many times he could come in a row, and it was only because of a slight fear of breaking him that Derek had always stopped before they hit double-digits. Stiles could be on the verge of passing out from so many orgasms, and have nothing but a sigh of pleasure to give at the next tight, wet heat around his cock or hot, hard dick inside him, because according to him, it just never stopped feeling good.

It was absolutely ridiculous, and Derek was in love with every second of it. He still couldn’t figure out who was doing who a favor when Stiles let him either take or give as much as he pleased. Derek wanted everything, and Stiles let him have it, and somehow Stiles was the one who thought he was spoiled.

Of course, thinking about it too much was a surefire way to accidentally remind himself just how aroused he was, and had been since the start.

If Stiles’ talent was that he could come as many times as he wanted, without any immediate repercussions, then Derek’s was that he could wait as long as he wanted.

Blue balls was not a thing Derek had been able to relate to since high school. If he got hard—which was Stiles’ fault ninety-five percent of the time—but wasn’t able to do anything about it, then he could just wait. Of course, he could distract himself into losing interest if the situation called for it. Or, if he had nothing better to do, he could wander the loft with an iron hard dick for hours, until he got the opportunity or time to come.

Considering just how long he liked pushing Stiles to the edge, the ability to wait was a true blessing.

It’d been well over an hour since they started, and Derek didn’t know how long it’d taken his dick to get interested in the proceedings, but by now, he was grateful he’d decided against changing out of his sleep pants. Grinding down into the couch cushion was a nice way to relieve some of the pressure, but he had no intentions of coming until he was inside Stiles, and he wasn’t ready to be done with his current fixation yet.

They weren’t yet revving up for number three, when Stiles’ phone rang on the side table.

Derek slowed way down, nearly stopping with the flat of his tongue over Stiles’ currently soft length, while Stiles picked it up and checked the ID.

Then, his shoulder lifted in a shrug, and he pressed lightly at the crown of Derek’s head to encourage him to continue as he answered it.

“If it’s not life or death, the answer is no,” he said with a smirk into the mic.

At the sound of a vaguely familiar laugh, Derek returned to his fun. Stiles’ work never called him in on the weekends, and that was definitely one of his work friends. An interruption wasn’t impossible, but it was unlikely, so he was comfortable continuing.

“Oh, you deal with life or death situations that often, do you? I can’t even call to ask a question?”

He knew that voice, Mick or Mark. Definitely not a good enough reason to keep himself from massaging Stiles’ cock with his tongue.

“You have no idea. But whatever, what’s your question, Mac?”

Close enough.

It wasn’t just one question, it was at least ten, with sub-questions in between, and Stiles answered every one of them in perfect detail while he slowly filled Derek’s mouth again. Derek could hear the tiniest level of breathlessness in Stiles’ voice, but his coworker was clearly oblivious. Even once the questions were over, the conversation moved to general work things, then the bar he’d gone to Friday night with yet more coworkers, and the drama that ensued.

Stiles was rock hard and leaking precome into Derek’s throat when Derek decided to pause again and give him the space to finish the call. But he’d barely slowed before Stiles gave him another tiny push of allowance.

This had the chance to end remarkably awkwardly, but Derek trusted Stiles, so he again went back to it, though he was extra careful not to accidentally speed up or do something that might shock Stiles into coming without warning.

His hips had begun to twitch, and Derek was starting to worry again, by the time Stiles finally said, as calm as ever, “Hey, give me just one sec, I need to finish something.”

Derek lifted up to suckle at his crown and see Stiles tap the mute button on his screen. For good measure, he shoved his thumb over the mic on the bottom, ensuring no sound would get through even if the mute was broken for some reason.

God, this one was good. Stiles had to crush his eyes shut this time and push his head back into the seat. He tried to thrust for the first time since they started, right as Derek let go and pushed the tip of his tongue in a hard line down the vein in the middle. He groaned low while he added yet more to the mess over his front, ending in a couple heavy pants.

“Fuck, Derek, yes,” he moaned, adding in a rush, “You can absolutely keep going if you’re comfortable with it.”

Catching his breath quickly, he retapped the mute button and put the phone back to his ear. “Mac, you there?” he asked, sounding perfectly normal again. “Hey, sorry about that. Can you repeat what you were saying before?”

In answer to Stiles’ offer, Derek kissed just under the still pulsing head of Stiles’ cock, then lifted his head away from Stiles’ lap, moved his arms out from their spots, and used the right to grab Stiles’ sweats at his knees.

He pushed them down to Stiles’ ankles.

Then, as Stiles nodded and began to nudge the ankle cuffs off so he could remove them entirely, Derek returned to Stiles’ lap and bobbed down slowly, but tightly, over him, now that he’d stopped coming. Stiles jerked once, and his thighs spread as he knocked off one leg of his sweats by pure accident.

Derek took full advantage of the movement to drift his fingers down and stroke his thumb over Stiles’ perineum.

The inhale Stiles made was audible over the phone this time, but he made no move to stop Derek. In fact, he removed the other side of his sweats and let his other knee slowly slide up under Derek’s arm to give him more room.

Still, Stiles was smart enough to know his limits. “Hm? Yeah, no, I’m fine. Listen, you seriously have to tell me how you convinced Nicky to do karaoke, but I can’t actually listen to it right now.”

As he spoke, he reached over to the side table again and tugged open the drawer. Grabbing a bottle, he pressed it down into Derek’s hand, before leaning back and relaxing as though Derek weren’t currently massaging a finger around his rim.

He laughed, the movement rocking him deep into Derek’s mouth. “No, dude, I just have to get prepped for some plans with Derek.”

If Derek wasn’t busy curling his tongue around Stiles and taking a long pull at his cock, which still hadn’t gone soft yet, he’d have laughed too.

It took another good minute for Stiles to actually bother hanging up, and by then Derek was one knuckle deep.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed, “for the best work call of my life.”

Derek heard the sound of the remote clicking a few times and the channel changing to something he knew Stiles liked, before it was put back down in its spot, and Stiles went quiet again.

Making the first noise he’d felt the need for since starting, Derek moaned around Stiles and pushed a little further in with his slicked finger.

Groaning lightly, Stiles’ fingers swept over the top of his head and scritched at him. “Love you too.”

There weren’t any rules for this. Derek didn’t make any demands that Stiles ignore what was happening to watch television or answer calls. Any time he wanted, Stiles could turn the T.V off and immerse himself entirely in what Derek was doing, and Derek wouldn’t mind in the least.

But Stiles did it anyway, because he liked it for the same reason Derek did. The bone-deep security in having Derek’s mouth on his dick be so normal and comfortable, that he could go about his day and just get to have Derek continue to make him feel good, without having to put his attention on it. Stiles insisting on watching his show and not making a big deal, or a deal at all, about Derek blowing him for hours, was a reminder to both of them of just how satisfied they were with each other.

Orgasms together were as common as magical bullshit in Beacon Hills. They enjoyed every single one, but they didn’t feel the need to focus on it. It could just be the background of their everyday life.

Derek could make Stiles come over and over, and it would be nothing worth looking away from the television for, because they spent every single day making each other feel good.

Some amount of adjustment was necessary as Derek’s prepping of Stiles progressed. He wasn’t ready to get his mouth off Stiles’ dick yet, but he still wanted a better angle for fucking his fingers into Stiles to stretch him. Thanks to the reclining couch, all it took to be able to press deep into Stiles without causing him discomfort, was having him scoot forward slightly so that his weight was shifted to his back.

Slow was the name of the game. Slow sucking as Stiles went soft again, slow slides of his fingers into Stiles, and once he’d gotten up to three of them, slow twists of his wrist that made Stiles shiver.

Spending so long on Stiles’ prep meant needing to reslick his fingers a few times, but they bought lube with days and nights like this in mind.

He waited the achingly long amount of time it took for Stiles to get hard again with ease, using the time to make sure Stiles was more than stretched enough, and then spending the rest of it teasing him with careful, light presses to his prostate.

Stiles didn’t have to come, to see stars.

Finally, Derek ended his pleasurable assault on Stiles’ dick, and rose up off of him.

All so he could lower the foot stand of Stiles’ seat and slide to his knees between the couch and the coffee table. It didn’t matter that his dick ached. He wanted Stiles to come one more time before he fucked him, and now that Stiles was stretched and naked, Derek’s tongue had a new assault to launch.

Stiles had clearly only guessed part of the plan, and when Derek hooked his hands under Stiles’ ass to slide it closer to the edge of the seat and licked over his rim, he melted entirely.

“Oh god, do I love you,” he mumbled, voice like gravel.

This was far from the first time that the couch had been used for this specific purpose, so Stiles didn’t fumble for a second. His body shifted against Derek’s lips as he grabbed the couch pillows near him and tucked them behind his back so that he could be in position for Derek and still see properly. Then, because Stiles was the rudest gentlemen Derek had ever met, the blanket from the back of the couch was thrown over his legs, covering Derek entirely.

It was supposed to be an offering for Derek to use to clean his hand if he wanted, Derek knew. But it seemed kind of funny when Derek realized just how hidden he was.

Stiles had one heel on the coffee table next to Derek and the other leg pulled up and out to rest on the suddenly open cabinet door in the side table, keeping it out of the way, both positions pulling the blanket taut between his knees and tenting an inch or so above Derek’s head. It was a big blanket, and long enough on all three sides that the ends hit the floor.

Derek was completely invisible, except for the slope of his back under the blanket, and when he sank forward to the position he would be spending the rest of this time in, he felt even that point of connection disappear.

Just to be a shit, Derek didn’t remove the blanket, like he knew Stiles expected him to.

He did, however, reach up and tug the edge that was on Stiles down to keep his dick out of the dark space.

Stiles snorted, presumably when he realized Derek wasn’t coming out, but didn’t fight it.

Before starting, Derek callously lifted one of the long edges from the floor and used the cloth to wipe as much lube off Stiles as he could. He could always re-add it later, and while it didn’t taste awful, he preferred this without it.

This, being holding Stiles’ ass in place and licking into him without warning, just because he could.

The change in position had lost Stiles’ right hand its spot on Derek’s neck, but the moment Derek’s tongue pushed past his rim, Stiles’ left shot under the blanket and grabbed the top of his head. He liked to have a point of contact with Derek that wasn’t just Derek’s mouth on anywhere remotely erotic, and since he never yanked, Derek was happy to oblige.

Going slow while he ate Stiles out wasn’t going to keep him from turning into a shivery mess almost immediately, but Derek did it anyway. Anything to draw this out a little longer. Waiting was worth it for the pure satisfaction of having his tongue in Stiles’ ass while Stiles flicked through channels. Every new step that Stiles still managed to adjust to made his heart pound more than the last.

The amount of good Derek was making him feel was normal to him, and Derek was getting high off it.

He traded off between teasing and mouthing at Stiles’ rim, and fucking into him with his tongue, curling it on the way back out as best he could to made Stiles grunt. Even just breathing against him or licking up his perineum got some kind of reaction, and Derek liked all of them.

The space under the blanket got warm fast, but Derek couldn’t be remotely bothered. He hadn’t gotten bored after three orgasms, and he wasn’t going to get bored now. Just one more sweet rush for Stiles’ head, and then they could move on to actually getting Derek’s dick inside him. He wanted Stiles to still be coming down when he slid home, to be a part of Stiles’ aftershocks.

When he decided that just his tongue wasn’t quite good enough, Derek began trying out different positions with his fingers. The ones that got the best response were two fingers spread, with his tongue between, and pressing his thumb in to hook on the rim while he shoved his tongue as deep as it could get.

It was the last one that made Stiles come, outright pushing on his head as though he wouldn’t be working it in further if it were possible. He was getting loud, moaning into the loft in a cadence Derek could practically see even without a direct view of him. Stiles moaned like that when his eyes were crushed shut and his mouth had fallen open. When he’d come in the middle of panting for air. For a split second, Derek wished he were at Stiles’ side so he could kiss him, but the rapid clenching of Stiles around his tongue quickly made him forget it, as he got lightheaded imagining the same sensation around his dick soon.

He didn’t pull out and get them into position right away. Not until Stiles had gone quiet and shaky.

Pulling the blanket off made Stiles hiss a breath at the sudden cool air on his body. He was a beautiful mess. Sweating and limp, come-streaked chest rising and falling with silent pants, and glazed over eyes aimed at the television but with no indication that he knew what was on.

Tossing the blanket onto the couch, Derek put his thumbs in his waistband and stood up, stripping his sleep pants at the same time. Since he’d put himself in the way of the screen, Stiles smiled at him instead. “Hi.”

Derek laughed and smoothed a hand up Stiles’ leg, leading it back so he could get past it, and kneeling instead on the couch at Stiles’ side.

Sliding a hand behind his back, Derek pushed Stiles to sit upright more, and tucked himself against Stiles’ shoulder like a bookend to keep him there. He pulled the pillows back a little ways, and reached for the remote as he mumbled, “Want it off?”

But Stiles shook his head and blinked a little faster as though to clear his vision. “No, no, I just need a second to adjust. I’m still good.”

At the reassurance, Derek nodded and kissed the side of his jaw, before settling the abandoned blanket into place behind him and sitting on it entirely. He put a leg on either side of Stiles, then leaned back against the pillows and easily lifted Stiles with a hand under each thigh and slowly worked Stiles down onto his cock.

He understood the phrase ‘sliding home’ when it came to fucking, oh so perfectly, because it really did feel like home, every time he sank into Stiles up to the hilt. Enveloped in heat, with beautiful pressure around the base of his dick, and gentle clenching as Stiles got used to him.

Derek could fuck Stiles just as long as he could blow him. Folding him over the side of the couch, or laying him out his stomach on the bed, or just letting Stiles sit on him and pulling him down into a slow grind for as long as they could both stand. He had vivid, borderline bizarre daydreams about literally fucking Stiles for days, separating from him only long enough to cross to their next location in the house before pushing into him again and working himself toward an orgasm that would probably end up killing him outright.

It would be worth it.

But with the daydreams out of reach, this was a wonderfully close second. Stiles was already fucked out, pliable and soothed, happy to be thrust into for as long as Derek wanted. He’d even stretched back to lean against Derek, as though he were the actual back of the chair, and shifted Derek ever deeper as he ground himself into a comfortable position for watching his show.

For a while, Derek joined him. He didn’t particularly want to come yet, not when Stiles wasn’t ready to join him. And he would be joining Derek. So, it was nice to push Stiles into a slow rocking motion over him, and watch the screen. Stiles was doing much better now at keeping his focus, and he’d begun to flip channels again, skipping commercials and pausing at a few different spots to watch bits of random episodes.

Once in every few gentle thrusts, Derek got lucky, and Stiles would twitch at getting Derek’s dick pushed into his prostate. After the third, Stiles’s goosebumps stopped fading away, becoming a permanent addition to the incredible visual Derek had over his shoulder.

Messy, lazy, and terribly, terribly aroused. Derek had to moan his way through the urge to just fuck into Stiles and come, at the sight of him already getting hard again. But he didn’t. He kept his pace, though it stuttered once in a while as Derek got close to his threshold and realized he wasn’t ready to be done yet.

He stopped more and more often, taking an extra second to breathe, and moving Stiles over him at a crawl to hold it back a little longer.

At the same time, though, he pushed Stiles into it. Lubing up his hand, he began matching every thrust up, supported with his clean hand, with a hard grind down of his fist over Stiles’ dick. Stiles began to struggle again with keeping his attention anywhere else, an arm coming back to wrap around the back of Derek’s neck to keep them close, and his hips busy rolling in a circle as he advanced from short grunts to deep, wanton moans.

Similar to how Stiles’ first orgasm had looked, Derek simply tripped into it. He sucked in a breath, dropped Stiles down again onto him, and while buried as deep as he could go, a small string seemed to snap at the base of his spine.

He groaned, clamping his teeth on the meat of Stiles’ shoulder for something to hold onto while everything went white and sizzling. A minute later, he was still coming. Still shooting into Stiles, being squeezed and clenched down on in a milking rhythm that kept his hips jumping and his hand sliding wetly up and down Stiles’ length as Stiles came for the fifth time, in his arms.

Unlike the others, Derek didn’t let up when Stiles started coming this time. He had Stiles’ dick aimed at the mess already there, and continued to pump him through it while he shivered.

It was so good. So achingly good to fill Stiles with his come, and make him come in turn. To have been doing it for so long today already, and get to just sit and stew in it.

Derek didn’t normally do repeat orgasms. His thing was waiting, not coming multiple times in a row. But his cock wasn’t agreeing with that at the moment. It ached, and his abdomen tightened as he finally thought he was about to start coming down, only for his nerves to to flip and send him back up to the “so close” portion of fucking.

He had no intention of going alone.

After fucking so slowly for so long, it was almost overwhelming to shove up into Stiles and speed up the hand jacking him off. Derek was reduced to gritting his teeth and heaving in too big breaths almost immediately. So so close.

Stiles was nearly gone. The television had turned off at some point, and Stiles was still jolting from his last orgasm, when Derek began to pump him toward the next, hard.

“One more,” Derek hummed weakly. “One more, with me.”

It was almost romantic, how instantly worked up Stiles got at the prospect of Derek coming again with him. He began to shift and thrash in Derek’s arms, hands grabbing back for him even as he slammed himself down on Derek’s cock again and again. Derek’s come was only barely managing to leak out of him, since Derek had never actually gone soft, and the filthy sound of it getting fucked back into him was downright cruel.

“Derek,” he sighed with almost no air to it. “Fuck, please.”

Derek was helpless in the face of Stiles’ requests, and at Stiles’ “please” he cracked, curling his hand around Stiles’ hip and lifting him high just so he could slam him back down and shout into his neck.

His second hit like a freight train, ripping through him for so long, Stiles’ sixth came and went before his dick had even slowed.

Stiles was limp on him, around him. Derek’s dick, currently struggling to even attempt softening, was holding a truly unfair amount of come inside him. The blanket they were on was going to need at least two washes before they could think about putting it back on the couch.

Derek was floating on a dozen different kinds of “good” and “yes” and “exactly this, forever, please.”

Slowly smoothing a loose fist up and down Stiles’ dick to bring him down, Derek hiked his hips up to make sure he was as settled into Stiles as he could get while he waited to either want to come again, or think of a good enough reason to pull out. Then, he turned on the television and prepared to spend the rest of Sunday finding ways to keep feeling exactly this good.