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Mirror, Mirror

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“So tonight we can chill and tomorrow I want to take you to my favorite coffee shop and maybe show you around downtown.” Stiles babbles on as he walks into his dorm room and throws his keys on his already cluttered desk. “There’s still a couple friends I’d like you to meet. They’re tired of me going on and on about you and I’ve tried to explain if they had boyfriends that look like you. Well, they’d be going on and on about it too. So you need to meet them so they can realize I’m not crazy.”

Usually by this point Derek has shut him up either by force, a few choice words, or a tongue down his throat (which is his preferred way), but none of that’s happening right now. He turns and sees his boyfriend still in the doorway, staring at him with glowing red eyes. Stiles starts in shock as he takes in the elongated fangs and nails.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks, instantly concerned, and moves to Derek’s side.

“You let him touch you.” Derek growls out through a clenched jaw. It’s been a long time since Stiles has seen him this out of control.

He’s confused and has no idea what Derek is talking about. He replays the day in his head and can’t figure out what he’s referring to.

“Huh?” he stammers out, ever poetic.

Derek is in his space in an instant, crowding him against the wall and sniffing at his neck. “His scent is all over you, on your skin. He flirted with you Stiles, and you let him!” He bites his neck, hard enough to break through skin and Stiles isn’t sure if he yelps or moans in response. Possessive Derek used to freak him out, but now, after three years of dating, he trusts the man enough to let him just have his way with him.

“I really have no idea who you’re talking about.” Stiles says with a gasp as Derek’s hands begin to rub up and down his sides, his tongue licking over the mark he just made.

“The overly happy one with glasses and curly hair.” Derek says in between licks and nips.

“Curtis?” Stiles asks and is rewarded with another bite to his neck and a deep growl that courses through his body and wraps around his cock. Fuck. He’s missed this.

“I need---” Derek pulls back and looks like a man haunted. He hates giving into the Alpha, hates letting his primal instincts control him. He’d once told Stiles that it reminded him too much of when he first came into power and didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“I thought I was the mate of an Alpha.” Stiles goads with a smirk. His words have the intended effect; Derek claims his mouth in a powerful kiss that has him panting and grinding forward to rut against the other man’s thigh.

“You’re mine.” Derek mumbles into his mouth. “Going to remind you that you’re mine and no one else can touch you, no one else should even look at you.”

Stiles squeaks and flails as he picks him up and throws him over his shoulder. They’re out of the room and halfway across campus before his equilibrium returns and he can talk. “What are you doing?” He’s not really concerned, just curious.

“I’m going to show you you’re mine.” Derek says but doesn’t elaborate. He figures he isn’t going to get any more of an answer so he takes the time to enjoy the view of Derek’s sculpted ass, squeeze it a little, and be thankful it’s well past midnight and there’s not many people around to see his caveman routine.

Eventually he hears a door opening and they walk inside what Stiles thinks is the wellness center. Each step down the abandoned hallways echoes loudly, making Stiles fill with nervous anticipation. When Derek finally sets him down, it’s dark and he can’t see anything, but he can smell the strong scent of sweat in the air.

Derek flips the light switch and he realizes they’re in the aerobics room where all the workout classes are held. The floor is springy and mirrors wrap around the entire room. He has no idea how Derek even got them in here unless he broke off every door handle along the way. Which he probably did.

“What--” is all Stiles gets out before Derek is on him like a man starved.

His hands are on each side of Stiles face, holding him in place as Derek devours his mouth. His tongue is hot and persistent, running along his lips and then pushing inside, not waiting for Stiles to open for him at all.

The room crackles with tension, curling thick around them. Stiles lets his hands fall to his boyfriend’s hips and meets his tongue with his own, relishing the familiar taste. He’s been semi-hard all day, wanting to have some time alone with the man.

One of Derek’s hands drifts down to the small of his back and pulls him in tight against his body, letting him feel the outline of his erect cock. Stiles groans at the friction, rough denim rubbing against his own hard dick unpleasantly. He’s completely forgotten where they’re at and how inappropriate it really is, all he can think of is how he needs to get out of these fucking clothes.


He rips his t-shirt over his head and throws it off to the side. Derek immediately attacks the newly exposed skin, nipping at his chest and sucking marks into his creamy flesh. Stiles tips his head to the side in invitation and lets out a long moan. They’ve barely even done anything and he already feels like he could come from a single touch.

Derek runs his tongue from his collar bone, all the way up his neck and sucks his ear in between his fangs and into the wet heat of his mouth. Stiles whimpers and grabs on to his biceps to keep his knees from buckling. So good. His mouth is so fucking good.

Once he’s made Stiles ear sensitive and sore and has his entire body is trembling with need, Derek pulls back and blows over the wet patch of skin, making goosebump rise over Stiles arms and neck.

“You’re going to watch me fuck you.” Derek whispers right into his ear, voice deep and gravelly. The words go straight to Stiles cock and he thrusts forward uncontrollably. Derek reaches down and palms him through his jeans, rubbing just hard enough to tease. “You’re going to watch as I stretch you open over my knot and tie you to me. You’re going to watch as I make you mine.” Derek growls into his ear and fuck. He can’t just say shit like that. It’s not fair.

Stiles digs his fingernails into Derek’s arms and bites his lip hard. His body is taut and straining to find release from the tension. He’s desperate to come, to find some kind of relief from this overwhelming, blinding heat.

“Yes.” Derek hisses and starts to stroke him more firmly. “I’m going to make you come until the only thing you know is my name.”

And that’s it. Stiles can’t hold back any longer and he comes in his pants with a shout. He should probably feel embarrassed, he just shot his load in his jeans like an overeager teenager; but his eyes are watering and limbs shaking from such an intense release, and he really can’t find it in himself to care.

His hands fall to Derek’s shoulders as the other man sinks to his knees and slowly unbuttons his jeans. The drag of his zipper is obscenely loud in the empty room and makes his stomach clench in anticipation. He already needs more, already feels like he might die if Derek doesn’t just touch him already.

Derek pulls his jeans open, stares up at him in surprise for a moment, then gives him a predatory grin. It’s not really like him to go commando, but he knew his boyfriend was coming to town today and he wanted to be prepared.

Instead of removing his jeans, Derek just pulls the fabric back and laps at the come there.

“Holy fuck. You can’t-- God!” Stiles mumbles as he watches his tongue dart out, over and over again until there’s nothing left. Apparently unsatisfied with that, he pulls the material into his mouth and sucks on it until every drop of Stiles come is down his throat.

Derek grips his ass and pulls him forward, buries his face in the soft curls around the base of his cock, and just breathes. The air is hot against his balls and Stiles runs his hands through Derek’s hair, wincing as his overly sensitive cock tries to harden again. His skin crawls and brain goes to mush at the over stimulation.

When Derek takes him in hand, Stiles whines and tries to push away; however, Derek’s hand on his back remains steady.

“Too soon.” he insists, pushing at Derek’s head.

“You’re going to come in my mouth now.” Is Derek’s only reply just before his fangs disappear and he takes all of Stiles down his throat. The feeling is simultaneously the best thing he’s ever felt and the most painful. His body’s natural reaction is to push and shove to get away, but Derek won’t let him move. Eventually he gives in and slumps back against the mirror, letting it support most of his weight.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut tight and curls his toes. It’s too much, he’s going to crawl right out of his own skin. He honestly didn't think he can get hard again so fast, but Derek starts to swallow him, massaging him with his tongue, until he can feel the blood rushing to his groin and slowly filling his cock. Derek doesn’t even pull off him; just keeps swallowing until Stiles is fully hard and practically choking him.

When he finally starts to move, Stiles makes strained gurgling noises in the back of his throat and roughly runs his hands through his own hair and down the sides of his face. Derek’s mouth is hot and wet and feels so fucking fantastic sliding up and down his cock. Every once in awhile he pauses to suck on his head and shove his tongue in his slit, which makes Stiles whine all the more and scratch his nails against his scalp.

“You’re so good at this.” Stiles pants, out of breath with the overload on his senses. “So fucking good. Do remember the first time you did this to me? I came in under minute because your tongue is so fucking talented. Fuck. I need--” Stiles monologue is cut short when Derek stops stroking his legs and fondles his balls instead.

It feels like Derek is everywhere all at once, but it’s still not enough. He wants to be stuffed with his cock; so high on pain and pleasure it’s euphoric. He needs to be full. It’s been too long since he’s felt the hot slide of Derek in and out of his ass.

Derek.” Stiles says in a tone that leaves no room for misunderstanding. He’s done with all the foreplay.

The werewolf pulls back just long enough to glare up at him. “Not yet.” And then he’s deep throating him again, taking him down to the base before hollowing out his cheeks and sucking all the way back up.

He catches their reflection in one of the mirrors and groans at the picture they make. His hair is mussed from rubbing his hands through it, cheeks a bright pink and lips swollen and red. Just the sight of Derek between his legs, head bobbing up and down, makes his legs wobbly all over again.

That familiar tight ache grabs ahold of his stomach and he can feel himself rushing towards another orgasm. Derek hums around him in approval and swallows one last time before Stiles is screaming and coming in hot spurts down his throat. His vision goes black for a second and when he comes to, Derek is gently licking his cock and has gone back to rubbing comforting circles over his skin.

Stiles whimpers and Derek finally releases him to stand up. They kiss sloppily and Stiles is able to taste himself on Derek’s tongue. He loves it.

“Are you ready?” Derek asks, in a tone that infers he’s not really expecting a proper reply.

“Of course I’m ready. Would you please just fuck me already?” Stiles answers, perturbed.

Derek smirks and walks over to the corner of the room. “Strip.” He commands as he drags a chair over to Stiles.

He knows if he asks what in the hell Derek’s doing he won’t get an actual answer, so he keeps his mouth shut and shimmies out of jeans. After he has the chair settled how he wants, Derek sheds his clothes and turns to face him.

Naked Derek has never ceased to leave him speechless. He’s proud of his body and it means Stiles can ogle him as long as he wants. He lets his eyes wander up and down, taking in the broad chest, bulging muscles and strong shoulders. The man is gorgeous and he’s all his. Stiles steps in front of him, skimming his hands over his solid pecs.

“Mmmm.” Stiles mumbles as muscles ripple underneath his fingertips. Their relationship isn’t all about sex, but it sure doesn’t hurt Derek is one of the hottest people he’s ever met. He could, and has, spent hours mapping the contours of Derek’s body.

“Sit.” Derek says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He looks from Derek to the chair and back again, quirking an eyebrow. Derek just stares pointedly at him so he takes a seat facing the mirrored wall. The metal is freezing against his bare skin and he yelps in surprise.

Once he gets used to the chill, he scoots forward on the chair and spreads his leg wide, lets his flaccid cock hang down between his legs. He’s not sure what Derek has planned, but he’s ready to get to it already.

The Alpha reaches over and pulls a bottle of lube from the pocket of his discarded jeans and kneels next to Stiles’ side, in front of his leg. The snick of the bottle opening fills the room and Stiles aches with desire, he spreads his legs just a little bit further and places his feet up on the mirror in front of him. He’s incredibly exposed like this, able to watch their every movement, and it makes him excited and delirious with want. He stares as Derek generously slicks two fingers and brings them to his entrance.

“Stiles.” Derek growls and he snaps his eyes to meet his. “Watch me,” he demands and nods his head towards the mirror in front of them.

Stiles does as he’s told and gasps as he pushes two fingers past his tight ring of muscles, It stings a little bit, but the minute pain just adds to the pleasure he’s experiencing. The feeling is amazing after so long apart, and it’s only magnified by watching it happen at the same time.

He’s never watched himself get off, so it’s both incredibly weird and exhilarating to watch as he gets fingered. He barely recognizes the person in the mirror; his pupils are blown wide, love bites cover the entirety of his neck and chest, and he’s biting his lip in an attempt to hold in his passionate cries. If Derek’s fingers weren’t magical and making him squirm with need, he would probably laugh at how much of a wanton slut he looks like; legs spread high and body flushed a light pink.

“This is all mine. Look at how you suck them in, greedy for more. I bet you would fuck yourself on my fingers if you could right now. I should lay you down and make you ride them until you come again.” Derek says in a low growl. Stiles cock twitches at that, but all he can think is ‘Please God, no. Too much.’

“I bet you can take another already.” Derek says and quickly, carefully, adds a third finger. He feels suspended between languid from orgasm and insanely turned on and impatient for Derek’s dick. He doesn’t seem to care what Stiles wants though, because he spends an exorbitant amount of time fingering him.

“What are you waiting for?” Stiles whines in frustration.

“I’m going to make you come at least two more times, and it’s too soon, so just relax.” Derek answers, languidly pushing his fingers in and out of Stiles slick hole.

Shit! Two more times? He isn’t sure that’s actually possible, but he does try and relax. He lets his head fall back against the chair and attempts to get his breathing and heart rate under control. He starts to feel really sleepy and heavy, and it’s kind of perfect. Just sitting there in a haze, enjoying the feel of Derek slowly stretching him. It’s nice now that he doesn’t feel like his body is racing towards something.

Derek stops momentarily and Stiles whines in protest until he’s pressing back in with four fingers. It’s a lot, but Derek takes his time and Stiles enjoys the slow burn, the ache that’s just simmering at the base of his spine. Derek’s lips find his skin, kissing up and down his thigh and nipping at the juncture of his hips.

He’s fucking Stiles with short, shallow thrusts; just enough to be uncomfortable and pleasant at the same time. This goes on and on until Stiles thinks he’s one giant pile of goo. He’s about one hundred percent sure all the bones in his body have melted and no longer exist.

One second he’s completely full and the next Derek’s removed two of his fingers and is shoving the other two in as far as they’ll go, curling them until he rubs against Stiles’ prostate. It’s so sudden and unexpected, that it makes Stiles keen and arch.

Derek is relentless and doesn’t stop stroking him, pressing against that special spot for several seconds before letting go only to come back and gently caress it again and again. Stiles can’t breathe and he feels dizzy, so full of pleasure he’s going to burst. His balls are tightening again even though he’s not actually hard and it’s too much, too much, too much.

He cries out Derek’s name as he comes for the third time; his soft cock twitches and dribbles come down onto the floor. He feels amazing, but exhausted and has no idea how he’s going to stay awake, let alone be coherent enough for Derek to fuck him, eyelids already starting to droop.

Apparently he doesn’t have to be all that coherent, because the next thing he knows Derek picks him up and slides underneath him. The other man keeps his legs out in front of him so Stiles is straddling his lap, legs dangling on both sides of the chair. He leans back a little and braces his hands on his knees to keep his balance. Even in his spent state, he can appreciate Derek’s long, hard cock pressed against his back. He wiggles around a little bit just to feel it against him. That earns him a dark chuckle and Derek’s mouth against his ear.

“Even now you still want it, don’t you? You can barely move and you’re desperate for my cock.”

Normally Stiles would tell him to fuck off and not be such a dick, but he’s too sated to really care and just nods his head agreeably instead.

“Watch.” Derek says as two strong hands grip his hips and raise him up to hover just above the man’s cock.

Stiles forces his eyes to focus and takes a deep breath as he takes in the sight before him in the mirror. Derek looks huge and he has no idea how that fits in him on a regular basis. Derek wraps one arm around him, preternatural strength in action, and uses his other hand to guide his cock to his entrance. His eyes widen as the werewolf starts to lower him, his hole expanding until his head slips inside.

Jesus, they look so obscene. As if he didn’t know it already, but seeing his ass getting filled like this proves just how much it belongs to Derek. He presses the heel of his hands into his thighs, trying to ground himself from the overwhelming pressure. No one else could make him feel so full, so complete. He wants to press down faster, take him in to the hilt, but the Alpha is making them go slow; lowering him down one torturous inch at a time.

“You’re mine.” Derek moans as he pushes him the rest of the way down. They sit that way for a long time, Derek not doing anything to move and Stiles completely incapable of moving on his own. He’s ok with it though; he’s been waiting a month for Derek to be able to visit him at college, a month to feel this way again.

He doesn’t realize he’s trembling until Derek wraps both arms around him and holds him tight. Stiles sinks back into the embrace, lets his head fall back on Derek’s shoulder and takes a shaky breath.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” Derek says, voice softening just a little. He lightly presses his lips to Stiles’ neck and grinds up into him, making Stiles roll his hips down in response and let out a contented sigh. Not in any hurry, Derek keeps them pressed together and only moves in short, smooth thrusts. The entire thing is languorous and Stiles wishes it could last forever.

Just when his body finally feels like it’s not scattered in a million pieces, Derek shatters him again. His hands are back on Stiles’ hips, lifting him up and forcefully pushing him back down, setting a steady, but unforgiving rhythm. It’s intense, but in a wonderful kind of way.

“You’re not watching.” Derek says into his skin just before he bites at his shoulder.

Stiles moans, opens his eyes, and locks onto their reflection in the mirror. He isn’t prepared for the lust that slams into him full force, like a punch to the gut. They’re both backlit by the too bright florescent lights, making them almost glow. Sweat covers his brow and runs down his neck and across his chest in tiny rivulets. Just behind his shoulder, Derek’s eyes are glowing that soft red Stiles has come to love. They’re writhing together, the werewolf using his power to ram him down on his cock. He’s repeatedly taking everything the Alpha has to offer, pulling him deep inside until Derek’s fully seated. It’s impossible to take his eyes away from where they’re joined, getting lost in the sensations flooding him.

All he can feel is Derek’s fingers digging into his hips, Derek’s cock deep inside him, stroking every innermost part of him. All he can smell is the heady scent of sex and sweat. All he can hear is their moans of pleasure and the loud slap of skin on skin. All he can see is his hole stretching to take Derek over and over and over again.

He’s not sure if he can take any more stimulation, his brain is telling him he needs to get off again, but his body’s unwilling to cooperate. Derek is merciful though and calms his thrusts until they’re just slowly gyrating together again. He has to force his lungs to expand and contract, force himself to remember how to breathe. Every nerve ending is on fire and tingling spastically.

Derek reaches around and wraps a hand around his limp dick. It doesn’t hurt like it did a few minutes ago, but it still feels overly sensitive and Stiles wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t. Even though he feels worn out and used up, he’s still managed to get off three times and he trusts his boyfriend to know when he’s ready.

Derek strokes him softly, in time with the lazy circle of his hips. Stiles can feel the werewolf’s knot start to swell against his hole, pushing against his entrance and trying to get inside. This is what he’s been waiting for. Derek releases his cock and forces him to take himself in hand, he’s not entirely sure he has the coordination to jerk himself off at the moment, but he’ll try.

Strong hands rest on his shoulders and squeeze gently. “Don’t stop looking.” Derek commands.

He knows what’s coming next, it’s his favorite part, but that doesn’t stop the nerves and excitement from bubbling up in his chest. Derek lifts him one more time, then pushes him down to the top of his knot and keeps pushing. Stiles takes a deep breath and reminds himself to keep breathing and just relax. His heart feels like it’s beating a million miles a minute and wants to pound right out of his chest.

He sees everything, how his tight muscles expand around the knot, anxious to take it inside. Derek’s face is screwed tight in concentration, trying his best not to hurt him any more than is necessary. How his own face is a perfect blend of pleasure and pain, how his mouth has dropped open into a little “o”. And finally, finally, the way Derek’s knot slips all the way inside him, bringing intense relief and satisfaction.

“Say it.” Derek growls, fangs lengthening again.

Stiles whimpers and starts to stroke his hardening cock. “I’m yours.”

“Again,” the Alpha moans and his sharp nails gently scrape down Stiles arms.

“I’m yours. Only yours.” Stiles says fervently, meaning every word. As the knot begins to swell and stretch him further, he drops his dick and reaches past his own legs to dig his nails into Derek’s thighs. He arches his back and pulls up a little bit, just enough to feel the knot tug at his hole. Both men whining at the motion. One of Derek’s hands wraps around to play with his nipples, and the other starts to stroke his neglected cock.

“I don’t think I can.” Stiles says quietly, even as he thrusts up into his hand, moaning as the knot catches every time.

“You will.” Derek replies, stroking him a little harder.

Derek is breaking him apart and putting him back together with each pump of his fist. Pressure settles low in his stomach and starts to build and build, until Stiles doesn’t think he can take it anymore, the need to come overwhelming all other senses. He’s still not sure if he actually can, but then the knot is fully expanded and it’s perfectly there, pushing right up against that secret bundle of nerves and he thinks he may go blind from the exquisite pleasure racking his body.

“Show me you’re mine. Come for me.” Derek whispers.

Stiles comes with a cry, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as his come streaks the mirror in front of them. He whimpers and leans back into Derek, trying to find comfort in the warmth of his body. He’s shaking and he can’t really see straight, but he feels euphoric and high from his orgasm.

Breathless and bleary he watches Derek’s eyes screw shut and his body rigid in the mirror. His heels dig into the floor as he throws his head back to howl his release, neck muscles straining with the force of it. He gives Stiles everything he has then goes lax and slumps in the chair. Stiles loves seeing him like this, walls down and face open with his contentment. They lie together, out of breath, sated and extremely happy.

“You’re mine.” Derek says again, practically asleep already.

Stiles chuckles a little and pats Derek’s leg. “Yes Mr. Alpha Werewolf, I’m your mate and no one else can touch me. I think you’ve proved your point rather well.”

Derek makes a small noise he assumes means he agrees, and hugs him close to his body. Stiles dozes in and out for several minutes, enjoying the endorphins coursing through him and the feel of Derek still deep inside.

Eventually they’re able to pull apart, he winces as Derek lifts him up off his lap, he’s going to be ridiculously sore in the morning. He steadies himself with a hand to the mirror and tries not to fall over as Derek gets dressed. His body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, begging him to sink to the floor and close his eyes; just for a second. Wrecked doesn’t even begin to describe what he looks or feels like, and he’s ready to get some sleep and a shower. Perhaps in that order.

He’s about to fall asleep standing up, but then he’s being helped into his clothes like a small child. His arms are being raised, only for him to let them flop down to his sides again.

“Come on Stiles, you gotta help me a little bit.”

A protest dies on his lips as his arms are raised again, too exhausted to bat the helping hands away. Once they’re both fully clothed and the room is back in order, Derek picks him up, throws him over his shoulder again, and walks outside.

“You can’t just do that whenever you want,” Stiles mumbles as he nuzzles into his leather jacket. It smells like Derek and that makes him happy.

“Yes I can,” is Derek’s smug reply, followed by a playful smack to his ass.

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath and returns the favor. When they finally get to his room they strip back down and climb into bed. Stiles smiles and cuddles back into Derek, sighing in happiness.

Tomorrow is going to be great. If Derek thought Curtis was too touchy-feely, he can only imagine how he’s going to freak out over ‘I-must-be-touching-you-come-here-let-me-love-you’ Lily.