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I'll Just Entertain Myself

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They're still working out how to sleep together.

Stiles fidgets, constantly, even when he's asleep. Scott once described it as looking like he's trying to have an adventure, back and forth across the bed. Whereas Derek is a ridiculously light sleeper, and he has nightmares. Stiles thinks he's secretly afraid that he's going to use his super-fast reflexes to accidentally gut Stiles in the night or something. So it's not like Derek ever really relaxes, or sleeps much, when he's around.

But Stiles kind of likes the we're-not-really-sleeping, parts. Which mostly consist of lying very close together naked, and pretending they're asleep. It's not cuddling, it's just making sure that if they want to have sex again, they don't have to move very far. It's totally different, and also economical.

Derek's perilously close to actually sleeping today, sprawled out on his stomach, with an arm shoved under the pillow. There's definitely some sleeping going on, because Derek's eyes are shut, mouth open just a little. His eyelashes are ridiculous, Stiles would tell him as much, but Derek has absolutely no idea how to take compliments. Ok, that's not strictly true, he just mostly takes them badly. Stiles is working on that though. Persistence is one of his natural talents.

Derek had growled at him an hour ago for fidgeting. Which always ruins his sleeping zen, or pretend-sleeping zen. So Stiles is trying very hard to be still. Derek's helping, because it's very distracting to just look at him like this. The way he's stretched out on the bed, all bare skin from neck to toes. Stiles isn't sure anyone could look away from that. He likes the way Derek's back shifts on every breath, a slow expansion where he gradually takes up more space. Stiles moves his elbow, just enough that he can look down the bed. It's not a fidget, it's the sparest movement he's made in the last ten minutes. But it means he gets a better view down Derek's body. Which is absolutely worth it, because Derek has the most amazing ass, especially from this angle - no that's a lie, it looks good from every angle. Why would you even pick an angle when you could just go for all of them? Stiles was kind of in love with it even before he got Derek to take all his clothes off regularly, and he could look at it pretty much whenever he liked. He wants to slide down the bed and bite it. Pretty much all the time.

He should totally do that.

Though there's no way he could get down there without waking Derek up, or ruining his pretending-to-sleep moment. Which will get him the cross eyebrows at best, and Derek giving up and leaving the bed at the very worst. Neither of which he wants. But Stiles is really bad at sitting still once he's got an idea in his head. He attempts to turn a casual stretch into a slow slide down the bed. But he realises halfway through that he's never going to get away with that, so he just slithers the rest of the way. Probably in an ungainly fashion.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks. He doesn't sound sleepy. Though he does sound like he already knows he'll probably regret the answer.

"Your ass is amazing," Stiles tells him. Which is an answer, whether it sounds like one or not.

Derek exhales, loudly, but doesn't complain, or move, or even call him an idiot. Which Stiles is definitely counting as awesome relationship progress. Though he knows he's only going to be able to bite Derek once, before he objects in some way. That way will hopefully end in sex, and almost certainly in Stiles getting bitten somewhere. Stiles gets his knees under him, and pushes at Derek's thigh, watches it slide up and open him out, and oh, Stiles had been so busy thinking about biting, he hadn't really thought about doing that instead - he could do that. He wants to do that. He really wants to.

"Can I - I'm gonna - I'm just - yeah."

He sinks down, carefully, between Derek's legs, in the cool space where the sheets have been rucked up by their heels. It's a little awkward, Derek doesn't really have his legs open wide enough, and there isn't much space for Stiles's knees. He may be lean, but he's still tall. So he settles for half-draping himself over one of Derek's legs. Which makes him feel a little like he's pinning Derek still, and yes, he is absolutely going to pretend that's what it is.

He lays a hand on Derek's ass, pushing it until he can - yeah, he can do that. Stiles breathes against him for a minute, then dips and opens his mouth. He runs his tongue along the crease, just because he can. One long glide, all the way from the bottom to the top, which leaves the skin shiny. He lets it drag back down, slower. Derek's warm here, impossibly warm against Stiles's tongue, and he clenches just a little when instead of licking across it, Stiles investigates that tight stretch of muscle.

Derek gives a little grunt, like he's not sure whether to object or not.

Stiles spreads Derek's cheeks, thumbs drifting over the wet pink of his hole, where Stiles has made it shiny with saliva. That's - that's obscene, he definitely needs to put his tongue back there. Stiles is already sliding down further, bending into a better angle. He didn't know if he'd like this - he likes it when Derek does it to him, even if he is still a little embarrassed every time. But he'd never really thought about it, never thought Derek would let him.

He can't get his tongue in very far, it's not long enough, and Derek is tight - tight like he's never had anything in him. Which is already a lie because Stiles has worked him open, just a little, just enough that he can feel him around his tongue. He tries to alternate between long licks, and focused pushes inside, and judging by the way something rips near the headboard, he's doing something right. He goes for slow, hard pushes after that. He can't get deep but he can go for intent. That gets him a gravelly noise from Derek, which Stiles is going to feel smug about. He's all about experimentation, experimentation is how you learn things, and he wants to see what everything will get him, so he changes to quick, little stabs, just inside. When he does that, Derek's whole body clenches, and he groans through his teeth.

Derek likes it fast.

Stiles is going to sprain his tongue. He's going to do some sort of permanent damage, but he doesn't care. Because Derek's thigh is twitching feverishly, where it's pushed up the bed, and he's making these low, breathy noises, half-smothered like he's trying not to. Stiles kind of likes it when Derek scrapes his teeth there a little, so he tries that too. Which nearly gets him kicked in the ribs, but in a totally good way. Derek's hips roll and edge back, and that is definitely aggressive Derek-speak for do that again. So he does, because Stiles is more than willing to take direction. Even though the way he's bending is killing him, dick too hard to be crushed like this. It's an angry thump of heat and discomfort.

There's a trail of saliva working its way down to Derek's balls, and Stiles catches it with a thumb, works it back up. All the way to the tight edge of Derek's hole. He could put pressure there - so he does, just the faintest push, and the muscle gives a little. Stiles's next breath comes out cracked, because it would be so easy to just push a finger in there, and he wants to, he really, really wants to. But he doesn't know if Derek wants him to.

It's not until Stiles moves to spread Derek open wider, that he realises how hard he is. How much every drag against the mattress sparks up his spine, and he has to stop for a second. He has to dig his fingers into Derek's skin and breathe, or he's going to come. He doesn't want to come on the bed, he wants to come - oh my god, that's the best idea ever. He has to reach down and actually clutch at himself, in a way that shocks his dick back to a state he can still be coherent in. He'll apologise for it later, he will. But he really wants to enjoy this, and he wants it to last longer than ten seconds.

He's already shuffling up on his knees, leaning over Derek's body, warm slide of skin against his thighs like a promise. His thumb's shifting where thigh meets ass, and he's pretty sure he's not going to be able to resist the urge to move it back up, spread saliva around, maybe push in a little.

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna jerk off on your ass now, if that's ok. If you don't say anything." Stiles's voice is dry and breathless. "I'm going to do that. Fuck."

"Stiles."

Stiles freezes, hand already curled round his dick, and he whimpers because he really doesn't want to stop, he doesn’t want Derek to tell him no.

"Fuck, Derek, please."

"Inside me," Derek says stiffly.

Which is very confusing for a second, Stiles cannot think about things right now.

"What?"

"Put. Your. Dick. Inside. Me."

Oh my God.

"Oh my God, are you serious?" There's probably a little too much excitement in his voice. He's not sixteen any more, so it would be great if he didn't sound like it. That is not a voice that's convincing anyone to have sex with him, or to let him have sex with them.

"Some time this century," Derek grumbles. "Before I change my mind."

"That's a dick move, you can't get me all excited like that and then threaten to -"

Derek glares over his shoulder at him, and that is - that is not as much of an angry look as he maybe thinks.

"Fuck, ok, ok. Are you sure - I mean I didn't even finger you or anything. Should I do that? I could do that." His breath comes out shuddery at the thought of it. "Please let me do that."

Derek sighs like he's the worst. Which is completely unfair because Stiles was not prepared for this.

"Just get on with it."

Stiles shoves his own fingers in his mouth, tongue sliding between them, curling in the joints and leaving them wet. Derek's ass is already shiny-wet with saliva, but Stiles can't resist rubbing his fingers there anyway, feeling the slip-slide of it, feeling the muscle give under the push of his finger, and then he's inside.

Derek moves his thigh up a fraction more, and pushes back, and why is Stiles not surprised that he'd manage to be bossy about this too. But he's too aroused to care right now. He's pushing two fingers into Derek's ass, watching him stretch around them, and he's pretty sure he's not actually going to believe this is really happening, until he's inside. He has to - he has to take a moment, because even thinking about that.

"Stiles." Derek's impatience is ruining this, it really is.

"Wait, wait, God, you have no idea what you look like. Fuck, I could put my fingers in you forever."

"Or you could stop screwing around and fuck me."

The way he growls it out, like he wants it, rattles all of Stiles's careful, indulgent patience, and makes it count for absolutely nothing.

"Shit, ok, yeah." He's using lube though, because Derek is stupid, and Stiles is not fucking him on spit alone.

He pretty much destroys the entire bottle trying to get it open, because his fingers don't work. It's a casualty of war - and it's on the floor now - but he doesn't care.

"You have to tell me if I hurt you, because I've never done this." Stiles is getting lube everywhere, and he can't stop touching now he knows he's allowed.

"You won't, get on with it."

He feels like it's really unfair for Derek to be rushing him here. Because it's not every day that an Alpha lets you fuck them. When you've never actually done the whole being on top part before.

No pressure or anything.

Stiles is actually wondering if he should try and pull Derek up to his knees. But he's pretty sure taking Derek on his hands and knees would pulverise all the brain cells he has left. So, like this is good, it's good. He's right up against Derek's hole, slick rub of skin on skin. He should really just push, that's the point. So he does, and it's slippery, and a little awkward, and tight. Stiles is maybe an inch inside, and he gets the feeling this is going to be humiliatingly brief. This will be the least satisfying sex Derek has ever had. He should probably warn him.

"Don't you dare hold it against me if it takes me, like, five seconds to come."

Derek makes a noise, and Stiles honestly can't tell if it's irritated or amused, but he can see where one of Derek's hands is twisting in the sheet.

Stiles tries to get a grip, any sort of grip, on Derek's skin, ends up digging his fingers into his narrow waist, and then it's far too easy to hold him still, while he drives in and - oh, fuck. He's suddenly all the way inside, all the way, and he can hear his own heartbeat in his throat.

"Oh my God." His voice is so deep, it doesn't even sound like him. "That's - you - you feel amazing. You have no idea, no idea."

Stiles pulls back and then pushes in again, has to stop, has to breathe, makes a shaky noise and then tries again. He slips out and swears, pushes back inside, and it's twice as good as the first time. He makes the mistake of looking down, watching where Derek's stretched open around him, and he wants to watch that, but it's like a fist to the gut every time.

"Oh my God, oh my God," He can't stop saying it, he can't. He's all clumsy thrusts, and he has no idea where to put his right knee, because it keeps sliding on the sheet, and there's nowhere to brace himself. But he doesn't care, because this is the most incredible thing he's ever felt. Derek is a furnace inside, and he's brutally tight. Stiles's dick already feels bruised, and he's going to come inside Derek. And, fuck, he really hopes Derek lets him do this again. There's pretty much nothing he wouldn't do for that.

He should ask Derek if he should do something, if he should at least attempt to make this good - but Derek's arm is pushed under himself, elbow jumping, and Stiles is kind of stunned that he's getting off on this. He'd figured Derek was throwing him a bone here - ha - but Derek likes this, holy fucking shit, Derek is totally into Stiles fucking him.

Which is about the point he completely loses it. He manages three, maybe three and a half, ragged thrusts, and then he's pressed up tight to Derek's ass, slurring complete nonsense into the skin of his back, while he comes, and comes. It's so good, it's all the good things. All of them.

Even when it's over he doesn't want to stop touching. There has to be some sort of special dispensation whereby he could stay here, and just touch him all the time.

"You are fucking awesome," Stiles murmurs into the hot skin of Derek's back. "You are the awesomest of all time. I'm totally keeping you."

Derek grunts, in a way that could mean 'thanks,' or it could mean 'you have broken my brain with your sexual prowess.' But in actual fact probably means 'get out of my ass.'

Stiles is careful sliding out, because Derek is always careful with him. Derek may have the whole stoic werewolf thing, but Stiles is not going to be a dick. Because, y'know, he thinks maybe Derek might not have done that before. There is the possibility that he let Stiles do that first. Which is - huge, immense, crazy, and sort of amazing. Derek is sprawled out still, in a way that's probably supposed to look lazy and effortless. Though he still has his legs spread, so it's also awesomely dirty too.

Stiles can't resist sliding a hand up Derek's thigh. He sort of wants to put his fingers inside him again, wants to feel everything, see if Derek feels different after. But Derek shoves him with a knee, and he ends up sprawled out on the other side of the bed, sweat on his back cooling against the sheets.

"Thank you, really, I mean that with every single exhausted inch of me. Your body is amazing, inside your body is amazing. I'm actually having trouble processing anything other than the fact that my come is dripping out of you right now."

"Shut up," Derek says, mostly into the pillow.

Stiles sighs, loud and messy. "You really suck at the after sex part, you know that?"

Derek doesn't reply to that with words, there's just noise, and a very heavy arm slung over Stiles's waist, dragging him in tight.

"You still suck," Stiles murmurs. Which is a lie.

Though Derek's too busy pretending to sleep to call him on it.