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put your hand atop mine and we'll be okay

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I love you, Derek signed to Stiles, smiling so widely his eyes were crinkling at the corners. 

"I love you too," Stiles replied, tongue poking out as he smiled.

The human was sitting hunched over at his easel across the loft, admiring his werewolf boyfriend as he sat on the couch and watched TV.

Derek loved Stiles's art. He loved the way his fingertips were always stained with charcoal that left prints on his jaw as they kissed. He loved the way Stiles looked when he drew, his furrowed brow when he was concentrating, his cute smile that wrinkled his forehead when he finished a hard drawing and Derek liked it.

He loved that when he kissed Stiles afterward it was more smiles pressed together than an actual kiss.

Derek loved that Stiles took the time to learn to read sign language so he could communicate with Derek. 

Stiles loved that Derek wasn't wearing a shirt. It was a hot day in California, and it made for the best drawings.

Jackpot, Stiles thought as he over exaggerated the lines of Derek's abs. His face was stained with lines of charcoal as he wiped sweat from his cheeks. 

Stiles loved that Derek always blushed whenever he drew him like this, like when he drew him naked as he was sleeping, watching the rise and fall of his chest, his shifting and turning. 

 Stiles loved that Derek thought he didn't notice Derek getting hard when he looked at those drawings.

The human stood up, freshly stained fingertips pushing Derek's shoulders so he'd lean back against the couch. Derek quirked a brow and raised his hands to sign, but Stiles grabbed his wrists.

"Do you trust me?" Stiles asked, eyes twinkling in the morning light. Derek nodded without hesitation, and Stiles ground hard against the wolf's growing erection. 

Derek made a small whimper, eyes closing as he leaked precum into his sweatpants. He wasn't wearing underwear, of course not. Stiles moved, holding Derek's wrists in one hand and reaching down towards Derek's waistband.

When he looked up for permission, Derek nodded, and he went to town. He licked his palm, coating it thoroughly in saliva, and grabbed Derek's cock in his hand and jerked it just the way he liked it.

Derek's face was red, and his lip was turning white with the amount of force he was biting it with. 

"Like that?" Stiles cooed. "Do you like when I take control? Do you like when I jack you off the way you like it, then tease you and stop you from cumming?"

Derek whined, thrusting up into Stiles's hand and throwing his head back, signaling that he was close. 

"C'mon baby, come in your sweatpants. Make a mess, you know you want to."

Derek drew blood in his lip as he came, the wound healing instantly but the iron taste of blood in his mouth sending him over the edge as he opened his mouth in a silent scream.

And later, when he saw five charcoal stains on his dick and wrists, he remembered the morning and looked at Stiles, with his furrowing eyebrows and poked out tongue. 

He thought, he's definitely the one.