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Sterek Song

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Derek sighed heavily as he threw the last pieces of clothing he owned into his suitcase. He didn’t want to leave again. He didn’t want to walk away from the pack and his hometown, but he just didn’t know what the point of staying would be. Since he’d been back and shown that he was still half the wolf he once was, he’d felt useless. He was near human and it tore at him to have to step back with some of the others and watch the action taking place. He wasn’t a coward, but he learned with each slowly healing cut and bruise that he wasn’t an indestructible juggernaut anymore either. His days of barreling into fights he knew he was going to lose were over.

When he’d first returned he’d hoped in the intervening years since he’d left that things would have calmed down in Beacon Hills. The truth was it hadn’t and he wondered if they’d just become used to the weekly assaults of violence and magic. Things seemed as crazed and desperate as ever, with more and more magical beings feeling drawn to the power of the Nemeton. These children of supernatural war had become numb to the constant struggles to maintain what once had been his families land. He hadn’t been aware until he came back what a relief it had been to be away from this town and these problems. The new Beacon Hills pack lead by Scott McCall may be used to incessantly ensuing danger, but he was not. He had missed his friends, but he had grown to love calm and silence. He had let the security of anonymity wrap around him like a warm blanket and lull him to sleep every night. He did not miss the hours spent awake dreading intruders in the dark. He did not miss waking up every time a faucet dripped or the building settled around him. He did not miss worrying; always worrying for everyone around him and himself. The things he missed… he hoped he’d find replacements for them in time, but he wasn’t cut out to stay here any longer. If he couldn’t help, then he wouldn’t stay.

The grating roll of his loft door being shoved open broke him from his reverie. He was still holding a pair of underwear he’d meant to throw into his bag when he’d gotten caught up in his own mind. Glancing out the loft windows, he noted the darkening sky and the wet slate grey of the clouds. There would be rain tonight and maybe tomorrow. Perhaps the weather would keep the pack safe while he made his way up north. He turned his attention to the intruder downstairs and sniffed the air in hopes of identifying friend or foe. The smell of cedar, nutmeg, and grass tickled his nose and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Stiles. His heart gave a familiar lurch as he lowered his eyes back down to his packed bag. The loud slap of Stile’s sneakers on the concrete floor echoed as he walked into the middle of the loft and turned in place, most likely trying to spot Derek on the ground floor.

“I’m up here, Stiles” Derek called, lifting his head in the direction of the stairs and waiting to hear Stiles approach. The ringing of the steel steps as Stiles climbed the stairs served as the bells to warn his heart to ready itself. Derek knew this was going to hurt both of them.

He hadn’t done anything with Stiles during his brief return to Beacon Hills, but he could feel the curiosity and lingering want in Stiles’ gaze anytime they were in a room together for too long. It had been distracting and terrifying for Derek to think that Stiles’ sometimes blatant affection for him hadn’t changed after all this time. Stiles had been to college and had found a place on his own to live and yet, Derek had noticed upon reentering the loft for the first time months ago, that the smell of Stiles had still been somewhat recent. He had wondered how often the boy came in just to stare at the empty walls and dusty furniture. He didn’t smell him anywhere else in the loft, but right in the middle. There had been the faintest trail leading there and back out like Stiles only came to see if anything had changed and then retreated when no sign of life availed itself to him.

Now Stiles’ wonderful warm smell enveloped more the loft, sometimes covered by the other pack member’s individual scents and sometimes the only one that remained after the other’s had faded. It would linger on his staircase where his hand slid over the metal handrail and where his shoulders brushed the post in the middle. It would pull at Derek like bramble as he walked away again, vying for him to stay and be encased, or just ripping the soft parts of him away as he struggled to break free from this place and the connections he felt to it. Stiles approaching from downstairs felt like the first warm breeze of summer, warming the air and soil as it pushed away the last memories of snow and silence. It felt like false hope to a place that would once again be returned to silence and inactivity.

A dark chocolate tuft of hair appeared above the floor line, swiftly followed by whiskey-and-amber eyes and that slightly slack, pink mouth which closed into a frown as he took in Derek’s look of guilt and the packed bag resting on the edge of the bed. Confusion and hurt began to tangle into his scent, and the beginning blossom of anger narrowed Stiles eyes and furrowed through his brows. He kept trudging up into the bedroom, his feet beginning to boom slightly as they fell heavier from his discontent. He stopped in front of Derek and surveyed the bag. Derek watched Stiles hands and feet, but didn’t raise his eyes to his face. He didn’t want to know what he’d see there.

“Hey man…. What’s up? Going on a little weekend vay-cay?” Stile’s question seemed innocuous enough, but the way his hands rested on his cocked hips let Derek know that Stiles’ body, at least, was building up for a fight. Derek met Stiles’ eyes finally as he opened his useless mouth, gesturing towards the bag. Before he could even start to explain, Stiles moved closer, his hands raising as if to grab Derek and shake him. When he was well and truly in Derek’s bubble, Derek could hear him sucking in a sharp hiss of breath and the sound made Derek flinch as he looked down at Stiles feet, getting ready for the onslaught he probably well deserved. Instead, Stiles just let out the breath again in a huff and his hands dropped with a slap against his side. He began to pace in front of Derek, running one of his hands through his hair as he licked his lips and glanced between Derek’s face and the bag. There didn’t seem to be any words to express the level of frustration that was coursing through Stile’s body and Derek felt his eyes slip closed as the scents of Stiles hurt and anger beat at him, feeling almost like physical punches to his gut.

He was so wrapped up in the sensory beating that he didn’t hear Stiles stop his pacing, only knew he’d changed his stance when he felt the rush of body warmth against his and Stiles’ breath fan across his mouth and cheeks. His eyes shot open in shock and he saw the hurt raw and unfiltered on Stiles’ face as he stood only half a foot away, breathing angry huffs of breath into Derek’s face. Stiles’ body was vibrating from the emotions he held back making Derek wonder if fight or flight would ultimately win the day. Stiles was so much braver than him he’d probably stay, even if Derek’s own inclination would have been to run away. Another in the thousands of reasons Derek knew Stiles was too good for him.

“WHY?” Stiles whispered, his body stilling it’s shaking and his energy focused on hearing every nuance of Derek’s answer. Derek just stared at him for a minute, his breath turning ragged as he stared into Stiles’ eyes. His hands came forward and hovered in front of his own stomach. Whether he was trying protecting his most vulnerable area or simply holding himself back from the emotion that threatened to drain him onto the floor in front of this perfect, dauntless human he didn’t know. He found his voice hiding beneath the lump in his throat, and it came out croaking at first, but clearer as he finally used his words.
“I can’t stay, Stiles.” He began, starting with the simplest of truths. “I’m holding you guys back. I’m slowing you down. I’m not good enough to be a piece of this pack, of this team. I had a skill and I lost it. I’m not good enough for any one of you guys to rely on and I can’t stand thinking that one day that might get someone killed.”

“I understand why you’re leaving the pack, Derek, but why are you leaving me, Derek? Why are you running away from me? I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks and you just dodge me and come back to your bat cave to hide. Don’t act like I mean nothing to you. You sure as hell don’t mean nothing tome.” Stiles took another, perhaps unconscious, step closer causing his stomach to press briefly into Derek’s hands. Derek dropped them back to his side and looked away, trying to collect himself against the new flood of Stiles’ scent that rushed at him as the boy’s body began to heat up from the excitement his venting frustration was causing. When he had taken a few steadying breaths through his mouth, his face turned away from Stiles and towards some of the less aromatic air in the room, he turned back and looked into Stiles’ eyes again. He tried not to let himself sneak a peek at the wet, expectant lips that were now a short lean forward away from him. He had to answer the question. He had to use his words. He couldn’t trust his body to convey that which he felt and that which he meant.

“Stiles, if I can’t stay for them what makes you think I can stay for you?” The flash of hurt that whipped across Stiles face made him flinch back. Derek could see his body coiling to flee, to misunderstand his meaning and retreat. Maybe he should’ve let him, but the influx of cold air that hit his chest from that small jolt away was too much. Just like his body had let anonymity once lull him with it’s false warmth, the real warmth in front of him reminded him of what he was really missing. His hands shot out and he grabbed Stile’s upper arms, clenching at first and then softening as Stiles stopped his retreat and stared at him, imploring him to speak.

“What I mean to say, Stiles, is that I know I’m slowing you guys down… which in turn means I’m slowing you down. I’m risking your life with my inability to be a full wolf within the group. I’m not smart or quick or inventive. I’m self-aware enough to realize that before this…curse… I was the muscle. I was good at taking a beating. I’m not very good at that anymore, Stiles, and I can’t have you risking yourself or taking my beatings for me. You don’t mean nothing to me, you mean everything, Stiles. I can’t—I’m not enough for you.” Derek finished, perhaps a bit lamely, letting his hands slide off of Stiles’ arms and drop to his sides. He hung his head and waited. He waited for Stiles to leave, he waited for Stiles to keep fighting him on what was a moot point, and he waited for Stiles to finally agree with him that he was useless. He didn’t expect for Stiles to lift his hands and place them on his chest and say nothing. He didn’t expect Stiles to sigh and slide his hands around to his back, under his arms, and haul him bodily chest to chest in a tight hug. His body responded to the hug before he knew what he was doing. His own arms wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders and he buried his face into the side of Stiles’ neck, inhaled the smell of detergent from the collar of Stiles’ shirt and the faint sweat on Stiles’ skin. He let the body warmth seep through his own clothes, and his head tipped to the side, letting his chin rest against Stiles’ shoulder. He felt Stiles bury his own face into Derek’s neck and he let his eyes shut so he could fully enjoy the sensation of Stiles breath warming his tendons there and trying to escape under his collar. It might be inappropriate, but he felt his lower body begin to twitch with interest. This was the closest they’d been in ages and he knew it was the closest they were likely to get ever again. Stiles sighed, his lips ghosting the faintest kisses onto Derek’s skin, which seemed more powerful than if he’d just grabbed him and taken his mouth in a clatter of teeth and tongue and rising lust. He wanted this so much and yet Derek knew that he didn’t deserve to have it. He couldn’t stay for the selfish reasons his body kept telling him were the only reasons to keep breathing.


It was just his name, but Derek felt apprehension coiling around his heart, pushing at his ribs to open and make more room. Stiles began to pull back, but thankfully not away. Derek wasn’t ready to let go, and he didn’t think he ever would be in some ways, but in this physical reality where Stiles’ hips were pressed lightly against his own and his hands were resting on either side of Derek’s ribs, Derek wasn’t ready to end it just yet. He had a lifetime of memories to make in between now and when one of them walked out of the loft’s front door. Stiles eyes met his and he felt his grip tighten, fisting some of Stiles’ shirt where his hands had come to rest on Stiles upper arms again. Stiles just looked at him for a few moments, without judgement but weighing the situation before him. He leaned forward then, his eyes still locked with Derek’s, and paused a hairsbreadth away from connecting their mouths. When he chose to speak, his lips brushed Derek’s and his breath was Derek’s only air.

“I understand that you feel like you have to leave. But give me tonight. Watch the sun rise with me tomorrow morning and I’ll let you go.”

The air was stolen from Derek’s lungs as he felt Stiles lean through the last bit of space between them and press himself in a long line that stretched between their lips to their knees. His hands became vices that drew Derek against his body, pressing so their bones could grind through each other and fuse. There were no more words just then and Derek felt it was right that their goodbye should be handled this way; strange and silent and familiar and foreign. He’d never needed words with Stiles before this, not really. Stiles always knew, always drew the right conclusions, and Derek appreciated this more than he could articulate. Now he just wanted this to keep going; he just wanted to feel every inch of Stiles against him. He wanted to convince Stiles that despite his leaving, it was ultimately because he loved him so much that he knew he needed to let him go. Stiles needed to know that this goodbye would have to survive the years that would follow when it was entirely possible neither of them would be able to find someone who knew them this well or fit against them this perfectly ever again.

Derek let himself deepen the kiss, the hunger for Stiles taking over his actions. He could feel himself pressing harder against Stiles’ body, his mouth starting to get forceful and his kisses taking on an edge of violence with the addition of teeth. Derek needed Stiles. He needed to taste his skin and saliva, he needed to feel his soft flush of blood in the muscle underneath him; he needed to dig into Stiles until he felt the bones shift between them.

Derek felt feverish and frantic. As close as he wanted to be against Stiles, he felt himself being herded slowly backwards. He couldn’t tell if Stiles was pressing forward or if he was pulling him closer, but his hands were trying to find new purchase in the tight spaces created with every step backward. When his knees hit the edge of the mattress, his vision blurred for a moment as the implications washed over him. He knew this was where they’d been headed since Stiles walked into the loft, but for the moment to be here was jostling to him.

Blood flooded south and it was an easy thing for Stiles to just shove him gently, detaching his lips from Derek’s, and Derek fell onto his back against the softness of his bed. Stiles was staring down at Derek with his chest heaving slightly. His mouth was swollen, lips red and wet-looking as they parted to allow Stiles to bite gently as his bottom lip, the flesh sliding through his teeth as his hand came forward and cupped his erection gently. He looked wrecked already and Derek knew he must also look like a mess on the bed, propping himself on his elbows and eyeing Stiles hungrily. Stiles leaned over him then and captured his mouth in an almost chaste kiss, leaving most of Derek bereft of his pressure and warmth besides where his arms dipped into the bed to hold his body aloft. Derek felt himself arching upwards, his hand reaching to hold the back of Stiles neck so he couldn’t retreat from him again. Stiles allowed him to hold his neck and as their kisses once again grew heated and borderline filthy in their mounting excitement. Stiles stepped forward onto the bed and settled himself on Derek’s lap. His knees boxed in Derek’s hips and his hands began to slide across Derek’s chest and then down to the hemline of his shirt.

Derek felt crazy and out of his mind with want, but Stiles seemed to be content with taking it slower. As Derek ripped his shirt over his head, breaking from Stiles lips to let the cloth pass, he felt Stiles hands press back into his stomach, fingers tracing the outlines of his abs lightly. It gave Derek a pause as he enjoyed the feeling of Stiles pressing against such a sensitive, vulnerable area. The stomach was every animal’s soft spot and it could be decimated in battle or shown as a sign of submission. Derek felt himself submitting to Stiles as he almost unconsciously leaned back on his elbows to expose himself further; his head tilting back to offer his neck. Stiles must have known the significance of the move because Derek heard his breath catch as their kiss broke. He shut his eyes and waited for Stiles to make the next move, his body trembling with arousal and fear of rejection. Would this be when Stiles came to his senses and left? These feelings needed to last them and they were making the best of each other so far, but Derek had a niggling worry that this wouldn’t ever be enough. He could take residence inside of Stiles, hide behind the bars of his ribcage, and be with him as a living organ and it would never be enough for him.

Stiles leaned down and Derek felt his body turn on him, make his fine tremble into a full body shiver as Stiles rested his lips against the muscle that jutted between his jaw and clavicle. Stiles hands splayed against Derek’s stomach, stilling the adrenaline fueled spasms and Derek felt the warmth of Stiles breath moved as he began trailing wet, open mouth kisses from one side of Derek’s neck to the other. Derek couldn’t stop the soft whine that escaped through his parted lips as he let Stiles do what he wished with Derek’s submission. When Stiles got to the other side of Derek’s neck, he licked a soft trail upwards to the hinge of Derek’s jaw and then again held his lips there. Derek felt himself tensing in anticipation, waiting for Stiles next move while enjoying the warm play of breath near his ear. He could smell Stiles so much more clearly in this position. He wanted to bury his face into the curve of Stiles neck and inhale until his smell imprinted along Derek’s sinuses and stayed long after they parted in the morning.

“Derek” Stiles voice sounded like a soft plea, breathy near his ear. “I need to know… uh… how far you want this to go tonight. I’m… I want it to go as far as it can. I want this to get gross and sticky and filthy and sweaty and wonderful… but I need to know you’re on board. I mean – I’m pretty sure you are, but you know… explicit consent is sexy and all and I definitely want to get----“

Derek turned his head sharply and cut Stiles off with a kiss. He could feel the beginning of the nervous ramble and while Stiles voice was one of his favorite sounds, he did not think a long-winded ramble on the paradigms of safe sex was terribly appropriate on their last night together.

“Stiles, yes. Yes to whatever. Yes to everything. Whatever you want, I want. I know what that could mean, and if you want it tonight then I’ll give it to you tonight. Just please, please, let’s get naked and sweaty and filthy and sticky and gross together. Please?”

Derek finished by looking Stiles directly in the eye, noting the spark of happiness he saw as he parroted back Stiles’ own adjectives back to him. He felt a small smile of his own steal across his mouth as Stiles breathed the word “Wonderful” into his open mouth and began pressing Derek onto his back against the mattress. Derek fell back and let his hands wander, smoothing up Stiles’ jean clad thighs and over the outside of his hips and then under the soft, blue t-shirt he was wearing. Derek’s eyes involuntarily squeezed shut tighter as he felt the warm, soft skin of Stiles’ sides. He let his hands circle and pressed into Stiles’ lower back, rocking him forward to brush their respective bulges together softly. A groan pushed its way out of Stiles mouth at the contact, making Derek decide that he needed that sound to happen again and again until he left. He rolled Stiles forward over him again, but this time he allowed himself to press upwards into the pressure, grinding them together and causing a zing of pleasure to shoot through his body.

“Fuuuuuck” was the soft hiss that Stiles let out as he began rolling his hips without Derek’s urging. Derek felt this was the perfect time to divest Stiles of his shirt and smoothed his hands upward, gathering the material and raising it off of Stiles body. After the shirt was pooled somewhere in the general vicinity of not-on-Stiles-person, Derek turned back only to have Stiles crush his lips against his. He kissed Derek with such ferocity and hunger that Derek reciprocated, their teeth clacking and their lips swelling from the pressure and tiny nips and bites each stole from the other. Stiles captured Derek’s lower lip with his teeth and gave it a sharp nip of pressure causing Derek to let a little gasp of pleasure out before Stiles released it. The action had stilled their lips and the resulting sting caused Derek’s dick to throb against the confines of his jeans. Stiles drew down one of his hands from where it had rested next to Derek’s head and let his fingers start tracing their way down Derek’s body. They both watched the hand’s journey towards the button and fly of Derek’s pants. He rested his hand only briefly at the waistband of Derek’s jeans, however, before letting it continue down to palm Derek’s hard length through what the rough denim. A groan escaped from Derek and his hands found themselves galvanized to action. He let his hands slide down Stiles’ back and dipping briefly into the back of Stiles’ khaki’s, fingers pushing under the elastic band of his underwear to feel the swell of his cheeks before smoothing back over the top and grabbing handfuls of Stiles’ ass. Stiles was pulled forward and he collapsed against Derek’s chest with a whine, breath panting over Derek’s chest hair as he let Derek kneed the muscular flesh through the cotton of his underwear. His hands had been trapped between them where he had been trying to help Derek divest of his pants, but now those hands stilled as Derek’s fingers worked his cheeks.

“Derek” Stiles whined, stilling Derek’s ministrations as he pushed himself back up off of Derek’s torso. His fingers immediately began to pull at the button of Derek’s jeans, even as he leaned over speak through the kisses he was delivering to Derek’s jaw.

“I need to get this open. I’ve got to see you.” Stiles whispered, his hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his body. Derek could smell how keyed up he was and it only seemed to fuel his own desperation. Stiles barely had the button unlatched Derek’s teeth came to rest against his neck. Stiles gasped out “Work on my pants so I can get yours undone or we’re never going to get to fun naked time and this will just get to be gross and sticky” even as he pushed his neck harder against Derek’s worrying teeth.

Derek had to mentally persuade his body to physically separate his hands from Stiles’ ass and to stop them from continuing to try to pull Stiles body against his. He had to look away from where Stiles was working on his pants and take a deep, steadying breath, telling himself to calm down. He’d almost managed to find a modicum of control when Stiles succeeded in opening his jeans. The release of pressure was enormous and the pleasure of feeling marginally freer was only heightened when he felt Stiles scrambling back off of his lap to tug Derek’s jeans and underwear down and off his body. He lifted his hips helpfully and allowed Stiles to drag the rest of his clothes off of him before sitting up and grabbing Stiles hips to stop him from climbing back on top of him.

He looked up into Stiles eyes for a minute, enjoying the lust-blown pupils that stared besotted back into his own. He pushed gently, navigating Stiles body to lay back onto the mattress beside him. He leaned forward and rubbed his cheeks across Stiles’ lower stomach, enjoying the scratching sound of his stubble against the smooth expanse and then the soft tickle of Stiles happy trail against his cheek bones as he nuzzled from hip to hip. Stiles was moaning softly above him, his fingers curling into Derek’s hair and pulling lightly. Derek stopped and kissed the indent where each hip disappeared underneath the elastic band of Stiles’ underwear, and then shifted his hands forward to begin his ministrations to make Stiles as naked as he was. Derek slowly unzipped Stiles pants, his eyes greedily watching the metal part and expose the last layer between his mouth and Stiles skin. He could smell Stiles so much better here, his scent wafting towards Derek and begging him to bury his face against the soft creases of Stiles legs and to nuzzle the heavy, warm balls. He couldn’t wait to snake his tongue out and taste Stiles where his scent was strongest, lapping and memorizing the sour and sweet of him.

He hooked his fingers under the elastic band of Stiles underwear and slowly began to pull his pants and underwear down his legs. He kissed random spots of newly exposed skin but left Stiles thick, leaking cock alone. Derek knew once he got his mouth on Stiles’ cock, he would ignore everything else until he felt the boy shooting down his throat and he wanted to memorize every last dot and mole that covered these spaces on Stiles skin that he hadn’t seen catalogued before. He wanted his mouth to touch each place in reverence before he lost himself to the feel of Stiles filling his throat.

He only managed to get Stiles’ pants down far enough to expose his balls and the dark, curling hair on his thighs before the scent became too much to resist. His nose just kept leading him back to the center and he felt himself bump against the base of Stiles cock, his mouth opening automatically to give a chaste kiss to the sack resting against his chin. His eyes looked up and he saw that Stiles had been staring at him, propped on an elbow and watching his every move. His face was flushed and his eyes were hungry, his lips shiny where he’d been biting them. His hand still rested on the back of Derek’s head, fingers still loosely curled in Derek’s hair. He began to pull Derek’s hair now that their eyes had met. Derek’s mouth was still resting lightly against Stiles balls when he pulled Derek’s hair harder and forced his head to tilt back, leaving only his bottom lip in contact with Stiles skin. Stiles other hand which has been idle to his side came to grip the base of his cock, finger brushing against Derek’s mouth, as he pulled his hips down harder into the mattress and angled his length downward. Derek adjusted his body to give him a little more room to work, rising a few inches higher off of Stiles’ thighs. He couldn’t resist letting his tongue loll out of his mouth to taste the heated skin as the two moved into position, his mouth beginning to salivate thickly with the feel of Stiles hard length against his tongue. Stiles hips stuttered at the feel of Derek’s tongue sliding up the sensitive underside of his dick. Derek watch as he took a deep breath through his nose and continued to pull back until he could place the leaking head of his cock between Derek’s slack, wet lips.

Derek waited, panting slightly, as Stiles dipped between his lips and then out to trace his lips in precum. The salty, bitter taste of Stiles coated his lips and tip of his tongue causing Derek to softly whine in plea for more. When Stiles was done painting his lips, Derek jerked forward and wrapped his lips around the soft, spongey head of Stiles’ cock, unable to resist sucking the thick meat into his mouth any longer. He moaned loudly, feeling a growl of pleasure beginning at the base of this throat at the taste that greeted his tongue. He lapped his tongue over and over the flesh in his mouth and dipped it into the leaking slit, chasing more of Stiles flavor. He felt Stiles hand tighten at the back of his head and heard the wrecked little gasps that came from above him. He opened his eyes (which he didn’t remember closing) to look up at Stiles face. Stiles looked wrecked to be sure, but also wicked and determined. He held Derek’s head firmly in place then rolled his hips a little, sliding another inch or so into Derek’s mouth. Derek couldn’t hold back another moan as he realized what Stiles wanted to do to him, and he eagerly relaxed his jaw and began lapping at the extra length to play with as well as giving Stiles a look which loosely translated into “Fuck Yes, Please”.

When Stiles held steady for another moment, Derek snaked his hands up the back of Stiles thighs and pulled his hips in, rewarding himself with another inch or two and then letting Stiles fall back. Derek realized he was fucking his own face with Stiles’ cock and after the first two awkward thrusts assisted by Derek; Stiles got with the program and began to push his hips forward on his own. He rolled them and pumped himself in and out of Derek’s mouth in long, fluid movements, never going too deep too often. When Stiles’ cock hit the back of Derek’s throat, Derek felt his own cock jump at how hot he found it. He wanted to feel Stiles warm, thick seed shooting into his mouth and down his throat. He wanted to slide his head forward and meet Stiles’ thrusts, bury Stiles deep in the back of his throat and swallow him down. He felt Stiles thrusts get a little quicker and shallower, his timing beginning to go erratic as Derek began to act on his fantasies by taking Stiles deep into his throat and swallowing convulsively around him, milking the head with his muscles.

“Fuck, Derek. I’m—FUCK!—I’m about to cum. Do you want to swallow it?” Stiles gritted out, looking down to see if Derek would keep sucking him down. Derek knew in his head that a minute ago he wanted nothing less, but with the moment of truth coming up he found that what he wanted more was for Stiles to paint his face and chest in his cum. He wanted to feel Stiles all over him and smell him in his skin later while he was fleeing this place. He pulled back and off of Stiles with a filthy slurp and brought his hand up to continue jacking Stiles off as he licked and sucked just on the head to help Stiles along. Stiles didn’t even look upset, just withdrew his hand from where it had been resting around the base of his cock and placed it on Derek’s broad shoulder for support. When he came, it was like it was punched out of him and Derek preened at the feeling of warm, thick wetness against his lips that he let drip down his chin and onto his chest. He caught a little of it on his tongue and felt his senses go wild at the taste. He stuck out his tongue and let the final spurts of Stiles pleasure coat it so he could swallow it down. When Stiles was finished, Derek licked his lips in a broad swipe of his tongue and felt himself sigh out little moans at the feeling and taste of Stiles’ cum in his mouth. Why couldn’t he have this forever?

“Fuck Derek, I don’t have a teenage refractory period anymore, but if you keep making those sounds my body is going to set a new record.” Stiles sounded broken and out of breath above him.
Derek smiled up at him as he swiped a finger over his chin to gather some more of the cooling cum and popped it into his mouth, sucking on his finger obscenely as he held eye contact. The grin that plastered itself across his face when Stiles let out of guttural groan and collapsed sideways, pulling Derek towards him while simultaneously pushing Derek back onto the bed, was what most would describe as shit-eating. Once Stiles was laying fully on top of him again he seemed content to snuggle into Derek’s arms, plastering himself across all available real estate, smooshing the little bit of cum on Derek’s chest into both of their skins. A smile curled over his lips as he wiggled his hips a little, sliding his limp member over Derek’s rock hard one. He picked his head up to look at Derek who still had a smile on his face and was running his hand up and down Stiles spine idly.

“Uh, Der? You want me to help you out there? If…if you give me another minute to return blood to all of my facilities I can—“ Stiles had started to move away, scooting to the side so he could run a hand down Derek’s chest towards the insistent hard on between them. Derek caught his hand at his stomach and kissed his lips softly, stilling his progress to roll off of him and take him in hand.

“I appreciate the offer.” He started and seeing a fleeting moment of confusion flit across Stiles face continued, “But. But I want you to fuck me. I really want to cum with you inside me. So it can wait.”

“DEREK!” Stiles exclaimed before mashing their faces together in a fevered kiss and laughing. “Why did you get me off then? UGH! We could be doing THAT. RIGHT. NOW! Fuck. Give me like ten minutes and then we’re going to rock your fucking world! I can’t believe you let me cum. Ugh! You’re going to be the death of me!”

Derek didn’t answer immediately, letting Stiles wind himself more fully into every nook and cranny of his body while kissing ever bit of exposed skin he could reach in his jubilance. His mind has been drawn to remembering that’s why they were doing any of this at all. He tightened his arms around Stiles torso, bending so he could pull in deep lungfuls of Stiles’ sweat and joy. He was leaving so he wouldn’t be the death of Stiles. They were trying to make this goodbye memorable enough to last them until one of them did die (hopefully of extremely old age). The smile on his face faded as he thought about hearing the news of Stiles’ death. Who would tell him? Who would know that he cared enough to want to know? Would it be in a week or would Stiles outlast him? If anyone could outlast a werewolf, it would be Stiles.

“Whoa, Der, you got super serious eyebrows all of the sudden. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Stiles’ voice broke through his melancholy thoughts and he placed a hand on his cheek to turn his face to look at him squarely. Stiles’ eyes searched his and his eyebrows drew together with concern even as his thumb smoothed over one of Derek’s eyebrows as if he could wipe away the sadness by simply rearranging his expression. Derek felt his face relaxing into the touch and a sigh slipped out of his mouth as he buried his face back into Stiles’ neck in lieu of replying. He didn’t want to talk or think about death or let his coward heart start showing itself off. He just wanted to feel warm and loved in this infinite moment between the two of them.

“Do you remember when I took your virginity so you wouldn’t be killed?” Derek murmured, his hands smoothing over the planes of Stiles’ back, warming the cool skin in their wake. He felt Stiles smile against his shoulder, a chuckle rising from his throat.

“Boy, do I. I mean, very different situation than this one, but that was some good times. My favorite part of that whole night was how after you deflowered me, you insisted that we stay awake to watch the sun rise together. I forget what you said about it, but I remember leaning against your shoulder and waiting for the sun. Sunrises never take as long as you think they should, ya know? One minute it’s dark outside and then in an hour, it’s light. It’s beautiful, but fleeting. HEY!” Stiles sat up a little, making eye contact with Derek and grinning down on him. “That was the message, remember? You were trying to make me feel better about all the pain and death and suffering going on around here and you said that all of it was like a sunrise. Fleeting. And even if you couldn’t see it cause of cloud cover or whatever, it was still happening and it would still retreat at the end of the day.” Stiles chuckled and settled back down against Derek’s chest, his fingers tracing circular patterns into his chest hair.

“Damn Der, you were laying life lessons on me after you stretched out my asshole for the first time?! All I could think about was how bad I wanted some ibuprofen and a nap.” Derek laughed, his chest bouncing Stiles gently. He had been trying to make the experience meaningful even though they weren’t terribly close to one another at the time. It was one of his mislead, but well-meaning Alpha moments.

“You know, I can’t see a sunrise without thinking about you. I think you induced a Pavlovian response in me. I see sunrises and it makes me think of you and I get a half chub. Thanks for the conditioning, pal. Side note: You know the sun rises EVERY SINGLE DAY, right?” Stiles continued. Derek’s laughter grew louder as he imagined it. He didn’t say that he felt the same way. He knew the erection part might be a little bit of an exaggeration, but not the connotation between him and sunrises. Derek did the same thing when he saw them, but when he thought of Stiles it wasn’t about the way he’d been bent under him only an hour or so before that, teeth cutting into the pillow as he tried to muffle his moans. Derek had made that experience as good as he knew how to. When he thought of Stiles as he looked at this fiery orange and pink of the dawn, he saw him laughing in a pack meeting or he thought of how Stiles arms felt when they hugged him at the end of a long fight. The sex… Well, he’d wanted Stiles to think back on it like this, with fondness, not with the feeling of doomed necessity that had brought th experience about. It was good memory for Derek despite what it maybe should have been and he liked that it was still a good memory for Stiles.
After that first night they’d eventually found each other time and again before he’d left Beacon Hills the first time. Each time had been charged and tainted with the memories of battles nearly lost, but the feelings had also grown out from wary affection to an inevitable force of love that drove them together repeatedly, even if they tried to resist it. Stiles was made to fit next to Derek’s body and his scent to Derek was “home”. When he left, it had hurt them both but it had happened during a natural part of transition. Stiles was leaving for college, Derek was leaving to see if he could find a cure for his curse. Derek hadn’t found a cure and he’d never felt safe in anyone else’s arms.

“Hey” Stiles soft voice called out as he raised his torso partially off Derek’s and pulled himself up an inch or two. His face was hovering above Derek’s and he licked his lips slowly as he let his gaze wander over Derek’s features. Derek could smell the fresh wave of desire roll off of Stiles’ skin and seem into his. Stiles lowered his head and gently kissed the corner of his mouth, moving his lips softly, and letting them wander around his lips before settling over them. Derek breathed in deeply, his eyes shutting briefly as he let Stiles’ smell fill him and fit itself into his cells. When he opened his eyes, he knew they were flashing blue. Stiles leaned down and took Derek’s bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling the flesh in between his lips and sucking, before pressing forward into a kiss. The spark of pain when Stiles fingers found his nipple and pinched and tugged pointedly promised to make their kisses turn filthy fast and Derek felt his flagged erection begin to fill back with blood as Stiles rolled his hips gently in time with their kisses. The tempo was slower, but the rocking rhythm of their bodies and the languid slide of their mouths ran deeper through each of their bodies.

“Please tell me you didn’t pack the lube in the bottom of your bag.” Stiles gasped out as he broke away and their erections slid next to each other, dragging roughly with the rocking motion Stiles didn’t seem to be able to stop his hips from making. Instead of answering, Derek grabbed Stiles’ hips and ground them down harder against him, loving the edge of pain that came from it and he surged up to kiss Stiles, his tongue sweeping in and stealing the taste of Stiles from every corner of his mouth. Stiles groaned, fingers digging into Derek’s flesh at his insistent hip. They rolled over and Derek covered Stiles body with his own, loving the feeling of power and protection he felt like he could afford Stiles in this position. His chased that feeling of possession by opening his legs and letting his thighs press against the sides of Stiles hips as his arms caged Stiles head. The air between them was humid with their sweat and musk and it made Derek thrust down sharply when it filled his nose and mouth. He looked down between them where their erections pressed together and he groaned, lifting his head to continue kissing Stiles. Stiles hands clutched loosely at his body, his fingers tickling the hairs along his crack. He gently brushed the pad of one of his fingers against Derek’s asshole and Derek felt a jolt of need rocket form his groin to the four corners of his body. Derek needed to feel Stiles pushing inside of him. He felt the want for his body to stretch and accommodate keenly and with his desire unsated from earlier, the pleasure of arousal was beginning to slide into ache.

“Scoot up the bed, I’ll get the lube” Derek whispered into Stiles skin before wrenching himself off the bed and staggering towards his bag. He heard Stiles moving as he began to rummage through the side pockets of his bag, unsure of exactly where he stored the lube.

“Damn, this is a good show I’m watching.” Stiles teased from near the head of the bed as Derek bent over with his back to him. Derek threw a quick grin and wink over his shoulder before finally locating the lube at the bottom of the third pocket he’d rifled through. He held up the bottle and Stiles cheered, making grabby hands at the lube. Derek tossed it to him and turned, zipping up his bag again. When he turned back to Stiles, he saw that Stiles had put the lube on the comforter next to him and was now making grabby hands at him. It made Derek smile at his enthusiasm and he crawled back onto the bed towards Stiles at the far end from him. When he arrived, he held still on his hands and knees as Stiles cupped his face in his hands and kissed him thoroughly. This was electricity; he was a victim of lust and energy. Stiles kissed him until Derek felt dizzy.

“I want you to lay on your side while I prep you.” Stiles murmured into his skin, his hands smoothing over his back, caressing his glutes and squeezing lightly as they passed briefly down the backs of his thighs. Derek closed his eyes and memorizing the worshipful feeling of Stiles on his skin. The warmth of Stiles’ hands spreading over his skin like a balm for his soul and he felt a sigh of contentment escape him as Stiles pulled him down next to him, pressing his chest to Derek’s back and kissing the tops of his shoulders.

“I can’t wait to see you cumming on me, Der.” Stiles whispered, effectively killing Derek’s contentment and replacing it with a wave of lust, a soft groan erupting from Derek’s chest as Stiles hand slid between them and he pressed a still dry finger teasingly against his hole. He needed Stiles inside him yesterday and had a sneaking suspicion he’d need him more after. Derek rocked back and pressed himself a little harder against Stiles finger, steadying himself by grabbing Stiles hip, even as he pressed his bent leg towards his chest to allow Stiles better access to his entrance. Stiles pulled back and the cold air that rushed to fill the space where he’d been made Derek’s flesh goose pimple and he shut his eyes against the sensation.

Stiles hands on him felt like heaven. He never stopped touching Derek. Even when Derek heard the tell-tale click of the lube cap, Stiles just leaned forward to keep his hip pressed against the back of Derek’s leg so he knew where he was. It was probably thoughtless to Stiles, but to Derek it was comforting that Stiles body was silently telling him that he wouldn’t leave him. He smoothed one of his hands where Stiles hip was against him and he moaned as Stiles pushed his hips, letting his cock slide into the open space between Derek’s ass cheeks. He caught Stiles answering grin as he pressed his slicked fingers between them and rubbed teasingly over Derek’s hole, warming the lube and spreading it. The little shit was preening! Derek’s answering grin was hidden in his forearms as he lowered his chest to more fully present himself to Stiles. Stiles hummed appreciatively and Derek once again felt Stiles strong, square hands smoothing over his skin. They clutched each cheek of his ass and spread, the thumbs tugging at the edges of his rim. He felt himself already trying to rock into the touch, moaning when he felt the tips of Stiles thumbs meet over his hole.

“Fuck, Stiles…. Please, please, please…” he begged, feeling his body echo his thoughts by pushing against those thumbs to help them press into him. He wanted to be filled so badly. He needed Stiles inside of him.
“Hey, hey now” Stiles chided through his grin. His thumbs were making slow, deliberate slides around his rim, pulling tortuously and driving Derek mad. “I’m going to take care of you, Der. I just need to go slow. I doubt you spent your morning languorously stretching yourself in anticipation for tonight.” Derek smirked and barked out a laugh.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘languorously’ in the middle of sex. I must not be turning you on as much as I thought.” Derek sneaked a peak over his shoulder, grin still in place. Stiles deadpanned him, staring at him with almost brutal intensity and stone faced. Derek’s smile started to falter, wondering if he’d said too much. Then Stiles shifted forward, letting the tip of his swollen dick press against Derek’s unstretched hole. Derek shuttered and let out of a cry of want and surprise. He pressed back against it, feeling his rim clench and release like it could already take the thick length without any further prep. He felt Stiles hips rock forward, letting the head catch on his rim and smear precum over it. Carefully he leaned forward, grabbing Derek’s hips and stilling them as he pressed his torso to Derek’s back and looked in him the eye over his shoulder. Stiles’ cock head was pressing so hard against Derek’s rim that it felt like an incredible pressure, the head too large to ever push past his unrelaxed sphincter muscles and into the hot, aching clutch of him. Derek whined, wanting to move and keep thrusting back until his muscles gave up and let Stiles slide through.

“Derek, I’m going to open you up and then I’m going to fuck you. First. Things. First. Because when I fuck you…” He’d bent down and gritted the words into Derek’s skin, his teeth skating over his deltoids and his tone practically violent in its’ control.

He momentarily trailed off, pressing his hips forward in firm thrusts that caused him to catch Derek’s rim and then slide smoothly away and up along his crack. The feeling made Derek practically claw through the sheets in want, despite the knowledge that if Stiles really thrust into him, it would tear him and he wouldn’t heal immediately. It would just be pain and neither one of them got off on only pain, but the feeling of Stiles behind him thrusting, however abortively, had Derek’s dick dripping onto the bed beneath it. Stiles worked his hand under them and grasped Derek’s throbbing heat, using the copious precum to slick his tight grip up and down the shaft, pulling tight, winning ragged breaths from Derek as he matched the rhythm he used from behind.

“…when I fuck you, I want you to feel so empty when I’m gone that you’ll come back to me.”

It was a close thing. Stiles’ admission coupled with his hands and body sliding behind Derek’s almost pushed him over the edge. He gritted his teeth and slapped Stiles hand away just in time, his breath coming out hard and fast through his nose. Stiles pulled his body back off of Derek’s and he sat back on his heels, letting Derek calm down as he ran his hands in soothing strokes up and down Derek’s calves. When Derek had pulled himself back from the edge, he turned and nodded to Stiles. Stiles grinned again and set to work, getting more lube and coating a finger with it. The cold made Derek jump, but then as he felt Stiles finger probing gently, circling the edge of him and pushing inward. It felt like a tease, but Derek knew he was just testing how responsive he was, how easily he’d be to stretch him. Derek didn’t let anyone in there but himself and Stiles (years ago) so he knew he’d be a tight fit, but it wasn’t so uncommon that he wouldn’t stretch at all. Occasionally he did get to “languorously finger himself open” while working over his cock. Stiles was right though, it hadn’t been this morning because he hadn’t expected to ever see Stiles again, much less turn into a writhing mess under him. The earlier thrusting however, had reminded his muscles that they wanted this and that they should give in a little to get it, so Stiles’ second finger was able to move into him to help continue stretching relatively quickly. When Stiles began to gently scissor his fingers, Derek swore and buried his head in his forearms, belated realizing he was rocking back onto Stiles fingers as they pushed in and glanced off his prostate, pulling them farther into himself each time.

“Fuck, Derek” Stiles groaned.

He bent and turned Derek so he could kiss him, his tongue pushing in and out of Derek’s mouth in tandem with his fingers. He nipped and nibbled down Derek’s shoulder and ribs, and Derek could feel Stiles body rocking with the movement of his fingers. When Stiles added a third finger, he preemptively squeezed more lube onto his fingers and then began twisting his wrist with each thrust of his hand into Derek. Derek felt like he was coming apart and he levered himself onto one arm as he let his other slide down his torso (tweaking his nipple and scratching lightly over his flesh) to his balls, gently squeezing and tugging them before coming back up to lightly encircle his cock and pump slowly.

“Please Stiles, I’m ready.” Derek’s eyes met Stiles’ where he loomed over him. There was a silent conversation and the end resulted in Stiles withdrawing his fingers and tapping Derek’s flank so he would roll onto his back. Derek complied, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his hips as he went. Before he could settle, Stiles mouth found his and feverishly stole kisses from him, licking his teeth and biting his lips as he covered Derek’s body with his own, trapping their cocks between them and rutting upward for what friction they could gain. Feeling reckless and desperate, Derek moved his hand between them and grasped Stiles’ cock. Gripping Stiles bottom lip between his teeth, Derek whined, stroking Stiles’ cock and feeling his stomach start to cramp from want, the ache pulling his knees up closer to his chest.
“Please, Stiles. Please…” Stiles nodded against him, his forehead bumping Derek’s lightly, and he lifted his body, hand holding himself at the base and aligning himself with Derek’s entrance. Derek nudged his body forward, letting his pucker kiss the head of Stiles cock in a needy, almost chaste plea for more.

“God fuckin’… Derek” Stiles bit out, letting his head sink through the tight ring of muscle, his breath escaping through his teeth. He stilled, only his head past the rim, and steadied himself on his arms which he had placed on Derek’s chest. Derek lifted his knees closer to his chest, grabbing the backs and baring down to feel Stiles slide in another inch or so. Stiles stayed still above him, eyes squeezed shut. Derek couldn’t wait for him to acclimate; he needed to the warmth of Stiles thighs pressing into his as Stiles’ dick pierced through him. Derek began to rock his hips gently, working the first few inches over and over, loving the delicious feel of the head slipping almost out and then getting pushed in again. When Stiles began to thrust with him, his eyes fluttered closed at the feel. Stiles would roll his hips, sinking in deeper and then pull back for some shallow, slow thrusts. Push forward deeper and again, back off. When he was able to slide all the way in, his balls resting against Derek’s ass, he paused groaning. He seemed to be in prayer, his head lifted as he took a moment to breathe through the tight feel of Derek around him. Derek watched and waited, urging himself let Stiles calm down. Stiles grabbed one of Derek’s legs almost in slow motion and maneuvered it across his body to bring Derek’s knees together on his side. The new angle made Derek groan and it also brought Stiles into a better position to kiss Derek and worship his body. After a slow, sweet and dirty kiss, Stiles pulled back and began thrusting into Derek again. The thrusts were short, but deep and Stiles rolled his hips into them bringing out mewls and cries from Derek, whose entire focus was on the feeling of Stiles cock sliding across his prostate and massaging the deep ache out of his insides.

They fucked slow and sweet for a time, but dawn was approaching and Derek needed fireworks to send him on his way. Clenching down, he reached to Stiles far hip and guided him as he slid onto his stomach. It felt like a dance the way Stiles just followed his lead, cock slipping out for a nanosecond before being pushed back in, making Derek bite his arm to keep from screaming his pleasure. Stiles was ruining him. As Stiles sunk back in all the way, Derek tilted his hips back and forth, beginning to grind his cock softly into the bedspread. His hand reached back and clutched at Stiles hip when he humped forward, hitting Derek’s prostate more directly.

“Stiles, I need to…” he cut off, crying out when Stiles changed his angle and his cock tapped directly onto his prostate. He sucked in a breath when Stiles did it again, quickening his pace to echo the volume of Derek’s cries.

“Oh fuck, Stiles. Oh fuck, Stiles….” It was a chant and a prayer, Derek feeling like he was being shoved back to the edge where he’d been earlier, but more quickly and with greater force. He felt his hips still as all the pieces of himself pulled towards the center and exploded outward, erasing sound, color, and sight for a few seconds, leaving only ecstasy to reign in their absence. When he could think again, Stiles hips were digging forward, their rhythm becoming disjointed as he reached his own climax. Derek clenched with what little effort remained in his body and Stiles choked off a cry as he tumbled, his cum painting Derek’s insides and making their scents mix. Derek would smell them for days on his skin. He knew it would drive him half-crazy until his body processed that it wasn’t going to stay that way. He couldn’t run back here and into Stiles’ arms just because he wanted his scent coating every cell wall in his body.

Stiles collapsed next to him, breathing heavily into his shoulder. A rumble of thunder could be heard from outside and Derek looked to see the sky lightening with dawn behind storm clouds. On impulse, he got up from the bed and walked out onto the balcony, leaving Stiles to catch his breath on the bed. Around him, rain was softly falling and he felt the cold splashes of it against the heated skin of his chest and thighs, even as he felt Stiles spunk dripping from his slowly tightening asshole. He felt like steam should be wafting up from his skin at the temperature difference between the rain and himself and he leaned against the cold, stone edge of balcony, looking out into the quiet, wet streets below letting the rain cleanse him. He heard Stiles follow him outside, his hands sliding up Derek’s back as he stood close and rested his cheek against Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek, I know you have to go in a while.” Stiles started, sighing heavily and moving them both so they could face each other. He kept his hands on Derek’s waist, thumbs petting the deep V-cut of his muscles absently as he spoke.

“I know it. And I want you to know that I meant it when I said I understand. I do understand. But, please… Please, don’t be a stranger. If I call, answer. If I text, hit me back. I can’t come with you or leave forever, but I can take breaks. It’s selfish to want it, but just let me come to where ever you are.”

The pleading in his voice made Derek’s calm shatter. He was about to make excuses and his brain began to logic out all the ways this was a romantic fool’s notion and how it would always chain him to this place. He couldn’t always have Stiles coming to him. He wouldn’t come enough, but he would show up just often enough for Derek to never let go of him. He opened his mouth to reply, the rejection hanging on the tip when Stiles rushed forward and covered Derek’s mouth with his, effectively stopping the words from spilling out. When he pulled back, he was talking before he was far enough for Derek’s eyes to be even able to focus on his face.

“I will visit! I will visit as often as I can. I need you in my life, Derek. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to be in it. I know there’s no such thing as soul mates or true mates or anything, but when you came back into town this last time I felt like I could finally draw breath again. I felt like I had to spill all my sins at your feet and let you judge or love me by them. And now I feel like if you leave, I’m going to have to climb my way back out of a pit again. Please, Derek, let’s at least give it a shot. I’m not asking you to be beholden to me over all others, but be the silence to my chaos. Be the quiet to my noise, the stillness to my movement. Be the thing that centers me again. My anchor. Please, Derek, please, just—“

Derek shut off his pleading with his mouth on Stiles’ this time. They kissed like they were starving, drowning, burning, dying together. It was frenzied at first and then died down to chaste and soft as they made silent promises their souls pledged to keep even when their heads tried to convince them of otherwise.