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Saturday morning, Derek says, “I’m going out. I want you under my desk when I get back.”

Stiles turns his head where it’s mashed up against his pillow to see Derek’s perfect naked ass walking away into the bathroom, and he should be too tired to get hard this fast. And then he puts his head back down and contemplates going back to sleep.

The problem is that Stiles doesn’t know how long Derek’s going to be gone for, which was totally intentional on Derek’s part, so he has to figure out when to go under the desk. And he could try to guess when Derek is coming back and risk not following instructions, and the punishment might be fun, but Stiles really wants to do this, has since he said it to Derek, and Derek told him to and he wants to do what Derek tells him to do.

So he grabs a quick bite to eat and brushes his teeth, then heads with his phone to Derek’s desk, where he takes a seat underneath. And it’s fairly spacious, but not really enough so that he can sit straight up, so he hunches over a bit and starts scrolling through Instagram.

And waits.

And waits, because what is Derek doing, flying to the moon? Though knowing him, he’s probably just at Starbucks or whatever, waiting because he knows it’ll drive Stiles nuts, and it’s kind of ridiculous that that makes him hot, but the idea of Derek choosing what he does based on Stiles, of him making Stiles wait for him because he knows Stiles will wait, it does something for him.

So by the time the door opens, Stiles is ready. But Derek doesn’t come in, and Stiles can hear him opening and closing cabinets, the fridge, a door, and then his legs appear in the doorway, walking closer, and Stiles puts his phone down next to him. He sits down in the chair, pushing it in with his legs spread so they’re bracketing Stiles, boxing him in, and yes.

Stiles reaches for Derek’s crotch, fingers going to the button, and Derek snaps, “What are you doing?”

Stiles hesitates, pulling his hands halfway back. “I—”

“Did I tell you to do anything?”

“No. Well, yes, you told me to go under the desk, but…”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just lets that sit there, and yeah, Stiles gets the point. He can hear Derek’s computer booting up, Derek putting his password in, and he wants to touch, but he can’t.

Finally, and it feels like an eternity later, Derek says, “You’re going to suck me off. You’re not getting out from under there until you get me off, and I’m getting up once I finish this chapter, so if you can’t get me off by then you’re going to have to wait for me to come back. Color?”

Jesus. Stiles goes hard in his sweatpants, just like that, because oh fuck, this is better than what he thought of because now he has a time constraint. “Green.”

And then he reaches for Derek’s jeans again, going up on his knees as best as he can, and Derek says without even a pause in his typing, “No hands.”

Stiles jerks his hands back, sticking them behind his back so he doesn’t remember, and leans forward, licking his lips. Derek’s only half hard at the moment, so Stiles starts by rubbing against the seam in the middle of Derek’s pants, even though it chafes against his cheek a bit, trying to put enough pressure and friction to try to get Derek all the way hard. And Derek is typing through the whole thing, which would be kind of insulting, but Stiles has seen him type through basically everything.

Once Derek’s hard, finally, Stiles starts mouthing at it through the jeans, trying to get the fabric wet, trying to get his saliva to soak through. And then he closes his mouth around the outline of Derek’s dick, alternating between lips and teeth, sliding them up and down the ridge of his cock because he has to use a lot more pressure going through thick fabric.

He loses himself in it, in trying to get Derek off, in the slide of his teeth against the fabric and the smell of Derek’s arousal, in the way that Derek’s breathing hitches and his typing gets more and more erratic as Stiles gets him closer to coming.

It’s hard, though, his lips dry and his cheeks raw and he just wants to pull Derek’s pants down around his ankles and suck him off, but he wants to do what Derek told him to, wants to be good for him, and he wants to get off too because he’s rock hard, but that’s not part of the game, Derek never said that could happen, so he probably won’t get off.

He closes his mouth as well as he can over the head of Derek’s cock through the jean, dragging his teeth across it, and Derek’s breath stutters and his hips jerk, pushing his thigh hard against Stiles’s face and pulling a moan from Stiles’s throat, because oh God. But he doesn’t stop, keeps going, sucking and sliding his teeth, and Derek’s hips are moving now, steadily, little jerks that stutter-stop and push against him, and the front of Derek’s jeans are soaked through, and he stops typing—

And pulls away, so suddenly Stiles almost falls over forward as Derek’s chair slides back and he stands. “Chapter’s done. I’m going to go grab some lunch. I’ll be back. Probably.” And then he turns and walks out of the room, and Stiles sits back on his heels, dragging a hand across his mouth.

Jesus. Jesus Christ, it’s like his brain is half turned off already, without Derek doing anything, without him being tied up, without him doing anything other than trying to give Derek pleasure at Derek’s whim, and he doesn’t want to come up so he just sits there, leaning back against the back part of the inside of the desk and just breathing.

And he’s still hard, and he could just get himself off, but that would be cheating, and he wants to be what Derek wants, wants to be a thing for Derek to use as he wants because then Stiles doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to think about anything.

Though sitting here for god knows how long is not quite his idea of a fun time, because it’s uncomfortable and lonely and—and not quite humiliating, because he wanted this, but it’s like being left alone, and he likes that, but he also—

He doesn’t know what he wants.

So he just closes his eyes and leans back and waits, hand pressed just a little bit against his dick because he’s still so hot he feels like he’s going to go crazy.

“Trying to get yourself off?” Stiles’s eyes pop open because he didn’t hear Derek come in, and he’s right in front of the desk, reaching down to grab Stiles’s chin and pull it up to slide a ring gag into his mouth and hook it behind Stiles’s head. And he’s naked, holy shit, and Stiles wants to reach for Derek’s cock, but he learned his lesson. “You don’t get to get off, not right now. Maybe if you’re good later I’ll let you get off. Though maybe you’ll have to get off without any help, with just me fingering you. But right now, I’m going to be nice and give you another chance to get out from under there. Color?”

Stiles tries to say “green” around the gag, which doesn’t go so well, but Derek seems to get it, because he just leans forward and slides his dick halfway into Stiles’s mouth. He’s off-balance now, leaning forward, mouth held open, and he starts licking, dragging the foreskin back with his tongue and enjoying the sound Derek makes when he does that, the jerk of Derek’s hips into his mouth. Derek tangles his fingers in Stiles’s hair, pulling, and Stiles gasps, moaning around the cock in his mouth.

And then he starts talking around the flesh and the gag, begging because he can’t help it, asking, “Please, god, please fuck me, please, Derek, fuck,” and it’s completely incomprehensible and he doesn’t care because he’s off-balance with Derek as basically the only thing holding him up and he’s drooling all over himself, saliva running down his chin in one long strand, and Derek is fucking into his mouth, and there’s nothing in his brain but this.

When Derek finally comes, it leaks out the side of his mouth because he can’t quite figure out how to swallow right, and as Derek pulls back he falls forward, not really sure where his arms are to brace himself.

Derek’s arms close around his shoulders, keeping him from hitting, and he tugs Stiles out from under the desk, crouching down in front of him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He unfastens the gag from Stiles’s mouth, and ow, that hurts, and Stiles rotates his jaw, hearing it crack. “You okay?”

Stiles nods, wiping his chin off on his shoulder. “‘m ‘kay. Th’nk you.”

“No, thank you.” He drags his thumb across Stiles’s lip, sticking it in his mouth and licking it clean. Which is hot, and Stiles is still hard, but he’s also kind of exhausted and blank in the best sort of way, and he doesn’t know if he cares if he gets off right now. “Let’s go get you some water.”

“Don’ want you t’go.”

Derek pulls him up, and his legs stiffen, not wanting to hold his weight. “We’re going together. Love you, Stiles.”

“Love y’too.” Stiles cuddles up against Derek, who’s basically entirely holding him up at this point. “Did you really write a chapter?”

Derek starts leading him towards the kitchen, laughing. “Yeah. I was almost done with it, though, so I stacked it in my favor.”


“Was it not good for you?”

Stiles tries to push at him, which doesn’t work mostly because Derek’s a werewolf and also holding him up. “Shush. You should lemme read the chapter as a reward.”

Derek laughs again, dropping him down in a chair and heading over to the cabinet to grab a glass. And Stiles wants him to come back, but also he really needs water. “It’s basically incomprehensible, because I spent the whole time focusing on not coming, so I don’t think so. You’re so good to me. You know that, right? You’re such a good boy.”

He hands over a glass of water, and Stiles downs most of it before saying, “It was my fantasy.”

“It was a good fantasy. Want more water?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I wanna cuddle.”

Derek smiles at him. “We can cuddle.” And then he leans down and picks Stiles up entirely in his arms, and Stiles can’t bring himself to complain.