“Is there somewhere you can meet me?”
The texts or calls would always start out like this and Stiles knew it. He knew what he would be getting himself into when Derek texted him that. It was almost 11 PM on a Saturday and his dad was on a late shift. He could just ignore the text, keep playing League of Legends and crash in an hour or so. He could, but he knew he wouldn’t.
So he showered, stretched himself open thinking about what he was about to do. He didn’t respond to Derek until he was toweling off.
“Same room?” he replied hastily, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie.
The first time Derek had texted him after their summer fling, he’d asked Stiles to meet him at a hotel on the edge of town. Ever since, they always met at the same hotel in the same room.
His phone dinged loudly when Derek responded, “I’ll leave in five.”
Stiles huffed a laugh; obviously they weren’t wasting any time tonight. He grabbed his keys and headed out. He tried not to think too much about what was about to happen. He tried not to think about the fact that Derek had a girlfriend or the fact that that girlfriend was his English teacher. He tried not to think of how she always looked at him like she knew, but had no concrete proof; it was like she could read Derek in the marks on his skin or the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.
He pushed those thoughts from his mind, turned up his music and made his way through the empty streets of Beacon Hills to the town limits. The tacky neon sign was familiar to him now, a beacon that called to him in the darkness that meant warmth and hot breath and hands gripping him tight.
He pulled back near their room and parked before heading over. Stiles was sure Derek had rented the room since he was able to leave the spare key with Stiles, “accidentally” leaving it in the pocket of one of his jackets. He slipped into the dark room and turned on the lights.
Stiles always made the most of these moments, these short times he got with Derek because he never knew when Derek was going to come to his senses and stop calling him. Stiles knew he was in too deep, knew he wouldn’t stop saying yes. Some days he hated the both of them for being so weak.
So he got on the bed instead of chastising himself. He shed his clothes, shivering at the cold, and took out the lube he’d brought with him. He wanted Derek to walk in and find him already half debauched, loved the growls he let out when he found Stiles like this. Since he had already started opening himself up in the shower it was easy to press two fingers into himself.
He fucked himself on his fingers, thinking of Derek pushing into him instead. The way Derek said his name like a prayer when they were in this room, the time they’d spent the weekend here and he got to watch Derek sleeping. If walls could talk, Stiles wondered what these walls would say. Would they tell a story of forbidden love and stolen moments or would it be a sob story about a kid who couldn’t let his first love go?
When he heard a car door shut and the jingle of keys his stomach lurched and he moaned a little, knowing Derek could hear him. Once he heard the door open, he pushed a third finger into himself and heard a sharp inhale of breath. When he opened his eyes, hazy and half lidded, he saw Derek taking off his jacket, eyes glowing a vibrant and predatory red.
“Just couldn’t wait for me, could you?” Derek snarled, stripping his shirt over his head. Stiles smirked at him and made a show of bringing his thighs to his chest to present for the alpha.
Derek practically roared and Stiles panted loudly; he loved egging on Derek’s wolf, bringing out instinctual parts of him. He relished in these moments, the moments he got to watch Derek stripping off his clothes roughly with this look in his eyes that made Stiles feel like prey. Stiles often wondered if he was like this with Ms. Blake, this unhinged and raw.
He treated every time like it was the last, gave Derek his best just in case it was all he had to remember him by. He mewled at the sight of Derek watching him, stroking himself as his eyes glowed in the dim hotel room. He spread his fingers just enough to feel a burn and he couldn’t help but arch his back into the feeling. He hated that he loved this so much, he hated that maybe he’d fallen a little bit in love with this feeling.
Stiles didn’t want to think about all the other things he’d fallen in love with, so he pushed those thoughts away like he always did and focused easily on Derek finally knee walking toward him. The feel of Derek’s large, warm hand enclosing around his wrist made Stiles’ fingers stutter and his breath hitch. Slowly, Derek removed Stiles’ fingers from his hole and placed his hands in the pillows, pinning his wrists down.
Derek let his right hand trail down Stiles’ body, knowing he’d keep his hands where Derek had placed them. He tweaked lightly at his already puffy nipples and a small, private smile crept onto his face when Stiles squirmed at the sensation.
It wasn’t surprising that they weren’t talking very much, they hardly ever did. It was the things that went unsaid that meant the most to Stiles, the way Derek would lap at his hole with care or the way he laid soft kisses over his cheeks. Derek could read the trust Stiles put in him in the way he kept his hands wherever Derek placed them, in the way that he held onto those strong, supernatural shoulders when Derek took him apart.
Stiles, too, could see all the pieces of Derek falling into place during their time together. He knew he had Derek’s trust the first time he let Stiles fuck him; he knew that Derek was truly comfortable with him when they stayed a whole weekend in the room and hand fed each other pizza and watched movies and talked about Derek’s family. Stiles could see Derek for who he really was instead of the alpha, douche bag persona he often put forward.
Some days Stiles wished it had stayed that way. That Derek was still just this one dimensional, looming presence he had to deal with instead of this multifaceted, living breathing representation of everything Stiles could ever hope to have.
“Hey?” Derek whispered, the head of his cock paused at Stiles’ entrance, “You with me?”
Stiles felt himself blink back his thoughts, hanging onto the gravelly voice floating through his ears.
“Mhm, yeah, yeah I’m with you.” He whispered, licking at Derek’s lips a little before kissing him soundly.
They sat like that for a moment, Derek hovering above him as they kissed lazily; their tongues dancing together instead of battling like they used to. They moved together so well now, so fluidly that it makes Stiles’ heart hurt.
“Do it,” he murmured through a moan, “please?”
Derek whimpered and Stiles almost moved his hands to grip at his hair. He didn’t know what it was about Derek whimpering, about him sounding so vulnerable and at Stiles’ mercy, but it had the boy wiggling his hips up to grind against the cock still nestled between his cheeks.
Derek kissed him again as he pushed the head of himself against Stiles, passing through the relatively tight ring of muscle easily. They panted and licked into each other’s mouths as Derek nudged into Stiles inch by glorious inch until he was fully seated inside of him. Stiles would never get used to this feeling; not the feeling of being filled but the feeling of being filled by Derek.
He felt fingers tangle with his own and Stiles had to squeeze his eyes shut at the intimacy of the gesture. The gentle squeeze of Derek’s hands as he started to fuck him was too much to bear. All he could do was hold onto him, try not to be as unsteady as he felt, and just enjoy the onslaught of sensations.
The feeling of Derek stretching him wide, the sound of Derek’s moans reverberating off of his lips, and the slow coil of heat in his lower abdomen were all things he could focus on instead of the feelings welling up inside of his heart.
“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek whined, slamming into him and stilling in a way that made Stiles think he was coming, but thankfully he wasn’t. “C’mere,” he ordered, pulling out of Stiles with a slick sound, “I want you to ride me.”
That? That Stiles could do. He loved riding Derek; he always got way too into it because he wanted to ruin him, wanted Derek to remember how Stiles could take him apart in a way no one else could.
Derek rested his back against the cool wall and Stiles hastily crawled into his lap, thighs at either side of his waist. Without thinking too much about it, he grasped Derek’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Without a word, he slowly sunk down onto Derek’s cock, watching as Derek’s eyes dilated even further.
“That’s right, fucking watch me while I wreck you. I want this to be what you see when you close your eyes; when you’re trying to go to sleep at night I want my fucked out face to be the first thing that comes to your mind.”
He could feel Derek’s shaky groan all the way through his fingertips and Stiles bit his lip to keep himself from saying something more, something heavier. Derek swallowed down the words on the tip of his tongue as he surged upward, a desperate kiss planted on his lips. It was like Derek was keeping himself from saying something as well, that maybe he was drowning out his own thoughts too, but Stiles never let himself dare to hope that he was more than second best in Derek’s eyes.
He slammed himself down onto Derek, needing to feel the inkling of pain. He needed this to be rougher, for some reason he couldn’t take this tender, love making shit tonight. Why couldn’t they just treat this like what it was? Why did it always feel like more when it wasn’t?
Stiles practically yanked himself out of their kiss, reaching back to balance himself on Derek’s thighs. He impaled himself on Derek’s cock over and over again, wincing and whimpering at the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Stiles,” Derek murmured, trying to grab at Stiles waist but he swatted Derek away haphazardly.
He needed this reminder; he wanted to feel this in the morning. He didn’t want to feel satisfied and loved and satiated. He wanted to feel sore and used because, after all, that’s what this was. Stiles was mad with it, mad with the need for this to feel less like…
“Stiles!” Derek hissed, holding Stiles still with the strength he hardly ever used, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Stiles let out a bitter laugh and circled his hips in a way that made both of them moan involuntarily.
“That’s what this is, Derek, let’s not try and make it more than that.” He spat out, shocked at how forthcoming he was being but maybe months of these rendezvous had finally worn him down. “It’s you using me and me hurting myself, that’s what we are.”
Derek’s face fell immediately and Stiles regretted being so honest. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Derek, but it was hard keeping all of this in, being the one Derek found physical comfort with but not the one he was proud enough to be with for real.
Then suddenly, a look of determination overtook him and Stiles had a second to blink before Derek had pushed him backwards, hovering over him again with a look of resolve taking over his sharp features. The first roll of his hips was slow and deliberate, the very opposite of Stiles’ mindless bouncing.
Each drive of Derek’s hips had Stiles’ feeling every inch of him, the pleasure replacing the sparks of pain he’d been inflicting upon himself. He found his hands being pushed beside his head again, their fingers intertwined in the moonlight as Derek refused to take his eyes away from Stiles’. They were pressed so tightly together as Derek folded Stiles in half, bodies undulating as one while they gazed at each other. This was the opposite of what Stiles had wanted but everything he needed.
The look on Derek’s face was unguarded and positively terrified, his deep hazel eyes overflowing with emotions Stiles didn’t want to name. Love, fear, trust, devotion, and everything in between sang from Derek’s sockets and Stiles felt his heart crack in two. He knew his expression was just as raw, that every ounce of adoration and anger he was feeling for this foolish man was written all over his freckled face.
Someone whimpered loudly, maybe it was him, but it didn’t really matter because Derek’s hips were pumping faster and driving into his prostate with purpose. Their fingers tightened together and they watched each other’s faces as they came, so close that they were trading breath and silent screams.
Stiles usually loved the feeling of Derek coming inside of him, loved being marked by him from the inside out, but this time it felt different, he felt full yet empty all at the same time. The bittersweet feeling of the moment had him ushering Derek off of him, sitting up to arrange himself properly. He knew he should shower, that, in the morning, he’d be tacky with the come he’d just splattered all over the both of them, but he was too exhausted in every way to even think of bathing.
Derek must have felt the same because he crawled up the bed as well, flicking off the bed side lamp before Stiles could see and hear the flick of a lighter in the darkness. The sickly sweet smell of a joint filled the room and Stiles gladly took the roll of paper and weed when Derek offered it. A deafening silence over took the room as they sat there trading smoke, letting their minds drift higher and higher; Stiles could swear he could hear their hearts beating in sync but he was probably just high.
“Tell me that you don’t care.” Stiles whispered through smoke, readying himself for Derek to leave him there, “Tell me that you don’t feel what I’m feeling and I’ll drop it.”
The silence stretched on and he felt a tear run down his cheek. He passed the j back to Derek and shuffled under the covers. Unfortunately for Stiles, his lover was a werewolf and even the strong, herbal scent couldn't mask the smell his sadness or the salty scent of his tears. In a second, Derek was draped behind him, joint forgotten in the bedside ashtray as he draped a thick arm over Stiles' side so that he could lay a hand in the middle of his chest.
“I can’t.” Derek sighed, resigned and tired in more ways than he would ever tell, “If I told you that I don’t care, that I wasn’t feeling what you’re feeling... I’d be lying.”
Stiles hated himself for the seed of hope Derek’s reply planted in him, but for now, smoke filled nights in a hotel room would just have to be enough.