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The bar had been dark, smoky and hot, viciously so. Stiles had been that uninhibited drunk that meant he was tipsy, and willing to throw himself all over the place as he danced with Erica, but not stupid. He’d noticed the guy, noticing him. He’d smirked across the dance floor at him, bitten his lip until it was raw and red and demanding the guy’s attention, draped his arms over the guy’s shoulders when he’d slunk out onto the floor finally, and pulled Stiles up against him. 

They hadn’t so much danced as ground into one another until Stiles had needed to pause for breath. There’d been big, hot hands tugging up his shirt, clutching at his bare hips, pressing into him with an intensity Stiles is sure will have left bruises. The guy had been rubbing his cheek along Stiles’, making him shiver and arch into him, beard burn be damned it had felt too good to make him stop. 

He’d pulled back, and the guy’s eyes had gone wide, almost panicked, before Stiles had mimed he needed a drink, tugged on his hand and led him through the crowd. 

He twists back to lean against the bar, grins when the guy falls into him, their bodies melting into one another. 

“What are you drinking?”

“Water,” the guy shrugs, “Big day tomorrow.”

“Aw, me too!”

“So, you’re out drinking?”

“Is that judgement I detect?”

“No,” the guy smirks, drifts forward until his mouth is almost brushing with Stiles’, “I’m happy to be a distraction.”

Stiles tips his chin back to look him in the eye— he has beautiful eyes, a sea green that shines through even in the dingy club lights— arches an eyebrow. “That what you wanna be?”

“Mhm,” the guy ducks and begins mouthing at Stiles’ neck, and Stiles shivers, clutches the front of his shirt tightly. He can see Erica making faces at him from the dance floor, and he scrunches up his nose at her, tugs on the guy’s hair just to look at him again. 

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth. Stiles hums appreciatively and parts his lips, lets Derek lick inside and push him up against the bar harder. He tangles his hands in Derek’s hair, runs them down his back, grips his arms, anywhere he can touch as Derek’s kisses grow more demanding, more bruising and intense. He gasps into Stiles’ mouth when Stiles grabs his ass, jerks against him. 

Stiles smiles, and Derek kisses the corner of his mouth, “I was gonna say do you wanna get that drink, but now I’m thinking I wanna ask you home.”

Derek lifts his eyebrows, “Presumptuous.”

Stiles shrugs, “You only live once, and—” his eyes falls to Derek’s mouth, “That was a good kiss.”

Derek smirks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, what, it wasn’t for you?” Stiles begins to pull away, hoping Erica hasn’t abandoned him entirely.

But, Derek stops him, kisses him again, long and wet and delicious. When he pulls away Stiles feels breathless, wants

“It’s good,” Derek breathes out, finds his hand and begins to tug him towards the exit. 

Stiles waves to Erica from across the club, and Erica catcalls. Derek must hear her, because his ears go a delightful pink, and Stiles laughs, throws an arm around Derek’s shoulders. Derek stops, half pushes him back up against the wall of the club, and then they’re kissing again. It’s more frantic than before, dirtier, and more desperate. Stiles can feel himself getting hard, one of Derek’s thighs pressing up against his groin. He moans, and Derek pulls back, bites at his bottom lip. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, “I want to…” He pushes his thigh up harder, and Stiles grinds down against it shamelessly. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Yeah, me too.”

*

“I don’t normally do this,” Derek manages between biting kisses in Stiles’ hallway. 

Stiles laughs, kicks off his shoes, “Everyone says that, man. I don’t care, I don’t judge.”

“No,” Derek insists, “I mean, it was you. Your fucking mouth,” he kisses said mouth, “And, your god damn hips,” he yanks Stiles’ shirt up, drops to his knees to mouth at one of Stiles’ hipbones. “I wanted you, and I don’t normally—”

Stiles tries to laugh again, but it comes out a little breathless as Derek begins trailing his hands up Stiles’ sides, standing and pulling Stiles’ shirt off with him. 

“Oh, fuck, well, I’m glad,” he cups Derek’s face, kisses him again, “Glad you made an exception.”

Derek grins, leans in and begins sucking a mean hickey to the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles knows there’s something he’s doing tomorrow, something that means he probably shouldn’t be letting it happen, but Jesus, Derek’s mouth. 

“God, your mouth,” he moans. 

Your mouth,” Derek counters. 

“Okay, mutual appreciation going on,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, slides along the wall until Derek starts to follow, “Shall we see what else we have in common?”

Derek snorts, but allows himself to be tugged along. Stiles trips over something in the dark, and Derek catches him, laughs against his neck. 

“Careful, you might want to be in one piece for at least the next hour.”

“Oh,” Stiles shivers, “Planning on something big?”

“I want to fucking wreck you,” Derek murmurs in his ear. 

Stiles kicks whatever it was he tripped over out of the way, shoves open his bedroom door. 

Derek stops in the entrance, frowns at the wall, and Stiles blinks at it. 

"Oh, that’s my— one of my best friend’s is an artist, and she—” he waves at the mural on the wall, “She knows I miss home.”

“You live somewhere out of a fairy tale?”

Stiles laughs, runs his fingers over the green trees Allison had detailed carefully onto his wall. 

“Big ass forest nearby. Being in the city…”

Derek nods as if he understands, “My family live somewhere like that, too.”

“Ahh, cool,” Stiles nods, the frantic mood from earlier somewhat gone as they blink across at one another. “You got a big family?”

“Yeah,” Derek shrugs, “Lots of sisters.”

“Wow, I can sort of relate, I mean, I’m an only child, but I have lots of girlfriends, I mean, not girlfriends. Or, else I wouldn’t have invited you home with me, I’m not the sort that cheats.” Stiles begins to ramble when Derek continues to stand there, looking at him, “And, hey, surprise, I am not the sort of person that does this much, either, or I would have done something super sexy and riveting by now to get you to come over here.”

Derek arches an eyebrow, points at himself, down at his feet, and then at Stiles.

Stiles grins, bites his bottom lip at how cute the gesture was and nods. Derek saunters towards him, peeling off his jacket as he does, and Stiles rests his hands on his shoulders, revels in how warm and firm he is. 

“You’re really… hmmm… built?”

Derek laughs, “Need to be for work.”

“Oh,” Stiles rolls his eyes, trying not to squeak as Derek’s hands start stroking across his stomach and waist, “Me too, but I sort of… Don’t really…. I mean, I’m no way near—” Derek whips his shirt off, and makes a pleased noise, ducks to kiss his collarbone.

Stiles forgets to be self conscious altogether. 

*

“I can’t believe you’ve only been in New York a month,” Stiles groans as Derek’s kissing up his chest, hands tangling with Stiles’ against the head board. 

Derek laughs, sucks one of Stiles’ nipples into his mouth, “Are you calling me socially inept?”

“No, I’m saying it took me at least four months to get laid out here, like,” Stiles lets go of his hands to hold his head in place, moans when Derek scrapes his teeth down. “Well done,” he manages finally. 

“I don’t believe you,” Derek pulls away, straddles him comfortably and Stiles licks his lips at the obvious bulge in Derek’s pants. He wants that in every way he can get it. “Four months?”

“Hey,” Stiles snaps his gaze up to Derek’s, sees him smirking in amusement. Stiles pretends he’s the sort of person that can get away with staring so obviously, and that it doesn’t make him look creepy or desperate at all. “I just needed a little while to adjust. How have we gone from me complimenting you, to you mocking me? That doesn’t seem fair?”

Derek lifts both his eyebrows, begins sliding down Stiles’ legs, “I was giving you a compliment,” he hooks his fingers in Stiles’ jeans, tugs them away, “It was an expression of disbelief.”

“Oh,” Stiles lifts his hips up, enjoys how sexy Derek looks smoothly removing his pants and tossing them over his shoulder. “I see.”

Derek looks up at him, mouth curved in amusement, and then leans up and kisses him slowly, sweetly. It’s far too much for the quick sort of seedy, secret hook ups Stiles normally has, there’s too much behind it. He can’t handle it, and so instead he pushes at Derek’s shoulder until he rolls, presses into him. 

“I want to ride you,” he says honestly. 

Derek groans, and then he’s kissing Stiles harder, faster, hints of teeth and the good kind of filthy pressure Stiles has been craving ever since he set eyes on him. This, this is what he needs. 

*

Derek gets him off with his hand first, open mouthed kisses along his shoulder and dirty words in his ear. Stiles is helpless to do more than clutch at him desperately and rut into him. 

The prep is slow, too much eye contact, tender careful kisses that threaten to break Stiles. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But, every time he tries to get Derek to speed up, the more he bites at Derek’s mouth, the slower Derek goes. He grins into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles whines. 

“You’re terrible at this one night stand thing.”

Derek huffs a laugh, pushes three of his long, thick fingers in and Stiles cries out. 

“Maybe I don’t want this to be a one night stand.”

“Maybe you should fuck me and then we’ll see,” Stiles counters. “We could have no chemistry at all.”

Derek bites at his jaw, and then licks at the mark, “I don’t think that’s been a problem so far.”

“You’re awfully sure.”

“I just know what I like,” Derek pushes up to look him in the eye and Stiles swallows, nods. 

“You can— I want you to—”

Derek nods, hands grasping Stiles’ ass as he rolls them over, kissing him fervently. 

“Oh,” Stiles groans as he sits up, Derek’s cock pressing up against his ass. “So, you want it like this.”

You wanted it like this.”

“Yeah,” Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s dick, and Derek’s eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open. “Yeah, I wanna see that,” he murmurs, half to himself. Derek’s eyes slit open, pupils blown, and Stiles exhales sharply. “God, Derek, just—”

Derek nods, holding his gaze as he lines himself up, presses in. Stiles tips his head back on a gasp at how good it feels, the burn, the stretch, the feel of Derek inside of him. Derek’s panting, muttering his name and curse words as he bottoms out, and then they’re joined together, breathing harshly in the darkness. 

Stiles rocks forward, and Derek catches his hips, pushes up against him. 

“Oh god,” Stiles moans, “Derek.”

“Yeah,” Derek cants his hips up, and it’s like nothing Stiles has felt before.

Everything is magnified, the heat of the room, Derek’s skin against his, gaze locked with his own.

Stiles sets a quick pace, and Derek counters by taking his hands, twining their fingers together. Stiles ducks to kiss him, crying out at the change of angle, at the burst of pleasure, and Derek cups his face as they kiss, holds on to him. 

*

Stiles’ heart is thundering. If Derek weren’t half asleep against his chest, grounding him, he thinks he might float out through the window. 

The sweat is still cooling on their skin, and Stiles still feels tingly all over from the earth fucking shattering orgasm he’s just had. 

“God, that was…”

“Yeah,” Derek murmurs, rests a hand over his ribs, dragging his fingers along them teasingly. 

Stiles runs his own fingers along Derek’s back, hums when he spots the dark spiral tattoo up high. 

“That hurt?”

Derek nods, hair tickling Stiles’ skin, “My whole family has them, somewhere,” he cracks a yawn, “My sister pretended she was gonna get hers on her butt, and my mom went crazy.”

Stiles laughs, “I think my dad would go crazy if I even hinted at getting a tattoo in the first place.”

Derek sits up a little, and his eyes are suddenly wary, “How old are you?”

Stiles bursts into laughter, presses a hand to his cheek, “It would be a bit late to ask, but don’t worry, I’m twenty five, dude.”

“Hmm,” Derek almost smirks, thumbs at Stiles’ bottom lip, “Good thing, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Derek leans over him, pushes his hands up into the pillows to find Stiles’ free one, hold him steady, “Wouldn’t be able to ask someone under-age on a date.”

“Aww,” Stiles tangles their legs together under the sheets, “Little old me?”

“Nothing little about you,” Derek smirks. 

“Nice, I appreciate the compliment.”

“I’m glad you’ve learnt how to take them in the last hour.”

“You were pretty…” Stiles flushes at the memory of Derek’s praise, littering their sex, “Complimentary.”

“So,” Derek kisses the tip of his nose, his cheek, “Date?”

“Yeah,” Stiles squirms happily, catches sight of the clock. “Oh, fuck, roll over.”

Derek arches an eyebrow, “I don’t think I have the libido for that— not that I’m against you fucking me in the very near future.”

“No, I haven’t showered and it’s nearly six.”

“Fuck,” Derek hisses, “I have an appointment at seven.”

“Me too, me too,” Stiles grabs his hand, “If we shower together it will save time.”

Derek snorts, “Unlikely.”

“Oh, shut up and get in the bathroom or I won’t find the extra time to blow you.”

Derek half runs into Stiles’ en suite.

*

“Okay,” Stiles straightens his tie as they hit the side walk, “So, call me?”

Derek nods, hailing a cab before turning into Stiles and kisses him soundly. 

“Mmm,” Stiles clutches his elbows, melts into it. Derek presses their foreheads together briefly, grins, and Stiles can’t help but smile back. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Worth it,” Derek says shortly, before yanking open his cab door and sliding inside. 

Stiles watches him go a little wistfully, wondering if Derek will actually keep to his word and call. It doesn’t happen much, especially with someone as beautiful and… Derek-y. They’re pretty rare to discover. 

He sits on the subway in a little bit of a daze, still smiling when he walks up the steps to the precinct. 

Boyd arches an eyebrow at his slight limp, “I don’t want to know,” he says as Stiles opens his mouth. 

“It was a squash incident,” Stiles huffs defiantly. 

“Uh huh,” Boyd hands him some papers, nods at the meeting room, “Ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles swings back the door, and the room cheers, “Settle down,” he says with a smirk. Scott wolf whistles from the front desk. “Hey, watch it, McCall.”

“What are you gonna do, dude?” Scott pretends to throw his legs up on the desk, and Stiles grins happily. 

“Careful,” Erica leans forward and flicks Scott’s cap, “You don’t wanna upset the new boss.”

“I’ve heard he’s a dick,” Stiles murmurs, glancing over his papers before clearing his throat and looking up, “Alright, today’s rounds are—”

He trails of when he sees the door has opened again while he was reading his notes, and Boyd and Derek are in the threshold. 

“Derek?”

“Dick, apparently,” Derek says drily. 

“You two know each other?” Scott asks just as Erica starts pointing between Stiles and Derek. 

“They do!”

“No, we don’t” Stiles says quickly. 

“We do,” Derek confirms. 

Boyd looks from Stiles’ quite obvious array of hickies to his excited wife, still pointing at them. “I’m guessing Captain Hale here is the squash incident, and I still don’t wanna hear about it.”

Erica pouts, “But, last night—”

“Last night?” Scott whirls around to look at her, and then back to gawp at Stiles, “You went out and hooked up the night before our new Captain arrived?”

“In my defence,” Stiles cries, “He did, too!”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can I introduce myself, Sergeant, or shall I hope my new team can use their epic detective skills to figure me out?”

“Can’t dance for shit, looks good in green, puts out before the first date,” Erica smirks as she leans back in her chair, “I know you pretty well already, Captain.”

Derek glares at Stiles, and he laughs sheepishly, “Ah, my team are—”

“A word outside, Sergeant Stilinski?”

“Right,” Stiles follows him outside glumly, wishing that of all the people he could have had as his new boss, it could have not been Derek. The best sex Stiles has possibly had, ever.

“Your team are rude, and need an attitude adjustment,” Derek says curtly. 

“Hey,” Stiles snaps his head up, “I disagree, they’re a little forthright and maybe Erica’s a little inappropriate, but they’re all awesome at their jobs and maybe you should give them a chance!”

"Comments about her commanding officer’s sex life are not a little inappropriate, they are down right unacceptable.”

“She saw us, Derek, what was she supposed to do?”

“Show a little tact?”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry we’re not all built amazing and perfect like you.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Derek looks at his watch dismissively, “We can discuss ways I might be able to work with them individually, later at dinner.”

"I don’t— hey, what?”

“Later,” Derek turns towards his new office, glances once over his shoulder at Stiles, “Our date?”

“We’re still doing that? Really? When my team is,” Stiles waves through the glass to where Scott and Erica are spinning each other in their chairs, “You know.”

Derek smirks a little, “Consider it incentive to encourage them to improve on their tact. Every time Erica says something she shouldn’t, you don’t get laid.”

“That is extremely unfair! I’ll never get laid again.”

"No,” Derek gives him a long once over, grins widely, “You will.”

“You’re terrible at one night stands!” Stiles pulls at his collar nervously as he watches Derek’s ass disappear, “Terrible!”

“I told you I didn’t do them often,” Derek calls over his shoulder, “See you at eight, Sergeant.”

Stiles rubs at one of his hickies, trying to ignore the blooming excitement in his chest. Derek wants to see him again. Derek is his boss. Stiles can have secret office sex. Erica presses her mouth up against the glass, and Stiles pretends to hit said glass.

No one can ruin his high today. 

“Here,” Boyd comes past with an ice pack, “The new captain sent me with this, said he’s sorry to hear about your squash injury.”

Stiles scowls at his already retreating back, glances up to where Derek’s smirking at him through the office glass. Oh, ha ha.

Fucking dreamboat.