Derek gapped, his jaw dropping involuntarily and a drawn out whimper was freed from his bruised lips. He was trembling slightly, his hands flexing in the fabric of the sheets on the bed beneath him. His legs were drawn up tightly to his chest, toes curling, muscles straining. He rocked his hips down pathetically, wanting more, desperate for it.
Stiles watched Derek through darkened eyes, his vision sharp where Derek’s was blurred. He couldn’t help but feel powerful, strong, now that he had managed to reduce Derek, the alpha, to his shaking wreck; to a place where he was no long in control. Stiles smirked when Derek’s eyes flashed between red and hazel in quick succession. And all it took was one hand.
Teasingly, Stiles twisted his fist inside Derek, watching the stretch of his red rim, wet, as it clenched around him. Derek whined and tried to push down harder, to get Stiles in deeper. Stiles used his free hand to run soothing across Derek’s thighs, the dusting of dark hair standing up on end, as if trying to reach for the contact.
He made soothing noises. “That’s it Derek. It’s okay. You’re good – fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped out, not entirely believing that was his voice, “I can’t even – you’re just taking it. All of it. You’re so stretched.” He dipped his head to lick along the sore muscle, and Derek let out a sob, broken and pleading that only made Stiles’ break out into a grin. He licked it once more pointedly, before pulling away, rolling his knuckles and pressing firmly against the walls of his ass.
“Fuck, Stiles…” Derek cried out, his usual stoic attitude completely lost. He was too strung out, too wired to even think that this was a bad idea, to think about how vulnerable he was. All he knew was the wonderfulness of the stretch, the pain and pleasure – it was like nothing he had ever felt before - and the look on Stiles’ face that was stupidly beautiful, his pupils dilated and cheeks flushed and a determined look on his face.
Stiles shushed him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he assured. He waited a moment, one long tense moment that had Derek wriggling and muttering complains at the lack of movement, before he, pointedly, thrust his fist forward – and Derek shouted out, back bowing off the bed at the unexpected action.
Stiles didn’t stop, his gaze was hunger as he took in every moment, loving the way Derek shook even more when Stiles pushed forward and how his cock twitched and leaked heavily onto his stomach on the withdraw. Fuck, it looked so good. Stiles wrapped his hand around his bare cock and rutted against the seal furiously. He stopped himself quickly, when he got too close. He wouldn’t come yet. No. Not until Derek had fallen to pieces around him.
He reluctantly moved his hand away from his cock and placed the hand firmly onto Derek’s thigh. Stiles then leant forward to lick roughly at the head of Derek’s cock, moaning at the tangy taste that seemed to explode across his already heightened senses. He cleaned Derek’s stomach greedily, loving the feeling of the muscles tensing beneath his tongue, and moved to suck pleasantly at Derek’s cock head. He looked up from his position and pointedly pushed firmly against Derek’s prostate.
Stiles wanted Derek to cum, wanted to taste him, and he wasn’t disappointed. Derek came with a sob, voice hoarse, his body thoroughly ruined with shakes and red with pleasure and heat. Derek had never come so hard in his life. His vision went white, his ears rung and…he couldn’t even describe it. He just knew that it was the best thing he’d ever experienced. And it wasn’t because of the stretch or the fact he was finally at a point where he didn’t need to think, didn’t need to worry. No, it was because it was Stiles. His Stiles – brilliant and smart and someone he trusted to take care of him, to be in this vulnerable state around. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, and Derek watched through lidded eyes, far too sated to actually move, as Stiles jerked himself off furiously and came across Derek’s stomach. The man let out a low hum at the first hit of the warm cum and then seemed to bask in it. If he could move his hands, Stiles had no doubt he would rub it into his skin.
Stiles dropped onto the bed with a slight tremble to his hand and pressed himself firmly against Derek’s chest, arms draping over Derek’s shoulders and one hand, the one still wet with lube, reached up to run through Derek’s sweat soaked hair. Stiles dropped a kiss to the man’s swollen lips.
“Who said you wouldn’t like fisting?” Stiles joked out hoarsely, his grin full of satisfaction.
Derek stopped the smug expression that was beginning to form of his tired face by rearing up and stealing a kiss.