When Stiles got home he was expecting to be alone, and was looking forward to getting out of his sticky clothes, showering and having a leisurely wank. But it seemed that the universe had other plans for him.
Stiles had dumped his school bag by the front door and kicked off his shoes. He was already stripping off his t-shirt as he pushed open his bedroom door. He struggled out of it and was balling it up ready to toss in the hamper, when he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone.
“Derek, what the fuck are you doing here?” Stiles clutched the t-shirt to his groin as Derek’s nostrils flared, humiliatingly aware that covering the wet patch in his pants was completely pointless. But hell, a guy was entitled to some dignity--wasn’t he?
Derek leapt up from his seat at Stiles’ desk and stalked toward him, eyes glowing red and claws out as his face morphed and fangs extended. The low, dangerous growl that rose from his throat made the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck prickle. Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and buried his nose in Stiles’ throat, sniffing him, still growling. Stiles froze, all his instincts telling him that pushing Derek away would be a really bad idea. He dropped his hands to his sides and let the t-shirt fall to the floor. “Derek... what the fuck is going on?”
“Who have you been with?” Derek’s claws were digging into Stiles’ skin, probably drawing blood, yet he seemed oblivious.
Stiles’ mind tumbled in a confused mess of terror and embarrassment. How was it possible that his life sucked this much? His afternoon had already been humiliating enough--what with coming in his pants like a creeper while watching two of his friends getting it on--and now he had to deal with Derek and his damned supernatural senses and intrusive questions. “What? Nobody. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles attempted. But it was weak and he knew it.
“I can smell your come, Stiles.” Derek was staring at him now, red eyes boring into Stiles’, his voice gritted out between teeth that weren’t even close to human. His nostrils flared again. “You stink of sex and sweat and locker rooms.” He leaned close once more and Stiles shivered at the warm breath that washed over his neck as Derek breathed him in. “But I can’t smell anyone else on you.” Derek sounded frustrated. He dropped to his knees and sniffed at Stiles’ groin, batting Stiles’ hands away when he tried to cover himself.
Stiles’ face flushed hot with mortification. “Oh my God, Derek. Boundaries please.” But Stiles was a fine one to talk about boundaries and appropriate behaviour, and honestly, having Derek on his knees with his face in Stiles’ crotch wasn’t all bad. It would just be nice if there were less fangs and a little more consent involved.
It seemed like Stiles only had two options at this point: swallow his pride, or be werewolf chow.
RIP Stiles’ pride then.
Stiles took a deep breath. “Nobody, okay? I wasn’t with anybody. I was just... you know. On my own. As usual.” Stiles Stilinski--Forever Alone. Maybe they could put that on his gravestone when Derek ripped his throat out in a crazed frenzy of whatever-the-fuck this was.
And actually--come to think of it--what the fuck was this?
Derek was looking up at him now, still frowning with confusion and disbelief, but Stiles really wasn’t going to elaborate on how he’d ended up coming home from school with jizz in his pants. “Why is this any of your business anyway? Why do you even care?” Stiles gestured with his hands as he started to get worked up with righteous indignation. “This is such an invasion of privacy. Is this like... what--a pack thing? Because in case you’d forgotten, I’m not in your fucking pack, okay?”
“I know.” Derek was still kneeling. His face was still disturbingly close to Stiles’ junk, but thankfully it had shifted back to human now; just a telltale glow of red remained at the back of his retinas. “It’s not a pack thing.” His gaze slid away from Stiles’ and his head dropped down to look at the floor. And if Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that Derek was blushing. But that wasn’t possible, right?
Slowly, Stiles’ thoughts rearranged themselves, slotting and shifting into places where they’d never been before. Surely he had to be wrong. But now that the idea had occurred to him, he had to ask, because hell--this day couldn’t really get anymore awkward so he might as well just come out with it.
“Derek.” He looked down at the top of Derek’s head as he spoke quietly. “Derek... I know this is probably a ridiculous question, but are you...” He paused and chewed on his lip for a second. “Are you jealous?”
Derek didn’t move. But that low growl rumbled through him again and tingled all the way up Stiles’ spine.
“Oh my God. It’s not a pack thing. It’s a me thing? You have to be fucking kidding. Have you seen me? You could have anyone you wanted Derek, you’d only have to paste a smile on that sour wolf face of yours and they’d come running. I’m nothing special. Why me?”
Derek’s shoulders lifted in a shrug and the growling stopped, then he tilted his head back to meet Stiles’ gaze and Stiles was blown away by the vulnerability in his now clear, hazel eyes. “People can be beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside. You’re good right through.”
Stiles felt an embarrassing prickle at the back of his eyelids, so naturally he fell back on humor as a distraction technique. “I feel like you’re about to propose here, dude.” He grinned down at Derek, still kneeling at his feet. “Have you already asked my dad’s permission?”
“Shut up, Stiles.” But Derek’s attempt at gruffness was ruined by the quirk of his lips and Stiles couldn’t wait any longer. He sank to the floor so that they were level, and reached out to let his palm graze the stubble of Derek’s jaw. He’d always wondered how it would feel under his hand and it turned out that it was amazing. But not nearly as amazing as Derek’s lips when he leaned close enough to press them to Stiles’.
The kiss started sweet and soft, but it turned dirty fast. Derek’s hands were all over Stiles’ torso, skimming warm over his skin and sending tingling pleasure to his groin. Stiles thought it was only fair for Derek to take his shirt off too, but he didn’t want to break the kiss to ask so he made his point by sliding his hands up Derek’s shirt and taking the fabric with him. They separated just long enough for Derek to rip it over his head before their mouths smashed together again. Then Derek was pushing at Stiles, supporting his weight with a firm hand as he lowered him down onto to the floor and pinned him there with the strong cage of his body.
Stiles was hard again, his cock caught uncomfortably in his underwear which felt as though it was glued to his pubes with dried come. He reached down to adjust himself but Derek’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “Oh God,” Stiles gasped as Derek crawled down his body, sucking and biting at his chest and belly as he went. “You’re going to... okay then.”
Derek’s fingers tugged at Stiles’ belt and undid the button and zipper of Stiles’ jeans and then they were dragged down his thighs along with his boxers. “Ouch, careful!” Stiles protested as he lost a few hairs with his underwear. But he quickly forgot about the pain when Derek lowered his head and his tongue lapped wet, warm and filthy over Stiles’ cock.
Stiles tried very hard not to think about the fact that it felt alarmingly like being licked by a dog--not that he’d ever had a dog lick his dick, obviously. But that feeling when a dog really goes to town on your hand until it’s dripping? Yeah, this was pretty similar to that. Stiles’ cock seemed entirely happy with it though. Derek lifted it away from his belly to swirl his tongue around the head, removing all the dried stuff from earlier and catching the fresh pre-come that was leaking out like a faucet by now. When Derek released it, it slapped back onto Stiles’ belly with an audible thud.
Derek moved lower, licking and sucking at Stiles’ balls. He pulled them each into the velvet heat of his mouth in turn and Stiles moaned, hips hitching as Derek’s tongue swirled around them. Damn he was efficient. Stiles was going to be squeaky clean after this. Although, if Derek carried on doing that for too much longer there was every chance that he’d jizz all over himself again and all Derek’s hard work would be for nothing.
“Fuck, Derek... please,” he managed, impressed with his coherency. He twined his fingers into Derek’s hair and pulled, thrusting his hips up impatiently.
Derek’s chuckle was like dark treacle as he swiped the wet heat of his tongue back up Stiles’ cock from root to tip and sucked him down in one swift swallow. Stiles whimpered. Be careful what you wish for, he thought, because now this was all going to be over in approximately thirty seconds. But he couldn’t really bring himself to care as he rocketed giddily toward orgasm with Derek’s lips and tongue coaxing it out of him. “Oh fuck... yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chanted, tugging on Derek’s hair where his fingers were tangled.
Stiles came so hard that stars blazed behind his eyelids, Disney-style, as his whole world was reduced to the hot suck of Derek’s mouth and the party in his dick as it exploded in Derek’s throat. He was dimly aware of the sounds he was making, just enough to be really relieved that his dad was at work because otherwise he’d be running into Stiles’ room with with a gun right about now.
Stiles whimpered as his softening cock slipped from Derek’s lips and through the haze of his receding climax he watched as Derek moved over him, straddling his hips as he worked frantically to get his own cock out of his ridiculously tight jeans. Stiles lifted feeble hands in an attempt to help, but Derek growled with impatience so Stiles just let him get on with it.
“Fuck, Stiles,” he hissed, and those two little words sounded so sexy on his lips that Stiles’ dick twitched valiantly.
Derek pulled his cock out and wrapped a desperate hand around it where it curved up, hard and thick. His hand moved fast, jerking frantically. But Stiles wanted more than just watching. “Derek...” He reached for him, curling his fingers around the back of Derek’s thighs and encouraged him to shuffle forward until he was kneeling over Stiles’ chest.
Stiles craned his neck up, needing to feel Derek in his mouth, needing to taste him. Derek got one hand behind his head, cradling and taking the weight as the slippery head of his cock nudged Stiles’ lips and slid onto his tongue before he drew back and repeated the movement. Derek’s hand was still gripping the base of his dick, carefully stopping himself from pushing in too deep as he fed Stiles his cock in little desperate thrusts. Stiles could taste him, salt and musk filling his mouth and he used his tongue to catch the flavour, moaning as he licked and sucked as best he could.
“Oh God. Fuck.” Derek pulled back as he started to come, the first hot splash hitting Stiles’ lips and tongue. He closed his eyes instinctively and grimaced a little at the bitterness, but he kept his mouth open, catching more messy spurts as Derek moaned out his release. Stiles felt wet warmth on his cheek and forehead too. When it stopped and all he could hear was Derek’s ragged breathing, he closed his mouth and swallowed, rolling the thick saltiness around in his mouth before forcing it down.
Gentle fingers swiped at Stiles’ cheek, tracing through the mess and then Derek was licking him, making him giggle and squirm at the feeling--especially on his eyelids because that was just weird. When Stiles finally dared open his eyes, Derek was propped up over him, staring down with an indecipherable expression on his face, all off-the-scale intensity but not a clue as to how he was actually feeling about what had just happened between them. Then Derek lowered his head, octopussed himself around Stiles, pressed his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck and hummed contentedly. “You smell like me now.” His voice vibrated against Stiles’ pulse and the weight of his body was solid and comforting.
Stiles slipped his arms around Derek and held him there, grinning inanely at his bedroom ceiling until his buzz was marred by the realization that it was actually a little hard to breathe with two hundred pounds of werewolf on top of you.
“Hey,” he murmured in Derek’s ear. “It’s not that I’m not on board with the cuddling--because for the record I totally am--but this would be a lot more comfortable on my bed. Just saying.”
Derek made a grumbly noise, but shifted his weight off Stiles and got to his feet. He tucked his dick back in his pants, then held out a hand to Stiles. Stiles shuffled his jeans back up and put his own junk away before taking Derek’s hand and letting himself be pulled up. Derek led him to the bed and they lay down, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled together.
“So really. How long?” Stiles asked when they were settled comfortably. “How long have you... you know. Wanted me?” He felt silly saying it. But the evidence was still starring his eyelashes and coating the back of his throat.
There was a long pause and Stiles counted the beats of Derek’s heart while he waited for him to answer.
Derek’s voice was a deep bass rumble under Stiles’ ear. “Ever since I first smelled you.”
Stiles snorted with laughter. “Seriously? Love at first smell? Dude, I had no idea you were so romantic.”
Derek pulled Stiles closer and muttered sleepily, “werewolf, remember?”
Stiles let himself be nuzzled. “How could I forget?” He smiled.