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Hadn't Left Him Since

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It was a Sunday afternoon, and under different circumstances, Derek might have felt guilty for wasting the majority of the day by staying in bed. After all, he had stuff to do. There was grass to mow, cars to wash, and clothes to iron. But Stiles had the day off today. It so rarely fell on a Sunday. Oh well, Derek could always put off the chores until next weekend, when Stiles would invariably be on patrol again.

This was Derek’s life now. He shook his head as he thought back to the way things were five years ago. The last time something evil had wreaked havoc on the small Northern Californian town of Beacon Hills and, of course, threatened the fledgling-at-the-time Hale pack. Derek furrowed his brow as he tried to remember what the threat had been again…

"Ugh, why is your ‘I’m concentrating’ face so freaking adorable?" Stiles’ voice pulled Derek out of his daydream with a snap. His mate had a tendency to do that to him. It was a problem. Well, at least to Derek. But he really didn’t have a say in it.

"No idea." Really, the alpha had no idea why Stiles liked half the things he did. But that didn’t keep him from trying to make sure he did them all the time for when Stiles was around. “I was trying to remember the last time we had to deal with something threatening the pack."

Stiles chuckled. The human was lying in bed next to Derek, supporting himself on his side with one hand propped lazily under his head. His fingers were tracing idle circles onto Derek’s abdomen. “You really have a shit memory. Remember? It was vampires. I made Twilight jokes for six months. You threatened to kill me four times."

"Oh, right. That." Derek remembered now, it all came screaming back to him. He also remembered Stiles getting into a pretty heated argument with a random group of teenage girls about the merits of lycanthropy as compared to those of vampirism at some point during that time. It was pretty serious. He literally had to pick Stiles up and carry him away from the debate. But he wasn’t going to mention it.

Anyway, Derek laid there on his back, with his head turned towards Stiles, who had gone back to focusing on tracing his fingers over Derek’s stomach. Derek watched him for a moment. It was a long moment. Long enough for Derek to sweep his eyes slowly down his mate, drinking in his lean, sinewy body, his muscled yet lanky torso, his solid, dextrous arms, corded with muscle, his long, lithe fingers, his hips… But something prevented his gaze from reaching further. The traitor-bedsheet was teasingly hiding the rest of Stiles’ body from Derek’s sight. It rested lazily over the points of the human’s hips, covering just enough of it to make Derek want to rip it off and attack him.

Speaking of which, Derek hadn’t wolfed-out in a long time. Well, at least, not for a real reason. The finicky lawn-mower pull-cord doesn’t count. Neither did the toaster. Stiles laughed so hard at that one he couldn’t breathe. Okay, he wolfed out on Stiles the last time they had sex. Yesterday. And the time before that… But even still, Derek didn’t have a need to unleash his inner alpha to defend the life of his mate, his pack, or himself in nearly five years.

This was his thought process as he reached a hand out and began sliding the bedsheet hiding the rest of Stiles down below his hip, slowly, tentatively. Stiles’ gaze immediately shifted upward to meet Derek’s face, his eyes focusing as he did so. He had been daydreaming as well. Derek wondered what about. He could feel the ghost of Stiles’ fingers imprinted into his stomach as Stiles removed his hand.

"Can I help you?" Stiles asked with a faux-bemused expression.

Derek slid the sheet down further, revealing a semi-hard Stiles, and all of the alpha’s favorite parts of his mate.

"Yeah, you can. Get on top of me." He slid his arm around Stiles’ lower back and pulled him in towards him, grinding their torsos and hips together as they made contact. He felt Stiles’ heart jump out of his chest.

"Oh, Mr. Hale," Stiles crooned, “You play so rough." Then he laughed at his own cleverness. Derek couldn’t even repress a smile.

"You are such an idiot." Stiles appeared not to hear him as he slid a hand up Derek’s forearm and bicep, squeezing every major muscle along the way to his shoulder. Derek could feel them both getting harder against each other. The sweet pressure was almost too much to bear. As if confirming this, Stiles bit his lower lip absentmindedly.

Derek was done.

He pulled Stiles to rest on top of him with one arm. The weight of the human on him was pleasant, to say the least. He looked up into Stiles’ eyes, shifting his own back and forth between them and their golden-brown expanses. Derek could get lost in there, and did, on multiple occasions.

Stiles braced his arms on either side of the alpha, pushing his chest up briefly enough to make Derek want it pressed down on him again. Then he leaned down, and brought his lips to rest on Derek’s. Parted slightly, they locked perfectly against Derek’s upper lip, their salty sweetness permeating his taste buds. Stiles always tasted good. Even with morning-breath. It was somehow derived from his overall scent, which of course, Derek found intoxicating. He couldn’t resist biting down lightly on Stiles’ lower lip, a slight groan escaping his mouth in the process. Stiles responded by sinking thoroughly into the kiss, parting his lips enough to allow his tongue to slip past and begin exploring Derek’s mouth. His lips caressed the werewolf’s hungrily, and he groaned every time Derek let out a satisfying little growl. It happened a lot. The alpha didn’t really have control over it anymore.

They are on Derek’s side of the bed. Stiles was resting comfortably mostly on top of the werewolf, pressed against him in all the right places, grinding slightly with each part of their kiss. The bedsheet had been defeated thoroughly, and now lied in a tangled heap at their feet. Stiles pulled his lips back from Derek’s, resting their foreheads together as he attempted to shift himself into a seated position on the werewolf’s hips. Derek loved it when Stiles rode him. The thought was making him harder.

But unfortunately, Stiles was made entirely of flail, and in his all-too-smooth move to straddle Derek that close to the side of the bed resulted in him not being able to find a purchase for his left knee, causing him to flail thoroughly while uttering a quick sound of panic before toppling over the side of the bed onto the floor with a discombobulated set of thunks.

Derek laughed. Hard. For several seconds. “Are you okay?" He managed to choke out in between bursts. Seriously, he was almost in tears.

"Yeah, yeah. Figures. I am just a hopeless, flailing mass of idiocy," Stiles signed as he stood back up, gestured for Derek to move towards the center of the bed this time, and crawled back on top of him. To his credit, he was still hard as a rock. Derek was still laughing hysterically, though.

Stiles sat there on top of him, still red from pointless embarrassment, and smirking like it was his job. “You know you are obscenely cute when you laugh, right?" His eyes contrasted his cunning mouth. There was nothing but fondness radiating from them. Derek could feel it. It was enough to make him stop laughing and get lost in them once more. He felt his ears grow hot. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. Stiles always found the littlest things the alpha did endearing. It always made Derek blush when they were pointed out. Derek’s embarrassment made Stiles’ shit-eating grin get larger, with actual teeth involved.

Ugh, Derek loved and hated that smile, as well as the face to which it was attached. In the next moment, he found himself with that exact same smile, because Stiles was kissing him again, and trailing those kisses down his jaw and neck to his collarbone, down the center of his chest, allowing his tongue to drag over his abdomen down to his cock.

The rest was a series of flashes, occurring in blurry succession in Derek’s mind as his senses misfired and the synapses in his nerves went into overdrive.



Stiles’ mouth around his cock

Stiles’ hands exploring Derek’s body, sliding up his torso, thumbs grazing his nipples before they squeezed his chest.

Derek arching his back and growling as Stiles’ hands continued to move over his shoulders and arms, coming to rest on his wrists as he continued to move his mouth around Derek’s dick.

Stiles’ grip becoming firmer as he bobbed up and down with increased franticness, muscles in his shoulders bulging and flexing. Stopping himself just before Derek is about to come. Derek could feel the tension build inside him, threaten to be released, only to fade as Stiles lips left his skin.

Light open-mouthed kisses to the inside of Derek’s thighs, a roving tongue working its way up over his hip towards his chest, lightly toying with a nipple as Stiles moves his body back on top of Derek’s like before.

Stiles biting and sucking his neck as he repositions Derek’s hands on the pillow above his head, pinning them back firmly. Derek half-heartedly struggling to break free as Stiles continues to attack his neck, forcing the alpha to buck against the human in pleasure.

Stiles using one hand to restrain Derek as he finds the lube in the nightstand, and deftly flicks open the cap to drop some onto the werewolf’s dick, as he moves his attack to the other side of Derek’s neck.

Stiles stroking Derek against himself each time brushing Derek against the bare skin of Stiles’ ass. Derek not being able to contain his wolf as the sensation spreads from the contact throughout his entire body.

Stiles moving his lips up Derek’s throat, over his jaw, onto his mouth, kissing him through the fangs slowly extending downward. Derek fighting the urge to nip at Stiles’ lips and whimpering as he feels himself slide into Stiles finally.

Stiles letting out a small gasp as Derek continues the initial thrust, closing his eyes tightly as the corners of his mouth turn up into a satisfied smile, feeling every inch of Derek inside him and somehow growing harder as a result.

Stiles opening his eyes to see Derek’s red ones flickering as they stare back at him. The alpha tries to thrust harder, letting out a gentle snarl as he gives in to the wolf. Stiles releasing his grip on Derek’s wrists to intertwine their fingers above Derek’s head.

Derek’s senses flickering and fading in and out with each second he is inside Stiles. Somehow he manages to catch his mate’s breathless words when he says “here, let me," and begins slowly moving his hips up and down, allowing Derek to slide in deeper, and almost pull out with each rhythm. Derek realizes that Stiles is in control, keeping both him and his wolf at bay. The power he has over the alpha is staggering at times, and Derek knows it, but he doesn’t mind. The mate of an alpha is an alpha of sorts, their power equal simply by the connection they share.

Derek gets lost in the feeling again as Stiles picks up the pace, rolling his hips faster and faster until he is frantically sliding up and down on the alpha, who broke out of Stiles’ restraints and is digging his claws into his mate’s hips, which are glistening with sweat. Derek can feel Stiles’ his pulse as it slams away in his veins and the human lets his head fall backwards, baring his throat to the wolf, who sits up and slows the rhythm to bite and suck on the sensitive skin in the crook above Stiles’ collarbone, leaving red, angry marks in his wake as he moans loudly.

Eventually, the wolf can’t contain himself anymore and pulls himself out of Stiles, whose eyes go wide as he sucks in air at the sudden removal, and flips him over onto his back. Derek places one firm bite onto Stiles’ throat for good measure and then moves in between his mate’s legs, attempting to guide himself back inside the pulsing warmth that is Stiles Stilinski, and watching as his eyes go wide while he pushes himself within once more.

Nothing but quick, frantic moans escape Stiles’ mouth as Derek pounds him into the mattress, slamming the headboard against the wall with increasing ferocity in the process. The sheer sound alone is enough to make Derek want to come. He restrains himself only barely as he slips a hand around Stiles, who is slick from his own leaking and hard as a rock, and begins stroking to the beat of his own thrusting rhythm. Stiles digs his nails into Derek’s back, dragging them long and hard down his sides as he comes into the space between himself and the alpha with a string of curses and pleas for Derek to keep going, to never stop. The werewolf barely has time to register what is happening before he is exploding into Stiles, and very nearly howling his mate’s name.

The aftershocks of the orgasm ebb and flow as Derek collapses onto Stiles, his face resting in the crook of the human’s neck. Both of their pulses are racing, they are bathed in sweat, breathing ragged and panting as they lie there.

After several long moments and quiet breathing into each other, Stiles sighed. He allowed his eyes to close as he hummed contentedly. Derek could feel the sound vibrating within Stiles’ chest beneath him as the human turned to place gentle kiss on his forehead.

"I love you, Sourwolf." The name. Derek still never admitted to Stiles that he secretly loved it, even after all these years.

"I love you too, Stiles."

Yup, Derek was totally not going to get anything else done today. Because neither of them would be able to get out of bed until at least Tuesday after that.

So instead, he laid there on top of Stiles, listening to the sound of his mate’s heart beating, and thinking about how glad he was that Stiles found him all those years ago, and hadn’t left him since.