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Definitely, Not Probably

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Derek and Stiles are on a routine patrol through the preserve, keeping an eye on things for the pack, when it happens.

“Hey, that’s a cool looking flower,” Stiles says, cautiously walking toward it.

It’s huge, with delicately curled pink and white petals, and exudes a sweet, soothing scent. But there’s something deceptive about it, and it makes Derek’s hackles raise. “Stiles,” he calls in warning, but it’s too late.

Stiles isn’t even that close, but it doesn’t matter. The flower actually sprays him with a powerful blast of spores, coating his chest and shoulders. Stiles staggers back, coughing, and hurriedly tries to swipe it away. It just makes the pollen cling to his hands, instead, and he disgustedly wipes it on his jeans.

“You okay?” Derek asks, feeling a tendril of worry creep down his spine.

“Besides being covered in plant jizz? Yeah, I’m good,” Stiles says, trying to shake the spores off of his shirt.

That makes Derek snort, but the bad feeling lingers. “There’s something off about that flower. Come on, let’s get back, so I can take a sample to Deaton.”

“Sure,” Stiles says easily, but he looks…different. There’s a hint of a flush along his cheekbones, and a thin sheen of sweat at his temples.

It’s a mild day, but Stiles seems over-warm, and his eyes look a little too bright.

Derek’s pretty sure this is a bad sign, and tries to hurry Stiles along, wanting to be out of the forest as soon as possible. It’s difficult to do, though, because he doesn’t want to touch the spores himself.

He breathes a little sigh of relief when the Camaro comes into view. He heads around to the back, popping the trunk.

“Stiles, take off your shirt,” he says sharply. He’s really starting to get concerned now, mostly because Stiles doesn’t seem worried at all.

Stiles is always worried.

Stiles blinks at him for a moment, head tilted, and Derek can see that the flush already extends down his neck. Then he shrugs and yanks his shirt off, shoving it into the trash bag Derek holds out. Now he has pollen in his hair, and there’s still some smeared on his jeans, but at least most of it is gone.

Derek carefully ties up the bag, depositing it in the trunk. Then he ushers Stiles into the passenger seat, making sure to roll down the windows before he climbs in.

Even with the all the air flowing through the car, the cloying scent of pollen is overwhelming, so it takes Derek a little while to notice. They’re almost to Stiles’ house when he starts to get restless, squirming around in the seat.

Derek glances away from the road a moment to look, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Because Stiles is panting lightly, head tipped back, and his hips are canted up, his tight jeans revealing the hard line of his erection.

Derek jerks his gaze away, but even out of the corner of his eye he can still see the way Stiles’ back arches, the way his hands skate down his thighs.

He takes a turn faster than he needs to, and Stiles suddenly looks over at him, eyes wide.

“I feel kind of weird,” he says breathlessly.

“I’m not sure that’s the word,” Derek says grimly, because the pervasive smell of Stiles’ arousal is now overwhelming the thick scent of the pollen. And he’s becoming quite certain that the two are linked.

“Mmm,” Stiles moans in agreement, hips rocking up, and Derek tries not to notice how far up his thigh his hand has crept.

Derek’s mouth has gone completely dry, and he has never been so grateful to pull up in front of Stiles’ house. Stiles startles when he hits the brakes, glancing at Derek and then away again, looking embarrassed.

“I gotta go,” he says, fumbling urgently with the seatbelt.

“I’m going to go talk to Deaton. Then I’m going to call you and make sure you’re okay,” Derek says.

“Sure, fine,” Stiles says, scrambling out of the car. “Call me later. Later.”

Then he’s gone, hurrying up the driveway and into the house. Thankfully the Sherriff isn’t home, so no awkward explanations are required.

Derek takes one more glance toward the door, sighs, then heads to the animal clinic.

 

*

 

Deaton tells him that the flower pollen acts as an aphrodisiac, so that the plant can harvest sexual energy from its victims. They’ll have to go into the woods to remove the flower, but the effects of the spores should wear off in twenty-four hours.

Deaton says he’ll talk with Scott, and they’ll make a plan to safely neutralize the flower. Then he suggests that Derek check in with Stiles. The flower’s intended targets are supernatural creatures, so its effect on humans can be variable.

Derek nods, says he’ll make sure Stiles is okay.

He’s making the call before he’s even out the door.

“Mmm, Derek?” Stiles says, sounding breathless.

“Yeah, it’s me. You doing okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine, I’m just, ah, really aroused,” Stiles pants.

“Yeah, Deaton said that was a possible effect,” Derek says, walking out to the Camaro. “But otherwise you feel okay? No sensation of being controlled?”

“No, there’s no, ah, mind control,” Stiles says, practically moaning. “But it’s really hard for me to, ah, focus right now. I’ve jerked off three times already, and I’m still horny.”

Derek feels his whole body stiffen, and he stands frozen in the middle of the parking lot, because he’s suddenly realized that Stiles is jerking off right now.

“Okay,” Derek says, trying to control his breathing. “The effects could last for twenty-four hours, so be careful.”

“Be, oh, be careful?” Stiles groans, and Derek can hear the rustling of his sheets. “I can’t even, ah, go anywhere.”

Derek wonders when the Sherriff will be home, but figures now is not a good time to ask. But otherwise, Stiles is right. Since there’s no mind control or life-force draining happening, he’s pretty safe.

“Well, yeah,” Derek says, finally making himself move, unlocking the door and sitting down in the Camaro. The drag of his jeans against his hard cock makes him grit his teeth, and he struggles not to moan. “Just, uh, try to take care of yourself. Use plenty of lube.”

Ah, Derek. Fuck!” Stiles gasps. “Oh, fuck yes.

Derek is treated to what he assumes is the sound of Stiles orgasming, and he grips the phone so hard he hears it creak. He finds his free hand inching closer and closer to his dick, but he hastily moves it to the steering wheel instead. He has not sunk to the level of jerking off in a public parking lot.

God, he wants to, though.

There’s a long panting silence from Stiles’ end of the line, then he clears his throat and comes back. “So,” he says awkwardly. “I’m gonna go take a shower while I’m, uh, calm. Sorry about that, bye.”

And then Derek’s just listening to empty air, and he stares at the phone for a moment before he hangs up.

He takes a deep breath, then another.

He’s so fucked.

 

*

 

He drives home and sits around for a while, trying not to think too much. He can’t help it though.

He keeps replaying the conversation, thinking about the way Stiles moaned his name.

Eventually he gets too restless to stand it, and he bolts out the door. He intends to run a loop through the preserve, burn off some of his excess energy. Instead, his feet take him right to Stiles’ house.

And, well, he’s supposed to check on Stiles anyway, isn’t he?

He keeps his momentum going, uses his speed to leap easily into the tree outside Stiles’ window. He climbs quickly up the branches, and then looks into Stiles’ room, wanting to make sure he’s okay.

What he sees makes a wave of heat roll through his body, makes his cock instantly hard.

Because Stiles has a fleshlight wedged between a couple of pillows, and he’s mounted on top of them, hips snapping forward as he fucks into it. His back is arching with the power of his thrusts, and high, tight little moans are escaping from his open mouth.

Derek imagines being in the place of those pillows, imagines Stiles fucking into him instead, and it makes his knees go weak.

He knows he should get out of here, knows he should leave, but he can’t quite make himself do it.

Not when he can see how close Stiles is. His hips are working desperately now, in sloppy hard little thrusts, knees spreading wider as he tries to brace himself.

He heard Stiles come over the phone, but now, god, he really wants to see it in person.

The thought makes his fangs drop down, makes his cock twitch with a powerful aching need.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to get his wish. Stiles moans get breathier as his hips pump harder, and he’s suddenly shuddering, hips jolting forward hard as he comes. He trembles as he gently thrusts into it, milking himself, before he collapses on the pillows.

Derek automatically reaches down to touch himself, and almost falls out of the tree.

Yeah, he’s definitely fucked.

 

*

 

He walks up and down Stiles’ driveway for a while, trying to talk himself out of going inside. He can’t quite manage it, though.

He already called the station and found out the Sheriff would be working the night shift, so that’s not a problem. He’s pushing open the front door before he can change his mind.

He grabs a bottle of water and a granola bar before he heads up the stairs, because Stiles probably hasn’t thought to get something to eat or drink. He might be getting dehydrated.

He can hear rustling and a low panting as he approaches the bedroom, but it doesn’t sound particularly urgent, so he gives a cursory knock.

Everything is suddenly completely silent, and he can clearly hear Stiles’ nervous, “Who is it?”

“Derek,” he grits out. “I’m coming in.”

Derek!” he hears Stiles yelp, and then he’s coming inside, and watching as Stiles tries to hastily cover himself with a sheet.

It doesn’t hide his erection.

At all.

The room reeks of sweat and pleasure, and if Derek weren’t already turned on, he would be now.

“Here,” he says gruffly, handing Stiles the water.

“Oh,” Stiles says in surprise, then takes it and chugs half of it down in one go, which makes Derek feel better about showing up.

He thinks for a moment, then grabs the desk chair and pulls it closer to the bed. “You should eat this,” he says, handing Stiles the granola bar.

“I’m not really hungry…” Stiles says, trailing off at Derek’s stern look. “But I’ll eat it anyway,” he finishes hastily, pulling open the wrapper.

Derek just sits there in silence for a moment as Stiles nervously chews. “I’m sorry,” he says finally.

“For what?” Stiles says in between nibbles.

“I came to check on you, earlier. And I, uh, saw you,” Derek says apologetically.

“You saw me getting off?” Stiles asks, cheeks flushing.

“I did,” Derek says, swallowing thickly. “I may have stayed to watch.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s so hot,” Stiles groans, his hand flying to his sheet-covered erection.

“Uh, what?” Derek says, taken aback. “I thought you’d be mad.”

“Dude, no way. A hot guy, getting off on me? That’s awesome,” Stiles says, grinning. “Though now that I think about it, it’s only cool because it’s you. Next time let me know that you’re watching,” he adds with a wink.

“Um, thanks?” Derek says, getting distracted by the way Stiles’ fingers are trailing along his cock. He’s not even sure if Stiles is aware of it. He clears his throat. “So, is it better if you fuck something? Or was your wrist getting tired?”

Stiles’ hand suddenly closes tight around his dick, and he lets out a little sigh. “I’ve discovered that I get a longer lag period if I fuck something. It gives me time to think, or even have a conversation,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward Derek.

“How many times have you come already?” Derek asks curiously.

“Too many,” Stiles groans. “And I never thought I’d say that.”

Derek nods. “But you’re obviously still under the effects,” he says, meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I came here to offer…”

“Offer what?” Stiles asks, leaning forward. It makes the sheet pull tight across his cock, and Derek has to drag his eyes away. Again.

“I want you to fuck me,” he blurts, looking up in time to see Stiles’ shocked expression.

Stiles stares at him for a long moment, chest heaving, and finally says, “Are you being effected by the pollen, too?”

“No. At least I don’t think so,” Derek says, shrugging. “Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine you saying that to me under any other circumstances,” Stiles says, eyes wide. “I figured it was just the, uh, pheromones talking.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Stiles, I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a while. There’s nothing new about this.”

“I—really?” Stiles says, then shakes his head. “Well, we can get to that conversation later,” he says quickly, grabbing Derek’s wrist and trying to tug him into the bed.

He goes halfway, then pauses and steps away, making Stiles groan. Derek rolls his eyes. “Give me just a second,” he says, pulling his shirt off and then moving his hands to the fly of his jeans.

“Oh, hell yes,” Stiles breathes, flinging the sheet off and treating Derek to the sight of his hard cock. He wraps his fingers around the base, gently squeezes as he watches Derek get undressed.

Derek sits on the edge of the bed, shifting closer to Stiles as he swings his legs up. He’s surprised when Stiles immediately covers him with his body and whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

Derek only manages a hasty nod, too busy running his hands down Stiles’ sides, but he obviously gets the point. Considering the state Stiles is in, the kiss is surprisingly soft and sweet, just the slightest hint on tongue.

It gets dirty pretty quick, though, when Derek gets a hold on Stiles’ hips and pulls him forward, grinding them together.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, panting, his hands sliding restlessly through Derek’s hair. “Right now, I’m not sure if it’s you or the spell that’s affecting me so much. I think it’s mainly you, though,” he adds, grinning, and kisses Derek again.

“Probably a bit of both,” Derek says, carefully rolling Stiles off him. He sits up, looking around. “Where’s your lube?”

Stiles wiggles over onto his belly, then slips a hand under his pillow and pulls out the tube. “Had to keep it close,” he says with a wink.

“I’d imagine,” Derek says, then rolls over onto his stomach, too. He wants to be ready in the right position, because Stiles is obviously feeling some pretty powerful arousal.

He slicks up a couple of his fingers, then slides them against his hole, teasing himself a little before he pushes them both in. Stiles, in the middle of kissing Derek’s bicep, pushes up on his elbows to see what he’s doing.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You looks so good doing that.” He rolls on to his side to get a better view, his hard cock dragging against Derek’s hip as he restlessly thrusts.

He watches avidly as Derek opens himself up, panting against his shoulder. “Derek, I don’t think I’m going to make it,” he moans, hips jolting harder against Derek. “I’m too close.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says, tipping his head so he can meet Stiles’ eyes. “You’ll have to come again, anyway. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t take him long, his cheek on Derek’s shoulder, his knuckles bumping against Derek’s hip as he thrusts into his hand. He feels the damp slide of the head of Stiles’ cock against his skin as Stiles quietly groans, then Derek feels him come against his side, his body shaking.

It only encourages Derek to work faster, spreading his fingers as he loosens himself up. He wants to be ready when Stiles is, and he knows it won’t be long.

“Oh, oops,” Stiles says when he catches his breath, carefully wiping his come from Derek’s hip.

“That’s okay, I expected to get a little messy,” Derek says, pushing his fingers in one last time before pulling out completely. He smirks at the little noise of interest Stiles makes, shifts so he can look at him better.

Stiles’ gaze flits from Derek’s ass to his face and then back again, and he looks a little uncertain. “Could I? Uh, would you mind if I-”

“Sure,” Derek says, handing him the tube of lube.

Stiles is nervous at first, obviously a bit unsure, but he figures it out pretty fast. After tentatively circling Derek’s hole with his fingers, he dares to slide one inside. Derek can’t help moaning, because while his own fingers felt fine, Stiles’ feel so much better.

Especially when he adds a second, and then a third.

He’s obviously encouraged by all the noises Derek keeps making, because he keeps trying different things, repeating the ones that work best. It’s not long before Derek is writhing on the bed, desperate for something more.

“Derek,” Stiles says, voice strained. “Can I fuck you now?”

“Please,” is all Derek can manage to say, his hips arching in anticipation.

Stiles throws his leg over Derek, sliding on top of him, his cock dragging against Derek’s ass as he gets settled, his hands braced on the bed next to Derek’s shoulders. Derek groans at the sensation, and it makes Stiles shiver.

His hips shudder a little before he can manage to move back far enough to line up, but after a few unsteady attempts, he gets there. The pressure of the head of Stiles’ cock against his hole makes Derek ache, makes him long to be filled, and he has to work hard to keep still, to let Stiles go at his own pace.

He’s not kept waiting long.

Stiles tries to slide in smoothly, Derek can tell, but he can’t seem to stop the needy little jolts his hips make as he does. “Oh, fuck,” Stiles moans as he finally pushes all the way inside, dropping his head and panting against the back of Derek’s neck.

His hips are grinding forward erratically, clearly out of his control, and it’s just teasing Derek. He needs more.

“Let go, Stiles,” he growls out. “Come on, I can take it.”

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles groans out, and oh, Derek definitely starts getting what he wants.

Stiles pumps into him mercilessly, in short, powerful little thrusts. Derek can feel the desperation in it, the need for release, and it makes him even hotter, knowing how turned on Stiles is.

He surges up, bracing his hands on Derek’s shoulders instead, using the leverage to drive himself into Derek hard and fast.

Derek tries to help as much as he can, rocking his hips up to meet Stiles, changing the angle when he needs to, but mostly he’s content to let the pleasure spiral up through him. It’s been a long time since he’s been fucked by someone he actually cares about.

“Derek, I’m gonna come,” Stiles pants out, sounding apologetic.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, turning his head to meet Stiles’ eyes. “Go ahead.”

 That’s apparently all Stiles needs, because it’s only a few more desperate thrusts before he’s coming, his body shuddering against Derek’s. He slumps down against Derek’s back as he trembles through it, hands clenching against Derek’s shoulders.

He goes to pull out, but Derek quickly grabs his thigh, says, “You don’t have to.”

It feels good to have Stiles inside him, even if it is keeping his arousal at a high level. He likes the pressure of Stiles’ body against his, likes the teasing sensation of his hard cock, motionless but filling him just right all the same.

“Sorry I was so quick,” Stiles says quietly against Derek’s shoulder blade. He runs his hands down Derek’s sides and then back up again, slow and sensual. When he lightly scratches with his nails, it makes Derek’s back arch, makes him want to rut into the bed and finally come.

But he can be patient.

“I told you it was fine,” Derek says, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. “You can come as many times as you want.”

“You say the nicest things,” Stiles says with a grin, and softly kisses the back of Derek’s neck. “I think I’m almost ready to go again.”

Derek twists his upper body then, far enough that he can he can pull Stiles into a kiss. It’s a little awkward, but he makes the most of it, tongue slipping into Stiles’ mouth and tasting him.

Stiles moans quietly into it, hips surging forward as he tries to deepen the kiss, and it makes Derek shudder.

“Yeah, definitely ready to go again,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips, letting his hips begin to roll forward.

Derek makes a little growl of approval, hands clenching in the sheets. As much as he wants to kiss Stiles, he has to pull away, ducking his head so he can rock his hips up.

Stiles makes a little sound of surprise at that, and starts to actually thrust, driving Derek down with the force of it, making his cock drag teasingly against the mattress.

And wow, Derek’s a lot closer than he thought he was, the arousal sparking headily through him.

Stiles is having no such problems this time, keeping a solid, steady pace that makes pleasure arc through Derek’s body and pool right at the base of his dick. Stiles’ hands are digging into his shoulders, his breathy moans going right into his ears, and Derek knows he can’t last any longer.

“I’m gonna come,” he rumbles, slipping his hand underneath himself. He lets the sensation of Stiles filling him up flood though him as he fucks into the tight circle of his own fist. It only takes a couple of thrusts before he’s coming, his back bowing as he works himself through it, his whole body trembling.

He collapses down onto the bed, letting the pleasure wash through him as Stiles groans and keeps going, hips pumping harder now.

Derek knows he’s getting close when Stiles’ thighs start clenching around him, his thrusts getting more ragged and out of control. He arches his back, lifting his ass a little, and that’s all it takes before Stiles is groaning and coming hard, burying himself deep inside Derek.

He collapses down against Derek’s back, though his hips keep working forward in little pulses as he shudders through his orgasm. Eventually he stills, and just quietly pants against Derek’s shoulder blade.

“I think I’m…good for a while,” he breathes out.

Derek nods. Stiles is still hard inside him, but he’ll take him at his word. And besides, he wouldn’t mind another round anyway.

“Derek…” Stiles says, and he sounds a little nervous now. “When this wears off, can we keep doing this?”

“You mean sex?” Derek asks, trying to look over his shoulder at Stiles.

“Yeah, but not just this,” Stiles says, gesturing toward where they’re still joined. “I want to blow you. I want to know what it feels like when you fuck me. I want to try everything. So can we?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, resting his head against his forearm and letting a breath out. “I’d like that.”

“There’s other things I’d like to do with you, too,” Stiles says quietly against his skin.

“Like what?” Derek asks, because Stiles’ voice sounds odd.

“Well, you know,” Stiles says, his hands sliding up to fit against the curve of Derek’s ribs. “Things like going out for coffee, or to dinner, or maybe even a movie.”

Derek twists around at that, his heart racing, so he can look directly at Stiles. “Are you saying you want to date me?”

“If you’d let me,” Stiles says with a little smile, hands smoothing along Derek’s sides. “I’d like to.”

“I’d like that, too,” Derek says, letting his eyes flit across Stiles’ face, drinking him in.

Stiles lets out a happy sigh, dips his head to kiss Derek’s shoulder. “I’m glad,” he says softly.

Derek tilts his head far enough that he can kiss Stiles on the lips. “And though this is a very unusual first date, it’s definitely working for me.”

Stiles burst out laughing. “It’ll certainly be memorable,” he says, grinning. “And it’s definitely working for me, too.”

He gently nips the edge of Derek’s shoulder, then eases backward, slowly sliding out of Derek. Derek has to grit his teeth not to make a noise of protest, but then Stiles is pushing at his hips, urging him to roll over. Once he does, Stiles settles on top of him, a warm, soothing weight that sends a pleasant shiver through Derek.

“Since we’re dating now, I thought we could do it this way next time,” Stiles says, nuzzling against Derek’s neck. “I think it’ll be even better.”

“I think you’re right,” Derek says, tugging the sheet over them and then sliding his arms around Stiles. He closes his eyes, lets the comfort of Stiles’ touch seep into him. “And it’s already better.”