Just Say Yes Part 10
Title: Just Say Yes
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Warnings: Sex. All of the sex.
Notes: Written for this kink meme prompt
Summary: Stiles wanted nothing to do with Derek Hale. His life was already a mess, and the last thing he needed was his ex-boyfriend back. But when he showed up bruised, beaten, and completely detached from this world on Stiles' doorstep-what else was he supposed to do? Answer: it probably shouldn't have been dragging him into his flat and trying to put him back together, and definitely not hoping Derek to return the favor.
Notes on this chapter: THIS IS IT. This is the last chapter, I decided against an epilogue, just because I really liked the way this finished. Thank you for sticking with me you guys, if it wasn't for your comments probably wouldn't have finished this.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /
Sex with Derek was always awesome. Stiles liked how Derek was always brink of breaking him but never quite there. A little harder, a little faster, and Stiles would probably spontaneously combust.
Okay, maybe that didn’t make it sound pleasant, but it was. In a strange, dangerous way, that made Stiles heart pound, blood rush, and head spin.
But this time wasn’t like the others. There was no animalistic quality. There was no rush, no over powering force. Sure, Derek still asserted his dominance.
After they slid their mouth together in wet sloppy kisses and Derek dipped his head down to nip at the juncture of Stiles neck and collar bone, and left little ones down in a wavy trail, till he eventually couldn’t go any farther. He lifted Stiles by his thighs and carried him towards the bedroom.
Then there was the state of the bed. It had a large slash down the mattress and it’s insides were leaking out, even the wood underneath threatened to break at any second. They had fucked in worse. They had broken a bed, and then decided to fuck in it again. This wouldn’t be the most terrible scenario.
But Derek dropped Stiles onto the ground, and ripped the covers, sheets, and pillows off the bed, and threw them to the floor in a mess. With a raise of eyebrows and a roll of his eyes, Stiles hurriedly scrambled across the floor onto the mound of pillows.
Derek demanded that Stiles strip, and Stiles did so at first teasingly, until Derek hit him.
“Just hurry the fuck up.” He snarled, in the clear identifier that Derek Hale wanted sex now. So Stiles pulled off his many layers of upper clothing, and fumbled with his jeans.
Derek snorted at his failed attempts, “Useless.”
When Stiles managed to get them off he mumbled back, “Hey with the amount of groping that goes on in that casino, it is necessary to have well-secured pants.”
With this Derek yanked Stiles down by his elbows and climbed on top of him. Their kisses in this situation were usually brief, because with the main event so close they were both quite impatient to get past the opening credits.
But Stiles did really like kissing Derek, because it was always different, it was always good. But that didn’t last long before Stiles’ complained about his Alpha breath and Derek moved back to his neck and leave long licks down his torso.
Then he growled all hoarse and sex-driven, “I want you to ride me.”
Stiles didn’t hear this request very often, because usually Derek liked to be in charge, Derek liked to set the pace, and he was really awesome at it so Stiles didn’t really give a shit about dynamics.
But he didn’t mind this opportunity.
Then, Stiles remembered the current state of Derek’s house. He looked around at the completely torn apart-ness of it all. He also sincerely doubted that the one pair of sweat pants he picked happened to have sexual necessities in them.
“Do you have um stuff anywhere?” Stiles very awkwardly asked.
Derek, whether actually didn’t have any or just didn’t feel like looking answered, a quick, “No.” But this wasn’t a ‘oh too bad we can’t do it’. No this was an ‘I’m Derek Hale and I will find a way around this’.
Which seemed to apply to a lot of things.
“So what are we, going to-?” Derek pressed two fingers against his mouth, and Stiles sighed, “Are you serious? Really?”
But he opened his mouth anyways and coated them with a thick layer, before apparently it had both satisfied and turned Derek on too much that he pulled them out with a slurping noise from Stiles.
Derek, in his month of absence, had not lost his touch, and he worked his finger in the same way he knew how always. A small wiggle, a turn, just to ease it in before pressing straight through and hitting that Stiles’ prostrate. At some point of their fuck-buddy relationship thing, he had gotten a good time range down. When Stiles just started to rock back, just the beginning, he would add another.
He knew when two was enough when Stiles started to lose his mind a little bit and became unabashed at his hip thrusts. Also when Stiles began to talk in sentences that didn’t entirely connect.
“Okay, that’s good, yeah, fuck Derk.”
When he pulled them out, Stiles let out this embarrassing whine that if he were completely sane would have him blushing up to his ears. Their position changed in a clumsy mess of limbs until Stiles was kneeling above Derek.
Derek grabbed the top of Stiles head and guided him downwards. Stiles used to be terrible at sucking cock. Now, now he was quite proud of himself after several lessons from Derek in the past.
He knew exactly what to do, especially in a time where they did not have any lube (which had happened in the past at least ten times). Stiles knew that Derek didn’t liked to be licked that much, he liked to be taken into someone’s’ mouth.
That’s what Stiles did, he enveloped Derek’s dick inside until he didn’t need to do anything but hum, and Derek was thrusting into his mouth like he was reaching the main event prematurely.
Stiles developed his own time system, much like Derek, and he knew then was when to pull back. Riding, was more difficult than regular fucking, because Derek still had to worm his control in.
He gripped Stiles hips and positioned him, and then murmured low and throaty, “Ready?”
Stiles waited, “Yeah just give me a sec-“
Derek shoved him down, and Stiles yelped, something along the lines of “you’re a fucking bastard and I hate you”.
But after a second of readjusting, he was bouncing up and down, up and down, to a rhythm that he set. That’s what Stiles’ liked about this, was that he could set the pace, and he could go as fast or slow, as he wanted.
If he stopped or went to slowly, Derek would thrust his hips up violently and demand that Stiles move faster.
To strengthen that threat it would usually be done along with words along the lines of, “if you don’t move I’ll turn and screw you until you can’t fucking move anymore.”
Even though Stiles’ thrusts were more languid than Derek’s. Even if it wasn’t that same wild and animalistic kind, it didn’t take very long. Stiles came quickly, and spilled all over Derek, while Derek had to quickly remove Stiles off of him so he did not come inside, and just made it within a second, and ended up coming all over the inside of Stiles’ thighs.
Sex with Derek was always awesome.
__
Stiles woke up before Derek. The weird part was that it wasn’t Derek who woke him up. He was still sound asleep, no nightmares yet occurred, nothing. They weren’t very close to each other because of the lack of air conditioning in Derek’s home, but his hands were just touching the sides of his waist, and Stiles’ own arms were curled up under his head as a pillow.
Stiles didn’t want to get up. His body hurt, he was still tired, and this moment was supposed to be oddly peaceful. But it did not leave his constantly moving mind totally at ease and he began to think about what happened. Tried to figure everything out, tried to connect things in his brain.
Stiles came to a decision (a decision that would probably change). That the thing about getting older is you never figure out things-you just are able to pretend more convincingly. So maybe he was really…taken with Derek. So maybe some people would classify it as love. He hoped as hell that wasn’t what it was because A) it would be a twisted wrong love, that went against every standard and B) he would actually have to form the phrase “I’m in love with Derek Hale”. That, sent shivers up his spine.
But he was in something.
Something that made him with an unfortunate urge want to be close to Derek, want Derek to look at him, to kiss him, to fuck him, with an overwhelming need that made everything else insignificant.
Stiles didn’t know if he would be okay without Derek. He’d like to think that it would be like last time-eventually he would get over it with deep wounds carved into his chest. But then he looked sideways at Derek, and there would be that little voice going ‘who the fuck are you kidding?’.
It wasn’t some big revelation as if this realization just occurred to him in this specific moment. No, all of these fleetingly passed at some point over his life span, but always incongruent, with no tangible string to hold them together.
Stiles just always needed to figure out that mysterious, nameless, something, to tie them.
Stiles flicked Derek behind the ear
With his super werewolf sense this of course immediately woke him up. His eyes opened startlingly fast, and not slowly and groggy as one usually does. He grabbed Stiles wrist that was posed to do so again, and growled at him.
“I will kill you Stiles.” Stiles flung his hand up in defeat, and scooted away when Derek released his wrist.
Now, Stiles assumed that Derek must have woken up from that tiny little ear flick. But after what would happen in just a moment, he wondered if that also played a considerable part in Derek’s sudden waking.
Because Derek’s stomach let out a mixture of the most fearsome growl/groan that Stiles had ever heard. It almost rattled the room. Also, made Stiles burst out into laughter.
He rolled to his back and out of Derek’s hands. His words barely intelligible through his giggling, “Holy shit, did you swallow a lion?”
Derek’s glare was completely unbroken, and he wacked the side of Stiles head with the back of his hand. “I’ve been in wolf-mode, idiot.”
Stiles laughs quieted down at this, and he got up on his knees. During their sleep fought with the blankets. They had somehow all ended up on Stiles side, and pooled around his thighs.
He grabbed one torn half to cover himself as he stood up, and tried to ignore Derek’s leering eyes. “So I’m guessing we should get food before you eat me, but can a shower be in our plans also? Like relatively soon? Because seriously, I smell like sex, dog, and blood. People are going to get wrong ideas.”
“You do not smell like dog.” Derek countered, with a glare at the reference. That one always did work. Stiles wondered if there was some ancient misunderstanding between dogs and werewolves. Maybe he should ask.
_
Even though a shower was Stiles first option, they decided that the time spent there would be too long, and Derek would not be able to enjoy the inevitable sex due to hunger pains. So they both kind of wiped the extra come and sweat off, as much as the could.
He let Stiles borrow some of his clothes. His smallest shirt, which was a greyish pattern, and a pair of ripped jeans that he had also given him a belt to hold them up with. They looked kind of ridiculous actually-too big around his legs and the shirt draped over him.
He looked really ridiculous.
They shuffled into Derek’s car, and despite Stiles’ constant begging, Derek chose to not give out any information on where they were going. Which was kind of troublesome, but figuring as how Stiles put out last night (err early morning, he guessed), he figured that Derek would not be dragging him off to kill him. Right?
The car drive was longer than he expected, given Derek’s state of hunger, and Stiles wondered if he was taking him to some posh restaurant. One where Stiles wouldn’t even know how to pronounce anything on the menu.
Instead, about two minutes later after he developed that fantasy, Derek drove up to Denny’s.
Stiles almost burst out laughing.
It was busier than the last time they had been here. Stiles calculated later that it was about three in the afternoon, later on, with the help of his phone.
Derek chose the booth nearly in the same position as last time, and then proceeded to order food that could feed the entire Hun army.
When the long process of the check being calculated and the waitress stopped giving him incredulous looks on how the man with a body of a Greek God, could pack away pancakes that probably contributed to America’s obesity, Derek started perhaps the most inappropriate public conversation.
“Your face.” Stiles raised his eyebrows in a look that designated he clearly needed more of a question than that, and Derek rolled his eyes, “Did you?”
Then Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat that built steadily from that event that was just waiting to emerge when the topic was brought up. So with quite an embarrassing voice crack, “yeah, yeah I did, I left, I’m uh here now.”
A moment passed, an excruciating moment, that Derek decided to not respond to Stiles answer. Stiles wondered if he had been secretly hoping he would give him the okay to kill Lucas.
Then, Derek asked a question that rivaled the first in inappropriate-level.
He was calm and smooth, and didn’t even hesitate, “When will you say yes?”
Now, Stiles wasn’t a super human. He wasn’t Derek. He didn’t remember over a month ago, when they sat in another Denny’s and Stiles explained the structure of life to Derek in verbal mumblings. He didn’t remember the exact words. For a while, actually, he had tried to push that time out of his mind.
Derek shouldn’t have assumed that Stiles would be able to just draw the memory out of his head like fucking Dumbledore with a wand. So of course, of course he misunderstood.
That misunderstanding led him to chock on his water, until the entire restaurant thought he was dying. When he recovered he sounded raspy, and more than anything embarrassed. “Um, I’m pretty sure that was equally consensual.”
But Derek was persistent, and he would look over Stiles’ misunderstanding with a huff, and then continue in his you-really-are-an-idiot voice. “No. Yes, your yes.”
“I don’t follow.”
Derek straightened up a little more and in a very snarky, sarcastic tone, mocked Stiles from around a month and a half ago, “yes is for forgiving.”
That triggered the memory. Derek was a sneaky little bastard. He brought him to Denny’s just to get him to talk. He could’ve just gotten Stiles drunk. That would’ve worked the same. Well, that and he would have to deal with Stiles trying to hump everything that moved, but still.
What was Stiles supposed to say? Did Derek expect that now that they had sex Stiles would just forgive everything that happened, ever? That wasn’t, no, Stiles didn’t agree to that. Just because at this moment he didn’t want to kill Derek, didn’t mean he was ready to just embrace a new life where everything from before was a blank slate.
So Stiles couldn’t say anything else, but a weak, “someday.”
It was enough.
It was enough for Derek to take the very long check the waitress gave him, and pay in cash. Before they could leave though, Stiles asked his own inappropriate public place question.
His was quieter though, only a little, because as Scott once told him Stiles was confused on the difference between inside and outside voices. Especially when it came to secret things. Like being a werewolf.
“What were you seeing by the way?”
Derek stood up, straightened his jacket, and did not make eye contact with Stiles. “Not right now.”
He didn’t even notice everyone staring at him, including the chef who popped his head out to see who the hell had managed to eat all of this food, and Stiles gave them a pathetic little wave.
“When?”
Derek, smugly threw an answer right back at him that Stiles should have seen coming. “Someday.”
-
There was a reason Stiles always drove Scott. It was because Scott was scary. He started off as a safe driver, freakishly safe, safer than Stiles. But then at some point, he just started to decide that driving at drag race speeds was way more fun than normal things.
Of course this rarely happened with anyone else in the car, but Stiles once been inside and he saw his life flash before his eyes.
That was probably how he made record timing, and was standing in Derek’s living room with a very disgruntled expression, mud covered clothes, and dark rings around his eyes.
He was also worried though, worried to the point where he wanted to hug Stiles, but knew that he should be angry instead, knew that he should be yelling instead of hugging, because that was what you were supposed to do in the midst of a fight.
But Scott was a lover not a fighter, and with Scott, Stiles was the same way. So they were at that awkward standstill.
Then Scott caught sight of Derek, and everything he was mad about hit him again. “Stiles what are you even doing here?” He gestured to the man who had not been briefed on the whole situation beforehand.
“What is he doing here?” Derek rumbled behind him, in complete displeasure.
Stiles could do this, he could figure things out, and he would just have to very quickly answer before they both started a fight. “Scott’s here because we need to uh speak about things…and I’m here because of a longer story.”
Scott crossed his arms in front of his chest, and made that glare/pouty/puppy face. “I’ve got plenty of time.”
_
Derek decided that he would use this time to evaluate and repair the damage done to his house. Also, seeing as before they left, they (Derek) stuffed half of the broken mattress as a makeshift door, and as it clearly wasn’t that swell of a block, he made sure that if anything was stolen who had done so.
Scott on the other hand, started right in on Stiles without a moment’s pause. “Why didn’t you call me? Why do you only talk to Lydia? I mean, I don’t think you’re in love with her anymore right?”
Stiles didn’t know what to say, because anything that came out of his mouth would end up being offensive, or if he did lie and said he was still in love with Lydia it would send Derek into a jealous rage.
So he opted for the truth, because it was the best, even though he had been avoiding it for so many years. “Because you have…you have Allison, Scott. And that’s great, and I’m so happy for you, and you guys really deserve it and…”
Stiles wondered why he couldn’t speak, why he couldn’t form appropriate words to describe appropriate scenarios. He wasn’t some macho man who thought feelings didn’t exist-he was just Stiles. So why, why was this so hard?
He could probably blame it on a lot of things, a major one his mom being dead. But really, it was his entire fault.
“Were you jealous of Allison?” Scott was good at expressing himself, he used to be just okay, but he had gotten better. He was good at telling people how he felt about them, even though he had been through some shit too.
“No, well maybe, but mostly no. I just I just…your life is so awesome Scott, I just didn’t want to fuck it up.” Stiles’ breath was deep and shuttering, “I don’t want to tell you what happened, because it’s really messed up, but it’s done now.”
This quelled Scott a little more, and this time he was just hurt. “You think letting me not visit you, and not speaking to me would not fuck up my life?”
“You had Allison!” Stiles interjected quickly, “I thought she was enough!”
“I love Allison!” Scott roared his voice raising to a higher level, “I would die without her, but that doesn’t mean you’re not important Stiles.”
There was silence. Stiles felt heat rush to his face, and he didn’t know whether it was from embarrassment or happiness. Because he remembered that in his teenage years he would get this flicker of panic that Scott would dump him that would say he didn’t need him anymore.
Stiles really just wanted to hear Scott tell him how important he was.
He could’ve said he was sorry, could’ve said that he would stay in touch from now on, that they would both be better, that he would tell him everything. But instead he smiled a little and spoke, “I missed you, man.”
Then, everything was okay.
Scott pulled him into a hug, which was actually just a quick pat on the back then release, because Stiles and Scott didn’t really go around hugging. Then Scott grinned back at him, a grin that implied he knew exactly what Stiles meant, and that no more needed to be added.
Because they didn’t need some bravo apology, some grand finale, they just needed to know in their own way, that things were back to normal.
“I missed you too, dude.” Scott was calmer, significantly calmer, and in that state he was less likely to kill Derek, and more likely to think rationally. So he looked over at Derek in the kitchen who was trying to repair the destroyed counter, and decided that there was no way he was listening (which Stiles figured out later he actually was), and brought up that matter.
“You know, a lot of times you told me not to go after Allison, and I did anyways.” He started, and even when Stiles tried to interrupt he hurriedly cut him off, “but eventually even though you knew our relationship would be screwed up, you decided to help us.”
Stiles nodded, “Well you guys were like Romeo and Juliet, minus the double suicide and with supernatural creatures.”
Scott’s smile widened, but then his serious voice turned back on, “what I’m trying to say is. Uh. I owe you one.”
It wasn’t approval, it wasn’t acceptance, but it was tolerance. Stiles could handle tolerance for now; he could live with only tolerance. In fact, he was pretty sure that both Derek and him were just moved into the acceptance state.
Scott raised his eyebrows, “Are you sure though? I mean do you really want to get into this?”
This moment Stiles would remember. Because this, this right here was where he would have to make his decision. If he said yes, then he would be for sure agreeing to this, to be in a thing with Derek. If he said no right now, that would be fine, Scott would take him home with him and he would probably never see Derek Hale again in his life.
But whether it was Derek’s telepathic voice, or just Stiles’ own in his head it urged him not to think too much, not to be such a Stiles. It just told him so softly, what he needed to say, what he wanted to say. Yes. Just say yes.
“Yeah. Yes. I am.”
_
The next three hours passed in a whirlwind. Derek and Scott shook hands, and Scott tried to look as menacing as possible, but probably in the next two days he would be suggesting the idea for a double date. Which was a horrible idea, probably the worst idea in history.
Then once Scott had left to check a motel room, Derek and Stiles had nice and long shower sex.
There was nothing better than that, to feel Derek kiss his back with wet hair tickling his neck and leave bite marks along his shoulder blades. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ stomach and steady him when his hands slipped along the wall as Derek’s thrust were hard, and that rough Stiles’ missed from before.
Derek whispered dirty things into his ear the entire time, so different from hours before where it had been gentle and slow, this time he was trying not to slide, and this time relentless, taking all he could get. When Stiles looked down he could see come and water running down his legs, and not caring one single bit.
They stayed in there for what seemed like forever, until the air was becoming thin with that humid condensation. Derek didn’t give Stile a towel when they got out; just lead him over to the now makeshift repaired bed.
Derek pushed Stiles onto his back and Stiles made a complaint that was something like, “are you serious? No towels, and now this.”
But Derek just told him to shut up, and Stiles did when he stuck three fingers inside. He wanted to feel, see how wide he left Stiles, and feel the stretch he had created. So he kept them in there moving them in and out just to see what he had done.
Then Stiles whined, and Derek fucked him one last time. This time quick, with no pause between, and came inside unlike all of the times before. He got Stiles to, shortly after, just slid his thumb over the slit and gave him one pump.
Stiles jokingly complained about how he had just taken a shower, and Derek just completely ignored him.
It was kind of nice.
_
Stiles didn’t wish he could end this with a ‘they live happily ever after’. That was too far into the future; he didn’t want to think about then. When he did, he started to doubt everything that was happening. It was almost the same as when he started to think about the past.
So as he tried not to break Derek’s makeshift bed, and felt that after-glow state take over, Stiles came to another revelation.
That maybe living in the past and thinking too far into the future wasn’t what he should have done. Maybe he should have been living in the now, in the present, and not worry so much. Maybe he should have been doing that all along.
And maybe, maybe as he felt blissed out, and was almost falling off the bed, and knew that Derek was about to fall asleep aside him, maybe he should start living in the now.
Maybe.
The End.
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Warnings: Sex. All of the sex.
Notes: Written for this kink meme prompt
Summary: Stiles wanted nothing to do with Derek Hale. His life was already a mess, and the last thing he needed was his ex-boyfriend back. But when he showed up bruised, beaten, and completely detached from this world on Stiles' doorstep-what else was he supposed to do? Answer: it probably shouldn't have been dragging him into his flat and trying to put him back together, and definitely not hoping Derek to return the favor.
Notes on this chapter: THIS IS IT. This is the last chapter, I decided against an epilogue, just because I really liked the way this finished. Thank you for sticking with me you guys, if it wasn't for your comments probably wouldn't have finished this.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /
Sex with Derek was always awesome. Stiles liked how Derek was always brink of breaking him but never quite there. A little harder, a little faster, and Stiles would probably spontaneously combust.
Okay, maybe that didn’t make it sound pleasant, but it was. In a strange, dangerous way, that made Stiles heart pound, blood rush, and head spin.
But this time wasn’t like the others. There was no animalistic quality. There was no rush, no over powering force. Sure, Derek still asserted his dominance.
After they slid their mouth together in wet sloppy kisses and Derek dipped his head down to nip at the juncture of Stiles neck and collar bone, and left little ones down in a wavy trail, till he eventually couldn’t go any farther. He lifted Stiles by his thighs and carried him towards the bedroom.
Then there was the state of the bed. It had a large slash down the mattress and it’s insides were leaking out, even the wood underneath threatened to break at any second. They had fucked in worse. They had broken a bed, and then decided to fuck in it again. This wouldn’t be the most terrible scenario.
But Derek dropped Stiles onto the ground, and ripped the covers, sheets, and pillows off the bed, and threw them to the floor in a mess. With a raise of eyebrows and a roll of his eyes, Stiles hurriedly scrambled across the floor onto the mound of pillows.
Derek demanded that Stiles strip, and Stiles did so at first teasingly, until Derek hit him.
“Just hurry the fuck up.” He snarled, in the clear identifier that Derek Hale wanted sex now. So Stiles pulled off his many layers of upper clothing, and fumbled with his jeans.
Derek snorted at his failed attempts, “Useless.”
When Stiles managed to get them off he mumbled back, “Hey with the amount of groping that goes on in that casino, it is necessary to have well-secured pants.”
With this Derek yanked Stiles down by his elbows and climbed on top of him. Their kisses in this situation were usually brief, because with the main event so close they were both quite impatient to get past the opening credits.
But Stiles did really like kissing Derek, because it was always different, it was always good. But that didn’t last long before Stiles’ complained about his Alpha breath and Derek moved back to his neck and leave long licks down his torso.
Then he growled all hoarse and sex-driven, “I want you to ride me.”
Stiles didn’t hear this request very often, because usually Derek liked to be in charge, Derek liked to set the pace, and he was really awesome at it so Stiles didn’t really give a shit about dynamics.
But he didn’t mind this opportunity.
Then, Stiles remembered the current state of Derek’s house. He looked around at the completely torn apart-ness of it all. He also sincerely doubted that the one pair of sweat pants he picked happened to have sexual necessities in them.
“Do you have um stuff anywhere?” Stiles very awkwardly asked.
Derek, whether actually didn’t have any or just didn’t feel like looking answered, a quick, “No.” But this wasn’t a ‘oh too bad we can’t do it’. No this was an ‘I’m Derek Hale and I will find a way around this’.
Which seemed to apply to a lot of things.
“So what are we, going to-?” Derek pressed two fingers against his mouth, and Stiles sighed, “Are you serious? Really?”
But he opened his mouth anyways and coated them with a thick layer, before apparently it had both satisfied and turned Derek on too much that he pulled them out with a slurping noise from Stiles.
Derek, in his month of absence, had not lost his touch, and he worked his finger in the same way he knew how always. A small wiggle, a turn, just to ease it in before pressing straight through and hitting that Stiles’ prostrate. At some point of their fuck-buddy relationship thing, he had gotten a good time range down. When Stiles just started to rock back, just the beginning, he would add another.
He knew when two was enough when Stiles started to lose his mind a little bit and became unabashed at his hip thrusts. Also when Stiles began to talk in sentences that didn’t entirely connect.
“Okay, that’s good, yeah, fuck Derk.”
When he pulled them out, Stiles let out this embarrassing whine that if he were completely sane would have him blushing up to his ears. Their position changed in a clumsy mess of limbs until Stiles was kneeling above Derek.
Derek grabbed the top of Stiles head and guided him downwards. Stiles used to be terrible at sucking cock. Now, now he was quite proud of himself after several lessons from Derek in the past.
He knew exactly what to do, especially in a time where they did not have any lube (which had happened in the past at least ten times). Stiles knew that Derek didn’t liked to be licked that much, he liked to be taken into someone’s’ mouth.
That’s what Stiles did, he enveloped Derek’s dick inside until he didn’t need to do anything but hum, and Derek was thrusting into his mouth like he was reaching the main event prematurely.
Stiles developed his own time system, much like Derek, and he knew then was when to pull back. Riding, was more difficult than regular fucking, because Derek still had to worm his control in.
He gripped Stiles hips and positioned him, and then murmured low and throaty, “Ready?”
Stiles waited, “Yeah just give me a sec-“
Derek shoved him down, and Stiles yelped, something along the lines of “you’re a fucking bastard and I hate you”.
But after a second of readjusting, he was bouncing up and down, up and down, to a rhythm that he set. That’s what Stiles’ liked about this, was that he could set the pace, and he could go as fast or slow, as he wanted.
If he stopped or went to slowly, Derek would thrust his hips up violently and demand that Stiles move faster.
To strengthen that threat it would usually be done along with words along the lines of, “if you don’t move I’ll turn and screw you until you can’t fucking move anymore.”
Even though Stiles’ thrusts were more languid than Derek’s. Even if it wasn’t that same wild and animalistic kind, it didn’t take very long. Stiles came quickly, and spilled all over Derek, while Derek had to quickly remove Stiles off of him so he did not come inside, and just made it within a second, and ended up coming all over the inside of Stiles’ thighs.
Sex with Derek was always awesome.
__
Stiles woke up before Derek. The weird part was that it wasn’t Derek who woke him up. He was still sound asleep, no nightmares yet occurred, nothing. They weren’t very close to each other because of the lack of air conditioning in Derek’s home, but his hands were just touching the sides of his waist, and Stiles’ own arms were curled up under his head as a pillow.
Stiles didn’t want to get up. His body hurt, he was still tired, and this moment was supposed to be oddly peaceful. But it did not leave his constantly moving mind totally at ease and he began to think about what happened. Tried to figure everything out, tried to connect things in his brain.
Stiles came to a decision (a decision that would probably change). That the thing about getting older is you never figure out things-you just are able to pretend more convincingly. So maybe he was really…taken with Derek. So maybe some people would classify it as love. He hoped as hell that wasn’t what it was because A) it would be a twisted wrong love, that went against every standard and B) he would actually have to form the phrase “I’m in love with Derek Hale”. That, sent shivers up his spine.
But he was in something.
Something that made him with an unfortunate urge want to be close to Derek, want Derek to look at him, to kiss him, to fuck him, with an overwhelming need that made everything else insignificant.
Stiles didn’t know if he would be okay without Derek. He’d like to think that it would be like last time-eventually he would get over it with deep wounds carved into his chest. But then he looked sideways at Derek, and there would be that little voice going ‘who the fuck are you kidding?’.
It wasn’t some big revelation as if this realization just occurred to him in this specific moment. No, all of these fleetingly passed at some point over his life span, but always incongruent, with no tangible string to hold them together.
Stiles just always needed to figure out that mysterious, nameless, something, to tie them.
Stiles flicked Derek behind the ear
With his super werewolf sense this of course immediately woke him up. His eyes opened startlingly fast, and not slowly and groggy as one usually does. He grabbed Stiles wrist that was posed to do so again, and growled at him.
“I will kill you Stiles.” Stiles flung his hand up in defeat, and scooted away when Derek released his wrist.
Now, Stiles assumed that Derek must have woken up from that tiny little ear flick. But after what would happen in just a moment, he wondered if that also played a considerable part in Derek’s sudden waking.
Because Derek’s stomach let out a mixture of the most fearsome growl/groan that Stiles had ever heard. It almost rattled the room. Also, made Stiles burst out into laughter.
He rolled to his back and out of Derek’s hands. His words barely intelligible through his giggling, “Holy shit, did you swallow a lion?”
Derek’s glare was completely unbroken, and he wacked the side of Stiles head with the back of his hand. “I’ve been in wolf-mode, idiot.”
Stiles laughs quieted down at this, and he got up on his knees. During their sleep fought with the blankets. They had somehow all ended up on Stiles side, and pooled around his thighs.
He grabbed one torn half to cover himself as he stood up, and tried to ignore Derek’s leering eyes. “So I’m guessing we should get food before you eat me, but can a shower be in our plans also? Like relatively soon? Because seriously, I smell like sex, dog, and blood. People are going to get wrong ideas.”
“You do not smell like dog.” Derek countered, with a glare at the reference. That one always did work. Stiles wondered if there was some ancient misunderstanding between dogs and werewolves. Maybe he should ask.
_
Even though a shower was Stiles first option, they decided that the time spent there would be too long, and Derek would not be able to enjoy the inevitable sex due to hunger pains. So they both kind of wiped the extra come and sweat off, as much as the could.
He let Stiles borrow some of his clothes. His smallest shirt, which was a greyish pattern, and a pair of ripped jeans that he had also given him a belt to hold them up with. They looked kind of ridiculous actually-too big around his legs and the shirt draped over him.
He looked really ridiculous.
They shuffled into Derek’s car, and despite Stiles’ constant begging, Derek chose to not give out any information on where they were going. Which was kind of troublesome, but figuring as how Stiles put out last night (err early morning, he guessed), he figured that Derek would not be dragging him off to kill him. Right?
The car drive was longer than he expected, given Derek’s state of hunger, and Stiles wondered if he was taking him to some posh restaurant. One where Stiles wouldn’t even know how to pronounce anything on the menu.
Instead, about two minutes later after he developed that fantasy, Derek drove up to Denny’s.
Stiles almost burst out laughing.
It was busier than the last time they had been here. Stiles calculated later that it was about three in the afternoon, later on, with the help of his phone.
Derek chose the booth nearly in the same position as last time, and then proceeded to order food that could feed the entire Hun army.
When the long process of the check being calculated and the waitress stopped giving him incredulous looks on how the man with a body of a Greek God, could pack away pancakes that probably contributed to America’s obesity, Derek started perhaps the most inappropriate public conversation.
“Your face.” Stiles raised his eyebrows in a look that designated he clearly needed more of a question than that, and Derek rolled his eyes, “Did you?”
Then Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat that built steadily from that event that was just waiting to emerge when the topic was brought up. So with quite an embarrassing voice crack, “yeah, yeah I did, I left, I’m uh here now.”
A moment passed, an excruciating moment, that Derek decided to not respond to Stiles answer. Stiles wondered if he had been secretly hoping he would give him the okay to kill Lucas.
Then, Derek asked a question that rivaled the first in inappropriate-level.
He was calm and smooth, and didn’t even hesitate, “When will you say yes?”
Now, Stiles wasn’t a super human. He wasn’t Derek. He didn’t remember over a month ago, when they sat in another Denny’s and Stiles explained the structure of life to Derek in verbal mumblings. He didn’t remember the exact words. For a while, actually, he had tried to push that time out of his mind.
Derek shouldn’t have assumed that Stiles would be able to just draw the memory out of his head like fucking Dumbledore with a wand. So of course, of course he misunderstood.
That misunderstanding led him to chock on his water, until the entire restaurant thought he was dying. When he recovered he sounded raspy, and more than anything embarrassed. “Um, I’m pretty sure that was equally consensual.”
But Derek was persistent, and he would look over Stiles’ misunderstanding with a huff, and then continue in his you-really-are-an-idiot voice. “No. Yes, your yes.”
“I don’t follow.”
Derek straightened up a little more and in a very snarky, sarcastic tone, mocked Stiles from around a month and a half ago, “yes is for forgiving.”
That triggered the memory. Derek was a sneaky little bastard. He brought him to Denny’s just to get him to talk. He could’ve just gotten Stiles drunk. That would’ve worked the same. Well, that and he would have to deal with Stiles trying to hump everything that moved, but still.
What was Stiles supposed to say? Did Derek expect that now that they had sex Stiles would just forgive everything that happened, ever? That wasn’t, no, Stiles didn’t agree to that. Just because at this moment he didn’t want to kill Derek, didn’t mean he was ready to just embrace a new life where everything from before was a blank slate.
So Stiles couldn’t say anything else, but a weak, “someday.”
It was enough.
It was enough for Derek to take the very long check the waitress gave him, and pay in cash. Before they could leave though, Stiles asked his own inappropriate public place question.
His was quieter though, only a little, because as Scott once told him Stiles was confused on the difference between inside and outside voices. Especially when it came to secret things. Like being a werewolf.
“What were you seeing by the way?”
Derek stood up, straightened his jacket, and did not make eye contact with Stiles. “Not right now.”
He didn’t even notice everyone staring at him, including the chef who popped his head out to see who the hell had managed to eat all of this food, and Stiles gave them a pathetic little wave.
“When?”
Derek, smugly threw an answer right back at him that Stiles should have seen coming. “Someday.”
-
There was a reason Stiles always drove Scott. It was because Scott was scary. He started off as a safe driver, freakishly safe, safer than Stiles. But then at some point, he just started to decide that driving at drag race speeds was way more fun than normal things.
Of course this rarely happened with anyone else in the car, but Stiles once been inside and he saw his life flash before his eyes.
That was probably how he made record timing, and was standing in Derek’s living room with a very disgruntled expression, mud covered clothes, and dark rings around his eyes.
He was also worried though, worried to the point where he wanted to hug Stiles, but knew that he should be angry instead, knew that he should be yelling instead of hugging, because that was what you were supposed to do in the midst of a fight.
But Scott was a lover not a fighter, and with Scott, Stiles was the same way. So they were at that awkward standstill.
Then Scott caught sight of Derek, and everything he was mad about hit him again. “Stiles what are you even doing here?” He gestured to the man who had not been briefed on the whole situation beforehand.
“What is he doing here?” Derek rumbled behind him, in complete displeasure.
Stiles could do this, he could figure things out, and he would just have to very quickly answer before they both started a fight. “Scott’s here because we need to uh speak about things…and I’m here because of a longer story.”
Scott crossed his arms in front of his chest, and made that glare/pouty/puppy face. “I’ve got plenty of time.”
_
Derek decided that he would use this time to evaluate and repair the damage done to his house. Also, seeing as before they left, they (Derek) stuffed half of the broken mattress as a makeshift door, and as it clearly wasn’t that swell of a block, he made sure that if anything was stolen who had done so.
Scott on the other hand, started right in on Stiles without a moment’s pause. “Why didn’t you call me? Why do you only talk to Lydia? I mean, I don’t think you’re in love with her anymore right?”
Stiles didn’t know what to say, because anything that came out of his mouth would end up being offensive, or if he did lie and said he was still in love with Lydia it would send Derek into a jealous rage.
So he opted for the truth, because it was the best, even though he had been avoiding it for so many years. “Because you have…you have Allison, Scott. And that’s great, and I’m so happy for you, and you guys really deserve it and…”
Stiles wondered why he couldn’t speak, why he couldn’t form appropriate words to describe appropriate scenarios. He wasn’t some macho man who thought feelings didn’t exist-he was just Stiles. So why, why was this so hard?
He could probably blame it on a lot of things, a major one his mom being dead. But really, it was his entire fault.
“Were you jealous of Allison?” Scott was good at expressing himself, he used to be just okay, but he had gotten better. He was good at telling people how he felt about them, even though he had been through some shit too.
“No, well maybe, but mostly no. I just I just…your life is so awesome Scott, I just didn’t want to fuck it up.” Stiles’ breath was deep and shuttering, “I don’t want to tell you what happened, because it’s really messed up, but it’s done now.”
This quelled Scott a little more, and this time he was just hurt. “You think letting me not visit you, and not speaking to me would not fuck up my life?”
“You had Allison!” Stiles interjected quickly, “I thought she was enough!”
“I love Allison!” Scott roared his voice raising to a higher level, “I would die without her, but that doesn’t mean you’re not important Stiles.”
There was silence. Stiles felt heat rush to his face, and he didn’t know whether it was from embarrassment or happiness. Because he remembered that in his teenage years he would get this flicker of panic that Scott would dump him that would say he didn’t need him anymore.
Stiles really just wanted to hear Scott tell him how important he was.
He could’ve said he was sorry, could’ve said that he would stay in touch from now on, that they would both be better, that he would tell him everything. But instead he smiled a little and spoke, “I missed you, man.”
Then, everything was okay.
Scott pulled him into a hug, which was actually just a quick pat on the back then release, because Stiles and Scott didn’t really go around hugging. Then Scott grinned back at him, a grin that implied he knew exactly what Stiles meant, and that no more needed to be added.
Because they didn’t need some bravo apology, some grand finale, they just needed to know in their own way, that things were back to normal.
“I missed you too, dude.” Scott was calmer, significantly calmer, and in that state he was less likely to kill Derek, and more likely to think rationally. So he looked over at Derek in the kitchen who was trying to repair the destroyed counter, and decided that there was no way he was listening (which Stiles figured out later he actually was), and brought up that matter.
“You know, a lot of times you told me not to go after Allison, and I did anyways.” He started, and even when Stiles tried to interrupt he hurriedly cut him off, “but eventually even though you knew our relationship would be screwed up, you decided to help us.”
Stiles nodded, “Well you guys were like Romeo and Juliet, minus the double suicide and with supernatural creatures.”
Scott’s smile widened, but then his serious voice turned back on, “what I’m trying to say is. Uh. I owe you one.”
It wasn’t approval, it wasn’t acceptance, but it was tolerance. Stiles could handle tolerance for now; he could live with only tolerance. In fact, he was pretty sure that both Derek and him were just moved into the acceptance state.
Scott raised his eyebrows, “Are you sure though? I mean do you really want to get into this?”
This moment Stiles would remember. Because this, this right here was where he would have to make his decision. If he said yes, then he would be for sure agreeing to this, to be in a thing with Derek. If he said no right now, that would be fine, Scott would take him home with him and he would probably never see Derek Hale again in his life.
But whether it was Derek’s telepathic voice, or just Stiles’ own in his head it urged him not to think too much, not to be such a Stiles. It just told him so softly, what he needed to say, what he wanted to say. Yes. Just say yes.
“Yeah. Yes. I am.”
_
The next three hours passed in a whirlwind. Derek and Scott shook hands, and Scott tried to look as menacing as possible, but probably in the next two days he would be suggesting the idea for a double date. Which was a horrible idea, probably the worst idea in history.
Then once Scott had left to check a motel room, Derek and Stiles had nice and long shower sex.
There was nothing better than that, to feel Derek kiss his back with wet hair tickling his neck and leave bite marks along his shoulder blades. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ stomach and steady him when his hands slipped along the wall as Derek’s thrust were hard, and that rough Stiles’ missed from before.
Derek whispered dirty things into his ear the entire time, so different from hours before where it had been gentle and slow, this time he was trying not to slide, and this time relentless, taking all he could get. When Stiles looked down he could see come and water running down his legs, and not caring one single bit.
They stayed in there for what seemed like forever, until the air was becoming thin with that humid condensation. Derek didn’t give Stile a towel when they got out; just lead him over to the now makeshift repaired bed.
Derek pushed Stiles onto his back and Stiles made a complaint that was something like, “are you serious? No towels, and now this.”
But Derek just told him to shut up, and Stiles did when he stuck three fingers inside. He wanted to feel, see how wide he left Stiles, and feel the stretch he had created. So he kept them in there moving them in and out just to see what he had done.
Then Stiles whined, and Derek fucked him one last time. This time quick, with no pause between, and came inside unlike all of the times before. He got Stiles to, shortly after, just slid his thumb over the slit and gave him one pump.
Stiles jokingly complained about how he had just taken a shower, and Derek just completely ignored him.
It was kind of nice.
_
Stiles didn’t wish he could end this with a ‘they live happily ever after’. That was too far into the future; he didn’t want to think about then. When he did, he started to doubt everything that was happening. It was almost the same as when he started to think about the past.
So as he tried not to break Derek’s makeshift bed, and felt that after-glow state take over, Stiles came to another revelation.
That maybe living in the past and thinking too far into the future wasn’t what he should have done. Maybe he should have been living in the now, in the present, and not worry so much. Maybe he should have been doing that all along.
And maybe, maybe as he felt blissed out, and was almost falling off the bed, and knew that Derek was about to fall asleep aside him, maybe he should start living in the now.
Maybe.
The End.