Teen Wolf; Baker's Dozen (1/2)
Title: Baker's Dozen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Words: 2,929
Warnings: Vague Spoilers, Fluff, Angst, Scenting
Disclaimer: Not mine, not ever. /sobs
A/N: Written for a prompt from teenwolfkink.
Summary: Standing at the doorway in the mouth of the kitchen, Stiles just stared.
And stared.
Then dug out his phone because there was no way he was not documenting this on film somehow.
Derek stood in the middle of his kitchen covered in flour. There were splotches of flour, cinnamon and some other spices streaked through Derek’s dark hair and across his face - from what Stiles could see from this angle. It looked like he’d gone a couple rounds with the baking ingredients and honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure who the victor was in that fight. But truthfully, it was kind of adorable and heart-melting.
Baker's Dozen
CHAPTER 1
It was near five o'clock by the time Stiles' jeep rumbled to a stop in the driveway of their modest home, engine cutting off to leave the teen in near silence. The day had been as long as it was terrible, at least in Stiles' opinion which is totally the only one that mattered right now. Firstly, he'd missed his alarm by a half hour since he'd forgotten to set it the night before, having stayed up well past the witching hour to finish a paper due.
Then he'd been halfway to school when his jeep stalled in the middle of the road because he'd forgotten to stop and refill his tank on the way home. Which put him at being tardy to class and thus earning him a detention. With Mr. Harris, of all people. And that in itself meant he wouldn't be getting out until around four. Honestly, could this -- no, no he wasn't going to jinx himself this time.
Heaving a sigh, Stiles got out of his jeep and headed for the door, keying it open and pushing inside, ready to just flop down onto his bed and sleep for a year or two. And he would have, if it weren't for the fact that someone was in his house. That wasn't him or his dad. Uninvited. Stiles freaked out for exactly ten seconds before catching the whiff of something in the air.
It smelled like apples and cinnamon.
Cautiously, he shut the door with a soft click and dropped his bag onto the sofa as he passed by it and made his way into the kitchen, where the smell was coming from. Standing at the doorway in the mouth of the kitchen, Stiles just stared.
And stared.
Then dug out his phone because there was no way he was not documenting this on film somehow.
Derek stood in the middle of his kitchen covered in flour. He wasn't even wearing an apron or anything -- and wouldn't that have been gold? Just a plain ole black t-shirt and jeans, his usual apparel now a days, sans the leather jacket which now that he was looking had been draped across the back of a chair in the dining room.
There were splotches of flour, cinnamon and some other spices streaked through Derek's dark hair and across his face -- from what Stiles could see from this angle. It looked like he'd gone a couple rounds with the baking ingredients and honestly, Stiles wasn't sure who the victor was in that fight. But truthfully, it was kind of adorable and heart-melting. He may be a little glad no one else has seen this but him.
Not only that, but there were baked goods everywhere. Pies and a few small cakes on the counters, as well as plates of muffins and cupcakes. Was there some sort of werewolf baking contest going on he wasn't aware of? Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact it was Derek sourwolf Hale baking it would be pretty impressive.
Okay, that's a lie.
It's actually still really impressive.
Stiles hadn't even known Derek could cook let alone bake! How did any of them not know this? Did his own pack even know?
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Stuffing his cell back into his pocket he spoke up. "Got a birthday coming up or did you just really feel the need to hijack my kitchen for your bake-off?" Stiles asked, reveling in the way that Derek seemed to jerk at the sound of his voice.
Derek hadn't even been aware the teen had come home, all the scents in the house from baking all day had masked the teen's own scent, which was already in the house anyway and he'd been too caught up in trying not to let anything burn he hadn't even heard the telltale rumble of Stiles' jeep coming down the street.
"Fuck, Stiles." Derek growled as he spun around, eyes flashing red for a brief second. "I thought you were going to study with Scott for the night."
Stiles swore Derek looked almost guilty. Like he'd planned on having everything cleaned and put away, no trace he'd ever been here, by the time he got home.
"I was supposed to, but I got detention and by the time I got out Scott was already off with Allison, so I just came home. So how long have you been doing this?"
"What do you mean?" Derek asked somewhat nervously. "... Baking, you mean? I've known how to bake for years."
"I meant coming to my house and using my kitchen."
Now Derek looked guilty and it was kind of adorable. But then the expression was gone and Derek was back to being the closed up, cold sourwolf they all knew and loved -- put up with, more like. "It won't happen again."
"What? No! No no, I didn't mean -- you don't have to stop," said Stiles, quick to reassure him, not really liking the way he seemed to clam up like that.
It was obvious from the looks of it that this was something Derek enjoyed and how often did the man get to do something he wanted to do that had nothing to do with the pack or hunters or Jackson the freaking were-lizard? Hardly at all ever, that's how often. And Stiles didn't want to be the one to take that away from him.
"I don't mind it, really. I was just wondering if this was like a first time thing or if you've done it before -- here."
Derek seemed to relax, like he'd been waiting for Stiles to tease and make fun of him for liking baking. And really, how could he when everything looked so damn delicious and his house smelled like the inside of a frigging bakery?
"A few times, over the past couple months. It... helps me relax." Derek admitted, which Stiles could understand. It was a mindless task, easy to lose yourself in. Follow directions, mix the ingredients, blah blah. He wasn't all that great at baking himself but he liked to cook. He was an excellent cook, so he understood how Derek could find baking relaxing.
Looking away to glance at the timer, Derek moved over to the stove to stop it, then slid the oven mitts he had found in one of the drawers onto his hands. Tugging open the oven door, Derek pulled out two baking sheets of cookies and set them onto the oven to cool. Turning off the oven, Derek tugged the mitts off and turned to Stiles, frowning at the watery look in the boy's eyes.
"Stiles?" Derek questioned, as he moved around the middle island in the kitchen to stand where the teen was, rooted to the spot. "... If you're worried about the mess, I'll clean it up -- I always do." His hands came up like he wanted to touch, to comfort or cradle but he didn't dare, and so they hovered close by before he dropped them.
Stiles laughed and shook his head, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, it's not that. It's just -- it's stupid." But Derek just gave him an expectant look, so Stiles continued. "I gave my mom those mitts for her birthday the year she died. She'd only used them a few times and since then we just... haven't used them, I guess."
Derek's hazel eyes widened a fraction before he quickly but carefully set the mitts down and pushed them away. "I apologize for using them -- I hadn't known they were your mother's. I'll use something else."
"Would you stop apologizing?" Stiles said, not snapping but still there was a fraction of a demand in his voice. "It's really okay, Derek. Just because we couldn't use them doesn't mean they shouldn't be used. It just... surprised me, that's all. Honestly, I bet she'd be kind of pissed that we didn't use them just cause she's gone. So, it's okay."
Derek just nodded and Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "You're probably not going to use them again, are you?"
"No."
Deciding to change topics, Stiles motioned to all the baked goods in the kitchen. "So what the hell do you do with it all? It doesn't look like you eat it, do you take it back for your pack? Give it away? I doubt you'd just toss 'em all, that would be a total waste."
"I give them away."
"Like, to shelters and stuff?"
"Yes."
"Do you keep any for yourself?"
Here, Derek looked guilty again and the tips of his ears were a tad pink, making Stiles laugh. "You do, don't you! I bet you secretly love sweets."
"...Sometimes," replied Derek, whose lips twitched a little in amusement. Turning to the side he picked up an iced cupcake and handed it to Stiles, who rubbed his hands together gleefully before taking it and peeling the paper away as he bit into it.
"Oh my god, this is frigging delicious. Can I keep some of these? I'll like, hide them in my room or something so my dad doesn't see them. He's not supposed to eat stuff like this, you know, so I'd have to be discreet and hide it really well. I bet I could get safe or something and put it in my closet. Then you can just deposit cookies and cupcakes in there when you bake while we're gone." Stiles rambled from around the cupcake he ate, Derek simply amused as he watched.
Reaching out, Derek swiped his thumb across the corner of Stiles' lips, gathering up a dot of icing and then licking it off his thumb. Stiles watched the display, mouth open slightly and he could see the way Derek's eyes flashed and darkened as the man took in his body's response.
Snapping his mouth closed and swallowing the last of the cupcake, he set the wrapper down and tried to look at anything but Derek and the way the werewolf watched him like a hawk. There was no hiding the fact that he liked Derek, had for some time. He knew the Alpha could practically smell it on him whenever he was around Derek, with the pack or not, just like he was sure the man could smell it on him now.
But Stiles had suspected that since Derek obviously knew and said nor did anything about it, he simply didn't feel the same. He never ignored Stiles or anything, which he was grateful for so at least, if anything, he could keep the Alphas friendship. It was better than nothing, at least.
Except now Derek was looking at him like Stiles were the treat he wanted to devour whole and he had to wonder if maybe Derek did feel the same but just... didn't know if it was okay. Which it totally was, really. He had no problem with getting horizontal with Derek.
Then Derek was crowding Stiles against the middle island in the kitchen, arms on each side of him, boxing the teen in. Lowering his head, Derek buried his face against the teen's neck, nosing against his skin and inhaling, feeling Stiles shudder against him and the heightened arousal that mixed with his natural scent. It was an intoxicating combination. One he had been avoiding for two simple reasons -- the only reasons that kept Derek from acting on any of the impulses he tried so hard to keep stamped down.
One, Stiles was underage -- only seventeen at present. And two, Stiles was the Sheriff's son.
Derek, of course, had his own hangups on wanting someone so young as he himself had been in that position a lifetime ago, and look where it got him. He knew, of course, that Stiles would never betray him or the pack like that. But some issues were easier to deal with and let go than others. So he gave himself space, earned the boy's trust and his friendship -- which had grown steadily over the past year and a half.
On some level Derek supposed he thought Stiles' crush on him would subside but it hasn't, in fact it turned out quite the opposite. Instead it had only gotten stronger with time, the more they hung out together the more he could smell and sense from Stiles. It was driving him crazy, to be quite honest.
What was worse was that Stiles had mate scent all over him. It wasn't uncommon for werewolves such as himself to find a mate in humans, it was how humans were born into their family or any other pack of werewolves. Their human relatives were what kept their own human parts well... human. It helped their pack to strive and grow strong, any pack really.
Stiles smelled of mate, even now standing in front of him, and his wolf wanted nothing more than to claim him. But Derek couldn't, because Stiles was only seventeen, despite how sweet and delectable Stiles smelled right now, mate scent and arousal rolled into one.
Stiles shuddered as Derek snuffled against his neck, puffs of breath warm against his skin and it took a few moments for the teen to make up his mind and lift his arms to curl around Derek's neck and shoulders. This was as close as they'd ever gotten to acknowledging anything that wasn't friendship between them and Stiles wanted it, wanted more, wanted whatever Derek would be willing to give him that was at least more than what they had.
"Derek," Stiles breathed out, voice shaky with excitement as he felt a graze of teeth against his skin. But the sound of Derek's name seemed to break the spell and Stiles cursed when the werewolf pulled back, eyes dark and wanting as they stared down at Stiles.
And honestly, when had Stiles ever had any sense of self preservation?
Tugging himself up as much as he was pulling Derek down, Stiles mashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss, full of inexperience and teenage exuberance. He could feel the rumble of Derek's growl as he gave in and felt the heat of Derek's tongue licking expertly into his mouth and making him weak at the knees. It was so unfair that Derek could kiss like that.
"No, no, no," Stiles whined as Derek once again pulled way, strong hands on his hips to keep him in place as he tried to chase the Alpha's lips with his own. "Why are you stopping, what is so good about stopping? Nothing, absolutely nothing which is why we should keep making with the kissing and then making with the making out because that is totally the next logical step in this. Your mouth should totally be on mine right now, so why isn't it?" The teen babbled and Derek actually smiled at him for it.
Which, let him tell you was an awesome sight. He totally needed to do that more often, like, all the time even. But not in front of other people, just him.
"Stiles," Derek started and Stiles stomach sank, worry knotting up inside of him, that maybe Derek was regretting it already and was going to tell him that it was a mistake and just hormones or something and that he just wanted to be friends and didn't like him like that which would leave Stiles forever alone in the 'friendzone'. "Stiles, you need to calm down."
He hadn't even realized he was hyperventilating, panicking, until Derek said something. But the man kept talking. "I'm not saying no, so whatever you're thinking that's gotten you so worked up, stop it."
"Not no?" Stiles asked, lifting his head up to look at Derek, watching as the man shook his head.
"Not no, just not right now. Not until you're eighteen, which is two months away."
"So, you've been like, waiting?" Stiles honestly couldn't help but be hopeful as he asked.
"... Yes," was Derek's tentative reply, as if he was almost embarrassed to admit it.
"Oh god, I thought -- I thought you didn't --"
"I know, that's why I told you to calm down. You just need to wait, we need to wait. Can you do that, Stiles? Can you wait?"
And god, okay, really, how was he supposed to wait when Derek was using his soft, husky sex on legs voice at him like that? But Stiles just whimpered a little and nodded. "It's only two month, right? I mean, I've waited this long, I can totally wait another sixty days. Not that long. So, on my birthday then? Can that like, be your present to me?"
"If you want, yes."
"Oh god, yeah, do want. Really, really do want." Stiles animatedly replied, then frowned. "So, why did we stop kissing? Kissing isn't like, illegal or anything right? Well, I mean not technically. But kissing would be okay, it's just, you know, kissing." Because really, they could have kept kissing for like, ever and Stiles would have been more than thrilled.
Derek just smirked and leaned in close, dropping his head to nose against Stiles neck, snuffling softly to scent him and then dragged his mouth up to the teen's ear, voice low in a tone that sent shivers up Stiles' spine.
"I wouldn't have been able to stop with just kissing you."
"Oh, well, I guess I can wait then."
"Good."
"Derek?"
"Yes, Stiles?"
"... Can I have another cupcake?"
Derek just sighed and pushed the plate of neatly decorated cupcakes over to the teen, watching amusedly at the glee that crossed the boy's face, fingers wiggling.
"Awesome!"
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 →
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Words: 2,929
Warnings: Vague Spoilers, Fluff, Angst, Scenting
Disclaimer: Not mine, not ever. /sobs
A/N: Written for a prompt from teenwolfkink.
Summary: Standing at the doorway in the mouth of the kitchen, Stiles just stared.
And stared.
Then dug out his phone because there was no way he was not documenting this on film somehow.
Derek stood in the middle of his kitchen covered in flour. There were splotches of flour, cinnamon and some other spices streaked through Derek’s dark hair and across his face - from what Stiles could see from this angle. It looked like he’d gone a couple rounds with the baking ingredients and honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure who the victor was in that fight. But truthfully, it was kind of adorable and heart-melting.
Baker's Dozen
CHAPTER 1
It was near five o'clock by the time Stiles' jeep rumbled to a stop in the driveway of their modest home, engine cutting off to leave the teen in near silence. The day had been as long as it was terrible, at least in Stiles' opinion which is totally the only one that mattered right now. Firstly, he'd missed his alarm by a half hour since he'd forgotten to set it the night before, having stayed up well past the witching hour to finish a paper due.
Then he'd been halfway to school when his jeep stalled in the middle of the road because he'd forgotten to stop and refill his tank on the way home. Which put him at being tardy to class and thus earning him a detention. With Mr. Harris, of all people. And that in itself meant he wouldn't be getting out until around four. Honestly, could this -- no, no he wasn't going to jinx himself this time.
Heaving a sigh, Stiles got out of his jeep and headed for the door, keying it open and pushing inside, ready to just flop down onto his bed and sleep for a year or two. And he would have, if it weren't for the fact that someone was in his house. That wasn't him or his dad. Uninvited. Stiles freaked out for exactly ten seconds before catching the whiff of something in the air.
It smelled like apples and cinnamon.
Cautiously, he shut the door with a soft click and dropped his bag onto the sofa as he passed by it and made his way into the kitchen, where the smell was coming from. Standing at the doorway in the mouth of the kitchen, Stiles just stared.
And stared.
Then dug out his phone because there was no way he was not documenting this on film somehow.
Derek stood in the middle of his kitchen covered in flour. He wasn't even wearing an apron or anything -- and wouldn't that have been gold? Just a plain ole black t-shirt and jeans, his usual apparel now a days, sans the leather jacket which now that he was looking had been draped across the back of a chair in the dining room.
There were splotches of flour, cinnamon and some other spices streaked through Derek's dark hair and across his face -- from what Stiles could see from this angle. It looked like he'd gone a couple rounds with the baking ingredients and honestly, Stiles wasn't sure who the victor was in that fight. But truthfully, it was kind of adorable and heart-melting. He may be a little glad no one else has seen this but him.
Not only that, but there were baked goods everywhere. Pies and a few small cakes on the counters, as well as plates of muffins and cupcakes. Was there some sort of werewolf baking contest going on he wasn't aware of? Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact it was Derek sourwolf Hale baking it would be pretty impressive.
Okay, that's a lie.
It's actually still really impressive.
Stiles hadn't even known Derek could cook let alone bake! How did any of them not know this? Did his own pack even know?
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Stuffing his cell back into his pocket he spoke up. "Got a birthday coming up or did you just really feel the need to hijack my kitchen for your bake-off?" Stiles asked, reveling in the way that Derek seemed to jerk at the sound of his voice.
Derek hadn't even been aware the teen had come home, all the scents in the house from baking all day had masked the teen's own scent, which was already in the house anyway and he'd been too caught up in trying not to let anything burn he hadn't even heard the telltale rumble of Stiles' jeep coming down the street.
"Fuck, Stiles." Derek growled as he spun around, eyes flashing red for a brief second. "I thought you were going to study with Scott for the night."
Stiles swore Derek looked almost guilty. Like he'd planned on having everything cleaned and put away, no trace he'd ever been here, by the time he got home.
"I was supposed to, but I got detention and by the time I got out Scott was already off with Allison, so I just came home. So how long have you been doing this?"
"What do you mean?" Derek asked somewhat nervously. "... Baking, you mean? I've known how to bake for years."
"I meant coming to my house and using my kitchen."
Now Derek looked guilty and it was kind of adorable. But then the expression was gone and Derek was back to being the closed up, cold sourwolf they all knew and loved -- put up with, more like. "It won't happen again."
"What? No! No no, I didn't mean -- you don't have to stop," said Stiles, quick to reassure him, not really liking the way he seemed to clam up like that.
It was obvious from the looks of it that this was something Derek enjoyed and how often did the man get to do something he wanted to do that had nothing to do with the pack or hunters or Jackson the freaking were-lizard? Hardly at all ever, that's how often. And Stiles didn't want to be the one to take that away from him.
"I don't mind it, really. I was just wondering if this was like a first time thing or if you've done it before -- here."
Derek seemed to relax, like he'd been waiting for Stiles to tease and make fun of him for liking baking. And really, how could he when everything looked so damn delicious and his house smelled like the inside of a frigging bakery?
"A few times, over the past couple months. It... helps me relax." Derek admitted, which Stiles could understand. It was a mindless task, easy to lose yourself in. Follow directions, mix the ingredients, blah blah. He wasn't all that great at baking himself but he liked to cook. He was an excellent cook, so he understood how Derek could find baking relaxing.
Looking away to glance at the timer, Derek moved over to the stove to stop it, then slid the oven mitts he had found in one of the drawers onto his hands. Tugging open the oven door, Derek pulled out two baking sheets of cookies and set them onto the oven to cool. Turning off the oven, Derek tugged the mitts off and turned to Stiles, frowning at the watery look in the boy's eyes.
"Stiles?" Derek questioned, as he moved around the middle island in the kitchen to stand where the teen was, rooted to the spot. "... If you're worried about the mess, I'll clean it up -- I always do." His hands came up like he wanted to touch, to comfort or cradle but he didn't dare, and so they hovered close by before he dropped them.
Stiles laughed and shook his head, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, it's not that. It's just -- it's stupid." But Derek just gave him an expectant look, so Stiles continued. "I gave my mom those mitts for her birthday the year she died. She'd only used them a few times and since then we just... haven't used them, I guess."
Derek's hazel eyes widened a fraction before he quickly but carefully set the mitts down and pushed them away. "I apologize for using them -- I hadn't known they were your mother's. I'll use something else."
"Would you stop apologizing?" Stiles said, not snapping but still there was a fraction of a demand in his voice. "It's really okay, Derek. Just because we couldn't use them doesn't mean they shouldn't be used. It just... surprised me, that's all. Honestly, I bet she'd be kind of pissed that we didn't use them just cause she's gone. So, it's okay."
Derek just nodded and Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "You're probably not going to use them again, are you?"
"No."
Deciding to change topics, Stiles motioned to all the baked goods in the kitchen. "So what the hell do you do with it all? It doesn't look like you eat it, do you take it back for your pack? Give it away? I doubt you'd just toss 'em all, that would be a total waste."
"I give them away."
"Like, to shelters and stuff?"
"Yes."
"Do you keep any for yourself?"
Here, Derek looked guilty again and the tips of his ears were a tad pink, making Stiles laugh. "You do, don't you! I bet you secretly love sweets."
"...Sometimes," replied Derek, whose lips twitched a little in amusement. Turning to the side he picked up an iced cupcake and handed it to Stiles, who rubbed his hands together gleefully before taking it and peeling the paper away as he bit into it.
"Oh my god, this is frigging delicious. Can I keep some of these? I'll like, hide them in my room or something so my dad doesn't see them. He's not supposed to eat stuff like this, you know, so I'd have to be discreet and hide it really well. I bet I could get safe or something and put it in my closet. Then you can just deposit cookies and cupcakes in there when you bake while we're gone." Stiles rambled from around the cupcake he ate, Derek simply amused as he watched.
Reaching out, Derek swiped his thumb across the corner of Stiles' lips, gathering up a dot of icing and then licking it off his thumb. Stiles watched the display, mouth open slightly and he could see the way Derek's eyes flashed and darkened as the man took in his body's response.
Snapping his mouth closed and swallowing the last of the cupcake, he set the wrapper down and tried to look at anything but Derek and the way the werewolf watched him like a hawk. There was no hiding the fact that he liked Derek, had for some time. He knew the Alpha could practically smell it on him whenever he was around Derek, with the pack or not, just like he was sure the man could smell it on him now.
But Stiles had suspected that since Derek obviously knew and said nor did anything about it, he simply didn't feel the same. He never ignored Stiles or anything, which he was grateful for so at least, if anything, he could keep the Alphas friendship. It was better than nothing, at least.
Except now Derek was looking at him like Stiles were the treat he wanted to devour whole and he had to wonder if maybe Derek did feel the same but just... didn't know if it was okay. Which it totally was, really. He had no problem with getting horizontal with Derek.
Then Derek was crowding Stiles against the middle island in the kitchen, arms on each side of him, boxing the teen in. Lowering his head, Derek buried his face against the teen's neck, nosing against his skin and inhaling, feeling Stiles shudder against him and the heightened arousal that mixed with his natural scent. It was an intoxicating combination. One he had been avoiding for two simple reasons -- the only reasons that kept Derek from acting on any of the impulses he tried so hard to keep stamped down.
One, Stiles was underage -- only seventeen at present. And two, Stiles was the Sheriff's son.
Derek, of course, had his own hangups on wanting someone so young as he himself had been in that position a lifetime ago, and look where it got him. He knew, of course, that Stiles would never betray him or the pack like that. But some issues were easier to deal with and let go than others. So he gave himself space, earned the boy's trust and his friendship -- which had grown steadily over the past year and a half.
On some level Derek supposed he thought Stiles' crush on him would subside but it hasn't, in fact it turned out quite the opposite. Instead it had only gotten stronger with time, the more they hung out together the more he could smell and sense from Stiles. It was driving him crazy, to be quite honest.
What was worse was that Stiles had mate scent all over him. It wasn't uncommon for werewolves such as himself to find a mate in humans, it was how humans were born into their family or any other pack of werewolves. Their human relatives were what kept their own human parts well... human. It helped their pack to strive and grow strong, any pack really.
Stiles smelled of mate, even now standing in front of him, and his wolf wanted nothing more than to claim him. But Derek couldn't, because Stiles was only seventeen, despite how sweet and delectable Stiles smelled right now, mate scent and arousal rolled into one.
Stiles shuddered as Derek snuffled against his neck, puffs of breath warm against his skin and it took a few moments for the teen to make up his mind and lift his arms to curl around Derek's neck and shoulders. This was as close as they'd ever gotten to acknowledging anything that wasn't friendship between them and Stiles wanted it, wanted more, wanted whatever Derek would be willing to give him that was at least more than what they had.
"Derek," Stiles breathed out, voice shaky with excitement as he felt a graze of teeth against his skin. But the sound of Derek's name seemed to break the spell and Stiles cursed when the werewolf pulled back, eyes dark and wanting as they stared down at Stiles.
And honestly, when had Stiles ever had any sense of self preservation?
Tugging himself up as much as he was pulling Derek down, Stiles mashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss, full of inexperience and teenage exuberance. He could feel the rumble of Derek's growl as he gave in and felt the heat of Derek's tongue licking expertly into his mouth and making him weak at the knees. It was so unfair that Derek could kiss like that.
"No, no, no," Stiles whined as Derek once again pulled way, strong hands on his hips to keep him in place as he tried to chase the Alpha's lips with his own. "Why are you stopping, what is so good about stopping? Nothing, absolutely nothing which is why we should keep making with the kissing and then making with the making out because that is totally the next logical step in this. Your mouth should totally be on mine right now, so why isn't it?" The teen babbled and Derek actually smiled at him for it.
Which, let him tell you was an awesome sight. He totally needed to do that more often, like, all the time even. But not in front of other people, just him.
"Stiles," Derek started and Stiles stomach sank, worry knotting up inside of him, that maybe Derek was regretting it already and was going to tell him that it was a mistake and just hormones or something and that he just wanted to be friends and didn't like him like that which would leave Stiles forever alone in the 'friendzone'. "Stiles, you need to calm down."
He hadn't even realized he was hyperventilating, panicking, until Derek said something. But the man kept talking. "I'm not saying no, so whatever you're thinking that's gotten you so worked up, stop it."
"Not no?" Stiles asked, lifting his head up to look at Derek, watching as the man shook his head.
"Not no, just not right now. Not until you're eighteen, which is two months away."
"So, you've been like, waiting?" Stiles honestly couldn't help but be hopeful as he asked.
"... Yes," was Derek's tentative reply, as if he was almost embarrassed to admit it.
"Oh god, I thought -- I thought you didn't --"
"I know, that's why I told you to calm down. You just need to wait, we need to wait. Can you do that, Stiles? Can you wait?"
And god, okay, really, how was he supposed to wait when Derek was using his soft, husky sex on legs voice at him like that? But Stiles just whimpered a little and nodded. "It's only two month, right? I mean, I've waited this long, I can totally wait another sixty days. Not that long. So, on my birthday then? Can that like, be your present to me?"
"If you want, yes."
"Oh god, yeah, do want. Really, really do want." Stiles animatedly replied, then frowned. "So, why did we stop kissing? Kissing isn't like, illegal or anything right? Well, I mean not technically. But kissing would be okay, it's just, you know, kissing." Because really, they could have kept kissing for like, ever and Stiles would have been more than thrilled.
Derek just smirked and leaned in close, dropping his head to nose against Stiles neck, snuffling softly to scent him and then dragged his mouth up to the teen's ear, voice low in a tone that sent shivers up Stiles' spine.
"I wouldn't have been able to stop with just kissing you."
"Oh, well, I guess I can wait then."
"Good."
"Derek?"
"Yes, Stiles?"
"... Can I have another cupcake?"
Derek just sighed and pushed the plate of neatly decorated cupcakes over to the teen, watching amusedly at the glee that crossed the boy's face, fingers wiggling.
"Awesome!"
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 →