Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, NC-17
Title: Ride Out This Electrical Storm
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Summary: It turns out that both Stiles and Derek are inexperienced in the bedroom department, but Stiles just takes that as a challenge and tries his best to blow Derek’s mind.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 4,960
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Ever just get the urge to write about Stiles riding Derek like a pro? Yeah. Me too. Written for the Birthday square of THIS kink bingo card. Also posted at AO3. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
Derek’s mouth is hot against his own. It’s wet and three kinds of insistent that makes Stiles whine low in his throat. His shirt is God knows where and his pants are halfway there, unbuttoned and pushed down his thighs. Derek’s above him, pressing him down into the mattress of Stiles’ bed, one hand by Stiles’ head and the other sliding increasingly lower between the open splay of his legs.
In the three months they’ve been dating, this is the closest either of them has been to getting each other off. Well, intentionally, at least, because there have definitely been a few make out sessions that Stiles has had to pre-emptively bail on in favour of Bathroom Timeouts, as he’s now named them. In layman’s terms, he jerks off for five minutes, comes ridiculously hard, washes his hands, and then returns to an extra grouchy Derek. The difference now is that Stiles is entirely legal.
As of - he darts his eyes a little left to glance at the clock - eleven minutes ago, Stiles turned eighteen, which means with Stiles’ consent, Derek is free to let his hands roam anywhere and everywhere. It definitely sounds like a good idea to Stiles, who is consenting so hard it’s practically in writing.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” he encourages against Derek’s open mouth, lifting his hips up and trying to nudge Derek’s hands lower. “Best birthday ever.”
He’s willing to give Derek some of the credit for that, but he knows it’s mostly because he’s been texting Derek the entire day with a countdown to legality. He also spent the hour before midnight sending very detailed descriptions of exactly what he planned to do with himself, even if Derek didn’t show up. It had included a seven-text monologue and two picture messages. One minute past, Derek had tapped a finger against the glass of his window and the rest is history.
“You should definitely be more naked,” Stiles suggests, sliding his hands up the back of Derek’s shirt and it must be a great idea, the best one yet, because it’s gone before Stiles can blink. It leaves him with a whole plane of skin to explore and a very dry mouth at the thought that it’s all his. “Much better.”
He lets Derek kiss him quiet and drags his palms down between Derek’s shoulders, memorising the contours of his body for later reference. He manages to reach the small of Derek’s back before Derek gets a hand around his cock and he forgets what he’s doing.
“Oh. Yeah, okay, that’s good,” he rambles around an inhale, which makes his pitch of his voice rise until he lets out a long breath that turns into a moan halfway through. “Definitely good.”
Derek’s grip is loose, but it’s less on the side of teasing and more of the unsure-how-hard-to-grip variety. It’s easy for Stiles to slide a hand between them and adjust it though, and Derek follows his lead without a word. It feels amazing to buck upwards into a tight fist that isn’t his own and he understands the whole legality issue, but they absolutely should have been doing this all sooner. He tells this to Derek, who just quietens him with his tongue and keeps on jerking him off.
Stiles slides a hand down the side of Derek’s face, fingertips hooking behind his jaw and holding him close as the kiss turns dizzyingly deeper, Stiles panting straight into Derek’s mouth just to keep on breathing. It’s comforting and familiar, and the weight over Stiles pins him just enough to turn him on. Derek clearly knows what he’s doing to him because Stiles has told him multiple times in the past how much he enjoys it and Derek’s the sort of person to use that knowledge to his advantage.
Stiles curls a leg behind one of Derek’s knees, using the leverage to push himself further into Derek’s grip, breaking the rhythm that Derek gets going. Stiles smirks when Derek falters, though only because he finally knows he’s actually affecting him. Slowly, Derek picks it back up, but it’s clear the angle is awkward for him, the movements choppy and broken, but still enough to make Stiles’ cock leak.
“Not trying to force you or anything, but since I’m the birthday boy, you should definitely blow me before I come.”
Derek’s hand stops without warning, leaving Stiles to thrust up by himself until Derek gets back with the programme. He taps his thumb against the head of Stiles’ erection as though in thought, which is thoroughly distracting and makes Stiles whine, just because it’s his party and he’ll cry if he wants to.
Derek pulls his mouth away, stares down at Stiles, and nods.
“Okay,” he says and Stiles double takes because it’s really not the answer he expects. There’s no teasing, no discussions, just one minute Derek is looming over him and the next, he’s hovering around waist-level, Stiles’ cock nudging up under his chin.
“Oh god,” Stiles moans. “You better be quick because I’m not going to last.”
Derek doesn’t actually seem to listen, because he moves slower, one hand pressed against Stiles’ hip, the other tightening the grip around his erection. It’s all very methodical when all Stiles wants to do is feed his cock between Derek’s lips and fuck into his mouth.
Derek dips down and gives him a tentative lick that seems like teasing until Derek furrows his brows and goes in for another cautious taste.
“Everything alright?” Stiles asks, even though most of his brain is yelling at him to pay attention because someone is actually about to suck him off. It’s a milestone in his life.
Derek shoots him a look and it’s probably a threat of some kind, but they stopped working on Stiles long ago. He takes Stiles into his mouth, which is possibly the best feeling in the world, but remains tense, his shoulders a long line of taut muscle, refusing to give. Stiles drops a hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the short hair just behind Derek’s ear, and he means for it to be reassuring, but Derek flinches as though he expects Stiles to hold him in place and thrust into his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Stiles murmurs, trying to focus his mind elsewhere from the pleasure. “I won’t do anything. I’m sure it’s been a while.”
Stiles doesn’t remember seeing or hearing about Derek being with anyone over the years, but then Stiles blinks, only just keeping himself from jerking in surprise because he wonders if maybe this is a first for both of them.
“Am I your first guy?” he blurts and he blames his body because sometimes he actually has tact. Sort of. Derek doesn’t answer, just keeps his eye down, and Stiles takes it as an affirmative. “Oh my god.”
He doesn’t know why it’s infinitely hotter, but it might have something to do with the fact that Derek’s willing to try something new with him. Stiles is the first one to ever receive a blow job from Derek. Derek’s tongue has never slid tantalisingly along the sensitive underside of a cock before; has never had the tang of precome on it.
“Crap. Mayday, mayday.”
It’s the only warning he gets out before he curls forward and comes, obviously taking Derek by surprise because Stiles’ cock half-slips out of his mouth and he doesn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed of the mess he makes of Derek’s face.
“Crap,” he repeats, but Derek doesn’t look angry, just a little shocked. He swipes his hand through the worst of it and wipes it off on Stiles’ sheets. Stiles makes an indignant noise before curling a hand around Derek’s arm and pulling. Derek slowly moves back up his body and when Stiles can finally reach, he flicks his tongue against Derek’s cheek, tasting himself. Derek shifts as though about to pull away, but Stiles hooks a hand behind his head and holds him still.
Licking come off of Derek’s skin isn’t as gross as he thinks it should be, though it’s helped by the fact that Derek actually makes a broken sound and grinds down against Stiles’ thigh. It totally turns him on and Stiles refuses to waste the opportunity.
He slides his tongue along the curve of Derek’s jaw, mouthing harder at the stickier sections, and Derek turns his face into it, offering the skin up. Derek already wiped most of it away, but there’s a little at the corner of his mouth that Stiles worries away with tongue and teeth until Derek gets the hint and kisses him roughly. Stiles doesn’t even know which of them he’s tasting now, but Derek rolls his hips down, as though he’s getting off on it, and it’s far too easy for Stiles to bend his knee and give Derek something to ride.
Derek accepts it immediately, fingers burying into the sheets either side of Stiles’ head as he thrusts forward, almost hard enough to slide Stiles further up the bed. Stiles clings to his back and tugs at Derek’s bottom lip gently with his teeth. Derek speeds up the movements and the assortment of items Stiles has stashed in the cubbyholes of his headboard rattle and shift around. Something heavy thuds against the floor, but Stiles really doesn’t care. The mattress squeaks every now and then as though in complaint, but Stiles has given it a long, easy life so far, so it’s the least it can put up with.
“Yeah, c’mon,” he murmurs against Derek’s cheek, loving the rough burn of stubble against his skin and the way it rasps against his lips when he drags them up towards Derek’s ear. “You going to come for me?”
Derek turns his head and bites Stiles’ neck, just hard enough to make it ache, but Stiles isn’t the least bit worried; Derek just seems to have picked up a fascination with Stiles’ throat over the months, one that may or may not be wolf related. Stiles hasn’t figured it out yet. It might just be a massively hilarious and ironic coincidence. It’s what he’s hoping for, at least.
Derek shakes against him, panting hot and humid breaths over his skin, the air catching sporadically as though it’s just too much effort to regulate. He isn’t certain until Derek stops and slumps sideways, but then he knows that Derek just came in his pants, which is something Stiles would totally do, not the other way around. It’s unexpected and fills him with pride because Derek couldn’t even be bothered to undress properly. Stiles might have just found his calling in life.
Stiles takes the moment to kick his pants and underwear off, tugging the comforter up from where it’s been pushed to the bottom of the bed. When he pulls it up over them, Derek groans and pushes it away, tucking it between their bodies as a compromise, obviously too hot already. Stiles doesn’t take it personally, just wraps himself up in a cocoon of softness and nudges his face into Derek’s collarbones to leave a quick kiss behind. When he rolls onto his back, Derek stretches and adjusts himself through his jeans, pulling a face of true discomfort.
“‘m going to go clean up,” Derek mumbles, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffling away, leaving Stiles in quiet darkness.
He dozes for a moment, his body slowly coming down from the high and when Derek steps back into the room, he’s ditched his jeans and underwear and smells like hand soap and Stiles’ toothpaste. He rummages through Stiles’ drawers until he pulls out a pair of boxers he seems to find acceptable and slips into them. When he slides back into bed, he doesn’t fight Stiles for the duvet, just nudges under the sheet that smells like both of them and tugs a pillow closer.
It’s quiet until Stiles wrestles an arm free from the tangle of blankets.
“Happy Birthday to me,” Stiles breathes out, punching the air with one hand.
“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek mumbles in reply.
“You should still get me a present, though. Also, I am going to blow your mind the next time you’re over. I seriously can’t believe I’m your first.”
“First guy,” Derek points out unhelpfully. “And what makes you think there’ll be a next time?”
“I’m like Pringles,” Stiles begins, but Derek slides a pillow over Stiles’ face, muffling the rest of the joke even as Stiles laughs and tries to bat it away.
*
In theory, blowing Derek’s mind seems easy, but then he gets to the part where he doesn’t know anything and finds it’s a little harder than expected.
If his life were a movie, he’d be at the part where there’s a research montage and he gets stuff done. As it is, he spends three hours trawling through YouPorn for vaguely relevant videos, though he has to break halfway through to shower because he’s a mess of sweat and come and lube and his keyboard will never be the same again. However, by the end of the night, he has techniques and ideas blending together in his mind and he really wants to put them into practise.
He falls asleep face planted into his pillows, half tangled in his shirt because he doesn’t have the energy to get it completely on.
*
“My dad’s on an overnight shift,” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s mouth. He’s sure his intentions are clear already because he’s shirtless and straddling Derek’s waist as he grinds down into his lap, but he wants to be completely certain. Derek just grunts and licks between Stiles’ lips.
Stiles gets his hands beneath the hem of Derek’s shirt, tugging it upwards until Derek has to raise his arm or end up with a ripped Henley. The kiss breaks only long enough for it to slip over Derek’s head and then they’re back together, Stiles nipping at Derek’s tongue every time it curls behind his teeth. Stiles can feel the hard line of Derek’s cock against his inner thigh each time he rolls his hips down and knowing what he has planned for it sends a wave of need through him.
He lets out a quiet noise that Derek swallows down and slowly pulls his mouth away.
“I don’t want this to be over in two seconds like last time,” he admits, even as he continues grinding against Derek. Derek gets a hand on his waist, fingertips sliding beneath the waistband of Stiles’ pants, and Stiles really wishes he could just zap the material away. It would make his life exponentially easier. “That isn’t helping.”
“It’ll hurry you up,” Derek grunts out, and that might be true, but Stiles still bats his hand away.
“Get your jeans off,” Stiles orders as he slides off of Derek, hands already moving to unbutton his own. Stiles isn’t wearing underwear just because he was trying to proactive, but when he kicks off his pants and glances over, it seems that Derek had come up with a similar conclusion because he’s commando too. “That’s a bit presumptuous. How did you know I’d put out?”
Derek tosses his jeans over the side of the bed and beckons Stiles closer. Stiles goes because he’s easy, kneeling between Derek’s legs with his hands on his thighs, thumbs running tantalising circles onto Derek’s skin.
“You started your text to me with booty call 911. I think I was right to assume.”
Stiles can’t help but grin because he should make Derek dictate text messages more often. Maybe they could move up to dirty talk. It’s definitely a thought he should store away for later use.
“Remember how I said I was going to blow your mind?” Derek nods, but doesn’t otherwise react. Stiles pinches him gently and frowns. “I spent time and effort on this. You’re going to love it.”
“If you ever get to it.”
Stiles takes it as a challenge just because he can, and doesn’t even both teasing; he takes Derek in hand and bends to let the head of his cock slide into his mouth. Derek makes a low noise, hips moving slightly as though all he wants is to buck upwards. Stiles keeps him pinned with a tight hold on his hip and moves lower. His gag reflex kicks in pretty quick and he knows he isn’t suddenly going to be a pro, so he sticks with what he learned. Derek reacts to all the spots the internet told him were sensitive and should be played with, because each time Stiles’ tongue finds a new patch to toy at, Derek grunts and shifts restlessly below him.
The amount of precome leaking out of Derek encourages Stiles on, but Derek sounds blasé when he speaks.
“Didn’t you say something about blowing my mind?” he asks and Stiles has the right mind to catch him with his teeth. Instead, he just pulls his mouth off and frowns.
“Hey,” he says indignantly. “I’m blowing something, at least.”
He knows Derek is only trying to get a rise from him, but it works nonetheless. He lets go of Derek’s cock and sits back on his heels, glaring hotly. Derek smirks lazily and drops a hand to his own erection, stroking himself slowly. Stiles bats it away and clambers his way back into Derek’s lap. From his position, he can reach his headboard to grab the condom and lube he stored there earlier, the sight of which seems to slap the smugness right off of Derek’s face.
Keeping eye contact, Stiles rips open the foil with his teeth, spitting half of the wrapper over the side of the bed before slowly rolling the condom down Derek’s cock. It shuts Derek up quickly. He dribbles lube over the latex, not even bothering with finesse, letting it drip over Derek’s stomach too, just to watch him squirm. It’s a beautiful sight.
Even though Stiles spent half an hour lubing up before Derek arrived, he still slicks his fingers and gives himself one last stretch, but the expression on Derek’s face is well worth it because it looks as though the thought never even crossed his mind. He probably expected Stiles to rub off on him and call it quits again. Stiles might have the last laugh after all.
With a hand between his thighs, fingers slipping easily inside, he bites his bottom lip and tips his head back, entirely for show, but Derek pushes up onto his elbows, obviously wanting to be closer. Stiles pretends not to notice. He presses down onto his fingers and lets out a loud moan. Derek puts his abs to work as he sits up unaided, hands falling to Stiles’ waist as he sucks a mark onto Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles loves every second of it.
“I don’t know if I should blow your mind anymore. You don’t really seem into the idea.”
Teasing Derek is far too much fun.
“Stiles,” Derek replies, his voice verging on a whine. Stiles slides his fingers free, slaps a hand onto the middle of Derek’s chest, and pushes him back down to the mattress. Leaning over him, he stares down with his mouth set in a serious line.
“That’s what I thought. This is Stiles Appreciation Time.”
Derek blinks up at him, mouth slightly open as Stiles rearranges them until he’s hovering over Derek’s cock. He takes it in one hand and nudges the tip against his entrance, pushing down just enough to let Derek feel the way his body gives. Derek grips Stiles’ thighs, his fingers tight and bruising, but Stiles doesn’t care because he finally has Derek’s entire attention. There’s no joking or snide remarks, just Derek’s steady gaze and the uneven pattern of his breathing.
As he lowers himself down, a thrill runs up his spine because it’s Derek that’s stretching him open. He’s about to give Derek the ride of his life and he’s finally going to know what it feels like to come around Derek’s cock. His body pulls itself taut as the head of Derek’s erection slides further inside and it feels a little like falling when he bottoms out. He has to wait a moment, just to collect his breath, because Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat that he seems unable to hold back and his jaw twitches periodically.
When Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles’ half-hard cock and tugs gently, Stiles almost hits the ceiling. He’s too high strung and on edge, so he bats Derek’s hand away and tries not to let his hurt expression get to him. If he comes too soon, his whole plan will be ruined and Derek will leave with his mind still fully intact. If Stiles can’t break it just a little bit, he’ll be extremely disappointed.
He bites his lip and slumps down the last few inches, his fingernails biting into Derek’s skin when he slams both hands down onto Derek’s chest. Derek doesn’t even flinch, but he slides one hot palm up Stiles’ ribs, thumb rubbing from side to side over a nipple. Even that feels a little as though it’ll set him off, but staring down at Derek and knowing he’s in complete control gives him something else to focus on.
“How long do you think you’ll last?” he asks with a grin and Derek stares at the movement of his thumb for a long moment before answering.
“However long you want me to.”
It’s the perfect reply and Stiles’ smile turns into him just baring his teeth and sucking in noisy breaths between them.
When he begins to move, hips rolling in lazy circles, he keeps everything casual. He’s mostly just letting his body adjust to the size of Derek, keeping his cards close to his chest so he doesn’t give anything away too early. Derek shifts beneath him every now and then as though all he wants to do is thrust upwards and watch Stiles fall apart. That’s exactly where Stiles wants him.
He lifts himself up, twists his hips, and then drops back down, so quickly that Derek seems a little stunned. He lets out a delayed sound, both hands gripping Stiles tightly where they are and Stiles’ grin widens. Before, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the movements right, but now, with Derek under and inside him, it’s easy to find a rhythm and let go. He’s not even worried about messing up because it’s Derek and if the face he’s pulling is any indication, he won’t even notice if Stiles’ pace falters once or twice.
Derek doesn’t complain when Stiles slowly takes his hands, lacing their fingers together as he pins them over Derek’s head. They both know Stiles can’t actually hold him down, but Derek stays there as Stiles leans over him, hips still moving, riding him steadily and letting his confidence ooze out. Stiles likes him like that; loves how he’s quiet and completely at Stiles’ mercy.
Slowly, he picks up the pace, wanting more and needing to watch Derek lose control because he remembers what Derek looked like last time with his head back and his body twitching with pleasure. He wants to be the reason Derek comes.
When Stiles raises himself up until only the tip of Derek’s cock is inside him and slowly grinds back down, Derek grunts as though he’s been punched in the stomach and his hips actually jab upwards, slamming every last inch of himself back into Stiles until he can’t get any deeper, but keeps on pushing anyway. It’s Stiles’ turn to groan then and every video he watched for tips and tricks leaves his mind. He doesn’t need to remember what other people find hot when he’s got Derek right there to show him.
He guides Derek’s hands to his waist and keeps rocking himself up and down, knowing Derek will get the idea. Derek takes him by surprise halfway through lifting up again, when he holds Stiles in place with the extra strength he has and begins fucking straight up into him. Stiles turns boneless immediately. He pushes his knees further apart and slumps into Derek’s hold, making it easier for Derek to move around and adjust the angle. Derek shifts his hands, accidentally tilting Stiles’ hips just a little more, and Stiles jerks at the feeling. His whole body seems to ignite and he grabs Derek’s wrists with white knuckles.
“Just like that,” he gasps and Derek gives him exactly what he wants.
Derek snaps his hips upwards and Stiles has to touch himself before he goes mad. He grips himself loosely to counteract the sharp, hard thrusts of Derek slamming into him, and loves the way Derek watches as though trying to commit everything Stiles does to himself to memory. He twists his fingers around the head of his cock and lets beads of precome drip over his knuckles in slow patterns. He can’t figure out which part of everything turns him on more: the movement of Derek’s hips, the way Derek’s staring, or his own hand leeching pleasure from his body.
One thing he does know is that he isn’t going to last very long at all and he really hopes Derek is close because he needs to see Derek come, needs to watch him fall apart beneath him. Stiles tenses his thighs and rocks downwards, meeting Derek halfway and it’s definitely the right decision because Derek’s thrusts turn erratic as though he’s coming apart at the seams. Stiles speeds his fist up, his orgasm building low in his stomach.
With his free hand, Stiles touches the side of Derek’s face, thumb tracing the uneven edge of his stubble, and he’s hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss him. It breaks Derek’s rhythm when he leans forward, but he doesn’t care because Derek responds to his mouth, tongue grazing Stiles’ own as though he wants nothing more than what Stiles gives him. The angle is awkward, Stiles’ hand trapped between their stomachs, giving him barely enough, but his body clings to what pleasure there is and he jerks against Derek and bites at his lip.
He comes just as Derek pushes back into him, a feeble moan leaving his mouth as he spills hard over his fingers and Derek’s chest. It takes him by surprise, but Derek rolls his hips through it until Stiles is sure he can’t stand any more, his whole body thrumming with satisfaction. He almost misses the moment Derek’s expression changes; one second he’s watching Stiles intently, eyes dark and searching, and the next he’s tipping his head back and gasping out into the quietness of the room. He thrusts upwards once, twice, and then collapses down, Stiles sprawling out on top of him just because he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.
Knowing he just made Derek come sends white heat down his spine. He knows for a fact that he blew Derek’s mind because Derek is blinking as though trying to get rid of sunspots and he’s still breathing heavily, his face flushed pleasantly. It’s a wonderful sight and Stiles wants to see it more often. He leans down and drags his mouth against the downward curve of Derek’s lips, too tired to kiss him properly. Derek responds belatedly, one hand smoothing over the back of Stiles’ head as he gently rolls them onto their sides.
Stiles grunts as Derek pulls out, his body sore and tingling from aftershocks, but he’s a huge fan of the way Derek looks entirely debauched, with his cock softening against his thigh and come splattered up his body. Stiles hates to think what he looks like himself, but it must be a good sight because Derek can’t seem to stop staring.
“I think I actually did break you,” Stiles murmurs as he waves a hand in front of Derek’s gaze, but Derek just catches his wrist and starts to clean his fingers with long licks of his tongue.
Stiles’ cock twitches valiantly, but it’s way too soon for another round. He’ll save it as fodder for next time.
“There are tissues above your head,” Stiles points out, just because it’s polite and Derek actually listens, because he grabs the box and tosses it towards Stiles.
Stiles catches it with one hand and steals a tissue to wipe the mess off of Derek’s chest. He does the best he can with what he has, and then carefully rolls the condom off of Derek’s cock. He ties the end and wraps it up in the tissue before he throws it into the trashcan by the bed, hoping his dad doesn’t look too closely if he empties it before Stiles can do it.
Finished with Stiles’ hand, Derek tugs him closer, one palm pressing insistently against the small of his back. It’s hot and possessive, and Stiles throws a leg over Derek’s hip before he even has time to think about it. It’s warm in the room and he’s sweating against Derek’s insane body heat, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. He pushes his nose into the hollow of Derek’s throat and breathes in his calming scent.
“We should definitely do this again,” Stiles mumbles against skin and Derek grunts just once. Stiles rubs his thumb over a patch of come that he missed with the tissue and then pulls back to meet Derek’s tired gaze. “What do you think I should research next? The internet is our playground.”
He grins when Derek actually pauses as though in thought because he’s sure he could convince Derek with a few sixty-nine videos. Their sex life is going to be awesome.
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Summary: It turns out that both Stiles and Derek are inexperienced in the bedroom department, but Stiles just takes that as a challenge and tries his best to blow Derek’s mind.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 4,960
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Ever just get the urge to write about Stiles riding Derek like a pro? Yeah. Me too. Written for the Birthday square of THIS kink bingo card. Also posted at AO3. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
Derek’s mouth is hot against his own. It’s wet and three kinds of insistent that makes Stiles whine low in his throat. His shirt is God knows where and his pants are halfway there, unbuttoned and pushed down his thighs. Derek’s above him, pressing him down into the mattress of Stiles’ bed, one hand by Stiles’ head and the other sliding increasingly lower between the open splay of his legs.
In the three months they’ve been dating, this is the closest either of them has been to getting each other off. Well, intentionally, at least, because there have definitely been a few make out sessions that Stiles has had to pre-emptively bail on in favour of Bathroom Timeouts, as he’s now named them. In layman’s terms, he jerks off for five minutes, comes ridiculously hard, washes his hands, and then returns to an extra grouchy Derek. The difference now is that Stiles is entirely legal.
As of - he darts his eyes a little left to glance at the clock - eleven minutes ago, Stiles turned eighteen, which means with Stiles’ consent, Derek is free to let his hands roam anywhere and everywhere. It definitely sounds like a good idea to Stiles, who is consenting so hard it’s practically in writing.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” he encourages against Derek’s open mouth, lifting his hips up and trying to nudge Derek’s hands lower. “Best birthday ever.”
He’s willing to give Derek some of the credit for that, but he knows it’s mostly because he’s been texting Derek the entire day with a countdown to legality. He also spent the hour before midnight sending very detailed descriptions of exactly what he planned to do with himself, even if Derek didn’t show up. It had included a seven-text monologue and two picture messages. One minute past, Derek had tapped a finger against the glass of his window and the rest is history.
“You should definitely be more naked,” Stiles suggests, sliding his hands up the back of Derek’s shirt and it must be a great idea, the best one yet, because it’s gone before Stiles can blink. It leaves him with a whole plane of skin to explore and a very dry mouth at the thought that it’s all his. “Much better.”
He lets Derek kiss him quiet and drags his palms down between Derek’s shoulders, memorising the contours of his body for later reference. He manages to reach the small of Derek’s back before Derek gets a hand around his cock and he forgets what he’s doing.
“Oh. Yeah, okay, that’s good,” he rambles around an inhale, which makes his pitch of his voice rise until he lets out a long breath that turns into a moan halfway through. “Definitely good.”
Derek’s grip is loose, but it’s less on the side of teasing and more of the unsure-how-hard-to-grip variety. It’s easy for Stiles to slide a hand between them and adjust it though, and Derek follows his lead without a word. It feels amazing to buck upwards into a tight fist that isn’t his own and he understands the whole legality issue, but they absolutely should have been doing this all sooner. He tells this to Derek, who just quietens him with his tongue and keeps on jerking him off.
Stiles slides a hand down the side of Derek’s face, fingertips hooking behind his jaw and holding him close as the kiss turns dizzyingly deeper, Stiles panting straight into Derek’s mouth just to keep on breathing. It’s comforting and familiar, and the weight over Stiles pins him just enough to turn him on. Derek clearly knows what he’s doing to him because Stiles has told him multiple times in the past how much he enjoys it and Derek’s the sort of person to use that knowledge to his advantage.
Stiles curls a leg behind one of Derek’s knees, using the leverage to push himself further into Derek’s grip, breaking the rhythm that Derek gets going. Stiles smirks when Derek falters, though only because he finally knows he’s actually affecting him. Slowly, Derek picks it back up, but it’s clear the angle is awkward for him, the movements choppy and broken, but still enough to make Stiles’ cock leak.
“Not trying to force you or anything, but since I’m the birthday boy, you should definitely blow me before I come.”
Derek’s hand stops without warning, leaving Stiles to thrust up by himself until Derek gets back with the programme. He taps his thumb against the head of Stiles’ erection as though in thought, which is thoroughly distracting and makes Stiles whine, just because it’s his party and he’ll cry if he wants to.
Derek pulls his mouth away, stares down at Stiles, and nods.
“Okay,” he says and Stiles double takes because it’s really not the answer he expects. There’s no teasing, no discussions, just one minute Derek is looming over him and the next, he’s hovering around waist-level, Stiles’ cock nudging up under his chin.
“Oh god,” Stiles moans. “You better be quick because I’m not going to last.”
Derek doesn’t actually seem to listen, because he moves slower, one hand pressed against Stiles’ hip, the other tightening the grip around his erection. It’s all very methodical when all Stiles wants to do is feed his cock between Derek’s lips and fuck into his mouth.
Derek dips down and gives him a tentative lick that seems like teasing until Derek furrows his brows and goes in for another cautious taste.
“Everything alright?” Stiles asks, even though most of his brain is yelling at him to pay attention because someone is actually about to suck him off. It’s a milestone in his life.
Derek shoots him a look and it’s probably a threat of some kind, but they stopped working on Stiles long ago. He takes Stiles into his mouth, which is possibly the best feeling in the world, but remains tense, his shoulders a long line of taut muscle, refusing to give. Stiles drops a hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the short hair just behind Derek’s ear, and he means for it to be reassuring, but Derek flinches as though he expects Stiles to hold him in place and thrust into his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Stiles murmurs, trying to focus his mind elsewhere from the pleasure. “I won’t do anything. I’m sure it’s been a while.”
Stiles doesn’t remember seeing or hearing about Derek being with anyone over the years, but then Stiles blinks, only just keeping himself from jerking in surprise because he wonders if maybe this is a first for both of them.
“Am I your first guy?” he blurts and he blames his body because sometimes he actually has tact. Sort of. Derek doesn’t answer, just keeps his eye down, and Stiles takes it as an affirmative. “Oh my god.”
He doesn’t know why it’s infinitely hotter, but it might have something to do with the fact that Derek’s willing to try something new with him. Stiles is the first one to ever receive a blow job from Derek. Derek’s tongue has never slid tantalisingly along the sensitive underside of a cock before; has never had the tang of precome on it.
“Crap. Mayday, mayday.”
It’s the only warning he gets out before he curls forward and comes, obviously taking Derek by surprise because Stiles’ cock half-slips out of his mouth and he doesn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed of the mess he makes of Derek’s face.
“Crap,” he repeats, but Derek doesn’t look angry, just a little shocked. He swipes his hand through the worst of it and wipes it off on Stiles’ sheets. Stiles makes an indignant noise before curling a hand around Derek’s arm and pulling. Derek slowly moves back up his body and when Stiles can finally reach, he flicks his tongue against Derek’s cheek, tasting himself. Derek shifts as though about to pull away, but Stiles hooks a hand behind his head and holds him still.
Licking come off of Derek’s skin isn’t as gross as he thinks it should be, though it’s helped by the fact that Derek actually makes a broken sound and grinds down against Stiles’ thigh. It totally turns him on and Stiles refuses to waste the opportunity.
He slides his tongue along the curve of Derek’s jaw, mouthing harder at the stickier sections, and Derek turns his face into it, offering the skin up. Derek already wiped most of it away, but there’s a little at the corner of his mouth that Stiles worries away with tongue and teeth until Derek gets the hint and kisses him roughly. Stiles doesn’t even know which of them he’s tasting now, but Derek rolls his hips down, as though he’s getting off on it, and it’s far too easy for Stiles to bend his knee and give Derek something to ride.
Derek accepts it immediately, fingers burying into the sheets either side of Stiles’ head as he thrusts forward, almost hard enough to slide Stiles further up the bed. Stiles clings to his back and tugs at Derek’s bottom lip gently with his teeth. Derek speeds up the movements and the assortment of items Stiles has stashed in the cubbyholes of his headboard rattle and shift around. Something heavy thuds against the floor, but Stiles really doesn’t care. The mattress squeaks every now and then as though in complaint, but Stiles has given it a long, easy life so far, so it’s the least it can put up with.
“Yeah, c’mon,” he murmurs against Derek’s cheek, loving the rough burn of stubble against his skin and the way it rasps against his lips when he drags them up towards Derek’s ear. “You going to come for me?”
Derek turns his head and bites Stiles’ neck, just hard enough to make it ache, but Stiles isn’t the least bit worried; Derek just seems to have picked up a fascination with Stiles’ throat over the months, one that may or may not be wolf related. Stiles hasn’t figured it out yet. It might just be a massively hilarious and ironic coincidence. It’s what he’s hoping for, at least.
Derek shakes against him, panting hot and humid breaths over his skin, the air catching sporadically as though it’s just too much effort to regulate. He isn’t certain until Derek stops and slumps sideways, but then he knows that Derek just came in his pants, which is something Stiles would totally do, not the other way around. It’s unexpected and fills him with pride because Derek couldn’t even be bothered to undress properly. Stiles might have just found his calling in life.
Stiles takes the moment to kick his pants and underwear off, tugging the comforter up from where it’s been pushed to the bottom of the bed. When he pulls it up over them, Derek groans and pushes it away, tucking it between their bodies as a compromise, obviously too hot already. Stiles doesn’t take it personally, just wraps himself up in a cocoon of softness and nudges his face into Derek’s collarbones to leave a quick kiss behind. When he rolls onto his back, Derek stretches and adjusts himself through his jeans, pulling a face of true discomfort.
“‘m going to go clean up,” Derek mumbles, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffling away, leaving Stiles in quiet darkness.
He dozes for a moment, his body slowly coming down from the high and when Derek steps back into the room, he’s ditched his jeans and underwear and smells like hand soap and Stiles’ toothpaste. He rummages through Stiles’ drawers until he pulls out a pair of boxers he seems to find acceptable and slips into them. When he slides back into bed, he doesn’t fight Stiles for the duvet, just nudges under the sheet that smells like both of them and tugs a pillow closer.
It’s quiet until Stiles wrestles an arm free from the tangle of blankets.
“Happy Birthday to me,” Stiles breathes out, punching the air with one hand.
“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek mumbles in reply.
“You should still get me a present, though. Also, I am going to blow your mind the next time you’re over. I seriously can’t believe I’m your first.”
“First guy,” Derek points out unhelpfully. “And what makes you think there’ll be a next time?”
“I’m like Pringles,” Stiles begins, but Derek slides a pillow over Stiles’ face, muffling the rest of the joke even as Stiles laughs and tries to bat it away.
*
In theory, blowing Derek’s mind seems easy, but then he gets to the part where he doesn’t know anything and finds it’s a little harder than expected.
If his life were a movie, he’d be at the part where there’s a research montage and he gets stuff done. As it is, he spends three hours trawling through YouPorn for vaguely relevant videos, though he has to break halfway through to shower because he’s a mess of sweat and come and lube and his keyboard will never be the same again. However, by the end of the night, he has techniques and ideas blending together in his mind and he really wants to put them into practise.
He falls asleep face planted into his pillows, half tangled in his shirt because he doesn’t have the energy to get it completely on.
*
“My dad’s on an overnight shift,” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s mouth. He’s sure his intentions are clear already because he’s shirtless and straddling Derek’s waist as he grinds down into his lap, but he wants to be completely certain. Derek just grunts and licks between Stiles’ lips.
Stiles gets his hands beneath the hem of Derek’s shirt, tugging it upwards until Derek has to raise his arm or end up with a ripped Henley. The kiss breaks only long enough for it to slip over Derek’s head and then they’re back together, Stiles nipping at Derek’s tongue every time it curls behind his teeth. Stiles can feel the hard line of Derek’s cock against his inner thigh each time he rolls his hips down and knowing what he has planned for it sends a wave of need through him.
He lets out a quiet noise that Derek swallows down and slowly pulls his mouth away.
“I don’t want this to be over in two seconds like last time,” he admits, even as he continues grinding against Derek. Derek gets a hand on his waist, fingertips sliding beneath the waistband of Stiles’ pants, and Stiles really wishes he could just zap the material away. It would make his life exponentially easier. “That isn’t helping.”
“It’ll hurry you up,” Derek grunts out, and that might be true, but Stiles still bats his hand away.
“Get your jeans off,” Stiles orders as he slides off of Derek, hands already moving to unbutton his own. Stiles isn’t wearing underwear just because he was trying to proactive, but when he kicks off his pants and glances over, it seems that Derek had come up with a similar conclusion because he’s commando too. “That’s a bit presumptuous. How did you know I’d put out?”
Derek tosses his jeans over the side of the bed and beckons Stiles closer. Stiles goes because he’s easy, kneeling between Derek’s legs with his hands on his thighs, thumbs running tantalising circles onto Derek’s skin.
“You started your text to me with booty call 911. I think I was right to assume.”
Stiles can’t help but grin because he should make Derek dictate text messages more often. Maybe they could move up to dirty talk. It’s definitely a thought he should store away for later use.
“Remember how I said I was going to blow your mind?” Derek nods, but doesn’t otherwise react. Stiles pinches him gently and frowns. “I spent time and effort on this. You’re going to love it.”
“If you ever get to it.”
Stiles takes it as a challenge just because he can, and doesn’t even both teasing; he takes Derek in hand and bends to let the head of his cock slide into his mouth. Derek makes a low noise, hips moving slightly as though all he wants is to buck upwards. Stiles keeps him pinned with a tight hold on his hip and moves lower. His gag reflex kicks in pretty quick and he knows he isn’t suddenly going to be a pro, so he sticks with what he learned. Derek reacts to all the spots the internet told him were sensitive and should be played with, because each time Stiles’ tongue finds a new patch to toy at, Derek grunts and shifts restlessly below him.
The amount of precome leaking out of Derek encourages Stiles on, but Derek sounds blasé when he speaks.
“Didn’t you say something about blowing my mind?” he asks and Stiles has the right mind to catch him with his teeth. Instead, he just pulls his mouth off and frowns.
“Hey,” he says indignantly. “I’m blowing something, at least.”
He knows Derek is only trying to get a rise from him, but it works nonetheless. He lets go of Derek’s cock and sits back on his heels, glaring hotly. Derek smirks lazily and drops a hand to his own erection, stroking himself slowly. Stiles bats it away and clambers his way back into Derek’s lap. From his position, he can reach his headboard to grab the condom and lube he stored there earlier, the sight of which seems to slap the smugness right off of Derek’s face.
Keeping eye contact, Stiles rips open the foil with his teeth, spitting half of the wrapper over the side of the bed before slowly rolling the condom down Derek’s cock. It shuts Derek up quickly. He dribbles lube over the latex, not even bothering with finesse, letting it drip over Derek’s stomach too, just to watch him squirm. It’s a beautiful sight.
Even though Stiles spent half an hour lubing up before Derek arrived, he still slicks his fingers and gives himself one last stretch, but the expression on Derek’s face is well worth it because it looks as though the thought never even crossed his mind. He probably expected Stiles to rub off on him and call it quits again. Stiles might have the last laugh after all.
With a hand between his thighs, fingers slipping easily inside, he bites his bottom lip and tips his head back, entirely for show, but Derek pushes up onto his elbows, obviously wanting to be closer. Stiles pretends not to notice. He presses down onto his fingers and lets out a loud moan. Derek puts his abs to work as he sits up unaided, hands falling to Stiles’ waist as he sucks a mark onto Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles loves every second of it.
“I don’t know if I should blow your mind anymore. You don’t really seem into the idea.”
Teasing Derek is far too much fun.
“Stiles,” Derek replies, his voice verging on a whine. Stiles slides his fingers free, slaps a hand onto the middle of Derek’s chest, and pushes him back down to the mattress. Leaning over him, he stares down with his mouth set in a serious line.
“That’s what I thought. This is Stiles Appreciation Time.”
Derek blinks up at him, mouth slightly open as Stiles rearranges them until he’s hovering over Derek’s cock. He takes it in one hand and nudges the tip against his entrance, pushing down just enough to let Derek feel the way his body gives. Derek grips Stiles’ thighs, his fingers tight and bruising, but Stiles doesn’t care because he finally has Derek’s entire attention. There’s no joking or snide remarks, just Derek’s steady gaze and the uneven pattern of his breathing.
As he lowers himself down, a thrill runs up his spine because it’s Derek that’s stretching him open. He’s about to give Derek the ride of his life and he’s finally going to know what it feels like to come around Derek’s cock. His body pulls itself taut as the head of Derek’s erection slides further inside and it feels a little like falling when he bottoms out. He has to wait a moment, just to collect his breath, because Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat that he seems unable to hold back and his jaw twitches periodically.
When Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles’ half-hard cock and tugs gently, Stiles almost hits the ceiling. He’s too high strung and on edge, so he bats Derek’s hand away and tries not to let his hurt expression get to him. If he comes too soon, his whole plan will be ruined and Derek will leave with his mind still fully intact. If Stiles can’t break it just a little bit, he’ll be extremely disappointed.
He bites his lip and slumps down the last few inches, his fingernails biting into Derek’s skin when he slams both hands down onto Derek’s chest. Derek doesn’t even flinch, but he slides one hot palm up Stiles’ ribs, thumb rubbing from side to side over a nipple. Even that feels a little as though it’ll set him off, but staring down at Derek and knowing he’s in complete control gives him something else to focus on.
“How long do you think you’ll last?” he asks with a grin and Derek stares at the movement of his thumb for a long moment before answering.
“However long you want me to.”
It’s the perfect reply and Stiles’ smile turns into him just baring his teeth and sucking in noisy breaths between them.
When he begins to move, hips rolling in lazy circles, he keeps everything casual. He’s mostly just letting his body adjust to the size of Derek, keeping his cards close to his chest so he doesn’t give anything away too early. Derek shifts beneath him every now and then as though all he wants to do is thrust upwards and watch Stiles fall apart. That’s exactly where Stiles wants him.
He lifts himself up, twists his hips, and then drops back down, so quickly that Derek seems a little stunned. He lets out a delayed sound, both hands gripping Stiles tightly where they are and Stiles’ grin widens. Before, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the movements right, but now, with Derek under and inside him, it’s easy to find a rhythm and let go. He’s not even worried about messing up because it’s Derek and if the face he’s pulling is any indication, he won’t even notice if Stiles’ pace falters once or twice.
Derek doesn’t complain when Stiles slowly takes his hands, lacing their fingers together as he pins them over Derek’s head. They both know Stiles can’t actually hold him down, but Derek stays there as Stiles leans over him, hips still moving, riding him steadily and letting his confidence ooze out. Stiles likes him like that; loves how he’s quiet and completely at Stiles’ mercy.
Slowly, he picks up the pace, wanting more and needing to watch Derek lose control because he remembers what Derek looked like last time with his head back and his body twitching with pleasure. He wants to be the reason Derek comes.
When Stiles raises himself up until only the tip of Derek’s cock is inside him and slowly grinds back down, Derek grunts as though he’s been punched in the stomach and his hips actually jab upwards, slamming every last inch of himself back into Stiles until he can’t get any deeper, but keeps on pushing anyway. It’s Stiles’ turn to groan then and every video he watched for tips and tricks leaves his mind. He doesn’t need to remember what other people find hot when he’s got Derek right there to show him.
He guides Derek’s hands to his waist and keeps rocking himself up and down, knowing Derek will get the idea. Derek takes him by surprise halfway through lifting up again, when he holds Stiles in place with the extra strength he has and begins fucking straight up into him. Stiles turns boneless immediately. He pushes his knees further apart and slumps into Derek’s hold, making it easier for Derek to move around and adjust the angle. Derek shifts his hands, accidentally tilting Stiles’ hips just a little more, and Stiles jerks at the feeling. His whole body seems to ignite and he grabs Derek’s wrists with white knuckles.
“Just like that,” he gasps and Derek gives him exactly what he wants.
Derek snaps his hips upwards and Stiles has to touch himself before he goes mad. He grips himself loosely to counteract the sharp, hard thrusts of Derek slamming into him, and loves the way Derek watches as though trying to commit everything Stiles does to himself to memory. He twists his fingers around the head of his cock and lets beads of precome drip over his knuckles in slow patterns. He can’t figure out which part of everything turns him on more: the movement of Derek’s hips, the way Derek’s staring, or his own hand leeching pleasure from his body.
One thing he does know is that he isn’t going to last very long at all and he really hopes Derek is close because he needs to see Derek come, needs to watch him fall apart beneath him. Stiles tenses his thighs and rocks downwards, meeting Derek halfway and it’s definitely the right decision because Derek’s thrusts turn erratic as though he’s coming apart at the seams. Stiles speeds his fist up, his orgasm building low in his stomach.
With his free hand, Stiles touches the side of Derek’s face, thumb tracing the uneven edge of his stubble, and he’s hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss him. It breaks Derek’s rhythm when he leans forward, but he doesn’t care because Derek responds to his mouth, tongue grazing Stiles’ own as though he wants nothing more than what Stiles gives him. The angle is awkward, Stiles’ hand trapped between their stomachs, giving him barely enough, but his body clings to what pleasure there is and he jerks against Derek and bites at his lip.
He comes just as Derek pushes back into him, a feeble moan leaving his mouth as he spills hard over his fingers and Derek’s chest. It takes him by surprise, but Derek rolls his hips through it until Stiles is sure he can’t stand any more, his whole body thrumming with satisfaction. He almost misses the moment Derek’s expression changes; one second he’s watching Stiles intently, eyes dark and searching, and the next he’s tipping his head back and gasping out into the quietness of the room. He thrusts upwards once, twice, and then collapses down, Stiles sprawling out on top of him just because he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.
Knowing he just made Derek come sends white heat down his spine. He knows for a fact that he blew Derek’s mind because Derek is blinking as though trying to get rid of sunspots and he’s still breathing heavily, his face flushed pleasantly. It’s a wonderful sight and Stiles wants to see it more often. He leans down and drags his mouth against the downward curve of Derek’s lips, too tired to kiss him properly. Derek responds belatedly, one hand smoothing over the back of Stiles’ head as he gently rolls them onto their sides.
Stiles grunts as Derek pulls out, his body sore and tingling from aftershocks, but he’s a huge fan of the way Derek looks entirely debauched, with his cock softening against his thigh and come splattered up his body. Stiles hates to think what he looks like himself, but it must be a good sight because Derek can’t seem to stop staring.
“I think I actually did break you,” Stiles murmurs as he waves a hand in front of Derek’s gaze, but Derek just catches his wrist and starts to clean his fingers with long licks of his tongue.
Stiles’ cock twitches valiantly, but it’s way too soon for another round. He’ll save it as fodder for next time.
“There are tissues above your head,” Stiles points out, just because it’s polite and Derek actually listens, because he grabs the box and tosses it towards Stiles.
Stiles catches it with one hand and steals a tissue to wipe the mess off of Derek’s chest. He does the best he can with what he has, and then carefully rolls the condom off of Derek’s cock. He ties the end and wraps it up in the tissue before he throws it into the trashcan by the bed, hoping his dad doesn’t look too closely if he empties it before Stiles can do it.
Finished with Stiles’ hand, Derek tugs him closer, one palm pressing insistently against the small of his back. It’s hot and possessive, and Stiles throws a leg over Derek’s hip before he even has time to think about it. It’s warm in the room and he’s sweating against Derek’s insane body heat, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. He pushes his nose into the hollow of Derek’s throat and breathes in his calming scent.
“We should definitely do this again,” Stiles mumbles against skin and Derek grunts just once. Stiles rubs his thumb over a patch of come that he missed with the tissue and then pulls back to meet Derek’s tired gaze. “What do you think I should research next? The internet is our playground.”
He grins when Derek actually pauses as though in thought because he’s sure he could convince Derek with a few sixty-nine videos. Their sex life is going to be awesome.