Prompt Post 01
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The only warning Stiles gets before Derek starts to move is a low growl and another bite, and then Derek is pulling out and thrusting back in and it’s so impossibly good that Stiles can’t think to do anything but whine and try to rock back for more, to meet Derek’s next thrust with a needy cry.
Derek tightens his grip on Stiles and thrusts in harder, shifting his weight just enough that he can angle for Stiles’ prostate and the sound of Stiles crying out for more, Derek, fuck, please, oh God, more deafens even the rough sound of skin on skin when their bodies come together. Derek drags Stiles’ hips back to meet every thrust, sliding in deeper, and his low grunts every time he bottoms out go straight to Stiles groin.
Stiles’ cock is leaking - like a faucet or something else stupid and annoying and wet - and he should be embarrassed but he feels way too fucking good to care. It’s getting hard to breath with the way Derek’s fingers are curled around his throat, cutting off his airways, but the light headedness and short, raspy breaths are only adding to the building feeling of euphoria and Stiles doesn’t think he’d complain even if he could.
The next thrust of Derek’s hips is so hard they topple forward, but Derek doesn’t stop thrusting. He tightens his grip around Stiles’ throat, enough that Stiles is gasping for breath, and before he knows it Derek’s teeth are sinking into his shoulder and Stiles is coming with a breathless cry, his body going tight and clenching around Derek.
Derek eases off of Stiles’ throat but it’s only to grasp at his hips, tug him back and fuck into him hard while Stiles is still coming, clenching tight around Derek’s cock. He fucks into him hard and fast and desperate, the sounds escaping him becoming increasingly louder, needier, until even Derek’s coming with a near-howl and slamming so hard into Stiles his hips are likely to leave bruises on Stiles’ ass.
For a few shaky moments, neither of them moves. Derek’s nails are biting sharp into Stiles’ hips so hard it hurts and one or two were bound to have left half-moon cuts. He’s trembling, locking his elbows to hold himself up and Stiles is too winded to do anything but whimper softly. Eventually, Derek groans and pulls out, moving slowly. He bats at Stiles’ hip and tugs at it, urging Stiles roll over, and Stiles flops uselessly at him.
There’s a look on Derek’s face that’s almost fond but it’s gone as soon as Stiles notices it. Derek shifts Stiles’ thighs, slipping his fingers back inside of Stiles despite feeble protests to check he’s okay. Derek checks the bruises and cuts on Stiles’ hips, his chest, all the way up to his throat before he huffs softly, content with what he’s found.
Stiles’ throat aches way too much for him to form words, so he settles for just making grabby hands at Derek and tries to lure him in closer. At first, Derek refuses, remaining steadfast, but he gives in when Stiles whimpers and curls up at his side dutifully. “Next time, just shut up,” Derek murmurs, leaning in and nosing against Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles is torn between scoffing and laughing, the sound getting jumbled up and it hurts when it escapes him. He ignores Derek’s look, and closes his eyes, because if this is how Derek is going to get him to silence in the future, Stiles is seriously hardly going to object or shut up.
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Stiles does need to shut up sometimes.
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I love how you mentioned how people don't ask him about the marks Derek leaves on him and it just made me wonder all sorts of delicious things.
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loved it :)
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Are you kidding me?
Awesome fill <33
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