Prompt Post 01
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It’s late when Derek gets in, late enough that Stiles doesn’t even stir when the window squeaks shut. Derek sheds his jacket and slowly lets himself relax, his muscles sore and stiff from running.
He still feels keyed up, wide awake and jittery. He always gets like this after transforming, the rush of adrenaline not letting him come down for hours. He wants to sleep, aches for it, but his body is itching to move, to react. He glances over at the bed.
Stiles is buried under a mass of blankets, snoring softly. Derek toes off his shoes and silently moves to stand beside the bed. He carefully peels the covers away from Stiles, who shifts and grunts in his sleep. Stiles' face is lax in sleep, his breathing calm and slow. Derek inhales sharply through his nose, the familiar and heady scent of Stiles swelling up to meet him.
Stiles is sprawled on his back across the bed, limbs akimbo, sleep pants sitting low on his hips. His skin is warm, almost hot to the touch when Derek finally gives in, fingers following the trail of hair under Stiles’ naval. He sighs heavily, smoothes his palm across Stiles’ belly, over familiar skin, so soft and vulnerable under his hands. Stiles is motionless, offering no resistance, unconcerned and unaware in his slumber.
Stiles sleeps like the dead. When he sleeps this deeply, Derek can touch him and move him and speak to him without the boy moving a muscle. In comparison, Derek is a light sleeper, able to come fully awake at the slightest hint of danger.
It’s that part that bothers Derek - that Stiles wouldn’t be able to fend for himself if something were to go wrong. If someone were to break in, or - or whatever else might happen. It catches him off guard, sometimes, the way he worries about Stiles.
It takes him a moment to realize how hard he is, just standing beside Stiles and breathing him in, touching him gently. Derek pulls off his shirt and sinks onto the mattress, settling himself between Stiles’ legs. Stiles doesn’t move. Derek drags the pads of his fingers along Stiles’ sides, hooking them into his waistband. He drags Stiles’ pants down to his thighs, but still, Stiles doesn’t stir.
Stiles is half hard, and the sight makes Derek’s mouth flood with saliva. He gives into the urge and bends down, giving Stiles’ cock a long, wet lick. Stiles sighs in his sleep, shifting slightly. Derek presses his nose against Stiles’ hip, inhaling with short, shallow puffs.
Watching Stiles’ face for a reaction, Derek presses kisses at the base of Stiles’ cock, shifting further down to nose at his balls. After a moment, Stiles’ lips part with a smack, his cheeks slowly colouring. Derek smirks, tongue sneaking out to lap against Stiles’ perineum, then licking down to his hole in one long stroke.
He licks lazy circles around Stiles’ hole, but Stiles still doesn’t come awake. He presses his tongue inside slowly, grinning when Stiles finally moans, hoarse and low, in his sleep. Derek leans back slightly and spreads Stiles’ wide apart. He licks back in and wriggles his tongue there, letting hot saliva pool into Stiles. Stiles’ hips twitch with every pass of Derek’s tongue, his breath coming faster. When he pulls away this time, Stiles’ hole clenches at the loss, already wet and shiny from Derek’s tongue.
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“How can you sleep through this, Stiles?” Derek whispers, scraping his teeth against Stiles’ hip.
He stands up with a sigh and goes looking for the lube. He eventually finds the bottle under a pile of laundry and snatches it up. He kicks his jeans off and returns to his place between Stiles’ thighs, taking his time slicking his fingers and warming it up. When he presses the tip of a finger inside, Stiles exhales shakily, clenching around him. Derek presses his smile into Stiles’ thigh, stretching him slowly.
Stiles is tight and hot inside, but it doesn’t take much coaxing before his body opens up for Derek. Stiles’ skin is hot and flushed with arousal, his fingers twitching in his sleep. Derek dips forward and wraps his lips around the head of Stiles’ cock, pressing another finger inside him.
At that, Stiles finally wakes, jerking upright with a gasp, his eyes flying open.
“What the hell, what -” Stiles gasps, staring down at Derek. It seems to take him a moment to realize what’s happening, and then he’s groaning, flopping back into the pillows. Derek hollows his cheeks and takes Stiles deep, grinning around his mouthful.
“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles pants, wetting his lips. He curls a hand into Derek’s hair, fingers clumsy with sleep. “Yeah.”
And then Derek is pulling away with a pop, slicking up his own cock hurriedly. Stiles stares down at him with dark eyes, lips parted. Derek meets his eyes and pauses with his cock pressing against Stiles’ hole, gripping Stiles’ thighs in his hands.
“Derek, come on, fuck me,” Stiles groans, heels digging into Derek’s back, urging him forward. Derek obliges wordlessly and shifts forward, pressing into Stiles in one smooth glide. Stiles gasps and drags him down by the back of his neck, drowning his moans in Derek’s mouth.
Derek fucks him hard, taking no time out for finesse. The smell of Stiles’ sweat and arousal, musky and heavy, clouds Derek’s mind, and the need to come soon overtakes him. He shifts with a grunt and takes Stiles’ cock in hand, jerking him in time with his thrusts.
It’s not long before Stiles comes with a muffled gasp, spilling over Derek’s fist. The sight pushes Derek over the edge, and he pulls out, coming in long streaks across Stiles’ belly.
He collapses on the bed and presses his face into Stiles’ neck, breathing in the scent of him. He feels Stiles’ fingers scratching through his hair, and he groans, body warm and loose with pleasure.
“Not to disturb your nap, but I don’t really want to wake up stuck to the bed tomorrow,” Stiles whispers. Derek presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and rises, grabbing a box of tissues from the desk. He wipes Stiles’ down in careful strokes, mindful of Stiles’ oversensitive cock. Satisfied, he tosses the tissue in the garbage and climbs back into the bed, pulling the blankets over them. He settles down beside Stiles and pulls him closer, slinging an arm around his waist. Stiles sighs contentedly and turns towards, pressing a tired kiss against his shoulder.
It’s not long before Derek feels himself start to fade, limbs heavy with the prospect of sleep. Stiles is a warm and comforting weight at his side, and Derek drifts off to the sound of Stiles’ breathing, soft and slow against his neck.
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OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. THAT WAS.... NNNNNGH. THANK YOU SO MUCH. ;3; Yes, this is the OP, just in case the flailing and screaming didn't give that away.
Fuck I think I might love you thank you so much that was perfect and hot and nnnnngghhh. *cannot formulate proper sentence structure and grammar*
*hugs this for the rest of forever*
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