Prompt Post 01
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“Eager,” Derek huffed again, leaning back to grab the bottle of lube again. Stiles glared at him, but his eyes softened as Derek ran a hand tenderly up and down his thigh. Derek slicked up his cock and Stiles spread his legs as far as they would go, giving his lover all the room he would need. “I love it,” he breathed into Stiles’ ear as he lined up and then slowly pressed in.
Stiles let a shaky breath out through his nose, his fingernails digging into Derek’s shoulders as he adjusted to the slight burn and stretch. Derek kept absolutely still for a moment after he was fully sheathed in Stiles’ tight body, his hands on Stiles’ knees, holding them apart as his lover’s thighs quivered. Stiles’ body relaxed and opened for Derek, and Stiles carefully crossed his ankles behind Derek’s back to urge him closer.
Derek pulled out and then rocked carefully back into his lover’s body, drawing a breathless moan from Stiles’ lips. His hands slid up Stiles’ thighs and settled on his hips, holding him steady while he plunged into the willing body beneath him again.
Stiles’ moans were muffled by Derek’s mouth as he kissed him passionately, finding a steady rhythm of rocking into his mate’s body. It was a lot slower than Stiles was used to, a lot less frantic than their usual lovemaking, and it lasted longer than he was expecting. Stiles’ orgasm built steadily, a growing pressure in his pelvis that grew stronger with each of Derek’s strong thrusts, the slow drag of the head Derek’s cock over his prostate on the outstroke.
When Derek took a hand off Stiles’ hip to fist at his cock, it was almost too much, and Stiles slammed his eyes shut and just moaned, long and deep. It only took one more hard thrust against his prostate to send him keening over the edge, spilling over Derek’s tight fist and onto his own stomach, pooling into his navel.
Derek continued to tug Stiles’ cock through his orgasm, only letting go of the over-sensitive organ after Stiles’ made a noise of protest against Derek’s neck. He hiked up Stiles’ legs around his waist and buried his face into Stiles’ shoulder, rocking into the sated body of his mate a few more times before biting down on Stiles’ collar bone to muffle his own cry of release.
Panting, Derek took a moment to collect himself before he wrapped his arms around Stiles and rolled them over the lie on their sides. Stiles sighed and ran a hand through Derek’s hair, smiling at him lazily.
“What was that?” he asked breathlessly, curling his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his lover’s neck. Derek made a low noise at the back of his throat but didn’t answer the question, instead nuzzling his face into Stiles’ shoulder, kissing the abused skin where he’d bitten down.
Stile laughed tiredly and then let out a startled noise as Derek pulled away and let his softened cock slip out of Stiles’ oversensitive hole. As the adrenaline wore off, Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed, feeling sated and happy. He almost didn’t notice when he was gently rolled onto his back and a blanket pulled up over him. At the time, it didn’t seem weird at all when he felt Derek cuddling up next to him and wrapping an arm protectively over Stiles’ abdomen. Usually it was Stiles who slept with his head pillowed on Derek’s chest, not the other way around, but he didn’t mind or anything when Derek tiredly let his head rest on Stiles’ ribcage.
It was just a little unusual. It didn’t mean anything. Right?
A/N: First time writing actual smut. Did I do okay? *bites nails* Would this be considered “R rated” or “NC-17”?
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(And I'm not very good at telling the difference between R and NC-17, but I generally rate explicit sex as NC-17. I would probably consider this NC-17? idk, I'm bad at judging these things, lol.)
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I'll just put it as NC-17 to be safe then. I just wanted to know so when I add it to my masterpost after I'm done I'll know what to rate it as. ;)
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When Stiles woke later in the day, he was surprised to find that Derek had stayed in that awkward position with his head pillowed on Stiles’ abdomen. The warm weight of Derek’s protective arm around him was comfortable, if unexpected. He stayed still and quiet for a few minutes, letting the even sound of Derek’s breathing wash over him until his stomach protested with an unhappy gurgle and Stiles realised why he had woken in the first place.
He was hungry.
With a little groan at having to move, he carefully extracted himself from his lover and scooted off the bed, grabbing a pair of boxers off the floor and pulling them on. They were Derek’s and far too big for him, falling to sit low on his hips as he stood and stretched his muscles. His lower back hurt a little, but that wasn’t particularly unusual after they had sex. Derek always seemed to think that Stiles was a lot more flexible than he actually was, pulling him around in ways that would leave Stiles sore the next morning.
Or afternoon, as it just so happened.
Scratching at the dried semen on his stomach- ugh- Stiles left the bedroom and slowly made his way downstairs, rubbing at his eyes with one arm tiredly. When he got to the kitchen, he went straight for the fridge to polish off what was left of last week’s lasagne. He ate it cold and out of the Tupperware dish they’d stored it in, barely bothering it grab a fork from the drawer to eat it with as he carefully sat down at the kitchen table.
He quickly devoured what was probably two portions of lasagne and then stared at the empty container as though he didn’t quite believe he’d eaten that much in one go. And he was still hungry. Sighing, Stiles put the empty container in the dishwasher and went about making himself yet another peanut butter sandwich- they needed to actually go shopping soon or they were going to run out of food.
Stiles must have been making too much noise opening and closing the cupboards, because when he turned to take his snack into the living room to crash on the couch he was startled to see Derek standing in the doorway watching him. The werewolf was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing his jeans but nothing else, with an affectionate smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Hungry?” he asked, glancing at the plate in Stiles’ hands.
“Shut up,” Stiles grumbled, but he had a smile on his face when he said it. He skirted around his boyfriend carefully and trotted into the living room, knowing full well that Derek would follow him.
“It’s Shark Week,” Derek’s voice broke the silence of the house a moment after Stiles plopped himself down on the couch, and Stiles smiled, scooting over to give Derek room on the couch. Derek sat down and grabbed the remote, wrapping his other arm around Stiles and pulling the human to his chest. He settled back as Stiles dug into his sandwich and put a hand on his mate’s stomach as he turned on the television and switched the channel to Discovery.
Somewhere around the second programme they watched, Derek began massaging Stiles’ shoulders. With a backdrop of bloody shark escapades, Derek dug his thumbs into the tense muscles there like he had used to do for his mother, smiling when Stiles practically purred with contentment.
It was nice, just being together. They rarely got the chance to, even after things had settled down for the most part. Even now, with Stiles in school four days a week and Derek working most days, their conflicting schedules made it impossible for them to spend time being this casual. Apart from sharing breakfast and dinner, their active sex life ate up most of their time together. Not that either of them were complaining. Quite the opposite, really.
Derek tucked Stiles’ head under his chin and ran his hands over Stiles’ arms, settling them over Stiles’ stomach when he reached the right height. Stiles had fallen asleep again, warm and content against Derek’s chest. Derek watched his mate’s chest rise and fall with each breath, a feeling of rightness washing over him.
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Stiles woke up to the sound of the doorbell. He was lying on the couch and the television was off. He could hear voices- Derek’s and another man’s- before he heard the door slam and heard Derek shuffling into the kitchen. With a sigh and a stretch, Stiles got up off the couch and trotted into the kitchen, still wearing Derek’s too-large boxers low around his hips.
“Morning, Sleepy Head,” Derek laughed, opening a box of pizza and plucking the tiny white table off the cheese. “I ordered in. It’s meat lover’s. Figured you’d already eaten everything we had that was dinner-suitable.”
Stiles snorted, but was pleased. The smell of pizza was enough to wake him right up, and he quickly hopped up on a stool and made grabby hands towards the food. “Gimme,” he demanded like a toddler, pouting when Derek went to get plates first.
When Derek gave Stiles his plate, he dug in enthusiastically. “There’s gotta be something wrong with me,” Stiles grumbled as he started wolfing down his third piece of delicious pizza. “I usually don’t sleep this much.”
Derek made a nonsensical noise at the back of his throat, choosing not to dignify the statement with a response. Instead, he added another slice to his plate and leaned against the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow at his mate. “And you have no idea what it is?” he asked after a moment, sounding thoughtful.
“The flu?” Stiles suggested as he reached across the counter to grab another piece from the box. They always made quick work of a pizza. “I don’t know.”
“You’re feeling better now, though, right?” Derek prompted, that strange twinkle back in his eyes that Stiles didn’t really know how to read. He cocked his head to the side, looking at the werewolf like a confused puppy. “As opposed to how bad you felt this morning?”
“Oh yeah,” Stiles agreed, turning back to his food. “Much better.”
“Well, you’ve got tomorrow off school, so you can stay home and rest up,” Derek pointed out, popping a last piece of crust in his mouth and dusting off his hands.
Stiles nodded absently, slowing his rapid chewing to actually enjoy what he was putting in his mouth. He stared at his plate for a long time as Derek cleaned up the mess he’d made in the kitchen, mulling over the weirdness of the last few days. He still felt like he was missing some crucial piece to the puzzle, overlooking something important.
“You going to eat that, or are you just going to glare at it goes bad?” Derek asked gruffly, but the effect was lost as he grabbed a dishtowel and started unloading the dishwasher. Stile snorted but continued eating, a smile on his face as he watched Derek being all domestic. It would never get old, seeing the rough and tumble werewolf doing household chores.
When Stiles was done, Derek took his plate and put it aside. “Are you still hungry?” he asked casually, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Nope, I’m good.”
Stiles laughed at Derek's mock-shocked expression, tumbling off his stool to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and kiss him tenderly. Derek broke the kiss and began trailing his mouth along the side of Stiles’ jaw, nuzzling into the side of his neck when he got there and inhaling deeply. Stiles frowned- he’d been expecting a bite to his pulsepoint, not a session of scratch-and-sniff.
A low growl escaped Derek’s chest as he scraped his fingernails over Stiles’ back and he breathed harshly through his nose, pressing his lips under Stiles’ ear almost as an afterthought.
“Geez, Derek,” Stiles chuckled, a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I know you like the way I smell, but I don’t smell any different than I did a week ago!”
Derek pulled back, breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide, so that his eyes were almost completely black. He grinned, and if wasn’t already freaked out enough, the flash of lengthened canines before they retracted was enough to make his heart start hammering staccato in his chest.
“Of course not,” Derek breathed as his eyes returned to normal, his grin staying in place. “Hey, why don’t you lie down and find something to watch. I’ll make tea.”
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“Yeah, but we have decaf from the last time Allison was here,” Derek said, as if that explained anything. When Stiles continued to stare at him, Derek rolled his eyes and gently grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and nudged him towards the living room. “Go. Get comfy. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“O-kay,” Stiles murmured, doing what he was asked despite the fact that his boyfriend had gone off the deep end. He had half a mind to check the calendar to make sure they weren’t nearing the full moon, but he knew for a fact it had already passed.
Stiles knew for sure something was wrong when Derek brought him a mug of hot tea and let him choose a movie on Demand. Not because he let Stiles choose, per se- he had to humour Stiles once and a while- but more because Derek didn’t protest when Stiles chose a movie he knew wouldn’t interest the werewolf at all. He didn’t make a peep. Instead, he cuddled with Stiles on the couch.
And Derek didn’t particularly like to cuddle unless they’d just had sex. Twice in one week was rare. Twice in one day was incredibly suspicious.
“I know I said I wasn’t feeling well, but you don’t have to act like I’m dying,” Stiles joked halfway through the terrible romantic comedy he’d chosen.
“My mate deserves to be pampered,” was Derek’s response, and he even had the gall to shush Stiles when he tried to continue the conversation, as if he was watching the movie. (He wasn’t.)
It was all very suspicious.
Stiles was definitely missing something.
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Haha yep. Derek's just sitting there all smug and happy and Stiles has no clue why! :D
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He’d had to get up twice during the night to eat, which wasn’t a particularly odd occurrence (Derek had even stopped waking up when he felt Stiles get up at night, so long as he was quiet), except for the weird things he’d been craving. He’d eaten a couple of pickles from the now nearly-empty jar the first time he’d gotten up and a bowl of Cheerios covered in sugar the second time.
So that morning, barely three hours after his last “midnight” snack, Stiles woke with a jolt. His mouth was watering like a faucet, and a long string of drool followed him as he sat up and brushed it away. He sat on the bed for a moment, swallowing the copious amount of saliva that was practically choking him and letting his eyes adjust to the first light of dawn coming in through the window. He was lightheaded, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples.
Then his stomach turned over, and Stiles realised why his mouth had been watering. He made a mad dash for the bathroom and barely made it there, skidding across the tile on his knees as he grabbed for the toilet and promptly threw up.
Pizza, pickles, Cheerios and sugar didn’t taste nearly as good coming up as they did going down.
Stiles coughed and spluttered, retching so hard he thought he might turn his stomach inside out. For someone without a gag reflex- tried and tested- vomiting at all was a rare event. Vomiting this violently? Unheard of.
Once his stomach was empty, he only dry-heaved a few times before his stomach settled. The smell was terrible, and Stiles quickly pulled down the handle and flushed his stomach contents down the drain. He sat back, scooting away from the porcelain bowl to lean against the bathtub, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand and letting his racing heart calm.
He felt surprisingly well for someone who had just regurgitated most of what he’d put into his stomach in the last eight hours. The nausea settled almost immediately after he sat up, and the pounding in his head subsided quickly thereafter.
Stiles sat staring at nothing for several tense moments, his mind racing. He wasn’t sick, was he? Derek’s little knowing smirks came to mind, as well as his strange behaviour of the last few days. Laying his head on Stiles’ abdomen, treating him abnormally gently, catering to his every whim, the smiles he didn’t think Stiles saw-
You’re feeling better now, though, right? Derek had asked in the afternoon. As opposed to how bad you felt his morning?
Stiles blinked, frowning.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were pregnant! Allison’s voice rang through Stiles’ head as loud and clear as a bell, banging around in his skull. What with the weird food choices and now morning sickness? Are you sure you’re not expecting?
Mouth falling open in surprise, Stiles’ hand fell unconsciously to his stomach.
Cravings. Tiredness. Headaches. Aversion to dairy. Sensitive nipples. Nausea, vomiting... morning sickness.
Stiles swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. It couldn’t be. He was a guy.
...A guy who’d been fucking a mythological creature.
“Derek Hale get your ass in here right now!”
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“Please tell me I’m being paranoid,” Stiles said, clenching his jaw. “Tell me I’m being stupid because guys can’t get pregnant.” Derek’s grin faded and he seemed to deflate a little, leaning against the doorway.
“I thought you’d be happy,” he said after a moment of silence, and Stiles’ glare softened just a little. They stared at each other, the tension in the air thick between them.
“I’m pregnant?” Stiles asked for a moment, needing the clarification. This was the biggest mindfuck he’d ever experienced- bigger than figuring out that his best friend was a werewolf, bigger than finding out Derek Hale was his soulmate, bigger than anything he’d ever seen or heard before, which was a lot. He was in shock, the hand that was still pressed to his stomach pale and shaking.
“You’re pregnant,” Derek confirmed.
Stiles ran his tongue over his lower lip, moistening it. His mouth felt like sandpaper and there was a lump in his throat that felt as big as his fist. “And you couldn't have mentioned,” Stiles ground out, his breath quickening, “Maybe, perhaps, sometime, just once, that this was a possibility?!”
Derek stared at his mate incredulously, blinking a few times as if he didn’t understand. “I did.”
Stiles’ jaw dropped. “When?” Stiles asked, dumbfounded. “I think I would remember if you ever said-!”
“When we were first mated,” Derek cut his mate off mid-sentence, crossing his arms defiantly, “I told you we were meant to be lovers and you were meant to raise my pups.” Stiles paused, letting out a defeated breath. He did remember Derek mentioning something to that effect when they became mates.
“I didn’t realise you meant it literally,” Stiles admitted, falling back against the bathtub heavily and shutting his eyes.
“Are you... unhappy?” Derek asked, his voice small and... vulnerable. Stiles’ eyes snapped open.
“Damnit Derek,” he hissed when he saw the heartbreakingly vulnerable look on his lover’s face. Derek rarely looked vulnerable- rarely meaning never- and it was the most pathetic thing Stiles had ever seen. Derek could pull off puppy-dog eyes better than anyone Stiles had ever met. “I’m not unhappy, I’m just shocked.”
Stiles sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, closing his eyes. An image flashed before his eyes of a little girl with Stiles’ mother’s brown curls and Derek’s hazel eyes, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing in his stomach. He opened his eyes and looked up at his lover, smiling faintly.
“We’re going to be parents,” he said breathlessly, the idea solidifying in his mind. Derek crossed the bathroom and dropped to his knees beside Stiles, grinning again. “We’re having a baby.”
Derek reached for Stiles and pulled him to his chest, tucking his head on top of his mate’s as he so liked to do. “You’re going to be a great father,” Derek growled into Stiles’ ear. “I’d never want anyone else to raise my pups.”
“I don’t understand how this happened,” Stiles said softly, putting a hand on his stomach again and just holding it there, letting the idea really sink in. “It doesn’t make any medical sense, but... I’m happy.” He leaned away from Derek’s chest and tilted his head up for a kiss. “I’m happy,” he murmured against Derek’s lips.
Derek kissed back hungrily, the scent of his pregnant mate even more irresistible than it normally was, despite the fact that he tasted terrible. Stiles pulled away after a moment, a thought occurring to him as he looked into Derek’s eyes with horror.
“What’s wrong?” Derek sighed the moment he saw Stiles’ wide eyes.
“What the hell am I supposed to tell my dad?!” he gasped.
Derek just chuckled.
-fin-
A/N: Ending it on a lame note, but it’s finally done. *sigh*
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