Teen Wolf fic: This One's A Keeper (Sterek NC17 smut)

Jul 22, 2016 15:12



Title: This one's a keeper {from tumblr, also at AO3}
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sterek
Genre: smut based on a nsfw audio clip. some humor. some fluff. some monster-of-the-week. but mostly just smut.
Warnings/Spoilers: non-linear storytelling. non-specific time-frame. Protective!Derek, pining!Derek, bottom!Stiles, loud sex, moaning, masturbation, voyeurism.
Word Count: 1860 apx
Summary: "He knows it’s going to drive him crazy, but of all the random pocket-dials he’s gotten from Stiles, Derek doesn’t think he could delete this one if he tried." (aka five times Stiles accidentally pocket-dialed Derek. v3 now with 50% more happy endings ;p)
A/N: could not help myself because the guy on that audio clip sounds way too much like Stiles ;p
Disclaimer: Teen Wolf ain't mine!

link to NSFW audio
please use headphones


~

Derek’s keeping this one.

He knows it’s going to drive him crazy, but of all the random pocket-dials he’s gotten from Stiles, Derek doesn’t think he could delete this one if he tried.

He was a little surprised to see the voicemail alert at first, considering that Stiles had only just left the loft, so he would’ve still been with Stiles at the time the call happened. But then he’d considered exactly what they would’ve been doing at the time, and what they might’ve recorded… And Derek’s surprise had quickly been replaced with… other things.

Derek doesn’t like to think about how Stiles keeps finding his way into the kind of trouble that results in bodily harm, but maybe there is some benefit in the resulting damage to Stiles’ phone, which makes it dial Derek by default every time there’s some kind of activity in Stiles’ pants

Wait, no, Stiles was nowhere near his pants that one time Derek got a voicemail of a very off-key, warbling rendition of ‘Howlin’ For You’ while Stiles was in the shower. Derek had thought it was a bad joke at first, but then he’d remembered the strange quirk Stiles’ phone had picked up and realized that if Stiles had undressed in the bathroom and dropped his pants on the floor, then maybe the impact might have activated the phone’s go-to dial-Derek response.

So it’s mostly the phone’s fault, really. Not necessarily anything to do with the constant shimmying and shaking and… movement of Stiles’ body.

Anyway. Derek had deleted that one. Of course. It would’ve been madness to listen to it more than once – that horrible caterwauling, echoing loudly off the bathroom’s tiled walls – the sharp sound of splashing as Stiles had vigorously washed himself, water glistening over all that naked flesh – the very thought of Stiles touching all that pale skin with those hands, fingers – Madness.

For one brief, bright moment, Derek had entertained the idea of keeping the message, replaying it at the next pack meeting for the sweet revenge of Stiles’ humiliation and embarrassment. But that would’ve involved revealing what Stiles’ phone had been doing, and Derek had wanted to avoid that for fear that Stiles might then actually go and get it fixed.

Not that Derek enjoys the messages or anything, but as annoying as they are, the phone’s faulty behavior might actually save Stiles’ life one day. Has he mentioned how Stiles has a way of finding trouble? Usually of the life-threatening variety?

Which is exactly what Derek had thought was happening the first time he’d gotten a pocket-dial from Stiles...

It’d been late at night, on a weekend. Derek doesn’t remember exactly what he’d been doing, but he’d still been awake – probably brooding – doesn’t matter – so the call didn’t even have a chance to go to voicemail before Derek had answered it. And he’d been halfway to the Camaro by the time he’d realized the sound of shots and screams on the other end of the line were in fact Scott and Stiles engaged in a rather enthusiastic game of CoD, and not in any real life-or-death danger. (Again).

It had taken a couple more pocket-dials after that for Derek to work out what Stiles’ phone was doing, but that first call had been enough for Derek to decide to keep quiet about it (see above, re trouble and Stiles always finding it). And Derek is rarely ever right about anything, but he’d felt far from vindicated when his fears were proven true and he’d finally gotten that dreaded call...

He’d known it was the real deal as soon as he’d heard that all too familiar yelp – the kind Stiles makes when he’s being shoved against a hard surface, soon to be followed by Stiles’ customary snark and panicked deflections… But at the point where Derek would’ve usually been threatening to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth, instead there’d been an ominous thunk, followed by silence.

Derek had nearly crushed his phone in his effort to keep listening after that, snarling at the sound of Stiles’ body being dragged over gravel, then hitting another hard surface, followed by the sound of a car trunk slamming closed. And there’d been very little consolation in the fact that if Stiles hadn’t been knocked unconscious, Derek might not have heard the fading sounds of traffic as the car drove away from the main part of town, or the familiar rhythm of the bumps in the bridge heading to the south suburbs, or the even more familiar sound of the road turning into dirt track at the entrance to the Preserve. He’d kept listening though, all the way to the end of the message, when Stiles was pulled out of the trunk and dumped unceremoniously on the ground, thus ending the call. But by then Derek had already been tearing through the Preserve, hot on Stiles’ trail.

Later on, after Stiles had been checked over by Scott’s mom, and was safely at home in his own bed, Derek had found another message on his phone...

At some point during the night, Stiles had managed to escape his attacker-of-the-week and make a run for it. And as he’d flailed through the woods he’d either fallen or smacked into something, making his phone call Derek. But at the time Derek had been too pre-occupied to answer, judging by the sound of his distant roar on the recording, shortly followed by the sound of him crashing through the trees to pounce on Stiles’ captor. The message had ended when Stiles had hit the ground during the scuffle, scrambling to get safety.

But there’d been nowhere near enough recorded of the ensuing, savage battle. Nowhere near enough to make up for the long minutes beforehand, filled with Stiles’ frantic, gasping breaths as he ran for his life. And somehow, instead of driving back to the loft afterwards, Derek had found himself parked outside the Stilinski household, keeping a watchful eye on the darkened window of Stiles’ room.

When Derek’s phone had rung again that night, it wasn’t a mistake...

“I can see the Camaro from here, you know. What are you even doing out there?”

“I’m just… making sure…” you’re alive, you’re safe, “that it’s all clear.”

Stiles had sighed at that, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, and the knowledge that there was no point trying to make Derek leave.

“Well,” Stiles had replied, murmuring, “You can do that just as well from in here.”

Derek had sucked in a sharp breath at those words, at the implications he wasn’t entirely sure he was imagining in the invitation. But then Stiles had said, “Come in, Derek,” even softer than before… and Derek finally gave in.

He never did tell Stiles about his phone, though.

But he wonders if Stiles has worked it out anyway, because this latest message… Derek has already listened to it an ungodly amount of times. And he already knows he’s going to listen to it a lot more. He’s going to need something to keep him company on those long, lonely nights when Stiles is away at college. Even though he has a feeling he’s going to get real good at cumming in under six minutes.

In fact, Derek has to wonder if Stiles has done it on purpose or not. Stiles knows the sounds he makes drives Derek crazy. But judging from where the message starts, there’s no way Stiles would’ve been coherent enough to pull that off, because Derek’s pretty sure he was already balls deep, from the kind of noises coming out of Stiles’ mouth.

Their clothes were strewn pretty haphazardly across Derek’s loft, though – mostly on the floor, but Derek remembers seeing Stiles’ jeans hanging halfway off the bed – and if Stiles’ phone was in the back pocket as usual, it’s possible Stiles rolled over it or something when they changed positions. Most probably when Derek had stood up and yanked Stiles to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor to really give it to him. Derek can even hear the bed creaking across the floor as he did it, the cap of the bottle of lube as he’d stopped to make sure Stiles was slick enough to take it, and then… the soft, wet sound of Derek thrusting into him.

It’s amazing that Stiles’ phone picked up all these little things, when at the time Derek’s ears were filled with nothing else but Stiles’ moans – loud, breathy things wrung from the depths of Stiles’ body, sprawled open and beautiful across Derek’s sheets – God, what he does to Derek. All too soon Derek can hear the sound of skin slapping together, his hips smacking against Stiles’ ass as he’d tried to get deeper, closer.

He can hear himself now too, breathing hard and heavy as he’d tried not to lose himself completely, kept trying to pull back and take it slow, make it last, keep as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t miss a single sound that spilled past Stiles’ lips. That mouth – always moving, always making noise – but it was those very moans that had kept driving Derek into a frenzy, fraying the ends of his control until he was smacking into Stiles’ body again, faster, harder, the bed creaking under the weight of his thrusts and knocking against the furniture nearby.

He’d tried anything to distract himself, to break the pace and slow down, even reaching blindly for the bottle of lube again. But it hadn’t worked. He’d barely stopped thrusting the entire time, and all it did was make Stiles slicker, wetter, the pitch of his moans climbing higher and higher.

The next thing Derek had tried was a change in position, turning Stiles on his side and hooking Stiles’ leg over his shoulder to grab onto for leverage. But when Derek had gotten an eyeful that smooth, cream-skinned ass, he hadn’t been able to help himself, he’d just had to grab onto it, grope it, spank it, playful but possessive, and good God the little sounds Stiles had made then. Derek hadn’t been able to stand back anymore, climbing onto the bed and plastering himself on top of Stiles as he’d started fucking into him again.

He’d kept going until Stiles was near sobbing, garbling incoherent curses or praise – Derek doesn’t know what, just that it’d nearly made him lose it completely. But somehow, somehow he’d found the strength to pull back once more, turn Stiles over onto his fours and pound into him even harder, pistoning into that perfect angle with every jab of his cock. The recording picks up everything then, Stiles’ face pressed into the mattress right next to where his phone would’ve been, groans and curses punching out of his lungs, stealing what little breath he can gasp

Derek explodes all over his hand, his phone dropping the floor and the sound of Stiles’ moans drowned out by his own, wailing, roar.

Yes, Derek’s keeping this one. This one's definitely a keeper.

The message too.

~ fin

links to the source video here at my tumblr ;P

type: music / audio, rating: nc-17, teen wolf pairing: sterek, genre: fluff, genre: smut, type: fanfiction, fandom: teen wolf, slash

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