mayor awesome
PAIRING: Derek/Stiles
RATING: NC17
LENGTH: 2900+
ORIGINAL POST DATE: 09-30-11
DISCLAIMER: don't own anything related to TW.
SUMMARY: Stiles handcuffs Derek to his bed. (Fill for this prompt.)
Handcuffing a naked werewolf to his headboard was, hands down, probably the stupidest thing Stiles would ever do in his life. It was right up there with letting said werewolf into his Jeep, befriending said werewolf, putting said werewolf up when said werewolf was on the lamb and somehow, between all that, not kicking said werewolf out of his room, when said werewolf kept coming in through the window. It was probably as stupid as letting said werewolf anywhere near his neck, even if it was just to suck up hickies, but Stiles kind of really enjoyed that part, so he couldn't make the term 'stupid' stick, no matter how cynical he was.
He looked down at Derek, carpeted with a flush and his green eyes just barely haloed red, and decided that yeah, the term 'stupid' wasn't going to stick to this either. Try, 'the most incredibly awesome thing to ever awesome in Awesometown, where Stiles was Mayor Awesome and declared everything he touched numero awesome.' Somehow even that didn't quite capture the true pride he had right then, as Derek writhed uncomfortably, his jaw set hard, like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Growl something, more like it, shake the walls through. It wasn't like he couldn't just snap the cuffs apart and leave any time he wanted, though; they both knew that. And there was a weird rush in thinking that Derek was actually letting him do this, actually wanted him to. That according to the pack dynamics Stiles had researched, Derek was submitting, and for once, Stiles was the Alpha.
It was awesome.
"This is a really good look for you, Derek," Stiles tried to say seriously, but his mouth went rubber against a laugh, and Derek just bucked up into him, unsettling him where he sat spread-eagle over Derek's stomach. His dick dragged against the back of Stiles's jeans, pocking up goosebumps on parts of Stiles's body he wasn't even sure he used.
"-Was that supposed to help anybody? You're kind of...really blushing, dude." Stiles touched his cheek, awkwardly sentimental. Gone were those bygone Robin days of flinching away from Derek, even when Derek snapped his teeth at him. Okay, maybe that still messed with his heartbeat a little. But more often now, threats like that just made Stiles want to touch him even more, if only to irritate him. He thumbed up over Derek's bottom lip, always kind of obsessed with how soft parts of him were, even though he carried himself like stone.
Derek rolled his eyes. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"
Stiles snorted, "You really don't like being out of control, do you?"
"I don't like being kept waiting."
"There's a shocker..."
Derek rutted up against Stiles again, harder this time, and Stiles barked a laugh. It was like Derek was one of those mechanical bulls trying to throw him off. It wasn't that far a stretch to imagine Derek as a bull, anyway, and it actually made more sense than him being a wolf, even if it was of the folklore variety. Hah, he was a bulldog-
Okay, that was pretty weak.
"Yeah. You can get up anytime you want, Derek."
"I don't want to get up." Derek's arms flexed tight over his head, and Stiles noticed that he was scratching small furrows into the headboard with his nails, almost halfway to claws. "I want you to fuck me. Now."
Stiles watched him for a long minute, until Derek got impatient and embarrassed and bared his teeth in a frown. Was it so hard for the guy to ask for anything? No please? No may I? No Stiles, I want your big, meaty piece, give it to me, baby… in some subdued, sexy Marilyn Monroe whisper? Not even one time?
"Hey maybe while I'm down there, I can remove the stick from your ass, too."
Derek gave him a homicidal look.
He was clumsy scrambling off Derek to chuck his clothes, even clumsier when he caught an eyeful of Derek laid out, all for him, and had to full-stop for a second to appreciate the sight. How Derek, usually pushing people around and asserting his dominance and phoning in death threats, was almost begging Stiles now. He was watching Stiles with blown-red eyes and shuddering, his heels digging into the mattress, over and over, like he just couldn't wait for it, like he was going to come out of his skin or call the whole thing off and jump Stiles, his dick redder than his face and stabbing the air in sharp, unconscious jolts. Stiles could feel his own blush, caught staring. He'd always thought dicks were pretty unattractive, all things considered, but the thoughts he'd started to associate with Derek's, the feelings his body remembered and needed at the most random times, those were what made his mouth go slack and his thought stop dead. It would be something else to have the same effect on Derek, after this.
He came back to himself when Derek said his name hoarsely, punctuated by the tumble of the cuffs knocking into the headboard. It spooked him into hurrying, though he wasn't sure why. Frustrated Derek was hot, and the way he'd just said Stiles's name kind of cut Stiles's knees right out from under him. He stumbled over to the bed like a newborn giraffe, nervous all of a sudden.
So he hadn't thought this through all the way. Derek was so jonesed up, what if Stiles ruined-
But Derek opened his legs for him before he even had a chance to consider that 'stupid' thing again, and Stiles climbed between them almost hesitantly, the bed creaking. He just sat there for a while, his heart going fast, and palmed up and down Derek's thighs, skin hot under his fingers. He was stalling, but man, Derek was really going to let him do this. That was a big pill to swallow. He felt like any second now, Derek would morph into a monster and this would all just be a dream.
The monster part could happen, actually.
He pulled a face.
"Stiles," Derek fidgeted, digging his knees against Stiles's ribs. His voice sounded stuffed, and Stiles could see the sharp points of his teeth when he talked. "Come on, stop thinking. Get the lube and just do it."
Stiles nodded quickly, frantically, but it took a second for him to raise up onto his knees and stretch over Derek for the bottle on top of the headboard. Even then, he got distracted by the comfort of Derek's lips and long, slow kisses, sharp teeth notwithstanding. He knew kissing, he was- maybe he was sort of good at kissing. He'd had practice and Derek hadn't ever said otherwise, so Stiles liked to assume he wasn't that bad. Derek definitely wasn't bad at it.
But he only tolerated a few before he was groaning into Stiles's mouth in frustration and clattering the handcuffs again.
"Stiles," he huffed, breaking away from him. "Stiles, do it. Do I have to spell it out for you?"
"Actually, would you-"
"Stiles."
"Okay," Stiles laughed restlessly; he was definitely crossing the line. He sat back on his heels and uncapped the lube, unleashing a reek of some ungodly, syrupy fruit smell. Peach Passion Edible Lube, Derek? he wanted to ask, but he held his tongue. Just the image of Derek walking up to the register with it made Stiles want to laugh again. Maybe he hid it between some car magazines and power tools and hoped the cashier wouldn't say anything. Maybe he actually stood in the aisle for twenty minutes trying to figure out just which one smelled the best, Peach Passion or Strawberry Sunrise? That was a true mystery of life right there.
Derek's eyes were intent on him as he squeezed some of it out onto his fingers, and his body went tense when Stiles only just slid the tip of one into him, dick spurting a jolt of precome. Stiles froze watching it drool down his length, but the way Derek rolled his hips just then, sinking Stiles's finger in him to the second knuckle, made Stiles start with a shock, made all his nerves dry up in favor of an unbelievable need to give Derek what he was begging for. He was hot and suffocating around Stiles's finger, and Stiles put a hand to his own dick, wrung himself tight, like he was inside Derek already.
"Huh...no stick," Stiles stammered. "It must be pretty far up there." He pressed another finger in alongside the first, working the lube around in shallow, uncertain thrusts.
Derek grunted, but gave away easily, burying a flushed cheek into the meat of his arm. There was something awe-inspiring and intensely overwhelming about how good he was at taking Stiles's fingers, and Stiles slid a third in fast and selfish, just to see what would happen. Derek's whole body went as taut as a bow, arched up off the bed like he was possessed. Stiles watched another spill of precome dribble down the side of his dick. Derek must’ve really, really wanted this.
"Tell me," Stiles said, out of breath, and a faraway noise caught in Derek's throat in response, "Oh god, just tell me if you don't like something I do."
Derek made no move to answer, but as Stiles went to pull his fingers out, Derek shoved down on them, ruthless. Oh my god! Stiles pulled away again, and Derek came after him again, and again and again and again, swallowing his fingers, clenching around them, the cuffs shaking against the wood. He could seriously just sit there and watch Derek screw himself onto his fingers all night, but he wanted to feel Derek from the inside-out, every flinch and spasm and shiver fisted in surround-sound around his dick. Oh man, he'd never thought he'd see Derek like this. Wanting this so badly. This really was some kind of dream, wasn't it? Any time now, God, any time…
He slid his fingers free and absentmindedly wiped them off on the jut of Derek's hipbone, "Can I?"
Derek looked down at him, eyes unfocused.
Stiles wrapped his hands up under either of Derek's thighs, kneading them even as Derek flexed them impatiently, nudging his cockhead against Derek's hole. "Derek, can I?"
Derek swallowed thickly. "...What do you think, dumbass."
Somehow that didn't even sound like a question.
"I feel the love, I really do."
Stiles got the lube - Peach Passion Edible Lube! Good God - with a dopey grin and poured a little more over himself, just for his own peace of mind. He was probably using too much, but he didn't care; he wasn't about to ruin this before Derek even had the opportunity to maybe, possibly, down the road actually want it again. He already wanted to do it again, and they hadn't really even started.
"Okay, seriously, just…just yell stop anytime, and I will. I swear." He spread Derek's ass in his sticky fingers and gently started guiding himself in.
At first it was like a drug, watching his dick disappear inside Derek, how Derek's body was just taking him in and the soft, wet heat, the throb of Derek's heartbeat around him. But then Derek groaned a low fuck and Stiles's attention darted up to his face. Though his head was tipped back high on Stiles's pillow, Stiles could see the way his teeth were grit and his eyes shut, the furrow in his brow. His nails - claws, now - were gutted completely into the headboard, all of his chest muscles corded in a bone-shaking stretch.
Yeah, definitely, definitely needed to do this again. Was this how Derek felt when he was inside him?
Stiles really didn't want to wait to move, but he held back because he'd probably explode right then and there, like a real teenager, if he didn't take a minute, leaning down over Derek to kiss his tense jaw and those closed eyes, the furrow in his brow. Derek tried to meet his mouth drunkenly, but every small shift of Stiles's body had him grinding his teeth, and he just settled instead for watching Stiles's lips trekking over him, shoving especially selfishly into Stiles's mouth whenever Stiles got to a sweet spot. His legs were restless still, too, skidding over the comforter, hooking against Stiles's back, twisting into his side.
"Tell me when to go," Stiles murmured against his left nipple, smothering it with his tongue. "Oh man, whenever. You feel, you, this is so-oh my god."
Above him, the headboard whined and cracked. He looked up just in time to see Derek's hands come free, the handcuffs snapped clean apart at the chain; he wore each half like a bracelet now, and somehow that was even more intense than him having been cuffed to the bed in the first place.
Before Stiles could think about it being a signal to stop, Derek had flattened both palms into the small of his back, bulleting him firmly in place.
"Move," Derek whispered. "Move, now."
Even though Stiles thought maybe Derek was just toughing it up to save face, he was all too happy to sit back and oblige.
The first thrust, quick and sloppy and nofuckingwayohmygoddd, rattled a groan out of Derek, which did fuck all for Stiles trying not to come in zero flat. He shuddered, gripping Derek's knees hard, trying to keep it back.
And it didn't get any better - it got so much better - because Derek, Mr. Man Of Few Words, turned out to be way more vocal than ever before. He would talk, on the rare occasion, when he screwed Stiles, but it was always just to trade insults or ask a low question, if Stiles liked this, if he wanted more of that. Otherwise, he was silent as the grave and intent, focused. This- this was not Derek. This, whatever it was on Stiles’s bed, had to be a pod person. If Derek wasn't panting against the onslaught of another thrust, he was making these uncontrollable, choked whines in the back of his throat and these little barks of pleasure, and every time Stiles shoved in deep, he'd clench down on him and stretch out rough curses. Not in the way Stiles had gotten used to hearing them from him, either, but in this astonished tone, like Stiles was personally crashing him into bliss. Stiles would’ve rambled his way through the whole thing, if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to hear everything Derek had to say. And somehow, sex always seemed to focus him.
He almost lost it completely when Derek grabbed his dick and started jerking himself ferociously, faster than Stiles could screw him, snagging his other hand in his hair. Stiles hitched his own hands under Derek's thighs and dragged him in even closer.
He was too much of a virgin to last long after that, but Derek wasn't far behind him, and Stiles sagged down on top of him to feel Derek shaking all over, to mouth the sweat on his neck, taste the way his throat accommodated his whining. If it was possible, it tasted even better than it sounded. Stiles would probably hear it in the back of his head for weeks, every time anybody so much as even mentioned Derek’s name.
Derek melted underneath him, completely wasted for a while.
"Damn it, damn... Just. Oh wow," Stiles wheezed eventually, pushing their foreheads together. "Nobody would believe it... Ripley’s Believe It or Not right there…"
Derek grunted and made room on the bed for Stiles to sack out next to him. Well, when he shoved Stiles off him, that's what Stiles ended up doing, anyway. Same difference. Couldn’t get romance like that just anywhere.
His bed really wasn't built for two, but the excuse to lay all over each other wasn't much of a sacrifice. Even all sweaty and hot, it was kind of still nice.
"Nobody would believe what?" Derek asked after a minute, starring up at the glow stars on the ceiling, distractedly tracing through the fuzz of Stiles’s hair with his knuckles.
"Derek Hale whines."
Derek’s eyes snapped to him. "I so much as hear that word outside this room and-"
"What’s the torture du jour this week?" Stiles blew a raspberry. "Ripping me apart, bone by bone? Biting my head off? How about de-veining me like a shrimp? Any of those work for you?"
"All of the above," Derek muttered.
"That sounds fun. Send me an invite. I'll have my people call your people..." Stiles rolled his eyes up to the headboard. The damage wasn't bad at all, but if his dad saw the nail marks, there'd probably be a lot of questions. Of the...awkward, Son, tell me we don’t need to have that talk about puberty again? variety. Luckily, Stiles was a prodigy of glue and magic markers. And puberty- no, scratch that. But the first point still stood. There was no telling how many things he'd broken around the house and had to fix without his dad finding out.
"At least let me gloat a little. No harm in that."
Derek shut his eyes. "No."
"To Scott? He's my best bud, man. Or hey, Danny? Come on, Danny? He's like a pro at keeping secrets. He hasn’t said a word to anyone about all the erewolvesway in Eaconbay Illshay."
"I will kill you in your sleep."
Stiles raised a brow. "I think I liked the whiner better."
RATING: NC17
LENGTH: 2900+
ORIGINAL POST DATE: 09-30-11
DISCLAIMER: don't own anything related to TW.
SUMMARY: Stiles handcuffs Derek to his bed. (Fill for this prompt.)
Handcuffing a naked werewolf to his headboard was, hands down, probably the stupidest thing Stiles would ever do in his life. It was right up there with letting said werewolf into his Jeep, befriending said werewolf, putting said werewolf up when said werewolf was on the lamb and somehow, between all that, not kicking said werewolf out of his room, when said werewolf kept coming in through the window. It was probably as stupid as letting said werewolf anywhere near his neck, even if it was just to suck up hickies, but Stiles kind of really enjoyed that part, so he couldn't make the term 'stupid' stick, no matter how cynical he was.
He looked down at Derek, carpeted with a flush and his green eyes just barely haloed red, and decided that yeah, the term 'stupid' wasn't going to stick to this either. Try, 'the most incredibly awesome thing to ever awesome in Awesometown, where Stiles was Mayor Awesome and declared everything he touched numero awesome.' Somehow even that didn't quite capture the true pride he had right then, as Derek writhed uncomfortably, his jaw set hard, like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Growl something, more like it, shake the walls through. It wasn't like he couldn't just snap the cuffs apart and leave any time he wanted, though; they both knew that. And there was a weird rush in thinking that Derek was actually letting him do this, actually wanted him to. That according to the pack dynamics Stiles had researched, Derek was submitting, and for once, Stiles was the Alpha.
It was awesome.
"This is a really good look for you, Derek," Stiles tried to say seriously, but his mouth went rubber against a laugh, and Derek just bucked up into him, unsettling him where he sat spread-eagle over Derek's stomach. His dick dragged against the back of Stiles's jeans, pocking up goosebumps on parts of Stiles's body he wasn't even sure he used.
"-Was that supposed to help anybody? You're kind of...really blushing, dude." Stiles touched his cheek, awkwardly sentimental. Gone were those bygone Robin days of flinching away from Derek, even when Derek snapped his teeth at him. Okay, maybe that still messed with his heartbeat a little. But more often now, threats like that just made Stiles want to touch him even more, if only to irritate him. He thumbed up over Derek's bottom lip, always kind of obsessed with how soft parts of him were, even though he carried himself like stone.
Derek rolled his eyes. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"
Stiles snorted, "You really don't like being out of control, do you?"
"I don't like being kept waiting."
"There's a shocker..."
Derek rutted up against Stiles again, harder this time, and Stiles barked a laugh. It was like Derek was one of those mechanical bulls trying to throw him off. It wasn't that far a stretch to imagine Derek as a bull, anyway, and it actually made more sense than him being a wolf, even if it was of the folklore variety. Hah, he was a bulldog-
Okay, that was pretty weak.
"Yeah. You can get up anytime you want, Derek."
"I don't want to get up." Derek's arms flexed tight over his head, and Stiles noticed that he was scratching small furrows into the headboard with his nails, almost halfway to claws. "I want you to fuck me. Now."
Stiles watched him for a long minute, until Derek got impatient and embarrassed and bared his teeth in a frown. Was it so hard for the guy to ask for anything? No please? No may I? No Stiles, I want your big, meaty piece, give it to me, baby… in some subdued, sexy Marilyn Monroe whisper? Not even one time?
"Hey maybe while I'm down there, I can remove the stick from your ass, too."
Derek gave him a homicidal look.
He was clumsy scrambling off Derek to chuck his clothes, even clumsier when he caught an eyeful of Derek laid out, all for him, and had to full-stop for a second to appreciate the sight. How Derek, usually pushing people around and asserting his dominance and phoning in death threats, was almost begging Stiles now. He was watching Stiles with blown-red eyes and shuddering, his heels digging into the mattress, over and over, like he just couldn't wait for it, like he was going to come out of his skin or call the whole thing off and jump Stiles, his dick redder than his face and stabbing the air in sharp, unconscious jolts. Stiles could feel his own blush, caught staring. He'd always thought dicks were pretty unattractive, all things considered, but the thoughts he'd started to associate with Derek's, the feelings his body remembered and needed at the most random times, those were what made his mouth go slack and his thought stop dead. It would be something else to have the same effect on Derek, after this.
He came back to himself when Derek said his name hoarsely, punctuated by the tumble of the cuffs knocking into the headboard. It spooked him into hurrying, though he wasn't sure why. Frustrated Derek was hot, and the way he'd just said Stiles's name kind of cut Stiles's knees right out from under him. He stumbled over to the bed like a newborn giraffe, nervous all of a sudden.
So he hadn't thought this through all the way. Derek was so jonesed up, what if Stiles ruined-
But Derek opened his legs for him before he even had a chance to consider that 'stupid' thing again, and Stiles climbed between them almost hesitantly, the bed creaking. He just sat there for a while, his heart going fast, and palmed up and down Derek's thighs, skin hot under his fingers. He was stalling, but man, Derek was really going to let him do this. That was a big pill to swallow. He felt like any second now, Derek would morph into a monster and this would all just be a dream.
The monster part could happen, actually.
He pulled a face.
"Stiles," Derek fidgeted, digging his knees against Stiles's ribs. His voice sounded stuffed, and Stiles could see the sharp points of his teeth when he talked. "Come on, stop thinking. Get the lube and just do it."
Stiles nodded quickly, frantically, but it took a second for him to raise up onto his knees and stretch over Derek for the bottle on top of the headboard. Even then, he got distracted by the comfort of Derek's lips and long, slow kisses, sharp teeth notwithstanding. He knew kissing, he was- maybe he was sort of good at kissing. He'd had practice and Derek hadn't ever said otherwise, so Stiles liked to assume he wasn't that bad. Derek definitely wasn't bad at it.
But he only tolerated a few before he was groaning into Stiles's mouth in frustration and clattering the handcuffs again.
"Stiles," he huffed, breaking away from him. "Stiles, do it. Do I have to spell it out for you?"
"Actually, would you-"
"Stiles."
"Okay," Stiles laughed restlessly; he was definitely crossing the line. He sat back on his heels and uncapped the lube, unleashing a reek of some ungodly, syrupy fruit smell. Peach Passion Edible Lube, Derek? he wanted to ask, but he held his tongue. Just the image of Derek walking up to the register with it made Stiles want to laugh again. Maybe he hid it between some car magazines and power tools and hoped the cashier wouldn't say anything. Maybe he actually stood in the aisle for twenty minutes trying to figure out just which one smelled the best, Peach Passion or Strawberry Sunrise? That was a true mystery of life right there.
Derek's eyes were intent on him as he squeezed some of it out onto his fingers, and his body went tense when Stiles only just slid the tip of one into him, dick spurting a jolt of precome. Stiles froze watching it drool down his length, but the way Derek rolled his hips just then, sinking Stiles's finger in him to the second knuckle, made Stiles start with a shock, made all his nerves dry up in favor of an unbelievable need to give Derek what he was begging for. He was hot and suffocating around Stiles's finger, and Stiles put a hand to his own dick, wrung himself tight, like he was inside Derek already.
"Huh...no stick," Stiles stammered. "It must be pretty far up there." He pressed another finger in alongside the first, working the lube around in shallow, uncertain thrusts.
Derek grunted, but gave away easily, burying a flushed cheek into the meat of his arm. There was something awe-inspiring and intensely overwhelming about how good he was at taking Stiles's fingers, and Stiles slid a third in fast and selfish, just to see what would happen. Derek's whole body went as taut as a bow, arched up off the bed like he was possessed. Stiles watched another spill of precome dribble down the side of his dick. Derek must’ve really, really wanted this.
"Tell me," Stiles said, out of breath, and a faraway noise caught in Derek's throat in response, "Oh god, just tell me if you don't like something I do."
Derek made no move to answer, but as Stiles went to pull his fingers out, Derek shoved down on them, ruthless. Oh my god! Stiles pulled away again, and Derek came after him again, and again and again and again, swallowing his fingers, clenching around them, the cuffs shaking against the wood. He could seriously just sit there and watch Derek screw himself onto his fingers all night, but he wanted to feel Derek from the inside-out, every flinch and spasm and shiver fisted in surround-sound around his dick. Oh man, he'd never thought he'd see Derek like this. Wanting this so badly. This really was some kind of dream, wasn't it? Any time now, God, any time…
He slid his fingers free and absentmindedly wiped them off on the jut of Derek's hipbone, "Can I?"
Derek looked down at him, eyes unfocused.
Stiles wrapped his hands up under either of Derek's thighs, kneading them even as Derek flexed them impatiently, nudging his cockhead against Derek's hole. "Derek, can I?"
Derek swallowed thickly. "...What do you think, dumbass."
Somehow that didn't even sound like a question.
"I feel the love, I really do."
Stiles got the lube - Peach Passion Edible Lube! Good God - with a dopey grin and poured a little more over himself, just for his own peace of mind. He was probably using too much, but he didn't care; he wasn't about to ruin this before Derek even had the opportunity to maybe, possibly, down the road actually want it again. He already wanted to do it again, and they hadn't really even started.
"Okay, seriously, just…just yell stop anytime, and I will. I swear." He spread Derek's ass in his sticky fingers and gently started guiding himself in.
At first it was like a drug, watching his dick disappear inside Derek, how Derek's body was just taking him in and the soft, wet heat, the throb of Derek's heartbeat around him. But then Derek groaned a low fuck and Stiles's attention darted up to his face. Though his head was tipped back high on Stiles's pillow, Stiles could see the way his teeth were grit and his eyes shut, the furrow in his brow. His nails - claws, now - were gutted completely into the headboard, all of his chest muscles corded in a bone-shaking stretch.
Yeah, definitely, definitely needed to do this again. Was this how Derek felt when he was inside him?
Stiles really didn't want to wait to move, but he held back because he'd probably explode right then and there, like a real teenager, if he didn't take a minute, leaning down over Derek to kiss his tense jaw and those closed eyes, the furrow in his brow. Derek tried to meet his mouth drunkenly, but every small shift of Stiles's body had him grinding his teeth, and he just settled instead for watching Stiles's lips trekking over him, shoving especially selfishly into Stiles's mouth whenever Stiles got to a sweet spot. His legs were restless still, too, skidding over the comforter, hooking against Stiles's back, twisting into his side.
"Tell me when to go," Stiles murmured against his left nipple, smothering it with his tongue. "Oh man, whenever. You feel, you, this is so-oh my god."
Above him, the headboard whined and cracked. He looked up just in time to see Derek's hands come free, the handcuffs snapped clean apart at the chain; he wore each half like a bracelet now, and somehow that was even more intense than him having been cuffed to the bed in the first place.
Before Stiles could think about it being a signal to stop, Derek had flattened both palms into the small of his back, bulleting him firmly in place.
"Move," Derek whispered. "Move, now."
Even though Stiles thought maybe Derek was just toughing it up to save face, he was all too happy to sit back and oblige.
The first thrust, quick and sloppy and nofuckingwayohmygoddd, rattled a groan out of Derek, which did fuck all for Stiles trying not to come in zero flat. He shuddered, gripping Derek's knees hard, trying to keep it back.
And it didn't get any better - it got so much better - because Derek, Mr. Man Of Few Words, turned out to be way more vocal than ever before. He would talk, on the rare occasion, when he screwed Stiles, but it was always just to trade insults or ask a low question, if Stiles liked this, if he wanted more of that. Otherwise, he was silent as the grave and intent, focused. This- this was not Derek. This, whatever it was on Stiles’s bed, had to be a pod person. If Derek wasn't panting against the onslaught of another thrust, he was making these uncontrollable, choked whines in the back of his throat and these little barks of pleasure, and every time Stiles shoved in deep, he'd clench down on him and stretch out rough curses. Not in the way Stiles had gotten used to hearing them from him, either, but in this astonished tone, like Stiles was personally crashing him into bliss. Stiles would’ve rambled his way through the whole thing, if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to hear everything Derek had to say. And somehow, sex always seemed to focus him.
He almost lost it completely when Derek grabbed his dick and started jerking himself ferociously, faster than Stiles could screw him, snagging his other hand in his hair. Stiles hitched his own hands under Derek's thighs and dragged him in even closer.
He was too much of a virgin to last long after that, but Derek wasn't far behind him, and Stiles sagged down on top of him to feel Derek shaking all over, to mouth the sweat on his neck, taste the way his throat accommodated his whining. If it was possible, it tasted even better than it sounded. Stiles would probably hear it in the back of his head for weeks, every time anybody so much as even mentioned Derek’s name.
Derek melted underneath him, completely wasted for a while.
"Damn it, damn... Just. Oh wow," Stiles wheezed eventually, pushing their foreheads together. "Nobody would believe it... Ripley’s Believe It or Not right there…"
Derek grunted and made room on the bed for Stiles to sack out next to him. Well, when he shoved Stiles off him, that's what Stiles ended up doing, anyway. Same difference. Couldn’t get romance like that just anywhere.
His bed really wasn't built for two, but the excuse to lay all over each other wasn't much of a sacrifice. Even all sweaty and hot, it was kind of still nice.
"Nobody would believe what?" Derek asked after a minute, starring up at the glow stars on the ceiling, distractedly tracing through the fuzz of Stiles’s hair with his knuckles.
"Derek Hale whines."
Derek’s eyes snapped to him. "I so much as hear that word outside this room and-"
"What’s the torture du jour this week?" Stiles blew a raspberry. "Ripping me apart, bone by bone? Biting my head off? How about de-veining me like a shrimp? Any of those work for you?"
"All of the above," Derek muttered.
"That sounds fun. Send me an invite. I'll have my people call your people..." Stiles rolled his eyes up to the headboard. The damage wasn't bad at all, but if his dad saw the nail marks, there'd probably be a lot of questions. Of the...awkward, Son, tell me we don’t need to have that talk about puberty again? variety. Luckily, Stiles was a prodigy of glue and magic markers. And puberty- no, scratch that. But the first point still stood. There was no telling how many things he'd broken around the house and had to fix without his dad finding out.
"At least let me gloat a little. No harm in that."
Derek shut his eyes. "No."
"To Scott? He's my best bud, man. Or hey, Danny? Come on, Danny? He's like a pro at keeping secrets. He hasn’t said a word to anyone about all the erewolvesway in Eaconbay Illshay."
"I will kill you in your sleep."
Stiles raised a brow. "I think I liked the whiner better."