MMoM: Day 18
I search myself, I want you to find me ( Part 1 || Part 2)
Stiles/Derek, R, 1840-ish words
Part 3 of the I Touch Myself series
Day 18 for mmom
Laura wasn't even sorry when Derek called her after Stiles left the afternoon of the cookie incident. She laughed and demanded to be taken out for dinner so she could hear everything that happened.
Derek couldn't really come up with a reason not to go (and pay) because wooing wasn't exactly his forte. Not to mention that without Laura's intervention Derek wouldn't have said more then three words to Stiles in the meantime.
There wasn't much to tell, though, and Derek wasn't going to tell his sister he jerked off in the same kitchen he made the cookies in. Ones from which he brought her half the batch. So he skimmed over the general details, what they discussed and that he left and they'd barely seen each other since.
"It's been a week and you haven't even said hello?" Laura grilled him exasperatedly.
"Not on purpose!" Derek defended. "It's not like either of us has a regular nine-to-five job!"
"Oh?" Laura perked up. "What does he do then?"
Derek fought to stay calm, didn't want his red cheeks to give him away. He thinks he succeeded. "I don't know but he comes and goes - er, he's always in and out of his... um. He doesn't keep regular hours," Derek fumbled, fumbled, fumbled again. Laura raised an eyebrow but wisely kept quiet.
"Do I need to stop by and create another window of opportunity?" she asked instead.
He was going to shake his head, shoot her down right away but stopped and considered the situation. "I'll let you know."
That seemed to mollify her.
***
Laura's intervention, however, wasn't required as it turned out.
When Derek returned from dinner and drinks with his sister it was almost midnight and he knew he was going to be up for at least another few hours editing. He was mentally going through the list of things he had to cross reference he'd made notes on and plotting out a timeline for the next day when he saw Stiles sprawled out in the hallway in front of his door.
He broke into a run, worried he'd fallen over his feet again or worse but when he got to him Stiles stared up at him and broke out into the widest, brightest grin he'd ever seen.
"Stiles?"
"That's me!" Stiles declared with his hand in the air, triumphant.
Derek squatted down next to him. "You doing okay?"
Stiles hummed in consideration. "m'little drunk."
"Why are you laying in the hallway?" Derek asked, smiling down at Stiles despite himself.
Stiles scrunched up his face as he thought. "Mmm, lost ‘em? Or they're n'there." He pointed over his head at his door.
Derek nodded and checked his watch. "You're not likely to get the super at this hour. Do you want to crash out here for the night or can I offer you something in a sofa?"
Stiles stared up at Derek for a second, then started laughing. "You're funny."
"Sometimes, I guess." Derek stood up and offered Stiles his arm to heft him up. Stiles reached out and put his palm in Derek's, instead of grabbing his forearm, so Derek bent down and hefted him up to his feet, making sure he was steady before reluctantly stepping away.
He stuck close to Derek while he unlocked his door and he let Stiles in first. Once inside Stiles made his way to the kitchen, fumbled through some cupboards before finding the cups and filled it with water twice, gulping it down so loudly that Derek's eyes were drawn to his throat. His long, smooth, perfect throat...
"Y'okay?" Stiles asked, drawing Derek out of his haze.
"Hmm? Yes, sorry. Just making sure you're okay."
"This is normal," Stiles said waving a hand and filling the glass again. "I always get drunk after I work." Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles snickered.
"That didn't come out right."
"What do you do, anyway?" Derek asked slowly, avoiding Stiles' eyes as he moved to grab his own glass but turned to the fridge for juice instead.
Stiles hesitated for a split second. "I'm in media."
"Yeah? That's cool. What do you do?"
Derek glanced at Stiles in time to see his bloodshot eyes dart away. "Camera work."
Derek nodded. "Sounds fun."
Stiles giggled into his glass. "It can be."
Derek didn't want to push too much so he finished his water and put the cup in the sink. "I have some work to do so I'll be in my room so you can have the couch."
Stiles seemed to pout instantly. "Do you have to?"
"Work?" Derek's mind immediately went to any number of other things he'd like to do instead of work but he was pretty sure Stiles wouldn't want to do any of them.
"Go to your room? I can be quiet!" Stiles said with wide eyes.
"Somehow I doubt that," Derek replied with a grin but he shrugged. "I can work out here, I guess. If you're not ready to turn in yet."
"I'm not!" Stiles announced. He weaved his way into the living room, holding his glass of water and plopped down on the couch with a satisfied sigh.
Derek went to the bathroom quickly to change his contacts for his glasses, grabbed his laptop from his desk and followed. He started to settle into one of the arm chairs but Stiles patted the cushion beside him while straining to reach for the TV remote. Derek snagged it and gave it to him before he toppled over and switched his seat.
Like he would really refuse the chance to sit next to his crush, right?
"I'll be quiet now," Stiles whispered. Loudly.
Derek snorted but woke his laptop up and brought up the document he was working on. For a fews minutes it worked. Stiles flipped through the channels, making under-the-breath comments or noises in the back of his throat when he came across something interesting or that he didn't like.
But at midnight on a weekday if one wasn't into the late night talk shows or infomercials there wasn't much on, or so Stiles seemed to think. Soon he was ignoring the TV to watch Derek's fingers as they moved over his keyboard. He leaned in closer and closer until his head was practically on Derek's shoulder, watching him work.
Derek was hyper-aware of Stiles and just how close he was, how much of their bodies were pressed against each other and getting closer. It felt like Stiles would climb into his skin if he were physically able. He felt Stiles drag a finger down the temple of his glasses and looked to his left sharply, as if shocked.
"You wear glasses," Stiles whispered, like it was a big secret.
Derek nodded dumbly. "Yes."
"They're cute." He put his finger under the lens and waggled them up and down lightly.
Derek swallowed dryly. "Thank you."
Stiles nodded and smiled, then laid his head on Derek's shoulder for real. Derek turned back to his work and forced himself to not explode in a ball of jittery excitement or blurt out something that he would absolutely regret not just in the morning but in thirty seconds, drunk Stiles or not. Something like, "I'm your biggest fan!" or "I've jerked off to all your work!" or "Hey, can you sign my cock?"
Derek let these thoughts run through his head as he read absently and made notes here and there, on auto-pilot. He had a mental argument with himself so involved that he didn't realize Stiles was asleep on him until he felt his shoulder get wet. He looked over and saw Stiles drooling on him through his shirt.
"How?" Derek whispered to himself, unable to keep it in. How was this his life?
He awkwardly moved the laptop to the cushion beside himself and then carefully moved Stiles so he was lying down on the couch. He moved his things, then stretched Stiles out, pulling his shoes off and leaving them by the couch neatly. He turned the TV off, filled the glass with water again and grabbed a couple Tylenol from the bathroom. He grabbed the spare blanket off his bed and spread it over Stiles loosely, and didn't stand watching him for too long.
Didn't.
Once in his room with his laptop and absolutely no desire to work anymore he closed it up, stripped down to his boxers and got into his own bed. He kept thinking about the damn manuscript to keep his erection at bay until he fell into a restless sleep.
***
A few hours later he awoke and had to piss like a racehorse, cursing the water he gulped down like a thirsty dog earlier. He snuck out of his room and into the bathroom quickly, doing what he needed to in record time. He didn't know what kind of sleeper Stiles was but he didn't want to wake him at any rate.
When he returned to his room he heard a noise from the living room, something like a gasp. He crept to the doorway, knowing he was in full shadows.
Stiles, however, caught all the light from the street lamps outside and the soft yellow light cast an almost alien colour across his body that Derek could see the silhouette of from his position. Stiles was on his knees on the couch, head tipped back while his right hand worked over his cock. His left was playing with his nipples while his teeth clamped down over his bottom lip, muffling any of the usual sounds Derek was used to hearing from Stiles when he was in this position.
Derek felt wrong standing there watching this, no matter that it was his living room. He was intruding on something that was clearly personal and private. There were no cameras recording this session and that Derek even knew the difference made his cheeks heat up from shame. He felt so inappropriate being this close to Stiles as a person now, even if it was mostly in his own head, while knowing him in an "online" way without Stiles' knowledge.
Derek escaped back to his room even though his cock was doing a fine job of trying to convince him to finish watching. He'd seen Stiles come before, many times.
Just not in your living room, on your couch, wrapped in your blanket, his mind taunted him and Derek groaned, frustrated.
He licked his palm, unable to wait to dig around in his stand for lube, and jerked himself off standing in the middle of his bedroom in the dark, mimicking Stiles' move and biting down on his lip to stop from crying out when he came. He pulled the undershirt he fell asleep in over his head and wiped himself off, tossing it into the corner of his bedroom.
He flopped back into his bed, facedown, and waited for sleep to claim him again.
It took a while.
Stiles/Derek, R, 1840-ish words
Part 3 of the I Touch Myself series
Day 18 for mmom
Laura wasn't even sorry when Derek called her after Stiles left the afternoon of the cookie incident. She laughed and demanded to be taken out for dinner so she could hear everything that happened.
Derek couldn't really come up with a reason not to go (and pay) because wooing wasn't exactly his forte. Not to mention that without Laura's intervention Derek wouldn't have said more then three words to Stiles in the meantime.
There wasn't much to tell, though, and Derek wasn't going to tell his sister he jerked off in the same kitchen he made the cookies in. Ones from which he brought her half the batch. So he skimmed over the general details, what they discussed and that he left and they'd barely seen each other since.
"It's been a week and you haven't even said hello?" Laura grilled him exasperatedly.
"Not on purpose!" Derek defended. "It's not like either of us has a regular nine-to-five job!"
"Oh?" Laura perked up. "What does he do then?"
Derek fought to stay calm, didn't want his red cheeks to give him away. He thinks he succeeded. "I don't know but he comes and goes - er, he's always in and out of his... um. He doesn't keep regular hours," Derek fumbled, fumbled, fumbled again. Laura raised an eyebrow but wisely kept quiet.
"Do I need to stop by and create another window of opportunity?" she asked instead.
He was going to shake his head, shoot her down right away but stopped and considered the situation. "I'll let you know."
That seemed to mollify her.
***
Laura's intervention, however, wasn't required as it turned out.
When Derek returned from dinner and drinks with his sister it was almost midnight and he knew he was going to be up for at least another few hours editing. He was mentally going through the list of things he had to cross reference he'd made notes on and plotting out a timeline for the next day when he saw Stiles sprawled out in the hallway in front of his door.
He broke into a run, worried he'd fallen over his feet again or worse but when he got to him Stiles stared up at him and broke out into the widest, brightest grin he'd ever seen.
"Stiles?"
"That's me!" Stiles declared with his hand in the air, triumphant.
Derek squatted down next to him. "You doing okay?"
Stiles hummed in consideration. "m'little drunk."
"Why are you laying in the hallway?" Derek asked, smiling down at Stiles despite himself.
Stiles scrunched up his face as he thought. "Mmm, lost ‘em? Or they're n'there." He pointed over his head at his door.
Derek nodded and checked his watch. "You're not likely to get the super at this hour. Do you want to crash out here for the night or can I offer you something in a sofa?"
Stiles stared up at Derek for a second, then started laughing. "You're funny."
"Sometimes, I guess." Derek stood up and offered Stiles his arm to heft him up. Stiles reached out and put his palm in Derek's, instead of grabbing his forearm, so Derek bent down and hefted him up to his feet, making sure he was steady before reluctantly stepping away.
He stuck close to Derek while he unlocked his door and he let Stiles in first. Once inside Stiles made his way to the kitchen, fumbled through some cupboards before finding the cups and filled it with water twice, gulping it down so loudly that Derek's eyes were drawn to his throat. His long, smooth, perfect throat...
"Y'okay?" Stiles asked, drawing Derek out of his haze.
"Hmm? Yes, sorry. Just making sure you're okay."
"This is normal," Stiles said waving a hand and filling the glass again. "I always get drunk after I work." Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles snickered.
"That didn't come out right."
"What do you do, anyway?" Derek asked slowly, avoiding Stiles' eyes as he moved to grab his own glass but turned to the fridge for juice instead.
Stiles hesitated for a split second. "I'm in media."
"Yeah? That's cool. What do you do?"
Derek glanced at Stiles in time to see his bloodshot eyes dart away. "Camera work."
Derek nodded. "Sounds fun."
Stiles giggled into his glass. "It can be."
Derek didn't want to push too much so he finished his water and put the cup in the sink. "I have some work to do so I'll be in my room so you can have the couch."
Stiles seemed to pout instantly. "Do you have to?"
"Work?" Derek's mind immediately went to any number of other things he'd like to do instead of work but he was pretty sure Stiles wouldn't want to do any of them.
"Go to your room? I can be quiet!" Stiles said with wide eyes.
"Somehow I doubt that," Derek replied with a grin but he shrugged. "I can work out here, I guess. If you're not ready to turn in yet."
"I'm not!" Stiles announced. He weaved his way into the living room, holding his glass of water and plopped down on the couch with a satisfied sigh.
Derek went to the bathroom quickly to change his contacts for his glasses, grabbed his laptop from his desk and followed. He started to settle into one of the arm chairs but Stiles patted the cushion beside him while straining to reach for the TV remote. Derek snagged it and gave it to him before he toppled over and switched his seat.
Like he would really refuse the chance to sit next to his crush, right?
"I'll be quiet now," Stiles whispered. Loudly.
Derek snorted but woke his laptop up and brought up the document he was working on. For a fews minutes it worked. Stiles flipped through the channels, making under-the-breath comments or noises in the back of his throat when he came across something interesting or that he didn't like.
But at midnight on a weekday if one wasn't into the late night talk shows or infomercials there wasn't much on, or so Stiles seemed to think. Soon he was ignoring the TV to watch Derek's fingers as they moved over his keyboard. He leaned in closer and closer until his head was practically on Derek's shoulder, watching him work.
Derek was hyper-aware of Stiles and just how close he was, how much of their bodies were pressed against each other and getting closer. It felt like Stiles would climb into his skin if he were physically able. He felt Stiles drag a finger down the temple of his glasses and looked to his left sharply, as if shocked.
"You wear glasses," Stiles whispered, like it was a big secret.
Derek nodded dumbly. "Yes."
"They're cute." He put his finger under the lens and waggled them up and down lightly.
Derek swallowed dryly. "Thank you."
Stiles nodded and smiled, then laid his head on Derek's shoulder for real. Derek turned back to his work and forced himself to not explode in a ball of jittery excitement or blurt out something that he would absolutely regret not just in the morning but in thirty seconds, drunk Stiles or not. Something like, "I'm your biggest fan!" or "I've jerked off to all your work!" or "Hey, can you sign my cock?"
Derek let these thoughts run through his head as he read absently and made notes here and there, on auto-pilot. He had a mental argument with himself so involved that he didn't realize Stiles was asleep on him until he felt his shoulder get wet. He looked over and saw Stiles drooling on him through his shirt.
"How?" Derek whispered to himself, unable to keep it in. How was this his life?
He awkwardly moved the laptop to the cushion beside himself and then carefully moved Stiles so he was lying down on the couch. He moved his things, then stretched Stiles out, pulling his shoes off and leaving them by the couch neatly. He turned the TV off, filled the glass with water again and grabbed a couple Tylenol from the bathroom. He grabbed the spare blanket off his bed and spread it over Stiles loosely, and didn't stand watching him for too long.
Didn't.
Once in his room with his laptop and absolutely no desire to work anymore he closed it up, stripped down to his boxers and got into his own bed. He kept thinking about the damn manuscript to keep his erection at bay until he fell into a restless sleep.
***
A few hours later he awoke and had to piss like a racehorse, cursing the water he gulped down like a thirsty dog earlier. He snuck out of his room and into the bathroom quickly, doing what he needed to in record time. He didn't know what kind of sleeper Stiles was but he didn't want to wake him at any rate.
When he returned to his room he heard a noise from the living room, something like a gasp. He crept to the doorway, knowing he was in full shadows.
Stiles, however, caught all the light from the street lamps outside and the soft yellow light cast an almost alien colour across his body that Derek could see the silhouette of from his position. Stiles was on his knees on the couch, head tipped back while his right hand worked over his cock. His left was playing with his nipples while his teeth clamped down over his bottom lip, muffling any of the usual sounds Derek was used to hearing from Stiles when he was in this position.
Derek felt wrong standing there watching this, no matter that it was his living room. He was intruding on something that was clearly personal and private. There were no cameras recording this session and that Derek even knew the difference made his cheeks heat up from shame. He felt so inappropriate being this close to Stiles as a person now, even if it was mostly in his own head, while knowing him in an "online" way without Stiles' knowledge.
Derek escaped back to his room even though his cock was doing a fine job of trying to convince him to finish watching. He'd seen Stiles come before, many times.
Just not in your living room, on your couch, wrapped in your blanket, his mind taunted him and Derek groaned, frustrated.
He licked his palm, unable to wait to dig around in his stand for lube, and jerked himself off standing in the middle of his bedroom in the dark, mimicking Stiles' move and biting down on his lip to stop from crying out when he came. He pulled the undershirt he fell asleep in over his head and wiped himself off, tossing it into the corner of his bedroom.
He flopped back into his bed, facedown, and waited for sleep to claim him again.
It took a while.