Belief is a Wise Wager
Title: Belief is a Wise Wager
Summary: Stiles accepts a new job (thanks to Mayor Laura Hale), in a new town and inadvertently starts a war, but it’s not his fault. Honestly.
Warnings: Phone sex, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Mentions of Bottom Derek, Mentions of Voyeurism
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 15/?
Notes: I swore up, down and whatever other direction that I wouldn’t post another WIP, yet here it is! I just feel like I’m more motivated to work harder once I’ve posted.
PS AO3
1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7|8| 9| 10|11| 12| 13| 14|
-
The next time there’s a village meeting in the newly rebuilt barn, Stiles is actually invited. There’s no pretence of talking “finances” as Laura put it last time, this time they speak openly about werewolves, the war, rebuilding the village and of course the Argents.
Stiles sits beside Scott as Derek stands next to Laura at the front on the little podium as they move through the agenda. Stiles sees Scott stiffen when the Argent topic is brought up, specifically Chris and his daughter, Allison, and whether or not they’re suitable and trustable leaders of Verdun. The general census is no, they are not at all suitable - mainly because no one of Wulfstan trusts him - expect Laura who begrudgingly says she’s doing everything she can to work on a new treaty. Charles and Derek solemnly nod their head in agreement.
Stiles slaps Scott on the back giving him a reassuring pat. Looks are shot in their direction throughout the barn as they side-glance or full on stare at Stiles and Scott as if they’re the reason everything happened, the reason so many got injured and the village almost falling to shambles. Scott ducks his head staring at his hands as if they’re the most fascinating body part in the world, while Stiles returns their glares with a look that could seriously injure - because no one messes with his boy Scott. Stiles is pretty sure he even sees Derek smirk a little when they make eye contact.
The meeting ends with Laura declaring that she has yet to talk to Chris Argent about the future but that she is positive that there won’t be any more attacks and in time, everything will go back to what it used to be.
-
Stiles gave a slap to Derek’s ass after the village meeting saying he’d see him later but right now it was ‘bro time’ with Scott. It probably also had to do with the fact that if they spent any amount of time together their dicks would fall off, not because of lack of use, the complete opposite.
It’s been a little over two weeks since everything happened and Stiles and Derek have been inseparable. It was more to do with Stiles hovering by Derek, his hand on his arm, shoulder, back anywhere that could maintain some sort of decent contact when they were out in public.
He knows that it took a lot for Derek to open up to him, not with words Stiles knows that may take a while or may never happen, but he doesn’t need the words. Not about Derek’s past at least, everyone is entitled to their secrets. He knows Derek opened up to him, by letting Stiles show him that he cares for him that night they talked about Derek having never killed before. He knows Derek opened up by not being stoic trying to hide his feeling or emotions they were clear as day on his face, even that late at night in the dark.
Stiles took Derek out on a date a few days after that night. Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles showed up at the door, dressed smartly in a pair of fitted slacks, a white button up and of course his puffy winter jacket to keep him warm. Derek had been dressed in a pair of jeans and a Henley, one look from Laura who just happened to be hovering by the door told Derek he had to change immediately. Yeah right as if she hadn’t planned to be at the door.
Their date was at the fanciest place Wulfstan had to offer, Riley’s. Riley’s was a ‘ma and pa’ restaurant that looked like it was located on the first floor of a house, tables in different parts of the various rooms to give the sense of intimacy while still being open concept. The tables had the patented red and white checked table cloths, with a single burning candle in the middle - which they blew out almost immediately; they didn’t need the image of a flame flickering between them.
The food was delicious but the dessert and coffee was less than subpar and all Stiles could complain about was how he was craving Luke’s coffee and a slice of apple pie. It didn’t take much convincing on Stiles’ part as he slapped down some bills on the table and was dragging Derek out to Luke’s. Which effectively put an end to their ‘romantic date,’ because within minutes of grabbing a table in the corner beside the window only room enough for two, trying to be inconspicuous did Isaac and Boyd grab some chairs and push their table up against Stiles’ and Derek’s. Boyd at least had the audacity to look a bit sheepish about pulling his chair up when Erica yanked him over.
Stiles didn’t seem to mind once a cup of coffee was waved under his nose and a giant slice of apple pie in front of him. Derek had that put out look on his face which turned into a death stare pointed in Isaac’s direction when Stiles got a good chunk of gooey apple pie on his fork and waved it in Derek’s direction until he obligingly opened his mouth - all the while Isaac laughing.
The minute he opened his mouth and Stiles went to put the fork in his mouth, Derek had to suppress the grunt threatening to turn into a moan when he felt Stiles’ boot pushing their way in-between Derek’s feet, rubbing their way up. It wasn’t in any way sexy, well it shouldn’t have been. Stiles was still in winter boots, wet from the snow which only caused Derek’s pant legs to get wet, but just the knowledge that Stiles was toying with him while his best friends were sitting at the table, well.
Derek clamped his mouth around the fork, eating the apple pie as he eyed Stiles suspiciously - letting him know he was on to him. He swept his tongue out to catch the apple crumble topping and it was Stiles’ turn to hold back a moan. Erica double-overed in laughter which finally snapped the two men back to reality. They were in public, in Luke’s diner, surrounded by werewolves. There wasn’t any use in trying to hide anything.
Stiles quickly ate his apple pie, shovelling it into his mouth and drowning the last of his coffee as swiftly as he could without actually burning his tongue (he had plans for his tongue later on, thanks) and stretched his arms over his head faking a yawn. He said something about being exhausted and they should get going.
The minute they were outside on their own, Stiles’ hand slipped into Derek’s back pocket giving it a pinch and continued walking.
“Thought you were tired?” Derek rumbled.
“And here I thought I heard something about werewolves picking up on lies?”
Stiles is pretty sure he heard Derek snicker but they didn’t speak any more, quickening their pace to Derek’s place.
-
Stiles bites down on Derek’s nipple while his hand pulls at the other. They’ve barely made it inside Derek’s room, shutting the door with a bang before Stiles was on Derek, tripping over his own limbs and the clothes Derek had changed out of earlier on the ground.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” Stiles says talking to Derek’s nipple rather than his face, “because holy hell.”
“No,” Derek sighs.
Before he can continue Stiles’ mouth and hand is off of Derek’s chest - and that is the complete opposite of what Derek wants.
“Okay, okay,” Stiles repeats taking a step back from Derek.
“No I meant no, you don’t need to stop. I don’t want you to stop,” Derek drags Stiles in by the front of his shirt and kisses him. Kisses him like all the other times they have over the past few days, kisses him like it’s the first and last time, dirty with too much tongue and spit but also tender and caring. Like they can’t decide which is better, so why not have both.
“Whoa, hey,” Stiles pulls away from the kiss and Derek frowns like a petulant child the corner of his eyes wrinkling.
“That’s stopping,” Derek points out.
“Communication is key here Derek, it involves actual talking and no frowning or pouting or eyebrow raises constitute talking.”
Derek grabs Stiles’ face in his hands so that they’re staring at each other, “I want this Stiles,” and his eyes are so earnest, inviting and eager that Stiles believes him. “Is that enough communication for you?”
“Hardly,” Stiles snorts, “it’s one of my favourite past times. Our next communication will deal with a questionnaire or comment card, you know, to leave feedback like in those fancy hotels. Hey, I wonder if the Wolf Lodge has any…”
“If you don’t get to work they’ll be no communication at all.”
“Work? This isn’t a job interview. Besides, a blow job implies I’ve passed.”
Needless to say their first time together hadn’t gone as smooth as it could have. There was a lot of, “is that good?” “There?” “No, move more that way’s,” but by the end when they’d both had their orgasm, flopped down on the bed panting and laughing like children it hardly made a difference how all the fumbling went. The one thing the agreed on was they had to do that again, and again soon.
The other thing they agreed on, the morning after their date when they stumbled down the stairs groggily in their boxers with no shirts, to a stern looking Laura was that sex needed to happen at Stiles’ house.
Laura had pursed her lips, looked back down at her newspaper pretending to ignore them, it lasted only a minute.
“While I’m not a total prude, I’d like to point out the etiquette of a good roommate is a heads up. Not me trying to sleep only to get woken up by moans and dirty, dirty sex sounds,” Laura scrunched up her face, “not when it’s coming from my brother and my employee.”
Derek’s torn between wanting to sigh and being bright red whereas Stiles is just red as a candy cane.
“I uh, forgot about werewolves and the noises,” Stiles admits, “Next time we’ll go back to my place, sorry Laura,” Stiles finishes earnestly.
“Or you guys could just move in together,” Laura shrugs and can’t help but laugh when she looks at her younger brothers face and his boyfriend, both gobsmacked with their mouth hanging open, no noises coming out. “Oh, lack of words? That’s the complete opposite of last night,” Laura jokes folding up her newspaper and leaving the kitchen to go change.
-
So yes, Stiles and Derek need a little separation, spend time with other people. Stiles is walking back to his place with a still down in the gutter Scott after the town meeting. No one has outright confronted Scott, which is probably worse than hearing the whispers about their anger over the Argent’s. Their core group of friends have been there to try and cheer Scott up but to no avail, Scott’s only happiness is that the village seems to take their angry whispering out on Scott and not Melissa. They still smile and go to Melissa when they’re injured or sick like nothing has happened.
“We need to start operation GAB,” Stiles declares handing Scott a bottle of beer, flopping down bedside him on the couch.
“GAB?” Scott scrunches his face up as he twists the bottle cap off the beer.
“Get Allison Back.”
“Don’t,” Scott groans.
“Don’t you, ‘don’t me’ Scott McCall. You’re my best friend in this village and your happiness is my happiness.”
“Then prepare for misery.”
“Were you a drama major? Jesus. Do you love this woman or what?”
“Of course!”
“Then we’re going to get her back.”
“Where are you going?”
Stiles is running up the stairs and Scott can hear him rummaging about. He comes back down with a notepad and a pen looking smug. Scott is scared for his life. Stiles draws a square at one end of the piece of paper and writes Verdun in the box, he draws a line down the middle of the paper and a similar square at the other end of the paper and writes Wulfstan. He then proceeds to draw two stick people, one in a triangle dress in the Verdun box, and the other evidently naked in the Wulfstan box.
“I’m not an artist,” Stiles shrugs.
“What the fuck dude?”
“Allison here, you here,” Stiles points out by pointing his pen at each boxed town as if Scott is going to have trouble figuring that out on his own.
“Scott move here,” Scott sighs playing along with this stupid game, talking like a caveman, moving Stiles’ hand and the pen drawing a line from his own stick character to Verdun, “Then Scott gets killed. Allison move here,” he repeats drawing a line from Verdun to Wulfstan, “Then Allison gets mauled.”
Stiles ponders, looking at the diagram like it’ll come to life and pop out a solution. There isn’t one unless Scott and Allison want to live on the little piece of road between the village and the town that belongs to neither of them. Then it hits Stiles.
“What about living in the town one over?” Stiles screeches startling Scott who’s taking a sip of his beer. “No Verdun vs. Wulfstan dilemma, you guys could start over be happy together.”
“And leave our families behind, our friends?”
“It’s a start,” Stiles shrugs, “Your mom will still come visit you, I’m sure of it. I’ll come visit you, even if I get dirty looks from the rest of the village. I bet the rest of the village will ease up in a few months.”
“What if they never let me back in Wulfstan?”
“I’ll fight Laura on it tooth and nail if I have to.”
“Why are you doing this?” Scott asks earnestly.
“Because man, you were one of the first people in this village that actually talked to me, and didn’t try and fuck around with me to mess with my head. You’re my best bud!”
Scott looks reluctant but a determined Stiles knows he can break him down after a few more beers. If Scott really, truly doesn’t want it then Stiles will back off - but if Scott wants Allison, wants to be with her then Stiles will do anything in his power to get them together.
-
“Derrrrek,” Stiles drawls into the phone later that night after he and Scott finished talking about operation GAB.
“You’re drunk.”
“Inebriated.”
“No, you’re just drunk,” Derek huffs down the line.
“Well Scott needed the beers so I could convince him of operation GAB and when one friend drinks, the other one does too.”
“Do I even want to know what the hell you’re talking about?”
“It’s probably a conversation we best have face-to-face,” Stiles admits.
Derek makes an affirmative noise followed by an awkward silence. Despite their agreement to actually just spend a day apart, hangout with other people - Derek with Isaac and Boyd for a boys night, and Stiles with Scott - they knew they wouldn’t last long before one of them was calling the other. Especially when it’s almost midnight and the saps that they are wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless they at least texted each other.
They get through a two minute conversation of Stiles asking what Derek did with his ‘boys night’ which consisted of playing poker, Isaac coming out on top and wiping Boyd and Derek clean of all their money. Stiles reminds himself that next time it’s Isaac’s turn to buy breakfast at Luke’s before Stiles inevitable changes the topic of conversation.
“What are you wearing?” Stiles tries and fails to ask in his best come-hither voice, granted they’re on the phone.
“Nothing. What are you wearing?”
“What?” Stiles sputters, he had meant it as a joke. Thought Derek would sigh and say ‘really Stiles?’ But that’s just one of the many things Stiles is starting to love about Derek; he’s full of surprises - surprises that seem to be only for the sole benefit of Stiles, like it’s their own little secret.
“What are you wearing?” and okay, Derek definitely just perfected the come-hither voice on the phone.
“My boxers,” Stiles meeps into the phone.
“Liar,” Derek laughs.
“Oh c’mon man, there’s no way you can tell I’m lying through the phone! Unless you’re looking through the window, oh my God are you?” Stiles thrashes about under the covers sitting up to look out his window, only to realise that the blinds are closed, as is his bedroom door.
“I’m guessing you’re in track pants and your old university sweater? The one that’s worn down to tatters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had thermal socks on as well.”
“Asshole,” Stiles mutters settling himself back into bed; he shimmies out of his track pants and sends his socks flying while he’s at it, “This cold weather is unreal.”
He can still hear Derek chuckling as he tosses his cell phone on the bed to pull the sweater over his head so that he’s now only in his boxers.
“Oh well hello there mini Stiles, how I’ve missed you,” Stiles says into the phone, “He says he misses not so Mini Derek.”
“Shut up,” Derek groans, not a sexy groan but an ‘I can’t believe I’m talking to you groan.’
“If you’re not actually naked right now I’ll be pissed,” Stiles speaks over Derek, his hand tracing the outline of his soft cock.
There’s a minute of silence and Stiles thinks that Derek has actually been the biggest assholes of all assholes to ever asshole until he hears his phone make a beeping sound. He pulls his phone away and sees that he has a new message - a new picture, from Derek - and he opens it up and gasps.
“Okay, so you’re definitely naked,” Stiles breaths as he feels his cock stir in complete interest.
The picture is of Derek’s hard cock in his hand; his hand is gripped loosely around it as if he’s about to stroke upwards. It’s not very good lighting, he probably only has the bedside lamp on, but Stiles can see that glorious cock that he’s rapidly become obsessed with, peeking out of the foreskin. He can see Derek’s leg bent at an angle so that his legs are sprawled outwards so that he can play with himself more easily, the wiry hair on his legs in all directions.
“You hard yet?” Derek asks.
“It’s kind of hard not to be when you send me a picture of your dick,” Stiles screeches. He’s pushed down his boxers to below his knees as he starts to fist his cock. “I think I may make it my background on my phone.”
“Do that and that’s all you’ll have to get yourself off.”
“Noted,” Stiles chuckles. “You know with the invention of things such as video chatting I’d like to know why we’re having phone sex.”
“Call me old fashioned,” Derek jokes.
“Or you could just come over.”
“I’d rather you use that filthy mouth of yours to make me come. Then I want to hear that mouth of yours moan out my name as I make you come. You’re always such in a rush that I hardly get to enjoy those noises you make, all of them, now is my time to enjoy it.”
“Shit. I totally want your cock in my mouth right now,” Stiles blurts out. It’s not all that coy or sexy but it’s the honest to God truth and the first thing that came into his mind, so he said it.
If the little noises are anything to go by, Derek is still enjoying it.
“I’d love to record you sucking my cock,” Derek admits, “The noises you make as you take my cock further into your mouth, the spit that runs down your chin, the gagging noise you make when it becomes too much. Yet the funny thing is Stiles, the minute I give you a breather you’re slurping my cock down again, like you need it.”
“I do need it,” Stiles groans shutting his eyes as he fists his cock harder just imaging himself sucking Derek’s dick, “To see and feel the way your grip always gets tighter, rougher, the moans you always try and hold back like I don’t affect you. I know I do affect you Derek, you’re not as good of a hider as you think you are.”
“Oh?”
“The way your eyes track my movement when we’re out in public, you think I don’t notice?” Stiles chuckles, “The way you ever so slightly melt into me when I touch you, like I can mold you, reshape you. I may be the screamer, but you Derek Hale are the hooded eyes, heavy breather that wants nothing more than to have my hands on you, my mouth on you anywhere I can get. Whether it’s my hands working your cock, getting you hard.”
Stiles can already hear Derek’s breathing getting harsher and if he had the mind to listen more intently he could probably hear Derek working his own cock, but Stiles is just as distracted - gets off such as much as talking and working over Derek just as much as he loves getting worked over by Derek. There’s something inherently pleasing, satisfying to know he’s made his partner come apart - to take the time to focus only on them.
“Or my mouth, opening you up with you on your hands and knees,” Stiles continues, “As I push your cheeks apart, running my tongue over your hole, mouthing at your balls, pulling your dick back so I can get my mouth and tongue on there as well. Then when you’re nice and wet, my spit all over you, then I’ll look forward to working you open.”
“Stiles,” Derek groans and Stiles can already picture Derek. His eyes screwed shut, looking like it’s taken all the energy out of him just to say that one word, as if Derek loses focus then he’ll tip over the edge too soon.
“It’s really rather cute when you think you’re being subtle Derek, when you think I don’t notice you pushing back ever so slightly to get more of my fingers in you, more of my cock in you. But I do notice, I notice the way your arms are shaking like the big strong werewolf doesn’t have the strength to keep himself up, the way your shoulders are quivering. That’s what makes me want to fuck you harder, with my fingers or my cock, hell even my tongue just to see how hard I can go, how fast I can go before your arms give out.”
“Good luck,” Derek manages to get out.
“I plan to make it my life mission,” Stiles chuckles, “The day I fuck Derek Hale hard enough that he can’t even hold himself up, that will be a day for the books.”
He hears Derek snort - and that just won’t do.
“Actually, thinking about it I think I have a solution to that. It’s not about fucking you harder and deeper. No, it’s about fucking you so slowly, inch by inch getting myself into you that you’re riding the knifes edge between being so close to coming, so close to me taking you to where you want to go but not getting there any time soon. If I keep that long enough, you Derek, will not be able to hold yourself up.”
“Fuck, Stiles,” and Stiles knows that Derek’s come. He can hear that final hitch of Derek’s breath that he’s become well accustomed to, the way he grits out Stiles’ name like its troublesome. While Stiles is pleased with himself, all he can think about is the come that Derek’s spilt, running down his hand, down his dick onto his balls and legs and Stiles think it’s a damn waste that he’s not there to clean it up with his tongue.
Stiles says as much as he can hear Derek curse even more over the phone - yeah Stiles totally has this phone sex thing down.
“You better hope the next time I see you that we’re somewhere private,” Derek’s hoarse voice breaks Stiles out of his ‘I just made Derek Hale come’ haze, “Because I want nothing more than to fuck you right there, right then. To know that you’re open and ready for me.”
“I don’t think your fellow villagers would be thrilled with that,” Stiles points out.
“Good thing werewolves know how to clear out a place pretty damn quickly.”
“Until I can no longer face them without being utterly embarrassed.”
“I guess you’re stuck in your house until I decide to come over,” Derek snickers, “Maybe I’ll be selfish and say I want you to fuck me. I’d love to open myself up for you though, make you sit there and watch as I finger myself; open myself up while you squirm because you just always want to touch, can never sit in one damn spot for any length of time.”
“Nope don’t like sitting and waiting,” Stiles admits with heavy breaths.
“Maybe I’d even let you film it, watch it at night when you’re lonely or when you decide we need another ‘boys night out’ with our friends. That way you can remember what I look like when I’m thinking about you, fingering myself, maybe working a vibrator up there as well.”
“I, uh, fuck would never forget what that looked like, believe me.”
“Glad to know I’m not forgettable,” Derek chuckles.
And Stiles doesn’t know why it’s that, just the noise of Derek chuckling, having fun that tips him over the edge as he comes all over himself with Derek’s name. Stiles likes having sex with Derek, it hasn’t been all love making, or rough fucking, it’s been awkward with complaining of cramps in different positions, laughing when one of them said something mid fuck, something random or stupid - it’s been fun sex.
I mean who logically has phone sex in a village the size of a shoe - other than for it to be fun, stupid and just something completely different.
There are a few minutes of silence on the line as both of the men clean themselves up. Stiles settles himself back onto the bed and picks up his phone.
“You there?” He yawns.
“I’m here, you should get to sleep.”
“Wait, you weren’t serious about that fucking me where you see me thing were you?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Derek mocks, “Goodnight Stiles.”
“Whoa wait!”
“Yes?”
“Are you coming over tomorrow morning?”
“Night Stiles,” Derek laughs as he clicks off of the phone.
Stiles seriously hopes that Derek does come over tomorrow morning because he’s not about to risk Derek being serious about the fuck on sight thing. Call it a werewolf thing or a Derek thing but now that he and Stiles are a thing he likes to make sure people know it. Nothing would declare that Stiles was totally his more than a public fuck on the town gazebo.
Stiles does not dream about that later that night, about Derek fucking him rough and fast on the gazebo where anyone could see them - because that’s just totally crazy, not to mention probably illegal.
Summary: Stiles accepts a new job (thanks to Mayor Laura Hale), in a new town and inadvertently starts a war, but it’s not his fault. Honestly.
Warnings: Phone sex, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Mentions of Bottom Derek, Mentions of Voyeurism
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 15/?
Notes: I swore up, down and whatever other direction that I wouldn’t post another WIP, yet here it is! I just feel like I’m more motivated to work harder once I’ve posted.
PS AO3
1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7|8| 9| 10|11| 12| 13| 14|
-
The next time there’s a village meeting in the newly rebuilt barn, Stiles is actually invited. There’s no pretence of talking “finances” as Laura put it last time, this time they speak openly about werewolves, the war, rebuilding the village and of course the Argents.
Stiles sits beside Scott as Derek stands next to Laura at the front on the little podium as they move through the agenda. Stiles sees Scott stiffen when the Argent topic is brought up, specifically Chris and his daughter, Allison, and whether or not they’re suitable and trustable leaders of Verdun. The general census is no, they are not at all suitable - mainly because no one of Wulfstan trusts him - expect Laura who begrudgingly says she’s doing everything she can to work on a new treaty. Charles and Derek solemnly nod their head in agreement.
Stiles slaps Scott on the back giving him a reassuring pat. Looks are shot in their direction throughout the barn as they side-glance or full on stare at Stiles and Scott as if they’re the reason everything happened, the reason so many got injured and the village almost falling to shambles. Scott ducks his head staring at his hands as if they’re the most fascinating body part in the world, while Stiles returns their glares with a look that could seriously injure - because no one messes with his boy Scott. Stiles is pretty sure he even sees Derek smirk a little when they make eye contact.
The meeting ends with Laura declaring that she has yet to talk to Chris Argent about the future but that she is positive that there won’t be any more attacks and in time, everything will go back to what it used to be.
-
Stiles gave a slap to Derek’s ass after the village meeting saying he’d see him later but right now it was ‘bro time’ with Scott. It probably also had to do with the fact that if they spent any amount of time together their dicks would fall off, not because of lack of use, the complete opposite.
It’s been a little over two weeks since everything happened and Stiles and Derek have been inseparable. It was more to do with Stiles hovering by Derek, his hand on his arm, shoulder, back anywhere that could maintain some sort of decent contact when they were out in public.
He knows that it took a lot for Derek to open up to him, not with words Stiles knows that may take a while or may never happen, but he doesn’t need the words. Not about Derek’s past at least, everyone is entitled to their secrets. He knows Derek opened up to him, by letting Stiles show him that he cares for him that night they talked about Derek having never killed before. He knows Derek opened up by not being stoic trying to hide his feeling or emotions they were clear as day on his face, even that late at night in the dark.
Stiles took Derek out on a date a few days after that night. Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles showed up at the door, dressed smartly in a pair of fitted slacks, a white button up and of course his puffy winter jacket to keep him warm. Derek had been dressed in a pair of jeans and a Henley, one look from Laura who just happened to be hovering by the door told Derek he had to change immediately. Yeah right as if she hadn’t planned to be at the door.
Their date was at the fanciest place Wulfstan had to offer, Riley’s. Riley’s was a ‘ma and pa’ restaurant that looked like it was located on the first floor of a house, tables in different parts of the various rooms to give the sense of intimacy while still being open concept. The tables had the patented red and white checked table cloths, with a single burning candle in the middle - which they blew out almost immediately; they didn’t need the image of a flame flickering between them.
The food was delicious but the dessert and coffee was less than subpar and all Stiles could complain about was how he was craving Luke’s coffee and a slice of apple pie. It didn’t take much convincing on Stiles’ part as he slapped down some bills on the table and was dragging Derek out to Luke’s. Which effectively put an end to their ‘romantic date,’ because within minutes of grabbing a table in the corner beside the window only room enough for two, trying to be inconspicuous did Isaac and Boyd grab some chairs and push their table up against Stiles’ and Derek’s. Boyd at least had the audacity to look a bit sheepish about pulling his chair up when Erica yanked him over.
Stiles didn’t seem to mind once a cup of coffee was waved under his nose and a giant slice of apple pie in front of him. Derek had that put out look on his face which turned into a death stare pointed in Isaac’s direction when Stiles got a good chunk of gooey apple pie on his fork and waved it in Derek’s direction until he obligingly opened his mouth - all the while Isaac laughing.
The minute he opened his mouth and Stiles went to put the fork in his mouth, Derek had to suppress the grunt threatening to turn into a moan when he felt Stiles’ boot pushing their way in-between Derek’s feet, rubbing their way up. It wasn’t in any way sexy, well it shouldn’t have been. Stiles was still in winter boots, wet from the snow which only caused Derek’s pant legs to get wet, but just the knowledge that Stiles was toying with him while his best friends were sitting at the table, well.
Derek clamped his mouth around the fork, eating the apple pie as he eyed Stiles suspiciously - letting him know he was on to him. He swept his tongue out to catch the apple crumble topping and it was Stiles’ turn to hold back a moan. Erica double-overed in laughter which finally snapped the two men back to reality. They were in public, in Luke’s diner, surrounded by werewolves. There wasn’t any use in trying to hide anything.
Stiles quickly ate his apple pie, shovelling it into his mouth and drowning the last of his coffee as swiftly as he could without actually burning his tongue (he had plans for his tongue later on, thanks) and stretched his arms over his head faking a yawn. He said something about being exhausted and they should get going.
The minute they were outside on their own, Stiles’ hand slipped into Derek’s back pocket giving it a pinch and continued walking.
“Thought you were tired?” Derek rumbled.
“And here I thought I heard something about werewolves picking up on lies?”
Stiles is pretty sure he heard Derek snicker but they didn’t speak any more, quickening their pace to Derek’s place.
-
Stiles bites down on Derek’s nipple while his hand pulls at the other. They’ve barely made it inside Derek’s room, shutting the door with a bang before Stiles was on Derek, tripping over his own limbs and the clothes Derek had changed out of earlier on the ground.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” Stiles says talking to Derek’s nipple rather than his face, “because holy hell.”
“No,” Derek sighs.
Before he can continue Stiles’ mouth and hand is off of Derek’s chest - and that is the complete opposite of what Derek wants.
“Okay, okay,” Stiles repeats taking a step back from Derek.
“No I meant no, you don’t need to stop. I don’t want you to stop,” Derek drags Stiles in by the front of his shirt and kisses him. Kisses him like all the other times they have over the past few days, kisses him like it’s the first and last time, dirty with too much tongue and spit but also tender and caring. Like they can’t decide which is better, so why not have both.
“Whoa, hey,” Stiles pulls away from the kiss and Derek frowns like a petulant child the corner of his eyes wrinkling.
“That’s stopping,” Derek points out.
“Communication is key here Derek, it involves actual talking and no frowning or pouting or eyebrow raises constitute talking.”
Derek grabs Stiles’ face in his hands so that they’re staring at each other, “I want this Stiles,” and his eyes are so earnest, inviting and eager that Stiles believes him. “Is that enough communication for you?”
“Hardly,” Stiles snorts, “it’s one of my favourite past times. Our next communication will deal with a questionnaire or comment card, you know, to leave feedback like in those fancy hotels. Hey, I wonder if the Wolf Lodge has any…”
“If you don’t get to work they’ll be no communication at all.”
“Work? This isn’t a job interview. Besides, a blow job implies I’ve passed.”
Needless to say their first time together hadn’t gone as smooth as it could have. There was a lot of, “is that good?” “There?” “No, move more that way’s,” but by the end when they’d both had their orgasm, flopped down on the bed panting and laughing like children it hardly made a difference how all the fumbling went. The one thing the agreed on was they had to do that again, and again soon.
The other thing they agreed on, the morning after their date when they stumbled down the stairs groggily in their boxers with no shirts, to a stern looking Laura was that sex needed to happen at Stiles’ house.
Laura had pursed her lips, looked back down at her newspaper pretending to ignore them, it lasted only a minute.
“While I’m not a total prude, I’d like to point out the etiquette of a good roommate is a heads up. Not me trying to sleep only to get woken up by moans and dirty, dirty sex sounds,” Laura scrunched up her face, “not when it’s coming from my brother and my employee.”
Derek’s torn between wanting to sigh and being bright red whereas Stiles is just red as a candy cane.
“I uh, forgot about werewolves and the noises,” Stiles admits, “Next time we’ll go back to my place, sorry Laura,” Stiles finishes earnestly.
“Or you guys could just move in together,” Laura shrugs and can’t help but laugh when she looks at her younger brothers face and his boyfriend, both gobsmacked with their mouth hanging open, no noises coming out. “Oh, lack of words? That’s the complete opposite of last night,” Laura jokes folding up her newspaper and leaving the kitchen to go change.
-
So yes, Stiles and Derek need a little separation, spend time with other people. Stiles is walking back to his place with a still down in the gutter Scott after the town meeting. No one has outright confronted Scott, which is probably worse than hearing the whispers about their anger over the Argent’s. Their core group of friends have been there to try and cheer Scott up but to no avail, Scott’s only happiness is that the village seems to take their angry whispering out on Scott and not Melissa. They still smile and go to Melissa when they’re injured or sick like nothing has happened.
“We need to start operation GAB,” Stiles declares handing Scott a bottle of beer, flopping down bedside him on the couch.
“GAB?” Scott scrunches his face up as he twists the bottle cap off the beer.
“Get Allison Back.”
“Don’t,” Scott groans.
“Don’t you, ‘don’t me’ Scott McCall. You’re my best friend in this village and your happiness is my happiness.”
“Then prepare for misery.”
“Were you a drama major? Jesus. Do you love this woman or what?”
“Of course!”
“Then we’re going to get her back.”
“Where are you going?”
Stiles is running up the stairs and Scott can hear him rummaging about. He comes back down with a notepad and a pen looking smug. Scott is scared for his life. Stiles draws a square at one end of the piece of paper and writes Verdun in the box, he draws a line down the middle of the paper and a similar square at the other end of the paper and writes Wulfstan. He then proceeds to draw two stick people, one in a triangle dress in the Verdun box, and the other evidently naked in the Wulfstan box.
“I’m not an artist,” Stiles shrugs.
“What the fuck dude?”
“Allison here, you here,” Stiles points out by pointing his pen at each boxed town as if Scott is going to have trouble figuring that out on his own.
“Scott move here,” Scott sighs playing along with this stupid game, talking like a caveman, moving Stiles’ hand and the pen drawing a line from his own stick character to Verdun, “Then Scott gets killed. Allison move here,” he repeats drawing a line from Verdun to Wulfstan, “Then Allison gets mauled.”
Stiles ponders, looking at the diagram like it’ll come to life and pop out a solution. There isn’t one unless Scott and Allison want to live on the little piece of road between the village and the town that belongs to neither of them. Then it hits Stiles.
“What about living in the town one over?” Stiles screeches startling Scott who’s taking a sip of his beer. “No Verdun vs. Wulfstan dilemma, you guys could start over be happy together.”
“And leave our families behind, our friends?”
“It’s a start,” Stiles shrugs, “Your mom will still come visit you, I’m sure of it. I’ll come visit you, even if I get dirty looks from the rest of the village. I bet the rest of the village will ease up in a few months.”
“What if they never let me back in Wulfstan?”
“I’ll fight Laura on it tooth and nail if I have to.”
“Why are you doing this?” Scott asks earnestly.
“Because man, you were one of the first people in this village that actually talked to me, and didn’t try and fuck around with me to mess with my head. You’re my best bud!”
Scott looks reluctant but a determined Stiles knows he can break him down after a few more beers. If Scott really, truly doesn’t want it then Stiles will back off - but if Scott wants Allison, wants to be with her then Stiles will do anything in his power to get them together.
-
“Derrrrek,” Stiles drawls into the phone later that night after he and Scott finished talking about operation GAB.
“You’re drunk.”
“Inebriated.”
“No, you’re just drunk,” Derek huffs down the line.
“Well Scott needed the beers so I could convince him of operation GAB and when one friend drinks, the other one does too.”
“Do I even want to know what the hell you’re talking about?”
“It’s probably a conversation we best have face-to-face,” Stiles admits.
Derek makes an affirmative noise followed by an awkward silence. Despite their agreement to actually just spend a day apart, hangout with other people - Derek with Isaac and Boyd for a boys night, and Stiles with Scott - they knew they wouldn’t last long before one of them was calling the other. Especially when it’s almost midnight and the saps that they are wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless they at least texted each other.
They get through a two minute conversation of Stiles asking what Derek did with his ‘boys night’ which consisted of playing poker, Isaac coming out on top and wiping Boyd and Derek clean of all their money. Stiles reminds himself that next time it’s Isaac’s turn to buy breakfast at Luke’s before Stiles inevitable changes the topic of conversation.
“What are you wearing?” Stiles tries and fails to ask in his best come-hither voice, granted they’re on the phone.
“Nothing. What are you wearing?”
“What?” Stiles sputters, he had meant it as a joke. Thought Derek would sigh and say ‘really Stiles?’ But that’s just one of the many things Stiles is starting to love about Derek; he’s full of surprises - surprises that seem to be only for the sole benefit of Stiles, like it’s their own little secret.
“What are you wearing?” and okay, Derek definitely just perfected the come-hither voice on the phone.
“My boxers,” Stiles meeps into the phone.
“Liar,” Derek laughs.
“Oh c’mon man, there’s no way you can tell I’m lying through the phone! Unless you’re looking through the window, oh my God are you?” Stiles thrashes about under the covers sitting up to look out his window, only to realise that the blinds are closed, as is his bedroom door.
“I’m guessing you’re in track pants and your old university sweater? The one that’s worn down to tatters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had thermal socks on as well.”
“Asshole,” Stiles mutters settling himself back into bed; he shimmies out of his track pants and sends his socks flying while he’s at it, “This cold weather is unreal.”
He can still hear Derek chuckling as he tosses his cell phone on the bed to pull the sweater over his head so that he’s now only in his boxers.
“Oh well hello there mini Stiles, how I’ve missed you,” Stiles says into the phone, “He says he misses not so Mini Derek.”
“Shut up,” Derek groans, not a sexy groan but an ‘I can’t believe I’m talking to you groan.’
“If you’re not actually naked right now I’ll be pissed,” Stiles speaks over Derek, his hand tracing the outline of his soft cock.
There’s a minute of silence and Stiles thinks that Derek has actually been the biggest assholes of all assholes to ever asshole until he hears his phone make a beeping sound. He pulls his phone away and sees that he has a new message - a new picture, from Derek - and he opens it up and gasps.
“Okay, so you’re definitely naked,” Stiles breaths as he feels his cock stir in complete interest.
The picture is of Derek’s hard cock in his hand; his hand is gripped loosely around it as if he’s about to stroke upwards. It’s not very good lighting, he probably only has the bedside lamp on, but Stiles can see that glorious cock that he’s rapidly become obsessed with, peeking out of the foreskin. He can see Derek’s leg bent at an angle so that his legs are sprawled outwards so that he can play with himself more easily, the wiry hair on his legs in all directions.
“You hard yet?” Derek asks.
“It’s kind of hard not to be when you send me a picture of your dick,” Stiles screeches. He’s pushed down his boxers to below his knees as he starts to fist his cock. “I think I may make it my background on my phone.”
“Do that and that’s all you’ll have to get yourself off.”
“Noted,” Stiles chuckles. “You know with the invention of things such as video chatting I’d like to know why we’re having phone sex.”
“Call me old fashioned,” Derek jokes.
“Or you could just come over.”
“I’d rather you use that filthy mouth of yours to make me come. Then I want to hear that mouth of yours moan out my name as I make you come. You’re always such in a rush that I hardly get to enjoy those noises you make, all of them, now is my time to enjoy it.”
“Shit. I totally want your cock in my mouth right now,” Stiles blurts out. It’s not all that coy or sexy but it’s the honest to God truth and the first thing that came into his mind, so he said it.
If the little noises are anything to go by, Derek is still enjoying it.
“I’d love to record you sucking my cock,” Derek admits, “The noises you make as you take my cock further into your mouth, the spit that runs down your chin, the gagging noise you make when it becomes too much. Yet the funny thing is Stiles, the minute I give you a breather you’re slurping my cock down again, like you need it.”
“I do need it,” Stiles groans shutting his eyes as he fists his cock harder just imaging himself sucking Derek’s dick, “To see and feel the way your grip always gets tighter, rougher, the moans you always try and hold back like I don’t affect you. I know I do affect you Derek, you’re not as good of a hider as you think you are.”
“Oh?”
“The way your eyes track my movement when we’re out in public, you think I don’t notice?” Stiles chuckles, “The way you ever so slightly melt into me when I touch you, like I can mold you, reshape you. I may be the screamer, but you Derek Hale are the hooded eyes, heavy breather that wants nothing more than to have my hands on you, my mouth on you anywhere I can get. Whether it’s my hands working your cock, getting you hard.”
Stiles can already hear Derek’s breathing getting harsher and if he had the mind to listen more intently he could probably hear Derek working his own cock, but Stiles is just as distracted - gets off such as much as talking and working over Derek just as much as he loves getting worked over by Derek. There’s something inherently pleasing, satisfying to know he’s made his partner come apart - to take the time to focus only on them.
“Or my mouth, opening you up with you on your hands and knees,” Stiles continues, “As I push your cheeks apart, running my tongue over your hole, mouthing at your balls, pulling your dick back so I can get my mouth and tongue on there as well. Then when you’re nice and wet, my spit all over you, then I’ll look forward to working you open.”
“Stiles,” Derek groans and Stiles can already picture Derek. His eyes screwed shut, looking like it’s taken all the energy out of him just to say that one word, as if Derek loses focus then he’ll tip over the edge too soon.
“It’s really rather cute when you think you’re being subtle Derek, when you think I don’t notice you pushing back ever so slightly to get more of my fingers in you, more of my cock in you. But I do notice, I notice the way your arms are shaking like the big strong werewolf doesn’t have the strength to keep himself up, the way your shoulders are quivering. That’s what makes me want to fuck you harder, with my fingers or my cock, hell even my tongue just to see how hard I can go, how fast I can go before your arms give out.”
“Good luck,” Derek manages to get out.
“I plan to make it my life mission,” Stiles chuckles, “The day I fuck Derek Hale hard enough that he can’t even hold himself up, that will be a day for the books.”
He hears Derek snort - and that just won’t do.
“Actually, thinking about it I think I have a solution to that. It’s not about fucking you harder and deeper. No, it’s about fucking you so slowly, inch by inch getting myself into you that you’re riding the knifes edge between being so close to coming, so close to me taking you to where you want to go but not getting there any time soon. If I keep that long enough, you Derek, will not be able to hold yourself up.”
“Fuck, Stiles,” and Stiles knows that Derek’s come. He can hear that final hitch of Derek’s breath that he’s become well accustomed to, the way he grits out Stiles’ name like its troublesome. While Stiles is pleased with himself, all he can think about is the come that Derek’s spilt, running down his hand, down his dick onto his balls and legs and Stiles think it’s a damn waste that he’s not there to clean it up with his tongue.
Stiles says as much as he can hear Derek curse even more over the phone - yeah Stiles totally has this phone sex thing down.
“You better hope the next time I see you that we’re somewhere private,” Derek’s hoarse voice breaks Stiles out of his ‘I just made Derek Hale come’ haze, “Because I want nothing more than to fuck you right there, right then. To know that you’re open and ready for me.”
“I don’t think your fellow villagers would be thrilled with that,” Stiles points out.
“Good thing werewolves know how to clear out a place pretty damn quickly.”
“Until I can no longer face them without being utterly embarrassed.”
“I guess you’re stuck in your house until I decide to come over,” Derek snickers, “Maybe I’ll be selfish and say I want you to fuck me. I’d love to open myself up for you though, make you sit there and watch as I finger myself; open myself up while you squirm because you just always want to touch, can never sit in one damn spot for any length of time.”
“Nope don’t like sitting and waiting,” Stiles admits with heavy breaths.
“Maybe I’d even let you film it, watch it at night when you’re lonely or when you decide we need another ‘boys night out’ with our friends. That way you can remember what I look like when I’m thinking about you, fingering myself, maybe working a vibrator up there as well.”
“I, uh, fuck would never forget what that looked like, believe me.”
“Glad to know I’m not forgettable,” Derek chuckles.
And Stiles doesn’t know why it’s that, just the noise of Derek chuckling, having fun that tips him over the edge as he comes all over himself with Derek’s name. Stiles likes having sex with Derek, it hasn’t been all love making, or rough fucking, it’s been awkward with complaining of cramps in different positions, laughing when one of them said something mid fuck, something random or stupid - it’s been fun sex.
I mean who logically has phone sex in a village the size of a shoe - other than for it to be fun, stupid and just something completely different.
There are a few minutes of silence on the line as both of the men clean themselves up. Stiles settles himself back onto the bed and picks up his phone.
“You there?” He yawns.
“I’m here, you should get to sleep.”
“Wait, you weren’t serious about that fucking me where you see me thing were you?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Derek mocks, “Goodnight Stiles.”
“Whoa wait!”
“Yes?”
“Are you coming over tomorrow morning?”
“Night Stiles,” Derek laughs as he clicks off of the phone.
Stiles seriously hopes that Derek does come over tomorrow morning because he’s not about to risk Derek being serious about the fuck on sight thing. Call it a werewolf thing or a Derek thing but now that he and Stiles are a thing he likes to make sure people know it. Nothing would declare that Stiles was totally his more than a public fuck on the town gazebo.
Stiles does not dream about that later that night, about Derek fucking him rough and fast on the gazebo where anyone could see them - because that’s just totally crazy, not to mention probably illegal.