If I Kiss You Will Your Mouth Read This Truth (Part 1)
Sequel to Feel Me, Completer
Stiles has got his head buried in a pile of books, first year exams are coming up and Stiles has spent most of the year tangled around Derek. Hence the pile of books he’s currently surrounded by. Not that he minds, because hell, he’ll take Derek over studying any goddamn day of the week, studying doesn’t know where to press to turn Stiles into a gibbering wreck, or that surprisingly behind his ear is an erogenous zone, or how to press his nose to the back of Stiles’s neck when he has a nightmare.
Stiles sighs, shifts, presses a finger to his temple as the words on the page swim in front of him. He’s studying about the origin of myths at the moment and he cant help snorting whenever they mention Werewolves, some of the things they just have so wrong, like how they change into bloodthirsty, single minded killers every full moon. His phone rings, well vibrates nosily next to him, buzzing across his pad of paper until he picks it up.
“Are you studying?” Stiles grins and leans back in his chair, runs a hand over his hair, he’s let it grow recently, and he can still feel the ghost of Derek’s fingers clutching at it as Stiles was on his knees with Derek’s dick in his mouth two days ago.
“I was,” he answers, “but you know, if you keep phoning me to check whether I am studying, I have to stop studying to answer the phone, thus whenever you ask the question, I have to answer correctly, which is ‘no’, because otherwise you will know I’m lying…”
“Stiles, shut up,” Derek growls, but there’s a fondness in his voice that he can’t hide and it makes Stiles grins ever wider.
“Did you just call to let me know you miss me? Cos you know? It’s getting kind of embarrassing now, I mean, I only left a few days ago and you call me every day…”
“Stiles,” Derek sighs and Stiles lets out a laugh, gets shushed by the Librarian and Stiles mouths sorry at her.
“I miss you too by the way,” Stiles says and Derek’s silent for a second. Stiles knows it’s hard for him, it always has been, always was even before Stiles woke up to the fact that he was stupidly in love with Derek, even before that Derek didn’t voice his emotions, Stiles can’t really expect him to now. It’s a good thing that Stiles knows him, because he hears him swallow and he knows that means I miss you.
“Get back to studying,” Derek says gruffly and Stiles rolls his eyes, wishes he could distract himself with Derek’s stubble under his palms.
“Ok dad,” he replies.
“Stiles.”
“Sorry…do you prefer sir?” he jokes and Derek’s breathing hitches for a second, but then he sighs again and Stiles tries to ignore the spike of lust that skitters up his spine at the image of him on his knees with Derek’s hands in his hair and the word ‘sir’ falling from his lips. So inappropriate, he thinks as he shifts slightly uncomfortably.
“I’m hanging up now,” Derek mutters.
“Love you too,” Stiles sings down the phone and is then greeted with the dial tone
“Parent’s huh?” Stiles jumps slightly. In front of his table, with an amused yet sympathetic look is a guy Stiles has seen once or twice in here before. He’s a good looking guy, not Derek good looking, but good looking nevertheless. Sandy blond hair, just the wrong side of long, but big blue eyes that blink at Stiles as he tries to figure out what the guy’s saying.
“Oh no that was my…boyfriend,” Stiles says eventually and the guy’s face creases up with confusion, and a hint of revulsion.
“You call your boyfriend dad?” he asks and Stiles nearly chokes on his own tongue.
“No…wouldn’t that be creepy and kinda gross, no that was a joke…he’s a couple years older so he’s all ‘study Stiles’, ‘get good grades Stiles’ but I know it’s only because he loves…” Stiles makes a face as he bites on his lip to stop his entire love life spilling to a guy he’s only just met and the guy smiles.
“Matt…by the way,” Matt sticks out his hand and Stiles shakes it.
“Stiles,” he answers and the guy sits down next to him.
“What are you studying for?” Matt asks and Stiles closes his book and shows him the front cover, “Mythology? Wow, kinda out of left field,” Stiles nods. A lot of people think that, even his dad asked Stiles why the hell he was going to major in Mythology with electives in History and English. Stiles doesn’t hate the question per se, but he just sometimes has a hard time coming up with an answer that doesn’t sounds weird. For some reason ‘my boyfriend and my best friend are werewolves so I’m kinda interested in it’ would probably make people look at Stiles like he needs to be locked up.
“It’s interesting,” he answers and Matt shrugs.
“Hell of a lot more interesting that Math,” he says and Stiles makes a face.
“Eeww, gross,” Matt laughs.
“Yeah but…” he pauses and a shadow passes over his face, when he looks back again he smiles wryly, “parents.” Stiles smiles back at him, full of empathy. His dad never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to. Except study of course. But even then his dad knew that Stiles didn’t really need to, he just needed to let the teachers think that he was.
“Stiles,” Cassie shouts, ignores the glare from the librarian and flings herself into the chair next to Stiles. She glares at Matt, pushes her hair off her face and fixes her stare at Stiles.
“Cassie, this is Matt, Matt, my room mate Cassie,” Matt reaches across the table to shake her hand and Cassie curls her top lip.
“Yeah, nice to meet you now fuck off,” she says and Matt looks shocked.
“Cass,” Stiles admonishes and turns to Matt, “sorry, she’s uh…”
“Right here,” Cassie says and glares at Stiles. Matt stands.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, never let it be said I don’t get a hint…nice to meet you Stiles, Cassie,” Cassie curls her lip again and then Matt’s gone.
“What’s your problem?” Stiles asks and Cassie shrugs, leans back in her chair and puts her feet up on the table.
“That guy’s the biggest player in school, he’s only been here a few months but apparently he’ll go for anything…no offence,” She says and pops a piece of gum into her mouth. Stiles wrinkles his nose and starts packing up his books.
“Uh…thank you for protecting my honour Cass, but I have a boyfriend you know?” Cassie sticks her tongue out.
“How could I forget cheekbones?” Cassie absently draws a spiral on Stiles’s notebook. The shape reminds him of Derek and he grabs the book out from under her pencil.
“Did you want something other than to protect my innocence?” Stiles asks and Cassie’s whole face lights up and she jumps to her feet and winds her arm through Stiles’s.
“Well you know that you love me right?” She asks, fluttering her eyelashes and yes, Stiles really does. She’s rude, and abrasive, but when she’s in your corner, she’s one of the most loyal friends Stiles has ever known. She’s also a hell of laugh to watch romantic comedies with.
“Sometimes,” Stiles answers and Cassie nudges him.
“There’s…this guy,” she starts and Stiles pulls his arm out of her clutches.
“Cassie! A guy? I’m shocked,” he feigns shock with a hand on his chest. Cassie flips him the bird and grabs his backpack.
“Anyway, he’s playing tonight in the Foot Locker downtown…and…you’re coming with me,” she says and bounds off with Stiles’s backpack before he can answer.
…
“You know I hate you right?” Stiles shouts over the god awful music. Cassie nods noncommittally and continues to stare dreamily at the guy in question. Foot Locker is a grunge music dive bar downtown, and Stiles now knows why its called Foot Locker. It smells. Of feet. And sports lockers. “You owe me big time.” He grumbles and Cassie grins at him, because she cant hear a word over the terrible music. Stiles sighs and feels his phone vibrate against his thigh.
Derek’s pining
Stiles smiles at Scott’s message and types one back, he misses me, can you blame him?, and shoves his phone back into his pocket.
Scott had guessed straight away. Stiles had left Derek sleeping, which was a surprise, Stiles had thought that Derek would wake at the drop of a pin but he likes to think that Derek sleeps more easily when Stiles is there, and had gone to meet Allison and Scott for breakfast. Scott had wrinkled his nose the second he walked in and announced to the entire café that Stiles stank of sex and Derek. Allison had looked like she was going to burst into tears of joy and kissed Stiles on the cheek, punched Scott’s shoulder for being insensitive and proceeded to get every single detail out of Stiles whilst Scott tried not to vomit.
He’s been great though, Scott has, and totally didn’t have a freak out about his best friend and his Alpha hooking up for ‘crazy werewolf sex’, Scott’s words, not Stiles’s. Allison’s just been like the biggest fan girl on the face of the planet and Stiles loves her even more for that.
His phone vibrates again.
I’m not pining. Stiles grins, feels the pathetic girly flutter he feels whenever Derek’s mentioned, or whenever Derek’s around, or whenever Derek touches him.
Don’t lie. He types back and smiles at his phone as the message disappears. He looks up as he puts his phone back in his pocket to see Matt standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
“Your dad?” he shouts over the music and Stiles laughs and nods. Matt holds out his beer and nods in Stiles’s direction. Stiles shakes his head and Matt nods in the direction of the door. Stiles glances at Cassie who only has eyes for the guy on stage who’s growling into the microphone and follows Matt outside.
“God,” Stiles sighs as the fresh air hits him. Matt laughs and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, he holds it out to Stiles who shakes his head again.
“You stand out like a sore thumb,” Matt says, lights his cigarette and takes a drag. The smoke coils upwards and Stiles watches it.
“I’m here with Cassie, the rude one from earlier,” Matt nods and takes another drag.
“Aaah yes,” Matt smiles easily, like he’s not offended in the slightest and Stiles finds himself smiling back. His phone vibrates again, with a call this time and Stiles pulls it out of his pocket with a grimace.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he answers, then puts the phone to his ear, “hey,” he turns away so Matt can’t see the idiotic grin on his face.
“You studying?” Derek asks and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“You have got to think of a better greeting than that,” he says and Derek, to his credit, lets out a small laugh.
“Just thought I’d tell you that I’m not pining,” he says and Stiles snorts.
“Of course you are, you miss me, you miss my body,” he says and Derek’s breathing hitches, “you miss…”
“Stiles say one more word and I am hanging up,” Derek growls down the phone and Stiles mouths an apology at Matt who shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather have real sex with you than phone sex,” Derek admits and Stiles is so taken aback by the confession he can only blink.
“Oh…” he says eventually, his stomach knotting itself and Little Stiles stirring in his pants at the thought of real sex with Derek.
“You’re home on Friday right?” Derek asks and hears Lydia shouting at Jackson in the background.
“Yeah,” Stiles replies, trying to ignore the sudden rush of homesickness. The image of the Pack piled into Derek’s living room, Erica, Boyd and Isaac curled around each other whilst Isaac twirls his finger around one of her curls. Jackson and Lydia trying to pretend to ignore each other.
“I’ll see you then…and Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop going out and study please?” Derek hangs up and Stiles shakes his head as he shoves his phone into his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he says to Matt. Matt grins, blindingly, and Stiles has to admit, that if Derek wasn’t well and truly imbedded in Stiles’s life, he might have a little bit of a crush on the guy. Except there’s…well something about him that makes Stiles uneasy, it’s something tiny, but it’s there.
“Checking up on you?” Matt asks, and there’s a hint of a sneer in his voice. Stiles frowns.
“No,” he defends and Matt holds his hands up and takes a step forward.
“I don’t blame him, I would check up on you too,” he says and Stiles swallows, licks at his dry lips and Matt’s eyes follow the movement.
“Uh…”
“Stiles, we’re leaving,” Cassie grabs at his arm and Matt steps away.
“Wait…what? Why?” Stiles asks and Cassie tugs at him.
“Please?” It’s the first time he’s heard Cassie say please and he looks at her, her brown eyes filling with tears.
“Ok…ok, Matt I’ll…” Matt nods.
“I’ll see you around, Stiles.” Cassie tugs on his arm again and Stiles wraps it around her.
“What happened?” he asks and Cassie sniffs, wipes her nose on the back of her hand.
“I hate men,” she announces as Stiles bundles her into his jeep. By the time he’s in the driver’s seat, she’s asleep with her head against the window.
…
Three days later and Stiles is still on the couch, surrounded by take out cartons, empty tubs of ice cream and more than a few empty bottles of beer. Cassie’s in the same pajama’s she was in the morning after Foot Locker and she glares at anyone that isn’t Stiles, including the people on the TV.
Turns out, the guy was a dick. No surprises there, Stiles could have told you that, anyone who dressed like he did and pretended to be Kurt Cobain generally was a dick. Said dick was also making out with a ‘skanky blonde ho’. Cassie’s words. Stiles has spent the last three days mourning with Cassie because ‘you’re gay, you get it’. He’s not sure whether that’s a compliment or not but he shrugs and studies whilst Cassie watches crappy TV and laments her crappy love life.
Friday morning arrives and Stiles throws his bag into his jeep, promises to bring Cassie back junk food and alcohol (he’ll get Derek to buy it) when he comes back on Sunday. She flips him the bird and tells him she loves him and then Stiles is driving away from Pacifica back to Derek.
Well ok back to Beacon Hills because he promised his dad he’d have lunch with him first. But then back to Derek.
After maybe having a quick coffee with Scott.
…
His dad looks thinner, more tired. But then again Stiles always thinks that and it just fuels his guilt at leaving. His dad brushes off his concern like he normally does, and grills Stiles about school.
Stiles answers every question and bounces his leg under the table.
Scott gives him a hug, Allison a kiss on the cheek and a genuine grin, and grills Stiles about his social life.
Stiles tries to ignore the almost burning need to touch Derek.
Then blissfully, Scott lets him go, after a silent exchange between him and Allison that leaves Stiles wondering what the hell happened. But he doesn’t care as long as he gets to see Derek.
Derek’s on his porch, engine parts surrounding his feet and grease smeared up one arm. His t-shirt’s a soft marl grey, and he’s poking at a carburettor with a screw driver as Stiles drives up. Derek stops, looks up and cocks his head to the side, watches as Stiles climbs out of his car and stalks over to him. He doesn’t move, just waits for Stiles to reach him and the irony of that isn’t lost on Stiles as he reaches Derek and runs his hands across Derek’s chest. Derek lets out a quiet rumble, curls his fingers around Stiles’s wrist.
Stiles grins up at him, one step below him and Derek’s jaw twitches and he tugs on Stiles’s wrists until Stiles has to lean into him.
Derek leans down and covers Stiles’s mouth with his own. Stiles groans, and its like once they start, they can’t stop. Derek winds his arms around Stiles, hauls him up and close and Stiles steps up to the top step, leans into Derek and kisses him back, runs his hands through Derek’s hair. Derek’s tongue licks along the roof of Stiles’s mouth, in the way that makes Stiles’s knees weak and Derek hauls him even closer, crushes them together and growls into his mouth, “inside.”
“You afraid you’ll have your wicked way with me out in the open?” Stiles mutters as Derek’s lips slide across his jaw and his hand slips under his t-shirt. Derek just growls in response and Stiles makes a mental note to goad Derek into outside sex in the not too distant future. They stumble through the door, Derek’s hands pressing to Stiles’s skin, and Stiles trying to get his hands between them to get Derek out of his pants. Stiles grunts in frustration and Derek tears his mouth from Stiles’s and pushes his jeans down his hips, steps out of them and hauls Stiles close again. It’s not enough though, Stiles can feel Derek’s dick hardening against his thigh, but Stiles’s thigh is clad in denim and he needs to be able to feel Derek right now. “Derek.”
Derek lets him go, and Stiles whines, but only long enough to pulls Stiles’s shirt over his head and unpop Stiles’s jeans button. Stiles shoves his jeans down his thighs whilst Derek pulls his own shirt off and then there’s skin against skin and their tangling limbs as they practically fall to the floor, Derek’s body covering Stiles’s. Derek groans as Stiles wraps his leg around him and pulls their hips together. It’s almost instant, the reaction Derek has on Stiles, and now, on the floor, with Derek’s hot skin against his, Stiles is almost painfully hard. He whines, Derek’s teeth dragging across the skin of his throat and Derek drives his hips down.
“Derek please,” Stiles groans as Derek sucks against his skin, slides his mouth over Stiles’s collar bone, down his chest and he bites gently on one of Stiles’s nipples. Stiles arches his back, fingers tangled in Derek’s hair.
“I don’t have anything,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’s skin, swirls his tongue around Stiles’s navel, “and I don’t think I can let you go long enough to get upstairs.” Derek nips at Stiles’s hip and Stiles’s fingers scrabble against the floor boards trying to hold on as Derek moves his mouth lower and licks along the underside of Stiles’s dick.
“Fuck,” Stiles groans as Derek sucks the head of his dick between his lips, tongue pressing into the slit. If Derek’s hands are skilful, which they are, more than once Stiles has been reduced to cursing and shuddering with just Derek’s hands, then Derek’s mouth is positively magic. Derek hums in the back of his throat, sends vibrations through Stiles and Stiles pushes his hips up, digs his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugs. Derek growls, fingers pressing into Stiles’s hips and he slides one hand around under Stiles, presses against Stiles’s hole. Stiles shudders, groans as he tries to pushes his hips down against Derek’s hand and up into his mouth. Derek’s finger pushes in, slowly, not far, and Stiles groans, lets out a string of curses, feels his orgasm coil in the pit of his stomach. Derek swallows around him, opens out his throat and presses his nose to Stiles’s stomach and Stiles comes, slamming his head back against the floorboard and practically biting through his bottom lip.
Derek pulls off with a slick pop that should be as hot as it is, swipes his thumb across his lower lip and Stiles groans, reaches up to him and hauls him down, kisses the taste of himself from Derek’s mouth. He spins them both, gets a hand between them and curls it around Derek’s dick. Derek growls, low in Stiles’s ear, fingernails digging into Stiles’s shoulders and Stiles twists his hand, runs his palm over the tip of Derek’s dick, strokes back down and Derek comes, biting down on Stiles’s shoulder almost hard enough to hurt.
“Hi,” Stiles lifts his head from Derek’s shoulder and grins down at him. Derek huffs out a laugh.
“Hi,” he replies and runs his fingers across Stiles’s cheekbone, “good drive?”
“Can we maybe not be on the floor for small talk?” Stiles asks and Derek flips them, presses Stiles into the floorboard and kisses him slow and deep.
Stiles drags the tips of his fingers across Derek’s stubble, along his jaw, because he can, because he can touch Derek like this now. Derek leans into the touch, practically purrs and Stiles leans up and kisses his chin.
“You hungry?” Derek asks, nudging his nose against Stiles’s. Stiles grins, wriggles underneath him.
“Starving.”
Derek stands, stretches and Stiles takes a moment to appreciate naked Derek before Derek’s hauling him to his feet.
…
Derek makes a linguine to die for, fried bacon, peas and cream and Stiles eats the whole thing whilst making moaning noises that would make a porn star blush. Derek just raises one eyebrow and his lips curl at one corner.
Stiles thought the transition from friends to…whatever they are now, he hesitates to use the word boyfriend in front of Derek, would be hard. But Derek’s been easy, and not much has changed except the fact that Derek touches him more now, well, the touches are more meaningful now at least.
The smiles are longer too, just a shade longer, but they reach his eyes more, crinkle the skin at the corners and Stiles wants to run his fingers over the wrinkles when he does it.
“What?” Derek asks warily and Stiles realises he’s staring, fork midway to his mouth. He puts his fork down, gets out of his chair, and walks around the table. Derek turns his chair outwards as Stiles gets to him, looks confused for a second and Stiles crawls into Derek’s lap, cups his hands around Derek’s face and kisses him. Derek tastes of cream, and underneath there’s still a lingering hint of Stiles and Stiles runs his thumbs across Derek’s cheekbones. Derek curls his hands around Stiles’s wrists and kisses him back.
“Sorry,” Stiles mutters as he pulls away and goes to stand. Derek holds on tight.
“I get it, I’m irresistible,” Derek replies with a smirk twinkling in his eyes. Stiles lets out a laugh.
“Wow, Derek Hale making a joke, wonders will never cease,” Derek scowls and pushes Stiles off his lap and Stiles lands in an undignified heap at his feet. “See now that’s the Derek I know,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. Derek laughs and pulls him back into his lap.
“Pack meeting tonight,” Derek mutters as Stiles strokes his fingers across the back of Derek’s neck. Derek shuts his eyes and rolls his neck.
“I’ll go home,” Stiles replies as Derek’s fingers dip into the back of his jeans.
“You’re pack,” Derek reminds him, opening his eyes and fixing Stiles with a solid stare, one that has Stiles’s pulse stuttering, “now more than ever,” there’s something serious swimming in Derek’s eyes and Stiles wrinkles his nose in confusion.
“Why now?” Derek rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation.
“For a clever guy, you’re a fucking idiot sometimes,” he pokes Stiles in the forehead.
“Wow…thanks, love you too,” Stiles grins and Derek stands, holding onto Stiles tight enough that Stiles’s feet don’t touch the ground. Stiles hitches his legs up and around, locks his ankles around Derek’s waist and kisses the end of Derek’s nose.
“Right…upstairs,” Derek growls, taking a step towards the stairs, he loosens his grip as if to drop Stiles but Stiles tightens his own and Derek sighs.
“Always so pushy,” Stiles mutters and Derek hitches him up effortlessly.
“I’ll show you pushy,” he growls.
It’s wonder they don’t break something going upstairs, as Stiles makes it his personal mission to put Derek off by biting on his ear and whispering filthy things to him, things that makes Stiles blush as he says them, and by the time Derek throws him down on his bed, Stiles is hard and Derek’s got that look in his eyes that means Stiles is not leaving this bed for a good few hours.
…
“I think you might have actually killed me that time,” Stiles stretches, groans when his muscles protest and Derek makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, his arm up covering his eyes. Stiles leans forward and clamps his teeth around his nipple and Derek hisses, hand curling into Stiles’s hair, body arching upwards towards Stiles.
He honestly could do this forever, lie in bed with Derek for the rest of his life, as long as food was bought to them every now and then. Little Stiles stirs and Derek tugs on Stiles’s hair. Stiles lifts his head and is met with Derek’s amused expression.
“Really? Again?” He asks and Stiles shrugs, lazily arching his hips against Derek’s thigh.
“Take it as a compliment,” he replies and Derek ‘s answering laugh is cut off abruptly as he sits bolt up right with his head cocked to the side. “What?”
“Damn,” he mutters and stands, hauls his jeans up his thighs and Stiles sulks, pushes his bottom lip out and sulks like the teenager he is. “The others are here.” Derek leans down, hands pressed to the mattress and pulls Stiles’s bottom lip between his teeth. Stiles winds his arms around his neck, pulls him down and wraps his legs around him.
“They already know,” Stiles mutters as Derek lets his lip go and slides his mouth down his jawline.
“Yeah, but they’ll smell the sex from a mile away so we should probably at least be downstairs,” Derek replies and strains against Stiles’s grip.
“You know its really creepy that you guys can smell that,” Stiles says and Derek laughs, takes advantage of Stiles’s lack of concentration and breaks out of his grip. Stiles sulks again and Derek throws his t-shirt at him.
“Downstairs in two,” he orders as he walks out of the door. And Stiles resists the urge to throw his shoe at him.
…
Derek’s got a shirt on by the time Stiles gets downstairs, but his feet are still bare and Stiles takes a second to appreciate the way the muscles in his arms moves as he hauls a couch round to face the other.
“You going to help or watch me do all the heaving lifting?” Derek asks without looking up and Stiles pushes himself off the doorframe and takes a step into the room. Derek stands up straight and smiles at Stiles, curls his fingers into Stiles’s waist band and tugs him close.
“Super Alpha Werewolf,” Stiles says touching Derek on the chest with his forefinger, “puny human tag along,” Stiles points at himself and Derek runs his hands up his back under his t-shirt.
“Speaking of, we’re training tomorrow,” Derek’s voice vibrates against Stiles’s lips.
“Way to fuel my body issues,” Stiles replies as the front door flies open and Derek plants a kiss to his lips before letting him go.
“Derek?” Scott shouts, even Stiles knows he could track Derek in a room full of Derek’s. He’s shouting for their benefit and Derek curls one side of his mouth at Stiles, trails his hand across Stiles’s stomach as he walks past him.
“Here,” Derek shouts back and Scott’s head appears round the door frame, eyes clamped shut.
“Hey douche bag, you can open your eyes, we’re fully clothed,” Stiles sighs and Scott cracks one eye open, looks relieved, and opens the other. Allison appears behind him.
“Hey guys, I bought snacks,” she holds up a bag of chips and Stiles grins. He’s starving, despite the pasta from earlier. Derek raises an eyebrow at him. Derek likes to pretend he doesn’t like it when the pack meetings turn into impromptu movie nights, tries to hide a smile as they all pile onto a couch and argue over which movie to watch. He usually growls, chooses one for them and the pack shuts up. Erica curled between Boyd and Isaac, Jackson trying not to put his arm around Lydia and Scott and Allison so far entwined its hard to tell when one stops and the other begins.
Of course before it was usually Stiles and Derek left trying to ignore the sexual tension in the room with their thighs pressed together.
Derek rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen and Stiles makes grabby hands at the chips.
“Had a good afternoon?” she asks as Stiles shovels in a handful of chips and Scott wrinkles his nose.
“If the smell is anything to go by, I’d say it was a great afternoon,” Stiles just about manages to swallow before choking and spitting chips everywhere, and leans forward to heave air into his lungs. There’s a strong hand between his shoulders and Stiles knows its Derek.
“Dude,” Stiles croaks and glares at Scott, “creepy.”
“Sorry,” Scott shrugs, “can’t help it.”
Stiles glares at him half-heartedly and Derek’s hand slides down his back.
“So do we have to be here long? I have plans,” Lydia flounces into the room, flicking her hair off her shoulder and Stiles leans back against the warm hand. Lydia grins at him, easily and genuine and kisses his cheek. “Anyway,” she turns back to Derek, “I have plans.”
“Good for you,” Derek mutters and his fingers twitch against Stiles’s back.
Erica, Isaac and Boyd are wrapped around each other again like some weird Siamese triplet and not for the first time Stiles wonders how the hell they aren’t actually all sleeping with each other. Derek assures him they’re not, he’d smell it if they were, which again Stiles thinks is creepy, but it’s like they’ve found strength in each other. And even though Erica knocked him out and shoved him in a dumpster, he has to admit that its kinda cute.
Erica throws him a grin, the one she always give him, a hint of amusement and a whole lot of ‘yeah I’m cooler than you’, which she is, Stiles is fully aware of that, and even though she’s actually saved his life a couple of times, he’s still a little scared of the girl. Isaac and Boyd raise their hands in greeting but don’t say anything, preferring to continue staring lovingly at Erica.
“There’s a roaming pack heading this way,” Derek says as the other settle down into their usual positions, and they fall silent. Even Jackson has the grace to look up from his cellphone.
“What’s a roaming pack?” asks Isaac.
“Not one like ours, they’re not static, and they’re usually aggressive. I just need to make you all aware, I need you to keep your eyes open, this is our town, not theirs,” Derek growls the last few words and Stiles looks at him. He’s got his Alpha face on, hard, impassive and the others are staring at him. Derek lifts his hand to Stiles’s thigh and gives it a quick squeeze. No one notices apart from Allison who winks at Stiles when he blushes.
“Are they dangerous?” Allison asks and Scott winds his arms around her tighter.
“Arent we all?” Derek replies and Allison blushes a little, “but generally not, but I don’t want to take any chances with you,” he looks at Stiles when he says that even though he’s still directing the pact and Stiles pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Are we done?” Lydia pipes up, looking at her cell phone and then Derek. Derek growls softly but then nods and she stands, shakes out her hair and strides out with Jackson trailing after her demanding to know where she’s going.
Stiles shakes his head at them both. It’s almost amusing how they both try to deny they still like each other.
“Stiles,” Derek’s hand is a solid presence on his shoulder and he looks up at him, “a word?” Stiles follows him into the kitchen. “I heard they might be passing through Moreno Valley, if they’re not already there,” there’s worry etched on Derek’s face and Stiles takes a step forward and runs his fingers down Derek’s arm.
“I can look after myself, and why would they bother me?” Derek frowns.
“Maybe because you’re annoying, and you have a habit of getting into trouble,” he says and Stiles steps even closer and tugs on Derek’s belt loops. “I don’t want a repeat of Peter.”
“Hey…I’m ok, I’ll be ok, ok?” Derek’s lips twitch and he cups at Stiles’s face.
“Ok,” he says and presses his lips to Stiles’s briefly, “don’t suppose I could get you to stay here until they’ve gone?”
“Not a chance,” Stiles replies and then grins.
“You’re gonna be the death of me one day.”
…
Stiles sighs as he pulls his jeep into his parking space and rubs at his eyes. It’s not a long drive to Pacifica but it feels like it when he can still feel Derek’s hands on him and he can feel the distance getting more with each mile he drives. Derek had asked him to stay again, Stiles had just shaken his head, kissed him hard and promised him he’d be home next weekend.
Now Stiles just has to get through another week without him.
It’s ridiculous really, Stiles spent two years without Derek, but he guesses its different now, now that he knows what Derek’s hands feel like on him, and that he knows how Derek’s stubble feels against the inside of his thighs. Now he knows, he craves it pretty much every waking minute. Although that could be his adolescent hormones playing up of course. The more romantic side of Stiles would like to think it’s because its Derek.
He sighs again, climbs out of his car gingerly, Derek was…less than gentle the last time, fucking Stiles like he wouldn’t get another chance, fingers digging into Stiles’s skin hard enough to hurt.
Stiles is a little worried that he loved every second of it.
Loved every single second of Derek growling in his ear, whispering filthy things, telling Stiles he wasn’t allowed to come until Derek said so. Stiles shudders at the memory and grabs his backpack, slams his jeep door.
Cassie is in the same position as when he left, but at least she’s got clothes on and her hair looks clean. She looks up from the TV and beams at Stiles.
“You’re back,” she announces, like Stiles has no clue that he just walked back into his place.
“Have you moved?” he asks and Cassie rolls her eyes, hits mute on the remote and pulls her knees up to her chin.
“Yes I moved,” she says and pushes her hair back off her shoulder, “how was the weekend?”
“You know,” Stiles says conversationally, “your morbid fascination with my sex life is kind of creepy,” a cushion flies at his face and he catches it, grinning at her, “and it was fantastic thank you very much.”
…
“Where the hell have you been?” Derek growls down the phone and Stiles runs his hand through his hair.
“I must have missed the memo telling me I have to tell you every time I leave the house,” Stiles snarks back. Derek growls again, his ‘I’m actually pissed at you so don’t push me’ growl.
“With out your phone.”
“A mistake, sorry,” Stiles tries to placate because he’s starting to hear the panic in Derek’s voice.
“Where were you?” Derek asks again, softer this time, and Stiles can almost imagine him pressing his fingers to his temple and closing his eyes, breathing in deep against the anger that coils under his skin.
“I was studying, in the library,” he neglects to tell Derek that he lost track of time talking to Matt. Matt, who’s amusing and interesting, and cute, but so far from Derek’s league it’s not even funny. It’s not like it was a date either, the guy just keeps turning up wherever Stiles is. He’s seen him three times this week already and its only Thursday.
Matt’s nice, he seems genuinely interested in Stiles, even though his gaze sometimes lingers a little too long on Stiles’s mouth. It makes him feel uncomfortable sometimes and he wonders if Matt is always like that, or he’s interested in him.
Not that Stiles would ever contemplate doing anything with anyone who wasn’t Derek. He doesn’t think he has it in him. Not only that Derek would probably rip his throat out for real this time, but its Derek. And there’s no way in the world anyone could ever match up to him. Ever.
“I want you to come home,” Derek says, or rather orders. And Stiles blinks, his hand around the phone tightens.
“What? No…”
“Stiles…”Derek interrupts, “they’re in Moreno Valley, I don’t want…”
“Derek I’m not going to go looking for them and what the hell would they want with me anyway? I’m nothing to them,” he sighs and there’s silence from Derek, the kind that drags and make Stiles’s twitchy with the need to fill it with nonsense.
“But you’re something to me,” Derek says eventually and Stiles snaps his mouth shut. There’s so much said in those few simple words, so much that Derek probably wouldn’t be able to say face to face,< i>you’re pack, I need you, don’t you fucking dare die on me. Stiles feels a grin creep across his lips.
“Derek…”
“Just…”Derek sighs, heavily, and Stiles can practically see him running his hand through his hair, “come home when you can, ok?”
“Ok,” Stiles replies and then because he’s been holding out and he just has to, he adds, “you want me home because I’m something to you? Derek Hale has actual feelings? Breaking News.”
He can practically hear the eye roll.
“Stiles…shut up.”
…
The following morning Stiles throws his bag into his jeep.
“You’re going home again? Cheekbones must be good,” Cassie waggles her eyebrows at him and Stiles rolls his eyes back at her.
“Couple of things I need to do, not sure when I am going to back, you’ll be ok without me?” Cassie pouts her lips to one side, taps at her chin and then shoves at his shoulder.
“I’m good, I managed for 19 years without you…I think I can manage a few days,” Stiles grins at her and pulls her into a hug.
“Just…” he starts and Cassie frowns, “look after yourself ok?” He’s suddenly worried about leaving her, knowing that the Pack is in Moreno Valley. Cassie doesn’t know anything about this kind of thing, and not that Stiles could help her if she got into trouble, but at least he kind of knows a bit about it.
“Why am I getting the feeling that you know something I don’t?”
“Because I know I lot you don’t,” Stiles jokes and Cassie grins.
“Go, you big idiot, fuck off,” Cassie turns and heads back into the house and Stiles rolls his eyes at her back.
He’s got a book to check out of the library before he goes so he swings his jeep out of his space and heads towards the place he spends most of his time when he’s at school.
He finds it calming almost, a place where his head stops buzzing, where he can concentrate and work, and the only other place like it is Derek’s house, resting between Derek’s spread thighs as Derek watches some movie or other, Derek’s fingers playing along the back of Stiles’s neck. Of course, more often than not, that leads to Stiles hauling Derek onto the floor and letting Derek fuck his mouth.
Stiles shakes his head free of those images, not long now till he sees Derek again, and then he can sink to his knees how many times he wants.
The library is quiet, obviously, it’s a library, but there aren’t even any hushed whispers and Stiles leans over the desk and around the stalls looking for the Librarian. He frowns.
“Stiles, hey,” Stiles jumps back, palm against his chest and Matt rubs at the back of his head and grimaces, “sorry.”
“No…I’m just a bit…”
“Jumpy?” Matt asks and Stiles nods.
“Just picking up a book, heading home for the weekend,” Stiles shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. Matt cocks his head to the side.
“The Librarian hasn’t been in since Thursday, she probably hasn’t put the book out for you, let’s go find it,” Matt nods in the direction of the stalls and something makes Stiles hesitate. He doesn’t know if it’s the empty Library, or the fact that the Librarian is always there and now she isn’t, or the slightly wolfish (wrong choice of word perhaps) smile on Matt’s face. “For Mythology right? Come on.”
Stiles follows Matt through the stalls, around the twists and turns and he glances at his watch. He hasn’t told Derek he was coming home this morning, so he has no time limit, but he just kind of wants to get out of here, back to Derek, where he can pretend that there’s nothing else going on, where he can spend his time curled around Derek, trailing his fingers over skin, or Derek can stay buried inside him, whilst Stiles comes down, Derek’s breath hot against his neck. He suppresses a groan and nearly walks into Matt as he comes to a halt.
“Right,” Stiles can feel his cheeks flushing and Matt grins knowingly, like he can read Stiles’s mind, “it should be around here somewhere,” Stiles looks and groans when he spies it on the top shelf.
“Do you go home a lot?” Matt asks as Stiles stands on tiptoes, “I mean, I don’t mean to pry I just…” Stiles stands back down and looks at him, “wanna get to know you.” Matt shrugs and runs his hand through his hair and Stiles feels unease trip down his spine.
“Matt…”
“I know, you have a boyfriend, I just like hanging out with you,” Matt steps closer, presses himself close to Stiles and reaches up to grab his book, his arm slides across Stiles’s chest. “There.”
“Thanks,” Stiles mutters as Matt’s fingers slip across his hands. “Um…I should go,” Stiles points behind him with his thumb and Matt, looks dejected, but smiles through it and nods.
“Ok,” Stiles feels bad, he really does, the guys cute, but suddenly there’s just something about him that makes Stiles uncomfortable, especially in an empty Library.
There’s also the fact that Derek is the hottest guy ever to walk the face of the planet and would kill him if he ever looked twice at anyone.
“Hey Stiles?” Matt calls and Stiles looks over his shoulder, “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles mutters, and turns in time to miss the slow smile on Matt’s face.
…
Stiles shakes himself in his jeep, it’s stupid, the creep of shivers across his forearms, and all he wants now is to slide into cool sheets next to Derek’s hot body and not emerge for a good three days.
Derek’s not waiting for him and his car isn’t there when Stiles pulls into the driveway and he swallows down the sting of disappointment and slides out of his jeep, grabbing his backpack and slamming the door shut. He pushes the front door open and drops his bag, heads up stairs to Derek’s room. It’s always weird being here when Derek isn’t, Stiles feels almost like an intruder, even though there’s one of his old hoodies draped over the chair in Derek’s room, and more of Stiles’s DVD’s downstairs than Derek’s. Even though Derek remembers to buy Cap’t Crunch for Stiles instead of the cardboard he eats himself.
Stiles sighs, pulls off his hoodie and toes off his shoes, slides in between the sheets and breathes in the scent of Derek from his pillow he hugs against his chest.
He wakes to the slam of the front door and heavy combat booted steps on the stairs. Derek’s head appears around the door, his face expressionless. Stiles shifts onto his back and stretches as Derek walks over to the bed and sits on the edge.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” he asks and Stiles runs his fingers across the tiny strip of skin of Derek’s back. Derek shifts.
“I was going to try to surprise you,” he mutters and Derek turns, lies down next to him and Stiles settles down again, head to Derek’s chest.
“I could have been here,” Derek says, voice rumbling through Stiles’s ear.
“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles lifts his head and lets his fingers play against the soft fabric of Derek’s t-shirt, “so I wanted to talk to you…” Derek’s eyes narrow in a frown, “I just wanted to say that I love that you wanted me to come home, but I can look after myself, I’ve seen enough werewolves that I’m pretty sure I could pick one out now, I mean you all dress like douches,” Stiles yelps as Derek stabs a finger between his ribs, “ow.”
“Douches?” Derek’s got an eyebrow arches over one eyes and Stiles shrugs.
“Kinda…but you get it right? I can take care of myself?”
“You don’t have to take care of yourself. You’re pack Stiles,” Derek sighs and tries to slide out from under Stiles’s grasp. Stiles throws one thigh over him, hands braced either side of Derek’s head.
“I know, but…will you just trust me to take care of myself?”
“No,” Derek’s lips twitch at the corner and Stiles narrows his eyes, sits back across Derek’s thighs and crosses his arms.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re kind of an idiot,” Derek flips them both and Stiles doesn’t want to even admit the noise that comes out of his mouth as he finds himself flat on his back with Derek looming over him. “I’m glad you’re here,” Derek says in a rare moment of honesty and Stiles blinks. He lifts his hand to Derek’s jeans, pops the button and curls his fingers inside, knuckles pressing to Derek’s skin.
“I need to be able to look after myself Derek,” Stiles says and Derek presses his lips together. Stiles pushes his hand in further, traces the backs of his fingers over Derek’s dick and Derek’s hips arch forward. “Because what if you’re not there?”
“I will be,” Derek mutters and runs his hands up under Stiles’s t-shirt, palms hot against his ribs.
“But what if you’re not?” Stiles asks and Derek shifts back and lowers his head to Stiles’s stomach, runs his nose along the line of hair and swirls his tongue around Stiles’s navel.
“I will…” he starts and Stiles winds his hands into Derek’s hair, tugs and Derek looks up at him.
“But what if you’re not?” Derek doesn’t answer, crawls upwards, settles on top of Stiles, slotting their hips together and kisses him, tongue sliding along his lips before licking into his mouth and Stiles groans, shifting his hips under Derek’s, wrapping one leg around him.
“Sex in the middle of the day Stiles?” Derek asks, trailing his fingers down Stiles’s side.
“Remember that weekend we spent in bed?” Stiles questions, scratching his nails across Derek’s back. Derek hisses and drives his hips down. “I don’t remember you complaining about sex in the middle of the day then, especially not when I…” Derek cuts him off with a growl and a kiss and his hand down Stiles’s jean. Stiles moans into his mouth, fucking himself into Derek’s slightly awkward grip.
“Remember how many times I fucked you that weekend?” Derek growls against Stiles’s lips and Stiles’s breath hitches. It’s so unlike Derek to talk dirty, to use words to drive Stiles crazy.
“Four,” Stiles answers and Derek’s grip tightens around him and he bites down on Stiles’s bottom lip.
“Five,” Derek corrects, thumb sliding through the precome on Stiles’s dick and Stiles jerks, hands slipping against Derek’s skin.
“Fuck,” Derek mouths at his throat, teeth scraping along the skin, sucks a bruise onto Stiles’s neck as he twists his hand and Stiles comes, Derek’s stubble leaving an almost stinging trail across his skin, “not that I’m complaining,” he mutters as Derek pulls his hand out from his pants, “but that wasn’t actual sex.”
Derek huffs out a laugh, pushes himself up and arches an eyebrow at him.
“What would you call it?”
“Foreplay,” Derek laughs again as he stands and Stiles has to admit he loves the sound.
“Sex later,” Derek points at him and begins to walk out.
“You promise?” Stiles call after him, hauling his hoodie over his head and racing after Derek in sticky jeans.
Stiles sometimes forgets how quickly Derek can move, and he’s already hauling things out of his car when Stiles makes it downstairs. Stiles leans against the doorframe and watches as Derek pulls out grocery bags and lifts them all at once, makes his way back to the house. Derek leans in and plants a kiss on Stiles’s mouth as he walks past and Stiles is quick enough to catch the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken.
“What?” Derek’s eyes narrow and then he’s smiles, weakly, like he’s forgotten that Stiles knows him and can read his expressions.
“Nothing,” Derek moves away, towards the kitchen and Stiles follows.
“No you did the whole wolf thing, what?” Derek slams the bags down onto the table and turns. His expression is blank, but artistically so and Stiles frowns.
“You smell…” he starts and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Yeah and who’s fault is that, making me come on my jeans…jeez. I’ll go shower,” he grumbles and stomps upstairs.
Stiles has got his head buried in a pile of books, first year exams are coming up and Stiles has spent most of the year tangled around Derek. Hence the pile of books he’s currently surrounded by. Not that he minds, because hell, he’ll take Derek over studying any goddamn day of the week, studying doesn’t know where to press to turn Stiles into a gibbering wreck, or that surprisingly behind his ear is an erogenous zone, or how to press his nose to the back of Stiles’s neck when he has a nightmare.
Stiles sighs, shifts, presses a finger to his temple as the words on the page swim in front of him. He’s studying about the origin of myths at the moment and he cant help snorting whenever they mention Werewolves, some of the things they just have so wrong, like how they change into bloodthirsty, single minded killers every full moon. His phone rings, well vibrates nosily next to him, buzzing across his pad of paper until he picks it up.
“Are you studying?” Stiles grins and leans back in his chair, runs a hand over his hair, he’s let it grow recently, and he can still feel the ghost of Derek’s fingers clutching at it as Stiles was on his knees with Derek’s dick in his mouth two days ago.
“I was,” he answers, “but you know, if you keep phoning me to check whether I am studying, I have to stop studying to answer the phone, thus whenever you ask the question, I have to answer correctly, which is ‘no’, because otherwise you will know I’m lying…”
“Stiles, shut up,” Derek growls, but there’s a fondness in his voice that he can’t hide and it makes Stiles grins ever wider.
“Did you just call to let me know you miss me? Cos you know? It’s getting kind of embarrassing now, I mean, I only left a few days ago and you call me every day…”
“Stiles,” Derek sighs and Stiles lets out a laugh, gets shushed by the Librarian and Stiles mouths sorry at her.
“I miss you too by the way,” Stiles says and Derek’s silent for a second. Stiles knows it’s hard for him, it always has been, always was even before Stiles woke up to the fact that he was stupidly in love with Derek, even before that Derek didn’t voice his emotions, Stiles can’t really expect him to now. It’s a good thing that Stiles knows him, because he hears him swallow and he knows that means I miss you.
“Get back to studying,” Derek says gruffly and Stiles rolls his eyes, wishes he could distract himself with Derek’s stubble under his palms.
“Ok dad,” he replies.
“Stiles.”
“Sorry…do you prefer sir?” he jokes and Derek’s breathing hitches for a second, but then he sighs again and Stiles tries to ignore the spike of lust that skitters up his spine at the image of him on his knees with Derek’s hands in his hair and the word ‘sir’ falling from his lips. So inappropriate, he thinks as he shifts slightly uncomfortably.
“I’m hanging up now,” Derek mutters.
“Love you too,” Stiles sings down the phone and is then greeted with the dial tone
“Parent’s huh?” Stiles jumps slightly. In front of his table, with an amused yet sympathetic look is a guy Stiles has seen once or twice in here before. He’s a good looking guy, not Derek good looking, but good looking nevertheless. Sandy blond hair, just the wrong side of long, but big blue eyes that blink at Stiles as he tries to figure out what the guy’s saying.
“Oh no that was my…boyfriend,” Stiles says eventually and the guy’s face creases up with confusion, and a hint of revulsion.
“You call your boyfriend dad?” he asks and Stiles nearly chokes on his own tongue.
“No…wouldn’t that be creepy and kinda gross, no that was a joke…he’s a couple years older so he’s all ‘study Stiles’, ‘get good grades Stiles’ but I know it’s only because he loves…” Stiles makes a face as he bites on his lip to stop his entire love life spilling to a guy he’s only just met and the guy smiles.
“Matt…by the way,” Matt sticks out his hand and Stiles shakes it.
“Stiles,” he answers and the guy sits down next to him.
“What are you studying for?” Matt asks and Stiles closes his book and shows him the front cover, “Mythology? Wow, kinda out of left field,” Stiles nods. A lot of people think that, even his dad asked Stiles why the hell he was going to major in Mythology with electives in History and English. Stiles doesn’t hate the question per se, but he just sometimes has a hard time coming up with an answer that doesn’t sounds weird. For some reason ‘my boyfriend and my best friend are werewolves so I’m kinda interested in it’ would probably make people look at Stiles like he needs to be locked up.
“It’s interesting,” he answers and Matt shrugs.
“Hell of a lot more interesting that Math,” he says and Stiles makes a face.
“Eeww, gross,” Matt laughs.
“Yeah but…” he pauses and a shadow passes over his face, when he looks back again he smiles wryly, “parents.” Stiles smiles back at him, full of empathy. His dad never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to. Except study of course. But even then his dad knew that Stiles didn’t really need to, he just needed to let the teachers think that he was.
“Stiles,” Cassie shouts, ignores the glare from the librarian and flings herself into the chair next to Stiles. She glares at Matt, pushes her hair off her face and fixes her stare at Stiles.
“Cassie, this is Matt, Matt, my room mate Cassie,” Matt reaches across the table to shake her hand and Cassie curls her top lip.
“Yeah, nice to meet you now fuck off,” she says and Matt looks shocked.
“Cass,” Stiles admonishes and turns to Matt, “sorry, she’s uh…”
“Right here,” Cassie says and glares at Stiles. Matt stands.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, never let it be said I don’t get a hint…nice to meet you Stiles, Cassie,” Cassie curls her lip again and then Matt’s gone.
“What’s your problem?” Stiles asks and Cassie shrugs, leans back in her chair and puts her feet up on the table.
“That guy’s the biggest player in school, he’s only been here a few months but apparently he’ll go for anything…no offence,” She says and pops a piece of gum into her mouth. Stiles wrinkles his nose and starts packing up his books.
“Uh…thank you for protecting my honour Cass, but I have a boyfriend you know?” Cassie sticks her tongue out.
“How could I forget cheekbones?” Cassie absently draws a spiral on Stiles’s notebook. The shape reminds him of Derek and he grabs the book out from under her pencil.
“Did you want something other than to protect my innocence?” Stiles asks and Cassie’s whole face lights up and she jumps to her feet and winds her arm through Stiles’s.
“Well you know that you love me right?” She asks, fluttering her eyelashes and yes, Stiles really does. She’s rude, and abrasive, but when she’s in your corner, she’s one of the most loyal friends Stiles has ever known. She’s also a hell of laugh to watch romantic comedies with.
“Sometimes,” Stiles answers and Cassie nudges him.
“There’s…this guy,” she starts and Stiles pulls his arm out of her clutches.
“Cassie! A guy? I’m shocked,” he feigns shock with a hand on his chest. Cassie flips him the bird and grabs his backpack.
“Anyway, he’s playing tonight in the Foot Locker downtown…and…you’re coming with me,” she says and bounds off with Stiles’s backpack before he can answer.
…
“You know I hate you right?” Stiles shouts over the god awful music. Cassie nods noncommittally and continues to stare dreamily at the guy in question. Foot Locker is a grunge music dive bar downtown, and Stiles now knows why its called Foot Locker. It smells. Of feet. And sports lockers. “You owe me big time.” He grumbles and Cassie grins at him, because she cant hear a word over the terrible music. Stiles sighs and feels his phone vibrate against his thigh.
Derek’s pining
Stiles smiles at Scott’s message and types one back, he misses me, can you blame him?, and shoves his phone back into his pocket.
Scott had guessed straight away. Stiles had left Derek sleeping, which was a surprise, Stiles had thought that Derek would wake at the drop of a pin but he likes to think that Derek sleeps more easily when Stiles is there, and had gone to meet Allison and Scott for breakfast. Scott had wrinkled his nose the second he walked in and announced to the entire café that Stiles stank of sex and Derek. Allison had looked like she was going to burst into tears of joy and kissed Stiles on the cheek, punched Scott’s shoulder for being insensitive and proceeded to get every single detail out of Stiles whilst Scott tried not to vomit.
He’s been great though, Scott has, and totally didn’t have a freak out about his best friend and his Alpha hooking up for ‘crazy werewolf sex’, Scott’s words, not Stiles’s. Allison’s just been like the biggest fan girl on the face of the planet and Stiles loves her even more for that.
His phone vibrates again.
I’m not pining. Stiles grins, feels the pathetic girly flutter he feels whenever Derek’s mentioned, or whenever Derek’s around, or whenever Derek touches him.
Don’t lie. He types back and smiles at his phone as the message disappears. He looks up as he puts his phone back in his pocket to see Matt standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
“Your dad?” he shouts over the music and Stiles laughs and nods. Matt holds out his beer and nods in Stiles’s direction. Stiles shakes his head and Matt nods in the direction of the door. Stiles glances at Cassie who only has eyes for the guy on stage who’s growling into the microphone and follows Matt outside.
“God,” Stiles sighs as the fresh air hits him. Matt laughs and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, he holds it out to Stiles who shakes his head again.
“You stand out like a sore thumb,” Matt says, lights his cigarette and takes a drag. The smoke coils upwards and Stiles watches it.
“I’m here with Cassie, the rude one from earlier,” Matt nods and takes another drag.
“Aaah yes,” Matt smiles easily, like he’s not offended in the slightest and Stiles finds himself smiling back. His phone vibrates again, with a call this time and Stiles pulls it out of his pocket with a grimace.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he answers, then puts the phone to his ear, “hey,” he turns away so Matt can’t see the idiotic grin on his face.
“You studying?” Derek asks and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“You have got to think of a better greeting than that,” he says and Derek, to his credit, lets out a small laugh.
“Just thought I’d tell you that I’m not pining,” he says and Stiles snorts.
“Of course you are, you miss me, you miss my body,” he says and Derek’s breathing hitches, “you miss…”
“Stiles say one more word and I am hanging up,” Derek growls down the phone and Stiles mouths an apology at Matt who shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather have real sex with you than phone sex,” Derek admits and Stiles is so taken aback by the confession he can only blink.
“Oh…” he says eventually, his stomach knotting itself and Little Stiles stirring in his pants at the thought of real sex with Derek.
“You’re home on Friday right?” Derek asks and hears Lydia shouting at Jackson in the background.
“Yeah,” Stiles replies, trying to ignore the sudden rush of homesickness. The image of the Pack piled into Derek’s living room, Erica, Boyd and Isaac curled around each other whilst Isaac twirls his finger around one of her curls. Jackson and Lydia trying to pretend to ignore each other.
“I’ll see you then…and Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop going out and study please?” Derek hangs up and Stiles shakes his head as he shoves his phone into his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he says to Matt. Matt grins, blindingly, and Stiles has to admit, that if Derek wasn’t well and truly imbedded in Stiles’s life, he might have a little bit of a crush on the guy. Except there’s…well something about him that makes Stiles uneasy, it’s something tiny, but it’s there.
“Checking up on you?” Matt asks, and there’s a hint of a sneer in his voice. Stiles frowns.
“No,” he defends and Matt holds his hands up and takes a step forward.
“I don’t blame him, I would check up on you too,” he says and Stiles swallows, licks at his dry lips and Matt’s eyes follow the movement.
“Uh…”
“Stiles, we’re leaving,” Cassie grabs at his arm and Matt steps away.
“Wait…what? Why?” Stiles asks and Cassie tugs at him.
“Please?” It’s the first time he’s heard Cassie say please and he looks at her, her brown eyes filling with tears.
“Ok…ok, Matt I’ll…” Matt nods.
“I’ll see you around, Stiles.” Cassie tugs on his arm again and Stiles wraps it around her.
“What happened?” he asks and Cassie sniffs, wipes her nose on the back of her hand.
“I hate men,” she announces as Stiles bundles her into his jeep. By the time he’s in the driver’s seat, she’s asleep with her head against the window.
…
Three days later and Stiles is still on the couch, surrounded by take out cartons, empty tubs of ice cream and more than a few empty bottles of beer. Cassie’s in the same pajama’s she was in the morning after Foot Locker and she glares at anyone that isn’t Stiles, including the people on the TV.
Turns out, the guy was a dick. No surprises there, Stiles could have told you that, anyone who dressed like he did and pretended to be Kurt Cobain generally was a dick. Said dick was also making out with a ‘skanky blonde ho’. Cassie’s words. Stiles has spent the last three days mourning with Cassie because ‘you’re gay, you get it’. He’s not sure whether that’s a compliment or not but he shrugs and studies whilst Cassie watches crappy TV and laments her crappy love life.
Friday morning arrives and Stiles throws his bag into his jeep, promises to bring Cassie back junk food and alcohol (he’ll get Derek to buy it) when he comes back on Sunday. She flips him the bird and tells him she loves him and then Stiles is driving away from Pacifica back to Derek.
Well ok back to Beacon Hills because he promised his dad he’d have lunch with him first. But then back to Derek.
After maybe having a quick coffee with Scott.
…
His dad looks thinner, more tired. But then again Stiles always thinks that and it just fuels his guilt at leaving. His dad brushes off his concern like he normally does, and grills Stiles about school.
Stiles answers every question and bounces his leg under the table.
Scott gives him a hug, Allison a kiss on the cheek and a genuine grin, and grills Stiles about his social life.
Stiles tries to ignore the almost burning need to touch Derek.
Then blissfully, Scott lets him go, after a silent exchange between him and Allison that leaves Stiles wondering what the hell happened. But he doesn’t care as long as he gets to see Derek.
Derek’s on his porch, engine parts surrounding his feet and grease smeared up one arm. His t-shirt’s a soft marl grey, and he’s poking at a carburettor with a screw driver as Stiles drives up. Derek stops, looks up and cocks his head to the side, watches as Stiles climbs out of his car and stalks over to him. He doesn’t move, just waits for Stiles to reach him and the irony of that isn’t lost on Stiles as he reaches Derek and runs his hands across Derek’s chest. Derek lets out a quiet rumble, curls his fingers around Stiles’s wrist.
Stiles grins up at him, one step below him and Derek’s jaw twitches and he tugs on Stiles’s wrists until Stiles has to lean into him.
Derek leans down and covers Stiles’s mouth with his own. Stiles groans, and its like once they start, they can’t stop. Derek winds his arms around Stiles, hauls him up and close and Stiles steps up to the top step, leans into Derek and kisses him back, runs his hands through Derek’s hair. Derek’s tongue licks along the roof of Stiles’s mouth, in the way that makes Stiles’s knees weak and Derek hauls him even closer, crushes them together and growls into his mouth, “inside.”
“You afraid you’ll have your wicked way with me out in the open?” Stiles mutters as Derek’s lips slide across his jaw and his hand slips under his t-shirt. Derek just growls in response and Stiles makes a mental note to goad Derek into outside sex in the not too distant future. They stumble through the door, Derek’s hands pressing to Stiles’s skin, and Stiles trying to get his hands between them to get Derek out of his pants. Stiles grunts in frustration and Derek tears his mouth from Stiles’s and pushes his jeans down his hips, steps out of them and hauls Stiles close again. It’s not enough though, Stiles can feel Derek’s dick hardening against his thigh, but Stiles’s thigh is clad in denim and he needs to be able to feel Derek right now. “Derek.”
Derek lets him go, and Stiles whines, but only long enough to pulls Stiles’s shirt over his head and unpop Stiles’s jeans button. Stiles shoves his jeans down his thighs whilst Derek pulls his own shirt off and then there’s skin against skin and their tangling limbs as they practically fall to the floor, Derek’s body covering Stiles’s. Derek groans as Stiles wraps his leg around him and pulls their hips together. It’s almost instant, the reaction Derek has on Stiles, and now, on the floor, with Derek’s hot skin against his, Stiles is almost painfully hard. He whines, Derek’s teeth dragging across the skin of his throat and Derek drives his hips down.
“Derek please,” Stiles groans as Derek sucks against his skin, slides his mouth over Stiles’s collar bone, down his chest and he bites gently on one of Stiles’s nipples. Stiles arches his back, fingers tangled in Derek’s hair.
“I don’t have anything,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’s skin, swirls his tongue around Stiles’s navel, “and I don’t think I can let you go long enough to get upstairs.” Derek nips at Stiles’s hip and Stiles’s fingers scrabble against the floor boards trying to hold on as Derek moves his mouth lower and licks along the underside of Stiles’s dick.
“Fuck,” Stiles groans as Derek sucks the head of his dick between his lips, tongue pressing into the slit. If Derek’s hands are skilful, which they are, more than once Stiles has been reduced to cursing and shuddering with just Derek’s hands, then Derek’s mouth is positively magic. Derek hums in the back of his throat, sends vibrations through Stiles and Stiles pushes his hips up, digs his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugs. Derek growls, fingers pressing into Stiles’s hips and he slides one hand around under Stiles, presses against Stiles’s hole. Stiles shudders, groans as he tries to pushes his hips down against Derek’s hand and up into his mouth. Derek’s finger pushes in, slowly, not far, and Stiles groans, lets out a string of curses, feels his orgasm coil in the pit of his stomach. Derek swallows around him, opens out his throat and presses his nose to Stiles’s stomach and Stiles comes, slamming his head back against the floorboard and practically biting through his bottom lip.
Derek pulls off with a slick pop that should be as hot as it is, swipes his thumb across his lower lip and Stiles groans, reaches up to him and hauls him down, kisses the taste of himself from Derek’s mouth. He spins them both, gets a hand between them and curls it around Derek’s dick. Derek growls, low in Stiles’s ear, fingernails digging into Stiles’s shoulders and Stiles twists his hand, runs his palm over the tip of Derek’s dick, strokes back down and Derek comes, biting down on Stiles’s shoulder almost hard enough to hurt.
“Hi,” Stiles lifts his head from Derek’s shoulder and grins down at him. Derek huffs out a laugh.
“Hi,” he replies and runs his fingers across Stiles’s cheekbone, “good drive?”
“Can we maybe not be on the floor for small talk?” Stiles asks and Derek flips them, presses Stiles into the floorboard and kisses him slow and deep.
Stiles drags the tips of his fingers across Derek’s stubble, along his jaw, because he can, because he can touch Derek like this now. Derek leans into the touch, practically purrs and Stiles leans up and kisses his chin.
“You hungry?” Derek asks, nudging his nose against Stiles’s. Stiles grins, wriggles underneath him.
“Starving.”
Derek stands, stretches and Stiles takes a moment to appreciate naked Derek before Derek’s hauling him to his feet.
…
Derek makes a linguine to die for, fried bacon, peas and cream and Stiles eats the whole thing whilst making moaning noises that would make a porn star blush. Derek just raises one eyebrow and his lips curl at one corner.
Stiles thought the transition from friends to…whatever they are now, he hesitates to use the word boyfriend in front of Derek, would be hard. But Derek’s been easy, and not much has changed except the fact that Derek touches him more now, well, the touches are more meaningful now at least.
The smiles are longer too, just a shade longer, but they reach his eyes more, crinkle the skin at the corners and Stiles wants to run his fingers over the wrinkles when he does it.
“What?” Derek asks warily and Stiles realises he’s staring, fork midway to his mouth. He puts his fork down, gets out of his chair, and walks around the table. Derek turns his chair outwards as Stiles gets to him, looks confused for a second and Stiles crawls into Derek’s lap, cups his hands around Derek’s face and kisses him. Derek tastes of cream, and underneath there’s still a lingering hint of Stiles and Stiles runs his thumbs across Derek’s cheekbones. Derek curls his hands around Stiles’s wrists and kisses him back.
“Sorry,” Stiles mutters as he pulls away and goes to stand. Derek holds on tight.
“I get it, I’m irresistible,” Derek replies with a smirk twinkling in his eyes. Stiles lets out a laugh.
“Wow, Derek Hale making a joke, wonders will never cease,” Derek scowls and pushes Stiles off his lap and Stiles lands in an undignified heap at his feet. “See now that’s the Derek I know,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. Derek laughs and pulls him back into his lap.
“Pack meeting tonight,” Derek mutters as Stiles strokes his fingers across the back of Derek’s neck. Derek shuts his eyes and rolls his neck.
“I’ll go home,” Stiles replies as Derek’s fingers dip into the back of his jeans.
“You’re pack,” Derek reminds him, opening his eyes and fixing Stiles with a solid stare, one that has Stiles’s pulse stuttering, “now more than ever,” there’s something serious swimming in Derek’s eyes and Stiles wrinkles his nose in confusion.
“Why now?” Derek rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation.
“For a clever guy, you’re a fucking idiot sometimes,” he pokes Stiles in the forehead.
“Wow…thanks, love you too,” Stiles grins and Derek stands, holding onto Stiles tight enough that Stiles’s feet don’t touch the ground. Stiles hitches his legs up and around, locks his ankles around Derek’s waist and kisses the end of Derek’s nose.
“Right…upstairs,” Derek growls, taking a step towards the stairs, he loosens his grip as if to drop Stiles but Stiles tightens his own and Derek sighs.
“Always so pushy,” Stiles mutters and Derek hitches him up effortlessly.
“I’ll show you pushy,” he growls.
It’s wonder they don’t break something going upstairs, as Stiles makes it his personal mission to put Derek off by biting on his ear and whispering filthy things to him, things that makes Stiles blush as he says them, and by the time Derek throws him down on his bed, Stiles is hard and Derek’s got that look in his eyes that means Stiles is not leaving this bed for a good few hours.
…
“I think you might have actually killed me that time,” Stiles stretches, groans when his muscles protest and Derek makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, his arm up covering his eyes. Stiles leans forward and clamps his teeth around his nipple and Derek hisses, hand curling into Stiles’s hair, body arching upwards towards Stiles.
He honestly could do this forever, lie in bed with Derek for the rest of his life, as long as food was bought to them every now and then. Little Stiles stirs and Derek tugs on Stiles’s hair. Stiles lifts his head and is met with Derek’s amused expression.
“Really? Again?” He asks and Stiles shrugs, lazily arching his hips against Derek’s thigh.
“Take it as a compliment,” he replies and Derek ‘s answering laugh is cut off abruptly as he sits bolt up right with his head cocked to the side. “What?”
“Damn,” he mutters and stands, hauls his jeans up his thighs and Stiles sulks, pushes his bottom lip out and sulks like the teenager he is. “The others are here.” Derek leans down, hands pressed to the mattress and pulls Stiles’s bottom lip between his teeth. Stiles winds his arms around his neck, pulls him down and wraps his legs around him.
“They already know,” Stiles mutters as Derek lets his lip go and slides his mouth down his jawline.
“Yeah, but they’ll smell the sex from a mile away so we should probably at least be downstairs,” Derek replies and strains against Stiles’s grip.
“You know its really creepy that you guys can smell that,” Stiles says and Derek laughs, takes advantage of Stiles’s lack of concentration and breaks out of his grip. Stiles sulks again and Derek throws his t-shirt at him.
“Downstairs in two,” he orders as he walks out of the door. And Stiles resists the urge to throw his shoe at him.
…
Derek’s got a shirt on by the time Stiles gets downstairs, but his feet are still bare and Stiles takes a second to appreciate the way the muscles in his arms moves as he hauls a couch round to face the other.
“You going to help or watch me do all the heaving lifting?” Derek asks without looking up and Stiles pushes himself off the doorframe and takes a step into the room. Derek stands up straight and smiles at Stiles, curls his fingers into Stiles’s waist band and tugs him close.
“Super Alpha Werewolf,” Stiles says touching Derek on the chest with his forefinger, “puny human tag along,” Stiles points at himself and Derek runs his hands up his back under his t-shirt.
“Speaking of, we’re training tomorrow,” Derek’s voice vibrates against Stiles’s lips.
“Way to fuel my body issues,” Stiles replies as the front door flies open and Derek plants a kiss to his lips before letting him go.
“Derek?” Scott shouts, even Stiles knows he could track Derek in a room full of Derek’s. He’s shouting for their benefit and Derek curls one side of his mouth at Stiles, trails his hand across Stiles’s stomach as he walks past him.
“Here,” Derek shouts back and Scott’s head appears round the door frame, eyes clamped shut.
“Hey douche bag, you can open your eyes, we’re fully clothed,” Stiles sighs and Scott cracks one eye open, looks relieved, and opens the other. Allison appears behind him.
“Hey guys, I bought snacks,” she holds up a bag of chips and Stiles grins. He’s starving, despite the pasta from earlier. Derek raises an eyebrow at him. Derek likes to pretend he doesn’t like it when the pack meetings turn into impromptu movie nights, tries to hide a smile as they all pile onto a couch and argue over which movie to watch. He usually growls, chooses one for them and the pack shuts up. Erica curled between Boyd and Isaac, Jackson trying not to put his arm around Lydia and Scott and Allison so far entwined its hard to tell when one stops and the other begins.
Of course before it was usually Stiles and Derek left trying to ignore the sexual tension in the room with their thighs pressed together.
Derek rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen and Stiles makes grabby hands at the chips.
“Had a good afternoon?” she asks as Stiles shovels in a handful of chips and Scott wrinkles his nose.
“If the smell is anything to go by, I’d say it was a great afternoon,” Stiles just about manages to swallow before choking and spitting chips everywhere, and leans forward to heave air into his lungs. There’s a strong hand between his shoulders and Stiles knows its Derek.
“Dude,” Stiles croaks and glares at Scott, “creepy.”
“Sorry,” Scott shrugs, “can’t help it.”
Stiles glares at him half-heartedly and Derek’s hand slides down his back.
“So do we have to be here long? I have plans,” Lydia flounces into the room, flicking her hair off her shoulder and Stiles leans back against the warm hand. Lydia grins at him, easily and genuine and kisses his cheek. “Anyway,” she turns back to Derek, “I have plans.”
“Good for you,” Derek mutters and his fingers twitch against Stiles’s back.
Erica, Isaac and Boyd are wrapped around each other again like some weird Siamese triplet and not for the first time Stiles wonders how the hell they aren’t actually all sleeping with each other. Derek assures him they’re not, he’d smell it if they were, which again Stiles thinks is creepy, but it’s like they’ve found strength in each other. And even though Erica knocked him out and shoved him in a dumpster, he has to admit that its kinda cute.
Erica throws him a grin, the one she always give him, a hint of amusement and a whole lot of ‘yeah I’m cooler than you’, which she is, Stiles is fully aware of that, and even though she’s actually saved his life a couple of times, he’s still a little scared of the girl. Isaac and Boyd raise their hands in greeting but don’t say anything, preferring to continue staring lovingly at Erica.
“There’s a roaming pack heading this way,” Derek says as the other settle down into their usual positions, and they fall silent. Even Jackson has the grace to look up from his cellphone.
“What’s a roaming pack?” asks Isaac.
“Not one like ours, they’re not static, and they’re usually aggressive. I just need to make you all aware, I need you to keep your eyes open, this is our town, not theirs,” Derek growls the last few words and Stiles looks at him. He’s got his Alpha face on, hard, impassive and the others are staring at him. Derek lifts his hand to Stiles’s thigh and gives it a quick squeeze. No one notices apart from Allison who winks at Stiles when he blushes.
“Are they dangerous?” Allison asks and Scott winds his arms around her tighter.
“Arent we all?” Derek replies and Allison blushes a little, “but generally not, but I don’t want to take any chances with you,” he looks at Stiles when he says that even though he’s still directing the pact and Stiles pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Are we done?” Lydia pipes up, looking at her cell phone and then Derek. Derek growls softly but then nods and she stands, shakes out her hair and strides out with Jackson trailing after her demanding to know where she’s going.
Stiles shakes his head at them both. It’s almost amusing how they both try to deny they still like each other.
“Stiles,” Derek’s hand is a solid presence on his shoulder and he looks up at him, “a word?” Stiles follows him into the kitchen. “I heard they might be passing through Moreno Valley, if they’re not already there,” there’s worry etched on Derek’s face and Stiles takes a step forward and runs his fingers down Derek’s arm.
“I can look after myself, and why would they bother me?” Derek frowns.
“Maybe because you’re annoying, and you have a habit of getting into trouble,” he says and Stiles steps even closer and tugs on Derek’s belt loops. “I don’t want a repeat of Peter.”
“Hey…I’m ok, I’ll be ok, ok?” Derek’s lips twitch and he cups at Stiles’s face.
“Ok,” he says and presses his lips to Stiles’s briefly, “don’t suppose I could get you to stay here until they’ve gone?”
“Not a chance,” Stiles replies and then grins.
“You’re gonna be the death of me one day.”
…
Stiles sighs as he pulls his jeep into his parking space and rubs at his eyes. It’s not a long drive to Pacifica but it feels like it when he can still feel Derek’s hands on him and he can feel the distance getting more with each mile he drives. Derek had asked him to stay again, Stiles had just shaken his head, kissed him hard and promised him he’d be home next weekend.
Now Stiles just has to get through another week without him.
It’s ridiculous really, Stiles spent two years without Derek, but he guesses its different now, now that he knows what Derek’s hands feel like on him, and that he knows how Derek’s stubble feels against the inside of his thighs. Now he knows, he craves it pretty much every waking minute. Although that could be his adolescent hormones playing up of course. The more romantic side of Stiles would like to think it’s because its Derek.
He sighs again, climbs out of his car gingerly, Derek was…less than gentle the last time, fucking Stiles like he wouldn’t get another chance, fingers digging into Stiles’s skin hard enough to hurt.
Stiles is a little worried that he loved every second of it.
Loved every single second of Derek growling in his ear, whispering filthy things, telling Stiles he wasn’t allowed to come until Derek said so. Stiles shudders at the memory and grabs his backpack, slams his jeep door.
Cassie is in the same position as when he left, but at least she’s got clothes on and her hair looks clean. She looks up from the TV and beams at Stiles.
“You’re back,” she announces, like Stiles has no clue that he just walked back into his place.
“Have you moved?” he asks and Cassie rolls her eyes, hits mute on the remote and pulls her knees up to her chin.
“Yes I moved,” she says and pushes her hair back off her shoulder, “how was the weekend?”
“You know,” Stiles says conversationally, “your morbid fascination with my sex life is kind of creepy,” a cushion flies at his face and he catches it, grinning at her, “and it was fantastic thank you very much.”
…
“Where the hell have you been?” Derek growls down the phone and Stiles runs his hand through his hair.
“I must have missed the memo telling me I have to tell you every time I leave the house,” Stiles snarks back. Derek growls again, his ‘I’m actually pissed at you so don’t push me’ growl.
“With out your phone.”
“A mistake, sorry,” Stiles tries to placate because he’s starting to hear the panic in Derek’s voice.
“Where were you?” Derek asks again, softer this time, and Stiles can almost imagine him pressing his fingers to his temple and closing his eyes, breathing in deep against the anger that coils under his skin.
“I was studying, in the library,” he neglects to tell Derek that he lost track of time talking to Matt. Matt, who’s amusing and interesting, and cute, but so far from Derek’s league it’s not even funny. It’s not like it was a date either, the guy just keeps turning up wherever Stiles is. He’s seen him three times this week already and its only Thursday.
Matt’s nice, he seems genuinely interested in Stiles, even though his gaze sometimes lingers a little too long on Stiles’s mouth. It makes him feel uncomfortable sometimes and he wonders if Matt is always like that, or he’s interested in him.
Not that Stiles would ever contemplate doing anything with anyone who wasn’t Derek. He doesn’t think he has it in him. Not only that Derek would probably rip his throat out for real this time, but its Derek. And there’s no way in the world anyone could ever match up to him. Ever.
“I want you to come home,” Derek says, or rather orders. And Stiles blinks, his hand around the phone tightens.
“What? No…”
“Stiles…”Derek interrupts, “they’re in Moreno Valley, I don’t want…”
“Derek I’m not going to go looking for them and what the hell would they want with me anyway? I’m nothing to them,” he sighs and there’s silence from Derek, the kind that drags and make Stiles’s twitchy with the need to fill it with nonsense.
“But you’re something to me,” Derek says eventually and Stiles snaps his mouth shut. There’s so much said in those few simple words, so much that Derek probably wouldn’t be able to say face to face,< i>you’re pack, I need you, don’t you fucking dare die on me. Stiles feels a grin creep across his lips.
“Derek…”
“Just…”Derek sighs, heavily, and Stiles can practically see him running his hand through his hair, “come home when you can, ok?”
“Ok,” Stiles replies and then because he’s been holding out and he just has to, he adds, “you want me home because I’m something to you? Derek Hale has actual feelings? Breaking News.”
He can practically hear the eye roll.
“Stiles…shut up.”
…
The following morning Stiles throws his bag into his jeep.
“You’re going home again? Cheekbones must be good,” Cassie waggles her eyebrows at him and Stiles rolls his eyes back at her.
“Couple of things I need to do, not sure when I am going to back, you’ll be ok without me?” Cassie pouts her lips to one side, taps at her chin and then shoves at his shoulder.
“I’m good, I managed for 19 years without you…I think I can manage a few days,” Stiles grins at her and pulls her into a hug.
“Just…” he starts and Cassie frowns, “look after yourself ok?” He’s suddenly worried about leaving her, knowing that the Pack is in Moreno Valley. Cassie doesn’t know anything about this kind of thing, and not that Stiles could help her if she got into trouble, but at least he kind of knows a bit about it.
“Why am I getting the feeling that you know something I don’t?”
“Because I know I lot you don’t,” Stiles jokes and Cassie grins.
“Go, you big idiot, fuck off,” Cassie turns and heads back into the house and Stiles rolls his eyes at her back.
He’s got a book to check out of the library before he goes so he swings his jeep out of his space and heads towards the place he spends most of his time when he’s at school.
He finds it calming almost, a place where his head stops buzzing, where he can concentrate and work, and the only other place like it is Derek’s house, resting between Derek’s spread thighs as Derek watches some movie or other, Derek’s fingers playing along the back of Stiles’s neck. Of course, more often than not, that leads to Stiles hauling Derek onto the floor and letting Derek fuck his mouth.
Stiles shakes his head free of those images, not long now till he sees Derek again, and then he can sink to his knees how many times he wants.
The library is quiet, obviously, it’s a library, but there aren’t even any hushed whispers and Stiles leans over the desk and around the stalls looking for the Librarian. He frowns.
“Stiles, hey,” Stiles jumps back, palm against his chest and Matt rubs at the back of his head and grimaces, “sorry.”
“No…I’m just a bit…”
“Jumpy?” Matt asks and Stiles nods.
“Just picking up a book, heading home for the weekend,” Stiles shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. Matt cocks his head to the side.
“The Librarian hasn’t been in since Thursday, she probably hasn’t put the book out for you, let’s go find it,” Matt nods in the direction of the stalls and something makes Stiles hesitate. He doesn’t know if it’s the empty Library, or the fact that the Librarian is always there and now she isn’t, or the slightly wolfish (wrong choice of word perhaps) smile on Matt’s face. “For Mythology right? Come on.”
Stiles follows Matt through the stalls, around the twists and turns and he glances at his watch. He hasn’t told Derek he was coming home this morning, so he has no time limit, but he just kind of wants to get out of here, back to Derek, where he can pretend that there’s nothing else going on, where he can spend his time curled around Derek, trailing his fingers over skin, or Derek can stay buried inside him, whilst Stiles comes down, Derek’s breath hot against his neck. He suppresses a groan and nearly walks into Matt as he comes to a halt.
“Right,” Stiles can feel his cheeks flushing and Matt grins knowingly, like he can read Stiles’s mind, “it should be around here somewhere,” Stiles looks and groans when he spies it on the top shelf.
“Do you go home a lot?” Matt asks as Stiles stands on tiptoes, “I mean, I don’t mean to pry I just…” Stiles stands back down and looks at him, “wanna get to know you.” Matt shrugs and runs his hand through his hair and Stiles feels unease trip down his spine.
“Matt…”
“I know, you have a boyfriend, I just like hanging out with you,” Matt steps closer, presses himself close to Stiles and reaches up to grab his book, his arm slides across Stiles’s chest. “There.”
“Thanks,” Stiles mutters as Matt’s fingers slip across his hands. “Um…I should go,” Stiles points behind him with his thumb and Matt, looks dejected, but smiles through it and nods.
“Ok,” Stiles feels bad, he really does, the guys cute, but suddenly there’s just something about him that makes Stiles uncomfortable, especially in an empty Library.
There’s also the fact that Derek is the hottest guy ever to walk the face of the planet and would kill him if he ever looked twice at anyone.
“Hey Stiles?” Matt calls and Stiles looks over his shoulder, “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles mutters, and turns in time to miss the slow smile on Matt’s face.
…
Stiles shakes himself in his jeep, it’s stupid, the creep of shivers across his forearms, and all he wants now is to slide into cool sheets next to Derek’s hot body and not emerge for a good three days.
Derek’s not waiting for him and his car isn’t there when Stiles pulls into the driveway and he swallows down the sting of disappointment and slides out of his jeep, grabbing his backpack and slamming the door shut. He pushes the front door open and drops his bag, heads up stairs to Derek’s room. It’s always weird being here when Derek isn’t, Stiles feels almost like an intruder, even though there’s one of his old hoodies draped over the chair in Derek’s room, and more of Stiles’s DVD’s downstairs than Derek’s. Even though Derek remembers to buy Cap’t Crunch for Stiles instead of the cardboard he eats himself.
Stiles sighs, pulls off his hoodie and toes off his shoes, slides in between the sheets and breathes in the scent of Derek from his pillow he hugs against his chest.
He wakes to the slam of the front door and heavy combat booted steps on the stairs. Derek’s head appears around the door, his face expressionless. Stiles shifts onto his back and stretches as Derek walks over to the bed and sits on the edge.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” he asks and Stiles runs his fingers across the tiny strip of skin of Derek’s back. Derek shifts.
“I was going to try to surprise you,” he mutters and Derek turns, lies down next to him and Stiles settles down again, head to Derek’s chest.
“I could have been here,” Derek says, voice rumbling through Stiles’s ear.
“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles lifts his head and lets his fingers play against the soft fabric of Derek’s t-shirt, “so I wanted to talk to you…” Derek’s eyes narrow in a frown, “I just wanted to say that I love that you wanted me to come home, but I can look after myself, I’ve seen enough werewolves that I’m pretty sure I could pick one out now, I mean you all dress like douches,” Stiles yelps as Derek stabs a finger between his ribs, “ow.”
“Douches?” Derek’s got an eyebrow arches over one eyes and Stiles shrugs.
“Kinda…but you get it right? I can take care of myself?”
“You don’t have to take care of yourself. You’re pack Stiles,” Derek sighs and tries to slide out from under Stiles’s grasp. Stiles throws one thigh over him, hands braced either side of Derek’s head.
“I know, but…will you just trust me to take care of myself?”
“No,” Derek’s lips twitch at the corner and Stiles narrows his eyes, sits back across Derek’s thighs and crosses his arms.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re kind of an idiot,” Derek flips them both and Stiles doesn’t want to even admit the noise that comes out of his mouth as he finds himself flat on his back with Derek looming over him. “I’m glad you’re here,” Derek says in a rare moment of honesty and Stiles blinks. He lifts his hand to Derek’s jeans, pops the button and curls his fingers inside, knuckles pressing to Derek’s skin.
“I need to be able to look after myself Derek,” Stiles says and Derek presses his lips together. Stiles pushes his hand in further, traces the backs of his fingers over Derek’s dick and Derek’s hips arch forward. “Because what if you’re not there?”
“I will be,” Derek mutters and runs his hands up under Stiles’s t-shirt, palms hot against his ribs.
“But what if you’re not?” Stiles asks and Derek shifts back and lowers his head to Stiles’s stomach, runs his nose along the line of hair and swirls his tongue around Stiles’s navel.
“I will…” he starts and Stiles winds his hands into Derek’s hair, tugs and Derek looks up at him.
“But what if you’re not?” Derek doesn’t answer, crawls upwards, settles on top of Stiles, slotting their hips together and kisses him, tongue sliding along his lips before licking into his mouth and Stiles groans, shifting his hips under Derek’s, wrapping one leg around him.
“Sex in the middle of the day Stiles?” Derek asks, trailing his fingers down Stiles’s side.
“Remember that weekend we spent in bed?” Stiles questions, scratching his nails across Derek’s back. Derek hisses and drives his hips down. “I don’t remember you complaining about sex in the middle of the day then, especially not when I…” Derek cuts him off with a growl and a kiss and his hand down Stiles’s jean. Stiles moans into his mouth, fucking himself into Derek’s slightly awkward grip.
“Remember how many times I fucked you that weekend?” Derek growls against Stiles’s lips and Stiles’s breath hitches. It’s so unlike Derek to talk dirty, to use words to drive Stiles crazy.
“Four,” Stiles answers and Derek’s grip tightens around him and he bites down on Stiles’s bottom lip.
“Five,” Derek corrects, thumb sliding through the precome on Stiles’s dick and Stiles jerks, hands slipping against Derek’s skin.
“Fuck,” Derek mouths at his throat, teeth scraping along the skin, sucks a bruise onto Stiles’s neck as he twists his hand and Stiles comes, Derek’s stubble leaving an almost stinging trail across his skin, “not that I’m complaining,” he mutters as Derek pulls his hand out from his pants, “but that wasn’t actual sex.”
Derek huffs out a laugh, pushes himself up and arches an eyebrow at him.
“What would you call it?”
“Foreplay,” Derek laughs again as he stands and Stiles has to admit he loves the sound.
“Sex later,” Derek points at him and begins to walk out.
“You promise?” Stiles call after him, hauling his hoodie over his head and racing after Derek in sticky jeans.
Stiles sometimes forgets how quickly Derek can move, and he’s already hauling things out of his car when Stiles makes it downstairs. Stiles leans against the doorframe and watches as Derek pulls out grocery bags and lifts them all at once, makes his way back to the house. Derek leans in and plants a kiss on Stiles’s mouth as he walks past and Stiles is quick enough to catch the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken.
“What?” Derek’s eyes narrow and then he’s smiles, weakly, like he’s forgotten that Stiles knows him and can read his expressions.
“Nothing,” Derek moves away, towards the kitchen and Stiles follows.
“No you did the whole wolf thing, what?” Derek slams the bags down onto the table and turns. His expression is blank, but artistically so and Stiles frowns.
“You smell…” he starts and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Yeah and who’s fault is that, making me come on my jeans…jeez. I’ll go shower,” he grumbles and stomps upstairs.