
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1186179.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Anal_Fingering, Filthy, Seriously_so
      much_dirt, Anal_Sex, First_Time, Sort_of_in_Heat, Dubious_Consent, Rough
      Sex, Multiple_Sex_Positions, This_is_not_how_you_fix_a_car, Unsafe_Sex,
      outside, Marking, Scents_&_Smells, No_Spoilers, Clothed_Sex, Heat_makes
      Derek_smooth, and_a_bit_of_an_asshole, because_logic
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-15 Words: 3110
****** Fix Me ******
by iamee
Summary
     Derek has a car. Stiles is (sort of) happy to fix it.
     Derek is (sort of) in heat. Stiles is just there.
Notes
     So I found this sitting on my computer because sometimes I write porn
     and then forget about it. Still in the middle of catching up with
     Season 3, therefore this fic exists in some limbo. Enjoy!
Fix Me
 
"Should be working now." Stiles' head appeared from underneath the car as he
pushed himself out into the fresh air. Well, fresh was an understatement. It
had been raining for days and Stiles doubted that air could get much fresher
and cleaner than this. He looked up at Derek, wiping a hand across his forehead
when he felt sweat trickling down from his hair. Gross. "I still don't see why
you couldn't do it yourself. Does being broody prevent you from fixing things?"
Derek stared at him for a moment, eyes dark and his expression unreadable. Then
he abruptly walked around the car, sticking his arm in through the opened door
and starting the engine. It purred to life and Stiles gave a sigh of relief.
What was worse than driving all the way out in the woods to patch up a
werewolf's car? Exactly, not being able to patch it. Meanwhile Derek had turned
the engine off and begun to let the car down into the mud again. It was
basically a silent invitation for Stiles to leave if he wished to do so. He
wished very much to do so, but hey, when had that ever prevented him from
opening his mouth?
"You know," he said, walking over to where Derek was busy. "This is the moment
where you shower me in gratitude and tell me I did a good job." Derek didn't
even look up. "Not that there is anything wrong with your version of
gratitude." Stiles continued. "I'm just saying it needs... improvement." Derek
tilted his head, frowning. Stiles leaned against the car, hands drawing circles
into the air. "For example, let's say I – just from the top of my head, you
know? – come to help you repair your car when I should be studying History.
Then you say...?"
"I get it, Stiles."
"No, silly. You say 'Thank you so much, Stiles. Not going to kill you in the
near future'. And I reply 'That's nice, Derek'."
Derek's frown had deepened but at least Stiles had his attention. His undivided
attention to be exact. Dark eyes were gliding over his face and body like a
touch and Stiles found his face heating. He had to look an absolute mess. Mud
on his clothes and oil on his hands, his hair ruffled by his fingers and the
sweater he had taken off before going underneath the car. He licked his lips,
watching Derek push himself up from the ground like a tiger making ready for a
jump. What a helpful comparison, thank you, brain.
"Y-you say 'I underestimated your value, Stiles' and I go 'Damn right, Derek'.
You..." Stiles instinctively backed off against the car as Derek approached.
Old habits died hard. "You should try it. I promise it gets easier." He didn't
know why he was still taking but he didn't seem to be able to stop. "But for
today it's fine. Just... just giving you some advice on how to handle these
awkward social situations. Not that there is anything awkward here, I----"
Derek was close now, so close that Stiles could smell him and he pressed closer
to the car.
"Stiles." Derek interrupted him and Stiles blinked.
"Yes?"
Derek's voice was calm but there was something in between the words, a
simmering tension, barely hidden and Stiles' cheeks burned hotter.
"Thank you." Derek said, stepping closer, his hands meeting the car's side and
trapping Stiles in the space in between. "And also shut up."
Stiles took a breath, lips closing, pressing together to stop further words
from blubbering over them. Derek was so close, he had to tilt back his head in
order to look him in the eye. Not that that was a good idea. Not even remotely.
"You stink." Derek said, leaning in nevertheless, his nose almost brushing the
spot between Stiles' shirt and his collarbone. Stiles heard him inhaling, felt
his breath damp on the fabric and he froze. Hands pressed to the car, his whole
body trying to vanish, melt into the metal because there was no way his face
could feel any hotter. Or so he had thought.
"Rude..." Stiles managed to croak out when he couldn't take it any longer, just
as Derek's hands moved closer, planting themselves next to his hips, his nose
on Stiles' throat. He was breathing, inhaling, fast, still seeming to search
for something and then he gave a growling sound at the back of his throat that
caused the small hairs on Stiles' neck to stand up, a shiver running up and
down his spine.
"Why didn't you leave, Stiles?"
"You w-want me to leave?" Stiles said, even though Derek's uttering hadn't been
a real question.
"It's a little late for that." Derek's finger brushed his side and Stiles
almost jumped. His heart was racing, pumping blood through his body in thick,
heavy flows, clouding his mind as it travelled South. Oh god. Like this wasn't
bad enough already...
"D-derek." Stiles felt the metal hard against the back of his head. But every
inch he tried to back off only gave Derek more space to step into. By now their
chests were almost flush against each other, Derek's breath on his skin hot and
fast, like he was trying real hard to keep himself from... yeah from what
exactly? It wasn't like he wasn't in Stiles' comfort zone already, intimidating
the shit out of him and smelling him, covering him like Stiles belonged to him.
And damn, that shouldn't make him harder, but oh it did. So Stiles shifted
again, struggling, trying to get Derek to back off before he could become aware
of his... situation, but of course it was no use. Stiles eyes snapped wide open
the second he felt the hint of teeth on his throat, Derek's hand pressing up to
his waist.
"I think I need you to stay."
"What the fuck, Derek?" Stiles rasped, fingers curling to fists by his sides.
"What are you doing?"
"Thanking you?" Derek mouthed along his throat, tracing his throbbing pulse
with his tongue. Stiles laughed weakly, his boxers growing tighter with every
passing second.
"Th-that's not how I showed you to do it."
He felt Derek's smile against his skin: "My bad."
He continued licking his way up to Stiles' jaw, beard stubble scratching soft
skin. "Your scent... there is too much else on you."
Oil. Mud. His deodorant. Stiles shuddered involuntarily, eyes closing again.
"Is... is this a wolf-compliment thing? Telling me I smell and--- " he
interrupted himself with a low moan, Derek's hand having slipped to his hip,
fingertips pressing into his jeans, so close to his now undeniable problem.
Stiles felt his ears heating, biting his lip hard. Derek paused, somewhere near
his ear, taking breaths, his body so warm against Stiles, so warm it seemed
impossible.
"Let's call it bad timing." Derek growled, pushing a leg between Stiles'
thighs, eyes flickering red for a split second.
Stiles gasped, throwing back his head and meeting the car with a 'thunk'. It
hurt, stars dancing behind closed eyelids, but the pain was immediately
replaced by a shiver of arousal when Derek rolled his hips against his,
friction making him cry out and his hands reaching out, resting on Derek's
shoulders.
"You should have walked away." Derek breathed hotly into his ear before he
crushed their mouths together, none too softly, Stiles' lips parted easily
under his, Derek's tongue pushing them further apart. He caught Stiles' bottom
lip between his own, sucking on it, and Stiles groaned, his legs spreading
before he had time to think this through. Bad bad bad bad. It was the only
thing resounding in his mind and it didn't lead to any coherent thought.
Derek's fingers worked open his zipper, pushing, pulling, fumbling inside until
he was stroking over his clothed cock, cupping him through his boxers and
Stiles nearly bit his tongue.
"F-fuck, Derek!"
Stiles was used to thinking and voicing a whole lot of what was going through
his mind but now, as Derek's hand slipped inside his boxers, fingers wrapping
around him, stroking urgently, uncaring of the noises Stiles made in response,
he found only blackness, incoherent sounds falling from his lips.
"Stiles..." Derek groaned into his neck, sniffing, searching for his buried
scent, hand letting go of him only to push down his trousers and boxers. Stiles
felt them pooling around his ankles, dimly aware of the fact that he was
getting naked in the forest with an Alpha, but it wasn't even close to be
something he could voice. The air was cool on his skin, even more so when he
was lifted up, Derek's hands curling around his hips, his body pressing
forward. Stiles gave a surprised sound, but wrapped his naked legs around
Derek's hips nevertheless. By instinct, to get closer, who knew? And it was
wonderful, the amount of friction it caused nearly overwhelming.
"Derek Derek De..." Stiles babbled, rolling down his hips as far as he could in
this position, feeling Derek hard against him, his bulge pressing into his ass
and he whined because as good as it felt, it made him only aware of how it
wasn't enough.
Derek murmured something between his teeth, moving his hand, inching back so
there was space between them and Stiles shook his head, eyes opening under
heavy lids, protest readily on his lips. But then there were fingers spreading
him, Derek's other hand digging into his hipbone as he tried to keep him up. A
thumb circling around the ring of muscles and Stiles couldn't hold back a
startled cry, his hands fisting into Derek's jacket.
"Ohgod oh Derek fuck oh fuck!"
"You. Were. Supposed. To. Go. Home." Derek snarled, pressing further inside
with every word, his voice barely resembling a human one.
Stiles' back arched, the heels of his boots digging into Derek's ass when their
grip tightened. His face felt like he was on fire, his mouth hanging open, lips
swollen and red.
"Uh..."
And then Derek's mouth was on his own again, so hot and wet, it robbed Stiles
of the last breath left in his lungs. And all the while fingers were pushed in
and out of him, first one, the two, prodding, searching, opening him up to
something he couldn't wrap his hushed mind around without coming undone then
and there. With nothing but Derek's shirt brushing his painfully hard cock.
Stiles pulled away from the kiss, turning his head and gulping in air but not
before long he was whimpering, panting, begging Derek for moremoremore despite
the pain, the dryness that made him wince and his toes curl. He had started
rolling his hips again, and Derek pushed, knuckle-deep inside of him and the
world turned black for a moment.
He blinked rapidly, his bared throat covered in teeth marks, some deep enough
to feel blood pulsating just beneath the surface, ready to spill. It seemed to
heighten his scent, the closeness of it causing Derek to make hungry noises,
burying his face in the crook of Stiles' neck, licking, biting, drinking in the
sweet mixture of his sweat and the scent, arousal heavy and dark on his tongue.
Derek pressed even closer, all noise from his throat like that of an animal,
his fingers slipping in and out of Stiles more and more impatiently. Stiles'
fingers were numb already on Derek's shoulder, his bottom lip torn from teeth
and there was a jolt, a thunder through his body every single time the tips of
Derek's fingers brushed a spot inside of him that would have him screaming was
there any air left in his lungs.
And suddenly there was nothing, not even the grip on his hip and Stiles slumped
down, leaning heavily to the car's side, his knees weak and his heart pounding.
He felt dizzy, his eyesight blurry, but he could make out that Derek was
undoing his belt, opening his zipper and Stiles licked his lips, their gaze
meeting.
"Y-you knew you'd be like this and still you called me?"
Derek stepped in again, trousers pushed down and his cock hard against Stiles'
smooth thigh: "Like I said, bad timing."
He sounded like it hurt to form words from a throat that wanted to growl and
howl, between teeth that wanted to tear apart. Stiles swallowed hard,
shuddering all over and he gasped when Derek stroked him again, making sure he
was leaking precome before he lifted him up, sliding between his legs all too
easily.
"Do you want to leave?" Derek whispered hoarsely, his eyes flashing between red
and dark, his hands like fire on Stiles' skin and the tip of his cock already
pressing inside, making Stiles throw back his head and give a needy sob.
"No-oh!"
"Stiles..."
"Stay stay I want to stay!" Stiles panted, writhing in his grip, rolling his
hips and Derek groaned, pushing further inside, inch by inch until he was
buried to the hilt, his knuckles turning white around Stiles' slim hips.
Stiles sobbed, fingernails almost ripping through the leather of the jacket,
his legs quivering and his spine a curve, ready to snap if he arched any
harder. He had crossed his ankles, legs locked around Derek's hips, keeping
himself pushed up against the car. He was breathing like he feared to
suffocate, tears hot in his lashes from the blinding white pain that coursed
through him until it slowly turned into a dull ache. He was so full, so
stretched, feeling it all so intensely since he was pushed down by his own
weight, planted firmly on Derek's cock. And Derek began to move, thrust into
him in small, deep motions, grunting something Stiles couldn't make out through
the haze that was his immediate reality.
"Oh please please!" He panted, eyes opening and a shudder going through him, so
close to the edge, he could practically feel his orgasm burning its way through
his insides.
"Derek." Stiles couldn't keep himself from repeating his name, over and over,
his tongue like a weird, foreign thing in his mouth.
Derek gave a sound, partly threat, partly arousal, pulling out and dragging
Stiles to the muddy ground, turning him so he was facing his own hands, stemmed
into the dirt and he had time to moan in frustration before Derek thrust in
again, grabbing his hip roughly, other hand fisting in his hair and pulling
until Stiles' eyes watered again, leaning into the touch and arching his back,
hips jerking as Derek sped up, slamming into him, every thrust meeting that
fucking incredible spot. Stiles whimpered, begged, cursed. All was a mixture of
bliss and pain, too good to fucking care about the soreness he'd doubtlessly
feel in the morning.
"Derek D-Derek fuck DEREK!!"
Derek's response was a growl, long-drawn and letting Stiles' blood boil in his
veins. Briefly the thought flashed trough his mind what they had to look like.
Rutting on the ground like dogs, splattered in mud and motor oil, Derek taking
him like he made a claim. Stiles groaned, biting his bleeding lip but the sharp
pain was dulled by the sheer pleasure that burned under his skin and tucked at
the outskirts of his mind. Derek hadn't touched his cock again and Stiles had
no doubt even the softest of touches would make him fall over the edge. His
chest was heaving, he tasted salt on his lips, his arms trembling from the
effort to keep himself up. Derek had acquired something resembling a rhythm.
Pulling out almost all the way only to slam in again, setting off the wish in
Stiles that it would never end. He could smell himself, he could smell Derek.
Sweat and saliva and precome smeared over skin. The faint scent of blood. It
created something so dense, so intoxicating. Mostly it made Stiles cry out
because there were no more words.
"Mine." Derek moaned between his shoulder blades and the moment Stiles' mind
caught up with the fact that it wasn't just another unintelligible sound, his
entire body tensed, he felt himself clenching around Derek hard enough to see
stars, his breath hitching as his release mingled with the mud on the ground,
everything freezing for a perfect second of overwhelming bliss.
Derek's movements grew smaller, slowing down, but they didn't stop for a
second. Stiles could barely keep himself up, his whole body drained from his
orgasm, limbs weak and he whined when Derek's cock brushed his insides,
pleasure flickering through him before recovery. He wanted, he needed but it
was nearly too much. And then Derek pulled out, wrapping hands around him and
pushing him onto his back. Stiles gave a small protest, but sunk down, relieved
to be able to rest his arms and legs. It would be hard to explain the state of
utter filth he was in, but right now in this very moment, how could he care?
Derek hovered about him, spreading Stiles' legs with warm hands, guiding
himself between his thighs, still hard and his pupils blown. When he entered
him again, Stiles head fell back, a silent 'oh' on his lips.
It seemed endless now. A never-ending series of thrusts and sparks of arousal
his body couldn't quite process yet. Derek had hoisted his legs up, allowing
him to push inside at an angle that made them gasp and groan, burying himself
inside completely with every thrust, and the burn that was ripping through
Stiles was mind-numbing. He was clawing at Derek's back, whining and pleading
for more again even if he knew he couldn't possibly take more. He shook under
each movement, worrying his lip between his teeth. It felt good still, amazing
even but oh god he would die if it went on for much longer. Derek's hands held
him in place, almost soothing him with their touch while the motions of his
hips were increasingly rough and hard. He was panting, rolling his hips down
against Stiles and his head fell back, mouth opening as he stilled, pulling him
incredibly close. Stiles shut his eyes, whimpering as pure, wet heat filled
him, his cheeks burning in exhaustion and embarrassment. Derek leaned down,
kissing the noises off his lips, pressing into him and riding out his orgasm.
 
 
"Thank you." Derek said, much later, trough the dimness of a room and the waves
of sleep that were dragging Stiles down, the mattress sighing as Derek pulled
him into his arms, breath hot on his neck.
"Again...?" Stiles sounded small and pathetic, even to himself, and the only
answer was a breathy laugh.
 
This would be a long weekend.
 
The End
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