
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/512279.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Make_Them_Do_It, Sex_Pollen, First_Time, First_Kiss,
      bottom!Derek, Barebacking, Future_Fic
  Series:
      Part 1 of Famous_Last_Words
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-15 Words: 7086
****** Hypothetically: Wolfsbane ******
by JenNova
Summary
     “So,” Stiles says, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his
     chin in his hands. “Hypothetical then: one of you guys gets dosed
     with some sex wolfsbane – how do we deal with it?”
Notes
     This is the first part of a series (I was going to make it multi-
     chaptered but I wanted to be able to warn properly for each part) all
     based around the main conceit revealed in the Stiles PoV section.
     Please heed the warnings - if you want to read it still but remain
     worried something might trigger you I suggest a pre-reader. See the
     end-notes for a precise recap of the dub-con.
See the end of the work for more notes
“So,” Stiles begins. He's lying back on Derek's couch, legs folded up with his
laptop resting against his thighs, and he has to turn his head to look at
Derek. Derek looks up from the book he's reading when Stiles doesn't continue.
“What,” he says, his eyebrows creasing only slightly. It's taken them a year to
get to the point where Derek doesn't frown at Stiles almost perpetually. It's
an improvement.
“Hypothetical,” Stiles says, pushing himself up the couch and resting his hands
on his stomach. “There's a bunch of different types of wolfsbane, right?”
“Yes,” Derek nods and Stiles isn't sure he can ever quantify how happy he is
that Derek just answers his questions these days. Not having to fight for
knowledge has seriously cut down their 'fighting for our lives' time.
“So these different types could conceivably behave like kryptonite, I'm
guessing?” Stiles says and Derek suddenly focuses in on him, which is never not
strange. “Different types do different things – like the one Allison's Mom used
on Scott. Or that one that knocked you guys out but didn't hurt you that those
hunters used last month.”
“Skip to the end,” Derek says, shutting his book and putting it on the arm of
his chair. Stiles makes a face at him and one side of Derek's mouth twitches
up.
“Is there a type of wolfsbane that would make you have to have sex?” Stiles
says in a rush and frankly Derek deserves the poorly worded sentence for
pushing him. Derek's face – well Derek's face is a picture, actually, eyes wide
with the blue screen of death look he gets when someone (usually Stiles) says
something he can't deal with.
“Why – why are you asking?” Derek asks after a moment, clearing his throat mid-
sentence. Stiles isn't sure but he thinks Derek's ears are going red.
He's asking for a bunch of reasons Derek doesn't really want to know; he was in
a research spiral and stumbled across references, he's always worried about
consent because of Peter biting Scott without it, once the concept was in his
head he couldn't shake it. He doesn't say any of that, though.
“There is, isn't there?” Stiles presses and Derek ducks his head before nodding
slightly. “Right. Okay. Shit. That's – werewolves. You're ridiculous.”
“What?” Derek looks up again, his shock pushed aside for irritation.
“I mean - literal sex pollen, Derek?” Stiles shakes his head, taps his hands
against his laptop. “That sort of shit should be left for fanfiction.”
“Sometimes I think you speak a different language,” Derek says, falling back in
his chair with a whoosh of air. “There are a few varieties of wolfsbane that
can override our instincts. Not all of them have the same effect but I remember
my father telling me that there's at least two that can make it so we have to
have sex.”
“It has to be sex?” Stiles asks, swinging his legs off the couch and setting
his laptop on the coffee table. “You can't just jerk off?”
“Uh,” and Stiles had thought that he would never find a way to make Derek more
uncomfortable than when he asked if knotting was a thing (it isn't, by the
way). Derek can't even look at him. “I think sometimes any release is okay –
but other times I think, if it's prepared a certain way, it has to actually be
sex.”
“Are we talking the full penetration here?” Stiles asks because, well, he has
absolutely no shame these days. It's hard to when you're surrounded by people
with enhanced senses that rival Wolverine's. “Or can you guys just rub off
against each other? Oral? Hand-hobs?”
“God, Stiles,” Derek lets out the 'what is my life' groan and covers his face
with his hands. “I don't know, I didn't ask. I was thirteen – the last thing I
wanted to talk about with my Dad was sex.”
Stiles can get that, actually, because when his Dad had tried to give him the
Talk it had been amongst the worst days of his life. Luckily he managed to head
it off by pointing out that a) he had the internet and b) he had the internet.
He'd promised his Dad not to believe that what he saw in porn was how people
really had sex (yeah, it was a fun conversation) and they never spoke of it
again.
“So,” Stiles says, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his
hands. “Hypothetical then: one of you guys gets dosed with some sex wolfsbane –
how do we deal with it?”
Derek is silent for a long time but it's not the Silence of Ignoring Stiles,
it's the Silence of Deep Alpha Thought. Stiles is well aware that he analyses
Derek too much, but he's pretty sure that as long as he keeps his conclusions
to himself Derek won't make the annoyed face at him. Besides – his analysis has
kept them out of trouble for much of their junior year.
“Everyone should be made aware of those varieties of wolfsbane,” Derek says at
last, uncovering his face to look at Stiles again. “But I'm not sure how to
deal with consent.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, nodding because that's really at the heart of it.
“The way I see it,” Stiles says slowly, feeling his way around an idea he's
been thinking about for a few days. “The only way to come close to dealing with
it is by instituting a sort of – a sex buddy system.”
To say the look Derek gives him is sceptical is to make an understatement.
Stiles swallows.
“Hear me out,” he says, holding his hands up. “Say Jackson gets whammied and
it's a complete fuck-or-die situation. He has Lydia, right? I know having
someone consent to, I don't know, help you out doesn't exactly mean a lot when
you've had your own ability to consent taken away from you but -”
“It would be better than coming out of the situation to find you'd forced
yourself on someone,” Derek finishes for him and Stiles nods.
“I mean – it wouldn't stop the whole thing from being completely fucked up,” he
says, bouncing a leg nervously. “But it might – mitigate it? At least a bit.”
“I think you might be right,” Derek says after a moment's thought, nodding his
head. Stiles lets out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
“I think this is literally the worst conversation I have ever had,” Stiles
says, rubbing his hands over his hair. Derek snorts.
“I'll talk to everyone the next time we train,” Derek says, decisive.
“Including the humans. Everyone has to have a choice.”
Stiles leans over a flicks through a few tabs, closing some things down, before
checking the progress on his torrent. God he loves that he convinced Derek to
get super fast internet when he rebuilt the house.
“We should give it a codename,” Stiles says and Derek looks up from where he
was about to start reading again. “The sex wolfsbane. Because I'm guessing
you're not going to be in the mood for explaining if you get hit by it.”
“A codename,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow. Two can play at that game so
Stiles raises his own eyebrows.
“Yes,” he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Something like, hah, red
kryptonite.”
“I thought red kryptonite just made Superman a dick,” Derek says, lowering his
eyebrow. Stiles stares at him. “Okay. Fair point.”
That's close enough to agreement for Stiles so he goes back to the webcomic he
was reading. The problem is that it's not really the end of the conversation
and he can tell that Derek knows just by the tension rolling off of him. Stiles
manages a few pages before taking a breath and looking up at Derek again. Derek
is already looking at him, his book shut on his lap.
“Who's going to be your sex buddy?” Stiles asks, pushing the words out as fast
as he can. “I mean – I know you don't really do relationships for obvious
reasons, I get that. But maybe a casual guy or girl?”
“I don't do fuckbuddies, Stiles,” Derek says and his voice does that thing
where Stiles' brain tries to convince him that it's really deep but Stiles
knows it isn't. The Alpha voice. Stiles holds his hands up again.
“Okay, right, no, I get that,” because he really really does. Not that Derek
knows because, well, how do you bring up the fact that you figured out that
Kate would've needed an insider to get the drop on the Hales the way she did
and that if you put that together with Derek's endless guilt and trust issues,
well, two and two equals Derek was used by Kate.
It's makes him angry every time he thinks of it and Derek must catch a hint of
it because confusion flashes across his face for a brief moment. Stiles
forcibly calms himself down.
“So, someone in the pack?” Stiles suggests, except, well, that's only really
Isaac and that's just a weird thought. Derek goes stiff.
“I can't,” Derek shakes his head. “I have too much power over them. I could
make them.”
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles nods. “I see that.”
The problem is – the problem is they both know that only leaves one person. The
only other person Derek trusts enough to place that power in. Stiles.
The thing is: yes, Derek is objectively hot, Stiles is not denying that and,
what with being older, Stiles is pretty sure Derek's awesomely experienced with
the whole sex thing, fuckbuddies or not. But he's also Derek, the guy Stiles
nearly cut an arm off of, who Stiles held up in a pool for a couple of hours,
who's saved Stiles' life half a dozen times. They've found their way to a trust
that's scarily deep and bit awesome – in the proper sense of the word – to
think about. They're friends and Stiles just – doesn't really feel that way
about him. Though he's guessing, what with being a perpetually horny bisexual
teenager, he wouldn't have to try that hard to get it up for all of Derek's
everything.
“You don't have to,” Derek says before Stiles can say anything. “We don't
exactly – we're not like the others. We don't have -”
“Oh my God, stop, I am not talking about feelings with you,” Stiles says,
waving his hands around. Derek's smile makes itself known again. Stiles looks
at him thoughtfully. “You know. I'm not actually convinced that that's a bad
thing, now I think about it. The lack of feelings, I mean. It almost makes
things less complicated.”
“I didn't think you'd be the casual sex guy,” Derek says, lifting one of those
eyebrows again. Stiles scoffs.
“Listen – as soon as people actually start wanting to have sex with me I am
going to be the all the sex guy,” Stiles says, tapping his hands against his
chest for emphasis. “Sex sounds awesome.”
Derek laughs, which is always a pleasant surprise, and Stiles smiles at him.
Yeah. He could help Derek out if he needs him – that's what they've been to
each other for a year or so anyway, this is just another dimension.
“You're sure,” Derek says, sobering and piercing Stiles with the look that says
he's using all of his senses to be sure of what Stiles is saying. Stiles licks
his lips and nods.
“Yeah, I'm sure,” he says. He nods again, just to be sure.
“You know that if you ever take that back – I promise I won't do anything to
you,” Derek says, a slightly desperate edge to his voice and Stiles just wants
to stab everything because Derek is so broken. Of course Stiles knows Derek
would never hurt him, not now, not after Peter and Jackson and Gerard and the
Alpha pack and Peter again. So a few of the werewolves have tried to kill
Stiles before – Derek never has, he was born to this, he has control.
And the thing is, the thing really is, Stiles knows Derek would rather die
first than hurt him. That's more terrifying than anything else Derek could lay
on him.
“I know,” Stiles says, burying everything else. “Now – do you want to watch
this episode of Merlin or not?”
Derek's quiet, genuine smile comes out to play and he shifts over to the couch
while Stiles hooks the laptop up to the TV. He's fucked (hah!) if he knows how
Derek even knows about Merlin but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth –
Scott has never understood this level of Stiles' geekery. He settles back
beside Derek, tucking his feet under Derek's legs, and sets the episode up.
“Besides,” he says as the titles start. “It's not like it's ever really going
to happen, right? It's all hypothetical.”
Famous. Last. Words.
–
“Where is he?” Stiles' distant voice is like an electric lick of fire against
Derek's spine. This doesn't bode well.
“Through there,” Isaac's voice is stressed as he answers. “Listen, Stiles, are
you really sure? We never thought -”
“I'm sure,” Stiles sounds certain but Derek can't hear his heartbeat yet, can't
back it up with his senses. “Just get far enough away for, you know, privacy –
but be close enough that if I, we, need you - you can get here fast.”
Derek can feel Isaac hesitating. Stiles must do something to convince him
though because a moment later the door shuts and Derek can hear Isaac moving
away, his feet scuffing the ground. Stiles doesn't come find him straight away,
Derek can hear him pacing, and Derek tries to focus on his own breathing.
Finally footsteps approach and Stiles' scent precedes him into the room. It
makes Derek's mouth water.
This is really not boding well.
“Hey, there,” Stiles says, nerves fluttering in his tone now. Derek looks up at
him from where he's sprawled on the floor and tries to ignore the way his body
hums. Stiles rubs a hand over his hair. “So. Sex wolfsbane.”
Derek huffs out a breath and tightens his arms around his chest, fighting
against the urge to leap at Stiles and burrow into his presence. God, this is
embarrassing.
“What can I do?” Stiles asks, shifting backwards and forwards. Derek hauls
himself up against the back of the couch more and draws his legs up to his
chest. “Aside from the obvious.”
“I'm not going to -” Derek stops, breathes against the all-too-familiar shudder
of want that's been coming over him in waves. “We don't have to go straight to
that. We need to figure out what we need to do first. Did you bring Peter's
laptop?”
The text he'd sent while Isaac carried him into the house had been five words,
no punctuation: red kryptonite bring peters laptop. Stiles pulls his bag over
his head and tugs the laptop out of it, throwing the bag onto one of the
chairs. Derek jerks his head to the floor beside him and Stiles sits down,
tension keeping him stiff. Derek barely manages to stop himself from leaning
over and burying his face in Stiles' neck.
Stiles opens the laptop and sets it on his folded legs. One knee is bouncing
gently and Derek wants to reach out and stop it – but he doesn't trust himself
to stop there. Stiles notices him staring and stills the leg himself, letting
out a shaky breath.
“You don't have to do this,” Derek says, even though every part of him rebels
against the statement. Now that Stiles is here, now that the waves of want have
something to focus on, Derek desperately doesn't want to let him go.
“I said I would,” Stiles says and his voice doesn't shake this time.
“Stilinskis don't go back on promises.”
“It was a hypothetical promise at the time,” Derek points out. A shiver rips
through him and Stiles instinctively reaches out to wrap a hand around the back
of his neck.
Derek moans and Stiles freezes. They both stare at each other for a long
moment. Stiles swallows and Derek's eyes flick down to the bob of his Adam's
apple. He wants to taste.
“Please don't,” Derek says when Stiles starts to pull away. “It feels -” good
“- better. I can think easier.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, leaving his hand in place. His thumb strokes up and down
absently and Derek sighs into the touch. “It was hypothetical but I meant it,
okay. I want to help you Derek.”
“I'm not going to stop asking,” Derek says, because he can't stop asking. He
knows Stiles is still a virgin and that whatever they have to do – this is
going to be his first time. He can't help but feel he's stealing something from
Stiles.
“That's okay,” Stiles says, letting out a breath. “I'm going to keep saying
it's okay. Besides. There's probably worse first times than with your hot, sex
pollened friends.”
“Stiles,” Derek says, gritting his teeth against a surge of wantneedwant.
Stiles squeezes his neck.
“If it's too much I'll stop,” Stiles says, holding his grip. “And so will you.”
“I can't promise that,” Derek says, shaking his head. Stiles shakes him by the
neck.
“You will,” Stiles says. His mouth quirks into a grin. “Or you'll get a faceful
of wolfsbane mace courtesy of the wonder that is Lydia Martin.”
Derek hadn't realised there was any of that left - all the humans had carried
it during the Alpha pack crisis, it had saved their lives on more than one
occasion. Derek felt something ease in his chest.
“That's right,” Stiles says, obviously reading something he liked in Derek's
face. “I know what I'm doing. Well. I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm sure
I'll figure it out. It can't be that hard. Heh. Hard.”
“Focus, Stiles,” Derek says, reaching a hand out and putting it on Stiles' leg.
He needs the contact.
“What do you want to look up?” Stiles says, motioning to the laptop and
ignoring Derek's hand, even when it starts tracing his inseam.
“We need to figure out which variety did this,” Derek says, waving a hand at
himself. “We need to know what to do to get rid of it.”
“Okay,” Stiles says. He works one-handed and Derek is glad for that. Even
though his blood still feels like it's burning through his veins Stiles' hand
is keeping him grounded. He shifts his own hand further up Stiles' thigh,
enjoying the intake of breath Stiles makes.
“Lucky for us Peter was obsessively organised,” Stiles says after a moment. His
breath is shaky now but Derek thinks it's for a different reason than before,
he idly rubs circles into Stiles' thigh. “He's got folders for everything and
he even built an index. What exactly are you feeling?”
“Like my blood is on fire,” Derek says, digging the fingers of his non-Stiles-
occupied hand into his own flesh as another wave of want rolls through him.
They're getting closer together. “Building waves of want,” he adds, letting out
a long breath. “Getting closer together.”
“Like contractions,” Stiles says. Derek rolls his eyes and nods. “And, uh,
your, um – little Derek. Is he, uh, interested?”
Derek's cock is harder than it's ever been in his life. He's been trying to
ignore it but now that Stiles has mentioned it it's all he can think about. He
moves a hand down to press against it for a moment, trying to relieve the
pressure. He moans instead.
Something tells him Laura would find this situation hilarious.
“I'll take that as a yes,” Stiles says, his cheeks going pink. Derek can't
smell much beyond his own arousal but he thinks he's starting to get something
off of Stiles – which hopefully means it won't take too long to fix this.
“Right,” Stiles says after a few minutes of reading. “There's one variety that
does the, uh, want contractions. It, um, it says that someone has to -”
“I haven't got all day, Stiles,” Derek bites out. There goes another wave.
“It says I have to – I have to fuck you,” Stiles says, his voice quiet. He
swallows again. “Properly. The whole thing. Um. Or you'll go feral. Apparently.
Which sounds bad.”
“Of course,” Derek says, because it couldn't be easy. It couldn't just be 'rub
off against another person'. Or blowjobs – Stiles has a good mouth for that.
Objectively, of course. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, sighing and slumping. He moves the laptop onto the floor
and rests his head against the back of the couch. “You're sure you still want
me for this? Because I may have watched a lot of porn but I really don't know
if I'm equipped for...that.”
“It has to be you now,” Derek says, knowing it instinctively. His body has
decided on Stiles now, it won't accept anyone else. Besides – there's no-one
else Derek would trust with this.
“Fine. Right. Okay,” Stiles says, mostly to himself. “Then we're going to your
bedroom and I hope you have a ton of lube.”
Derek laughs because he really, really, really needs to. If he doesn't he
thinks he might just curl up and die. Stiles chuckles weakly beside him and
Derek gives in, leans into Stiles' space and presses his ear against his chest.
Stiles stills.
“Tell me again,” Derek asks. Stiles takes a deep breath in and lets it out
slowly.
“I'm okay with this,” Stiles says, moving the hand on Derek's neck into his
hair. His heartbeat stays even.
“Let's go,” Derek stands and holds a hand out to Stiles. Stiles takes it and
joins him, turning his hand around so they can twist their fingers together. He
leans over his bag on the way out and retrieves the now familiar can of mace.
They're quiet as they go upstairs, Stiles moving restlessly about as if Derek's
grip on his hand is the only thing keeping him tethered. They reach Derek's
room and Stiles releases him, raising an eyebrow. Derek nods at the bathroom
and Stiles disappears. Derek strips down while Stiles is out of the room, his
movements economical, and doubles over when the next sex wave hits him like a
ton of bricks.
Stiles returns to find him bent over the end of the bed, struggling for breath
against it, and makes a strangled noise. Derek thinks about what he must look
like; flesh reddening from arousal, his legs shaking from the effort of holding
himself up, bent over the bed like an invitation. He feels – he feels amazing,
actually, which is terrifying. He looks over his shoulder at Stiles and scents
the air delicately – smells like Stiles just went from zero to raging hard-on
in one second flat. Derek's lips twitch into a smirk.
“Oh, haha,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and throwing the mace and the lube
onto the bed. “I never said you're not attractive. And I'm seventeen –
sometimes I get hard when I see a suggestive table leg. You are a lot more than
a suggestive fucking table leg.”
“Get undressed,” Derek says and, yeah, he recognises the way his voice goes
when he has sex. He hasn't – there's hasn't been a lot since...since before,
but there's been enough for him to figure out the basics of what he likes.
He probably likes getting fucked a little more than his image generally
suggests.
Stiles pulls his clothes off with jerky movements as Derek climbs onto the bed.
He rolls onto his back and can't resist a few pulls of his cock, watching the
way Stiles uncovers his pale skin. If he'd given any thought to this at all he
would've assumed Stiles would be shy of himself, he doesn't present as
confident of his body in anyway. He would've been wrong – Stiles moves easily
when his clothes are off, maybe easier than he moves with them on, it's like he
knows himself better now.
Now Derek can see that years of lacrosse have given Stiles a lean, gently
defined body. He already knows that Stiles is deceptively strong, after too
many incidents to count, and the thought of that lean, hard body crowding over
him makes the next wave of want doubly powerful. Stiles' hardened cock is
attractive too and Derek's wolfsbane fogged brain zeroes in on it, telling him
what he needs. He needs it bare, which is so fucked up for Stiles' first time,
and Derek desperately wants to call this whole thing off again.
Stiles kneels between Derek's legs and slides the tube of lube through his
fingers, staring at Derek's body thoughtfully, lost inside his head. He trails
a hand through the hair on Derek's thigh and it's like a brand against his
flesh. Derek moans again, his cock twitching where it's still wrapped in the
circle of his hand.
“Stiles?” Derek asks, wondering if he should prepare himself. He's done it once
or twice before, enjoyed it even, but he doesn't know what Stiles wants right
now. Stiles shakes himself and meets Derek's eyes.
“It's just,” he keeps his hand moving, getting closer and closer to Derek's
groin on each pass. “I figured if I hooked up with a guy there'd be, I don't
know, handjobs first, maybe some good old frottage -” Stiles over-pronounces
the word and Derek snorts. Stiles reflexively smiles at him. “Blowjobs too, you
know, plenty of them. Before going the whole way. I mean – any sex is sex, I
know that, it's not all about the penetration. That doesn't equal devirginising
or something. But I at least thought I'd get to kiss someone first.”
Derek blinks because that can't be true – someone must've kissed Stiles at
least once. Derek remembers high school being cruel to the oddballs and the
outcasts but Stiles is still on the lacrosse team, surely that must've been
enough. Stiles must recognise his surprise because he goes shy for the first
time since taking his clothes off, ducking his head. Derek finds himself making
a determined noise and reaching for him.
He tugs Stiles down against him and spares a moment of enjoying how well they
fit together. He forgets sometimes that they're close in height – Stiles is
excellent at making himself seem small, unobtrusive, nothing to worry about.
It's saved his life a few times. Stiles' hands press into the pillow either
side of Derek's head and he stares at Derek, eyes wide. Stiles licks his lips,
his eyes flickering down to Derek's mouth, and Derek wraps a hand around the
back of his neck to draw him down.
He tries to ignore the way their cocks brush together, even though the
slightest touch of Stiles' skin to his is like electricity, and concentrates on
fitting their mouths together. If he's taking all of this away from Stiles he's
going to make it count. Stiles makes a soft noise in his throat as they kiss
and one of his hands moves so that he can thread his fingers into Derek's hair,
tugging gently. He lets Derek lick his mouth open, sucking shyly at Derek's
tongue and making Derek buck up against him. Derek coaxes Stiles into sliding
his tongue into Derek's mouth and it's intoxicating – the warmth and the taste
and the smell of Stiles all around him, amped up to eleven under the fucking
wolfsbane's influence.
“Wow,” Stiles breathes when Derek finally lets him go. “You may not've been my
first choice for that but I am so not complaining about it.”
Derek can't help the smirk and Stiles swats at him playfully before moving back
to his knees. Derek whimpers, actually whimpers, when Stiles' body is no longer
in contact with his and Stiles' hands are instantly on him, rubbing soothingly
up and down his thighs.
“So,” Stiles swallows, looking down at Derek's ass and fiddling nervously with
the lube again. “I know the logistics of this – like I said, lots of porn – but
you'll have to, if I do something wrong, you have to tell me.”
“I will,” Derek says, his voice coming out hoarse and low. “Are you sure?”
“I'm sure,” Stiles confirms, uncapping the lube. Derek grabs a free pillow and
lifts his hips to push it under them, spreading his legs as wide as possible.
He tries not to laugh when Stiles grabs at the base of his own cock, cursing as
he squeezes hard.
“Fuck off,” Stiles mutters, scowling and Derek lets the laughter out. Stiles
huffs out a skittery laugh too and finally slicks his fingers up.
Stiles is hesitant at first, biting his lip in concentration, and his touches
are feathery light, maddening. He grows bolder as Derek makes noises of
encouragement, moving his fingers in circles around the pucker of his ass.
Derek moves against him, tries to tell him non-verbally when he's ready for
Stiles to try a finger, and Stiles is so good at reading him, which normally
annoys him, that he picks it up. He works the first finger in slowly and
there's a suggestion of experience in the way he does it that speaks to self-
experimentation. Which isn't surprising from the guy who has to know
everything.
After he has one finger all the way in, curling and testing until he hits
Derek's prostate at least once (Derek cries out and Stiles looks at him with
genuine surprise and pleasure), it goes much faster. Stiles has always been a
quick learner and not for the first time Derek is struck by the half-wish that
Stiles had been bitten instead of Scott – if only because he thinks Stiles
might've listened to him more because of his thirst for knowledge.
Stiles works up to three fingers, applying more lube than is probably strictly
necessary, and by that point Derek is moving against him, bearing down. He
fists his fingers into the bed covers in an effort to stop himself from
grabbing his cock and working off a quick orgasm – he doesn't want to risk
fucking this up.
“Are you -” it's the first time Stiles has spoken for a while and his voice is
dark and rough and it does things to Derek that he can't explain. He shudders.
“Derek – can I – are you – I really need -”
In any other circumstance Derek would want to make a joke about Stiles being
lost for words. But any sense of humour he has is lost in the sudden roar of
wantneedwant in his ears. He draws in a shuddering breath and meets Stiles'
eyes.
“Ready,” he says. Stiles licks his bitten lips and nods, slowly removing his
fingers. Derek hates that they're gone, feels suddenly empty, but he knows it
won't be for long. “The article said I have to be – that I can't use a condom.”
“I know,” Derek says. His body is starting to shake with the need now, so close
to it's goal, and the contractions of want are making it hard to speak. “I
know. You don't have to if you – I can't, I won't give you anything – but if
you don't want to.”
“No, it's okay,” Stiles says, ducking his head for a moment. “I think – no, I
know – it's gonna be okay. I trust you.”
Jesus Christ. What is Derek even supposed to do with that? He reaches out for
Stiles and Stiles comes to him easily, letting himself be drawn into another
kiss. This one is harder than the first, deeper, wet and filthy and the moan
that vibrates through Stiles sets Derek on fire.
“Please,” he says when Stiles pulls back. Stiles nods and moves back to slick
his cock.
It's only as Stiles is pressing against his entrance, Derek's legs folded back
and apart, that he realises this would be a lot easier if he was on his hands
and knees. He needs it like this though, the part of him that isn't clouded
with wolfsbane, needs to know that it's Stiles doing this, that it's safe even
if it's outwith his control. Stiles curses as he presses in, moving in shallow
little thrusts, and Derek can't help the little noises he makes. He's not
normally vocal in sex but something about this is so much more that he can't
help it.
“Fucking shitfuck hell,” Stiles says when he bottoms out. “You're so tight and
hot I don't – this isn't going to take long.”
“Take it as slow as you can,” Derek manages to get out as the deep, perfect
feeling of being filled takes over his senses. “I'll catch up.”
Stiles leans his head against Derek for a moment, taking a series of deep
breaths, and Derek's rebelling body revels in it, taking in his presence and
warmth. Derek breathes deep too, drawing in Stiles' scent and his own mixed
with sex and lube. His body shakes through another contraction and Stiles moans
as Derek instinctively tightens around him.
“Let's do this, then,” Stiles says, straightening up and grabbing Derek's hips.
He pulls back slowly and drives back in and Derek nearly rocks up with surprise
when he hits dead on target. “Shit, I hope you realise that was an accident. I
can't guarantee -”
“Move. Stiles,” Derek grinds it out as he reaches for his cock and starts
pulling hard, going straight for endgame jerking off moves. Stiles makes an
indescribable noise and finally, finally starts moving.
There's no rhythm at all, Stiles is too new at this to be able to do anything
other than thrust and hope for the best clearly, but Derek doesn't give shit
right now. He's filled up and each awkward stroke is enough to stoke the fires
the wolfsbane kindled in him. He jacks himself as quick as is safe, pausing to
squirt some of the lube into his hand, thumb circling around the head of his
cock. It's good, illegally good, and nothing should feel like this.
He has a brief moment where he's realises that it's literally illegally good
and he can't stop a laugh from bursting out of his mouth. Stiles shudders as
Derek's body shakes around him and his hips snap even more irregularly forward.
Everything about Stiles is screaming that he's holding back as hard as he can,
desperate not to go off too soon, and Derek wants and needs him to let go.
There's a coil of heat deep inside Derek and it's half his and half the
wolfsbane but he doesn't know which half is which and he no longer cares he
just needs to come and he needs to do it soon before his blood bursts out of
his skin and burns this fucking house down all over again.
“Oh my God,” Stiles says suddenly, his eyes raking up and down Derek. “I mean,
I knew you'd be hot but this is just fucking ridiculous.”
“Stiles,” Derek says. “Stiles – I need – I want -”
Stiles does something unexpected and releases his hips to fall awkwardly over
him. He crashes their mouths together, familiarly inelegant, and kisses Derek
deep and dirty, pulling back enough to bite at Derek's bottom lip. He grinds up
into Derek and Derek feels the first shocky touches of orgasm rippling up his
legs and down his arms. Stiles gets a hand between them and wraps it around
Derek's, helping, his mouth falling open and his breath huffing hotly against
Derek's cheek.
“Fuck,” Derek says, his back arching. “Fuck. Stiles.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, his hips driving awkwardly. “Come on.”
It hits Derek like a freight train, punching out of him like something out of
Alien, and he doesn't even know what kind of noises he's making, only that
he'll be embarrassed about them in the morning. It ripples through him in a
continuous wave as he spills onto his own chest and Stiles stills inside him,
coming violently hard and shaking with it. Whatever the hell the wolfsbane does
amplifies the orgasm, dragging it out far longer than it should go, and by the
time it finally finishes Derek is aware he's whimpering against Stiles' neck
and Stiles is rubbing soothing fingers through his hair.
“Holy God,” Stiles breathes against his neck from where he's collapsed. Derek
makes a noise of assent.
A minute goes by before Stiles is able to push himself up enough to pull out.
There's the familiar sense of being suddenly bereft followed by the unfamiliar
sense of Stiles' come slipping out with him. Derek likes it more than he
normally would and he chooses to blame it on after effects. Stiles rolls away
and throws an arm over his eyes, his chest heaving. Derek waits.
“How do you feel?” Stiles asks after a long silence, his breathing finally
evening out. His heart is still hammering in his chest but is steady.
“I feel,” Derek stops and thinks about it. He doesn't feel like he's on fire
any more – there's just the sensation of cool air on sweat stained skin, the
sticky mess of his come on his chest and stomach, and the softly mixing scents
in the air. “I think it worked.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Stiles says, laughing weakly. “I may be a teenager but
there's no way in hell I was going to be able to pull off another round of
that. I'm only human.”
They lie there for a little longer, Derek waiting until he's certain his legs
will be able to hold him up. Stiles' arm brushes against his side occasionally
but it's no longer the electric buzz, just the familiar comfort of pack. He
lets out a slow breath and swings his legs off the bed.
“Going to clean up,” he says, wincing as he stands. Stiles nods and rolls onto
his side, curling in a bit. “Are you okay?”
“I'm good,” Stiles says, his heartbeat even with the truth. He smiles for good
measure and Derek finds himself returning it.
He takes his time in the bathroom, looks hard at himself in the mirror and
waits for the freak out. It doesn't come though and he realises that Stiles was
right about the 'sex buddy' idea. It doesn't pain him to admit it, which is
something to think about another time. He knows he wouldn't feel like this if
he didn't trust Stiles and if Stiles hadn't constantly reassured him that he
was okay with it. It's still awkward and weird and he's pretty aware they're
not going to be able to look at each other in the same way again but – it
worked. It actually worked.
“So I'm a genius, right?” Stiles says when Derek goes back into the bedroom.
Derek snorts and throws a cloth at him. “You can say it, dude, there's no-one
but me to hear.”
“It was a good idea,” Derek says, going over to his drawers and pulling out a
soft pair of sleep pants. He tugs them on before turning back to the bed.
“Damn right it was,” Stiles gets off the bed and hovers for a moment. Derek
sighs.
“You can stay,” he says, resisting the urge to fold his arms. He has nothing to
be defensive about.
“Good, that's, that's good,” Stiles says, he's nervous again and Derek wants to
press him on why but he lets him leave the room.
Derek gets his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and texts Isaac the all
clear, tells him to stay at Scott's house tonight. Stiles comes back about five
minutes later, wearing boxers and a faded Star Wars t-shirt. There's the source
of the nerves. Derek smiles at him and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Yes, okay, I planned ahead,” Stiles shrugs. “I was almost a boy scout once,
cut me some slack.”
“I didn't say anything,” Derek says, he falls onto the bed, avoiding the wet
patch, and settles against one of the pillows. The one he'd tucked under his
ass is in the corner of the room. It smells.
“You were thinking it,” Stiles says, pointing at him. Derek shrugs and Stiles
throws himself onto the bed, wriggling up until he's settled next to Derek.
They've actually slept together a lot over the past year, sometimes with other
packmembers around for security and sometimes just because they were too
exhausted to separate. There's something peaceful about sleeping next to
Stiles, even though Stiles is a restless sleeper. Derek's pinned it down in his
mind as being something to do with the unshakeable trust he's found himself
having in Stiles. Stiles still remains the only person who keeps coming back
because he wants to and that means more to Derek than he can tell him.
“I'm sorry,” Derek says reaching a hand out to brush against Stiles' arm.
Stiles makes a questioning sound. “Your first time should've been with someone
you at least have feelings for.”
“It's all good,” Stiles says dismissively. Derek keeps listening for lies but
Stiles isn't telling any. “I've kinda lost hope of getting anywhere with anyone
until I get to college. They like the weird ones in college, I've been told.”
“You'll be waist-deep, then,” Derek says, tilting a smirk at Stiles. Stiles
smacks him on the arm and grins.
“Now I'm going to go to college with a pretty hot – and successful! - first
time under my belt,” Stiles says, waving a hand around. “Circumstances were
fucked up but, I mean, we're okay right?”
“We are,” Derek says because it's true. They really are. It's unreal how okay
they are.
“Then it's fine,” Stiles says. “But if I ever tell the story I'll probably
leave out the wolfsbane part.”
“Probably a good idea,” Derek nods, straight faced. Stiles laughs then slides
across the bed, curling into Derek's side.
“For what it's worth,” Stiles says, tracing a pattern on Derek's chest. “I'm
sorry too. Your first time in a while should've been with someone you, y'know,
wanted.”
Derek had wanted him, though, and he figures it'll take a while to work out
whether that was the wolfsbane talking or some part of him he didn't know about
until now. He's okay with waiting.
“It's fine,” Derek says, echoing Stiles' sentiments. “I trust you and that –
that's more important to me than anything else.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says quietly. “Yeah, I get that.”
That seems to be about the limit of conversation Stiles' sex-sated body is
capable of as he drifts into sleep a little after. Derek stays awake longer,
letting his body calm down, making sure it's definitely over. He doesn't even
notice falling asleep in the end, his head bent toward Stiles' and Stiles'
scent calming in his nose.
End Notes
     The dub-con is, as indicated, of the sex pollen kind. Derek is
     probably more lucid than sex pollened characters generally. Both
     characters keep confirming consent as often as possible.
     I am not for a minute suggesting that the concept of a "sex buddy" is
     something that could actually exist. Stiles and Derek are trying to
     make the best of a potentially bad situation.
     Next up: faeries-made-them-do-it.
     If you have any concerns about the way I've written this please don't
     hesitate to contact me.
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