
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/409953.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Oral_Sex, Biting, Marking, handjob
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-05-21 Words: 1648
****** I Got a Love that Keeps Me Waiting ******
by lizzstomania
Summary
     Stiles shouldn't be so surprised that Derek reacted so badly to
     catching him with that hunter.
Notes
     okay so andy and i decided to do a little porn exchange. i wrote the
     porn for her fic, and she's gonna write some to go with simple math
     (and trust me, it's already brilliant).
     while this one can stand alone, i definitely recommend reading andy's
     fic first because dean/stiles okay? just do it.
     that being said, it's time for porn and not-a-pushover!stiles :D
     also, the title is from the black keys song, lonely_boy.
 "I can't fucking   believe  you."

Derek's been muttering angrily for ten minutes. Stiles has been sinking into
the passenger seat of the Camaro, wondering when Derek will let him get up and
go inside.

"Look, I'm not gonna apologize for letting that guy blow me, because I feel
like a man should never apologize for enjoying a blowjob—"

Derek growls, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"—so you should just, you know, get over it."

Derek stares at him, jaw dropped.

"Get   over  it?"

"Yeah."

"Get over you offering your neck to a complete fucking   stranger  ."

"Uh, yeah? Man, I don't understand—"

"You don't—Stiles, how can you—"

"Jesus, Derek—"

"Fuck, Stiles, you're part of my  pack.   You can’t just go fucking around with
pretty perverts in back alleys."

"I didn't know, I mean you never—"

"I'm the   Alpha;   it's my job to protect you—"

"I didn't know I was part of the pack!"

"How could you—"

"You never—I'm not a wolf! How was I supposed to—"

Derek's growl is closer to a roar as he shoulders open his door and springs
from the car. Stiles is frozen for two seconds before he's out, too. Derek is
pacing in the empty driveway.

"For someone so smart," he says, low enough that Stiles can barely hear him
from where he’s leaning against the passenger door. "You can be so incredibly
stupid."

"Oh, fuck off, Derek." Derek stops pacing, glaring at him. "Fuck off and fuck
you. You don't treat me like I'm part of your pack so why the fuck would I
think—"

Suddenly Derek's on him, in his space, nose inches away. He's still glaring,
but there's something lurking under the anger that Stiles can't define.

"Listen to me very closely," Derek whispers. "You are   mine.   You're part of
my  pack,   my   family. Mine. Have I made myself clear?"

Stiles wants to say yes, nod, but he's just so   confused  —

"I didn't," he starts, voice catching. "I don't understand."

Derek groans, almost defeated. "Just... you're pack." Derek backs away, heads
towards his side of the car. "And if I ever catch you whoring yourself out
again, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"I don't—" Stiles moves away, not quite following him.

"Mine. Understand?"

Stiles nods. But then,   no  .

"No."

Derek stops. "Excuse me?"

“I just... No, okay? No."

He sighs, exasperated. "No what, Stiles?"

Stiles looks down. "You don't…get to tell me who to fuck. Just because   you
don't understand why anyone would want me—"

"I never said that." The words crack through the air. When Stiles looks up,
Derek is practically vibrating, he's wound so tight.

Derek is possibly the most confusing being Stiles has ever encountered.

“It’s okay, man, I get it,” says Stiles, walking towards his front door. He
digs around in his pockets for his keys. “I’m not your type and it’s cool. But
Alpha or no, you do not get to tell me who to fuck.” He pulls his keys out,
unlocks and opens the front door. “If I want to fuck a thousand older guys in
places worse than that alley, I’ll do it. I may all of a sudden be part of your
pack, but you don’t   own  me.”

Satisfied with his parting remarks, Stiles closes and locks the door. He shrugs
off his jacket in the front room and takes the stairs two at a time.

He wonders if Derek being in his room will ever not scare the shit out of him.

“Fuck,   Jesus  ,” he gasps, goes for casual, “miss me already?”

Derek doesn’t laugh, not that Stiles expected him to, choosing instead to loom
further into Stiles’ space, pressing him back against the door.

“Derek, what are you—“

“Stop talking.”

Derek is pressed against him, breathing shallowly into the scant inches between
them. Stiles is so confused—

“You think I don’t want you,” Derek whispers. “How you could possibly—“

“You never,” Stiles starts. Swallows. “You never said anything.”

“Wasn’t going to, was gonna wait.” Derek leans closer; their entire bodies are
pressed together, Derek’s hands riding low on Stiles’ hips. “You’re a   kid
and I’m…”

“So,” Stiles licks his lips. “So are you gonna—“

“You smell like him.”

“I—what?”

“You smell like him, like blood,” Derek rubs his nose along Stiles’ jaw, hands
sliding up to the skin under Stiles’ shirt. “Like desperation and anger and
doubt.”

Stiles tries and fails to hold back a whimper when Derek licks the side of his
neck.

“I don’t like it.”

“Then fix it.” Stiles tilts his head to the right, exposing the long line of
his neck and Derek moans low in his throat. “Mark me up if that’s what you
want.” Apparently he doesn’t need to be told twice; Derek’s fingers press
bruises into Stiles’ hips, hold him in place as his mouth latches onto the
space under his ear. Stiles’ hands are in Derek’s hair, Derek’s are pushing the
thin material of Stiles’ shirt up, and Derek’s cold belt buckle is pressing
into the soft skin of Stiles’ belly. Derek bites down, hard but God, not hard
enough;   Stiles’ hips shoot forward, shoulders pressed into the door, and—

Derek is growling, low, just this side of dangerous. He pulls Stiles’ shirt up
over his head and tugs him towards the bed. Stiles toes out of his shoes while
Derek strips out of his jacket and shirt. Stiles has maybe half a second to
feel self-conscious before Derek is on him, all over him, mouth pressing hot
kisses against his skin and Stiles is trembling; he can’t stop mewling out
little whimpers.

“Stiles,” Derek murmurs, mouth hot and open against Stiles’ skin. “You
gotta—you want it—?”

He bites down and Stiles keens, hips bucking up, cock hard and aching in his
jeans. Derek’s hands are hot, his mouth is hot, tongue even hotter, and Stiles
is aware that Derek is talking to him but he can’t figure it out. Hands trail
down, slide his belt out of the loops and slip the button on his jeans free.

“Stiles.” Breathed against his skin; gentle scrape of teeth against bruises
beginning to form.

“God, Derek, I want it, whatever you want,   please  —“

The noise Derek makes isn’t quite human and Stiles shivers. And then he’s naked
and Derek is naked and there’s—God, hot skin, everything is so hot and Stiles
can’t breathe and Derek is biting him again, tiny nipping bites along the line
of his ribs, down and down and down, biting, sucking kisses over the jut of his
hips and blunt fingernails raking over the back of his thighs. Stiles spreads
his legs and Derek settles between them, propped up on his elbows and without
saying anything, his mouth closes over the head of Stiles’ cock and Stiles
can’t stop himself; his back arches, sending his hips off the bed and his cock
deeper into Derek’s throat. Derek doesn’t flinch or slow down, doesn’t try to
hold on or stop Stiles from moving. He sucks, deep pulls like he’s in the
desert and Stiles is a glass of water, fingers digging, pressing, pushing.
Stiles is moaning, babbling incoherently, and Derek ignores him completely,
nose buried in the nest of curls at the base of Stiles’ cock.

Stiles whines, high in the back of his throat, heels digging into the mattress
beneath him. He’s—he can’t   breathe  and Derek isn’t breathing and oh God,
Derek has one hand on Stiles, smoothing over his thighs and one hand on his own
cock, jacking himself off while his mouth is full of Stiles.

Stiles comes embarrassingly quickly.

Though he really can’t be blamed for it; he’s had two blowjobs in the space of
two hours.

Derek makes a content noise and pulls off, licking his lips and dragging the
tip of his nose over the hollows of Stiles’ hips.

“That...was awesome.”

The sound Derek makes is almost a laugh. “Thank you.”

Stiles is quiet for a minute as Derek arranges himself on his side. Most of
their bodies are touching and Stiles really likes the warmth.

“So.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “So what?”

“You, ah—” Stiles is thinking about having some kind of relationship talk or
something until he remembers that Derek didn’t actually come. “You want some
help with that?” He gestures vaguely down and Derek’s breath hitches.

“If you want...”

Stiles tries to keep his hand from shaking as he reaches down and wraps it
around Derek. He moves his hand a couple times, playing with grips and speeds
and Derek rolls into him with a groan, burying his face in Stiles’ shoulder.
Stiles picks up the speed, jacking faster, tugging harder and Derek’s hips
start rolling against him and Derek bites down hard, Stiles’ swears he’s
bleeding, and then there’s hot liquid on his fingers and Derek is moaning and
it’s hot all over again.

“Fucking.   Awesome  .” Stiles drags his sticky fingers through the mess on his
hip, only slightly jumping when Derek’s hand slides over his, twining their
fingers together. Derek hums an agreement and throws a leg over Stiles, pulling
him closer.

“Are we cuddling?” Stiles asks, voice already heavy with sleep.

“We’re  sleeping .”

“Mmkay. G’night, Derek.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Stiles knows they still have to have some kind of conversation, but it can
wait. He squirms around, trying to reach for a blanket without moving too much,
and smiles when Derek’s arms tighten around him. He finally gets the Beacon
Hills High blanket he keeps at the foot of his bed up and draped over the
bottom half of their bodies. He sighs and settles further into Derek’s embrace,
almost asleep before he remembers something.

“Don’t ever call me a whore again.”

Derek nods, licks the juncture of Stiles’ neck and shoulder almost
apologetically.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but falls asleep before he can think of something
brilliant to say.
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