
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/681404.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Alan_Deaton
  Additional Tags:
      Post_Season_2, Sleepy_Sex, Intercrural_Sex, Rimming, Fingerfucking
  Collections:
      Sterek_Campaign_Teen_Wolf_Charity_Project
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-12 Words: 8232
****** Just for Now ******
by linksofmemories
Summary
     “Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the
     bastard.
     “You’re an asshole.”
     “You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”
     “It was to give me a chance to run.”
     “How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”
Notes
     This is the second of the auction pieces for the Sterek Campaign. Aya
     bought a 5k fic, but of course I always have to go overboard, so I
     hope she likes this 8k fic.
See the end of the work for more notes
It had taken Stiles a while to get over Lydia. And by "a while" he meant one
month of trying to get her to hang out with him during the summer and failing
miserably. Jackson’s family had moved and she had been in a bit of a slump
(“bit” being an understatement), so Stiles had tried to jump in and take a
chance. But the more he tried to woo her with flowers and jewelry, the more he
realized that she just needed a shoulder to cry on and not a new guy in her
life.
So, that happened. He had been 100% shot down and even though a part of him
(albeit a ridiculously small and overly hopeful part) still held onto hope, he
knew that it would never work between them. Scott of course had tried to
encourage him that he should just ask her out, but Stiles had shook his head.
He was starting to come to terms to being defeated and he had definitely been
defeated in this case.
The 15 year plan had been tossed away and Stiles was now determined to focus on
more important things, like training for lacrosse and worrying about the Alpha
Pack that was making its way to Beacon Hills. Well, maybe more on the Alpha
Pack. Of course it had been a month into summer break when Derek had appeared
in his room and informed him of the Alpha Pack.
Which was, y’know, just dandy.
First Peter and Kate, then Matt and Gerard and the Kanima, and now an Alpha
Pack? Couldn’t they just have some time of peace? Couldn’t Stiles maybe make
first line for lacrosse and not lie to his dad and possibly get a girlfriend
(or boyfriend, he wasn’t picky)?
Apparently not.
Scott had freaked out, but was still determined to keep the town safe. Stiles
expected the pack to strike at any moment, but they hadn’t made a move. Things
in Beacon Hills were actually peaceful for once. The peace felt unsettling due
to the threat that was hanging above all of their heads, but it wasn’t exactly
unwelcome.
Stiles got a summer job and played video games with Scott and slept until noon
every day. It was almost identical to the summer before their sophomore year,
and it was familiar and nice. The familiar routine didn’t stop him from lying
in bed some nights just thinking about the Alpha Pack. What if they just came
bursting into his house one night and took him and his dad away? Other than his
dad’s gun (which was practically useless against werewolves), they didn’t have
any protection. Nothing would keep a werewolf out of their house and their
claws from ripping out Stiles’ organs.
Then he kept thinking about how the Alpha Pack was after all a pack and they
probably lived by a code and Stiles was just a human. Stiles wasn’t a threat,
they wouldn’t hurt him.
But finding Derek outside on the roof next to his window one night didn’t do
anything to stop his worries.
He had just come out of the shower, already changed into his boxers and a t-
shirt when he saw a dark figure outside of his window. Stiles had frozen, eyes
trained on the window. He immediately thought about why any member of the Alpha
Pack would be there; he repeated all of the reasons why they had no reason to
be there.
None of it helped when his window was being slid open. Stiles grabbed his
crosse that was leaning up against the wall next to his door, he knew that it
wouldn’t do much good, but if it gave him some time to run then he would use
it.
It wasn’t needed though because a dark-haired and stubbly leather jacket-clad
non-stranger entered his room, courteously closing the window behind him.
“Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the bastard.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”
“It was to give me a chance to run.”
“How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”
Stiles’ mouth fell open, looking from Derek, to the crosse in his hands, and
then back again. Attacking a stranger with adrenaline and survival on his mind
was one thing, but attacking Derek with his smug smile was another thing
entirely. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek would trip him or shove him
up against a wall or do something to make him look like an idiot. But if he
didn’t do anything then he would look like a coward.
Idiot or coward? Take your pick, Stilinski.
Idiot it was.
His hands tightened on the crosse and he glared down Derek who was just
smirking like the smug asshole that he was. Stiles moved forward and it took
all of two seconds for Derek to grab the crosse from his hands, twist it around
Stiles' back, and press their chests together, Stiles’ back hitting the door.
Derek’s mouth was open against his neck, fangs brushing against his skin.
“What are you gonna do?” Stiles asked. “Rip my throat out with your teeth? I
feel like that’s getting kind of old.”
“I’ve said that one time,” Derek said.
“Feels repetitive.”
Derek rolled his eyes, moving away from Stiles and dropping the crosse on the
ground next to him. “Ripping your throat out would still be effective though.
Stiles, if you think someone is trying to come through your window you
shouldn’t try to attack them, you should run.”
“I was going to run—.”
“Attempting an attack wouldn’t save you time, it would just get you killed.”
Stiles just stood there, back still pressed against the door, as Derek looked
around Stiles’ room. He went to his desk, flipping through a few books and
notebooks.
“If a werewolf was coming through my window and trying to attack me, running
wouldn't do much good, it would just catch me."
“Good point,” Derek nodded.
He continued his silent browsing of Stiles’ room, skipping over his laptop
(thank God) and heading to the shelving behind his bed. Stiles should’ve
protested, but that was the common thing to do when someone had something to
hide. And he didn’t have anything to hide from Derek; over time he finally
accepted that having Derek’s trust was actually a good thing. It never hurt to
have an Alpha werewolf on your side, even if they were going up against an
entire pack of them.
“So, what do you propose I do?” Stiles asked.
“Do for what?”
“In case a werewolf does come through my window and attack me?”
Stiles was really starting to get tired of the silence and long waits for
answers, but for once in his life he wasn’t going to push anything. He just
watched as Derek looked at a picture of him and his mom and then their family
on vacation to Disneyland when he had been six. Derek could relate to missing
family, he wasn’t worried.
Well he wasn’t worried until Derek opened one of the drawers and his eyebrows
shot up, a smirk came over Derek’s face as he held up a half-empty bottle of
lube. He turned around, showing it to Stiles. “Lube and no condoms?”
Stiles walked quickly to his bed, lunging forward to grab the bottle from
Derek’s grasp. Derek let him take it, smiling and shaking his head.
“Alpha pack, lacrosse, part-time job,” Stiles said, stuffing the bottle back
into the drawer. “It’s all very stressful.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Stiles," Derek shrugged, a smirk
still on his face. “I was a teenager too, believe it or not.”
“Not that long ago, right?”
“Just a few years,” Derek said.
Stiles expected him to continue looking through his room, but instead he just
headed back toward the window. “I’ll think of a way to make sure you can defend
yourself.”
“Wait, why’d you come here?” Stiles asked. “To shove me against a wall and
snoop?”
“Something like that,” Derek said. “I’ll see you later, Stiles.”
And then he was gone, the window shutting swiftly behind him. Stiles sighed,
running a hand through his hair and sitting down on his bed. He really didn’t
get Derek Hale.
                                    OoOoOoO
A few days later Scott asked Stiles to come into work with him. Stiles had
never been that close to Dr. Deaton, in fact he had only talked to him a
handful of times, but Scott said that he wanted to see him specifically.
Apparently he wanted to give him something and Scott couldn’t deliver it to
him.
This only intrigued him more and after Stiles got off his shift at the
bookstore, he headed to the clinic. The parking lot was deserted except for
Deaton’s car and Scott’s bike, so Stiles made his way inside, leaning against
the front desk and looking around the waiting room.
“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said, opening up the wooden gate that led to the exam
room. “I’m happy you could make it.”
“Happy to be here,” Stiles nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and
following Deaton. “So, Scott said you wanted to give me something.”
“Well, Derek’s the one who wants you to have it, but you’ll see soon that for
obvious reasons he couldn’t be the one to deliver it to you personally.”
Consider him extremely intrigued.
“Derek, really?” Stiles asked. “Did he say anything else?”
“Only that it would, ‘help you out with what you talked about the other
night’,” Deaton said.
Because that wasn’t cryptic in the slightest.
“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, following Deaton into a supplies room. “Is Scott
here?”
“He’s organizing some files for me in my office,” Deaton said. “I’ll tell him
you stopped by.”
“Oh, okay, thanks,” Stiles nodded.
Deaton then proceeded to look through a large box that was shoved in the corner
of the supplies room. Stiles stood awkwardly behind him, trying to occupy
himself by looking around the room but coming up short with interesting things
to look at. There were towers of cardboard boxes, all having different labels
written in neat print. The boxes had typical labels to the veterinary clinic,
but one reading “HEX BOOKS” caught his attention.
“Here we are,” Deaton said, bringing Stiles attention back to him.
He turned and – “Holy God!” – promptly backed up into a pile of cardboard
boxes. They wobbled slightly, but didn’t fall over.
Deaton had a mild expression on his face and looking awfully calm for holding a
staff in his hands. It looked like it had just come out of a Final Fantasygame,
slim and decorated with carvings in the dark blue stained wood.
“What is-?”
“Mountain ash,” Deaton said, holding it out to Stiles. “Derek is right in
thinking that you need to protect yourself, Stiles. You can’t exactly carry a
gun on you when you go to school, so this is the next best thing.”
“Because a staff isn’t inconspicuous at all.”
Deaton then sighed, pressing his finger against a button on the bottom of the
staff. It retracted instantly, keeping the same circumference, but becoming as
tall as a typical textbook. It’d be easy to stash in his backpack.
“I don’t know how to use one of those,” Stiles said, taking it from Deaton’s
hands when it was offered anyway. “I’m the sheriff’s kid, I can shoot a gun,
but this is way out of my league."
“Derek said he’d teach you,” Deaton said. “With a normal staff of course, his
skin would burn if he touched this.”
Oh.
This was the perfect weapon against a werewolf, wasn’t it? Right now he was
completely clueless, but even if he got attacked he still had a chance to
injure a werewolf and make an escape. And if he actually mastered how to fight
with the staff he could actually do some damage.
It was kind of perfect and he didn’t know what it meant that Derek of all
people thought about it for him. He also didn’t know what that made him feel
that Derek thought about it so much.
“Are you willing to learn?” Deaton asked.
“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, looking down at the retracted staff in his hands. “I
am.”
                                    OoOoOoO
Of course learning meant spending all of his free time with Derek in his
underground lair (i.e. abandoned subway station). Derek claimed that he was
looking at lofts and Stiles sure hoped so. This place had mold and even though
breathing it in didn’t affect Derek, it probably affected Stiles.
The mold wasn’t the only thing affecting Stiles though. Derek was the only one
Stiles saw in the station since Peter was off doing God knows what and Isaac
was spending all of his free time with Scott. So, Stiles saw a lot of Derek…
and Derek’s body. After Lydia had been cleared from his mind Stiles accepted
that yeah, guys were hot too.
And Derek Hale was like the Lydia Martin of male hotness.
Apparently green eyes were a recurring thing for him.
He knew that he was there for a reason. He was supposed to be learning how to
fight and defend himself. Stiles didn’t want to be a liability anymore, he
didn’t want to have to run away when things got tough. And if spending all of
his time with Derek Hale being sweaty (and not in the way that he wanted to
spend time sweating with Derek Hale), then so be it.
This had been going on for about a week and just when he started to get the
hang of it, it all started to slowly go bad.
Today was a bad day, both for his skill level and for Derek’s mood.
“We’ve been over this a thousand times, Stiles,” Derek said, shaking his head.
“A thousand times, really?” Stiles asked. “I think it’s been three.”
“That’s two times too many.”
“Seriously?” Stiles asked, outstretching his arms. “I mean, really? In case you
haven’t noticed, I’m 16 years-old and I’m skinny and awkward and I trip over my
own feet more often than not. It’s a fuckin’ miracle that I can hold this thing
properly, so don’t expect me to start blocking everything you throw at me on my
first try just because you’re the Alpha and you’re just so knowledgeable.”
Derek blinked at him, looking from Stiles’ hands to the practice staff in his
hands (because Derek refused to come within a ten-foot radius of his mountain
ash one) and then back to Stiles.
“You’re right.”
What.
“What,” Stiles said.
“You’re right,” Derek repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “I
shouldn’t—you’re not a wolf, you’re human and so, you’re so breakable, Stiles.”
“Then teach me how to not be breakable,” Stiles sighed.
Derek nodded and then stepped toward him, walking behind him, and then folding
his hands over Stiles’.
“Oh God,” Stiles said. “This is like in every movie ever when the guy tries to
teach the girl how to hit a baseball or swing a golf club.”
Despite the cheesy and cliché factor, Stiles was still trying to play it cool
(well, as cool as he was capable of playing it). Derek could probably hear his
pounding heart and feel the heat radiating from his cheeks or something.
“Your posture’s good,” Derek said, warm air tickling his neck and dipping into
his ear. “Your grip’s too tight though. You need to stop being so worried of
dropping it and focus more on actually moving it.”
“How’d you learn all of this?” Stiles asked. “You’ve been a werewolf forever,
you don’t really need to know how to fight with any kind of weapon.”
“Growing up I had human cousins who lived in the house,” Derek said. “The
adults didn’t want to make them feel left out when they trained, so all of the
werewolf kids took lessons with them.”
“One big happy family, huh?”
“We weren’t always happy,” Derek said. “But we were…we were family.”
Stiles’ heart had calmed down, but it was still beating strongly. Not with
nervousness or arousal, but with sadness and compassion and understanding. He
didn’t lose everyone he’d ever loved like Derek had, but he had lost his mom
and it had felt like he had lost his entire world.
“Derek.”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you-?” Stiles started, trying to find the right words to say. “You’re
not my brother or my cousin or my friend or my Alpha or whatever. We’re kind of
just acquaintances. So, why do you care so much? Why are you helping me?”
He could feel Derek shrugging behind him. “Because I don’t want you getting
hurt.”
There wasn’t much talking after that. After about an hour of Derek charging at
him and critiquing almost everything that he did, the training session was
brought to a close. Stiles headed to the shower (and he still didn’t want to
know how Derek got a shower in the place), set on taking a quick one and then
heading home. Lacrosse training started tomorrow and he wanted to be well
rested for it.
After taking a quick shower and changing into a clean t-shirt and pair of
jeans, Stiles headed into the room outside of the shower. It was where Derek
slept and there was nothing there except for an air mattress and a few bags of
clothes and personal belongings. It all felt so sad and empty. The room was a
constant reminder that Derek was alone and orphaned and just trying his best.
The temptation to go through the bags was always there though. Derek had poked
around his room on numerous occasions and Stiles had never complained that
often about it. He was pretty tolerant about Derek looking through his stuff
since there wasn’t anything there that was overly personal. Derek had already
found the porn stash on his laptop (that was filling up with a lot more guy-on-
guy than anything else). He had just shrugged and said that he didn’t care.
Stiles didn’t have anything to hide from Derek and he liked that. He had lied
so much to his dad lately and Scott still didn’t know that he was attracted to
guys. It was nice to have one person he could just be open to.
He just never expected Derek to mean this much to him.
Stiles sat down on the edge of the air mattress, towel drying his recently
grown-out hair and looking at the bags in front of him. It would only be fair
to look through them, but it felt almost too personal. Everything that was in
those bags was everything that Derek had left in the world and Stiles didn’t
think he was ready for that.
“You can go ahead.”
Derek was standing in the doorway, his wife beater having magically disappeared
(no complaints) and his arms folded across his chest.
“I wasn’t going to—.”
“I know,” Derek said, taking a seat next to Stiles on the mattress. “But you
can.”
Stiles nodded, leaning forward to take one of the bags. He opened it only to be
assaulted by a particularly foul smell. “Dude, what do you have in here?”
“Dirty laundry,” Derek laughed, closing the bag for Stiles. “I’m going to the
Laundromat tomorrow.”
“I can’t picture you at a Laundromat.”
Derek just shrugged, nodding toward the next bag. Stiles took it and opened it
to see clean clothes, all folded and neutral colors. “Just clothes in here or
is this where you stash your diary too?”
“Dead bodies as well,” Derek said. “Gotta be unexpected.”
Stiles grinned at that, taking the final bag. It made a variety of different
sounds as he pulled it toward him. The other twos bags had just contained
clothes, but this one contained objects and trinkets and things that were
Derek’s and probably his family’s as well.
He didn’t want to open it, but Derek was sitting next to him with a hand on the
small of his back and his eyes focused unblinkingly on the bag. Stiles opened
it and saw a stack of comic books. He raised an eyebrow and Derek scratched the
back of his neck, smiling in an uncharacteristically shy manner.
“No,” Stiles said, taking the comic books from the bag and placing them on his
lap. “No, Derek Hale is not a comic book nerd.”
“Guilty.”
“Holy God, this is enough blackmail for years,” Stiles said, his goofy smile
growing as he looked through the different issues. “You have the original
Wonder Woman? This is insane, these are all in perfect conditions, they’re
fake.”
“They’re not.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“I always got them authenticated before I bought them,” Derek said. “Before the
fire, Laura used to take me. There was a comic book store in the mall and while
she would shop with her friends I would just… read.”
“That’s so lame,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself.
He winced, wishing that he could take it back. Derek was opening up to him and
he had just made fun of him. Way to go, Stilinski.
“Yeah,” Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “But that’s what I did.”
“I can’t picture you doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re… you,” Stiles said, gesturing to Derek. “You’ve got the whole
‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome’ thing going on.”
“Not when I was 16,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I was a lot like you.”
“Right.”
“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” Derek asked. “I was a teenager once
too. I didn’t have a lot of friends and I liked being alone. I read comic books
and jerked off to gay porn. We’re not that different.”
He had a point. Stiles had never really thought about Derek before he had met
him for that first time in the woods. He had never thought of Derek the
socially awkward teenager or Derek who was surrounded by family or—.
Wait.
“You jerked off to gay porn?”
“Is that seriously all you got out of that?”
“No, it’s just that—,” Stiles started. “You’re, I mean you…You’re into dudes?”
“Yeah,” Derek shrugged. “Is that a problem?”
“What, no,” Stiles said. “Are you kidding? I’m totally into dudes too, so just,
y’know, keep doing what you’re doing.”
Derek looked like he was about to laugh at him (and Stiles wouldn’t blame him
either), so Stiles reached into the bag in front of him and took out the next
object he could grab.
It was a box of condoms.
Stiles tossed it behind him before reaching into the bag again.
Derek was looking progressively more amused by the second, but Stiles just
ignored him. The next thing he took out of the bag was an old worn pilot’s
jacket. It was worn in a way that only time and wear could do, not being put on
a hanger in a store and being made to look like it was older than it was.
“Laura’s,” Derek said. “It was her favorite jacket.”
“I’ve got one of my mom’s scarves in my sock drawer.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
“Dude, out of context that sounds so creepy.”
“And what context is it in?”
“The context of you making it your mission in life to know where everything is
in my room.”
“I like knowing my surroundings.”
“Knowing your surroundings doesn’t have to be so detailed that you know what
kind of porn I have on my computer.”
“Why do you keep bringing up porn?”
“I’m a 16 year-old guy, what do you expect me to bring up?”
Derek just shook his head, a small smile on his face as he curled a hand around
the worn leather of Laura’s jacket. Stiles placed a hand over his, not exactly
knowing what he was doing but not exactly wanting to stop either.
“What are we doing?” Stiles asked.
His eyes met Derek’s and they were just looking at each other and then Derek’s
mouth was being pressed against his. He had strangely been expecting it. It
felt easy and natural which was weird because Stiles never thought kissing
would be like that. He’d never kissed anyone before and he had expected his
first to be sloppy and for his lips to get sticky from strawberry lip gloss.
But this was smooth and slow and he was more than happy to let Derek take his
face in his hands and guide him through it all. He didn’t know what to do with
his hands, so he kept them in his lap, making sure the jacket and comic books
didn’t fall to the floor. Derek opened his mouth and slipped his tongue inside
and slid it against Stiles’. His hands gripped the jacket and comic books
tighter and he knew that his pounding heart was probably giving Derek a
headache, but that didn’t stop him from moving even closer and moving his
tongue with Derek’s.
It was good and Stiles was beginning to understand why Scott had been so
obsessed with doing it with Allison when Derek pulled back. Stiles made a
(completely manly) noise of protest. Derek’s forehead was pressed against the
crook of his neck and Stiles felt him exhale deeply.
“You’re 16.”
“Nope,” Stiles said, putting the jacket and comic books on the air mattress
next to him and turning to face Derek. “Nope.”
“Stiles, you’re underage.”
“Yeah and you’re a werewolf and I’ve almost been killed at least five times and
I’ve saved your life at least ten and I… I want this,” Stiles said.
“Us wanting this and the law approving of this are two different things.”
“We kissed.”
“I want to do more than just kiss you.”
Oh. Well. Shit.
“And I don’t want other people touching you.”
“I don’t want other people touching you either.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“You’re still underage.”
“And we’re back to square one,” Stiles groaned.
“Stiles this is complicated,” Derek sighed.
“I don’t care,” Stiles said, moving toward him.
“I could go to jail for this.”
“I won’t let them take you away.”
“Your dad would shoot me.”
“It’s a good thing regular bullets won’t kill you.”
“They still hurt like hell.”
“I’ll kiss them and make them better.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
Stiles kissed Derek then and let him press him against the mattress, choosing
to forget about everything else for that moment.
                                    OoOoOoO
They didn’t have sex. Well, they didn’t have sexsex. Making out was an activity
that they both participated in quite enthusiastically. One minute Derek was
telling him how much of an idiot he was and how even the lowliest of omegas
would be able to attack him if he didn’t correct his stance, and the next
minute Derek would be on top of him, fucking his mouth with his tongue and
rutting against him.
Stiles had started to bring two changes of pants with him.
Training still happened and Stiles was getting progressively better. He was
also getting better at kissing and hand jobs and his first blowjob attempt
might not have gone too smoothly, but by attempt #6 he was practically a pro.
It was just so easy with Derek, something he never thought would be possible.
He could just kiss him when he wanted to or slip his hand down his pants when
he wanted to (well, maybe not whenever he wanted to, but Derek was pretty open
about it).
Of course the fact that Stiles was underage still played a factor. Derek never
wanted to take things too far and Stiles was okay with that. Kind of. He would
have been more than happy to let Derek fuck him into next week (and Derek
probably wanted to), but holding back seemed to be the appropriate thing to do.
School started in a week and with lacrosse summer practices and training with
Derek and carrying heavy boxes at the bookstore (a lot more effort than you’d
think was put into that), Stiles found himself not wanting to move more often
than not. When he was doing these activities he was fine, but as soon as he got
home all he could think about was his bed and sleep.
That wasn’t any different for tonight either. He had had lacrosse practice all
morning and then a shift at the bookstore and then meeting Derek at his new
loft (it had a spiral staircase—Stiles had been impressed) to train. After
eating takeout with Derek and a heavy session of groping, he had gotten into
his Jeep and driven home and then had practically crawled out of his Jeep and
inside and into his bed.
His dad was out on a date with Ms. McCall and Scott had asked if he wanted to
come over to play video games, but Stiles was half-dead. Scott knew about Derek
helping Stiles learn how to fight, but was still very much in the dark when it
came to the other activities they partook in together.
It was only nine o’clock, but that didn’t stop Stiles from pulling the covers
around him and falling asleep almost instantly.
When he opened his eyes again it was 11 and there was a dark figure hovering
over him and shit.
Stiles reached behind him, hand closing around the retracted staff that was on
the shelving. He pressed the button on the bottom and it stretched out to its
full length. Claws were moving toward him and Stiles grabbed the staff in two
hands before sitting up and shoving outward, connecting with a neck.
A half-shout reached his ears and he tried to get out of bed, but his legs were
wrapped in the sheets and he felt like he weighed five times his weight due to
exhaustion. His heart was pounding in his ears and he braced himself against
his mattress, staff protecting the width of his chest.
The lamp next to his bed turned on and Derek was standing there, one knee on
his bed and looking down at him.
“I’ve seen worse.”
“You asshole,” Stiles groaned, retracting the staff and placing it back on the
shelving. “You incredible asshole.”
“Your first attack was good,” Derek said, ignoring Stiles’ comments. “But then
you let exhaustion and your bed sheets get the best of you. Now you’re just
lying there almost completely defenseless with your legs spread.”
Stiles was about to give a retort when he saw the burn on Derek’s neck. He sat
up and motioned for Derek to sit down on the bed. Derek did and Stiles cupped
his hand on the burn. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Derek said. “It’ll heal.”
“You don’t need to burn any wolf’s bane powder and rub it in there?”
“No,” Derek said. “The bullet was in the bloodstream, this—.”
“Is just a flesh wound?” Stiles asked, grinning despite it all.
Derek let out a laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“Good,” Stiles nodded. “So, uh, did I pass?”
“Pass what?”
“Well clearly this was a test,” Stiles said. “Did I pass?”
“Depends,” Derek shrugged. “How were you going to continue if it hadn’t been
me?”
“No clue.”
“Consider it a fail.”
Stiles let out a heavy sigh, lying back on his bed. “I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“My limbs feel like they’re a thousand pounds.”
“I know.”
“I just want to sleep.”
“I know.”
Stiles glared at him and Derek just shrugged, leaning over to switch Stiles’
lamp back off. “Sleep.”
“Stay?”
He was happy that Derek had turned the light off because he really didn’t want
to look at Derek when he got rejected. But soon he heard the rustling of
clothes and then there was a dip in the mattress, Derek’s arm wrapped around
his middle and pulled his back to his chest.
“Are we actually spooning right now?”
“Go to sleep, Stiles.”
Arguing was something that he was tempted to do, but he was still tired and
felt ridiculously heavy and Derek was like his own personal heater against his
back. Almost instantly he was in a deep sleep and practically dead to the
world. His dreams were abstract and vague and he was too tired to even pay
attention to them. It felt like sleep was finally starting to restore him when
he woke up for the second time.
The clock read one o’clock and he groaned, lying face down into his pillow.
“What’s wrong?” Derek mumbled.
“Woke up,” Stiles said.
“Just go back to sleep,” Derek said, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles’ back.
Derek’s voice was heavy with sleep and Stiles knew that he had woken him up as
well. He turned his head to look at Derek whose head was sharing the pillow.
His eyes were half-lidded as his hand continued to move against Stiles’ back.
“Can’t,” Stiles said.
“Sure you can.”
Stiles knew that Derek was trying to be supportive of Stiles getting his rest,
but the hand on his back said differently. They weren’t soothing rubs that a
parent would give to their kid when they couldn’t sleep, but strokes that made
Stiles’ stomach warm and dick twitch interestedly in his boxers.
It was like Derek was kneading his flesh, massaging it and getting all of the
tensions out. It was good, almost ridiculously so and Stiles let out a little
moan when Derek’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his boxers.
Derek probably knew what he was doing to Stiles. If Scott could smell arousal,
then there was no doubt that Derek was practically getting slapped with it.
Stiles’ hands gripped his sheets, turning his face into his pillow and
squeezing his eyes shut. He was sleepy and exhausted and so stupidly turned on
that this wasn’t going to end well.
Or it could end ridiculously well.
Negotiations were still up for both.
“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice sounding like he was starting to wake up. “Do
you want to sleep or do you want to—?”
“Both,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow.
Sleep was good, sleep was great, but going to sleep half-hard was never a good
idea. The mattress shifted next to him and soon both of Derek’s hands were on
him, working on his shoulders. Stiles burrowed his face into his pillow, biting
his bottom lip, and holding in a soft groan. Derek had magic hands and he was
completely content on surrendering to them.
He was just about to fall back asleep, right on the edge where he didn’t know
if he was awake or dreaming, when stubble brushed against his neck and there
was hot breath in his ear. “What do you want?”
Who needed sleep anyway?
“Anything,” Stiles said, his voice heavy and drowsy. “Go crazy.”
Derek let out a low chuckle at that, pressing his lips against Stiles’ neck. “I
can do that.”
Stiles just nodded as Derek moved away from his neck. He trusted Derek and he
knew that he would only do things to make him feel good. And right now he was
tired and horny and it was nice to have Derek take care of that instead of
having to half-heartedly hump his own hand.
His shirt was pushed up and warm hands were now making contact with his actual
flesh. Thumbs were being worked into his skin and lips were ghosting over his
back, just barely making contact. Stiles grabbed the bottom of his shirt and
pulled it over his head, tossing it on the floor before returning to his
previous position. He could hear Derek practically humming in approval as
biting kisses were made against his spine.
Everything was warm and heavy and it felt like he was being drugged. His
exhaustion, mixed with Derek’s hands and mouth on him, were making everything
seem like an incredibly vivid wet dream. It still baffled him that Derek wanted
to be with him of all people (even though technically they weren’t exactly
together), but he never questioned it. He wanted this and Derek wanted it and
who was he to question that?
Especially with Derek’s mouth pressed against his lower back and his fingers
hooked on the waistband of Stiles’ boxers. “Lift up for me.”
“‘Kay,” Stiles nodded into his pillow, lifting his hips enough for Derek to
slide his boxers over his ass and off of his legs before joining his t-shirt on
the floor.
Normally Stiles would have been self-conscious, but this entire thing felt like
a dream. A very warm and hazy and pleasurable dream. He was completely naked in
front of Derek and even though Derek had seen everything before he still felt
awkward and vulnerable. But right now it just didn’t matter.
Derek’s hands moved to his ass, kneading the skin, thumbs barely brushing right
down the crack. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Stiles breathed.
Derek had never touched him there before, but they both knew that Stiles had
touched himself. He was bisexual and 16 and curious and it felt great. There
was no shame in it, but there was something just so intimate about someone else
touching him there, about Derek touching him there.
“Sure?” Derek asked again.
“Positive,” Stiles mumbled, turning his head slightly and wiggling around to
get more comfortable. His hard cock brushed against the sheets and he let out a
low groan, rutting down on the mattress more. “Knock yourself out.”
He heard Derek inhale sharply at that, but he didn’t pay any attention to it.
His dick was now rubbing against the sheets and he didn’t even care that he
probably looked ridiculous and shameless. The friction was great and he was
pretty sure he wasn’t even in his right mind. Derek’s hands grabbed his hips
and forced him to stop moving. He was about to voice protest when his cheeks
were being spread apart and something warm and wet was sliding against his
hole.
His mouth opened and his eyes fluttered and a strangled groan escaped from him.
Fingers were one thing, but that was a tongue and it was—oh God. It was foreign
and different and just so fucking good. Stiles’ hands clutched his sheets
tighter, shifting on the bed slightly and feeling the wetness of pre-cum
against his skin. Derek hadn’t even touched his cock and he was already leaking
and he didn’t know what that said about him, but fuck if he cared.
Derek’s tongue was massaging just over his hole, getting caught in the rim
occasionally and giving a small tug with his tongue. It was hot and wetand
maddening and all Stiles could do was just lie there and take it. Just take
what Derek was giving him with his tongue and lips.
“You okay?” Derek asked, his mouth still pressed against Stiles, lips brushing
against the sensitive skin.
“Yeah, fuck, don’t stop.”
Apparently Derek didn’t have any plans to because hands were spreading him open
even more and then a tongue was darting intohim and oh fuckfuckfuck Jesus H.
Christ.Stiles knew that he was breathing heavy and these moans and groans and
fuckin’ whines and whimpers were escaping from him along with Derek’s name.
But he was the most aware of the fact that he was shaking. His thighs and
shoulders and hands all seemed to be vibrating. Everything lick or dart of
Derek’s tongue was slowly unraveling him, making him shake and want to just
fall apart at the seams. Saliva was running down his crack and over his balls
and his dick was still hard and leaking and aching. Hewas aching. Everything
was warm and wet and Derek.
Stiles was realizing that he could probably come just like that when Derek
moved away from him. He let out a noise, wanting to tell Derek to get his mouth
back to his ass, but lacking the words and energy to do so. Derek ran a hand
down his back as he moved up the bed. A drawer was opened and a hand ran
through his sweat damp hair, a kiss pressed against his temple.
He registered the noise of a cap being opened and he knew where this was going
right before a finger worked its way inside of him. It was long and broader and
strong and familiar, but so different from his own.
“Derek,” Stiles groaned.
He was exhausted, but awake finally. Everything was still hazy and he still
felt heavy but he also felt so warm and good. Derek always had a way of making
him feel good.
As the single finger worked its way in and out of him, avoiding his prostate
and just slowly working him open, something hot and heavy was draped over his
back. Stiles turned his head, opening his eyes to see Derek pressing kisses
onto his shoulder.
“How many have you taken before?” Derek asked, his voice deep and absolutely
wreckedeven though Stiles hadn’t even laid a hand on him.
“Two,” Stiles said, swallowing hard and clutching the sheets tighter.
Derek made a low hum in acknowledgment before starting to pump the finger in
and out of him. Even though Stiles had done this to himself numerous times it
still felt different when Derek did it. It was faster and rougher and deeper
and better.Derek was nuzzling Stiles’ neck now, whispering things that Stiles
couldn’t hear and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin as he pushed another
finger inside of Stiles.
Lengthwise their fingers were about the same but there was no doubt that
Derek’s were broader. Stiles felt fuller than he ever had and once the burn of
the stretch faded off it started to feel impossibly good. Derek was still
paying attention to his neck as Stiles started to thrust back onto his fingers.
He couldn’t help but imagine what Derek’s dick would feel like and he wouldn’t
lie and say that the thought didn’t excite him and terrify him at the same
time. The thought just seemed so intimate, so much more intimate than what he
and Derek were, well at least he thought.
He didn’t want to think about anything at that moment though. All he wanted was
to think about Derek’s mouth and stubble against his throat and heavy, warm
weight against his back, and fingers delving deep inside of him. The haziness
was still there and everything was feeling so fuckin’ perfect. His balls were
started to tightened and his stomach had a familiar warmness curling up inside
of it and his breath was coming out in short, wet gasps.
Just when he was about to let go and give into his release, another finger was
pressed against his entrance. Stiles stilled, slight panic coming over him.
“Derek, I- I can’t.”
“You will,” Derek said, pushing the finger into Stiles’ entrance.
“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head against his pillow. “Derek, I’ve never—.”
“Trust that I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
He did. Of course Stiles trusted Derek to not hurt him. He had let the older
man take his clothes off and have his way with him. Derek didn’t move, running
a hand up and down Stiles’ side. The silence hung heavy in the air and Stiles
knew it was all up to him allowing it or not. He was still achingly hard and
almost desperate for his release.
“Okay,” Stiles nodded. “Yeah, just—go slow.”
“Course,” Derek said, kissing the back of Stiles’ neck before slipping the
third finger inside of Stiles.
It burned and stretched him so open, but it was a good kind of burn. The pain
was still there, just under the surface, but the feeling of being full was kind
of amazing. He let out a low groan, shaking his head against his pillow. It was
almost too much and Stiles was about to voice that when Derek’s tongue licked
around his fingers, around Stiles’ stretched rim.
“Oh God,” Stiles groaned, moving back to meet Derek’s fingers and tongue. “Oh,
fuck.”
The tongue lapping at him was a great distraction from the fingers in his ass.
Soon the pain was gone, replaced by a burning fullness and the wet slide of
Derek’s fingers in and out of his ass. Stiles was biting his bottom lip, trying
not to voice all of the ridiculous noises and phrases he would undoubtedly end
up saying. He was starting to shake again, practically tremble with every
movement of Derek’s fingers, whether it was a smooth slide or a crooking
against his prostate.
It was all starting to build up again, the tightening in his balls, the warmth
in his stomach. It was all too much and not enough at the same time, he thought
he could come like this, but he couldn’t and—.
A warm hand moved between him and the mattress and wrapped around his cock and
with just one pump he was gone. It crashed on him as he let out a strangled
groan of Derek’s name, panting against his pillow and his hair sticking to his
forehead from sweat. He was still trembling, hands having wrinkled the sheets
from clutching them too tightly.
“So,” Stiles said finally. “That was… good. That was good.”
Derek chuckled, kissing his temple. “I’m happy you liked it.”
“Definitely,” Stiles said, turning around a bit to look at him.
And fuck he would have to do something about that, wouldn’t he? Derek just had
his boxer briefs on and they looked even tighter than usual, the outline of his
hard dick apparent and a wet spot visible on the dark fabric.
“Derek, let me—,” he started.
“No,” Derek said, shaking his head and pulling down his underwear.
The sight of Derek’s dick made Stiles regret not asking for Derek to fuck him.
Because Stiles wasn’t a poetic man, but he could right sonnets about how in
love he was with Derek’s thick, uncut cock.
It was starting to get a little unhealthy.
He knew that three fingers would be nothing to that filling him up and he
wanted it, God he wanted it, but right now he was tired and achy and sticky.
Derek could fuck him next time or the time after that.
“Lie back down on your stomach,” Derek said. “Lift your hips up and spread your
legs for me.”
Stiles did as he was told, hearing the opening of the lube once again. He knew
that Derek wasn’t going to fuck him, he was 99.99% positive of that, but he
still didn’t know what- oh.
Derek’s dick was sliding in between his thighs, brushing against his balls with
every stroke. His hands were gripping Stiles’ hips tightly and he leaned
forward, breath hot against Stiles’ neck.
“Fuck you got me so hard,” Derek groaned, hips stuttering as he continued to
thrust. “You’re so responsive and you never stop moving or making noises. So
fuckin’perfect.”
Stiles would have protested that he was incredibly far from perfect, but it was
difficult with Derek’s dick brushing against his balls. Everything felt so
oversensitive and hot and way too much.
“No idea what you do to me,” Derek continued, his pace increasing. “You’re so
fuckin’ oblivious and God, I just want to fuck you. When I do I’m going to do
it in front of a mirror and you’re going to have to look at how fuckin’
gorgeous you are. See how much you drive me crazy.”
Stiles wanted to voice how much of a terribly embarrassing idea that was, but
then Derek let out a harsh groan. The grip on Stiles’ hips tightened and he
came, cum hitting Stiles’ skin and the sheets below him.
Derek moved away from him for a second, allowing Stiles to flip over on his
back and collapse onto his bed. The sheets were sticky with sweat and cum, but
he didn’t care. He was in so much need of sleep and he knew that his dad would
be waking him up early for lacrosse practice and—.
“My dad,” Stiles said as Derek laid down on top of Stiles.
“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Derek said, his voice still heavy and
panting as he rested his forehead against Stiles’.
“No, he should be home—.”
“Not here,” Derek said. “Scott is with Isaac at the loft, so I’m assuming your
dad and Ms. McCall-.”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
Derek smirked at him, but didn’t say anything, pressing his lips against
Stiles’. “In other news, you were amazing.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, reaching up to move a lock of sweat-matted hair from
Derek’s forehead. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did everything,” Derek said. “I’ll clean up, you need sleep.”
After Derek managed to get Stiles out of bed, he took the sheets from the bed
and brought a pile of blankets and Stiles’ sleeping bag onto the floor. He made
a makeshift bed from the pile and Stiles curled up in it, half-awake when Derek
came back with a warm washcloth to clean him up. He was vaguely aware of Derek
turning off the lamp and bringing him into his arms.
With the Alpha Pack and the chance of losing Scott’s friendship to Isaac and
lacrosse and his part-time job and AP classes when school started and lying to
his dad, Stiles was happy that he had Derek. He didn’t have to lie to Derek or
be embarrassed around him.
He could just be himself and, for now, that was more than he could ask for.
End Notes
     Just one more auction piece after this and I'm done!
     I hope you enjoyed it and kudos/bookmark/comment if you feel like it!
     :))
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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