
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/692735.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin/
      Jackson_Whittemore, Vernon_Boyd/Isaac_Lahey/Erica_Reyes
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent, Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf),
      Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      Armpit_Kink, Body_Worship, First_Time, Oral_Sex, Fluff, Pack, Humor,
      Awkwardness, Frottage
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-20 Words: 6298
****** Pit Stop ******
by Fr333bird
Summary
     Stiles has a thing for Derek, and also maybe a little (okay a big)
     thing for Derek’s armpits.
     “Really, Stiles?” Stiles heard amusement in Derek’s tone, but his
     voice was a little breathless too, so Stiles assumed this was all
     good. “I knew you liked seeing me work out but I always figured it
     was a muscle thing.”
     “It’s an all of you thing.” Stiles’ breath made the hairs move and
     tickle his chin, and Derek squirmed. “The muscles are good too, but
     Jesus, Derek. I don’t know. It’s just a thing okay? Your armpits are
     hot. Deal with it.”
Notes
     This_gif made me do it.
     Thanks to Tyler Hoechlin’s Pit Crew on Twitter for enabling (you know
     who you are), to sk_lou for britpurging and to Beckybrit for betaing.
     This fic is basically an ode to Tyler’s armpits. What is my life?
As if Stiles’ life wasn’t already insane enough, his inconvenient thingfor
Derek somehow morphed into a thing for Derek’s armpits.
It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t find all of Derek ridiculously attractive –
because obviously he was perfect in every way if you overlooked his anger
management issues. Derek was ridiculously hot, like straight out of gay porn
hot (and Stiles would know). But there was something about Derek’s armpits in
particular that made Stiles feel like he was losing his grip on his sanity.
They were on display entirely more often than Stiles felt was fair or
reasonable. Derek seemed to own a huge collection of tanks and not nearly
enough T-shirts, and whenever he stretched or reached for anything Stiles’
attention was somehow drawn to the soft vulnerability of the skin on the
underside of his arms, and the tantalizing tuft of dark hair that was revealed.
Derek had thawed and relaxed a little now that the pack had finally bonded
after uniting to deal with the Alpha Pack. Derek seemed to tolerate Stiles more
these days. Stiles wasn’t sure that Derek actually liked him – liking might be
a little strong – but he put up with Stiles’ company, and even occasionally
cracked a smile at one of Stiles’ jokes. Stiles couldn’t deny how much he loved
seeing that curve of Derek’s lips when it was for him. It happened so rarely
that each smile Derek bestowed felt like a gift.
The armpit deal was sealed when Stiles turned up alone at Derek’s place one day
after school. He screeched to a halt in his jeep, grabbed his laptop and jogged
over to the door, then lifted his hand to knock.
“Come in, Stiles.” Derek’s voice echoed from inside before Stiles’ hand had
even made contact with the wood. Stiles would never get entirely used to freaky
werewolf senses, even though he was surrounded by the supernatural.
“I hate it when you do that,” he grumbled as he pushed open the newly sanded
and varnished front door. “Can’t you just pretend sometimes? Just go along with
it and let me knock as though you’re a normal person?”
Stiles’ words trailed off as he took in the sight of Derek doing pull ups from
the door frame in the living room. Stiles walked closer. Derek was shirtless,
sheened with sweat, and the rhythmic up and down motion of his body and the
bunching of his muscles made Stiles’ thoughts immediately go to very dirty
places. His gaze locked onto Derek’s torso and slid over it appraisingly.
Fuck, he was getting hard. Look away, Stiles, look away!
Stiles tried, he really did. His gaze slid sideways, trying to get away from
the smorgasbord of sexy werewolf deliciousness that was flexing in front of him
– all rock hard abs, distracting nipples and bulging biceps. But Stiles only
made it as far as Derek’s right armpit and was completely unable to look away.
How was it possible that even his armpits were perfect? Black hair, stark
against Derek’s pale skin, was almost hidden as he pulled his body up each
time. But then as Derek lowered himself down again it was fully visible,
shockingly dark against the soft-looking skin that surrounded it.
Stiles took a shuddering breath, and that only made matters worse, because even
his puny human senses could detect the rich tang of Derek’s sweat that
surrounded him. Stiles’ body inevitably reacted, his knees going weak as more
blood rushed to his dick.
Derek didn’t stop. His movements continued, all power and grace and effortless
strength. But when Stiles dragged his gaze to Derek’s face, Derek was watching
him. His green-gold eyes were knowing, and the hint of a smirk tugged at the
corners of his lips.
“What can I do for you?” He smiled properly now, teeth shining white in the dim
light of the old house.
“I... uh...” Stiles’ mind was blank.
He knew that he’d come here for a reason, but all he could think about was that
black whorl of hair in Derek’s armpit and how he wanted to look at it again. He
wanted to bury his nose in it and breathe Derek in. He even wanted to lick it.
And that should have been gross, but Stiles was obviously some kind of sick
armpit pervert, because the thought of his tongue moving over that hair and
making it wet with his spit was making his dick so hard he was about to burst
out of his pants. He shifted his laptop to cover it.
Laptop. Yes! That’s why he was here.
“There’s something here I need to show you. Derek was still doing pull ups,
making them look effortless. His eyebrows drew up and he grinned suggestively
as he looked down at the laptop covering Stiles’ crotch.
“Okay.” He dropped, landing with feline grace – which was kind of ironic for a
werewolf when you thought about it.
Stiles turned and walked over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down,
leaning forward to hide his boner as he powered up his laptop. Derek came and
stood beside him, leaning with his arms on the table as he waited. The heat
radiated off him; Stiles could feel it through the thin fabric of his plaid
shirt. He jiggled his knee, unable to contain his nervous energy and need and
want without something spilling out.
“Look,” he said, tapping on the mouse pad and jabbing his finger at the screen,
grateful for the distraction at last. A photograph of a gruesome half-eaten
deer carcass filled the screen. “Someone posted this on Facebook earlier, but
the police made them pull it. My dad’s investigating it. Suspicious animal
attacks... again.” Stiles shook his head. “But Scott overheard Deaton talking
to Dad and they have no idea what could have done this. There’s no local
wildlife that kills like this.”
Derek leaned closer and Stiles caught a whiff of his scent again. The dark,
rich musk of him made Stiles’ leg bounce faster as he willed his erection away.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Derek said. Stiles turned to look at him
and Derek was frowning, mouth turned down. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Do
you have any ideas?”
“Not yet,” Stiles admitted. “But I came here first in case you knew anything. I
thought it might save time; but if there’s something on the internet I’ll find
it.”
He pulled out his laptop cable. “I’m going to need caffeine.” He wanted to get
Derek away from him so he could concentrate. He kept his voice light. “And you
should go shower, you smell like you’ve been chasing rabbits and rolling in
dead things.”
Derek glared, but his lips twitched and his eyes flickered to Stiles’ groin.
Stiles felt his cheeks heat as he turned his attention back to the screen.
Yeah. He was so busted.
                                      ~#~
After that, Stiles was constantly and achingly aware of Derek even more than he
had been before. And maybe it was just coincidence – because it was the summer,
and the weather was hot – but Derek’s armpits seemed to be constantly on
display, even more than usual. As a result, Stiles was constantly popping
awkward boners, even more than usual.
His life sucked.
It was a couple of weeks after armpit-gate and Stiles had long given up trying
not to think about Derek’s pits while he was jerking off because it was
impossible, okay? They were there whether he wanted them in his thoughts or
not, lodged into his subconscious like a festering splinter under a fingernail,
only sexier. That patch of soft black hair against smooth skin and hard muscle
kept popping into his head, and Stiles was pretty sure it wasn’t coincidence
that the image usually triggered a shamefully powerful orgasm, leaving him
shaking and weak in the aftermath.
Tonight, the pack was gathering at the Hale house for a meeting to discuss the
animal attacks. There had been several since the first that had started the
police investigation. Mostly on deer but a couple of horses had been savaged
too. There had been some security footage from the stables from where a horse
had been taken, and Stiles had managed to get hold of a copy. Their best guess
from the grainy images was that they were dealing with a chupacabra. Sure, you
weren’t supposed to get them in California but nothing surprised Stiles
anymore. This one had obviously strayed farther north than usual and had landed
up in Beacon Hills, the magnet to all weird and not-so-wonderful creatures.
When Stiles arrived – half an hour late and starving because it was one of
those days – the living room at the Hale house was full of people.
“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late.” He looked around the room, searching for Derek’s
disapproving face and judgy eyebrows.
Scott and Allison were draped all over each other in one armchair, Jackson and
Lydia in another. Erica was stretched out across the couch with her head in
Boyd’s lap and her feet in Isaac’s. She was running her fingernails over Boyd’s
torso as Isaac’s hand slid over her denim clad thighs, making her giggle and
squirm.
Stiles didn’t even want to know what was going on with those three. He was
sexually frustrated enough without imagining how that particular sex sandwich
might go. Stiles really didn’t need to be reminded that he was the only person
in the pack who wasn’t getting laid, except for Derek – he assumed. Because
despite looking like a fallen angel sans actual wings, Derek apparently wasn’t
getting any either. And yes, this was something Stiles had discussed with
Scott, who insisted that he’d be able to smell it on Derek if he was having sex
with anyone. Stiles supposed that Derek’s state of celibacy could only be down
to his trust issues, because he knew that Derek could turn on the charm when
required. He could totally get laid if he wanted to.
Speaking of Derek... “So, where the hell is Derek?” Stiles asked, taking a seat
on the second couch. “I know I’m hardly in a position to criticize tardiness
tonight, but it’s very uncool for an alpha to be late for his own pack meeting.
We should eat all the snacks before he gets here as revenge.”
“I have no idea where he is.” Lydia shrugged. “But Jackson and I have a
homework project to finish so if he doesn’t get here soon, we’re taking off.
This wasn’t meant to be a long meeting anyway, nobody has much to report.”
“We’re supposed to be going to the movies.” Scott frowned and looked at his
watch, then at Allison. “If we go now we could get milkshakes first. It doesn’t
look like Derek’s coming anytime soon.”
They sat around for another ten minutes, sharing what little new information
they had about the killings. There had been one more reported case in recent
days, but Stiles had kept them all in the loop by email anyway so there really
wasn’t much more to say.
“Come on, boys.” Erica peeled herself off Boyd and Isaac’s laps and held out a
hand to each of them. “Take me home.”
The three of them were still shacked up in the railway carriage, despite
Derek’s offer of rooms in the Hale house. They seemed to like it there. Or
maybe they just liked their privacy. Werewolf senses made it hard to come by in
shared accommodation and perhaps they didn’t want to rub Derek’s muzzle in
their little ménage arrangement.
The ‘boys’ got up and flanked her as they made their way to the door. “Tell
Derek we’re sorry we missed him.” Erica blew a kiss to Stiles over her
shoulder.
“Sure.” Stiles nodded. “Bye, guys.”
Lydia was standing now and looking expectantly at Jackson. She arched a perfect
eyebrow. “This homework isn’t going to do itself you know.”
Jackson got up and slid his arm around her shoulders. It was still weird seeing
them back together, happy at last. Stiles was honestly pleased for them now,
glad that they’d found each other again. His uncontrollable crush for Derek had
obliterated any residual feelings that Stiles had for Lydia. She was nothing
more than a friend to him now.
After Lydia and Jackson had said their goodbyes and the door had closed behind
them, Stiles caught Scott looking at his watch again.
“Oh, just go!” Stiles flapped his hands at them. He knew they were desperate to
get away. Allison still hadn’t admitted to her dad that she’d started dating
Scott again, so their time together was limited. “Go, and make out in the back
row or whatever it is you do at the movies. I’ll hang around for awhile in case
Derek shows.”
“Are you sure?” Scott asked, uncertain.
But Allison grinned brightly, jumping up out of Scott’s lap, ready to leave.
“Thanks Stiles.” She blew him a kiss.
“Yes I’m sure, and you’re welcome.” He rolled his eyes at them. “Now, get out
of here!”
Left alone in Derek’s house, Stiles raided the kitchen. The lack of decent food
was pathetic. He honestly wondered how Derek survived on a diet of breakfast
cereal and the occasional sandwich. Surely he must need more protein than that
to keep those muscles? Maybe he ate a lot of take out.
Stiles was sitting at Derek’s kitchen table eating a bowl of Heart to Heart
cereal when he finally heard the front door opening. “About fucking time, Man,”
he called. “I’m in the kitchen. The others had stuff to do – by which I mostly
mean each other – so they took off. I was hungry so I made myself at home but
your cupboards are pretty bare. You really need to do more grocery shopping...”
His voice trailed off as Derek strode into the kitchen. “Fuck! What happened to
you?”
“I found it.” Derek’s voice was grim and Stiles could see from the set of his
shoulders and the clench of his jaw that he was in pain. “Well technically I
found one of them, and its mate found me.”
The fabric of Derek’s thin white tank was ripped in several places and Stiles
could see the blood welling from some deep scratches that hadn’t healed yet. He
was dirty too, with smears of mud on his clothes and dry leaves in his hair as
though he’d been rolling around.
“What was it?” Stiles asked, moving closer to inspect the damage. He circled
around Derek and found deeper cuts on his back, claw marks that had torn deep
into his flesh. “These are nasty, we need to get you cleaned up so you can heal
properly.”
“You were right.” Derek’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “It was a chupacabra.
Well... two of them in fact. I caught the scent while I was out running and
found the male first. But the female came out of nowhere, she dropped onto my
back while I was dealing with her mate.” He started to peel up his tank,
hissing as the material caught where the blood was starting to clot at the
edges of the wounds.
“Let me.” Stiles took over, easing Derek’s top up gently, taking care not to
tug at the new skin that was trying to heal. He slid it up and over as Derek
lifted his arms obediently for Stiles to undress him. His body was hot and
sweaty from running, his scent strong and heady as Stiles inhaled. He kept his
eyes on Derek’s injuries and away from temptation. Now was not the time to be
ogling. “Sit down,” Stiles instructed. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Stiles took his time. Derek leaned forward over the kitchen table, his body
tight with tension as Stiles cleaned the deep gashes on his back as gently as
he could. The dirt from the creatures’ claws was slowing the healing process,
so he had to get it out. Derek stayed utterly silent as Stiles dabbed at the
wounds with cotton padding soaked in warm water. There were eight gashes on
Derek’s back in all; four parallel lines from each shoulder down to Derek’s
shoulder blades where the beast had pounced on him before he’d managed to throw
it off. It had just missed the ink of Derek’s tattoo, the gashes just half an
inch away from the outer edges.
Stiles worked his way from left to right, and by the time he reached the second
set of four, the first couple on the other side of Derek’s back had nearly
healed. The new skin was pink and slightly shiny where the cuts had knitted
closed. Stiles knew from experience that they would be invisible within a few
hours, as though they had never been there at all. It never ceased to amaze
him.
When he’d finished working on Derek’s back he straightened up, stretching the
kinks out of his spine for a moment. “Turn around.” He put a hand on Derek’s
shoulder, enjoying the smoothness of that warm skin under his fingertips.
Derek shifted his chair around and faced Stiles. “I can do these myself.” He
gestured to the scratches on his chest. They were more superficial than the
ones on his back had been.
Stiles shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ve got it. You should keep still while
those gashes on your back heal up. You’ll be good as new in fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks.” Derek’s lips curved into that smile that Stiles loved.
Stiles refreshed the water in the bowl and crouched down beside Derek’s chair
to inspect the damage. Most of the cuts on Derek’s chest were already healing
well, so Stiles just gave them a quick clean where there were any that were
still open and washed the dried blood away with a washcloth. Derek sat passive,
letting Stiles take care of him, and Stiles tried not to notice how Derek’s
nipples tightened as he drew the cloth over them, leaving them damp and erect.
Stiles pushed down an inappropriate jolt of arousal. Derek was injured, Stiles
needed to focus on that.
“There’s just this one still to do.” Derek lifted his arm and Stiles winced.
The last gash that needed attention was deep. It was evil-looking, with ragged
edges that ran around Derek’s ribcage and up his flank. “That one looks nasty.”
Stiles frowned. He stood and took the bowl to the sink to fetch some more fresh
water; the stuff left in the bowl was stained red from Derek’s blood again.
“Yeah, it was from the male’s back foot. He managed to get a good slash at me
before I ripped his head off.”
Stiles’ eyes jerked up. Derek was grinning, teeth glinting dangerously in the
dim light, the dark stubble on his jaw rough and touchable. Stiles’ nipples
tingled as he imagined how it would feel scraping over his skin.
“Lift your arm up.” Stiles squeezed the excess water from his cotton ball and
set to work, biting on his bottom lip in concentration as he cleaned this last,
long scratch that marred the perfection of Derek’s torso.
He started at the bottom, where the cut was deepest. Derek hissed, his body
jerking as Stiles dug deep to get out a piece of dirt that was lodged in there.
“I’m sorry.” He looked up. Derek’s face was expressionless. “Get on with it.”
“Okay.” Stiles worked his way up slowly, making sure that the wound was
perfectly clean. He finally reached the newly healed skin just below Derek’s
armpit where the cut had been shallower and Derek’s body had already worked its
magic. There was dried blood covering the pink skin, so Stiles wiped that away
and Derek jerked again. Stiles looked up, questioningly. “Does that hurt?”
“Ticklish,” Derek hissed through gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” Stiles said again, but he couldn’t help the smirk that quirked his
lips.
“You’re loving it, you liar. I can smell it on you.” Derek glared at him, but
there was a hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his lips.
Stiles was loving it. He loved taking care of Derek like this, and he loved
that Derek trusted him enough to let him. He loved that Derek was ticklish,
because who knew? But most of all he loved the softness of that secret, pale
skin high up on Derek’s ribs that he’d never been able to touch before. The
mood between them had shifted subtly. Derek was nearly healed now and Stiles
was no longer afraid of hurting him. His attention was starting to wander away
from his first aid duties and Stiles found himself beginning to notice the
little details about Derek’s body that the unusual proximity was allowing him
to see.
Stiles dipped his cotton ball in the bowl one last time, and watched as his
tentative swipe at the now-clean skin under Derek’s arm caused a trail of goose
bumps to rise in response to the cold water. Derek flinched slightly, but kept
his arm up for Stiles.
Stiles’ gaze slid over Derek’s torso and saw that his nipples were still tight,
maybe from the cool water. But the thought that it might be due to Stiles’
touch, however clinical and platonic, sent a flush of heat through Stiles’ body
that made his dick start to fill. He knew he should move away fast, clear away
the mess of bloodied cotton pads and let Derek shower and change. But he had
Derek here, close, letting Stiles touch him, and Stiles wasn’t ready to let
that go. He indulged himself just for a moment longer – how could a few more
seconds hurt? He let himself look at the tufts of black hair in Derek’s armpit
as he breathed in the heady scent of Derek’s skin, so close to his nose, warm
under his fingertips as he traced the fading line of the scar on Derek’s ribs.
He could feel the hardness of them under the layers of muscle and counted as
his fingers skated over them. One, two, three, four...
“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was uncertain. Stiles couldn’t look at him, because he
knew that if Derek couldn’t already smell his arousal he would certainly be
able to see it written all over Stiles’ face. Stiles forever sucked at hiding
his emotions.
“There you go.” Stiles’ voice wobbled as he pulled his hand away. “Good as
new.”
His knees protested as he straightened up. He might only be seventeen, but
crouching for that long wasn’t comfortable for anyone. He still avoided Derek’s
eyes, but before Stiles could turn away, Derek’s hands came up and grasped his
hips, strong and unyielding.
“Stiles,” Derek said again, and this time it wasn’t a question. It was a
demand. “Look at me.”
A flush burned through Stiles, crawling over his face and neck as his heart
surged. He slowly dragged his gaze up and Derek’s eyes pinned him, holding him
as surely as the hands on his hips. The greeny-gold of Derek’s irises was
almost entirely eclipsed by black and Stiles’ pulse jumped with crazy hope and
confusion.
“What?” Stiles’ voice stuck in his throat, coming out as an embarrassing squeak
that made his flush deepen. It felt like his whole body was on fire, the heat
centered on his dick where it throbbed, aching in the confines of his jeans.
“It’s not just you, Stiles.” Derek’s gaze dropped to Stiles’ crotch where the
outline of his erection was mortifyingly visible, tenting out the front of his
pants.
“What?” Stiles said again. His voice was still at a pitch where only bats
should be able to hear him – or maybe dogs. This nearly made him snort with
nervous laughter, but Derek’s hand grasping his wrist derailed his thoughts.
Derek pulled, and then pressed Stiles’ palm against the bulge in his jeans and
there were no words to adequately describe the sound that Stiles made when he
felt the unmistakable hardness of Derek’s dick under his hand. It was maybe
somewhere between a whimper and a gurgle with a hint of fuckfuckfuck, I can’t
breathe. Stiles was still staring at Derek, unable to look away, and he watched
as a flush crept over Derek’s cheekbones and his lips parted as his erection
flexed against Stiles’ palm.
“Oh my God... you... you’re... what, really?” Okay so maybe the words made
little sense, but Stiles felt that his tone of hapless confusion and utter
disbelief made his feelings pretty clear.
Derek’s eyes flared red and he grabbed Stiles’ belt loop and pulled. Stiles
stumbled and ended up in Derek’s lap, his hands braced on the hard, smooth
planes of Derek’s chest. Derek reached up and his firm hands gripped Stiles’
face, fingers curling behind his neck as Derek pulled him inexorably,
inevitably down into what Stiles realized was his first real kiss. Real, as in
someone kissing him because they really wanted to, not because a bottle was
pointing at them at a party, or because somebody had dared them to do it.
Stiles had often imagined how a first real kiss might go, and it was absolutely
nothing like this hot clash of lips and tongue and teeth. Derek’s stubble
dragged over his chin and cheek as Stiles tilted his head, thrusting his tongue
in deeper. This kiss blew everything that Stiles had imagined out of the water.
It was messy and desperate and perfect. Stiles could feel Derek’s cock against
his as they ground together, and Derek moaned into his mouth, a small, needy
sound that nearly broke Stiles completely.
He tore his lips away, gasping for breath and felt the hot slide as Derek
licked over his throat, the scrape of teeth and Derek’s fingers biting into his
hips as he thrust up against Stiles again.
“Fuck, fuck... timeout. I don’t want to come yet. Derek, please!”
Stiles gripped Derek’s head, his fingers twisting into the thick strands of
hair. Stiles had no fucking idea what was going on here, other than the
immediately obvious. There was touching and kissing, and were probably going to
be orgasms. He was all in favor of that, but if this was going to be the only
time he ever got to do this then he wanted to make the most of the opportunity,
and coming in his pants after two minutes of kissing would be a fucking waste.
He wanted to explore more than just Derek’s mouth.
Derek pulled away and grinned, his eyes dark and hooded, the red gone again.
“Hold on tight.” He stood in one swift movement and Stiles yelped as his legs
wrapped instinctively around Derek’s waist.
“Jesus!” He clung like a monkey. Could this be more undignified? “A little
warning would have been... ahhh!” Derek’s mouth was on his neck again, biting
and sucking and hurting in a really good way. “Don’t you dare leave a mark!”
Stiles warned him. “I’m not wearing a turtleneck for a week, this isn’t the
1970s, and I really don’t want to have to explain this to my Dad.” Derek’s
chuckle was muffled by Stiles’ skin, but the biting turned back to licking,
which Stiles was totally on board with. And then Derek was kissing him again
until Stiles forgot all about dignity, because it was totally overrated.
Derek somehow managed to carry Stiles through the house, up the stairs and to
his bedroom without coming up for air. He sat on the edge of the bed, Stiles
still wrapped around him and they shuffled back, until Derek was lying back on
the bed with Stiles straddling his hips, their lips still locked together in a
wet, hot slide of awesomeness.
Derek’s fingers were plucking at Stiles’ buttons and the sound of one pinging
off and skittering across the floorboards made Stiles break the kiss to help
him. “Here... let me.” He finished unbuttoning and pulled it off, throwing it
blindly across the room. Derek’s hands were already pushing up his T-shirt,
skating warm over the soft skin of Stiles’ belly, grazing his nipples and
making him arch into the touch. He lifted his arms and helped to wriggle it
over his head, tossing it aside before pausing and looking down at Derek for a
moment.
They stared at each other, their gazes roaming hungrily over each other’s
bodies.
Stiles looked at Derek like he’d never allowed himself to look before, like
he’d always longed to. He took in those washboard abs, the perfect nipples,
tight and dark and looking like they wanted to be touched. He ran his
fingertips over them, then pinched lightly and felt Derek’s hips hitch under
his ass. His gaze got caught on the almost-healed scar that ran up Derek’s
ribcage. He trailed his finger up it. “Is this okay now? I don’t want to hurt
you.”
“You won’t.” Derek’s voice was rough, with an edge of impatience. “It’s fine,
just a little sensitive.” He shivered as Stiles’ fingertip moved higher and he
lifted his arm above his head so that Stiles could see where the scar ended,
just an inch below his armpit.
Before Stiles had time to think about what he was doing he had leaned forward
and was using his tongue on the scar, licking smoothly along the livid pink
line. He could taste the salt and sweetness of Derek’s skin and the faintest
copper tang of old blood. When he reached the top of the mark he kept moving,
pressing kisses to the soft skin until his nose was buried in that soft, black
hair. His cock surged, twitching and leaking pre-come in his underwear as he
pressed his face in and breathed. “Oh fuck,” Stiles whimpered. The warm musky
scent overwhelmed him. It was almost too much, to finally be here, doing this.
Derek chuckled, a deep rumble that Stiles felt against his cheek as he nuzzled,
running his lips over the hair until he reached the skin on the underside of
Derek’s arm and paused to suck and lick. “Really, Stiles?” Stiles heard
amusement in Derek’s tone, but his voice was a little breathless too, so Stiles
assumed this was all good. “I knew you liked seeing me work out but I always
figured it was a muscle thing.”
“It’s an all of you thing.” Stiles’ breath made the hairs move and tickle his
chin, and Derek squirmed. “The muscles are good too, but Jesus, Derek. I don’t
know. It’s just a thing okay? Your armpits are hot. Deal with it.”
He pulled back, sitting up to look down at Derek spread out on the bed beneath
him. Derek grinned up at him lazily, and Stiles’ eyes narrowed. He grabbed
Derek’s other arm and pushed it up, pinning both wrists over Derek’s head so he
could see both armpits now, dark and soft and delicious.
“I never knew you were so kinky.” Derek hitched his hips again, his cock
pressing up insistently.
“Well there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
Derek was nothing like Stiles would have imagined in a sexual situation. He’d
always thought Derek would be all power and control and taking charge. But here
he was, letting Stiles pin him to the mattress. But Stiles knew that with one
move Derek could flip them over and Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing
to stop him. That knowledge sent a thrill through Stiles. He lowered himself
over Derek and turned his attention to the other side of his torso. He kissed
and licked his way from nipple to pit until Derek was squirming against his
touch, his breath coming in gasps. He arched up against Stiles, rubbing their
cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. “Too many fucking clothes,”
he complained.
Huh, yeah. Derek’s armpits were too distracting, clearly. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
Stiles sat up and fumbled with Derek’s fly, unbuttoning and unzipping and
freeing his cock – thick, sticky-wet and uncut – and then doing the same for
his own. He dove back down, moving his hips, sliding their dicks together as he
licked back into Derek’s armpit, making the hair wet and slick with his spit.
Derek squirmed under him. “Shit! That tickles, stop!”
“Spoilsport.” Stiles huffed, but then he had to pause to get rid of a stray
hair that was caught in his teeth, so maybe he’d steer clear of the licking
anyway. Armpit licking was probably sexier in theory than in practice, he
decided, but the nuzzling was awesome. He moved his hips faster, his breath
becoming ragged as he got close.
“Sit up,” Derek begged. “I want to see you come.”
Stiles scrambled up, his legs were still tangled in his jeans, but he managed
to straddle Derek’s belly. Derek lifted his head to watch as Stiles jerked
himself furiously now, riding the crest of the wave, poised to crash over any
second. He could feel the movement of Derek’s hand working his own cock,
bumping against Stiles’ ass on the upstroke. God, he was so fucking close. “If
you jizz in my armpit you will be licking it off,” Derek warned him. “Even if
it does tickle. Actually I’ve got a better idea.”
He grabbed Stiles’ hips and pulled him up his chest, eyes fixed on Stiles’ dick
and lips parting hungrily. Stiles nearly jizzed all over his face when he
realized what Derek wanted. He barely managed to get the head of his cock past
Derek’s lips before he was coming, spurting into Derek’s mouth as Derek sucked
him down and worked his cock with long slow pulls of his mouth. Finally, Stiles
stopped pulsing and shuddering. He was dimly aware that Derek had a hand on his
own dick again. “Did you come yet?” Derek shook his head, mouth still full of
Stiles’ softening prick. “Good. I want to suck you too.”
Stiles navigated his way down Derek’s body, legs still shaking from the
aftermath of coming harder than he’d ever come in his life. He lay on his side,
pulling on Derek’s hip till he rolled to face him. He flicked his eyes up to
meet Derek’s. “Okay, standard disclaimer from the virgin here. I’ve never done
this before, so apologies in advance if I suck really badly – pun intended.”
Derek’s laugh was soft, but his hands were gentle as he cupped Stiles’ cheek
and ran his thumb along Stiles’ lips, parting them before nudging the head of
his cock inside. Stiles licked around the head, tasting salt that made his
mouth water, before opening wider and starting to suck in a messy, sloppy
rhythm. It was easier than he’d expected, and somehow he found that he knew
what to do – partly by instinct and partly from impressively thorough research
using the medium of gay porn. God bless the internet. He gagged a little when
he tried to take Derek too deep, so he pulled back, using his hand at the base
and focused on the head. He tongued Derek’s foreskin, fascinated by how he
could slide his tongue under it, then he rolled it right back and licked around
the rim which made Derek moan as his fingers tightened against Stiles’ scalp.
“Close,” he growled.
Stiles took that as a warning, and he appreciated Derek’s consideration as a
blowjob virgin, but there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to see this
through. If a blowjob was worth doing then it was worth doing well. Who knew
when Stiles would next get the opportunity to suck cock, let alone Derek’s
cock? There was no way he was pulling off until Derek had come.
He sucked like a pro, sliding his lips over the rim with each stroke until
Derek made a strangled sound, fingers clutching at Stiles’ shoulders in a
bruising grip as his cock pulsed against Stiles’ tongue, filling his mouth with
salty spurts. Stiles gave himself a mental high five as he managed to
coordinate swallowing while still sucking gently, his hand moving lower to cup
and squeeze Derek’s balls as his dick began to soften in Stiles’ mouth.
When he finally pulled away, Stiles couldn’t help the smug grin that spread
across his face. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand where they were
slick with spit and a little come that had escaped.
“Get up here.” Derek’s voice was a soft growl and his eyes were luminous as he
stared right at Stiles. He was looking at him as though he’d never really seen
him before. Stiles could understand that. Everything was different now. Once
you’d had someone’s dick in your mouth there was no going back to how it was
before. Even if this was only a one-time thing – and Stiles really hoped that
it wasn’t – nobody could take away Stiles’ knowledge of the sounds that Derek
made when he came, or the memory of his heavy cock in Stiles’ mouth.
Stiles licked his lips nervously as he wriggled up the bed, hampered by his
stupid underwear and pants that were trapped around his thighs. He still had
socks and shoes on for fuck’s sake. He lay facing Derek, his hand resting
tentatively on the bare skin of Derek’s hip.
“Can you stay tonight?” Derek asked gruffly. He looked nervous and defensive,
as though he was expecting to be knocked back.
“Sure.” Stiles didn’t even try to hold back the goofy smile that stretched
across his face. “Dad’s working tonight anyway, I told him I might stay at
Scott’s.”
An answering smile spread over Derek’s face, and he leaned in, reaching for
Stiles and pulling him closer. And this time, when Derek kissed him, it was
exactly how Stiles had always imagined a first kiss would be – soft, gentle, a
little uncertain, and it felt like the beginning of something.
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