
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/220854.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Series:
      Part 1 of Pack'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-08 Words: 5181
****** Roll Over ******
by strokeof_genie
Summary
     Stiles does some research on pack dynamics.
Notes
     Slight D/s, given the subject matter. Spoilers possible for episodes
     one through six, though it verges from continuity before episode
     six's end.
"I'm not saying you have to trust me, just help me keep the moron alive. You
can't doubt that I've been trying to do that," Derek says, and Stiles shrugs,
but it's mostly to piss him off, even if in the back of his mind there's a
little voice mumbling about how that's a bad idea. "And keep him from hurting
other people," Derek adds, and still, Stiles shrugs.
Perhaps Derek can smell or sense - or something - how contrary Stiles is trying
to be, because he just snorts and looks out the window. Stiles leans back
further into the seat, and wonders vaguely why the guy has such a nice car, but
his house is still a tragic heap of wreckage and bad memories - and then he
answers his own question.
"Look, okay, how about this," Stiles eventually says. "You help me help him,
because we both know that he's not going to, like, roll over and do what you
say." Derek smirks at Stiles' word choice, and Stiles tries to ignore it. "I'll
convince him to listen, if you convince me that it's a good idea," Stiles says,
and hurries to continue as Derek growls. "And together we'll keep him alive,
kill the alpha, and save the world or whatever."
"I hope you realize that - never mind," Derek says, and Stiles doesn't need
super wolf hearing to catch the grinding of teeth as Derek stops himself from
saying - something. Stiles feels a little chagrined at how cavalier they are,
assuming Derek will agree. "Fine," Derek agrees, his voice a low growl, and
Stiles' grin is all the bravado he can muster while being trapped with a
werewolf in the car. "You understand that anger is the quickest way to attain
control of the wolf. Your theory about heart rates wasn't bad, but it was too
general, you understand?" Derek waits for Stiles' answering nod, and continues
before he can ask how he knew that Stiles had come up with that little idea.
"I'm trying to get him in control of his anger," Derek says slowly, like he's
having trouble expressing his idea of how to fix this, which just makes Stiles
more nervous that he's winging it and has no real plan. "If he controls his
anger and when he feels it, he can control when the changes happen and how much
- if any - damage he does."
"What about full moons?" Stiles asks, because he knows that as good as any
werewolf can control their anger, that time of the month is still a killer. So
to speak.
"I'm not sure yet," Derek admits, and if the answer didn't scare Stiles so much
he would enjoy just how much it takes Derek to admit that. Stiles can hear how
much it takes.
"Look, I'm not trying to be a dick, but I don't understand why this is so hard
for you. I mean, you're family," Stiles starts, but stops immediately when
Derek's low growl isn't so low anymore. His eyes flash blue, and Stiles
freezes, the voice in the back of his mind gibbering about how T-Rexes can't
see you when you're still, like that fucking helps. Jesus, a werewolf in the
car is scarier than anything, holy shit. "What I mean is, you grew up with this
and you grew up around this. Why is it so hard to just, like, know things? Like
about full moons?" If he and Derek are going to keep Scott alive, Stiles needs
to understand. He's pretty sure that Derek likes keeping people in the dark and
keeping the control, and that's fine with Stiles, honestly. He just needs to
understand this world enough to help his best friend, and that's it. Probably.
Stiles sneaks a look at Derek out of the corner of his eye, and continues to
look when Derek's eyes are locked on something out the front windshield.
"My family," Derek starts, his eyes no longer supernaturally glowing, "has -
had this in their blood for as long as I can remember hearing. We were either
born this way, or we were born human, and we stay whatever way we're born. We
learn the basis of control at an early age. It's easy to teach someone that,
along with the growth of their character and personality," it's with a
surprising amount of thoughtfulness that Derek speaks. "It's harder when the
person is a emotional and hormonal wreck already, like a teenager."
"Oh," Stiles says. That makes sense. In a really terrible and foreboding sort
of way, but wait. "Aren't you like, only three years older than us? As in nine-
teen?" He can't help but poke fun at Derek and bother him, but Stiles is like
that with everyone. He knows that one day it will get him in trouble, and
today's a good bet because Derek's eyes flash again, but this time Stiles feels
no danger - or rather, no more than he normally feels.
And then Derek huffs out a gruff laugh, which makes Stiles eyes widen. "I'm
twenty as of two months ago," Derek says, looking out his window, but Stiles
can see his exasperated smile in the reflection. It makes Stiles want to do
something like cross his legs, or lean closer, or escape the car altogether. He
freezes and his heart thuds when Derek turns toward him. "You know, you might
normally have a point, but like I said before, our circumstances are too
different. It's also different when the wolf in question - when there's no pack
or structure for them. The way I learned about my powers gives a lot more
leeway than how Scott has to learn." He's not smiling anymore, but he's not
angry.
Stiles is quiet for a second, and actually thinks very hard on what he's about
to say, before he gets over it and adjusts to the idea that there's no other
way around it. "So Scott needs a pack?" Stiles asks, and Derek - freezes.
There's no other word for it.
"The alpha we are after is, in a technical sense, Scott's pack. He turned
Scott. And there's no real way for that to help him, as this alpha is rogue,"
Derek says, "and anyway, he's too old for it to do any real good if you're
still trying to use my family as a baseline."
"I thought that if he has an alpha, he'd be forced to listen to them?" Stiles
suggests, and glances at Derek out of the corner of his eye. "Why can't he be
his own alpha? Wait, no, please completely disregard that I even suggested it
because that is an awful idea and, hey," Stiles stops, and grins at Derek,
bright and excited in his brilliance. Derek eyes him warily. "Why can't you be
our alpha?"
"You're a moron," Derek says flatly, but Stiles knows he isn't. This is a
brilliant idea! Scott needs someone he can trust to help him out, they're all
working together to get this alpha, and Derek needs a pack because he's kind of
lonely, Stiles thinks.
"No, this is a great idea! I mean, we're all working toward killing the alpha,
and toward keeping Scott alive and safe, and if I'm in your, um, pack? Scott
will definitely join in! It's a great idea, Derek, and you know it," Stiles is
actually getting pretty enthused about this idea, even though he really has no
idea what it means to be in a pack, or why Derek is so anti this idea.
"You were ready to turn me out of your car while I was dying of a wolfsbane-
laced bullet wound I got while trying to help Scott, and you're wondering why I
don't have a pack, and why you aren't in it?" Derek's voice is a low growl of
incredulity, and Stiles winces.
"I'm pretty sure I've apologized for that," Stiles manages, and then hurries to
say, "I'm sorry for that, truly I am, please stop growling and, you know, with
the lengthening of the canines and the flashing of the eyes and oh my god
please don't kill me." Stiles closes his eyes and abruptly, the terror, the
danger and the urge to run leave.
"You roll over easy," Derek says, and when Stiles opens his eyes, Derek is
smirking at him. Stiles abruptly wonders if he's attractive to gay guys, and
gay werewolves. He is torn from moving as close to Derek as he can, because the
guy's a little bit like a black hole - only slightly less dangerous - and
moving as far away as possible because Stiles just doesn't understand
him."That's something an alpha looks for in a member of a pack," Derek is eying
him now, and Stiles knows his eyes are wider than ever.
"Um," Stiles says, because he's pretty much over his sexual identity crisis and
has been since he was fourteen, but it's entirely different now, with a
werewolf, in an enclosed space. Stiles understands that pack means submission
to the alpha, which he's generally all right with because it's way too much
work to actually deal with being in charge all of the time. It's just that -
rolling over seemed kind of like a euphemism for something, the way Derek said
it.
He's not sure if that's true, but he's pretty hung up on it. "Why don't you
research pack dynamics and actually get an idea of what you're asking me,"
Derek suggests, and the tone of voice has Stiles' hair standing on end. But
it's not just the tone, it's the commanding and dominant feeling that Derek is
almost exuding.
Which is interesting, Stiles thinks. Derek gets angry, and Stiles gets scared.
Derek is calm, and Stiles relaxes. Derek is dominant, and Stiles...wants to
obey, what the fuck. Stiles squints at him. "Do you have some sort of mood
control ability thing?" Stiles asks, and is pretty sure he shouldn't just blurt
that out, but feels pretty damn gratified about the surprise on Derek's face.
"Not...exactly. It's related to dominance, and how sensitive to my mood people
are," Derek answers, and Stiles shifts again under Derek's thoughtful gaze.
"It's a pack thing?" Stiles asks, but he's pretty sure he gets it. It's more
than Derek's will, because it's not like a mind control thing. It's a mood
thing, and people are unconsciously aware of it. He's seen dogs freak the hell
out because Scott got angry within a hundred yards of them, and it makes Stiles
look at Derek with more fear and respect, because Derek almost directs it, or
reigns it in somehow. It's fascinating.
"It's stronger in pack," is all that Derek says, and this time Stiles is aware
of the unsettled feeling he gets about this conversation, and knows that Derek
won't say more about it. "I'm taking you back to your car now," and starts his
car as emphasis. Everything about Derek discourages conversation, from his
posture to the set of his mouth in a severe frown, to the feeling crawling up
Stiles' spine that makes him keep quiet. It's only a five minute drive, so it's
totally doable.
Derek makes it a two minute drive, and Stiles is wringing his hand out when
they screech up to his car, his fingers still in the claw grip that he used on
the overhead handle. "Jesus Christ, dude," Stiles says, and realizes that in
his scramble for safety he gripped the steadiest thing he could find: his left
hand gripping Derek's wrist tightly as he changed gears.
Stiles quickly drops the werewolf's wrist and as his hands drop to unbuckle his
seatbelt. "Get out of my car," Derek says, and his voice is the most terrifying
thing that Stiles has ever heard, because he looks human, but his voice is no
more than a growl. Stiles trips over himself in his haste to leave the
werewolf's presence.
---
Stiles somehow managed to avoid Derek for the rest of the week, and was pretty
confident that he could continue for the weekend too, until...now. Because now,
Derek is sitting on his bed and glaring at him. "I just can't escape you, can
I?" Stiles asks, after he stops gaping.
This throws Derek, which is pretty cool, except for the growl. "You haven't
seen me all week," Derek says, and then narrows his eyes. "Why do you have a
black eye?" The chill in the room gets edged as Derek frowns, and Stiles
swallows.
"No, I haven't seen you, because I've been avoiding you!" Stiles is kind of
hysterical, because he has felt like he was coming out of his skin this past
week. He might have been wrong about being over his sexual identity crisis,
because he has been seeing Derek. In his dreams, which Stiles really doesn't
want to talk about, or in his nightmares, which he'd rather have in place of
his dreams. They aren't nearly as pervasive.
He had come home from meeting Derek, shaky and keyed up, and while it wasn't
exactly a conscious decision on his part, Stiles stayed up until four in the
morning to research pack dynamics. And then he fell asleep at his desk and woke
up from a dream rather like this: coming home from school to find Derek in his
bed.
Stiles watches Derek think about being avoided, and thinks about what he knows
packs. Specifically, the fact that Derek, as an alpha without a pack, has no
alpha female - which Stiles tries to explain to himself as unimportant but it
never quite penetrates his otherwise normally porous brain - and if Stiles'
idea comes to fruition, Scott would be his beta wolf, and Stiles would be the
human of the pack. The omega, the punching bag. Stiles admits to himself that
he routinely has terrible ideas, but volunteering to be a werewolf's punching
bag is pretty much at the very top, right up there with going out to the forest
in the first place.
Derek smirks, and leans back against Stiles' headboard. "So you looked up pack
dynamics?" Stiles gapes at him, and how - it occurs to Stiles that he has a
very powerful supernatural creature in his bedroom, who is smirking at the
thought of beating the shit out of Stiles whenever he feels like it.
"Okay! Time to leave, up up, off my bed," Stiles says, and throws his book-bag
near his desk, and feels pretty damn brave for turning his back on the
werewolf. Who is on Stiles' bed, Stiles' brain keeps helpfully reminding him.
"Stiles," Derek says slowly, and sits up from his reclined position. "Why do
you have a black eye?" Stiles turns around to face him, and wonders how he's
going to answer.
"Look, Derek, I think it's a bad idea, this pack idea. Forget I mentioned it,
and I'll like, help you with Scott any way I can," Stiles says, and leans back
against his desk. This is his room, his, so why is it always like every room
Derek is in he owns? God, it pisses Stiles off. "So you should leave now, 'kay,
and we'll talk later, so bye," Stiles is firm when he says it, but Derek isn't
moving. He is staring at Stiles, and as Stiles watches he takes a deep breath.
Derek's eyes track up from Stiles chest, where his heart is beating
erratically, to his eye. "I'm guessing you mentioned your idea to Scott, and he
then did some research, argued, and convinced you it was a terrible idea by
getting angry and losing control," Derek says, and swings his legs over the
side of Stiles' bed to stand, which is somehow much, much worse than him lying
down.
"It's not like either of us planned it to go like that, dude! And it is a
terrible idea, pretty much for the reasons that we argued about. I mean, I'm
not like you, how can I hope to even - okay, why are you transforming holy shit
please stop," Stiles' voice gets higher because of the hysteria he feels
bubbling up in his throat, and to his surprise, Derek does stop. He takes one
deep breath, and then another, and Stiles feels the calm settle.
"I'm beginning to think that there's been a misunderstanding, here," Derek
says, his voice raw. He takes one step closer to Stiles, and another, like he's
worried about spooking him, which Stiles thinks is absolutely hilarious
considering that there's one animal in the room, and it's not the metaphorical
elephant. The elephant is Stiles' gay for Derek, Stiles' mind helpfully
supplies, as Derek stops in front of him, barely a breath away.
"Oh, yeah?" Stiles asks, swallowing heavily. He's trapped between the desk and
Derek, and when Derek's hands come up to rest on his hips, Stiles whimpers a
little.
The sound makes Derek smirk. "Who's the only person who can actually get your
idiot best friend to do anything?" Derek asks, but Stiles is distracted by
Derek's thumb, which is up under his shirt, rubbing Stiles' hip with firm
strokes. "Stiles, hey, give me an answer," Derek says, and the rubbing stops.
Stiles shifts forward before he can think about it.
"Alison, I mean, he doesn't even listen to his mom usually anymore," Stiles
says, and sucks in a breath as Derek leans forward and pins Stiles against his
desk, his cheek rubbing against Stiles' as he speaks directly into Stiles' ear.
"Or you," Derek says, and Stiles kind of...stops. He can get Scott to do
things, but that's because Scott trusts him and usually lets Stiles manipulate
him. Which kind of puts a new spin on this whole pack dynamic thing that he
wasn't expecting, and that Scott definitely won't be expecting.
"Wow," Stiles says, and awkwardly grips Derek's shirt. "But I'm not a chick,"
Stiles says, and since he's hard against Derek's thigh, he's pretty sure Derek
knows. Derek kisses him faster than Stiles can imagine, holding him in place
with firm hands on his hips when Stiles tries to get closer.
"Neither am I," Derek says, and it's interesting how his whole body rumbles
under Stiles' hands, as he gets them under Derek's shirt. He's not leaning
Stiles over the desk and just taking, which Stiles is kind of surprised about,
but he takes it as a sign to lean forward and catch Derek's lips again.
"Okay, I know, I just," Stiles just has certain assumptions about the lore he
has read, and being a female seemed kind of important. He stops talking when
Derek growls, but it doesn't make Stiles feel unsafe, even when he nudges
Stiles' jaw up, makes him tilt his head back, and when he nips at Stiles' neck.
"Oh," Stiles says, and god, he's spreading his legs so Derek can get in between
them before it's a conscious thought.
Stiles has to admit to himself that he would even if it were a conscious
thought. "I can smell your arousal," Derek says as he takes a deep breath
against Stiles' throat, though his nose, and breaths out hot to make Stiles
shiver. "In the car, I could smell your arousal, but you're as self aware as a
door," Derek bites him to make a point, it seems, and Stiles knows that when
his pulse jumps Derek can hear it.
"I'm plenty self aware," Stiles insists, and gets bitten harder for his
trouble. "No marks, god, my dad would kill me. Or you," Stiles adds as an
afterthought, and slumps against his desk when Derek laves at him with his
tongue.
"Come on," Derek doesn't quite lift Stiles, but guides him firmly off the desk
and toward the bed. Stiles braces himself for the fall when Derek pushes him,
and starts to spread his legs again for Derek. "Uh-uh," Derek says, and just
leans over to kiss him again, biting Stiles lip when he opens his mouth to
Derek's tongue. "Roll over."
---
It's more difficult that Stiles expected, breathing while Derek's fingers
stretch him and lube him up. "Ah, fuck," he says, pushing his face into his
forearm. His breath hitches every time Derek hits that spot in him, the one he
avoids thinking about because of the detailed anatomy classes he's taken.
"Please, please, please, just - oh," Stiles moans when the fingers inside of
him press hard and firm, and constant pressure that has his dick twitching.
He wants nothing more than to jerk himself off while Derek's fingering him, but
he's holding himself up with one hand, and Derek has his other in a tight grip,
forcing Stiles to help hold himself spread for Derek's fingers. "Keep begging,"
Derek says, and shoves in deep, three fingers into Stiles up to the knuckle,
unless Stiles lost count and he's one digit away from getting fisted, because
holy fuck. There's a burn, but it's not exactly painful. It's like the feeling
he gets after running hard at practice only much better, for a much cooler
reason. He's not going to be a virgin for much longer.
Stiles grins against his arm and rocks back onto Derek's fingers. He's so full,
it's so foreign, but it feels so good. "Please Derek, please, don't stop, oh
god," Stiles doesn't need to be told to continue begging, because he's not sure
he can shut up. He's rarely able to normally, and it seems like each time Derek
moves, he's drawing a sound out of Stiles.
"You're tight," Derek says, and Stiles feels tightly wound, but not tight. He
moans at the loss of the feel of Derek's fingers as they slowly pull out, but
they come back quickly and they're even wetter. He's probably using Stiles'
full bottle of lotion, and these sheets will have to be changed before his
dad's home, but it's so worth it to feel Derek pressing deeper inside him and
setting off sparks of pleasure.
"I - yes, oh please," Stiles says, and tries to spread a little wider, wanting
more of Derek deeper. "Please, Derek," he's still begging, wanting more, but he
clenches around Derek's fingers at the thought of Derek's cock. Maybe he is
tight, Stiles thinks, because the idea of a dick going into him is a strange
mixture of scary and mind-numbingly hot.
"I'm sure you read a lot these past days," Derek starts, and Stiles can't
control his full-body shudder at the particularly deep and forceful thrust into
him, oh god with Derek's pinky sliding inside. Stiles is moaning loudly, so
glad that his dad isn't home, Derek is practically taking apart Stiles' sanity
with his fingers. "But when this happens," Derek continues speaking, leaning
over Stiles to say it directly into Stiles' ear, "you're mine, and no one
else's. No girls at school, no boys, just me."
The bones in Stiles' hand creak with the force of Derek's grip, and Derek's
words bring a clarity to his brain, like a penlight through the sex-haze of his
mind. He's always had a thing for Lydia, always. It wasn't even conscious, it
was just there, always in the back of his mind. Sure, Stiles knows that isn't
healthy, but he's in bed with a werewolf who is about to fuck him raw, and
claim him as part of his pack.
Healthy is relative, Stiles supposes, and he whines high in the back of his
throat as Derek's fingers - god, half his hand is in Stiles' ass - curl into
Stiles' prostate. He shivers as a drop of body-heated lotion slides out of him
with Derek's fingers, and drips down him, leaving a cooling trail on his balls.
It's strange how it's slightly heartbreaking, and feels like how infidelity
must feel, but Stiles knows that he can't live without this, and that Lydia
could never give him this, and that she would never try. Derek will give him
this and wants to, wants it as much as Stiles does.
Maybe more than Stiles does, but only because Stiles probably doesn't grasp
what pack truly means, except that he'll never be alone again and he'll always
have a place to go, and that he'll always have this.
"More," Stiles grunts, and knows that this is the bravest thing he has ever
done, and the stupidest, and the most selfish, but god. Now that he knows this
feeling, and knows that it's only going to get bigger, and more, and
better...Stiles is impatient to get Derek inside of him, so that he can have
this feeling again later, and tomorrow, and after that. "Please, please, I'm
ready and I want more, and," Stiles cuts off, moaning as Derek lets go of his
hand. His bones pop when he clenches it, and moves it down to brace himself as
Derek slowly pulls his fingers out of Stiles' ass.
"Good," Derek growls, and it sends a shiver down Stiles' spine, like it's a
warning and a promise. He takes a deep breath, and then concentrates on how
much he wants to be full again, and on the sounds of Derek, god, slicking his
cock.
Stiles tries, mostly in vain, to spread his legs wider. He gasps at the feel of
Derek, the head of his cock bumping against Stiles so hot and slick. Derek
spreads him with one hand and lines up with the other, pushing in at a slow but
undeniable and firm pace. "Motherfuck," Stiles says, because he just had four
fingers in his ass, and it's still not an easy adjustment to get the head of
Derek's dick into him.
"Shut up," Derek says, low and panting now, "because I'm fighting every
instinct I have by going this slow," slow is good, Stiles thinks, because Derek
keeps going, and then keeps going some more, pushing into him and Stiles feels
so full. "If you beg for it now I'll just give it to you," Derek's voice is as
dark and deep as Stiles as ever heard it, and he knows a warning when he hears
one.
He just usually ignores them. "God, please, Derek, I want," Stiles says, but
the rest is lost in his garbled scream as Derek snarls and shoves in. He's so
deep inside Stiles that Stiles feels broken, like Derek took him apart and is
in the process of rebuilding him, with a place for Derek inside.
It hurts so much, way more than he thought, but then one of Derek's hands slide
down to Stiles' cock and just pets it, cards through his hair down there and
tugs, before jacking him off. Stiles moans weakly, his hips held firm in
Derek's grip, Derek's cock heavy and thick and so fucking big inside him. Derek
doesn't stop moving inside him, and each stroke of his cock feels like it's
pulling Stiles apart, but it's good in a way he's never felt before because
it's in him, rubbing against that spot inside him viciously.
"You fucking idiot," Derek says, and then Stiles is flattened to the bad from
the force of a thrust, and another, and Derek's moving so fast inside of him,
using him, and Stiles still can't move his hips from Derek's grip. The hand on
his cock is still, but that isn't as important as the cock that's fucking into
him so forcefully, moving his entire body with the thrusts.
"It's been said," Stiles agrees with him, moaning, the words muffled by the bed
his face is pressed against. Derek is owning him, claiming him, and it's
getting to be too much. Stiles is going to come soon, and he wants it, wants it
so badly, and when he clenches on Derek's cock he gets it. Stiles' body tenses,
and the drag of Derek in and out of his body is almost painful again because
he's so tight. Derek snarls, his body draping over Stiles, breathing deeply
against Stiles' back. "Derek, please," Stiles begs, and Derek's hand moves over
Stiles dick, through the come on it, and jacks him while he's still shooting.
He stops thrusting while Stiles comes, and Stiles wonders how it feels, the way
his body is clenching around Derek's cock.
"Goddamn it," Derek growls, and Stiles can feel him, the shaking of tensing
hard to keep still. Stiles is nearly boneless after, and Derek smears his come
up his chest, gripping a slick hand around his throat to pull him back hard.
Stiles moans, so sensitive now, so fucked out and pliant that Derek can move
him however he wants, and it feels wonderful to be manhandled like that, to
just have to lie and take it. Derek's grip is firm on his neck but not hard,
and Stiles leans into it, resting against it, happy with the way Derek tugs him
back onto his cock. He couldn't move on his own if he tried.
It's so hard for him to think now, and he never stops thinking really, but now
he's sort of floating, trapped happily between Derek's hand on his throat and
the cock in him, rubbing him inside. It feels so good, like he could stay under
Derek forever and just have this. Stiles does wince when Derek starts to come,
because he shoves in hard, pulling Stiles against him, strength barely reigned
in, and Stiles can feel the tips of claws that miraculously don't sink into his
skin. "Oh," Stiles says, because he can feel Derek coming inside him, pulsing
long and deep and sloppy as he gives a few more short thrusts.
He doesn't do more than bury his face in between Stiles' shoulders and growl,
his whole body rumbling when he's done. His weight presses Stiles down into the
mattress, but it's not uncomfortable until Derek lifts up off of him and
carefully pulls out. "Shh, you're okay," Derek says roughly, his hands coming
to rest on Stiles' hips.
"Mm, yeah, I'm great," Stiles agrees, sore in all the right places. He's sated
and tired, and would like Derek to lie down so he can - "Whoa," Stiles says,
his eyes flying open at the feel of Derek's hands spreading his ass. "Not that
great, man," Stiles manages, shuddering at the feel of Derek's thumb rubbing
against him.
"Shut up," Derek says, but this time there's some fondness in his voice that
Stiles is pretty sure he's not imagining. "I got rough," he explains, though
his voice is kind of distracted, and Stiles can feel him push a little harder,
and knows that Derek's watching his come leak out of Stiles and feeling all
alpha about it.
"Come here, be smug later," Stiles demands, and shifts so that when Derek does
lie next to him that they can kiss. Derek lets it happen Stiles' way for longer
than Stiles expects, before he moves Stiles' body the way he wants. Stiles lets
himself be sprawled on Derek, and props himself up on the werewolf's chest for
more making out. He's pretty sure that Derek's still being terribly smug, but
as long as he continues to multitask, and as long as he's out of the house
before Stiles' dad comes home, they're okay.
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