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Schlong of the Month

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“Hey, Derek, come meet the new guy!” Isaac’s voice echoed into his office.

“Yep, right there,” he called back as he finished tapping out the email and hit send.  Good, now they could get the new hot schlong of the moment prepped and get to filming.  He wanted to get the crew home early for the holiday weekend for a change.

As he rounded the corner into the set, he saw Isaac across the room, his eyes on a slim man in a robe with short brown hair who was talking animatedly and gesturing wildly with his hands—really with his whole body.  As Derek came closer, Isaac’s eyes flicked his way and so did the young man’s and Derek almost careened backwards from the shock of recognition when those honey brown eyes met his own.

Stiles .

Holy shit .

“Stiles, this is Derek Hale, our Producer.  Derek, this is Stiles Stilinski—”

“We’ve met, actually,” Derek said, holding his hand out to Stiles and praying he sounded casual.  “Grew up in the same town.  How’ve you been, Stiles?”

Stiles was grinning at him in his typical always-anxious-and-somehow-still-more-comfortable-than-Derek sort of way, and grabbed Derek’s hand and shook it with gusto.  “Fuck, Derek!  Derek Hale!  Wow.  Didn’t expect to see you here!  What the hell are you doing producing porn?  I mean, I guess since I’m fucking people in porn I shouldn’t be all that surprised but fuck it’s a small world, sometimes, isn’t it?  Holy crap.  Derek Hale.”  He was still shaking Derek’s hand, now in time with the shaking of his own head.  His hand was warm and soft, just the way Derek imagined the rest of him would feel.

Derek cleared his throat and gently pulled his hand free.  The two stared at each other awkwardly until Isaac coughed slightly and put a hand on Stiles’ elbow, saying “Don’t worry, our esteemed producer will be around later so you guys can catch up.  In the meantime, why don’t we get you set up with a dressing area and meet the rest of the crew.  We’re supposed to start filming your first scene in 45, so you may want to clean up some and relax a bit.”  He successfully steered Stiles off toward the prep rooms and Derek was left standing there, silently freaking out.  

Stiles.

Stiles.  Who he had secretly been in love with before Stiles had moved away from their hometown of Beacon Hills about 6 and a half years ago, presumably to find and live some exciting and fulfilling life with someone else.

And now here he was.  In Derek’s studio.  Apparently the latest new hot stud in the porn industry as Isaac had been talking about trying to get “this new guy” to join them for some projects for at least a couple of months now.  Derek tried to remember what Isaac had told him about Stiles, but he couldn’t recall.  Of course.  He didn’t really listen anymore to the details of casting and scripts, since Isaac was more than capable of handling everything—probably even better than Derek had ever been.  He couldn’t even remember what kinds of scenes they were filming today.  He glanced over the set, but they just had standard living room and bedroom setups.

It didn’t matter.  This was business.  And he hadn’t seen Stiles in years.  He’d gotten over that a long time ago.  They wouldn’t have any problem working together now.  And Derek would cast Stiles as long as he could bring in the viewers that Isaac said he would.  Derek could certainly see why guys would tune in.  Back when he’d known Stiles it hadn’t been obvious to everyone what a beauty he was going to be.  But even on seeing him for only a few minutes, Derek could see that he’d grown into exactly what Derek had always seen.  Beautiful, soft skin, those warm, chocolate-y eyes, a long, slim body that could wrap around you…

Fuck.

Derek clenched his fists at his sides and headed back to his office.  And he hadn’t even seen what was beneath those baggy clothes Stiles still wore.  Yet.

* * *

Less than an hour later he was on set when Boyd was ready to start filming.

“Okay, so everybody’s met Stiles, right?  Excellent.  Okay, so this one’s the first scene, just Stiles and Danny, nice straightforward vanilla scene.  We start filming, the two of you come in, kind of hot and heavy, maybe just getting back from the club or something, and get down on the couch here.  We want to see Danny giving Stiles some oral, then Stiles fucking Danny.  Stiles, if you’re into it you can rim Danny a bit before you fuck him, but it’s not required, whatever works for you guys.  For the fucking we want at least two really good positions where we can see Stiles sliding in, so maybe Danny on his knees on the cushion leaning over the back and then maybe riding Stiles, too.  Anything else you guys want to do should be cool, just try to keep it natural.  Lighting, you guys good?  Sound?  Okay, Stiles, do you need a fluffer?”

Stiles, standing casually this whole time just turned to look at Danny next to him and raised his eyebrows.  “Nah, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.  I think one good kiss from this hottie will take care of it.”

Danny turned pink and looked down.  He was blushing.  Danny was actually blushing.  Danny, who had been in 57 of these things just for Derek’s production company.  Who knew his body was hot as fuck.  What the hell?

Boyd chuckled appreciatively at the joke.  Walking back to the cameras he called out, “Alright then, everybody, let’s get ready to roll.”  The team scattered, all taking their places and some soft rock music came on.  Boyd checked with his team a bit more then called out for action.  Danny and Stiles burst through the door onto the set, kissing and groping at each other, and quickly moving toward the couch.  Shoes, socks and shirts were removed and scattered quickly, and then Danny was on his knees in front of Stiles, tugging his jeans open and sliding them and his briefs down over his hips and ass to rest on his thighs.  The cock that popped out was nearly bigger than Danny’s head.

Stiles was gigantic.

Huge even for a porn star.

Maybe the biggest Derek had ever seen in person.

That was what Isaac had said about him.  The biggest, best cock in the business.  That he’d been personally jacking off to it nightly and fantasizing about it splitting him open.  That if he weren’t happily married he would have cast himself in this film to get a taste of it.  That Derek would see what he meant when the new guy arrived and would probably want to come out of retirement in order to get split open on this thing.

Danny’s lips were already wrapped around that monster and he was taking in maybe half of Stiles if he was lucky.  And Danny was fucking good at this.  Fuck.  Derek couldn’t take his eyes off of Stiles’ length as it slid smoothly back and forth between Danny’s lips.  Stiles looked completely at home, standing in front of Danny, one hand in his hair, shifting between guiding his head back and forth and then holding him still and fucking casually in and out of his waiting mouth.  Derek lost himself in the sight and was almost startled when Stiles pulled free and tugged Danny to his feet, guiding him to stand on the couch and bend over at the waist, pressing his shoulders to the back of the couch as Stiles spread his ass cheeks for the camera…and his own tongue.

The scene progressed and just as Stiles was standing behind Danny, who was kneeling on the couch now, and starting to slide his huger-than-fucking-hell cock in, Derek realized he was hard as a rock.  Painfully so.  His jeans were pinching tightly around his cock which was straining against his zipper.  He tried shift and casually rearrange himself but it was no use.  As Stiles worked himself inside Danny, Derek pressed the palm of his hand against himself, willing his erection down.  Yeah, it was an occasional risk on set, especially with the occasional new, hot actor, but Derek never fell prey to it.  Looking around he could see that several of the guys were in the same situation, in fact Ennis had opened his pants and was jacking off openly to the scene, something Derek allowed as long as it was kept quiet enough not to disrupt sound and none of the actors in the scene minded.

Stiles started fucking Danny and Derek was impressed with his professionalism.  He clearly knew where the camera was at all times and was adept at keeping his own arms and hands out of the way of the closeups on his cock sliding impossibly inside of Danny’s ass.  But he still seemed perfectly natural, looking turned on and touching Danny with real interest and pleasure.  Occasionally he dropped a bit of praise on Danny, telling him he felt tight or so good or cursing and pausing as of he was about to blow.  Derek could tell he wasn’t close at all yet, and he started wondering how much control Stiles had—how long he could go if he really wanted to drag it out.  If he could fuck Derek for an hours straight if he wanted to.

Shit.

By the time they switched positions to Stiles sitting on the couch and Danny straddling him with his back to Stiles chest, sliding slowly down onto that massive pole, Derek couldn’t take any more.  He quietly stood and made his way back to his office, closing the door behind himself and then turning back to the one-way window that gave him a view of the set from his desk.  He settled back into his chair, opening his pants and pulling his dick out roughly.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard—this hungry for anything related to sex.  Certainly it hadn’t happened in the studio.  He fisted himself roughly, eyes riveted on Stiles’ monster cock disappearing as Danny slid down onto him and then reappearing as he lifted off.

Stiles’ head was dropped back on the back of the couch and his hands were on Danny’s hips, helping lift him up and down in a steady rhythm.  Stiles’ shaft was glistening with lube and Derek knew that if he wrapped his hands around it his fingers wouldn’t even come close to meeting.  He wanted to.  He wanted to wrap his hand and his lips around Stiles.

Stiles’ head tilted back up and said something to Danny.  Derek couldn’t hear the set in his office.  Then Stiles reached a hand around and jacked Danny for a little while as he rode Stiles.  Danny’s head rolled and he licked his lips.  He hadn’t looked this natural—this much like he was enjoying his partner—in at least two dozen films.  Derek released Danny’s cock, and settled his hands back on Danny’s hips.  Then suddenly his fingers dug in and he held Danny hard and still above his lap and he dug his heels in to the floor.  Then he was rocking his hips up, hard and fast, fucking up into Danny and Danny’s mouth dropped open and even though Derek couldn’t hear it he knew Danny was moaning loudly with each thrust.

Derek imagined how that cock must feel pounding into him like that and stripped his own dick tight and rough.  He couldn’t take his eyes off Stiles’ cock and then before he even expected it he was coming, spurting into his hands and his pants and cursing that he hadn’t thought about the mess.   Fuck .  It’s like he was 19 again, watching a 15 year old Stiles and dreaming about the day he would be old enough.

He cringed at himself in embarrassment and reached into his lefthand drawer.  When he looked back up it was in time to see Stiles rearranging Danny again, this time bending him over one arm of the couch and tugging one of his legs out of the way so he could slide in at an angle that must be pressing incessantly on Danny’s prostate.  Based on the way Danny’s cock was jolting and leaking in front of him, Derek must be right.  After two minutes in this position, Derek was hard again and Danny was reaching down to stroke himself, coming almost immediately upon touching his own cock.  Stiles, though, didn’t miss a beat, just fucking continuously into Danny, thrusting his hips and licking his lips, his expression finally shifting into something that seemed a little more goal-oriented somehow.

Without realizing he had done it, Derek found himself out from behind his desk and kneeling on the couch below the glass, practically pressed up against the window waiting to see Stiles come.  He was stroking himself idly, eyes riveted to Stiles’ dick sliding smoothly in and out of Danny’s ass.  Stiles picked up the pace and it looked like he was speaking repeatedly now.  He fucked Danny harder and faster and then suddenly he leaned back, wrapping his left hand around the base of his cock and his right hand up around the shaft just below the head.  His right hand jacked in short tiny little strokes as his left hand rolled and played with the rest of his shaft.  Derek was mesmerized.  And then strings of come flew from his cock, landing beautifully on the swell of Danny’s ass.  Once, twice, three times, followed by some soft dribbles down onto Stiles hand and the couch.  Stiles rubbed the head of his cock around in the mess, smearing his come into Danny’s skin and then the scene was over and the crew were moving around, bringing Stiles and Danny robes and water bottles, and a few gathering around the camera.

Derek flopped back onto his couch, turning his back on the set, realizing his own cock was still hard and hanging out of his pants.  What the fuck was wrong with him?!  This was not good.


Chapter Text

Chapter 2

A week later, Derek was sitting in his office, trying to lose himself in his work.  But it hadn’t been easy ever since Stiles had started to become an occasional presence in the studio.  Derek had successfully avoided Stiles the rest of that first day when Stiles’ appearance had taken him by surprise.  He had hidden in his office for the second scene Stiles filmed, jacking off behind his one-way window to the set and then huddling behind his office door for hours until he was sure not only Stiles but everyone else had gone as well.

He’d been terrified that Stiles would come looking for him, try to talk for a while or even suggest they go out to catch up.  But nothing of the kind had happened and the Labor Day weekend had gone by as quietly as ever.  The studio was closed for all three days and Derek had no plans of any kind—just as he preferred it.

But of course that just meant he had three days straight to Google Stiles and download every damn video he could find.  Which, in turn, meant that he had spent the entire weekend masturbating while he watched Stiles’ monster cock slide into hole after hole.  His wrist was sore and his dick chapped and almost bruised from the abuse by the time Tuesday morning came.  And Derek had found his favorite video, watching it at least 14 times on Monday.  It was a D/s themed shoot, pairing Stiles up with a slightly larger and very muscular and fit sub.  Who just happened to be dark haired and have a bit of a stern, maybe even slightly gloomy vibe to him.  Well, that is, until Stiles confidently took control of him, touching and praising him like an expert, until he was on his knees almost shaking with pleasure and desire.

Derek wanted to be that sub.  Wanted to be any of those holes that Stiles took and used so impressively.  In between watching and wanking sessions he had idly considered whether to cast himself perhaps in one of Stiles upcoming shoots.  But after the first day of fantasizing he had already had to admit to himself it would just be setting himself up for a fall.  A big fall.  One he didn’t think his heart could afford.  Because every time he closed his eyes and imagined Stiles touching him, kissing him, pressed against him, it was about so much more than just the sex.  He found himself picturing Stiles’ soft, warm gaze filled with so much more than just lust.  And hearing Stiles’ voice saying his name and saying how perfect he was and asking who he belonged to.

He had to face it.  He thought he’d gotten over it and moved on.  Made a life for himself, moved away from Beacon Hills so he wouldn’t just be living there in some sick limbo, waiting for Stiles to eventually possibly come home, hopefully lonely and desperate to reconnect with an older, darker, rough-around-the-edges Derek.  But the second he saw Stiles again, he was right back in that place.  He was in love with Stiles.

So he had cast aside all thoughts of filming with Stiles and had resolved to remove himself as much as possible from anything connected to Stiles’ shoots.  He wouldn’t participate in casting or directing, would limit his production work, and would definitely not be in the studio anymore when they were filming.

It shouldn’t have been a problem—there were plenty of other things he could do.

But he didn’t.  When he went in on Tuesday he found Isaac and Boyd prepping for another shoot with Stiles and of course he went to hide in his office.  Which turned out not to be such a smart plan when the camera actually rolled, seeing as he had a front row seat to Stiles taking center stage in a threesome with Ennis and Jackson.  And it was hot as hell.  Derek had worked with these guys long enough that he’d forgotten Ennis and Jackson were hot.  But watching Stiles’ eye their bodies and lick his lips, then start to slide his long fingers over their skin, it was like the other actors were new to his eyes, too.  And to each other’s.  Stiles’ admiration of each of them was clear on his face and in the swell of his cock and it seemed contagious among them.  Ennis and Jackson were more natural and enthusiastic than they had been in months.

The threesome were barely undressed by the time Derek was already ready to burst with need, his pants wide open and his cock leaking in his hand.  When Stiles finally put Jackson on all fours and slid into his ass, Derek was biting his own tongue to keep from moaning, as he tried to jack himself softly to keep from adding any more injury to his sore and suffering dick.  And when Ennis stood next to Jackson and fed Stiles his cock, and Stiles’ perfect, soft lips closed around that shaft at the same time Stiles’ fingers dug into Jackson’s hips and pulled him back roughly onto Stiles’ hard cock, Derek exploded, shooting his jizz onto the back of the couch and slumping back against the arm.

His eyes never left Stiles, though.  He kept watching as Stiles found a way to match the rhythm of his hips pressing in and out of Jackson’s stretched out hole to Ennis’s thrusts as he casually fucked Stiles’ sweet little mouth.  He watched Stiles’ cheeks invert as he sucked on Ennis.  He watched Stiles’ eyes close from time to time when Ennis pressed in particularly far.  He watched Stiles’ cock, so swollen and fat, slide out of Jackson’s ass and then somehow, impossibly, press back in, leaving Jackson’s rim looking so beautifully stretched and stuffed.  He watched Stiles’ hands slide over Jackson’s hips and ass, his fingers gripping and squeezing, leaving temporary indentations and pressure marks over Jackson’s tan skin.

By the time the guys had rearranged and Stiles was laying on his back, with Ennis riding him while Jackson moved from sucking off Ennis or playing with Stiles’ nipples to stuffing his own cock into Ennis’s mouth, Derek was hard again and imagining what it would be like to be the one sliding down onto Stiles.  Something about the idea of that sensation of being stretched so damn full, of feeling as if you might actually be split in two, kept causing a tight sensation in Derek’s chest and a low, needy, hot feeling in his thighs.  He wondered what else Stiles’ cock would feel like.  A lot of larger cocks never really got rock hard—always had a sort of soft, yielding quality to their outer layer.  If that was true of Stiles it wasn’t obvious, but Derek longed to find out first hand.  And he wondered if Stiles would feel hot or cool to the touch.  If his skin would feel as soft as it looked, or would have some hidden roughness to it.  And when Ennis rose off and turned around so Stiles could jack off and finally come on his face Derek wondered if Stiles’s cock jerked and pulsed strongly when he came so if he was inside you, you felt it the moment it began or if he might take you by surprise and you wouldn’t even feel it until that warm wetness was already spreading inside you.

Derek closed his eyes and let his head drop back over the couch arm.  His hand was covered in his second load, though admittedly he had come so much in the last week that it was a rather pitiful thing.  But he still was going to need to change his jeans before he could safely walk out of his office.   Fuck.

Where the hell had he gotten this size kink from?  He’d always liked to be fucked a little more than he liked topping, but he’d never been obsessed with size before.  And now, for days, his mind had been dwelling and obsessing over what it would feel like to be stuffed and spread and filled and crammed and….  He sighed and straightened up.  The studio team were all on the move, the actors gone and the crew resetting and bustling around.  Derek rose and tugged a pair of jeans out his closet, changing and slipping out down the back hallway to the exit unnoticed.

He managed to spend the rest of the work day on his laptop at the café down the street actually getting some emails answered, approving payables and reviewing the prior month’s financials.  Yes, he had had to forcibly drag his wandering thoughts back on track and away from mole-dotted skin, slim hips and a round ass from time to time, but he had mostly been successful.  Which, he thought as he drove home, meant that he deserved a reward.

A reward that, it turned out when he actually got back home, would consist of watching his favorite Stiles video again.  And then a few others.  And then his favorite again.  And then the first edit of the Danny and Stiles scene that Boyd sent to him while he was making his dinner.  And then his favorite again.  And then Danny and Stiles again.  And then his favorite again.

By the time he finally drifted off to sleep all he could hear was Stiles’ voice saying in his mind over and over again, “Yeah, that’s good…you’re taking me so good…mmmm…feel so tight...”

*          *          *

He made it through the next couple of days in much the same way, though Stiles wasn’t filming, so he was more productive while at the office.  He even filled in in a scene for another actor who had been unable to film at the last minute, and getting some real live skin on skin contact but in an impersonal setting where he wasn’t disturbingly obsessed with the actor’s cock left him feeling a little more settled and normal again.

That is, until he went home.  Where he could think of nothing he wanted to do other than watch his Stiles video collection again.  He forced himself not to.  For about an hour.  Then he found himself in his bed with his laptop spread open next to him and the bottle of lube flipped open at his side.  After discovering the most amazing moment in one of the videos where Stiles’ orgasm took him by surprise (an uncommon event in their business and now something that Derek desperately wished he could have been the one to make happen), Derek put that sequence on loop and watched it over and over, jacking off to just the sound of Stiles’ sharp intake of breath and low guttural moan after and the sight of his honey brown eyes wide and dark and his mouth dropping open to reveal his tongue just behind his wet, lax lips.  He came imagining spurting into that open mouth.

The next day was more of the same.

And the next.

Then it was Friday again.  A Stiles filming day.  And he knew he shouldn’t go in.  He should meet with some of their marketing managers or go back over the next quarter’s budget and video release schedule.  Or hell.  Even take the day off.  Go see Cora.  Anything but go in to the studio today.

But there he was.  In his office, watching the crew finish prepping for Stiles’ scene.  Stiles wasn’t anywhere to be seen yet and Derek was already starting to get hard.  He was wearing scrubs, which was had become his standard casual Friday fare at work after he had dated a nurse for a few months before the guy had left him when it became clear they wouldn’t ever be anything more than fuck buddies.  So it was a little inconvenient when someone rapped on the door right then.  But at least at the studio boners were a typical risk for all the guys in the office and everyone was pretty used to overlooking it.  He let out a rough “Come in” as he walked over to his water cooler.

“Derek, hey.”  It was that voice.  In his head it said, “You’re taking me so good…”  And he had no idea what it said in reality.

He turned to stare at Stiles.  Who was shirtless.  And shoeless.  Wearing just jeans, slung low on his hips, showing the V of his abdominal and pelvic muscles.  He was staring.  He was staring at Stiles’ chest.  His smooth skin, scattered with a few moles, stretching up to perfect little round nipples dotted with soft looking hair.  He was still staring.  He dragged his eyes upward to Stiles’ face.  Stiles was smiling.  Just a friendly, comfortable, patient sort of smile.  His own eyes wandered over Derek’s body, and Derek thought he saw Stiles’ eyebrows rise, but had no idea what it might mean.

“Stiles,” Derek managed.  “Wha--  How is everything?”

Yep.  Definitely an eyebrow raise.  But Stiles just said, “Great, man.  Really great.  I love your studio.  Your team all seem really terrific.”

Why the fuck did that make Derek’s cock twitch?  He could feel his length pressing forward against the front of his scrub pants.  “Good.  That’s…good.  Is there…do you need something?”

Stiles tilted his head to one side.  “Oh, no.  I just wanted to say hi.  I haven’t seen you at all since my first day and….”  Stiles’ eyes had drifted down.  And now Stiles was the one staring.  Derek didn’t know what to do.  And then Stiles’ tongue slipped forward between his lips and ran across them and Derek’s eyes were riveted to the spot where it disappeared again before Stiles pressed his lips together for a moment.  Then Stiles opened his mouth to speak again and Derek’s eyes flew up to meet Stiles’.  “I guess I just hoped we might be able to catch up sometime.  Maybe this weekend we can get a drink?”

“No.”

“No?”  Stiles’ voice was quieter, a little higher.  And he was taking a step back to the door.   Fuck.

“I can’t.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Well, um, I guess I’ll see you next week sometime then.”  And then Stiles was turning and that perfect round ass was walking away and the door shut behind him.

Fuck piss shit.  Derek slumped down in his desk chair.  What the fuck was it about Stiles that turned him back into that antisocial monosyllabic idiot that he had spent years working himself past?  He should go home.  And figure out how to avoid Stiles while still not being a complete dick about it like he just had been.  But he could see the set in the corner of his eye and they were clearly getting ready to start.  And the set was a classroom scene, where Stiles was going to discipline naughty student Jackson.  So instead Derek locked the door and slid onto the couch to watch.

He watched Stiles strip Jackson out of his clothes.  He watched Jackson kneel on the ground in front of Stiles and suck him as Stiles held his head with a firm grip.  He watched Stiles bend Jackson over the desk and smack him repeatedly with a large paddle, more for show than actual pain, but still bringing out a beautiful red on Jackson’s ass.  He watched Stiles coat his cock with lube, mesmerized by how the shaft was too wide even for Stiles’ slender fingers.  He watched Stiles press slowly but insistently into Jackson’s hole as he spread Jackson’s ass cheeks for the camera, revealing that tight rim, whitened from the stretch.  He watched Stiles pull back out, showing the camera how Jackson’s ass gaped for several seconds before Stiles stuffed himself back in.  He watched Stiles’ hips thrust forward endlessly for ages and ages as they fucked and only after Derek was painfully desperate to come, accelerating to a fast, sharp, rough rhythm.  And he listened when Stiles asked Jackson if he wanted Stiles’ cum and if he had learned his lesson.  And he came onto his one-way window with a whining sort of moan when Stiles called Jackson his good boy and shot his (of course gloriously huge) load all over the ass he had just stretched to a beautiful used looking gape.  As Derek sank down onto his heels, he watched Stiles run a finger through his cum and slid it into Jackson’s hole and he wondered what that thin, cool, wet finger would feel like sliding into his ass after it were so stretched and used.

Derek was so screwed.

Chapter Text

“No, I’m fine, Isaac.  Thanks.  You guys have fun,” Derek said from behind his desk where he was hunched down stretching out for the power strip to unplug his laptop.

When he heard the door shut he was both pleased and a little disappointed that Isaac hadn’t tried harder to convince him.  But when his head came back over the desk he saw why.  Isaac was on the inside of the door.  Standing in front of his desk with his arms crossed and looking…pissed.  Isaac.  Who never got mad.  At least not at Derek.  Who understood Derek’s introversion and need for privacy.

“What’s wrong with you lately?”  Derek had only ever heard that tone from Isaac with the crew.  And even then it was damn rarely.

“Nothing.  I just don’t want to go out drinking.”  He didn’t mean to sound so angry himself, but Isaac’s tone and attitude had just set off against the nervous tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders for the last three weeks now.  Ever since Stiles arrived.  And of course he couldn’t go out drinking with Stiles in the group.  So instead he would go home and do what he did every night.  Watch Stiles’s videos and work himself raw fantasizing about someone he could never have.  Could never deserve.  Could never—

Isaac grunted. “Uh huh.  And does that explain why all the rest of the time you’re either gone or locked in here?  You haven’t given any of us more than the time of day for going on weeks now.  If you were in a better mood I’d think you had a new boyfriend or girlfriend.  Or hell, maybe even just a new car or a new side business.  But that perpetual scowl on your face doesn’t make any of that seem likely.  So what gives?”

Derek sighed.  He couldn’t explain.  It was too pathetic.  And weird.  And just…impossible.  He couldn’t tell Isaac that he was obsessed with Stiles Stilinski.  Just like one of his groupie fans.  Especially when it wasn’t just like that.  He’d been in love with Stiles when he was just a teenager—gangly and awkward and hyper and still the best friend and… fuck …the best person Derek had ever met.  He’d thought it had faded with Stiles’s absence from his life—well, with his absence from Stiles’s life.  But the second Stiles had stepped into the studio it had been obvious that Derek’s feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest.  Except by becoming complicated by the addition of insanely intense lust.

“Nothing gives, Isaac.  I’m fine.  I’m just me.  You know I need my space.”

“Mmmhmm.  And I’ve never known you to need this much space.  And to look like fucking Grumpy Cat all the time even though you’re getting plenty of space.”

“I don’t look like Grumpy Cat.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What do you want, Isaac?”

“I want to know why you’re being a dick to everybody.  The crew and our regular actors have all noticed, Derek.  We have a good team here.  You agreed two years ago that what we’ve built was worth some social effort on your part, remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Isaac…”  Shit.  Did he just whine ?  

Isaac just stared at him.  His arms were still crossed and he still looked angry.

“Not tonight, okay?”

“Uh huh.  Then when?”

“I don’t know, but just…soon, okay?”  Derek ran his hand through his hair roughly, wishing he could brush the growing headache away.

“Uh huh.  And tomorrow when we’re filming?”

When Stiles was filming.  Gorgeous and naked and so fucking hot.  Right on the other side of that glass.  “What about it?”

“Are you just gonna be locked in here ignoring everyone again?”

What exactly was the alternative?  Lurking around set with a raging boner?  Bursting into the scene to beg Stiles to pound that huge cock into him instead of the other actor?  To beg him to fuck Derek hard?  All day?   Every day?

“Iz.”

“What?”

“Nothing.  I can work from home tomorrow.”

“No, Derek.  Fuck—you’re completely missing the point.  That’s not what I want.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want you to be around.  Running your business.  Like usual.”

Derek dropped his elbows onto his desk and let his head rest in his palms, his fingers digging into his hair.  He heard and saw in his peripheral vision as Isaac dragged one of the guest chairs forward and sat across from him.  Then Isaac’s hands were on his wrists.  Not hard, just resting there.  It was nice.  Comforting.

“Derek, what is it?  Is something wrong?  Are you sick?”

Derek’s head popped up.  “What? No!”

“Okay.  Good.”  Isaac’s hands squeezed his wrists and they both let their arms fall to lay on the desk.  But Isaac’s hands stayed where they were.  “But something is wrong?”

“Yes.  No.  I mean…”

“It’s Stiles, isn’t it?”

Derek could feel his own eyes widen.  He couldn’t think of what to say.  He knew he should say no.  But then he just didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Isaac said, his voice and face much softer now.  “So you guys have some kind of history, right?  Some grudge between you that you just can’t let go?”

“No!  Nothing like that.  Why would I have a grudge against Stiles?”

“Well it’s pretty obvious you don’t like him.  And I don’t blame you, the guy’s not exactly your type with the nervous energy and frenetic talking thing he has going on.  And the nerdy comic and sci-fi fandom stuff isn’t your bag.  I mean, no one would expect you guys to be close buds or anything—”

“I get it,” Derek growled out.  “But you’re wrong.  I like Stiles.  And I don’t have a grudge.”

“Okay…”  The questioning lilt to Isaac’s tone was pronounced.

Derek sighed.  He’d been about to say Isaac’s name again and knew it would have come out sounded whiney.  Again.  He tried to think of another way around this.  “Has Stiles—has he said something about me?”

Isaac seemed surprised and sat back in his seat, looking at Derek calmly.

“He may have mentioned a couple weeks ago that he asked you to hang out and you turned him down flat.”

Derek felt a pinching sensation in his chest.  “What…did he…was he—”

“Yes,” Isaac almost snapped.  “He was…unhappy about it.  He said you just said no.  With no explanation.  He said it was clear to him that you still didn’t like him.”

Derek could tell that Isaac was pushing.  Trying to goad him into reacting.  Into saying more.  But he also was telling the truth.  The pinching feeling was shifting to burning.  He had hurt Stiles.  Stiles had reached out to him and he’d rejected him.  Because he couldn’t handle being near Stiles even for one evening.  He’d known it would have shown.  His hunger.  His adoration.  His fucking complete and utter lovesickness.  He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.  “I…I hadn’t meant to be rude.”

“Fuck, Derek.  I know that.  You don’t have to convince me that you’re a good guy, you know.  We’ve been partners here for over four years.  I know you’re a good man.  And usually, even though it isn’t always easy for you, you’re not an offensive dickwad to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.  Until now.  So either something major is going on with you, or it’s Stiles that’s the key here.  And I’m guessing it’s Stiles.  So if you don’t have some old feud or dark history and you say you like him…”

Derek stared at Isaac.  His mind was a complete and utter blank.  He couldn’t think of even one reasonable and convincing lie.  His parents had hated the town sheriff, Stiles’s dad?  Why would Isaac believe Derek still cared about that now?  Stiles had crashed his piece of shit Jeep into Derek’s Camaro when he learned to drive?  Again, so what?  Maybe he could tell Isaac they had dated for a year and Stiles had dumped him and broken his heart?  Lies that were closer to the truth were supposed to be more convincing.  Even if the truth was that the moment Stiles had become old enough to date he had gone away to college.  And Derek had moved away two years later, sick of being reminded of Stiles everywhere he went in Beacon Hills.  Not to mention seeing how much more beautiful he looked every time he came home to visit.  And how much it hurt seeing Lydia on his arm.  Or later some guy he had brought home from school to meet his dad.

Isaac was clearly his throat.  Derek looked up.  Isaac’s eyes met his and they both breathed in the silence between them for a bit.  Then Isaac’s eyes seemed to widen.  He was afraid for a minute.  Afraid that his friend had seen through him—had somehow read on his face all the thoughts that were roiling around in his mind.  But he shouldn’t have been worried.  Derek knew his face was one of the best closed books in the business.  He’d schooled his expressions to be inscrutable since he was twelve.  Wanting to be more like his father.  And less like his Uncle Peter.  Wanting to be mysterious.  And…let’s face it…safe.  Emotionally separate.  And he’d succeeded.  Which he’d only realized a couple years ago kind of sucked.

“Okay, Derek.  You asked what I wanted.  I want you to come out tonight.  For one drink.  Your friends miss you.  The least you can do is act like you miss us.”

Derek nodded.  He felt his face burning with shame, even if it didn’t show.

“I want you to start working normally again.  Be around the studio sometimes.  Talk to the team and tell them they’re doing a good job.  Be fucking present.”

Derek nodded again.  Isaac was right.  He need to grow up.  Be an adult.  Get his fucking life together and quit spending every free minute fantasizing about a man he could never be with.

“And I want you to apologize to Stiles.”

Derek opened his mouth, but before he could protest Isaac was continuing, “He is an asset.  A fucking hot one.  With Stiles on our roster we’re getting Scott McCall coming here next week to film.  And Theo Raeken is set for the week after.  Hell, Danny put off his work with Argent Productions because of Stiles.  And I’m in fucking talks right now to get Jordan Parrish signed on for a series of hopefully 8 full length videos.  Did you notice any of that on the schedule I sent you?  And there are plenty of other places Stiles could be sticking his dick.  If we want it to be our hole, we need to keep him happy, Derek.  Okay?”

Derek just nodded again.  He felt sick.  Every one of those guys was going to get to feel what it was like to be stuffed full of Stiles’s cock.  What his precise and perfect fingers felt like running over their skin and gripping their hips.  What his lips felt like on theirs.  And on their dicks.  Hear his voice telling them they were hot.  Sexy.  Perfect.  His good boy.  And Derek would watch it all.  With his hand tight around his own cock and his fucking heart in his throat.  There was no way Isaac could have used that last turn of phrase about Stiles sticking his dick in their hole intentionally.  It was the porn industry.  It was just meant as a turn of phrase.  But it had felt like a knife twisting in his gut.  Yes.  Yes he wanted Stiles to stick his dick in Derek’s desperately hungry and empty hole.

“Good.”  Isaac stood and then after a pause he was leaning over Derek’s desk and putting his hand on Derek’s softly.  “Of course, if you ever do want to talk about whatever is going on, you know I’m here for you, man.”

Derek cleared his throat.  “Yeah.  Of course.  It isn’t.  It’s nothing.”

“Right,” Isaac said.  Then he straightened and headed for the door.  When he reached it he said, “Oh, you should open that box on your credenza.”  He nodded to the piece of furniture behind Derek where some bulky mail items had been deposited, usually business samples or marketing gifts from aspiring performers.  “The white one.”

Then he was gone.  Finally.  And Derek’s secret was safe.  And he would just have to pull himself the fuck together and be a goddamn grownup.  He could be near Stiles without panicking.  He had to.  And he could get through a fucking workday without having to jerk off to Stiles’s cock.  He could always still do that when he got home.  But he would have to just put a moratorium at any extracurricular anything at the office.

After some emails and straightening his desk a bit, he looked at his watch.  6:45.  He would head to the bar now, have a drink, and then head home.  He realized he didn’t feel sick anymore.  In fact, he felt less tense than he had in weeks.  There was still some underlying stiffness and he could feel the anxiety still lurking, ready to rear its ugly head.  But he was definitely a good deal calmer.  He could do this.

As he turned he saw the white box and grabbed it up, slitting it the tape with a fingernail and pulling it open.  Then he just stared.

It.

Was.

Stiles’.

Cock.

In fucking dildo form.  A vibrating dildo to be exact.  The packaging advertised its flexibility and soft, realistic texture.  But of course it was mainly touting the size.  And the fact that it was built to match Stiles Stilinski’s exact measurements—9.68 inches long and 6.4 inches in girth.  The picture of Stiles on the package smiled up at him and his erect cock was dripping precum.

Derek licked his lips.

He pulled the package out of the box.

It was heavy.

He pried the plastic open and let it fall back into the box, taking the vibrator in his hand.  There were a few veiny ridges and the frenulum stood out from the shaft in that same gorgeous arc that Stiles’ had—so defined and broad.  He wondered what it would be like to slide his tongue underneath that ridge all around the circle of Stiles’ cock.  He wasn’t going to try it on this thing, though.  He’d never been a dildo kind of guy.  But it did feel good in his hand.  So solid and soft at the same time.  Heavy and real and just…god, so fucking massive .

Christ.  When the fuck had he become such a fucking size queen?  He had never been that into huge, especially anything too huge up his own ass.  He’d always preferred topping a bit, actually.

Until now.  Now all he could think about was how full and stuffed and crammed and fucking used he would feel with Stiles inside him.  But it wasn’t just about Stiles’ cock.  It was also how Stiles’ hands would feel holding his hips.  How Stiles’ breath would feel on the back of his neck.  How Stiles’ chest would feel pressed up tight against his back.  How Stiles’ voice would sound, low and deep, right in his ear.  How Stiles’ face would look when Derek was riding him and he was about to come.  How his head would drop back and his long neck would be exposed in a gorgeous line of pale skin.  How even as his mouth dropped open and slack the corners of his lips would turn up in that half smile of pleasure and satisfaction.  Right before his eyebrows would come together in a tight pinch at the moment of his orgasm.  How he would let out a loud, low groan—the sound Derek was now hearing in his sleep and could almost make him come on command himself now.

Derek stared down at the dildo in his hand.  Then he slid it into his inside jacket pocket and headed out, locking the studio up behind him.

Chapter Text

“Great job, everyone,” Derek said when Boyd called for cut and print.  He stood and shook hands with a couple of the crew as he made his way over to Boyd and Isaac who were discussing who to assign for edit with Lydia out on vacation.  And no one noticed as he surreptitiously watched as one of the crew brought Stiles a clean rag and towel and he wiped himself down before wrapping up in the robe that was handed to him.

They had a brief discussion about the schedule for the next two days and Derek confirmed Boyd and Isaac both had everything they needed and the broke up, Derek heading back to his office.

“Hey,” Isaac called out to him after a moment.

Derek paused and turned back.

“Thanks for listening,” Isaac said, “you know, to what I said a couple weeks ago.  It’s better and…just thanks.”

Derek smiled.  “No need for thanks, Isaac.  You were right.”

When he got in his office, though, he couldn’t help but smile a bit.  He was glad Isaac had noticed how much better he’d been.  Through sheer force of will he had forced himself back into most of his normal routine—working with his door open, being on the studio floor at least half the time there was live filming going on.  Making sure to check in with the cast and crew, shake hands and make small talk.  He’d even pushed himself to get back into his jogging and workout routines.  And he had prohibited himself from any Stiles-related recreational activities in the office.  No more shutting his door while Stiles filmed or sneaking off after to work one out.

Of course, Isaac didn’t need to know that every single non-working minute of his life was still spent watching, thinking about or jerking off to Stiles Stilinski.  Or all three.  Derek himself was astonished by how unflagging his obsession was.  But at least his self-enforced regimen of exercise and responsible boss were helping limit his masturbation time so he wasn’t at risk of hurting himself anymore from simple self abuse.  And having to wait all day seemed to just make him that much more hungry in the evening when he finally got home and could relax.

It had taken him five straight days of concentrated focus in the evenings to work that dildo inside himself, and another six days to become adept at using it and bringing himself to climax using just it and his videos and fantasies of Stiles.  He loved it so much he was now teasing himself by trying to put off as long in the evening as he could before he slid it inside himself.  He would watch videos of Stiles and wrap his hand around himself, squeezing and playing for an hour or two before giving in and crawling up onto his hands and knees and reaching around himself to start working himself open.  Sometimes he imagined it was Stiles’ long, careful fingers working him open or that Stiles voice in the video was meant for him—telling him he was gorgeous and his good boy.  And when he had his new Stiles dildo crammed inside of himself and was rocking it in and out of his body, he would always go to his favorite video of Stiles dominating the rough-looking, dark haired man.  It was so easy to imagine he was that man.  To imagine that Stiles was ordering him not to come, was saying “Not yet” and “You can do it” to him , was dragging him up to the edge and then refusing to let him fly over, was telling Derek to be good for Stiles.

And after he came, if he had managed to hold himself off for a couple hours beforehand, he always slept like a baby.  And it was a little easier for some reason to get up in the morning and do his run and then go to work and focus for at least a while before thoughts of Stiles started to send heated sensations through his body again and make his cock throb in his pants.  So his routine had become settled and he could almost fool himself into thinking he was in control and everything was normal.  At least for several hours a day.  And he could fool everyone else.  Which was maybe more important.

The hardest part of his promise to Isaac had been apologizing to Stiles.  Mainly because Stiles wouldn’t hear of it.  He had put it off for more than a week already and then finally approached Stiles at the end of the next day, when several of the team were heading out and Stiles was standing around with them at the door, shaking hands and making plans to meet up later.  When they were alone, Stiles had turned and smiled at him, but moved to head back to the dressing area.  Derek had had to clear his throat and say, “Stiles?” to get him to pause and turn back.

Stiles seemed open enough, a slight smile on his face and his eyebrows raised just a bit.  But Derek’s throat felt dry and his hands were suddenly sweating.  He slid them into his pockets and then felt the hunching in his shoulders that caused and thought he must look extremely awkward and tense.

“What’s up, Derek?” Stiles asked, after it became painfully clear Derek wasn’t going to speak.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and then had no idea what to do with them.  He crossed his arms.  Great.  Now he looked like he was going to lecture Stiles or was angry with him.  He dropped his arms to his sides and looked at Stiles.  Stiles, whose soft brown eyes were definitely looking confused now.   Fucking speak, you idiot!

“Um…well, I just wanted…to apologize for…”  He swallowed hard.  Licked his lips.  “…you know, for the other day, about getting a drink.  I—”

But Stiles was smiling warmly now and already taking over talking.  “Oh shit, Derek, that hardly needs an apology.  I get it.  It’s totally cool—I mean, I mainly just wanted to catch up and see how your life is now and thought maybe we could be friends again.  I missed you from back in the old days, man.  You were just—the best to me and I never forgot that.  And yeah, you know, you’re obviously fucking attractive and I’d fucking love it if you could be into me for more than friends, but I really didn’t even mean that when I asked you for a drink.  Not that I would ever expect that you—I mean look at you—” Stiles gestured vaguely sort of up and down at Derek’s body.  “You’re a fucking Greek Adonis or some shit, and I’m—”  His hand fluttered around his own chest for a moment.  “Well, you know, not .  But anyway, either way I get it if you don’t want to hang.  I mean, I am that neighbor kid who had a crush on you and at best is like a little brother.  And wow, you’re like this entrepreneurial business owner now.  It’s like who knew where we would all end up.  But anyway, the point is you are totally not doing anything wrong by not having time—”

“Stiles.”

“—for drinks or something with me—”

Stiles .”

Stiles paused mid-sentence, his mouth still hanging slightly open, and stared at Derek.  And something was definitely wrong with Derek because he was torn between thinking how adorable that was and wanting to hug Stiles and thinking how hot it was and wanting to slide his fingers between those lips and see if Stiles would suckle on them and how his tongue would feel sliding over Derek’s skin.

“I would love to go out for drinks sometime.”  Shit.  Wait.  What?  He hadn’t meant to say that.

But now Stiles’ face was breaking out into a bigger grin.  “You—really?”

“Of course.  I miss you, too.”  His mouth appeared to be possessed now.  Taking over and saying things without Derek’s permission.  And yes, it was true.  He would love to have drinks with Stiles.  And he did miss him.  But he couldn’t have drinks with Stiles!  There was no way he was going to be in close proximity to the man for a couple of hours without showing way too much.  As in the size of the gigantic boner he was already starting to grow again just because of that brief thought about Stiles sucking his fingers.  His cock twitched in his pants and Derek barely managed to stop himself from groaning aloud.

“Um, right, okay,” Stiles was saying.  “Then, uh, Friday night?  I’m filming in the afternoon, so we can just go from here after you’re done working?”

Derek nodded dumbly, his focus now on trying to simultaneously will his cock to flaccidity and also not think about anything sexual whatsoever no matter how good Stiles’ shoulders looked in that too-small t-shirt he was wearing.

“Cool.”  Stiles grinned at him again and Derek felt a sensation of lightness sort of lifting in his shoulders, as if making Stiles happy was the key to releasing some of his own stress and tension.  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Der.” And Stiles turned and walked back to the dressing area, whistling some tune Derek couldn’t identify.

Fuck .

*          *          *

Friday came quickly and Derek was terrified.  He’d given himself mental permission to jack off once that day after Stiles’ afternoon filming.  He just knew he’d be strung out with need then and the idea of going out alone with Stiles with a raging unrelieved boner and visions of the scene filling his mind—well, he knew it would spell disaster.  So just this once he thought he could reasonably break his new rules.  But even so he wasn’t sure if he could carry on a normal conversation with Stiles without making it clear he may as well be Stiles’ stalker.  But he didn’t have much choice now.

So he managed to get through his morning of paperwork, emails and a couple conference calls.  And he met Lydia and Boyd for lunch to discuss the editing docket for the next two weeks.  He agreed to take on the editing of several projects while Lydia was on vacation, smoothly making sure the projects assigned to him did not include any scenes with Stiles.  But now here he was, out in the studio, watching the beginning of Stiles’ scene and already practically vibrating with need.  Because of course it was his favorite—Stiles being rather dommish and taking control over his scene partner who, in this case was Scott McCall, one of the actors enticed to their studio in part by Stiles’ presence.  An old friend of Stiles, actually, from Beacon Hills, who Derek remembered only vaguely.  Stiles had instructed Scott to strip and now had him stretched out on his back on the bed with his head hanging over so Stiles could slide his cock in that waiting mouth and straight into his throat.  McCall was known for his deep throating ability, so the scene was intended to spend quite a bit of time focusing on Stiles’ giant cock sliding as deep into his throat as possible.  And Derek had to admit he was impressed—he knew no matter how much he fantasized about sucking on Stiles, he would never be able to take this much of him.  But seeing the actor’s throat bulge and swell with Stiles’ cock, he couldn’t help imagining it was him—that Stiles’ hands were holding the sides of his head and the warm, smooth, slick, soft-and-yet-solid flesh of Stiles was sliding between his lips and over his tongue then pressing, unyielding and insistent, past the back of his mouth and into his throat as he swallowed around it, trying to caress Stiles’ with his throat.

Stiles was amazing as ever, using Scott’s mouth seemingly endlessly but making it look great for the camera.  He moaned in pleasure and cued Scott when to do the same.  He touched him softly then roughly then even more roughly.  He led Scott onto his knees and fucked his face, making it look ruthless for the camera, though Derek and his team knew now that Stiles had great instincts for exactly how deep he was and what an actor could handle and making it somehow look like he was forcing the actor to do more than he could take, without ever actually doing anything of the kind.  And Scott could take a lot, so there was no doubt this was going to look amazing in final.  Derek was almost grateful that he was behind Scott so he couldn’t see Stiles’ cock disappearing into his mouth now.  But it was almost as bad that this meant he was directly across from Stiles and could see the strain of pleasure on his face and sweet concentration in his eyes as he looked down at Scott.  He knew McCall must really have a talented mouth and that throat must really be taking Stiles in just from the expression on Stiles’ face.  He looked down at Scott with this soft sort of pleased and dazed look on his face and Derek could see when Stiles’ hands slipped farther around Scott’s head, digging into his hair and starting to grip tighter.

Derek watched with fascination as Stiles’ face showed him getting closer and closer to the edge.  His jaw seemed to tighten even as his mouth relaxed and opened a bit.  His brow began to furrow and his eyes opened a bit wider, revealing a darker brown than Stiles’ usual amber shade.  Derek’s tongue slid unconsciously over his lips just as Stiles’ eyes flicked up to his face and landed on Derek’s mouth.  Stiles gasped and his hands clenched in McCall’s hair, holding him hard as his hips thrust forward roughly, once, then twice, then a third time.  His eyes were riveted on Derek and Derek thoughtlessly let his mouth drop slightly open and licked his lips again, this time slowly, imagining circling his tongue around the head of Stiles’ cock.  Stiles moaned and ripped himself back and out of Scott’s mouth, jerking himself roughly and coming in ropes all over Scott’s face.  At least that’s what Derek presumed happened as he could only see a couple of spurts from his position and he was still frozen staring at Stiles’ face as he, in turn, stared at Derek.  Derek could feel his own cock twitch in his pants and he forced himself to blink and look down to try to collect himself.

By the time he looked back up, Stiles was moving Scott to a 69 position, Stiles laying on his back and working Scott open with his tongue and fingers while McCall at first worked Stiles’ balls and thighs over gently and then when Stiles was hard again began to work his own throat down over Stiles’ dick.  When Scott was sufficiently prepped, Stiles instructed McCall to ride him for a while then flipped him onto his hands and knees after a while to slide back into him from behind.  He held McCall’s hips in a tight grip and fucked him rough and fast.  Derek still couldn’t believe how long Stiles could keep up a pace like that without coming, especially with how tight the holes he was sliding into must feel just because of his size alone.  He would have been coming minutes earlier, but Stiles just kept pounding away, sometimes adding slow rolls here and there for the camera or pulling out briefly so the camera could get a close up of Scott’s ass, gaping open and red from Stiles’ cock.  Then he fucked back in, telling Scott what a hot little hole he was.  Thankfully, the camera had now moved between him and Stiles and Stiles wasn’t facing him now anyway, so rather than watching the live action he was looking at the camera monitors anyway, which helped add at least the tiniest sort of remove and bit of professionalism he hoped.

But Derek was still so hot with lust and need by the end of the scene that he could barely manage to stand with the rest of the crew and force himself to smile and pat men and women on the back as they moved around the studio to clean up and stand with Isaac and Boyd to confirm the wrap-up.  When Stiles and Scott had moved back toward the dressing area and the moment Boyd confirmed he was good to go, Derek fled to his office and shut the door swiftly.  He was already pulling his pants open and reaching inside as he sank into his desk chair and spun it around to face the back of his office.  He grabbed a fistful of Kleenex from the box on his credenza with his left hand and closed his eyes, already stripping his cock roughly with his right.  His mind immediately lit up with a vision of himself on his back, head hanging off the bed as Stiles slid into his mouth.  It was a jumble, Stiles fucking his face hard, fingers holding the sides of his head still like a vise, and staring down at Derek’s mouth where his cock was disappearing, but also somehow staring at Derek’s mouth from before when he’d been licking his lips.  He heard Stiles’ voice in his head telling him his mouth felt so good and that it belonged to Stiles.  And then he was coming and had to bite down on his own tongue to swallow the loud moan he’d almost let out.             

He sat there for several moments, after cleaning up, his pants still open and his cock spent in his lap.  How was he going to get through a couple hours with Stiles without giving himself away?  He sighed and stood up, tucking himself back in and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Chapter Text

Derek had been doing so well.  He and Stiles had picked a restaurant over a bar, deciding to go to the Italian place Derek liked near his apartment, since it was also close to the studio.  They were seated in one of those curved booths, and the first hour had gone shockingly well.  He and Stiles had had so much news of each other’s lives to catch up on and Stiles was maybe even more fun to talk to than when they were younger, so the time had passed quickly, all the way through a first drink and the food, and Derek had only had a few passing sexual thoughts here and there when Stiles licked his lips a certain way or once when he leaned toward Derek and let his hand rest on Derek’s thigh while he was telling the climactic moment of a story about his most embarrassing college moment.  But then they had laughed and the moment had passed and Derek found himself admitting to his own awkward moments and telling a story about the first time he had sex with a girl and found it was definitely not for him.

But then dinner was over and they were on their fourth drinks and started telling each other about their sexual and relationship history and Derek found himself tense and frustrated—jealous of every single lover that Stiles described and terrified to reveal anything about himself because it all led to one person.  He could feel himself closing up—getting quieter and not doing his part in the conversation any more.  And that was the last thing he wanted.  It had been so good—sitting here talking with Stiles, making him laugh, laughing in turn at his goofy jokes, remembering everything that had always made him tick and learning a few new things.  He knew it was just friends and not a real date, but he couldn’t help the feeling that this was what a great date was supposed to be like.  And he was desperate not to ruin it.  But as Stiles told about his last relationship and breakup, Derek didn’t know what to say.  He was afraid to say out loud how much of an idiot this guy sounded like, knowing that the bitterness and envy would show in the tone of his voice.

Stiles was looking down at his hands, twined together on the table.  Derek tried to think of something comforting to say.  Something to make Stiles understand that he would never be alone for long—that he was just too obviously special for men to ignore.  That Derek saw their admiring faces everywhere around the studio and knew that it must be the same everywhere Stiles went and he was just too humble and earnest to recognize it.  But he couldn’t say all that.  So the awkward pause swelled between them.

Then Stiles let out a rough laugh.  “Of course, on the other hand, I should probably thank Matt, because without him I don’t know how long it would have taken me to realize the serious level of Dom streak that I have.”

And that was all it took for Derek’s cock to risk up from its sleep and start swelling then and there in his pants.  His hands clenched the tiniest bit, one wrapping tighter around his wine glass in a way he hoped Stiles didn’t notice.  It wasn’t just for scenes.  It was natural.  That Dom thing Stiles did—it was real.  It was who he was.

Derek tried to chuckle awkwardly, was sure it must have come out strange when Stiles turned his face to the side to look at him.

“How ‘bout you, Der?”

“Uh…how about me what?”

“Well, come on, tell me something about what you like in a guy or in sex?  Don’t leave me out here entirely alone on this limb.”

“Um…well…same, I guess.  You know, for me.”

Stiles tilted his head.  “Same?  Oh, you like to Dom too, eh?  Not worried about being cliché with your rough looks and all?”  He chuckled to himself and took a drink of his beer.

“No, I meant, I…opposite.”  He stared at some spot on the table.

“Oh?  Oh!  Really?   Fuck .”  Stiles’ voice was an octave lower and at least twenty decibels quieter.  Derek looked up to find Stiles looking at him, but his expression was unreadable—a very unusual situation with Stiles.  Something about it made Derek’s cock throb and jerk in his pants even as he tried to figure out how to get out of this conversation.

“Do you like to be told what to do, Derek?”  Derek’s cock answered with a resounding ‘ Fuck, yes ’ even as Derek felt a nervous clenching in his chest.  He wanted out of this discussion desperately and at the same time he hungered for Stiles to know.

But in the end he just couldn’t find any words other than the truth.  “No.  I mean, not always.  Only for—for certain people.”  And even saying that much—giving just that little hint to Stiles—it had his cock leaking precum and Derek’s hand moving unconsciously to press down against it.

Stiles’ eyebrows raised.  And his voice softened even further as he leaned into the table between them and said, “You would look so beautiful on your knees just waiting for orders, Der.”

Derek stared up at Stiles, offering him exactly what he wanted.  And he ran.  He bolted from the table and fled to the bathroom, pushing into the stall that thankfully was unoccupied and falling back against it as he tore his pants open and took his hard, leaking, desperate cock in hand.  

Fuck fuck fuck.  He jacked himself roughly but, even as desperate and needy as he was, there was no way he was going to be able to get off here with Stiles right out there and probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with him and being so fucking sorry he basically made that offer to Derek just now.  Stiles was probably wondering how he could get out of there quickly and make sure they never did this again.  Fuck, but it had been so hot between them for just that moment, Stiles leaning toward Derek, his voice low and hungry, telling Derek he would be beautiful, wanting Derek on his knees, maybe imagining feeding Derek his cock, watching as Derek worked to open his mouth wide enough to take it in…

The bathroom door opened and Derek’s hand, flying over his dick, froze in place.  Footsteps and then, right behind him on the other side of the door, Stiles’ voice saying, “Derek?”

A soft whimper escaped Derek’s mouth.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, this time sounding relieved.  “Are you okay?”

Derek knew it wasn’t real, but he could have sworn he could feel the heat of Stiles’ body right behind him.  His cock pulsed in his hand and he closed his eyes and started slowly stroking himself.  He shouldn’t.  He needed to stop.  It was creepy.  And weird.  His hand squeezed and slid up.  And then down.  He tried not to make any noise.

“Derek?”  Stiles sounded less worried and more…like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

He closed his eyes.  His hand moved up and down.

“Derek…are you…”

He was caught.  Stiles knew.  But he couldn’t stop.  Not with the heat of Stiles’ presence right behind him and Stiles voice, low and perfect in his ear.

“Derek…”

He let out a whimper and sped up.  He knew Stiles could hear him now.  But he was so close.  If he could just come then this would all be over.  They could just forget it and go back to their drinks.  Go back to their lives.  They could pretend this never happened.

“Derek, stop .”  Stiles’ voice was quiet, just over a whisper, but it had a tone of absolute command and Derek froze instantly in place.

“That’s good, Der.  Now let go.”

Derek’s hand dropped from his cock and he pushed it flat against the door.  His cock hung out in front of him, hard and swollen with need, a drop of precum leaking at the tip.

“That’s very good.  So good.  Now turn around and unlock the stall door.”

Derek’s body moved even though his mind was tense with fear.   He won’t like it—he won’t like me—it won’t work—he won’t stay—I can’t have him.  But the second he unlocked the door, Stiles was pressing in with him, crowding him back and then closing the door behind them and locking it again.  Stiles looked him slowly up and down and then stared unflinchingly at Derek’s cock sticking out of his unzipped jeans and shoved down underwear.  Then he looked back up at Derek and pushed into his space even more, widening his stance so Derek’s legs were between his own and letting Derek’s cock brush against his jeans.  They were just inches apart, he could feel Stiles’ breath on his lips, warm and smelling of beer and garlic.

“Fuck, Derek, you are making me so hot right now.”  Stiles’ voice sounded like hunger and power.

Derek didn’t move.  Couldn’t speak.

“Der, do you want to be good for me?” Stiles’ voice was already softer again, as if he could soothe Derek just with the tone he chose.

Derek nodded helplessly.

Stiles leaned forward and kissed Derek softly on the cheek.  His lips were a cool and dry, and they made Derek feel oddly safe.  “That’s so awesome.  Okay, so all I want you to do right now, is be honest with me.  I promise I will only ask three questions and if you’re honest with me then no matter what the answers are I will be so happy with you.”

He hadn’t asked a question, but he waited and searched Derek’s eyes.  So Derek nodded.  He was scared.  But he could give Stiles three honest answers.

Stiles smiled softly and his hand came up and wrapped itself around the back of Derek’s neck.  He realized Stiles’ other hand had been resting on his hip.  It was good.  Nice.  Comforting.  “Did my saying how beautiful you would look on your knees make you so hot you had to come back here and jerk yourself off?”

Derek nodded.  He knew his eyes must be wide and Stiles must have felt how his cock twitched when Stiles said those words again.

“That’s good.  Thank you for being honest.”  He kissed Derek’s other cheek.  Slowly and sweetly.  “Is that the first time you’ve thought about sex with me?”

“No, I…” Derek paused.  It was too much to admit to the dozens and dozens of hours he’d spent jerking off and fantasizing to thoughts of Stiles.  “No,” he repeated.  He wanted to look down but Stiles was too close.  There was nowhere else to look.

And at his words Stiles smiled widely.  “That’s good, Der.  Thank you for being honest.”  He kissed Derek’s jawline below his right cheek.  Slow and long again, like you would handle something you treasure.  “Now tell me, do you want to have sex with me in real life?  Tonight?”

Fuck, yeah, he did.  But he knew when Stiles was done with him, his heart would break.  But he’d have had tonight.  And how could that be worse than never having that?  And besides, it didn’t matter if it was a good idea or a bad idea.  He’d promised to be honest, and Stiles had asked him what he wanted.  And the truth was that of course he wanted to have sex with Stiles.  He nodded.  Then, because he couldn’t look away—because Stiles was everywhere and he felt vulnerable and a little scared—he closed his eyes.

“That’s so fucking good,” Stiles sighed.  “Thank you for being honest, Der.”  Then Stiles’ lips were pressing against his, soft and sweet, closed and not pushing for anything, just there.  Like a tether, a security blanket.  They stayed there for moment after moment.  Until finally Stiles pulled back.

Derek opened his eyes. Stiles was smiling.  His face was so open and warm and he seemed as if nothing strange had just gone on.  Derek realized that he felt calmer.  His breathing was normal again and his cock was already down to only half-hard, no longer overwhelming him with urgency.  In fact, he wasn’t feeling any overwhelming feelings at all now.  He felt mostly calm, just a little bit of nerves, but nothing like before.  Even though he was standing in a bathroom stall just inches away from Stiles with his dick fucking hanging out of his pants, he felt okay.  There was some tension, some nerves and he knew if he started thinking too much they would come back.  But feeling Stiles in his space like that, and having Stiles direct him through a few tasks as simple as answering questions—he couldn’t believe how much it helped calm him.

“Okay, so I’m gonna go back to our table and get the check, and I’ll see you out there, okay?”  He didn’t wait for an answer, just pecked Derek on the cheek and slid out of the stall.

The calm feeling for some reason staying with him, Derek tucked himself in, and moved out of the stall, washing his hands and then heading out to the dining room.  When he slid into the booth, Stiles smiled at him, with that open sincere way he had, and Derek felt a warmth settle in his stomach.

“So,” Stiles said, leaning in a little bit, as if conspiratorially, “I asked the waitress to just pack our cheesecake up to go.  I hope you don’t mind.  I was hoping maybe we could go back to one of our places and talk some more.”

Derek nodded, not sure what else to say to that.  Just talk?

Stiles chuckled a little and said, “You know, this reminds me of childhood.  You were always laconic like this—like getting you to talk was always like pulling teeth.  I was wondering where that Derek was and it looks like I’ve found him.  But I guess you know that isn’t exactly a problem with me around—I’m always ready to talk enough for two or three people.  I know it’s a terrible habit and I still think I can be a really good listener sometimes, it’s just…”  He paused and looked at Derek.  “Sorry.”

He laid an arm on the table, extended toward Derek, his hand open, palm up.  Derek brought his own arm to the table and dropped his hand softly into Stiles’.  Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand and said, “Listen, Derek, here it is.  I like you and I want you.  I would like us to have sex together.  If not tonight then maybe some other time soon.  But I don’t want to push you.  And either way, I just don’t want to end the evening.  So what I was kind of hoping would happen now is that we could go to one of our places, talk some more, eat our cheesecake, drink some wine or beer or water or coffee, and then fuck or not fuck or talk about whether we’re ever going to fuck.  Would you…does that sound okay to you?”

“Yes,” Derek managed, rather impressed with how calm he thought he sounded.

“Cool!” Stiles said, sounding almost like a kid again.  If Derek could ever manage to think of him as a kid again after having seen his dick.  “Do you want to do your place or mine?  I’m just at that temporarily furnished apartment you guys rented for me, so it isn’t great and I’m kind of a slob, but I’m totally good with whatever makes you more comfortable.  I didn’t know if you wanted to be at mine so you could just pick up and leave whenever you want or would rather be at yours where it’s like your turf—”

“My place is good,” Derek said, starting to feel more normal now that he was managing to regularly get a couple of words out safely.

The waitress appeared then and they split the bill, paid and headed out with a doggy bag in Stiles’ hand.  Stiles suggested that he follow Derek back to his apartment, and the drive went smoothly and they were pulling up, getting out and heading into Derek’s place with that same sense of comfort and ease still mostly in place, Derek’s nerves only starting to flare up after he pulled out two beers for them and they settled onto opposite ends of his couch.  Stiles already had his shoes off and was digging his toes under the cushions of Derek’s couch, looking very much at home.

“So, Derek,” Stiles said, “do you mind if I just cut to the chase?”

Yes.  Yes he did mind.  And at the same time he wanted that.  So much.  Just fucking get it out there.  Let’s say shit and be done.  Left up to him he would pussyfoot around this thing for…possibly forever.  “No, um, I mean, yeah, I mean…”  He cleared his throat.  What a fucking idiot.  “Go ahead.”

“Are you interested in fucking me?  Because I am fucking dying to get in your pants, man.  Okay?  Like, I don’t know if you’re not supposed to say shit like that, but I would just fucking love to taste and touch and kiss and suck and fuck every little bit of you to pieces.  But I mean, just because I made you hot once, it obviously doesn’t mean that you really, you know, like really want to have actual real life sex with me.  And I know when I asked you at the restaurant you were kind of in a vulnerable place.  So you know, now we’re here, and it’s your space, and you can tell me to leave any time you want and I will.  And you can tell me no sex, but friends and that’s cool, too, so we’ll just talk some more and call it a night.  But if there’s a chance I could be going to bed with you tonight, man, I cannot fucking pass up seeing if that’s a possibility.  So…is it?”

Stiles’ hands cuddled his beer and picked at the label, and his knees were tucked up a bit in front of his chest, and it was such a different version of him than the one at the studio and in his videos.  And it was beautiful and hot in its own way.  And the sweetness and vulnerability made the bossy masterful side of Stiles somehow all the hotter.  Derek's defenses were just all receding somehow in the wake of Stiles’ words and voice and his fucking straightforwardness.

“I’m definitely interested.”  He got it out.  It was a little gruff, but he didn’t sound crazed or desperate or weak or weird.  And if the way Stiles’ eyes widened he maybe even sounded kind of sexy.

Stiles set his beer down on the floor next to the couch and leaned forward into his knees.  “Like interested like maybe…now?”

Derek looked at Stiles and the rest of his worries and fears slipped away.  Maybe he would get hurt in the end, but he was fucking about to have this—about to have Stiles.  He felt that heat stirring in his gut and suddenly felt desperately thirsty to taste Stiles.  Every bit of him.  He slowly and pointedly set his own beer down carefully on the coffee table.  Then leaned forward toward Stiles, settling on his hands on the couch like a panther.  “Definitely now.”

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Stiles breathed as he surged forward and met Derek in a bruising kiss, that was rough and sloppy and then settled into something hot and perfect, sending electric shocks down Derek’s spine and reminding his cock that it still needed desperately to come from earlier that evening.  They scooted forward messily and rose up onto their knees, their hands grasping each other’s faces and fingers running through hair, while their tongues and lips played and teased and explored.  Stiles scooted further and further into Derek’s space, pressing him backward until he dropped onto his back, leaning up against the couch arm and Stiles half lay on top of him kissing and nibble over his neck and jaw, then running his tongue around Derek’s ear and sucking his ear lobe between his teeth.  Derek’s cock was uncomfortably hard again and he knew he was rocking up into Stiles like a desperate humping dog, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  He got his own hands around Stiles ass and took hold of it with a vengeance, pulling Stiles’ hips down so he could rub and grind up against him, feeling a shock of thrill at the sensation of that huge cock swollen and trapped inside Stiles pants.  Then he felt Stiles’ hand sliding between them and tugging his jeans open and his fingers wriggling inside to pull Derek’s dick free.  When Stiles’ fingers wrapped around him, he felt such a shock of need and lust that his head dropped back and his eyes closed and all he could do was feel the sensation of Stiles’ fingers tugging at him.  It was a little off, the angel was bad and his grip was looser than when Derek did it, but it was Stiles.  Stiles’ hand wrapped around him.  And Stiles’ mouth was still on his neck, nibbling and now sucking in hard on a spot at the very base of his neck and it hurt and tickled and soothed at the same time and his cock was throbbing and his balls were tugging up and tightening.

“Stil—I’m close—unnnhhh,” he gritted out.

And Stiles’ voice was in his ear whispering, “Fuck, yeah, Derek, I want you to come for me.  I want you to come for me now, Der, god you’re so fucking hot, baby—“

And then that rush of heat and energy pulsed through him and he blew his load all over Stiles’ hand and both their pants and his own stomach as he shook and shivered under Stiles and clung onto Stiles’ ass with both hands, refusing to let go, like he was in a hurricane and that grip could somehow keep him safe and grounded through the storm.  And Stiles murmured in his ear as he pulled the last little bit of come from Derek and then released him, bringing his hand up to his own mouth to lick it clean and then bending down to kiss Derek with a mouth still tasting of Derek’s own come.  He didn’t love the taste, but he loved the way Stiles kissed—with surges of urgency, followed by periods of calm, then playful teasing and nibbling, followed by heady powerful sucking and forceful taking and exploring.  It was all incredible.

Until finally Stiles pulled up and sat back on his knees looking down at Derek and the mess they had made.  “Bedroom?  Maybe we can get out of these dirty clothes for a while?”

It was a question, but Derek couldn’t help but love that even without commands Stiles was still leading the way.  He nodded and stood, leading Stiles to his room.

Chapter Text

As soon as they got to his room, Derek was tugging off his boots and socks.  The post-orgasmic calm was gone and his body was as taut as a bowstring.  There was too much space and not enough touching and taking and using going on.  He needed that heat and desperation to be back—for the rough need to be driving them and pushing them hard and fast together.  But when he straightened up, the bottom of his shirt in hand, starting to tug it over his head, Stiles had a hand on his, holding him still and saying, “Wait.”

Derek stilled under Stiles’ touch, but his insecurities were already there rushing in to fill the space where his urgent horniness had been.  What was wrong?  Was Stiles already done with him?

Stiles slowly stepped into his space and was pressed his own body tight up against Derek’s, his hands having slid from Derek’s arm, down to rub over his hips and around to the small of his back and his ass, sliding and groping over Derek as Stiles tucked his face under Derek’s jaw and inhaled deeply, then nibbled on Derek’s collarbone.

“Wha--?” was all Derek managed to get out, under the onslaught of his anxieties and the feeling of Stiles’ warm breath on his neck and the exploration of his hands over Derek’s body.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled into his shoulder, his hands still sliding slowly over Derek’s skin.  “I just didn’t want you to rush me past this.  You are fucking glorious, Derek, and I want to savor the reveal of every single inch of your skin.”  His hands came back around to Derek’s hips, where Derek was still clutching the bottom edge of his shirt, and he wrapped them around Derek’s and started to slowly pull up, urging Derek to pull the shirt up and over his head, but at Stiles’ pace.  Derek’s heart was pounding in his ears and there was hard lump in his throat.  He tried to swallow and felt his adam’s apple slide roughly down and up underneath Stiles’ lips.  It didn’t help.  There was a bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat.

With Derek moving again, but at the slow pace he wanted, Stiles let go and let his hands slide over Derek’s stomach, feeling the ridges of Derek’s abs.  As Derek’s head was freed from his shirt and he dropped it to the floor he saw Stiles pull his head back and look down to watch his own hands moving over Derek’s skin.  He was still dressed, but he had never felt so exposed in his life.  Stiles’ long fingers traced the rises and shallows across his stomach and Stiles’ eyes followed them.  Derek saw Stiles’ tongue slip out and slide across his lips, licking them unconsciously.  He felt like a spring that was coiled too tight.  He needed to move.  He needed to be doing—something.   He needed to be making Stiles feel good—to be useful—to show him how good he could be for that monster cock of his.

Derek’s hands reached forward, going for Stiles’ belt buckle.  Stiles’ head came up and his gaze met Derek’s with a small smile.  His hands wrapped around Derek’s and he shook his head.

“Uh uh, Big Boy.  Not yet.”  He leaned forward and swiped his tongue, slow and wet, in a long line under Derek’s jaw up to his ear.

Derek felt the sudden urge to pull his hands free from Stiles.  Instead he forced himself to hold still.  It felt like fighting to hold back a rabid dog.

“You’re so fucking hot, Derek,” Stiles whispered in his ear.

And that was it—he couldn’t—he wasn’t—

He tugged his hands free and stepped back.  He could feel his body shaking, and knew his hands were balled into fists, but couldn’t seem to figure out how to relax them.

Stiles’ smile was shifting into surprise and then something worse—sadness or worry, maybe.

Derek closed his eyes and forced out, “I need you to go.”

He couldn’t hear anything from Stiles.  The room was utterly still around Derek.  His body, in contrast, was vibrating and threatening to explode.  He waited.  One heartbeat.  Two.  Three.

Then Stiles’ fingertips lightly touched his arm and he flung himself back three steps until he hit the wall.  His eyes were open and Stiles was in front of him, with something that looked like shock on his face.  His hand was outstretched toward Derek, like you would approach a startled animal.  Of course.  Because that’s what he was acting like.

“You need to leave, Stiles.”  Derek kept his eyes open this time.  Looked Stiles almost in the eye.  Well, he was really looking somewhere near Stiles’ chest.  But it would have to do.  “Right now.”

“Derek,” Stiles tried, dropping his hand and not moving forward any more.  “I don’t know what went wrong, but we can talk about this.  I don’t—”

“No.”

Stiles stared at him.  He could feel Stiles’ shock.  He just couldn’t care.  He couldn’t care about anything except stopping this moment.  Ending it.  Making sure he didn’t fly apart like he knew he was about to.  He couldn’t keep himself together.  There would be nothing left of him if Stiles didn’t get out of there right now.

“No?”  Stiles sounded shocked.

“No.”

There was a pause and he could feel Stiles regrouping.  He never should have invited Stiles to his place.  If they were somewhere else he could just leave.  But this was his space—he needed to get Stiles out of it.

“Umm…okay, that’s fine, too.  We don’t have to talk.  We can just sit, or maybe go to sleep for a while and—”

“Get out, Stiles.”

Stiles pulled in a tight breath.

“Now.”  He had raised his voice that time and he knew it came out more like a growl than a shout, but it was because he was struggling so hard to hold himself in—to keep from exploding into a million fragments.

Stiles exhaled roughly.  “Okay.  I’ll go.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”  Then he was watching Stiles’ back as he left the room, and listening to his footsteps as they headed to the door.  After the door closed behind Stiles, Derek started counting.  He managed to make it to 134 before he dropped to his knees, threw his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs.

*             *             *

Derek was sick.  Not with an illness.  He was a sick human being—corrupt.  After lying in bed, shaking with horror at what he had just done, he had finally drifted off to sleep.  Only to be dragged awake from a dream about Stiles shoving his cock down Derek’s throat.  His own cock was painfully full and he stripped it roughly, remembering what Stiles’ hand jacking him had felt like the night before.  Moments after he came he had to run to the bathroom, barely making it in time to heave his dinner from the night before into the toilet.  He had ruined everything.  He had freaked out and sent Stiles away.  He didn’t even know why.  He remembered the sensation he’d had of desperation to get out of that moment—to save himself.  From what, he had no idea.  But he could still feel the imprint of the feelings he had been having—a vague leftover sensation of past urgency and terror.

But it was obvious in the light of the morning that it had been irrational.  That something was wrong with him.

And maybe most importantly that he had ruined his chance with Stiles.  Which was really a ridiculous thought, because he knew he never could have really had a chance with Stiles anyway.  What would someone like Derek have to offer Stiles?

He showered, brushed his teeth, drank a glass of water.  He thought about going for a run, but in the end all he could manage to do was drop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.  He never even got to touch Stiles’ cock—to wrap his hands or lips around it and feel it that thick, warmth sliding past his skin.  He never got to feel Stiles fucking into him with that monster—maybe even telling him what a good boy he was and how we was taking him so well—

Fuck.

He was hard again and his hand had automatically drifted down to stroke himself slowly and easily to the picture in his head of himself on his belly with Stiles above him, pressing down and sliding that perfect fucking cock into him.  He pulled his hand back as if from a fire and tried to force himself to think about something else—his calendar, did he have any meetings tomorrow?  But it was no use.  His mind wouldn’t focus on anything but Stiles.  And even though his chest ached at what he had lost—what he had ruined—the rest of his body apparently had no problem casting all of that aside and focusing on fantasies of Stiles.

Derek sighed and rolled over to tug his laptop over from the nightstand and pull up his favorite Stiles videos.  He went through his usual routine—watching several videos and lightly teasing his cock.  Then he pulled started into his favorites—all with an obvious theme of Stiles taking control and dominating his partner with that casual, confident style of his.  He pulled out the lube and started working himself open, sliding fingers into his ass in rhythm with video-Stiles pressing his cock into Jackson’s ready ass.  When he had worked through two full videos this way and was up to four fingers smoothly pressing in and out, he pulled out his Stiles-shaped dildo and started up his favorite video of all.  He watched Stiles put his slightly scruffy, dark-haired sub onto his knees and tell him to open his mouth.  And as Stiles slipped the gorgeous, swollen head of his cock past those pink lips, Derek pressed the dildo against his rim and pushed. 

Even with all of his practice over the last couple of weeks, it was still rough going at first.  It was just so fucking huge.  And it didn’t have the give and flex that Stiles would have in real life.  So even with solid prep, Derek had to force it past his rim that first time.  But Derek didn’t mind.  In fact, he liked it better that way.  Something inside of him wanted to work for it.  Wanted to deserve feeling that gorgeous thing finally slip inside of him.

“That’s it, baby,” said video-Stiles, “so good for me…..yeahhh….oh fuck…uh huh…open up for me….”

Derek shoved.  The head popped past his rim and he let out a rough gasp.  The stretch was incredible.  It felt like coming home.  Like finding a purpose—for all the energy and effort he had ever put into his body.  It was to be a receptacle for Stiles like this.  He watched Stiles pull back and roll his hips again, pressing forward into the sub’s mouth as Derek slowly started to work his own Stiles-substitute out and then in again, fucking himself in time with Stiles fucking the other guy’s mouth.

“Unnhhh…” video-Stiles moaned.  “That’s a good boy….”

Derek’s phone hummed and flashed suddenly on the night-stand and Stiles name flashed over the screen.  Without thinking he reached with his free hand and hit answer and then speaker in quick succession.  Then he froze.  Fuck.  Why did he answer?  What was he going to say?  Shit.  He should hang up.

The sub on the video moaned loudly and video-Stiles suddenly pulled back and said hungrily, “On your hands and knees for me, baby.”

“Derek?”

“Uh huh,” Derek panted, watching video-Stiles drop to his knees behind the man and without any hesitation press his cock up against that rim and force his way in, holding the man’s hip tight for leverage.  The sub let out a load “Aaahhhh” and video-Stiles moaned along with it.  Derek rammed his dildo into his ass and started working it roughly in and out.

“Umm…okay…” came Stiles’ voice from his phone.  “Are you--?  Is that me?”

“Uh huh,” Derek panted again.  Louder this time.  Fucking himself hard with his Stiles dildo and utterly unable to think or do anything other than keep fucking his version of Stiles.  And watching video-Stiles.  And letting himself feel like he could be good.  For Stiles.

“Fuck, Derek,” phone-Stiles said.  “Are you jerking off?”

“N-no,” Derek panted.  He had his head pressed to the mattress now, his mouth turned to the side where the phone and laptop were, one hand pressed to the bed for leverage and the other roughly working the dildo in and out of himself.  The stretch was insane.  He loved it so much.  Loved feeling how much he could take.  For Stiles.

Video-Stiles was rambling, “fuck, baby….you’re so tight….feel so good….”

“But you are—are you fucking yourself right now, Derek?”

“Uh huh…”  He couldn’t say more.  He was panting.  He was so turned on.  His cock was aching with need, twitching between his legs, desperate for attention, but Derek never gave it any until video-Stiles gave his sub permission to come.

“With your fingers?”

“No.”

“I fucking love your tight hole, baby,” video-Stiles said.  “So hot and perfect….”

“Fuck, do you have a dildo in your ass right now, Derek?”  Stiles sounded almost impressed.

“Uh huh.”

“Holy fuck, that’s hot.”  Stiles’ voice was breathy.  

Video-Stiles was fucking his sub harder now, the slapping of skin coming louder and faster, and Derek was keeping time perfectly, his eyes focused like lasers on Stiles’ cock sliding past that right, pink, circle of skin.  Derek panted roughly, unable to even worry about what phone-Stiles might be thinking.  He was too caught up in his usual role—imagining satisfying Stiles just the way this grumpy-looking sub satisfied his version of Stiles.

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice now matching up perfectly with video-Stiles’ tone.  Confident.  Strong.  He heard rustling in the background.  “You’ve got me so hard right now.  Do you want to make me feel good?”

“Yesss,” Derek hissed in a rush.  Yes.  Yes yes yes.  He wanted to make Stiles feel so good.

Stiles chuckled.  “I’m jerking myself off right now, Derek.  Just imagining you watching my video and fucking yourself with that dildo.  It makes me so fucking hot, Der.”

Derek’s cock jerked.  He panted and worked his dildo.  His eyes were still trained on the video, but somehow instead of seeing video-Stiles and his sub he was seeing Stiles laying back on his bed, with his pants hanging open and his cock in hand, stroking himself with one hand and holding the phone to his ear with the other.

“Do you want to come?” video-Stiles asked.

“Please,” Derek murmured in time with the sub.

Derek thought he could hear Stiles’ hand slapping over his skin as he worked his cock.

“Don’t stop fucking yourself, Der.  Can you get your other hand down to your cock and still keep fucking yourself?”

“Uh huh,” Derek panted and squirmed awkwardly as he followed Stiles’ instructions.

“Good boy.  God, I bet you look so fucking hot.  I was that dildo was me, Derek.  I would fucking love to be inside you right now.  Fuck, okay, are you ready to come, baby?”

“Uh,” Derek grunted, struggling to keep up rhythm on both the dildo and his cock.  Fuck, he was going to come.  He wanted to come for Stiles.

“Okay, just a little more, baby,” Stiles ordered, his voice commanding even as Derek could here he was panting, too.  “I’m gonna come soon, baby.  Hang on for me…..not yet….fuck you’re so hot, Der….so good for me….”

Derek heard a whimper escape from his own throat and felt his arm working the dildo in his ass stuttering, losing rhythm…focused solely on keeping his hand jerking his cock going at that perfect rhythm, not wanting to come but desperate to be ready at whatever moment Stiles might command.

“Oh god, Der…that’s my good boy….don’t stop, baby….fuck yeah….oh shit…come for me, baby…come now!”

Derek jerked the head of his cock roughly twice, squeezing his palm over the head and shoving the dildo hard and deep into his ass with the other hand and then the orgasm took him—overwhelming him and he stilled and spurted come onto his sheets.  He heard Stiles’ moans come from the phone.

Derek pulled the dildo from his ass and dropped to his side on the bed.  And for a minute they were just quiet together, breathing and letting their bodies relax.  The video had ended so there were no other sounds, just their joint breathing.

And just as Derek was starting to feel anxious, and wonder what the hell he could ever say to Stiles again after the night before and now….this…Stiles said, “I’m going to call you at 10:00 tonight, Derek.”  His voice was all boss.  Certain.  And sexy.  “And you’re going to answer that call.  And if you’re a very good boy for me on that call, I’ll give you a reward.  Bye, Derek.  Don’t forget.  10:00.”  And then he hung up.

Chapter Text

Derek had been alone with his thoughts all day.  And they all centered on Stiles’ call.  Five minutes from now.  What did Stiles want with him?  After what he had done the night before—inviting him home for sex and then throwing him out!  Not only that, but he’d gotten to come.  Stiles had wrapped his hand around Derek and he’d come in what seemed like mere seconds.  And only then had he asked Stiles to leave.  What kind of person did that? 

Even Derek didn’t know why.  He was finally getting exactly what he’d been fantasizing about for weeks.  And maybe more.  Maybe so much more.  Maybe a chance at what he had always wanted—a real relationship with Stiles.  And he had panicked.  He had no problem remembering how he’d been feeling—he’d never felt so terrified.  Not after the fire.  Not when he moved to a new city.  Not when Kate…  It had been ridiculous.  Utterly unjustified.  But still he had ordered Stiles out.  Like a fucking cocktease.

And then Stiles had called and made him come again.

He’d sounded like a Dom—ordering Derek to take his call later that night.  So confident.  Solid.

But maybe he just wanted to call to clear the air.  Maybe he still wanted the relationship with Derek’s studio, even if he didn’t want Derek.  But then why would have made reference to Derek being a good boy and said he might earn a reward?

Derek was afire with nerves and his stomach had been fluttering nervously all day.

He forced himself to stop pacing and sat down.  Stared at his phone.  When it rang it sounded as loud as a siren in the tense stillness of his room.  He jumped and then reached forward, hesitating just a couple seconds before swiping to accept the call.  He picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Derek.”  Stiles’ voice was like warm honey.  “I’m glad you answered.”

Derek had no idea what to say.  Thankfully, Stiles didn’t wait very long.

“Are you home for the night?”

What?  Of course he was.  He couldn’t have begun to think about going out with what had happened the last 24 hours.  He couldn’t think of anything but what an idiot he had been and how crazy Stiles must think he was.  He cleared his throat.  “Yes.”

A soft “Hmm” came through the phone.  “Well that’s a very promising start.  Now…what are you wearing?”

Shit.  Should he have dressed—or undressed—for sex?  Should he have known that Stiles would want him to be naked.  Or maybe even prepped.  Or….  He tried to calm his pounding heart and said “Jeans.  T-shirt.  I was doing yard work earlier.”

Stiles chuckled under his breath.  “I just wanted to make sure you were decent.  I was hoping you might let me in to talk.”

Derek’s brain took a couple seconds to catch up.  Then he got it.  Stiles was here.  “Umm…”

“Just talk, Derek.  I promise.”

Derek stared at the front door.  Stiles was on the other side of it.  He was dirty and sweaty.  He hadn’t imagined Stiles meant to come over.  He should have…

“Derek.  It’s okay.  I don’t have to stay long, but it would be nice if you would open the door.  I’d like to see you.  Know you’re okay after….”

After I freaked out on him.  Guilt got Derek up on his feet and opening the door.  Stiles stood there in an old-looking Empire Strikes Back t-shirt, khakis and well-worn sneakers.

“Oh, thank God,” Stiles breathed.  He looked Derek up and down.  Then he let out a sigh and smiled up at Derek.

Derek was so taken aback by Stiles’ appearance and whatever the hell he was thanking God for that he had no idea what to say.  No surprise there since he usually felt tongue-tied around Stiles.  They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds and then Stiles held out a paper bag toward Derek.

“I thought maybe we could have a drink?”

Derek reached and took the bag, immediately recognizing the feel of a heavy bottle.  He looked inside and saw whiskey.  The same color as Stiles’ eyes.  He stared at it.  He had no idea what this meant.  But it clearly was some kind of overture.  He just didn’t know what Stiles could possibly expect of him—there was no way he could make up for how he had acted in the last 24 hours.  And no way they could go back and ignore or forget what had happened between them.  He breathed slowly down at the bottle for a minute, trying to let its weight somehow lean into him—push him toward….something.  Finally, he raised his head and met Stiles’ gaze.  His face was as smooth and sweet as ever—no sign of frustration or anger.  He looked cautious, but Derek couldn’t have said if he was worried about getting thrown out again or being asked to get naked right now and fuck him raw.  He took a deep breath and stepped to the side, holding the door open.

Stiles’ face broke instantly into a grin and his shoulder dropped three inches as he stepped past Derek.  “Fuck, Derek, you really know how to build suspense, don’t you?  Maybe you should be writing thriller scripts and not just producing porn.”

Derek closed the door behind Stiles and walked toward the kitchen, Stiles on his heels, already rambling.  It was all nonsense about movie plots and writers and Derek barely heard any of it.  But he was grateful for it.  Grateful for the steady stream of Stiles’ warm voice, filling the room with a soft buzz of life and giving him time to try to get a handle on his nerves—to keep them from short-circuiting again.  He pulled two glasses from the cabinet and dropped two ice cubes in each, pouring generous amounts of booze over the top.  When he set one in front of Stiles, he picked it up and stopped talking midstream to take a gulp.  When he swallowed and sighed in satisfaction, Derek raised his own glass and took a drink.  Stiles’ eyes were on him and he tried to relax but it was impossible.  What did Stiles want?  Was he supposed to apologize?  Beg forgiveness?  Offer Stiles a release from his contract?  God Isaac would be so mad at him for this.  He had such big plans in light of the success they’d been having already with Stiles on their roster.  Losing Stiles would—

“Derek?”  Stiles had stopped closer to him and set his drink down.

Derek stepped back.  “Sorry.  I was….  Sorry.”

“It’s cool.  Um…maybe…” Stiles gestured vaguely toward the table.  “…we could sit down?”

Derek nodded and followed Stiles over, sitting down opposite him, and then staring down at the glass in his hands.  Please don’t make me start.  He didn’t know if he was trying to talk to Stiles in his head somehow or was praying to some nonexistent god. 

“So, this obviously wasn’t what I really had in mind at first when I told you I would call tonight.  But I was thinking about last night and this morning all day and I just realized what a complete idiot I was and I just had to see you and tell you in person how sorry I am, Der.  I shouldn’t have pushed you like that and I promise you that’s not what I’m usually like and I didn’t expect anything from you before we went to dinner and god, I totally took advantage of you and I know you might now want to see me anymore and I wouldn’t blame you but fuck, Derek, you were so fucking hot and I’ve wanted you for so long and I—”

The moment the word ‘sorry’ had come out of Stiles’ mouth, Derek’s head had flown up.  He watched Stiles talk, but the rest of his speech was lost in a haze.  Why was Stiles apologizing?  He was the one who had invited Stiles home.  For Sex.  Gotten off.  And then kicked him out.  For no reason.

Except there had been a reason. 

Stiles had wanted to slow down.

Had wanted not to rush.

Instead of fucking Derek into the mattress he had wanted to take his time.

He said he wanted to fucking “savor” Derek. 

Jesus Christ.

That was why he had panicked. 

And why he was struggling not to panic now.

“—not right to try to make excuses.  Shit, Derek.  Now I have to apologize for that, too.  There’s no excuse.  I fucked up and I pushed you and I should have seen that you were…that I shouldn’t go so fast and I didn’t want to see it and I understand if you’re done with me.  But I couldn’t just leave it without letting you know that I know I was wrong and I’m so fucking sorry and that if you do want to give me another chance, I will do—”

“Stop.”

Even though Derek had spoken quietly, Stiles froze in mid-sentence, eyes like lasers on Derek’s. 

“Just…give me a second here.”  Derek’s voice was rough.  As if he hadn’t spoken in days instead of just a number of minutes.  He cleared his throat as Stiles nodded at him and seemed to settle back in his chair a bit.

He took a breath.  For some reason he felt less panicked.  Maybe realizing what had done it helped.  He wasn’t going to panic sitting across a table from Stiles.  He could do this.  He could face this.

“So…let me get this straight, Stiles,” he started.  “I invited you to my place last night.  And we were…having a good time.  A mutually consented to good time.  And then I suddenly threw you out.  And you’re apologizing for that?”

Stiles sighed.  “I’m apologizing for pushing you.  For moving too fast.  You shouldn’t have had to throw me out.  I should have—”

“No.”

Stiles looked frustrated, but Derek wasn’t going to let him go on.

“No, Stiles.  You aren’t responsible for seeing the future.  You didn’t know I would panic.  You couldn’t have known when I didn’t know.”

“Maybe not,” Stiles conceded.  Derek watched him take a drink and then get up and walk back over to the counter and pour himself another drink.  Stiles’ back was still to him when Stiles said, “But what about this morning?”  Stiles turned around.  “Do you have some excuse for me taking advantage of that situation?”

Derek opened his mouth to explain that hadn’t been Stiles’ fault, but then closed it and considered.  Maybe Stiles had a point.  Derek shouldn’t have answered the phone…like that.  But after the previous night Stiles had every reason to think Derek was emotionally vulnerable.  And Stiles had certainly caught him in a vulnerable moment.  He supposed to some people it would look like taking advantage.

“I don’t know, Stiles.  I just know…I liked it.”  He shrugged his shoulders.

Stiles walked back to the table and sat down again.  He looked worried but he didn’t say anything.

Derek was feeling more in control of himself than he had in days.  He had to take advantage of this moment, before he lost his nerve.  “I’m the one who should apologize to you, Stiles.”

“Derek, no—you didn’t do anything wrong.  We can argue all day about whether I did, but okay, I won’t.  If you want me to, I’ll accept what you say on that and we can go on.  But you definitely didn’t do anything wrong.  You were amazing.  And any damn second that you want to stop anything.  Ever.  You get to do that.”

Derek felt a strange sense of calming coolness start to slide down his spine at Stiles’ words.

“I was only worried, Derek.  Worried about whether you were okay and whether I had—I don’t know—hurt you in some way or something.”

The nausea in his stomach was fading and he could no longer taste bile in his throat.

“But I wasn’t feeling anything else.  No frustration or anger or upset.  You want me to go, I’ll go.  Always.  Okay?”

Derek felt his own hands unclench and the last vestiges of panic disappear into nothing.  He nodded.  “Okay.”

Stiles mouth quirked up on one side.  “Good.”

They sat there for a minute, then Stiles’ chair scraped back and he was standing.  “I’m…I’m glad we got that cleared up.  I…guess I should go.  I mean…did we get that cleared up?”

Derek was surprised to hear himself chuckle.  “Not really.  There’s still one major thing to work out.”  He couldn’t believe he was saying this.  “When you’re going to let me….”  He wanted to say “be a good boy for you again,” but despite his sudden surge of confidence, he still couldn’t quite say something like that out loud.  At his kitchen table.  “…make it up to you.”  He paused and looked at Stiles to see if he understood.  Then he managed to add a soft, “Sir.”

Stiles was still standing on the other side of the table and his back was up against the counter or Derek thought he maybe would have fallen backwards.  As it was, Derek thought he saw him lean hard into the counter and his fingers gripped the chair back hard, his knuckles whitening.  He stared at Derek and Derek could practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered how to respond. 

But it wasn’t long before Stiles’ long fingers slowly unclenched, and he deliberately sat back down.  “Well, it sounds like we should discuss that.”

Derek nodded.

“So…you’re saying we can…fuck, Derek…I can’t pussyfoot around.  You’re saying sex is still on the table?”

Derek nodded.

“And you want to sub for me?”

A breath Derek didn’t even know he’d been holding rushed out of him and he nodded again.

Stiles’ eyes seemed to widen and grow a bit darker, but otherwise his face remained still.  He took a big swig from his glass.  His gaze was so intense that Derek found it hard to hold it as Stiles sat and clearly considered what to say next.  He dropped his eyes to where Stiles’ slender fingers were rubbing over the grain of his table.  At least Stiles was maybe not entirely collected about all of this either. 

“Fuck, Derek, I…I really…like super really want that.  But…I also really like you.  I don’t know if you only…if this is just…”

Derek’s stomach started to knot up again when Stiles said ‘but’.  No matter what Stiles had said, he knew he didn’t deserve another chance after how weird he had been the last 24 hours.  Actually, all the weeks Stiles had been in town.  It wasn’t like Derek’s strangeness could have escaped his notice.

Stiles had fallen silent and when minutes had ticked by, Derek finally looked up.  Stiles’ face looked somehow soft and young, like it had back in Beacon Hills when Derek had first noticed his precise, perfect features.  He loved the perfect pink bow of Stiles’ lips and those dimples that seemed on the verge of peeking out even when he wasn’t smiling.  And that jawline that now, all these years later, was always sporting just a hint of stubble, as if it refused to be tamed no matter what Stiles might do.  He longed to lean forward and slide his tongue just under the jaw and run it up that long perfect line up to Stiles’ ear….  Derek’s tongue was already sliding across his own lips before he even realized he was doing it.  Shit.  He arrested the motion, quickly clearing his throat and swallowing.

Stiles was staring at his lips now.  And clearly not preparing to pick back up where he left off.  Derek forced his stomach into submission.  He had to at least make sure they ended this on decent terms.  Try to salvage what he could for Isaac and the studio.  And for Stiles.

He pulled his shoulders back.  “It’s okay, Stiles.  I understand.”

Stiles’ eyebrows flew up at that.  “What?  No!  No, you don’t understand.  No, Derek.  Oh, fuck, okay no, I am not…please can we…”  He abruptly jerked his chair back and stood, starting to walk back and forth on his side of the table as he talked, his arms waving almost randomly in front of him.  “I so do not want us to end this conversation!  I am dying to Dom you, Derek.  I don’t know how that isn’t clear.  You are so fucking strong and smart and like…accomplished and successful and also at the same time so protective and generous to your circle.  You would be the fucking sexiest guy without even knowing what you look like.  And then you…you look like….fucking….like that….” 

He waved his arm wildly in Derek’s direction. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s like you’re the image God had in mind when he made man and everyone else every born were just early test subjects until you finally came along.  So yeah, I am almost fucking bursting from the possibility of you being willing and hell, interested, in subbing for me.  God.”

Stiles pulled at the crotch of his pants and Derek suddenly noticed the shape pressing against Stiles’ pants.  He felt a spasm of interest in his own cock and heat instantly starting to pool in his groin.

“So please believe me, Derek, it isn’t that I don’t want to try this with you.  I fucking do.  I have.  It feels like I’ve wanted this chance forever.  I basically can’t believe I’m getting it.  That’s not the thing.  The thing…the thing is…I…”

Stiles was getting more agitated than before.  His pacing was fast and his hands sort of tugging at his hair and his face in frustration.

“…I already know I’m going to love it, Derek…and then if you don’t love it or like it then when you’re done…I mean, obviously that’s always a possibility…I don’t expect any fucking guarantees…I’m not an idiot…I mean, most connections end…obviously….I mean that’s what it’s about…but if you already know from the start that it’s just sex and a Dom you want and definitely nothing else…then I don’t know, man, I just…”

Stiles suddenly stopped.  His back was to Derek and he was leaning on the kitchen counter.  Derek watched his back and thought about Stiles’ words.  He’d been so distracted by Stiles’ lean body moving back and forth and the vibrancy and energy of him.  And then the thought of that cock.  Getting hard.  Just feet away from Derek.  But Stiles had been saying that he did want to do this with Derek.  The but wasn’t about whether it would be any good.  It was about…how it would end? 

Derek’s gut lurched and he didn’t want to think about it ending.  He could feel that cold pinch of nerves starting to spread through the muscles in his shoulders.  Like a virus.  Infecting him and trying to force him back into panic mode.

He reached forward and downed the remaining whiskey in his glass.

“So…I’m not sure what you’re saying, Stiles.”  It was fucking ridiculous how hard that had been to get out.

Stiles’ shoulders lifted and after a moment he turned around.  He stayed standing, but leaned back against the counter, as if for support.

“I need to know if you like me.  Besides sex.”  He was looking right at Derek.  Into Derek.  “If there’s a possibility this might be more than that.  In time.”

Derek could suddenly hear the pounding of his own heart.  It was filling his head.  Yes.  Yes, please.

After a minute had passed, Stiles seemed to shrink in a bit and he wiped his arms over his thighs.  “I’m not looking for any promises.  I just need there to be…need to know if there’s a chance.”

Oh.  Shit.  Derek hadn’t actually said anything out loud.  He couldn’t lose this chance.  He cleared his throat again.  He tried to hold Stiles’ gaze.  But his fear got the better of him and his eyes slid down to where Stiles’ hands were now sliding into his pockets.  “There’s more than a chance.”

Chapter Text

Stiles didn’t say anything.  Derek waited and when he finally looked up Stiles had a sort of surprised smile on his face.  He almost looked dazed.  But the smile put Derek’s nerves at enough ease he could wait.

Finally, Stiles stepped forward and sat back down.  He looked at Derek for a minute and then stretched his arm out over the table, palm up.  Derek reached out and put his own hand in Stiles’.  They sat for another minute or so and then Stiles sighed.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I feel exhausted.  But like a really good kind of exhausted, you know?  Like when you worked hard in the yard and didn’t realize how long it was or when you help someone move?”

Derek’s eyes flew up to the clock and saw that it was after eleven.  He nodded, realizing his body felt exhausted, too.  Although, to be perfectly honest, he had given himself a bit of a physical workout that morning with his Stiles dildo.  His cock jerked in his pants and he looked at Stiles and prayed that the younger man couldn’t read his thoughts.

“So…we can’t do too much until we talk about all our limits and safewords and everything.  But I was thinking…maybe we can get started kind of light this week?  Like just a phone scene before bed or in the morning each day, or I mean, whichever days aren’t inconvenient for you.  I don’t really have anything on my schedule besides filming and everything else is just casual so I can easily work around whatever we set up.  What do…does that sound like….?

“Good,” Derek blurted out, “that sounds really good.”  He knew his relief at Stiles taking the reigns was obvious, but it was hard to be worried about that at this point.

“Cool,” Stiles said, sounding relieved.  “Okay, so, are you good with maybe a short call in the morning?  What’s your morning routine?  Like, when do you usually get up?”

“I make sure to be in the studio by 10:00 every morning.  I usually get up around 7 or 7:30 and go for a run, then have some breakfast and clean up and go in.  So most days I’m there earlier than that.”

“Okay….so what do you think about me calling at 7:00?  I’ll make sure we’re done by 7:30 so you can still have your same morning pattern?”

“Okay.”  Derek thought about offering to Stiles that he could give up his run, but then he realized if they were maybe going to be turning this into a habit that he should try to make it fit in with his life.  Stiles was right.  Something about Stiles having already thought about all of that, or maybe instinctively understanding that, made Derek feel a warm sensation in his chest.  Like Stiles was taking care of him without him even having realized it.

“Okay,” Stiles said again, nodding.  “Then I’m gonna get going so we can both get some sleep.” Derek felt Stiles squeeze his hand and then Stiles was pulling away and standing up and heading toward the door.  Derek trailed after him, feeling a little dazed.

Stiles opened the door and turned back as he stepped out onto the porch.  “So in the morning, I expect you to answer the phone for me.  I want you to have gone to pee already if you need to and have lube within reach.  Okay?”

Derek stared at Stiles.  His face seemed just as open and friendly as it had the moment before.  He showed no sign that they were talking about anything more risque than arranging to meet for coffee.  Derek nodded.  And then Stiles was gone.  But he was going to call in the morning.  In less than 8 hours.  Derek’s cock twitched and he knew it was going to be tough to fall asleep that night.

*             *             *

When Derek’s alarm went off at 6:45, he groaned and slammed his hand onto the off button.  Maybe he didn’t need to go for a run this morning.  He could just get another hour of sleep and…

His eyes flew open as his heart burst into high gear in his chest.  Stiles was calling.  In a few minutes.  Oh god.  He almost moaned out loud and he could feel the heat in his body already rushing down to pool in his groin.  Fuck.  He had to piss.  He managed to drag himself to the bathroom and waited impatiently, his nerves picking up speed, trying not to think about what was about to happen so he could force his half-erect cock down and pee.  When he had finally relieved himself and splashed some water on his face to wake up, and gulped down a glass of water, he felt much more alert and awake, though his body was still a web of electricity. 

He stepped back into his bedroom.  6:56.  Something fluttered in his gut and he felt a chill raising goosebumps over his skin.

Lube.  Stiles had said to have lube ready.  He crawled back onto his bed and pulled the bottle of lube from the cubby in his nightstand.  He reached for his phone and laid back, trying to feel normal.  But this was anything but normal.  Stiles was about to call him.  For phone sex.  Holy fuck.  His cock was half-hard again already and Derek was sure that whatever Stiles had him do he would be coming long before he was supposed to. 

He startled when the phone buzzed suddenly in his hand.  Stiles name lit up on the screen and Derek took a deep breath.  He swiped to accept the call and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Good morning,” Stiles said.

“Good morning,” Derek parroted back, groaning internally.  What an idiot he sounded like.

“Mmm…your voice sounds sexy in the morning, Derek.  A little rough—guessing you haven’t had your coffee yet?”

“No.  Just…just woke up for the call.”

Stiles hummed again.  “So are you back in bed?  Still wearing what you slept in?”

“Yes.”

“And what, praytell is that?”  Stiles’ voice was low and had taken on a sort of musical quality.  Derek realized Stiles was really into this.  Enjoying his role in setting the tone and leading Derek along.  Derek’s free hand twitched and moved to his cock before he realized they were in a scene and he probably should have permission before touching himself.  Something about that thought made his cock jerk in interest and Derek felt a rough lump in his throat.

“Nothing.”

“Fuuuck, Der,” Stiles groaned softly into his ear.  “You’re going to kill me over here.  So you’re naked, laying in your bed for me right now?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus,” Stiles swore.  His breathing sounded a little heavier and Derek couldn’t believe this could already be having an affect on the other man.  “I bet you look so fucking gorgeous right now, Derek.  Okay, so here are the ground rules for today—really probably for this whole week.  We don’t have proper safewords set up so we’re going to use the traffic light system.  Do you know what that is?”

“Yes.”  He didn’t need a safeword with Stiles anyway.  Certainly not for a little phone sex scene.  But if Stiles wanted it….

“So if you want to pause or are unsure about anything at any time, you say?” 

Christ.  Stiles was serious about this.  “I say ‘yellow’.”

“Good.  And if you want to stop the scene?”

“Red.”

“Excellent!” Stiles sounded really pleased.  “Now, just to be extra sure you just said red to answer my question:  do you want to end the scene right now?”

“No!” Derek blurted, and then fell silent immediately, a little embarrassed by his own vehement reaction.

Stiles chuckled, low and warm.  “Okay, now, I don’t like to be called ‘Master’ or ‘Daddy’ or anything similar to that.  So you can just call me Stiles or if you want to I don’t mind ‘Sir’.  Is that alright?”

“Yep.”  Derek was definitely not into the daddy thing and ‘Master’, well, he knew that wouldn’t go well for him.  So Stiles’ preferences were perfect, actually.

“I’m probably going to call you Derek most of the time and I seem to abbreviate that to just ‘Der’, too.  Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay, and I might use other endearments, like ‘gorgeous’, but nothing humiliating like ‘cockslut’ or anything until we have worked things out in more detail.  Okay?”

“Okay.”  Derek was wondering at this point if they were even going to get to a scene this morning.  Or this week.  With Stiles’ warm voice in his ear, even not talking about sex yet, his cock was now fully hard and after the stress of the weekend he was feeling a real need to get the edge off.  He raised an eyebrow and suddenly added a husky, “Sir.”

It was effective.  Stiles let out a soft moan in his ear.  “Fuck, Derek.  Okay.  Do you have your lube there, like I asked?”

Finally.  “Yes.  Sir.”

Stiles exhaled roughly.  “Good.  Good.  That’s good.  Okay, so this morning, you’re going to stroke your cock for me just the way I tell you to.  And you’re going to talk to me and be honest with me and if I think you’re being honest with me, then you’re going to get to come.  If I think you’re lying or just holding back too much, then I’m going to pause or even maybe end the scene and you won’t get to come.  And if you don’t come while we’re on the phone, Derek, then you aren’t going to get to come all day.  Understood?”

Derek’s cock was throbbing between his legs and he shifted them wider apart, easing the pressure on his balls.  Fuck.  How could Stiles just talking to him like this be so fucking hot?  “Yes, sir.  I understand.”

“Don’t forget, you can use your safewords at any time.  Okay, so are you soft right now, Der?”

“No.”

“Hmmm…oh, really?  How hard are you right now, Derek?”

“Full, sir.  Hard for you.”  Not having to see Stiles made it so much easier to be good—to just answer.  He knew he would be all nerves if they were having a live scene right now.  But this—he could definitely do this.

“Fuck, Derek.  I’m hard for you, too, you know.  Woke up early just thinking about how sexy you were going to sound on the phone getting off for me.  Okay, so which hand do you usually use?”

“Right.”  He barely managed to digest the question and answer with his mind full of a picture of Stiles’ amazing dick being full and hard while Stiles thought about him

“Okay, so take the lube and coat your right hand for me and then wrap it around that gorgeous hard cock.”

Derek did as instructed, barely holding back a hiss of relief as he finally was able to take himself in hand.  He started stroking, getting his shaft nice and slick.

“Stop!” Stiles snapped, his voice still quiet, but sharp and filled with authority.

Derek froze, his cock in hand.

“Did I say to stroke that cock, Derek?”  Stiles had an almost disappointed tone, that gave Derek a brief flash of queasiness.

“No.”

“Good—that’s right.  So what are you doing right now for me, Der?”

“Holding my cock, Sir.”  Which had threatened to wilt at Stiles’ disappointed tone but a moment later the pride in his voice as he said ‘Good, that’s right,’ to Derek had him just as hard as ever and again desperate for friction and attention.  But he could wait.  Until Stiles said he could.

“Mmm…that’s right, Derek.  Fuck, you’re so good for me.  I’ve got my hand on my cock, too, baby.  It’s so fucking hard for you.”

A swell of heat ran down Derek’s spine and legs as he saw in his head Stiles laying in his bed with that huge, perfect cock of his sticking up straight and tall from his pubes with one of Stiles’ hands wrapped around it, those long, precise fingers, sliding up and down all the fucking amazing length of him.

“Okay, first question, and if you’re good and honest for me, I’ll let you start stroking your cock for me.  I know you need that friction—need to feel how good your hand will be, sliding up and down your length, squeezing yourself nice and tight for me.  Now, tell me, when you were watching that video of me the other day, was that the first time you’d watched that?”

Derek’s cheeks burned with something rather like shame.  But he really did not want to disappoint Stiles.  And Stiles already could guess this.  “No.”

“That’s good, Der.  Now take that hand and slide it up your cock, nice and slow for me and then down again, realll nice and slooww, okay?  Just…like…this.”  Stiles matched his words to a painfully slow rhythm, and Derek dragged his hand over his length as instructed, squeezing and wishing desperately for more.  He moaned softly at the feeling and was a little shocked when it came out more like a whine.

Stiles rumbled a low sort of laugh.  “It’s okay, baby.  I promise we’re going to get there.  Just be good for me a little while longer.  Now keep stroking yourself just….like….that, okay, baby?  I’m doing the same thing here for you, so I need to know you’re not going to speed up until I tell you.”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek murmured, all of his concentration focused on his right hand and trying to keep from moving any faster than the pace Stiles had set.  It was fucking torture.  And he wanted to do it right for Stiles so fucking bad.

Stiles hummed.  “That’s good.  Now, have you watched any of my other videos from before I was with your studio?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“All of them.”

He heard Stiles make a sort of choking sound.  But when he spoke his voice still had that silky sort of intentionally soothing tone about it.  “You’re doing so good, Derek.  Let’s get that hand going just...a little…faster…now.”  He used his words to set the new pace for Derek and Derek thought he could maybe hear Stiles’ own hand moving over his cock, too.  It must look so good, shiny with lube and flushed hard with morning wood.  Derek longed to try to spread his lips wide enough and see if he could put his mouth around it.  “Yeah, baby…now let me hear you, Der,” Stiles rumbled.  “Want to hear how good your hand feels sliding along that length for me.”

Derek hadn’t even realized he’d been holding anything back, but Stiles was right, he was barely breathing with how hard he had been listening to hear Stiles’ hand and every breath and word he uttered.  He forced himself to relax his chest and throat and just focus on his hand sliding over his dick.  His breath came out in heavy pants and occasionally a soft sort of moan slid out from him.  They were mutually quiet for a minute, just listening to each other and Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced anything sexier with another person.

“Fuck, Derek, that’s so good.  You make me so fucking hot, baby.”  Stiles voice was broken up now with his own heavy breathing.  He sounded like he was having a hard time keeping calm and Derek secretly preened at knowing something about him and this call was causing that.  “Keep going just like that for me, okay?  Oh fuck, wish I could see you—see your beautiful cock nice and hard for me.  Okay, just a few more questions for me, baby and if you keep being so fucking gorgeous and good for me, we’re gonna come together, alright?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Fuck, Derek’s cock was painfully hard now.  He needed to come so bad—needed Stiles to let him come.

“Mmm…god, you’re so good.  Okay, so tell me about when you first checked out my videos?  Was it a long time ago?”

“No,” Derek breathed out.  “It was just when you came up here…to the studio to start working.”

“So only a couple months ago?  And you’ve checked out my whole library.  Fuck, Derek.  That’s so hot.  So does that mean you liked what you saw when I first filmed for you?”

“Yeeesss,” Derek growled, embarrassed at how it came out sounding like a whine.

“God, you’re doing so good for me, Der.  Let’s get that hand going faster for me now, baby.  I wanna hear you sliding it, get some more lube on there if you need and try-to-keep-this-up-yeah-just-like-that-baby-so-good-fuck-that’s-good-you-fucking-sound-so-good…  Fuck, Der.”

Stiles was panting right along with him now and Derek didn’t have to struggle to hear Stiles’ hand slapping over his skin.  “Fuck, Der, I’m putting you on speaker phone, okay, baby?  But no one’s here and can hear anything, I promise.” 

Derek heard some rustling and thought he heard the cap of a bottle flipping shut and then Stiles was moaning in his hear, “Oooohhhh, fuuuuccckkk, Derrrr.  Come on, move faster with me now, baby.”

Fuck, Stiles must have lubed up his other hand and be stroking his monster cock with both hands now.  Derek felt his balls tighten and pull up and he squeezed the base of his cock hard, needing not to come until Stiles allowed it.

“Tell me one thing that you like about one of the videos, Derek,” Stiles panted in his ear, even as his hands were clearly slapping away at his cock.

Derek’s mind whirled.  What should he say.  He would sound like the most shallow horrible dickhead if he said the first thing that came to his mind which was Stiles’ fucking gigantic dick.  Not that it mattered because Stiles hadn’t stopped talking long enough for Derek to answer anyway.

“And don’t stop jerking yourself—I want to hear you.  Squeeze it hard for me, baby.  I want you to get yourself close.  I’m getting so close, baby.  You’re making me so fucking hot.  I swear to fuck, Derek, I have never seen or heard anything as hot as you on the other end of the phone watching my video and fucking yourself to it.”

A flash of Stiles in his room calling Derek and hearing Derek masturbating to the sound of his video suddenly filled Derek’s mind.  He saw Stiles’ cock swell as fast as lightning and getting hard because of him, and Stiles having to take himself in hand and jerk off.  Just like he was right now.  Just like Derek could hear. 

“Though this fucking moment is coming in a close second—love fucking hearing you stroking your cock for me and giving me everything I ask for so fucking good—you’re just so fucking amazing Derek, so good for me, fuck, baby, need you to get close for me.  Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek panted, when Stiles finally broke his stream and seemed to really be waiting for an answer.  “Close, sir,” he moaned, rubbing the palm of his hand over the head of his cock to keep himself on the head of that pin.  For Stiles.

“Fuck, Derek.  Me, too, baby.  Tell me one thing you liked, baby, anything.  Want to learn everything you like.”  Stiles voice had shifted even lower and he was breathing hard in Derek’s ear.  Derek could almost imagine what the heat of his breath would feel like if Stiles’ mouth were right there breathing directly against his skin.

“The one…with the…dark haired…gruff…model…sort of…guy…when…you call him…your good boy…”

Stiles moaned aloud, “Oooooohhh, fucking Christ, Derek.  Holy fuck.  You’re like every one of my wet dreams brought to fucking life, you know that?  Fuck you’ve been so fucking good.  Do you want to come for me, baby?”

“Yessss,” Derek hissed out instantly.  He needed it.  He needed to come for Stiles so bad.  It wasn’t just his cock anymore—his entire body was aching with it.  His hand was working away as his left hand clutched the sheets, having not been told he could touch anything, his knuckles had turned white from the tension of it long ago.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, work your cock for me.  I’m getting so close.  Keep stroking it, squeeze hard, Der.  Wring that cock out for me.  Show me how much you want to be good for me—oh yeah—keep going, baby—oh fuck—oh god, baby, come for me, Derek, come for me right now, baby!”

Derek felt his body relax at the command almost immediately, like a magic flip had been switched inside of him, his already tight, drawn up balls took a last little tight sort of surge and his hand flew up and down twice more and then he was letting out a loud groan and coming in hard, sharp, spurts over his own chest, coming so hard, he splashed his own chin with the first spurt and his legs were shaking against the covers where he had planted them for leverage.

“Fuuuck, Derrrek!” Stiles shouted in his ear just as he was squeezing and jerking the head of his cock to work out the last shuddering pulses of his orgasm.  And then the sound of Stiles was just heavy breathing in his ear for more than a minute.

Derek dissolved into his mattress, his body more relaxed than it had been in days—as if that orgasm had released all of the pent up stress and tension that had built up in him through his nervousness over his date with Stiles and then his panic attack and horrible subsequent behavior, and then their long, awkward talk the night before.  He felt like butter—like he could easily just be spread over his bedspread if someone should want to try.

“Oh shit,” Stiles finally murmured.  “You still there, Derek?”

“I’m here.”  And I’m fucking fantastic, thank you very much.

“Okay, good.  You were…god, you were just so good, Derek.”

Derek couldn’t imagine what he had done that had been so impressive, but in his current mood, he didn’t really feel like arguing with Stiles.  So he said nothing.

“Okay, so, umm…I’d like to set up a sort of schedule for this week.  But this is all up to you, too, so if you don’t like any of this, just tell me and we can back it off and go slower or…whatever.  Okay?”

“Uh huh.”  Schedule sounded good.  More of this sounded really good.  He would rather just beg Stiles to come over in person and fuck him with that huge cock—own him and making him beg for it.  But what if Stiles said something or did something or even if he didn’t and Derek just fucking realized how bad he wanted to be with Stiles and he panicked again?  No, Stiles was taking the lead and so far it was working fucking incredible.  As much as he was desperate for more, he didn’t want to fuck with this.

“Good.  So what I had in mind was that we could maybe talk each evening so we can get started working on our kink lists and limits and everything and then we could talk in the mornings like this to have a light scene like this—nothing too high pressure or risky until we have the rest of the deets figured out.  What do you think?”

“Do you—do we—”  He paused.  He hadn’t done the whole kink list and history and limits routine in years.  If he had to fill one out now—he knew it would be vastly different than it had been back when he’d been starting out—or even when he’d been Stiles’ current age.  After Kate—well, there would be an awful lot of no’s.  Stiles might not want to bother.  “Do we really need to go through all that safety stuff?  I mean, we’re both pretty experienced adults.  I would have thought we could just set up safewords and go.”  After the words had left his mouth he realized how he sounded.  Someone as caring and thoughtful as Stiles would never agree to that.

“I’m sorry, Derek.  It’s sort of a hard limit for me.”  Did Stiles sound sort of disappointed in him?  His gut swirled a bit.

“Yeah, no, of course, I’m sorry, I….  Of course.”

“It’s okay, Der.  No need to apologize.  All questions are legit.  But if we want to go on with this, then yeah, it’s important to me.”

“Umm..yeah, okay,” Derek said, feeling awkward, but relieved by Stiles’ words.

“So uh, do you have time sometime in the evening most days for a brief call about that stuff?  I’m pretty open after six or whenever filming cans, so we can do it right after work or right before you usually get in bed.  Whatever works for you?”

“Umm…maybe 7?”  He couldn’t talk to Stiles before bed without a scene.  He’d never get to sleep.  Or he’d have to take the time to jerk off first and just be behind schedule and more tired before the morning call.

“Cool,” Stiles said brightly.  “Awesome.  Okay, so I’ll talk to you then.  And um, when we talk then we can decide if this time worked for you for the morning or if we need to change it up tomorrow.  But I just wanted you to know that this was so fucking good for me.  You were perfect.  And I can’t wait to hear your voice break up for me like that again tomorrow.  K, talk to you later, Der.  Bye.”

Derek thought he managed to get out a soft “Bye” before Stiles had hung up, and he was left wondering what all Stiles would want to quiz him about that night.  And what the next morning’s call would be like.  Since he couldn’t imagine any way it could get any better.  He lay languidly in bed for a few more minutes remembering the call and all of Stiles’ words and the way his voice had sounded and his breathy pants in Derek’s ear.  Then he dragged himself out of bed for his morning run.

Chapter Text

After their call that morning, Derek had been sure he would be able to think of nothing else all day but their upcoming call that evening and Stiles’ promise of another call for a scene the next morning.  But once he had run and cleaned up, he felt more focused than he had in weeks.  He got in to work at 9:30 with donuts for the crew and a latte for Isaac in hand, and a smile on his face that he knew was the cause of Isaac’s raised eyebrows.  He sat behind his desk and answered emails then went to work on reviewing the stack of paperwork Isaac had left on his desk—contracts with two new actors, the prior month’s P&L and current month’s budget, Isaac’s updated marketing proposal that incorporated not only Stiles but the other new actors he’d been bringing in, and more.  When lunchtime arrived he dropped a stack of notes on Isaac’s desk and went outside to sit on the park bench and chat with the crew while he ate.

He hadn’t felt this at ease at work since…well, it wasn’t just since Stiles came.  Yes, Stiles had thrown him off and distracted him, but he realized his days had lost something long before that.  He shouldn’t have been ignoring his sex life or love life or…well, both…for so long.  He realized he’d had a couple of brief hookups and of course played in a scene for the studio once in a while, but that was it for…years.  Ever since Kate.

After lunch he had a production meeting that was more fun than he’d had at work in ages.  The team went over shooting and scene plans for the following two weeks and with Derek listening and encouraging their ideas they started planning a couple more ambitious scenes for the future than they usually might do.  With their roster of actors growing so quickly, the team wanted to try more group and kink type scenes to expand their audience.  Derek encouraged them and helped them narrow down the ideas to a few initial items to try, and they settled on a golden showers scene, an anal double penetration scene that would feature Scott McCall (as long as none of the cocks involved were Stiles Stilinski, the group joked, and Derek didn’t even tense up or get distracted for the rest of the day), and a bukkake scene that would include every actor on their primary list.  When the meeting broke, Derek realized he hadn’t scene his team this energized in at least a year, and he was practically whistling to himself when he got back to his office.

When he got there, an email from Stiles was waiting in his inbox.  He opened it with a smile, and read.

 

Derek,

Thank you for this morning.  You were absolutely perfect for me.

For tonight’s call, I would like you to complete the first section of the attached checklist.  It is rather lengthy and can be daunting to fill out all at once, so I’d like us to take it in parts as I have divided it up, just one part per day each day this week.  Of course, we can extend that schedule as needed if you have any conflicts this week or for any other reason need to have any evenings off.  So, you may peruse the whole thing if you like, but you are not allowed to spend more than five minutes focusing in any way on any portion of the list other than the first section.

For experience, just fill in a number from 1 to 10, 1 signifying ‘never tried’ and 10 signifying ‘expert’.  For level of interest, use the same scale, 1 signifying it’s a hard limit and 10 signifying a definite-yes-please-Stiles-I-really-need-to-have-that-in-our-repertoire.  There are 53 items in the first section and I don’t want you to think too hard—you should answer based on your first instinct/reaction.  So I am setting a one hour time limit for this.  I want you to try to complete all the items in that time, but if you don’t whenever an hour has passed from when you start, it is more important for you to stop right then.

I will fill out the same section this afternoon.  When you’ve spent your hour, san me a copy of what you’ve got so far and I will send you mine a so we can go over them together on our call.

Remember your time limit, Derek, so if an item makes you uncomfortable, skip over it and move on.  This is not meant to grill you about your experience or pressure you about trying anything.  Be honest with me, Der.  You know that’s all I want so I can keep us both safe and hopefully make this as fucking amazingly satisfying as this morning already was for me and I hope was for you.  If you feel stressed out in any way from this experience after your hour is up, then you WILL exercise self-care.  You may call me if you think that would be helpful, or go for a run (not too long, I know you already ran this morning), get an ice cream, take a walk in a park—whatever you feel will make you feel better.  But make sure you do that, if needed.  I know you can do that for me, Derek.  I know you can be good for me and make me so fucking proud.

Okay, get to it.  I’ll call you at 7.

 ;)

SS

 

Derek shook his head.  Of course, Stiles signed off his emails with a winky face.  He had rolled his eyes at all of Stiles’ cautions and near dissertation on self-care and time limits.  Then he opened the checklist.  And saw how huge it was.  He should have realized.  53 items in just the first section, which was on bondage and impact play.  And columns to mark experience and interest in both giving and receiving each item.  Christ.  He scanned the rest of the list, which was definitely more comprehensive than any list he’d seen before.  Hell, he’d only filled a few of these out and never, apparently, with such a thorough Dom as Stiles was turning out to be.  He was grateful Stiles had broken this list up because he knew he would have pushed back on it too hard if he’d had to fill it all out in one sitting—started a fight with Stiles over something he said was a hard limit.  And it wasn’t fair for him to push Stiles past a limit any more than it would be fair the other way around.  If Stiles needed this—needed to feel like Derek was safe, then Derek had to respect that.  At least, if he wanted to hear Stiles panting in his ear again as they both jerked off together or ever wanted to have the chance to actually touch that gorgeous fucking cock of his. 

So he printed off the first section only, like a “good boy” he thought with a shiver, glanced at the clock for his starting time, and set to work. 

Twenty minutes later he thought he perhaps should have taken Stiles’ warnings more seriously.  He was almost sweating at his desk and had already skipped over seven items entirely, unable to think of them without visions of her filling his mind.  And he hadn’t been able to put a positive interest number down on even one item yet.  Stiles was going to be so disappointed.  There was no way he was going to want to continue this if Derek couldn’t even handle a simple restraint or gag.  A chill ran through him as he shuddered and he decided to try skipping down to the impact section.  That was a little better.  He was definitely up for some spanking and paddling.  It actually hadn’t made him particularly hot in the past and in his production role it had actually always made him roll his eyes—he didn’t get it in porn at all.  But as he imagined being bent over Stiles lap and feeling Stiles hand caressing his ass and then lifting up and slapping down, heat swelled in his face and his groin.

He got through the impact section and found himself moving around in his seat, trying to adjust his hard cock inside his pants, before turning back to the bondage section.  He looked at the clock.  He had 13 minutes left.  He was definitely not going to finish.  He felt that familiar pinching sort of tension starting to set in between his shoulder blades and his eyes flickered up to the computer screen.  

                     Be honest with me, Der.  You know that’s all I want.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Stiles didn’t want him to worry over this.  Stiles just needed it for himself—needed to feel they were safe.

                    If an item makes you uncomfortable, skip it and move on.

He opened his eyes, and decided to try starting from the bottom of the bondage section.  That was better.  He had no past experience with the various suspension techniques and other than his general concern about being restrained, he had no particular problem with the idea.  In fact, the idea of being suspended and how it might feel to be floating like that was more than a little intriguing.  But it couldn’t be done without restraint, so he still marked them cautiously as just a slight interest.

Derek was finding it easier now.  He was surprised to realize he had no qualms about saying no entirely to cages, closets and stocks.  Spreader bars on the other hand—hmmm.  He hadn’t really thought of that as bondage.  But yeah, he supposed he should have.  But for some reason his reaction was not one of fear or anxiety.  He could feel himself getting hot at the thought of being on his hands and knees in front of Stiles, his legs forcibly spread open, exposing him and keeping him in position for Stiles.  Fuck.  He pressed his palm down onto his cock, trying to force his erection down.

He glanced up.  Only 6 minutes left.  The next couple of items he actually had to Google to figure out how they would be used in a sexual scene, so his hour was up before he knew it.  He looked at the list and actually had completed most of it.  There was a noticeable blank section in the middle of the bondage list where all the various gags were listed, but it was only about 8 items, and he had completed the experience and interest levels on all the rest of the 53 items Stiles had designated for today, so he was feeling pretty proud of himself when he slid the pages into his scanner and forwarded them to Stiles.

After he had sent it off, he headed out to the set where they were filming a threesome scene with Danny, Scott and Theo Raeken who had just arrived at their studio the week before.  Because they had Stiles Stilinski, of course.  After the scene, he talked post-production with Boyd for a while.  When the studio was clearing out at six, he was feeling incredible.  He stopped for Thai on the way home and ate on his couch, waiting for Stiles’ call.  About five minutes before 7:00 he got a text from Stiles telling him their compiled checklist first sections were waiting in his email.  He ran into his office and printed them off just before his phone rang.

“Hey,” he answered, falling back down into the couch, the checklists on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hey yourself,” came Stiles’ voice.  “How was your day?”

Derek smiled.  “It was good.  It was…it was really good.  How was yours?”

“Oh you know, it started out pretty fucking incredible, so would have been tough to end up bad after that.”  Derek loved how Stiles’ voice so often sounded like a mix of childishly happy and massively turned on.  “So, I don’t want to keep you all night or anything.  But I was hoping we could sort of go over our checklists a little together—just so we can ask each other any questions we need to clarify anything.  Is that okay?”

“Yeah.  Um, of course.  I mean, this is kind of your show.”

There was a brief pause and Derek thought he might have heard Stiles sigh.  “I would really rather think of this as our show.”

Shit.  “No, I know, I mean….”

“It’s okay, Derek.  Nevermind.  Let’s just…are you okay if we dig in?”

“Yes, absolutely.”  He was overcompensating now.  Trying to sound enthusiastic.  But he was sort of enthusiastic.  He wanted to talk to Stiles.  Basically about anything.

“Do you have the compiled one I just sent with both our answers?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so I wanted to just run down and look at each other’s answers and if you have any questions at all about my answers, I want you to ask.  Like if you just wonder whether there’s room for the interest number to shift in time.  Or if I put expert on something and you’re curious about that.  Just anything you want to ask me, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He scanned the list.  He was surprised to see that all of Stiles’ interest levels on most of the bondage items were 3’s or 4’s at best.  And Stiles had set every one of the gag options at a 2 interest level.  Just one over an absolute hard limit.  He was speaking before he had even formulated a specific thought or question.

“I—you—you don’t want to gag me?”

“It’s not a hard limit for me.  But no, it’s not something I have any interest in.  I have a sort of super strong preference to be able to hear my par—I mean my sub’s voice.  It just doesn’t make me hot to have that restricted.  Unless it’s by my cock.”  Stiles gave a sort of low chuckle and Derek flashed again on the image of himself trying to stretch his mouth wide enough to wrap around the head of Stiles’ cock.  Fuck.  But Stiles was talking again.  “…plus, I see you didn’t complete those lines, so if you do have a strong interest in that, then I would certainly consider it for you in time.  But I’m kind of hoping that when we finish this week we have a nice long list of items where our interests both line up as high and we don’t have to get to the mismatches for a while.  But if you feel differently—it those are like essential items for you—”

“No,” Derek blurted out.  “No.  No, they’re not.  I just…it’s sort…ummm…it’s really common for Doms and I was just surprised,” he finished lamely.

“Oh.”  There was a pause and Derek wondered what Stiles was thinking.  “No, I don’t want to gag you, Derek.” 

Derek felt a tension he hadn’t realized was there, release in his shoulders.

“Do you want to ask me about anything else?”

He looked back down at the list.  He smiled when he saw that the only bondage item he had marked highly, spreader bars, Stiles had at a 9.  But since they both had mostly low numbers on the rest, he dropped his eyes down to the impact play items.  He raised his eyebrows at seeing Stiles had marked most of these with lower numbers than Derek, but not by far.  Stiles was pretty middle of the road on most items, listing a 5 on most of them, only dropping down to a 3 for canes and single-tail whips.  Though he had marked a 7 for belts and spanking.  Derek wondered briefly what it might be like to be naked before a fully dressed Stiles as he pulled his belt off and folded it over and ordered Derek to turn around for him.  Heat ran down his spine.

Stiles had marked a 10 for hair pulling.  And not just on giving.  It was the only receiving item in either section that Stiles had a positive interest in the receiving column for.  It made Derek run his eyes up and down Stiles’ responses for receiving and see that in experience he had marked pretty high experience for more than half of the list and at least a little experience for everything.

“So…you’ve been a sub before?” Derek asked.

“Oh yeah.  I mean, it’s also a great way to start and learn about everything—having an experienced Dom, you know.  But I was super subby when I started.  It’s weird, because I always thought I needed to be sort of ‘taken in hand’ or something to calm my mind.  But after a couple years when I played around with being in charge, shit, that’s when I realized what really settled me.  Taking care of someone else.  Especially if it’s someone you….  Well, there just was nothing like it and I was so fucking hooked.  When I started doing videos the first team I was with wanted only the straightest most vanilla of anything, right?  So no praising too much or instructing too much.  And I thought it would be the most difficult thing every—like, I didn’t think I could really turn it off anymore, you know?  But it actually wasn’t tough at all with total strangers.  It’s usually only when the other actor is sort of a friend or fuck-buddy or kind of reminds me of…anyway, just if there’s a connection is when it still comes out.  But most groups like yours nowadays don’t mind that at all.  It’s okay if there’s a little touch of Dom in there sometimes.  Shit, I guess that was more than you really asked for.” 

Stiles fell silent.

“No, that was…thanks.”  Derek felt awkward.  He didn’t know how to say it, but hearing Stiles ramble was…he loved it.  And the Stiles he knew now was really starting to fit together with the Stiles from Beacon Hills.  He was still Stiles.  He had just really found himself.  Derek wasn’t sure he could even say the same, despite his greater age. 

“You’re welcome,” Stiles said, softly.

“Can I ask…do you mind….”  Derek hesitated because what he wanted to know wasn’t really in the bounds of the checklist discussion.  But Stiles had brought up his history.

“You can ask me anything, Derek.  If it’s a limit for me, I’ll tell you.”

“Um…how did you first get into doing films?”

“Well, I guess it must be the way it happens for a lot of people now that we’re in the internet age.  I had a girlfriend who wanted to show me off to her friends and we did a little video recording of our own sometimes and put it up online.  I mean, she didn’t really want to show me off exactly so much as my dick.  She seemed all proud of herself for taking it all, right?  We weren’t together very long.  But I don’t mean that to sound so dickish—we had fun together and everything.  Anyway, after the views on a couple of our videos ticked up high enough I got a few calls with offers for actual paid work.  The first ones I did weren’t with real, serious studios like yours or anything.  Really just the same glorified home video stuff we’d been doing.  But it was paid and I liked it.  I did one or two that were just horrible—where the other actors were wasted out of their minds and even though you were wearing a condom you were still kind of worried somehow.  But it was super easy to figure out how to weed those out and to get in the habit of getting myself tested every month on my own, regardless of what other testing they might do.  And then I got an agent and was able to just work with real studios that are clean and where everyone wears condoms and gets tested constantly and yet they still get how to keep it hot and have everyone still get off on it and have a good fucking time.  I mean, I’m not stupid.  I know I have this career entirely because of the size of my dick.  But super honestly, I can’t exactly say I hate that, Derek.  I mean, you know, been having sex for like 8 years of my life now, hell for the last 5 or 6 of those years been having a hell of a lot of it, and I still fucking love that look in a guy’s eyes when he sees my cock close up in person for the first time.  I’m not gonna lie.  It’s a fucking trip.  I think it goes along with the sort of Dom streak maybe.  I don’t know.  And I’m doing it again.  You asked a simple question and I’m just rambling on.  You may just have to interrupt me when I do that.  So, uh, what else do you want to know?”

Fuck, Derek had so many questions.  Stiles’ girlfriend and then the mention of a guy’s eyes had him wondering if Stiles was gay or bi or what.  Which begged the question about the rest of his romantic history.  But what popped out instead, was, “So…has anyone ever been…I don’t know…too into your…size?”

“Ummm…no?  I mean, that isn’t really possible, I guess, for me.  I like it.  I mean, maybe I made it sound that way.  From the girlfriend that started it, but it was really just because she didn’t love my cock—she just loved herself because of it.  It’s hard to explain.  But she just really wanted everyone she knew to know she could handle the monster dick.”  Stiles voice had turned into a mincing sort of mimicking tone with that last phrase.  When he continued it was all Stiles again, though, and he actually seemed to start to shift into that lower register that he had when they had scened that morning.  “I wasn’t into that.  But probably because I wasn’t into her really too much in the first place.  I mean, I think I still like women sometimes, but maybe in a demisexual kind of way?  Like, only if they’re someone I have feelings for already like Lydia, you know?  The only people that really catch my eye are men.  So maybe I’m bi but like leaning way hard toward gay?  I don’t know.  Sorry.  I’m off track.  But I mean, I’ve had a couple guys be sort of obsessed with my dick.  And definitely some fans who are.  Most fans, I guess.”  Stiles chuckled.  “I mean, it obviously is sort of my ‘thing.’  I like it.  I like feeling how hot a stare can get, and seeing lips being licked in anticipation.  I like hearing a guy say how big it feels and how stuffed full he is when I’m fucking his ass.  At least I’ve always liked it so far.  It’s a fucking high.  I guess it makes me kind of shallow, maybe.”  Stiles voice wavered a bit and began to sound a touch uncertain.  “I don’t know.  I mean…does…are you…is my….”

Derek swallowed.  He knew what Stiles wanted to ask.  And he’d been the one to make Stiles feel nervous like this.  He swallowed hard and sort of straightened his shoulders.

“Well, I might be the person where you find out if it can be too much.”

Silence from Stiles for a heartbeat.

“You mean…too much for you to take?”

“No!” Derek blurted.  Shit.  “No, I meant…find out if someone can be too obsessed with it for you.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Oh my god, Derek.  Now you’re doing it on purpose.  You’re too fucking good to be true.  Holy…  Oh my god.  Okay, did you realize how lined up our responses were just on this first section?  That doesn’t happen, Der.  And now…  You’re just like my fucking best wet dream come to life.  God, I so want to just come over there and ravish you right now.  Okay, we should maybe adjourn this call.  Unless….  Did you get to ask about everything on the checklist you had a question about?”

“Yes.  Are you?  You didn’t really ask any questions about mine?” Derek offered, still reeling from basically just having admitted to his obsession with Stiles' cock.  

“Nope.  I’m good.  Oh, I do want to make sure you realize that the ones you left blank, the gag items, I’m just treating those as a hard limit, which, like we said, it lines up anyway with my lack of interest.  But all of this will always be open for us to revisit later and change if your interests change, okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, so, are we still good for a short scene call tomorrow morning?”  Stiles’ voice had dropped into his lower sort teasing register again. 

“Yes, definitely.  I mean, I’d like to.”

“Awesome!  Is 7:00 still good?”

“7 is great.”

“Okay, I’ll call you then.  And tomorrow I’ll send you another section of the list in the afternoon if that worked out okay for you?”

“Yeah, um, that was fine.”

“Cool.  So, I’ll talk to you in the morning.  Sweet dreams, Derek.”

“Okay.  Good night.”

Derek sat on his couch for a few minutes with his phone in his hand, feeling a surprising sort of afterglow from the call.  Stiles just seemed to exude pleasure and satisfaction when they talked and everything about his voice and his manner just soothed every nerve Derek had that that was tempted to tense or fray.

His mind drifted to what Stiles had said about his size.  He couldn’t help picture himself on his knees in front of Stiles as Stiles popped open those fucking chinos he was always wearing and his cock popped out in front of Derek’s eyes.  He knew his eyes would definitely be filled with the kind of lust and hunger that Stiles was talking about.  He knew his tongue would be running over his lips in anticipation of tasting Stiles.  His own cock throbbed in his pants and he realized he still had hours this evening before he had to sleep.  Hours to spend thinking about and adoring Stiles’ cock.

So he did.  He lay in bed with his laptop, lube and Stiles dildo and worked himself over until his ass was stuffed full, his cock was red and leaking, and his legs were shaking.  Video-Stiles had fucked a burly, tattooed man until he was shaking as hard as Derek was and moaning with each thrust, and Derek had edged himself at least four times already and was now desperate to come.  But he knew what came next.  What he had saved this video for.  He kept his hand on his dildo, still trying to work it in and out, though his rhythm with it was gone, as he reached for his own cock with his other hand.  He watched Stiles’ head fall back and Stiles pull out of the other man’s red, stretched out hole.  Stiles hand went to his cock and he started jacking just the top few inches, right up below the head.  He was squeezing hard and moaning lowly, “oh fuck…fuck yeah…gonna cum…oooooohhh” and then cum shot out of Stiles’ cock, landing in a gorgeous stripe over the man’s back and Derek’s body froze and tightened and he was coming, too, his own cum spilling out over his hand as he watched Stiles pulse a few more times out onto the man’s back and then Derek and Stiles were both jerking and squeezing the last few drops out with synchronous moans.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Derek was surprised by how much less nervous he felt for their phone scene.  He had a pleasant buzz of anticipation, but almost no fear—no worries that somehow this would all backfire over something he said on the phone, or that Stiles would be bored and realize he didn’t want to continue.  It was becoming more and more clear that Stiles was investing time and energy in this whatever-it-was with Derek.  It gave Derek a warm sensation to go along with all of his heated horny neediness for Stiles.

When the phone rang he picked up and gave Stiles a gruff, “Good morning.”

“Mmm…good morning to you, Sexy.”  Stiles’ voice had a lazier, sleepier tone this morning.  Derek wondered if he had just woken up.  “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Derek answered.

“And did you…entertain yourself at all before bed?”  Stiles left no doubt as to what he meant.

Derek felt his cheeks warm.  “Yes.”

Stiles hummed in response.  Derek was really growing to like that noise.  It was like an audible sort of smile or nod of approval.  It made the warmth in his cheeks shift from a hot, shamed sort of feeling to a warm, appreciated sensation.  “Did you watch anything?”

“Yes,” Derek admitted, his cock for some reason twitching despite his embarrassment.

“Will you tell me what you watched, Derek?”  Stiles’ voice was dropping lower and he sounded more awake. 

Derek hesitated.  It wasn’t a command.  Stiles was giving him an out.  But he really really wanted Stiles to know.  His hand was itching to wrap itself around his cock.  But Stiles hadn’t said he could yet.  Fuck it.  “You.”

Stiles groaned audibly.  “Are you naked for me, Derek?”

“Yes.”  Nervous energy trilled through Derek’s arms and legs.

“And is your cock hard at all yet?”

“Just…just a little.”

Stiles hummed.  “Okay.  Go ahead and lube up your right hand a bit for me and wrap it around yourself.  You can start to stroke, but keep it loose and slow for me, baby.”

Derek followed Stiles instructions, feeling almost frustrated as he tried to keep his grip loose and his pace slow.  He was filling out, but it was slow going at this rate and he already wanted so much more.

“How does that feel, Der?”

“Good.”

Stiles chuckled.  “Hang in there, Derek.  I promise it’s going to get better.  Now, tell me—did you watch a couple videos last night?  Just one?”

“More.”

“Nice.  So were you taking your time then?  Do you like to build yourself up and then stretch it out—wait and wait until you can’t take any more?”

Derek’s breathing was getting heavier.  His whole body felt somehow heavier.  “Yes, Sir.”

He heard Stiles pull in a breath, almost a gasp.  “You better still be going slow and loose for me, baby,” Stiles said, with an oddly sexy sort of teasing tone. 

Derek loosened his grip which had tightened to a squeeze.  He was full and hard now and already worried about being able to hold himself back through the whole call.  “Loose and slow,” he repeated.  “Sorry, Sir.”

“That’s okay.  You’re doing good.  So tell me, Derek, were you just jerking off to those videos last night?  Or did you play with your ass, too?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, you like to feel something inside you, don’t you, Derek?  Like to take your time and really enjoy yourself?”  Stiles’ voice sounded like hunger.

“Yes.”

“Did you use that dildo again?  The same one from Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm…that’s good.  You can grip harder for me now, Der.  Go a little faster, but just a nice…steady…rhythm…just…like…this.  Need you to keep it just like that.  Can you do that, baby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, Derek.  Okay, now I want you tell me one thing that you wish I would do for you right now.  Don’t think.  Just tell me right now.”

The command tone was so clear that Derek did speak without thought.  “Want to see it.  Want to see you.”

“You want to see what my cock looks like right now?”

“Yes.”

“You want to see how hard I am for you, Derek?  See how hot hearing your voice like this and knowing you’re stroking yourself just for me makes me?”

“Yes.”

“ ‘Cuz I am hard for you, Der.  I want you so fucking bad right now and I love hearing you being so good for me.  Okay, hang on a minute, baby.  Don’t forget what you’re doing for me—don’t stop and don’t speed up.  I’ll be right back.”

Derek heard rustling and sounds of motion, and a couple of phone clicks, then in less than a minute Stiles was back in his ear.

“Should be there any second, baby.  Are you still working that cock for me?”  Derek’s phone buzzed as Stiles finished speaking.

“Yes,” Derek whined then pressed the speaker button so he could switch to his text messages.  The picture from Stiles popped up and Derek’s cock jerked in his hand.  He froze with a groan and stared at it. Stiles’ cock, close and so perfect looking.  He could see most but not all of its length, from just the top of Stiles’ hand that was clearly wrapped around the base, up to the head.  Derek felt his mouth water at how gorgeous it looked, the skin still looking so silky and soft even while there was all that rock hardness underneath.  The head was swollen and dark pink.  He knew it would get even redder, almost purple, if much more time passed before Stiles let himself come. 

“You like that, baby?” Stiles voice came through the speaker.  “You like seeing how hard you make me?”

Derek was openly panting now.  Shit.  He had stopped stroking.  He picked back up, trying to remember the pace he was supposed to be using.  “Y-yes.” 

“That’s good.  Because it isn’t going to stop any time soon.  I fucking see you or think about you and I’m getting hard.  And you’re doing so good for me right now.  I love hearing you lose your breath like that.  Wish I could see your hand sliding up and down that cock for me.  Fuck, I bet you’re just gorgeous right now.”  The heat in Stiles’ voice had Derek riding up to the edge of need already.  He wanted to work himself harder and faster, but Stiles hadn’t said to and he knew he would come right away if he did.  He lifted his knees a bit and planted his heels, trying to shift to find some relief somehow.

“Okay, baby, I’m on speaker now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.  I want you take your left hand and play with your balls a bit for me.  Don’t stop your right hand, baby, you just keep stroking.  Just add that left hand in and do whatever you like to do—pull them down a bit, roll them in your hand, just enjoy the weight and feel in your hand.  ‘Cuz I bet they feel fucking amazing.  Are you doing that for me, Der?”

“Yesss,” Derek said, laying back and working both hands now, following Stiles’ lead and losing himself in the sensations. 

Stiles hummed.  “God, that’s so good, Derek.  You’re so good.  Okay, just keep playing with your balls and now you can speed up that right hand if you want.  Grip as tight as you want.  You can rock it hard, but just make sure you don’t come yet, okay, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek panted, his hand already jerking himself hard in his relief at this permission.

“Good.  Need you to squeeze it and hold back if you have to, Der.  I don’t want you coming yet.  You’re going to come right when I tell you to, aren’t you, baby?  Going to come for me when I’m ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Derek was close.  He was close.  But he could keep it close.  He could hold off.  He knew Stiles was hard and hot for him, too, and Derek wanted that perfect, amazing fucking cock of Stiles’ to explode just for him, just like yesterday.  He let out a loud moan as he pictured Stiles’ cock stiffening and jerking in Stiles’ hand just a second before a spurt of hot, white cum shot out over his body.

“Mmm…god, you’ve got me so hot, baby…almost time…need one more thing from you…tell me just one more thing you want that you wish you could have right now, baby, don’t think…one thing...”

“Want to hear you now,” Derek moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he worked to hold himself back even as he refused to slow down.  “Want to hear your…hands…your skin…”

“Oh fuck, Derek.  Yes, baby.  We can do that.  That was so good, answering so fast.”  Derek heard rustling again and then Stiles sounded farther away.  “I am so fucking hard and ready for you, Der.”  He thought he could hear a wet, rhythmic sound.  His own hand automatically shifting the slightest bit to match it.  Stiles wasn’t going quite as fast as he was.  “My cock is so fucking big and hard right now.  And it’s all for you, Derek.”  The sound was closer now, louder.  He could hear it distinctly as Stiles’ hand slapped up and down his length.  He tugged harder on his balls and gripped his shaft tighter, jerking in time with Stiles.  “Gonna cum soon for you, baby.  Are you close?  Fucking want to hear you cum so bad.”

“Close,” Derek choked out.

“Doing so good, Der.  Can you hear that, baby?  Can you hear me working this cock for you?  Hear how hard you made me and how bad I want to cum.  All because of you.  Because you’re so fucking hot and so good for me, baby.” 

Derek’s eyes were closed and he was surrounded by the sound of Stiles’ hot, hungry, urgent sounding voice and Stiles’ hand working away at that cock—that huge fucking wonderful cock—and his hands felt so good and he was so fucking ready. 

Stiles’ voice was breaking apart a bit now…he was breathing hard and Derek reveled in how needy Stiles was starting to sound, too.  “Oh god…Derek…fuck…so good…okay…okay, baby…come on now…when you’re ready…come for me, Der…wanna hear you…fuck…you’re so good, baby…”

Derek’s hand squeezed hard in tiny little strokes over the head of his cock and then it slammed into him and he shot onto his stomach and hand, grunting out a loud “UNNHH!” as he came.  He heard Stiles making similar noises and then staggered rough panting, as they both came down, just breathing together.

After a minute had passed, Derek breathed out a soft “Fuck” and shifted his legs, trying to stretch them out and relax his muscles.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, as he picked up the phone and appeared to take it off speaker, his breath coming closer again.  “Fuck, Derek.  That is seriously fun with you.”

“I…the same.”

Stiles chuckled.  “So, how did you feel yesterday after our call?  Were you okay for your run?  And for work and everything?”

Derek felt his own eyebrow lifting.  “Well, we finished right on time, so I was running by like 7:45 I think and—”

“No, that’s not what I meant—I mean, I’m glad the schedule worked, but I meant—was your mood okay?  Did you have energy for your run and for work?  Or did you have any bad times during the day at all?

“Bad times?”

“Drops in mood.  Unexpected feelings of sadness or isolation?”

“No.  It was a really good day, actually.”

“Okay.  And so far right now you feel good?”

“Yes.  Definitely good, Stiles.”  He wasn’t sure what Stiles was worried about, but it was pretty adorable.

“Awesome.  Well, I wasn’t expecting our phone scenes this week to raise any issues, but I don’t know, I feel like these calls, for me anyway, were more intense than I realized, so I just wanted to check.  We’ll talk more about how we’re gonna handle aftercare and either one of us having a drop later, before we do in person physical scenes, but in the meantime, if you do drop at all, I want you to call me.  Any time.  Anywhere.  Okay?”

Drop?  “Okay.”  Derek shrugged.  Apparently for the benefit of his bedroom.  Whatever.

“Good.  Okay, so are you up for another checklist section and review call today?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, cool.  I’ll send an email later and call you at 7:00 again?”

“Sounds good.”

“Talk to you later, then, Derek.  And thank you for being so good for me.”

Derek squirmed internally.  He didn’t know what to say to that.  “Umm…thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, baby.  Bye.”

And then Stiles was gone.

Chapter Text

Derek’s Tuesday was much like the day before.  He noticed himself smiling and laughing with his team more, and got a good deal done on the projects he had set aside.  At least until after lunch.  He did find himself a little distracted waiting for Stiles’ email and instructions for the second portion of the checklist, but the charge of tension was an excited, anticipatory sort of sensation for a change, rather than the tense, oddly lonely kind of need that had been driving him for the past weeks.  And it wasn’t very long before Stiles’ email dinged its arrival on his PC. 

 

Derek,

You were amazing this morning.  Thank you for letting me have that.

For tonight’s call, I’ve circled the next sections to go through.  One of them is just the straight up sex stuff, which is clearly the most important.  :)  Then there are a couple small roleplay sections.  Like yesterday, do not spend more than an hour on this.  If we have to revisit anything later, we can—I just want to get enough answers from each of us right now that we can find some of our mutual faves to start out with.

Like before, for experience, a 1 will tell me you’ve never tried it and a 10 will tell me you can teach me everything I need to know.  And for interest, 1 will tell me it’s a hard limit for you and 10 will tell me you would love to be doing that with me.  Again, try not to think too hard about each one and just gut reaction.  And if an item makes you uncomfortable, skip it.  This is not a test and there are no wrong answers. 

And, like yesterday, if you feel stressed out in any way after working on this, then you WILL exercise self-care.  Call me if you want or get yourself a treat or a few minutes away from the office.  You know best how to make yourself feel better. 

Okay, be good and honest for me, and I’ll call you at 7.

SS

 

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ overprotective careful Dom streak for a moment, as he printed out the attached list. 

 

The second he glanced at the ‘sexual activity’ section, Derek could already feel his cock responding.  Fellatio, hand jobs, anal sex, plugs, rimming.  Yes, please.

He set to work and the first handful of items went fast as his mind was filled with visions of Stiles’ hands and lips and cock.  ‘Fellatio’ was an obvious 10 but then it was followed up by ‘swallowing semen’ and Derek’s cock throbbed in his pants as he imagined his mouth being spread wide around Stiles’ colossal shaft as he pulsed his release into Derek’s throat.  He pressed his palm down onto his cock, seeking some relief, but ‘cumming on partner’ was next and his mind helpfully supplied a vision of himself on his hands and knees, with Stiles behind him as Stiles shot onto his back in long, gorgeous spurts just like the tattooed man in the video. 

Derek looked at the clock.  3:17.  He’d only been working on the list for 8 minutes.  He could take a break and come back to it.  He glanced up at his office window, though he knew the studio was nearly empty today.  The one working crew for the day was off filming on location at the rural property they used for the occasional outdoor scene.  There might be one or two other people in the studio, but no one was likely to need Derek for anything.

He quickly locked the door and woke up his computer, popping up the first clip with Stiles that he saw on his desktop.  It turned out to be Boyd’s edit of the scene Stiles had filmed the week before with a young actor Derek didn’t know named Liam.  Liam was spread out on the bed, head hanging back over the edge so Stiles could slide in as far as possible.  It looked fucking gorgeous as his monster slid past those tight, stretched lips and Stiles moaned with pleasure.  Stiles quickly picked up the pace until he was working maybe two-thirds or more of his length in and out of Liam’s mouth.  Liam’s fists clenched the bedspread and his hips rocked gently as his own cock filled and grew hard.

Derek opened his pants and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking lightly.  Then Stiles changed rhythm and started holding for a few seconds when he was as deep in Liam’s mouth as possible.  He pushed the pause longer and longer until he had to pull out after each stroke to let Liam sputter and gasp for breath.  Derek realized the scene was aimed at the gagging fetish crowd—definitely not Derek’s favorite.  He was about to switch away when Stiles pushed back into Liam’s mouth roughly and rutted against the other man’s throat.  Liam wriggled on the bed and his fists in the bedspread grew white.  It looked absolutely vicious—Stiles’ cock so huge that the man’s lips were stretched and pulled around it looking almost impossible that it could be disappearing inside of him that way.  Then Stiles rocked back and Liam gagged and choked for breath and Derek’s cock jerked in his hand and he found himself suddenly working himself harder and faster, eyes riveted to the tears sliding out of Liam’s eyes.

Derek watched as Stiles cradled Liam’s head and slid back in.  It was strangely slow and gentle, but he didn’t stop, clearly pushing past the man’s gag reflex and then holding himself there for several seconds, that mouth stretched to its limit around him and Liam clearly unable to breathe.  Derek’s whole body felt hot and shaky.  He wanted to feel that.  To strain around Stiles’ cock and long for breath even as he longed for that cock to stay, to use him, to make him belong to Stiles.  To have Stiles force himself into Derek’s throat over and over until Stiles, too, was bursting with need and came over Derek’s face in white streaks as Derek coughed and gagged and jerked his own release out onto the floor.

Fuck.  Derek groaned.  He looked down at the mess in his hand.  He thought he should feel wrong somehow, but he just felt relaxed. 

*             *             *

Stiles texted him again a little before their call to let him know he’d sent their compiled checklist sections.  Derek printed them off and leaned back in his desk chair right as Stiles called.

“Stiles,” he said.

“Hey, Derek.  How’s it going?”

“I’m good.  It was a…an interesting day.  You?”

“Hmm…very mysterious.”  Stiles laughed.  “Mine was good.  Of course it wasn’t very productive once I started doing the checklist and thinking about you.”

This time Derek was the one to chuckle.  “I know what you mean.  It was a good thing I didn’t start on it until after 3.  And that most everyone was working offsite today.”  God, had he really just basically admitted to Stiles that he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off in his office after thinking about him?

But Stiles just took in stride.  “Nice.  Good thing you have a door that locks, I’d say.  Maybe we’ll get to make use of that someday.”  Derek instantly saw himself on his knees on his couch, watching filming through his window as Stiles gripped his hips and fucked into him.  “So it sounds like we both agree this section was a little more fun to work on.  Do you have the collected results I sent?”

“Yep, right in front of me.”

“So, take a look.  Any questions for me about any of my numbers?”

Derek started scanning the list.  It looked like Stiles had highlighted in orange any item where one of them had marked a 1 for a hard limit and highlighted in green the items where they both had positive interests.  The bondage section from the day before was almost all orange.  There were maybe 8 items left out of the 40 or so.  And they were all because of Derek.

He was relieved when he turned the page and saw that the section from that day was littered with green and only a handful of orange lines.  Right at the top there were like five or six green lines with tens across the board.  On the other hand, of course they were both into blowjobs and cumshots and fucking.  They were young men who worked in gay porn.  Not usually a coincidence.

“Umm…not really.  Just…”

“What?” 

“I’m just glad we have a lot of green today.”  He paused.  “You know, after yesterday.”

“Mmm.”  Stiles seemed to be considering.  “Derek, you know there are no expectations here, right?  I don’t want you to be anything other than what you are.  I want to find out what makes you tick and hopefully what makes you cum the hardest so I can be the one to make that happen.  That’s it.  I already know you like phone sex and you sound fucking incredible breathing hard for me like that.  So basically at this point I’ve already won and everything else we do or try is just fucking icing on the cake.”

Derek had no idea what to say.  He was having trouble seeing the list.

“And it looks like we have a lot of other stuff to work with here.  Oh, but I realized when I was looking at the list today that it’s missing a couple things.  My list just has the one item about vibrators on genitals.  Nothing about vibes and dildos generally.  And I know you have dabbled a little bit in that area.”  Stiles chuckled and Derek let himself be soothed by the sound.  Yeah, Stiles definitely knew about that after Derek’s embarrassing performance on the phone Saturday.  “So, I just wanted to check,” Stiles continued, “I mean if you aren’t comfortable saying and you want me to send it to you as a checklist, that’s cool, but I wanted to make sure you would be okay with vibrators and dildos in our play, not just on your own?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.  I mean, that’d be cool.”  God, why did he sound so awkward?  He ran a fracking porn studio for god’s sake.  He talked about this stuff with acquaintances and friends and co-workers every day.

“So, like….positive number level cool?”

That helped.  “I’d say like 8 level cool.”

“Awesome!  So I don’t want to push, but I was just thinking in case we do move this to anything live and in person soon...god, Derek, ever since I saw our matching 10’s on barebacking I can’t think about anything else but how good it would feel to slide inside you skin on skin.”

Derek smirked a bit at the eager tone in Stiles’ voice.  God, yes.  He did not want anything between him and that perfect cock.

“I don’t know if this seems crazy to you,” Stiles was going on, “but maybe we should talk about test results and everything so that could be a possibility?  I mean, you obviously know mine are clean from the studio.  And I just wanted you to know that even if I ever stop filming with you guys, I will be happy to keep sending you my updates or even coming to do the testing with your lab guy if that makes you feel better in any way.”

“Okay.  That sounds good.”

“And…do you keep yours up, too?”

Oh!  “Oh yeah, of course.  I do mine just like all the other guys.  I hardly ever film anymore, but you know, just in case and plus it sets a good example for the other guys.  So yeah, I’ll get you a copy of mine.” 

Stiles said nothing.  Seconds passed.  Derek tried to think what he had said that could have been wrong.

“Stiles?”

“You….   You…  You don’t film anymore?”

Derek could feel the furrowing in his own brow.  What was wrong with that?  Would Stiles prefer if he were actively filming like Stiles was?  Why?

“No.  I stopped a couple years ago.  Basically right after we opened the studio.”

“Sorry.  I…I didn’t realize you ever did the porn acting gig.  Sorry.  I just…  God, I’m sorry, Derek.  I’m sorry.  It’s so fucking childish.  I just was a little overwhelmed by visions of you in film scenarios and god, I’m sorry…I’m just so fucking rock hard now and I couldn’t…  Shit.  I suck.”

Derek felt the cool slide of relief run down his spine practically to his toes.  He couldn’t help but laugh.  “You don’t suck, Stiles.  I’m glad it’s got you turned on instead of the opposite.”

“So…um…is it going to be like the most disgusting breach of etiquette if I look up your scenes after we get off the phone tonight?”  Stiles’ voice was the most adorable combination of hungry and nervous.

“Well, it wouldn’t really be fair of me to be upset about that when you know damn well I’ve been watching your scenes.”

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles let out in a rush of air.  “Christ.  Okay, so I’m definitely not getting anything productive done tonight.”

Derek laughed.

After a minute, Stiles said, “Okay, I think I’ve got Little Stilinski under control here.  But I guess this section was pretty easy ‘cuz we’re so fucking compatible since we both really like, you know, sex and orgasms.”  Derek laughed again.  He already had a weakness for turned-on Stiles.  “But I guess we should briefly mention the animal and ageplay sections.  Not that there’s anything much to say.  Clearly not either of our bags.  So that was nice and easy.  Okay, so…um…are you sure there aren’t any other questions you have for me so far?”

“Not really.  I just...was hoping we’re having another call in the morning?”

“Oh, fuck yes!  I mean, if it’s still okay for your schedule.”

“It’s definitely okay.  More than okay.”

“Then I will definitely be calling you, Derek,” Stiles said, and his voice was calmer and lower.  “I will need you to be naked in bed for me as usual and have your lube handy.  Can you do that?”

“Yes.”  Derek’s body shifted and relaxed as heat started to flow to his groin.

“Good.  Be ready for me, baby.  I’ll talk to you in the morning.  Sweet dreams.”

“G’night,” Derek said.

After the call, he held the phone in his hand for a minute knowing that Stiles might be searching for his videos right then.  He imagined Stiles with his pants open and his cock in his hand, sliding up and down as he watched a video-Derek getting stuffed with cock. 

Three minutes later he was in his bedroom, pulling out his Stiles dildo.  He took his time, watching several videos as he lazily stroked himself and started to work a couple fingers in.  As he was working in a third finger he watched a tall, tanned jock-ish looking guy go to his knees in front of video-Stiles.  He put his hands on Stiles’ thighs as Stiles opened his pants and tugged his cock free.  The jock’s eyes opened wide.  Derek’s fingers rocked in and out of his ass as he watched video-Stiles slide the head of his cock over the guy’s lips.  By the time the guy had managed to take the knob into his mouth, plus another inch or two, Derek was pulling four fingers out of his ass and rubbing lube on his dildo.  As Stiles lay down on his back and guided the jock to straddle him and press his hole down to the head of Stiles’ cock, Derek was on his knees, both hands behind himself, starting to press his substitute Stiles in.  He pressed his face to the mattress, staring at the screen as that puckered little hole stretched and whitened and then finally Stiles’ cock was disappearing inside it, as the man’s ass lowered down onto Stiles.  Derek pushed his Stiles in, feeling the familiar burn of that first stretch so closely followed by that incredible stuffed-full feeling.  He fucked himself to the rhythm of the jock riding Stiles.  When Stiles moaned and let his head fall back, eyes closed and panting, Derek wrapped a hand around his own cock, stripping himself roughly.  He watched Stiles’ tongue slide over his lips restlessly and listened to him start to let out little panted moans each time the guy dropped down on him, burying that cock in his stretched out ass.  And when Stiles’ groaned loudly, his head rearing up as his arms flew to the jock’s hips, holding him down hard and tight against Stiles as Stiles’ body jerked and spasmed his orgasm out into that ass, Derek flew over the edge too, growling out a needy “Fuuuccckk!”

Chapter Text

“Hello.”

“Derek.”  Stiles voice was warm and lazy sounding.  “How’s your morning?”

“Good.  Better now.”  Derek felt his cheeks flush slightly at this admission, but he was instantly glad he said it when Stiles answered with a surprised sounding, “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Derek said, more firmly.

“Cool.  So I wanted to do something a little different today.  I don’t know if you’ll like it or not, but I’m hoping you’ll give it a chance.”

Derek felt his shoulders tighten.  “How do you mean, different?”

“Well…I’m filming this morning, so I’m not planning on coming.  And since we won’t be coming together, there’s something I’ve wanted to walk you through that I don’t know whether it will turn you on or not. If so, we can still get you off, but if not, I hope it will still be satisfying to you in other ways.  And worst case scenario, you don’t get anything out of it and I’ve learned more about what you like and don’t like, which only makes me more likely to be better for you in the future.  Sound okay?”

Derek’s tension had eased as Stiles was talking and he was smiling when he replied with a soft, “Sounds okay.”

Stiles hummed.  “Excellent.  Okay, so are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Naked?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm.  Is your room warm enough?  I don’t want you under the covers.”

“It‘s good.”

“Good.  Okay, so I need you to put the phone on speaker and lay it on the bed next to you and then get your pillow or pillows just right, so you can just lay back flat on your back really comfortable.  No need to watch any of this, so let your head lay back however is most relaxing.  Tell me when you’re ready.”

Derek did as Stiles directed, and finally said to the air, “Okay, I’m good.”

“Yes, you are,” Stiles’ voice rose from his phone’s speaker, next to his shoulder.  “What are your safewords?”

“Yellow, or red.”

“Good.  Now, your hands are going to be my hands, Derek.  I’m going to have you touch yourself and I want you to do that exactly as I tell you to.  I am not planning on asking you to do anything more painful than a slight pinch.  You can always use your safewords.  But unless you want to do that, then as long as I don’t ask for more than I just said, I want you to promise me that you will do what I ask, without questioning, even if it makes you feel just a little strange at first.  Will you do that for me, Der?”

Derek was glad Stiles wasn’t there to see him, thinking he might actually be rolling his eyes.  As if he would need to use a safeword when he was alone in his room.  And with Stiles talking him through jerking himself off the last two days in a row, it seemed unlikely he would be uncomfortable with anything non-pain related that Stiles could have him do to himself at this point.  “Yes.”

“Good.  That’s so good.  Now close your eyes for me.  Okay, now unless I tell you otherwise, I want you to do everything I say at a slow…easy…comfortable pace.”  Stiles paused as he spoke as if to demonstrate what he meant.  “Imagine how you would feel right after you realize you’re in love with your partner and the next time you’re alone together with hours to spend in bed—no urgency—just that sort of hunger in your own skin to touch and feel that other person’s body.  That’s the way I want you to use your hands for me.”

“Start out by combing your fingers through your hair…slide them over your scalp and let your hair slide through your fingers, brushing over them.  Don’t scratch, but you can massage your scalp a little if you like, just feel the shape your head underneath your palms.”

Derek definitely would have rolled his eyes now, if they weren’t closed.  But he followed Stiles’ instructions.  Worst case, the Wednesday call was a dud.

“Now slide the tips of your fingers over your temples and then down to your cheeks in slow…little…circles.  Feel how your fingers feel touching your face and how your skin feels under your fingertips.  Mmm…if those were my hands I’d love to be touching you there—feel that spot where your beard hair fades out into just soft, smooth cheek.  Okay, now slide your hands nice and slow down underneath the back of your neck until they touch and pull them back a couple of times.  Feel how that gorgeous column of neck of yours feels under your palm.  You can press and massage bit while you do this if you want, but keep it nice…and easy…and slide the palms of your hands over the front of your neck, up and down from your chin a bit for me…you can tilt your head back or to the sides if you want.”

Derek followed along, still not sure he was into this, but feeling a little less silly as he used the whole of his hands to rub over his neck, squeezing a bit here and there as he went.  It wasn’t as good as a massage from someone else, but it certainly didn’t feel bad.

“I love that line of your neck from under your jaw around front to your adam’s apple.  God, you have such a beautiful neck, Derek.  Okay, now I want you to rest your palms on either side of your neck, sort of cupping under your jawline and let the tips of your middle fingers just sooo gently rub little circles over your earlobes.  No real pressure, just enough to feel it, just enough to let your body remember how sensitive your ears can be if you let them.  Then go ahead and slide the tips of those middle fingers over the outer edge of your ear, just up and down…nice…and slow for me…no pressure, just letting yourself feel it.  And just let me know if you’re still there?”

“Yes, still here,” Derek murmured.

“Mmm…so good, Derek.  How do you feel, baby?”

“Relaxed.”  Derek wondered if he was supposed to feel aroused from this.

“Good, Der.  That’s so good.  Okay, now I want you to go ahead and slide your hands down along your neck and then over your chest…slow and easy…I want you to let your hands caress and feel every inch of your chest and stomach and sides.  Don’t rush for me, baby, and don’t press or massage to much yet, just feel that skin under your fingers and your palms, and let your chest and stomach feel how great your hands feel.  You know I watched some of your videos last night, Der.  And your chest is just so fucking amazing.  When you took your shirt off in that first video, my cock almost exploded.  I wanted to just drop to my knees and lick over every inch of you.”

Derek felt his cock jerk at Stiles’ words and for a moment thought he almost felt a hint of wetness under his own fingers, as if they were Stiles’ tongue, sliding wetly over his skin.

“So you better not stop, baby, I want you to feel everything that I saw—everything that I can’t wait to feel—those fucking perfect six-pack ridges of muscles down your abdomen—Jesus.  Touch those for me and keep your eyes closed.  God, you must work so hard to have those abs, Derek.  Feel what all that work feels like under your fingers.  Feel how strong and hard you are underneath that perfect, silky soft skin.”

Derek could feel exactly what Stiles meant.  He had worked like a demon to initially sculpt his body several years ago.  And except when he was with Kate he had always kept a strict workout schedule to maintain it.  He was proud of how he looked and liked feeling fit and strong, but it had never occurred to him how his body felt.  And it felt pretty fucking good.  If he did say so himself.

“Let your hands stroke niiiice…and easy…over your sides.  You can turn your hands as you need to, flip them to the backs of your hands…just glide nice and smooth over up and down your sides a bit.  Feel how there’s only the slightest bit of give there because you’re lying down—how there’s nothing else but that perfect soft skin and then solid gorgeous toned strong muscle underneath.  That strength is all yours, Derek.  You worked so hard and you should get to enjoy it.”

“Okay, now go on as you want—just touching your torso—anyway you want for another minute or so.  But this time, instead of focusing on how good your body feels, I want you to focus on how good your hands feel.  Really feel how the skin of your hands is just a tiny bit rough as it slides over your stomach.  Try to notice how each fingertip seems when it strokes over your skin.  Try to soak up that tiny bit of electricity that occurs at each point of contact and feel how it shifts and changes as your hands move over your skin.  I watched one your scenes last night where you were fucking into your partner from behind, both of you upright on your knees, and your hands were gliding over his chest and I couldn’t stop watching those perfect, strong fingers moving over his skin and imagining how amazing they felt.  All that sort of contained power just gliding over skin, soothing and electrifying at the same time…so rough and smooth and hard and soft…  Fuck, Derek, I bet they feel incredible.  Just touch and feel for me, baby, okay, just like that….”

Derek suddenly realized he was struggling to focus on keeping his hands moving slowly over his skin the way Stiles was coaching.  He wanted more.

“Stiles…”  Shit.  He was breathing hard. 

“I’m here, baby.  What is it?”

“I need…”

“What do you need, Der?”

“I don’t know.  Just…more…”

“Okay, baby.  Don’t worry.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.  You’re doing so good for me.  Now, let your hands slide down your stomach and over your thighs, make sure your legs are spread out nice and comfortable for me.  Run your hands in circles from the outside of your thighs down and across to the inside and then back up and out again.  You can massage a bit and just feel how that hair feels under your palms.  Then when you’re ready I want you to run your fingers through your pubic hair a bit, stroke the skin there above your cock.  This is a spot I already know I’m going to love touching you.  I love that feeling of being close—so close—the fucking promised land and just feeling and touching right where it’s almost perfect but you still want so much more.  God, when you let me touch you on Friday night—let me wrap my hand around you—fuck, if we hadn’t needed it so much, I would have loved to touch and stroke you right where your hands are right now.  Get my face down there and inhale and kiss and lick and tease you.  Mmmm.”

Derek was definitely breathing hard now.  He couldn’t stop moving his hands, but it was impossible to concentrate on them anymore.  Stiles’ voice was like warmed honey and he wanted it to be dripping all over him.

“How are you feeling, Der?”

“H-hot.”  So hot.

“That’s good, baby.  Do you want to come?”

“Yesss.”

“So good, Der.  Then wrap that right hand around that pretty cock and stroke it for me now.  Want you to work it hard for me, okay, baby?”

“Uh huh,” Derek said, his hand already squeezing up and down his cock fast and hard.  He couldn’t believe how hard he was—how bad he needed to come.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good, Derek.  You’re so fucking good.  Don’t stop.  Keep going.  You can come whenever you’re ready as long as you tell me.  Watched you last night in a scene working yourself over a guy’s chest and you looked so fucking stunning.  Your cock is so perfect, Der, god you felt so good in my hand on Friday.  I bet you feel fucking amazing in your hand right now—so silky and hard and hot.”

“Stiles…I’m….  Fuck.”

“Yes, baby,” Stiles said, his voice urgent and heated, “fucking come for me, Der.”

And Derek did, spilling onto his hand and stomach with a long, low grunt.  As he stroked himself through the end of his orgasm, he heard Stiles saying how good Derek looked coming and how Stiles couldn’t wait to taste it.

He moaned softly and reached down to the ground for a discarded t-shirt to wipe himself off.  He and Stiles were just quiet for a minute and then finally, Stiles said, “Okay, so I’m considering that at least a moderate success.  How do you feel?”

“Uh, good.  Yeah.”

“Cool.  So, are you up for a round of checklist and evening call today?  Or do you need a break?”

“No, I’m good.  I mean, yeah, I’m up for it.”  Derek groaned internally, wondering if he had just shot his brains out of his dick.

“Awesome!  Okay, so I guess I’ll see you at the studio, but after filming is over I’ll send you the next section like usual.”

“Okay.”  Ha!  He could at least say ‘okay’ safely.

“See ya, Der.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

After Stiles had hung up, Derek lay there in his bed, with his soiled t-shirt in his hand, thinking about how Stiles had gotten him hard and needy from touching himself and thinking about himself.  After a minute, he got up and walked over to his floor length mirror, looking himself up and down.  He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he looked good.  He had worked hard for his physique, both to get it and then to get it back after Kate and to maintain it.  And he was proud of it—he liked to think it hadn’t made him a shallow dickhead but yeah, he liked the look in people’s eyes when they scanned over his body.  But it had never occurred to him to enjoy looking for himself.  Or to enjoy touching for himself.  He ran his hands over his chest, watching as they slid down over the ridges of his abs.  Hard-won ridges.  They really did feel good.  He really did feel good.

He looked for another few seconds, then rolled his shoulders and headed to the shower.  He didn’t want to miss Stiles’ scene.

Chapter Text

Derek just couldn’t see the appeal of Theo Raeken.  He’d never heard of him until Isaac brought him in, but after reviewing the portfolio Isaac had sent him, Derek had been left rather unimpressed.  His numbers were certainly good—most guys apparently did see something more than appealing there.  And yeah, Derek could see he had a good body and a pretty face, and his cock was nice enough.  But he was entirely bland.  He had absolutely no personality.  Maybe that shouldn’t matter in pornography, and Derek supposed it didn’t matter to his bottom line and casting decisions.  But to his personal taste—no thank you.

And it definitely made a difference to the experience of watching Stiles film with him.  Derek had started out watching from the safety of his office, behind his one-way window, assuming after everything that had happened between he and Stiles that week that there was no way he would be able to hide his hunger for Stiles while watching him actually fucking live and in person just a few feet away.  When Stiles had come in to the studio and they’d shaken hands awkwardly in the hall, Derek had felt the weight of Stiles’ gaze, and the excitement and suspense of anticipation of that moment when they would finally be alone together and free to touch.  It was hard to believe it wasn’t visible, like a fog surrounding and enveloping them completely, and that Isaac couldn’t see it when he walked up.

So, after checking in with Boyd and the crew, Derek had retreated to his office couch.  But it turned out he wasn’t even hard watching the scene.  Raeken was entirely bland.  When Stiles touched him he barely reacted.  He took his positions, he got hard for Stiles’ mouth or hand, he certainly looked good on his hands and knees, but he never spoke or moaned.  He just moved as directed, displayed his body as directed, and jerked off and came while Stiles fucked him as directed.  The crew and couple of extra studio employees who were watching seemed into it enough—Derek saw smiles and hard-ons here and there.  But Derek found himself more excited about talking to Stiles that night on the phone than watching the rest of the scene.  Of course, as head of studio, he stayed and chatted post-production with Boyd and Lydia afterward and even checked in with Raeken to make sure he had everything he needed and was being treated well by Derek’s team.

Isaac interrupted him then to talk about an issue that had come up between their bank and a key vendor.  They ended up ordering lunch in while they made various calls to resolve the issue, and when Derek finally got back to his office it was after 3.  He smiled to see an email from Stiles waiting for him and after checking his voicemail and email he shut his door to work on the latest checklist section.

This batch included several smaller categories on breath play, body part torture, fetishes and humiliation.  Glancing at the few breath play items, Derek flashed back to the day before when he’d come so hard watching Liam choking and gagging around Stiles’ cock.  He wanted to feel that.  And he even found himself imagining Stiles’ slim, precise fingers squeezing around his neck and knew he wanted to feel that, too.  He’d never tried any of it before and had never before had an interest.  But he sure as fuck was interested now.

The next couple sections were pretty easy.  He wasn’t particularly interested in have his cock or balls stretched and tortured, but he wasn’t turned off by it either.  It wasn’t anything he’d done, but he knew he had at least a little tendency to finding pleasure in pain, so if Stiles was interested in trying any of that he wouldn’t object.  Well, except “riding the horse” (once he Googled it).  He had one just a couple occasions had nipple clips used on him and he knew he could see the appeal there, so he gave clips and weights positive numbers, too.  But he eased right through the fetishes section.  There was a lot about different clothing materials, lingerie, feet and high heels and the like.  He just had no particular interest.  He couldn’t imagine feeling particularly sexy in any of it, although in a couple cases he could see finding Stiles incredibly hot dressed in panties or nice, tight leather that showed off his perfect ass and cock.  So he quickly filled the section with low to moderate interest levels, only putting a hard limit on a couple items that gave him a sort of cold feeling, like masks generally and (seriously, who wants that?) gas masks.

Then he got to the humiliation section.  And almost immediately his stomach was clenching, his shoulders were pinched and taut, and he was considering giving up.  He glanced at the time on his computer screen, but he still had 16 minutes left.

He stared at the words.  “Humiliation (private).”  He put a 9 down in the experience column as his mind was filled with images of Kate standing over him—always over him—ordering him to lick her boots, to beg for food, to tell her all the reasons he didn’t deserve his Mistress.  He started to put a 1 in the interest column as a hard limit, but stopped.  Stiles wasn’t Kate.  If Stiles was into that—if Stiles wanted to play a little he shouldn’t have to hold back just because Derek couldn’t fucking handle it.  That would make Kate right and just prove that Derek was a worthless—

Derek’s eyes glanced up and fell on Stiles’ email, still open on his computer screen.

 

Derek,

Thank you for following my lead this morning.  I know it was strange at first—maybe strange the whole time.  But I was watching your scenes last night and I was so overwhelmed by so many things about you that are—god, just so fucking breathtaking.  I had my own need that I couldn’t shake to just try to share with you a little bit of what I see and feel looking at your body and touching your skin.

(And don’t get me wrong, I know your body is just one small part of what makes Derek Hale awesome, but it’s just the part that I was obsessing over last night.)

So, anyway, thank you again so much for being so good for me. 

Today’s checklist section is attached.  As always, try to limit yourself to an hour.  And if an item makes you uncomfortable, skip it.  This is not a test and there are no wrong answers.  Just be honest.

And, also as always, if you feel stressed out in any way after working on this, then you WILL exercise self-care.  Whatever will get you out of the wrong space—exercise, fresh air, a friend’s voice, a sweet treat or coffee.   

I’ll talk to you at 7.

SS

 

Just be honest.

One small part of what makes Derek Hale awesome.

There are no wrong answers.

 

Derek looked back down at his list.  He filled in the 1.  Then he did it again for “Humiliation (public)” while visions flooded his mind of himself crawling on hands and knees behind Kate as she held his leash and offered to rent him to members of the crowd at a club.  While she enjoyed herself riding another man and telling Derek how much better his cock felt than Derek’s.  He still felt sick.  But he was honest.  He didn’t want that.  Or anything like that.  Even for Stiles.

And he barely even hesitated on “Verbal humiliation.”  Kate’s voice hissed in his ear telling him his muscles were ugly, he didn’t sit or walk right, his body was too hairy, his face was too rough, he would never satisfy her.  He marked down a firm 1 and then pushed through the last handful of items, finishing up just before his hour ended.

He walked over to his scanner and put the pages in, needing to send them off and be done.  When he had emailed them back to Stiles he sat in his chair for a few minutes feeling cold and sort of shrunken and small in some way.

He needed to think about something else.  He looked at his desk.  He had a new distribution website proposal to look at.  He reached for it and then shoved it back to the side.  He looked up and into the studio.  No one was on set right now, and it had been cleared from Stiles’ earlier scene. 

Stiles.

He heard Stiles’ voice in his ear.

Then he could almost feel his own hands running over his skin.

Almost without realizing it he had lifted his hands and was playing them under his shirt, drifting over his skin, feeling the sculpted lines of his muscles.  He liked it.  He liked it a lot.

His eyes drifted up and he saw Stiles’ email asking him—ordering him, really—to exercise self-care.  If you feel stressed out in any way.  The idea made him feel vaguely silly.  And maybe worse than that—weak.  But he didn’t even have to work to imagine Stiles’ voice and face and how every bit of him would have been dripping with the most sincere sort of intention as he wrote that.  So as sort of fragile and inadequate as it made him feel, he found himself simultaneously wanting to be as devoted to this and as genuine as Stiles was.

He wavered for several minutes.  And then he chose.

*             *             *

Stiles was right on time that evening as usual.  Derek got their compiled lists and printed them out and was relaxing on his couch when the phone rang just one minute after 7.

“Good evening,” Derek answered, setting his beer down on the coffee table and picking the list up.

“Good evening to you too, sexy,” came Stiles’ voice.  “Sorry I didn’t get to see you before I left the studio.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.  Isaac and I got holed up on the phone for a couple hours.”

“I gathered.  Did you work it out?”

“Yes, took some doing, just can be hard to get the other parties to coordinate their systems sometimes.  But we think we have it figured out.”

“Well, that’s a relief.  How was the rest of your day?”

“It was…”  Bad.  But then good.  “…kind of mixed.  But good in the end, I think.”

“Hmmm.  So are you really gonna leave me hanging with that tease?  The bad isn’t referring to my filming this morning, is it?”

“No!  No.  You were great.  Although…”

“Oh no.  What?  Was it too weird watching us film now that you and I are…I mean, I’ve been wondering.  I know we both have watched each other now that you’ve finally let me in on your not-so-secret filming past, of course.  But you know, an in person scene with someone else, maybe it’s too weird.  Because we can definitely talk about that if it is.  I don’t want to screw your studio over, Derek, but god, I so don’t want to stop when we’re just getting this going and you are so fucking cool and fun and—”

“Stiles.”

Stiles’ voice stopped abruptly.

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that.  But since you brought it up, just FYI, I wasn’t personally freaked out or anything and I haven’t lost any interest in what we’re doing either.  Okay?”

“Right.  Good.  Okay.”  Embarrassment was plain in Stiles’ voice.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  And look, I obviously am invested in my studio’s success, but I’m getting pretty into this now, too, so if I do feel weird about your filming as we go on, we will definitely talk about it, okay?  I’m not gonna just back out of this or break your contract out of the blue.  Alright?”

“Yes.  Of course.  So…what’s the ‘although’ then?”

“I was just going to ask what you think of Theo Raeken?”

“Oh!  God.  Yeah.  Definitely blah.  I seriously had to think about how fucking hot your voice sounded on the phone this morning and how beautiful you must have looked with your hands sliding over your skin for me to even get it up.  What is with that guy?  I don’t know why he has such a following.”

“Yes!  Exactly!  Fuck, what a relief.  I thought I was the only one,” Derek said, smiling despite himself.

“Nope.  There are at least two of us.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever used one at our studio yet, but we have the best fluffers if you do have some more scenes with Raeken.”

“Oh, really?”  Stiles dropped his voice low and let it practically drip with molasses.  “I guess taking on that task for me personally is below the status of the studio head.  What a shame.”

Heat rushed down Derek’s spine to pool between his legs. 

“We might be able to arrange something.  For our star actor.”

Stiles laughed.  “Okay, then, if it wasn’t the scene, what was the bad-but-then-good day about?”

It was on Derek’s lips to put Stiles off.  But then he opened his mouth and said, “I had a tough time with some of the list today.  So I left work early and went out to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls.”

“Shit.  I’m sorry, Der.  But fuck.  I’m so proud of you.”  Stiles’ voice sounded thick with emotion.  “I….  Good fucking job, man.”

Derek scrambled to respond.  What could he say to that?  Stiles sounded seriously fucking impressed with Derek.  For standing outside on a gorgeous day and hitting balls with a stick.  He didn’t deserve that praise.  Except that even as he shrunk from it he had felt himself puffing up with internal pride.  Because yes.  Derek did that.  He followed Stiles’ instructions.  He took care of himself.  Even though most of him didn’t want to.

A minute passed and finally Derek got out a quiet, “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna have to see if I can come up with some kind of reward for that,” Stiles said.  And before Derek could wonder about it too much or protest, Stiles was off again, “Well, so then, do you think you’re still up for going over these tonight.  We don’t have to spend a lot of time on anything you don’t want to—”

“Stiles, I’m fine.  We’re good.  Let’s do it.”

“Oh, right.  Okay.  So let’s go bottom up, then.”  Stiles giggled and then pulled himself together.  “Sorry.  I mean, let ‘s start at the bottom.  Since we basically neither one have any interest in humiliation either way around, I think we can just skip over those.”

Derek was a little surprised Stiles didn’t question him.  His ‘experience’ marks on some of the humiliation items were so high and then he’d marked them as hard limits.  And then he’d said he was stressed out afterward.  So it was pretty fucking obvious there was a story there.  But Stiles just breezed past.

“So…fetishes.  There wasn’t much here.  I highlighted a couple green and a couple hard limits.  But there wasn’t too much where we were both positive matchups.  Any questions or anything you see I got wrong?”

Derek tried to catch up, running his eyes over Stiles’ responses on the fetish category.  Clearly more experience than Derek’s absolute lack, and also…more interest.  He’d put high numbers in several of the categories about Derek wearing specialized clothing—lingerie, panties, uniforms, corsets, lace.  He tried to imagine wearing panties for Stiles and a sensation of nervous embarrassment slid over him, but when his vision expanded to include Stiles reacting to it—he could see Stiles’ brown hungry eyes and his mouth slightly open with desire.  Fuck.  And when his vision shifted to himself in a formal military uniform, he felt strong and sexy and….  Maybe he wanted that.

“Um…not really a question,” Derek said.  “Just, on these, for the ones I marked 5, I guess I wanted to make it clear that I meant that as a relatively positive number.  You know, like, open to trying.”  Ugh.  He sounded like an idiot. 

“Mmm…cool.  Thanks for letting me know that.  I will definitely keep that in mind.  Okay, so then we had the whole teasing and playing with body parts section.  I think this one we lined up pretty similar.  Looks like you just have a slight more interest in maybe trying out some stress to your cock and balls and see if you like it.  So when I first answered those I was feeling not particularly interested in that sort of based on my experience, but I have to admit, when I saw you might be interested, Little Stiles maybe found that a bit more intriguing than I expected.  So I’ll keep those in mind, too, even though they’re not green ones.  Alright, then we have breath play.  I hope it’s okay to say, but I was super surprised when I saw this.  Looks like you’ve never tried but you’re pretty seriously interested?”

“Yeah.  It’s kind of a new interest that just hit me this week.”  Derek felt his body heating up again as he thought about it.  About Stiles maybe wrapping his hands around Derek’s neck and pressing down.  Or his mouth being spread so wide around Stiles and his throat being completely blocked and stuffed full of Stiles and needing to breathe but wanting more somehow at the same time.

“So not something you’ve thought about much before?”

“Never.  It’s…I guess it’s kind of Stiles-specific.  It doesn’t sound sexy generally.  Just when I think about it, you know, now.”

“Oh yeah?  Well, we can definitely get you a little taste of that sometime soon, if you want, Der.  I would love to see your eyes water while you strained for breath.  And then gasping for breath after and letting me take it back away from you again.  Mmmm.  Fuck.  These might be climbing the charts higher for me now that we talked about it.  Christ.  Okay.  Well, so we’re good then.  That wasn’t so bad, eh?”

“No, definitely not bad.”

“Derek, I seriously am crazy proud that you took care of yourself like I asked you to.  I will definitely come up with some kind of reward for that.  And, I don’t want to push, but obviously your sharing all of this with me this week on our checklist, I obviously know you’ve had some bad experiences and at least one and maybe more bad Doms in your past.  If you ever want to talk about it with me, I promise you that I’m here for you.  If you just need to get something off your chest or if you think you need me to know something so I’ll understand how to be better for you.  Okay?”

“Okay.”  Derek wasn’t sure what else to say.  He thought maybe for the first time he could tell somebody—tell Stiles—about Kate.  But he didn’t need it right that minute.  He was good.  He’d had a moment and the way that Stiles had been with him in his email—had been with him all week, really—had gotten him to take care of himself and it had fucking worked.  And right that minute he didn’t need anything else.

But all Stiles said was, “Okay.  Then can I just tell you one more thing—well, okay, let me ask you something first:  since last night—does it creep you out when I talk about watching your videos?”

Derek chuckled.  “No.  I guess if you said they were shit or something I might not like it.  But if you mean like this morning on the phone—definitely not a problem.”  He actually couldn’t believe how much he liked hearing Stiles talk about his scenes.  Not to mention that it made Derek less of a freak for how much he loved watching Stiles on film.

“Okay, thank god.  Because I can’t quit watching.  I want to fucking wear myself out to you on film.  You just look so goddamn good, Der.  Anyway, I found my favorite so far today.  I can’t stop watching it.  I can’t remember the name of the other actor, but he’s sitting on a couch and you’re riding him back to front so we can see your cock and your entire chest and fuck…Derek…shit, see, my cock is hard again right now.  Fuck.  You just look so fucking delectable.  I want everything I see.  I want to be on my knees in front of you and wrap my lips around your cock.  And I want to be that cock that you’re sliding down on and swallowing and taking so fucking beautifully.  And I want to be those hands that get to hold your hips and slide around and feel your chest and pinch your nipples and just touch and feel and mmmm….  God.  And I want to be behind you but with a mirror directly across from us so I can see you—every bit of you—even while I’m feeling you against and on and around me.  Okay, fuck, sorry about rambling like that.  I just…I wanted to say that you look and sound so fucking amazing in that.  And with your permission I am going to go fucking whack off to it right now.

Derek laughed outright then.  “Only if I’m allowed to do basically the same thing.”

Stiles’ low voice came back also chuckling.  “Sure, baby.  As long as it won’t interfere with our scene in the morning.  7:00?”

“7:00,” Derek affirmed.

“Sweet dreams, Der.”

“You, too, Stiles.”

Chapter Text

“Morning,” Derek rumbled when he answered Stiles’ call Thursday morning.

“Morning.”  Derek thought he could hear a soft smile on Stiles’ face.  “How are you this morning?”

“Not bad,” Derek said, stretching.

Stiles chuckled.  “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yeah, it isn’t that.  I just slept like a rock.  Don’t remember any dreams, but it feels like they were good.”

“Mmm…well, I remember one of mine.  And it featured you quite heavily,” Stiles said.

“Oh?  Do I want to hear about it?”  Derek asked, feeling his body already starting to respond to Stiles.  He wasn’t sure if it was the insinuation or just the sound of his voice—Derek might be getting conditioned to associate it with sex already.  Well, if only he hadn’t already associated Stiles with sex and desire for about half of his life now.

Stiles hummed.  “Maybe later.  Right now, I have plans for you.  Do you have your lube handy?”

“Um, it can be,” Derek said, already rolling over and reaching into his nightstand for the bottle, even as Stiles said, “Good.  Get it.  Now, are you naked in bed, just like I like you?”

Derek tried to fight down a smile.  “Yes.”

“Perfect.  Oh, before we start, I had no idea to warn you about this because I didn’t know to expect it, but I find myself calling you ‘baby’ all the time in scenes.  Has that been okay?  If it turns you off at all, I’ll try to stop it.”

“No, it’s fine.”  More than fine.  Which was odd as fuck.  But Derek loved it.  “I don’t mind at all.”

“Thank god.  I wasn’t actually sure if I’d be able to stop.  Something about you just…  Mmm.  Okay, Derek, now, do you have a tablet or laptop or something handy, too?  It’s okay if you don’t, I have like 4 options for today, this is just my top choice.”

“Yeah, my laptop is right here.”  He didn’t say it had been parked at his bedside for the last two months at least so he could masturbate to Stiles’ videos in every free second.

“Okay cool, I’m texting you my video live streaming site.  I haven’t used it in years, but I kept the subscription because I always had this idea it might come in handy.  You should be able to login with your email address and password greeneyes.  Tell me when you’re in.”

Derek opened his laptop and followed Stiles instruction, staring as the screen refreshed itself to show a video close up of Stiles’ cock and midsection, apparently laying in a bed.

“I’m in.”

“Awesome.”  A squealing sort of static came from Derek’s computer.  “Oh,” Stiles said, “turn the sound down or we get weird feedback.”

Derek reached for the speaker function button and pressed down just as he realized.  “Wait.  This is you?  Right now?”

“Yep.  You’re looking at me live.”  There was some rustling from the phone as Stiles’ body shifted around a bit and Derek saw his elbow come in and out of view.  “And now, I’m looking at you, too.  Not live.  But one of your videos.  I don’t know if you remember it, but it’s one you did with Sebastien Valet?”

“I remember.”  Sebastien Valet had made a name for himself, rather like Stiles, based on the size of his cock.

“Well, this scene is fucking hot, Derek.  Now, can you find a good spot to set your laptop where you won’t knock it over or anything if you move around some?  But you can still watch me?”

Derek slid the laptop over onto his nightstand and lay back down.  “Okay.”

“Good,” Stiles rumbled.  “Can you hear?  You’re just getting your clothes off and Sebastien is in like fucking heaven right now.”  Derek saw Stiles hips shift a little and then realized Stiles’ cock was already growing.  It was swelling before his eyes.  Derek felt his own cock twitch and electricity sliding up his spine into his neck.

Stiles continued.  “Now I want you to get a little lube on your right hand start stroking yourself for me.  Right along with me.”  Stiles’ right hand, shiny with lube, came into the picture and wrapped itself around Stiles’ shaft, then slid up and down several times, lazily.  “You’re getting on your knees now, Derek, and…unh…he’s sliding into your mouth.”  Derek scrambled for his lube, eyes riveted to the screen as he squirted some onto his palm and took hold of his cock.  “You’re breathtaking like this, Der.  All your strength and power and you’re giving it to him.  Fuck, baby.”  Stiles’ cock was getting hard fast now, growing in size until Stiles’ hand was covering just about half of it and having to make longer strokes.  “He’s holding your face now…fucking in and out in these deep strokes and you’re just taking what he gives you.”  Derek worked himself along with Stiles’ mesmerized by the sight of Stiles’ cock and the idea he was seeing it in real time.  “You should see his face right now, Der.  Your mouth must feel so fucking amazing.  Are you stroking along with me, baby?”

“Uh huh,” Derek murmured.

“Are you hard for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Stiles groaned.  “Fuck, you look so good, Derek.  Your mouth is stretched wide and your lips are tight around him, and you’ve got him so fucking hard.”  Stiles’ hand was moving steadily up and down his cock now and Derek was working along with him.

“Okay, Der, I want you to lube up two fingers of your other hand and reach down and tease your hole for me.  Don’t slide in yet, just start to get yourself ready for me, baby.”

Derek grabbed the bottle fast and quickly did as instructed, leaning a bit to his right and reaching his left hand underneath himself to rub light circles against his hole.  He could tell he was still a little loose from last night.  From fucking himself to shots of Stiles’ cock sliding into other men’s holes.  His eyes slid back to his laptop where Stiles now had both hands wrapped around his cock.  Stiles’ left hand grasped the base of his cock loosely even as his right hand stroked up and down the top half or more of his shaft, palming over the head with each stroke.

“ ‘K,” Derek breathed into the phone.

“Good boy,” Stiles said.  “Now can you take two right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then slide them both in right now, and work them until you can get them in deep for me.”  Stiles’ hand was stroking away and Derek saw his left hand starting to squeeze the base of his cock every time Stiles’ palm passed over the head.  Derek pressed his fingers in and just pushed and pushed until he was knuckle deep.  His eyes were frozen on the sight of Stiles’ hard cock.  “Love watching your mouth getting fucked like this, Der.  Love how you own his cock—how you take it and take him.  Fuck, baby.”

“ ‘m in,” Derek moaned out, trying to keep his right hand moving along with Stiles’.  He was already close.  How was he already so close?

“Oh, that’s so good, baby.  Fuck, yeah.  Now slide those fingers in and out for me—fuck yourself nice and deep.”  Derek started fucking himself with his fingers, accelerating quickly to match the rhythm of Stiles’ right hand, stroking fast and hard up and down his cock now.  “Just like I’m going to do when I get you ready for my cock.  God, I bet you look so good right now, spread wide.”  Derek’s right hand was just loose around his throbbing cock now, all of his attention on his left hand, fucking hard in and out of his hole in time with Stiles voice and hands.  “You look fucking beautiful on screen right now.  Getting on your hands and knees and getting ready to take that cock.”  Derek licked his lips as he stared at Stiles’ cock.  It was so perfect and so huge and he wanted to feel it so much.

“Stiles,” he groaned.

“Der.  Are you close for me, baby?”  Stiles sounded as breathless as Derek felt.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to come?”  Derek watched Stiles’ left hand start working in slow quick little strokes up and down the bottom of his shaft in this perfect tandem with his right hand that still worked away nonstop.  The head of Stiles’ cock was red and swollen, shifting toward that purple look that came over it just before Stiles’ came.

“Yes, Sir, but…”  Fuck, he was going to sound needy and weird.

“Tell me, baby.  Oh fuck, watching him slide that cock into you.  Fuck, Der, you look so fucking good all stretched out around him.  Fuck.  Shit.”  Stiles’ hands were a flurry now and Derek shoved his fingers roughly in and out of his hole in time with them.  Fuck.  He couldn’t hold out.

“Want to see you come,” Derek managed, unable to keep the tone of desperation out of his voice.

“Oh fuuuuck, baby.  Yes.”  Derek watched Stiles’ hands, looking like they were squeezing insanely hard now, seriously stripping Stiles’ giant cock, Derek now hearing the slapping wet sound of it coming through the phone.  “Gonna come for you.  You look so fucking good and you sound so perfect for me right now, baby.  Fucking love hearing you breathing hard and heavy like this for me.  Uunnnhhh,” Stiles groaned suddenly, his right hand pulling back to little tiny motions just below the head and then Stiles was coming on screen and his voice was moaning loudly into Derek’s ear and Derek’s right hand was in motion again, flying roughly over his own cock as he dug in deep and hard with his fingers, just pushing his knuckled and hand hard up against his hole and then he was joining Stiles, moaning and coming in spurts all over himself, just as Stiles’ body was falling lax back into his bed and Stiles’ hands were dropping down to his sides.

They both lay breathing for a minute and Derek started to realize he could just barely hear the video of himself being fucked in the background behind Stiles’ breathing.  There was something he thought should feel odd about it, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable.  It just made him smile.

“Well,” Stiles said, picking up the phone and then disappearing from Derek’s screen as he apparently turned off his camera, “so much for me making sure you get more out of these calls than I do.”  He groaned softly.  “That was incredible.  And now I seriously need a shower.  How’re you feeling?”

“Definitely shower ready.  But good.  Really good, Stiles,” Derek said.

“Yeah?  Awesome.  Okay, so there’s one more thing I want you to do for me after we get off the phone and before you go in to the studio.  I need you to take a picture of your favorite dildo with your phone and send it to me.”  Derek froze as Stiles rambled on.  “I promise you I will never share it with anyone else.  It can be the one you were using Saturday when I called or another one—just make sure it’s the one you use most.  And yes, this might be for tomorrow morning.  So can you do that for me?”

Oh fuck.  If he sent--  He didn’t’ think he could do it.  He had a couple others, though he’d never been big on using them before.  But he could snap a pic and send one of those.  But then he’d be lying to Stiles.

“Derek?”

“Yeah.  I’m here,” he said, and heard how much quieter his voice sounded than usual.  Like a little bitch, Kate’s voice said in his head. 

“Derek, is that a problem?”  Stiles sounded concerned now.

“I…  I don’t…”

“Derek, did I say something wrong, baby?  Do you need to need to use your safeword?”

Was he going to safeword?  Over a dildo pic?  “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure.  You know there’s nothing wrong with that.  Or you can just tell me that you can’t do it and I’ll come up with something else.  You are the one in control here, Der.”

“Right,” Derek said more firmly.  It was just a pic.  He’d already basically admitted to Stiles about his obsession with the other man’s cock.  It wasn’t really giving anything away at this point.  If Stiles wanted to talk him through using it again tomorrow…  Derek felt his body shift immediately at that thought from tense to excited.  Surely Stiles would love knowing that it was basically Stiles that Derek was fucking himself with.  “I’m good.  I’ll send it within the hour.”  He sounded confident again and realized he actually felt mostly confident.  A slight flutter of nerves remained, but he knew he was up for this.

“Mmm…that’s good,” Stiles said.  “If you end up changing your mind, you can just text me ‘red’ instead.  I’ll email you this afternoon and call you tonight.  And Derek, thanks.  You were incredible.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that.  All I did was stare at you and jerk off?  You were really good, too?  I fucking love hearing the sound of your voice in my ear while I have my fingers stuffed in my ass? He ended up managing to get out an awkward.  “Uh…thanks.  Same here.”  What?  Why wasn’t he getting more comfortable with Stiles after three days of multiple calls and conversations about the most awkward things?

Stiles chuckled.   “Bye, Derek.  Be good.”

“Bye.”  Derek hung up the phone and groaned aloud.  Then before he could start to worry about it and before he even stepped into the shower, he reached over and tugged his Stiles dildo out of the drawer and dropped it on the bed, taking a snap with his phone and sending it off to Stiles.  There.  It was done.

Chapter Text

The Sheriff’s phone rang and he glanced at the Caller ID, picking it up with a smile.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  This is a nice surprise.

STILES:  Hey Dad.  What—how are things at the station?

SHERIFF:  What’s wrong?

STILES:  What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?  Why does something have to be wrong?

SHERIFF:  I’ve been listening to your voice for over 26 years, Stiles.  Spill.

STILES:  Nothing’s wrong.  I mean, it’s the complete opposite of wrong.  But it’s just—it’s too right, you know?

SHERIFF:  I might know.  If you stopped talking in riddles.

STILES:  Right.  Yeah.  It’s D--  It’s a guy. 

SHERIFF:  Uh huh.

STILES:  I guess he’s gonna be my new sub and—

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  I don’t really need to know those kinds of things.

STILES:  Right.  No, I know.  But he sent me something that I asked for and I didn’t expect it would be what it is and—

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  Maybe if you started at the beginning?

STILES:  The beginning.  God, the beginning.  Even that is confusing.  I don’t know if the beginning was just a week ago or it was three months ago when I moved here or if it was 12 years ago.  I feel like I’ve been in love with him half my life, Dad.

SHERIFF:  You think you’re in love with him?

STILES:  I don’t know.  I always thought I was.  And then I spent all that time in New York and Vegas and I thought I was over it—you know, like moved on, but then I came here and saw him again and it’s like I’m an idiot 16 year old kid again.

SHERIFF:  So, let me get this straight.  We’re talking about someone you knew from here?  From when you were a kid?  How come I never knew about this incredible guy you had a crush on—wait, did Lydia Martin have a sex change operation?

STILES:  Dad!  It’s not Lydia.  Jesus.

SHERIFF:  Sorry.  So is it someone you went to high school with?

STILES:  No, Dad.  It’s Derek.

SHERIFF:  …  Derek…   Derek Hale!?

STILES:  Of course.  Could we get back to the point?

SHERIFF:  No we can’t get back to the point.  What the hell, Stiles?  Are you telling me you had a crush on Derek when he was 20 and you were only 16?  Did he touch you, Stiles?  I can’t bel--

STILES:  Dad!  No.  Unfortunately he never touched me.  As far as I know he never even saw me as anything other than the sheriff’s sweet kid son.  Christ.  I knew I should have called Lydia.

SHERIFF:  …   No.  I’m sorry.  I was just surprised, that’s all.  I just hadn’t known you’d thought of Derek that way.

STILES:  Yeah, well, I’m sure he never knew that either. 

SHERIFF:  Okay, so, forget Beacon Hills.  Start with when you met again.  You know, now that you’re an adult

STILES:  Christ, Dad.  Nothing happened between Derek and I when I was a child.  Okay?  Can we move on?

SHERIFF:  If you say so.  If you’re lying and I found out he took advantage of you, I will have the entire department hunt him down.  You know that, right?

STILES:  Yes, dad. 

SHERIFF:  Okay, so when did you see him again?

STILES:  When I moved here for work.  You know, the work you know about but want to pretend that you don’t.  The second I saw him—I just—it was all entirely the same.  He’s just so perfect, Dad.  And he has no idea.  He takes care of everyone around him—he treats his company like family.  I mean, maybe that makes sense since he doesn’t really have any family left.  But it’s just so cool how he is with everyone.  Lydia works for him and some of the things she tells me he has done for his employees…  And he never asks for anything in return.  I mean, it’s probably some unhealthy personality issue or something if you asked a psychologist, but it just makes me crazy.  He won’t really open up and make sure he gets what he needs.  I don’t know what the fuck he does with all his baggage.   

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  So are you going out now?  Or just doing the—you know—domming thing or whatever? 

STILES:  I can’t believe you just said ‘domming thing’. 

SHERIFF:  I’m not real happy about it either.

STILES:  Well, that’s part of the thing.  I asked him out.  And first he said no.  Honestly, I was kind of upset about it and I thought that was it.  But a few weeks later we were talking and he apologized and I guess he kind of asked me out.

SHERIFF:  Well, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

STILES:  It was amazing.  We went out for dinner and drinks and we had…I thought we had a great time.  And then…something happened and I thought it meant something but I guess it didn’t and I fucked up and—

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  You’re doing it again.  I can handle it.  I mean, yeah, I don’t need to hear about body parts, but you don’t have to dance around me this much.  I know you’re a grown man.

STILES:  Right.  Well, at dinner I was flirting and sort of made a suggestive Dom kind of comment and Derek reacted really strongly.  I thought he was really into the idea and I totally went with it and he was too—he invited me back to his place—but then I guess I kind of pushed it too far too fast.  And he ended up freaking out and kicking me out of his apartment.

SHERIFF:  Oh my God, Stiles.  Never in my life did I ever think I’d have to ask you this, but you didn’t hurt that boy, did you?

STILES:  Dad! 

SHERIFF:  Well?

STILES:  No!  God, no.  I mean, not like you mean.  He asked me to leave and I left.  And I told him later that I would always do that—that no means no and I would always respect that. 

SHERIFF:  Good.  I didn’t raise you to pressure your partner for sex.  I don’t care if it’s a man or a woman or a goddamn fish.

STILES:  I know, Dad.

SHERIFF:  I know you know.  Sorry.  Go on.

STILES:  Well, after that night, a couple things happened when I called him and I went over to see him to apologize and we sort of fell into a Dom/sub thing.

SHERIFF:  Fell into?

STILES:  I know how it sounds, Dad.  And I swear I’m not pressuring him at all.  If anything, I’m pressuring him into moving way way slower now.  I don’t know why he panicked, but I just want to make sure nothing I do ever stresses him that way again.

SHERIFF:  Did you consider that maybe the safest approach is to back off entirely?  I don’t know what his life has been like since he left Beacon Hills.  But you already know he had a traumatic time back then.  And since then, hell, he could have been through even worse.  I can tell you care about him, but…maybe Derek Hale is just…too damaged.

STILES:  No, Dad.  I don’t.  I can’t believe that.

SHERIFF:  Stiles…

STILES:  No. 

SHERIFF:  I’m not trying to hurt you, son.  But you’re not listening to—

STILES:  That’s right.  I’m not going to listen to you tell me to give up on Derek Hale. 

SHERIFF:  I didn’t say ‘give up on him’.  I just meant—

STILES:  Dad.  If your only advice is to walk away, then I heard it and you can consider it rejected, okay?

SHERIFF:  Well, maybe if you ever got to what made you call this morning, I would be able to give more useful advice.

STILES:  Oh.  Right.  Fuck.

SHERIFF:  Stiles!

STILES:  Sorry, Dad.  Well, so okay, so this week I’ve totally just kept it to phone interaction only, I mean, except at work, right?  And it’s been….

SHERIFF:  Stiles?

STILES:  I don’t have words, Dad.  When have I ever not had the words to describe something?  He takes my breath away, Dad.  We’ve barely touched in person—I mean just that first night—which of course was so amazing, the sounds he makes and the way his skin feels and—

SHERIFF:  Stiles…

STILES:  Sorry, Dad.  It’s just been unbelievable.  I mean, for me.  And I mean, maybe Derek isn’t as mind-blown as I am or anything, but I seriously was feeling like yeah, he’s feeling it at least a little, too, you know?  Like, he’s getting into patterns and sounding more and more comfortable and sharing a little more with me.  And then, this morning…

SHERIFF:  Mm hmm?

STILES:  When we got off the phone I asked him to send me a picture.  A picture of his favorite…it doesn’t matter.  Just…his favorite of something.

SHERIFF:  Okay?

STILES:  And what he sent me…I don’t know how to say this, but he sent me…he may as well have sent me a picture of me, Dad.

SHERIFF:  So you’re Derek’s favorite…something?

STILES:  Yes!  Exactly!  I mean, I think I’ve been his favorite for a while.  Like maybe since I came up here for work?  I don’t know.  But I definitely think for longer than since our date last week.  Like…he’s been thinking about me.  Me, Dad!  He’s been wanting me!  Like I don’t know, maybe not as much as I’ve wanted him, but maybe.  Maybe kind of like that.  Oh, god.

SHERIFF:  Are we dancing around something sex-related here?

STILES:  Yes.

SHERIFF:  Okay.  Well, that at least explains…  Okay.  So, what exactly do you need advice about?

STILES:  Dad!  God.  I knew you wouldn’t get it.  But I can’t tell Lydia because she works for Derek and it wouldn’t be right to share personal stuff about him like that and the same for Isaac ‘cuz they’re partners.  I bet he would have the best fucking advice ever about Derek.  But no.  I can’t talk to him.  And Scott came up here to work for a bit so I could try to talk to him.  I mean he knows Derek but he wouldn’t care and you know he can keep a secret and everything but we haven’t been close in ages and he doesn’t really have time for anyone between work and Kira and Allison and the kids.   

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  Stop!  Listen to me.  I wasn’t being a smartass.  I just meant that it sounds like Derek basically confirmed he’s interested in you.  At the very least he confirmed he’s interested in something about you.  It sounds like a good thing.  I would have expected you to be happy and excited.  Not calling your Dad in a panic for relationship or sex advice or whatever this conversation is that we’re having that I will later be trying to scrub from my memory.

STILES:  Uh…  Well…yeah.  It was just… 

SHERIFF:  You know, I should have recognized this.  It’s exactly what you’d have been like if Lydia Martin had asked you to your senior prom. 

STILES:  What?  No I wouldn’t.  What the hell, Dad?

SHERIFF:  Yes it is.  You wouldn’t have believed it.  You would have thought it was too good to be true.

STILES:  It would have been.

SHERIFF:  Maybe.  But maybe not.

STILES:  Ughhh.  Dad, it doesn’t matter.  I’m trying to figure out what to do here!

SHERIFF:  Finally.  Trying to figure out what to do about what exactly?

STILES:  What to do next.  You know, with Derek.  Obviously.

SHERIFF:  You know, you called me and I’ve been pretty patient with all this dancing around you’re doing about my son’s sex life that I definitely don’t want to be thinking about especially when it comes to a man who was an adult when you were still a child.  So I definitely don’t need the tone, Stiles. 

STILES:  Sorry. 

SHERIFF:  It’s alright.  What do you want to do next?

STILES:  I want to buy a diamond ring and show up on his doorstep on one knee and beg him to spend the rest of his life scowling at me, preferably while naked in my bed.

SHERIFF:  Uh.  Stiles?

STILES:  You asked.

SHERIFF:  You’re right.  And even after spending 26 years immersed in Stiles I still had no idea what I was in for.  Can we pull back maybe to the category of what you want to do next that you are aware is within reason?

STILES:  I want to spend time with him.  In person.

SHERIFF:  Okay.  But you’re worried after what happened the first time you had a date?

STILES:  Yes.

SHERIFF:  That’s fair.  So, you may not have gotten him to open up with you yet about why he panicked, if that’s what it was, and maybe he doesn’t even know.  But Stiles, you’re smart.  Smarter than you have any damn right to be.  So if you want to move forward and you have signals from Derek that he wants that, too, then I don’t see any reason not to try.  You just may have to be more careful than you normally would be.  Maybe you make sure there’s no pressure for it to turn into too much time or too emotionally intense of a situation or too much sex, if that was the issue.  You could make sure you’re doing something specific for a specific time.  Or at the very least you can now be watching him for signs of stress or tension.

STILES:  Fuck, Dad!  Of course!  Just like we’ve been doing on the phone.  I have limits and I’m careful not to push too much, just to move forward one step at a time and make sure neither one of us tries to make it 3 steps instead.  Fuck, I can’t—

SHERIFF:  Language, Stiles.

STILES:  Sorry.

SHERIFF:  It’s okay, Stiles.  Now, are we done?  I really have to go and try to find a crime scene or something to replace the images you’ve put in my head.

STILES:  Yeah.  We’re done.  Thanks, Dad.

SHERIFF:  I love you, Stiles.

STILES:  Love you, too, Dad.

Chapter Text

He knew he shouldn’t have had an extra cup of coffee that morning.  The caffeine on top of his nerves had him riding at an all time high.  He was glad Isaac was offsite meeting with an internet distribution group.  The studio was nice and quiet but Derek still hadn’t gotten anything done all day.  He had taken two short walks outside to try to clear his head, but all he could think about was Stiles’ reaction to his dildo pic.  He was starting to wonder if it was possible that Stiles didn’t recognize it.  Maybe Stiles never saw the final version or had no idea it had been put in production.  Or maybe he just didn’t recognize his own shape.  But how could that be?  The head swelled out so much, with a perfect heart shaped tilt to the bottom.  And his shaft was so perfectly smooth—no veins or ridges anywhere except that one vein running the length of the underside which was almost excessively bulging—as if it was doing all the work of feeding blood to Stiles’ entire cock with no help whatsoever.  Derek hadn’t put his hand in the pic or anything else to help indicate size—maybe it just looked—average.  He had pulled up the picture on his own phone more than a dozen times and stared at it.  But it didn’t change anything.  It seemed instantly recognizable to him

Somehow he had made it through the morning and early afternoon and finally Stiles’ email had arrived, but it didn’t say a single word about the pic either.  Derek wondered if Stiles was offended.  But he would have had to have agreed to the toy’s production.  If he didn’t want people playing with reproductions of himself, then why would he put it out there?  And he had specifically said he liked people admiring his dick.  Maybe Stiles just didn’t know what to say.  And he was just going to ignore it and proceed as if it were any other dildo.  Would that really be the end of the world?

Derek dropped his forehead down on his desk and sighed.  He really had to pull himself together.  For fuck’s sake.  Stiles’ email had been entirely normal—sweet and complimentary about their morning call, and containing the usual instructions for a checklist section.  So at the very least nothing seemed wrong.  And he couldn’t imagine Stiles disliking him using that dildo.  Hell, Stiles seemed to really like knowing Derek was getting off watching his videos.

Derek lifted his head and reached to his printout of the checklist section.  Maybe he could focus on that.  He looked at the clock to gauge his hour and started.  There were several small-ish categories again today.  Voyeurism and exhibitionism were at the top.  The first couple items were about forced nudity.  Forced.  No-go.  Everything about that word made him think of Kate.  He moved on quickly.  The next couple were about exhibitionism to friends and to strangers.  Other than filming and some club time with Kate that he'd rather not think about, he hadn’t really had much sex in front of others.  He tried to imagine it with Stiles.  But unless they were filming, which had a totally different vibe, he couldn’t imagine the scenario—couldn’t see himself wanting to bring Isaac and his husband over to watch Stiles fucking him into the mattress.  He marked them both with low numbers and moved on.  “Modelling for erotic photos” had him instantly thinking about Stiles' voice the day before coaching Derek's own hands to trail over his body and how he'd felt since then when he looked in the mirror.  He might be more into that than he would have expected.  He’d rather like to show off for Stiles.  And he'd love to get Stiles to do the same for him.  Fuck, Stiles would be so hot.  Definitely interested in that.

The next couple items were “Video (watching others)” and “Video (recordings of you)”.  Derek wavered on the experience column.  Obviously he was pretty fucking experienced watching videos of people screwing for the studio.  And even watching himself on film a little bit.  But he thought for purposes of the checklist it was really just meant to refer to watching for personal entertainment or maybe even with his Dom.  So he picked numbers thinking almost entirely about Stiles.  Fuck, Derek basically had tons of experience watching just Stiles scenes for his own gratification.  And yeah, he fully intended to continue doing that.  And he could imagine, if Stiles were with him, getting turned on and rumbling praise to him, that he could totally get off on watching himself on screen, too.  Shit.  He never would have thought that could happen. 

The last couple items were straight up live voyeurism—watching others or watching his Dom with others.  He decided he was moderate on watching others—could be hot in the right mood, especially if Stiles was watching with him.  But watching Stiles with others?  Fuck.  His shoulders tensed up with jealousy and at the same time he felt himself heating up in desire.  He loved watching Stiles on video and at the studio.  But live in person and outside of the studio filming context?  Could he go to a club and watch Stiles getting sucked off by another man?  His stomach churned at the thought of Stiles just feet away from him live in the same room, sliding that cock between someone else’s lips.  Stiles’ hands framing some other man’s face and telling him how good he looked stretched around Stiles’ cock.

Then his mind supplied a vision of himself in that spot instead—taking Stiles’ cock, with Stiles’ fingers sliding through his hair and Stiles’ voice saying “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”  His cock throbbed and his cheeks suddenly felt hot.  Fuck.  He’d put low numbers above on the exhibitionism items but suddenly the idea of other people seeing how good he looked down on his knees for Stiles…  He scratched out and filled in numbers and then scratched them out again.  Shit.  He didn’t know what he wanted.  Something about Stiles made everything sexy.  And somehow risky, too.  He looked up at the clock and half his time was gone, and he wasn’t even a quarter of the way through.

He rushed through the sensation play section—turned off by some of the things Kate had been into, like scratching him with her long nails.  And trying not to panic at thoughts of what she had done to him when he saw the “sensory deprivation” item.  He didn’t even blink this time at putting down a hard limit for that.  But there were a few items he could see Stiles might make pleasurable and thought he’d like to try, and kissing—Jesus holy fuck Christ yes please, his mind shouted.  Stiles’ mouth on his the week before—it had felt like possibility.

And luckily the last two sections were really easy, too.  Cutting and body modification didn’t interest him, despite his at least slight pain kink.  And the same for pissing and scat and other bodily fluids related play.  So when he was done he actually had four minutes left in his hour and was feeling pretty good.  He pulled out his agenda for the next day and decided to make a few calls to knock them off his list.  It was after 6 when he decided to quit and work his way home in time for Stiles’ call.

When the phone rang he was waiting on his couch with beer and compiled list sections at the ready, as usual.  He wondered what they would be doing next week when this checklist was all done.  He realized he would miss this routine—the sitting back and talking to Stiles every evening—no subbing necessarily, but still that sense of promise and thrill buzzing in the background of it all.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Hey to you.”

“How was your day?”

“My—it was—actually just super good.  They’ve all been really good this week, Derek.”

Derek tried not to blush.  Not that Stiles could see him.  “Yeah?  That’s good.”

“How ‘bout you?” Stiles asked.

“Mine was good, too.  I made some calls I had planned for tomorrow, so now I have a pretty easy Friday planned.  Which means I’ll definitely get to observe your scenes.  I’m not sure what Isaac was thinking when he set you up for two in the same day.  Did you approve that in advance?”

Stiles chuckled.  “Yeah, but that was before you and I started…this.  Now I’m gonna be holding myself back in the morning from coming and sporting desperate blue balls by the time I get to actually come in scene.  I hope your studio appreciates what I’m depriving myself of out of professionalism for you guys.”

Derek laughed out loud.  “Oh, you poor thing.  I know I’ll feel terribly sorry for you tomorrow morning.  It’s just the price of being both a good Dom and a good actor.”

“Am I—” Stiles paused, then started again with a slight brusqueness.  “Well, I am very dedicated.  To both.  So shall we check out the list?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I know I just sent it like right before the call, so take a minute if you need to look at my responses.  And just jump in with any questions.”

Derek scanned over the list.  “So…maybe I should have asked this earlier, but you put 3 down for interest a lot, like especially on things you haven’t done yet.  Is that…?”

“Oh, yeah," Stiles said.  "It’s sort of my default position.  Like, if I don’t know that I find something intriguing, but I think I could totally be willing to try it if you really wanted to.”

“That’s what I thought.  And then 2 is more like not a hard limit but you’d really have to be convinced?”

“Yep.  Exactly.  Thinking of anything specific you want to convince me on?”  Stiles’ voice had that playful tone and Derek imagined him waggling his eyebrows as he spoke.

“No.  Just generally checking.”

“Well, it looks like we’re pretty lined up again today.  Looks like I have a bigger problem with electricity than you do.”

Derek glanced down and saw that Stiles had marked a hard limit on all the shock toy options.  “Well, that’s fine with me.  Definitely not something high on my list.”

“Good.  ‘Cuz I just…uch.  I can’t even.  The thought of being shocked or of doing that to someone else....  Okay, let's talk about something else!”

Derek chuckled and roved the list quickly for something to distract Stiles.  “Okay, um…so…looks like you’re a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“Oh, god!  No.  I mean, not usually.  Well, I mean, obviously I don’t mind considering what I do for a living.  But for work actually I just never cared one way or the other that someone’s watching.  I just like focusing on my scene partners and trying to really make them feel good ‘cuz it just feels like that’s what looks best on screen, you know?  But in real life, I never cared to show off much.  I did it with partners who were into it and to try it.  But this time…now…with you....  God, Der, I don’t want to sound like a shallow dickhead or anything, but when I thought about having you at a club blowing me or fucking you and everyone watching, I almost blew my load right in my pants."  Derek felt a flood of heat to his groin at Stiles' words.  "There’s just something about how hot you are and…”  Stiles made a sort of choking sound.  “Shit.  This is gonna sound so fucking macho self-obsessed Dom of me.” 

“What?”  Derek had set his list down and was leaning back in his couch, trying to shift his pants around his cock that was now cramped and straining against his zipper.

“It’s just…the idea of…okay god.  I can’t even say it.”

“Stiles,” Derek urged, giving up and deciding to unbutton and unzip his jeans.  “Just say it.”

“It’s just how fucking hot it would be to fuck into you and have everyone see you take me.”  Stiles’ voice was quiet.  “You know.  All of me.”

Oh fuck yes.  “You want everyone to see me stretched out to the limit around your monster fucking dick.  To own me like that in a way they never could.”  Derek shifted his ass, trying to give his cock some ease.  He didn’t think it was right to just take himself in hand and jerk off on the phone right now without he and Stiles having talked about it.  But fuck, he wanted to.

Stiles groaned softly.  “Yeah.  Except, even though I haven’t fucked you yet, maybe I already do own you that way.”  His voice was filled with heat and Derek felt it come through the phone and slide down his own spine, just adding to the hunger and need he was already feeling.

“I—”

My fucking cock, Derek.  You’ve been fucking yourself with my cock.  How long?”  Stiles’ voice was like a fire in his ear.

“Since a week after you arrived.  Your marketing team sent it to us.”  Derek’s face was burning.  Some of it was shame, but more was lust.

“That’s been weeks, Derek.  Weeks.  How often?”

“E-every day.  Well, every day after I—it took a while before—”

Stiles’ let out a long, low moan.  “Oh fuck.  You’re telling me you had to work yourself up to it?”

Derek wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too turned on to feel anything other than want.  Yes, Stiles.  Obviously.  He took a deep breath and suddenly thought it was Stiles’ turn.  “Are you kidding, Stiles?  I’m guessing you’ve never tried to fuck yourself in the ass with a massive dildo before.  Because yeah, since it isn’t something I’ve bothered to try before, I definitely had to work myself up."  Derek dropped his voice a little and let it take on a touch of the hunger he was feeling.  "It took me three days before I could even get the head in.  I watched so many videos of you and fingered myself for hours, day after day to the sight of your gorgeous fucking insanely huge cock sliding into ass after ass after ass and wishing that each one of them was me.  I almost sprained my wrist I was fucking myself so hard and so long because of how desperately I wanted you inside of me.  And then when I finally felt that head pop past my rim, I just wanted more.  I needed more.  And I spent more days and more hours and then finally I was fucking myself with that entire length—with all of you, Stiles.  Every fucking inch of you pushing into my ass and splitting me apart.  I never felt anything like it.”  Derek was panting now, unable to stop after he started and suddenly terrified at what Stiles’ reaction would be. 

He heard Stiles' breath, coming in heavy pants through the phone.  Derek squeezed his cock and massaged it roughly, realizing he had put his hand inside his pants without thought as he’d been talking.

“Der, baby,” Stiles gasped through the phone, “fuck, I’m sorry, can I—I’m touching myself—I know this call, it isn’t appropriate, but fuck, baby, is it—”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek gasped, tugging himself out now and starting to jerk off for real.  “Please touch it for me.”

A loud groan came through the phone and Derek was shocked at how he could hear Stiles' skin on skin, what must be his hand, jerking off, fast and rough.  “Der, fuck, tell me—”

Derek squeezed himself tight, stroking hard but slow, thinking about all of his nights of stuffing himself with Stiles’ cock.  “God, Stiles, you have no idea.  I love your cock so much.  I watched every video I could find over and over again and stared at the screen—stared at how thick and wide you are and how long.”

Stiles panted louder.

“I watched you fucking all those men and every single time I stuffed myself with you right along with them and moaned louder and came harder than they did.  I thought about how it would feel when you finally slid into me—how stuffed and stretched and full and taken and fucking used it would feel.”

Stiles let out a sort of cracked kind of moan and Derek heard him stripping himself almost frantically.

“I thought about trying to spread my lips around you and see how much of you I could suck and what it would be like to have you stroking your huge dick just an inch from my face and shoot your load all over me.  You have to know I want you but maybe you don’t get just how fucking bad I want your cock, too.  I dream about it.  I feel it splitting me open in my sleep.”

“Der, baby.” It came out like a whimper.

“It makes me so fucking crazy.  I have never come all alone in my room the way I come on your cock, Stiles.  I have fucked myself so hard with you that I’m shaking on the bed for ten minutes after.  Your cock is just a fucking work of art, Sir.”

“Unnnhhh!” Stiles half-shouted and Derek knew he was coming.  Derek squeezed himself roughly, realizing he was still hard, but not close to coming, and he gave himself a couple lazy strokes then stuffed his cock back into his briefs.  He could wait until later.  Maybe stroke himself off to thinking about how hard he just made his Dom come.  He felt good.  Really fucking good.

After a couple minutes, Stiles softly groaned.  “Derek…”

“Yes?”

“Fuck.  I’m sorry I got carried away like that—you’re just…you’re amazing.”

Derek smiled.  “No problem, Sir.”

“Der!” Stiles groaned.  “No more.  I surrender.  Fuck.”

Derek chuckled.  “So, I guess you weren’t, um, upset about the dildo pic this morning?”

“Are you kidding?  I almost had a heart attack from whatever the opposite of upset is.  You keep being so fucking perfect it’s almost unbearable.”

“Right.  Except that time we actually were getting somewhere and I kicked you out of my house.”

“No.  Not except that.  That moment doesn’t take away from how amazing you are even one tiny little bit, okay?  You have to know I will never hold that, or anything like that, against you.  All I will ever do is try to learn from those moments and make myself even better for you.  Okay, Derek?”

Derek squirmed a bit internally and cursed himself for bringing it up.  “Umm…okay.  Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.  We’re all a little insecure about some things.  So, hey, oh god, we should maybe get back to business.  Did we—are we done with this section?”

Derek leaned forward and picked his checklist back up, glancing over the last couple sections.  “Yep, I think we’re done.  Since we’re pretty much all hard limits on the last categories.”

“Oh, yeah.  Okay, well that’s easy.  So tomorrow’s Friday and we only have one section left, but I know it’s Friday night, so you might have plans and not want to do this evening call thing?”

“No, I…I don’t have any plans.”  And Derek kind of really wanted to finish up all the checklist stuff and see about…moving forward.

“Oh cool, because then, okay, so here’s what I’d like to do.  I have a reward idea we can try out tomorrow morning on our call—you know, for your self-care reward from yesterday?”

“Oh.  Um…yeah, okay.”  He still didn’t think he deserved a reward.

“Cool.  And if for any reason you’re not into that, then I have a backup call idea ready.”  And then Friday if you’re up for the last checklist section review and call, then I was hoping you would let me take you out on Saturday.”

Derek felt something tighten inside his chest.  Oh.  This was starting.  Like for real.  What if Stiles got close to him and it was too…sweet…and slow…and perfect.  What if he freaked out again?

“Derek?”

“I’m here.”

“I don’t mean for a scene or for a fancy date.  I want to take you out and just have fun.  Not Dom/sub.  Just us hanging out.  And I was hoping we could agree on a set amount of time ahead of time so there’s no wondering if it will last all night or go back to someone’s house.  And sex would be strictly and entirely off the table.  Except maybe kissing.  But we can talk about that Friday night or earlier Saturday before we go.  I know it might not be super exciting—maybe not what you thought we would do, but I really hope you’ll give it a chance.  But of course it’s up to you.  If you’re busy Saturday or you just don’t want to, we can just plan on maybe a regular phone scene on Sunday sometime.  Believe me, I have lots and lots of other ideas.”

Stiles had stopped.  Derek needed to speak.  Stiles was right, it wasn’t what he expected.  He wasn’t sure he got the point.  But he could feel that tight thing in his chest had loosened while Stiles was talking.  And he definitely wanted to hang out with Stiles.  They had had such a fucking good time last Friday before Derek got so weird.

“Going out Saturday sounds good.”  Great, actually.

“Awesome!”  God, but Derek loved when Stiles’ voice had that excited, pleased tone.  “Okay, so, um, just to check, and I don’t mean to keep talking about this, but, uh, what you've told me today is that your favorite dildo is basically me, right?”

Derek chuckled.  “Yes, Stiles.”

“And you might be kind of a little obsessed with my cock?”

“You could say that.”

“Ha!  That is so cool.  God, okay, fuck, now I’m…  Jesus, Der.  We should probably hang up now.”

“Probably.”  Derek could practically hear the smirk in his own voice.

“7:00?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good.  Sweet dreams, Derek.”

“You too, Stiles.

 

Chapter Text

Isaac called two minutes before Derek’s alarm was set to go off.  But Derek’s instant concern was relieved when he was just letting Derek know that their morning filming for the day was canceled because Danny had broken a leg in some apparently ridiculous mountain biking activity the day before.  Isaac said he’d already let Stiles know and Boyd was calling the rest of the crew.

“Okay, thanks, Iz,” Derek said, smiling as he thought about Stiles pumping his fist when he realized this would mean he wouldn’t have to hold back from coming this morning on their call if he wanted to.

“No problem.  I’ll see you in the studio later.”

“Sounds good.”

Derek hung up and headed to the bathroom.  Ten minutes later he was in bed naked as usual when Stiles called.

“Hello,” Derek said.

“Hellooo,” Stiles voice said, sounding a bit echo-y.  “Happy Friday.”

“Mmm.  I hear it’s a happy Friday for you since your morning scene was canceled.”

“Yep.  Might make both of us have a happier Friday morning.  So, I have two options for you today.  I have an idea for your reward that I’m going to tell you about, but it’s a little outside what we’ve been doing so far.  If you have any reservations about it whatsoever, then I have a phone scene for us instead and we will do a different reward idea for you sometime soon.  So it’s totally up to you which way we go, okay?”

“Uh…okay.”  Derek’s stomach flipped.

“Either way is going to be amazing for me, Der, and I hope will be good for you, too, so there’s no wrong answers.  Okay, so, I hope I will be better at awesome personalized rewards for you in the future, but right now I just have a few things I know you’re into so far, right?  So like, golf and scowling and keeping fit.”  Derek thought about making a retort to the scowling comment, but Stiles was still talking.

“Those things didn’t help me come up with a genius idea, but after yesterday, I thought...you like me cock, right?” 

Wait. What?

“So here’s what I can give you.  One hour with my cock.”

Derek was baffled.

“All yours.  Play and touch or look or take pictures or talk to it or do anything you want at all.  No pressure on you in any way—I have no expectations and I won’t touch you and we’ll keep all other activity strictly and completely off the table.”

Derek still felt sort of puzzled, but that was starting to recede in the face of the tempting picture Stiles was painting.

“So it’s totally up to you, Derek.  Completely no pressure.  But if you’re into Door #1 then you’re gonna have to come down and let me in.  And if not, you can pick Door #2.  What do you think?”

Derek sat up and swung his legs over, sitting on his bed.  Of course he wanted that.  His cock was already half-hard at the thought.  But they hadn’t…he hadn’t touched Stiles other than a handshake in a week.  The last time he had…Stiles had been right here in his bedroom and he had fucking freaked out.

“Derek?  Seriously, this is only meant to be a reward—something to let you have fun and relax and enjoy.  I don’t expect a blowjob or to come at all.  I don’t expect anything.  But I know I sprung this on you, too, so if it’s too much too soon or whatever the reason it just isn’t feeling right for this particular Friday morning, then don’t worry, because trust me, baby, I have another idea and I can make you feel so fucking good with the phone scene I have planned.”

No.  No, he didn’t want Stiles to drive away.  Take away his chance—even if it was only postponing it.  He could almost see and taste it already.

“No, I...”  Derek’s voice was scratchy and thin.  He cleared his throat and said more firmly.  “No.  Door number 1 sounds…good.”  He cringed at how lame that sounded.

But of course Stiles didn’t seem to mind.  “Cool!  Okay, so I’ll meet you at your front door then.”  He clicked off.

Derek sat for a few seconds, trying to tamp down his nerves.  Then he gave up and walked over to his dresser.  He tugged out a pair of sweatpants and threw them on and headed for the door.

When he opened the front door, Stiles was standing there in a long tan trenchcoat, with bare legs and sneakers poking out from the bottom.  The moment felt so surreal.  He didn’t know if he should shake Stiles’ hand or maybe he was supposed to kiss him hello?  They’d been having phone sex all damn week.  Why did he have to be so fucking awkward?  Maybe he should just offer him coffee or—

“Good morning,” Stiles said as his eyes roved over Derek’s face and chest.  He looked…hungry.  Derek’s fast beating heart seemed to shift a bit from nervous to excited.  “God, I should have known you would have the hottest bedhead in the world.”  Stiles sort of leaned in past Derek and he automatically stepped aside to let the other man in.  Stiles walked confidently into Derek’s living room and stood in front of his couch.  “Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do.”  Stiles looked down at his phone.  “It’s 7:18.  I hope you can be a little later to work today since you said you got a head start?”

Derek shut the door and turned to Stiles, nodding.

“Awesome!  Okay, so I’m setting an alarm for 8:18.  We can stop any time before that at your say.  I’m going to take off my coat and let you have at it.  The idea is that you can touch and play with my cock and balls all you want but the rest of my is mostly off limits.  Now, that doesn’t mean you can’t touch a little, rest your hands here or there or move my hand to touch you if that’s what you want.  It’s just the spirit of the thing—no focusing serious attention anywhere else.  Definitely no rimming or fingering, okay.  We will get to all that—god, I hope we’ll get to all that—but for this.  It’s entirely about you and Little Stiles.  I won’t touch you unless you tell me to or put my hand specifically where you want it.  You’re in charge.  Just for this hour.  Oh, and it turns out you can make me come if you want to.  But that absolutely is not the goal, okay?  This isn’t about working up to something.  Or you can work me up to something and not let me come.  Whatever you want to see and do and feel.  I really hope you can focus on that and not on what I want.  Okay?  Will you try to do that for me?”

Derek nodded again.  He stepped awkwardly in to the room as Stiles smiled at him and said, “Good.  You’re so fucking good, Derek.”

Stiles kicked his shoes off and then unbuttoned his coat and Derek found himself stepping closer.  He was standing in front of Stiles just as he was turning to pull the trench off and lay it on the arm of the couch.  When he turned back, Derek saw he had wrapped a large shiny pink ribbon around his cock in a big loose bow.  Derek laughed out loud and Stiles grinned.

“What?  Little Stiles likes to dress in style.”  Then Stiles plopped down on Derek’s couch, his ass slightly forward in a bit of a slouch, and his legs spread wide.  It was so brazen and odd and just so fucking Stiles.

Derek stood uncertainly for a few seconds, eyes riveted on his prize.  Stiles’ cock was soft, hanging from that nest of hair like a promise.  He slowly dropped to his knees, sitting back between Stiles’ feet, looking in front of him at that ridiculous (pink?!) ribbon.  He was afraid to look up at Stiles, to see his face as Derek revealed just how absurd his obsession with Stiles’ cock was.  So he just scooted forward bit by bit, until his knees were up against the couch and he was settled right between Stiles’ legs.  He reached forward and took hold of one of the ribbon ends and tugged, watching the bow collapse and the ribbon slide out from under Stiles’ cock into his hand.  He dropped it on the floor and leaned forward.

Then he couldn’t help it, he glanced up at Stiles’ face.  Derek didn’t know what he expected to see there, but it wasn’t this.  This was just…Stiles.  He wasn’t smiling anymore.  Instead his caramel eyes were open just a bit wide, and his mouth was slightly open, too.  Derek could see Stiles’ tongue resting lightly against his bottom teeth as if ready to come out and lick his lips any second.  Derek noticed that Stiles’ hands were at his sides, both grasping the edges of the couch cushion, as if he had to give them something to do or they would reach out and touch Derek without Stiles even intending it.  Something about Stiles’ posture suddenly brought home to Derek that Stiles really was giving him this.  That after all the anticipation and buildup and talk they’d done for the last week, it would be a nearly impossible task to put yourself in this position and never touch—never take control, never turn it into something more.  And Stiles clearly meant it with every fiber of his being.  He was planning to let Derek have his way entirely.  To just look and never touch if he wanted, to touch without any intent whatsoever for an hour, or to touch and lick and feel and drive Stiles crazy for an hour without ever giving him any release or even anything to hold onto.  Derek could see already the bare edge of desperation that threatened to spread over Stiles’ face.  That would take over if Derek chose to edge Stiles—get him hard and pull him right to the brink and then hold him back.  And do it again.  And again.  Fuck.  Every flutter of nerves slipped away and he was left with only that sense of excitement.  And in the background a new feeling of safety.  And power.

Keeping his gaze on Stiles’ eyes, Derek lifted his hands and set them down on Stiles’ knees, then slid them up and up and over Stiles’ thighs.  Stiles said nothing, but Derek saw the hitched breath he took.  Then Derek looked down and, leaving his left hand to rest on Stiles’ thigh, slid his right hand up the rest of the way until his fingers were brushing lightly over the skin of Stiles’ cock, grazing over it and feeling how soft the skin was.  Stiles’ cock twitched lightly and Derek leaned his face down, opening his mouth wide to let out a warm breath over it.  It twitched more and Derek could see how it was starting to fill.  He pressed his face down and just rubbed his cheeks and eyes and nose over Stiles’ cock, feeling its still mostly limp shape sliding against his skin.  He was sure to keep the unshaven lower portion of his face away, just focusing on where he could really feel Stiles’ silky softness against his own vulnerable skin.  He inhaled deeply and got soap and maybe a hint of sweat.  God, he already loved this and he hadn’t even started yet.  He moaned softly, realizing he should feel embarrassed, but only feeling satisfaction and desire for more.

He pulled back and trailed his fingers all over Stiles’ shape, gently grazing and letting them explore, up and down the top and sides and the circling a finger oh-so-softly around the head and under the corona.  Stiles’ cock twitched and jerked almost rhythmically and Derek watched, mesmerized, as his fingers slowly drew Stiles’ to swell more and more.  The soft wrinkled skin started to smooth as Stiles’ cock swelled beneath it.  When it had grown to about the size of Derek’s own erect penis, Derek started to feel a more intense sort of heat stirring in his own groin.  Stiles was barely semi-hard.  Derek let his fingers wrap around Stiles’ shaft now and squeezed, feeling hos even though his hand was full, Stiles was still mostly limp, his cock still twitching with growth in his hand.  He slid his hand over the skin, not squeezing, just touching, feeling, and Stiles continued to grow.  It felt like minutes passed as Derek took his time, trying to draw it out—to see every possible minute stage of Stiles’ growth.  Then finally he realized that Stiles was full and hard just inches from his eyes and within his literal grasp.  Derek looked at his own, not small hand, wrapped loosely around the top half of Stiles’ cock.  The top half.

Derek glanced up at Stiles’ face and saw what looked like exactly what Derek was feeling—wonder.  He bent back down and wrapped his left hand around the bottom half of Stiles’ cock.  Both of his hands fit completely along the shaft and underneath the head.  Fuck.  He had seen it on screen—hell, he had seen it just the other day—how Stiles used both hands to jerk off—but it was still just fucking unbelievable.  He squeezed a bit and felt the now firm structure underneath the surface, marveling at how hard Stiles was despite his size.  He had none of that droop that so many monster sized dicks had.  Derek released his hands and Stiles’ cock slapped back against his stomach.

“Can you…can you stand up?”  He asked, eyes still on Stiles’ cock.

Stiles tilted forward to stand and Derek scooted back a little to make room.  Then Stiles was upright, his cock, sticking nearly straight out in front of him, with this fucking beautiful slight upward bend in it so that the tip was even higher than the base.  Derek leaned in and rubbed his forehead and upper face all along the underside of it, inhaling in more of Stiles’ soap and sweat as he did.  It was so soft and silky and so fucking solid and substantial.  Derek moaned softly and reached up with his right hand to press Stiles more firmly against Derek’s skin.  He played like that for a while, getting a little lost in it until he heard a rough rhythmic sound and registered that it was his own breath.  He sat back on his heels and looked up at Stiles.  He was staring down at Derek and looked…rather strange.  Stiles’ hands were clenched in fists at his sides and his mouth was closed—almost clamped shut.

That’s what’s strange, he thought.  Stiles has been so quiet.  Stiles is never quiet.  And suddenly Derek didn’t like it.  He wanted Stiles’ honey-warm voice and all of Stiles’ ridiculous, extravagant, curse-filled words.  And Derek was in charge.  Stiles had said ‘whatever you want to do and see and feel.’  He hadn’t mentioned ‘hear.’  But so what.  This was his fucking reward.  And he had fucking earned it—forcing himself to go out and try to relax 95% of his mind and body were screaming that he shouldn’t need that, that he was weak and cowardly if he did.

Derek abruptly pressed his hand against Stiles’ chest, pushing him back down onto the couch.  He held Stiles’ gaze and tried to make his own as confident and fucking smoldering as possible.  “Now I’m going to taste you.  I’m going to put my lips and tongue and mouth on you and you’re going to quit being so fucking silent.  You don’t have to talk, but you better not fucking hold anything back.  I want to hear whatever you would normally want to say.  No holding back anymore.  You said I could have what I want and that’s what I want.  Got it?”

“Yeah, fuck.  Yeah,” Stiles breathed, looking rather shell-shocked and making Derek feel pretty proud of himself.

“Good,” Derek said.  Then he reached out his left hand and took hold of Stiles, and grasped it in his, resting them both up against Stiles’ thigh along the couch.

Stiles’ penis was as hard and huge and gorgeous as ever, resting tall and proud up against Stiles’ stomach as he slouched back into the couch.  Derek scooted forward again and then leaned in, sliding his tongue from the base of Stiles’ dick up along that amazing, protruding vein all the way up to the head.  He pulled back and did it three more times, relishing the sensation.  Then he slid his right hand around Stiles’ base and brought him forward until he could slide his lips across that soft, sensitive head.

Stiles’ breath hitched and his hand squeezed Derek’s.

Derek soaked up the feeling of Stiles’ tip slipping over his lips for a minute then he pressed slightly forward, spreading his lips apart and starting to take Stiles’ into his mouth.  It was nothing like usual—not that easy opening, like around a forkful of food and then close quickly around it.  Derek was dragging out his own pleasure, wanting to appreciate every fucking millimeter, but still, he spread his lips and he had to spread them more and then they were being stretched wide enough he could feel the stretch, like an out of shape muscle almost, before finally Stiles’ head was in his mouth, resting on his tongue and his lips were sliding past the corona, letting his tongue hit that sensitive frenulum making Stiles’ body jerk.

For a minute he heard that guy from the movie Roxanne in his head saying “They said it was big, but I didn’t…expect it be BIG!”  He would have laughed out loud if his mouth weren’t full of Stiles.  Christ.  This was exactly what he’d fantasized about and somehow so much more intense than he’d imagined.  He could feel his teeth bumping up against Stiles’ cock but couldn’t do anything about it other than holding his mouth as widely apart as possible while still keeping his lips tight around Stiles.  Stiles was as wide as his tongue at least, even just the head feeling like an impressive weight resting on it.

Derek slid his tongue around the bottom of Stiles’ cockhead, realizing it was too big for Derek to effectively swirl around or tease as he might usually do.  But Stiles immediately let out a moan anyway.  Derek tightened his cheeks and started to suckle around the head.  Stiles hissed out, “Ohhh, fuck,” and Derek sucked harder.  He found himself immediately pressing forward trying to take in more, his lips starting to move down Stiles’ shaft, but it was only seconds before his mouth was full and Stiles’ cock was pressed up against his throat.  He tried to swallow and relax to let Stiles slip into his throat, but Stiles was just too big.  He was never going to be able to deep throat Stiles without training.  Holy fuck.  Derek pulled off and sat staring at Stiles’ cock, panting.  His left hand dropped down to massage roughly at his own cock through his sweatpants.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles’ said, and Derek’s looked up to meet his gaze.  Stiles looked a little wild, his eyes wide and dark, his hair sticking up as if he’d been tugging on it, and his lips red and raw.  His left hand lifted up from the couch and reached forward to Derek’s face, then froze about two inches away.  Derek nodded at Stiles, feeling just the same way Stiles looked.  Stiles closed the distance, sliding his hand over Derek’s cheek and running his thumb across Derek’s wet lips.  “God, Der, you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you…your mouth….  But I had no fucking idea.”  His fingers were soft and warm over Derek’s skin, and Derek felt tingly sparks everywhere they touched.

Derek soaked in the look of Stiles like this for a minute more—seeming almost fevered with whatever thoughts and sensations he was experiencing.  He looked like the personification of exactly how Derek felt.  If it had been anyone other than Stiles, Derek would have thought he was faking this intense of a reaction—to what?  To feeling yet another mouth, after hundreds before, suckling on his cock—and barely managing to take in any of it in the end?  Stiles had had so many more—so many better.  And maybe Derek was a fool, after everything he’d been through with Kate and how she had been at the beginning and then shifted and changed to in the end.  But every fiber of Derek’s body screamed at him that this was Stiles.  Stiles, who he had known since Stiles was fourteen years old.  Stiles, who wore his heart, his completely-in-love-with-Lydia heart, on his sleeve.  Stiles, who would dive in front of a moving vehicle to save a dog from being run over.  Stiles, who had looked at him that horrible night in the police station like his own heart had burned up in that fire right along with Derek’s.

Derek held Stiles gaze then, looking up at him as he bent back down slightly and wrapped his lips around Stiles’ cock one more time.  Stiles inhaled sharply and Derek started sucking immediately and bobbing his head up and down, ignoring that he couldn’t go anywhere near as far as he wanted to.  Stiles’ hand drifted back from Derek’s cheek to slide into his hair, his fingers massaging at Derek’s scalp.  Derek moaned softly and closed his eyes.  He worked—played, really—away, bobbing his head, sucking Stiles in and pulling off, sliding his tongue around, occasionally pulling off to slide his lips over and around the rest of Stiles’ shaft.  He lost himself in the sensations—stroking Stiles occasional with one or both of his hands, with his tongue, with his lips.  Feeling how every inch of Stiles’ felt over his own different skin—lips, fingertips, tongue.  At some point Stiles’ head had dropped back and he had begun letting out almost constant quiet moans, only broken up by the occasional curse word or Derek’s name.  But his hand never left Derek’s head, never pushed or pressured or tried to direct Derek to any specific motion, but occasional tightening a bit and then loosening again.

They were both startled when Stiles’ phone, on the couch cushion next to him, started to play a chiming tune.  Stiles’ jerked his other hand to reach for it and turned it off, then looked down at Derek—his eyes definitely wild and crazed now.  “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how but we only have five minutes left.”  His fingers massaged Derek’s scalp as he gave Derek a sort of weak smile.

Derek’s heart was pounding in his chest.  Fuck.  Fuck.  No, but he wasn’t done.  There was so much more, they hadn’t even moved from this spot.  He wanted….fuck.  He closed his eyes and took a breath.  This was Derek’s hour.  His reward.  Because he had fucking done something that was really hard for him.  He had earned this.  And it was amazing.  And he knew what he still wanted.  He opened his eyes and looked up at Stiles.  He reached back and took hold of Stiles hand, moving it purposefully from his own head to Stiles’ lap.  Then he took Stiles’ other hand and did the same.  “Show me.  I want to see…to feel you…want to taste.  Stiles?”

Stiles’ hands had already reflexively wrapped around his cock and his mouth dropped open for a second when Derek spoke.  Derek could almost see Stiles’ brain working—as if he had to calculate whether this was in any way a violation of the terms he had set up or was somehow taking advantage of Derek instead of rewarding him.  But thankfully it only took about three seconds before Stiles was moving, his left hand wrapping around the base of his cock in that casual way as his right hand was already stroking up toward the head more purposefully.  Derek watched, mesmerized, by the already familiar motions of Stiles’ hands over his massive cock.

“Fuck, Der…” Stiles murmured, as his right hand picked up speed.  Derek could see how hard he was gripping, recognizing it as the sign that Stiles was already close.  “I can’t believe I get…you’re so beautiful, baby…god, so fucking good for me, Der….”  Derek shoved his hand into his pants and starting jerking his own cock roughly.  Stiles looked and sounded so utterly…wrecked.  He was never like that in any of his scenes.  Derek had never seen him like this and suddenly his body was on fire and he needed both—he needed everything—he needed to explode and he needed to see Stiles explode.  He heard himself panting roughly, practically moaning with the near pain of how hard he was working himself, even as he heard Stiles urgently whispering to him about how good he was and how perfect and how much Stiles wanted to give him and do for him and make him feel.  His eyes were trained on Stiles’ enormous cock, just two inches away, jerking in Stiles’ now frantic hands, and then Derek was gone.  He felt his orgasm driving up and his hand froze and his body jerked as he spasmed and came in his pants, kneeling at Stiles’ feet.  He wasn’t sure if he made any sounds, but he definitely heard Stiles’ surprisingly loud shout “Aaahhhh” just a moment before he saw and felt Stiles’ first jet of come across his cheek.  Stiles’ hand kept moving, giving Derek another, then another and finally another shot of Stiles’ come.  He saw and felt them over his lips, his nose, his eye, his forehead, his chin.  He felt his own orgasm subsiding just as he swiped his tongue out over his lips and tasted Stiles.  He was a mild almost sweet version of come—still a little salty and a little almost-sort-of-sour, but just lighter and more pleasant.  Like so many things about Stiles.  Derek pulled his hand out of his pants, wiping it roughly on them and settling back on his heels.

He started to reach to his face to swipe a finger through Stiles’ come and then froze.  “Picture, Stiles.  Please—will you?”  Ugh.  He needed to come up with a full sentence, but his brain felt sticky.  But he needn’t have worried.  Stiles’ eyes widened, but he was already picking up his phone and opening the camera.  He took a few pics of Derek and then dropped his phone back down, as Derek moved to swipe his fingers through Stiles’ release and bring it to his own mouth, licking it up.  Stiles stared at him as he worked and then when Derek stopped, Stiles smiled and reached forward to slide his own finger through an errant streak over Derek’s forehead.  Derek sucked Stiles finger clean and then slid to the side a bit, slumping forward to rest an arm and his cheek on one of Stiles’ legs.  Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s hair and they sat quietly for several minutes.  Derek couldn’t believe how easy it was with Stiles this time.  He wasn’t worried about what was going to happen next—what he might do wrong.  They just sat, feeling their own and each other’s bodies recovering.

And it was Derek in the end who pulled back first and suggested he should clean up for work.  And Stiles just smiled and nodded, standing and helping Derek up, then picking up his trench and putting it on, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously as he did.

At Derek’s door, Stiles leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and said, “See you at the studio,” then turned and headed to his car.

Chapter Text

Stiles sent him the pictures while he was in the shower.  He got out to the familiar name on his phone, followed by his own face streaked with Stiles’ come.  He stared at them for a minute or more, uncertain how he felt.  He wasn’t even sure now why he’d asked for them.  He didn’t feel ashamed, though, as he had when Kate had wanted to take pictures of Derek looking used and spent from their time together.  Instead, Derek was feeling…something like satisfaction, he thought.  Like rightness—belonging.  He ended up saving the shots to a special folder and heading to his closet to finish getting ready for the day.

At the studio, the Friday spirit seemed to be in the air.  The crew who had the morning unexpectedly free were hanging out on set laughing and talking and something about that scene when Derek walked in made him feel a little bit like a proud father.  That warm feeling of contentment swelled in his chest.  It turned out they were swapping tales of worst blind dates, and Derek joined in with their laughter as Lydia told about her friend setting her up with this tall handsome younger guy who turned out to be a very gay Isaac that she in turn set up with his now husband.  Isaac simply shrugged and nodded then proceeded to tell his worst blind date story, which ended up with him, drenched in beer, sitting in the front of the tow truck that delivered his smashed up sedan to the auto shop.

The rest of Derek’s morning went swiftly and then Stiles was there for his afternoon scene.  Derek saw him come in and head to the dressing area, but was on the phone right up until filming was about to start.  So all he could do was come out on set and shake Stiles’ hand while Boyd set up his camera and the crew gathered.  He moved offset to take a seat and then groaned as he looked at the set and saw Scott McCall walk on.  Fuck.  It was a classroom.  Stiles was in slacks, shirt and tie and Scott was in jeans and a t-shirt.  Before they started, Derek knew.  And sure enough, the framing device was professor Stilinski “punishing” McCall for disrupting his lecture.  Derek was hard from the second Stiles gave McCall that stern look and ordered him to his knees.  Stiles opened his pants and pulled out his cock, only half-hard, and Derek flashed back to what it had been like to feel it swell and stiffen under his own hands.  Derek managed to watch the rest of the scene without having to retreat to his office, though it was a close call.  He was rock hard through the entire thing, but was strangely relieved to see Isaac—who rarely watched filming and even more rarely seemed aroused by it—in the same boat.

“Shit,” Isaac said, when they were in Derek’s office afterward.  “I hope Ethan is ready to pound me into the mattress tonight.  Christ.”

Derek laughed out loud.  “My guess is you can count on him.  Ethan knows that you have a whole roster of guys here at the studio who would be happy to do it in his place.”

Isaac grinned.  “Yeah.  Thank god he never tests that.  Turns out monogamy is more my style in the end.  But bringing Stiles here has definitely started to test my resolve.  It’s almost too bad we have so many available actors willing to scene with him.  It might not be the worst problem in the world to have you and I as the only ones we could find for his scenes for a week or two.”

Derek smiled.  “Mmm.  Instead you probably have a Stiles-partner waiting list in your office.”

“Pretty much.  Maybe I should ask Stiles’ agent if they’ll send us more of his vibrators to tide everyone over while they’re waiting.”

Derek froze where he had been rocking in his chair.  He stared at Isaac.

Isaac smirked.

Isaac—Isaac had told him to open that white box specifically.  He’d known the Stiles dildo was in that box.

Isaac leaned back on the couch across from Derek and theatrically stretched his arms above his head and then put his hands behind his head in a pose of utter self-satisfaction.  “I’m glad you took my advice and you and Stiles are getting along better.”

“What—” Derek sputtered.  “Did Stiles…”

Isaac leaned forward.  “Don’t worry, Derek.  Stiles hasn’t said a word to me.  I’m just a keen Derek Hale observer.”

Derek let out a relieved sigh.  “Shit.”  Isaac must have suspected all along that he was interested in Stiles.  “We aren’t—I mean, we haven’t—”  Derek took a deep breath.  “I don’t know that we’re supposed to be really telling people—this is—really new.  I don’t even know what it is yet.”

Isaac’s smile relaxed into a more gentle, supportive sort of expression.  “Derek, I’m not going to talk to anyone else about your private life.  I never have.  I just thought—maybe I should let you know that I can see at least something between the two of you.  And personally, I think it’s a great idea.  Not to mention that you’ve seemed more…relaxed and happy the last week or so.”

“Right.  I know you would never….  I’m sorry, Iz,” Derek said.

“Good.  And don’t worry, I would never pry into what’s going on between you.  Though, I hope you will tell me if I need to start changing my casting or planning strategy for the studio.”

Derek smiled.  Isaac was the best.  “I will.  So far, it isn’t close to any stage like that…everything is fine going on just as usual.”

“Okay.  Well, I need to go get on a call then,” Isaac said, rising and heading to the door.  He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Derek.  “I know you didn’t ask me to butt into your personal life, man, but….  Just…try to have fun for a change, Derek.  Think about how much happier you are and how much more productive the studio is when we’re having fun with it.  Yeah, there are stresses and important shit to get done, but if all of those things are revolving around a core that is just plain enjoyable, you know the rest of it falls into place so much better.  So, yeah, my completely unsolicited relationship advice is to approach it the same way—create a core that is about what you enjoy.  And soak it in and see where it takes you.  Okay, enough of this crap.  I’m gonna work another hour or so and then see if I can get my husband to blow off work early today.”  He winked at Derek in a salacious way that looked slightly ridiculous on Isaac’s sweet, youthful looking face.  Then he was gone. 

Derek was still staring at the empty door contemplating Isaac’s words when Stiles came walking in.  He was clearly freshly showered, with wet hair and a still unbuttoned plaid shirt over jeans, slung low on his hips, showing off his pelvic bones.  Pelvic bones that Derek had had his hands on that morning.  Stiles grinned at Derek, crossing over to stand in front of his desk as he started to work the buttons of his shirt closed.

“Hey,” Derek said, his eyes drifting back and forth from Stiles’ face to his long fingers.

“Hey,” Stiles said.  “So, Isaac was a little strange just now.  I’ve never seen him on set for one of my scenes before—it doesn’t mean you guys are reconsidering my contract or anything, does it?”

“No, definitely not.  I’m guessing it was because he’s figured out something’s going on between us.”

“Oh, shit, Derek.  I’m sorry.  You probably didn’t want that out here at the studio already, but I swear—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted.  “It’s fine.  I know you didn’t say anything.  And just so you know, neither did I.  Isaac and I are just so close as partners here for so long and apparently he’s pretty damn observant.”

“Oh.  Uh, okay.”  Stiles slid onto the couch.  “So, is that a problem?”

“No.  I mean, I’m pretty private—I don’t plan on sharing with him or anyone else the details of what we do, but…I trust Isaac.”

“Okay.  That’s…good.  Well, I just wanted to make sure you were still up for our last checklist section and call tonight.”

“Definitely,” Derek said.

“Cool.”  Stiles stood up and headed to the door.  “Talk to you at 7.”  And he was gone.

Derek sat at his desk for a while thinking about Isaac.  He had been starting to feel tense and nervous—his typical gut reaction to having friends know almost anything about his romantic or sexual relationships.  He hated the weird sort of pressure that came from knowing his friends were watching his relationships to see what would happen—to see how he would fail this time.  But he had felt that tension drifting away when he’d told Stiles he trusted Isaac.  He realized now that once he let that initial reaction slide away, instead he felt…rather comforted.  Not that it was Isaac’s responsibility, but it felt as though with Isaac watching someone would notice if the relationship starting to go south—even when Derek might not be able to notice.  Derek wondered what might have been different if he’d had someone like Isaac in his life that he trusted back when he’d first met Kate.  Someone to notice Derek’s growing misery as he slowly got more and more mired in the little world she created around them that consisted almost entirely of subjugating and humiliating Derek.  Instead, he hadn’t met Isaac until more than a year after the fire that killed Derek’s family and sent Kate off to prison.

A picture flashed through Derek’s mind—one he had found himself clinging to like a life preserver in the midst of the wreckage that Derek’s life had seemed after that night.  He was 20 years old, sitting in the Sheriff’s office, bent over himself nearly double, dirty and grimy, sick and exhausted, face streaked with tears as the Sheriff, leaning on his desk, bent over him, his hand warm and heavy on Derek’s shoulder.  He’d been trying to explain to Derek that there was nothing more he could have done and that he was lucky to be alive himself.  But Derek had felt so empty—the opposite of lucky.  His rudder—everything that made him a human being just ripped away and left only with the memory of Kate and everything she had done to him—everything that made him so much less than human.  Then the door had burst open and Stiles was standing there, panting and frantic.  16 years old and already like a startling work of art—pale skin and moles and brown eyes and long eyelashes and soft spiky hair and thin but broad shoulders.  His eyes met Derek’s and Derek watched Stiles’ face shift and move—his every thought essentially simulcast by his expression.  Fear or worry seemed to morph into relief and then into recognition followed by sadness that swelled into heartache. 

Derek’s heart always ached at the recollection of Stiles.  Sweet, seemingly so vulnerable Stiles.  Looking at his father as if the Sheriff could somehow reverse time and then dropping to a crouch next to Derek, his hand on Derek’s forearm, babbling something intended to soothe.  But it wasn’t Stiles’ words that mattered.  It was that broken look on Stiles’ face—as if he, too, had lost something.  As if seeing Derek in pain caused Stiles pain.  Derek had known his memory had been twisted and expanded into this vision by his own need.  He knew Stiles couldn’t feel that much about Derek—for Derek.  Kate had taught him that.  Taught him that he wasn’t worthy of lovers, of friends, and now, even of family.  But Derek had already been watching Stiles for a couple years and wishing for something he couldn’t have.  So much that in his desolation he saw something he knew logically couldn’t have been there.  But it didn’t matter—he had let himself have that memory.  And it seemed more real to him than a thousand other memories.   

His computer dinged and he looked up to see a new email from Stiles.

 

Derek,

Thank you for this morning.  Seeing you and having you touch me that way was unforgettable.

The last couple categories of the checklist are attached.  I don’t think these are prime areas we would want to delve in right away, but as usual, on many things I may be convince-able if you disagree.  Still, it is important to me to go ahead and finish this up, so I do appreciate you taking all this time this week on the checklist.  I look forward to us being able to take that time next week and put it to more constructive uses.  ;)

As always, please spend 1 hour and stop when you hit the time limit, even if you’re not done.  If you feel stressed out in any way after the hour is up, then exercise self-care.  Whatever you want to do that will make you feel better.  Including calling me if you would like—I’m always available for you, Der.

Be honest and I’ll talk to you soon.

SS

 

Derek printed the attached list out and started in.  There were just two categories and Stiles was right—Derek couldn’t imagine them wanting to dig into them any time soon, if ever, really.  They were roleplay and service related.  Derek couldn’t imagine that fantasizing about Stiles as a firefighter or prison guard would make him any sexier.  On the other hand, he’d been pretty fucking hot just a couple hours earlier as a professor disciplining Scott McCall.  But as Derek thought about it he realized it wasn’t the professor fantasy at all that made it sexy.  It was just straight up the idea of Stiles dominating him—ordering him to his knees, fucking his face roughly, putting him over his knee and spanking him, bending him over the desk and driving into him fast and hard.  Fuck.  His cock throbbed in his pants and he shifted restlessly to try to relieve the pressure.

He breezed through the roleplay section quickly, marking almost everything with a 2.  He only had hard limits for rape, gang bangs and the like.  But even if he wasn’t vehemently opposed to the rest, he really didn’t want to get into any of that with Stiles any time soon.  He wanted to just enjoy Stiles.  As Stiles.  Stiles as his Dom with that fucking magnificent cock was pretty much the best fantasy Derek could come up with already.

The last category about service was rougher.  He hadn’t really done a lot of it, but much of the list reminded him of Kate even so.  He just pressed through, forcing himself to be honest and mark a 1 if that was what he wanted to do, and try not to worry about how much he was limiting Stiles and what he might be into.  He scanned it and sent it back to Stiles right away when he was done, then tried to focus on his emotions.  He was definitely tense.  But he wasn’t sure he needed to do anything special about it.  He could already feel himself relaxing as he thought about Stiles calling later.  So instead he got up from his desk and stretched, and decided to check on his team.  He found Boyd and Lydia both in the editing room working on the Stiles/Theo scene from Wednesday, so he spent the last hour of his workday talking with them and watching them work.

He was feeling pretty good when he headed out, stopping by the store on the way home and working himself up a quick jambalaya for dinner.  By the time Stiles sent over the compiled checklist and called, Derek was in sweats, already laying in his bed, starting to browse his Stiles video collection for later.  He didn’t even feel the tiniest bit ashamed, either.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Derek.  You sound good and relaxed.”  Stiles just sounded good, Derek thought.

“Mmm.  Maybe it has to do with a good dinner.  Or with the special reward I got from my Dom this morning.”  Derek was impressed with his own playful, confident tone.  Not bad.

“Hmmm.  I like the sound of that.”

“What?”

“My Dom.”

Derek felt his own eyes widened.  Oh, right.  He hadn’t said anything like that before.  He decided rather than pulling back to double down.  “Me too, Sir.”

Stiles let out a low groan.  “Fuck.  Already, Der?  I was hoping to get through at least half of this call before getting too hard to concentrate.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.  I’ll try to be better for you.”

“Fuuuuck, Dereeek!  Okay, seriously.  No more teasing your Dom until after the business at hand is concluded.  Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Derek tried to sound contrite.  It wasn’t easy when he was feeling so good.

Stiles inhaled sharply.  There was a pause of almost a minute.  Then, “Okay, are you ready to talk about the checklist?”

“Yes…”  Derek managed not to add ‘Sir’ at the end.

“Good.  So I sent the entire compiled checklist this time.  Like I said, I don’t think there’s a lot in today’s two categories that we’re really into, certainly not right away.  But take a look at my responses and let me know if you have any questions or anything you want to ask or tell me about any of those.  Or, for that matter, anything you’ve thought of from the other sections this week that we haven’t talked about yet.”

Derek scanned the list.  As usual, Stiles was at least a little more open to a lot of things than Derek.  Because of Derek’s hard limits, more than half of the service category and several of the roleplay items were all highlighted in orange.  There was only line marked in green for positive interest from both of them—Derek following Stiles’ orders.  Obviously they were both into that or there would be no Dom/sub relationship at all, Derek thought.  Derek scanned up over the entire list and felt his stomach clench a bit when he noticed how many orange items there were overall.  It looked like three times as many items that were off limits, all because of Derek, compared to green lines.  Maybe he should reconsider some of them.  Maybe if he thought about some of them and really considered that it was Stiles involved…after all, Stiles wouldn’t—

“Derek?”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just, uh, just there’s a lot of orange.  I didn’t realize it would be so much of the list and I didn’t—”

“Derek, stop.  Right now.  You are not allowed to think like that.  Listen to me.  You said I’m your Dom, right?”

Derek cringed slightly.  “Yes.”

“Well, then you are committed to listening to and considering my words and I am committed to always being honest with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good boy.  I don’t want you to think about it that way.  I highlighted the items in orange to give you comfort, not to worry you.  I wanted to bring my attention to them so I can make sure that I focus on not including any of those elements in our scenes.  That’s for both our satisfaction so we can both feel good.  And I wanted you to be comforted by seeing all of them specifically noted as off limits—something it is my intent to never bring into our play unless and until we have re-discussed them in the future.  There are plenty of blank white line items I also don’t intend to bother with because neither of us are particularly interested.  I could highlight those as well.  The list isn’t a numbers game and you aren’t a better sub for me if you have more items you are willing or interested in trying.  You are the best sub you can be for me when you’re honest with me—when you help me figure out how best to satisfy you.  Do you understand?”

Derek heard the force of Stiles’ intent through the phone.  And Stiles’ words did make sense.  While he had found the process unnecessary at first and even a little arduous, maybe the checklist could be comforting for him.  He did believe that Stiles would make every effort to avoid Derek’s hard limits.  And they did have a nice list of safe things they were both really into trying to start with.  Hopefully soon.

“Yes, I…  Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Derek.  I really appreciate you going through this whole process with me.  I know you did it so I could be comfortable and it means a lot to me.”

Derek felt a warmth in the back of his neck.  He didn’t know what to say.  “It’s alright.  It wasn’t so bad in the end.”

Stiles chuckled.  “Well, good.  I’m glad.”

“So…we’re doing this, right?”

Stiles laughed out loud at that.  “I think I’m supposed to ask you that.  But yes, if you ask me if I want to be your Dom, Derek, the answer is only more emphatically ‘yes fucking please!’  So do you want to be my sub?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Stiles was strangely quiet for a moment and then Derek heard him let out a large breath.  He almost mumbled, “Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening.”  Then, louder he said, “Okay, Derek, are you up for a call tomorrow morning?  I know it’s the weekend—I wasn’t sure what would fit your schedule, but I’d like to still do a call tomorrow, especially since we’re going out tomorrow night for some non-scene time.”

“A call would be good.  I don’t usually get up as early on the weekend—I don’t run on a schedule on Saturday and Sunday—just when I feel like it.”

“So, what, say 8:30 or 9:00?”

“9 would be great.”

“Okay good.  Now, I need you to pick a safeword for any time we are in a scene.  You can think about it this evening and just tell me when I call in the morning.  This is a hard limit for me—no scenes without it.  And I need you to commit to using it when you need to.  Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”  The warmth in Derek’s neck spread down his spine.  That was the second time Stiles had called him that tonight.  And fuck, but Derek liked it.  “On Sunday we can talk about what kind of schedule we will have next week, but I want to keep it primarily to phone scenes similar to what we’ve had and a couple of limited live scenes mixed in.  I’m going to make sure you know before each in-person scene exactly what is on or off limits and we will set a time limit for the scene.  So they will look a lot like this morning’s reward scene was.  Is that okay?”

“If they’re anything like this morning, then that’s definitely okay.”

Stiles chuckled lightly.  “Good.  Well, goodnight then, Derek.  I’ll call you in the morning.  Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Sir,” Derek said, dropping his voice to a low, husky sort of rumble and smiling with the moan he heard come from Stiles before the call dropped.  He held the phone in his hand for a minute, smiling up at the ceiling.  Then he rolled over to his laptop and started browsing Stiles videos to find what seemed perfect for that evening.  He was going to stuff himself with his Stiles dildo and imagine Stiles’ voice in his ear calling him a good boy until he had come at least twice.

Chapter Text

Derek was vibrating with need.  The muscles in abdomen and shoulders were tense from resisting the temptation to move—to rock and thrust into the air (even though there would be no relief to be found) or to reach his hand down and finally take hold of his erection.  He had already considered doing it despite Stiles’ instruction not to.  Stiles wouldn’t know, he’d thought, after all, they were just on the phone.  His mind even helpfully supplied that it would be Stiles’ own fault for driving him to this level of desire.  But as soon as the thought had flashed through his mind, right on its heels was an unexpected sense of shame, along with a sick feeling that threatened to solve the problem by almost wilting his erection immediately.  As he reassured himself that he wouldn’t break Stiles’ rules (almost whispering it aloud as a strange little vow to himself), the wrong, sick feeling had dissipated and Stiles’ voice had filled his mind again.

Now, nine minutes later (though to Derek it felt like ninety), Stiles was still gushing about Derek.  It was completely senseless that anyone could ever come up with so much to glorify about Derek.  But Stiles seemed to be able to exalt Derek endlessly.  But it wasn’t just the praise that had Derek so needy, though he knew that was a huge part of it.  Everything Stiles said was couched, either explicitly or implicitly, in terms of what they would eventually be doing together.  Live and in person.  How Stiles’ hands would soon be the ones touching Derek the way he had seen another man do in one scene.  Or Stiles’ tongue would be the one circling around Derek’s rim and teasing him that way.  Or Stiles’ cock would be sliding between Derek’s lips. 

Stiles groaned low in Derek’s ear.  “Fuck, Der, this morning…your mouth is so perfect.  You have no idea how hard it was to stay still for you, baby.  Not when every single touch is so fucking electric and so you know every single urge you have is going to be even better than the last.  I wanted to reach out and hold your face in my hands, keep you still, and just rock up into your mouth and just…unnhh…feel that perfect wet tunnel of your tongue and lips and mouth and then the beginning of your throat…  God.  Or to just run my fingers through your hair or hold my palm on the back of your neck and feel as you work your own mouth around me at your own speed…taking just whatever you want.”

Derek heard a loud whimper and sucked in a sharp, surprised breath as he realized the sound had come from him.

“Mmm…baby…how are you doing over there?  Are you still hard for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yeah?  Tell me.  Just…sort of interested kind of hard?”

“Stiles…”  Derek clutched his fist in the sheet.

 “Or maybe throbbing and red desperate kind of hard?”

“Yesss.”

“Mmm.  That’s good, baby.  Okay, so I want you to slick up your fingers for me.  Now, tell me, Der, did you use your dildo last night?”

“Yes.”  Derek was so relieved to have something to do—especially something that might give him some relief soon from that aching need that had him strung as tight as a bow string.  “Sir.”

Stiles moaned softly.  “Fuck, I wish I could have seen that.  Bet you were so fucking beautiful.  Okay, so how do you like to do it—on your back or hands and knees?”

“Hands and knees,” Derek murmured, for some reason embarrassed.  His Stiles dildo was just too big for him to manage well laying on his back.  At least so far.  Maybe as he got more used to it, but he couldn’t really get any thrust with his arm that way, so even though his legs and arms got tired he still went to his knees out of habit now when he really got to working ‘Stiles’ into himself.

“Okay, stay on your back for now, baby, and touch your rim for me.  Tell me if you’re still open a little bit.”

Derek circled his ass with the tips of his fingers, hissing slightly at the sensitivity.  He wanted to just shove as many fingers as he could and start fucking himself, rubbing his prostate until he jerked over his stomach to the sound of Stiles’ voice.  “Yes, Sir.”

“How many fingers do you think you can slide in right now?  Easily, Derek—not with any pain.”

“Fo—three.  Sir.”

“Good boy.  Then I want you to slide three fingers in for me right now.  All the way.”

Derek shoved three in hard, all the way to the knuckles, closing his eyes in relief as he felt that stretch—just a bit rougher than he had expected, but so fucking perfect.  He let out a low groan.

“Good boy.  Now hold them in tight for a second, circle them around, maybe start to bend.  Don’t focus on your prostate but don’t avoid it either.  I just want you to move them around in there for a few seconds for me.”

Derek spread and twisted his fingers, then eventually bent them down to a sort of mini fist and then back open.  He brushed up against his prostate and let out a gasp as his body jerked with pleasure.  His neck felt like it was on fire and his cock throbbed against his stomach.  He clenched his other hand in the sheets again to keep himself from touching it.

“That’s good.  You’re doing so good for me, Derek.  Okay, now pull them out and then slide them back in.  Just like that.  Fuck yourself for me, baby.”

Derek thrust his fingers in and out of his ass, ready for more.  Please.  God.  Stiles.  

“Yeah…just like I’d do with my fingers if I were there.  Like I’m going to do someday when I get you ready for my cock.”

Derek groaned, fucking himself hard.  He needed more.  He needed more in his ass if he was going to come that way or he needed to be allowed to wrap his fingers around his dick.  What if Stiles didn’t let him do that?

“Now slide a fourth finger in, baby.  And tell me when you did.”

Derek didn’t wait.  Not even a second.  He was so relieved, he slammed four fingers in, relishing that hint of strain as he did.  Yessss.  So fucking good.  “I have four in, Sir,” he husked out.  “Can I…”

“Yes, baby, keep fucking yourself.  Mmm…that’s so good for me.  I’m so fucking hard for you right now, Derek.  I love hearing you like this—your breathing so heaving and ragged and your voice so rough for me.  You’re magnificent, Der.  Keep fucking yourself with those fingers for me.  I want you to be nice and loose for me.  Now tell me, do you think you can take your dildo for me this morning?”

“Yes!” Derek nearly shouted as his body simultaneously shuddered at the idea.  His hips were rocking continuously now, shoving back down onto his fingers as he pressed them up and into himself.  Lifting up and off and thrusting his cock up into the air as he pulled his fingers back out.  Over and over.  Clutching onto the bed with his free hand, his eyes closed—a vision of Stiles’ wide brown eyes and sweet bow lips filling his mind.

Stiles groaned.  “Fuck, Derek.  You’re going to kill me.  You’re just so incredibly sexy.  Do those fingers feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek gasped out.

“Can you work them in all the way—get your knuckles inside and everything, baby?”

Derek whimpered aloud, all embarrassment apparently gone now in the heat of his need.  Fuck, yes.  Derek wanted that.  “I…think so.”

“Why don’t you get a little more lube on your hand, baby and then work all four fingers in just all the fucking way for me, okay?  Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Derek panted, ripping his hand out of his ass.  All doubt gone.  Of course he could.  For Stiles.  He drizzled more lube on his fingers and knuckles and pulled his legs up tight to his chin with his left arm.  When he shoved his fingers back in, he twisted this time back and forth as the fingers widened out to his knuckles and then he was working them in.  He heard his own rough breathing and low moans, and Stiles’ heavy breathing and whispered repeats of ‘that’s good’ and ‘come on, baby’ were a perfect counterpart sort of harmony.

“In, Sir,” Derek said, “All the way.”  He wanted to move.  But he also wanted to freeze and somehow feel exactly like this all the time:  stuffed almost full enough but with that promise that there’s more to come; his own fingers feeling his ass hugging the, so smooth and warm and perfect; Stiles’ breath and murmured praise in his ear.

“Mmm…that’s so good, Der.  Okay, so slide them in and out for me.  Let me hear you, baby.”

Derek pulled his fingers out and slid them back in, whining softly when the fullest part of his knuckles slipped past his rim again.  And again.

“Fuuuuck, Derek.  God, you’re so fucking hot, baby.  I’m so lucky to have this.  Do you think you’re ready to take your dil—”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek gasped, before Stiles could even finish his question.  He craved it so much.  Stiles.  His ‘Stiles’ dildo inside of him and Stiles’ voice in his ear.  He felt like he’d been craving precisely this his entire life.

Stiles chuckled warmly.  “Alright, baby, then get it out and lube it up for me.”

Derek was moving immediately, Stiles still talking in his ear.

“God, Der.  You’re doing so good for me.  I wish you could see how hard my cock is for you.  I’ve been aching with it this whole time, baby.  Picturing you there with your fingers, stuffed up your ass, hearing your breath and those perfect sounds you make.  Wish I could be there and see your little hole all stretched out and pink and—”

“Sir,” Derek said, just a touch of whine in his voice.  He couldn’t keep just listening to this and have nothing to do.

“Oh god, sorry, baby.  Okay, get on your hands and knees for me and take your usual position and tell me what you’re doing so I can picture it perfectly, alright, Der?”

Derek moved to his knees.  But it was hard to talk about it suddenly.  The sheen of sweat on his skin started to feel a little clammy and he could feel his shoulders tighten up a bit.

“Derek?”

No.  No, there was no way he could describe himself...

"Derek?"

…on his hands and knees, shoving a fucking dildo inside himself...

"Der?"

...because he was so fucking horny and desperate and…

“Derek, sweetheart, if it’s too much you can safeword, remember?  We talked about your safeword at the beginning of the call and you promised me you would use it if you needed to.  Okay?”

“Yes,” Derek said.  No.  He didn’t want to stop.  He didn’t want to disappoint…  himself.  It wasn’t even Stiles he was worried about disappointing.  It was himself.

“Good boy.  So do you need to safeword?”

“No.”

“Okay.  And do you still promise that you will if you need to?”

“Yes.”

“So good, Derek.  You’re so fucking good.  Okay, so tell me where you are right now.”

“On my bed.”

“Good, baby.  And what else is on the bed.”

“Just my dildo and a pillow.”

“Mmm…and where’s the phone?”

“On the corner of the nightstand.”

“That’s good.  See how good you’re doing.  Are you still on your back, baby?”

“No.  On my knees and…elbows.”

“Good, baby.  So good.  Fuck, I can just imagine how hot you look.  You have the most perfect ass, Derek.  I can practically feel right now how firm and round and smooth it’s going to be under my hands.  Feel it for me, baby, okay?  Tell me how it feels.”

Derek couldn’t get himself to let go of his now lubed up and ready dildo for some reason, but he leaned on his right elbow and reached his left hand back and slid his palm over the curve of his ass cheek.  And it did feel good.

“ ‘S good.  Firm.  But skin’s soft.”  He squeezed and fondled himself for a moment, enjoying the sensations of his own body. 

Stiles hummed.  “Bet you feel so fucking good, Der.  Now take that same hand and slide it around underneath yourself and stroke your cock for me a few times.  Not too fast!  Just niiice and easy.  Focus on how your cock feels in your hand.”

Derek moaned when his hand wrapped around his neglected, needy cock.  He didn’t even feel the urge to strip himself hard and fast—any touch was like the sweetest relief at this point.  So he held himself loosely, feeling the weight of his cock in his hand, closing his eyes and trying to imagine what his reaction would be if it were another man’s cock.

“Does that cock feel good in your hand, baby?”

“Uh huh.  I…like it.”

“I know, baby.  I like it, too.  It felt so good that night when I wrapped my fingers around you.  Tell me something good about it, Der.  Tell me what you like about your cock.”

Derek slid his fist up and down his shaft, focusing.  “I like…the weight of it…and the heat.  And I have…a lot of ridges and veins…feels good against my fingers.”

“Fuck, yeah!” Stiles said.  It wasn’t loud but it still sounded like a cheer.  “Me, too, baby.  I love your cock already.  It’s fucking beautiful.  And I love the way the shaft tapers to the head so smooth and sweet—god, that’s going to feel so amazing sliding past my lips someday.  Okay, so I want you to get comfortable now the way you would usually to take…fuck, Der…can I just call it my cock?  I can’t stop thinking of it that way.  That you’ve been fucking yourself with my cock.  Can…is that okay?”

“Yes.  Fu—….  Yes, Sir,” Derek moaned.  Yes fucking please

Stiles groaned aloud.  “Derek…fuck.  God, I l—  Thank you, baby.  Okay, so are you getting ready for it?”

Derek suddenly moved from where he’d frozen, pulling his left hand free of his cock and getting ready.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Okay, so I know you’re on your knees.  Tell me about your arms and chest.”

“Uh…I…my shoulders are all the way down—pressing on the mattress.  You know, for…leverage, I guess.”

Derek heard Stiles take a sharp intake of breath.  “Fuck.  Your ass must look so beautiful in the air like that.  What else, baby?”

Derek squirmed slightly at the praise, realizing it was…a pleased, happy sort of squirm.  He almost wished he had a mirror on the wall so he could see what he looked like.  “My left arm is just…stretched out straight above me.  I…kind of hold onto the headboard usually.”

“Mmm…good.  And your head?”

“Resting flat on the left side, looking right, facing the phone.”

“Mmm…god, you sound gorgeous.  You’re doing so good for me.  I’m so close to coming already, baby, just listening to you.  I’ve wanted to come twice and had to hold off ‘cuz I don’t want to come until you have my cock inside you.  Okay, so are you ready to take my cock, baby?”

“Yes, Sir.  Please!”  Fuck.  Derek hadn’t meant to add that.

Stiles groaned loudly and cursed.  “Derek, fuck, I want you so bad.  You’re such a fucking good boy.  Okay, now press that cock up to your rim for me, Der.  Feel the size of it up against your hole and how it’s still so wide even after you’ve stretched yourself out for it.  And then I want you to press it in, just real slow…just ease the tip in past that tight little pink rim—”

Derek let out a gasp when the tip slid in and Stiles gave an answering moan.  “Oh god, baby, is it in?”

“Uh huh.”  Derek was practically vibrating again with the need for more now that he was so close to having what his body had been calling for.

“So good, Der.  Okay, so I want you to start working it in and out, a little more each time, just nice and easy, but without stopping, okay?  Just work my cock inside you…fuuuck, I can’t believe I’m saying that.  You’re so hot, baby.  God, I am so hard for you right now, Der.  Someday it really is going to be my cock working inside that hot, tight, perfect ass of yours.  At least if you let me.  I think about that all the time, baby.  I think about getting to touch your skin and lick you and taste you and fuck you and feel you shake and shiver for me.  Just keep working that cock in for me, baby.  Can you tell me how it feels?”

“So big, Sir,” Derek panted immediately.  “Just…fuck…you’re…so big…”

“Yeah, baby?  You like that?”

“Uh huh.”  Derek had half of his Stiles worked in now, and it was at that perfect sweet point where it was just starting to not be so tough anymore…starting to be less about work and strain and more just pleasure and feeling and fullness.  “Like…feeling so full.”

Stiles moaned.  “Oh fuck.  Yes, baby.  I want to stuff you so full with me that you never want anyone or anything else inside you but my cock.”

“Already do, Sir,” Derek panted, thrusting ‘Stiles’ in and out of his ass, now working at least two-third of it in each time.  God, he loved this.  And it was so much better with Stiles’ heavy breaths and low moans and whispered praise filling the room.  Stiles knowing that Derek was fucking himself with Stiles own fucking cock.  Knowing how bad Derek wanted Stiles’ cock.  He felt his balls tightening and pulling up as a pulsing heat swelled in his groin.  Fuck.  Oh god.

“Sir.  I…  Close, Sir.”  Fuck.  He didn’t want to stop.  But Stiles hadn’t said anything about coming.

“Fuuuck, Der…Oh fuck, baby…that’s so good….you’re such a good boy…” 

Derek heard the unmistakable skin-on-skin slapping sound of Stiles jerking off fast and rough.  Fuck.  Stiles.  His Dom.  He was going to come from listening to Derek like this.  Derek let out a loud long whine as he continued fucking himself hard with his ‘Stiles’ but clenched his body, trying desperately to hold off his orgasm.  Stiles still hadn’t said if he could come.  But he didn’t want to stop.  His arm worked back and forth, shaking with the effort, but never stopping.  He was so full.  Stiles was so big.  Derek clenched onto the headboard hard with his left hand, as he always did to stop himself from reaching down to grab his dick.

“…so fucking beautiful…sound so good, baby…”

“Sirrr….please...”  Derek’s voice was tight with strain and need, more whimper than words.  And he couldn’t have cared less.

“Oh, baby, yes, okay, come for me, Der.”  Derek groaned and rammed ‘Stiles’ out and then back in his ass as hard as he could.  As far as he could.  So close to all the way.  So full.

“Come for me,” Stiles rambled in the air around him.  “I want to hear you come while your ass is stuffed so fucking full of my cock.”

Derek felt it.  Oh god.  Almost there…he angled down just a bit more.

“…so gorgeous on your hands and knees for me…taking me so good...”

And then his body was shaking and coming apart, his hand stilled, holding the dildo tight inside him, pressed against his prostate, his cock jerking and spurting onto the sheet below him.

“…Fuuuuuuuck, baaaby!” Stiles shouted and then Derek just heard loud stuttered shaking pants from the phone as his body collapsed onto the bed, still holding ‘Stiles’ deep inside and shuddering with the last spasms of his orgasm.  He moaned softly and lay still listening to Stiles’ breathing slowly even out as his did.  After a minute, he slowly and carefully dragged the dildo from his ass and dropped it on top of a t-shirt on the floor.

“Jesus, Derek.  Fuck.  Thank you, baby.  You were so good.”

Derek hummed quietly.  Happy and sated and not sure what to say to Stiles’ praise.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, Stiles.  Really good.”  That he could answer.  He wanted to praise Stiles right back.  Tell him what a good Dom he was.  But he knew it wasn’t his place.  Kate had always made that extremely clear.  So he settled for just trying to let his satisfaction show as much as he could.

“Yeah?  Good.  Well, you were amazing.  And I’m really proud you followed my instructions and came up with a safeword.  And you know that will be in place any time we’re scene-ing, right?  Even if I don’t remind you beforehand, that is always there for you and I will always stop immediately anything we’re doing if you say it.  Okay?”

“Yes, Stiles.”  He knew Stiles could hear his eyes rolling.  But, well, seriously

“Good.”  Stiles gracefully ignored his tone.  “Okay, so we’re going out tonight—no scene, and not a fancy date.  Dress casual and make sure you bring a jacket in case it’s cold as there will be some outdoor activities.  Would 8:00 be okay to pick you up?”

If Stiles was picking him up how was this not a date?, Derek thought.  “Sure.  8 is fine.”

“Okay.  Now, just to make sure neither of us has any stress or worry about what’s going to happen, I’m planning to bring you home by 1:00.  I’m going to walk you to door and kiss you.  And then you’re going to go inside and I’m going to go home.  Is that alright?”

“Okay.”  Derek rolled over onto his back.  Right.  He’d forgotten that Stiles had already said he was going to limit times and sexual activities like this.  He wasn’t sure if he was hurt.  Or relieved.  Mostly he was still just so satisfied and relaxed.  He could feel his ass still slightly throbbing as it did when he worked it hard with ‘Stiles’.  He kind of loved that feeling.  His cock twitched as he thought about maybe spending a bit more time in bed after the call with his videos and his dildo reliving the morning’s activities.

“Good.  Well, do you want to have Sunday off?  Or do you want to plan for a scene?”

“Um…no, I mean, I’d still like to scene.  If you’re…free.”  Ugh.  Apparently, Derek was back to awkward again.

“Cool.  Then you have two pieces of homework for Sunday.  First, pick out one scene of me that you like to jerk off to—doesn’t matter what it is.  Just be prepared to pull it up on your laptop when I tell you.  Second, I want you to think about one thing that you’d like us to do live and in person in a scene sometime this coming week.  It can be just a general activity like “kissing” with the parameters wide open for me, or it can be more specific if that’s what’s on your mind like, “me massaging your feet for twenty minutes while naked and hard and then jerking off onto your now, soft, relaxed feet.”

Derek laughed.  “Anything?”

“Anything within reason.  I think I can trust you to use good judgment.  Or if you pick something I consider out of bounds, I may be able to modify it and still make it somewhat work.  But I don’t think we’ll have worked up to fucking this week already.  As much as I would like to.  Can you work with that?”

“Sure.”

“Good boy.  Oh, and I guess I didn’t assign it as homework really, but you should think about your schedule and when/how you’d like to work our time in.  I’d love to still do morning phone calls at least some of the days, and then I was hoping we could pick a couple mornings or even evenings to fit in maybe two live scenes this week.  Not long, I want to still limit them to an hour or an hour and a half at most.  Maybe for next weekend we can see about something longer if we’re both free.  Okay?”

“Yeah.  Sounds good.”

“Great.  We can talk about the deets on Sunday.  So, I’ll see you tonight at 8 then?”

“Yep.  8:00.  I’ll be here.”

“Cool.  Then, have a great day, Derek.  And thanks again.  You were just so good, baby.”

“ ‘K.  See you later.”  Sir.  He wanted to add ‘Sir’.  He wanted to say ‘Have a great day, Sir.’  But he had held back.  And Stiles was gone.  But they’d talk again tomorrow.  And maybe every day next week.  And maybe he’d be better next time.  Right now he had homework to do.  He turned to his laptop to start browsing his Stiles videos and pick the perfect one for tomorrow.  And if he ended up picking several to watch and work himself out to today, that could only be a good thing.  Maybe then he wouldn’t be hard and aroused all night while trying to just go out and have fun with Stiles like regular not cock-worshipping-sex-obsessed people did.

Chapter Text

Derek rubbed his clammy palms on his pants, as Stiles turned onto a side street looking for a parking spot.  Why the fuck was he so nervous?  It was Stiles.  And he knew the night couldn’t turn into anything...serious.  That what had happened the last time just couldn’t happen, since Stiles had already told him a goodnight kiss was all the action they would be getting.

“Have you been down here lately?” Stiles asked.

“Um...no.  Never, actually.”  The recently re-energized strip of the City that Stiles had brought them to wasn’t really his scene.  On the other hand, if he was perfectly honest, he didn’t really have a ‘scene.’  Derek’s social time was spent mostly close to work and home with friends at the few local hangouts that they knew well and were easy and convenient.  He hadn’t dated in a way that involved seeking out special venues in a few years.  He’d just used clubs to find an occasional Dom or hookup and get his rocks off and focused on his business. 

“Really?  But you’ve lived here for years, right?”

“Four years.”

“Wow.  Well, okay.  Points for me, then.  Well, there’s this good brewpub just down here that has excellent burgers and it’s a little less crowded since they’re off the beaten path.  And I think they’ve only been open like 8 months or something.  I thought we could get a little grub and beer before the real fun begins.”

“Sounds good,” Derek said, wondering what Stiles had in store for him as ‘the real fun.’

They parked and Stiles led him around the corner and down another block to a German themed bar.  When they walked in, there was a large crowd, about three deep around the bar, singing something and waving large frosty mugs of beer in the air.  Derek found himself smiling even as he wondered how he and Stiles would ever be able to hear each other talk, even if they could find a place to sit.  Stiles tugged him between people by the hand up to a hostess stand and whispered something in her ear, making her smile and nod and then turn away to another hostess.  A few minutes later, they were led off through the restaurant tables, away from the bar and then around a corner to a row of high-backed booths.  When they slid in, the hostess tugged a curtain over the entry to their booth and suddenly they were in their own makeshift room, the sounds of the bar still there around them, but pleasantly muffled and distant.

Derek met Stiles’ eyes across the table and smiled.  “This is nice.”

“Yeah.  Best to have some peace and quiet while we eat,” Stiles said, offering Derek the beer list.  “Though I have to admit, I’m pretty curious to see you drunk.  In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you plastered.”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Derek said, “so don’t hold your breath.  And you definitely won’t hear my spouting drinking songs.”

“Damn.  I think my Dad is still recovering from the first time I got seriously blitzed and Scott and I came home singing Outkast at the top of our lungs.  We woke the neighbors up and he told me there was nothing more embarrassing than the sheriff being called out to a disturbance at his own house.”

Derek laughed, just as the waitress came for their drink order.  They asked her about a few of the house beers and each ordered something different.  When she left, Derek asked, “So did your father ground you?”

“Oh god, yes!  I think it was the first time he was actually worried about anything I’d done.  We were pretty underage at the time, so I had a whole four weeks with no extracurriculars whatsoever—just drive to school, drive to work and call him to check in, and drive home and call him to check in.  It was just a couple months before graduating my senior year, so I pretty much thought it was the end of the world at the time.”

Derek saw an 18-year-old Stiles in his mind, just starting to really fill out, but still so young and thin and pink-cheeked.  He had always loved how independent Stiles had seemed to be from the moment Derek had met him—always off and doing his own thing, in some ways as if he and his father were roommates or partners of some kind rather than parent and son.

“You may have gotten off lucky.  I’m sure your dad had to deal with a lot of shit at the station over something like that.”

“Ooohh yeah!  Don’t I know it,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes to make clear he had heard about it repeatedly.  “Scott actually had it worse because Melissa—do you remember his Mom?  She was a nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial?”

Derek nodded, taking a drink from the ale their waitress had just set down in front of him.  It was surprisingly good—sharp, but still smooth.

“Well, she had just gone through some kind of alcoholism or liver disease or alcohol poisoning week-long-training thing and so she absolutely freaked out on him.  He barely managed to get to keep going to his job at Dr. Deaton’s and Lacrosse practice.  And I’m pretty sure he was on probation with her for about three months.  He wanted to leave town early for college, like basically the second we graduated, just to get out of the house.  But of course he couldn’t afford it.  And eventually she relaxed when it became clear we weren’t going to turn into the partying frat boy types that she saw come in to the emergency room sometimes.”

“I never even thought about drinking with my friends back in high school.  I guess we just weren’t the types, either.  Though we did have a tendency to smoke weed out in the back 20 on my parents’ property.”

Stiles swallowed the drink of his own beer he was taking, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.  “Oh, really?  I should have realized you’d go for the ganja, Derek Hale.  I think it just goes to show you were always ahead of your time.”

Derek shrugged and asked about Stiles’ beer.  They swapped tastes and spent a few minutes talking about their tastes in beer and their favorites, and branching out to wine and hard liquor.  Derek found out Stiles had almost no interest in wine, but had developed a penchant for expensive whiskeys and bourbons.  Derek admitted he didn’t drink much, but preferred Scotch when he did.  By the time their food came, they had started into stories of their most expensive meals ever eaten and favorite junk food.

“There was this place in Vegas,” Stiles said, “that made this meatball sandwich…  I can’t even describe it.  We just have to go there sometime and you have to have it.  There’s nothing like it in the world.  I know it sounds simple and everyday but it is melt-in-your-mouth-and-make-you-fucking-beg-for-more scrumptious.  I’m telling you.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that,” Derek said.  “So how long did you live in Vegas?”

“Mmm.  A little less than two years.  I moved out there to be with Matt.  Which, as you already heard turned out to be a mistake.”

“Matt?  The one switched you from sub to Dom?”

Stiles chuckled and took a pull from the new beer the waitress had just set in front of him.  “Yeah.  That’s the one.”

Derek took a drink and played with his beer for a few moments, staring at his fingers, sliding over the sweat on the glass.  He wasn’t sure if conversation that bordered on talking about sex was out of bounds for their ‘just fun’ night out.  But his mind was swirling with all the questions about Stiles that he wanted to know.  He wanted to hear about every single one of his experiences—everything that led him to being such a naturally perfect Dom—at least as far as Derek was concerned, or at least based on everything Derek had seen so far.  But especially this—how he figured out what fit him and how he was so okay with it all.

Stiles’ fingertips slid across his fingers as they rested on his glass.  He looked up.  Stiles.  Just Stiles.  Same as ever.  Smiling at him in that, easy, diffident, casual way of his.  “Where were you?”

“I…probably shouldn’t ask…I mean, it’s none of…”

“Derek, you can ask me anything you want to.  I can always tell you if I’m not really to share something with you—though I can’t imagine what that would be.  I’m not exactly shy, if you haven’t figured that out yet.” He winked, and Derek almost laughed as all of his tension faded away.

“Well, how did that…happen?  I mean how did you figure that out?”  Great job, Hale, he thought to himself.  Maybe be a little more vague the next time

Luckily, Stiles seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.  “Well, it was really because Matt was just a shit Dom.  How I didn’t realize it before I moved all the way across the country, I don’t know.  But if I’m being perfectly honest with you, it might have been because I had just heard about Lydia’s engagement.  Remember when she almost married that French creep?  I’m assuming she was already working for you at the time.  We weren’t really in touch anymore, but I heard things through Scott, so of course I heard that.  So even though I thought I’d gotten over Lydia about four years earlier, of course, I had an idiocy crisis and followed my boyfriend out to Vegas when he asked me to.  All because the girl I was obsessively in love with in high school, who never wanted anything from me besides friendship, had decided to marry some other guy.”

Stiles chuckled a bit, but it sounded a little off.  “I know it sounds really pathetic.  And god, I mean, the truth is it’s even more pathetic than you know when you think about how Lydia was really just a stand in—a safer obsession that I could openly admit to for what I’ve really wanted my entire life.”

Derek watched Stiles, staring down at the table know, just flicking his eyes up to Derek’s here and there as he talked, obviously still a bit embarrassed by—something.  Either how he had been over Lydia, or following Matt to Vegas or…whatever he was dancing around talking about now.  But just as Derek was thinking about whether to reach out to touch Stiles across the table or what to say to reassure him, Stiles seemed to shake himself out of it and pick up the trail again.

“Anyway, I did it, but something about being in Vegas just seemed to bring into stark reality everything that was missing in my relationship with Matt.  It was already sort of obvious we weren’t going to fall in love and didn’t have a lot in common, but the sex was always the good part.  Or, well, it was the exciting part.  The part I thought I was into.  I had two friends in New York who had both subbed for Matt and they had been the ones who’d introduced us, right?  But it wasn’t just them.  Every single person I’d ever met who had subbed for him had just said that he was so ‘masterful’ and ‘powerful’ and….ugghh…he was just supposed to be so good.  And looking back, I guess I just drank the koolaid for a while?  It might have been because he was so fucking hot.”

Stiles’ eyes flicked over to Derek’s face and he could feel them slide down his neck and chest and then over the table, almost as if Stiles could see through it to his torso and below. 

“I mean, not as hot as you, but I mean, I don’t think that’s actually physically possible in another human being.  But definitely the hottest guy I’d ever had show any interest in my naked body before.  And he did have this kind of supreme cockiness that everything he was doing was going to make you hot.  And that goes at least part of the way to it being true sometimes.  But after I moved, something changed.  I just realized that I wasn’t actually that turned on by him when we scened.  He didn’t pay any attention to what was turning me on or off—so he would string out a scene that I wasn’t into for a couple hours and then something that had me rock hard and panting with need, he would get bored with and end as soon as he got off or transition into something else entirely.  I found myself really noticing things he would do and say and thinking, ‘I could do that so much better.’”

Stiles took another drink, nearly finishing off his beer.  “But it still might have taken me a long time to break up or try Domming on my own or something, you know?  Except that one night this other couple that we had played with a couple times, asked us to go to the club with them and participate in a demonstration.  At the last minute the Domme was sick and had to bow out, but her sub wanted to perform so badly and so did Matt, that Matt essentially ordered me to step in, saying it was time I learned if I could switch at all, and that he could walk me through my first Dom scene.  It was the first serious fight we ever got into because I was outraged that he would put our friend, the sub, in the position of working with a new Dom for the first time ever in a public demonstration scenario.  It seemed dangerous to me and just…”  Stiles was shaking his head and Derek could see he was feeling a bit of that anger just retelling the story now, years later.  “I mean, not to mention, ordering me, as his sub, to Dom someone.  That just…it was out of bounds.  It was nothing we’d ever discussed and he didn’t even discuss it with me then.  Whatever.  He was a dick.  Anyway, I let myself be convinced, if you can call it that, and we did the scene.  And…”

Stiles paused and Derek thought he felt a shift come over Stiles.

“…I just loved it.  And Todd, that was our sub friend, he loved it.  It was so fucking exhilarating.  We got to the climax of the scene, where Todd was supposed to come on verbal command.  He had trained with Stephanie, and for her it was absolutely no problem.  But he couldn’t do it for Matt.  It was just…oh god, it was so close to being a disaster for both of them.  Matt was so frustrated and he lost the crowd entirely—they could see that he was the problem—that he had no sense of Todd’s needs or interests, no actual personal connection with him.  But I’d seen Stephanie and Todd together.  And I knew what he liked.  I wasn’t sure I could make him come on command, especially then.  But I was sure I wanted to try.”

Derek was surprisingly caught up in Stiles’ story and said softly, “And you did.”

Stiles looked up locked eyes with Derek and nodded.  “Yeah.  I did.  It was…”  Derek saw Stiles swallow and appear to be thinking about what to say next.

“Right?”

Stiles nodded again.  “I came in my pants.  I mean, not on the stage, but almost.  Todd was into impact play and I was paddling him and watching him so carefully, figuring out his rhythm, and just working with everything that was in me to make sure he was getting hotter and hotter and closer and closer and then I told him I was going to give him three more spanks and he was going to come on the third one and his eyes opened wide and I just knew it.”

Stiles fingers were gripping his third beer, a little white as he got excited by his tale.  His lips were wet and a little pink and Derek knew they would taste like the wheat beer he’d been drinking.  But he still wanted to find out.  “I just fucking knew I had him.  And I did.  He came exactly on cue and the crowd let out this sort of collective sigh as he shot his load, and that was when I realized how hard I was.  I dropped the paddle and pressed my hand against my cock, trying to control it because I…I hadn’t even felt it that whole time, but I was so fucking hard.  And, Derek, I mean, my cock…I don’t exactly have room in my pants for it to be hard without noticing it—it swells to like a third and I’m super uncomfortable.  I don’t think I’d ever gotten so hard and been so caught up in something else that I didn’t even realize it.  But the second Todd came, all I could feel was my own need to come.  But Matt had totally left us—once he got so pissed, he was gone and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen, right?  And I was his sub.  My Dom had just left me there and had never given me permission to come or to do anything to pleasure myself at all.  But I was so fucking…god, so hot with it and so full and I was so full of myself with that feeling of power, that the second I had helped Todd out of the bonds and walked him to the bathroom I dropped into the next stall and I was unbuttoning my pants with my right hand and slid my left hand inside in the meantime and the second I touched myself, I just exploded.  Before I could even get my pants open.”

Stiles sat back from where he’d been leaning forward over the table, and he picked his glass up, taking a long drink.  Derek watched his adam’s apple slide up and down his neck.

“So, I kind of haven’t looked back since then.”

“So were you and Matt in a 24/7 D/s thing?”

“No, not really.  I mean, I was never any good at service type submission or taking orders all the time about what to wear or what to eat or cook or just my daily activities.  But our entire sex lives were D/s.”

“So, is that…is that what your preference is?”

Stiles looked at him, and for a moment Derek was sure he was going to say yes.  But then something kind of sparkled in his eyes and his face seemed softer and he just shook his head.  “No.  At least, not in the way I think you mean.  I haven’t had a dating type relationship with a sub that lasted more than a few months, so I guess I could be wrong about what works for me on the long term in the end.  But as far as what I think I’m looking for—it isn’t someone to be submissive to me all the time or even all the time we’re in bed.  Personally, I’d like to have some times where it’s clear my partner and I have both agreed that I get to be in charge for as long as the scene lasts.  And some times where if it just slips out and I’m a bit Dommish, because that’s just who I am a lot of the time when I get really fucking aroused, I’d like that to be okay, or at least for my partner to be comfortable communicating with me about it.  And then some times where it’s just us.  Just bodies and dicks and lips and skin and sex.  Whatever feels good kind of sex.  Without any plans and without anyone in control.”

Just us, Derek thought, wishing Stiles had meant the two of them specifically rather than just Stiles and a hypothetical partner.

“Do you mind if I ask you the same question?” Stiles said, his head tilted to the side and looking at Derek with that same soft sort of expression.

Derek spread his hands out on the table in front of him.  “Umm…no.  I definitely can’t…don’t want 24/7.  That…didn’t work out well for me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek shook his head.  “Not tonight.”  But maybe.  Maybe he could talk to Stiles about it.  Stiles was there when it all blew apart and now he was back.  Back in Derek’s life, the one shining thing that had survived the fire.

The waitress peeked in and asked about dessert, and Stiles checked with Derek then asked for the check.

“Okay,” Stiles said, his tone already lighter, “but I’ve been talking forever.  It’s your turn to tell me something.  How about when you first noticed your size kink?”  Stiles waggled his eyebrows in that ridiculous way he sometimes had. 

“You mean the first day you filmed at the studio?”  Derek was feeling pleasantly buzzed and decided to blame that for his surprising openness.

Stiles eyes widened and his hands froze where they had been playing over the dregs of his third beer.  “Seriously?”

“Yep.  First time.”

“Holy shit.”  Derek watched Stiles drop one of his hands down under the table and saw his shoulder drop, as he apparently tried to give himself some relief.  Derek smirked.

“Okaaay,” Stiles said.  “I guess I won’t be questioning you about your sex life any more or I’m not gonna make it through the night without breaking my own rules.”  He leaned forward and lowered his voice, somehow making it sound bizarrely hot as he said, “and I’m definitely not going to break my own rules, Derek.  And just to make it clear, in case the implied rule isn’t enough, no sneaking into a bathroom to jerk off for either one of us.  If we get too riled up, then we have to make it through the rest of the night all the way up until your front door shuts behind you before either one of us gets to do anything about it.  Do you understand?”

Derek nodded, holding back the ‘Yes, Sir’ that had almost slipped out automatically.  He knew from experience now that calling Stiles ‘Sir’ was a huge turn on for him and he was determined to escape this evening without any painful erections.  His dick had shown interest here and there throughout the evening, but so far, he’d been fully in control, and…fuck.  He was…he was looking forward to hearing Stiles tell him tomorrow how good he’d been tonight.  He didn’t even know why he would assume that would happen.  This wasn’t a scene.  Stiles had set up ‘rules’ of a kind for both of them, but it wasn’t a scene.  He…

“Derek?”

He looked up at Stiles.   “Sorry.”  Stiles was just setting the check-holder and pen to the edge of the table.  Shit.  He’d been spacing out right when the check came.  Derek reached for his wallet.  “How much—”

“Nope,” Stiles said.  “Not a chance.  Put it away, big guy.  I asked you out, you’re being great and letting me drag you around to what I’ve planned and I’m paying for everything.  No arguments.”  Derek opened his mouth to protest and Stiles adopted a mock-disappointed tone.  “Now, Derek, you don’t want me to have to spend our call tomorrow punishing you for arguing with me about this, do you?”

Derek couldn’t help but chuckle and let it drop.  “Fine.  But I’m taking you out next time.”

“Deal!” Stiles agreed with a grin.  “So, you ready for the fun portion of the evening?”

“I have no idea,” Derek said.

“Well, let’s find out,” Stiles said, sliding out of the booth and pulling the curtain aside for Derek.  He felt Stiles hand brush over the small of his back a couple times as they made their way to the entrance and out the doors.  It was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation.  Then, after they hit the sidewalk and turned down the street, Stiles took up Derek’s hand in his and the cold night breeze along with Stiles’ warm, soft skin against his palm and fingers had Derek feeling lighter and happier than he could remember ever feeling in any date situation.  He had spent half of his life thinking he was in love with this man and now he was spending time with him and just liked him so much.  He hummed a little and squeezed Stiles’ hand to try to communicate some of what he couldn’t or wasn’t ready to say.

Stiles cleared his throat and then pointed up ahead of them.  “So that’s where we’re going.”

Derek looked ahead.  It was a flat brick office building, like some of the ones surrounding it and that they’d been walking past in the loft district of the city that Stiles had brought them to.  Actually, less interesting architecturally than many of the buildings.  Just brick and glass windows, only about five or six stories tall, but…a school bus was hanging off the roof, sticking out of some greenery and as they got closer he could see to one side of the building a gated area with…an airplane suspended on metal rigging.  The building was surrounded by a low wall decorated with a long snake statue.  When they reached the building and entered the City Museum, which Derek was already sure wasn’t like any museum he’d ever been in, Derek bought them wristbands at the ticket windows and ushered them through the gates into a large vaulted lobby with columns and brightly colored and oddly shaped staircases and hallways branching out from it in various directions.   

The place was filled with the sounds of people talking and laughing and more muffled sounds coming from the various stairs and hallways that Derek couldn’t identify yet.  As he looked up he saw strange wrought iron tubes heading up and down and across above him and around columns and people climbing and crawling through them, laughing and calling down to their friends.  Stiles leaned in and said, “I take it you haven’t been here yet either?”

Derek shook his head.

“Well, come on.  Let’s go to the bar first and get a couple more drinks, then we can explore.  I’ve been dying to check this out ever since I got to town!”  He sounded utterly delighted and somehow seemed to know exactly where to go even though it was obvious from the way his eyes darted around them and the smiles that crossed his face that it was all knew to him, too.  Derek was surprised when Stiles ordered them four shots of Scotch at the bar, but he didn’t argue, downing them two in a row in time with Stiles.

They followed the booze up with a shared glass of water and then Stiles was tugging Derek by the hand down the hall.  The City Museum turned out to be much more of a playground style attraction than a museum of any kind.  Though there were some aquarium style exhibits and the like.  But mainly the whole building was a variety of different jungle gyms, made up of a hollow “tree” mock caves, hamster habitrail-style structures, metal coils and slides, a ball pit, ramps, rope swings and so much more that Derek never could have thought of.  Never in a million years would Derek have brought a date to a place like this.  But Stiles tugged him from area to area and launched himself into the climbing structures with giggles and more zeal than a five-year-old and Derek found it infectious.  He found himself following behind at first, then trying to find other paths to sneak around and surprise Stiles.  They ended up in an elaborate game of cat and mouse with Stiles as the mouse and Derek chasing him up and down and throughout the building.  When Derek finally caught Stiles, Stiles was panting both from the exertion and his own laughter.  They collapsed onto a bench and caught their breath until Stiles pointed to a sign and shouted “Funnel cakes!”  They had a funnel cake along with beer and Derek laughed as Stiles bumped the plate and shook powdered sugar onto his own face.  Without thinking he reached forward and tasted Stiles cheek, clearly startling the younger man.

“I-I’m sorry.  Did that…break our rules?”

“No, I just…wasn’t expecting it.”  Stiles looked at Derek for a second longer then reached for a napkin and wiped at his face.  Derek laughed and took the napkin from him and finished the job for him, getting both of them laughing as Stiles seemed to repeatedly mis-anticipate Derek’s moves and bump straight into his hand.

After they had finished and Stiles had bought Derek yet another shot, refusing one for himself on the grounds that he was driving home, they made their way up to the roof.  They rode the small Ferris wheel and followed the crowd through the tunnels and adventures on the roof, which included the school bus taking them pas the end of the building and into a suspended metal coil hanging in the air.  The cold air gave the night an additional sense of adventure and Derek felt exhilarated and found himself wanting to grab onto Stiles and hold him in a tight embrace almost every time they were within touching distance.  He restrained himself and instead let Stiles lead the way to the five story slide back down to the first floor.

When they hit the lobby, he was surprised to hear Stiles say, “Are you ready to go?”  But he realized the crowd had thinned out almost entirely and everyone that was around was heading to the exit.  He looked at his watch and saw it was well after midnight.  He looked up and nodded at Stiles and let Stiles lead him outside and back onto the sidewalk heading to the car.

“I had no idea it had gotten so late.”  Their date was almost over.

“Well, I hope that means you were having a good time.”  Somehow Stiles was holding his hand again.

“Yeah, I…  Yeah.  Definitely good.”  Ugh.  There was good old awkward Derek.  He had been gone most of the evening, but it seemed he was back. 

“Good,” Stiles said, and they walked in a comfortable silence back to the car.  Stiles opened the car door for him and waited until he was in to shut the door and head around to the driver’s side.  And it occurred to Derek that this was the first time anyone had taken him on a date like this—and treated him like it was a traditional date.  Except that Stiles had done so the week before, too.  When Derek had panicked like an absolute freak. 

Stiles was driving now, kind of humming to himself and Derek looked out the window, trying to get himself together.  Nothing bad was going to happen this time.  Stiles was going to take him home and that was it.  He would go inside and they would talk on the phone tomorrow.  He couldn’t screw this up.  It was going to be fine.

He felt something on his leg and looked down to see Stiles hand sliding over his thigh and reaching for his hand.  He slipped his hand into Stiles’, and Stiles squeezed it for a moment, before letting his thumb rub gently over the back of Derek’s hand. 

Derek looked up at Stiles’ profile.  He was smiling.  He looked happy and at ease.  Happy and content from spending time with Derek.

Derek settled into his seat a bit and focused on Stiles.  His jawline was perfect—this smooth, graceful curve.  And his cheekbones—Christ

Without planning to speak, he found himself quietly asking, “Are you still close with your Dad?”

Stiles smiled over at him for a second and then looked back at the road, nodding.  “Yeah.  He’s still the most important person I have.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Derek nodded.  Maybe just to himself.  “Your dad was always really good to me.  I don’t know if he ever knew how much he helped me after….”

Stiles squeezed his hand.  “He probably doesn’t know.  But maybe you can tell him sometime.”

Derek thought again about Stiles, that night in the police station.  He had held Derek’s hand then, too.  The circumstances of that night and the message of that warm, soft, comforting hand had been different than they were tonight.  But both were Stiles.  And both were perfect.

When Stiles pulled in front of his house, Derek swung his door open and got a disapproving glance from Stiles, so took his time getting out so Stiles could get around the car and shut the door behind him.  Derek walked up to his door, with Stiles right behind and when he turned around at the door, Stiles was right there, in his space.  Stiles was in inch or two shorter, but nothing about him seemed small to Derek in that moment.  Without saying a word, Stiles leaned in, all caramel colored eyes and pale, perfect skin, and then his lips were against Derek’s.  They were soft and felt fuller than they looked.  Stiles tongue slid over his lips and Derek opened for it and then Stiles was kissing him.  Kissing him like he had the week before.  This crazy whirlwind of soft exploration that morphed into a searing need and back again into soft playful, teasing.  Derek followed along and countered it all, as his body grew hotter and hotter and his cock swelled and throbbed in his jeans.  When Stiles finally pulled back, Derek whimpered aloud at the loss and realized his arms were around Stiles and his fists were clinging onto the back of Stiles’ shirt.

He pressed his forehead against Stiles’ and panted.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered.  “Do you even know how hot you make me?”

Derek flicked his eyes up to Stiles’ brown ones.  He felt Stiles hands slide across and then off of his neck, having not even noticed that Stiles was holding him that way with both hands, as if to keep him still and close while Stiles’ mouth had its way with him.

Stiles pulled his head back, keeping his warm, dark gaze on Derek.  “Thank you, Derek.  For coming out with me tonight.”

Derek nodded.  He should say thank you.  Or tell Stiles he had a good time.  But he couldn’t find any words.  He couldn’t do anything but keep soaking in Stiles’ warm stare.  He dropped his hands as Stiles stepped back.  Stiles nodded slightly, sort of at Derek and sort of behind Derek.  Oh.  Derek turned and pulled the key from his pocket and managed to get it in the lock and open his door somehow.  When he turned back, Stiles smiled and nodded and said, “Goodnight, Der.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Derek nodded and stepped inside, watching Stiles get in his car and pull away, before shutting the door and leaning up against it, grinning like an absolute idiot.

Chapter Text

Derek woke up Sunday morning, later than usual, itching for a run.  He had gone to bed still a little intoxicated from both the alcohol and Stiles.  Pulling his socks on, his gaze fell on the nightstand with his lube and laptop and he realized he hadn’t even thought about masturbating before bed.  He’d just downed a glass of water, stripped, brushed his teeth and fallen into bed, still feeling Stiles’ hand in the small of his back and seeing his wide open mouth as he laughed and his face, bright pink and with a slight sheen of sweat as he darted around the museum.

The air was crisp and cool and Derek took his long route, running through the woods for over an hour before returning home for a steaming hot shower.  By the time he made it back down to the kitchen he was famished and set about building a sandwich.  He was just biting in when his phone rang and he saw that it was Stiles.  He punched the accept button and swallowed his mouthful.

“Hey, Stiles.”  He felt a bubbling giddiness and rolled his eyes internally at himself.  He was too old to be acting like a lovesick teenager.

“Hey yourself,” came Stiles voice.  “We never set a time for our call, so I can still call back later on for, you know, the official call.  But I just couldn’t wait any longer to hear your voice and tell you that I had an awesome time last night.”

Well, shit.  There went any chance of that cool, calm, mature exterior thing Derek had been trying to put on.  He felt his guts squirm and his face flush lightly in pleasure.

“I did, too, Stiles.  I’ve definitely never had a date like that before.”

“Mmm.  Well, I’m going to take that as a good thing.”

“You should.” 

“Well, what kind of dates have you usually had?”

“You know, I really haven’t gone on that many dates.”

“Uh huh.  The most beautiful man I know tells me that he hasn’t been on many dates.  I think I’m going to guess that you’re being modest.  Where’s the last place you went on a date, before me I mean?”

“Umm…”  Derek thought back.  “I took Lydia’s friend out to dinner at Russo’s once.”

“Lydia set you up with someone?” Stiles asked, his tone sounding surprised.  “She’s not usually one to try to matchmake for her friends.”

“I think she only did it because Joanna asked her to.  I’m not even sure why I agreed, except that Lydia never asks for anything.  And in the end, I think her friend was pretty disappointed in me.  I think I was a gentleman and everything, but I could tell that by the end of dinner she just thought I was duller than dirt.”

Stiles laughed.  “No spark, huh?”

“Nope.  Nada.”

“Well, how long ago was that?”

“Oh, that was probably, I think almost three years ago?  Yeah, because it was the beginning of winter, so not quite three years.”

“Three years?  Holy crap, Derek.  Okay, you can not tell me that you haven’t had offers in that time.  So you have to have just been avoiding dating.  Because man, I mean, look, I hope it’s not talking out of school or anything, but judging by what everyone at the studio says, pretty much every single person who has ever been attracted to a man and knows you at all would bribe the devil to go out with you.”

Derek huffed out a laugh.  “Now who’s exaggerating?  I go out.  Just more for…sex than for romance.”

“Ah,” Stiles said.  “So no romantic entanglements, but plenty of fucking?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“And none of your hookups every turned into girlfriends?  Or boyfriends?”

“No.”

“How many of them wanted to?”

Derek shrugged, then realized Stiles couldn’t see him.  “A few.  More just wanted to become longer term sexual partners.”

“But you nixed that, too?”

“Yes.”  Derek pressed his lips together.  He sounded cold, or snobbish, didn’t he?  Unwilling to date or even fuck someone more than a few times. 

“Why?”  Stiles didn’t sound accusing—he sounded the same as ever.  Just interested.  Like he would never stop wanting to know more about Derek.

“I…guess I never found someone who…seemed worth it.”  Shit.  That sounded so fucking egotistical.  “I mean—”

But Stiles had already burst out into laughter.  “No, Der.  It’s fine.  It’s more than fine.  You deserve props for not wasting your time if you already know that’s what it would be.  And at least I know that when you decide I’m not cutting it for you anymore you won’t be stringing me along.  So, if I’m allowed to ask, are you going to D/s clubs to pick up most of these one- or two- or whatever-night stands?  Or are these just straight fucks?”

“I think at this point you’re pretty much allowed to ask anything, Stiles.  And, I guess the last couple years, I’ve mostly been going to D/s clubs when I want to get laid.  The couple years before that I guess it was a mix.”

Stiles hummed.  “So have you ever Dommed at all?”

“Nope.”

“So who was your best?”

“Best…?

“Best Dom.  I mean, obviously besides the one and only Stiles Stilinski, of whom I’m sure you have already written epic letters to all your closest friends.”

Derek chuckled.  “The one and only and immensely ridiculous Stiles Stilinski who no one would actually believe can be a commanding, forceful Dom.”

“Yep.  Except for him.”

Derek considered.  He had lots of memories…flashes of faces and cocks, ropes and handcuffs, whips and paddles.  But…nothing really stood out.  “I don’t know.”  He thought about his last few encounters.  They were just faces, hairstyles, bodies.  He’d gotten off—Derek worked in porn, so he knew how to keep himself into it and get off even if it wasn’t amazing.  And there were always moments, some flash of something that would help—some expression or tone of voice or touch of skin.  But how could you possibly explain what those were?  “I don’t really—I haven’t had anyone who stands out, I guess.”  Not in a good way, anyway, he thought.

“Alright, well how about instead of a person, you give me some thing you really like or liked that a Dom did with you, or to you?”

Derek closed his eyes and leaned back with the phone to his year, trying to recall.  There had been that blond guy last year—he’d been young and a bit thin, but had more presence than most guys.  But it wasn’t really anything he did that seemed special.  It was more how his light-brown eyes had sort of twinkled mischievously even as he issued orders with more self-assurance than Derek would ever have anticipated.  Or a few months before that he had hooked up with that graduate student because something about the way he rambled endlessly about his thesis, his hands waving in the air and his facing moving with such animation, had enticed Derek.

He opened his eyes and stared blindly across his kitchen, seeing both those men and Stiles, their faces and bodies shifting and blurring together.  Fuck.  Derek had only wanted them—only liked them because….  Shit.

“Derek?”

Oh shit.  “I’m here.  I just…I don’t know, Stiles.  I…”

“Hey, it’s okay, Der.  I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.  And the less positive you have to say about other Doms, all the better for me, right?  So what were you doing when I called, anyway?”

Derek smiled.  “Just eating lunch.”

“Oh, shit.  Well, I’m sorry I interrupted.  I don’t want to keep you ‘cuz I still want to call later, if you do, and discuss our schedules this week and your homework and maybe have a quick phone scene.  Whaddya think?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“So, how is 9:00?”

“That’s good.”

“Okay.  I’ll talk to you then.  And just…thanks again for coming out with me last night.  You were so go—I mean, I just had a really good time with you.  That’s all.”

Derek felt his cheeks flush.  “Me, too.”

“Good.  Bye, Derek.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

*             *             *

By 9:00, the easy calm Derek was feeling that morning had been demolished. 

The first chip was figuring out that those Doms he remembered so fucking fondly were just because they had reminded him of Stiles.  They were just Stiles stand-ins the whole time and he hadn’t even fucking realized it.  So sure he had gotten over his obsession with Stiles and moved on with his life.  Convincing himself that there was time in the future to worry about love and romance and that all he wanted right now was to focus on his business and having some great sex.  When apparently he wasn’t even having great sex at all.  Since he couldn’t think of one damn thing to tell Stiles that he really liked about it.  He was pretty sure “orgasming” wasn’t the answer Stiles had been looking for.

Then, after he did a little yardwork and went to the grocery store that afternoon, he’d settled down for the evening to work on the ‘homework’ Stiles had assigned.  One thing he would like them to do in a live scene that week.  How was he going to pick one thing?  Stiles had essentially already said he wasn’t going to be fucking Derek yet, presumably wanting to build up Derek’s anticipation until it reached a level that would literally kill him.  But Derek was basically down with anything else that involved him and Stiles’ cock at all.  Touching.  Tasting.  Licking.  Sucking.  Hell, just watching Stiles touch it.

Or his own cock.  Stiles touching him sounded pretty good, too.  Though Derek wasn’t quite as desperate for that as he was to have his hands and mouth and skin all over Stiles’ dick.  Then again, to see Stiles’ mouth wrapped around his cock while Stiles looked up at him from under those impossibly long eyelashes of his.  Or Stiles could maybe start training Derek to be ready to take his cock.  Ass or mouth.  Fuck, maybe Stiles would choke him with his cock—or even just choke him with those long fingers of his wrapped around Derek’s throat.  And then Stiles might swallow Derek’s panted breaths in between with his mouth.  Kissing Stiles the night before, just all by itself, had been fucking amazing.  He felt so lost, wanting everything and not wanting to give up anything.

He finally picked something.  One of the dream scenarios that had flashed through his mind.  Though he wasn’t sure Stiles would agree—but Stiles had said not to worry about that part.  Simple or complex, to just tell him what he would like.  So he settled on it, though his nerves still seemed on high alert after the process of trying to decide.

The video task Derek was more comfortable with.  He’d spent weeks with Stiles’ catalogue now, and they were like old friends.  Picking one of those out just didn’t seem to have the same stakes as picking the activity for a live scene with Stiles did.  After all, the others would still be there, ready and waiting whenever he had time to spend with them.  So browsing through and considering which one to share with Stiles didn’t ratchet up the stress that same way.  But it did increase a different kind of tension.  As 9:00 drew closer, and Derek grew hotter and more needy, his video picks switched.

At first he had thought he would tell Stiles about that video he loved where Stiles appeared not to be expecting it when he came.  Stiles seemed so honest and vulnerable in that moment and Derek wished every time he watched it that he could have been the one to bring that look out on Stiles’ face. 

Then, as he kept browsing he changed his mind—wanting to tell Stiles about one where he was sitting on a couch with a young, fit black-haired Latino riding him.  It was their second position and the man seemed entirely used to Stiles when he sank down on him on the couch, but they fucked and fucked, with Stiles occasionally kissing him or saying how tight he felt.  When his partner started to tire, Stiles helped support his thighs and ass, helping him lift up and drop back down to take Stiles’ huge cock.  Until, after they’d been fucking a full seventeen minutes in that position (and Derek could tell there were none of those annoying repeat-cuts so common in many studios’ porn), the young man had been reduced to a shaking mass of nerves, arms and legs wrapped around Stiles as he simply shook and rode out the storm that was Stiles, feet now planted on the ground, hands on the man’s ass to hold him still, as Stiles pounded up hard into his hole. 

After that, it was an office scenario, where Stiles, in the young ‘secretary’ role to a gray-haired daddy sort of type (though outrageously toned, with abs that even Derek would love to have), unleashed both his cock and his dominating side on his ‘boss.’  Derek couldn’t have really said why, but he fucking loved every moment in this one.  From the beginning when Stiles locked the office door behind himself and stroked over behind the man’s desk with this absolute swagger that he was in control despite his youth and smaller frame.  To the moment when he ordered his boss to his knees and the man dropped like silk onto the floor in front of his fancy desk chair as Stiles dropped into it and started to unbutton his pants.  And on to Stiles unzipping and dragging out his huge, hard dick and pulling the man roughly forward by the back of the neck as he stuffed himself into that mouth.  Derek loved when Stiles held his boss’ face tightly in both hands and moved it up and down, fucking himself with the man’s mouth.  Derek loved when Stiles shoved the man back and ordered him to strip, watching the older man’s body be revealed with lascivious eyes as he stroked his cock in long, lazy motions.  Derek loved when Stiles stood and stepped up close to his boss, then suddenly jerked and shoved him face-first down onto his desk and fucked right into his ass with no preamble or warning.  Derek loved hearing the man’s gasping grunt and seeing how his hands jerked out to clutch the edges of the desk as Stiles started fucking hard and fast.  Derek loved the slap of skin and continued increase grunts and pants from the older man, and how Stiles’ fingers squeezed mercilessly into his hips for leverage.  But most of all Derek loved that spot where Stiles was splitting that hole open so wide—where the man’s rim was stretched and stuffed with the fucking size of Stiles as Stiles just took and used and owned that ass.

 

The phone rang loudly right by Derek’s ear—he had been so swept up, he had almost forgotten to expect it.

Stiles.

“Hello?”

“Derek.”  Stiles’ voice sent a fiery sort of spike through Derek’s limbs, but somehow the flare was soothing to Derek.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Mmm.  You sound like you may have gotten started without me,” Stiles said, his voice low, but with a teasing edge.

“Just doing my homework, Sir,” Derek said, keeping his own town low and letting, he hoped, just a touch of his hunger show.

“Oh, well aren’t you an obedient boy.”  Derek loved how Stiles’ voice never sounded condescending when he said things like that.  Just a little surprised and earnestly pleased.  “But first things first.  Let’s talk about schedules.  I don’t know how busy your days are, but I’m filming more this week, and since we’re done with the checklist, I think it makes sense anyway for us to do one call or live scene a day this week.  I mean, except any days when you’re too busy.  And I was hoping we might be able to do that in the evenings this week rather than mornings?”

“Sure.  That’s fine.”

“Cool.  I’m not really that much of a morning person and, honestly, I end up just jerking off in the evening, too, thinking about you anyway, and with filming more this week…”

As Stiles mentioned thinking about Derek in the evenings, a close up image of Stiles’ hands stroking his cock, slick with lube and so solid and massive, flashed in Derek’s mind.  Just like the other day on the live video stream Stiles had sent him.  “Don’t worry, Stiles.  I think we both have had the same sort of nightly routine for the last week, so I’m on board with making that a shared thing and sleeping a little more in the morning.  And I don’t even have the filming schedule you do.”

Stiles groaned lightly.  “4 days this week!  I mean, not that I’m complaining to the head of the studio about giving me work.”

Derek chuckled, feeling their easy banter begin to ease his built up nerves and arousal.  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Isaac.  He’s the real power at WolfPack.  I’m just the pretty face.”

Stiles let out a bark of laughter.  “Uh huh.  I believe absolutely none of that, you know.  Well, pretty face, yes, but ‘just’?  I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do put together a mean PowerPoint.”

Stiles snorted.  “I’ll have to see if I can work that skill into a scene someday.  Alright, so we can figure out a time for tomorrow night later, but probably something like 9 or 10?”

“Sounds good.”

“Awesome.  Okay, so now for the good stuff.  Did you pick something you’d like me to consider incorporating into a live scene this week?”

Derek licked his lips, feeling all of his previous agitation come flooding back.  “I—uh…yes.  But I mean it isn’t the only thing…I know you might not want us to—”

“Der, hey,” Stiles voice broke in, like soft satin gliding over Derek’s nerves.  “Relax, baby.  I didn’t ask you to do this to stress you out.  And it isn’t a test.  Really you’re just helping me figure out how to focus my own scattered mind.  I can already tell you did what I asked and thought about what you’d like, which is so good, okay?”

Derek let his head drop back onto his pillow, holding the phone with Stiles’ voice right up tight to his ear.  “Mmm hmm.”

“Good,” Stiles said, “So how about this?  Why don’t you tell me what you settled on, and then if I like what I hear I’ll let you tell me a few other things that you thought about, too, okay?”

Derek smirked.  ”And what exactly are the odds you won’t like what you hear?” 

“Well, let’s see.  Whaddya got?”

“Well,” Derek closed his eyes, so the only sensory input he had was the sensation of his bed beneath him and the sound of Stiles’ voice in his ear.  “I was thinking…about you…”  Derek took a deep breath, and heard Stiles give a small quiet little hum in encouragement.  He let the words come out in a rush, “…maybe-fingering-me-open-until-you-could-stuff-my-ass-with-a-plug-and-then-having-me-lay-down-on-the-bed-so-I-could-drop-my-head-back-over-the-edge-and-you-could-fuck-my-face-and-maybe-start-training-me-to-deep-throat-you.”  He inhaled deeply and waited for Stiles’ response.

“Fuuuck, Derek.  Oh my god, baby.”  Stiles voice was thick with desire.  “Jesus.  You would look so beautiful spread out for me on the bed like that.  You think I could fuck your face good enough to make you squirm?  Make you writhe on that plug and bump it against your prostate until you were so desperate to come you’d beg me to take you in my hand or my mouth and get you off?”

Derek clenched his free hand in the comforter and moaned softly.

“That sounds amazing, Der.  Is that what you want?  You want me to train your mouth and throat to take me?”

“Yes,” Derek rushed out.  “Fuck.  Yes.  I…uh…kind of a lot.”

“Oh, I definitely think that can be arranged.  Tell me a little about what else you thought about that was on your short list.”

Derek licked his lips.  Stiles’ enthusiasm was making him braver.  Making the hunger and need more important than the nerves and worry.  “Well, I know we just did this on Friday, but…I still want to…I don’t know, just…touch you more, you know?  Get to taste and feel some more.  And yeah, start learning to take you.  That’s I think where the plug idea really came from.  Just wanting to feel like I’m getting ready for you.  Fuck, that probably sounds insane.”

“God no, Derek.  Well, I don’t know, maybe it just doesn’t sound insane because I’m the one who’s benefiting from all of this.  But it sounds so fucking enticingly and intensely hot.  Fuck, baby.  You were really thinking about…my cock that way?”  Stiles’ voice had a reverential tone that melted away the remaining vestiges of Derek’s previous distress.

“Yes,” Derek answered simply.

And somehow even that got a soft groan of “Fuck” from Stiles.  Well, what about something you want me to do to you?  Or for you?”

I want you to fuck me.  I want you to shove your fucking monster cock in my ass and fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.  Derek opened his eyes for a minute and closed them again.  Tried to focus not on what Stiles said it was too soon for.  “I’ve had a couple more fantasies about you choking me—your hands wrapped around my neck, controlling my breath, leaving me gasping…  And…kissing you last night was…”  Derek’s mind fumbled for the right words, but couldn’t find what he meant.  “…really good,” settled on lamely.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.  “Really good.”

They sat in silence together on the phone for a minute before Stiles continued.  “Thanks, Derek.  You did great.  So before we go to homework item number two, I wanted to talk about a couple other things for this week really quick, okay?”

“Uh huh,” Derek agreed.  He loved Stiles in this mode—all business about their fucking sex life.  It reminded him so much of teenage Stiles, so focused and energetic when he had a task to do, especially one that involved someone or something he was passionate about. 

“Okay, well, first, about plugs.  I’ve been thinking about that, too.  But I don’t have access to you every day yet to prep you and insert it or help you take it out and play with yourself later.  Even so, I…  Well, since we’re not D/s full time, just picking out discrete time periods for that so far, I don’t feel I have the right to order you to…even though you did give it a 7 on the checklist…”

“Stiles?” Derek asked, feeling actually a little pleased that he wasn’t the one feeling flustered for a change.  “Is there a question coming?”

Stiles cleared his throat audibly.  “I was wondering how you would feel about wearing a plug…during the day for a bit.  Under your clothes.  At work.”

Derek felt a tingling sensation in his thighs.  “I…would be open to trying that.”  He had absolutely no experience wearing a plug while trying to do anything other than just having sex, so he wasn’t sure how distracting it would be—and wasn’t sure what size Stiles was thinking of.  Derek had put on the checklist that he was really interested in trying a large plug, but it was all sort of part and parcel of his recent size kink.  It could be extremely difficult to focus on work with.  “I should probably check my schedule at work first and let you know if there are any days where…it wouldn’t be good to be distracted.”

“Definitely,” Stiles agreed.  “Okay, so check your schedule tomorrow and let me know what the rest of your week looks like, so I know which days I’m free to add a little complication, so to speak.”  Stiles’ playful confident tone was back.  “Alright, just one other thing before we get to have some fun.  As I said earlier, I know we’re not D/s full time, so I don’t technically have the right to order you to do this, but I have an assignment I’m going to give you that I want you to do every morning.  If it makes you too uncomfortable or you can’t do it for some reason, you can always use your safeword.  But if you don’t then I’m going to expect you to do it everyday.  If you skip it any day and didn’t contact me to give your safeword, I will have to come up with an appropriate penalty.  On the other hand, if you do this every day Monday through Friday, then on the weekend I will come up with some kind of reward.  Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek said, trying to stop his mind from whirling around what this mysterious task might be.  He would know in a minute.

“Good.  I think this probably isn’t your favorite thing, but like the checklist, Der, this is important to me.  So…I just hope you’ll give it a fair chance for me.  I promise you that if you don’t like it or don’t get anything out of it this week, I won’t make you do it again next week, okay?”

Derek wished Stiles were next to him and he could squeeze his hand.  “Okay.  I can do it.  And if I can’t, I’ll safeword.”  Though he couldn’t imagine what Stiles would ever ask him to do that would cause him to use his safeword.

“Good.  Thanks, Derek.” Stiles actually sounded relieved.  “Okay, do you remember the scene we had on Wednesday morning last week?  Where you touched yourself for me and told me about how good you feel?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome.  So, I want you to spend at least five minutes every morning, on the same exercise.  You don’t have to be in bed—you can do it in the shower, or in front of the mirror, but before you get dressed for the day, put a timer on and make sure you spend an absolute minimum of five minutes looking at yourself or touching yourself or both and really focusing on all the good feelings you can bring out.  If you get turned on, you can jerk off after, but that can’t count as part of your five minutes.  And it’s okay if it shifts into something less physical and you drift into thinking about other things about yourself that make you feel good.  But you have to try for me.  Try to let yourself sink into that same vibe we had last week—you were so good for me, Derek, and you can totally do that some more, I just know it.  Then before you finish getting dressed, I want you to send me a quick text with one of the positive thoughts you had, or if it’s about your body, it can be a picture of what you like with a short note.  Just something so I know you did it.  Can you do that for me, Der?”

Derek stared at the ceiling.  As Stiles talked he had shifted through so many different thoughts of his own.  Did Stiles think he was so damaged that he needed this?  Was Stiles really trying out his own version of psychotherapy on Derek?  He was a thirty year old man—more than too old for a silly self-love tool like this, right?  Should he just safeword after all?  But why?  Why not just do it?  He’d liked it on Wednesday in the end, though Stiles had been walking him through it with that fucking molasses voice of his…  And it was only five minutes.  Five minutes a day that Stiles was asking him for.  And he really didn’t actually feel violated or anything.  What if Stiles did think he could help Derek somehow with this little exercise? 

“Yes.”

“Good boy.  Okay, anything else you want to talk about before we have a little fun and then get some sleep?”

“Well, do you think we will get to have some in-person time this week then?”

“Oh!  Yes.  I mean, I definitely want to.  I was thinking maybe Tuesday night and Thursday night?  An hour or two in person instead of a call?”

“Yeah.  That sounds great,” Derek breathed, only slightly embarrassed by how quickly he answered.

“Cool.  Well, then, time to spill about your last piece of homework.  Get out your laptop and fire up the video you picked and tell me about it.”

On his bed, alone in his room, Derek smiled at nothing.  Because something about Stiles—the at least four different versions of Stiles he’d seen in just this one phone call so far—made him so inexplicably happy.  He clicked the phone to speaker with a quick, playful “Yes, Sir,” and tugged his laptop over onto the bed.  It opened to the last video he’d been watching, and Derek slid the progress bar back to the beginning where Stiles had just ordered his boss to his knees and tugged out his cock.

“So, the other actor is named Michael Sterling, I think—it’s an office scene where he’s your boss…”

 

When Derek hung up the phone, he laid in bed for a few minutes just feeling the aftermath of his body.  Something about coming with Stiles’ voice in his ear seemed so much more intense and just…significant than it ever did alone.  But of course it did, he thought, almost rolling his eyes at himself.  He was in love with Stiles.  He’d been in love with Kate once, too.  But…Stiles.  This was different.  He’d loved Stiles back when he’d still been with Kate.  And he’d loved him ever since.  And he knew that even if whatever-this-was-that-they-had-right-now ended, he would still love Stiles after.  Because no one he’d ever met in his entire life deserved to be loved the way Stiles did. 

Chapter Text

Stiles fumbled for the nightstand in the dark, just wanting to stop the bracing sound of “I Shot the Sheriff” blaring from his cell phone.  It had seemed like such a great ringtone to use for his dad at first.  Of course, that was when he’d been actually awake

STILES:  Dad.  What time is it?

SHERIFF:  A little before six.

STILES:  That explains why it’s still dark in my room.  You know, because I should be sleeping.  Wait, what’s wrong?  Are you in the hospital?  I told you not to eat that—

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  I’m fine.  I just have some news I thought…Derek should know about.

STILES:  Derek?  Why?

SHERIFF:  It’s about Kate Argent.

STILES:  What about her?  I guess we’re not going to be so lucky that she’s been murdered in prison?

SHERIFF:  No.  Uh, maybe I should talk to Derek directly.  Someone should be sending him notice, but I wasn’t sure if they’d have his current contact information.  And even though it’s not my job anymore, I just thought maybe I should be the one to…

STILES:  Dad.  Come on.  Are you seriously not going to tell me? 

SHERIFF:  Well, it is public information, so I guess it’s not a breach of his privacy.   

STILES:  God, Dad, you’re freaking me out.  What is it?

SHERIFF:  Kate’s being released on early parole.

STILES:  WHAT?  How?  Wasn’t she sentenced to like 25 years?

SHERIFF:  Yes, but she’s served 10, and requirements for early parole keep being reduced because of overcrowding.  She’s satisfied good behavior and will still be on probation for another five years.

STILES:  Holy shit, Dad.  She murdered five people. 

SHERIFF:  I know, son.

STILES:  …

SHERIFF:  Stiles?  So are you going to give me Derek’s phone number?

STILES:  Shit, Dad.  He’s…he’s probably at home.  But he’s alone.  I don’t know, I guess you don’t want to call him when he’s at work, though.  I guess you should call as soon as possible.  God, you’re gonna wake him up with this.  I’ll just…I’ll get dressed and I can go over there and be there when you call.  Can you…can you just…just give me twenty minutes before you call? 

SHERIFF:  Stiles, are you sure you’re not overreacting?  He’s a grown man.  And she’s not being released today.

STILES:  When?

SHERIFF:  When what?

STILES:  When is she getting out?

SHERIFF:  Friday.

STILES:  Right.  Okay.  Um.  Well, okay.  So even if she goes after Derek he’s safe for at least this week.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  There’s no reason to think Kate would try to find Derek or hurt him anymore.

STILES:  Then why are you calling him?  Why are the police or the court or the prison or whoever-the-fuck notifying him?  IF HE’S NOT IN ANY FUCKING DANGER AT ALL?

SHERIFF:  Stiles.

STILES:  I’m not sorry, Dad.

SHERIFF:  It’s just a courtesy—it’s about information, not about danger.  All victims are notified like this.  It doesn’t mean there is any risk of future violence.

STILES:  Sometimes I hate when you sound like a sheriff.  If you don’t think there is any concern at all, then are you really just personally picking up the phone to call Derek Hale after what, 8 years since you’ve seen him or talked to him, just as a courtesy?  Just because you think he deserves the information?

SHERIFF:  I really don’t appreciate your tone, Stiles.

STILES:  I really don’t appreciate you prevaricating with me, Dad.

SHERIFF:  … 

STILES:  …

SHERIFF:  Fine.  I’m a little concerned.  She was an unstable young woman.  But I assume my concerns are unfounded, Stiles.  People don’t actually hold onto obsessions and violent urges over years and years, especially years of obligatory therapy sessions.  They move on.  If she does pose a risk to anyone still, it would be to whoever she meets when she gets out, in whatever new life she establishes, which will have to be in California, far away from you and Derek.

STILES:  (mumbling) Right.  Because who would still be in love with Derek Hale after years of separation? 

SHERIFF:  What was that?

STILES:  Nothing. 

SHERIFF:  Stiles, stop worrying.  Kate’s a smart woman, and I’m sure she’s grown and changed in prison.  She’s not going to risk violating her parole and going right back to prison for 15 years or more just to reach out to the boy she was seeing more than ten years ago.

STILES:  I don’t know if I can, Dad.  Derek isn’t just a boy she was seeing.  He’s a man she was obsessed with enough to try to murder him and his entire family when she thought she was losing control over him.    

SHERIFF:  But that’s not who she is anymore. 

STILES:  We don’t know who she is now.

SHERIFF:  She’s had enough self-interest, rationality and focus for the last ten years in prison to exhibit consistent good behavior all that time and get out on early parole.  A woman like that isn’t going to risk going back.

STILES:  Says the man who admitted he called because he’s worried, too.

SHERIFF:  And who admitted the worry is entirely irrational.

STILES:  We’re going in circles.  Just…I’ll text you his number.  Can you wait until 7 to call?  He usually gets up then anyway, and that’ll give me time to get ready and be there just…I don’t know.

SHERIFF:  Just in case he needs you.

STILES:  Yeah.

SHERIFF:  Look, Stiles, don’t let this seem like a big deal.  Derek doesn’t need to worry about this—she’s out of his life and I’m sure she’s going to stay out of it.

STILES:  Right.  Um…I’m sorry about the way I—

SHERIFF:  It’s alright, Stiles. 

STILES:  I love you, Dad.

SHERIFF:  I love you, too.

*             *             *

Derek woke to a rhythmic knocking on his front door.  Even as he tried to blink the sleep from his eyes he knew it must be Stiles.  He glanced at his phone and saw it was almost 7:00, tugged on a pair of sweatpants and went to the door.

Stiles was on his porch with a paper bag and two coffee cups in his hands.  He held them up and said, “Breakfast?” with a sort of hopeful half-smile.  Derek nodded and stepped aside to let Stiles pass by.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Derek said as they sat down at the kitchen table and Stiles unpacked the bag.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, setting bagels and danishes on the plate Derek had set out.  “When I woke up I just realized I was starving.  I don’t know what you like, so I kind of just got a variety?”  He was looking down, showing Derek the three different bagels and three Danish varieties he’d gotten, but Derek thought there was something a little off about him.  He was just taking a sip of his coffee and contemplating whether to ask Stiles if something was wrong, when his phone rang on the table next to them.  He picked it up, not recognizing the number, but seeing it was the area code for Beacon Hills.  He pressed the silence button and was setting it back down when Stiles said, “Uh, you should probably answer that.”

Derek looked up at Stiles who was staring at Derek’s phone.  He hit the accept button and raised the phone to his ear, saying “Hello?” but still staring at Stiles.  Stiles’ eyes finally raised to meet his when he heard a voice say, “Derek Hale?  Derek, this is Sheriff Stilinski from Beacon County.”

Derek cleared his throat, staring at Stiles, who was looking…maybe a little guilty now?  “Hello, Sheriff.  This is…quite a surprise.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” the Sheriff’s voice said.  He sounded just the same as Derek remembered.  “How have you been?”

“Very well, Sir.  But I’m guessing you already know that.”  He raised an eyebrow to Stiles who had the decency to look a little sheepish, but then sort of rolled his shoulders and straightened up in his seat again, as if to say he wouldn’t back down from…something.

“If you’re alluding to my son, yes, he’s told me that he’s working with you.  And he said you’ve been very successful, which I’m glad to hear.”

“I’m guessing he might have said more than that, or I wouldn’t be getting the honor of this phone call today,” Derek prodded, less to push the sheriff than to try to dig a little at Stiles for putting him in this awkward position of talking to his father…already…before they even really knew what kind of relationship they had.  Stiles’ expression, though, had shifted away from embarrassment to something else that Derek couldn’t place.

“Well, yes, but that’s not actually why I’m calling.  I’m calling because I wanted to make sure you were notified that Kate Argent is being released from prison this Friday on early parole.”

Derek stared at Stiles’ face.  That’s why he looked so serious.  That’s why he was here so early in the morning with no notice.  “What…how….”  Derek closed his eyes and when he opened them looked down at the table.  He couldn’t look at Stiles, it was too hard to think.  “I’m sorry, Sir.  I didn’t know she was eligible for parole this soon.”

“She wasn’t going to be originally, but parole standards have changed during the years she’s been in prison and she has maintained consistent standards of good behavior, according to the prison.”

“Oh.”  Derek didn’t know what to say.  He felt a little sick.  “Well, um…I understand.  Thank you for calling, Sir.”

“It’s no problem.  If you…have questions or concerns, you are welcome to call me any time.”  The Sheriff’s voice had that same warm, fatherly tone that Derek remembered.

“Uh…thank you.”

“Alright.  You take care of yourself, Derek.”

“Yes, Sir.  Uh…goodbye.”  Derek clicked the end call button and set his phone down.  His eyes followed the line of a jagged scratch over the surface of his table.  He couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.  He’d been meaning to fill it in for months—probably for a year or two now.  How did time go by so quickly sometimes?  Ten years had gone by since he’d seen Kate.  At her sentencing hearing.  He remembered how grateful he’d been that she didn’t seem to want to look at him, either.  She’d held her body stiff as a board and her lips pressed together in a tight line the entire time.  She never met his eyes.  He wondered what she was like now.  If she was still beautiful.  Still cold.  Still angry.

“Derek?”  Stiles had moved right next to him and had a tentative hand just barely resting on his knee.  Worry was plain on his face.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed.  He stared at the little pink bow the younger man’s lips made.  His eyes took in the clock on the wall behind Stiles.  He should probably get going if he wanted to get his run in before work.  He slid his chair back and stood.  “Um…thanks for…”  He gestured vaguely to the untouched food on the table.

Stiles stood and reached a hand out toward Derek, then pulled it back.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…don’t usually eat much before my run.  I’m gonna…”  He gestured again vaguely toward the hallway and his room, thinking of his running pants and sneakers.

Both of Stiles’ hands came up again, as if he were going to take hold of Derek’s hips, but paused in midair between them.  “Okay.  Well, if you need me, you know where I am.”  Derek could feel some kind of weight in what Stiles was saying—some kind of emotional heft that didn’t make sense to him.

Derek nodded.  The two stood there for a minute and then Derek turned and walked back toward his bedroom without another word.  When he’d changed clothes and was sitting on the edge of his bed pulling his socks on he heard the front door shut.  Stiles.  Shit.  He should have walked Stiles to the door.  He should have urged him to take home some of the food.  He could almost hear his mother telling him how rude he was.

He drifted in a jumble of odd mismatched visions:  of his mother standing at the landing on the stairs looking down at him and shaking her head; of Stiles’ wide, bronze eyes; of Kate piercing stare and pinched, angry frown, surrounded by her flowing mane of hair; of his Uncle Peter’s voice telling him Kate was trouble; of Kate’s hand cupping his jaw as she stuffed a ball gage in his mouth with the other hand; of Kate’s shoe pressing into his back, forcing his chest and neck to the ground; of Kate silhouetted in the doorway, staring at him with a disgusted sneer on her face, then stepping back and closing the door behind herself, the blackness closing around Derek as the sound of a key turned in the lock.

An hour and a half later, Derek was standing in his bathroom shower, head draped forward under the water as the warm cascade slid down his back, with no recollection of his run or getting home at all.  He pressed his palms into the tile and felt the water beating down on his shoulders and upper back, sluicing the sweat of his run away.  Derek watched the water circle the drain and disappear with quiet gurgling sounds.  He had to control this.  He couldn’t…be that person again.  He couldn’t lose himself to her manipulations.  Even if she wasn’t actually doing anything to him intentionally now, her memory was like a noose hovering over him, that he could much too easily run into and strangle himself.  But he wouldn’t.  He wouldn’t do that.  Not again.

*             *             *

When he arrived at the studio, the crew was almost ready to start filming the morning’s scene, a simple one between Danny and Scott McCall.  As Derek stepped on set on the way to his office, he was surprised to see Stiles there already, animatedly discussing something with McCall and one of the sound guys, Ronnie, even though he wasn’t filming until the afternoon.  But the second Stiles’ head swiveled around and Derek saw the expression on his face flash briefly over to what looked like concern, Derek knew why he was there.  He supposed he should be touched, but instead he felt a flash of irritation.

He stepped over to Boyd and said hello, asking about his weekend and joining for a few minutes in a conversation he and several of the crew were having about Boyd’s weekend camping trip.  He felt Stiles’ gaze on him constantly, and after a few minutes, Stiles stepped over and joined them along with Ronnie.  Scott had apparently headed off to the dressing area.  Derek shook Stiles’ hand awkwardly and moments later, broke off from the group with a small wave, still feeling Stiles’ eyes tracking him as he made his way to his office.

Lydia and Isaac were sitting on his couch with their heads bowed over her laptop.

“Good morning,” Derek said as he entered, crossing over to set his bag down on his desk and lean back against it across from them.

“Morning,” Isaac said, looking up with a smile.

“Good morning,” Lydia said, glancing up at him briefly, then back down as she continued to move her fingers over the touch pad, moments later saying, “Like this,” to Issac, who turned back to look at her screen.  “Okay, yeah,” he said, “I think we can afford that.  Let me doublecheck and get back with you this afternoon.” 

Lydia nodded and started to close her laptop as Isaac stood and stepped toward the door.  He paused when he was across from Derek and said quietly, “So how was your weekend?” 

Derek smiled at the obvious insinuation in Isaac’s tone and thought back to his date with Stiles Saturday night.  “Good,” he said simply.

Derek was relieved when Isaac just smiled and patted him on the shoulder, then stepped out the door.  When he looked over, Lydia had stood and was tucking her laptop under her arm.  She took a step toward Derek and then gave him a sort of long once-over from head to toe.  When she met his eyes again, her eyebrows were raised.

“What’s up, Lydia?” Derek asked, having learned long ago that straight-forward and to the point was usually the best way to deal with his best editor.

Lydia tilted her head as if considering.  ”You know, I really should have seen it eight years ago.  It was there even then, wasn’t it?”  Her lips were pursed slightly in that self-satisfied way she sometimes had.

“Seen what?” Derek asked.  Lydia had barely known him back in those days.  And he’d only known her as the pretty, unattainable girl Stiles had loved from afar for years.  At least, that was, until the first summer Stiles had come back from college with Lydia draped over his arm every time Derek crossed his path. 

“You and Stiles.”  Her voice oozed exasperation.

“Me and Sti—”  Derek paused mid-denial.  He looked down at her and pulled his face into an expression he hoped was calm, but serious—one that would do anything but invite further discussion.  “My social life is—”

Lydia shifted her weight and tilted her head again, her long red hair sliding back over her shoulder to drape down her back.  Her eyebrows raised and somehow it was as if from ten inches below him she was till looking down on him from above.  She was tiny.  And fierce.  And something about the way she confronted him, instead of raising his hackles just reminded him that they were friends now.  That she’d joined him and Isaac a year after they’d started out and been absolutely key in helping build their company.  And that as tough and edgy as she always appeared, she had always had his back.  Just as he hoped she knew he would have hers.

He shrugged and relaxed against his desk.  “Yes, I’m seeing Stiles.”

She nodded, still scrutinizing him closely.  Then her face, too, seemed to relax and she stepped over to lean against his desk next to him.  They both looked down at their legs and feet, stretched out below them in parallel.

“I don’t know which one of you to threaten,” she said.

Derek turned his head to her, letting his amused confusion show on his face.

Lydia glanced up and shrugged her own slight shoulders.  “Normally if some young upstart porn actor caught your eye like this, I’d have to tell him that he ever hurts my boss I will make him suffer endless torture he couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

Derek chuckled.

“But in this case I would also have to tell the devastatingly handsome businessman dating Stiles that if he ever breaks my friend Stiles’ heart, I will make him pay a thousand agonizing deaths. “

Derek snorted and let out a rough laugh.  “I guess you’re in a real quandary then.”

“Maybe not.”  She looked up at him and her face was soft and just…sweet.  “Maybe when somebody finally gets something they’ve wanted so much, for so very long, they treasure it.  And no one needs to tell them to be careful with it.”

Heat bloomed in Derek’s shoulders and a lump had somehow appeared in his throat.  He could feel his eyes starting to fill with tears and he blinked them back forcibly.  She straightened then and leaned over to him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.  Her hand was squeezing his and then he was watching her back as she strode through his door.

Chapter Text

Derek had just gotten settled in at his desk with a cup of coffee and started sifting through his Monday morning emails when Stiles walked in.  He stood awkwardly in the door for a minute, hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting for Derek to acknowledge him.

Derek glanced up, but then back down, continuing on to the next email even as he said, “What’s up, Stiles?”

“Nothing.  I just…  wanted to say hey.” 

Derek felt a flash of irritation.  He hit the reply button and shot off a short response note, then moved down to the next email.  “Mmhmm.  You came in about four hours before your call time just to say ‘Hey’ to me?”

Stiles’ body didn’t move but Derek could almost feel how his words hit the other man.  Almost as if he had shoved him physically.  The room was quiet and Derek read the one-line email that was highlighted on his screen four times in a row without understanding a single word.  He started on the fifth read when Stiles finally said, “No.  I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Derek finally looked up at Stiles.  And was almost surprised by how irritated he still felt.  Stiles was hunched in on himself, fists shoved in his pockets and shoulders held in high and tight.  Derek wanted to lash out at Stiles for thinking he was so weak that he would be freaking out at work and need Stiles to comfort him.  Why?  Because a selfish, sadistic woman who had hurt him more than ten years ago was being released from prison?  What did that have to do with Derek now?  Did Stiles think he was so weak he would fall apart at the mere mention of Kate’s name?

“I don’t need a babysitter, Stiles.”

“I know.  I just—”

“Just thought I couldn’t make it through the day without my Dom to tell me how to act?”

“What?  No!  I’m not here as your Dom, I’m here as….”  Stiles faltered, his mouth still open even as he froze, staring at Derek.

“As what?” Derek challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“As a friend.”

Derek felt suddenly nauseated.  A friend.  Of course.  The surge of guilt flooded his got as he realized how frustrated he had felt when Stiles was just trying to…be his friend.  God, it made him feel sick.  He was in love with this man—had been in love with him for more than a decade.  When all Stiles was trying to do was be his friend.  Fuck.

“I’m fine,” Derek managed to get out, and forced himself to lean forward in his chair again and look at his computer screen.

Stiles took the hint and nodded.  “Okay.  Well, I’ll see you later then.”

Derek nodded, unable to focus at all on the words on the screen in front of him, but making a good show of it, he hoped.

And then Stiles was gone and Derek was struggling to see the words now because of the tears welling up in his eyes.  Fuck.  He was such an idiot.  How had he thought he could do this with Stiles?  Fuck fuck fuck. 

*             *             *

Of course, the day only went downhill from there.  A storm blew through and took out a power transformer—luckily just after they finished filming for the morning.  But their generator turned out to be too old to handle all their systems, having apparently been acquired a few years ago when they had been a much smaller company, with simpler computer systems and film setups.  They managed to locate a replacement generator and get it installed.  Then one of their afternoon actors, Liam, called in sick at the last minute and they had to scramble to find Ennis to fill in.

By the time filming started, Derek wanted to be anywhere but on the set.  The scene was a threesome with a typically silly framing device where Stiles walks in on Ennis and Jackson messing around and watches for a while, pulling his cock out and stroking it for the camera, before being noticed and joining in the fun.  Derek was on edge, and was almost surprised when seeing Stiles’ cock swelling and growing under Stiles’ casual stroking started to distract and relax him somewhat.  He still loved to watch that and now, having gotten to feel and taste it himself, he could imagine the sensation of that soft, supple skin gliding beneath Stiles’ fingers.  And just how heavy and solid the weight of Stiles’ cock would feel in his hand—just so fucking monstrous and satisfying.  Derek‘s cock was just starting to show interest when the other actors “noticed” Stiles and urged him to join them.  As Stiles stripped and stepped over to the bed, Derek could feel something in his own chest almost…wilting.  He watched as both Jackson and Ennis rolled over onto their stomachs, side by side, resting on their elbows.  As Stiles stepped up to the bed, they leaned forward, one on each side of his cock, and started licking, suckling and exploring.  Stiles was quickly alternating between the two, letting them take turns at feeling his perfect, thick shaft sliding between their lips and back into their throats—feeling its heat and Stiles’ throbbing need…

Without warning, Derek suddenly found himself on his knees, head hanging over a pool of his own vomit, his mouth filled with bile and his body shaking in a cold sweat.  He stared down at the mess, unable to focus or even understand what had happened.  All he could feel was the unsteadiness of his own body and the roiling mess in his stomach, already rising up again and threatening…  He heaved and retched violently, though very little came out this time.  He closed his eyes and felt instant relief as his queasiness subsided.  He became aware of a loud roaring in his ears that was slowly starting to ease, and in its place he could hear Boyd saying his name and asking him something.  He shook his head thinking he didn’t want to open his eyes.  Not yet.  He wasn’t ready.  He would be sick again.  He became aware of a warm, soft hand sliding gently over his back, even as Boyd’s deep voice in front of him became more clear.

“Derek?  Are you okay?”

He forced himself to open his eyes.  Boyd was crouched in front of him.  He could see the rest of the crew and the actors, Ennis and Jackson, hovering a few feet back in a circle of concerned faces.  Oh god.  He had disrupted filming.  Everyone was…  Someone was still gently rubbing his back.  But Boyd was in front of him, Derek could see both his hands.  Then in the periphery of his vision, he realized Stiles was crouching to his right and slightly behind him and Derek launched to his feet, forward and away…away from that hand…from that soft touch…from Stiles.  He nearly knocked Boyd over, swaying as he tried to get to his feet.  Despite the surprise, though, Boyd was agile and fast, and reached out to steady Derek even as he struggled to rise and catch his own balance.

Derek was staring at Stiles, who was already stepping forward to try to help Derek, too.  “Don’t touch me,” Derek said, his voice a strange, squeaky sort of sound in his own ears.  Stiles froze, hand outstretched, obvious hurt showing on his face.

Then Isaac was suddenly there and his hand was on Derek’s elbow, guiding him back toward the bathrooms and dressing areas, saying something about getting a glass of water and cleaning up and telling Boyd to have someone clean the floor up and give the actors a break to relax and get back in the right mindset so they could restart filming.  Derek heard the sounds of movement and chatter starting back up behind them as they left the set and he let Isaac pull him into a private dressing/locker area that was unused and guide him onto a bench.  Derek slumped back onto the lockers behind him and closed his eyes immediately, letting the cool, quiet of the room soothe his frayed nerves.  He sat and breathed for a couple minutes, thinking absolutely nothing, feeling only a blank weariness.

“Water,” he heard Isaac say and opened his eyes, accepting the opened bottle of water and taking a mouthful, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing, and then taking a much longer drink.  He handed the bottle back and watched Isaac twist the cap back on and set it on the bench next to Derek, before taking a seat on the other side of it himself.

Derek closed his eyes again.  He was so tired.  There was no reason to be so tired.  But all he could think about was how exhausted he felt—how his very bones seemed to be calling out for sleep.  After a while he opened his eyes again.  Isaac was still there.

“I’m sorry.  About disrupting the scene.”

Isaac’s lips turned up into a small smile.  “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have if you could have helped it.  Nothing to worry about.  Boyd will have them back on track.”

Yes.  Isaac was right.  Boyd could handle it.  “I think I should go home.”

Isaac nodded.  “Do you want me to drive you?  Ethan can help me drop your car back off at your place later tonight.”

Derek thought about it.  He felt incredibly drained—as if he had just run a marathon.  But he wasn’t shaking anymore and he felt no sign of returning queasiness.  “No, I’m fine now.  Just tired.  Thanks.”

Isaac nodded again, then reached out to pick up and hold out the water bottle to Derek.  “Okay.  If you need anything, you know where I am.”

*             *             *

Derek slept the rest of the afternoon, waking only when his phone dragged him out of sleep into a now dark room.  He picked up his phone, seeing Stiles’ name and 8:57 PM flashing across the screen.  He declined the call and dropped the phone to the bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Then he remembered.  He and Stiles were supposed to have a scene tonight.  He was abruptly overcome by intense longing.  He wanted to hear Stiles’ voice, honey and silk, rumbling words of praise in his ear and telling him exactly how to touch himself—how to bring forth those little electrical shocks to make Derek feel exactly the pleasure and need that Stiles wanted him to feel.  He wanted to hear Stiles’ breath getting heavier and his words growing more rushed, maybe even get to hear that slick-ish slapping sound of skin on skin as Stiles jerked off, too.  Fuck, but he loved hearing Stiles getting off on their scenes—loved knowing how huge and hard Stiles must be all because of Derek.  He reached for the phone but froze, hand in midair, just as he remembered that he’d had an assignment.  An assignment that he hadn’t done.  That he hadn’t even remembered or thought about doing once all day.  Stiles would have to punish him.  Which, given their limited in person contact so far, would probably mean withholding the scene.  Worse, Stiles would be disappointed in him.

He thought about doing the exercise Stiles had assigned now and calling Stiles back after.  Five minutes was all Stiles said he had to do—just five minutes of touching himself or looking at himself and trying to enjoy his own body.  But the moment he considered it, the nausea from that afternoon returned with a vengeance.  Along with it came the vision of Stiles’ cock sliding into Jackson's and Ennis’ waiting mouths.  And in the back of his mind was Kate’s voice telling him that’s what real men looked like.  Telling him that his hair and skin and face were all wrong—too rough, too unclean, too wild, too off-putting.

His phone rang again, Stiles’ name flaring up on the screen.

He should answer.  He should admit his failure and accept his punishment. 

The phone continued to rang as Derek froze with indecision.

Then the name and the sound disappeared and his room was dark and quiet again.

Except for the sound, in Derek’s head, of those two other men’s lips slurping around Stiles’ cock.  Getting to feel what Derek had tasted once and was so desperate to have again.  And no doubt making Stiles feel better than Derek ever would be able to.

Derek picked up his phone and stared at it.  He couldn’t just ignore his Dom’s call.  Not when they’d had an appointment for a scene.  If he didn’t call back, Stiles would almost certainly be done with him.  But Derek’s gut was now a roiling swamp and his mind was a morass of flash-visions of Stiles.  Stiles saying he was there as a friend.  Stiles’ face, stiffening in disappointment because of Derek’s failure to follow through on the simple five-minute assignment he’d been given.  Stiles fucking those actor’s faces.  Stiles watching him on the phone with the Sheriff that morning, clearly worried he was going to break down at the news.  Stiles looking hurt when Derek pulled away from him at the studio. 

Derek held his phone’s power button down and swiped the screen to turn it off.

He dragged himself out of bed and tugged on his running gear.  The moon was clear and bright when he got outside and the cool air on his skin felt amazing.  He rounded his building and headed for the running path that would take him through the park woods that stretched over the hillside starting just a few blocks from there.  He would run until he couldn’t think and couldn’t feel anymore.

Chapter Text

Derek’s alarm woke him up Tuesday morning to a headache and an unsettled stomach that was a disturbing combination of nauseated and famished.  He realized he hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, which had ended up on his studio’s floor soon after.  Fuck.  Half the company had seen him on his knees, losing his guts for no apparent reason.  And when he went into work today they would undoubtedly all be asking him about it and expressing concern.  It was hard to think of anything he wanted less than fifteen or twenty people all looking at him and wondering what was wrong with him.

And Stiles was scheduled to film at 10:00 that morning.  Stiles.  Shit.  His assignment.

Derek reached for his phone and pressed the home button.  When it failed to light up he remembered shutting it off the night before.  He closed his eyes as he waited for it to power up.  When he opened them again, the screen was showing 4 missed calls, all from Stiles the night before.  The churning in his stomach accelerated and Derek felt a cold sweat breaking out over his upper arms, even as his breathing started to pick up.  He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly.  Fuck.  He had avoided his Dom.  He had failed to do his assignment and then had refused to answer a call for a scheduled scene.  Then turned off his phone while Stiles was trying to call him.  He was such a disappointment—failing in the second week as Stiles’ sub.

He breathed in and out slowly, trying to think, trying to ignore the chill spreading down his legs now and the sick feeling in his gut.  But as he tried to determine how to make up for screwing up, his mind just kept recycling Stiles’ face looking hurt and worried and disappointed.  He knew some of it wasn’t even real—just what his always helpful mind had supplied to stand in for how Stiles must be feeling and thinking of Derek after the last 24 hours.  He was so useless.  He had no idea what Stiles would want him to do to fix this.  Except…maybe he did.

He heard Stiles’ voice in his head saying ‘I want you to spend at least five minutes every morning looking at yourself or touching yourself…focusing on all the good feelings…you have to try for me.’

Derek couldn’t make up for skipping the day before, but he could do it today.  He set a five minute timer on his phone and then lay back in his bed, closing his eyes and trying to relax.  He didn’t feel right—his stomach was still seething and his skin was cold and clammy, leaving him feeling strangely small and somehow a little afraid, though he couldn’t have explained of what.  He took a couple deep breaths and slid his hands slowly down his sides, then over his stomach, trying to focus on how the skin felt under his fingers.  But his fingers felt rough and awkward and the light movement sent the chills he’d been feeling into overdrive.  He shivered and tried to calm down, as his stomach started to rebel in earnest.  He clamped his eyes shut and pressed his hands down a bit as he slid them up over his chest, feeling his nipples and the swell of his pecs.  It was wrong—he was too big—too defined.  It wasn’t right.  He should try to slim down for Stiles, maybe quit working out.  He…

No.  No no no.  That was Kate.  Not Derek.  And not Stiles.  Stiles liked the way he looked.  At least he said he did.  But Stiles might just be too nice to be honest with Derek.  He was such a natural Dom—he must have his own opinion of the perfect shape and size he wanted Derek to be.  Derek should have asked him—should be changing his workout regimen to—

No!  No.  No. 

Derek gave up on touching his own skin and clenched his fists into the sheet.  He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.  He took a deep breath.  Then another.  He could try the mirror.  Stiles had said he could just look at himself.  Maybe…

He dragged himself upright and stepped over to the full length mirror on the back of his closet door.  He stared at his reflection.  He tried to see what was good.  To imagine Stiles standing behind him, running his hands over Derek’s body, telling Derek what he liked.  But his mind-Stiles didn’t say anything—just looked at Derek’s reflection with a soft little frown on his lips.  Derek stared at his thick thighs and flaccid cock in its wild nest of hair.  At his ridged stomach and his too-wide waist.  He had never been able to get his waist to narrow the way so many other fit men’s did.  And his pelvic muscles were too thick, leaving his pelvic bones not nearly pronounced enough to make the perfect sexy V that he should have.  Fuck, he practically looked like he had fucking love handles.  His nipples were odd and small and he had always hated his Neanderthal eyebrows.  He…

Suddenly Derek’s stomach was in his throat and he lurched in three giant steps into the bathroom and dropped to his knees before the toilet, retching and gagging.  He hadn’t eaten anything since throwing up the day before, so there wasn’t much—just some thick liquid that tasted somehow even more vile.  He hung his head over the bowl, shivering roughly until, after several minutes, the feeling finally passed.  Then he slumped down against the tub.

He’d fucked up.  Again.  He couldn’t even accomplish this ridiculous task.  Not that he had asked for this.  Stiles was the one who had to try to fix Derek with his useless self-esteem exercise.  What a fucking waste.  It was probably right out of a self-help book or a college psych class activity.  As if Derek was his subject to experiment on—to play with and practice his ‘good Dom’ techniques.  It was absurd.  And on top of that Stiles had assumed Derek wouldn’t even be able to handle the news about Kate on his own.  Stiles had had to come running over to Derek’s apartment and then to the studio early, too.  Or maybe Stiles had just wanted to be near the blow up—see if Derek would freak out and panic like he had when they’d gone on their first date.

Derek pulled himself up and rinsed his mouth out in the sink, then looked briefly in the mirror again.  He was suddenly seething with tension and frustration.  He glared at his reflection for just a moment more, then he moved back to his room and quickly pulled on his running gear.  He would feel better after a good, long run. 

*             *             *

Derek ran for almost two hours.  By the time he got back to his place, it was nearly 9:30.  Even though it was chilly out, Derek was drenched in sweat.  His legs were more than a little shaky and as he finally stopped moving in front of his fridge, he almost collapsed to the ground, his hand slamming out to grab hold of the opposite counter.  He felt exhausted and overheated, but it felt right.  Like he was finally doing something right.  This was something he was good at.  He could move his body and run and lose himself in the rhythm of his feet against the pavement.  There was nothing like that feeling of just being out there on the path, among the trees and finding that place where your mind lets go and you have no thoughts at all.  Just the sound of your feet and the feeling of the air brushing over your skin and the ground beneath you, solid and consistent. 

He leaned his weight on the counter for a few minutes, gathering his strength, and then pulled the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of water and chugging it in one go.  It tasted so good.  When he finished and set the empty down on the counter, he found himself looking toward his front door.  He wanted to go back out and run some more.  He really wasn’t needed at the studio today—he could call in sick or just go in for the afternoon.  But as he considered it, Derek felt a bit of that shakiness still there in his legs.  He could wait until after work.

*             *             *

It was nearly 11 by the time Derek got in to work, and morning filming was underway.  They were doing the double penetration scene the team had planned the week before.  By the time he had his coffee in hand and had silently shaken hands with the crew, Danny and Theo Raeken were getting Scott McCall into position for the ‘money’ shot.  Danny lay down on his back and McCall took position riding him, playing and enjoying themselves for a while, before Raeken stepped up between their legs and slowly pressed in right alongside Danny’s cock.

When the scene was over, Derek spent a few minutes with Boyd, then headed in to his office.  The next two hours flew by, as Derek met with Isaac to go over schedules and quarterly budget projections, then returned some calls and emails.  By the time he felt the urge for more coffee and a little physical movement, the team were gathering on set to start filming an afternoon scene.  As Derek came out of his office, Stiles and another man were emerging from the dressing area, talking together earnestly.  Jordan Parrish, Derek realized.  The biggest name his studio had worked with to date.  And according to Isaac, Parrish had been enticed to give them a shot because of the opportunity to work with Stiles.

Derek eyed Parrish as he and Stiles paused for Stiles to relay some unimaginable tale with wild gesticulations.  The tale apparently ended as Stiles slapped his right hand down hard on his waiting left hand and then wiggled all ten of his fingers animatedly for a few seconds.  Parrish laughed gently and took hold of Stiles’ left hand, wiggling his own fingers in Stiles’ palm and leaning in close as he said something to Stiles.  Derek tugged at his collar, feeling suddenly warm and irritated.  As Parrish and Stiles finished talking and turned again to the set, Derek strode over to them and held his hand out to the new actor.

“Jordan Parrish?  I just wanted to introduce myself.  I’m Derek Hale, one of the owners of WolfPack.”

Jordan took his hand in a warm, firm grasp, even as he gave Derek a friendly smile.  “Derek.  Good to meet you.  I met your partner, Isaac, earlier, and the studio you guys have here seems really great so far.”

Derek could feel Stiles’ gaze on him as he released Parrish’s hand, but refused to do more than briefly glance at him and rumble a low acknowledgment of “Stiles” before turning back to Parrish.  “Thank you.  We work hard to try to stand out.”

“Well, so far so good,” Parrish said.  “This has to be the cleanest and most professional place I’ve filmed so far, and you’re building a roster with some great names lately.”

Stiles hummed an acknowledgment, and Derek was abruptly reminded that his Dom was about to fuck this man.  He felt an unexpected urge to move—to go for a run, lift some weights, punch a bag—something

“I’m glad to hear that.  If you need anything when you’re with us, my office is right there,” he gestured, “and my door is always open.”

“Thanks.”  There was a brief pause and Parrish might have been about to say something else, but Derek was already turning, heading to the breakroom.  He needed to get coffee and get back to his office.  Boyd didn’t need him on set and maybe he could get some more work done and head out early so there would be time for a run after work. 

He was already past his office and down the hallway when he heard Stiles calling his name.  He paused and waited as the younger man stepped up with a somber expression.

“Hey, Der.  I….”  Stiles’ mouth suddenly clamped shut, and Derek felt his own brows pinch together.  He waited.  Finally, Stiles said simply, “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Do you…would you still like to have a scene tonight?  A…you know…a live scene?”

Derek stared.  Oh god.  He’d totally forgotten.  They had talked about having live scenes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings this week.  An in-person scene.  With Stiles.  Touching Stiles.  Or being touched by Stiles.  Holy fuck.

“It’s okay if…if that’s changed,” Stiles said, his voice sounding cautious.  “I know we haven’t really talked since…”

“Yes.” 

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to a live scene?”

“Yes.”

Stiles’ lips curled up, though Derek thought that for some reason he was trying not to smile.  “Good.  That’s…great.  What time?  Would 9:00 be good?  I could come over to your place?”

“Yes.  9…is good.”  Derek could still run after work and then have plenty of time to shower and clean up.

“Awesome!”  This time Stiles couldn’t hide his enthusiasm, as he smiled brightly at Derek.  “I’ll see you then.”  He nodded again and as he turned away and headed back to the set, Derek saw a telltale tenting at Stiles’ crotch.

Derek felt heat rushing to his own crotch and he quickly poured himself a cup of coffee and made his way back to his office, shutting the door and settling in behind his desk just as Boyd called for action.  Jordan Parrish had made a huge name for himself in supposed ‘straight’ roles, playing a guy supposedly allowing another man to fuck his ass for the first time.  Though of course it made no sense, since he had done this particular act at least a hundred times by now.  Derek had never been particularly drawn to the concept, but seeing Stiles and Parrish relaxing on the set couch, as Stiles started to rub at his own crotch and convince Parrish they should both whip it out and jerk off together, Derek could see at least a bit of the appeal.  There was something about Parrish.  He was an unusual mix of mature, with a large, strong and fit physique, and youthful innocence, with a sweet baby-face and wide, guileless eyes.

Somehow, it was easy to believe the wonder in his eyes when Stiles unzipped and pulled out his half-hard cock, then stroked himself quickly to full hardness.  Derek felt the same way, his gaze riveted to that wonderful, perfect monster cock, fascinated by watching it swell and grow and imagining how it would feel and taste.

It was easy to believe him when he stared in awe and then scrambled to open his own pants and tug out his own cock, matching his rhythm to Stiles’.  Derek matched Parrish’s actions, nearly shaking with need the second he touched himself.

It was easy to believe him when his left hand started to drift over toward Stiles, as if of its own accord.  Stiles smirked, and took hold of Parrish’s hand, guiding it directly onto his cock and wrapping his own around it, guiding the other man in stroking him just the way he liked.  It was more than easy to believe Parrish’s reverential expression as his hand slid up and down Stiles’ shaft.  Derek knew his own face had the same expression.  And it was easy to believe him when his tongue slid out and licked his lips, as if he were wondering what that mammoth cock would taste and feel like in his mouth.  Stiles said something and Derek reached over to his credenza to flip a switch, letting the sound from the set play on his office speakers.

Parrish was staring at his and Stiles’ hands and they slid up and down, his own cock hard and glistening but neglected, just laying loosely and forgotten in his left hand.  Stiles adjusted a bit, spreading his legs and scooting forward on the couch.

“It’s okay, man.  You can try if you want.”

Parrish’s eyes flashed up to Stiles’ face uncertainly.  “What if I don’t…like it?”

Fuck, Derek thought.  It’s like this guy’s a real actor.  He found himself wanting to reassure the man—tell him that he would fucking love it.  And if he didn’t, Stiles would let him stop any second he wanted to, no questions asked.

“Then it’s cool.  We’ll just go back to doing this.”

Parrish considered for a moment and then slowly slid down to his knees, moving in front of Stiles.  Derek moved from behind his desk and over to his couch, where he could see at an angle that Parrish’s body wasn’t blocking.  Derek stroked his own cock as Stiles held his still, proffering it to the man kneeling in front of him.  Parrish leaned forward and slid his tongue out, taking a swift little lick of the tip.  Stiles groaned softly and Parrish seemed encouraged, leaning forward to wrap his lips around just the head.  Derek moaned simultaneously with Stiles, remembering just how huge and smooth and full the head of Stiles’ cock had felt on his tongue and filling his mouth.  It had been perfect.  Utterly perfect.  Heavy and powerful and fucking magnificent.  He jerked his cock roughly, watching closely as Parrish started to suck and bob his head up and down bit by bit, starting to get a rhythm down that had Stiles continuously letting out quiet little moans.

The scene went on, Stiles guiding Parrish to take more and more of him in his mouth, until about half of Stiles’ cock was sliding past those sweet, supposedly virgin lips.  After about ten minutes or so of Parrish learning how to love sucking Stiles’ monster dick, Stiles suggested softly, “Are you sure you don’t want to feel this somewhere else?”

Parrish froze, Stiles’ cock halfway down his throat.  Then he pulled off and looked up at Stiles.  A pause.  Then a brief nod.

Stiles smirked and said, “Get undressed,” watching and jerking his cock in a relaxed fashion as Parrish peeled off his shirt, jeans and boxers.  When he was naked he stood there in apparent uncertainty until Stiles stood and guided him onto his knees, ass out to the camera (and Derek’s office), shoulders bent forward over the back of the couch.  Stiles then stepped out of his pants and pulled his own shirt off, then stepped into place behind Parrish. 

Derek was frozen, staring through the window to set as Stiles nudged Parrish’s knees a little further apart then moved into place, pressing the head of his cock to Parrish’s pink, perfect little hole.

Then, just as suddenly as yesterday, Derek was flying across the room, crashing to the floor next to his desk, gagging violently, spewing the liquid contents of his stomach into his office trash can.  His body heaved and convulsed.  All he could taste was bile.  And all he could feel was a cramping pain in his entire body.  He gave in to the spasms, hanging his head over the can and breathing through his mouth, then retching occasionally until finally, after several minutes, he felt safe enough to slump back against the wall and let his tears silently fall to the sound of Jordan Parrish’s signature moans and whines echoing in his office.

Chapter Text

Derek remained in his office the rest of the afternoon, then slipped out a bit early.  He was home before 5:00 and pulling on his running shoes within minutes.  When he was finally on the trail, it was a blissful relief.  Everything else fell away.  There was only his feet hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, and the sound of his own breathing in a background of birds and rustling wind filling his ears.  No worries.  No stress.  No studio.  No Kate.  No Stiles.  Just his feet.  Hitting the ground.  He knew he fit in here.  His body knew what to do out here.  He knew what he was supposed to do.  And what to expect.

He let his mind drift—forgetting everything.  Just feeling the cadence of his legs and feet, moving and striking the trail.  He moved through the trees, passing occasional runners or being passed by the odd bicyclist without really noticing them.  His body just knew when to move—how to move.  Forward.  Step by step.  Just on and on in a perfect, consistent, safe beat.  Like music.  A steady drumming that reminded him of something Stiles had played once.

It had been years ago.  When Derek was alone and Stiles and his father had seemed like the closest thing he had to family.  It had been one of those special nights when Stiles had stayed home, rather than disappearing to the library or his part-time job at the movie theater or off somewhere with his friends.  The light had been on in his window and Derek could feel, more than hear, the rhythmic vibrations of his stereo thrumming the house.  He scaled the trellis to the garage roof and rapped on the glass.  Stiles’ face had shone with pleasure when he shoved the window open.  He’d waved Derek in excitedly, rambling about the various world influences of the band and his plan to see them at a music festival the next month.  Derek only remembered the drums and the way Stiles’ lips shone from his tongue sliding across them.

The drums kept his feet company.  He ran on through the woods, his mind filled with Stiles’ face, the way his hands and arms waved about when he was excited, the shape of his lips, the warm honey color of his eyes.  The chill wind brushed over his skin and his feet hit the ground, one after another.  On and on.  He was starting to tire, but he held on.  Held on to Stiles’ face and the rhythm of the drums, pounding along with his feet on the pavement.  He didn’t know how long he’d been running—his mouth was dry and it was harder to breathe.  But he clung on.  Step after step.  Breath after breath.  Making himself go on.  To the beat of the drums and the sound of Stiles’ voice.

His phone rang and he reached to slide it out of the pouch sewn into his sleeve.  His foot dragged and he stumbled.  The phone flew out of his grasp and into the trees, sliding down the steep grade on the side of the path.  Derek surged after it, pushing a few steps into the brush and trees, leaves and twiggy branches slapping into his face.  Then his foot hit a root, his shoulder hit a tree, and the world turned upside down and disappeared.

*             *             *

Isaac was sitting on the couch, arm wrapped around Ethan, when his phone rang.

ISAAC:  Stiles?

STILES:  Isaac.  I need you to call Derek.

ISAAC:  Okaaay.  Is there a reason you can—

STILES:  Something’s wrong.  Try calling him.  Just make sure he’s okay.  Call me back right away.

ISAAC:  What?  What do you mean something’s wrong?  What’s wrong?

STILES:  Isaac!  Now!

ISAAC:  Okay.

He hung up and pulled up Derek’s contact, punching the phone symbol.  It rang.  And rang.  Then rolled to voicemail.

STILES:  You didn’t get him.

ISAAC:  No.  He didn’t answer.  What’ going on, Stiles?

STILES:  Do you know where he keeps a hide-a-key for his house?  Or do you have a key?

ISAAC:  Are you at his place now?

STILES:  Yes.  I’m outside.  His car is here.  He’s not answering.  I think he went running.  But I don’t know where he goes or if he even has the same route every time.  But something’s wrong.  I just…I know it, Isaac.  I know it.  I have to find him. 

ISAAC:  Okay okay.  Um…I don’t think he keeps a key outside the building.  But I have one.  I’ll come over right now.  It’ll take me about 20 minutes.

STILES:  Do you know where he runs?

ISAAC:  I don’t know for sure, but he talks about the trail in Dragon Lake Park—it runs right past Elm and Hancock, just like two blocks from his building.

STILES:  Okay.  I’m going there.  Just…just call me when you get to his place, okay?  Whether you find him or not.

ISAAC:  Of course.  You know it’s probably nothing, Stiles.  He probably just left his phone at work and fell asleep or decided to go out.

STILES:  He wouldn’t go out.  We had a—he was supposed to meet me here at 9.

ISAAC:  Well…maybe he forgot.  You know he didn’t feel well yesterday and he still seemed a little off today.

STILES:  He wasn’t just a little off, Isaac.  He was….Look, I can’t talk to you about this.  I have to go find him.  Just…just call me.

ISAAC:  You, too.

STILES:  I will.

*             *             *

SHERIFF:  Hey, Stiles.

STILES:  Dad…Dad, I…I don’t know what to do.

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  What is it?  Are you okay?  Where are you?

STILES:  No, I’m…I’m fine.  It isn’t me.  It’s Derek.

SHERIFF:  Okay…alright.  What’s going on?

STILES:  He’s hurt.  And I don’t know where he is.  And I have to find him.

SHERIFF:  Wha—  How do you know he’s hurt if you don’t know where he is?

STILES:  I just know.  I know, Dad.  I know it.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  I need you to stay calm and give me the facts right now, okay?  When did you see Derek last?

STILES:  At the stu—at work.  Around maybe 2:00.

SHERIFF:  This afternoon?

STILES:  Yeah.  But he…he wasn’t right.  He hasn’t been right since yesterday…since the news…

SHERIFF:  About Kate.

STILES:  Yeah.

SHERIFF:  Okay.  So he was at work this afternoon.  Do you know anything about what he did after that?

STILES:  No, not, not like police report sort of ‘knowing’.  I didn’t see him after that, but I know he left work around 4 because he was already gone when I was leaving a little after that.

SHERIFF:  Okay, so why do you think he’s missing now?

STILES:  Because he IS missing!  He isn’t answering his phone for me or Isaac and he’s not at his apartment.  His car is there, but he isn’t.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  There could be any number of places he might go without his car. Maybe a friend picked him up and he went out and just forgot his phone.  Maybe he was planning to drink so he took a Lyft or a cab.  Maybe—

STILES:  No.  We were supposed to—I was supposed to come over at 9.  I did.  But he wasn’t there.  He wouldn’t just…not be there and not call.  And I just…I know he isn’t okay.  He’s…he’s hurting.  And I have to find him.  I have to help him.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  It’s…it’s too early for the police to consider an adult missing just because he’s not answering his phone.

STILES:  I know that!  Don’t you think I know that?  Why do you think I called you instead of the police here?

SHERIFF:  I can’t do anything either, Stiles.  I think you should just give Derek a chance.  He probably just needed some space to work out his feelings about Kate’s release.

STILES:  You didn’t see him yesterday, Dad.  And today.  I think he went running and…he shouldn’t’ have…he’s been sick…he was sick yesterday…and he looked worse today….  He’s….something happened while he was running.  I know it.  I have to find him.

SHERIFF:  Stiles?  Where are you?

STILES:  I’m at the park.  On the path.  But I don’t even know if this is where he was running.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  It’s after midnight.  Are you alone?  What kind of park is this?

STILES:  I’ve been looking for two hours already.  But it’s miles long and most of it is through woods.  It’s dark and I can’t see more than a few feet from the path.  I don’t know how to do this, Dad.  I need help.  I don’t know what to do and it’s getting cold at night now.  And if he’s seriously injured…

SHERIFF:  Stiles.

STILES:  …If he isn’t okay…

SHERIFF:  Stiles! 

STILES:  Uh huh.

SHERIFF:  Stiles, I need you to breathe.  Just take slow, deep breaths for me.  And then tell me if the number you gave me to call Derek yesterday is his cell phone.

STILES:  Yes. 

SHERIFF:  Okay, I’m going to have it located.  Just stay where you are and breathe and I’ll be back. 

 

SHERIFF:  Stiles? 

STILES:  I’m here.

SHERIFF:  We’re locating both your number and Derek’s now.  It just takes a few minutes, okay, Stiles?  We’re not the FBI over here.

STILES:  Okay.  Okay.  That’s good.  That’s….That’s illegal, Dad. 

SHERIFF:  Yeah, well, are you going to report me?

STILES:  Definitely not.

SHERIFF:  Okay, um…your number is showing up...I see you…in the middle of an undeveloped zone…must be the park…

STILES:  Yes.  Where’s Derek?  Do you see him?

SHERIFF:  Hang on….We’re working on it.

STILES:  Hurry, Dad. 

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  You need to stay calm if you want to help Derek.  Just hang in there and wait.  We’re working as fast as we can.

STILES:  I’m good, Dad.  I just…

SHERIFF:  I know.  It’s okay, Stiles.  He’s gonna be okay.  We’re going to find him.

STILES:  Okay.  Okay.  I can’t…I haven’t….

SHERIFF:  …

STILES:  I love him.

SHERIFF:  I’m kind of getting that, Stiles.  Wait!  Okay, here we go.  Yes…he’s in the park, too.  Well, his phone is, anyway. 

STILES:  Oh, god.  Oh, fuck.  Thank god.  Where, Dad?

SHERIFF:  Hang on…we’re zooming in.  Okay, now I can’t tell where the trail goes compared to your positions, so you have to promise me that you’re going to move slowly and carefully, Stiles.

STILES:  Dad!  Where?  Which direction?

SHERIFF:  No.  Not until you promise me.  You’re going to stay on the phone with me and if you move off that trail you’re going tell me the second you do and you’re going to use your flashlight and go slow.

STILES:  Dad!

SHERIFF:  Stiles, I’m serious.  Just think of it like Derek is depending on you to get to him safely.  Promise me.

STILES:  …  Right.  Okay.  I promise.  Safe.  For Derek.  Okay? 

SHERIFF:  Okay.  He’s north-northwest of you.  About…maybe 100 yards? 

STILES:  Okay.  That’s…okay.  I’m going west.  The trail goes west, maybe a little north.  Can you see when I move? 

SHERIFF:  Yes.  I’ve got you.

STILES:  Am I getting closer.

SHERIFF:  Yes, a little.  Does the trail continue that direction?

STILES:  It turns to the right a bit up ahead…to…turns north a bit more.

SHERIFF:  Okay, keep going.

STILES:  Okay.  Um.  Fuck, it’s dark out here.  I can’t see anything after the first couple trees.  If he went off the trail.  It’s pretty steep right here.

SHERIFF:  Wait, Stiles?  He’s almost directly north of you now.  You’re closer, but he’s still…maybe 50 yards from you.  I don’t have much to go by here.

STILES:  Okay, I’m leaving the trail.  Going north.

SHERIFF:  Wait!  Is there someone you can call to come help you? 

STILES:  I…Isaac…but he went home.  It would take too long.  I can’t wait for that. 

SHERIFF:  Well if he is hurt when you find him…

STILES:  Then I’ll call an ambulance, Dad.  I can’t wait.  It’s Derek.  I know he’s hurt!  He’s alone and he’s hurt and….   I’m going.

SHERIFF:  Okay, Stiles.  Calm down.  Is there something you can leave there as a marker on the trail.  If you do have to call the EMT’s it’ll help them locate you.

STILES:  Right.  Um, yeah.  I have my backpack…hang on.  Okay, I have my big water jug.  The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles one you hate.  I’m sticking it in the ground here by the edge. 

SHERIFF:  Okay.  Now, you said it was steep, so be careful.  You won’t do Derek any good if you break a leg trying to get to him.

STILES:  Yeah.  Okay.  I’m putting you on speaker and into my pocket.  Can you…can you still hear me?

SHERIFF:  Good.  Yes, keep your hands free.  I can hear you.

STILES:  Fuck.  It’s…yeah, it’s steep.  Ah, shit.  Ow. 

SHERIFF:  Stiles?

STILES:  No, I’m fine.  There’s just…a lot of underbrush and I put my hand in some thorns.  It’s fine. 

SHERIFF:  Take it slow. 

STILES:  Is he…am I still going the right direction?

SHERIFF:  Yes…you’re good.  Just be careful. 

STILES:  Fuck, Dad.  What if he’s not even anywhere near his phone?

SHERIFF:  Then we’ll figure out what to do.  For now, just…watch what you’re doing.

STILES:  I’m…fuck, Dad.  This is so…Jesus.  Unh.  This is really rough here.  If he tumbled down here….

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  Don’t think about that until you find him.  Just take one step at a time.  Okay, you’re kind of veering off to the east a bit.  Be careful, you need to go a bit more to your left.  You’re getting closer.  Just maybe ten or twenty yards now.  This isn’t really exact, but you might want to start scanning with your flashlight.

STILES:  Right.  Okay.  Um…  God, I just see leaves and brush and trees….  There’s…okay, there’s a little creek up here.  It’s rockier, but less brush.

SHERIFF:  The phone is right there, Stiles.  Just a few yards or feet…

STILES:  I don’t.  I don’t see him.

SHERIFF:  Look for the phone, too.  I have a deputy calling his phone now—maybe it’ll ring.

STILES:  Okay.  I’m looking.  I don’t….

SHERIFF:  It’s ringing through.

STILES:  Wait!  Oh, god!  Oh, shit.  Fuck.  Derek!  Oh my god.

SHERIFF:  Stiles, talk to me.  What do you see?

STILES:  Oh god, Der?  Fuck, baby.  Oh, baby, oh my god.  I’m here, baby.  You’re gonna be okay.  I’m gonna take care of you.  Oh god, what…

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  Talk to me!

STILES:  Dad, he’s here.  He’s…he must have fallen…  Shit, he must have fallen all the way down here…  His head is…well, it must have been bleeding earlier.  There’s blood.  It’s a lot.  He’s passed out.

SHERIFF:  Is he breathing?

STILES:  Yes, he’s…he’s alive.  But he isn’t…he won’t wake up.  He’s really pale.  He’s….he looks bad, Dad.

SHERIFF:  Okay, don’t move him.  Dispatch is calling your local.  We’ll get them there as soon as we can but it’ll take a while to get to where you are, okay?  So you need to stay calm and not panic.  Can you do that?

STILES:  Yeah.  Yes.  I’m…  Derek, you’re gonna be okay.   

SHERIFF:  Good.  That’s good.  Now, use your flashlight, Stiles and slowly run it over Derek.  I want you to look to see if you see any other obvious injuries—any other areas of blood or maybe evidence of broken bones.

STILES:  Right.  Um…right.  Okay.  Uh…I…no…I don’t…nothing I can tell.

SHERIFF:  Okay, good.  Do you have a watch? 

STILES:  Yes.

SHERIFF:  Okay.  See if you can find a pulse.

STILES:  Right.  Okay.  Um…  His…god, Dad, his skin is so cold.  He’s freezing.  He’s been out here for hours.  I was supposed to meet him hours ago and it took me this long to… 

SHERIFF:  Stiles.  Focus.  You’re taking his pulse.

STILES:  Yeah.  Right.  Uh…it’s…his wrist is….I can’t find it.

SHERIFF:  That’s okay.  You can try the other wrist and you can try his neck, okay?

STILES:  Uh huh.  Okay. 

SHERIFF:  …

STILES:  …

SHERIFF:  Talk to me, Stiles. 

STILES:  Um…I’m trying his neck.  It’s…I felt it…it was there…but then it disappears.  Dad, I can’t….

SHERIFF:  It’s okay, Stiles.  Just locate it and then try not to press, just hold the touch in that location and try to catch the rhythm. 

STILES:  Right.  It’s…Okay….

SHERIFF: …

STILES:  19...I think 19 in 30 seconds.  So…38?  Is that…shit, that’s bad, right?

SHERIFF:  We don’t know anything yet, Stiles.  We just know his heart is beating.  It’s good.  That’s good.  You’re doing good.

STILES:  Derek.  Derek’s doing good.  Der, you’re doing so good for me, baby.

SHERIFF:  Okay, Stiles?  Ambulance and police are on their way.  I’m going to stay on with you until they get there, okay?

STILES:  He’s so cold, Dad.

SHERIFF:  He’s probably in shock.  What is he wearing?

STILES:  Just running shorts and a tee.

SHERIFF:  Okay.  Do you have a jacket?

STILES:  Yeah.  Yes!  Okay, yeah.  Derek?  Here you go, baby.  Here.  This’ll help keep you warm, okay? 

SHERIFF:  Okay, Stiles? 

STILES:  You’re gonna be okay, Der.  I’m gonna make sure you’re safe.  I promise you, baby.  I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.

SHERIFF:  Stiles.

STILES:  Dad.

SHERIFF:  Okay, Stiles, I want you to look at his head and see if you can make sure the bleeding has stopped.  But try to move his neck as little as possible.

STILES:  It’s…I don’t have to move him.  His head is…the back got hit, but he landed…it’s laying on a side.  I can…the hair and the ground here…this rock…god, it’s all covered in his blood…but…it’s matted now…it’s…it’s not bleeding now.

SHERIFF:  Okay, good.  That’s really good, Stiles.

STILES:  Yeah.  You hear that, Der?  You’re doing really good.  What else, Dad?  What…what can I do?

SHERIFF:  That’s it.  That’s all we can do until the EMT’s arrive.  They’ll decide how to handle moving him.  You just have to keep him safe.  And don’t move him.  Just…you can hold his hand gently and just…talk to him.

STILES:  Right.  Okay.  I’ve been waiting my whole life to asked to just talk to someone.  And now I have no idea what to say.

SHERIFF:  Yes, you do. 

STILES:  …   Der?  I…I’m here, Derek.  I’m so…fuck.  I…I know I made you mad yesterday.  I know you think I was butting in or treating you like a child or something.  But…I just….  I know you probably don’t remember this, but I was there that night.  I mean, not there.  But at the station.  When she took everything from you.  Your face…I was already so in love with you…and I had memorized every millimeter of your face—every expression I’d ever seen you make.  But that night—your face changed.  And it’s never been the same.  When I saw you in my Dad’s office your expression was—you just seemed empty—like the loss was so bone-deep that it had taken every emotion from you and you might never feel anything ever again.  But…you did smile again.  Eventually.  But I’ve never seen you smile the way you did before that night.  I would give anything to give you back what you lost—to take you back to those smiles you had before—like when you would swing Cora up over your head and then pretend to drop her and make her laugh like she might burst out of her skin with the pleasure of it.  But I know I can’t.  So I just…I just wanted to try to keep her from taking even one more smile away from you.

SHERIFF:  Stiles?

STILES:  Yeah?

SHERIFF:  Dispatch reports they’re on scene, looking for your marker on the trail now.  You might want to keep a watch for the men and lights and use your flashlight to signal when you see them.

STILES:  Right.  Okay.  I don’t…

SHERIFF:  It’s okay, Stiles.  He’s going to be okay.  You’re doing great.

STILES:  Yeah, right.  I knew he wasn’t…that something was wrong.  I just thought I’d have time tonight to…  Wait.  I see lights.  They’re coming.  Oh, god.  Okay.  It’s…they’re coming, Dad.

SHERIFF:  That’s good, son. 

STILES:  Oh, thank god.  Here!  Over here!  …  Here!  He’s…it’s not me…it’s Derek…he fell, there’s a wound on his head…I don’t know what else… 

SHERIFF:  Stiles? 

STILES:  Yeah, Dad.  I’m…I’m here.  They’re here.  It’s…he’s going to be okay.

SHERIFF:  I know.  You did good, Stiles.

STILES:  No.  Not good enough, Dad.  Not…he shouldn’t have been…I shouldn’t have left him alone.

SHERIFF:  Stiles!  You can’t think that way.  I’m guessing you didn’t have a choice in the matter.  You figured it out and you found him.  He’s safe now.

STILES:  Yeah.  He’s safe now.

SHERIFF:  Stiles, are you okay?

STILES:  Yeah, I’m…I’m fine.  They’re…they’ve got him on a stretcher.  I’m…I have to go, Dad.

SHERIFF:  I know.  Call me from the hospital, okay?

STILES:  Yeah.  Okay.  Thanks, Dad.

SHERIFF:  I love you.

STILES:  Love you, too, Dad.

Chapter Text

His alarm was beeping.  He knew he should turn it off, but he still felt groggy—not fully awake.  God, and he ached everywhere.  He wasn’t drunk.  He must have run too hard.  The beeping was so regular…and quiet.  Not his alarm.  Derek forced his eyes open the barest bit, then they flew open in alarm as his hands tried to clutch the edges of the…hospital bed!

“Der!” Stiles’ voice came from right next to him.  He turned and Stiles was there, sitting in a chair right next to him, reaching for his hand.  “I’m so glad you’re awake, baby.  It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“What…happened?” he croaked.  His throat hurt and he sounded strange.  He leaned back in the bed again, eyes on Stiles.  He looked so good.  He was rumpled and his hair was sticking out every direction, as if he’d been tugging on it the way he had back in the old days when he was working on a research project late into the night.

Stiles’ hands had wrapped around his now and Stiles was absently rubbing his thumbs over the back of Derek’s hand.  It felt really nice.

“You were hurt running last night.  You don’t…remember?”

“No.”  He’d run so much the last few days—it had been so soothing.  “I…remember the drums.”

Stiles looked confused.  “You…said something about drums in your sleep, too.  But I thought it was a dream.”

Derek closed his eyes.  He felt so tired still.  “A memory.  The best kind of dream.”

“Yeah.”  Stiles’ voice was soft.  Like part of the dream.  “I think so, too.”

*             *             *

When Derek woke the next time, his room was empty except for a nurse who was taking his pulse.

“Hey, Handsome,” she said.

He blinked his eyes, trying to wake up, looking around the room.  What an idiot.  Of course he couldn’t expect that Stiles would stay…but…it looked like Stiles’ backpack and jacket thrown in the corner…

The nurse released his hand and reached into her pocket.  “Don’t worry, your boyfriend just went outside to make a phone call.  I’m going to take some blood now, okay?  You were extremely dehydrated and malnourished when you arrived—looked like you hadn’t been eating anything at all or drinking enough for days.”

Derek’s mind searched, swirling around in the jumbled mess of memories of the last couple days.  Stiles filming at the office…he’d…shit, he’d thrown up at work…twice…no, three times…their generator emergency…Lydia had known…something…said something about him and Stiles…known that he’d always wanted…the Sheriff had called…Kate.  Kate was getting out.  Stiles had been hovering.  Stiles had been fucking that new actor.  Derek had…fuck, he had failed his assignment two days in a row.  And turned his phone off when Stiles was calling for a scene.  “I…I ate…yester—Monday.  No, I…I had coffee….”

“Coffee isn’t actually a food group, you know?” the nurse said gently, the needle now in her hand as she searched a moment and then pressed in to the vein in his elbow.

 “How long…when can I get out of here.”

The nurse kept her head down—focused on switching out the now full vial of blood for an empty one.  “As soon as I’m done here I’ll let your doctor know you’re awake and she’ll come go over everything with you.  But I think you can count on staying here tonight.”

Derek felt a surge of frustration.  He couldn’t be trapped here that long.  He needed…he wanted to get outside.  Run.  Feel the pavement under his feet and the wind on his skin.  He fumbled with his right arm, meaning to sit up, but quickly collapsing back against the bed when he couldn’t even muster the strength to lift his shoulders off the mattress.

The nurse glanced up with a wry sort of smile, then turned back to her work, sliding the second vial of blood free and pressing a swab of guaze to his skin as she slid the needle out.  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure your boyfriend will help keep you company.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”  She seemed taken aback.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to assume.  He seemed…if you don’t want him here we can—”

“No, that’s not…what I meant.  He just doesn’t want…it’s just not like that.  But he is…my friend.”

She looked confused, but didn’t press Derek, gathering her things.  “Alright, well, I’ll let Dr. Ramsey know you’re awake.”

When she was gone, Derek closed his eyes again, trying to remember the day before.  After the generator problem, they went ahead with filming.  He remembered shaking Jordan Parrish’s hand.  And the innocent, aroused looks Jordan gave on camera…how much he’d looked like he loved having Stiles’ cock in his mouth…Stiles must have fucked Parrish, too…why didn’t Derek remember…his mind went from the scene starting to…running on the path…it had been so good…he’d felt the rhythm…his feet like the beat of those drums…yes, he’d been remembering that sound…that world music band Stiles had been into…

Stiles voice came drifting into the room from the hallway, getting closer.  “Well, I’ll just sneak back in here and they can arrest me if they want.”  There was a laugh in his voice, but it was also obvious he was serious.  “Unless Derek tells me to go, they’ll have to drag me away clawing and biting.”

Stiles rounded the corner and came through the doorway, a small takeout container and a large Mountain Dew in his hands.  He stopped for a second when he saw Derek looking at him.  Then he was across the room in four steps, food and beverage dropped carelessly on the rolling table shoved off to the side and Stiles’ hands wrapping around Derek right hand again.  “Shit, Der.  I’m so glad you’re awake.  Are you…how do you feel?”

Derek stared at Stiles.  It was…he was…of course the nurse had thought.  Stiles was acting like….  Derek shook himself.  Of course Stiles cared about him.  They had history.  They’d been friends before.  And they were…friends…again. 

“I….tired.  And sore.  How long have….”  Stiles’ eyes were so big.  Derek felt like he was drowning in them a little.  Their shade changed so much sometimes.  They were dark right now…a sort of sienna kind of brown…maybe darker.  Like milk chocolate softened with just the slightest flecks of gold and reddish color.

“Well,” Stiles tilted his wrist and looked at his watch, without releasing Derek’s hand.  “It’s almost six in the evening on Wednesday now.  So I’d say you ‘ve been here about fifteen hours or so, give or take.”

Derek tried to focus on that information.  But it was hard with Stiles’ hands holding his and Stiles’ eyes looking at him like that.

“I…went running,” Derek started.

“Yep.  You sure did.  Do you remember anything else?”

“No.  Just…running.  And the drums.  And your…  No.  Did something happen?”

“Well, we think you turned off the path for some reason and then lost your footing and fell down a pretty big hill.  You hit your head on the way or at the bottom and got knocked out.”

Derek stared at Stiles.  Knocked out.  Off the path.  In the woods.  They thought that’s what happened?  

A rather short, but very neat, put together woman in a white lab coat walked in, starting to turn pages on the clipboard in her hands.  She nodded at Stiles, then turned to smile at Derek and give him her full attention as she stepped up to his bed.

“Good evening, Mr. Hale.  I’m Dr. Ramsey.  How are you feeling?”

“Hi.  Um…just…tired.  Sore.  A little…”  He glanced at Stiles.

“Would you prefer we talk alone?”  Dr. Ramsey asked.  “Your company can just wait outside and come right back in when we’re done.”

“No,” Derek said quickly.  “No, it’s…Stiles is fine.  I’m just…a little confused.  I don’t really remember what happened before I was brought here.”

“Well, that’s pretty normal after a head injury like yours.  We will observe you carefully tonight and take another scan tomorrow before we release you, as there is always some risk of traumatic brain injury, but at this point we have no reason to suspect your body isn’t doing a fine job of healing itself.  You may never remember the hours right before your injury clearly, or the blanks may fill in.  But it doesn’t necessarily mean there are any larger issues at this point.  Now, can you tell me where exactly you feel sore?”

Derek focused.  “My head…my left arm, shoulder especially…my left ankle…those are worse, but kind of everywhere.”

Dr. Ramsey nodded.  “Good.  You sprained your ankle and your shoulder was dislocated.  Your generalized achiness is probably a combination of bumps and bruises from your fall and the beginning of muscle deterioration from your dehydration and malnutrition.  Can you tell me when the last time you ate a meal was?”

Derek thought.  He couldn’t remember Tuesday well.  But he hadn’t thought about lunch at all because of the generator emergency.  He couldn’t remember eating breakfast.  He’d gotten up and…  His eyes flitted to Stiles briefly as he thought about how he’d tried to do his assignment and it had gone so wrong…  He’d gone running after that.  The night before…he’d gone running.  That was after he woke up from sleeping half the day after throwing up at the studio.  Stiles had brought breakfast that morning.  When the sheriff had called about Kate.  But Derek couldn’t eat any of it.  The night before…Sunday night…there had been a call with Stiles and homework beforehand.  Sunday he’d gone to the grocery store.

“I had lunch on Sunday,” Derek said slowly.  “A…sandwich and salad.”

Stiles made a soft, sort of strangled noise.

“Can you tell me why you hadn’t eaten since then?” Dr. Ramsey asked.

“It…I didn’t decide not to eat.  I just…Monday I got some news in the morning.”  He forced himself not to look at Stiles.  “It was distracting and my routine was just off.  Later that day I threw up at the office and went home to sleep the rest of the afternoon.  I just…I didn’t even think about eating.  My stomach was still a bit…touchy.  I was sick a couple more times on Tuesday, so it just...I never felt like eating.  I didn’t realize how long it had been.”

“Alright.  Well, it’s obvious you’re usually very fit, so I don’t think I should have to tell you this, but proper nutrition is essential—especially if you’re going to work out or do other strenuous physical activity.  If you aren’t eating, you have to slow down on those activities and preferably also replace eating with supplements.”

“Yes, of course.  I just…I guess I wasn’t thinking.  Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.  I will be careful from now on.”

The doctor nodded.  She made a couple notes on his chart then looked back up.  “Do you feel nauseated now?”

“No.”

“Okay.  If you do, let a nurse know.  We haven’t found any signs of food poisoning, stomach virus or anything else that would account for you being sick.  So if nausea or vomiting recur after you’re discharged, I would typically recommend that you pick up over the counter medications.  But if it continues more than a couple days you should go to your regular physician.  Make sure that you still eat something nutritious or at least use replacement supplements.”

Derek nodded.  “I will.”

“Okay.  Do you have any questions for me?”

“So I have to stay overnight?”

“Yes.  You received a head injury less than twenty-four hours ago, so we strongly recommend that you stay for observation.”

Derek nodded.  “Do I have to come back for anything after I’m discharged?”

“We’ll give you discharge instructions tomorrow, but probably not.  Your shoulder and ankle will heal on their own and we’ll give you instructions on limiting your activities.  We’ve been giving you nutrition and fluids intravenously, but now that we’re awake we will want to see you eat and drink on your own.  But as long as your headscan looks good in the morning, your body should continue to heal everything on its own.  We’ll let you know what to look out for, so you know any warning signs for which you should go visit your regular physician.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, well if you do have any other questions, just let a nurse know.  Take care of yourself, Mr. Hale.”

When the doctor was gone, Derek closed his eyes.  His hand was still wrapped in Stiles’ hands, but he couldn’t face him.  He was in the hospital and Stiles was here wasting his time, sitting at Derek’s side, because Derek had just fucking forgotten to eat.  No reasonable human being just…  He heard Kate’s voice saying, “So pathetic.  You’re worthless without a Domme.”

He waited for Stiles to lecture him—tell him what an idiot he’d been.  But the room was quiet.  Stiles’ hands stayed warm and soft wrapped around Derek’s right hand.

Then finally Stiles spoke softly.  “You…got sick on Tuesday, too?”

Derek nodded.  What was the point in trying to hide it now?  “Once in the morning.  And then…in the afternoon.”

Derek could practically hear Stiles thinking.  “Was there…yesterday morning…what were you…nevermind, I’m sorry.   I was…we were filming in the afternoon.  But you weren’t on set.  Were…was it…the day before we were filming…  Derek…”

“What, Stiles?”  He felt tired again.  His body was drained, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. 

“Der…”

Suddenly he felt Stiles moving, shifting his weight, leaning on the bed a moment, but never releasing Derek’s hand.  He looked over and Stiles was just coming to rest on his knees on the side of the bed.  He stared down at the younger man, who was looking up at him, those brown eyes now a softer caramel color, but wide as saucers.  Stiles pulled his lips into his mouth for a moment, then released them.  His mouth hung open just the slightest bit as he looked up at Derek, like he was trying to figure out how to say something.

Derek’s heart suddenly started to pound in his chest.  Was Stiles going to tell him it—whatever this was that they’d been doing—was over?  Of course.  Of course he was.  He’d seen what Derek was really like—seen that he wasn’t the fit, put-together business owner and really was just a mess of a person who couldn’t even take care of himself…

“I love you, Derek.”

Derek stared.  Stiles stared back at him with that face—that perfect fucking face that Derek had been studying for what felt like forever—or all of forever that mattered.

“I know you don’t feel the same way about me.  And I know telling you this will probably mean I never get to see you again or touch you again that way or hear you moan again or…anything again.”  Stiles’ voice was shaking, and Derek’s head was spinning.  “But just…fuck.  This is a horrible idea.  I know you don’t want to know this.  And you’re in the hospital and what you need should be so much more important than anything else.  But I…I need this, Der.  I need you to know.  I need you to know that I think you’re the most amazing, perfect, remarkable person I’ve ever met.  Or ever will meet.”

Derek was squeezing Stiles’ fingers in his hand.  He knew it must hurt, but he couldn’t release them.  Stiles didn’t even seem to notice.

“I’ve loved you since…well, I guess it’s pretty much been since the day we met.  Do you remember that day?  I was in eighth grade and my Dad let me come with him to the high school on a vandalism call.  Well, he didn’t really have much choice since he didn’t trust me at home alone yet.  Which really wasn’t fair because I only started a small house fire that one time the year before because I was so distracted by the neighbor’s idiot dog….  Sorry.  But yeah, you and the rest of the team were out practicing, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.  I didn’t even know why yet.  You were just mesmerizing.  I stood there pressed against the fence for…I don’t even know how long, just watching you move.  And then you…saw me…and you came over and introduced yourself.  Like I wasn’t just some little kid.  I didn’t even know until later that you probably recognized me because our parents knew each other and you’d already met my Dad and everything.  I just knew that you talked to me like a person—like I mattered.  You looked me in the eye and you even laughed once at something I said.  Your smile was….”

Stiles drifted off, his eyes flicking down, somewhere else.  Derek froze—waiting for—just anything.  Something to make sense out of what Stiles was saying.  Because it didn’t make any sense.  He was still clenching down on Stiles’ fingers and his own were numb now.  Derek started to slowly try to ease his grip and Stiles’ eyes jerked up again.

“It still is.”

Derek froze.  What?  What still is what?  He cleared his throat.  “What?”

“Your smile is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Derek’s whole body was a live wire, and he was afraid he might explode.

“Stile—”

“Derek.  Let me finish.  Please.”

He clamped his mouth shut.

Stiles looked up at him and Derek could feel his own body, as still as he was laying back in that bed, straining somehow toward Stiles.  Stiles opened his mouth and took a deep, shuddering breath.  Then he seemed to decide something.

“I’ve handled this so badly.  I shouldn’t have let us slip into this D/s thing.  I especially should have stopped it after it became clear you’ve been abused in the past.”

“I haven’t—”  He was thinking about child abuse, rape—none of that applied to him.

“Yes,” Stiles said, loud and firm.  “Yes, you have been abused.  I wish you would tell me about it and that I could help in some way.  But I can’t make you open up to me if you don’t want to.  I won’t let you deny it, though.  At least not in front of me.  Some dom mistreated you.  You are not broken—you are still beautiful and strong and resilient and fucking amazing.  But you are injured.  And I shouldn’t have risked participating in that in any way.  I don’t know if anything I’ve done has hurt you more, but I know I haven’t helped the way my fucking idiot ego thought I could.”

Derek wanted to protest.  But no words would come.  He went back to squeezing Stiles’ fingers.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t handle this better.  And I know you don’t feel the same way about me.  But I love you, Derek.  I’ve always loved you.  And I expect I always will love you.  If I could have my way we would live together starting tomorrow and I would spend the rest of my life falling asleep with my nose buried in your hair and waking up to another opportunity every day to figure out how to make you smile.  Or god, if I was really good, make you laugh.”  Stiles’ voice sounded wistful and somehow sad. 

“But, it…what I want…that’s not….”  Stiles took another slow, deep breath, this time closing his eyes.  When he opened them again he seemed almost…defiant.  “I need you to know that I see you—I see how extraordinary you are.  And I love everything about you.  You are breathtaking, inside and out.  And even if you are completely done with me, I intend to make sure that no one ever hurts you again the way whatever loathsome Dom you had did.  Not ever again.”  Then just as quickly as he had gotten fired up, Stiles seemed to wilt a bit.  He still looked Derek in the eye, but his shoulders dropped a little and he seemed tired and almost sad again.  “I know I don’t have the right.  You can…I’ll respect what you want, Der.  But that’s how I feel.  I would walk on fire and fucking eat glass if it would protect you from every feeling one little piece of what Kate made you feel or what that fucking despicable shit Dom you had made you feel.  So, yeah, if you don’t want me to be, I probably can’t be around to help you, but…just…I just…I need you to understand that I want to.  That except for my Dad you probably mean more to me than any other person in my life ever has.  Or probably ever will.”

Stiles slumped down onto his heels then and bowed his head.  Derek stared at the top of his head—at his spiky brown hair, sticking out everywhere.  Because he hadn’t slept.  Because he’d been at Derek’s bed since…Derek didn’t know when.  How had Stiles heard about this?  Why was he the one there?  And why would he…he wouldn’t just say those things.  Stiles wouldn’t…  He…  Stiles loved him.  Stiles was in love with him.  Derek.  Stiles.  Stiles, who was everything Derek wanted.  Derek’s head was suddenly spinning and he was sure that if he had eaten anything he would throw it up.

“Do you…do you want me to go?” Stiles asked, soft and low, without raising his head.

“No!” Derek said.  He felt like he was yelling, but his voice actually came out as almost a whisper.  “No,” he said, more calmly, managing to be a bit louder this time.  It came out sounding something like a growl, but definitely audible.  “Don’t go.”

Stiles’ head lifted up a bit, though he still didn’t meet Derek’s eyes again.  Derek was almost relieved.  Afraid that if he looked as fragile and frightened as he felt, Stiles might leave after all.  Derek knew he should say something to Stiles—let him know how he felt.  But it still didn’t seem real and his body was so drained.  He felt weak and lost and suddenly could barely keep his eyes open.  He awkwardly tugged his hand free from Stiles, startling the younger man, who pulled his hands back from the bed as if burned.  But Derek just needed his hand—he pressed both hands to the bed and despite his exhaustion and his weak left arm, he managed to scoot over to the left side of the bed.  He pulled the sheet up, and gestured to the open space, praying Stiles would understand.  “Please…stay?”

And thankfully Stiles surged up from his knees and slid in one quick motion into the bed next to Derek, dropping the sheet back over them both and then cautiously wrapping his right arm around Derek and tugging him forward until Derek was pressed tight against Stiles, his head on Stiles’ shoulder, eyes closed and asleep in seconds.

Chapter Text

Derek woke up a couple hours later to a nurse ushering Stiles out of his bed.  Stiles’ words floated and tangled in his mind.  You are breathtaking.  I wish you would tell me.  Your smile.  You are not broken.  I’ve always loved you.  I always will love you.

He watched Stiles sitting up, rubbing his eyes sleepily, nodding to the nurse.  When Stiles slid out of the bed and took a few steps toward the door, Derek was briefly terrified that he was going to leave.  But Stiles just slipped into the little bathroom and shut the door behind him.  The nurse, her fingers already on his wrist, looked up at Derek briefly then back at her watch, quietly saying.  “I don’t think you have to worry.  That one isn’t going anywhere.”

Derek leaned back and watched the nurse take his pulse, jot something down on a little notepad and then pull the blood pressure cuff from the wall.  Stiles loved him.  Or at least, Stiles thought he did.  Thought he had for years.  Practically since they met.  Longer even than Derek had realized how amazing Stiles was.  Stiles had already been wanting him.  He didn’t understand how it was possible.  All the time he was with Kate.  All the time Stiles was pining for Lydia Martin.  All the times Stiles came home from college with someone else’s name on his lips.  Stiles.  Clever, frantic, thoughtful, fearless Stiles had seen something in Derek

“Okay,” the nurse said, pulling him from his thoughts, “let’s see if you can eat some real food and keep it down, alright?”  She had rolled the little tray table over and was uncovering a plate of the most bland, unappealing food Derek had seen.  A couple of bare chicken breasts, a few small white boiled potatoes, and some horrendously overcooked green beans.  He raised his eyebrows at her and she chuckled lightly.  “It’s not as bad as it looks, and if you want the doctor to approve your release in the morning, this is the best way to do it.”

He nodded and reached for the orange juice, taking a sip.  That at least had some flavor—in fact it was amazing—tart and sharp on his tongue, and he quickly downed the whole cup.  The nurse nodded and headed for the door, telling him they’d check back on him in a couple hours.

Derek watched her walk past the bathroom door and stared at it.  Stiles hadn’t come out yet.  He waited and watched the door for a couple more minutes, but nothing happened.  He looked back down at his food and, rather lethargically, picked up the fork.  He speared a couple green beans and then twisted the fork around in his hand, watching them hang from the tines flaccidly.  Then he looked back at the bathroom door again.  Stiles had looked exhausted.  He probably was exhausted.  He’d said Derek had been at the hospital for something like fifteen hours earlier.  How many of those hours had Stiles been there?  How had Stiles even heard about this?  Isaac was the emergency contact listed in his wallet and his cell phone.  Isaac wouldn’t have just called Stiles.

The bathroom door opened and Stiles stepped out.  He stopped mid-stride, looking startled to find Derek staring at the door waiting for him.  He ran his hand through his hair—wet hair now.  He looked a little fresher, still tired but more like Stiles on the morning of a big test.  Prepared to face a challenge.  But it wasn’t Stiles who had to face up to something now.  Derek was the one who had to step up to the plate.  To try to be bold, like Stiles had been.

“Stiles…”  His voice came out as barely a whisper.  What the fuck was wrong with him!

Stiles stared at him for a second, then his shoulders pulled back and he walked back around the bed, standing awkwardly at Derek’s feet.

I love you, too. 

Stiles didn’t move.  Didn’t say anything.

Because Derek hadn’t spoken.  The words had been in his head.

Why was this so hard?  It was just Stiles.

But it was Stiles.

It was everything.  Everything that mattered.  Every chance he’d ever dreamed of.

Then Stiles suddenly burst into life.  “Oh god, man, don’t eat that.  I’ll get rid of that for you.  Here, I got you something better.  I would have gotten you a burger, but I didn’t know when you’d be able to eat it, so it would be cold and gross by now.”  Stiles was digging into a second bag that Derek hadn’t noticed laying next to Stiles’ backpack.  He pulled out what looked like a shirt and pair of jeans that seemed covered in streaks of mud, then came up with a paper bag, out of which he pulled a white paper wrapped package and a snack size bag of chips.  He partially stuffed the soiled clothes bag into the bag, then rose, coming over to Derek’s side to pick up his food tray and replace it with his packages.  “Here, give me that,” Stiles said, taking the forgotten forkful of green beans out of Derek’s hand and then moving the tray away, over to a larger side table against the far wall.

“Okay, so check this out,” Stiles said, as he returned and started to unwrap the white paper.  “This deli just outside the city, is amazing.  Carl’s?  Have you been there?”  He didn’t even seem to look up at Derek, just kept his head down, now revealing a massive sandwich.  Swirled rye bread with an outrageously thick layer of red spice-speckled deli meat.  “Totally classic.  The best meat and they give you a ton of it.  I…was…I hope you like pastrami.  I just picked that because theirs is so amazing I was drooling for it for like a week after the first time I had it.”  With the sandwich laid bare, Stiles’ hands seemed to waver in the air for a minute, even as Stiles’ voice faltered.  But he still didn’t look up at Derek.

“Thank you,” Derek said, pleased when his voice sounded clear and a bit stronger than before, even it was still soft and tired-seeming.

“Oh, it’s…yeah, it’s no big deal.  I knew the food here would suck.  I…uhm…I don’t know what chips you like, so I just got you kettle cooked.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles quieted, but kept his head down, as if he could somehow bore through Derek’s sandwich with his eyes.

“It was Kate.”

Stiles head jerked up and he stared at Derek.  His eyebrows were knitted together.  He looked confused.  Right.  Of course he was confused.

“My…the Domme.  It was Kate.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped slightly open and his hands seemed to reach for Derek’s almost involuntarily.  “Kate,” Stiles repeated, his voice soft and low.

Derek nodded. 

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded again.

“I didn’t know you had that kind of…”

“Nobody did.  Well, maybe my Uncle Peter suspected.” 

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand.  His hands were soft and cool and his eyes were wide.  He didn’t say anything and they just looked at each other for a minute.  Stiles was just starting to get tiny little smile lines at the outside corners of his eyes.  He still looked tired.

“Did Isaac call you?”

Stiles face squinched into confusion again.  “When?”

“Last night…or this morning.  To tell you I was here?”

“Oh!”  Stiles sank down into the chair next to Derek’s bed.  Without releasing Derek’s hand.  “No.  I…sort of called him, actually.”

Derek stared, feeling how slowly his mind was working.  So much of it was focused on Stiles saying he loved him, saying that if he had his way they would move in together…go to sleep together…wake up together.

“I came over for our…scene.  I got sort of worried when you didn’t answer.  Really, I’d been kind of worried anyway.  And I didn’t even know you’d been sick that day, too….”  Stiles’ face was sad, but somehow…determined.  “Anyway, I tried to relax and go home, but I couldn’t.  I just came back and kept knocking on your door and calling you.  I drove around your neighborhood, went into the closest grocery store and drug store.  Finally, I gave in and called Isaac.  I figured he might have a key to your place.  He didn’t want to come at first—thought I was being paranoid and it would be invading your privacy to go in your apartment when you hadn’t asked him to.  But I begged him long enough that he gave in.  He also told me about the trail in Dragon Lake Park, so I took off there.  Isaac called me when he got to your place and didn’t find anything.”

“You…walked the trail looking for me?”

Stiles chuckled sort of bitterly.  “Yeah.  I mean, sort of jogged, sort of walked.  Asked everyone I saw.  Called your phone constantly.  You know, basically freaked out.”

“So…you saw me?”

“Oh, fuck no!  It was pitch black by then and it was impossible to see more than a few feet away from the path into those woods.  And that trail is crazy long, Derek.  I guess you know that.  But there was no way I could cover it all and it was too early to get the police to consider you missing.  So…I called my Dad.  He was able to track your phone and tell me where to find you.”

“He must think I’m an idiot.”  Derek found his eyes dropping down to where Stiles’ hands were holding his.  What a mess.  The sheriff would never want his son to—

“No,” Stiles said, his tone startlingly firm.  “He cares about you, too, Der.  He was just concerned and wanted to help.  He knows—well, maybe not everything—but at least a little of what you’re dealing with this week.”

Derek nodded.  He looked over at the corner where Stiles’ backpack and other stuff was.  At the stained jeans falling out of his bag.  “That’s why your clothes are dirty.  You climbed down whatever hill I fell down to find me.”

Stiles’ hands continued to hold his, sometimes lightly rubbing a thumb or forefinger over his own.  “Yeah.”

He forced himself to look back up at Stiles.  “Thank you.  For…finding me.”

Stiles seemed startled…frozen for several heartbeats.  Then he squeezed Derek’s hand tightly and whispered, “You’re welcome.”  Derek sat there, staring at Stiles’ sweet, open face.  Wondering how he could have doubted anything this man said to him.  Stiles, who seemed like he wore every emotion on his face for everyone to see.  And still wondering how he could believe it.  How he could let himself believe that Stiles was in love with him.  That he could have everything he’d wanted for so long.  That it was just that easy.

“Well, are you just going to sit there?” Stiles suddenly said, his voice louder, brighter, clearly trying to lighten the mood.  “Come on, you gotta at least give it a try.”  He nodded his head to his right and Derek realized he meant the sandwich.  He didn’t really want to eat.  But he definitely wanted to make Stiles happy.  He smiled and pulled the tray table closer.  Withdrawing his hand from Stiles’, rather reluctantly, he wrapped both hands around the monstrous sandwich and stretched his mouth open to take a bite.  Flavor burst in his mouth and he suddenly felt as if he hadn’t eaten in days.  He was ravenous.  It was fucking delicious!  He hadn’t even finished swallowing the first bite before he was digging in for a second.  And a third.  Holy fuck.  He leaned back in his bed and chewed, closing his eyes.  After he had swallowed, he took another bite, moaning as he bit down.

Stiles chuckled loudly.  “I know, right?”

Derek nodded, chewing with pleasure.  Stiles was smiling openly now, and looked happier than he had since…since their date, Derek thought.  It seemed so long ago, but it was just a few days earlier.  He finished his sandwich, lost a little in thought.  When he finished, he realized he felt full with no queasiness for the first time in days.  He turned to Stiles to find the other man staring at him, still with a soft smile playing over his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, cleaning his hands on a napkin and setting it, too, on the table.  “Again.”

“Any time,” Stiles said.

“Have you…you’ve been here all day, haven’t you?  I mean, except for picking this up?” He nodded to the tray table.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, looking down for a second, then back up. 

“Weren’t you scheduled to film today?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes.  I was.  But…I asked Isaac…and he moved things around on the schedule for me.  I’m…off all week now.  Just…in case.”  Stiles’ long fingers were playing now with his pants, and his eyes darted back and forth between them and Derek’s gaze.

Derek stared at Stiles.  Stiles’ words vibrated through his head all over again in a cacophony of emotion.  You’re amazing.  Perfect.  Remarkable.  I love you, Derek.  You were just mesmerizing.  Your smile…  I would walk on fire and fucking eat glass…  I see you.  I know I don’t have the right.  I can’t make you open up to me.  I know you don’t want to know this.  I know you don’t feel the same way about me.

Stiles picked at his pant seams, rubbed his fingers over the cloth nervously.  Stiles didn’t understand at all.  Stiles thought Derek was the prize.  That Derek deserved better than Stiles.  That it was possible there could be someone better than Stiles for Derek.  Derek knew he needed to fix that.  But his stomach was full now and he was starting to drift.  He was still exhausted…still weak.  And…

…scared.  He was scared.

Stiles had drawn his bottom lip into his mouth and was biting it restlessly.  He had done so much for Derek.  He had been so…he was always so courageous. 

“Stiles.”

Stiles’ head came up and his soft gaze met Derek’s.  His eyes were swimming in barely contained tears. 

Derek held his hand out and felt his entire body relax when Stiles took hold of it with both of his own.

“I love you.”  Derek could hear his voice shake.  But it didn’t matter.  He did it.  He said it.  Stiles’ eyes widened and his grip tightened on Derek’s hand.  “I just…”

Stiles blinked and tears fell from both eyes.

He had no idea why this was so hard, but he willed himself to speak.  For Stiles.  “I’m scared.”

Stiles shuddered and he let out a long, shaking breath.  But his hands were still holding Derek’s.  His fingers still moved and soothed over Derek’s skin.  Derek’s heart was a hard, tight knot in the center of his chest.  Finally, Stiles gave Derek a soft smile again, tear stains running down the length of his face.  “Me, too.”

Then Stiles had surged from his chair and was sitting on the edge of Derek’s bed, his arms thrown tightly around Derek’s shoulders.  Derek could feel Stiles shaking slightly, but his grip was warm and secure, his hands pressing against Derek’s back, pulling them together.  Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, as tears slid slid down his own cheeks.

Chapter Text

Stiles and Derek didn’t talk any further at the hospital that night or the next morning.  Derek dozed off quickly with Stiles’ arms wrapped around him and tears still streaking his face. 

He woke up a little later to Isaac calling him.  He was surprised his friend and partner didn’t give him a harder time about what had landed him in the hospital.  But all he did was give Derek a brief rundown on the studio and then remind him to call if he needed anything.

While Derek slept, Stiles had slipped into the room’s guest chair, after dragging it up close to Derek’s bed, and he had somehow curled his entire body up into the seat of the chair.  He looked like a cat, curled in on himself, face almost disappeared into the curve of his own body.  He slept soundly through the call with Isaac and the nurse coming in a little bit later to check on Derek’s stats.  She praised Derek for eating his entire dinner when she left the room with his empty dinner tray, and Derek looked over at the sleeping Stiles wondering, gratefully, what he did with it.  Derek must have fallen asleep again quickly after that, as he didn’t remember anything else until the morning, even though he assumed the nurses must have come in to take his vitals more than once during the night.

In the morning, Stiles slipped away with Derek’s food again after magically replacing it with pancakes and fruit that Derek happily ate.  After he returned, Stiles flipped channels on Derek’s TV as he ate, giving a running commentary on every show they passed, easily filling in the space in the room that could have been more than a little awkward.  Instead, it was comfortable and easy and despite how worn out his body still felt, Derek was feeling far better than he had all week.  The morning passed easily from nurse visit through more Stiles chatter on to the doctor stopping by to confirm he had improved enough to discharge.  The couple hours spent waiting for that paperwork to be completed almost had Derek’s nerves frayed all over again, but eventually he and Stiles were walking out the door. 

Stiles had gone quiet for the first time that day, and Derek missed the sound of his voice.  He was about to ask Stiles to say something—anything—when Stiles’ shoulder bumped roughly into his and Stiles said, in a song-song voice, “So…you loooove me.  You’re like, in looove with me.” 

Derek barely held in a bark of laughter, instead shaking his head and saying, “That was before I knew how ridiculous you are.”

“Ha!” Stiles called out, starting to skip ahead of Derek to his car.  “That’s not true.  You’ve known how ridiculous I am for more than a decade.”

Derek watched Stiles cavort down the parking lane wildly, then dodge an oncoming car, before skipping back to Derek, and then sprinting ahead again as they approached his car.  Stiles tossed his bags in the trunk then, with great flourish, opened the passenger door for Derek as he walked up.  Once they were in the car and on the road, Stiles converted into the perfect date he had been on Saturday night.  He asked Derek about his music preferences as he picked a radio station and then asked if he wanted to stop anywhere and pick up anything before Stiles took him home.  Then he filled the rest of the drive with a strange, long and very convoluted story about Scott, Allison and Kira that seemed designed to make Derek feel at least a little bit less crazy about his own recent emotional sensitivity.

As they approached Derek’s apartment, Stiles said, “Would you mind if I came in for a little bit when we get there?  I don’t have to stay long.  There’s just something I wanted to ask you about.”  He sounded unsure for the first time since his confession the day before.  It made Derek feel nervous as well.  He hadn’t even thought about whether Stiles would come up to his apartment.  He had just assumed he would.  Though he hadn’t envisioned any farther than that.  Now that they had…said what they’d said…surely Stiles would want to spend more time with him in person?  Surely he would expect they would have sex now—not just in D/s scenes.  Maybe that was exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah, of course,” Derek said, trying to sound casual and confident, but probably sounding more like he was constipated than anything else.  He felt cold sweat starting to build up in the small of his back and across his shoulders.  He stared at Stiles, sprawled out in the driver’s seat of the outrageously nondescript sedan that he now drove, and felt the ridiculousness of his anxiety.  Stiles had professed in shockingly wondrous detail that he was in love with Derek.  He had…had he really?  Been in love with Derek for as long as he said?  Nearly as long as Derek had harbored the same feelings? 

Stiles seemed not to notice Derek’s attention—tapping his fingers on the wheel as he drove and mouthing along to the words of the song on the radio.

It wasn’t that Derek didn’t believe Stiles.  He wouldn’t lie.  Not to Derek.  Not about this.  He knew it as well as he knew where every mole on Stiles’ body lay and what his voice sounded like over the phone when he was about to come.  It was just….

“Home sweet home,” Stiles said, as he pulled in to park next to Derek’s car.  He turned and flashed a smile at Derek, then unbuckled and popped out of the car, leaving Derek to follow a little more slowly.  Stiles took charge, grabbing a couple bags from his trunk and pulling Derek’s keys from somewhere to let them into the apartment.  He shut the door behind them and went straight back to the kitchen, dropping his bags on the counter and starting to unpack them.  Derek followed, watching as Stiles unloaded milk, orange juice, some apples and a few pre-made sandwiches into his fridge.  When Derek caught his eye, Stiles just shrugged and said, “I wasn’t sure if you were stocked up and the doctor said it was essential to make sure you eat solid meals for the next few days after…everything.”  He had grabbed two empty glasses and was filling them from the refrigerator door dispenser.

“You mean after I screwed up and starved myself,” Derek said, unable to hold back the bitter tone in his voice. 

“No,” Stiles said.  He didn’t stop what he was doing or even look up at Derek, but he said it fast and with a sharpness that still managed to get Derek’s attention.  “That’s not what I meant.  I meant after everything you’ve been through.”  Glasses full now, he walked over to Derek and handed him a glass.  They both took a long drink, Derek unable to look away from Stiles.

“Can we sit?” Stiles said, nodding over to the kitchen table.

 

So here they were, sitting across from each other at Derek’s kitchen table.  Derek felt the familiar anxiety creepy into his shoulders and down his spine.  But this time he recognized it.  It wasn’t rational.  It wasn’t reasonable.  Stiles really liked him.  Fuck that.  Stiles was in love with him.  And now Stiles knew Derek was in love with him as well.  Maybe eventually the worst would happen and Stiles’ feelings would change.  But today…he shouldn’t be so freaked out.  He shouldn’t.  But his stomach and his heart and his skin and his vibrating leg all seemed to disagree.

Stiles seemed as tense as Derek felt.  His arms rested on the table, but his hands were half-clenching and unclenching and his brow was pinched tightly.  Derek wondered if he should say something first.  Stiles’ arm stretched out over the table as if reaching out to him and then drew back again and he clenched his hand into a fist.  Derek stared at it and for some reason he suddenly felt those same fingers wrapped around his cock, loose and soft and somehow still driving him to the edge like a freight train, and Stiles’ voice was whispering in his ear, I want you to come for me now, Der.

Derek blinked hard and shook his head.  Then Stiles was finally saying something.

“Der, I…I don’t really know how to say this.  I’m so afraid it’s going to come off pushy or just irresponsible and rude and…I don’t know…or like I’m trying to parent you or something and that isn’t it…it isn’t really for you.  I mean, I think it might be better for you, but it’s really because I don’t think I can do any good for WolfPack right now and…”  Derek squinted at Stiles.  He had no idea what the hell Stiles was leading up to.  He watched Stiles’ hand reach out toward him again and retract once again.  “…and I just don’t think with how sick you’ve been and how…I just don’t think it’s right to put pressure on you to make any decisions right now and I know you need to see how this goes and I just…I mean….”

Stiles had stopped talking.  He was just staring at Derek.  Not saying anything.  They looked at each other and time seemed to slow down.  Derek forgot about trying to figure out what Stiles had been saying.  All he could think about now were Stiles’ soft lips and how it had felt to kiss him on Saturday night.  How Stiles’ tongue had moved over his teeth and played against his own tongue.  How his lips had shifted and pressed into him and then back a little, moving in a little dance with everything Derek did.  How hard and hot his body had felt pressed against Derek’s, so firm and strong despite being slighter in build than Derek.  How somehow Stiles made him feel safe and desperate at the same time.

Then suddenly the spell was broken and Stiles had burst from his chair and seemed to tumble around to crouch next to Derek, his hands on Derek’s thigh ever so softly.  “Please, Der, this just…I can’t talk to you from over there.  I can’t…I need to be touching you.  I shouldn’t have…can we…?”  He gestured to the living room, and Derek nodded gratefully.

A minute later they were curled up on Derek’s couch, Stiles in the corner, and Derek leaning half onto him, his head on Stiles’ chest, Stiles’ hand already sliding through his hair soothingly.

“Fuck…that’s so much better,” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah,” Derek murmured.

“So, uh, yeah,” Stiles said.  “I’m sorry I’m being so…I just…I don’t want to wait too long to bring this up because it could affect you and Isaac and he might need time to…arrange things or something—”

Derek jerked back and stared at Stiles, his heart pounding in his ears.  “Are you…leaving?”

“Leaving?  What?  No!  I…shit, no, Der!”  Stiles reached for him, tugged him back to his chest, slid his other hand over Derek’s forearm.  His fingers were warm and left a trail of tingling sensations everywhere they touched.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Not until you tell me you’re done with me for good.  But I…I don’t know if I can keep working.  I don’t want to break my contract with you guys.  You’ve been amazing and everything.  And I know you have some other deals that…maybe relate to my contract.  But…after Monday and Tuesday….  I wasn’t…I don’t know if I can….”

The air seemed heavy around Derek.  Stiles seemed to have run out of words.  Derek turned his head a little more into Stiles’ chest.  Inhaled.  Stiles.  He was so different than he’d been back in Beacon Hills.  And still so much the same.  Still the most observant and compassionate person Derek had ever seen.

“It’s because I was sick.  Because seeing….  Because it made me sick.”

“Partly,” Stiles said.  “But even if you weren’t there, I don’t know now if I can….  Fuck, Der, I just don’t even know.  I just know that for the first time in my entire goddamn life when I was supposed to film yesterday the thought of…of touching someone else…it made me….  I don’t think I can describe it.  But it felt wrong.  It might be different when you’re not in a hospital.  And when you’re better.  And we’re better.  If you were into it instead and fuck, you know, like when you tell me about watching my old videos.  It might be amazing.  To think that I’m making you hot.  But…I really was hoping that we could have a couple weeks or maybe more…I don’t really know…but some time to see if this thing between us works without that other shit…without my fucking job getting in the way.  So I wanted to see if you agree and if you do, then we could talk to Isaac maybe about whether we could do a leave of absence kind of thing?  Just…sort of put a hold on the rest of my contract for a while?  I mean, I would totally be willing to work with you guys on whatever you need to do to protect WolfPack and make sure your other contracts don’t fall apart.  And if you have to pay someone out of their contracts…I mean I would totally cover that, Derek.  I would never screw you guys that way.  Either you or Isaac.  I just…”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek interrupted.  “I get it.  And Isaac will understand.  I…let me think about it and tomorrow we can decide and go in and meet with Isaac about it.”

“Oh.”  Stiles’ hand had frozen in Derek’s hair and he seemed frozen right along with it.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just…that was easier than I…”  Stiles’ hand started moving again, sliding through the strands of Derek’s hair, running lightly over his scalp.  Derek closed his eyes.  “I thought you might think I was being…I don’t know…officious or something.”

“You were right,” Derek said.  He kept his eyes closed and let the rhythm of Stiles’ fingers in his hair and his chest lifting and falling underneath Derek’s head soothe him.  “It did make me sick.  It wasn’t the only thing making me sick.  But I didn’t like it.”

“Right.  Okay.”

“Can we…maybe stop worrying about talking now for a while?” Derek asked.  He still had the vestiges of anxiety playing around the edges of his shoulders and his stomach.  But he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to change.  Maybe for a while.  He needed to just push through.  And he really needed more sleep.  His body still felt like a weighted bag he was trapped in and could barely manage to move and walk around in.

Stiles chuckled softly.  “Definitely.  I’m thinking we sit right here and chill in front of the TV, then I make you some dinner and put you to bed.”

Derek was startled at how appealing Stiles continuing to take care of him was.  He almost squirmed in his spot at the pleasurable vision of Stiles tucking the covers in around him and kissing him goodnight.  But then…

“Then…what?” Derek said.  His voice sounded odd in his own ears. 

“Then hopefully you will sleep for about twelve hours in your own bed and be a lot more yourself by the time I bring you breakfast,” Stiles said.  Derek felt warm breath in his hair and then Stiles’ lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I mean…will you stay?”

Stiles froze beneath him.  But he could feel Stiles’ heartbeat beneath his ear.  Then Stiles’ hand was moving through his hair again and Stiles’ voice was thick and rough when he said, “Yeah, definitely.  I’ll stay, Der.”

Chapter Text

Derek shifted and held his eyes closed, trying to ignore the pressure in his bladder.  But, of course, he ultimately had to give up and slid out of bed to the bathroom.  Standing over the toilet, he noticed the horrendous taste in his own mouth and realized he had let Stiles usher him to bed without brushing his teeth.  He made quick work of it now, feeling so relieved when all he could taste was mint and all his tongue felt was the cool slide of smooth teeth.

He was already lifting the sheet to slide back in when his eyes took in the bed and it hit him—Stiles.  Stiles was in his bed.  They had been sleeping together.  Stiles’ mouth was open and he breathed deeply and evenly, with just an occasional little snore.  His hair stuck out in all directions, and his arms were both thrown out wide, one across Derek’s side of the bed and the other flung up over Stiles’ head, resting against the headboard.

Stiles had done just as he’d promised—making Derek dinner after they watched Netflix for a while, then practically pushed Derek into his bed, even tucking the blankets in around him.  Then Stiles had laid down on top of the covers next to Derek and wrapped his arms around Derek, making a warm, tight little cocoon that had Derek drifting off in seconds. 

According to the clock it was 4:18 a.m., so Derek thought he probably had already gotten nearly 8 hours of sleep.  His body still had that worn, over-used feeling, but he didn’t feel sleepy at all anymore.  Looking at the outline of Stiles’ body, which was now under the sheet, he just found himself wondering…

Derek quietly lifted the sheet and peeked under.  Stiles was wearing boxers.  Just boxers.  His legs and torso were pale and bare against Derek’s dark blue sheets.  Heat slid down Derek’s spine and started to pool in his groin.

He slid into bed as softly as he could and watched Stiles breathing.  His face was open and relaxed.  Derek pulled the sheet back gently, tugging it until it was resting on Stiles’ thighs.  Stiles’ hips were not flat—the left hip tilted off the bed, causing the fly in Stiles’ boxers to gap open.  With the size of Stiles’ cock, Derek could see a tantalizing bit of flesh through the gap.  He slid down the bed until his head was even with Stiles’ crotch, then he reached out, ever so fucking slowly, and slid his index finger into that space and along the skin of Stiles’ shaft.  It felt perfect—just as he remembered.  Soft and just a little warm—with that taunting promise of growth and underlying hardness that would arise with just the right nurturing.

He looked up as he slid his finger lightly up Stiles’ length and back down.  No reaction came from Stiles or his cock.  It made Derek feel bolder.  He reached his hand into the gap and as smoothly as he could, he wrapped his fingers around Stiles.  Jesus fuck but Stiles’ cock was incredible.  Entirely soft he still filled Derek’s hand.  Derek allowed his fingers to close more, just enough to create light pressure, and then he slid his hand up and back down, sliding Stiles’ soft skin along with his fingers up and then down.  This time, although Stiles didn’t move or change his breathing, his cock twitched and plumped slightly in Derek’s hand.  Derek repeated the motion a couple times, staring through that fabric gap at the sight of Stiles starting to grow in his hand.  It wasn’t enough.  He needed to really see.  Stiles had already given him this once before as a reward.  And it was blindingly obvious to him now that no number of times seeing this would ever be enough. 

He slid his free hand over to tug Stiles’ boxes to the side, and then it was right there, just a few inches from his face.  He continued gently stroking Stiles, soft and easy, reveling in the minute changes and growth as it swelled and expanded in his hand.  He wondered if he should be ashamed or worried about how in love he was with Stiles’ cock.  As he stared at the growing length in his hand, Stiles let out a soft moan and his hips shifted slightly, rocking toward Derek.  He felt his mouth open and his tongue slide forward in anticipation, but he held back.  As much as he wanted to taste, he was too fascinated with the sight to let it go just yet.  Stiles was half-hard now and already much too big for Derek’s single hand.  He was growing heavier and warmer and thickening in Derek’s grasp, and Derek was transfixed by the sight of his hand appearing to almost shrink as Stiles swelled beneath it.

Derek squeezed his hand ever so slightly and started a steady, but still slow and tantalizing pace of stroking Stiles’ length as he grew in earnest now.  Stiles’ breathing had grown louder and his hips rocked every so slightly in rhythm with Derek’s touch.  His cock quickly hardened until it was a like a bar of steel wrapped in silken flesh, hot and heavy in Derek’s grasp.  Fuck but he loved this magnificent fucking cock.

He startled when he felt a hand slide into his hair.  “Der,” Stiles moaned, his voice rough with sleep.

Suddenly ashamed he pulled his hand back as his head rocked back to meet Stiles’ gaze.  “I’m…sorry,” he murmured.  Fuck.  He fucking molested Stiles in his sleep.  He hadn’t even thought about it—had just done it.  Holy shit.

Stiles’ hand cupped the back of his head and held him gently.  His eyes were soft and dark and his brow was slightly pinched.  He looked—somehow needy.  “No,” Stiles said, his voice still rough and scratchy, “please don’t stop.”

Please.

Derek’s hand flew back to Stiles’ cock.  He watched Stiles’ face relax from need into something that looked like satisfaction, as Stiles closed his eyes and rocked his hips ever so slightly up into Derek’s hand.

“Der—” Stiles groaned softly, and suddenly Derek felt a surge of need.

“Stiles, please,” he said, realizing belatedly that his voice was barely a whisper.  Stiles opened his eyes and he looked hungry and dazed at the same time.  Derek cleared his throat and tried to do better.  “Stiles.”  This time it came out almost as a whine.  His hand was still moving over Stiles’ cock, squeezing harder now, and with Stiles so hard beneath him, it was rough and must be uncomfortable for Stiles.  He needed lube.  He needed…

Stiles’ fingers curled in his hair.  “Anything, Derek.”

“I need to make you come,” Derek said, pleased that his voice sounded a bit steadier.  “I need…I want…”  He faltered again, feeling a little lost without the security of a scene and instructions from Stiles.

Stiles palmed the back of his head, even as his other hand came around and wrapped around Derek’s, joining him in loosely stroking Stiles’ cock.  “Tell me.”  Stiles’ voice curled around Derek like waves of heat from a crackling fire.

“I want you to use my mouth.”

Stiles’ hands both froze momentarily, the one on Stiles’ cock squeezing over Derek’s fingers for a moment in a tight grip.  In the stillness, Derek felt Stiles’ cock jerk in his hand.  Stiles looked at him and seemed uncertain.  “Der, I…we’re not in a scene.  You don’t have to…”

Derek felt an unpleasant cramping sort of sensation in his gut.  He tried to withdraw his hand, but Stiles kept his grip over Derek’s and wouldn’t let go.

“Please,” Derek said, determined not to let his anxiety push him to panic.  It was Stiles.  Stiles loved him. 

Stiles moaned and his fingers seemed to twist in Derek’s hair for a second as he stared down at him.  Then his grip was suddenly tight and hard and he was tugging Derek up, pulling him up and into a searing kiss.  His mouth plundered Derek’s, as if showing it what it was like to be used and taken, and Derek was lightheaded and panting by the time Stiles tugged his head back again by the hair. 

“You want me to use your mouth?”

Derek nodded.  Well, he tugged against Stiles’ hand, anyway.

Stiles smirked.

“You want to taste my cock—feel it in your mouth, pushing into your throat?”

Derek tried to nod again, more frantically.  His cock jerked and leaked precome onto Stiles’ skin where their bodies were pressed together.

“Turn around,” Stiles said, and guided Derek to turn around until he was facing the foot of the bed, and then lay next to Stiles, but draping his chest over Stiles’ stomach.  He relaxed onto the bed and wrapped a hand around the base of Stiles’ cock.  Still hard.  And huge.  And fucking perfect.  His mouth dropped open and he could feel himself salivating.

He stared at it.  Wanting to taste.  Not even sure what he was waiting for.  Just wanting.  And holding back.  Caught in some kind of limbo.

Until Stiles’ hand dropped onto his back and his voice, sounding low and raw, said, “Go ahead.”

Derek lunged forward like he had been released from some kind of holding pen and engulfed the head of Stiles’ cock in his mouth, sliding down as far as he could, taking in several inches until Stiles was pressed up against the back of his mouth.  He swallowed and tried to relax, pushing forward, desperate to get Stiles to slide into his throat.

“No!” Stiles said, sharply, even as his hands both slid up to grasp the sides of Derek’s neck and face, tugging him all the way off.  “You said I’m using you.  So this goes my way.”  Stiles’ voice was resonant with power and Derek found himself rocking his hips, rubbing himself against the sheets.  “I know you want to start training yourself to take me, but right now your mouth is mine.”

Then his hands were pressing Derek’s face forward and Derek opened up, licking his lips quickly as the head of Stiles’ cock slipped past them.  He closed his lips around and started sucking, sliding his tongue over the smooth soft surface of Stiles’ corona, flicking it over the slit and tasting the barely-there saltiness of Stiles’ precome.  Stiles let out a rather loud, “Fuck,” and held Derek’s head still, so all Derek could do was suck and explore with his tongue.  The head of Stiles’ cock all by itself was so fucking big and just…  God, Derek couldn’t get enough.  His lips were stretched so wide, just to fit around the shaft and the weight of Stiles on his tongue was already so much.  He caressed and slid his tongue over every millimeter, managing to work his lips down just a touch further, so he could slide his tongue over and around the corona and glans until he felt Stiles body shudder beneath him.

Derek sucked harder and started to bob his head just the tiny bit he could with Stiles holding him from pressing forward any further, just barely letting the head slid back past his lips and then into his mouth in a slow, insistent rhythm, suckling on it and circling his tongue around it at the apex of every stroke.

“Fuck, Der…” Stiles moaned, “Your mouth is…fuuuuck….”  Stiles’ palms pressed against him almost painfully for a second and then he was guiding Derek forward a little and Derek wanted to jerk himself against the bed as another inch of Stiles’ length slid past his lips and started to fill his mouth.  Oh god, yes.  Yes yes yes.  More!  But Stiles tugged him back and it was gone.  But only for a second.  Then Stiles pushed him forward, and started to set up a slow rhythm with Derek’s head bobbing forward and back and slowly…every so fucking slowly…taking in just a little bit more and just a little bit more and just a little bit more.  One of Stiles’ hands drifting from the side of his face to the back of his head, gripping tightly into his hair where he could guide Derek easily to the rhythm he wanted.  And the rhythm he set was maddening—not to slow as to make Derek feel he was being intentionally difficult, but slow enough to leave him constantly on the edge—never quite keeping up with Derek’s sense of loss as Stiles slid out of his mouth or fully satisfying his sense of need and desperation as Stiles returned.  But it was still so close to perfect—still better than any other cock that had slid between his lips.

“Mmm…” Stiles moaned, finally starting to press Derek into slightly longer strokes, allowing several inches of his cock to slide past Derek’s lips with each movement, the head of Derek’s cock finally just barely teasing up against the back of Derek’s mouth, hinting at maybe, possibly, someday, sliding into his throat.  Derek let out a soft moan in return, that came out more like a whimper.  He was sucking on Stiles so hungrily that drool had started to slip out of the corners of his mouth, wetting his hand and making it easier for him to stroke the bottom half of Stiles’ shaft in matching rhythm with the pace Stiles’ was setting with Derek’s mouth. 

Derek hadn’t realized how desperately he was humping into the bed next to Stiles until Stiles pressed his free arm down over Derek’s ass, forcing him to stillness.  Fuck.  Oh god.  He had been so close without even realizing it.  With his body held down, the only outlet for all of his energy and need was his mouth and he sucked harder and slid his tongue over Stiles’ cock with something close to desperation, tugging every harder against Stiles’ hand as it held him back and controlled his motion.

“God, Der, oh yessss,” Stiles moaned.  “Fuck.  You want more, don’t you, baby?  Oh god…your mouth is so fucking good.”

Derek sucked hard and tried to push forward and force more of Stiles into his mouth, but Stiles’ grip only tightened further and held him back.

“Fuck yeah, baby.  You want that cock?  Holy Christ, Derek.  Do you even know how hot you make me?  Your mouth is so hot and seeing you like this…so good for me, Der.”

Warmth slid through Derek’s shoulders and the tension in his hips relaxed, even as a long soft, whimper escaped his throat at Stiles’ words.

“So good, baby.”

Derek sucked at the massive cock in his mouth and let himself sink into the rhythm of Stiles’ hand tugging and pressing at the back of his head.  He relaxed his body weight into Stiles and noticed again how silky and smooth Stiles’ felt over his tongue, except that one prominent vein along his length underneath that bulged and rubbed tantalizing against his tongue and lips as he slid in and out of Derek’s mouth.

“God yes, Der, that’s it.  Doing so good for me,” Stiles rambled, his voice a little breathier and quieter now.

“Okay, oh…okay…fuck…okay,” Stiles’ hand clutched in his hair suddenly and held him still, just as Stiles hips rocked up and suddenly Stiles’ cock was stuffing his mouth and pressing hard against the back of Derek’s mouth.  “Swallow for me, baby,” Stiles said, sounding almost pained.

Derek swallowed and tried to relax his jaw and then Stiles’ hips jerked up again and Stiles was slipping into his throat, the head of his cock impossibly huge, blocking his throat and his breathing, making his eyes tear and his mouth was engulfing so much of Stiles that his lips pressed up against the hand he had wrapped around the bottom of Stiles’ shaft.  He had taken in half of Stiles’ length, maybe more and it felt incredible and he wanted more and more.  His throat muscles worked, trying to swallow and breathe and Stiles let out a loud strangled noise and then dropped his hips back and tugged Derek’s head back.

Derek gulped in a huge breath and was about to beg Stiles not to stop, but Stiles was already forcing Derek’s head forward again and rocking his hips up and sliding in and in and in again and Derek was swallowing and taking him in again and his mind cleared of everything except the smell and taste  and sound and feel of Stiles in and under and all around him. 

“Unnnhhh…fuck, Der…fuck, baby…how do you feel so good?  Oh god…your mouth…your…yes…”

Stiles picked up the pace, barely tugging on Derek’s hair now, as Derek slammed his own head back and forth roughly in time to match Stiles’ hips jerking in a hard and fast rhythm up and into Derek’s mouth.  Derek’s body was singing with need, but all he could think about was Stiles’ enormous cock spreading his lips open so wide and splitting his throat wide, the weight and feel of him so fucking satisfying and perfect.

“Derek!  Fuck, baby!” Stiles shouted and then his hips were still and both his hands were on the back of Derek’s head holding him still as Stiles jerked and shuddered and came down Derek’s throat.  Derek closed his eyes and felt the warmth sliding down his throat as his mouth spread so wide all around that cock and he could even feel Stiles’ orgasm pulsing through the base of Stiles’ cock underneath his fingers.  Derek started rocking his own hips, mindlessly seeking some friction on his cock, as his eyes watered and he began to feel that strained urgency in his chest for breath.

Just when he was about to tug free, Stiles suddenly pulled out and pressed his hips back and over, plunging his mouth down over Derek’s cock, sucking hard and bobbing up and down almost in a frenzy.  It happened so fast, all Derek felt was the hands on his hips, then hot wetness engulfing him, then the suction and the fucking blessed friction he had been needing for so long and then he was plunging over the edge, shaking his own orgasm out into Stiles’ mouth. 

After, Stiles wordlessly tugged and maneuvered him around until they were spooning, Stiles as the big spoon, which Derek liked far more than he cared to admit.  Stiles rubbed his face into Derek’s neck and took a series of deep breaths.  They lay together quietly then and Derek had just gotten up the courage to apologize for basically molesting Stiles in his sleep when he realized Stiles’ breathing had evened out and he might already be asleep.  So instead he snuggled back against Stiles a little tighter and breathed a soft, “Thank you,” to him and let himself drift off as well.

Chapter Text

“You’re staring at me.”  Stiles was staring at him.  But the truth was that Derek was surprisingly not uncomfortable with it.

“Sorry,” Stiles said with a grin, clearly not the least bit sorry.  Though he did then drop his eyes back down to his plate and scoop up a mouthful of eggs.

Derek watched, realizing that he, too, was having a hard time taking his eyes off the man on the other side of the table.  Stiles loved him.  Stiles.  He was having a hard time believing he wasn’t going to wake up to find he was still in the hospital dreaming all of this somehow.

“I need to go in to the studio for a little bit today.  Do you still want to talk to Isaac about taking some time off?” Derek asked, scooting a piece of pineapple around on his plate.

“Yes, definitely.  I mean, unless you have any reservations about that?”

Derek looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.  “No.  I think it’s a good idea.  If you’re sure you don’t mind.”  He looked down again, spearing a bite of sausage.  “I mean, you are basically doing this because of my…because of me.”

Stiles reached across the table and took hold of his left hand where it was resting on the table.  “Derek, I’ve wanted to have a relationship with you basically my whole life.  Giving this a chance is way more important to me than any career or job or contract.  The only thing that gives me pause here is that the contract is basically with you, too.”

Derek felt his face warming and his lips curling into a smile.  He couldn’t help it.  “Well, you’ll just have to let me and Isaac worry about that, and trust us to let you know if it’s a problem.”  Stiles hand was so warm over his own, like a little touch of the sun.

“I do.  Trust you.”  Stiles was looking at him with that open, sincere face of his and then suddenly it broke into a wide grin and Stiles reached for his glass, downing the rest of the orange juice in one big gulp and pushing his chair back.  “Well, better get cleaned up.  Okay if I use your shower?”

Derek nodded and watched Stiles practically bounding off down the hallway.  He felt the strangest jumble of emotions—ones he wasn’t used to.  There was anxiety there—sort of an old, familiar friend of his.  But instead of fear and shame, it was coupled with excitement and desire and…hope.  He could feel worry trying to twist the possibilities in this—trying to lead him to only the most negative conclusions—that it would end badly, just like Kate.  That he didn’t deserve Stiles.  That he would be hurt so much worse this time.  But he refused to let his own negativity rule him.  Not this time.  Not when he had a chance of getting everything he wanted.  Maybe he didn’t deserve Stiles.  But Stiles…Stiles wanted them to be together.  And Stiles definitely deserved a chance.

*             *             *

The meeting with Stiles and Isaac about Stiles taking some time off from filming was almost easier than he could have hoped.  Isaac was so relieved to see him when he got to the studio that he hugged Derek tightly to him for nearly a full minute.  Isaac then pushed Derek aside and shook Stiles’ hand energetically between both of his own as he thanked him profusely for worrying about his idiot partner when he should have and for locating Derek and probably saving his life.

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Stiles demurred, tugging his hand free as soon as he could and then running it nervously over the back of his neck.

“Well, I do.  You were right and I love this guy, so basically I think I have to pretty much love you, too, now.”

Stiles grinned slightly while also looking downward a bit, clearly embarrassed.

“Hey, I’m right here, you know.  And we do have some business to discuss,” Derek interrupted.

After that, they talked about the various actors who had partially been enticed to come to Wolf Pack by the presence of the one and only Stiles Stilinski.  Scott McCall wasn’t an issue, he wasn’t staying much longer anyway, and had bonded with Isaac so they were confident he would finish out his contract without any adjustments.  Theo Raeken had professed to Isaac that he “wasn’t that impressed with Silinski” anyway, so Isaac expected to get him to stay on without much adjustment.  He preferred to be the biggest star in the scenes he filmed anyway, so Isaac could schedule him with some of the younger talent on their roster.  Isaac was pretty sure that Danny would just go ahead and move on to the commitment he already had made with Argent Productions, but they had a good relationship and with or without Stiles he was likely to come back to work at Wolf Pack from time to time.

The only stumbling block was Jordan Parrish.  He really had expected to complete a series of films directly with Stiles.  And Isaac really wanted to capture the audience he had which from his research looked not only huge, but loyal and willing to spend money freely despite the constant availability of so many other cheaper or even free options on the internet.  They discussed a variety of other enticements Wolf Pack could come up with to keep Jordan as well as possible options to fight him breaking his contract.  In the end, though, Derek and Isaac both agreed that losing Parrish wouldn’t make or break them—they had definitely worked up a head of steam in the growth department in the last month or two, and not just from Stiles joining them.  They had a couple young energetic production staff who were moving them more into the latest trends, and they had built up a large subscription base they knew would stick with them as long as they continued producing quality videos. 

Derek could tell that Stiles was relieved by the time he left the meeting so Derek and Isaac could discuss other studio issues.  It wasn’t really surprising how Stiles seemed to take responsibility entirely on himself for the potential risks associated with adjusting his contract, even though the situation involved both of them.  He had been like that as long as Derek had known him.  He remembered his little sister telling him once that Stiles had taken a punishment in school for some kind of prank his best friend had pulled so the lacrosse coach wouldn’t bench the best friend.  Scott McCall must have been that friend, he thought idly.  And during the couple of years after the fire when Sheriff Stilinski had been taking an interest in Derek, the Sheriff had always complained about Stiles trying to control his meals because of some heart health issue he’d had.  Derek had thought it was sweet then, but mostly just focused on trying not to let the Sheriff see how a mention of Stiles affected him.  But now he realized it was more than sweet.  Stiles felt personally responsible for his father’s well-being. 

And he seemed to feel that way already now for Derek.  Everything about the way he had handled being a Dom to Derek screamed not just of lust and desire, though that was clearly part of it, but also of caretaking.  He handled Derek like something precious to be protected and nurtured.  Despite Derek’s lack of interest in it, he had pushed the issue of a checklist, making sure he would learn at least something about Derek’s background and what kinks and sex acts were safe and which were to be avoided.  He had worked positive affirmations and self-love into his scenes with Derek, clearly after realizing Derek’s tendency to self-punishment.  And he had noticed quicker than anyone else, including Derek himself, how poorly Derek was doing over the last week.  Including how seeing Stiles filming had exacerbated his emotional stress.  He wondered briefly who took care of Stiles.

“So, I’ve been politely staying out of it until now, right?” Isaac’s voice pulled Derek from his thoughts and he focused back on his partner.

“You mean except for the little nudge you gave me to open that white box with Stiles’ vibrator in it?” Derek said with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, that was entirely for your own pleasure.  I could never have imagined it would play any part in bringing you together.”  Isaac’s hand had gone to his heart as if to express ‘Who? Me?’

“Mmhmm,” Derek said.  “And forcing me to apologize to Stiles?”

“Okay now, wait, that really was just something you needed to hear as a business partner!”  Isaac was clearly serious in his self-defense now.

Derek nodded.  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.  But what about bringing Stiles here in the first place?  You never even mentioned who this hot schlong was that you wanted to bring to Wolf Pack.  So I’m guessing that’s because you knew I would have had more than a little reaction to the name Stilinski.”  Derek let one side of his mouth curl up in a smirk.  He had Isaac on this one.  It couldn’t possibly be coincidence that the man he’d had a crush on for—well, pretty much since back when that man was just a boy—was courted and enticed by his partner to the small little studio that Derek owned.

Isaac crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged noncommittally.  “How would I have known about your feelings for Stiles?”

That was a good question.  He was sure he’d never mentioned Stiles to Isaac.  Though he certainly could have known they were both from Beacon Hills.  Still, it seems more than unlikely that he would be able to simply guess that Derek had been nursing a desire for Stiles for all these years.  “I’m not sure,” Derek said slowly.  But still, it couldn’t be coincidence, could it?  And the way Isaac looked…it was anything but innocent.

He continued to square off against Isaac, trying his best partially-raised-eyebrow-dark-brooding-intimidation stare, but Isaac just looked at him, his face somehow a mix of wide open innocence and smirky know-it-all sass.  Finally, Derek sighed and eased back into Isaac’s couch.  “Whatever, Iz.  Let’s just talk about those equipment upgrades Boyd wanted.”

They settled into some work and the next thing Derek knew it was more than two hours later and his stomach was complaining about lunch not arriving on time.  Isaac suggested Thai and ordered it for them while Derek hit the bathroom and grabbed sodas from the breakroom.  When they were settled back in over their respective takeout containers, Derek noticed Isaac watching him eat and finally dropped his chopsticks to look over at his friend and partner.

“Derek, I’m really sorry I didn’t realize…”  He paused, struggled for a second and seemed to look at Derek as if for help.

“How sick I was making myself?”

“I guess, yeah.  I wouldn’t have said it that way.  Just…  I knew something was bothering you, but I thought it was just coming to terms with….  I thought you just had…I don’t know, maybe more than a crush, but you know, just some moderate feelings for Stiles and just needed to get used to the idea of letting yourself take that chance.  You’ve always been so…steady and I’ve been the one who flies off emotionally and has the highs and lows and needs you to pick me up and put me back together.”

Derek opened his mouth to protest but Isaac waved him off and pressed on.  “Derek, I’m your best friend.  At least, I think I am.”

Derek smiled and nodded slightly.

“And a month ago, when you were avoiding all of us and hiding away so much, I should have taken that more seriously.  But honestly, I just thought…”  He looked down and stirred his food around.

“What?” 

“I thought you were just spending every free second jerking off because of Stiles.”  He shrugged silently as if embarrassed—not for Derek, but for not taking the situation more seriously.

Derek snorted.  “You’re pretty much right on target.”

“Oh.”  Isaac looked up at him, as if surprised.  “Well…still, I just…I should have known later when it was something more serious.  I should have been watching out for you and helping—”

“Iz,” Derek said, leaning forward over the table, intent on making sure his friend understood.  “You’re wrong.  There is no way you could have known what was going on with me—I wasn’t letting you in and..I mean, fuck, I didn’t even know what was going on with me.  It’s still new and something I have to think about some more, actually.  But, I promise you that nothing that happened is your fault or something you could have prevented.  I just wasn’t…I wouldn’t have been ready to understand myself or to take it seriously and accept help.  Okay?”

Isaac looked doubtful, but Derek just held his gaze and reached a hand across the table to squeeze Isaac’s forearm.  “Okay?” he asked again.

Isaac’s eyes were watery as he stared over at Derek for a moment, but then he blinked the threatening tears back and nodded.  “Okay.  But um…I mean…you seem so good today, I just…I don’t want to take it for granted.”  His eyes flashed down and he started to stir and play with his noodles again.  “Are you…?  I mean, if you need someone to talk to…”

Derek squeezed Isaac’s arm again.  “Thanks.  I’m better.  I’m probably not perfect yet, but Isaac, I know.  You don’t even have to say it.”

Isaac dropped his food on the table and leaned back in his seat.  “But I am saying it.  I’m here for you, Derek.  Not just for the business, okay?”

Derek nodded and sat back, too.  “I know.”

“So, you’ll try to talk to me if things get that bad again.”

“I promise.”

Isaac let out an audible sigh.  “Good.”

They dug back into their food then as Isaac started into a story about Ethan’s latest attempt at repairing their roof, and when they stopped working later that afternoon, Derek couldn’t feel any remaining trace of the awkward tension that had been between them almost since Stiles had first arrived.  As he stood and gathered his things from Isaac’s desk, Isaac said softly, “It’s more than just a crush, you know.”

Derek picked up his stack of papers and looked at his friend, feeling a bit confused.  “Of course.  I mean, I hardly would have ended up in the hospit—”

“I meant Stiles.”

Derek felt a pinching in his forward.

“I know you meant Stiles.  Who else would you mean?”

“No,” Isaac said, standing up and coming around his desk.  “I meant how Stiles feels about you.  He’s in love with you.”

“Stiles told you that?”

“No.  I just…it’s obvious.  But I thought the one person it might not be obvious to was probably you.”

Derek nodded.  “Yeah.  It really wasn’t.  But…  Nevermind.”  He walked to Isaac’s door and opened it, then turned back and said, “Thanks, Iz.  I’ll see you Monday.”

Chapter Text

By the time Derek got home, he really wanted to see Stiles.  More than wanted.  He was craving that warm gaze and soothing voice.  But he suspected Stiles could use a break from him after days in a row cooped up with him at the hospital and then his apartment.  He poked around his kitchen a bit, seeing all the food Stiles had laid in for him and wanting none of it.

Stiles was in love with him.  Stiles was…he guessed Stiles was his boyfriend now.  A heat spread slowly in his stomach at the thought.  He could kiss Stiles any time he wanted—feel Stiles’ lips against his and how Stiles’ tongue danced and played in his mouth, sometimes seeming to take and ravage him and then just as swiftly shifting to yield to Derek, accepting and giving whatever Derek wanted.  He wondered what Stiles was doing right then.  Was he out doing something or sitting at home, maybe even thinking of Derek. 

Derek leaned over the counter and picked up his phone.  He should probably wait for Stiles to call him—give the man a break for half a day.  He pressed “Phone” and then “Favorites” and stared at Stiles’ name.  His tongue slid over his lips and he let out a slow breath.  Then he set the phone down.  He would go for a run.  He hadn’t run since—

The ring of his phone startled him and he saw Stiles’ name lighting up on the screen.

“Hey.”  He cringed at how easy it was to hear the relief and thrill in his voice.  He had been with Stiles what…six hours ago?  

“Hey yourself,” Stiles answered.  His voice was warm and Derek imagined he could hear that Stiles was smiling broadly on the other end.  “How was work and everything with Isaac?”

“Good.  Umm…yeah, it was good.  He’s still worried about me.”

“That’s probably not an unreasonable reaction.”

“I know.  I didn’t take it badly.  And he basically told me he thinks you’re in love with me.”

Stiles laughed outright.  “Well, I guess he’s a pretty perceptive guy.”

Derek didn’t know what to say, but his body sure reacted—his entire chest flushing with warmth at Stiles’ acknowledging again that he loved Derek.   

“So…” Stiles said, “I was wondering if you might like to hang out tonight?  I could take you out but you already did a lot today and your body probably still needs to rest up some more.  So I was thinking maybe bringing some take out and movies over and snuggling on your couch?”

Derek’s mind whirled.  Yes!  He was nearly desperate to see Stiles.  And going out did sound…just…tiring and stressful.  Whereas, holding Stiles all evening and relaxing and just…being with him...  He wanted that.  He craved it.  But he also wanted…  Stiles hadn’t said anything about whether they would do anything together.  Was Stiles disappointed in him for having failed his last assignments as a sub at the beginning of the week?  He had not only failed to do his five-minute daily assignment but then he had intentionally avoided Stiles’ calls.  And been a jerk to him at the studio.  Derek suddenly flashed on Stiles’ hurt face when Derek had leapt away from him at the studio on Monday saying ‘Don’t touch me!’   

“Derek?”

His stomach cramped and he heard a bitter voice in his head saying, “What a little bitch.  Such a waste of time.”

“Der?  Are you still there?  We don’t have to do anything if—”

“Stiles,” Derek jolted out.  Fuck her.  He couldn’t let her win.  Stiles deserved better than this.  “I’m here.  I’m—that sounds great.  Maybe…maybe we can talk, too.”

“Cool.”  Stiles’ voice was softer, a little less energetic but somehow sounding comforting and affectionate.  “How does barbecue sound?”

*             *             *

An hour later, Stiles was cross-legged on his couch, doubled over himself as he reached halfway across the coffee table to fill his plate with bits of the outrageous amount of food he had showed up to Derek’s apartment with.  Derek set a beer down on the end table next to Stiles and then dropped onto the couch next to him and took a long pull of his own.  His ankle was sore and he frowned a bit as he remembered thinking just earlier that evening of going for a run.  When what he had really wanted to do was call Stiles.

He picked up his own plate and settled back, watching Stiles as he seemed to be trying to fit a small taste of every item on his plate at one time.  Derek loved the way even at 26 years of age, the stubble growing in over his jaw still had these tiny patches of smooth, pale skin, like they were clinging on to the teenage Stiles and refusing to let go.

When Stiles finally sat back and saw Derek’s eyes on him, he winked exaggeratedly and picked up a rib in his right hand, biting down on it and ripping off a huge chunk of meat that he drew into his mouth and chewed enthusiastically. Derek shook his head and started digging into his brisket.  Stiles had put on some kind of nature documentary about dangerous predators and in between exciting moments of gazelle chasing, Stiles regaled Derek with a long, convoluted tale about he and Scott being arrested back in college.  It involved Halloween, an oversized werewolf costume and some brightly colored nail polish.  By the time they were sitting back with full stomachs and their second beers, Derek’s cheeks were aching a bit from laughing and smiling so much, and all of his anxiety seemed to have faded away like mist.

“So,” Stiles said, “I brought you a wide variety of options to fit the many moods of Derek Hale.  Or, if these don’t fit your mood, then I guess at least you get a glimpse into the many moods of Stiles Silinski.  I know this may seem out of the box, but there’s this Iranian film about a lady vampire that—”

“Um…actually,” Derek interrupted, “I was…I wanted to…”  Fuck.  Relax, Derek.  It’s Stiles.  He wants to know you.  “I thought maybe we could talk…some.”

Something flicked over Stiles’ face, but it was only there a moment.  Derek thought it was probably just surprise.  But he almost immediately smiled broadly and set the DVD’s he’d been holding down on the coffee table, then leaned back in the couch, pulling a leg up and turning to face Derek more directly.  “Yes, please,” Stiles said softly.  He reached out a hand and picked Derek’s up from between them and just held it, clasped in his hand, resting together on the couch cushion.

Derek pulled a leg up as well, mirroring Stiles, and scooted closer, until their knees were resting on top of each other and their hands were clasped together on top of Stiles’ ankle.

“I haven’t had an actual relationship with anyone since Kate.”  Stiles nodded and squeezed his hand.  Stiles’ hand was so smooth and soft in his.  “Just…just sex.  And never with anyone that…”  He floundered for the right word. 

“…mattered,” Stiles suggested.

Derek nodded.  “I went to counseling for a while.  Right after the fire.  It was ‘suggested’ and I didn’t know at first that I could refuse.  So I just went.  But I hated it.  I never felt like the guy was really listening to me.  It just seemed he was hearing what he wanted to hear—what fit into some little neat checkboxes he had or something.  And I was young and angry and lonely and I just wanted to be done with the whole thing.  So I said what I thought he wanted to hear for a few sessions and then just stopped showing up.  And it turns out I was considered an adult and no one came back and followed me around to force me to go back or anything.”

“So, I moved on.  At least, I thought I did.  My life, at least, moved on.  I didn’t see anyone or have sex with anyone for…at least a couple years.  Which, for a 20-year-old is probably pretty uncommon.  So I guess it would have been obvious to anyone who cared to look that I wasn’t in a great place regarding sex or relationships and all that.  But again, there really wasn’t anyone to notice.  The only person I remember even feeling attracted to back then is you, but you were…well, obviously not exactly available.  Since your Dad would have murdered me…after arresting me for statutory rape.”

Stiles smiled.  “Yeah, it’s a shame, too.  ‘Cuz now that I know you had those feelings….  Shit, if I had known that earlier, I would have totally been a horrible teasing little twink—constantly hanging around you trying to get you to lose control and ravage me.”

“Well, when I did have sex again, that’s all it ever was.  That’s all it ever has been.  I honestly had never really given a lot of thought to why.  Partly it’s because of you.  I’ve always sort of felt like—how could I ever fall in love with someone who wasn’t you?”

Stiles looked down at their hands, seeming almost embarrassed to be spoken of that way.

“That doesn’t really explain why I never had an ongoing sexual relationship, though.” 

“What was the longest?”  Stiles was looking at him again and there was no judgment in his gaze, just open curiosity.

“Three times.”

“Three dates?”

“Three…sexual encounters.”

“Wow.  That’s the most serious relationship you’ve had in the last 10 years?”  Stiles’ voice still didn’t sound like criticism, though he was obviously marveling at this information.  “I know when we went on your date you said…  But I guess I just assumed there were a couple brief relationships or fuck-buddy situations or…something.  So…can I ask…what got this particular girl, or guy, over the just-once hump?”

“It was a couple.”

“A couple what?”

“They were a couple.”  Stiles just stared at him blankly.  Derek sighed, “A husband and wife?”

“Oh, re-eally?” Stiles asked, brows raised, as he took a pull from his beer.  “Do tell.”

Derek shrugged.  “I met this woman at yoga and after a few weeks of casually talking after class she asked me if I’d be interested in a threesome with her and her husband.”

“Were they hot?” Stiles asked, leaning forward a little and speaking more quietly, as if someone might overhear their salacious conversation.

Derek smiled, feeling a strange charm about Stiles’ fascination, when he knew from their checklists that Stiles had had his share of group experiences himself, both on screen and off—more than Derek, actually, he thought.  “Yeah.  He could have been a model and she was all curves and soft lines.  They were pretty great.”

Stiles hummed.  “I’m looking forward to bedtime stories containing every single detail from these hookups sometime.”  He again waggled his eyebrows salaciously, in that ridiculous way of his, and Derek shook his head in amusement.  “So why no fourth time?”

“I think because I liked it.  A lot.  And maybe more because I liked them.”

Stiles set down his beer and then both of his hands we’re wrapped around Derek’s.  “So…do you think you’ve just been avoiding feeling anything all this time?”

A bit of tension had been starting to knot in Derek’s chest, just behind his sternum.  And it felt as if it were a balloon that Stiles’ words let the air out of.  Derek nodded.  “And now, with you…”

“You can’t avoid it anymore.” 

Derek nodded again.  Stiles’ eyes were dark and warm, like caramel. 

“So…on our first date…well, after the date…when you were…uncomfortable and you asked me to leave—”

“When I panicked,” Derek interjected.

Stiles gave a noncommittal sort of shrug.  “Was it because of…?”

“It was just so intense.  I had basically already freaked out at the restaurant, but then you just told me what to do and talked me through it and I felt…I don’t know, I guess safe.  And that made me just want more and I ignored how scared I was because of how much I wanted you to keep making me feel that way.  I almost panicked again when we were on the couch, before things got hot and heavy.  The vibe from the restaurant was gone and I had been wanting you so much for so long and it was terrifying to maybe be about to get to have you, but have no idea what might happen after that.  But then you kissed me and everything else disappeared.”

“Until we got back to your bedroom.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it…was it something I did, or said?  Did I push too hard?”

Derek shook his head.  “No.  No.  I mean, you couldn’t have known.  I just…I wanted you…I want you with a sort of…it feels like desperation or need or…”  They had stumbled into his room, and Derek had pulled off his boots and socks, but then Stiles had stopped him when he tried to tug his shirt off.  Stiles’ hand had been firm and soft at the same time and his voice had been the same—quiet but strong, saying ‘Wait.’  He remembered it all perfectly, though thinking about it now there was a sort of haze over it all. 

Stiles was squeezing his hands and somehow scooting closer, pressing his knees underneath Derek’s.  “You can tell me, Der.”

He looked at Stiles’ long fingers, wrapped around his own and nodded.  When he looked back up and met Stiles’ gaze he felt stronger somehow. 

“When you asked me to wait…to slow things down, I…I just thought…all I was thinking was that something was wrong and you were going to stop.  And I know you didn’t.  I know you just wanted to slow down and enjoy the moment and everything.  I mean, I know that now.  But I don’t know, I guess I was just so wound up from wanting you so long and then a couple weeks of thinking about nothing else but what it would feel like to….  I can’t really explain it, but I just was terrified and in the completely wrong head space somehow.  It was fine when you were telling me what to do at the restaurant.  Or even when you weren’t exactly ordering me, but you were still guiding me—telling me what you thought we should do and would do.  And it was fine when we first got home because we were just too hot and heavy for me to think of for anything to get in between me and just needing…basically needing to feel you make me come I guess.  But when we slowed down, I just felt scared and anxious.”

“I mean, that isn’t all I felt.  I felt you.  I felt your hands sliding over me and your breath on my neck.  It was…perfect.  But I still just got more scared.  You looked at me like you were unwrapping a candy bar.  And that should have felt good.  But it made me nervous.  I didn’t want you to be taking your time and thinking about what we were doing.  I wasn’t literally thinking that if you did have time to think you would stop, it wasn’t that thought out.  But I’m sure now that basically that’s what was going on.  I remember feeling desperate to do something.”

“But when I reached for your pants you stopped me again.  And then you said I was hot.  But you didn’t just say it, I’ll never forget, you leaned in and your tongue was on my jaw, like something from one of my wet dreams and your breath was on my ear and it was hot and your voice was low and you sounded hungry and kind of wrecked and you said, ‘You’re so fucking hot, Derek.’  And…”

“And what?” Stiles said softly.  Derek wondered how he could look so soft and concerned without it looking like pity.

“And I…I was terrified.  I know it doesn’t make sense.  And it wasn’t a conscious thought.  I can’t even say that I was terrified you would fuck me and then leave.  Or that you were joking and were planning to get me fully naked and then pull the rug out from under me.  Or that something about the sex would be bad and you would be disappointed in me and end it.  Or that it would be perfect and amazing and then after I was even more in love you would dump me.  It wasn’t that kind of thought.  It was just some kind of mindless terror.  And I couldn’t handle it.”

“I know it...it doesn’t make sense.  I’m sorry I can’t explain it any better.”

“Der, don’t…don’t worry about that.  You’re doing great.  It’s okay to feel things and not be able to explain them.  I wish I understood it even better, but just so I could make sure not to trigger another panic attack in the future.  Not because you owe me any kind of explanation.  You never have to explain anything unless you want to, okay?”

How did Stiles do that?  How did he say things that sounded so patronizing with so much sincerity?  “Thanks,” Derek said, blinking hard for a moment to clear his eyes which absolutely had not just been welling up.  “I know.  But…also, given my background, it’s pretty great to be told.”

“So then when we started doing phone scenes…did any of that trigger the same kind of feelings?”

“No.  Nothing like that.  I still…I have…insecurities, I guess.  So sometimes I’d worry you weren’t going to be satisfied with something I said or did, but manageable, everyday sort of level anxiety.”

“Good.  And when we did the in-person reward scene?  That was okay?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, it was amazing.  My mind never went anywhere bad, not that I remember.”

“And the same thing when we went on our date?”

“I was…it was great.  I don’t remember feeling anything but…”  Lucky.  Content.  Charmed.  Amused.  Delighted.  Happy.  “…good.”

“Awesome.  Then we’ll figure the rest out.”  Stiles tugged Derek’s hands up to his lips and pressed a slow soft kiss to the back of each of them.  “Now, you have had enough stress this week for at least the next couple months, so for now I want you to quit worrying about anything else at least for tonight.  You’re going to turn around here,” he said, using this sort of goofy parody of his serious Dom tone of voice and taking hold of Derek’s shoulders to try to turn him around on the couch, “because you need to see this movie.  I’m telling you, Guardians of the Galaxy is awesome and if you don’t think so then I may just have to severely punish you the next time we scene.”  Derek ended up laying back between Stiles legs, his head resting on Stiles’ chest, and Stiles’ arms wrapped around him.  He thought briefly that it should feel emasculating, but it was somehow the opposite.  Stiles’ slighter body beneath his made him feel broad and strong.  And Stiles’ hands roaming idly over his chest, made him feel proud of the defined muscles he had built up.  He could tell Stiles liked what he felt as his fingers played along the ridges and a palm occasionally stroked his pecs.  Stiles body rocked and wiggled slightly beneath him to the opening song, and he let himself relax into the movie and the sound and feel of Stiles’ chuckles.

Chapter Text

Derek woke up the next morning with Stiles sprawled diagonally across his chest.  Stiles’ mouth was open, letting out soft snores, and his long eyelashes lay over his cheeks.  Derek let his hand drift down and slide ever so gently into Stiles’ hair, playing through the short, soft locks as he watched Stiles sleep.  He tried to stay still, but of course, now that he was awake, a random itch flared up in the small of his back and finally he had to give in and try to ease his hand underneath himself to reach it.  Stiles woke when he moved and looked up at him.  He didn’t say anything as Derek finished scratching and settled back down, letting his hand fall onto Stiles’ bicep, as his other hand continued to play idly in Stiles’ hair.

“Morning,” Derek said.

“Morning,” Stiles replied.

Another minute passed and Derek waited for his anxiety to creep up.  Nothing yet, but he knew it couldn’t be far behind.  This was too good to be true, having Stiles here in his bed like this.

“It’s Saturday,” Stiles said, almost swallowing it in a huge yawn that showed Derek the filling in one of Stiles’ rear molars.  “What’s on your agenda?”

“I have no idea.  I mean, nothing, I guess.”

“Mmm.  What time is it?” Stiles asked, stretching mildly, but without moving from his spot on top of Derek.

“A little after 8.”

Stiles let out a soft little groan as he finished his stretch and rolled off of Derek, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking back at him.  “Well, what do you say we grab a bite and go to the gym?” 

Derek nodded.  That sounded great.  It was the perfect solution to not being able to run.  So they went and it was surprisingly comfortable and easy.  Stiles didn’t hover over Derek—just let him set up his machines and lift on his own while Stiles stretched and worked his abs, then took over a treadmill, jogging at a moderate pace, while bopping his head about to whatever music was playing on his earphones.  Derek couldn’t do some of his regular leg work, but was able to re-work his routine to still hit most of the key muscle groups and by the time he finished up, he was sweating like crazy but feeling relaxed and confident.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Stiles’ head turned to stare at Derek so fast it almost made Derek laugh. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Stiles’ tongue was suddenly roaming restlessly over his lips.

“I want you to put me on my hands and knees for you and shove that gigantic cock of yours inside me and fuck me until I see stars.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open.  Derek couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“I want to feel what it’s like to be stuffed full with your cock while your fingers dig into my hips and—"

Stiles seemed unable to stop staring at him.  And Derek’s cocky confidence built up from the last couple days with Stiles and the satisfying workout he’d just had started to leak away.  He knew Stiles wanted to fuck him.  At least he thought he knew that. 

A car horn blared suddenly from behind them and Stiles jerked into action, looking in the rearview and then ahead at the street, where the lineup of cars in front of them had already moved through the now green light.  The car accelerated with a jerk and then calmed to a smooth purr.

“Derek…”

Derek’s throat was suddenly tight.  Stiles’ voice didn’t sound right—not the way he’d expected—not hot with lust.  Instead it was tight and pinched.  And he was staring ahead at the road.  Derek’s stomach churned and he could almost feel himself shrinking into the passenger seat.  He pulled his eyes away from Stiles, who still wasn’t looking at him, and stared at the floorboard.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.  He thought…  Stiles said he loved Derek.  But he didn’t…he didn’t want…   Shit.  Derek shouldn’t have said those things.  He should have known better.  He was such a little bitch.  She was right.  Derek should know better than to think he deserved someone like Stiles.  Fuck, he was going to lose him.  His fingers curled into fists. 

“Derek!”  Derek’s head jerked automatically to look at Stiles, who was staring back and forth between him and the road.  His brow was furrowed and he was biting his bottom lip, his chin pulled in tightly.  “Derek, listen, I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I don’t think it’s good.  I’m just gonna pull over up here ahead because we’re almost at my place and then we can talk about this, okay?”

Stiles’ voice was so warm and soft.  Derek stared at him as he turned on the turn signal and rolled the steering wheel in his hands to take a corner.

“Okay, baby?  Just another minute.  Can you breathe deep for me?”

Stiles’ eyes were wide and questioning.  What had he said?  Breathe.  Derek inhaled roughly, coughing a little as he disrupted his own exhale to try to do as Stiles had asked.  He watched as Stiles’ chest puffed up with an exaggerated breath and followed along, letting his own breath out when Stiles did and take another right along with Stiles as they pulled forward from a light and turned into a parking lot.

Then Stiles was at his door, opening it and reaching for his hand to guide him up and out and forward to the four-unit apartment house the studio rented out for visiting talent.  He didn’t remember walking in, but what seemed a moment later he was sitting on a couch, with Stiles perched on a coffee table right in front of him, his long warm fingers, wrapped around Derek’s and his whiskey colored eyes wide and focused on Derek.

“Good job, Der, just keep breathing like that for me.”

Yes.  He could do that.  He stared into Stiles’ eyes, looking at the little flecks of darker brown as he took in and released a slow breath, and then another.  They seemed to be relaxing even as Derek watched them, growing a little darker and a little less wide with each breath Derek took.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, his own voice sounding a bit breathy now.  “That’s so good.  God, you’re so fucking good for me, Derek.”

Derek’s cock twitched.

“Just keep breathing,” Stiles murmured, his hands releasing Derek’s and sliding over Derek’s thighs, as he spoke.  “Just like that.” 

Stiles’ hands were hot and Derek longed to feel them on his bare skin. 

“Good boy.”

Warmth flushed Derek’s cheeks and he felt himself hardening in his pants.  He saw Stiles’ eyes widen a little and the corner of his mouth turn up.

“You’re feeling better now, aren’t you?” 

Stiles was staring at him and after a few seconds Derek finally realized Stiles had asked him a question.  He nodded and Stiles’ mouth relaxed into a full smile.

“Good.  I’m gonna get us a drink and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Derek nodded again and Stiles lifted his knees, swinging his legs around the end of the table and jumping off toward the kitchen.  He was back in just seconds, handing a bottle of water to Derek and then settling next to him on the couch, turned in to face Derek, but with his knee resting on Derek’s thigh. 

Stiles watched as Derek took a long pull from the water bottle and then said, “I used to have panic attacks all the time.  I still do sometimes, but way less often than the old days.  But my Dad totally had to talk me through a rough one when you were missing in the park.  But I sort of get the impression that they’re kind of a new thing for you.”

It sounded like a statement, but Derek knew it was a question.

He nodded.  “I don’t know why.  When I had actually stress in my life…when we…when she was around, I never reacted like this.  But now, with you….”  This was so unfair.  Not just to him, but to Stiles.  He looked down at where Stiles’ knee was pressed against him.  “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no.  Der, you have nothing to be sorry for.  Your feelings and your body’s reactions, they’re all a part of you and I could never have a problem with any of them.  Plus, hey, you’re kind of lucky because at least I know what a panic attack looks like and what works for me when I have them, right?”

Derek raised his eyes to meet Stiles’ and there was that grin of his—the one that still reminded him of the teenager he had first started to want.  Even though Stiles was so much older and more mature now his smile still seemed full of joy and possibilities.

“So I have an idea.  I really want to talk to you about what you said in the car and how fucking badly I want that, too, okay?  And I really want to talk to you about what happened after that—what you were thinking and how you were feeling before you panicked.  But what would you say to a quick shower to wipe the gym grime off and a little nap first?  I don’t know about you, but I feel drained from our little adventure, and if we’re going to explore some good stuff later, I could use a recharge.”

Derek nodded again, and fifteen minutes later he was in Stiles’ bed, wrapping around Stiles’ back in response to Stiles’ adorably pushy “Spoon me!” demand and burying his nose into Stiles’ clean, wet hair.

Chapter Text

When Derek woke up the room was growing dark already though it hadn’t even been noon when he and Stiles had snuggled into bed.  He must still be recovering to have slept so much after already having gotten such a good night’s sleep with Stiles last night.  He rolled over and stretched out his arms and legs, sighing with pleasure at the feeling of his muscles pulling taut and then releasing again.  His stomach was hollow and he realized it was probably nearly dinner time and he hadn’t had any lunch.  Derek was suddenly craving a thick juicy burger and hoped Stiles would want to go up to Sal’s with him to get one.

He dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the door, stopping just as he was opening it to reach down and try to tug down the unruly leg of Stiles’ sweatpants that had ridden up his calf while he slept. 

“I just can’t fuck this up, Lyds,” Stiles’ voice came wafting down the hall.

Shit, was Lydia there?  Derek paused, not sure he wanted to see her right then, in Stiles’ apartment, hell, in Stiles’ clothes.

“You know this isn’t fucking sudden.  He’s…I’ve wanted…he’s been everything to me for damn near half my fucking life.  I just never thought he….”

Derek picked up the sound of Stiles shuffling around in the kitchen, apparently pacing as he talked.  But no sign of anyone else.  Stiles was just on the phone with her.  He should shut the door.  He shouldn’t listen.

“What am I worried about?  Did you hear me?  What if I’m…I dunno…sick or wrong or perverted or something?”

Derek could feel his eyebrows raise involuntarily.  What the hell was Stiles talking about?

“I loved it.  I fucking love it so much when he responds to me like he does.  When he’s struggling and I can help him—when my voice, my instructions, my commands are what puts him at ease.  Don’t you think that’s…I dunno…like some kind of fucked up co-dependent shit or something?”

Derek feels like a voyeur.  He knows he shouldn’t be listening to this.  But a surge of warmth moved through his body at all the emotion swelling in Stiles’ voice.  Stiles didn’t think taking care of Derek was a chore.  He got some kind of pleasure from it.

“No, of course not….  No.   Yeah.  I know,” Stiles responded as Lydia apparently lectured him.  Derek couldn’t imagine what she was saying, but he could imagine the confident, no-nonsense tone she probably had right now.

“Of course I’m not going to intentionally hurt him.  Christ, Lyds.  You’re not even listening to me.  For fuck’s sake.”

There was a pause and Derek thought he heard Stiles slap his hand down on something.

“What I’m worried about is that…it’s that…I dunno…it’s like what I want to do for Derek and what I want to do to Derek…they’re all mixed up together.  And I need to make sure I’m not putting what I fucking want—because it just makes me feel so fucking good—ahead of what Derek needs.”

Derek wondered how much Stiles had told Lydia about their relationship and about that morning, and he was surprised to find he wasn’t really worried about the answer.

“I know,” Stiles’ tension seemed to be easing off a bit as he listened to Lydia.  “Yeah, of course.”

A pause and more pacing.

“So that’s your advice?  After all this?”  Stiles tone was incredulous. Derek heard the scraping of a chair being pulled out and the pacing stopped.  When he spoke a minute later Stiles suddenly sounded vulnerable and very young.  “Really?  Do you mean that, Lyds?”  There was a short pause and Derek thought he heard Stiles actually snuffle as if he were tearing up.  “Thanks.”  A pause and that was definitely the sound of Stiles grabbing a tissue.  “I love you, too.” 

*             *             *

Derek thought about waiting a few minutes—basically trying to ignore what he’d heard—but something giddy and warm was swelling in his gut and instead he moved down the hall as soon as he heard Stiles set his phone down.  Stiles looked up when he came in, and even after hearing Stiles’ voice on that call he was surprised by the worry that seemed to weigh down Stiles’ face.  He moved straight over to Stiles and crouched down next to him, resting his hands on Stiles’ thigh.

“Hey,” he said, letting his thumb rub back and forth over the soft material of Stiles’ sweatpants.

“Hey,” Stiles said back.  “Did you—”

“I heard a little.”

“Oh.”  Stiles’ hands dropped into his lap and his head fell a bit as he looked down and away from Derek.  “I didn’t mean to disrespect your privacy, Der.”

Derek waited a moment, surprised when Stiles didn’t continue on in his usual rambling sort of way he had when he was nervous.  But he didn’t say anything else, so Derek grabbed on of Stiles’ hands that was twitching nervously in his lap.  “I know.  It’s okay.  She’s your friend.  You’re allowed to talk to your friend, Stiles.”

Stiles eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment, then dropped back down, but Derek was relieved to see him nod slightly in response.

“I like to think I’m your friend, too.”

At that, Stiles’ head rocked up and their eyes met and this time Stiles didn’t look away.

“Of course you are.” 

“Okay, so that means we’re allowed to talk out loud about how much you like to take care of me, right?” Derek challenged, making sure to keep a little edge of lightness in his tone.

Derek almost laughed by the confusion of expressions that crossed Stiles’ face at that.  Surprised slid into worried then into embarrassed and finally into something sort of questioning and uncertain.  “Umm…yeah…I mean…of course, but I just don’t want you to think that…I mean I know you can take care of yourself and everything and it isn’t like—”

Now there was his rambling Stiles.  “Well,” Derek interrupted abruptly, “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty much starving, so if you want to take care of me properly, I think you need to get me to Sal’s and get a juicy burger into me before I waste away.”

Stiles’ snorted and his face relaxed into a soft, understanding smile.  “Okay then, my mission is clear.  Let’s go.”

*             *             *

Three hours later they were walking into Derek’s apartment, stomachs full and both comforted from the simple pleasure of a good meal spent together.  Stiles’ tension had eased quickly and they had fallen into a ridiculously convoluted discussion about which of their friends and family seemed most like which figures of Greek mythology.  The discussion of Lydia had been most heated as Stiles argued for Artemis and Derek insisted she was much more like Circe.  Watching Stiles laugh out loud and wave his hands for emphasis, that giddy, warm feeling in Derek’s gut spread out, up into his shoulders and down his legs.  He loved watching Stiles’ mouth move as he spoke, his lips plumping and thinning and his tongue sliding over his teeth, every move smooth and perfectly synchronized.  And the way Stiles’ eyebrows bounced with excitement when he was riled up and smoothed to a harmonious arc when he smiled.  And those barely there dimples.  Fuck.  Derek was so screwed.

Stiles kicked off his shoes and dropped onto Derek’s couch.  “Man, that was good.  I needed that.”

Derek toed off his own shoes as he agreed, then settled down himself, pulling a knee up on the seat and facing Stiles.  They sat in comfortable silence for a minute before Derek pulled himself together enough to offer, “It’s cool if you want to talk about some things, Stiles.”  He tried not to sound nervous.  He meant to try to be open.  He knew Stiles would almost certainly still be thinking about his outburst that morning and maybe about what he’d overheard with Lydia.  And hell, with Stiles, he probably had a list of four (or forty) other things they should clear up just to be safe and sane and consensual, or whatever.  And Derek wanted to try—to really try to be as good for Stiles as Stiles had been to him.  This was it—Stiles was the one relationship that was worth all of the effort—even the hard shit.  Even the shit he wasn’t sure he was ready for.  He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try.  But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to ruin it out of the gate by not even making the fucking effort.

One side of Stiles’ mouth raised up and he said, “Yeah?” even as his hand reached out to rest on Derek’s knee where it was bumped up against Stiles’ leg. 

Derek nodded.

“Cool,” Stiles nodded.  “Yeah, that’s good.  I do…I think that’s a good idea.  Do you…is there something you want to talk about first?”

Derek’s chest pinched just a bit.  He hadn’t expected that.  He’d thought Stiles would take the lead.  “Um, not really…”  But that wasn’t the truth.  He’d been worried about something ever since he heard Stiles on the phone with Lydia.  He just wasn’t sure how to get across what he wanted to say.  “I mean…maybe…I just…”  Fuck.  He realized he was fingering the seam on his jeans and staring down at his stocking foot curled up on the couch next to Stiles’ thigh. 

Stiles’ hand squeezed his knee and he looked up.  “It’s just us, Der.  If there’s something you want to say, I’m here.”

Derek swallowed and licked his lips.  Right.  Stiles.  “So, um, I heard you…with Lydia…um…say that you…how much you love it when I…how I respond to your…instructions.”

Stiles nodded.  His brows pinched the tiniest bit, but he seemed to be holding back, waiting.

“And that you were worried that maybe it wasn’t…appropriate…”  He wasn’t sure if he was capturing Stiles’ concern at all, but figured Stiles obviously knew what he meant. 

And sure enough, Stiles just nodded again.

“Well, I don’t know what Lydia said about it, but I just thought maybe I should let you know that I don’t think it’s wrong or…I don’t know, unhealthy, or whatever.  At all.  I mean, it makes me feel even more sure and safe because you’re worrying about things like that, but I’m just saying I’m not worrying about that at all.  It’s sort of the opposite for me.  I mean, what I mean is…”  Ugh.  This is why he was Derek and not Stiles.  Trying to explain his feelings always seemed so fucking complicated.  “…hearing that you actually like it…the way we are…that you get off on it…that you’re not just doing it because it’s something I need…it makes me feel…I don’t know.  But I mean…it feels good.  Better.  Right.”

When he finally looked up, Stiles was grinning and his body had relaxed into the couch in a way he hadn’t been a few minutes earlier.  Relief coursed down Derek’s spine and he felt his own body ease.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered, and then reached out to grab Derek’s hand and squeeze it.  They just sat there holding hands and Derek couldn’t believe how easy and comfortable it was.  “Thank you, Derek.”

Derek nodded back and shifted his body, turning a bit so he could lean into Stiles.  He let his shoulder fall into Stiles’ and their heads dropped together until they were leaning temple to temple. 

“So it’s your turn now,” Derek said softly, soaking in the way Stiles’ long fingers played idly with his own. 

“Okay,” Stiles said.  His voice was soft and low, with the anxious nerves all seemingly gone.  “Well, I kinda wanted to talk about what you said in the car this morning.  Would that be okay?”

A lump formed in Derek’s throat, but he was expecting this, so he swallowed hard and nodded.  He was a grown man.  If he could ask for sex so fucking forcefully then he could talk about it more calmly, too.  Especially with Stiles, for fuck’s sake.

“Awesome,” Stiles murmured, and while the lump was still there in his throat Derek felt a warm feeling bloom in his chest.  “I mean, first, I hope you know that I’m totally on board with everything you said.”  Stiles’ fingers slid in between Derek’s tugging lightly at the skin in between.  “I mean, not just on board—I mean fucking desperately hungry for.  Like, seriously dream and think about all the time.  So, I mean, I hope there’s no question that that’s where we’re headed—I mean, I cannot wait to slide into you for the first time and feel you spreading out for me and clinging to me as I rock in and out of you.”  Derek’s cock twitched and heat shifted to his groin.  Stiles’ fingers were rubbing roughly into his palm now and his voice had become husky with breath and desire.

“But…”  Stiles suddenly shifted his body away and was looking at Derek.  “Can we—here—come here.”  And then he was moving and pulling Derek on top of him and shifting them both around until they were laying stretched out, face to face, Derek’s head resting on Stiles’ arm that was stretched out beneath him, and Stiles other hand reaching up to cup Derek’s cheek.  Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly.  “Good, that’s better.  I just needed to see you.  I need to make sure…  I want to fuck you so bad, Der.  I’ve been dreaming about it practically since I met you.  But I want it to be good for you—I don’t want to go trigger any panic attacks or any bad memories from…her.  And plus, I mean, I also just really wanted…I dunno, maybe I’m just a super control freak as a Dom, but I was really enjoying how our scenes were going and I don’t know…I mean, shit, maybe I’m saying this all wrong and maybe you know what’s good for you way better than I do.  I mean, I guess I want you to tell me if that’s what you think.  But I know our getting intense set your anxiety off in a bad way more than once and it seems like whenever we’re in a scene it doesn’t do that.  So I sort of really was into the idea that we should learn and grow what we do together in our scenes and sort of work up to that over time.”

Derek had smiled and felt nearly all of his remaining tension ease up when Stiles had said he did want to fuck Derek.  And Stiles’ sweet brown eyes staring at him and his hand that had gone from laying against Derek’s cheek to sliding down over his neck and collarbone and back up again and that low, husky sound of his voice, they were all making Derek feel so good—so cared for?—that he was surprised to find when Stiles’ mentioned his panic attacks and Kate that he didn’t feel freaked out at all. 

“I mean…I just don’t want to skip anything with you, Der.  I know we both have plenty of experience and it’s not like we’re innocent virgins who need to save it and make it more special.  Fuck, I mean, there’s pretty much no way for anything to be more special than it being you anyway!  But…I don’t know…even so I just kind of want to relish every single step along the way.  Is that…is that too weird?  I’m being weird and making everything seem too dramatic, aren’t I?”  Stiles bit his bottom lip and his hand stilled on Derek’s chest.  “Fuck, I mean, I’m sorry, now it’s gonna be all strange when you just want to have a normal boyfriend that is ready to fuck you like you deserve and there is no fucking reason why Stiles Stilinski shouldn’t be that fucking guy, and….shit, I knew I would mess this up—”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, leaning in to kiss Stiles’ lip where he was biting it so hard now, Derek was sure he was about to draw blood.

Stiles sucked in a breath, letting Derek’s soft kiss press against his mouth and after a few seconds, pressing back into it finally.

When Derek pulled back, Stiles’ eyes were wide and he seemed vulnerable and fucking perfect.

“How long have you been thinking about all this?” Derek asked.

Stiles chuckled nervously.  “Depends what you mean.  I guess you don’t just mean fantasizing about sex with you ‘cuz I’ve been doing that for about 12 years.  But progressive scenes and how your panic attacks and both our backgrounds might play into it and all the amazing moments we could have building our way up and getting to know each other better than we’ve ever known another lover…oh, probably since our first dirty phone call.”

Derek smiled, thinking back to Stiles calling that day while he was watching video-Stiles and fucking himself with his Stiles vibrator.  He could still hear Stiles’ voice shifting from surprised to turned on to confident, strong Dom in seconds.  It was the first time Stiles had called him a good boy and Derek almost whimpered now just thinking about it.

He looked into Stiles’ eyes, and he wanted to sink into them and never have to come back up for air.  “Well, far be it for me to disrupt my Dom’s plans.”

Stiles’ eyes seemed to darken and focus more tightly on him, and his fingers resumed trailing up and over Derek’s skin.  “So…you’re cool with it if it takes a while?”

Derek nodded.

“And you know it isn’t because I don’t want to fuck you, right?  I mean, I have entire epic fantasies worked up about your ass, okay?  I just really need you to know that.”

Derek laughed softly.  “I get it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said.  “Cool.  Alright.” 

Derek felt his mouth twist in a smirk.  Stiles was a tiny bit adorable.

“Well, um, so yeah, then there kind of is one more discussion we sort of need to have before I…well, I mean, so I can start planning scenes.  And just, I don’t want to torture you or invade your privacy or anything.”  Stiles eyebrows had risen and were practically crawling up his forehead now as he stared at Derek and his voice got softer and gentler.  “But I want to be safe…I mean safe for you…you know, not…I don’t want to trigger anything and hurt you.”  He paused and Derek felt the weight of his meaning, and somehow nothing bad happened.  His breath stayed even and his heartbeat was steady and no chills shot through him.  Nothing.  He just felt Stiles’ fingers running gently over his jawline, reminding him where he was and who he was with.

“We need to talk about Kate.  About…what she did to me…what…upsets me.”

Stiles nodded.  “If…you think you can.  I really don’t want to put you in a scene again and risk…I don’t think I’ll be able to relax and…if I’m worried that what I’m going to do will hurt you like that.”

Derek felt his eyes swelling with tears.  He couldn’t speak—he didn’t want to cry and make the moment weird and dramatic—but he wanted to tell Stiles that he was amazing—that he had never met a more caring boyfriend or Dom or friend for that matter.  So instead he just nodded roughly and pressed a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips, pulling back and looking at him to see if he understood.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, softly.

Derek nodded, and Stiles surged forward, kissing him hard—still a chaste, press of lips, but with a force that Derek took as an expression of relief and appreciation.

When Stiles pulled back he said, “Let’s do that tomorrow then.  I think we could use a little action movie and cuddling time for tonight.”

Derek murmured a rough, “Sounds good,” and let Stiles tug him into a full body hug, burying his face in Stiles’ shoulder and enjoying the warmth of their bodies tangling together.

Chapter Text

“I—”  Derek looked down at his the coffee mug in his hands.  “I don’t know where to start.”

Stiles’ warm fingers squeezed the arch of his foot.  “Anywhere.  Anywhere at all, Derek.”  Then Stiles was rubbing his foot, slowly but firmly, and Derek closed his eyes for a moment and let himself soak in the sensations.

“Kate never would have done that in a million years,” he said, opening his eyes and nodding to where his feet lay in Stiles’ lap.  “She hated my body.”

Stiles’ hands froze for just a moment, then resumed their rubbing.  “Why do you think that?”

“Because she fucking said it all the time!” Derek practically shouted then instantly felt his cheeks burning and a raw emptiness in his stomach.  “Sorry,” he murmured, “I shouldn’t be yelling.  Not at you.  But you don’t understand.”  He stared at his fingers circling his mug again.  How could he explain any of this to Stiles?  He was ashamed of how long he had put up with the way Kate treated him—with being miserable and still accepting Kate as his domme.  And he was ashamed of how angry he was and how damaged when he knew he hadn’t truly been abused—not the way so many people were.  They were the ones who had reason to have panic attacks and require special attention from their partners.  Not Derek.  All Kate did was….

“You’re right,” Stiles said softly.  “But I want to.”

Derek looked up.  “What?”

“Understand.”

“Oh.”  Stiles’ golden brown eyes were open wide.  They hadn’t opened the curtains, so even though it was a sunny morning, the room was only in half-light and Stiles looked so…  Fuck.  He looked pretty.  It was strange to think that about a man, but Stiles’ skin was so smooth and soft and his face just had a sort of innocent-seeming sweetness to it. 

“How about this?  I’ll try asking you a couple questions and you’re free to say ‘pass’ to anything, but maybe it’ll help get you started.”  Stiles’ hands had resumed rubbing Derek’s foot and Derek felt a tiny bit of the tension in his shoulders ease.

“Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay.  Umm… what’s one thing that both Kate and I do or have done as a dom that you like?”

Derek startled.  Nothing Stiles did was anything like Kate.  They were like night and day—he was quiet confidence where she was all bluster and commands.  He was a magnet where Kate was a vise.  He was eagerness and want where Kate was boredom and presumption.  But in the beginning she had seemed to really want him, to be flattered by his submission.  He thought now it had just been an act, but she had pulled him in with—

“Praise.”  He looked up at Stiles, who didn’t react much—just gave a slight smile and nod and continued rubbing the ball of Derek’s foot.  “I…  She…  It was different later, but at first, she was always telling me how good I looked and how hot I made her.”  He shrugged.  “I was 17, practically a kid still and she was older and so fucking hot.  Everyone who saw her wanted her—wanted to be with her—wanted to be me.  So I wanted that, too.  And I guess it wasn’t…wasn’t just the praise, you know?  Other people had admired me before—hell, half the girls in school flirted with me like it was their mission to get me in bed.  And I was captain of the lacrosse team and had plenty of people to tell me I was doing a good job at that.  I think…  I think it was the combination—being given orders and then getting praise specifically for following those orders.  For some reason it was so different than just making my coach or my mom proud or having the girl sitting behind me tell me my hair looked really good that day.

“With Kate, she would tell me to dress in a certain outfit and meet her after practice and when I did she would tell me I did good and her voice would sound so…satisfied.  It made me feel powerful and safe at the same time.  I don’t think I could have described it very well at the time—all I knew back then was that it felt good.  Really good.  And I got hooked on that feeling so fucking fast.  I wanted more.  And more.  And more.  I wanted her to constantly tell me what to do for her so I could do it and feel good like that.  At some point it stopped…she stopped making me feel good.  But I didn’t notice it happen.  I was in love with her, I think.  And I didn’t notice how miserable I was until after….”

…the fire.  After she murdered his family and tore out his heart and then disappeared into prison.  Derek stared at a worn patch on the couch and felt tears welling up in his eyes.  He felt Stiles squeeze his ankle and looked up to where Stiles’ eyes were locked onto him and the feeling of vertigo slid away almost immediately and he could feel his control coming back.  He blinked and felt the tears slide down his cheeks.  But that was it.  No flood of panic, no sobs of grief.  He felt safe and almost comfortable with his feet in Stiles’ lap and those tawny eyes on him.

“So it wasn’t good anymore at some point,” Stiles said, and it wasn’t really a question.  “Did you change?  Or did she?”

“Oh, she did.  Sorry, I didn’t think about how that came out.  No, it wasn’t like everything was the same and it just didn’t feel good.  It was more like she just…stopped being nice over time and started being…  Herself, I guess.  Like I said, I don’t remember the first time she asked me to do something I didn’t like or anything.  I don’t remember any of it in detail.  All I really remember is how it was the last year or so we were together.  By then I was practically living with her and had given up all my friends, barely saw my family.  I had a job at the gym—it was the only thing I did that didn’t revolve around Kate.  And she hated it.  She hated my working out and how it was affecting my body—making me harder and more muscular.  She used to tell me constantly how disgusting my body was getting.  ‘I don’t know why you want all those ugly muscles, Baby,’ she’d say.  ‘You were so much cuter before.’

Stiles shifted at the other end of the couch and Derek thought he could almost feel tension seeping from Stiles, but all he did was keep rubbing Derek’s heel and quietly said, “But you never stopped.”

“No.”  Derek smiled.  “I guess it might have been kind of a passive aggressive move.  But really I think I just needed it and it was the one thing that was for me that I wasn’t willing to let go for her.  I worked out just for me and it made me feel strong in a way nothing else in my life did.”

Stiles’ hands shifted from the deep massage and started to slide idly over Derek’s ankle.  “So, do you think Kate was really turned off by those things, or that she just enjoyed running you down?”

Derek looked up at Stiles.  “I…  I don’t know.  I never really thought about it.  She always sounded genuinely disappointed in me.  But why would she have stayed if it was such a turnoff?  She basically spent the last year we were together telling me everything I did and said was wrong.  So yeah, maybe she was just saying those things for effect, but boy, was she good at sounding disgusted?”

“Like what other kinds of things did she seem disappointed in?”

Derek looked up at Stiles and held his gaze.  “Everything.”  Stiles’ fingers slid over his ankle bone as he waited for something more, but Derek just watched him. 

Stiles’ hands stopped moving and he seemed to look more intensely at Derek.  “Everything,” Stiles repeated flatly.

“Yep.”

“So, it could be anything?  Like it would change every day?”

Derek sighed and he leaned back a little into the arm of the couch, looking up at the ceiling.  “No.  I don’t mean it was random.  I mean she was constantly disappointed, unhappy and critical about every single thing I did.  From the littlest things to the most important.”  He closed his eyes and he could almost hear her voice.  “When I walked I was too tall or too stiff.  When I knelt it was never right—I shouldn’t sit on my heels, I should cross my hands a little higher or a little lower, I should lean back and stick my chest out or I should bow my head and not be so challenging.  I was too hairy and my face was too rough, but when I shaved that was never right, either.  It was worse in front of other people.  She would laugh about me when we were in a club and point out to everyone everything that was wrong with me, and say how worthless her sub—”

“What?!” Stiles nearly shouted.

Derek didn’t move, he kept his eyes closed and just nodded.  He could feel that Stiles had leaned forward and was gripping his legs tightly now, but he just really couldn’t feel outraged about Kate.  At least, not about this.  She had murdered his family.  He had felt every conceivable emotion about her after the fire and he would always hate and despise her for that.  He knew that he could be born again and find all the spiritual oneness with the universe there is and he would still never forgive Kate for all she had taken from him—from everyone he loved.  How she’d treated Derek—it just didn’t matter.  “She did the same thing during sex.  And when we scened at a club or participated in groups in private her favorite thing was to tell me how much better the other men were.”

Derek could feel Stiles stiffening even more where his feet were still resting in Stiles’ lap, and thought he even heard a sharp intake of breath, but he plunged on. 

“If she was riding my or having me eat her pussy, she would keep up a running commentary about how useless I was with my tongue or didn’t know how to use my cock right.  ‘I should make you watch him right up close, Derek.  Maybe you could learn something.  Or better yet I should have him fuck you and maybe you’d get the idea then.  Look how he’s fucking her.  Look how wet she is—he’s so much better than you’ll ever be.’  She would offer me out at the club but warn everyone that I wasn’t any good.”

Yeah, that was definitely a hiss of shock or disgust or something from Stiles.

“She said the same things so often that it was her favorite thing to do to order me to tell her or tell someone else all the reasons I didn’t deserve her.  I had so many memorized that I could go on for a few minutes at a time if she wanted me to.  ‘I have no idea how to use my tongue to properly please a lady.  I don’t know how to kneel and pose as a proper sub should.  My cock doesn’t get hard enough and I can never—’

“Fuck,” Stiles murmured, and Derek felt Stiles’ fingers start moving over him again, this time gliding gently over his left ankle.

“Yeah,” Derek said.  “Sometimes after sex, when I was holding her and everything actually felt sweet and like maybe she was finally happy with me, she would just whisper, ‘You know you’ll never satisfy me, right?’ “  He licked his lips and focused on Stiles’ cool fingers sliding over his skin.  They were soft and soothing as fuck over his ankle that was still a little sore from his fall.

“Shit, Der.  That’s so seriously cruel and fucked up.  Are you sure you’re okay?  You know, talking about this right now?”

Derek shrugged.  It wasn’t fun to tell Stiles all of this and he was deeply ashamed of having stayed with Kate so long, but this wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d been afraid of.  He was comfortable somehow with Stiles here on his couch, sharing this piece of himself.  “It’s fine.  If we’re going to be able to scene you need to know and I’m tired of waiting.”

“Okay, well, I think I get the idea about her verbal abuse—at least, about this flavor of it.  Unless you want to share more—god, I didn’t mean to shut you down, I mean, if you can take talking about it of course I can listen—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, tilting his head down and looking at Stiles, wide eyed and flustered at the other end of the couch.  How is he so adorably flustered sometimes and so confident and solid other times?  “It’s okay.”

“Right,” Stiles said.  “Okay, so, let’s talk about actual kinks or, at least, actual domme/sub activity.  Were there things Kate liked that made you uncomfortable?”

Everything, Derek thought.  His mind filled with images of Kate—beautiful and wild and commanding.  And always telling Derek to do exactly what she knew he didn’t want or wouldn’t enjoy.  Fuck, I was such an idiot back then.  Why did I ever think I was in love with her or even liked her? 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, giving a light squeeze to his calf.  “Is that too hard?  Maybe we could just start with one little thing?”

“No, it’s—” Derek blurted, “it’s not hard.  It’s easy.  Because there isn’t one little thing.  It’s every single thing we ever did almost.  I mean, I guess it didn’t start that way, but that’s how it was at the end.  She loved…  She loved anything that made me squirm.  But I mean, not in the good way a dom can make you squirm.  What she liked was my discomfort.  I don’t know if that’s what turned her on or just what made her feel powerful because she was so warped and…  Whatever.  Anyway, I guess she was most into exhibitionism and service type submission?  But not in a loving way the way I’ve seen some couples do it.  I think if I thought she liked me basically at all then I would have wanted to do things for her and would have enjoyed being useful to her.  But the stuff she did—it almost wasn’t even as if it was because it was that useful to her.  I guess it wasn’t about the service so much as…maybe humiliation?”

“Like what?” Stiles asked, his voice calm and relaxed, just like his fingers, like they were just talking about what it was like to grow up or what their hobbies were.  It made Derek feel like whatever he said it couldn’t really hurt him—hurt them.

“She loved to use me as an ottoman—have me kneel in front of her so she could kick her feet up on my back and relax.  She always wanted me to lick her shoes or her boots right before we went out for an evening—she would talk about needing to look nice and shiny and pretty for going out, but it always felt like it was a power trip for her.  She liked to be served all her meals, especially if anyone else was around, but I wasn’t allowed to eat until she was done and then only after asking for permission.  Really, not asking—she liked me to beg.  If she was unhappy with me or in a bad mood she would say no and would tell me to throw the rest away and watch me clean it all up to make sure I didn’t sneak a bite.  I don’t know why she thought I would—I could always handle going hungry and I never would have broken her trust—”

Stiles made a strangled noise and Derek realized that both Stiles’ hands were wrapped around his calf now, gripping tightly.  When Derek looked up, Stiles’ eyes were shining and wide and he looked –Derek couldn’t describe it—he just looked on the edge of….something.

Derek paused and sort of shifted his feet a bit in Stiles’ lap until Stiles suddenly pulled his hands free and burst out, “Shit, Der, sorry.”

Derek shrugged.  “You weren’t hurting me, I just…  I thought maybe you needed a second?”

Stiles face twitched and then slid into something that looked like shame.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.  I just…  It’s hard to hear about her making you go hungry while you worried about her trust in you.  I know you’re not a teenager now and I’m sure you know all about good BDSM practices and….  Fuck, it probably isn’t even about that—I mean, my shit probably isn’t even about that truthfully—it’s probably really just because I love you and the thought of….  It doesn’t matter.  I swear I am not turning your history and what you’ve been through into my shit.  But your trust, your submission, it’s like the most perfect, beautiful gift and she….” 

Stiles trailed off and Derek realized his face was hot—he was so embarrassed he was blushing but it wasn’t bad.  It was good.  His fingers were sweaty in his lap and he rubbed them on his thighs and then didn’t know what to do with his hands.  He felt warm and kind of wanted to hide somewhere at the same time he wanted to hear more.  When he looked back up, Stiles was staring at him and his lips turned up slowly into a soft smile.  Stiles opened his arms and beckoned with the fingers of both hands and Derek surged across the couch into his arms, where Stiles wrapped him up and squeezed his shoulders tightly.  It felt so good.  Like coming home.

“You know that movie, The King and I?” Derek whispered into Stiles’ chest.

“Yeah?”

“Kate was like the king in that.  She liked to always be above me—liked to be standing over me and making me somehow smaller than her or more vulnerable.  She liked to have me kneeling or crawling or crouching or sitting.  And she liked to use her feet on me—step on me to show her position, push me back with her foot to rearrange me, stuff like that.  And she liked to scratch her long nails over my skin and leave marks.  I don’t know, that might have been okay with someone else, but with Kate—something about it was disturbing, like inside of her there was a wild animal barely contained that could burst out at any time and rip me apart.”

“So that’s why scratching is one of your limits,” Stiles said.  “And I think you had crawling as a 1, too.  But kneeling you were less restrictive on, right?”

Derek nodded.  “I…I think maybe for the right person…maybe it wouldn’t be just okay but would even be positive.  Like could be really really good.  When I think about it in a sexual context, like kneeling in front of you for a blowjob…”  He could already see it in his head.  Stiles.  Huge and hard just the tiniest of space from his lips.  He licked his lips and could almost feel the heat that would be coming from Stiles and how badly he would want to lean forward and close that gap and how tantalizingly delicious it would be to have to wait for that word from Stiles—for permission to taste and touch and play.  “And even other times it might be cool if it wasn’t Kate.  She just—it wasn’t the kneeling—it was what the kneeling was about, if that makes sense?”

“Okay, so is there something—can you think of something you did with Kate that just is definitely not okay and you can’t imagine it being okay even with someone you completely trust?”

“Blindfolds.  Definitely.  And anything like that.  I can’t…  Kate loved sensory deprivation.  And she just—maybe it could have been fine for me back then but she confused everything.  She used to use sensory deprivation as a punishment and then also still thought it would be hot in a scene.  She had this closet at her place she had rigged up to be pitch black and with special padlocks and padding so it was dark and silent and unescapable.  If she was seriously disappointed in me she would tell me I was going to have an hour of closet time as punishment.  And there was nothing worse than that.  Time in there felt like—I don’t know if she stuck to her times or not because sometimes it felt like hours and hours must have passed, but maybe it just felt that way because—”  Derek shuddered and he felt Stiles’ arms pull tight around him again.  He smelled so good, like soap and just a little bit of salty, muskiness.  “Anyway, then she still would want to blindfold me or use headphones or earplugs in a scene and it would just make me panic.  We used to have the worst fights about that because it was the one thing that I would get made enough about to argue with her.  She actually broke up with me once when I refused to let her do it.  But she called a few days later and begged me to take her back and I…”  He paused, afraid to admit to how desperately he had missed Kate and how grateful he had been when she still wanted him.  He had been such a lost teen, so dependent on Kate and what he thought was her approval and reassurance but was really just abuse and taking advantage of an underage, underexperienced partner.

“That’s really impressive…I’m…I’m so proud of you, Der,” Stiles whispered, his lips brushing over Derek’s hairline as he spoke.

Proud?  Proud?  That Derek had been so weak and dependent that he had fallen for Kate’s fake apologies and promises?  “Wha--?” Derek couldn’t even get a word out it made so little sense to him.

“You were so young and so new to all of this and so alone and you still understood intuitively what was right and what you needed and you stood up for yourself against your domme.  I—fuck, Derek, you just…  you’re just so fucking good.  I promise I will work every day to not make those same mistakes and to honor your limits.  Shit.”  Stiles was rambling and mumbling a bit now and it was almost as if he was talking to himself and not Derek, so Derek felt safe not trying to figure out what to say to that, but he did allow himself to enjoy the sensation of warmth and relaxation that spread through his shoulders and down his back at Stiles’ words.

“Okay, so blindfolds and sensory deprivation.  No go.  No problem.  Anything else like that?”

“Umm…” Derek considered.  He had sort of grown to hate having to be buried in between Kate’s thighs on command, but that definitely wasn’t going to be a problem with Stiles.  “No.  The other limits we talked about—they aren’t necessarily about Kate.  I don’t like being tied up and gags are a no go.  But we talked about those.  Everything else with Kate, it…it isn’t about the thing itself, just the way she would talk.  She never really forced me into serving someone else, but she loved to say that she would.  We didn’t go out a lot to clubs, but when we did she always wanted me on a leash and would have me crawling or walking behind her, telling everyone what a shitty sub I was and offering to rent me out to them.”

Stiles made another sort of strangled noise, but didn’t interrupt and Derek went on, “I know it seems backwards, and I know you’re going to be careful and worry about it anyway, but I don’t think you’re at much risk of directly triggering any memories of my time with Kate.  I guess there’s a chance, but we could do all the same stuff and I bet you it’d feel completely different.  In fact, so far it’s kind of been how different it is that’s what’s set me off with you.  I think I got scared when you were so careful and slow with me.”

“Are you saying you want me to be an asshole like Kate?  Because I don’t think I can do that, Derek,” Stiles said.  His voice had a tone Derek wasn’t used to.

“No!  No.  Of course not.  Just…I guess I want you to be prepared that this might just be a process for me and not really in your control?  You can’t tell but over the years I know I’ve already gotten better even before you.  Originally I couldn’t set foot in a club because everything was wrong one way or the other.  Strict doms reminded me of Kate, even if they weren’t really like her at all.  And caring moments from doms made me feel even more confused and lost.  So I kept giving up but then trying again after some time passed because there still was always something drawing me back.  Something I was looking for.  I need and I want a dom and I want it to be a healthy situation and to actually be fulfilling for a change.”  He pulled up from Stiles’ chest and leaned back a little so he could look at Stiles.  “I want that with you.  But I just might have some roadbumps here and there along the way.”  He held Stiles’ caramel eyes in his own gaze and waited.  He had no idea why he was feeling nervous.  He already knew what Stiles would say.  This was Stiles.  Stiles.  Stiles who he was in love with and who miraculously had been in love with him the whole time, too.  This was his boyfriend.  His Dom.  And from what he had seen so far, already the best Dom he had ever met.  And yet, while all of that went through his head and soothed some of his tension, there was still that brittle, jumpy side that wanted to hide away so it couldn’t hear the rejection it knew was coming.

Just as Derek’s anxiety was threatening to stir up, Stiles shifted, sliding slightly out from under Derek so they were next to each other, Derek laying on the inside of the couch, framed in by the back of it and by Stiles laying in front of him.  Stiles’ right hand came up to cup Derek’s face and his warm honey-brown eyes looked watery.  Derek’s heart started to pound and he could feel his own eyes filling. 

“There is nothing I want more than to take this ride with you, Der.  I promise that I will accept you as you are and be there for you through all the roadbumps—big or small—and work with you to make our relationship exactly what we decide together that we want it to be.”

Derek’s heart was going to explode from his chest, it was beating so hard.  He pressed his lips together, trying to keep from crying, and he could feel his eyes widening, trying not to let the tears fall.

Stiles smiled at him and the hand that was holding his cheek, slid down a bit to cup his jaw.  Then Stiles was leaning forward and pressing his lips to Derek’s.  Stiles’ lips were soft and a little bit cool and the press was gentle and firm somehow at the same time and instead of pulling back right away it just continued as if Stiles was sinking just barely into Derek, and then Derek felt like he was in quicksand, floating and sinking together at once as the kiss went on and on.  When Stiles finally pulled away, Derek opened his eyes and saw Stiles’ tear-streaked face and could feel that his own matched it. 

Then Stiles was sliding off the couch and before Derek knew it, Stiles was kneeling in front of him with their hands clasped together, as Stiles said, “I love you.  You are the most intriguing man and the most beguiling sub I have ever met.  I have wanted you for years and now to find out you are a sub—and such a hot, pliant, respectful sub—I feel like my every fantasy is coming true.  Please, Derek Hale, will you accept me as your Dom?”

Derek’s stomach pitched and he wanted to scream with joy, but he didn’t know how.  It wasn’t him.  He wasn’t comfortable doing—but he was so fucking ecstatic he thought surely anyone who could see him would have known that he was doing somersaults inside.  He nodded and he could feel his hands squeezing Stiles’ hands hard—maybe too hard but he couldn’t stop.  And he couldn’t stop nodding.  His head was bobbing up and down and he was so goddamn happy.  Holy fuck.  Stiles.  Stiles was his Dom.  Stiles was ready to be his Dom.  Stiles wanted to do this with him and didn’t care that he might freak out.  He was going to get to touch Stiles.  To be touched by Stiles.  To do what Stiles asked him to do and to make Stiles feel good and cared about.  Cared for.  “Please,” he whispered.  He didn’t know what he was asking for or trying to say.  “Please, Stiles.” 

But Stiles did.  He smiled and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Derek’s lips and then standing.

“Okay.  I want you to go to the kitchen and get us two bottles of water from the fridge and bring them back here,” Stiles said, as he tugged on Derek’s hands, urging him to rise. 

Derek went right away, his pounding heart starting to slow.  He moved to quickly on the first step and felt a tiny twinge in his left ankle, and immediately slowed and shifted his stride, remembering to move carefully for his ankle.  Stiles wouldn’t want him to aggravate it.  When he came back with the waters, Stiles was standing in front of the couch and took the water bottles from him, setting both on the end table.

“Good.  Now I want you to pick one of your favorite books and bring it to me.”

Derek walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed his worn copy of Cat’s Cradle and brought it back to Stiles.

Stiles smiled and said, “Very good.  What’s your safeword?”

“Yellow, or red.”

“Good.  Now, I’m going to sit on the couch, and you’re going to kneel in front of me.  I’m going to give you one choice and either one is okay with me.  I want you to choose whichever one you want and I will be very happy either way, but you have to stay within the limits I set, okay?” 

Derek nodded.

Stiles’ smile grew a little bigger.  “Very good.” Derek watched as Stiles opened his jeans and then pushed them down, kicking them off along with his boxers.  He wasn’t hard at all, but his cock still made Derek’s mouth water with anticipation.  Stiles sat down, settling in to the couch and then pulled a pillow off and dropped it onto the floor between his legs, right in front of Derek’s feet.  “Kneel for me, Baby.”

Derek dropped onto the pillow, unable to keep from staring at Stiles’ dick. 

That is, until Stiles’ hand holding a water bottle suddenly blocked the view.  “Drink.” 

Derek took the bottle and took several long pulls from it, realizing as he did that he hadn’t even realized how thirsty he was.  When he handed the bottle back to Stiles, only a third of it was left.  “So good, Baby,” Stiles said softly, almost under his breath.  Then, “Okay, I’m going to read aloud for a while.  You have your choice.  You can either rest your head on my thigh only, or you can do the same and be my cockwarmer.  If you are not cockwarming, you may not touch or tease my cock in any way whatsoever.  If you are cockwarming, you will just hold my cock gently in your mouth, trying to swallow only when necessary and not making any other moves that would tease or arouse me.  While I’m reading, I want you to focus on the story and on your own comfort and relaxation.  Do you have any questions?”

“No, Sir,” Derek said.  He was so ready.

“Okay, go ahead then.”

Derek leaned forward and settled down further onto the pillow, leaning into the couch and the space between Stiles’ legs.  He pressed in and gently and very carefully took the head of Stiles’ cock into his mouth.  He slid forward a bit more, taking in a couple more inches.  Even flaccid he couldn’t take it all in, so he settled for as much as he could do comfortably (which only left a couple inches at the base) and collapsed into Stiles’ thigh, resting his hand on the other thigh and closing his eyes.  He barely noticed Stiles wiggle a little beneath him and then open the book rifling through the first page of actual text.  But when Stiles’ warm voice started narrating, Derek listened to the story, just as Stiles had instructed, letting Stiles’ voice bring a new flavor and warmth to one of his favorite novels.  At some point he noticed that Stiles’ hand that wasn’t holding the book had dropped into his hair and was twining through it idly as he read.