The phone feels heavy in his hand as he pulls up the iMessage application, opening his most recent conversation with Derek. He presses the little camera button and angles his phone camera to take a picture of the outline of his hard cock pulsing against his grey boxers. Bringing his phone back to look at his handiwork, it’s a Live Photo so Derek will actually see his cock pulse and twitch against the fabric, he feels a blush take over his features at the thought but takes a deep breath and clicks send anyway. Slipping his hand into his briefs as he anxiously waits for Derek’s reply, he distracts himself from the nervous feeling settling deep in his stomach by slowly stroking the tip of his dick.
They’ve both been alluding to this for a while, text-flirting here and there late into the early morning. Derek had been so open and carefree with him, making jokes and flirting so easily. It left Stiles’ wondering if maybe that’s how Derek was before all the pain and tragedy he’d suffered through the fire, gorgeously charming and flirtatious. They’d sexted a little bit, or what was actually flirting enough Stiles’s imagination left him hard and leaking in his pajama pants, that it only took a few strokes for him to thrust his hips up into his hand, releasing in thick ropes all over himself.
It’s two thirty in the morning so part of him really isn’t expecting any kind of reply, but he’s horny, bored and has the house to himself. He decides to open PornHub on his phone, scrolling quickly to find a video to keep his interest enough (and his nerves at bay) while he anticipates Derek returning his text. He opens a sloppy blowjob video, he bits his lip as he twists over the head of his cock thinking of Derek’s warm mouth on him. It’s flush against the fabric and oozing against his palm, he whines rutting against himself until a text chimes, startling him out of out his daze.
New iMessage from Sourwolf💘:
“Stiles, did u send this to the wrong person? Again?”
Stiles bites back a laugh ‘cause well yeah. He’s done that before, but he has a feeling that the other boy’s playing coy, he shuffles his pants and briefs down his legs quickly, kicking them across the room, he opens the camera again taking a picture of his unclothed cock against his stomach, he quickly writes back, “nope, wanted you to see this.” Derek doesn’t take long to reply this time;
“Just because ur legal now doesn’t mean u should be sending dirty pics of urself to other people.”
“No face or identifiable tattoos, nothin wrong with that. Are u not interested?” Stiles sends back a picture of his ruby red lips pouting, they’re glistening, split slicked in dim light of his bedroom.
“Those moles r an identifiable mark...”
Stiles gets another text right after it that one:
“An those fucking lips.”
“So, ur interested. In my lips?” Stiles replies, complete with a picture of him biting his lower lip, getting his hand on his hard cock again. Then another text, “Interested in my lips stretched tight around ur throbbing dick? Ur hands shoving my head down further, taking as much of u in as possible until u hit the back of my throat and force me to deep throat u…”
Derek’s reply this time is an incoming phone call and Stiles almost jumps out of his skin, his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard he thinks it might pop. He presses the green button on the screen with a shaking thumb, when he answers he’s met with a deep breathy voice.
“Most definitely interested in that,” Derek’s whisper is deep, deeper than his usual gravel is, it sparks a bolt of pleasure through him, “You looked so good in those photos, Stiles.”
“I thought so too,” Stiles croons, slowly teasing the tip of his dick with a loose fist, “I don’t know if you know this about me Der… But I don’t have a gag reflex.”
“You’ve no idea what you do to me, Stiles,” Derek all but growls, his dick twitches in his hand at the tone of Derek’s voice, he squeezes tighter.
“Tell me,” Stiles says breathily, as a wave of braveness washes over him, “Please?”
Derek lets out a strangled chuckle and Stiles thinks he’s maybe touching himself.
“Everything, everything you do makes me want to either strangle you or shove my cock down your throat to shut you up,” Derek growls in his ear, Stiles can hear him fisting his wet dick, “You have no idea how fucking infuriatingly gorgeous you are, Stiles.”
Stiles lets out a soft noise from the back of his throat, “Are you touching yourself Derek?”
“Yeah - ah, fuck, thinking about those gorgeous lips, those fucking lips wrapped around my dick,” Derek moans, his movements getting faster, “Sucking me, letting me face fuck you, taking my cock so deep, like such a good boy.”
The younger boy preens at the praise, stroking faster, “Wish you were here. With me. Want that. Want all that.”
Derek growls lowly, more wolf than man, “I could be with you. If you wanted.”
“Fuck, please. Derek, please. Need to feel you.” Stiles whimpers, canting his hips into his fist, “Want to feel you Der, want t’taste you for days. Please – Please…”
The other boy stills at his words, Stiles takes notices and slows his own movements, panting into the receiver waiting for Derek, “Do you want me to come over?”
It’s sobers Stiles, he mulls it over for about a split second before nodding into the phone and another split second to realize that Derek can’t see him nodding furiously, “Come in my window? It’ll be quicker.”
“I’ll be there in five,” Derek muses, clicking off the phone call.
Stiles whimpers into the dead receiver, forcing himself to stop touching himself, he waits patiently for Derek, and literally twiddles his thumbs together. Mind wandering, chest heaving with anxiety, it’ll be okay, Derek wouldn’t do this if he didn’t want to, he tries to tell himself, but his pathetic attempts are not convincing. He takes a deep breath, trying to center his breathing for what’s about to come. Or who’s about to come. The thought makes him snort a laugh.
And then there’s a soft rap on his window that brings him crashing back to reality after he doesn’t know how long, he gets up from the bed and pulls on a too big t-shirt to cover his modesty. He doesn’t need his elderly neighbor seeing him fully naked. Accidentally. Again.
Derek’s outside throwing stones at his bedroom window, Stiles opens the latch and Derek manages to scale the side of his house with ease, he climbs inside and just stares at Stiles in his baggy oversized Foo Fighters shirt.
It sits mid-thigh and Derek can see the outline of Stiles’ dick starting to thicken again, pressing against the thin threadbare fabric, he can smell the sticky pre-cum partly dried into his creamy skin and pubes. Derek feels his fingertips itch for his claws to extend and his gums prick as his fangs threaten to drop, he tries to clear his mind to speak.
“Are you sure you want to do this with me?”
Stiles nods frantically, looking on in awe, his whiskey doe eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
“No, I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you to fuck me, Derek,” Stiles says breathily, tugging his red bottom lip between his teeth and something in Derek’s eyes turn animalistic.
Nodding, Derek shrugs off his leather jacket onto the desk chair and backs Stiles up until the back of his knees hit the bed, shoving him gently backward, bracketing either side of his hips with his knees, Stiles’ shirt ridden up enough to get a good view of his dick. Derek’s mouth waters as he stares at the sight of the younger boy beneath him, melted whiskey colored irises almost engulfed by the black of his pupils. A beautiful pink blush covering his cheeks and the tips go his ears, spreading down the stretch of his already bared neck, ruby lips open and wet with spit from nervously over licking them, Derek thinks he looks absolutely fucking gorgeous like this, and that’s what he tells Stiles.
Stiles blushes harder, redder, the way Derek’s staring at him like he’s taking a mental picture of this precise moment to keep forever, he paws for Derek’s henley and pulls him down into a kiss. It’s awkward because of the angle but the older boy’s hand is crawling up his shirt, gently brushing up the bare skin of his hips and Stiles can feel more blood rushing south into his cock.
Stiles pants against his mouth, hands moving down Derek’s outrageously muscular body, stopping at the hem of his shirt. Fingers dancing underneath, missing the beat of confidence to actually take it off.
“Do it, if you want,” Derek encourages tinged with a subtle authority, “You can take it off.”
“Are you sure, Der?” Stiles asks breathless, Derek’s previous sexual history suddenly flitting through his thoughts.
Derek nods slowly, humming as he pecks his lips, “Please, take it off.”
The younger boy complies, pulling it up and over Derek’s body throwing it across the room. Derek surges forward sealing their lips together ferociously, Stiles’ hands are all over the other man’s body, flicking his thumb over one of his nipples. Derek makes a throaty-wolf noise that makes Stiles arch into him, leaking a few pearly drops of pre-cum against his stomach, Derek dips his head to lick Stiles’ neck, it’s already bared again, a submissive gesture and it sends Derek’s wolf spiraling, howling as loud as it can with want inside of him. Derek growls biting into his neck with blunt human teeth, before lapping over the mottled mark that’s forming with his tongue. Stiles lets out a high-pitched whine, arching into the older man again, he whines again, starting to undo Derek’s belt and jeans button. Derek chuckles heartily against his neck, nipping gently.
He’s not sure how it happens but soon Derek’s very naked between Stiles’ legs, rutting against the bedspread under him as he licks a trail from Stiles’ perineum to the tip of his cock. He moans, catching the tip in Derek’s abused lips. They’re puffy, red and Stiles thinks he might die from sensory overload, the way Derek’s looking up at him through his hooded eyes causes pleasure to coil deeper in his stomach.
“Wan’ you fuck me,” Stiles slurs, gently rubbing his dick against Derek’s abused mouth again.
“Have you ever been fucked by a guy?” Derek questions licking at the other boy’s cock, “Or, fucked a guy?”
“Ngh,” Stiles tries, “No - no, I - I haven’t, you know that, though Der...”
“You’ve fucked yourself though,” Derek says too casually for someone who’s rock hard and leaking against a comforter, “I’ve smelled it before, the smell of silicone and strawberry lube all over you, it made me wild knowing that you’d done that to yourself. Always – always jacked myself off after it, came so hard because of you.”
Stiles moans, nodding and rubbing his cock tip over Derek’s lips again, seeking any friction at all, “All - always wanted it to be you - you that was fucking me, always came rutting against my hand. Moaning your name.”
He peels himself away from Derek and opens his bottom drawer, bypassing everything else in there and produces half a bottle of strawberry lube. Derek drizzles it over his fingers, brushing them over his desperate hole and then his own dick. Stiles can’t stop staring in awe at the older man jerking his dick, slicking it with lube.
“No time for you to prep me Derek, jus’ fuck me,” Stiles begs.
“I gotta make sure you’re ready,” Derek laughs, it’s strained but he pushes into Stiles’ entrance with a single finger.
“M’Not gonna last,” Stiles pants as Derek works him open, “Not at this rate.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Derek soothes adding another finger, his free hand rubbing small soothing motions onto his hip, “If you don’t it’s okay, Stiles.”
Stiles mewls, bearing down onto the digits inside of him. He’s sure Derek brushes over his prostate, he has to grab the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming right then and there. Derek quirks a thick, dark eyebrow at him, Stiles just huffs out a pathetic breath that sounds faintly like a laugh.
“You ready for another?” Derek asks, licking the crease where thigh meets hip.
The younger boy tries to smile down at him in response, he knows his eyes are blown out, his lips red and his pulse racing in Derek’s ears. And then there’s another finger being slipped inside of him, Stiles does his best to match Derek’s movements but every time they meet the older boy’s thick fingers bump his prostate and it feels too good to stop himself from cumming.
“M’Gonna - M’Gonna, feels too good,” Stiles pants, rutting his hips down, “Can’t - Can’t stop.”
His fists are tightly balled into the comforter under him, white knuckled pleasure pulsing through his veins.
“Are you gonna to cum for me?” Derek rises to whisper in his ear before tracing the shell with his tongue, “Are you gonna show me what a good boy you can be?”
“Please…” Stiles begs, “Please Derek…”
“God, I’ve not even touched your dick yet,” Derek mewls, thrusting a little harder and it drives Stiles wild.
Stiles sobs, unclenching a hand to grab Derek’s neck to smash their lips together. It’s all tongues and teeth as Derek moves in and out of him harder, angling differently, it’s awkward positioning but he makes it work. Dragging his cock lazily against Stiles’ a few times is enough to make him spurt white hot cum between them. It shoots across their stomachs, it even reaches Stiles’ chin.
His face stuck in a silent cry, frozen in that moment, a tear falling from the corner of his eye as Derek works him through it slowly and carefully, kissing all over his neck and face. Stiles manages to regain his composure a few moments later, panting and huffing against Derek’s cheek. He lets out an unexpected puff of laughter before kisses Derek, reaching down to stroke Derek’s dick, thick and warm in his hand.
“Still wan’ you t’fuck me,” Stiles slurs, squeezing a little harder and fisting Derek faster.
Derek laughs but it quickly turns to a broken moan, “Are you sure?”
The younger boy nods fervently, still tinted pink and panting from his high.
Derek slips from Stiles’ grip and lines himself up at Stiles’ hole, he pushes past his cheeks and tips himself easily into the boy, he hisses at the intrusion but eases up when Derek stills. He urges him to continue, kneading the balls of his feet into his ass cheeks, he goes slowly until he’s sunk all the way in, inch by inch until he bottoms out. Stiles grabs at the hair at the base of Derek’s neck, he presses hot, wet kisses all over Stiles’ neck as he pulls out and slides back in slowly a few times, getting Stiles used to the feeling.
“Derek…” Stiles gasps eyes closed, his voice wrecked again, already regaining feeling in his cock and rolling his hips, “Fuck me, please.”
He can’t deny Stiles any longer, so he pulls out and thrusts back in making them both groan. Derek finds a rhythm quickly, slamming his hips into Stiles hard and rough, the loud moans and gasps falling from the younger boy’s mouth, egging him on. His hand reaches for Stiles’ neglected dick that’s almost fully hard again, running his hand over it a few times making the younger boy’s back arch off of the bed and try to get more friction. Stiles unknowingly clenches around him, making the older man inhale sharply. He ruts himself down onto Derek’s beautiful, thick cock, trying to feel him as much as possible. It feels better than his fingers as Derek fucks into him mercilessly, kissing and sucking every inch of his neck and collarbone he can manage.
“You feel so good Stiles,” Derek murmurs, trailing up his jaw to press his lips to Stiles’.
“That’s you,” Stiles breathes, a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips before dropping into a moan, “You feel so fucking good - so good…”
Derek looks fucking outrageous as Stiles drinks him in, jaw is slack in pleasure, his big eyes now just slits of pupil, just open just enough to be able to see himself fucking in and out of Stiles’ abused hole, his normally perfectly sculpted hair matted to his forehead and Stiles is sure this is the best he’s ever looked. He watches in amazement at his abs contract and flex with every thrust, his hands find their way to his chest. He brushes a finger over his nipple and God, Derek’s eyes pretty much roll back into his head in pleasure, Stiles lets out a hazy giggle and pinches the little blush pink nub between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently.
“You like that?” Stiles asks breathlessly and Derek whines, nodding, his eyes shut tightly.
Stiles can feel the thrusts getting sloppy and out of time, the forming smirk is wiped off of his face when Derek’s dick brushes against his already spent prostate. He gasps, rolling his hips down to try and meet Derek’s movements.
“I’m not - not gonna last,” Derek growls in his ear, inhaling the sweet scent at the juncture of Stiles’ jaw and neck.
“S’okay, I wanna see what you look like when you cum,” Stiles encourages, reaching down to tug his own dick a few times.
Derek makes a noise in his throat that Stiles wants to hear every day for the rest of his life, his hips stuttering forward as he buries himself in Stiles, he cums gasping into the younger boys sweat slicked neck. Stiles lets Derek ride out his orgasm, puffing and panting until he manages to lift himself to press their foreheads together. Stiles’ hands slither into his damp hair, tugging slightly as he nudges his face to kiss him. It’s slow and languid, their tongues moving against each other’s gently, Derek’s arms are still trembling a little with aftershocks and Stiles nuzzles his nose against Derek’s.
“You never came again?” Derek whispers after a few moments as if he speaks, the moment would be gone, “You should’ve said.”
Stiles shrugs, his mouth quirking upward, “Happens.”
Derek nods in response, a sad look flitting across his face, “M’gonna pull out, s’that okay?”
The younger boy nods, wincing when Derek starts. He lets Derek kiss him, it’s sweet, almost teasing. And then the two of them fall easily into each other, Derek pulling him in tight under his chin, tucking Stiles away safely to sleep.
Stiles wakes up to his bedroom door being slammed, his father is standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, foot tapping as he clears his throat. Stiles scrambles from Derek’s iron grip, trying his best to shield his dignity from his father’s eyes, he shakes Derek’s shoulder to wake him.
“Hey Daddio,” Stiles squeaks, “This – This isn’t, it’s not. We’re not –”
“Just get both of your fully dressed asses downstairs now Stiles,” His voice tight but authoritative as he leaves, “I’m making breakfast and you will not complain about my bacon choices, Stiles!”
Derek snorts from deep in the comforter, “Did not intend on your father finding out this way…”
Stiles chokes, “Ya think!? Get dressed, I can smell him making stress bacon!”
They dress quickly, Stiles pulling on a pair of sweats and the Foo Fighters shirt from the previous night, he tucks it into his sweats to attempt to hide the questionable stains on it.
When they get downstairs, Sherriff Stilinski is serving up three plates of pancakes and bacon, he gruffly tells Derek to set the table and Stiles to get the orange juice and glasses.
No one spoke a word as the three ate, Stiles pushes his food around his plate nervously, glancing between his father and Derek. He feels like his throat is going to close up around him, his cheeks feel warm, fingers trembling and his palms prickly with anxiety.
“So, you two are together?” The Sheriff asks, swiping a large piece of pancake through a glob of maple syrup.
“We – Uh, No. We. Dad – No, We,” Stiles gushes his hands flailing, syrup dripping from his fork onto his placemat, “We haven’t – we’ve not –”
“Sheriff, with all due respect Stiles and I, we haven’t really spoken about it,” Derek explains, “Last night, just kind of happened… By accident.”
“So, let me get this straight Derek, you’re sleeping with my son but not exclusively?” He relaxes, a hand slipping down to rest over his gun.
“Dad, stop,” Stiles squeaks in defence, “We’ve just not had a chance to talk about what this is yet. No harm done. “
“For crying out loud Stiles, you’re barely nineteen,” Noah sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and rising to his feet, “I’m going to bed, I can’t deal with this anymore.”
“For the love of god,” Stiles covers his face with his hands, “We fucked up.”
Derek grimaces, “Yeah, we did.”
“Do you - you don’t, what we did... Regret it I mean?” Stiles asks clearly flustered, peeking at his slightly amused expression through his fingers.
The older boy takes Stiles’ hands away from his face and lacing their fingers together, Stiles breath hitches, anxiety pheromones radiating off of him in waves.
“No, no I don’t,” Derek whispers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “Do you?”
Stiles visibly relaxes a little, turning playful kind of bashful, “Can’t you smell me?”
“Yeah but all you smell like is me,” Derek grins and Stiles rolls his eyes with a small smirk, turning a little pink.
He gently swats at Derek’s shoulder, “What am I going to tell my dad?”
“That we’re dating?” Derek says, a small smile toying at the corners of his lips, “If that’s what you want anyway...”
Stiles snorts, rapping his fingers against the table, agitated, “Is that what you want?”
“For once I’m not denying myself of what I want. I want this, you, all of it. If you’ll have me.” Derek says simply, gripping his hand tighter.
“Fuck,” Stiles breathes, tugging the older boy in to slot their mouths together, “Fuck, yes, Derek. God, yes!”