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Out of The Blue

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The pack is at the backyard, having their daily training session. Derek stands on the sidelines, guides them when necessary or spars with one of them.

It catches him completely off guard when his cock begins to chub up, out of nowhere.

He quickly turns around before any of the betas can notice although, he's sure they'll find out anyway once they smell it in the air. But who cares. Being werewolves and having heightened senses means it is something that cannot be avoided. Everyone got used to it fast.

For some reason, Derek's first instinct is to go and find Stiles. He usually prefers to have a quick jerk of moment whenever he gets aroused or just leaves it be. Having sex is never his first option. That doesn't mean they don't have sex ever. Sometimes, the desire to fuck Stiles crashes so hard (if Stiles could get inside his head, he'd find the word choice hilarious) he gets like this. But today isn't exactly like that. He's just excited. Really really excited and he wants to push his cock inside the wet heat of his mate.

The last time he checked, Stiles was in the kitchen along with the other humans of the pack, making a huge mess as they cooked (or baked) something he didn't really pay attention to know what. But he doesn't go there. Rather, he walks up to the porch, and sits down on one of the chairs. He leans forward, propping his arms on his thighs and intertwines his fingers with one another.

With that, he tries to focus on what his betas are doing and hopes his arousal will die down soon. Except, it doesn't. He's getting hornier by the minute and soon he's rock hard in his jeans.

Embarrassment makes his body flush all over. He's wearing one of his tightest pairs today. Meaning his bulge is going to be pretty prominent when he stands up.

Derek plans to glue himself to his seat until the training is done for today. Bit by bit, his control is slipping away; his senses are getting sharper. Then, he catches a hint of his mate's scent in the air.

The growl escapes around his now-dropped fangs before he can even understand to stop it.

Boyd and Isaac look over. His cheeks tingle with embarrassment. It's then he decides enough is enough. He mumbles out an excuse to them and pushes himself off the chair.

Then, he's headed inside with long strides, uncaring if anyone notices his erection.

~•X•~

Stiles is baking a mud cake.

It's actually Lydia who found the recipe. However, her attempt to make it have gone horribly wrong.

Which is why he's taken it upon himself to make it and gone into a researching spree a couple of days ago.

Now, he's just put the cake pan in the oven. It'll take more than an hour to bake at a lower than usual temperature. The girls were here too, having left only moments ago after helping Stiles clean up the space.

He gives the worktable one final wipedown. He’s standing with his back facing the backdoor. Just as he’s about to turn around, the backdoor opens with a rustle. Before he can see who it is, someone slams against his back.

Immediately, Stiles knows it’s Derek from the hard planes of muscle and the intimate way of touching. What’s shocking is that he can feel the wolf’s hardness, poking at his ass through the layers of clothing.

The surprise doesn’t last for long as the Alpha is breathing down his neck and has him boxed in against the table. Stiles presses back with a keen as Derek’s hands roam all over his body before they catch at the belt and stop.

In the next moment, Derek is unbuckling his pants and shoving them down with his underwear then he pushes Stiles by the neck until he’s leaning over the table, propped up on his elbows.

Stiles can tell his asshole is soaking wet without even having to look. It’s one of the pros of being a spark. They’ve stopped needing too much lube when it came to prepping Stiles, as he subconsciously begins to self-lubricate when he’s aroused. Stiles calls it his magical ass, and Derek though isn’t the least bit impressed by the word choice, agrees.

There’s no fingers or tongues involved this time because a moment later, Derek is pressing his rock hard erection against his slick hole. Seems like the Alpha is desperate today. The thought makes his own cock drool; precome leaks and pools on the table.

The wolf grinds his cock against the crack of his ass a couple of times before he starts pushing. Stiles moans when the tip breaches past the tight ring of muscles and he can’t help but clench around the intrusion. Behind him, Derek grunts. The hand on his head tightens its grip on his hair.

The Alpha keeps pushing until he’s bottomed out, buried to the hilt, balls deep inside him. Stiles goes from nothing to being so full he’s gasping for air.

Next, he starts fucking. The pace is brutal but Stiles loves it.

Most of the time, Derek is so gentle and loving when he’s fucking Stiles. It’s all about cherishing and making love to him. Don’t get him wrong, he prefers that too, obviously. But the handful of times Derek had been rough with him, he’s come his brains out.

The way things were going, today seems like it’s gonna be like that too. Stiles is already so hard and aching, he has to keep reaching down to stroke his leaking cock a couple of times to relieve the edge. He doesn’t linger on it though. He wants to come from his husbands cock alone.

Derek is pounding relentlessly, hitting his prostate every now and then. His legs have turned into jelly and he’d fall, if it weren't for Derek, who is gripping his hip tight enough to leave a bruise.

Both of them are making various noises, groaning and grunting, generally being pretty loud, giving not a single fuck about who hears them or not. Anyone could barge in any moment but that hasn’t happened so far. Pretty sure everyone can, even the humans which is why they’re keeping the distance but it’s not like this is the first time they have to listen to their Alpha pair fuck each other’s brains out.

“Derek” Stiles pants. “Oh god, Derek-”

The wolf has found the perfect angle and is rubbing along his prostate now, making the human’s brain turn into goo. He’s so close to orgasming and he can feel Derek is too. The Alpha hasn’t spoken a single letter all this time but he seems to be getting more growly like he usually gets before he’s about to orgasm.

With the final punctuating thrust, Derek pops his knot. It expands, pushing at his prostate. Stiles wails as he ejaculates, splattering white globs of come upon the light brown wood of the table. His vision turns white and all he can do it is clench helplessly around the Alpha’s knot.

Derek leans forward, fangs catching on to Stiles’ shoulder as he too is coming, flooding his insides with his Alpha sperm.

Once all is done and they’re panting draped over the table, Derek reaches with one hand and turns his around. He plants a kiss, the softest touch ever and when he retreats his eyes are fond and full of love.

Stiles smiles at the man, his very own wolf, and brings him down for another kiss, one much more passionate than the previous.