There’s only one reason for Derek to be up at ass o’clock in the morning on a Saturday: it’s Stiles’ birthday and Derek needs to get him the birthday cake. Had Stiles been a normal person Derek could’ve gotten the cake yesterday. Or maybe get it sometime during the day. But Stiles isn’t a normal person so he searched the whole house for his presents (he only found two) just before going to bed the previous evening and there’s no way that Derek would have been able to hide a birthday cake in the form of a Batmobile and it’d still be edible the following day.
For Derek’s birthday Stiles woke him up with a birthday cake in the shape of a wolf paw and later claimed if Derek wouldn’t do the same for him, Stiles would divorce him. It’s not that Derek really thinks Stiles was being serious but he can’t risk it, not with Stiles.
So he’s leaving the house at ass o’clock in the morning to get his
stupid wonderful husband a birthday cake. When the cake baking person (whatever they’re called) thought Derek was getting it for a kid, Derek just played a long, she needn’t know that it’s for someone who turns twenty-eight, does she?
Stiles still isn’t up when Derek gets back which is a relief because if Stiles had woken up before Derek got back Stiles would’ve moped the entire day (Derek will probably never forget Stiles’ twenty-fifth birthday). Derek brings out all the gifts, except for the ones Stiles had already found and perched on his bedside table until he’d be old enough to open them. His words, not Derek’s.
Derek brings the cake, two spoons, two plates and two cups of coffee – Derek’s black and Stiles’ with cream and enough sugar to give someone diabetes.
He may love Stiles more than anything else, but Derek does not sing.
“Happy birthday!” he says instead of singing and sets the cake down on the bedside table (after removing the presents). Stiles gives a groaning kind of sound and Derek pokes his cheek, making Stiles twitch and hide his face in the pillow.
“It’s your birthday, rise and shine,” Derek tells him in a mock cheerful voice, because Derek can’t really do honest cheerfulness. “Come on, Stiles, you can’t sleep the whole day away.”
“You’re not singing.” Stiles’ voice is muffled by his pillow but Derek can still hear him.
“I don’t sing.”
“You hate me,” Stiles whines and Derek rolls his eyes.
“Happy birthday to you-” Derek sings the whole song and it’s not until he’s sung the last part that Stiles rolls over onto his back, a huge grin on his face. “I hate you,” Derek grumbles at him, his ears burning from the mortification. His only comfort is that Stiles is the only person present and no one will believe Stiles if he tells them about this.
“You got me cake?” Stiles practically squeals and sits up, the sleepiness seems to have abandoned him completely. “I love you!” Derek thinks Stiles is talking to him, but he’s staring at the cake, so he’s not really sure. “Oh, my god! This is awesome, dude! A Batmobile cake! My dad never let me have a cake like this when I was a kid. I need to take a picture for Scott.”
Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles takes pictures of the cake from every possible angle.
“Stop your whining, mister, we need evidence of how awesome this cake is. You’ll thank me when I get mad at you and pull up these pictures, I won’t be able to stay mad at you.”
At last, Stiles is done with being artistic and slices up a huge piece for himself and a slightly smaller piece for Derek.
“It’s delicious,” he tells Derek with his mouth full. Derek rolls his eyes but he also wants to kiss Stiles because he’s being adorable. So he does.
“Dude, my cake!” Stiles protests but when Derek starts kissing his neck, Stiles seems to quickly forget the cake and holds Derek’s head in place. He groans when Derek sucks a mark at the side of his neck and thrusts his hips impatiently against Derek’s hip. Derek can feel Stiles’ dick thickening as he takes his time with kissing and nipping at Stiles’ neck. He slowly moves down over Stiles’ torso, giving extra attention to Stiles’ nipples, making Stiles groan and arch his back. Derek kisses his way down Stiles’ sides, at his hips and down his right thigh to his knee and then back up to the place where the leg meets the rest of his body. Stiles’ hands grab his hair, but Derek refuses to be pulled to where Stiles wants him the most. Not yet. He moves his head to the other side of Stiles’ dick, he kisses and nips his way down to Stiles’ knee and then slowly back up again.
“Derek,” Stiles whines and tries to push Derek’s head towards his cock, which is now fully-erect and leaking precome onto his stomach. Derek kisses his way down Stiles’ other leg once again and Stiles groans as he tries to push Derek to his crotch with hands and legs. Derek smirks as he nips at the side of Stiles’ knee before he repeats the motion on the other legs.
“Please, I- It’s my birthday!”
“I know it’s your birthday, that’s why I’m taking my time,” Derek smirks from his place in between Stiles’ legs. Stiles pouts at him and Derek resumes his ministrations until he's once again with his lips almost against Stiles’ balls. He decides that the torture is over and licks a long stripe on the underside of Stiles’ dick, from the base and to the tip where he swirls his tongue over the head before repeating the motions. Stiles is a quivering, moaning mess when Derek has repeated this about ten times.
“Oh, god, Derek, you’re-”
Derek loves when Stiles loses his ability to talk because it’s so rare. Derek has never seen Stiles speechless in the face of anything, except for the times Derek takes his time with him. Yes, this does wonders on Derek’s self-esteem.
“You wanna turn around?” Derek asks and Stiles moves so quickly, Derek wonders if Stiles has been turned into a supernatural creature. But then again, Stiles has always been eager when it comes to sex.
“God, I love you.” Derek’s mouth opens without him even comprehending the thought and Stiles huffs out a breathy laugh as he positions himself on his hands and knees in front of Derek.
“I love you too, now eat.”
“Such a romantic.”
“It’s my birthday.”
Derek kisses Stiles’ lower back and Stiles makes a sound in the back of his throat. Derek massages Stiles’ ass cheeks and then spreads them so he can see Stiles’ tight hole.
“What did I tell you?” Stiles counters but his neck is flushed red and Derek knows it’s not only from his arousal. Derek does as Stiles wishes, though.
He drags his tongue from Stiles’ balls and up to his hole a few times, reveling in every moan and groan Stiles emits. He pushes at Stiles’ thighs and Stiles quickly understands and moves them further apart, dropping onto his elbow and thrusting his ass up. Derek wants to tell Stiles how much he loves him, but he’s not sure he can do so with words. Instead he tries with his actions. He licks from his balls and to his hole again. I love you. He laps at Stiles’ hole with his tongue broad and wet, You’re beautiful. He presses the tip of his tongue against Stiles’ hole, making Stiles gasp and shudder, Please stay with me forever.
“Derek, I’m- if you take much longer I’m gonna- oh.”
Derek presses his tongue inside Stiles. It doesn’t really work and he withdraws and licks his finger thoroughly before pushing it against Stiles’ hole.
“Please, just- urgh.”
Derek pushes the finger inside and licks around it. Stiles bucks his hips against him and moans loudly. He swears every now and then and declares his love to Derek and some god he doesn’t even believe in.
“You want to come, baby?” Derek asks as he leans his cheek against Stiles’ ass cheek, his finger pumping in and out. “You wanna come without me touching your dick.”
“Yeah, urgh, you hafta- yeah.”
Derek knows what he has to do, Stiles needs his finger against his prostate, but Derek keeps thrusting it shallowly in and out for a few more thrusts before he leans his face in again to lick around the hole and cover his finger in more spit. This time he pushes his finger in with intention and he knows he’s right when Stiles’ body goes rigid and he moans loudly. Derek pushes his finger against the same spot as he licks around his finger and smirks as Stiles’ legs start to quiver. Stiles’ vocabulary has now been reduced to swearwords and prayers, it seems. Derek’s not sure if Stiles is cursing him or blessing him. It may be a bit of both.
“Come, baby, come for me,” and a few more hard thrusts of Derek’s finger against Stiles’ prostate is all that is needed before Stiles is screaming out his orgasm and then turning into a boneless heap on the bed. Derek retracts his finger, kisses Stiles’ hole one last time – which earns him a groan – and then kisses Stiles’ neck before he lies down on his side next to Stiles, facing his husband.
“How was that for a birthday present?”
“Wipe that smug smirk off your pretty face,” Stiles tells him and turns his face to look at Derek. His amber eyes are half-lidded and his cheeks are still flushed. He’s so beautiful it makes Derek’s heart ache.
“I love you,” Derek tells him seriously and Stiles smiles, soft and fond.
“I love you too.”
They lie in silent for a while, Stiles regaining his breath and Derek ignoring his own erection, he knows Stiles will help him with it later, probably by riding him. Stiles’ content smile turns smug and Derek knows that whatever Stiles will say will make him roll his eyes in fond exasperation.
“You know, the rim job was almost as good as the cake. A plus for getting off, but I mean, Batmobile cake. You can’t really top that.”