Stiles opened his eyes, looked at his clock, and muffled a helpless whine with his pillow.
When he’d moved into this apartment, his roommate at the time had let him know right up front that the walls were paper thin. He’d looked at Stiles, raked one disdainful look up and down his form, and said, “When you spank it… I’d better not know.” He’d been sure, absolutely positive, that when Isaac sublet the apartment to a friend of his while he spent the semester in France, he would have had the same talk with said friend.
Instead, Stiles had spent the last two weeks like this: burying his head in his pillow, swallowing his moans, and having his control tested by the sound of his hot like burning temporary roommate fucking himself with a vibrator. Every sound was so distinct through the practically non-existent walls that Stiles could actually hear the click of the dial when Derek changed the speed and pulse settings on the vibrator. He could even, on bad nights, hear the slick sound of it thrusting into Derek’s ass.
It was… pure fucking torture. There were days Stiles wanted to crawl into Derek’s room on his knees and beg him to stop. To just let up for one damn night so Stiles could sleep without being woken by sounds that made him lie awake for hours after Derek was done, his hard dick tenting his blankets.
Because no way in hell was Stiles relieving himself with Derek there. No, he’d let that first time go unchallenged, just assumed Derek was dealing with some stress-relief after the hell week of finals. Stiles could understand that, he really could. Really. Really.
But because Stiles hadn’t said anything, there was just no good way to bring it up the second night. He probably would have been safe then, if it had stopped. If he’d dropped hints, or maybe spoken to Derek from his room with the door closed so Derek could hear how thin the walls were. Because once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, but it takes three times to cement a pattern.
Stiles cemented the pattern three days after Derek moved in.
So it was his own fault, really, that he was stuck here like this, dick hard as nails, aching with unfulfillment. It was his own fault that he could hear Derek’s gasping breaths — and it was seriously just un-goddamn-fucking-fair that Derek sounded exactly like Stiles’ favorite porn star. It was his own fucking fault that he couldn’t reach for his dick, couldn’t take the chance of doing anything to give away the game now.
Because Derek had moved in two weeks ago. And Derek, apparently, really enjoyed his vibrator. Nightly.
It would be easier if Derek was an asshole. Well, okay, Derek was an asshole, but he was the kind of asshole that Stiles could appreciate. Sassy in a subtle way, smart, quiet, and… hot like burning. Which Stiles might have mentioned before, but definitely bore repeating. He always made the coffee in the morning, he picked up after himself, and he never left piss dribbles on the toilet. He was the best roommate Stiles had ever had, and he was holding it together by the skin of his teeth in not just throwing himself at Derek on a daily basis.
But it was hard.
Especially since Derek had started talking recently during his happy not-so-alone time. Had started whispering and moaning and saying things like want you so bad and god, yes, fill me up. It was to the point that Stiles was pretty sure he wouldn’t have to actually touch himself to get off if Derek kept it up.
As Stiles was laying there, sweat beading along his brow, he heard the vibe click over to a deep, throbbing setting, and then a choked gasp. He heard the squeak of bed springs and a bitten-back word that sounded like…
It sounded like Stiles.
Jackknifing up in bed, Stiles sat there, straining his ears — and his pants — listening to see if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. And then it came again, deeper, throatier.
Like a rocket, he shot out of bed and stumbled his way to Derek’s door, staring at it, hand hovering over the door knob. Indecision warred within him. He knew what he’d heard, but he also knew Derek thought he was indulging himself in the privacy of his own room. It was… a breach of trust on Stiles’ part to do anything at this point. Right?
"Stiles," Derek moaned again, louder than before.
Shit. Maybe he needed help? Maybe the vibe was, like, stuck inside him. Somehow? Maybe he… shit. Shit shit shit. Taking a deep breath, Stiles gripped the doorknob and twisted it, pushing Derek’s door open.
No going back now.
"Derek?" he called softly, trying to see in the unfamiliar, darkened room.
Derek just moaned again in response.
"Can I, uh… are you okay? I need to, shit, I need to turn on the light. Or something." Biting his lip, Stiles felt along the wall for the switch before changing his mind. Turning on the light in the room would be blinding with their eyes both adjusted to the darkness. And honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure he was ready to see what he knew he was about to see for the first time under the harsh, unforgiving hundred watt bulbs that hung bare from their ceilings.
There was a reason rent was so cheap in this building.
So instead, Stiles reached outside the room, flipping on the hall light after closing the door nearly all the way. The light that flooded in was just enough for Stiles to see without making anyone want to claw their eyes from their faces. And it was also enough for him to see the way Derek’s back muscles were rippling, see the way he was positioned, on his knees, his shoulders flat to the bed, his ass high and round and perfect.
It was enough to see the shimmer of Derek’s ass from the lube he’d apparently doused himself in, see the way his ass stretched around the vibrating dildo that he was still splitting himself open with. He could see the way Derek’s neck was cocked, twisted to the side so he could look back at what he was doing, even in what had been an absolutely pitch-black room. And Stiles could see the glint of Derek’s half-open eyes where they stared back at him.
"Stiles," he said again, voice raspy, and licked his lips.
Legs shaking as he walked forward, Stiles tried to force his gaze away from Derek’s ass because he wasn’t that kind of creeper. Except he really was, obviously, because he stared at it until he couldn’t really see it anymore, too close to Derek’s head to make anything out.
"Hey," Stiles said, then had to clear his throat and try again. "Hey. Are you… are you okay? Do you need…?" He honestly had no idea what he was going to offer. Help? A hand? A dick that had been conditioned to get hard at the smallest squeak of Derek’s bed springs?
"You," Derek groaned, teeth sinking into his lower lips for a minute before he released it with a gurgling sort of gasp. "I need you. Stiles, please."
"Fuck," Stiles whispered, thrusting his hands into his hair and tugging. Leaning forward, he sniffed the air. He didn’t think Derek’d had anything to drink tonight, but seriously, consent issues. Easing one hand out, he reached hesitantly toward the sweaty skin of Derek’s lower back and lightly touched his fingers there, hoping that if Derek had locked himself in some kind of weird head-space, that having the touch would bring him back to himself enough to cry foul.
Only instead, his whole body shuddered and he cried out, hips jerking toward Stiles’ touch like he needed it to live. “More,” he said, tossing his head on his pillow. When Stiles didn’t move fast enough, he hissed, “Touch me. Fuck me.”
"God, okay, yeah. Just, Jesus, Derek. Are you sure?"
"I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for two weeks, you idiot. Yes, I’m fucking sure.”
And, well, that was the greenest green light Stiles could possibly ask for. Not that he didn’t have a million goddamn questions, but those could be answered later. Right now, he had a hot like burning roommate to fuck into the mattress.
Shucking his pants, Stiles climbed onto the bed, swiping up the lube before it could roll off onto the floor. Quickly applying a suspiciously handy condom, Stiles slicked himself up. He knocked Derek’s hand away from where it was still curled around the handle of the vibrating dildo and then took a few seconds to fuck Derek with that, absurdly fascinated with the sight of Derek’s ass stretching wide, his rim all thinned out around the girth of the dildo attachment.
But then the excess lube and the pulsing mode of the vibrator, and maybe the angle at which Stiles was fucking it into Derek all combined to produce that squelching noise. The one that made Stiles’ cock throb and leak a little precome. Stiles slid the dildo out of Derek completely then, barely taking the time to switch it off before he tossed it to the side and shuffled forward, lining up with Derek’s picture-perfect, lube-shiny ass.
"God," he whispered, feeling downright reverent. Maybe this was a dream, maybe it was a hallucination from walking around for two weeks with all the blood that should supply his brain residing in his dick. But whatever it was, he didn’t care. Because he was finally getting the opportunity to—
"Stop looking at me and fuck me, goddammit,” Derek growled, shoving backward at Stiles in emphasis.
And yeah, that really sounded like a fantastic idea. Grabbing his cock, Stiles aimed for Derek’s well-stretched hole and slid in, teeth gritting at how fucking amazing it felt. Derek’s ass grasped at him deliciously, tightening and squeezing all along his length. When Stiles was all the way in, he had to stop, had to pause a minute to make sure he wouldn’t just come right then and there. He covered the moment by reaching under Derek and wrapping his still-slick fingers around Derek’s dick, giving it a few good strokes to get him as close as Stiles was.
Then, Stiles stopped holding back. Pulling out almost all the way, the thrust back in hard, until his hips smacked up audibly against the pale perfection of Derek’s ass, until his balls pressed tight against him, feeling the heat coming off Derek’s body. Then he did it again and again, shaking the bed, putting his entire body into it.
Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he still hadn’t quite convinced himself this was real. And if he was only going to get to do this once? It was going to be fucking memorable.
He mimicked his hard thrusts with a tight jerking grip on Derek’s cock, his forearm nearly seizing up as he jacked Derek ruthlessly. With his free hand, he pushed Derek’s upper body even lower until his next thrust made Derek damn near scream with pleasure. And then Stiles made it his life’s ambition to hit that same angle again and again. Over and over he pushed that sound out of Derek until he felt Derek’s dick swell in his hand.
Knowing Derek was coming, that he’d done that, tipped Stiles over the edge as well. Only two thrusts after he felt Derek’s dick start pulsing in his hand, Stiles slammed forward one last time, shaking uncontrollably as his balls emptied themselves, the fluttering of Derek’s ass around him too perfect for words.
When the world finally stopped spinning, Stiles circled his fingers around his dick, hanging onto the condom and pulling out slowly, trying to be considerate. All he got for his efforts was a little sigh, but he decided it didn’t sound pained, so he eased his dick from the condom and tied it off, tossing it carelessly toward the hallway before collapsing down onto Derek’s broad back.
Since the rooms in this shitty apartment with the paper thin walls weren’t big enough for anything but a twin bed, it took them a long, limb-tangling moment to get settled. They finally ended up with Stiles stretched out across Derek’s chest, a position he could really get used to.
"That was…" Stiles started, then realized he didn’t have words for what that was. Orgasmic was rather self-explanatory.
"About fucking time," Derek muttered under him, though he didn’t really sound upset. The whole completely sated vibe he was rocking really took the bite off the words. “When Isaac told me about the walls, and then I met you… I was starting to think you weren’t as interested as you seemed to be.”
"God yes, I’m interested. Have been since I first laid eyes on you. Your Netflix queue just clinched it, really. But dude, why didn’t you say anything? We could have been doing this for two weeks!” Stiles tugged on Derek’s chest hair to emphasize his point, only stopping when Derek slapped a hand over his.
"I’ve done everything but ask if I could sit on your dick. You’re just a clueless asshole that likes to make me so horny I nearly cream myself in public."
"Clueless?" Stiles asked, lifting his head.
“Oblivious." Derek sighed and squeezed Stiles. "It’s a good thing you have such a great dick. Now shut up and sleep. It’s three a.m."
Stiles looked at the clock, a little smile curving his lips. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d mind waking up at half past two in the morning anymore.