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Stiles had a plan. He had always had a plan, for everything. Originally, it had just been Get Derek to Trust Him. Once that had happened, it had been Get Derek to Kiss Him, which had a few bumps along the way, but the end result had been ridiculously worth the wait. Before he could even formulate a plan to Get Derek to Fuck Him, Derek implemented his own plan to Get In Stiles' Pants, which had been nice for a change, but...

There was definitely trusting and a lot of kissing and other free touching that Stiles had barely had the chance to imagine before it was happening, and even co-sleeping!

But Stiles realized after Derek's successful plan that the kissing and the sleeping with and the sleeping together only went so far for the Alpha. There was always doubt, to him.

He was trying not to take it personally. He was an intelligent, aware individual, he knew how his own self esteem worked, hanging around with Lydia was turning him into a feminist and an equal opportunist and a bunch of other shit that meant he knew that as much as he thought Derek was great, maybe Derek didn't...he tried to know it wasn't about him. But it hurt him, more than it had any right to he thought, when Derek doubted. When Derek's instincts doubted.

To this very morning, Stiles never had time to be awake before Derek did. Derek was always awake first, up and out of bed or laying and staring at him or even when Stiles awoke first, Derek roused at the same time. And no amount of , “Shh, it's okay go back to sleep,” could reassure him or soothe him. A part of Derek that neither of them could reach still did not trust Stiles.

It grated, but it would be okay in the long run. Stiles was learning patience. He also appreciated the attention called to the fact that their being together was a conscious choice, a struggle against Derek's distrust of life in general. That part was reassuring.

So, Stiles had his plan, again. If ever there came a day when he fucking woke up first.


For the life of him, Stiles could not tell anyone what changed things. But one day, he woke up, turned to look for Derek's brilliant morning eyes (they were always the most diverse riot of color first thing, over the day they would settle one way or the other), only to find his lids closed. He frowned. Wut.

Even after several moments of waiting, the Alpha only sighed and rolled over from his back to his front, losing most of the sheet as he went. Stiles found himself blinking owlishly down at his (smooth, unscarred, muscly, probably tasty- stop that) spine, propped up on one elbow in confusion. They had slept naked after showering together. It was not the first time for that, nor the first time they had fallen asleep without having sex first. He shook his head before he could go through more of a mental checklist of what could possibly have brought on this momentous occasion. No looking gift wolves in the mouth.

He flopped back down. Stage one of the plan was to wait and not do anything untrustworthy. Assuage the instinct. See, I do nothing untoward while unobserved.

Waiting was boring. He propped himself up again, bouncing the mattress a bit. Still no movement from his bedmate. Stiles narrowed his eyes. He craned his neck to see if Derek was feigning sleep, wondering if he had somehow picked up on how much it was bugging the shit out of him, but then got distracted by how...young the other man looked in his sleep. There were six years between them, but it may as well have been six days while the older man slept. Stiles quirked a grin and allowed himself one second's contemplation on Derek's eyelashes. Then he flopped back onto his own side (he had his own side!) of the bed and waited. No dice. Jesus, they hadn't even done anything the previous night, Erica had wanted to marathon the Avengers backstory movies, they had started at like three in the afternoon and everyone went home at a decent hour for once.

For lack of anything better to do, slowly and ever so softly he started carding his fingers through the hair at Derek's nape. He briefly grieved for his perfect plan of teach the instinct to trust, but there was only so long he could stare at his very naked lover and be expected not to pet.

Derek sighed. In his goddamn sleep. Other than that, his breath stayed even, he did not move from where he was cuddling his pillow – his pillow! Stiles was right there! - with one knee cocked over the edge of the bed.

Soon it was both hands threading through his hair, though. Stiles could not help it, he wanted to touch. More than he wanted to be touched, even. Derek was still asleep. While Stiles watched over him. Slowly, but more than he wanted to admit, he was being overwhelmed by relief or gratitude or something. Elation, he thought, the SAT word coming back to him. Derek trusted him to sleep on while he was awake. There was another breathy sigh from that side of the bed, and that was it, Stiles was done, he was gone. Derek liked to be pet. He was his, they were theirs.

He pressed a thumb into the muscles on either side of Derek's neck and slid them down. It was a calculated risk. He could see where it could be read as an offensive gesture, but he wanted Derek to feel as good as he did in that moment. As much as he could feel his hands shaking, he felt liquid. Derek trusted him. All of Derek. Derek and the part of Derek that could hear his heart beat pick up with consciousness, feel him creaking the bed around, smell his quickening arousal.

The massage earned him an appreciative hum though, and an arch into the touch. For reasons beyond him, Stiles' throat tightened. He deepened the massage, working his way down Derek's neck to his shoulders, found himself trying to ignore the noises the were was making for once, not willing to be distracted this time. This was about Derek.

He sat up to reach more skin, more muscle, and to his credit Derek straightened his leg, pushed the offending pillow (Stiles absolutely didn't look at it smugly as it hit the floor) out from under him and straightened his legs. Stiles straddled him. Fuck it.

He pressed an open mouthed kiss directly to the base of Derek's skull. He tried not to think of it as marking. This was his, now. He trailed his mouth down that solid spine (it was tasty indeed), reveling in the shallow arches and low noises his Alpha gave him back, and when he ran out of spine to kiss, he literally kissed Derek's ass. So the fuck what. It was a great ass. Actually, he nuzzled it too, first one cheek and then the other, hands cupped under either side where his extensive research told him there were loads of nerve endings to heighten the feeling. He could rub his face wherever he wanted on Derek now, he was his. Sometimes, he thought he was more possessive than even the Alpha fucking werewolf he was dating. Not dating. Exclusive with. Yeah. Mmm, ass.

Derek rewarded him by pushing back onto Stiles' face, or so he thought at first. He nipped a little, earning a surprised yelp before realizing the were was trying to turn over. He let him. Despite how muzzy his head was, what with the butt to cuddle, he did remember his plan. No holding Derek down. No alarm bells.

For his part, Derek settled his legs on either side of where Stiles was crouched in the middle of the bed. He did not push him aside, only smiled down at him sleepily. “What the heck are you doing?” he asked with a smile. Stiles loved it. Derek rarely cursed. His mother had had no patience for coarse language. If Derek was cursing, he either felt very, very bad or very, very good.

Stiles ran his hands over Derek's thighs, inside and over and under, smiling up at him and not missing the morningwood, either. “You trust me,” he replied. Well that wasn't what he had meant to say.

Those impressive eyebrows descended. “I-...yeah. I do.”

His smile only widened. He could honestly say he had never felt so great in his life. Something so small, just a pattern of sleep, and his life was essentially made. He dipped his head and ran his lower lip from the base of Derek's cock up to the ridge of the head, letting it pull the way Derek liked to when they were kissing before sliding away to be bitten in a grin. Even from where he was, he could see the Alpha's pupils dilate. All signs were pointing to plan success.

He swallowed his partner down.

Stiles had been smart about having sex with a guy. He had done his research, AND had gone looking for peer testimonials. Danny had been of mediocre aid, but Lydia and Erica loved giving that kind of advice. So, Stiles thought, he gave even better head than Derek. Ha.

He put everything he had into that single blowjob that big morning. He used both hands and his entire mouth. He used the underside of his tongue on the bottom of the head, tongued over the slit, sucked as far as he could go down without gagging, cupped and rubbed Derek's balls and when that wasn't enough for Stiles, he ran his mouth over them as well. He could rub his face on any. Part. Of Derek. He wanted. And he would. He was just suddenly struck with his own doubt. He did not know how to ask for what he wanted to do.

He pulled off of Derek's cock with a purposely wet, sucking pop. Derek actually cried out. Idly Stiles thought he should start counting the number of yells he got, they were rare. But that wasn't the point. He bit his lower lip again, knowing it was a low move because Derek really liked his mouth, and ran his hands up under Derek's thighs again, then down towards the backs of his knees. Obligingly Derek widened his stance a little, but quirked his eyebrows again and slowly raised up onto his elbows when Stiles continued to press out. Fucking Christ, those eyebrows would kill him someday. No way they should be as sexy as they were.

While keeping eye contact, Stiles lowered his mouth to Derek's balls again. Derek's head dropped back. Stiles stopped his ministrations. Derek jerked his head up, annoyance showing even through his confusion. Stiles never broke eye contact as he let go one knee to lift Derek's sack and lick over the bottom. He saw the exact moment comprehension dawned, waited for horror or disgust but only saw even wider pupils. Fucking yes. He actually sucked on Derek's balls a moment longer in gratitude before lifting them again to lick under and behind them, hitch Derek's legs up higher only to feel them taken away with his lover's help and Jesus he had never been this close to another person.

He flicked his tongue and flattened his tongue and circled the opening and he could have done it all day for himself because it didn't taste as he thought it would but only better, and he could have done it all day for Derek because the noises he was making were illegal to download because they were perfect and Stiles was getting them for free because they were his, goddammit, his noises, his hole, his Derek and he was getting hard without ever being touched himself, but then Derek was cupping the sides of his face and pushing and what the actual fuck.

“Flip around,” he said, voice ragged, when Stiles looked up, angry.


“Flip around, I want you.”

Stiles raised a brow when he finally worked his head around what Derek wanted, stymied. How the fuck were they going to make that work, he was no super fit contortionist porn star like his Alpha.

Derek rolled his entire face eyes and said gruffly, “Get out of the way.”

Stiles stared back mildly as he moved over to the side and appreciated the show of every rippling inch of Derek Hale scooting down to the end of the bed. He had bought a legit bed, it had a head and foot board and everything. He propped his inside heel on the foot board, draping the outer leg over the mattress edge. It left him marvelously exposed and Stiles stared wonderingly, seeing how it was going to work. Beautiful. He had a beautiful boy, except they were in bed and fuck references. He looked back up at Derek to somehow communicate how amazing he was, only to be met with that same look from before the trusting.

He had to fix it. He knew about Kate. He knew about Derek's dis-confidence in his sexual prowess. For just a moment he wished they were a pet name couple so he could lavish praise on him. Instead he bent down and yeah, thought about hesitating because he was just rubbing his face on Derek's asshole, but Derek reached up for it and seriously, Stiles loved Derek's facial expression before they kissed, how ready and willing and wanting he looked.

Derek was a needy kisser, he was all reaching and grabby hands and needed to be sure Stiles was there in the moment with him. So Stiles leaned into the kiss, hands cupping Derek's face cheeks (ha) while he licked and sucked and nipped some more and tried to pour all the reassurance he could into it that being a private porn star was a-oh-fucking-kay with him.

“Now,” Derek breathed once they broke apart, “come here.”

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. It took some maneuvering, but he was soon straddled over Derek's face, leaning back down to get back to that wondrous new taste and he did, he wanted to keep it up, wanted to keep hearing those noises and feeling the twitches and from this angle he could even get a hand on Derek's cock to go with the tongue in his ass, but Derek was a dirty fucking cheater, okay.

Stiles had thought he was in for his first rimjob as well. Instead, Derek sucked Stiles' own balls into his mouth, with the advantage of gravity. Stiles moaned against Derek's crack, fingers scrabbling across his flat belly for a grip of his own. Not fair. Two could play at that game. But Derek just moved onto his cock, moaning around the shaft with open-mouthed kisses that Stiles felt from the base of his spine to the base of his fucking skull. Things were different from this angle. When he felt a cold, somehow slickened finger probing his own entrance, he had to press his face against the inside of Derek's thigh and mewl and whimper, open-mouthed and unashamed. His hands curled around the foot board without being told to do so and he was shaking all over. He barely felt it when Derek slid out from under him to position himself behind.

Derek was using his mouth, his breath, both hands, his voice, all to prep Stiles and dammit Stiles had wanted it to be about Derek and it had been a good fucking plan but fuck. Derek slid into him and he saw white, every time, even with his eyes closed. He moaned, pushing back into it, knowing he wouldn't get far enough to hurt himself because Derek kept a vice grip on his hips every time they were together, Derek was always in control. Except for that morning. Derek had trusted Stiles to be in control.

He moaned and whimpered, working himself to a frenzy inside his head while Derek worked his body, changing angles to bump or slide against Stiles' prostate at his leisure. Stiles let himself curse freely, as it seemed to egg Derek on. He was so fucking close. He hoped Derek could tell, because he was beyond anything but shouting moans and pushing back into his thrusts. When he almost couldn't take it anymore, he felt Derek lean down over his back.

“Stiles,” he whispered in his ear, and that was odd because they weren't a bitch-say-my-name couple, so he did his best to answer “Hrn?” and hoped it was enough.

Derek slid a hand around his front, gripping his cock, hard. “I trust you,” he whispered, then bit down on Stiles' earlobe.

Stiles fucking lost it. That was all it took. He had never come so hard in his entire life, he would swear it. He came laughing out loud, gleeful. Fuck Derek for knowing him so well.

He shuddered even harder when he realized they were coming together. It didn't happen as often as porn would have one believe, but when it did, it was like this. Intense, blinding, all consuming. Stiles was still laughing and swearing as Derek slid out of him. He stayed like he was, bent over the foot board, naked and content and comfortable for the moment. He trusted Derek, too, after all.

“Fuck,” he drawled, and Derek laughed. “Fuck, I wish I could make you come as undone as you get me,” he said before he lost the nerve to talk serious after something like that. He couldn't even tell if he was making sense.

“Stiles,” Derek said, questioning, and Stiles flopped over onto his back to make room for Derek to lay down with him, upside down as they were. “You do, though.”

Stiles shook his head as Derek seemed to slither up his chest to rest his chin on his breastbone. “Not as much as I could,” he raised his eyebrows in offering. “Wanna make you lose control sometime. Sometimes.”

Derek looked uncertain. “I never lose control, Stiles.” The fucker wasn't even winded. That was what Stiles was talking about, that right there. “I don't want to- I could hurt you. Physically.”

Stiles considered that for a moment. Then shrugged, liking the way Derek moved with his chest for once. “You could, yeah, won't, I know you won't.” There was a pause where they studied each other. “I trust you, too.” He studied Derek's face, saw him come in for the kiss to get away from the raw honesty and emotion Stiles knew he was putting off, to try and get his heart speeding again instead of steady and truthful, but he tugged his own face back. “I mean it.”

Derek was forced to look at him then, seemed to force himself to look, riotously colored eyes searching back and forth between Stiles'. He nodded, accepting. Stiles finally smiled, and pulled him in for that kiss. Another plan was already forming in his head.