“Derek, would you calm down? It’s a Calvin Klein ad – for jeans – it’s not like you can fuck it up,” Erica said from somewhere above Derek. He was on the floor, fiddling with the equipment he’d checked and triple checked, trying to focus.
This was his first big print campaign as a professional photographer. He’d gone into the interview with his portfolio –which was mostly black and white, candids of the guys and close-ups of Stiles when he wasn’t looking – and he’d come out with the most amazing opportunity and the fear of God in his veins.
This was an international ad. International. As in global. As in other countries. As in Laura could look out the window in her shitty apartment in Dublin and see her little brother’s photos on a massive ass billboard.
So, yeah, Derek was freaking the fuck out.
“Derek, we have a situation,” Lydia barked as she stomped up to where he was cowering.
“Oh god, what? Have they changed their mind? Have they brought in someone else? Is someone hurt?” Derek asked quickly, finally pushing up from the floor with one hand and clutching his camera in the other
“No,” Lydia snapped, “Your stupid boyfriend is having a crisis of confidence. Danny and Boyd are already out there, shirtless and in the jeans, while Stiles is hiding in the bathroom. Go talk some sense into him!”
“Why is he hiding? I’ve seen him in those jeans and he looks hot,” Erica interjected.
“Yes, I know, I told him that. But he’s stupid and has shitty self-esteem and I cannot listen to him put himself down any more so, Derek. You’re up. He’s your boyfriend anyway, you should be telling him how sexy he is all the time,” Lydia sniffed, turning on her heel and storming away.
“Here, hold this,” Derek said, shoving his camera and film towards Erica. He took off after Lydia, searching for the bathroom, passing Boyd and Danny on his way. Pushing through the double doors that separated the studio and the foyer Derek made a bee-line for the only bathroom in the studio. He knocked on the door softly before trying the handle only to find it locked.
“Stiles?” Derek asked through the door.
“Nope, occupied, thank you,” came the reply.
“Stiles,” Derek sighed, leaning his head against the door.
“Do you want it in Spanish? Noh, occupado, gracias.”
“Stiles, come on, let me in. I’m just as nervous as you are. This is my first professional job,” Derek said, a little more firmly that he intended.
“Oh I’m sorry Mr Photographer. Are you supposed to be standing next to two ripped-as-fuck dudes in a room full of people, shirtless, while your boyfriend takes photographs of you that are going to be blown up to fucking billboard size?” Stiles snapped back through the door.
“Will you please let me in so we can talk in a rational manner?” Derek asked, turning around and leaning his back against the door, scowling at the assistant who was wandering through the foyer peering at him.
“Oh, so now I’m irrational?” Stiles sniped before unlocking the door just enough to yank Derek inside. He paced backwards as soon as the door shut and leaned against the furthest wall.
Derek gulped audibly when he got a good look at Stiles.
He looked like –
He looked –
“Jeans,” Derek wheezed as he stood frozen in place.
“What?” Stiles asked with a bewildered look on his face.
“Jeans,” Derek repeated, his throat suddenly dry. While Danny and Boyd had been shirtless and wearing lighter denim Stiles was in black.
Black skinny jeans.
Only black skinny jeans.
Black skinny jeans that hugged his thighs and made every inch of pale skin look like it was luminescent. His moles stood stark in contrast to the milky whiteness.
Who the hell knew that all Stiles had to wear to drive Derek crazy was jeans?
God bless Jacob Davis and Levis Strauss.
Derek’s eyes focussed on the waistband of the Calvin Klein boxers above the line of the jeans and slowly trailed their way up Stiles’ torso. He looked bewildered but that didn’t do much to hide the insecurity on his face. Derek’s heart ached a little in his chest at the thought of Stiles feeling not good enough.
“Stiles. Do you have any idea – at all – what you look like right now?” Derek asked, not daring to move from his spot in front of the door. Stiles scoffed as his long fingers picked at the waistband of his jeans.
“I look ridiculous. I’m cute, sure, but standing next to Danny and Boyd? I look like a stick. A really pale, really dorky, ridiculous stick,” Stiles stated with his eyes downcast, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.
“You’re a dancer, Stiles. There is no way on the planet you could have avoided putting muscle on with the moves you do. And you’re not a stick, okay, you’re lithe,” Derek said.
“This is all your fault. I was fine with my body before, I was fine dancing with the guys. This is you and your stupidly amazing photography skills. Why the hell did you have to include those photographs? I thought those were private. I never knew they were gonna be showcased,” Stiles whined, banging his head against the wall.
“You guys were perfect models, especially for this campaign. Hell, they booked me off that photo of the three of you doing handstands. Please Stiles, I cannot – I will not – do this without you,” Derek pleaded.
“Derek, half the time, I don’t even know what you see when you look at me. How can you stand there and tell me that I could stand next to two gym bunnies and look attractive to anyone?” Stiles asked with wide eyes as his hands burrowed into his pockets. His hands flew out again in surprise as Derek stalked forward and grabbed Stiles’ face.
“You listen to me Stilinski. If I had the time I would make you a photo essay with all the pictures I’ve taken of you that you have no idea about. Every single photo I have of you is perfect. Whether it’s candid or a close-up you don’t know. Even those ridiculous photo booth photos you made me take at Scott and Allison’s wedding. Every single one is perfect,” Derek said firmly, his thumbs stroking Stiles’ cheekbones.
“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak without insulting me,” Stiles breathed, his eyes huge and full of adoration.
“Yeah, well, you deserve it,” Derek said, shrugging, before he added, “Idiot.”
Stiles laughed before straightening up again. Squaring his shoulders, he nodded once at Derek and moved towards the door. Derek caught his wrist, spinning him around, and backed him up into the wall. He fitted his mouth over Stiles’, kissing him firmly once before pulling back.
“We’re going to do this together, okay? Just imagine it’s only you and me,” Derek said, kissing Stiles once more on the nose.
“You are so getting laid tonight dude,” Stiles smirked before opening the door. His smile dropped a little as a flush took over his face.
“Do you really think I’m perfect?” Stiles asked, his cheeks tinged with pink.
“You’re perfect to me,” Derek replied with a perfectly serene face.
“Wow,” Stiles said, biting his lip.
“Yeah,” Derek said, a soft smile on his face.
“Huh. Well. I better get out there and show ‘em what they’re paying for, huh?” Stiles winked at Derek before slinking out of the room.
Derek huffed in surprise before he followed Stiles out, making a bee-line for Erica as soon as he saw her.
Lydia gave him a prim smile as he made his way over to the set. She wandered over to him, planting herself down on a stray carry case.
“He’s good for you, you know?” Lydia asked, her eyes focussed on her nails.
“Yeah. I know,” Derek replied, checking over his equipment again.
“No. He’s really good for you. I have it on strict authority that before you met Stiles you were a surly jackass,” Lydia sniffed.
“By strict authority do you mean Laura?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes.
“Yes. Apparently you were grumpy, closed off and ridiculously emotionally stunted. You’re not anymore,” Lydia insisted.
“Well, good then,” Derek said, finally satisfied with his camera equipment. He grabbed everything he needed and started towards the boys.
“Hey,” Lydia called.
“What?” Derek asked in exasperation.
“You’re good for him too,” Lydia stated, sliding off the carry case and sauntering away.
Derek stared after her, contemplating her words, before shaking himself out of his revere and setting up his camera.
On set he was greeted with the sight of Boyd, Stiles and Danny clad only in jeans and boxers against a dark grey background. The three of them made a perfect ad. The make-up artists were putting the finishing touches on the boys but they were already goofing off. Danny had Stiles in a headlock while Boyd was trying to tip them both over.
Before any of them even noticed what Derek was doing he began snapping away on his camera, taking shot after shot of the guys just being guys. So Derek may have zoomed in a little on the moles on Stiles’ chest, he was just trying to be thorough. He was a professional thank you very much.
It was only when Derek got to his third roll of film that he realised he had it. The campaign shot was already within his hands, he could feel it. He called for Erica to shut off the music before stepping in front of his laptop to survey the shots. He scrolled about halfway down the third roll and stopped on the picture he’d just taken.
It was perfect.
The three of them weren’t even looking at the camera but they were showcasing the jeans without even thinking about it. Danny and Stiles were mock fighting each other, pretending to throw punches with their hands scrunched into fists while Boyd stood in the middle, holding them apart with a hand on each of their shoulders, with a huge smile on his face.
Derek waved Adrian, the executive in charge of the shoot, over for him to ‘ok’ the photos. Even though he never smiled Derek was sure he saw the guy’s lips twitch. As soon as Adrian nodded Lydia clapped once and told everyone to wrap it up. Stiles gave Derek a thumbs up before jogging after Danny and Boyd to grab his clothes.
“Alan wants you to join us for dinner,” Adrian said with a bored tone.
“Well, um,” Derek started, gazing after Stiles.
“It’s not really an option, Mr Hale. You can bang your boy toy after you’ve had dinner with the man who’s signing your pay check,” Adrian sniped before walking away with his hands in his pockets. He turned back and looked over his shoulder.
“You have five minutes until the car leaves.”
Derek rolled his eyes in Adrian’s direction before he turned back to his equipment.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take it home,” Stiles said from behind Derek’s back. He offered a smile as he reached out for the camera in Derek’s hands.
“What? No. I can just tell him no, it’s no big deal,” Derek said, frowning.
“No deal. You’re gonna go straighten up in the bathroom and then you’re gonna go to dinner with the awesome dude who gave you this job and his disgusting exec. When you’re done with that you can come home to me. Okay?” Stiles asked with a soft smile and his eyes bright.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Derek asked, returning Stiles’ smile.
“Yeah, I know. Now go. I’ll see you later,” Stiles said, bending down to grab more equipment.
“Keep the jeans if you can, I’ll wiggle you out of them later,” Derek said, smirking when Stiles went bright red.
Derek jogged out of the studio and slid into the sleek black car where Adrian was waiting.
“About time Mr Hale,” Adrian said in a dry tone, “Driver, to Alpha.”
“Well it has been insightful Derek. Thank you very much for dining with us,” Alan smiled.
“No problem, thank you for the job. I’m glad the photos came out alright,” Derek said with one eye on his watch. Hopefully he could catch Allison before she closed the flower shop. A bouquet of flowers would be the start of his thank you for Stiles.
“They came out perfect. Now get out of here, I’m sure you’ve got other important things to be doing,” Alan said, waving over the waiter.
“Before you ask, I can cover it. Fantastic work Derek, I’m sure you have a wonderful career ahead of you,” Alan replied with a smile.
“Okay sir, thank you,” Derek said, rushing out of the restaurant. His dinner had gone well, especially after Adrian had gotten called away by his wife. Breaking into a brisk walk Derek pushed his way through the busy Californian streets.
Even though Stiles hadn’t been the most confident about doing the shoot, Derek knew he’d been on to a winner using the boys. Thank god they were dancers, honestly.
Rounding the corner of his apartment building he spied Allison just about to close the shop. He broke into a run, dodging cars left, right and centre, coming to a halt just outside the door.
“Derek. It’s ten thirty. I want to go home and sleep, can you please just wait until tomorrow?” Allison pleaded, her eyes filled with exasperation.
“Last month I scraped Scott off of our apartment stairwell, let him puke in my bathroom for two hours and sleep in my tub, all because you’d gone to visit your dad,” Derek answered with a raise of his eyebrows. He watched as Allison sighed and flipped the sign back around.
“You have five minutes, use them wisely,” Allison said, stomping back to the cash register.
Derek smiled as he made his way through the columns and columns of flowers. Since Laura had moved to Ireland she’d become fascinated with flowers and what they meant, something she’d tell Derek every now and again. He didn’t really have a huge fascination with them but it didn’t hurt when he had to do something special for Stiles.
“Hey Allison, do you have any white hibiscus flowers?” Derek called from where he was in the shop.
“Yeah, there should be some in back if you want them,” Allison replied, though she kept her voice at a reasonable volume.
“Yeah thanks,” Derek shouted back, his hands straying towards the red roses when a set of purple flowers caught his eye. They looked vaguely familiar to ones Laura had sent him not that long ago, Viscaria she called them, and the meaning jumped into Derek’s mind. He grabbed a decent handful of them and made his way back to the front.
“Viscaria huh? Nice. How many of these hibiscus do you want? Allison asked, her hands gentle around the flowers.
“Enough to make a decent bunch with these,” Derek said, handing over the Viscaria.
“Ok, just give me a few moments,” Allison said as she started weaving the flowers in amongst each other. Her hands were light as she organised them into a bouquet, the white hibiscus setting off the purple of the viscaria. She leaned to the far end of the counter and grabbed a few sprigs of peppermint which she then mixed in.
“Ok, that’ll be thirty-nine fifty,” Allison said, looking up at Derek.
“Thirty-nine fifty? For flowers?” Derek asked in a disbelieving tone.
“These are nice flowers Derek. And it’s now ten forty five at night. There’s a service charge when I get cranky. So, pay me the money and get the hell out of my shop,” Allison answered with a fake smile on her face.
Derek nodded once and fished out his wallet, handing over fifty bucks, and told her to keep the change. Her winning smile was worth him paying a ten dollar tip.
Outside of the shop, the streets were starting to wind down. There were less people bustling about and those who were had a weariness that showed how long their days had been. Derek made his way back over the road to where his apartment building stood, shouldering his way through the heavy, clunky door at the front.
He made his way up the five flights of stairs, recalling all the times he’d had to carry Stiles up after a particularly gruelling dance class. He smiled softly as he fished his keys out of his jacket, balancing the bouquet with a bent arm, and unlocked the door.
He was greeted with the sounds of Michael Bublé as the door opened, and he started at the sight before him. The coffee colour of the walls reflected what seemed like hundreds of fairy lights that had been strung up. Their massive red couch was pushed back from the centre of the room against the furthest away wall of the living room. All of the stray books Stiles had left lying around were stacked neatly in the bookshelf that lined another of the walls, and every photography magazine Derek picked up monthly were nowhere in sight.
Derek huffed out a laugh when his eyes landed on Stiles. He was shirtless, barefoot and only wearing his jeans and boxers from the shoot. He’d sprawled across the couch, flat on his back with his arm thrown across his face, and was fast asleep.
Derek shut the door quietly behind him, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his jacket as best as he could with one arm as he went. He padded over to where Stiles was sprawled and carefully took a seat next to his hip. Gently he ran his fingertips down Stiles’ chest, watching as goosebumps popped up in the trail his fingers made. He smiled softly as Stiles snuffled in his sleep and slowly arched his back in a stretch. His eyes blinked blearily as they focussed on Derek.
“Hey,” Stiles slurred, still stretching his arms.
“Hi,” Derek said with a soft smile.
“How was dinner?” Stiles asked, one of his arms settling across Derek’s legs.
“It was good. I see you’ve been busy,” Derek said, his eyes moving across the apartment.
“What, I can’t do something nice for my boo?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course you can. But, and this is just an observational question, why are you shirtless?” Derek asked.
“I spilled marinara sauce down my t-shirt. And after seeing how you reacted to my jeans this afternoon, I figured it didn’t exactly hurt to be half naked when you got home,” Stiles answered, running his long fingers up the inseam of Derek’s pants.
“Mm, I do like the jeans,” Derek smirked. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the tip of Stiles’ nose. He laughed as Stiles went cross-eyed trying to watch his lips.
“It’s not my fault you’ve got sexy lips, shut up asshole,” Stiles pouted.
“I got these for you. Just as a thank you for being so great today,” Derek said, handing over the bouquet. Stiles looked almost surprised they were for him even though he couldn’t have missed the massive bunch of flowers.
“You brought me flowers?” Stiles asked with bright eyes.
“Yeah, I did,” Derek answered.
“Viscaria, huh?” Stiles asked, his face buried in the flowers. At the look of surprise on Derek’s face Stiles smirked and asked,” What? You think you’re the only one who Laura sends that flower crap to?”
“And here I thought I was being romantic,” Derek replied drily. He got up from the couch, peeling the flowers away from Stiles, and went to the kitchen to grab a vase. Filling the vase with water Derek unwrapped the bouquet and arranged the flowers in the same pattern Allison had. He placed the vase on the kitchen counter so Stiles could see them.
Derek looked up from the flowers only to see that Stiles had quickly pulled on the purple button down he’d had on that morning, leaving it unbuttoned.
“I am so glad you kept those jeans,” Derek swallowed.
“You and me both, snookums,” Stiles smirked, holding out a hand, “Come dance with me?”
“Snookums? I don’t want to dance with you anymore,” Derek sniffed but moved towards Stiles all the same.
“Ugh shut up, your flowers literally asked me to dance with you. Come on, please?” Stiles asked with a pout.
Derek smiled and grabbed Stiles’ hand, allowed himself to be towed towards the centre of the room. The fairy lights acted almost like candles, giving the room a soft hue. Stiles stopped and pulled both of Derek’s hands towards him, placing them on his hips. He wrapped his own arms around Derek’s neck, nuzzling his throat as he did so.
“Michael Bublé huh?” Derek asked as they swayed to ‘Home’.
“Shut up ok? I like him. Plus this seems to be our song,” Stiles said, his voice muffled in Derek’s neck.
“Our song? How the hell is this our song?” Derek asked.
“We danced to it at that beach bar down in Hawaii where we first met; it was the only song you’d dance to at Scott and Allison’s wedding; and you personally requested it at Boyd and Lydia’s engagement party. Isaac laughed so hard, he cried,” Stiles replied, leaning back so Derek could see the glint in his eye.
“Okay fine, it’s our song,” Derek conceded, his hands slowly sliding down to squeeze Stiles’ ass.
“Oh yeah, you felt me up in the cab home from my dad’s retirement dinner to this song too,” Stiles laughed.
“Can you not talk about your dad right now? It’s very distracting,” Derek breathed, bending his neck to mouth at Stiles collar bone.
“Yeah I can do that,” Stiles said shakily, his stomach muscles contracting where Derek dragged his hands.
Derek lifted his mouth from where he was sucking a hickey and kissed Stiles’. The plushness of Stiles’ lips always surprised him. Stiles bit down gently on Derek’s bottom lip as he slid one of his hands into Derek’s hair. Derek trailed his hands along Stiles’ sides before sliding up to his shoulders to push off his shirt
Once Stiles’ shirt was gone Derek settled his hands at the small of Stiles’ back, his fingers tracing the two divots at the base of his spine. Stiles’ tongue curled around Derek’s before Stiles withdrew completely.
“Bed?” Derek asked breathlessly.
“Bed,” Stiles agreed, his eyes dropping to Derek’s lips.
Derek leaned forward to recapture Stiles’ mouth. He slid his hands over Stiles’ cheekbones and held him in place while he thrust his tongue into Stiles’ mouth. The loud moan he received spurred him on further, and he smoothed his hands down underneath Stiles’ ass. His hands gripped Stiles’ thighs as he hoisted him up around his waist.
Derek strode forward, his hands clenched on Stiles’ ass. He pushed his way through the bedroom door as Stiles ran his hands along Derek’s shoulders and back down his arms again. Derek spun around and sat on the edge of the bed with Stiles on his lap. Moonlight spilled into the room through the bay window.
“You are so beautiful,” Derek breathed, a sweet ache in his chest that only appeared whenever Stiles was concerned.
“Look at who’s talking,” Stiles whispered back as his hands snuck under Derek’s t-shirt and pushed it over his head. As soon as the shirt hit the floor Stiles’ mouth was on Derek, peppering kisses along the line of his shoulder and up the side of his neck.
Derek tipped his head back to give Stiles more room, even as he snuck his hands along the waistband of Stiles’ boxers. He let his hands rest there as Stiles started to grind down on him. He snapped his head back up so he could attach his mouth to Stiles’ again.
Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth as he rolled his hips slowly down. Derek trailed his hands around from the curve of Stiles’ ass to rest on his thighs, digging his fingers in gently as he went. Stiles broke the kiss, pushing at Derek’s shoulders until he was flat on his back. Stiles grinned as he slowly ground his hips down into Derek’s, never breaking eye contact.
“Dancer’s hips,” Derek joked.
“Oh yeah baby, my hips don’t lie,” Stiles smirked, licking his lips.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You love it.”
Derek stared up at Stiles from where he was lying on the bed. Slowly, without taking his eyes off Stiles’, he trailed his hands up Stiles’ thighs, across his abdomen, and landed on the waistband of his jeans. Without looking he popped the button open and slipped his hand inside Stiles’ boxers. Derek brushed his fingers along the base of Stiles’ dick, relishing the choked whimper he received.
“Come on, off, get them off,” Stiles muttered, pushing at his jeans. He slid off Derek’s legs and pushed his pants off, taking his boxers too. He tugged on Derek’s waistband until he sat up, joining their mouths in a filthy kiss before mouthing his way down Derek’s chest. He licked across one of Derek’s nipples and continued a path down Derek’s abdomen.
“You should be a model, fuck being behind the camera,” Stiles breathed, his teeth catching on the button of Derek’s pants. His long fingers undid the button and yanked them off, leaving Derek in only his boxers. Stiles grinned up at him as he mouthed over the outline of Derek’s dick.
Derek fisted his hand in Stiles’ hair, his fingers tangling in the long strands. He shivered as Stiles breathed over the head of his dick, his thigh muscles contracting with strain.
“Hey, c’mere,” Derek mumbled as he yanked Stiles up to him. He sprawled over Derek’s body, his hands splaying out next to Derek’s head.
Stiles just smirked and kissed Derek on the cheek. He grabbed one of Derek’s hands and placed it at the top of Stiles’ ass, the curve inviting Derek to trail his fingers downwards. He brought his other hand up to join the other one and trailed the tips of his fingers down slowly.
Digging his fingers in Derek spread Stiles cheeks apart, trailing a finger down the centre slowly, and gently pressed a finger to Stiles’ rim. He lifted his head sharply in time to catch Stiles’ smug grin.
“I told you – I had time,” Stiles snickered.
“You are ridiculous,” Derek huffed, pulling his fingers completely away from Stiles’ already stretched rim.
“Woah, hey, where ya going?” Stiles asked quickly.
“I’m assuming you left the lube in the living room when you ‘had time’?” Derek asked smirking.
“Yeah, okay, fine. Hurry up, though,” Stiles winked, slapping Derek on the ass as he got up.
Derek shook his head in exasperation as he wandered through to the living room, searching for the lube before finding in stashed under a couch cushion. As soon as he walked back into the bedroom, he was assaulted by a condom being thrown at his head. Picking it up from his feet, he raised his eyebrows at Stiles, who lay on the bed with his hands behind his head and a smug smile on his face.
“Undo the eyebrows of judgement and get naked please,” Stiles said laughing
Rolling his eyes Derek kicked off his boxers and launched himself at Stiles. He grabbed Stiles hips and bit down gently at the edge of Stiles’ jaw. A swift kick to the shin made Derek pull back and pop the lid on the lube. Settling in between Stiles’ legs Derek coated two of his fingers and slowly pushed them inside Stiles’ entrance. Stiles inhaled sharply, tipping his head back against the pillow.
Derek kissed the inside of Stiles’ thigh, adding another finger as he did.
“C’mon dude, I’m ready, get the hell inside me,” Stiles moaned, his fingers yanking at Derek’s hair. Derek’s right hand flew out, searching for the condom, tearing it open with his teeth when he found it. He rolled it on and added more lube to his dick before settling again between Stiles’ legs.
Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and inched in slowly, taking his time and revelled in the noises Stiles was making. As his hips met the curve of Stiles’ ass he let out a huge breath, the strain not to thrust almost unbearable.
Stiles’ hands run down the expanse of Derek’s back, his legs locking around his waist. He nudged Derek’s side with his knee, prompting Derek to move.
Derek lifted his arms up and placed his forearms on either side of Stiles’ face, framing the perfect look on his face.
Derek started to thrust shallowly, not once taking his eyes off Stiles’. Derek only started to pick up speed once Stiles rolled his hips, meeting Derek’s thrusts.
Thrusting steadily Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles once on the nose, then on each cheek, before finally returning to his lips. His lips were soft and pliant, red as cherries. Stiles dug his fingers harder into Derek’s back, prompting him to move a little faster.
Stiles broke away from the kiss moaning and throwing his head back. With every thrust Derek rubbed against Stiles’ dick, coating both their bellies in precome. From the angle of Stiles’ head Derek could place kisses all along his neck, biting softly and leaving small marks.
Urging his hips faster, Derek sat up slightly, pulling Stiles with him. Stiles surged up suddenly, nearly forcing Derek out. Using both hands Stiles pushed at Derek’s shoulders until he leaned back, and they were in the position they started in. Stiles seated himself fully on Derek’s dick, pushing both palms into Derek’s chest for leverage.
Derek revelled in the moans Stiles made, even as his orgasm sparked at the base of his spine. The sight of Stiles’ bitten lips and the feel of his tense thighs under Derek’s hands pushed Derek over the edge, his back arching off the bed.
Stiles’ hand moved from Derek’s chest to jack himself off, painting Derek in white not even a minute later. The sounds of their panting filled the room even as Stiles slumped into the mess he’d left on Derek’s chest.
“Dancer’s hips,” Derek panted.
“Yup. My hips definitely do not lie,” Stiles replied sleepily.
“God, I love you,” Derek huffed.
“Good,” Stiles slurred,” I love you too.”