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The Taller The Tree

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Derek Hale had been shot.

He had been stabbed, burned, poisoned, even impaled. You name it, someone had done it to him.

But now, curled up in a ball on the cool tile of Scott and Stiles' bathroom, Derek felt he needed an entire new point of reference for pain.

His little wash bag lay where it had landed as he'd clutched on to things on his descent to the floor, open and spilling out his neat little bottles of shampoo and conditioner and sending them rolling past his cleaned razor from where he'd just successfully shaved his balls for the very first time.

He'd been feeling pretty impressed with himself, propping his leg up on the side of the tub and using Allison's make up mirror to have a look at his handiwork.

He was putting it back up on the shelf when he saw the box. It was pink, flowery, and undoubtedly feminine, but Derek knew from when he'd waxed his chest in lieu of shaving it in the past that it all did the same thing.


When he'd thought about doing all of this in the first place he'd considered and subsequently dismissed the idea of going that far, but maybe it was serendipity that he saw the box. He was a goddamn Alpha werewolf for crying out loud, he could handle the stinging pain of waxing. If it hadn't have been for Stiles making that happy little hum the first time he'd run his fingers through his chest hair then Derek would still be doing his chest.


This was all his fault. Well, that and the hot fucking wax currently drying in tacky patches on his ass crack and thighs, sticking him to the floor and getting perilously close to his prone, hairless balls.

Rolling over slowly and wincing as he tried to pull the strip off without taking the rest of the skin on his leg and the last shred of his dignity with it, Derek focused on the tree that he could see out of the window as he gritted his teeth and yanked.

Biting back an instinctive howl of pain, Derek settled instead for a litany of abuse directed at the tree. Stupid tree.

"The taller the tree" Stiles had murmured contentedly a few nights ago as his hand had made its way down Derek's treasure trail and into his underwear. Derek had been about to ask what he meant but had gotten sidetracked when Stiles had replaced his hand with his mouth and given him one of his amnesia inducing blow jobs.

He'd googled the phrase the next morning, sat cross legged eating cereal in Scott's bathrobe, swallowing loudly when he saw what it meant.

Manscaping. The shorter the grass, the taller the tree.

Manscaping. Manscaping?!

He'd tried to be rational at first. Now that he was effectively living with Stiles he'd grown used to (and fond of) Stiles' tangents of random conversation. He was like a livewire, an incredible, human Wikipedia. Derek loved him for it, loved him - period, and he was pretty sure Stiles loved him back.

Scratch that, he knew he did. They'd survived Stiles' last year of high school, made it through his year of 'freedom' living in a dorm where he'd more often than not ended up skyping Derek while they watched movies, and giggled like children through awkward breakfast conversations with the Sheriff while Derek could still smell Stiles' come coating his insides.

They were in love, blissfully, sickeningly so.

So much so that Derek was now willingly sharing a bathroom with an Argent who was breaking the terms of Scott and Stiles' lease just as much as he was.

Derek had obsessed about it, had stayed quiet and watched Stiles closely as they'd snuggled up on the couch later that evening, Stiles resting his hand as he always did just above Derek's waistband, his thumb combing gently over the dark hair that headed south.

Later, in bed - when Stiles had draped himself over Derek's body in his afterglow, his hand a warm, heavy presence on the inside of Derek's thigh, he had felt it again - that little sweeping motion of his soft fingertips combing through the hair there.

Derek had rolled over stiffly and padded down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and standing naked in front of the mirror, seeing himself through fresh eyes.

He knew he was hairy, duh - Werewolf. But all the time he thought Stiles had liked his hair he must have been wrong. He obviously wanted something else.

'The shorter the grass - the taller the tree'

So people did it to make their dicks look bigger, good for them. But Derek knew objectively that while his dick was slightly shorter than Stiles' own, it was thicker and Stiles himself was particularly fond of it, so it could only be the hair itself.

So he'd left it a few days, mindful of overreacting to something so petty. Everyone had their preferences, he knew that, he respected it. Personally he preferred it when Stiles wasn't tanned, liking that it made his moles stand out more and his skin mark up better. He liked Stiles' hair longer and messy, Stiles occasionally longed for the days of his buzzcut.

Derek loved Stiles fucking him into the mattress, holding his shoulders down with his big hands and whispering sweet nothings to him as he took him apart. Yet he was more than happy to oblige on the rare occasions when Stiles wanted him to top, changing the dynamic of their relationship and letting him show Stiles how much he worshipped him as he took his time mapping every inch of his lean body.

So it was the hair. Okay. Derek could deal. Yeah, it sucked that Stiles hadn't said anything, but fine, Derek would do something about it. For Stiles. To make him happy.

Shaving his chest had been easy, he had actually forgotten what it felt like and wasn't too unhappy about being hairless there. The stubble was a pain in the ass, but he could live with it. Then he'd taken his time to shave his balls, having read horror stories about cuts when he'd searched how best to go about what he thought Stiles wanted. Sure, he would heal, but why risk it?

Then he'd seen the wax.

Allison's wax.

Argent wax.

Now, lying on the floor staring up at the tree as the pain finally receded, Derek started to worry about something else. What if this was just a symptom of a bigger issue in their relationship. What if this was just the beginning of Stiles not telling him things that he wanted? Had he been too clingy? Too omnipresent?

Sure, he'd taken Allison essentially moving into Scott's room as permission to hang around more than he already did, but Stiles had seemed quietly thrilled. They got to wake up together now, nauseating other people with whispers and snuggles as Derek made breakfast for them.

He had thought things were getting better and better, but maybe Stiles was bored. Maybe he didn't want cuddles and breakfasts, and stupid, grumpy, hairy Derek.

Derek was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the front door opening until he recognised Stiles as being the person on the other side of it, fighting with his bike as he tried to get it past the clutter that came with four people squeezing into a tiny apartment meant for two.

With a grimace Derek managed to kick the door closed just as he heard the thud of Stiles' backpack hitting the floor. The footsteps stopped in their tracks and he heard Stiles' heartbeat increase as he listened out for Derek.

"Derek? Are you home?"

Derek stayed silent, noticing with an eye roll worthy of Stiles that he hadn't brought his clothes into the bathroom with him. He sent a mental apology to the inflamed skin on the inside of his thighs and ass, and made himself stand, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around himself, wincing as the scratchy fabric skimmed his balls as he bent over to put his things back in his wash bag.

Stiles had continued down the hall and was now hovering nervously outside the door. While they weren't generally the kind of couple that did everything in front of eachother, they weren't the kind to slam doors without reason, either.

"Derek?" Stiles sounded hesitant and Derek hated it, had hoped to never hear Stiles be as uncertain of his moods and actions as he had been when they'd fallen into this relationship.

He sighed and sat down gingerly on the side of the tub. "You can come in." Stiles turned the knob but didn't enter, and Derek made himself man up, sitting up straight and trying to project calm instead of embarrassment. They needed to talk these things out, not sulk.

Still, it had been over six months since they'd sulked about anything more than what movie to watch, or who made the wet spot in the middle of their bed. They were happy.

Weren't they?

Stiles came in slowly, hands in his pockets as he looked him up and down. His eyes stopped at Derek's chest and his mouth twitched in surprise. Derek's shoulders slumped under the scrutiny as he met Stiles' enquiring eyes.

"Hey." Stiles said softly, taking a step further into the room and noting Derek's hunched over frame. "Whatcha doing?" He was trying to sound light, Derek could tell. Stiles was the only one aside from his mother who truly understood what mood he was in from his body language alone.

Derek took a deep breath and stood up, trying to make himself look relaxed as he crossed the room to stand in front of Stiles. Stiles narrowed his eyes and leant in for a kiss, stopping just short of Derek's face as his eyes landed on something behind him.

Derek turned and saw what he was looking at. He'd already tidied up after shaving his balls and chest, and the only mess left was the little pot of wax and a pile of used strips that could hardly be seen under the thick dark hair that used to surround Derek's asshole and the inside of his thighs.

He watched Stiles' warm eyes flick from between Derek's chest and the hairy strips a few times, waiting for the penny to drop. Part of him was relieved, now Stiles would get to see him how he'd obviously wanted.

He had been planning to let him discover it tonight. But he could work with this. Sure, Stiles would have to let him finish up first, as Derek had only managed four strips so far, but now his skin only felt like it had a thousand paper cuts, instead of a million.

The thought made him cringe, and the small movement caught Stiles' attention again. Relaxing slightly as he thought Derek was just embarrassed about being caught, Stiles poked him gently in the middle of his chest.

"Derek?" Derek met his eyes and nodded. "Not that I mind, but why have you waxed your chest for the first time in years?" Stiles rocked back on his heels and stepped around Derek, picking up one of the strips and looking back at him, his eyebrows raised and his expression unreadable.

Derek didn't know what to say. Everything about Stiles' body language screamed unthreatening and simple curiosity. It was exactly how he'd been in the first few months of their relationship when they'd both tiptoed around eachother as they learned eachother's moods and ways, it wasn't how they were now.

Hold up - Stiles had said "not that I mind", but he didn't exactly look happy either. Derek had expected his eyes to widen with pleasure, his cheeks flushing the way they did whenever they tried something new in bed.

"Derek, dude, what's with you? I'm starting to freak out." Stiles sat down on the lid of the toilet seat and dropped the hairy strip back into the box, keeping his eyes trained on Derek's the whole time.

Aware that the longer he continued saying nothing and staring at Stiles the worse he was making things - Derek reeled with the potential information that Stiles hadn't wanted him to do it after all.

Before he could think of what to say Stiles stood up again and came to stand in front of him, automatically resting his hands on Derek's waist and looking at him with surprise when Derek flinched away, the movement of the towel making the fabric brush the inside of his legs.



They both stopped at the same time, and Derek slumped his shoulders again and shook his head. Stiles' face was now radiating anxiety and Derek didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how badly he'd misjudged things. As usual.

"Stiles, I-, well, I thought the other night-, no, you know how you said that thing-"

Derek was used to being on the receiving end of random sentences instead of making them, and he huffed in annoyance and took a deep breath. Stiles copied him and smiled tentatively, raising his eyebrows at him.

"Derek, my love, my sweetheart-" Derek scowled and Stiles laughed happily, instantly erasing the tension in the room. "-ok, sorry. Rewind. Why have you shaved your chest? And why-" Stiles stepped closer and dropped his hands onto Derek's waist again. "-are you flinching away from me?"

Derek met his eyes, and with a small nod, covered Stiles' hands with his own and used them to pull the towel off, the cool air making goosebumps rise instantly on his skin. Stiles gasped as he saw the inflamed rectangle of skin heading into his thighs. Derek held his breath and took a step back, watching as Stiles dropped to his knees and investigated what he'd done.

Trying desperately not to have a pavlovian reaction to Stiles' position, Derek watched his face carefully as Stiles nudged his thighs open and gently moved his dick out of the way, sucking a breath in through his teeth when he saw the reddened skin of his butt crack.

Stiles was being careful to only touch his skin lightly, but Derek couldn't help the tingling that was travelling up his body. He looked down at Stiles and rubbed his ear, making him look up, his eyes wide and confused.

"I thought you wanted me to?" He spoke quietly and Stiles raised an eyebrow, flicking his eyes between Derek's own and the patches of red skin. Derek was 99% sure now that he'd obviously misunderstood, so he may as well just come out and say it.

"The other night in bed you said 'The taller the tree', and I googled it-" Stiles was already shaking his head and starting to stand, but Derek carried on, looking at the ceiling and focusing there as he felt his blush spreading. "-and then you kept touching me, where I have hair-"

"Derek, Derek, shut up. I read it in a magazine. And then the other night I was just thinking how lucky I was that you're so hairy. I fucking love your hair, Derek, you're-" Stiles stood and put his hands on Derek's face, angling his head down and making eye contact with him. "-you're such an idiot. Even if I did want you to do it, it's your body. You shouldn't do anything like that for me."

Stiles seemed more upset than Derek had after he'd torn the first strip off, and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety at the thought of fucking things up. Stiles' hands were still on his face and Derek leaned in closer and pressed their foreheads together.


Stiles sighed and took his hands away, trailing one long finger down Derek's sternum absentmindedly as he shook his head slowly. "Don't be sorry. Just talk to me. I came home early 'cause you've been so weird and I knew something was up."

Derek went to apologize again and Stiles stopped him with a finger to his lips. Derek forgot about his stinging ass and went to take a step forward, biting his lip as it chafed. Stiles' narrowed his eyes in sympathy and turned around to the tub, bending over and turning the taps on.

Instinct had Derek wanting to step into Stiles' space and put his hands on him, but he realised with a sinking stomach that Stiles had pretty much just said that he didn't like what Derek had done. God, he was such an idiot.

As if the thought occurred to Stiles at the same time, he turned just as Derek was about to reach for the towel where it had fallen, handing it to him to save him bending over. Derek tried to think of something to say but Stiles just smiled at him.

"Get in the tub, wash all that sticky stuff off, and come to bed."

Stiles pressed their foreheads together briefly and smacked Derek's ass firmly on his way out, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving Derek to stand their with a dumb smile on his face wondering how he'd got so lucky.


* * *


Forty five minutes later Derek had toweled off in the bathroom, cringing with embarrassment but no longer pain when he saw the random hairless patches on his butt crack and thigh. His skin was still hyper sensitive but had at least returned to a normal color, and he wrapped the towel back around his waist feeling miles better than he had before.

Stiles was sitting by the window in their ratty old bucket armchair that they'd found in the basement of the building, his glasses pushed up in his hair and a book open on his lap as he dozed. Derek looked over at the bed and saw that Stiles had stripped all of their covers away and folded them neatly at the side.

Anticipation tingled through his body as he saw the small bottle of lube next to a bottle of what he recognised as Allison's expensive body lotion. It smelled like cocoa butter and almonds, and Derek eased the lid open and sniffed it.

The sound of the plastic snapping woke Stiles and he stretched his arms out, reaching behind him to pull the blinds down and casting the room into semi darkness. Derek felt himself getting hard already, such was the effect that even Stiles' sinuous movements as he bent down to light a candle on the nightstand had on him.

"Lay down." Stiles' voice was low and throaty from sleep, and Derek put the bottle down and complied immediately, laying on his front and watching as Stiles pulled his shirt off and stepped out of his jeans, noting with hunger that Stiles too was half hard.

"Is it painful?" Stiles whispered as he settled on his knees between Derek's legs, tapping his fingertips on one newly smooth patch of skin. "Or just sore?"

"Sore. Sen-" Stiles pressed a lotioned up finger to the edge of the area and pressed down, making Derek groan as he tried not to flinch, the friction of his dick against the sheets sending sparks up his spine. "-sensitive."

Stiles hummed and applied more lotion to his fingers, occasionally scraping a fingernail where Derek still had hair before he'd walk his fingers away to the smooth skin, kneading and pressing until Derek was arching his back up as his dick made wet spots on the sheets.

Stiles snapped the lid shut with a shaky breath and climbed off the bed, rubbing the rest of the lotion into his hands and hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down and letting Derek see that he was just as turned on as Derek was.

Before he climbed back on the bed Stiles handed Derek a pillow and indicated to him to arrange it so that Derek's butt was more accessible, and Derek had to bite the inside of his mouth when Stiles nodded at him, confirming what he wanted to do.

Stiles loved rimming Derek. In the year that they'd been dancing around eachother, flirting and building a friendship that had taken them both by surprise, Derek had quickly realised that Stiles had no issues asking for things he wanted, romantically and sexually.

Derek had been determined to wait until Stiles was eighteen to have sex, but Stiles took the rule book and obliterated it, exploring his own body and Derek's in so many ways that penetrative, missionary position sex was one of the only things they hadn't done when Stiles celebrated his birthday by fucking Derek so hard that the bed made a permanent groove in Derek's floor.

Gone was the boy with the lack of grace and confidence in his body, and in his place was a dauntless, bold, seductive and sensual man who knew how to touch Derek in ways that he didn't know he wanted until Stiles found them and gave him more pleasure than he'd ever felt.

Derek had no qualms with surrendering control to Stiles nine times out of ten. He was better at being more vocal about what he wanted now, but at the beginning of their relationship they would have ended every date with sticky pants if Stiles hadn't taken the lead.

It had been Stiles who suggested rimming first, and Derek knew seconds into their first time doing it that it was his achilles heel. He loved it. Stiles knew it too, and he was a pro at it, able to do it fast and furiously to relieve tension, or to spend hours with candles burning, fucking into him with just his tongue and his fingertip, sending Derek's body wild with conflicting sensations.

They maintained an equilibrium, with Derek having a distinct lack of gag reflex when it came to sucking Stiles dick as if he were dying of thirst.

They had a lot of sex. In a lot of different positions.

"Hey, you lost in there?" Stiles had moved back between Derek's legs and laid on top of him so that his warm chest was covering Derek's back as he tapped his head gently, moving his fingers through his hair gently. "Come back to me."

Derek sighed happily and focused on the sensation of Stiles' heart beating steadily against his back as they enjoyed the closeness.

"Derek?" Stiles was speaking into his skin and Derek's nerves sang with arousal as he hummed an answer. "Don't ever change anything for me, ok?"

Derek opened his eyes and tilted his head back as Stiles started to sit up again, kissing along Derek's spine lightly as he straightened up. Their eyes met and Stiles looked serious, biting his lip in the way he always did when he was worried about something.

"I just- you're so stupid." Derek snorted and dropped his head down as Stiles laughed at him. "Hey! You are. I just love you so much, dude. You're an idiot if you think i'd even care about stuff like body hair. And even if I did I wouldn't want you to do something just for me."

Stiles' voice had got quieter and Derek could feel him shuffling around, getting into a comfortable position. Derek cleared his throat and propped himself up on his elbows so that he could get Stiles' attention fully for a second.

"I love you." Derek could see Stiles' natural instincts to play things for laughs as a smile started and died on his lips before he nodded and wiggled his shiny, lubed up finger at him.

"Yeah you do. Now lay down, i'm gonna eat you all up."

Derek groaned as Stiles laughed, parting Derek's cheeks and rubbing the pad of his finger over his hole. He had to bite back a moan as Stiles used his left hand to squeeze his ass, his thumb brushing a patch of hairless skin and making Derek's nerves sing.

"That feels so good, Stiles." Derek was surprised by how broken he sounded already, and he twisted his body to look behind him just as Stiles bent down and licked a long line up his taint, circling and teasing his hole but not dipping in alongside his finger, which was now up to the knuckle. "So good. You're so good."

Stiles chuckled, the air ghosting across Derek's responsive skin as he crooked his finger inside, making him moan. He took a second to be grateful that Scott wasn't home, as he and Stiles had a tendency to be pretty vocal anyway, but Stiles was obviously planning to drag it out to make it as good as possible for Derek.

"I-" Stiles licked around his finger, poking his tongue against Derek's rim before pulling back an inch so that his breath teased Derek further. "-love-" He plunged in again, using the extra saliva to add his middle finger as well, bending them slightly and getting Derek's prostate on the first attempt. "-you."

Derek arched his back and let out a filthy moan as Stiles shifted his weight further back and removed one finger, and Derek felt an unmistakable kiss to his butt cheek before he leaned back down and teased his hole with little kitten licks as he moved his finger almost imperceptively.

Derek was letting out the most obscene moans, and he could feel Stiles' arousal building with every one. His mouth was hot and wet, and he wasn't holding back at all, content to make sounds that would put a porn star to shame as he took Derek apart, leaving him squirming and about to come without touching himself.

"Stiles, I need-" Stiles hummed in assent and the vibration surrounding his tongue was too much, and Derek's vision whited out as he came forcefully, his toes curling as Stiles continued to use his tongue to caress his twitching hole.

Derek slumped down onto the sheets, not caring about the sticky patch or anything in the entire world as Stiles retreated, rubbing circles into his ass cheeks as he continued to lavish attention on him.

Derek laughed as he imagined what his butt looked like, and Stiles seemed to know what he was laughing at, as he scraped a blunt fingernail over one of the patches of silky skin. "I still love it. Love your ass. Love you."

Stiles got on his knees and reached over for the lube, his weeping dick bumping Derek's thigh and making him let out a masculine gasp as his own dick tried to get interested in proceedings again. Stiles groaned with lust and Derek started to roll over, dodging the wet patch and settling carefully onto his back.

Stiles threw the cushion across the room and the whoosh of air blew the candle out, leaving them with the dustbunnies floating in as the sun set outside the window. Unable to hold back any longer Stiles covered Derek's body with his own and kissed him hungrily, moaning as their tongues fought for dominance.

Derek took control of the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup Stiles' face as he lined up and pushed in in one smooth motion. Stiles pulled away and dropped his head onto Derek's shoulder, nuzzling him with his sweaty hair.

"Not gonna last any time at all, you feel so-" Stiles rolled his hips and nailed Derek's prostate, making him well on his way to hard again as he threw his head back. "-so good, Derek. Love you so much."

Derek tried to form words to return the sentiment, but every time he went to open his mouth Stiles would light him up from the inside with another perfectly timed thrust. He finally managed to get his hand on to his own dick, and jerked it furiously as Stiles started to push in more erractically as he lost control.

Derek found himself coming first, undone by a bead of sweat that dropped from Stiles' forehead with the sheer exertion of how hard he was fucking him. He clenched around him and Stiles made a strangled sound as he pushed in one final time and went still, dropping down on to Derek and squishing his come between them even as his dick pulsed inside Derek.

They stayed stuck together for minutes, breathing raggedly and coming down from the high. As Stiles pulled out Derek felt open and exposed, but he loved it. Loved watching Stiles see what he'd done to him, and feel, as he pushed an escaping drop of come back inside with his thumb, licking it obscenely after and flopping on his back next to Derek.
Derek felt himself fighting sleep already, the two intense orgasms draining him, and he let his eyes close as Stiles used his tongue to clean his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it lulled him to sleep.


* * *


When he woke up again it was dark. Stiles had managed to slip a pillow under his head, and was curled up beside him, one of his hands resting gently on the inside of his thigh. He was awake, and Derek entwined their fingers, groaning when he felt a patch of smooth skin.

"I'd forgotten about that." Derek sounded grumpy and Stiles giggled into his shoulder, giving him a closed mouthed kiss and tightening his arm around them.

"Can I tease you now?" Derek tried to pull away jokingly, but Stiles whined and pulled him back, laughing quietly, but not teasing. "Do you know what it looks like?"

Derek played along, rolling onto his back and letting Stiles run his fingertips between the hairy and the smooth sections of his skin. It felt nice, gentle, and he jerked his chin up to Stiles, asking for a kiss. Stiles obliged happily, and they settled back down into the kind of comfort and familiarity that Derek had never thought he'd have.

"It looks like, like, you had no hair at all, and you - I don't know - sat in glue or something, and then landed on hair." Stiles was trying not to laugh and despite what he was saying, Derek was too, burying his head into Stiles' chest as he gave up and shook with laughter.

"Or, or, Derek, it looks like you're a kitten, ok? A kitten who needed lots of specific, rectangular operati-" Stiles couldn't talk for laughing and Derek let him, feeling his body warm with happiness instead of embarrassment. God, he loved the little bastard.

"Or, hey, it looks-"

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Love you, Derek."

"Love you too."