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and my own two hands will comfort you

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Stiles plopped down on the couch with a banana in hand, staring Derek down from across the room as he slid nearly half of the fruit into his mouth before biting.

Derek didn’t even look up from the desk he was working at. “No,” he intoned.

Nearly choking as he tried to swallow too quickly, Stiles gulped down the banana with as little sexiness as is physically possible for someone with his mouth. Which is to say… Derek ignored the growing bulge in his pants and attempted to keep his eyes on his work.

“You’re no fun,” Stiles whined, slumping back into the couch and pouting ridiculously.

Derek glanced up and sighed at the crease between Stiles’ eyebrows. “I’ve got work to do."

"You live off insurance, how much work could you possibly have?"

Derek leveled a hard glare at Stiles before returning his attention to the paperwork in front of him. Stiles huffed, frowning at the tense set of Derek’s shoulders and the clench of his jaw. He was stressed, it was obvious, but he was ignoring all of Stiles’ efforts to coax him into a more horizontal position.

Derek sighed, trying to make sense of the numbers and terms on the pages in front of him. Mostly his eyes caught on the names of his mother and sister over and over and he really wasn’t getting anything done, less and less so as Stiles’ desire washed over him.

There was a slight intake of air and soft rustling from Stiles’ direction, but Derek pointedly ignored it, continuing to stare at the tax documents he was filling out. Just stare - it was about as much as he could ask of his focus with the smell of Stiles’ lust filling the room.

His bright smile was practically audible as Stiles got up from the couch and made his way over to Derek, walking around behind him. Derek had barely turned his head when something soft and light trailed over the back of his neck, causing him to shiver.

“Wha-” he breathed out, turning around fully in his chair to face Stiles.

In his hands was a long, dark grey piece of cloth, seeming to flow from Stiles' fingers - one of Isaac's scarves. Derek's eyes grew wide. It was a light material with fringed ends, and Derek’s jaw clenched as he imagined what that would feel like running across his bare skin.

Derek tore his gaze from the scarf and he met Stiles' heated stare. The teen's eyebrows ticked upwards in a silent question, a smirk playing on his lips.

Swallowing, Derek gave a surrendering nod. "You have my attention."

Stiles' eyes flashed and he grinned, letting the scarf drape over both wrists, dangling in-between. He swooped in low, bracketing Derek's head with his hands on the back of the chair. The scarf hung loosely across the front of Derek's throat as Stiles leaned in close and purred in Derek's ear "good." The word sent heat crashing down Derek’s body and he let out a shaky breath, already more turned on than he could ever remember being.

There was nothing Derek could do but lean back and grab hold of Stiles' ass as he crawled into his lap. Stiles had taken the reigns fully and Derek was just along for the ride. The kiss was deep and slow, more like flowing lava than the flash fire of most of their sex life.

Derek’s fingers curled and Stiles took that as a green light to grind against him, smirking when Derek bit down on his bottom lip and let out a rough moan into Stiles’ mouth. Their tongues curled together as Stiles pushed his way farther into Derek’s mouth and he edged farther forward on Derek’s lap until their cocks were throbbing against each other through the layers of clothing.

Breaking the kiss and panting, Stiles said, “If I’d known last year this was all it took to get you going, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my fingers off you.” He punctuated the words by turning his wrists outward and skittering his fingertips up the length of Derek’s arms. Derek drew in a sharp, cut-off breath and visibly clenched.

Stiles grinned.

Slowly, Stiles dragged flat palms with long, trailing fingers down the length of Derek’s torso. His fingers dipped beneath the hem of Derek’s shirt and ever-so-slowly pushed the shirt up, the scarf dragging behind. The fabric was even more perfect than Derek had imagined, light and soft and gentle. It brushed along Derek’s sides and up the center of his abs, causing them to contract tightly even as his back arched into the touch, pressing their groins together even more firmly. The shirt was tight enough that when Stiles pushed it up past Derek’s pecs, it stayed put, despite Derek’s squirming as the scarf trailed over his sensitive nipples.

“Ahh, fuck,” Derek huffed out. His hands ran up Stiles’ back under his shirt, rubbing up and down in an attempt to calm himself down. All of his nerves felt hyper-sensitive and it was just shy of too much.

 “God, you look so good like this,” Stiles commented softly. "So fucking hot." Stiles watched as his eyes fluttered and used the opportunity to wrap the scarf around his right wrist and bundle the rest of it in his hand. He started at the top, letting the scarf slip between his fingers and flow over Derek’s bare chest.

Derek’s eyes flew open and his hands clenched around Stiles’ ribs. They’d done this before, the soft, barely there touches that drove Derek absolutely mad. But they normally used the feathers that Derek kept stashed next to the bed or just Stiles’ fingers but that- that was nothing compared to this.

Holding the scarf so just the fringes were in contact with his skin, Stiles let it graze down the right side of Derek’s body and across his lower abs, watching the play of muscles as Derek reacted. He continued to trail it around, trying to keep the path unpredictable. Derek’s mouth was clamped shut, afraid of what would come out if he let himself.

Once he had Derek’s skin sufficiently on fire, Stiles wrapped the scarf loosely around Derek’s neck so that the tassles rested over his chest and adjusted himself so that he could reach Derek’s jeans.

Leaning forward, he whispered in Derek’s ear, “I’m going to take you apart.” Derek shivered, but bit his tongue as Stiles undid the button and zipper. He slid his hands under the waist of Derek’s black briefs and around to the back, lifting his hips and coaxing Derek to do the same. Shoving the jeans and briefs over his ass and down to his knees, Stiles settled himself farther back on Derek’s lap.

Mischief lit up Stiles’ eyes as he unwrapped the scarf and leaned in to press his lips to Derek’s. The kiss was deep and dirty, but brief as Stiles pulled back and adjusted his weight on Derek’s knees. He was grinning down at the image before him, Derek’s cock hard and deep red, his bare thighs on display for him. Derek’s hand made a move as if to reach for himself, but Stiles caught his hand, settling it back on his own hip.

 “Nah-ah,” Stiles warned, bracing one hand on Derek’s shoulder and letting the fabric slip out of his other. His own cock twitched, but he ignored it as the scarf fell over Derek’s thighs.

Derek let out a shaky breath and his head fell back against the chair, hands squeezing. Stiles let the scarf dance over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs until Derek’s cock was leaking and he was only barely containing the moans and whines that begged to come out. Only then did he allow the cloth to fall over the head of Derek’s dick, the fringes getting lost in the hair at the base. Derek gasped, making aborted motions with his hips.

Stiles was lost in concentration, guiding the cloth in an aggravatingly perfect rhythm, letting it drape and caress and rub and flow. Derek was nearly as lost on the image of Stiles as he was on the sensation, the part of his lips, the rise of his chest with every breath, the thrumming of his heartbeat.

Derek jerked when he felt Stiles’ fingers begin to play up his side, all the way up to his underarm and back down to his hip. It was overwhelming and Derek began to retreat into himself, to get lost in the sensations. But then Stiles’ lips found his own, anchoring him back, forcing him to focus, to feel everything all at once. It brought him to the surface and then he was gasping for air, eyes rolling back in his head, spine bowed.

“B- bed,” Derek choked out when Stiles broke the kiss to lay soft presses along his jaw. Stiles bit down and Derek suppressed a noise deep in his throat, deflating against the chair as all of his focus was forced to that single point - which was surely Stiles’ goal as he swiftly removed both his hand and the scarf. He tongued over the bite mark, pulling back to watch it fade with wide, bright eyes.

His eyes flicked to Derek’s, a soft smile playing on his lips. “That is an excellent idea.”

The silkiness of Stiles’ voice was surreal to Derek. Normally they were both talkative and playful, their sex life filled with the easy banter that defined their relationship. But this- this was focus and this was intimacy on levels they hadn’t yet reached before.

He crawled off Derek’s lap and hooked the scarf around his neck, pulling Derek to his feet. He let the scarf hang as he dropped to his knees in front of Derek, placing a kiss to the joint of his hip and thigh, causing Derek’s near-painfully hard cock to twitch. Then he hooked broad hands over the jeans and briefs around Derek’s knees and slowly eased them down, laying a path of kisses in their wake. Derek’s teeth were grinding with the intensity with which he was holding back his vocal chords.

 “Come on, Derek,” Stiles said down Derek’s body. “Stop holding back, I wanna hear you.”  He punctuated the command with a soft nip to the meat of Derek’s calf that had Derek’s toes curling.

His fists were clenched at his sides and his breathing was rough, punching out of him as he attempted to control his erection even a little bit. Once Derek was out of the clothes, Stiles laid kisses to the top of Derek’s feet before standing slowly, dragging fingers along Derek’s body as he rose. It seriously interfered with Derek’s efforts but he didn’t even care when Stiles pulled him in, wrapping the scarf ends around his wrists to bring them closer and closer until their lips met.

Stiles’ tongue explored Derek’s mouth slowly, lightly, as he walked Derek backwards until his knees hit the bed. Derek threw an arm behind him to catch them, lowering them down slowly, Stiles settling between Derek’s legs. Once they were horizontal, Stiles pulled his hands free of the scarf and broke the kiss, reaching down to grip the back of Derek’s thighs and hoist him up the bed with a grunt. He climbed up Derek’s body and straddled his thighs, laying a kiss to the center of Derek’s chest.

“The things I’m going to do to you. . .” He brushed his nose over Derek’s nipple.

 “Please,” Derek barely whispered, so low Stiles almost didn’t hear him. He flicked his eyes up in surprise, fond smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

Stiles dragged the scarf out from behind Derek’s neck slowly, maintaining eye contact. Once it was free, he folded it in half and threw it over his shoulder. His hands slipped under the shirt Derek was still wearing where it had fallen back down. He ran his hands upwards, the shirt rucking up over his wrists.

“I’ll never be over how firm you are,” he commented and cupped his broad hands over Derek’s pecs, squeezing as Derek pushed up into the touch. Arms lifted easily as Stiles pulled the shirt over Derek’s head, tossing is somewhere behind him. It was jolting to Derek, as he watched Stiles’ eyes rake over his body, that though he felt exposed, though he felt vulnerable, he felt completely safe.

Stiles pulled the scarf from his shoulder as he leaned down, the hem of his shirt grazing over Derek’s belly and his hand resting flat against Derek’s sternum. The lobe of Derek’s ear felt soft between his teeth and he tongued up the back of it, relishing in the feel of the vibration of Derek’s moan through his palm.

“I wanna try something different tonight, if that’s okay?” Stiles whispered softly, his breath hot and wet against Derek’s ear. Derek turned to catch his eye, eyebrows raised slightly and face so incredibly open and vulnerable that Stiles felt his heart skip a beat when Derek nodded once, eyes full of trust.

Stiles lifted himself up to a sitting position and held the scarf up, letting the tassles tickle Derek’s abdomen. Derek watched intently as he folded the center of the cloth in half along the width, and folded it again, smoothing it out until a good foot of the scarf was a quarter of its original width. Derek’s eyes went wide with realization, replaced only a second later with excitement. His fingers kneaded into Stiles' thighs and his heart raced. He swallowed, nodding again as he attempted to slot words together in his brain to express just how okay with this he was.

“Ye- uh, mmm, oh yes,” was all he’d managed when Stiles cut him off with a soft, sweet kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Stiles said against Derek’s cheek, “I’ll take care of you.” He nuzzled the stubble a moment, enjoying the way it stung against his skin.

And then the fabric rested over Derek’s eyes gently, blocking out the sight of Stiles moving over him.  It wrapped around Derek’s head and Stiles tied it off to the side above his left ear, letting the tassles fall over the crook of his neck.

Derek let out a soft, slow breath, adjusting himself to the darkness. Stiles let him, sitting above him and just rubbing along his ribs in slow, predictable ways. After several moments, his hands wrapped around Derek’s sides, giving a small squeeze. “You good?” he asked and Derek nodded.

Derek could hear Stiles’ racing heartbeat, his slow, deep breathing, the light flutter of his eyelashes when he blinked. But he could also hear the dripping of the leaky faucet in the bathroom and the cars on the highway outside - it all felt so much louder now that he couldn’t see.

Stiles climbed off of him, causing Derek to lift his head, even though he couldn’t see. A hand rubbed down and around his calf soothingly, then disappeared. “Just a second.”

Stiles undressed as quickly as possible, nearly knocking himself in the face as he threw off his shirt. He knew Derek could hear the soft sigh he let out when he unzipped his jeans, relief washing over him from being free, but he only allowed himself a moment to dwell on it before removing his pants and boxers unceremoniously and kneeing his way back onto the bed. Derek’s hands sought him out, gripping tight around the back of his knees where they straddled Derek’s hips.

“I wish you could see how you look right now,” Stiles told Derek, eyes roaming all over his body, wondering where he should start first. He trailed fingers through Derek’s happy trail and felt him twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I don’t know where to start,” Stiles began, voice taking on a heady, teasing lilt that sent heat burning low in Derek’s belly. “I just want to tug on your hair.” Stiles ran his hand down Derek’s side. “And explore every inch of skin on your arms.” He flitted his fingers up the center of Derek’s torso. “I want to watch the way the muscles of your abs dance under my hands.” Fingers carded into Derek’s hair and curled against his skull. “I want to kiss my way up your inner thigh.” Lips latched onto Derek’s neck, pulling the skin slightly into his mouth as he sucked.

All the while, Derek was twitching and squirming, body taken completely off guard when touch didn’t match words. He was nearly choking on the noises he was swallowing down, biting at his lips, terrified of what Stiles could draw from him.

Stiles watched Derek carefully, noting how his head twitched back and forth, dragged to the noises he could hear. He still hadn’t let himself go, let himself feel and react without restriction and Stiles wracked his brain for an idea.

 “Derek,” Stiles crooned, ducking low to let his chest rest against Derek’s. He worked his fingers into the hair behind Derek’s ears, rubbing softly. “Just let go, okay. You don’t have to hold back with me.” He rubbed his thumbs up over Derek’s ears when he got no response. “You don-” Stiles stopped, struck with an idea.

Lifting off of Derek slightly, Stiles rummaged in the drawer to the right of the bed and Derek’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion - Stiles knew that the lube was kept with the feathers in the left drawer. Then the drawer was sliding closed and Stiles’ weight settled back over his thighs. There was a pop of a cap and then Derek could smellwolfsbane... He knew exactly what was in Stiles’ hands.

Earplugs. Derek’s earplugs. The ones made from a wolfsbane that counters werewolf senses - the ones that block out any and all noise and allow Derek to get a full night’s sleep. The ones Derek hadn’t actually used since he’d come back to Beacon Hills - hadn't felt safe enough to.

He felt safe now. Safer, maybe, than he'd felt since he was a child, since before he was being chased by hunters and had to worry about rival packs. Derek wasn’t even sure how Stiles knew about the earplugs.

 “Don’t freak out,” Stiles whispered cautiously. He waited, heartbeat racing, until Derek nodded, and then he slid one of the plugs into Derek’s left ear with long, sure fingers, and then pressed the other into Derek’s right.

The silence was deafening.

Stiles watched Derek adjust, noting just how still he was. His attention wasn’t being drawn in ten directions at once, he could just focus on feeling, on the sensations and the pleasure. On Stiles.

When Derek's breathing settled back down, Stiles repeated the motion from before. Derek nodded immediately, hands squeezing back along the sides of Stiles' thighs. It was weird, knowing Derek couldn’t hear his breathing, hear his heartbeat, see it pulsing in his throat. He was trusting Stiles to handle this, to take away his lifelines and be in complete control and to do it all without hurting him. Stiles’ heart clenched as the reality of what that meant set in.

And though he knew Derek wouldn’t hear him, Stiles remained silent, not wanting Derek to get distracted by the vibrations he would surely feel.

Grabbing hold of Derek's hands, Stiles pulled each up to his lips, placing a kiss to the palms. Then he raised Derek's hands above his head, guiding his left wrist into his right palm until Derek closed his fist. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation when Stiles laid his fingers over Derek's left hand and led it to one of the solid bars of the headboard, Derek gripping it tightly.

Stiles wrapped both hands around Derek's wrists and squeezed. Stay.

A whine escaped Derek’s throat as Stiles’ fingers skittered down the undersides of his arms and continued down his sides, the light touch more intense than ever before, his skin lit in ways he hadn’t known was possible. He felt each fingertip, every light press all at once as they traveled down his body. His back arched involuntarily, anchored by his grip on the headboard as his hips lifted, carrying Stiles along for the ride. A dribble leaked onto Derek’s stomach, his cock throbbing with want.

Stiles scooted back on the bed, starting from the bottom. He took it slow, knowing Derek was hyper-sensitive. He trailed his fingers softly first over Derek’s feet and then his ankles, moving upwards from there. It was obvious Derek was attempting - if failing - to keep his legs still for Stiles and that he couldn’t, that he’d already lost so much control, sent white-hot heat straight to Stiles’ cock.

Derek was barely holding onto sanity, could barely remember his own name. Stiles was slowly making his way up Derek’s legs, fingertips grazing over every inch of him, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Just when Stiles was reaching the ultra-sensitive skin of Derek’s inner thighs, Stiles stopped and shifted upwards, skipping over his midsection to crawl between his legs. Stiles pulled Derek into his lap, thighs warm underneath Derek’s, and bent over him, the heat from his body radiating to Derek’s torso. Long, sure fingers threaded through Derek’s hair and tilted his head upwards, and then lips were pressing against his own.

Desperate, Derek’s control broke, jaw unclenching as he let out a filthy moan into Stiles’ mouth. Clinging with lips and teeth and tongue, Derek took everything Stiles gave him until they were both breathless. When Stiles pulled back, he saw Derek’s forearms clench as if desiring to reach for him. The fact that he didn’t, that he continued clinging to the headboard as if bound, warmed Stiles with joy and pride.

Stiles was less and less predictable as his fingertips skittered over each and every inch of Derek’s upper half, if not any less methodical. He moved down Derek’s side then up his opposite arm, jumping next to his hips and then his ears. Derek grew louder and louder, crying out the first time Stiles’ hands were in two different places at once. He took his time, pausing whenever Derek made a particularly delicious noise to give extra attention to that spot. There wasn’t a single moment of silence as Derek let out a constant stream of moans and groans and whines and whimpers, Stiles especially enjoying the rare mewls and cries.

And the squirming. Derek arched and twisted underneath Stiles, ever anchored by his hands. Toes curled and muscles danced as Stiles worked over him. Never before had he gotten to see so plainly how much effect he had on Derek, gotten to see him let go of control so thoroughly. The fact that he hadn’t only let go of that control, that he’d given it to Stiles like this, made him even more grateful that Derek couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart.

Derek very nearly came the first time Stiles’ teeth closed over his nipple. Crying out, he bucked his hips sharply and the metal under Derek's hand groaned. Stiles smirked and laved over the hardened nub, tweaking his other nipple between his fingers. Derek was keening and the noise went straight to Stiles’ cock.

Each time Stiles brought his lips to Derek’s, the alpha moaned in utter ecstasy, cherishing the taste of Stiles, the connection. Stiles’ tongue explored every bit of Derek’s mouth he could reach, drawing a desperate mewl when he dragged his tongue back against the ridges along the roof and pulled away. Derek held on as long as he could, craving more and more of Stiles than he was getting.

Without any warning - Stiles’ hand still dancing over Derek’s shoulder - lips closed over the head of Derek’s cock and white-hot heat descended. Derek shouted as his orgasm ripped through him. Swallowing it all, Stiles rubbed one hand along the side of Derek’s thigh and the other over his abs. Strong thighs closed tight around Stiles’ stomach as Derek writhed and twisted trying to just bear the overwhelming pleasure that washed through his body.

Derek was absolutely wrecked. Every nerve in his body was lit, every touch like a shock. There was nothing but the sensations, nothing but Stiles and his body, taking him completely apart. He was at Stiles’ mercy in every way and there was nowhere he’d rather be.

The forearm that laid heavy over Derek’s lower belly gave him barely a second of warning before a warm, slicked finger pressed against his hole. He jerked and cried out through clenched teeth, but Stiles held fast. Once Derek had settled, the fingertip swirled around, as if getting a feel for the puckered entrance.

When Stiles finally pushed in slightly, Derek gasped and clenched, pulling the long, slender finger further in. Derek’s breathing ratcheted upwards, chest heaving as Stiles worked the finger in and out. Derek could spend hours debating with himself about whether Stiles’ fingers or lips were more inherently erotic, but right now his fingers were ahead by a mile. A second pushed in alongside, stretching Derek even more and causing his spent cock to give a half-hearted twitch.

Stiles worked him open, slow and steady, but carefully avoided that sweet spot he knew Derek was aching for him to touch. Derek squirmed and arched, trying again and again to guide Stiles’ fingers over his prostate, but to no avail. Even so, it wasn’t long before his cock was fully hard again.

Stiles’ own cock was almost painfully hard and it was starting to be more distracting than Derek. Pulling his fingers out, Stiles leaned forward to swallow Derek’s whine of protest with a kiss. Derek arched up into him, rubbing his cock against Stiles’ stomach and moaning. When Stiles rested back on his heels, he slicked himself up quickly, glad that Derek couldn’t hear the squeak he gave when he touched his own sensitive cock.

Derek waited, trying to steady his breathing. This was normally the time when he focused most on Stiles, on the wild look in his eyes, on the fluttery-fast beat of his heart, on the hitch in his breath. But now all Derek could focus on was the feeling of Stiles, on feeling alive in his own skin. Strong hands wrapped long fingers around Derek’s hips and he could feel the blunt head of Stiles’ cock press against his ass. Derek held his breath, letting out a relieved sigh when Stiles finally, finally pushed in.

Stiles didn’t waste any time, bottoming out and then pulling back to thrust in again, this time ramming right into Derek’s sweet spot. Again and again, Stiles pounded into Derek with practiced efficiency, hard but just shy of fast enough. Each press against his prostate sent bolts of pleasure racing through his body all the way up to his fingertips. Derek’s legs wrapped fully around Stiles, ankles linking together as he held on with everything he had.

Derek was there, he was so close he was aching for it, but each time he tried to push Stiles faster, tried to ride Stiles’ cock to fulfillment, Stiles would pull out and lay a kisses to his inner thigh until he calmed down. Again and again and finally Derek gave up, letting Stiles have his way. It was then that Stiles released his hips and leaned over Derek, hands cupping Derek’s and lips covering his in a deep, passionate kiss. His pace increased, faster and faster until Derek was gasping for air, each thrust punching it out of him.

Finstock in a thong, dead puppies, hospitals – Stiles was trying everything he could think of to keep himself from coming. He could tell Derek was close and he was determined to wait him out. When he knew there was no turning back for himself, seconds before he was about to lose it, Stiles skittered his fingertips down Derek’s left side from his wrist to his hips. Derek came hard, biting down on Stiles’ bottom lip and arching his back entirely off the bed as he clenched around Stiles, pulling his own orgasm from him.

They came down slowly, Stiles’ head rested on forearms that were crossed over Derek’s chest, and their breathing fell into rhythm with one another. Derek wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, but then he felt Stiles lift up and hands were tugging gently at his, urging him to release his hold on the headboard. He did and allowed Stiles to guide his hands to cup Stiles’ ribs, rubbing over them, ecstatic to be touching him again.

Pulling his knees out from under Derek and straddling his hips, Stiles caressed Derek’s ears before pulling out the earplugs, first the left and then the right. Derek’s world was flooded with sound, the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat still racing, the sound of Stiles breathing through a barely open mouth, the sound of the wind blowing between buildings and cars driving down the highway.

“Hey, shhhh Derek. It’s okay,” Stiles soothed, running his hands down over Derek’s jaw and neck. Derek realized he’d been murmuring. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

Derek nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah,” he breathed out.

“I’m gonna take the scarf off now,” Stiles warned him, untying the knot and rubbing thumbs over Derek’s cheeks. When he nodded, Stiles pulled the fabric away from Derek’s eyes and watched him blink, tossing the scarf unto the bedstand on his right. The room had grown dark since they’d started; the only light came from the city outside and the waxing moon shining in through the window, but Derek could still make out Stiles hovering just above him, bright eyes wide and lips parted slightly. Stiles gave Derek several moments to adjust, to come back to himself.

“How’re you doing?” Stiles whispered, eyes darting all over Derek’s face as if looking for the slightest hint at discomfort.

“Good, I’m- that was-“ Derek swallowed, unable to finish the sentence, still struggling to just find words, dammit.

“Intense?” Stiles offered.

Derek nodded. “Yeah.”

Stiles smirked. “Okay, c’mon big guy, shower time.” He backed off of Derek until he could reach the floor and stood, pulling Derek forward with him. They walked to the bathroom hand in hand and for once didn’t spend the first half of their shower getting even dirtier than when they started. Stiles scrubbed Derek down gently and quickly went over himself. They spent 10 minutes just making out under the warm stream, tugging at each other’s hair and gripping each other’s asses. It was passionate and sweet and satisfying in the best ways.

When they crawled back into bed, mostly dry except for their hair, Stiles wrapped himself around Derek and slid his knee between Derek’s. Derek rested his head on Stiles’ forearm, twining his fingers with Stiles’. Tightening the arm around Derek’s waist, Stiles smiled to himself at the feel of how relaxed Derek felt beneath him, breath steady and heartbeat slow. The night had done exactly what Stiles had hoped it would, relieving Derek from the stress of his life.

 “We should do that more often.” Stiles nuzzled Derek’s ear.

Derek stilled. “Mmmm, I don’t know about that,” he hedged.

 “Oh?” Stiles prompted.

 “That was. . . a lot. Mind-blowing.” Derek smirked slightly. “But a lot.”

 “Special occasions it is! I’ve already got plans for your birthday,” Stiles added, licking a stripe behind Derek’s ear, causing him to shiver.

 “Is that – nnngh – is that so? Mind sharing with the rest of the – ah – class?” Derek asked cheekily as Stiles began to suck a continuously fading mark into his neck.

Derek felt Stiles’ lips stretch into a smile against his skin. “Oh no,” he breathed into his ear. “You’ll just have to wait and – well, you’ll just have to wait."

Smirking, Derek pulled Stiles’ fingers to his mouth one hand at a time, laying a kiss to each tip. Stiles hummed contentedly, Derek feeling the vibrations everywhere, and then they settled in to sleep, the first full night’s sleep either had had in months.