Chapter Text
“Derek, my man! Have I told you today how much I love you?”
Derek looks up from his phone to find a… Stiles. With a maniac look on his face. Uh-oh.
“No.”
“And that you’re my favorite person in the whole wide world?” The grinning boy just sits down beside him on Derek’s bed. Derek follows his movements with wary eyes.
“I’m not gonna like this, am I?”
“What?! Me telling you I love you and that you’re my favorite person in the world? Why wouldn’t you like that?” The boy gives him a playful slap on the shoulder. He’s radiating nervous energy and Derek can see right through it.
Derek most certainly is going to hate this. “Cut the crap, Stiles. What do you want?” He decides the boy clearly deserves his undivided attention and puts his phone away.
“Well… I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you and that you’re a great roommate and that…” He pauses at the sight of one of Derek’s raised eyebrow. “And that is a really nice eyebrow you got there, y’kno- I really, really, really need your help with something.”
He doesn’t elaborate, just sucks Derek in, like the highly doubtful request he’s about to make requires that Derek agrees to do it before he even knows what it is.
That would certainly make things a lot easier for Stiles, wouldn’t it? But Derek has learned his lesson.
Oh, how has he learned his lesson.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Oh, geez, what do you take me for, some kind of dictator?”
Yes. They’ve been living together for about a year now and Derek has never once managed to stay out of Stiles shenanigans. He’s just… very convincing, ok?
“Can’t you ask Jake? I’m really not looking forward to a repeat of that party fiasco last week. You know we’re not allowed to drink in the dorms. You’ve known it since the first time you got caught. It’s been four times now, Stiles. Four.”
“I could, if it weren’t about Jake.”
“Ok…” Is all Derek can think of saying. Didn’t Stiles say he wanted to break up with the guy a while ago?
“You know how I’ve been trying to break up with him for the past two months, right? He just won’t quit!”
Oh, there it is.
“I remember you saying you wanted to break up, but when he just kept showing up I figured you’d changed your mind.”
“Yeah, more like he keeps changing my mind.” Stiles runs a hand through his already messy hair. “The first time I tried, he cried because his cat had died that same week and begged me not to leave him. I felt like the worst person in the world, I didn’t even know he had a cat! And let me tell you, he did. He even showed me all five thousand pictures of it on his phone. It was sad. So, I guess I decided I wanted to give it another shot, for good time’s sake, you know.”
“Yeah, I think that was about the time you told me you wanted to break up with him.” Derek remembers.
“Yeah, a month after that I couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, ok, he’s my first boyfriend ever, but… I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be attached by the hip 24/7. It was all a bit too claustrophobic. You know me, I’m a ball of pent up energy, I need some space to breathe! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love when he goes all possessive macho in bed, that really gets me going and–”
“Ok! that’s enough of an introduction. Can we skip to the part you need my help with?” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Right! The point is, I’ve tried everything and it’s not working. It’s like, he won’t let me leave him. Even when I think I made my point clear, he brings me back with sex! And sex is my weak point, Derek, I always end up going back and when I’m there, it’s like, hey, maybe this can work. But then we go back to the real world and I can see with 1080p high fucking definition how much it cannot.” He huffs out a desperate sigh. “I’m going mad. So, I figured, if I can’t leave him… I’ll make him leave me. And that’s where you come in.”
Yep, Derek does not like this. He does not like this one bit.
*
“Oh, come on, Derek! A mouth is a mouth.”
“Not your mouth!”
“My mouth is not a mouth?”
“No!”
“What is it, then?”
“Stop laughing, you little shit. It’s yours! It’s attached to your face, which is attached to the rest of your body!”
“Well, would you rather it was just a floating apparatus you could open and close as you pleased? Would it make you feel better if it was like one of those horrific sex toys with the lips pwessed together in a pfout like thish?” He makes what Derek can only describe as… a duck face. Because this whole thing isn’t bizarre enough already.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Do you even realize what you’re asking me?”
“Ohmygod, how many times are you gonna make me repeat the words ‘suck’ and ‘your’ and ‘dick’ as a full sentence? Yes, Derek, I realize I’m asking you to let me put my lips on your ding-a-ling for a while, so that Jake finds us and sees the whole thing and finally understands that we’re done!
“Don’t call my penis that.”
“Derek! Focus! If it bothers you so much just close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else. When was the last time you got some, anyway? You’re always cooked up in the library or brooding around in your insanely early morning jogs. You only go to parties if I literally drag you to them and you never hit on anyone, even though 10 out of 10 people on this campus would gladly let you fuck their brains out if you just. Asked. Nicely.”
He has a point. Derek hasn’t had sex in… too long. Of course, Stiles must think that’s the only reason why he hasn’t shut this whole thing down yet. But mostly Derek is just worried his friend would feel the need to take such desperate measures to break up with this boyfriend.
The guy comes off as the abusive kind, and Derek doesn’t like that one bit. He dislikes it even more than he dislikes this whole plan Stiles came up with. And that’s saying a lot.
“Stiles–”
“Please, Derek, I’m begging you. He’ll be here in an hour, I need you. I’ll owe you one. No, three! I’ll owe you for letting YOU PUT YOUR DICK IN MY MOUTH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, DO YOU REALIZE THIS?” His eyes grow wide in desperation.
Derek gives an exasperated sigh.
“You’re putting your mouth on my dick. There’s a difference.”
“Whatever! Be as passive as you want. Just go take a quick shower while I find you some porn to get you going.”
“Fine!” Derek yells as he gets up and stalks towards the bathroom.
Just like that, he finds himself tangled in another one of Stiles’ terrible plans. Just like that, he starts to reevaluate all his life choices that brought him to this point, right here, where he’s washing his junk with a whole new level of self-awareness he hadn’t really spared to any part of his body before.
Could his dick be considered attractive? After all, what is a good-looking dick? It looked normal, Derek thought. What about size-wise? He hadn’t worried about this in so long.
It doesn’t really matter anyway. It’s not like he needs to worry about impressing Stiles or anything. This is all about helping out his friend. That is all. Of course his hands travel up and down his shaft in a shy but very effective attempt to engorge it.
Derek has no first-hand experience with giving blowjobs (nor does he have much with receiving it, either) but he does know that the few times he was gifted with the heavenly act he was already almost, if not fully, erect.
It doesn’t even bother him that it’s the anticipation to the tight, wet, heat of Stiles’ mouth that’s got him slowly growing harder in his hand, or that his ears feel momentarily warmer. A mouth is just a mouth. It’s a mouth. It’s a natural reaction. There’s nothing weird or shameful about that.
And now Derek is trying really hard not to think about the fact that he’s thinking about this the way he’s thinking about this, but when left to his own devices he can’t help himself. He feels like a fucking virgin again.
Probably because when it came to doing anything sex-related with another guy, he was a fucking virgin.
He’s straight! Always has been and always will be. Straight as an arrow. It really has been so fucking long. Maybe Derek should get laid more.
If only he wasn’t as socially awkward as he is straight.
Once he’s thoroughly clean (and halfway to a chub, but that wasn’t the main objective of this shower idea anyway) he gets back to their room, towel snuggly hugging his hips. He finds Stiles staring at his computer, teeth abusing his lower lip as he clicks away through the wonderful world of online porn.
“Ok, so I’ve got you some girl on girl action, this vanilla looking couple doing good old missionary, big tits giving head on her knees”, he clicks on each tab to illustrate them to Derek, “this girl tied up riding a Sybian, feel free to stop me if anything peaks your interest, amateurs doing it doggy stile at the park, stepbro fucking his little–“
“Stiles, how many tabs did you open, forty?”
“How am I supposed to know what gets your boat floating? I’m not here to judge, you know, I admit I was a bit curious which one you’d chose, so I basically opened a tab for every kink I could find.”
He turns to flash a shameless grin at Derek, because there’s simply no dimension in the universe in which Stiles has any kind of relationship with shame. Stiles has never met shame, never even spared it a glance. Stiles doesn’t even have a concept of the meaning of the word. Nothing. Nada.
“Jesus, fuckmyballs, someone is very naked.” Is what comes out of his mouth (it’s just a mouth!). Pink lips slightly part in surprise. His whiskey eyes travel up and down Derek’s body.
“I have a towel.” Derek points at the fluffy object wrapped around his hips, thoroughly unimpressed by Stiles reaction. He usually gets dressed immediately after a shower, in the bathroom, no big deal. It’s just more practical.
In fact, now that Derek thinks about it, he’s never come out of the bathroom like this. Not dressed. He refuses to say he’s naked, because he is not.
“You certainly do. Is this how you wanna do it? So, like, that’s our story? I couldn’t resist seeing you wearing just this flimsy towel and seduced you into plowing my face?”
“Does it matter? Why do we need a story?”
“Because I don’t want to be any more of a jerk than I have to be, ok? This is kind of an asshole move what I’m doing here, you think I don’t know that? I want to, I don’t know, explain to him what happened at some point, even if it’s a fake story, lay him off easy. I’m not just gonna let him walk away and never talk to him again. I want to give him some kind of closure, I guess.”
“The jerk with a heart of gold.” Derek says, and he can’t help but smirk at his friend.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want. We’ll see who laughs when I start sucking your turkey.”
“Not you, your mouth will be full.”
Stiles laughs, the sound exploding out of his lungs, loud and sharp. Open-mouthed. It’s just a mouth.
“I have no idea why I said that.” Stiles says, facepalming.
“Me neither.” Derek says, and he can’t help but laugh right back at his friend. What have they gotten themselves into?
*
There are moans and groans filling the air. Derek hears them, hollow, distorted by the shitty PC stereo and the shitty recording. It’s an amateur video.
“Of course you like amateur porn! That makes so much sense, how did I not predict that?” Stiles had said once Derek picked one (of many) shameful tabs.
“It’s just more organic. None of that plastic, meaningless bullshit.” He says, blushing. He tries to get comfortable, or as comfortable as one can be while half laying, half sitting across his single bed, with his legs dangling from it.
He’s actually watching porn right now. And Stiles is right there. And that’s not the most embarrassing part. The most embarrassing part is that Stiles is kneeling on the floor next to the bed in between Derek’s legs. Like it’s no big deal. Like he belongs there.
Figures. He never acts like he doesn’t belong. Stiles always belongs wherever the fuck he wants to belong. He’s annoying like that.
This ability of his in particular is fucking with Derek’s sanity at the moment. Does Stiles belong kneeling between my legs? is not a question a straight guy wants to be asking himself, ever!
Nor does he like the flashing, neon-colored MAYBE!!!! his brain provides as an answer.
He harshly pushes those thoughts far, far away as warmth glides over his still covered thighs. The towel wrapped around his torso is the only barrier between Derek’s tanned skin and Stiles’ milky white hands. He goes to unwrap it but stops mid air. Like he's asking for permission, but doesn’t dare to say it out loud.
Derek just stares for a second, gulping. Either to moisten his suddenly dry throat or to swallow his nerves away, he’s not sure. It’s a failed attempt nonetheless.
His dick is hard, but the thick fabric of the towel doesn’t give it away. He unwraps it himself, vaguely aware of ah’s and mm’s and other filthy noises still coming from the PC.
But Derek’s not really looking. On instinct, he wraps a hand around his dick and jerks it. Once. Twice. Stops.
“Ohmygod, it’s…” Stiles clears his throat, “it’s beautiful.” He stares at Derek’s dick as if in a daze. “Dude, take your hand off. Stop touching it.” He actually sounds offended, and reaches his hand instead to hold it.
“Fuck.” Derek immediately tenses at the feeling of a hand that isn’t his own touching him there. It’s really been too long. Aaaanngh, harder, comes from somewhere at Derek’s side, or from his mind, he’s not sure.
“Look at you, holy shit. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from people! Great size, uncut, this mushroom head–”
“Stiles– ”
“God, Der, it’s purple! How the fuck are you not fucking girls left and right with this? Or boys! Fuck.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He answers but doesn’t really look up.
Instead, he ducks his head and for a second Derek’s brain goes blank, because that’s definitely a warm, wet tongue lapping on his heavy balls. Humid hot breath tickles nerve endings that send a jolt of electricity straight to the base of his spine.
In a rare moment of clarity, he closes the PC, deciding through the fog slowly forming in his mind that the sound coming from the video was just annoyingly distracting. He wasn’t looking at it, anyway.
Then, he brings a hand up to thread through Stiles’ soft hair, and it’s as if his arm has a life of its own, because that order certainly didn’t come from Derek’s brain.
But now it’s too late, so he leaves it there. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to acknowledge anything other than Derek’s dick, actually.
“Oh, you will fit so nice and snug into my throat, won’t you?” He reverently whispers, like Derek’s dick is a separate entity from the rest of his body.
“Seriously–”
“Silence! This is between your dick and I.” The little shit just spares him a mischievous look for a second before slowly wrapping wet lips around the head of said member and hollowing his cheeks.
He sucks and sucks and sucks, teasing the life out of Derek, never really going beyond the tip. It drives Derek mad, who’s trying with all his might not to thrust up into that tight mouth, those obscene, soft lips.
Stiles’ got such an amazing mouth. Derek wants to tell him that, but it would be awkward, his ears burn just from the thought Stiles is sucking my dick, let alone if he starts complimenting his friend on his technique. That’s just a mouth!
Hot embarrassment and caramel-sticky tension mix together in Derek’s stomach, just like the thread of mixed saliva and precum that connects the slit of Derek’s dick to Stiles’ tongue as the boy pulls away for a quick breath.
It snaps, unexpectedly taking Derek’s sanity with it.
His skin was satisfied with just the soft touch of Stiles’ hair a millisecond ago, but it suddenly itches for more, for rough, for coarse, for pressure, and without thinking, he tightens his hand around some strands and roughly (but efficiently) guides his dick back into Stiles’ spit-shiny mouth.
Stiles, flushed, just opens wide, rewards him with something between a gasp and a hiss, which morphs into a muffled moan as Derek drives his member deep, deep, deeper.
When he can’t go any deeper, he fucks, desperate tiny thrusts through pulled taut lips. Derek’s whole body is pulled taut too, like he’s terrified of losing that all-embracing warmth, and he refuses to pull himself out too much before hopelessly pushing back in again.
And then Stiles is choking, throat franticly squeezing out of reflex with a garbled sound around the hasty pace of push/pull/push/pull and on one last push, Derek just explodes like fireworks. He didn’t mean to, it’s too soon, but it’s just too much. So good. So fucking good.
The first spurt of sticky cum still makes it deep into Stiles’ throat as Derek immediately lets go of the poor boy’s head.
He recoils, gasping for breath, just as someone is opening the door and saying Stiles’ name, and Derek snaps back to himself like he just got showered with ice cold water.
But it’s like some fucked up joke. He can’t stop the next spurts that hit Stiles’ left eye, then cheek and then utterly fucked out lips, because the boy held Derek’s dick aimed right at his face when he pushed back to breathe.
It was too late.
His face was dripping, pearly beads of Derek’s semen sliding down his face as he turned to the person – Jake – frozen at the door.
“Fuck. Jake.” Stiles tries to say, but it comes out broken and hoarse, and Derek feels a pang of guilt that he was the one to do that to Stiles’ voice.
He looks both startled and like he’s trying to hold back a laugh at the same time, while Derek is just frozen in place, because he has no fucking clue of what to say or do, other than stare back and forth between Stiles’ cum-covered face and Jake’s shocked one.
He’s torn between feeling kinda blissed out and a lot mortified.
“Um…” He had agreed to participate in this, sure, but he never meant to cum all over Stiles face just as Jake opened the door – or at all. He never meant to come at all. Jake should have arrived before that and they’d stop everything before he actually finished.
Also, what the hell happened to knocking?
“What the fuck?” Jake finally said, and it was as if a spell broke and put everything into motion. Stiles took Derek’s towel and wiped his face clean as best as he could as Derek covered his slowly softening dick with the other side of said towel.
“Jake, we need to talk.” Stiles says, getting up.
“No shit, Stiles. You think?” He looks outraged.
“I’m going to give you guys some privacy.” Derek says as he gets up. The post-orgasmic bliss is certainly gone and all that’s left in his system is hardcore mortification.
“No, Derek. Stay.” Jake says with a disgusted expression, looking between the two of them.
“J, come on, this has nothing to do with Derek. I’ve been trying to tell you for a while.”
“That you’ve been fucking your roommate? I don’t think you have. Because I think I’d remember that.”
“No, that I… that I want to break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I got the message, Stiles. We’re done.” He turns and leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him.
Stiles sighs. “Well… that was intense.”
“Are you ok?” Derek reaches for Stiles chin to make the boy look at him. When he does, Derek notices that as much as he wiped his face, you can tell there is a thin layer of dried cum he needs to wash to get it out for real. His lashes on one eye are glued together, and the memories of the whole ordeal come crashing down.
He’s suddenly very aware of three things.
One, that he’s still naked, apart from his faithful towel securely wrapped around his torso.
Two, that he basically face-fucked Stiles in a moment of stupid bliss.
And three, that he didn’t even have the decency to let his friend know he was coming before he coated him in semen in what can only be described officially as the worst possible moment in history.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m sorry I had to hurt Jake like this, but at the same time, I feel like this big weight has been lifted from my shoulders… I’ll give him some time to digest everything, curse me and my descendants to come, and then I’ll maybe see if he wants to talk. For closure, I don’t know, or just for the sake of yelling at my face. Maybe that will help him move on, who knows?”
Derek hums noncommittally in agreement and awkwardly clears his throat.
“Um… I’m sorry I… I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t expecting to... ugh, you know.” Derek says, and Stiles just stares at him like he grew a second head.
Has he mentioned this is awkward? How do you apologize to your bro for choking him on your dick and then coming all over his face without warning?
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” He takes a deep breath and, staring at anything other than Stiles, lets out a “I’m sorry I choked you and came without warning.” All in one breath.
It’s commendable, really. He can feel his whole face burning in embarrassment. “There.”
And Stiles just… cackles. “Y–” He tries to say something, but he clearly can't stop laughing long enough to breathe and get it out, so he ends up doubled over and shaking in an intense fit of laughter.
Derek just glares at him for a moment. “What?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Stiles says through wiping tears from his eyes. “It was just so funny, the whole situation.” He finally manages to calm down.
“You don’t have to apologize, Der, come on. It happens, no big deal. I offered, remember? I’m actually glad you… enjoyed it so much.” He winks at Derek. Winks. Like they’re not talking about… what they’re talking about.
“You’re a good friend, Derek Hale.” He says smiling honestly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d have done to deal with this without you.”
“Please, I’m sure you’d have found someone else willing to get a free BJ.” Derek rolls his eyes, skeptical.
“Not someone that I trusted, I wouldn’t. You think I just go around sucking random guys’ dicks?” He says through a mock offended tone and jokingly slaps Derek’s abs.
They chuckle, Derek more out of embarrassment than anything else. He just kind of stares at Stiles’ face in a silent freak-out moment, but finds michievous, doe-like eyes looking back at him.
“What, is there something on my face?”