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He doesn’t register the sound of footfalls coming down the hallway until there is a heavy sigh at his doorway. Stiles half turns in his computer chair, looking over his shoulder expecting to see either Scott or his dad. His eyebrows shoot up and is already starting to form a question when he’s yanked up to his feet and his mouth is otherwise occupied.
Derek puts what seems like all his weight and energy into the kiss, pulling at Stiles’ bottom lip with teeth as his fingers skim down from temples to chest, flexing in the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. He hums happily before shrugging out of his leather jacket. Stiles’ own hands flutter in the air around Derek’s arms, overwhelmed and confused even though his mouth and dick seem to be totally onboard with whatever the hell is going on. After Derek slips his tongue against Stiles’ and elicits a moan from him, Stiles breaks away and tries to remember how to breathe.
“Okay, not that this isn’t doing all kinds of things for me but... hnnng… ” Stiles breaks off into a groan as Derek bites down the side of his neck while his hands work his shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor somewhere. Stiles slumps a little, going weak in the knees, and tilts his head to the side to give better access; his brain is moving like molasses.
“Stiles,” Derek breathes against his skin, licking a stripe across his collarbone. “You need to be naked now.” He’s already unbuttoning Stiles’ jeans and pushing them down, sliding his fingers under the elastic of his boxers and sending those to the floor too.
And then, holy hell, Derek sinks to his knees and mouths at Stiles’ stomach. He blindly tugs Stiles’ sneakers off and guides first one and then the second foot up so he can fully remove the crumpled pants and underwear from Stiles’ legs. Moaning, Derek slowly runs his palms up the insides of Stiles’ thighs, gently forcing him to make room.
“Uh,” Stiles probably isn’t even blinking as he stares down at Derek’s dark hair and the way his eyes are closed like he’s savoring the taste of Stiles’ skin. It’s a good thing he’s pressed against his desk because Stiles would probably have fallen over in both shock and arousal. He’s hard and leaking.
Yup, that’s Stiles getting his first blowjob. Stiles shudders, eyes snapping shut because if he looks down and see himself disappearing into Derek’s mouth, this is going to be over in less than twenty seconds. His fingers grip the edge of his desk tightly and he tries to remember that he should be keeping his hips still because he’s heard it’s bad manners to choke the person who sucking him off (unless the person requests it).
Keeping still right now with Derek’s tongue moving against all the right places and hot, wet suction is the most difficult thing Stiles’ has ever attempted. God, he should get a medal for this. His head falls backwards and he moans openly; Derek gives a moan in reply and oh my god that feels fucking fantastic!
“Der...oh man,” he finds himself muttering half formed sentences because he doesn’t want this to stop and he wants Derek to know how much he really is loving this. “You...oh my God…”
He hadn’t noticed Derek rummaging through the desk drawer or the probable sound of a lid popping but Stiles definitely notices the soft press of a finger against his hole, just rubbing slickly as Derek opens up his throat and takes him down all the way. It sends a jolt of need down to Stiles’ belly; it’s one thing to mess around on his own considering how it might feel and it’s a whole different ball game to have Derek pushing in with his finger. Okay, so that is something that Stiles can now say he totally enjoys.
“Oh damn, Derek,” Stiles’ legs widen of their own accord and he presses down against the intrusion, caught up in the push/pull of Derek's’ mouth and finger. “Keep...yeah…”
Derek shifts on his knees and pulls back a little on Stiles’ dick before easing a second finger inside. He doesn’t move them, lets Stiles adjust. It burns and is a little uncomfortable but with the way Derek sucks at the tip of his dick, Stiles finds himself quickly relaxing back into again, chasing the orgasm that’s been cresting. When Derek rubs against the bundle of nerves inside, Stiles makes an embarrassing mewling sound and his hips push down, forward, needing that.
“Sorry…” he has the presence of mind to apologize when he feels Derek gag a little around him but Derek just makes a soft sound like he’s assuring Stiles he’s not pissed. Derek pistons his fingers in, catching his prostate every time. On the down stroke, he spreads his fingers a little, stretching Stiles open more.
“Oh fuck. Fuck , Derek. Gonna commmmeeee…” His word turns into a long and low moan because he’s shooting his load down Derek’s throat and the world blacks out a little.
His brain is slow to come back online and by the time Stiles has recovered from his orgasm enough to think past ‘fuck yes that was hella awesome’ Derek’s standing back up and pulling him in for a kiss. Stiles can taste himself on Derek’s tongue, bitter and familiar; the thick slide of the bit of come Derek didn’t swallow completely is fucking erotic to Stiles as he sucks it into his own mouth, swallowing. Stiles feels like he’s in a porn or something.
Derek is groaning into his mouth and somewhere between getting on his knees and breaking Stiles’ mind, he must have pulled his own dick out because it’s sliding against the sweat on Stiles’ stomach. He rolls his hips in stuttery movements before reaching around Stiles’ back and pressing two fingers back inside to mimic Derek’s thrusts, like he’s imagining fucking into Stiles but too desperate to take the time to actually do it. The fingers are too much and overwhelming to Stiles’ overstimulated nervous system but he finds himself groaning and rocking into it anyway. Stiles could get hard again from this in like a good five minutes probably. Teenage refractory period at its finest. Derek before he has a chance to test the theory, hot and messy, on Stiles’ stomach, biting his neck hard enough to leave teeth marks.
Derek’s chest heaves against Stiles and he slowly pulls his fingers out of him, causing Stiles to make a small sound at the loss. His forehead is cradled against the juncture of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. The mess of jizz on Stiles’ skin is already starting to get tacky and his stomach jolts when Derek’s hands spread it over his skin, rubbing it up his chest and down his sides.
“I can’t wait to take you apart after dinner with the Argents,” Derek confesses against Stiles’ pulse point. “Something’s been off since I got back in town.”
Stiles straightens up and he shakes his head, trying to think. “Whoah, what? Dinner with the Argents? But you haven’t left town? What? What are you talking about, Derek?”
Derek pulls away and gives Stiles a confused look. “Did you seriously forget you’re coming to dinner? I sent you a text about it like three hours ago to remind you.”
Running a hand through his hair, Stiles slips from between Derek and the desk. He misses the intense heat from Derek pressing against him but he needs to process this. Nothing is making sense. Nothing.
“Uh, did you hit your head or something, dude? Since when do you have dinner with the Argents? Since when do you and I have dinner together with the Argents?”
Derek tucks himself away and does his jeans back up. Fuck, the guy hadn’t lost a single piece of clothing other than his jacket the whole time. And there Stiles is, standing naked as the day he was born, covered in Derek’s come. He hastily yanks his own pants on, forgoing the underwear because that would take too much time and they need to get this shit figured out.
“I always have dinner with them when I’m back on break.” Derek comes over to Stiles and grips a wrist in his hand to keep him from pulling his shirt back on. “And you’ve been going with me for the past six months. Are you okay?”
Sliding out of Derek’s grasp, Stiles sits down heavily on his bed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He’s talking to himself but he looks up at Derek whose face is starting to shift from confused to hurt . “What’s the last thing you remember?” Stiles tries not to let the wounded look on Derek’s face distract him too much. “You know, besides blowing my mind,” he waves over to the desk.
Derek raises an eyebrow. “How much Adderall have you had today?” He makes a frustrated noise but lists his day’s activities anyway. “Got up, took my exam for Lit III, finished packing my bags, got lunch with Andrew and Izzy, then drove down here. I stopped at a rest stop and ended up taking a quick nap because I was up until three thirty last night studying but then I drove the rest of the way here and came straight to your house.” Derek eyes Stiles warily. “See? Nothing weird.”
Shooting up to his feet, Stiles yells hysterically, “All of that is weird! You don’t go to college. And who are Andrew and Izzy? You live in a creepy loft downtown and I don’t think you’ve left town since you got here last year after your sister--” he cuts himself off because there’s no need to rub salt into wounds here just because he’s trying to make sense of what the hell is going on.
“What are you talking about, Stiles? I’ve been going to Bakersfield for three years . You’ve met Andrew and Izzy .” Derek crosses his arms. “Did you hit your head? What do you mean I live downtown? What happened to my sister? Which sister?”
Stiles rubs a hand over his mouth, “Okay, you need to sit down.” He tugs at Derek and pushes him until he’s sitting on Stiles’ bed. Very carefully, he says, “I think you traveled from an alternate universe.”
Derek pauses for a moment and then laughs. Laughs . Derek laughs at Stiles. Stiles isn’t even sure he’s ever heard Derek laugh before. “It’s a good thing I love you because you’re an asshole.” He reaches forward and twists his fingers with Stiles, pulling him forward until he’s standing between Derek’s thighs. After dropping a kiss to the back of Stiles’ hand, he says, “You suck at pranking too. Get changed so we can go eat. I’m starving.”
Stiles blinks slowly, stomach swooping in astonishment and longing. “Uh, yeah, okay.” He slowly untangles his hand from Dereks and goes to his dresser to get a fresh pair of underwear and jeans.
When he heads to the door, Derek asks, “Don’t shower, okay?” His words are light and he’s flopped backwards on the bed.
Swallowing and his face heating up, Stiles stutters, “Y-yeah, okay.”
In the bathroom, Stiles braces his hands against the coutner and bends forward so he can try and calm the fuck down. Derek, or Not!Derek, just gave him his first blowjob and fingered his ass and now expects them to go have a nice family dinner with the Argents? Not!Derek loves him? Or well, Not!Derek loves Not!Stiles in some alternate universe where they apparently have dirty, possessive sex. Stiles can feel his pulse rising and panic starting to settle in. He breathes through it though. He’ll fix this. Somehow. He needs to call Scott.
Fuck, that’s going to be an awkward conversation.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks from the other side of the door. “You’re heart is pounding.” He sounds concerned.
So Not!Derek is still a werewolf; small mercies, Stiles supposes. “Just thinking how pissed Scott is going to be when we see him later!” He takes a deep breath and goes about changing his clothes.
“Why would he be mad? I thought he was over being weird about us?”
Stiles pauses with his shirt half pulled over his head. Maybe Not!Scott isn’t a werewolf? Because it seems like it would be really obvious why another werewolf with super sniffing skills wouldn’t want to be around Stiles right now (thanks Derek).
“I don’t know. He’s emotional like that.” Stiles shrugs his shirt back on and quickly opens the door. Derek is there with his leather jacket back on. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Derek traps him against the wall and stares at him for a long moment before leaning in and kissing him softly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just been a weird day.” It’s not a lie at all at this point. He finds himself indulging in a pressing another chaste kiss to Derek’s lips, hoping to reassure him.
They go down the stairs and Derek agrees, “Yeah, something is up. It feels off somehow around here. Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” When they get to the front door he continues, “Sorry about upstairs. I just needed to reconnect and get balanced.”
Stiles licks his lips, feeling flushed from the memory of what just happened less than a half hour ago. Hearing Derek refer to him in a context where he’s is something he wants and needs to feel normal makes something inside Stiles ache. This is too much and they need to figure out a way to switch Not!Derek back with Actual!Derek.
He convinces Derek that they need to stop by Deaton’s to pick up Scott before going over to the Argents since (thankfully, in Not!Derek’s universe too) Scott and Allison are dating and Scott needs a ride. They go to the back the building and find Scott piling up bags of kibble. He immediately freezes for a second when Stiles walks in, then he’s whipping around and giving him the worst grimace ever.
“Dude. Dudes . What the heck?!” Scott yells, covering his nose with the inside of an elbow. His next words come out muffled. “Gross. Have you not ever heard of a shower?”
Stiles sighs in exasperation. This is what he was talking about, damn it. Derek looks confused.
“Moving past the obvious, Scott.” Stiles gives him a hard look and then very obviously tips his head in Derek’s direction. “We have a problem. Derek somehow traveled to an alternate universe. This,” he presents Not!Derek with the flourish of Vanna White, “is not actually Derek. Our Derek is most likely freaking the fuck out in a world where he has dinners with the Argents and goes to college.”
Derek and Scott both make disgruntled noises, for different reasons.
Scott finally drops his arm but the look of mild disgust still stays on his face. “Stiles, you’ve been watching too much SyFy again. Or watching Doctor Who or something. You don’t have to come up with some weird story to cover for the fact that you and Derek finally hooked up. You’re my best friend, dude. I love you no matter who you’re attracted to.” His nose wrinkles. “I just wish you would shower after you hook up.”
Stiles can’t help the dopey grin that sprouts on his face at his best friend’s support but he waves all of it away. “Thanks, Scott. But I’m serious here. This is not our Derek.”
Derek is getting pissed now. “Stiles, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were okay.” He clenches his jaw and snorts hotly from the nose. “Why are you being such an ass?”
Stiles’ shoulders sag, “I’m sorry, Derek but you don’t belong here.” It hurts to say those words. So much has already been taken from Derek but all of that happened before Stiles knew him. And to be the one ripping into Not!Derek is painful. “You and me aren’t an item here. You aren’t friends with the Argents.”
“Back at your house, it sure as shit felt like we were an item.” Derek rails and that’s the moment Allison shows up for her usual sneaking-around-to-see-Scott routine; Derek doesn’t notice her at first. “If you want to break up, then fine. Fuck you. I don’t understand why you’re being so immature about it. You’re better than this, Stiles. But fine. I get it!” He turns to leave, finally seeing Allison.
Stiles feels like shit and he’s trying to stutter out something to make Derek understand. Scott goes over to Allison and positions himself in front of her, just in case. Allison squeaks.
“Talk some fucking sense into your friend, Ally,” Derek says it like a throw away comment but Allison moves around Scott to grab Derek by the sleeve.
Scott shadows her. Stiles is standing all by himself on the other side of the room, angry and hurt and confused because he shouldn’t be upset that he’s hurt Not!Derek’s feelings.
“Ally?” She asks, tentitively, glancing over at Stiles who shrugs morosely.
Derek turns to her and pulls violently out of her grasp. “God, did Stiles get you to play along with this alternate universe bull too?” He slows down and turns fully to her though, eying Scott over her shoulder. “Scott?” His voice sounds broken.
Scott’s eyes are golden and his claws are out in warning. “What?”
Stiles hesitates but takes a few steps over to Derek, “See? Your Scott isn’t a werewolf, right? What color are your eyes, Derek?”
Derek stares at Scott, unbelievingly for a long moment before turning to Stiles, face ashen. He lets his eyes flash blue. Allison sucks in a breath.
“You’re an alpha now, here, Derek, not a beta,” Scott says, falling into understanding easily. He retracts his claws and his eyes fade back to their deep brown.
Derek keeps looking at Stiles though with his blue eyes though he’s not shifting into any further. To Scott, he directs, “My mother is the alpha.”
Allison grips Scott’s arm tightly but doesn’t say anything. Stiles’ pulse is rising, as is Allison’s most likely. He swallows.
“Not here. You are,” Stiles confirms.
“Maybe you should call Deaton, Scott.” Allison bites her lip and glances between Stiles and Derek.
Deaton is about as useful as he always is. Which means that he’s not giving any usable information and being shady the whole time. Stiles is almost as frustrated as Derek.
“But how do we get him back where he belongs?” Stiles all but yells at the vet.
Deaton wipes his hands on a towel after washing them because he’d been handling wolfsbane. The werewolves in the room hadn’t been pleased with it and Stiles wasn’t convinced that Deaton didn’t break out the herbs just for dramatic flair. “We have to wait for the universes to balance out. There is something missing from his world that Derek needs and there is something missing from this world that Derek needs. And most likely once the two find what they need, Derek will be back where he belongs.”
Derek scoffs and Stiles huffs feeling weirded out by how much like Actual!Derek Not!Derek had seemed just now. Stiles says, “There’s a whole shit ton of things Derek probably needs that he doesn’t have here .” He glares at Deaton who ignores it.
Scott gives Not!Derek a concerned look. “What is your life like where you’re from?”
Shrugging, Derek cuts his eyes over to Stiles but stares at the ground with a tight frown on his face. “Normal. College student. In a...relationship. I hang out with my family when I’m on break from school. We have the Argents over a lot. Go camping. I swim.”
Stiles listens to his list of things Not!Derek has in his universe and can’t imagine what this Derek could possibly lack. It’s like he’s from a place where nothing bad has ever happened to him. He wonders how Actual!Derek is handling seeing his family for the first time in six years. If Not!Stiles has figured out that the Derek he’s with there isn’t his Derek. Stiles wonders if he’ll ever get to see his--Actual!Derek again. Will Actual!Derek even be able to function once he’s forced back into the bleak reality he lives here with them?
Allison sighs. “Maybe our Derek just really needed to go to your universe?” She looks at Deaton who gives an unreadable expression. “Are you hungry?” This is directed back to Not!Derek.
“Yes,” Derek mumbles.
“So we’ll go get food. Do you like pizza?” She gives him a dimpled smile which makes Not!Derek’s frown lessen a bit.
“Sure.” He follows Allison to the front of the building.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Scott grins at Stiles who rolls his eyes.
Deaton clears his throat. “Good luck, boys.”
“I still don’t know how she did it, but she was covered in Jell-O mix from head to toe. It almost a week for the red and blue dye to fade.” Derek smirks over at Allison who is covering her mouth in embarrassment. “You looked very patriotic, Ally A, just in time for the Fourth of July.”
“Oh my God, you call her Ally A,” Stiles laughs and Scott is still giggling as he reaches over to rub at Allison’s shoulder. “That is awesome. Can I call you Ally A?”
Allison rolls her eyes. “No, Stiles.” She shoots a fake glare at Not!Derek. “Can you not tell stories about babysitting me please?”
Stiles cocks his head to the side, pressing up against Not!Derek and giving him doe eyes, “Please don’t stop telling stories about babysitting Ally A.”
Not!Derek shifts uncomfortably for the first time in twenty minutes, pulling away slightly from Stiles. “Um, how do you feel about Jackson?” He asks the pizza pie on the table, instead of looking at Stiles.
Recovering and straightening up, Stiles grabs a slice of pepperoni pizza and takes a bite. He stuffs down the disappointment. “Douchebag.”
“Yeah,” Scott concedes, “he’s not the easiest guy to be around.”
Allison purses her lips but doesn’t defend him even if Jackson is her best friend’s boyfriend.
“Well, Ally A broke his nose when you guys were eight because he called Scott a baby and stole his Gameboy.”
Everyone’s eyes rounded onto Allison who blushed even if it wasn’t actually her who broke Jackson.
“Oh my God, Allison.” Stiles grins at her. “You’re my hero. Seriously.”
The rest of dinner is spent listening to Derek tell stories about Ally A and how terrible Not!Derek’s sisters are to him (they put baby powder in his blowdryer last time he was home). It’s easy to slip into believing this is what Actual!Derek’s life could be like. For that hour or so, Stiles is mostly happy and wistful. Not!Derek gets lost in telling his stories and uses his hands to illustrate things; he’s so different than Actual!Derek. It’s kind of depressing to see the stark contrast but it’s also beautiful to know that somewhere, there is a Derek who doesn’t live a tragic life.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Stiles offers after changing into basketball shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt.
Not!Derek is standing next to them where they both eye the bed. “No, it’s your bed. It’s decently sized. Besides, I…” He sighs. “You’re the only thing that smell mostly normal to me.” He says that like he wishes it wasn’t true.
Stiles licks his lips and nods. “Right then. Do you want the wall or the outside?”
“I usually take the outside.” Not!Derek says with unease.
He doesn’t respond as he crawls under the covers and scoots all the way against the wall and turns onto his side. The bed dips as Not!Derek gets in, lying on his back. He reaches over and shuts the lamp off, leaving them in darkness but for the faint light coming from the moon outside.
After a few minutes of silence, Not!Derek sighs, “Can you face the other way?”
Stiles frowns but complies without comment. There is movement behind him like Not!Derek’s trying to get comfortable and then an arm is snaking around Stiles’ waist and hot breath puffs against the back of his neck. Stiles stiffens and Not!Derek starts to pull away but Stiles stops him.
“It’s okay,” Stiles assures him, gently pulling Not!Derek’s arm back around him. If he can’t help Not!Derek get back to his universe, he can at least help him feel a little more comfortable in Stiles’ universe.
Derek presses his forehead against the top of Stiles’ spine and tightens his hold on him, breathing in deep. They fall asleep like that.
It’s still dark out when Stiles jerks awake. Not!Derek’s hand is curled against his hip, fingers tucked beneath the elastic. The sensation makes Stiles shiver; he’s hard and the events of earlier today happily replay in his mind adding to the sudden need he’s feeling. Shit.
“Stiles?” Not!Derek murmurs sleepily, fingers flexing against his skin. He moves and there is an answering hardness pressing against Stiles’ ass.
He shouldn’t. God, he really shouldnt but Stiles moves backwards into Not!Derek’s space, thrusting minutely. Not!Derek’s makes a small noise and grinds into him. The fingers on his hip dig into the delicate skin there. They keep teasing each other, too unsure to do anything more, for long, agonizing minutes until Stiles is fed up.
He quickly turns and crashes his mouth to Not!Derek’s, whose mouth instantly opens for him. Moans gets swallowed up in each other and Not!Derek wraps a hand around Stiles’ thigh and tugs, rolling onto his back until Stiles is straddled over his lap. While rocking down, Stiles digs his hands in Not!Derek’s hair like he had wanted to earlier. The slinky fabric of his basketball shorts aren’t much resistance to Not!Derek’s wandering hands as they hesitate to push his shorts down.
Not!Derek breaks the kiss and pushes his head back into the pillows, eyelids squeezed tight. “We shouldn’t do this,” he sounds desperate.
“Probably not but I want to if you do,” Stiles says, bending down to suck on Not!Derek’s earlobe but he’s pulled back up by the scruff of his hair in Not!Derek’s fingers.
Red eyes watch him, face serious and searching, “I’m not him, Stiles.”
Stiles catches himself on his palms, either side Derek’s head as he slumps. “Oh my God, Derek. You’re back!”
Irises shifting back to hazel, Derek (not Not!Derek!) moves his hand down the the back of Stiles’ neck and looks at him with shock. “Where is Peter?”
Stiles makes a face. “ Dead in the ground where he belongs .”
Derek sucks in a breath and then surges up to kiss Stiles. It’s a revelation. Stiles groans and loses himself completely, not feeling guilty or like he’s trespassing. He pushes forward, pressing Derek back to the bed and grinding down on him again.
His fingers finally move the shorts out of the way and Derek takes Stiles’ ass in both hands, squeezing and palming the flesh. Stiles is letting out stupid little noises from the back of his throat as he runs his hands down Derek’s bare chest. He hadn’t gotten to do this earlier and it feels so good.
“Did you…” Derek pants against Stiles’ neck; he slides a hand over until he gets a finger on Stiles’ opening, pressing. He growls deep in his chest, the vibration reverberating through Stiles. “You slept with him?”
Stiles moves back, seeking Derek’s fingers. “No. He sucked me off and fingered my ass and it was great .” He stills when Derek drops his hand away. “Are you jealous of yourself? God, you can do that too. I want you too. You can do more .” Stiles feels bold, probably too bold, and reaches down to palm Derek’s erection. “I want to sleep with you.”
Derek lifts his hips, Stiles and all, and moves his pajama bottoms out of the way before reaching to the bedside table and searching for the lube Stiles keeps there. Stiles quickly gets rid of his own clothes, not letting the nerves catch up with him.
And then wet fingers are back at his entrance, working slowly in. Derek’s cock brushes against Stiles’ own and it is distracting enough in a good way to keep him from tensing up around the intrusion. He falls to his forearms, cheek to cheek with Derek as Derek gently works him open with first one, then two, then three fingers. It’s so much more than Stiles thought it would be but it’s not enough at the same time. He has the urge to be full.
“Derek, c’mon,” He ruts backwards to catch against his prostate--that fireworks of sensation that have him going a little mad.
He complies finally and shifts so he can kiss Stiles while guiding Stiles down and down, so slowly. Stiles can’t seem to keep up with the press of Derek’s tongue, trying to catch his breath and adjust to the feel of Derek inside him. It takes a bit for him to get fully seated because Derek doesn’t let him rush. Vaguely in the back of his mind, Stiles knows he’ll be grateful for the precaution tomorrow when he’s not high on endorphins and sex .
“You feel so good,” Derek moans, gripping Stiles’ thighs tightly where they bracket his hips.
Stiles lifts up a few inches and sinks back down, “This feels better.” The words were supposed to come out confident and teasing but they sound awed and raw.
Derek pushes up into Stiles and helps set a slow and deep pace, “Yeah,” he agrees.
Despite the way they both seem to want this moment to last forever, Stiles finds himself moving faster and Derek shoves up into him with abandon, groaning. His eyes are open, hazel and shining, watching the way Stiles rides him. Stiles would blush if he had any spare blood in his upper body but all he can do is feel exposed and cherished in turns (which is kind of dumb because he’s not Scott for crying out loud). For his part, Stiles can’t look away for very long either.
“Stiles, I’m going to come,” Derek warns with a voice that is gravelly and serious. He reaches for Stiles’ dick and strips it in his palm, dry.
“Do it.” But Derek’s been hitting the right spot inside on almost every damn thrust so Stiles is shocked too quickly and sudden into orgasm without warning, spilling over Derek’s hand. The hot pulse inside and the way Derek grits his teeth and moans signals that Derek is coming at almost the same time.
Stiles lifts up gingerly and Derek pulls out. It feels weird, squishy kind of, and Stiles is empty and stretched. It’s unsatisfying after having the best orgasm of his life; he knows he’ll want to go again as soon as physically possible.
“Are you okay?” Derek turns to face him, running a hand over his heaving chest.
Stiles nods, “definitely. You?” he grins at him. “Because that was awesome.”
An amused smile tugs at Derek’s mouth. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Stiles confesses, feeling the need to let Derek know somehow that he hadn’t just been after some sex.
Taking a moment, Derek nods. “I came back for you.” He gives Stiles the side eye. “It was weird waking up around you with you soaked in my scent though.”
“Honestly, weirder things have happened.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m really tired though.” He sighs. “I need to clean off.”
Derek tugs him to his side and kisses his temple. “Not yet.”
Wrinkling his nose, Stiles says, “Well, that one thing you and Not!You have in common, a gross need to keep me covered in your jizz.”
The next morning, Stiles wakes up feeling disgusting but Derek is already staring at him. When he catches Derek’s eyes, red flashes at him and they both smile.