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Derek groaned loudly as his left hand reached down and caressed his balls, teasing a finger at his hole. He closed his eyes at the sensation and recalled the image of the long, pale column of throat, bared in invitation—even though the Stilinski kid had no clue what he was inviting.
New to town and school, Stiles Stilinski had become Derek’s regular jerk-off fantasy. The boy was absolutely gorgeous with wide whisky colored eyes, pale creamy skin with a smattering of moles, and full pink lips that Derek often envisioned wrapped around his cock.
“Shit!” he groaned as he gripped the base of his cock, holding off an unwanted orgasm. Well, he wanted an orgasm; he just wanted to draw it out.
Derek slid his hand up his shaft, palming over the head of his cock and then twisting his hand back down. He pictured the nape of Stiles’ neck as he leaned over his notebook in chemistry class. He squeezed his balls and rolled them between his fingers. He thought of the long fingers attached to strong hands as they moved animatedly in the cafeteria as he told a story to his new friends. Derek gripped a little tighter and jerked himself faster. He thought of the musk of him on the lacrosse field.
Derek always avoided the locker room until he was sure Stiles was showered and clothed because he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t wolf out and attempt to claim from one look at his wet, naked body. When he imagined what Stiles would look like with water and suds trailing down his chest— “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried as his hips shot up from the bed and his cock gushed a hot stream of come all over his fist and stomach.
It took a long time before his vision cleared and he caught his breath. Derek looked down at the mess he made of himself and knew that there wasn’t enough shower gel in Beacon County to cover-up what he had been doing while his family was out. With a sigh he got up from the bed and headed to the shower to give it a try anyway. As he adjusted the water Derek thought, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow I actually talk to him.”