Work Text:
Stiles barely missed a beat when he suddenly felt arms around his middle, pulling him against a very solid and warm body. He'd been striding across his room, about to ... well, he wasn't sure what he'd been about to do anymore. It was a moot point, since the arms around him didn't seem to have an intent to let him go anytime soon.
“Hi Derek.” he said flatly, hoping the other would hear the slight annoyance in his tone. Instead, he got a nose pressed against his neck, huffing against it as it took in quick, little breaths.
“You know,” Stiles continued, lifting his hands a bit for emphasis. “most couples greet each other with these things called words? Maybe a 'Hi, how was your day honey?' or 'Watch out, I've suddenly appeared in your room without warning and I'm about to pull you into a vice grip and never let go!'”
“Easier to just sniff at you to find out about your day.” Derek finally replied, trailing his nose along the other's neck and shoulder, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Stiles let out an exasperated sigh, his arms falling to his sides. “I'm going to start calling you Rufus or Spot or Princess if you don't – O-oh!” Stopped mid-sentence by a very scowly werewolf pressing him up against the wall, Stiles gulped and offered a nervous laugh. “Prince! You can be a prince then, okay? Or, you know, I could just not call you those things at all, I mean, you do have a name and stuff.”
“Is there a new girl at work?” Derek asked, momentarily stemming the verbal flood as he took a deep whiff of Stiles' chest, his scowl deepening.
“I, uh, yeah ... How did you know?” Stiles replied, honestly surprised ... At least until Derek looked up at him with an expression like 'Really?'
“Oh, right, the sniffing and the smelling and the not using your Big Boy Words again, I get it.” the teenager huffed, pouting slightly.
Derek pressed his nose against his shirt again, this time giving a growl, his hands moving to Stiles' waist and beginning to tug his shirt up from the bottom. “H-hey, I need that!” the youth protested, “I have things to do!”
“Like what?” Derek murmured as he continued pulling the fabric up, leaning back so he could tug it up to Stiles' arms ... which remained defiantly at his sides.
“Like ... like people things, things that don't involve sneaking into someone's room and smelling them and making weird comments about their workplace.” Stiles replied with more than a little pout on his face.
The werewolf sighed, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows slightly. “Your 'people things'? Can wait.” he asserted, pulling up on his shirt for emphasis. “And unless you never want to wear this shirt again, you'll lift your arms right now.”
Stiles looked like he was about to protest when he caught the look in his lover's eyes and suddenly seemed to think better of it. That didn't mean he was okay with it, however. “What is wrong with you?” he asked, reluctantly lifting his arms as Derek pulled the shirt up and over his head, tossing it to a far corner of the room with a growl. The teenager fixed him with a curious look, when realization suddenly dawned on his face. “Oh, I get it! You're jealous!” he grinned, seeming very pleased with himself both for figuring this out and being the object of the other's jealousy.
The grin was wiped off his face when the werewolf pressed closer with a bestial huff, flashing his red eyes and gritted teeth, pushing Stiles harder against the wall with his own body. The teenager gave a little yelp, his gaze nervously flitting between Derek's eyes and mouth and seeming to be at a loss for words.
After a moment or two of intense staring, the older man pulled his head back a little, gesturing with his chin. “She's attracted to you.” he stated, tilting his head to the side and leaning in once more, only this time he was aiming for Stiles' neck.
The youth blinked, but otherwise kept still as he considered those words. “She is?” he asked rhetorically. “Heh, she is! Awesome!” he grinned, feeling proud of himself again. “O-ow, that hurt!”
Meanwhile, Derek had started nibbling and sucking hard on a point high on Stiles' neck, and had bitten him a little harder at that remark. He didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon either, just tightening his grip on Stiles and rubbing his whole body against him, causing the teenager to shiver and go slightly limp.
“Mm, as much as I love this, I really do have – wait.” Stiles blinked, suddenly going rigid. “Wait, no, no hickeys!” he exclaimed, starting to squirm, which only made the werewolf's grip tighten. “No no, I don't want to explain this to my dad and my friends and everyone else who thinks I'm too dorky to get a girlfriend!”
“Too late.” Derek growled against his skin, pulling back and licking at his own lips with a pleased look on his face. He had indeed left a fairly visible mark, too high to be conveniently hidden and too big to be easily passed off as something else.
Stiles groaned, bringing a hand up to feel over the sensitive spot. “Really? Now I'm going to have to like, make up some story about lacrosse practice or wear turtlenecks for awhile or – uuahhh!” Derek was all up in his space again, growling in that not-quite-human way and staring him down like some kind of rival wolf in his territory.
“Or I could just not do that. Not doing that is good.” Stiles said with a quick nod, staring at the almost-fangs in his lover's slightly open mouth. “I'd like my throat intact, please! I need that for eating and breathing and ... uh ... cock sucking?” he asked with a wince.
Derek gave a soft snort, his lips spreading into a grin, his teeth returning to normal. “Much better.” he replied in an almost seductive purr, closing the small distance between their faces and pressing a slow, surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips.
Stiles seemed surprised at first, but it didn't take him long to start kissing back, even relaxing against the wall with a small sigh out his nose. In fact, he seemed to forget about any grievances he had entirely as the werewolf slid his tongue into his mouth, a low rumble in his throat.
Stiles slid his arms around Derek's waist, squirming a bit and making himself comfortable in the other's embrace. His breath hitched as he felt the werewolf's hips move against his, rubbing against his awakening arousal and pulling a little whimper out of him. He squirmed again, this time looking for more friction between them as he kissed back more aggressively, his hands sliding lower and gripping Derek's firm ass.
He was so enthralled by his lover that he nearly collapsed when Derek suddenly pulled away; Stiles had been relying on his body to hold him against the wall, and his knees were a little weak after those amazing kisses. Pressing his hands against the wall and panting as he straightened up, the teenager shot Derek a confused look.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
The werewolf shrugged, turning around and walking toward the window. “I thought you had people things to do.”
Stiles' mouth fell open as he gestured toward him with both hands. “You can't just come in here and get me hard and then leave!” he cried out indignantly, adjusting his pants.
Derek turned again once he reached the window, raising his eyebrows. “Your father's home.”
Stiles frowned, snorting as he looked toward his bedroom door. “No he's not, he'll be at work until –”
He heard the front door open on the floor below them, the thud of boots and the jangle of keys being thrown onto the counter.
His mouth still open, Stiles slowly turned his gaze from the door to Derek, his expression growing darker with every moment. The werewolf just gave him a cheery grin and quietly slipped outside, leaving the teenager shirtless, still very hard, and scowling more intensely than he ever thought he had in his entire life.
Just as he finally began walking toward his discarded shirt, grumbling to himself and thinking of all the evil, nasty ways he was going to get back at Derek, he heard the muffled noise of a text being received by the phone in his pocket.
Growling louder, he clenched his teeth as he shoved his hand into his jeans to retrieve it.
'Meet me at the warehouse'
Stiles nearly dropped his phone in the rush to get to his shirt.