Chapter Text
I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day
Chapter 1
When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen dressed only in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked.
Not only is the boy barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son. The Sheriff, who is now grinning in Derek’s direction.
“Derek, you remember Stiles, I presume?”
Derek quickly shakes himself out of the daze and gives the boy a big smile.
“Of course I remember him, he used to talk my ear off, always trying to convince me Batman was cooler than Superman.”
Stiles is blushing a bit, looking kind of shell shocked, but manages a crooked smile.
“Yes, well, you clearly lost the argument back then, Officer Hale.”
Derek willfully ignores the heat pooling in his groin when Stiles’ lips form the words, his long fingers flicking around in accompanying gestures. While his chest is hairless, there is a trail of dark hair running downward from the kid’s navel into his jeans. The last time Derek saw him, Stiles had been an awkward bag of bones, always tripping over himself and with an ugly buzz cut to boot. Now, he’s defined and more harmonic, his hair artfully ruffled and just long enough to grab onto.
He stops himself with an internal cringe. Oh God, he comes back after six years duty in another precinct, and the first thing he does is entertain inappropriate fantasies about the son of his longtime friend, now also his boss?
“Please, Stiles, call me Derek,” he says with another smile in the boy’s direction. If his sister could see him now, she’d taunt him for exceeding his yearly smile-quota.
Stiles beams at him and then redirects his gaze to his father.
“Um, so, I’m just gonna go grab my gear. I’m meeting Scott for some practice. See you later. You too, Derek!”
The Sheriff grunts and waves as Stiles tramples up the stairs, and Derek is left sitting with an awkward and very inappropriate boner from watching the boy’s ass wiggle and his back muscles flex as he moved. Which is just great; what a lovely reunion this has been.
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After that first night, Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this thing under control. So it’s pure coincidence which leads him to drive past the lacrosse field one evening, seeing Stiles running with a friend, goofing around and trying to score goals against each other. The boy moves a lot more gracefully than Derek would’ve expected, feigning and dodging flawlessly, his whole demeanor exuding a confidence that draws Derek in, makes it impossible for him to look away.
Even though he knows he shouldn’t tempt fate, his whole body is urging him to talk to Stiles, to get closer to the boy. To at least become some sort of friend, having an excuse to spend time with him.
Later that night, when he’s home alone in his apartment, he suddenly finds himself thinking of Stiles’ long, elegant fingers; imagining what Stiles could do with them - what he could do to Derek with them. He ends up in the shower, jerking himself in rough pulls while thinking about what Stiles would look like, sucking him off, right here under the spray.
Afterwards, burrowed under his blanket, Derek almost feels ashamed of what he just did. At the age of thirty-four he’s had a few romances in his life and a long line of one night stands, but he’s never felt like his boyfriends have been ‘the one’. Derek always thought that when the right guy showed up, he’d just know, and be able to make room in his life for this someone. Never in his wildest dreams did he consider his best friend’s teenage son a candidate, though.
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He’s been in town for about two weeks when he runs into Stiles again. Derek is out buying groceries on his day off when he decides to grab a burger at the local diner, before heading back to his apartment. When he steps in, there are quite a few people seated, but a certain laugh draws his gaze to the corner booth, in the back. Stiles is sitting there with his friend and a dark haired girl, talking and giggling.
Derek gives his order and looks around for a place to sit. There is a empty table a little to the right of Stiles’ group, so Derek heads in that direction, hoping to be able to do a little surreptitious observation while eating. He doesn’t get far though, before an excited voice calls out, “Derek!”
He looks up and sees Stiles smiling and waving at him, his two friends looking slightly confused at the sudden outburst. Derek grins and walks over.
“Hi, Stiles.”
The boy’s smile turns up a notch and he gestures to his friends, “This is Scott and his girlfriend Allison. Guys, this is Derek, he used to live here, but apparently Beacon Hills wasn’t exciting enough so he went to New York, the big traitor!”
Derek huffs and frowns at Stiles, upgrading it to a scowl when Scott laughs.
“You wanna sit?” Stiles asks, and Derek only hesitates for a couple seconds before nodding and squeezing in next to the boy on the bench. For a while, he listens to Stiles talk about his evil chemistry teacher, Mr. Harris, and tries to tune out the sounds of kissing and whispering from the other side of the table. Apparently, not even the presence of a stranger is enough to get Scott and Allison to behave like they’re actually in public.
When a particularly wet smooching reaches his ears, Derek clears his throat and turns to Stiles.
“Are they always like this when you are out with them?”
Stiles snorts and throws an exasperated, but obviously fond, look at his friends.
“Yes, they’re, like, sickeningly sweet. Most people can’t stand to be near them for very long. I manage because I’m awesome!” he says, a gorgeous, crooked smile on his face. Derek has a suspicion though, that perhaps Stiles puts up with the overwhelming public display, because he doesn’t have too many other friends to go hang out with. Kids are always mean to those who are different, whether it be in appearance or behavior, so it seems logical Stiles would have issues with his ADHD.
Suddenly Derek realizes that his infatuation would probably go away if he found out if Stiles has a girlfriend. If the boy is taken, there’s no need to continue to feel all guilty about wanting him, because it won’t happen. Besides, what high school boy doesn’t have a girlfriend, or several? Granted, Stiles is only in high school until summer, when he graduates, but still.
“So, where’s your girlfriend?” Derek asks, trying to seem honestly cheerful.
Stiles makes a face and looks away, a blush spreading on his cheeks.
“I, um, I don’t have one,” the boy says before shooting a quick glance at Derek, the flush spreading down his neck as well. “I’m gay.”
Derek’s stomach does a weird somersault and he can’t really decide whether he wants to cry - because how on Earth is he supposed to not think about being with Stiles now? - or do an enthusiastic happy dance, flailing and singing included.
Eventually, he manages to plaster a somewhat serious expression on his face.
“Oh, right. Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, I certainly don’t mind. That’d be very hypocritical of me,” Derek adds with a wink. Stiles’ jaw drops and he stares, wide eyed. It looks like his pupils are a little blown, but Derek figures it could have been caused by the lighting or perhaps it’s merely wishful thinking.
Stiles sputters, “You-? You’re..also?”
Derek chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Yes, I am.”
The boy squirmed slightly in his seat, smiling tentatively. Derek is about to change the subject, since the current one seems to bother Stiles, when Scott disengages from Allison and starts talking to Stiles again, something about a lacrosse game coming up. Derek finishes his burger and says goodbye, driving home in a very distracted state. In fact, he probably should have given himself a ticket for careless driving.
The thoughts are whirling around in his head, a dizzying mix of desire and shame raging in his system. Derek has never before felt an attraction like this, and yet it’s so wrong. It’s his boss’s son, an eighteen year old, for heaven’s sake! Usually, he never, ever breaks the rules, always behaves in a manner appropriate for a cop, but this boy has somehow gotten under his skin. Derek can’t get those piercing eyes and the blazing smile out of his mind.
Another matter to consider is the fact Stiles’ father is one of Derek’s closest friends. Has been, ever since Derek was fresh out of the academy and got his first job with the Beacon Hills police department. Back then, his friend had been Officer Stilinski, but he was already well on his way to earning the title of sheriff. They may not have seen each other much while Derek was working in New York, but they kept in touch. There are very few men whom Derek trust as implicitly as John Stilinski.
Derek spends a good part of his day trying to resist from pulling his hair out in frustration. Technically, Stiles is legal, but he’s not sure Beacon Hills’ citizens, or the sheriff, would care much about that fact, if the boy starts dating a thirty-four year old cop.
In an attempt to focus on something, anything else, Derek goes for a run, getting lost in the rhythm of his breathing and his sneakers meeting the asphalt.
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A couple of weeks after Derek met Stiles in the diner, they meet again.
He’s on duty when the station gets a call from one of the local clubs on a Saturday night, regarding a drunk who’s been harassing the bartender. Derek goes out to investigate, parking just in front of the club. He gets out of the car and is met with a deep bass pounding hard enough for him to almost feel the vibrations, even before he gets to the door. When he enters, he’s temporarily blinded by the brightly colored lights and the music is loud enough to almost make him cringe. Yeah, it’s definitely been too long since he’s been out partying. A quick glance around the establishment shows a crowded dance floor, where bodies are moving, writhing, grinding to the beat, couples of all shapes and sizes, and genders too!
Derek makes his way to the bar, narrowly missing getting felt up by some handsy girls, who seem to be a bit too young to be here. When he asks about the disturbance, the bartender points in the direction of the toilets and Derek finds the guy there, passed out in the doorway, snoring loudly. He ends up hauling the moron out into the back of his patrol car. The guy can spend the night at the station, sleeping it off.
When he goes back in to talk to the bartender, a glimmer of red catches his eye. Derek turns towards it per reflex and he’s pretty sure his jaw drops enough to actually thud onto the floor, like one of those silly cartoon characters.
It’s Stiles.
Correction; it’s Stiles in black skinny jeans and a red shirt that clings to his torso like a second skin. His hair isn’t raised in its usual spikes, but styled forward so it falls over his face, almost covering one of his gorgeous eyes.
Eyes which are rimmed in black eyeliner, accentuating the sensual look and bringing out the bright, golden color.
The whole outfit makes the boy look much older than he is, and there’s a weird clenching sensation in Derek’s stomach. Shit, Stiles looks absolutely delicious! He is in serious danger of popping a boner, while on duty! Fuck! He forces himself to focus on the task at hand to avoid a potentially mortifying situation. He continues to the bar and gets the statement he needs before heading back towards the door.
Just when Derek’s about to leave, a hand latches onto his elbow. When he whips around to see who it is, he’s met with the intense gaze of his boss’s son.
“Hey, Derek!” Stiles grins at him.
His stomach drops and swoops at the same time, which is an oddly conflicting sensation. He can’t help the big smile that forces its way onto his face, though.
“Stiles, hi! You having fun?”
The boy steps closer, their sides almost touching, which is a little too close for comfort in Derek’s opinion, and gives him that crooked smile.
“Yeah, I am. Dancing with my friends. Don’t worry, I’m totally sticking to soda! I guess you’re on duty, what with the uniform and everything, so there’d be no point in asking you to join me, right?” Stiles says, grinning, and winks at Derek. Winks! His brain goes offline for a few seconds and only kicks into gear again when the boy’s fingers tighten on his elbow.
“Right. No, I’m on duty. I can’t. Um, I’ll see you around Stiles. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Derek manages to croak out. He really hopes he doesn’t sound as though he’d like nothing better than to drag Stiles home and ravish him, but it’s a very real possibility, since that is exactly how he feels!
Stiles fakes a pout for a second, then lets go of Derek’s elbow, waving quickly before turning around and sauntering back towards the dance floor, immediately getting into the beat.
Fuck, does he have to sway his hips so much?
Derek is going to have to use some less than fond memories of his grandmother’s underwear collection to keep from getting any harder than he already is. His uniform isn’t exactly ideal for hiding an erection.
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Sunday afternoon finds him in his Camaro, driving up a gravel road in the woods; one he hasn’t seen in a very long time. At the end, the old Hale house greets him. Derek is currently living in an apartment in town, but he wants to fix up his uncle’s old house so he can move in, preferably before next winter. It’s been standing empty ever since his uncle died almost ten years ago, so it’s probably in need of a serious makeover.
Looking at his uncle’s old house is a bittersweet experience. On one hand, he’s got some very fond childhood memories involving this place but, on the other hand, it also reminds him of the many years his uncle was sick before he died, and the whole building sort of has a sad feel to it somehow.
Derek has decided to tear most of the walls down and build from scratch, keeping only the existing foundation. He used to help his dad with various carpentry tasks around the house so he’s quite handy with tools and plans to do what he can himself. He might benefit from some help, and his mind can’t stop from wandering where he’s desperately trying not to let it go.
He hasn’t been able to get Stiles out of his mind, and to top it off, the boy has now invaded his dreams as well. Almost every night, he’s there; burning, hungry eyes framed in black, wrapping himself around Derek. Arms clinging, legs tangling, heavy breaths and softly whispered words, evolving into passionate gasps and moans, biting kisses and wet tongues running everywhere.
More often than not, he wakes up with a raging erection and once or twice even woke up to sticky sheets, which is just not okay for a guy who left puberty behind almost fifteen years ago!
Derek doesn’t really know if the phrase ‘love makes blind’ is true, but he can definitely tell that ‘lust makes blind’ is. Lust actually makes him blind, deaf and stupid, to be honest. He craves Stiles’ company, even though he keeps trying to tell himself pursuing the boy is never going to end well, that it is bound to end up with him being fired, brokenhearted and despised. Just to name a few of the consequences.
There’s just something deep within him that keeps thrashing, fighting to get him to give in to his desires. It feels wrong, almost hollow, the thought of staying away from Stiles, not seeing the boy apart from the occasional dinner at the Sheriff’s house. It’s not like the boy is going to stay there forever either, and it probably won’t be long until he finds a boyfriend. Then, it will be too late, even if Derek should decide it’d be worth the risks to ask Stiles out on a date. This thought makes Derek’s chest constrict and his breath hitch.
God, he’s already way beyond help!
He spends most of his day hammering away at the old, decrepit walls, the internal debate on full throttle. Even if he can’t actually ask Stiles to date him, he still really wants to get to know him better. He wants to be a friend to Stiles. It’s not often he wishes for something so deeply that merely a single step closer would be heaven. He is well aware the temptation would be great and it will likely amount to something close to self torture, seeing Stiles working, muscles flexing, and sweating in a tight t-shirt. Okay, he’s kind of getting off track there.
He has no indication whether his feelings will be reciprocated so, for now, the whole attraction point is moot anyway. He might very well get a better feel for Stiles after they’ve spent some time together. Derek knows he shouldn’t even be contemplating this scenario, but it’s like Stiles has infected his blood somehow and it’s burning in his veins. He has to be closer to the boy, even if it’s just as a platonic friend.
In the end, he decides to ask Stiles if he wants to help out with the rebuild. As well as actually helping Derek with his project, the situation presents a good opportunity to interact with Stiles on a regular basis, and, well, that’s the most beautiful icing on the prettiest fucking cake he’s ever seen.
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On Monday, Derek tells the Sheriff he’s gonna start working on repairing the Hale property and that he’s realized he could use some help. When he asks if John thinks Stiles would be interested, either in the experience or the money, John nods eagerly, still sorting through the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
“Good idea, Derek, I’m sure he’d love that. He’s always moaning about gas money and repairs on that old, decrepit Jeep. You can go ask him when you get off duty, he should be home by then.”
There’s a pinch of unease in Derek’s gut. He knows it would be an entirely different answer if the Sheriff knew what thoughts lurked in the recesses of Derek’s mind. However, the feeling is quickly overridden by the part of him wanting to do a victory dance and race off towards the Stilinski house, right the fuck now!
The day drags on for what feels like forever, but finally Derek is done for the day, and he drives to the Sheriff’s house with a strange mix of excitement and dread in his stomach. What if Stiles doesn’t want to help? What if he does?
When Derek gets there, the rusty, blue Jeep is in the driveway so he knocks and enters, calling out a hello. There’s no answer, but Derek can hear footsteps from upstairs. He trots up the stairs and walks over to Stiles’ room. A quick glance inside shows it’s empty and Derek has just spun around to call out again, when he hears the shower turn on. Oh, well, he’ll just wait for him.
Derek’s curious, so he takes a couple of steps inside the open door and looks around Stiles’ room. It’s fairly neat, a bookcase stuffed full, a desk with his laptop and... an open notebook with pages upon pages of tiny chicken scrawl. Instantly, he feels that familiar itch to get a closer look. His mother used to tell him he’d end up with his nose in something really sticky someday, but Derek has never been able to curb that instinct, which tells him to investigate everything. It’s one of the reasons he’s such a good cop.
Eventually, his intense desire to know everything wins out and he steps over to the desk, grabbing the notebook to get a peek at the content. He reads the first line and nearly drops the book.
Holy fucking Pope on a pogostick!
Derek stares at the words in front of him, but nobody jumps out at him, yelling “Gotcha!” and he’s forced to conclude what he’s reading is neither an elaborate prank or a figment of his imagination. It might as well be, though. He reads a few pages and then skims the rest to be sure it’s more of the same.
What the notebook contains, is page after page of vividly described scenarios involving himself and Stiles in some exceedingly compromising positions. The details are on a level which Derek isn’t really sure ‘explicit’ covers. Naturally, the details about his own physique and mannerisms are guesswork, but not entirely inaccurate, and Derek only reads a few pages before his jeans start getting really uncomfortable. He can’t really believe what he’s reading here, but it’s obviously Stiles’ notes. Why on earth would he write such detailed stories, or more like fantasies, if it isn’t something he’s actually wishing for?
Derek keeps standing there with his nose in the book even though he should really be running far away right now, because this is so wrong! Or at least, it’s wrong in the eyes of society. Derek’s soul is screaming ‘yes!’ with all its might, demanding he march right into that bathroom and grab the boy and kiss him silly. That’s not how real life works though, and Derek knows it very well. Stiles could be just using this as some sort of way to blow off steam. Perhaps regular gay porn got too boring for him and Derek knows he’s good looking so it really shouldn’t be surprising for a young, single man to choose him to focus on, when nothing real is in sight.
One of the stories involves Derek and Stiles cooking breakfast, then evolving into them having sex on the kitchen counter. The way he writes it, so tender and yet so passionate, with plenty of attention paid to the important things, makes Derek’s gut ache.
His cock is trapped painfully tight inside his pants and his breathing is irregular and heavy. It’s all he can do not to throw himself on Stiles’ bed, rip his jeans off and go to town, right there, right now!
Derek is so preoccupied reading that he doesn’t notice the shower has turned off. He’s still standing wide eyed, his nose almost squished between the pages, when a soft gasp startles him. Derek spins around, simultaneously throwing the book back onto the desk, a guilty wince on his face. Even though he knows who’s going to be there, his heart still thumps violently in his chest when he sees Stiles’ shocked face. The boy stands frozen in the doorway, drops of water rolling down his naked chest. Even while the major part of his brain is panicking at being caught, a small part of Derek still goes slack jawed and begins the metaphorical drooling, because damn, Stiles looks good in nothing but a towel, still wet from his shower!
They both remain completely still, Derek breathing hard and Stiles gaping, looking like he wants to be offended, but clearly aware of what Derek had just read. Frankly, Derek is just waiting for the boy to discover the huge hard-on that’s straining the front of his jeans, but Stiles finally breaks the staring contest, lowering his head and blushing profusely.
Something in Derek clenches at the sight; he doesn’t want Stiles to think he’s repulsed by the stories. He makes a jerky step forward, stopping instantly when Stiles’ head snaps up, his eyes panicked.
“I- I’m sorry, it wasn’t... I didn’t mean to...” he trails off with a broken sound, looking like he’s seriously considering bolting, still only dressed in a flimsy towel.
Derek can’t help the involuntary glance he throws at said piece of fabric. There’s a slight bulge visible behind it, and it draws his eyes. He wants to stomp over there and rip the cloth off. Fuck, how he wants to! His own cock twitches in his pants and he can’t help the low moan that escapes. Stiles startles at the sound and his gaze snaps to Derek’s crotch, his eyes widening and pupils dilating, when he sees the obvious strain in the denim. The boy makes an aborted motion of his hand towards his own groin, a strangled noise coming from deep within his throat. The towel is starting to tent and Derek is kind of impressed he’s got enough blood left from his tomato-colored blush to actually manage an erection at this point.
Not knowing what the hell to do, Derek just stands there, watching the blatantly obvious progress of Stiles’ hard-on growing. When it seems like the boy’s fully hard, Derek looks up and his eyes connect with Stiles’ honeyed ones. There’s a hunger there, something he recognizes from himself, and it both frightens and exhilarates him. According to society’s rules, Derek’s the predator here; the big, hungry panther sizing up the poor, little deer, but in this moment, as they stand with gazes locked, it feels like they’re equal. Perhaps not in physique, but definitely in mind and soul.
In an instinctive move, Derek swipes his tongue out, wetting his lips. He can’t focus on anything but the sheer need to lick Stiles everywhere. The boy’s eyes stay glued to the tantalizing glimpse of pink flesh peeking out between Derek’s lips, emitting a sound like he’s been punched.
The next thing Derek knows, there’s a body wrapped around him, hands grabbing, and soft, full lips clashing against his own. Apparently, Stiles has a thing for his tongue; who knew?
In that moment, something inside Derek just shifts, and suddenly the guilt and the inappropriateness of it all slides back into a far off corner of his mind. All that matters now is the body in his arms, the needy, desperate sounds Stiles utters and the desire ripping at his restraint. He scoops the boy up and walk them over to the bed, making sure to extend an arm so he won’t crush Stiles when they hit the mattress, Derek still on top.
Stiles’ body is lean, but defined and he almost disappears under Derek’s bulk. He can tell the boy is inexperienced, trying too hard, being too forceful, but Derek’s sure he’d hurt him by pulling back, even if it’s only to tell him to dial it down. It’s not that he dislikes deep, consuming kisses or even biting, he really doesn’t, but he has no intention of their first encounter being something almost near violent. He pulls back, placing soft kisses along Stiles’ jaw, down across his throat, before sucking on one of the boy’s collar bones. Stiles moans and grinds his hips up, unraveling the towel.
“You’re... fuck... you’re wearing too many clothes! Get them off, Derek!” the boy gasps.
Derek smirks and sits up, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it over the edge of the bed. Stiles’ hands are on his abs in an instant, groping and tracing muscle ridges as he lies back down. The boy is whimpering, his hips making tiny undulations, seemingly by pure reflex. Derek catches Stiles’ hands in his own and holds them still, pressed to his chest.
“Easy, Stiles, calm down. It’s okay,” Derek reassures the boy, squeezing his fingers before letting go and lifting up a little so he can get a hand between them, grabbing Stiles’ cock. Stiles gasps, arching up into Derek’s touch, his mouth open in a silent ‘Oh!’. Derek makes sure to be gentle about it, not wishing to embarrass Stiles by causing him to go off ten seconds in, jerking the boy in slow, steady pulls. He licks and mouths at Stiles’ chest while his hand works, flicking his tongue over a nipple. The boy hisses and moans, his breath whooshing out of him, his whole body writhing in the sheets. Stiles’ hands are digging into Derek’s shoulders and when he looks up into those amber eyes, giving a devilish twist of his wrist on an upstroke, Stiles’ body tightens up and he comes with a startled shout, his jizz spraying out, covering Derek’s hand and hitting both their stomachs.
“Sorry,” he squeaks, face reddening, “I couldn’t hold it back, I’m sorry-”
Derek stops him by pinching his lips together and then placing a soft kiss on his abused lips.
“Don’t be sorry, you did good, Stiles. So good...”
Extracting his hand from the mess between them, Derek takes a look at the pearly white covering his fingers. Stiles stares at his hand as well, looking hesitant, like he’s not sure what the protocol is for a situation like this.
“Um, I have tissues, if you want...” the boy starts, but cuts off in a disbelieving groan when Derek shoots him a wicked smirk and stuffs two fingers in his mouth, sucking Stiles’ come off, humming contentedly. “Or, you know, you could do that,” the boy croaks, his pupils dilating again, almost drowning out the rich amber color of his irises.
Stiles’ floundering makes Derek chuckle and he’s quickly reminded of his own, very urgent, erection when the vibrations of his laugh make it rub against the boy’s hip bone. Derek can’t keep the pained groan in and Stiles immediately pushes at Derek’s shoulders, trying to get him to roll off.
“Derek, can I...? I want to try, okay?”
He nods and lets the boy push him over on his back. Once he’s there, Stiles seems to hesitate with his hands on Derek’s belt buckle. It takes a few minutes of Derek just looking at him encouragingly before the kid’s trembling hands unbuckle the belt and unzip his jeans.
“What would you like?” Stiles asks while pulling Derek’s pants and underwear down in one go. His throbbing cock slaps up onto his abs when it’s free of his boxers, and Stiles’ eyes are glued to it.
Derek smiles and answers softly, “Whatever you want to do is fine.”
Stiles gives him an incredulous look, but Derek merely shoves his hands behind his head and wiggles into the sheets and pillows, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn’t want to force the boy into doing anything he doesn’t want.
“If you don’t feel like it, we can stop here, Stiles. It’s okay.”
Stiles frowns and shakes his head vehemently, settling in on his stomach between Derek’s legs.
“No! I’ve finally got you where I wanted you, I just... I haven’t done any of this before, alright?”
Oh, Derek is aware of that fact, he really is. Being Stiles’ first is an intense rush, it’s singing in his veins and he can’t help feeling a little proud, perhaps even smug. He hopes it doesn’t make him a bad person. Or, well, worse than he already is for getting involved with his best friend’s son. Oh God, he’s really in deep waters here!
“Well, why don’t you just explore a bit then?” Derek suggests, reaching down to run his fingers through Stiles’ ruffled hair. It feels silky between his fingers and Derek thinks he could happily live his life with one hand eternally tangled in the soft strands.
Stiles clears his throat, “Alright, that’s... yeah, I can do that.”
The boy extends a hand and curls it around Derek’s cock, lifting it up and tightening his grip slightly, just feeling the weight of it in his hand. Derek is looking at Stiles’ face, mesmerized by the almost awed expression. Then, Stiles pumps his hand up and down a few times, really slowly, and Derek groans, biting his lip. It feels so good to finally have Stiles’ hands on him, he’s sure he’ll blow all too fast. At the sound, the boy’s mouth pulls up in a crooked smile and he leans forward, licking a wet trail up the underside of Derek’s erection. It’s inexperienced and sloppy, but damn if it isn’t the most intense thing Derek has felt in a long time. He’s aware his breathing is ragged and fast, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. The urge to thrust up into Stiles’ mouth is overwhelming, and Derek clenches his fists in the blanket, refusing to push him in any way.
Stiles is licking the tip of Derek’s cock, the tip of his tongue tentative, almost tickling as it catches on the rim of the head, his fingers playing with the foreskin while he tastes the drop of pre-come beading at the slit. Stiles smacks his lips slightly, contemplating the taste and, frankly, Derek is waiting for him to make a face and try to be discreet about not putting his mouth on Derek’s dick again. What happens instead, is the frown on Stiles’ forehead smooths out, and he bends forward with a hum and sucks the tip of Derek’s throbbing erection into his mouth, lapping at it like a lollipop.
Derek grits out a ‘Fuck!’ and his cock twitches in Stiles’ mouth. He sort of grins around his mouthful, causing his teeth to rake along the sensitive skin. Derek hisses, his hips jerking involuntarily and Stiles hurries to get his teeth out of the way, gagging slightly as his mouth is invaded further.
“Sorry,” Derek pants, his eyes squeezed shut. The boy pulls off and licks across the slit, seemingly rejoicing in the moan he emits.
“I don’t mind, sorry about the fangs, though,” Stiles grins.
Derek can’t help but snort, rolling his eyes a little.
Stiles goes back to sucking and licking Derek’s dick, his hands petting Derek’s thighs, scratching gently, kneading the flesh like a content kitten. Electric jolts are shooting around in Derek’s body, his toes curling and the moans have reached embarrassing heights. He’s so close, even with the slightly amateurish blow job skills Stiles is employing, and he wants so badly to just let go and fuck his mouth, but it would be a bad idea, he’s sure. Instead, he grabs Stiles’ shoulder and manages to grit out, “I’m close.”
Stiles lifts off shortly and whispers in a hoarse voice, “Do you want me to... swallow?”
Derek shakes his head, “No, you don’t need to. I mean, if you want to try, be my guest, but-”
He doesn’t get any further before Stiles throws him a wicked grin and descends on his leaking cock once more, swirling his tongue and sucking like his life depends on it. Derek hums in pleasure, closing his eyes. He’s just enjoying the inevitable rise of pressure in his groin, waiting for it to crest and shatter into brilliant release, when he feels it. There’s a single finger sneaking south, brushing past his balls and along his perineum, in search of that little pucker. Derek’s eyes shoot open and he instantly sees Stiles’ eyes focused on his face, considering, waiting to see if Derek will deny him. He gives a tiny nod before dropping his head back onto the pillow with a groan. The sweat-slicked finger at his entrance circles lightly, pressing increasingly harder, while Stiles’ mouth keeps working on his cock. The added sensation of his hole being played with is driving Derek crazy, and he needs to come now!
“Stiles, fuck, please!” he whines, pushing his hips down, which causes the tip of the boy’s finger to pop inside. Stiles startles and looks almost frightened for a second, before he experimentally wiggles the digit and presses a bit further in. He seems to like the feeling, because he refocuses on licking the head of Derek’s erection, eagerly lapping up the pre-come, and shoves his finger in deep, coincidentally hitting the sweet spot.
Derek keens and punches the mattress, digging his heels into the bed. The sensation might be a little too sharp, since Stiles isn’t using any lube, but it’s just what Derek needs and he cries out as his cock pulses and empties in the boy’s mouth. It’s like his world is shattering around him and only slowly piecing itself back together.
When Derek opens his eyes again, Stiles is sitting between his legs, looking completely blown away, a trail of come rolling down his chin from the crook of his mouth where it must have escaped when he tried to swallow Derek’s load. He knows he shoots a lot, so it’s not uncommon to see a bit slipping out.
He reaches a hand out, beckoning for Stiles to crawl up the bed. The boy throws him a hesitant glance, but complies nonetheless, settling in next to Derek with a sigh. He can’t help but stare at Stiles’ perfect eyes, shining so bright, even when his whole body is tense with doubt and what is probably fear of impending rejection. Derek leans over, licking the come off Stiles’ chin and brushes his lips up to his mouth, kissing him confidently, opening up and licking until Stiles grants him entrance. They kiss deeply, Stiles whimpering slightly and Derek humming in pure joy. When they pull apart, Derek gives him a smile and rolls off the bed, walking over to his clothes. As much as he wants to stay right beside Stiles for the rest of eternity, he is well aware the Sheriff will be coming home soon, and this is not a situation he’d want to explain to Stiles’ father.
When Derek’s done buckling his belt and bends to retrieve his shirt, Stiles speaks behind him, voice soft and unsure.
“Um, this is where you tell me I’m too young and we can’t do this, right? That it was just a one time thing and it means nothing?”
Derek pulls his shirt on and levels a serious look in the boy’s direction.
“No, Stiles. You are too young, but for some stupid reason, I don’t fucking care! I don’t want it to be a one time thing, and it certainly meant a lot to me! I don’t... Your father is one of my very best friends and this is wrong, but...” Derek trails off in frustration, running a hand tiredly through his mussed up hair.
Stiles is on him half a second later, hugging Derek so tight he starts to fear for the safety of his ribs.
“God, please say you’ll see me again! Please, Derek, I want you so much!”
Derek tightens the embrace, bending to stuff his nose into Stiles’ hair, inhaling the scent of sweat mixed with a fruity shampoo. It’s absolute bliss.
“I actually came here to ask you if you wanted to help me rebuild my house in the woods. I mean, it’ll be hard work, but it’s also time spent together. Perhaps we could have dinner or something as well?”
He lets the suggestion hang there for a while. Stiles pulls back to look at him, spending a few moments trying to gauge Derek’s expression and then a smile blooms on his face, the big, beaming kind that always makes his knees weak.
“That’d be awesome, man! When?” Stiles asks, his whole body jittery with excitement.
Derek smiles back - how can he not, with the power-of-the-sun grin Stiles has directed at him - and kisses the full bottom lip on display.
“Well, I was thinking about working on it during the weekends, when I’m off duty, and perhaps a few evenings during the week. You can give me your phone number and we can just arrange it as we go. Just tell me which days you can’t and we’ll work around it, alright?”
Derek guesses the enthusiastic kiss he receives is a ‘yes, that sounds good’. He’s too busy enjoying it to ask questions, anyway.
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