Work Text:
Stiles is leaning against a tree just off the beaten track, stripping a branch of its leaves and humming Taylor Swift lyrics. It’s starting to get dark and the jogging path is badly lit. The last human to pass by was a middle-aged, wheezing bald dude fifty minutes ago. He knows better than to give up just yet though. His target, his prey doesn’t believe in normal workout hours or even personal safety and why should he? Derek could probably wrestle a giant with those shoulders.
“So shame on me now,” he murmurs, grinning and licking his lips at the thought of them, the broad expanse of flesh bunching and trembling over taunt muscles. Hnnn, fuck, Stiles wants to bite. Wants to worry his teeth into the skin and then lap at the red marks with his tongue.
He perks his ears and focuses. Riiight, there. Finally. Footsteps thudding against the gravel, just south west of where he’s sat. Falling fast and hard as well. Derek’s running at full pace, working himself ruthlessly, dripping with sweat and breathing harshly. It has Stiles’ jeans tightening over his groin. He’s immediately reminded of the last time he saw Derek in a similar state. Derek had been biting his lower lip to shreds, trying to stop himself from begging. God, what a pretty picture he had made. Spread out for him but with that defiant glare in his eyes that drives Stiles absolutely crazy. Makes him want to rut and fuck like a complete animal. He can feel his canines itch a bit. Ready, so fucking ready.
Leaning his head to the right and zeroing in on the sound, Stiles faintly picks out Derek’s heartbeat just as it begins to rise up over a ridge. Strong and rhythmic, it moves ever closer. He’s not 10 minutes away now and Stiles gets up on his feet, mouth watering and eyes flashing the barest shade of red. The wind carries some of Derek’s scent over the ever-present smell of dirt and pine and it makes Stiles growl low in his throat. Sweat and musk and Derek, it’s intoxicating. He walks out to stand in the middle of the path, the hood of his grey hoodie up and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.
Five minutes tops now, and Derek’s breath is loud in his ears at this distance, heavy enough that Stiles can almost feel it. A shudder of arousal and excitement runs up his spine, he’s so close and Stiles can’t help his smile, all teeth and predatory glee.
“Oh, trouble, trouble, trouble,” he whispers as a figure crests the hill up ahead.
_____________________________________________
“Ah, fuck… fuck… fuck.”
Stiles grins, mouth against Derek’s jaw and teeth digging into it. He’s got Derek pushed up against the tree he’d been sat against only half an hour ago. His fingers are leaving bright red marks on Derek's ass as he lifts him again and again, letting gravity drop him back firmly on his cock. It should be impossible, the mere thought comical, that someone Stiles’ size could support a guy like Derek. Thank fuck for super wolf strength. He’ll gladly endure hunters stalking him if it means he can watch Derek bounce in his lap like this, clinging to an overhead branch with one hand and pulling at Stiles’ hair with the other.
“Yeah? Right there?”
He pushes Derek up, the head of his cock moving halfway out of Derek’s hole before he’s surging back in, seating himself completely. Flashes go off across his vision as Derek clenches hard around him.
“Fuck,” Derek all but howls, fingers threatening to tear Stiles’ hair out by the roots and eyes rolling back in his scull, legs squeezing the breath out of him.
Derek's running shorts are still tangled around his ankles and the silk tickles at Stiles’ back where his shirt is riding up. The rest of him is naked, just like Stiles wants him and he’d love to pinch and pull at Derek’s nipples if he could, torture some of those broken, needy mewls out from between his clenching teeth. Stiles always has to work hard for those sounds, has to fuck that gaze soft and his throat loose. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Adjusting his stance, he brings Derek’s ass out further from the tree, keeping Derek stabilised with his shoulders still resting against the bark and his head lolling slightly to the side. It gives Stiles better leverage and his fingers bite into Derek’s hips as he brings them back flush together, skin smacking with lube and sweat.
“Ow, no, fu-uck,” Derek whines and Stiles stills, his whole body trembling.
“Hurts, the tree… come, come here.”
Stiles just stares, dumbstruck as Derek reaches for him, eyes pleading and face flushed red. He’s shuddering all around him, the very smell of him making Stiles burn with want, with need and his wolf slashes against his control. It’s the gaze levelled at him, needy and from heavy lidded eyes that has him pulling Derek up, helping him arrange them as he wants. When Derek pushes off the bark, Stiles brain finally catches on to what’s happening. Derek is climbing Stiles like a tree, hunched over his chest and clinging to him with his arms and legs. His breath is wet and shaky in his ear as he rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, fingers digging into Stiles' hair. Stiles can’t see his face but there’s something about the position, something about him holding Derek’s entire weight as Derek tries to rock down against him that paints the world red.
He grips Derek thighs and pushes him up, face twisting to the side and seeking out Derek’s mouth with a near snarl as he starts pounding into him. Knees bending to better stab his hips upward, his cock sinks deep into the wet heat pulsing all around him and he mimics the motion with his tongue in Derek’s mouth.
“Like this Derek? Like this?” he growls, almost mad with sheer need, the whines and broken moans spilling from Derek’s lips making him push in harder, drive into his pliant body with ruthless precision.
“Yes! Fuck, please.”
One of Derek’s hands lets go of Stiles' hair and travels down towards his cock trapped between their bodies. Stiles snarls and slaps it away.
“Mine.”
It’s barely a word, pushed out between his teeth, angry and desperate as he circles his fingers around Derek’s dick. Pulling hard on the upstroke and flicking his thumb across the very tip when he reaches the head, he works Derek with devastating accuracy.
Derek shouts.
“Gonna come, gonna come, I’m gonna…”
“Come then. Let me see.”
His every muscle is quaking, straining under their joint weight and the need to come but he refuses to relent. Left arm tight around Derek’s back and right hand around his cock, he fixes his eyes on Derek’s face, every single one of his sharp senses zoning in on the strong, fragile, beautiful human in his hands.
Derek throws his head back, long neck arched, stretched as he comes, the sight bringing Stiles hurtling over the edge. He sinks his teeth down into it, anchored to the very base of Derek’s throat as he pumps him full, come dripping down onto his own thighs as he tries to push it in deep, deeper still, again and again. Derek shudders and sobs weakly against his back, clawing at his skin. The sound resonates in his very core. Stumbling forward, Stiles rests their weight back against the tree, sagging against Derek’s chest. His calf muscles tremble and he has to lock his knees not to dump both of them on the ground. It’s stupid. This is stupid, this whole situation, an alpha so pathetically attached to a vulnerable, weak, fragile human.
Derek’s breath comes in pants and he looks straight into Stiles' eyes from underneath his impossible lashes, hand reaching up to cup his chin. Stiles turns his head and whispers “Trouble” into Derek's palm before searing the word into his skin with a kiss.