By the time Derek finally, finally hears Stiles’ scuffling tread on the stairs, he’s almost mad from waiting. He pulls him into Stiles’ bedroom and kisses him, hard, pushing him back against the door.
“I should get back down there,” Stiles says, after less than ten seconds, his breath carrying the soft-high squeak that means Derek’s hand down the back of his pants is very welcome.
“No,” Derek says. He’s lying low, so this is the first time he’s seen Stiles in over a week, and his cock has been hot and hard all evening, just with the clean bright smell of him. The others have no idea that Derek’s here, and think Stiles is in the restroom, so Stiles is right: they’ve not got long.
It’s got to be long enough to take the edge off, though.
“I can come over later,” Stiles says, panting already, as Derek mouths his neck, licking up its bright salty tang. “To yours. Oh, fuck,” as Derek sucks his earlobe.
“Yes,” Derek says. He’s got one hand on Stiles’ shoulder, pinning him to the door, and the other down the back of his pants. He can feel the smooth warm curves of Stiles’ ass shifting against his fingertips, letting them slide into the cleft of his ass and rest against his hole. “That doesn’t mean I’m stopping now.”
“We can’t – uh – we can’t do this,” Stiles hisses, hushed but punctuating every syllable with a press against Derek’s fingers. “Can’t we just—I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to come to yours later, and right now? I need to go downstairs. Where they’re waiting for me? Expecting me any minute? And—oh fuck.”
He’s breathing out hard as Derek works a finger into his asshole, feeling it squeeze down tight.
“God,” Stiles pants, against Derek’s neck. “Fuck, please!”
Derek can’t help but say it: “You’re so tight.”
“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, breathless and fervent, and then he audibly swallows and clears his throat. “But, um, later, right? We can do this later, whereas now… I want to, but I can’t…”
“Five minutes,” Derek says, licking his lips as he nibbles Stiles’ jaw. He can barely see straight he wants to fuck Stiles’ ass that much, and his voice has dropped to a rough whisper. “Yeah? Just five minutes. Not long.”
“Five minutes,” Stiles gasps, stepping his feet wider apart, and Derek has to see him, now, right fucking now.
Stiles pivots around and rests his forehead and hands against the wall; he knows what’s coming next. Derek yanks down his jeans just enough that his ass pops out, the rounded boyish curves of it standing proud of the line of his waistband.
Derek looks down on him for a moment, drinking in the delicious shock of creamy skin above tight, restrictive denim. Then he drops to his knees and fondles Stiles’ buttcheeks, warm and yielding to his palms; he pushes them apart and leans in close. He enjoys Stiles’ faint harsh inhalation at being so abruptly exposed, but that’s nothing compared with the pleasure of seeing his asshole: it’s tight and pale pink again, like it’s never been breached.
Last week Derek fucked him to a gaping, angry red, but right now it’s like he was never there.
They have an agreement.
The agreement is that although Stiles loves to finger himself – he doesn’t. He leaves his asshole alone. He can jerk off, and rut and fuck and do whatever else it takes to get him off, but he doesn’t touch his asshole, because that’s for Derek.
Stiles agreed to this – mostly because his cock was being taken in and out of Derek’s mouth at the time, with Derek’s fingers crammed up his ass making him beg for it – but he agreed, and has stuck to it, as far as Derek knows. Certainly Stiles’ ass now looks virgin again within a few days of being fucked, whereas before it always looked ready, even slightly open – either from Derek’s cock or, in between times, from Stiles’ fingers working away. And it’s not that Derek didn’t love discovering it like that, because he did, but there’s an extra thrill to seeing it all shut tight and ready to be despoiled again.
The other result of the rule is: it only takes Derek’s fingertip smoothing around the circle of Stiles’ hole and Stiles is there, rapt, eager for even the lightest touch that Derek wants to give.
Right now, they have four-and-a-half minutes before Stiles has to go back downstairs, and Derek wants to give a whole lot more than a light touch. He wants to finger him until he’s begging and then push in his cock and let Stiles ride himself to climax—but that will take time, plenty of time, way longer than they’ve got.
In five minutes—his options are limited. He doesn’t want to send Stiles back downstairs unable to walk, but… okay, it would be lying to say he’s not tempted to do exactly that.
He’s not going to, though. And he’s also not going to waste another single second deliberating: he licks Stiles ass while he’s deciding on what to do next, sliding the tip of his tongue inside and feeling the hot tight muscle quiver against the intrusion.
Damn, he wants that to be his dick.
“Fuck,” Stiles is whimpering, faint as anything. “Fuck… fuck!”
Derek’s dick throbs, and he reaches down to free it. He can feel Stiles’ asshole beginning to relax against his tongue, letting him push in, slippery-slick. He blows out a breath, wrenching Stiles’ butt-cheeks further apart to bury his face there and shove his tongue as deep as it will go.
“Fuck,” Stiles gasps, and Derek pulls back to watch his asshole clench and gape, restless and needy as hell.
“You want it so fucking bad,” Derek says, his voice controlled but low, and Stiles makes frenzied noises and then clamps a hand across his own mouth, breathing out hard.
Derek licks again, letting the pointed tip of his tongue drag across the soft crinkled skin of Stiles’ asshole, dipping deep inside him and then sliding out again. He loves how it opens to him, not much but enough that if he pressed the head of his cock against it—
Three minutes. He’s got to try.
“I’m fucking you,” Derek says, under his breath but he knows Stiles hears him because of how his hips cock back, thighs moving wider, butt cheeks spreading to reveal his asshole all the more prominently.
Fuck but he loves this.
Derek licks his hole again, feeling Stiles jerk against him, and then stands up, holding his cock, crowding in close. The smell of Stiles under him – fully clothed apart from his ass hanging out, and so shamelessly eager for his cock – makes all remnants of Derek’s common sense fly out the window.
“And you’re gonna love it,” he says, spitting on his fingers as Stiles nods, still biting down on his own hand.
Derek holds his dick against Stiles’ asshole and presses, hard; he needs to be inside him, his cock sliding into the perfect tiny opening of this creamy peach ass. He’s not lubed Stiles up sufficiently tonight for it to be easy, but he’s fucked him enough in the past to know that he can take it – just. It’s a struggle with just spit and pressure to accept the head of his cock, but Stiles is rocking against him even as his ass resists, and Derek can see in his mind’s eye the moment that Stiles’ tight hole lets in the first hard push of his dick.
“Oh,” Derek hisses, trying to keep his voice down but God, that heat as he squeezes in, that feeling—
Stiles nods harder, taking him slowly to the hilt and then starting to move, working himself up and down on Derek’s dick and sighing with pleasure.
Derek plants both hands on Stiles’ hips and looks down, watching his cock being taken repeatedly into Stiles’ ass. It’s incredible, especially with the noises Stiles is making, but he’s not going to come like this – not in two minutes, anyway.
He pulls out again and starts stroking himself right up close, watching the dark gleam of Stiles’ asshole nudge against the head of his cock, and that—that brings things forwards a hell of a lot. He can see Stiles moving in helpful little jerks, angling his hips to try and get Derek’s cock back inside him, and his desperation is hot but that’s no longer what Derek wants. Derek’s breath is coming in gasps as his eyes narrow, focusing on that shiny pink skin, wanting to come all over it, and the way Stiles is moving is making him want it all the more.
His hand works frantically, stroking his dick and angling the head towards Stiles’ asshole, letting himself go for it because this – this is just for now. Later he’s going to take care of Stiles, he’s going to finger him and fuck him until Stiles is satisfied as hell, but right now, this is just about Derek. And what Derek wants right now is to see his come splattering across Stiles’ asshole, glistening pearls that he knows Stiles will feel burning across his skin.
“Please, please, get back inside me,” Stiles is whispering, and his voice sends Derek hurtling over the edge. His come jerks out in white streaks that splash across Stiles’ ass, trailing over his hole, dripping down his thighs—and Derek pushes back in at the last minute, shoving his cock in as far as it will go, so the last couple of hot shuddering spurts are shot deep inside.
“Fuck,” he breathes, feeling the warm slickness of his own come all over Stiles’ ass as he moves in the tight heat of him, gradually coming to a standstill.
“Please,” Stiles is still whispering—more to the universe at large than at Derek, but Derek kisses the back of his neck anyway, rocking his dick inside him until it starts to subside.
Stiles, he notes, is almost clawing the wall. Derek pulls out and steps back, and Stiles flings himself around and throws his arms around him, his hard cock hot against Derek’s hip.
“Five minutes,” Derek says, his voice husky.
Stiles whines against his neck, rutting his cock desperately against Derek’s thigh. “But—“
“You have to get back downstairs,” Derek reminds him.
Stiles makes a frustrated noise, deep in his chest. “I can’t bear it,” he mutters. “I don’t care if they find out, I’m so turned on, I just want you to fuck me, finger me, eat me out, please…”
“I will,” Derek says, and kisses Stiles’ petulant mouth as he tucks himself back into his pants. His cock and balls are sticky with come, and for a moment he wavers, imagining Stiles on his knees, cleaning him off with his tongue. “Later,” he says, his voice roughened again.
“No,” Derek interrupts, gently untangling Stiles’ arms from around his neck. “Right now you’ve gotta clean up and go downstairs, and play nice with the others, and pretend nothing’s happened, okay? And then, when they’ve left - when they’ve all left – call me.”
Stiles’ eyes are huge, almost all pupil. “And then what?”
Derek reaches down to feel the obscene slippery mess of Stiles’ hole, wet and a little open, clenching eagerly against his fingertips. He looks Stiles in the eye as he twists his fingers, watching the sensation flash across his face. “And then,” he says, “I’ll finger you and fuck you and eat you out.”
Stiles’ eyes shudder closed as his words, and he presses his lips together for a long moment before managing a jerky nod.
“Good,” Derek says, and heads for the window, forcing himself not to look back: even though he’s come, if he sees the state of Stiles’ ass as he’s left it, it’ll be ten times harder to leave. “See you later.”
“I’ll be thinking of you,” Stiles shoots after him, and Derek grins as he pushes up the window.
“Yeah,” he says, remembering how good he’d felt around his cock, how tight and how hot and how desperate. “I’ll be thinking of you, too.”