Derek crept up the stairs to Stiles’ room and gently pushed open the door, padding over to the bed. The precautions probably weren’t necessary, though—Stiles was a pretty heavy sleeper. His breaths were deep and even as he slept, sprawled out on his back with one arm flung up over his head, and Derek let himself look for a few seconds, until even he felt like too much of a creeper.
He braced one hip on the edge of the bed and gently shook Stiles’ shoulder. “Stiles. Stiles, wake up.”
He just grumbled a little and rolled over onto his side, closer to Derek, without opening his eyes. Derek tried in vain to ignore how cute it was and shook his shoulder a little harder. He really didn’t want to have to resort to tickling. Stiles was a lot stronger than he looked, and even though Derek knew he would heal and all, he didn’t want to start the day with a punch to the face. “Stiles.”
“Yeah. C’mon, Stiles, wake up.”
Stiles suddenly sat all the way up with a jolt, narrowly avoiding a painful collision with Derek’s shoulder. “Holy shit, what? Are you okay? Is the house on fire?”
“No, it’s time for our date.”
Stiles blinked several times and stared at him. “Our date.”
“Yeah, remember? We decided to go on a date, and you said, and I quote, ‘your furry ass has to plan it.’”
“You didn’t mention anything about said date being in the middle of the night. I might have reconsidered.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s not the middle of the night.”
Stiles made a point of twisting around to look at the clock on his nightstand. “Derek,” he said calmly. “It’s six in the morning. On a Saturday. It’s dark outside.”
“Is this your version of payback for me getting you up at sunrise last week?”
“Maybe,” he said solemnly, and Stiles groaned, flopping back down.
“This is a big deal!” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow that he’d pressed over his face. “It’s our first date! I can’t be all suave and charming at six in the morning.”
“No change from normal, then,” Derek said, standing up and neatly dodging the pillow that Stiles threw at him.
“I am regretting all of my life choices. You’re an asshole.”
“Brush your teeth and get dressed,” Derek said, then added with a smirk, “casual is fine.”
Stiles scoffed, though he was clearly trying to hide a smile. “Well, I would fucking hope so.”
He stumbled down the stairs ten minutes later, yawning behind his hand, and Derek gestured to the door. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to be late,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes, and Derek pushed him out the door.
Stiles yawned hugely when they got in the car and propped his feet up on the Camaro’s dash, ignoring Derek’s death glare. “I guess the silver lining is that I didn’t have to spend half an hour deciding what to wear.”
Derek snuck a look at Stiles’ usual jeans and plaid. “I can see that.”
“Hey,” he complained, poking him in the shoulder. “Not everyone can just look effortlessly gorgeous all the time, okay? Some of us have to put a little effort in.”
Derek swallowed. He and Stiles hadn’t done really anything regarding their new relationship status since they got back from their trip last week, and he was still getting used to the fact that Stiles liked him and that this was actually happening. “You always look nice,” he said finally, and when Stiles laughed, he frowned. “Shut up. I know I’m not great with the compliments.”
“No, no, it’s not that. I’m still getting used to nice things coming out of your mouth.”
“I say nice things!”
“Yeah, but not to me. Not that often, anyway.”
Derek didn’t really know what to say to that, but thankfully they were just about there. “Here we are,” he said, pulling off into a little parking lot. Stiles fell out of the car and stretched, looking around.
“And where exactly is here?”
“Mount Bonnell,” he said as he gestured to the trail off the parking lot. Stiles’ eyes widened.
“You expect me to climb a mountain at six in the morning? Are you insane?”
Derek grabbed a bag out of the trunk and rolled his eyes. “It’s really more of a hill.”
“My point still stands. Carry me?” he asked, with a truly pathetic pout.
Derek sighed, pretending to be put-upon, and turned around to crouch down a little in front of him. “Hop on. You’re lucky no one’s around right now.”
“Yesss,” Stiles cheered as he neatly hopped on Derek’s back, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist.
It wasn’t a long trip up to the top, even with the unexpected extra cargo, and he carefully dropped Stiles back down right before they got there. Derek looked like a fit guy, but it would probably still give people pause to see him bounding up the steps so easily with someone of Stiles’ size on his back.
“Wow,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair as he craned his neck to take in the view. “This is cool.”
Derek looked around himself, pleased that the spot was as nice as he’d heard about. The top of the hill was large and flat, with a few picnic tables, and there was a clear view of the Colorado River and the hills surrounding Austin. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away that Derek felt they could speak freely, as long as they kept their voices down.
The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, and Stiles spun around toward him. “So is sunrise our thing now?”
“It would appear so.”
Stiles hummed. “That seems like a poor life choice,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should switch to sunset?”
“I thought you would appreciate the symmetry.”
“Oh, believe me, I do.”
Stiles’ stomach grumbled audibly, even to human ears, and Derek tilted his head, staring at him.
“Hey,” he said, curling his arms over his torso and looking a little embarrassed. “Perfectly normal bodily function, don’t blame me. My body expects food within a half hour of waking up, no matter what.”
“What a perfect segue,” he said dryly, gesturing toward the nearest picnic table. They both slid onto the bench facing the sunrise, and Derek started unloading plastic containers from his bag.
Stiles surveyed the spread in front of them, his mouth falling open slightly as he popped the boxes open. “Breakfast tacos from Fresa’s, bacon and home fries from Magnolia Cafe,” he said slowly, his eyes widening even more as Derek pulled out one more container and a large coffee tumbler.
“Plus coffee from Bennu and gingerbread pancakes from Kerbey Lane.”
“Holy shit,” he breathed, then smacked Derek on the shoulder with a grin. “Oh my god—dude, you got all my favorite breakfast foods.”
He shrugged. “It was easier this way.”
“Jesus, what time did you wake up to get all this?” Stiles asked, and Derek shrugged again. He’d never been more grateful for Austin’s propensity for 24-hour restaurants. And that they handily overlapped with Stiles’ favorite places. “You—you are just the mushiest, most secret romantic ever.”
Derek flushed—he was just trying to do something nice. “I thought you would like it.”
“And you would be right. I love it, actually, and you know that the way to my heart is through greasy breakfast food. I just can’t believe—it’s hard for me to reconcile this guy with the one who slammed my head into a steering wheel.” Derek grimaced at the memory, and Stiles must have spotted it because his face softened. “No, I—”
“It’s fine,” Derek interrupted, then cleared his throat. “I am, uh, really sorry for that, by the way. All of it. It was a lot to deal with, and I didn’t handle it very well. At all.”
“Yeah, maybe some of your decisions were a little misguided,” Stiles said, nudging him with an elbow. “But you were trying your hardest, and you were trying to help people. That’s all that matters.”
Derek snorted. “Yeah, not when those people end up dying.”
“You know as well as I do that sometimes there’s nothing we can do,” Stiles said softly, and Derek tried to blink back the sudden tightness behind his eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“Okay, this took a turn for the dark,” Stiles said, clapping his hands. “Great first date conversation, Stiles, good job. Sorry about that, my fault. This food looks amazing. But what are you gonna eat?”
Derek growled a little and reached for a breakfast taco, pretending to groan in pain when Stiles smacked his hand. “Refusing to share is poor first date etiquette,” he said primly, and Stiles laughed.
“Yeah, and how would you know?” he asked, then froze, dropping his head into his hands with a groan. “Oh my god, I am totally ruining this. You’re being so nice, and I keep being a jerk. Why in the world do you want to date me? Can we just start over?”
Derek just rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss him. He was really glad that he had this technique at his disposal now because it really did wonders at shutting Stiles up. He pulled back after just a second but kept their foreheads resting together. “Stop,” he said firmly. “You’re fine.”
“I don’t really get it, though,” Stiles said quietly, pouring maple syrup over his pancakes with more concentration that the task really deserved, and Derek frowned.
“Why you want to date me.”
Derek opened his mouth, ready to spout off a whole list of reasons, but then he paused and decided to switch tactics. “I feel the same way.”
“What?” he yelped, almost knocking over the coffee tumbler. “Are you serious? Tell me that you’re not being serious right now. You’re so—”
“I’m not fishing for compliments,” he interrupted, and Stiles rolled his eyes.
“How do you feel when I say that? That I don’t understand why you’d want to date me.”
Stiles chewed for a minute. “It’s just…completely inconceivable. Does not match up at all with the reality that I live in.”
“I feel the exact same way. When you say it,” Derek clarified, and Stiles stared at him, realization dawning in his eyes as he tilted his head.
“Oh my god, you sound like Jane!” Stiles said accusingly, pointing at him, and Derek couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking with laugher. “That sounds like exactly like a trick she would use, seriously. Has she said that to you?”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “We confessed our feelings for each other but decided that it could never work between us.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “That is not at all inconceivable. Literally anyone could fall for you.”
“Please stop,” he said, wrinkling his nose, and Stiles laughed.
“But seriously, come on. How could you think that I wouldn’t want to date you?”
Derek shrugged. “I don’t exactly have a history of good relationships.”
“Yeah, but none of that’s your fault,” Stiles reminded him, and Derek winced. “I’m gonna need a better reason than that,” he said, licking a dribble of salsa off his thumb.
Derek shrugged. “I’m just kind of a screwed-up mess.”
“You…,” Stiles started, then he paused and shook his head. He took a long swig of coffee and cleared his throat, settling his hand on Derek’s knee. “You have a villain’s backstory, okay, Derek? Like, you could have turned into some murdering monster, and people would have been like, okay, yeah, well, that makes sense, just look at his life story. You could have become fixated on hurting other people, just like you’ve been hurt. But you’re not and you haven’t. You decided to make the hard choice and actually turn into a good person who tries hard and cares about other people, even though the universe has mostly given you complete and utter shit. I cannot imagine how hard that is, and you have no idea how much I admire you for that.”
Derek fully realized that he was just sitting there like an idiot with his mouth open, probably showcasing his fucking bunny teeth and everything. But he was in no way capable of moving, not after Stiles just spewed out what were probably the nicest words anyone had ever said to him. “You…”
“Did I make you speechless? Der—”
The kiss was sticky from the maple syrup and tasted like bacon and garlic, but Derek would never forget it. Stiles smiled against his lips as he kissed back, slipping his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugging lightly on the ends. When Derek finally pulled back, Stiles still had that small, soft smile playing on his lips.
“Thank you,” Derek said softly, even though the words felt embarrassingly inadequate.
“It’s all true, so you see why I think you’re too good for me. Because I am just some spastic annoying kid who talks too much.”
“You are none of those things,” he said firmly, and Stiles gave him a flat look.
Derek sighed, a little exasperated. “I wish you could hear that I’m not lying.”
“You’ve told me that you think I’m annoying.”
“You are annoying in a wonderful way,” he conceded, and Stiles snorted.
“Wow, we each just listed several reasons why people shouldn’t like us. We are so good at this first date shit.”
“The food’s good, though,” Derek said around a mouthful of bacon, and Stiles laughed.
“Yeah, there’s that, at least. And the view’s not bad.”
Derek was about to agree with him, but when he looked up, Stiles was leaning an elbow on the table and staring at him instead of the sunset. “Yeah, you’re plenty charming,” he mumbled, hoping that his flush wasn’t too obvious, and Stiles smirked at him.
“So how are things with Jane?” he asked. “I mean, I’m assuming that since you’re sitting here next to me and voluntarily talking about your feelings, it must be going pretty well.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s…it’s good, actually. Except I’m pretty sure she thinks we were in a gang or something.”
“Oh, for sure,” Stiles said immediately, nodding. “It’s kinda hard making up all these believable stories.”
“So you’re saying werewolves would be more plausible?” he said, smirking, and Stiles laughed.
“Yeah, exactly. We should have cross-checked our alibis.”
“She’s probably dying of curiosity, but she can’t exactly ask,” Derek said, and Stiles nodded. “What about you, how are things going?”
“They’re good,” he said, looking down at his food with a little smile. “I mean, it’s not always fun, but it’s good. And I only go twice a month now.”
“I’m glad,” Derek said softly. He bumped their elbows together, and when Stiles leaned his temple on Derek’s shoulder, he gave into the temptation to press a kiss to Stiles’ hair.
“Thanks for a pretty great date. This was awesome.”
“You’re welcome. Your turn next time.”
“That’s a pretty high bar. But I can promise it won’t involve sunrise.”
Stiles yawned hugely several times on the drive home, and he tugged Derek toward the couch as soon as they walked through the front door. “I will always get up to watch the sunrise with you if you nap with me afterward.”
“Deal,” he said instantly, and Stiles laughed.
“Come on, then. I think our couch is even more comfortable than that tent.”
Derek settled on his side, tugging Stiles back against his chest after he laid down. They had recently moved on from The Office to Parks & Rec, so Stiles turned on Netflix and they both dozed off to the familiar theme song.
It was a couple hours later, Derek would guess, when he woke up to the delightful sensation of blunt nails scratching through his hair. He groaned, twisting his head into the scratches, and he vaguely registered Stiles’ laugh.
“Forget the werewolf thing, I’m pretty sure you’re a cat.”
Derek snapped his teeth, his eyes still closed, and Stiles laughed.
“Yeah, you look real ferocious right now, dude.”
Derek growled and used his grip on Stiles to rearrange them, hauling him up so that he was on top. Stiles laughed and ducked down to kiss him, keeping his fingers tight in Derek’s hair. Derek pushed up into it, half-convinced that he was still dreaming. It was hard to believe that Stiles was here, a heavy, solid weight on top of him, and Derek hooked a leg over his, just in case Stiles had any notions of moving.
Stiles broke the kiss, though, with an anguished groan and leaned his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “Man, it sucks that we live together.”
Suddenly off-balance, Derek tensed. “Uh—”
“Oh, no, fuck, that’s not what I meant,” he said hurriedly, punctuating his words with another kiss. Derek steadied him with a hand on the back of his neck and kept him there, nudging his mouth open. Stiles fell into it eagerly, sliding his hand into Derek’s hair.
Eventually Stiles pulled back and took a deep breath, pushing up on his arms until there was a little space between their bodies. “I just—I really wanna do this right, I want to take it slow. And that’s a lot harder when you’re just one floor away.”
Derek smiled and reeled him back in. “We can still take it slow. Even though we live together.”
“Speak for yourself, buddy,” Stiles said, still a little breathless, and Derek couldn’t take it any longer, he reached up and kissed him, kissed the words right out of that lush mouth. They made out for several long minutes, until Stiles disentangled himself with a groan and stood up, running both hands through his hair. It was completely wild, mostly because Derek had been running his hands through it, and he couldn’t stop staring at it.
“Where are you going?” Derek asked, unabashedly adjusting himself in his jeans and preening a little under Stiles’ open gaze.
“Oh, just up to my room. You should probably, uh, turn off any wolfy senses for the next ten minutes or so.”
Derek swallowed, hard, and Stiles smirked as he slowly backed up the stairs. He tripped, though, and faux-seductive look on his face morphed into slightly-embarrassed surprise. Derek choked on a laugh. “That didn’t happen,” Stiles said hurriedly.
“What?” Derek asked innocently. “I didn’t see anything.”
“You are a god among men, Derek Hale,” he called out, traipsing safely up the stairs, the correct way this time. “And now I’m gonna go think about you while I jerk off.”
Derek groaned and rolled over onto his stomach with a grunt.
“Is there a dress code for this date?” Derek yelled up the stairs, and he smiled when Stiles’ head popped over the landing on his floor.
“I would recommend nudity, actually,” he said, smirking, “but since I don’t have an in with the law enforcement here, I probably couldn’t stop you from getting arrested.”
He stared at Stiles for a second and then took the stairs two at a time, peering at the raw redness on Stiles’ face. “Is that—”
Stiles patted his cheeks with a little smirk. “Oh, you mean my battle scars? Yeah, that’s from you.”
“Shit,” he said softly, brushing Stiles’ chin with his thumb. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s not that bad, mostly just tingly. And according to what I read—”
“You did research on beard burn?” Derek interrupted, and Stiles have him a flat look.
“Does that really surprise you?”
Derek opened his mouth to respond—because no, not really—but Stiles continued. “Anyway, my skin should get used to it, as long as we keep mackin’ on each other. What a hardship, let me tell you.”
“I can shave,” he offered, but Stiles’ face fell as he reached out for Derek’s face.
“Noooo. I mean, it’s your face, so you do whatever you want,” he added quickly, scrubbing his thumb across Derek’s cheek. “But please don’t shave on my account.”
“Okay,” he said, and Stiles grinned.
“Go get dressed, we need to leave in a few minutes,” Stiles said, shooing him away after one quick kiss, and Derek grinned as he walked back downstairs. So far, he’d been surprised at how much things hadn’t changed in the past week. Sure, there was more cuddling on the couch in the evenings, and kisses had been added to their usual greetings and good-byes, but all in all, most of their life together had stayed pretty much the same. Which, honestly, probably should have been some sort of sign.
Stiles steered him toward the Jeep, which was a little unusual. He drove for a little while, out of their neighborhood, but Derek couldn’t immediately place their destination. “So you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“I kinda wanted to do a traditional date activity,” Stiles explained, merging carefully onto the highway, “but I couldn’t really imagine you wanting to go bowling or play mini-golf. So we’re going to see a movie.”
“Okay,” Derek said with a shrug. “That’s fine.”
“Yeah. But in the future, I don’t mind doing any of those things, if you want to,” he said. Stiles hummed a little in response and tilted his head. “What?”
“Oh, I’m just imagining you with a little hot-pink golf club, trying to get the ball in the princess’s mouth.”
Derek sniffed. “I’m sure I’d be really good at mini-golf.”
“I have no doubt,” Stiles agreed. “Just not as good as me.”
Stiles gave him a little sideways smirk. “As tempted as I am to change the plan so we can test that assumption, we’re here,” he said as he pulled into a lot.
Derek looked around, taking in the large screen and the rows of cars parked on the grass. “Is this a drive-in?” he asked slowly, and Stiles grinned.
“That it is, dude, that it is. I thought it would appeal to your old soul.”
Derek laughed. He knew Stiles wouldn’t pick something as normal as a regular movie for the first date that he got to plan. “This is pretty neat.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Stiles said, his smile small and soft as he carefully backed into a spot off to the side.
“Double feature! Indiana Jones and The Princess Bride.”
“Strange combo,” Derek said, nodding slowly. “But I won’t complain.”
“I’m gonna go, uh, search for sustenance,” Stiles said, hopping out of the driver’s seat in a flail of limbs. “Get comfy in the back.”
Derek opened the back door and smiled—he hadn’t noticed that Stiles had towed along several pillows and blankets. He crawled in and arranged some pillows up against the back of the backseat, laying down the blankets to create some semblance of a comfy surface.
Stiles came back brandishing a tub of popcorn and a box, which he handed off to Derek before he climbed in to join him. “They didn’t have regular Reese’s—for shame, seriously—but they did have Reese’s Pieces, which is a decent substitute.”
Derek hummed in agreement. “Better for popcorn, anyway,” he said, but Stiles just gave him a confused look. “Have you never put Reese’s Pieces in your popcorn?”
Stiles stared at him and blinked a few times. “No,” he said, drawing out the word. “I have not. But that sounds genius, and I don’t think I’ve ever liked you more than I do right now.”
Derek smirked and ripped open the box, tipping about half of it into the popcorn. “My sisters and I used to do this all the time when we were kids. M&M’s are pretty good, too, but the Reese’s are better.”
Stiles jammed a large handful into his mouth, and Derek rolled his eyes—he didn’t have to find everything about Stiles attractive, after all. The obscene moan drew his attention back, though, and at least Stiles waited to speak until after he swallowed. “Wow, that is like, amazingly delicious. Good call.”
“Don’t hog it,” Derek grumbled, tugging the tub into his lap, and Stiles nestled up against his shoulder with a laugh.
Once they were done with the popcorn, Stiles nestled down into the blankets and rested his head on Derek’s chest, hooking his top leg over Derek’s thighs. Derek unearthed his arm and curved it around Stiles’ shoulders.
“Harrison Ford is such a babe,” Stiles mumbled.
“I think you were unduly influenced by Star Wars.”
“You don’t think he’s cute?”
Derek shrugged. “He’s okay. I prefer brown eyes.”
Stiles laughed and gently bit at Derek’s shoulder through his shirt. “Well, I prefer weird-colored eyes.”
“Weird?” he said, pretending to be offended.
“Yep, weird. Your eyes are practically a different color every time I look at them. I’m still not convinced that it isn’t some magical werewolf thing.”
“Oh, yeah? What color are they right now?”
“Blue,” Stiles said easily. “Because you’re wearing a blue shirt.”
He didn’t even move to look, which for some reason gave Derek a strange fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. He jostled Stiles and tugged at his elbow until he twisted his face up, his eyes wide and questioning. He must have seen the answer in Derek’s face because he grinned and hooked a hand around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. It was eager, bordering on sloppy as Derek swiped the salty taste of popcorn off Stiles’ lips. And just as it got a little bit too heated, Stiles’ hand clutching at Derek’s side as he slowly moved to straddle him, Derek pulled away with a smirk. Stiles frowned at him, flicking gently at his ear, but he settled back down in his earlier position.
Stiles behaved himself for a couple more scenes, and just when his steady breathing made Derek think he might be asleep, he slipped his hand under Derek’s shirt. It was still at first, a heavy, pleasant weight against his stomach, but then he started moving, tracing light patterns up and down and across Derek’s torso, up to his chest and down to his hips.
Derek didn’t say anything right away, but after several minutes, it didn’t seem like Stiles had any intention of stopping. “Stop that,” he hissed, and he could have sworn he felt Stiles smile.
“No one can see.”
Derek huffed. “What is it with you and wanting to have sex in the back of cars?”
Stiles hummed, even as he drew his finger just under the waistband of Derek’s briefs, from hip to hip. “Who said anything about sex?”
Derek rolled his eyes, even though he knew Stiles couldn’t see. “We are adults with beds.”
“Yeah, well we’re not in a bed right now, and you’re right here.”
He scratched a little harder, and Derek manfully resisted the urge to groan and/or arch up into his touch. “Do you have any self-control?”
“Around you? No,” he said frankly. “And you have no sense of adventure. In fact, I’m starting to doubt that you even want to have sex with me at all.”
Derek huffed and tugged Stiles up so that he was in between his legs, with his back resting against Derek’s front. “That is very much untrue. But out here, someone could hear or see,” he said, punctuating the words with little biting kisses on Stiles’ neck, “and I don’t want to share any part of this, any part of you, with anyone.”
Stiles drew in a shuddering breath and tipped his head to the side, tightening his grip on Derek’s thighs. “Okay,” he exhaled. “I believe you.”
“You sure?” he said, yanking Stiles back, up against him even closer so that he could surely feel where Derek was hard in his jeans. “I can tell you more about it if you want.”
He tipped his head to the side even further, and goddamn, that long stretch of pale neck right in front of Derek’s face was just obscene. And Stiles probably knew it, too. “What would you tell me?” he asked, wiggling in a way that didn’t seem completely unintentional.
He hummed against the thin skin of Stiles’ neck and scraped his stubble against it. “I would tell you that I’ve thought about it. A lot. In a lot of different places, a lot of different positions.”
Derek kept up his attentions on Stiles’ neck, trailing his mouth back and forth from Stiles’ shoulder up to his ear. He tried to be mindful of the strength of his sucks and bites, but he knew he was probably leaving hickies regardless—he tried to keep it underneath Stiles’ shirts, at least. Stiles was full-on panting before long, and his fingers on Derek’s thighs would be leaving bruises if Derek were human. “Holy shit.”
“Payback is a bitch,” he whispered, but Stiles just let out a little strangled laugh.
“Payback is the best,” he said, sounding almost drunk. “This is not discouraging me at all.”
Derek snuck his hand up under Stiles’ shirt, lazily dragging his fingers around. He scratched down his sides and even thumbed across his nipples, switching between firm pressure and teasing touches. Stiles was squirming, his feet sliding on the blankets, and Derek could clearly see the bulge in his pants.
“Do you think you could come just like this?”
Stiles groaned, a little too loudly, and Derek made a shushing noise into his neck. Thankfully, they were at a loud scene in The Princess Bride, and he doubted that anyone heard him.
“I have no idea,” he said, his voice hoarse like he’d been screaming. It made Derek shiver, and he was sure Stiles felt it. “I’m a little afraid the answer would be yes. But let’s not test it. I don’t think our first time would count if I came in my pants.”
Derek disagreed, but he stilled his hands. The movie was almost over, anyway, and when it was, finally, Stiles twisted around and sat up on his knees to practically attack Derek’s mouth with his own. Derek tipped his head back and let Stiles take control, even though he kept a tight grip on those hips to keep plenty of space between them. People were definitely moving about now, getting ready to leave, and he and Stiles were surely visible to anyone walking by.
Stiles pulled back after a minute and blinked lazily, his eyes completely glazed over with lust. “Can you drive?” he asked, and Derek nodded, inwardly preening that he’d managed to reduce Stiles to a state in which he couldn’t drive.
The drive back to their house seemed much longer than it had before, and Derek had to keep slapping Stiles’ hand away from his inner thigh. The interminable trip finally ended, and Stiles practically skipped up the front walk, dragging Derek by the hand behind him. “Are you gonna kiss me at my front door?” Derek asked, and Stiles laughed, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead on Derek’s shoulder.
“I’m sure as hell gonna kiss you on the other side, if you could open the damn door.”
He obeyed, and sure enough, as soon as they were through, Stiles slammed the door shut and flipped the deadbolt as he pressed Derek up against it. “Thank you for the date,” Derek said.
Stiles laughed and pulled him flush, sliding his hand into Derek’s back pocket with a firm squeeze. “You know, funnily enough, I planned a second part, too.”
“Oh, really?” he asked dryly.
Stiles nodded slowly and sucked at Derek’s lower lip. “Yeah. I’ve put a lot of thought into it, you have no idea.”
“I have some idea,” he said solemnly, and Stiles crashed their mouths together with a groan.
“Your room,” Stiles said a minute later, pulling back barely an inch. “It’s closer.”
“As you wish,” he murmured, and Stiles pulled back with a gasp.
“You’re such a sap,” he said delightedly. Derek rolled his eyes and nudged Stiles backward toward the stairs. They somehow made it safely to the second floor, thanks mostly to Derek’s superior reflexes, and Stiles pushed him back onto the bed. He went easily, bouncing a little as he landed, and tugged Stiles down on top of him.
“Have you really been thinking about this?” Stiles pulled back to ask, and sure, if pressed, Derek could have guessed that sex with Stiles would involve a lot of talking. Though he would never admit that he fantasized about that part, too.
“Yeah,” he responded, slightly distracted by Stiles’ long fingers carefully undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Of course I have. Did you not believe me earlier?”
“Well, sure,” he said, becoming a little more careless as he got to the bottom buttons. “But you were, you know, doing a sexy thing.”
“And this isn’t a sexy thing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m doing a sexy thing,” Stiles said, grinning triumphantly as he spread Derek’s shirt open.
“You are terrible,” he said dryly, but Stiles ignored him, spreading his hands over Derek’s torso and staring down.
“I haven’t had a good view of you shirtless in a really long time,” he said, and Derek tensed a little under the intense scrutiny. Fewer soul-crushing workouts meant that he was slightly softer than he was before, but it wasn’t like he had even lost the six-pack—thank you, werewolf metabolism. Stiles must have picked up on his distress because his eyes widened and his fingers dug in, as if he could keep Derek there with the strength of his passion alone. “Oh my god, stop it with that face! Are you serious? It’s good, it’s so good. Especially with this,” he said, raking his fingers through Derek’s chest hair with a little smirk.
His heartbeat was as steady as ever, and Derek relaxed.
“Dude, you are fucking perfect,” Stiles continued. “You are not allowed to be the insecure one in this relationship.”
Derek rolled his eyes—because that was preposterous—but he levered himself up into a sitting position and quickly discarded Stiles’ plaid overshirt before stripping off the tight t-shirt underneath. “You have nothing to be insecure about. Believe me.”
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
He huffed against Stiles’ mouth and kissed him, letting Stiles deepen it and push Derek back down flat. They managed to get rid of their pants with a minimal amount of fumbling, and Derek locked his forearm around Stiles’ low back, holding him down while he rocked his hips up. Stiles dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder with a groan and pushed back against him, shifting his hips a little bit so that their dicks were better aligned.
The drag and the friction was mind-melting, even though the fabric of their underwear, and Derek wasn’t sure if he was going to make it through this unscathed, if a little clothed frottage already made him feel like his spine was liquefying. Stiles’ ass was firm and round in his hands, and he stuttered in Derek’s grip, seemingly unsure whether he wanted to push up against Derek’s hands or down against his dick.
The kiss was barely a kiss by now, really just lips and breath and occasionally tongues mingling as they desperately rutted against each other. Stiles pushed up on his arms with a pained whimper—thankfully it drowned out Derek’s far more embarrassing whine—and planted several wet, open-mouthed kisses on Derek’s torso as he crawled back between his legs.
“You don’t ha—”
Stiles smirked while hooking his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s briefs. “Oh, believe me, this isn’t entirely selfless. Can I?”
Derek nodded dumbly as he lifted his hips and let Stiles pull his underwear down his legs—he was pretty sure he couldn’t have said anything if he’d wanted to. Stiles just stared for a second, curling one arm under Derek’s thigh and resting that big hand flat on Derek’s stomach.
He started low, mouthing gently at Derek’s balls, and it was surprising enough that Derek cried out a little. Stiles lifted his head just enough to smirk and bite at Derek’s thigh, making him exhale a little burst of laughter. He certainly had never laughed during sex before, which was a revelation. That laughter got caught in his throat, though, when Stiles lifted up suddenly and took in half of Derek’s dick in one fell swoop.
He would be lying if he said that he fantasized about anything more often than this, but it was somehow even more intense than he’d even imagined. Surely because it was real, because Stiles was here in the flesh, bent over Derek’s body, looking and sounding like there was nothing he’d rather be doing with that hot mouth. He was deft and confident, his hand sliding along in tandem with his mouth and his swirling tongue, and the view was almost better than the feel of it. So much so that Derek knew he should close his eyes, lest this be over way too soon, but he couldn’t make himself do it.
One of Stiles’ hands disappeared from Derek’s thigh, and from the bunching in his shoulder, he was fairly confident that Stiles was jerking himself off. Derek dropped his head back down onto the pillow with a groan—the mere thought that this was enough to get Stiles off sent him right up to the edge. He tried to warn Stiles, but he was pretty sure that the words came out as more of a garbled whine. Derek’s tug on his hair didn’t work, either, because that just made Stiles moan around him. He had to desperately fend off the shift as well as the urge to thrust up against Stiles, and all the tension rushed out of him as his orgasm crested.
He made a mess, on Stiles’ cheek and on his lips and on his own stomach, but Stiles was laughing and certainly didn’t seem to care. His arm was still moving, his abs clenching with the effort as he stroked himself, and Derek was not missing this. “Come here,” he rasped, licking his lips quickly. He reached for Stiles’ shoulders and hauled him up, but before he could get his own hand involved or even kiss him, Stiles’ eyes clenched shut and he curled over Derek, whining lowly as heavy spurts landed on Derek’s dick and stomach.
Stiles stared down at Derek’s torso for several seconds before lifting his gaze to his eyes. His lips were parted, his mouth red and wet, and Derek swallowed, ignoring the way his dick twitched.
“Okay, I think that might be my new thing.”
Derek laughed, he couldn’t help it, and pulled Stiles down on top of him. The kiss was sloppy and wet, with both of them still out of breath, and Derek cupped his hand possessively around the back of Stiles’ head.
“Perfect,” Derek said, cutting him off with another kiss. “Completely perfect, you’re perfect, everything’s perfect.”
“Mmm, good. Okay, now I just need like 10-15 minutes,” Stiles mumbled, sounding halfway to sleep already as he nestled under Derek’s chin and patted him clumsily on the cheek. “Then round two.”