15, Sterek?

lena221bee:

You wanted “trembling hands” + Sterek and an anon requested flaccid dick playing forever ago, so I’m killing two birds with one stone.

It’s past midnight when Derek finally comes home but the light is still on in the living room. As soon as he steps inside, he picks up the quiet heartbeat of his husband, his breathing is peaceful and even. Obviously, Stiles hasn’t heard him come home. He’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, the book he was reading face down on his chest. Derek smiles fondly at the sight.

He rarely has the chance to see him so quiescent and at peace. When he’s awake, Stiles is a whirlwind, all flailing limbs and rapid thud-thuds in his chest, rarely placid or still. Even now, with a sliver of grey on his temples and a few more laughter lines on his face. Stiles is the storm, Derek is his anchor, the tree that stands proud and strong when the wind storms, tortured and restless. Other times, Stiles is the gentle and mischievous breeze that rattles and caresses his leaves.  

Derek is not in a hurry to wake him up, drinking the sight in front of him.

Stiles’ always-so-tempting pink lips are barely parted, his lashes casting a subtle shadow on his mole-dotted cheeks. It’s a familiar sight, but Derek never gets tired of it. Stiles was obviously waiting for his return, reading on the couch in his pyjamas.

Derek’s eyes travel lazily over the fabric when he sees it. The leg of Stiles’ pyjama shorts has rid so far up that his dick has escaped its confine and is now visible, the heavy head still hidden by the foreskin is resting on the crease of his leg. It looks irresistibly soft and vulnerable. His lightly furred balls are just as tempting, full and tight under the velvety wrinkled skin of the sack. Derek has always found Stiles’ balls to be particularly pretty. He likes to pet them tenderly when he sucks Stiles’ dick. Far be it from Stiles to complain about Derek’s slightly odd fondness for his balls. On the contrary.

Derek glances at Stiles’ face, he’s still sleeping and showing no signs of waking up. Derek can’t resist the temptation. He falls to his knees as quietly as possible, hoping that Stiles won’t wake up just yet and let him enjoy this for a bit.   

Derek leans in and breathes in the familiar scent of musky skin. It’s mouth-wateringly warm and inviting. Derek licks his lips in anticipation, he gently lowers his hand on Stiles’ thigh, careful not to frighten him lest he wake up suddenly. Now is not the time to get his jaw fractured again.

Derek starts peppering featherlight kisses on the ballsack, nuzzling the shaft and enjoying the incredibly silky-smooth feeling on his lips. He keeps his touch gentle, letting himself be overwhelmed by his senses. Lost in his ministrations, he doesn’t notice Stiles waking up until he feels the light touch of a hand on his scalp. Derek looks up and smiles.

“Hello” whispers Stiles, voice raspy from sleep, a soft and fond look in his eyes. Derek winks in response and starts licking in earnest.

Stiles moans quietly under Derek’s tender assault, his hand still delicately ruffling Derek’s hair. Stiles is hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Derek’s insistent tongue being the only thing his still cottony mind can focus on. Good. So good.

Derek on the other hand is slowly losing his mind, fueled by Stiles’ irresistible scent. His hands pawing at Stiles’ shirt are trembling from barely restrained desire, eager to uncover more skin. His dick is pulsing in his jeans, the head rubbing against the zipper in the most delicious way as he shifts on his knees. He feels himself getting wetter by the second. God, he hasn’t felt so ravenous for Stiles in a while but tonight he can’t seem to get enough of him. His lips quiver with lust as he finally takes Stiles in his mouth. He wants to choke on him, to let himself drown. He grunts with contentment when Stiles’ cockhead hits the back of his throat.

Stiles whimpers, fully awake now. It would be impossible not to with how increasingly vocal Derek has been since he arrived and in lieu of saying hello has started mouthing at his balls. Which could be considered weird – if Stiles had any fuck left to give about this thing called normality. He lives in Beacon Hills after all and his husband is a werewolf. A werewolf who is wickedly good with his mouth. Stiles has got no complain, none at all.  

“Fuuuuck, Derek, come here”, he whispers urgently.

Derek awkwardly climbs on Stiles lap, eager to lose himself in his mouth. Stiles unbuttons him as fast as possible and wraps a hand around them both. It doesn’t take long for Derek to come, Stiles follows into ecstasy mere seconds later. Derek is still shaking and gasping when Stiles fondly pats his back and nuzzles into his neck.

“I missed you.”

“Me too.”