Stiles having night shifts at the station had spelled the end of their sex-life.
It had been okay, for the most part, because Derek loved Stiles for a lot more than just the (incredible) sex. Still, neither of them would ever turn down the opportunity to do-the-diddly-do when they could.
“Little slut,” she chuckled, sounding fond. “All right then. Just for you.” She pulled Stiles away from the wall and leaned where they’d just been, unbuttoning her fly and pulling her cock out. It was too dark to really tell the color, but it glittered something like indigo in the low light. Stiles started to kneel down but Der grabbed their waist, spinning them around to face away from the wall and keeping them up. “One thing first, boy. Bend over and tug that little skirt up for me, huh? Show me how bad you want daddy’s cock in your dirty mouth.”
Today is just not Stiles’ day. He had to go to the hospital with a little problem, only to find he sat right next to a super hot guy with a dish towel wrapped around his hand. Well, this could be interesting.
Professor Hale is different, and not just because Stiles has a crush on him the size of Texas. Not only is he breathtakingly gorgeous with his sexy stubble and witty (and somewhat flirtatious) banter, but he makes an effort to talk to both the students and Stiles, making sure he is always comfortable.
He’s never modeled nude in one of Hale’s classes before, but he’s never declined a class taught by Professor Hale, no matter how short the notice, and probably never will.
(Or the one where Stiles is a talkative nude model and a bet is made)
“The second he sees Stiles, he freezes. Stiles is spread out naked all over the length of the bed, head flung back and eyes shut, fingers lightly circling the base of his cock. A spike of lust catches Derek in the chest and he slumps softly against the doorframe, hyperaware of everything around him. He hears the jackrabbit beating of Stiles’ heart, the hitching of Stiles’ breath as he massages the head of his cock, god, he smells like sex and Derek can tell that he’s leaking pre-come everywhere.”
or, Stiles’ car breaks down in the rain and he spends the night in Derek’s guest bed.
Fifth anniversary: for basic bitches that meant some shit like gifts made of wood. Stiles Stilinski was not a basic bitch.
Which was why Derek was pacing back and forth in the middle of a circle of mountain ash, watching Stiles writhe and moan on their mountain ash-encircled bed whilst painting his well-lubed rim with yet another circle of — that’s right — mountain ash.
A story that takes place entirely inside a vehicle.
This is a very late birthday present for @bistiles and @fuchswrites! You two are absolutely amazing and I hope you both know how much I appreciate you. Also hope you enjoy this ridiculous little fic.
Ship: Derek/Stiles Tags: future fic, getting together, swearing, a lil’ bit of scott appreciation Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, pack mentions Rating: Teen & Up Words: 2.2K
It’s raining. That’s the first issue that Stiles has. The
rest of California is going through a god awful drought, but as soon as he
crosses the Beacon County line it starts pouring. Bad things happen in the rain
okay? It’s hard to see, and Scott says it makes it harder to smell, and really
Stiles just hates being wet. It’s
just the worst.
The second problem is Derek Hale.
It’s always Derek Hale honestly. He’s always getting
kidnapped, always glaring, always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time with
too much murder eyebrows for anyone to think it might be a joke (unlike Stiles, who has perfected the wrong
thing – wrong time – I’m just a human please don’t hurt me shtick). And of course Derek has to call Stiles in the
middle of a rainstorm for help.
Well, technically, Stiles informed the entire pack that he
was on problem solving duty while Scott and his mom took a trip down to Mexico
to visit extended family. It’s been years since the constant nonsense that was high school, but Scott
still functions as Mr. Fix-It for the majority of the pack, and he deserves a
vacation. So Stiles had taken it upon himself to redirect all calls for
assistance to well, himself. Obviously Derek Fucking Hale would be the only one
to take him up on it.
Oh, this was fun! There isn’t really smut, because it didn’t really fit with the particular fluffiness that your prompt inspired, so I guess I owe you some? I hope you enjoy this anyway!
A P.S. for the 2 dozen plus people who have sent me prompts in the last month, I am so sorry I’m so behind, but I promise you’ll all get your fics written just as soon as time and my distractable muse allow! Thank you so much for your support, inspiration, and patience!
******
The sound of giggling from the living room made Derek nervous. Laura and Stiles were in the living room, doing something that was obviously suspicious, because giggling. Derek decides it is probably best for everyone involved if he intervenes. For safety, really; those two together are dangerous. With a fortifying sigh, he sets aside the chopped vegetables and the knife he’d been preparing dinner with, wipes his hands on a clean dish towel, and turns to walk the sorry distance from the kitchen to the living room.
A particularly loud laugh, followed by a saccharine sweet “Aww“ from Stiles catches Derek off guard, and he pauses mid stride to let the bare affection of the sound wash over him, to appreciate all the ways that Stiles can still surprise him. He lets himself be grateful that the other man is in his life, that he can laugh so freely after all they’ve gone through, that Derek gets to be the one to hear it, even to cause it, on occasion.
Then, the distinct sound of laminated pages being turned and his sister’s snicker break the moment, and instead of basking in all the things he feels for Stiles, he’s muttering “Goddamnit, Laura,” under his breath and walking faster than he’s ever walked when no one was in immediate danger.
His suspicions are confirmed as soon as the oversized couch comes into view; Laura and Stiles are hunched over an old photo album, recovered from god knows where, their heads conspiratorially bowed together, Laura pointing and gasping out some story that Derek barely catches between her laughter. He catches a few stray words; “obsessed,” and “costume,” and “wouldn’t take it off,” and. And oh no. Derek knows exactly what picture they’re looking at now. And he’s absolutely horrified.
One Halloween, seven year old Derek has dressed as Han Solo, and he’d been so enamored with how he felt as the hero, he had refused to wear anything else for weeks. His poor parents must have washed the outfit dozens of times to avoid his tiny meltdowns. Finally, before Thanksgiving, they had told him it got ruined in the washer, a horrible mishap with a red sock. Derek had been devastated.
He’s about to interrupt when Stiles notices him..Derek is momentarily struck dumb at how beautiful Stiles looks flushed from laughing, his expression totally unguarded. Then he turns the album and holds it up for Derek to see, one long finger pointing at the exact picture Derek feared. “Der! Babe,” Stiles gushes, breathy from the exertion of his laughter. “How could you keep this from me? You are just-look at you! You’re so small! Oh god, you, c’mere,” he wheezes, throwing a hand in Derek’s direction and wiggling his fingers in a vague approximation of a beckoning gesture.
Derek sighs, resigned to his fate, and slumps his shoulders in defeat, trudging the last few feet of distance between them and reaching to twine their fingers together. Stiles squeezes his hand automatically, and Derek lets himself be pulled down next to his grinning boyfriend, making sure to send a scathing scowl in the direction of his smirking sister. Both her and Stiles just laugh at him for it, and Derek lets some of his weight land over Stiles’ lap in retaliation.
Stiles, of course, happily accommodates the extra contact, using their still joined hands to tug Derek closer and settling them on Derek’s thigh. “Oh, stop, grumpy wolf,” he says, pressing a kiss to Derek’s temple. “You were the cutest little rogue pilot I’ve ever seen. I wish we could have kids that look just like you,” Stiles means to make a joke of it, but there’s something wistful and longing in his voice, and Derek loops an arm around his shoulders and kisses his cheek. Laura makes a cooing sound and Derek snorts into Stiles’ neck.
Derek grins, “I don’t suppose Laura showed you her costume from that year, huh? I’m pretty sure you were Pippi Longstocking, right? With the overalls and braids? I’m sure it’s probably on the next page,” Derek reaches for the album and Laura snatches it away abruptly.
Standing quickly, Laura breezes out “Well, why don’t you two enjoy some time together, I’ll just go finish up dinner, ok? Great.” She rushes from the room, carefully clutching the book of memories, Derek and Stiles’ laughter chasing her.
Derek and Stiles settle into the couch, catching their breath, still tucked into each other, and Derek raises their clasped hands to place a kiss where their knuckles are slotted together. Stiles turns his head to look at him, and they spend a long moment just looking at each other, smiling.
It’s quiet, just the muted sound of Laura moving around the kitchen in the background, and Derek thinks he’s probably the happiest he’s ever been with where his life is right now.
Stiles breaks the quiet, because of course he does, and Derek smiles at him indulgently as he speaks. “You know, babe, I meant it. Tiny Derek was a-dorable. But,” he says swinging one leg over Derek’s lap so that he is straddling him, looping both arms around Derek’s neck, “but that you kept your Solo cosplay history a secret from me is a problem. We could have been winning couples costume contests for years at this point!”
Derek rolls his eyes fondly, and Stiles squawks indignantly as Derek rocks his hips up quickly, setting Stiles off balance and making him fall into Derek’s chest. Derek uses the proximity to capture Stiles’ lips, and soon they’re both humming happily into one another’s mouths.
When Laura comes in an indeterminate amount of time later, Derek has Stiles pressed into the couch, one leg on either side of Stiles’ and their hips are moving slowly together. Hands are buried in soft hair and snuck up under colored cotton, and their lips are still very much fused together. Laura’s cry of “Dinner’s rea- Oh god! What did I ever do to you! My eyes!” echoes after her quickly retreating footsteps, and Derek and Stiles once again fall together laughing.
Stiles slaps at Derek’s shoulder, “You totally did that on purpose to get back at her for the pictures, you jerk,” he teases without any heat, dragging his nose along Derek’s cheek.
Derek adopts an offended expression, “I have no idea what you’re implying. I just like kissing you,” he punctuates his assertion with a kiss to Stiles’ jaw. Stiles chuckles, clearly unconvinced.
With one hands on either side of Derek’s face, Stiles places a quick peck on his mouth. “Good answer. But I am proud of your petty revenge tactics. You’ve learned so much from me, it’s touching,” Stiles wipes a non-existent tear from his own cheek and Derek rolls his eyes again and gingerly climbs off his boyfriend, and then the couch, offering the former his hand.
Derek helps pull Stiles from the couch, and calls to Laura that it’s safe to come out grin wherever she’s hiding. To Stiles, he adds “Yeah, well, we’ll have to get it out of our systems before we have kids, right,” a grin splits his face at the surprise on Stiles face. He grabs for Stiles’ hand and starts to turn to lead them to the dinner table when Stiles squeezes his hand tightly and murmurs something Derek doesn’t quite catch. “What was that,” he asks, concern creasing his brow.
Stiles swallows thickly and looks at Derek like he hung the moon, “You really want that with me? Kids, I mean?”
Derek is startled by the awe in his voice, he’d thought it was pretty obvious, so he tells Stiles so. “I thought you knew by now,” he says, pulling Stiles close, “that I want everything with you.”
They’re kissing again, slow and intense when Laura wanders back towards the kitchen. “Oh, for Pete’s sake!”
The combined volume of their laughter is no match for Laura’s “I’ll be eating in my room!”
Stiles takes a much needed gulp of air and manages to say “Oh god, I need to see the Pippi picture! Do you think she his the album?”
Laura bellows from behind her bedroom door “You’ll never find it, Stilinski!”
Stiles mock whispers to Derek, “I’m a sheriff’s kid. I have ways.” They dissolve into a riot of hysterics, and as Stiles collapses against him, his head against Derek’s shoulder and arms draped around him, Derek is absolutely certain that he’s never been happier.
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