pale-silver-comb:

Okay, but can we all just take a moment to think about Stiles’ unhealthy worshipping of Derek’s ass? Like, it gets to the point he uses it as a pillow. He drools on it. Derek would find the whole thing utterly disgusting but Stiles is kind of adorable when he is all tuckered out and drooling- lord help him, he’s sickeningly in love and he hates it. 

Alright, but here’s the thing. Here’s the fucking thing. Derek may or may not have led Stiles to believe he doesn’t like to bottom because he is super nervous, okay? He’s nervous because he watches as Stiles falls apart under him, blissed out and exposed, and he trusts Stiles to take care of him but he’s never given himself over like that to anyone. He’s spent so long making sure he doesn’t appear vulnerable to anyone and while in his darkest moments he always turns to Stiles, he’s still not good at letting himself be vulnerable. 

And of course Stiles finds out, like he always does. Derek isn’t as stealthy as he thinks. It starts out with Stiles being a dork and nuzzling Derek’s ass because “it’s an ass for cuddling, Derek. You don’t understand.” And he nuzzles some more and then he play bites and Derek lets out the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard himself make, dick hardening far too quickly for his own liking. He wants to be happy in the knowledge Stiles doesn’t have werewolf senses to smell how turned on he is just from a little “nuzzling” but Stiles has always had more perception than any werewolf anyway and before he knows it, Derek is being turned on his back and Stiles’ eyes are sweeping over his face and…lower. 

He’s not smug though, like Derek thinks he will be. And that makes something in Derek break because…well, he doesn’t really know. All he knows is Stiles is looking at him like Derek is Han Solo and Leia all wrapped up in one and he couldn’t want for anything more. He’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon and Derek just….he really isn’t aware of himself as he spreads his legs, asking, nervous, trembling slightly. Stiles asks, “are you sure?” and Derek nods, says, “please” and gives Stiles a look he hopes he’ll understand. The one that says I’m scared. The one that says I trust you. The one that says only you. 

And Stiles understands. Of course he does. He always does. And he takes Derek apart. Slowly, surely, making sure to hold Derek when his body starts shaking, kissing him softly and often, praising him and telling Derek it’s okay to be clingy. That he’s here. And Derek wants to say it’s not okay, but then he would be a hypocrite. Because that is exactly what he tells Stiles all the time. That Derek loves how clingy Stiles is. Because Stiles has never been allowed to be clingy. He’s never been given back the love he always gives and Derek wants to spend the rest of his life making Stiles understand he loves him for everything he is, not just parts of him. That he loves his loud mouth and his curiosity and how much he rambles during sex and movies. Things Derek knows Stiles gets anxious about even though he doesn’t let on and Derek wants to murder all the people who ever made Stiles feel unworthy. Like second choice. 

Which is why he knows he has to let Stiles do the same. That he has to try his hardest to listen when Stiles says he’ll never leave him. That Derek is kind and beautiful and nothing was his fault. That when he slides inside him it’s okay to let the tears come because Stiles is right there with him and won’t let him fall. And it’s so fucking beautiful that when Derek comes he doesn’t quite see stars, but he sees something. Peace, maybe. Happiness. Love. All the things he thought he’d never feel again, right there in front of him. Tangible. His. 

Stiles.