Whenever he’d thought about it (and let’s face it, he’d thought about it a lot), Stiles had always imagined that his first time with Derek would be something kind of, well, romantic. Sexy, hell yes, but romantic. He’d expected lingering kisses and tender caresses. He’d expected mutual undressing and a lot of staring (mostly on his part) at each other’s naked bodies. He’d expected (when he’d let himself really got lost in it, because hey, fantasy here) declarations of love, or at least of strong like. He’d expected a bed, at the very least.
He hadn’t expected to end up against a wall with Derek sucking on his neck while simultaneously unbuckling his jeans. Not that he’d minded; hell, he’d been the one to tear (literally tear, he’s pretty sure he’ll get a look about it later) Derek’s shirt off while trying to get him naked as fast as humanly possible. He’d also been the one to break the clinch long enough to grab the condom and lube he’d been keeping on him for just such a purpose and push them both into Derek’s hand. Derek had paused, blinking those fucking gorgeous eyes at him, and whispered, “Now? Here?”
Come to think of it, he’d also been the one to push Derek back against the wall and pant, “Yes, here.”
Okay, so maybe it’s not all Derek. But in Stiles’s defense, he’s barely eighteen (and legal now, thanks) and Derek is fucking hot, and also started it by undoing Stiles’s damn jeans in the first place. So really, they’re both to blame here. But damn if it doesn’t matter, not when Derek’s mouthing at the back of his neck and rubbing his erection against the curve of Stiles’s ass. Stiles can barely stay on his feet, he’s so turned on, but the bed is a good ten feet away (way too fucking far) and there’s no way in hell he’s moving from this spot, especially not when Derek breathes out his name and slides two well-lubed fingers inside of him.
shealwaysreads 