poetry-protest-pornography:

This is for the lovely @crossroadswrite, who made me   inspired me to continue this ficlet. (It’s probably best if you read that first, but the premise is that Cora is listening on the other side of Derek’s bedroom door and hears more than she bargained for).

Enjoy!

(also tagging @pale-silver-comb, because I feel like you’ll enjoy it, and could use some Sterek-y goodness)

P.S. I attempted a read more link? I apologize if it doesn’t work!

***********

As the door to Derek’s bedroom closed behind them, Stiles felt the familiar mix of relief and anxiety that always accompanied time alone with his best friend. On one hand, it was awesome to not have to share Derek with anyone else, to not have to compete for his attention. Not that it was actually a contest, Derek never ignored him, or chose anyone else over Stiles in anything, but Stiles tried not to monopolize all Derek’s time. Really, he did.

It just never worked. Every time Stiles stayed quiet too long, or tried to put physical distance between them (a necessity for his own sanity, sometimes) Derek would drag him back into the conversation with a “What do you think, Stiles,” or literally drag him closer with an arm around his shoulder, or a hand on the back of his neck. It was ridiculous. And endearing. And that, that is the reason for the anxiety.

Because Derek was his best friend, the best person Stiles knew, and Stiles was absolutely crazy in love with him. Derek had no idea what the casual touching and the constant, sincere attention and his stupid, beautiful smile where his little bunny teeth peeked out from under his lip did to Stiles. No idea how torturous and incredible it was to be the focus of that much affection from someone like Derek Hale.

And Stiles has no idea how to turn it off. How to stop being enamored with his best friend. How to stop the ache in his chest whenever the idea of Derek dating someone else crossed his mind. Earlier that day, Kate, Allison’s aunt had come to pick Ally up after school and she had been all over Derek. Derek was clearly uncomfortable (Kate was a few years older, and had clearly never given subtlety much thought), and a little oblivious, but someday he’d stop being so clueless and flirt back with someone, and Stiles was terrified of that day. He didn’t know how to be Stiles without being Derek’s.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t have his usual self control, there had to be some explanation for why he started a conversation that could potentially lead to sex, let alone gay sex. Something Stiles avoided even thinking about around Derek for fear of revealing himself. But he was on edge, so as he settled himself on Derek’s desk chair, carefully avoiding his bed, he found himself blurting out “So, who do you think tops? Danny, or his new boyfriend?” He isn’t sure who looks more surprised, Derek or himself.

                                            #####

Derek was pretty sure today couldn’t get any weirder. Stiles had been acting strange, sitting far away from Derek, keeping unusually quiet. He’d been doing that more and more lately, and Derek hated it.

He knew that the way he felt about his best friend was more than friendly, and that the need he had for the other boy to be close was probably a little possessive, but Stiles just made him happy. And this was usually his favorite thing; just him and Stiles, facing an afternoon of video games and enjoying each other’s company, alone except for the occasional interrupting sibling.

Today though, Stiles was being weird. He was stiff and awkward when Derek would throw an arm over his shoulder, it only lasted a split second, but it was so unlike Stiles, it felt like ages. And when Allison’s aunt had been talking to him that afternoon, touching him for uncomfortable seconds for reasons Derek didn’t understand, Stiles had approached him almost cautiously, a weary crease to his brow that made Derek confused. He was always so attuned to Stiles, he had automatically looked up as he had walked toward him and Kate, and Derek had felt a flash of giddy relief that his best friend was there to rescue him from the older woman’s strange attention.

But Stiles had had that face. Though, when Derek called to him and slung an arm over his shoulder he’d relaxed, it’s reassurance didn’t settle all the way through Derek, and he was worried that Stiles had figured his feelings out.

Still, there was the familiar relief of closing the bedroom door, of stealing Stiles away from the rest of the world and getting to bask in his attention.

Derek was wholly unprepared for the non sequitur about Danny and his new boyfriend. If he had been drinking, he’s certain he’d have spit it everywhere, as it was, he practically choked on his own shock. “What,” he doesn’t quite manage to make it a question, but Stiles answers anyway.

“Um, I just was thinking about- I mean, not that I think about Danny that way, I just,” Derek can barely hear what he’s saying really, because the flush of pink that is painting Stiles’ face and neck is very distracting, and he wonders if Stiles’ skin feels warm where it’s blushing. And he’s always thought Stiles nervous rambles were kind odd adorable, and the loudest thing in the world in that moment is the thundering mantra of Don’t think about sex and Stiles don’t think about sex with Stiles don’t think about sex don’t that is playing on a loop in Derek’s head. That is, until Stiles says “I mean if it was us, then it’d be me on top obviously, but I’m not sure with Danny.”

Derek is positive he misheard, but even though he’s now confronted with the idea of sex with Stiles and Stiles inside of him, and it’s all in Stiles unexpectedly deep rumble of a voice, well, he can be forgiven when all he can manage is a squeaky “What,” that he meant to sound incredulous.

When Stiles answers, overly excited and cocky with “Dude, I’d totally be the top if we had sex,” Derek manages to get his brain back online enough to know he should redirect the conversation, but what comes out instead is an argumentative “No way, man. It’d definitely be me, I mean I know it’s not how these things are decided, but my dick is bigger, so..,” his voice sounds strained, too high, the mental image of Stiles’ dick now replacing the anti-sex mantra in his mind wiping out any sort of control he has over his speech.

But he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, because when Stiles responds, his voice is equally odd, and a little thrill runs through Derek at the possibility that Stiles is having the same troubles he is., because Stiles’ “No way, Der. My dick is definitely bigger. I mean, I’m sure yours is perfect-” sounds almost wistful, and his face is soft and dreamy for a half a breath before he scrambles to tack on a hasty  “-ly nice! Perfectly nice! But mine is like. Big, ok.”

Derek takes a deep breath and swallows heavily before he attempts to speak again, and when what comes out of his mouth is a challenging “Prove it,” in a tone that no one could mistake for anything other than curious and hungry, he is just as surprised as Stiles, who lets out a small, startled sound. Their eyes are locked now, and Derek tries not to read anything into the hot look that Stiles is giving him. Stiles nods and drops his hands to his belt, gesturing with a tilt of his head and a quirked brow for Derek to follow suit.

For a moment, the room is silent save for the quiet rustle of denim and cotton, the soft clink of belt buckles hitting the floor, and the increasingly ragged breathing of two teenage boys about to be mostly naked with their best friend. When they both stand in t-shirts and boxer briefs, Stiles’ emblazoned with the bat signal, and Derek’s Superman’s symbol, a running gag between the two of them, they stand staring at each other for a long, taut moment with fingers hooked in their waistbands and their breaths coming fast and too loud in the stillness of the moment.

Stiles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips and Derek’s eyes trace the movement hungrily, he is pretty sure he manages to suppress the whimper that he feels trying to escape, but then Stiles pulls down his underwear and Derek’s mind is full of white noise and all he can do is gasp in awe, because “Holy shit, Stiles. You’re huge!” And he really is. Stiles’ dick is long and heavy looking, a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair makes the pale, flushed skin stand out enticingly, and Derek has to fight the urge to drop to his knees and test its weight on his tongue.

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