Tag: not!sterek

likeairplanelights:

it’s like Derek can’t breathe. He can feel every slow movement of Stiles’ fingers inside him and it’s killing him. Stiles takes his time, not adding more fingers until Derek is begging for it, pleading for it, until Derek’s eyes are wet, until his thighs are shaking. If Derek could focus his vision, he’d see that Stiles isn’t unaffected by this, would see Stiles’ bottom lip bitten red, the muscles in his arm twitching as he teases Derek.

Derek’s tugging at his own hair, his voice cracking and he can’t — he feels Stiles’ breath on his skin as he travels down Derek’s body. Pressing his fingers inside Derek again and again, Stiles ghosts his mouth over the head of Derek’s cock, darts his tongue out to lick, just once.

The whine that echoes from Derek’s mouth is foreign to his own ears, he’s never made a sound like that before, has never had anyone like Stiles in his bed before.

“Could you come like this?” Stiles asks, when he straightens up, his voice raw against Derek’s jaw. “Only my fingers inside you. Nothing else.”

“Ye—yeah,” Derek croaks out. “I—fuck.”

Stiles keeps going, works his way up until all four fingers are inside Derek and Derek’s limbs are heavy, shaking with pleasure, needing Stiles to keep going, to keep—until—Stiles bites down on Derek’s neck hard enough to draw blood and—

Derek blacks out. He knows he blacks out because the next thing he’s aware of is Stiles gently wiping him down with a damp washcloth.

“Hey,” Stiles says, kissing the inside of Derek’s thigh. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“You too,” Derek says hoarsely, reaching a sore arm down to touch Stiles face. “You too.”

likeairplanelights:

“It’s art, Derek.”

“It’s porn.”

“It’s us.”

Derek raises his head from the copy of Cosmo Lydia left behind and looks at Stiles. “No,” he says before looking back at the magazine.

“Please?” Stiles says, widening his eyes. He pouts a little as well, trying to cover all his bases. “It’d be hot. You could get your hands on my junk.”

“I get my hands on your junk all the time, Stiles.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and clambers onto the couch, kicking his feet into Derek’s lap. “But this would be forever. You’d have proof,” he says, poking Derek’s thigh with his toe.

“Proof of what?”

“Proof that you own me.”

Derek glances over at him, his eyes dark. “I don’t own you.”

“You do, though.” Stiles gets to his knees and crawls closer to Derek, pushes the magazine away and climbs onto his lap. “You own me. Like I own you.”

“Stiles —”

Stiles presses a finger against Derek’s lips. “Just — think about it? For me?”

frek:

#stiles kneeling at derek’s feet#aiming the camera up because he’s still amazed how fucking beautiful derek is#and then he puts the camera down#and tugs at the waistband of derek’s jeans#fingertips brushing against the hair#smirking up at derek when he finally gets derek’s cock out#giving derek a blow job on the balcony of their hotel#getting derek’s dick all in his mouth#running his tongue up and down derek’s cock#getting derek right to the brink and then pulling off#standing up and pressing his body against derek’s#gripping derek’s cock with one hand and jerking him slowly#kissing derek softly#swallowing each noise that comes out of his mouth#until derek is shaking#coming apart because of what stiles is doing#these tags got away from me (via likeairplanelights – x)