Stiles shimmied a little, obviously trying to be sexy, but almost fell off the bed and eventually just dragged his jocks down over his thighs and.
“Oh,” Derek heard himself say. They’d been kissing a lot over the last few weeks, and there’d been a couple of mutual in-the-pants orgasms that eventuated after said kissing turned into frotting, but. Well. They’d made a promise to each other that they’d only move along the physical side of what they were doing further if they had the time and space to do it properly.
Derek hadn’t yet touched more than Stiles’ face or neck or that tiny bit of skin above the waistband of his jeans. He’d found it easier than he thought it might be to not cross the line. He wanted to do it right, to not pop his claws and slit his way beneath Stiles’ jeans to take a hold of what would bring his mate the most pleasure.
And they were mates, that was no longer a question.
They’d skirted the issue of their mutual attraction until they’d met a seer when Derek was visiting Stiles at school. The man had walked past them in a coffee shop on campus, but not made it more than three steps until he’d come back and said, And it is seen to be real that true mates do stay near each other, even when they try to deny their bond. Waste not the possibility, wolf, you are his best chance for happiness, and he yours, and then continued on his way.
They’d kissed that afternoon, Stiles pushing Derek against the graffiti-covered wall of the old Science block of his university. Derek had marked his neck, and Stiles had bitten his, and.
Now it was weeks later, and having not touched more of Stiles body than the aforementioned face, neck and sliver of belly, Derek could finally, after years of waiting, see all of his mate lain out for the touching and tasting and. He really, really wanted to scent every surface of Stiles, inside and out.
“Oh?” Stiles repeated back. “Is that a good oh? It kind of didn’t sound like a good oh.” His legs had stilled, jocks stuck just under one knee, but free of the other completely.
Derek breathed in everything he could and tried for a soft, but definite answer. “It was, and is, a very good oh.” He leaned forward, hands each side of Stiles head, holding his chest up as he used his foot to flick his own jeans and shorts off. “You’re not cut.”
Stiles cheeks pinked and the warmth in his skin bloomed down his neck and over his clavicles and attempted to reach as close as it could to his nipples. Derek dropped his head an inch and pressed his lips against Stiles’ own, just.
“I. Yeah,” Stiles mumbled, pushing up and deepening the contact for a moment. He pulled back and said, “I asked Dad about it in junior high when I finally realized I was a bit different to most of the other guys. Apparently my mother spoke loudly at hospital about leaving me whole. She was quite adamant that cutting off a perfectly healthy piece of a child was not something she condoned.”
Derek sat back, levering himself up with his arms, and settling his knees either side of Stiles hips. He parked his naked ass on his heels and ran his hands down Stiles’ sides and over his hips and down along the length of his thighs. Stiles sucked in air and the hair on his legs and belly and arms stood up a little higher. His cock twitched and settled a little thicker.
“I get the feeling you’ve heard ohs before and they weren’t good?” Derek shook his head when Stiles nodded, almost imperceptibly, then let himself smile. “It would be really hypocritical of me to do that, of course, but besides that, I want you either way, Stiles. I want you fat or thin. I want you tanned or pale. I want you bald or with your hair a wild mop of terror backed up by that absurdity you called a beard last Christmas.” Derek reached down and took one of Stiles’ hands, sliding fingers into the spaces between fingers, feeling calluses and scars and that hang-nail Stiles had been worrying at all morning with his teeth, then lifted it to kiss away what he could. “I want you.”
Tag: uncut!stiles
15, Sterek?
You wanted “trembling hands” + Sterek and an anon requested flaccid dick playing forever ago, so I’m killing two birds with one stone.
It’s past midnight when Derek finally comes home but the light is still on in the living room. As soon as he steps inside, he picks up the quiet heartbeat of his husband, his breathing is peaceful and even. Obviously, Stiles hasn’t heard him come home. He’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, the book he was reading face down on his chest. Derek smiles fondly at the sight.
He rarely has the chance to see him so quiescent and at peace. When he’s awake, Stiles is a whirlwind, all flailing limbs and rapid thud-thuds in his chest, rarely placid or still. Even now, with a sliver of grey on his temples and a few more laughter lines on his face. Stiles is the storm, Derek is his anchor, the tree that stands proud and strong when the wind storms, tortured and restless. Other times, Stiles is the gentle and mischievous breeze that rattles and caresses his leaves.
Derek is not in a hurry to wake him up, drinking the sight in front of him.
Stiles’ always-so-tempting pink lips are barely parted, his lashes casting a subtle shadow on his mole-dotted cheeks. It’s a familiar sight, but Derek never gets tired of it. Stiles was obviously waiting for his return, reading on the couch in his pyjamas.
Derek’s eyes travel lazily over the fabric when he sees it. The leg of Stiles’ pyjama shorts has rid so far up that his dick has escaped its confine and is now visible, the heavy head still hidden by the foreskin is resting on the crease of his leg. It looks irresistibly soft and vulnerable. His lightly furred balls are just as tempting, full and tight under the velvety wrinkled skin of the sack. Derek has always found Stiles’ balls to be particularly pretty. He likes to pet them tenderly when he sucks Stiles’ dick. Far be it from Stiles to complain about Derek’s slightly odd fondness for his balls. On the contrary.
Derek glances at Stiles’ face, he’s still sleeping and showing no signs of waking up. Derek can’t resist the temptation. He falls to his knees as quietly as possible, hoping that Stiles won’t wake up just yet and let him enjoy this for a bit.
Derek leans in and breathes in the familiar scent of musky skin. It’s mouth-wateringly warm and inviting. Derek licks his lips in anticipation, he gently lowers his hand on Stiles’ thigh, careful not to frighten him lest he wake up suddenly. Now is not the time to get his jaw fractured again.
Derek starts peppering featherlight kisses on the ballsack, nuzzling the shaft and enjoying the incredibly silky-smooth feeling on his lips. He keeps his touch gentle, letting himself be overwhelmed by his senses. Lost in his ministrations, he doesn’t notice Stiles waking up until he feels the light touch of a hand on his scalp. Derek looks up and smiles.
“Hello” whispers Stiles, voice raspy from sleep, a soft and fond look in his eyes. Derek winks in response and starts licking in earnest.
Stiles moans quietly under Derek’s tender assault, his hand still delicately ruffling Derek’s hair. Stiles is hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Derek’s insistent tongue being the only thing his still cottony mind can focus on. Good. So good.
Derek on the other hand is slowly losing his mind, fueled by Stiles’ irresistible scent. His hands pawing at Stiles’ shirt are trembling from barely restrained desire, eager to uncover more skin. His dick is pulsing in his jeans, the head rubbing against the zipper in the most delicious way as he shifts on his knees. He feels himself getting wetter by the second. God, he hasn’t felt so ravenous for Stiles in a while but tonight he can’t seem to get enough of him. His lips quiver with lust as he finally takes Stiles in his mouth. He wants to choke on him, to let himself drown. He grunts with contentment when Stiles’ cockhead hits the back of his throat.
Stiles whimpers, fully awake now. It would be impossible not to with how increasingly vocal Derek has been since he arrived and in lieu of saying hello has started mouthing at his balls. Which could be considered weird – if Stiles had any fuck left to give about this thing called normality. He lives in Beacon Hills after all and his husband is a werewolf. A werewolf who is wickedly good with his mouth. Stiles has got no complain, none at all.
“Fuuuuck, Derek, come here”, he whispers urgently.
Derek awkwardly climbs on Stiles lap, eager to lose himself in his mouth. Stiles unbuttons him as fast as possible and wraps a hand around them both. It doesn’t take long for Derek to come, Stiles follows into ecstasy mere seconds later. Derek is still shaking and gasping when Stiles fondly pats his back and nuzzles into his neck.
“I missed you.”
“Me too.”
shealwaysreads 