Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles had been flirting with Derek all night. 

The double date was boring. Anne from the mechanic shop was apparently a lot of fun at work, but taking her to a restaurant with her fiancé Steve sucked everything interesting out of her. She was preoccupied making sure that Steve didn’t say anything homophobic and brushing off his awkwardness. Stiles didn’t have the patience for it. And Derek looked so hot in his fancy shirt. 

Stiles couldn’t help but undo the top two buttons before they left and Derek had left them like that with a smirk on his face. The bastard knew how hot he was, how his arms filled out the sleeves and how the sight of Derek’s chest hair made Stiles want to rip his shirt in half. 

Stiles ignored Steve’s boring story and moved his hand under the table to rest on the inside of Derek’s thigh. Stiles smoothly raised his glass of wine with the other hand - proud of himself - but almost spilled it when Derek’s thick legs slowly squeezed together. Those legs. Stiles wanted Derek’s strong, hairy thighs to squeeze his skull like a watermelon. 

Dessert couldn’t come fast enough. Stiles was debating faking some sort of illness but it would be a whole ordeal to figure out how to pay them back for the bill, but then Derek excused himself to use the washroom. 

Stiles did, too. 

He slipped into the single stall before Derek could lock it. “Stiles!” Derek hissed. 

“Wait, do you actually have to piss? I thought you were just -“ 

Derek pushed him against the sink and kissed him. “Shut up.” 

“Because I can leave if you need to -“ 

Derek grabbed his cock firmly, which made Stiles squeak. It also revealed how hard he was from this interaction alone. “Shut up, Stiles.” 

Stiles grinned. “Make me.” Their teeth knocked together a bit when they kissed. 

Stiles ended up in one of his favourite situations - with Derek’s big hairy thighs over his shoulders and Derek’s cock in his mouth. It might have been just a few inches long but Derek sure knew how to use it and Stiles loved getting his face fucked more than pretty much anything. Judging by the wetness on Stiles’s chin, Derek enjoyed the face fucking quite a bit as well.

Stiles came up for air. He was impressed at how quiet Derek was managing to be and discovered the werewolf holding his own hand over his mouth. “Can I finger you a bit?” 

Derek growled a bit and nodded, which Stiles took to mean fuck yes.

Stiles returned to his job - his calling, his gift from God - and continued to suck his boyfriend’s dick. He reached down and gently slid one then two fingers into Derek’s front hole, bending them back while he hollowed his cheeks, and it didn’t take long for Derek to come in his mouth with a stifled groan. 

Stiles helped him stand on unsteady legs and tidy himself up a bit. Once he had his pants back on and his shirt buttoned up, Derek only looked a little obviously like he’d just been fucking in the bathroom. 

Stiles shooed him away and spent a few minutes splashing cold water on his face and thinking about Scott’s stupid dad before his erection softened. He used to think about the times someone had held a gun to his forehead but then signals started to get mixed and Derek liked to tie him up sometimes but gunplay was probably not a healthy choice for either of them. Rafeal McCall, though? He would never bring Stiles anything but annoyance and hatred. No one could hold a grudge like a Stilinski. 

When Stiles returned to the table, Anne and Steve were pretending they weren’t quietly fighting and Derek was carefully cutting a sticky toffee pudding in half with his fork. When Stiles sat down, his angel of a werewolf moved the plate over so they could share. “I love you so much,” Stiles said with a sticky toffee kiss. 

When the dinner was finally over, Stiles and Derek lied about having a good time and Anne lied about how it was nice to get together. 

“Never again,” Stiles said as he put his key in the ignition. The jeep started in one smooth motion thanks to his sexy mechanic boyfriend’s loving care. 

“Yeah, that sucked.” Derek adjusted the radio until he found the news. Stiles might not have access to police radio anymore but he liked to know what was going on. 

Stiles grinned. “I was good, though, wasn’t I?” 

Derek grabbed his chin. “You were very good.” His kiss was a filthy promise. 

When they got home Stiles smoked a joint on the balcony while Derek took a shower. The condo wasn’t their ‘dream house’ by any chance but it was nice - an easy drive to the police station and a nice walk to the mechanic shop. Scott lived next door and Stiles’s dad came over every Friday for supper. Cora was moving back to Beacon Hills in the next few months. Stiles hoped she and Derek could work things out. 

Stiles’s thoughts were drifting a little when Derek stepped out of the shower. The werewolf made a displeased sound. 

“Hey, it’s literally why we got the balcony,” Stiles pointed out, but he also extinguished and covered what was left of the joint before stepping into the bedroom.

“I hate that smell.” Derek was wearing a towel around his hips and his hair was still damp. He had trimmed his beard a little. He looked delicious. 

Stiles wiggled his butt. “Punish me.” Derek grabbed him by the hips and wrestled him to the ground. “Oh, big bad wolf -“ Stiles started to tease but he was interrupted by his own laughter as Derek’s hands moved relentlessly under his armpits, his ribs, behind his knees. 

“I’ll punish you, alright,” Derek growled and didn’t stop tickling him until Stiles was gasping for breath. Then he stood up and left Stiles on the rug, grabbing the towel from where it had fallen and putting it back around his hips.

“No!” Stiles whined, still breathing heavily. But he smiled, too, because he had gotten a glimpse of how their little tussle had affected Derek. The werewolf loved to pin him down almost as much as he loved throwing Stiles around. 

Derek rolled his eyes and then tossed the towel at Stiles’s head. “Yes!” Stiles cheered, flinging it off so he could get a look at Derek’s perfect, hairy asscheeks. 

“You’re being very confusing, Stiles.” Derek said, opening their bedside drawer. 

“I’ve been told that.” 

“I thought you wanted a reward.” 

Stiles scrambled to his knees. “Yes, I was very good at that very boring dinner. Please, Derek.” 

Derek smiled and began to fasten the harness around his hips and thighs. Stiles sat on the bed next to him, feeling very warm and very clothed. “Are you actually mad at me about smoking?” Stiles asked. 

Derek finished adjusting the strap on and then put both hands on Stiles’s stubbled cheeks. “No, I’m not. You can do whatever the hell you want.” He leaned forward until their lips almost touched. “And I know how much you enjoy being a little stoned while I fuck you.” 

“It just feels so nice, Der.” 

“Then take off your clothes, sweet thing.” 

Stiles was a little self-conscious of his body. It was difficult growing up around strong, muscular werewolves and feeling gangly and weak in comparison. Sure, he had muscles of his own, broad shoulders and big hands. But he was also covered in scars. He didn’t heal back to perfection after a fight like his supernatural peers. 

The only scars on Derek’s body were from his top surgery. Werewolf healing was mostly a gift but could also be a curse when it came to 'elective' procedures. Derek’s parents had to fly halfway across the country to a werewolf specialist who worked with fire and surgical instruments in order to stop the body from healing during the procedure. It was kind of like when he got his tattoo but more medical and less common. Stiles wished everything in Derek’s life didn’t have to come with so much pain. 

Derek helped him take off his flannel and pull his t-shirt over his head. The hungry look in his boyfriend’s eyes helped to banish any self-conscious thoughts. Stiles pushed his jeans off and then Derek pounced on him and straddled his hips, the silicone penis proudly erect and pressing into Stiles’s thigh. 

Derek put his hand firmly on Stiles’s erection, on top of his boxers and just pinned him there for a second. Stiles felt like prey but also like a prized possession. Derek leaned down and kissed him. Stiles let himself drift in sensation - the warm weight of Derek, the wet slide of his tongue, the scratch of his beard. 

“Come back,” Derek said. A gentle command. 

“I’m here.” 

“Good.” 

Derek pulled the waistband of Stiles’s underwear down. The pleasure of his cock free from the fabric was quickly followed by a jolt of pain as Derek let the elastic snap against his balls. “I’m here! I said I’m here!” Stiles protested.

“Just checking.” Derek pulled his underwear off and quickly went to work, taking Stiles’s dick in his mouth and stretching his hole open at the same time with talented, slick fingers. 

Then he was hitching Stiles’s legs up and pushing in. He fucked him like this for a while, pressing scratchy kisses to his calves and gripping his thighs. “God, I love your legs,” Derek growled. Stiles laughed. 

“I know, big guy.” 

“Do you want me to stop saying it?” 

“No.” Stiles began to fidget, trying to hook Derek with his ankles and pull him closer. 

Derek stopped moving and ran soothing hands through the soft hair on Stiles’s belly. “What do you want?” 

“Let me -“ Derek pulled out and allowed Stiles to move them. Stiles pushed the werewolf to the headboard and fussed about with pillows behind Derek’s back before finally straddling his lap and sinking down onto him. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders and grinded down. Derek began to kiss his neck and nuzzle up to his jaw. “Oh, yes,” Stiles groaned. Derek reached between them to stroke Stiles’s cock, but Stiles slapped him away. 

Derek laughed low in his chest. “Okay.” 

Stiles sometimes joked that Derek Hale was his hyperfixation. On nights like this, though, it didn’t feel like a joke or even an exaggeration. He didn’t want Derek to stroke him off because then he would be thinking about his dick and he just wanted to get lost in Derek - the sounds he made, the feeling of his body, how warm he always was. So, Derek gave him what he wanted and gently fucked up into him, holding him close and biting his shoulders, licking the sweat from his neck. He told Stiles how much he loved him, how lucky he was. Stiles just shut his eyes and tried to get as close to Derek as possible. 

“I want to live right there,” Stiles said and placed his palm on Derek’s hairy chest. 

“What do you mean?” 

Stiles was barely moving at this point, sometimes shifting so the strap would press on his prostate, but basically just wrapping himself around Derek. The werewolf didn’t seem to mind. His hands continued to rub up and down Stiles’s back and his expression was open and soft. “I’ll live in your ribcage, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It will be nice and warm there.”

“Mhm.”

“And any time someone tries to hurt your heart I’ll just punch ‘em before they get too close.”

Derek laughed again. It was Stiles’s favorite sound in the entire world. “Come here,” he said, then eased Stiles off his dick before lying them both down and covering them with the blanket. “Your feet were getting cold,” Derek explained. His green eyes were so beautiful up close. Stiles couldn't help but kiss him. He also couldn’t help but grab his ass a little bit. 

“Warm me up, then.”

Derek growled playfully and then he was under the covers and Stiles’s cock was deep in the warm wetness of his mouth. “Fuck. Derek, yes. Just like that.”

It didn’t take very long before he was coming down Derek’s throat. It didn’t take very long after that for him to fall asleep. 

**

Stiles kind of accidentally proposed in the morning. He was making scrambled eggs and thinking about the future and then he asked, “Do you want to get married?”

He heard Derek almost spit out his coffee. “Uh…”

Stiles turned around to face him. “Wait. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… is that something that you’ve, like, always dreamed of? Or is being married to someone not that important? Not necessarily me. Just, in general.”

Derek wiped latte foam from his beard. “Okay. Well, no. Weddings seem mostly stressful, to be honest. I don’t really see the need to do a whole event. What about you?”

Stiles shrugs. “I could take it or leave it. Not really important to me.”

“Cool.”

“Stiles, they’re burning. The eggs!”

Stiles tried to recover breakfast by putting a bunch of shredded cheese in the slightly burned eggs and slathering the whole thing in ketchup. He wasn't sure he was able to recover this conversation, though. He felt stupid. He and Derek had been dating for a little over two years and everything was great but then he had to make things weird. Stiles wasn’t one to half-ass anything and he had fallen for Derek really hard and really fast. But with Derek’s trauma and general attachment style, saying things like that might scare him away. He didn’t want Derek to think he was rushing big decisions or demanding anything of him. Derek didn’t have a lot of experience dating people with no ulterior motives. 

Derek was frowning at the countertop. Stiles put his plate in front of him and began to apologize. “I’m sorry -”

“Do you want to have kids?” Derek asked. His green eyes were intense when he looked up at Stiles. He seemed stoic in his regular nervous way, not scared. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I do. One day.”

“Me, too.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” Derek’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Cool.”

They ate breakfast. Stiles put the news on the television. But he couldn’t focus on what the newscaster was saying. Because Derek wanted to have a family. With him. Probably.

And that was… very cool.