Title: Warm Hands
Rating: T / Borderline M
Summary: In which Stiles does yoga, Derek is a masseur, and Scott is a cockblocker. Stiles/Derek.
Warning: OOC-ness, smut, man-on-man sexy time, & bad humor. :D
Notes: WHY ARE THERE NO GOOD STORIES OF THESE TWO? *cries in corner* Well, season 1 ended and I am sad. :C Soooo I wrote this. It's not that great, but I was half-awake when I did this and I've been busy with getting ready for work and school so my brain is just so wargh. R&R? If enough people like it I'll write more.
Other: If you like this and want more, let me know. Include what pairings you want to see. I like more slash pairings on this show (lol), like, for example, Scott/Jackson, more Derek/Stiles, Jackson/Stiles, Derek/Jackson, Peter/Stiles…uh actually I think that's it. Hahaha. But throw me some pairing ideas! :3
PS: Just a short story written for the purpose of writing some Stiles/Derek smut. Don't take it too seriously. Herpaderp. :D
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch…"
The constant monotonous words left the mouth of Stiles, who seemed to be struggling unwinding himself from the current yoga position he was in. Lydia had convinced him to go to class with her (mostly because she convinced Allison who, of course, convinced Scott) so of course he went. She looked so cute when he met up with her, what with her fire-red hair in that tempting bun and her pale thighs exposed from her dark pink shorts…
Of course his delight didn't last long; after a while of drooling at Lydia's hot bod, he was forced to begin twisting in impossible positions and god it hurt. He didn't hold back with his grunts and groans and yelps, which earned him glares from Lydia and small smiles from an amused Scott. Being a werewolf, of course Scott was a master at it. His body bent and twisted like a pro and had Allison smiling in approval. Lydia seemed comfortable too but Stiles could barely cross his legs without hearing a creak.
"Ouch, ouch," he continued as he attempted that weird 'y' shape everyone was curled up in. He honestly didn't know why he was here. Lydia was cute and everything but his balls were seriously beginning to hurt and his body was not made for yoga.
"Stop whining," Lydia snapped under her breath. "If you can't handle it go home."
Stiles could see it. Her eyes practically screamed 'suck it up, be a man' but she didn't understand a man's pain. All this stretching and arching seriously fucked up his crotch area and his not-so-in-shape limbs. See, this was why men didn't do yoga. It hurt like a bitch.
Stiles continued grunting, attempting to suck it up and show off. But Lydia didn't seem too pleased with his performance. She kept frowning at him with her eyebrows knitted together in this absolutely adorable way—
"ARGH!" Stiles promptly toppled over face-first against the wooden floor, the mat scratching loudly against the floor. He groaned and struggled to sit up, his body like a bundle of wet noodles. After adjusting himself he realized how quiet it was and saw every single pair of eyes in the room on him.
"….sorry, carry on," he said awkwardly.
"Stiles," Lydia hissed as she yanked him closer to her. He tried to focus on the movement of her plump lips as Scott snickered in the background. "Maybe you should leave."
"No way, I can totally do this."
Her look said otherwise.
"Seriously, I'm fine!"
Lydia smiled and Stiles' heart leapt. "Okay, let me rephrase that. STILES. GO HOME. NOW."
She released his shirt and, thoroughly put out by the whole situation, Stiles huffed and obeyed. He turned and marched off, gathering as much dignity as possible. Then he tripped and knocked his head against the doorframe.
"Stiles, you okay?" Scott called in surprise.
Stiles climbed his way back into a standing position and shot the yoga class a meek thumbs up before he shut the door behind him, cheeks flaming red. His body was like a puddle of pudding; he could barely walk straight without wobbling or falling over completely. How humiliating. He wasn't even in the yoga class for more than twenty minutes!
He managed to drive back to his house without crashing into any innocent bystanders or poles. He sluggishly made his way to his room and headed for the bed, his one-track-mind focused solely on that lush soft bed and warm, comforting promise of blankets and pillows and sleep—
Then he heard a voice; "Stiles."
"WARGH!" Stiles cried as he twisted and lost his balance, toppling back onto the bed. His back hit the edge of the bed and fell to the floor, which only made his weak body ache even more. He groaned in a tiny voice and rubbed his lower back, momentarily forgetting the oh-so-familiar presence in his room. Not until he heard that voice again.
"Stiles…." This time it sounded incredulous.
He looked up, not at all surprised to see Derek Hale. Seriously, what was with this guy and sneaking into his bedroom?
"How long have you been there?" Stiles asked.
"Not very long," Derek said. Like always his expression was stern and serious.
"Why are you here?" Stiles asked as he struggled to climb onto his bed. "Is something wrong?"
Stiles' eyebrows rose. "Uh, what about the Alpha? You gotta be more clear."
Derek's eyebrows narrowed and Stiles cringed. "Scott is with Allison, isn't he? The hunters…they attacked me again. You should warn him."
"Wait…" Stiles said cautiously, confused. "Why don't you warn him? And if you were attacked, why did you come here of all places?"
His brows furrowed. Stiles, for a moment, thought he was actually going to answer. Stiles was used to Derek telling him vague details then dropping it all together…either that or he told him too much. Either way Stiles never really understood anything when it came to Derek.
Stiles waited. "…you look weird."
Okay, he didn't expect that. "Gee thanks, I'm quite aware of the fact I'm not attractive to girls much less gay guys, nice job rubbing it in my face like that Derek, you're such a sensitive guy and you know what? It doesn't help that I'm tired and my body feels like it's been through a blender a good five times, nice addition calling me weird-looking."
Derek stared. Stiles stared back.
Things got awkward.
"I went to yoga on a double-date…thing. Then I got kicked out," Stiles explained in defeat. "Don't laugh."
He wasn't at all surprised when Derek didn't laugh. He never did. Hell, Stiles didn't think he'd even seen the stoic man smile before. He'd probably look really handsome if he smiled…those strong lips, always straight or tilted into a firm frown, suddenly lifted into a bright smile…he'd be more than beautiful. Stunning, enthralling…
Stiles choked on his spit. Did he seriously just spend the past 30 seconds thinking about how handsome Derek Hale would look smiling? Since when did that thought even cross his mind? Stiles shook his head and rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into his pillow in suffocating firmness. He heard Derek shuffle beside him as he approached the bed.
He felt a hand on his back.
"ARRRRRCK!" Stiles yelped as he jolted. He heard a soft sigh from Derek and Stiles couldn't bite back the pink tinge that rose to his cheeks.
"Don't be so over-dramatic. You did a great deal of damage to your body. I know how to help. I'm not going to strangle you," he said sarcastically.
"Wh-Why should I let you do anything to me!"
"Fine. I won't."
"Okay fine, go ahead," Stiles grumbled. Nothing happened at first and Stiles honestly thought Derek had been pulling his leg. Yeah, why would the big bad beta wolf offer to give Stiles a massage? It was just weird. And totally out of character for Derek. He was probably just—
"Nnngh," Stiles suddenly groaned. What was that? A big, warm hand pressed against his shoulder blades and it hurt but then the pain was gone and it just felt so good. Stiles seriously didn't know he could even make a noise like that. For Derek, of all people! He almost requested the older male stop but then the hand moved again and it felt so good that he couldn't even think straight anymore.
"Ohh," he continued, suddenly not as concerned with how wanton he sounded. Who knew massages could feel so amazing? "Gooood. Where did you learn this?"
"My sister would give me massages after training," he replied in the usual deadpan tone. But it didn't bother Stiles as much anymore. Those hands were too amazing for Stiles to concern himself with the owner of them.
"Oh, oka—oh, ohhhh," he moaned. "Well, you're good at it."
Derek didn't reply. He just continued rubbing and grinding at Stiles back. The younger boy grimaced then gasped and made jumpy "ah" noises, stunned at how nice it felt. He never had a massage before…now he wanted to have one every fucking day. So good. Soooo gooooood.
He even drooled a little. Yeah. It was that good.
He really needed to stop using the word "good" so much.
"Mmmmmn," he purred. He didn't notice the sudden hesitance of his masseur's hands in reaction to his oddly inviting noises. He couldn't stop the sounds that left him – the relief of the professional touch was way too much for him to handle. "God, Derek. I take back all the things I said (and thought) about you. You're amazing. You're awesome. You're cool. You're…uh, other nice words."
"Ah!" he yipped when Derek hit a particularly sensitive tight muscle in his lower back. A pause, then he rubbed. "Oooohhh," Stiles moaned. The rubbing stopped, the room became utterly still and silent, and then Stiles swore to god he heard something snap. Literally. He honestly thought somebody snapped a rubber band. But nope, it wasn't a rubber band. It was, apparently, Derek's self-restraint.
He heard a low growl.
"Uhh…Derek?" Stiles asked uneasily as he looked up, paling when he saw the golden gleam in Dereks' eyes. He was twisted and slumped on his back, now evenly eye-to-eye with the beta. Shit. "Oh crap, what did I do? Please don't eat me I'm sorry I'm so sorry for whatever I did just don't rip my throat out and don't lick my bones or anything weird like that I swear I—"
…Okay, why is Derek pinning me to the bed? Stiles thought in a daze, staring up at the bigger male. He loomed above the confused teenager, both of his hands pinning Stiles' to the bed, straddling him and yet hovering above him. It was kind of…hot.
Ew, wait, what? Hot? Did he seriously just use that word to describe his current situation? Damn, was Derek turning him gay? Argh!
His rambling thoughts were cut off when Derek swooped forward and captured Stiles lips. There was a word for this—oh, yeah, kissing. He was kissing Derek Hale. What was wrong with this picture? Everything. So…why wasn't Stiles freaking out and pushing him away?
Better yet, why was he kissing back?
Derek's kiss was beyond good. Like his massage, it was gentle yet rough. He nipped and sucked and god, Stiles didn't know he liked being dominated like this. Hell…he didn't even know he liked kissing Derek Hale until this exact moment. He honestly didn't know how to react at this point. Freak out? Kick him? Flail?
Continue kissing back?
He liked the last option.
They kissed for a while and Stiles' rational thoughts were gone. His mind was empty, a blanket of white noise and static and random thoughts bumping around like "good good this feels good" and "yeah" and stupid whimsical things he wouldn't remember when they parted.
Their lips parted slightly and they breathed together. Then Derek moved in again and kissed him, tongue intertwining and body heat flushing together. Derek's firm body pressed down against his, pinning him lower, their hips touching and good lordy lord holy shit fuck parallel parking cheeseburger—
Was it possible to feel this delirious?
"Oh, god," Stiles moaned into the kiss. Derek's breathing was heavy and had undertone growls that didn't help the situation. Stiles, still totally out of it, threw his arms around Derek's neck and held him close, arching his back and forcing their groins to press tightly against each other. Derek growled in pleasure and Stiles shuddered at the feral sound.
Derek's hands slid down Stiles arms and under his sleeves, fingertips touching every section of flesh on Stiles' chest and stomach. The young boy withered beneath him gasping and Derek's golden eyes seemed to darken in lust. He swooped lower to kiss Stiles' neck, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. He kissed and licked down to his collarbone, basking in the jumpy gasps and groans the young male kept making.
"Stiles," Derek said in a voice that made the smaller boy want to just tear off his clothes right then and there.
"Derek," he murmured in echoed return.
"Stiles, Derek," a new voice said. Then there was nothing. Just silence.
Slowly, both boys—flushed and breathing heavily and entangled with each other—turned towards the third voice by the door. Scott stood there, expression both bemused and irked.
"Uh…" Stiles said.
Derek didn't move. Stiles struggled and tried to push him away but god, the man was strong (he was a werewolf, after all). Scott just stood by the door of Stiles' room in silence, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.
"I…uh, I was worried…your dad said to come on upstairs…" His eyes strayed to Derek. "Are you…okay?"
"Fine, I'm perfectly fine, Derek was just uh helping me out 'cause my body was weak from the yoga and stuff and this so isn't what it looks like I mean what the hell would I make out with Derek Hale right? I like Lydia not dick I mean not that there's anything wrong with gay people I just don't find myself very—er, well, I mean yeah maybe Derek is pretty hot and I didn't exactly fight him off but it doesn't make me gay it just makes me a slave to pleasure—"
"Stiles," Scott interrupted. Stiles obediently pressed his lips together and fell silent. Scott turned to Derek, who finally sat up though he was still straddling Stiles' waist. "What the hell were you two just doing?"
"Kissing," Derek shrugged. Stiles yelped and Scott looked even more perplexed than he did before. "Kissing….a lot."
"Urgh," Stiles whined.
"You were kissing?"
"Because I wanted to."
"….'kay, then…" Scott said uneasily, eyes darting from Stiles to Derek for a few terse moments. Finally he sighed and rubbed his neck, expression obviously troubled, as anyone in his position would be.
Stiles felt like digging a hole and living the rest of his life in it.
"Anyway…I came to see if you wanted to—"
"YES!" Stiles jumped off the bed, his head nearly knocking Derek's. He scrambled off the bed and hooked his arm through Scott's, nearly dragging him out of his bedroom, knowing fully well that Derek would not be there when they got back.