One-shot that took me ages to write where Stiles and Derek have already got something going. I'd like to know what you thought if you read it.

-Third person-

"Uhhhn, Stiles," Derek moaned into the side of his bicep, wrists tightly fastened above his head. The groan was out of annoyance and irritation, but came out in a throaty, lusty way that only fuelled the teenager in his actions.

As the wolf's chest rose and fell quickly, eyes shut and face in a bit of a grimace to mask the ecstasy he felt, Stiles ran his hand higher up Derek's torso to feel the tensed muscle generously. The way his prisoner writhed now made him grateful he'd chosen to fasten his ankles to the metal posts of the bed as well.

Stiles hadn't even really begun.

A few things needed to happen in a lucky sequence for this all to be possible. Derek had to be a heavy sleeper. And indeed, Stiles found he slept the heaviest after he got hurt, which made sense. He usually got hurt when he and Scott would 'train'. Their 'training' was just a brutal, seemingly fight-to-the-death combat. Stiles thought for a second fondly of the first time he'd sat in on a session. He'd ended up yelling and waving his arms around sporadically, resorting to feigning injury to get them to stop.

The teen's thoughts were interrupted when Derek lurched defensively, attempting to move out of his captor's reach. "Stiles, no-" he began again, words breaking into another moan when Stiles decided he'd been talking too much.

Derek didn't want it to feel good. He didn't want to be strapped to a bed with strong enough shackles to be impossible to break while a seventeen year old boy forced him into an erection. He especially didn't want Stiles to know how good it felt when involuntary moans built in his throat. The werewolf picked his head up a little, exasperated, and shot a glare down to the boy at his waist. The expression wasn't noticed on the other end, as he continued what he was doing.

A warm jolt shot up Derek's body as he threw his head back, unable to get the image of Stiles so deep onto him that his mouth was pressed to his base. "Come on, Derek," Stiles said a bit hoarsely, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know you have a submissive side…" He paused, holding Derek's now solid length up in his fist. "We just have to find it."

"I don't," Derek yelled, livid and twisting in his bindings. "Now untie me. Right. Now!"

At his obvious anger, Stiles couldn't help the smirk that snuck onto his face, or the gentle, ironic kisses he placed down Derek's abdomen meant to be maddeningly affectionate. As he did, he continued working the firm erection in his hand, feeling Derek stiffen, breaths becoming more ragged the faster he jerked his hand.

"Stiles," Derek moaned again in protest, voice breaking a little near the end as he tensed up uncomfortably. His eyes were shut, frown painted over the lack of control on his face.

The teen couldn't even stop himself from feeling the effects of Derek's pleasure, a small film of sweat covering his body as he looked up at his prisoner's face. There was only a half moon out, but the way it was angled made all the silver light it could offer stream into the room and straight onto Derek's body. And it was all there for the taking, stretched out and tied up, bound so tightly that he couldn't free himself.

The best part, in Stiles' opinion, was that Derek was going to kill him once he was untied. The wolf wanted nothing more at that moment, than to be let go and free to murder Stiles in his sleep. The only comforting thing to cling to was the fact he knew Derek was at least somewhat fond of him, and wouldn't inflict any permanent damage. The problem was that the werewolf always found new and inventive ways to torture him without really doing much.

Tightening his fingers and picking up his tempo, Stiles watched Derek arch his back slightly, throwing his head to look at the ceiling. His teeth appeared to be gritted together behind his lips in an attempt to regain his usually successful and much practiced self-control, but to no avail. The more Stiles touched him, the further away he slipped from whatever mojo he'd built for himself in the past twenty or so years.

Humming almost silently in pleasure, Stiles ducked his head behind his hand, which was still engrossed in calculated jerks, and pressed his tongue to the smooth surface under his target. The moan that resulted when he played around with his tongue a bit more was obvious and unwanted groans from one of the parties. When he continued both of his tasks, Stiles could clearly feel all the warning signs creeping slowly into Derek's breathing, moans, and posture. He was even more tense than usual, head turned away as if he didn't want what was about to happen, happen, and he moaned here and there, more frequently than before.

As if sealing the deal that he couldn't hold on much longer, Derek cleared his throat in a rather hasty manner and looked back down at Stiles.

"Stiles, stop. Unlock me now, and we can-"

Derek was cut off with from a sudden hitch in his breath when Stiles shook his head to the plea, bringing him even closer, and decided to make this even more difficult for the boy in his hands. Moving his head away from Derek, he slicked one of his fingers and waited for the look of what was probably meant to be horror and fury, but just appeared surprised and flustered to consume Derek's face.

Slowly and forcefully, Stiles pressed his finger to Derek's entrance, making him attempt to move backwards, and pushed in hard.


For the third time, Stiles stopped Derek dead in his sentence, forcing a laboured moan into the otherwise silent atmosphere. Smiling with a feeling of accomplishment, Stiles pushed his finger the rest of the way in, curling into the exact spot he was searching for. Whatever else Derek had been planning to say in an attempt to get himself freed was forgotten by both boys, the one in bindings having trouble staying quiet, the other pressing brutally into the one place he knew he could never otherwise get to.

Once Derek had temporarily forgotten about his anger towards being tied up, Stiles went back to splitting his attention between the two areas he'd been exploring. That was when he could practically feel the stress pouring off Derek, both having realized there was nothing the wolf could do to calm himself down. He kept his head turned away, moaning deeply into his bicep.

No matter how much Stiles wanted to sing out loud that he'd found Derek's submissive side, he pursed his lips and kept working, paying close attention when his captive crept dangerously close to an orgasm. Feeling it before it happened, Stiles removed his hands from the wolf completely, and suddenly, and watched with contentment as Derek lurched upwards a little, frowning furiously as if he was in pain. When he twisted again in his bindings, Stiles smiled and ran both of his hands roughly up Derek's tensed up torso as the werewolf's pained moaning echoed loudly in the room, starting at either side of his hips and stopping at his chest, where he was afraid angry teeth would attempt to snap at him. When they didn't, and Derek seemed to strain upwards into Stiles' hands, the teen chanced pulling himself over Derek's body to press their lips together. He wasn't surprised when Derek, who was now breathing roughly through his nose as he drifted away from the orgasm he'd almost had against his will, turned his head away after glaring fiercely at Stiles.

"Found it," Stiles couldn't stop himself from smirking as he ignored the cripplingly angry eye contact he was being held in.

The threat in Derek's eyes was scary, would always be terrifying, but they both knew it was a harmless muse. Since the wolf wouldn't let his kidnapper kiss him, Stiles trailed, with his tongue, lightly across Derek's jaw and throat, pausing at his chest where he paid attention to the two most sensitive parts. This earned another uncomfortable shift in Derek's position and a small sound that never really escaped his lips. The nuances of the wolf during sex always drove Stiles crazy, but this was the first time his own pleasure didn't muddle up the hard-to-notice quirks and sounds.

"Stiles," Derek attempted desperately, one more time. Neither boy was completely certain if it had to do with letting him go, or come.

As he threw his head back, nose angled at the ceiling once more, Stiles watched intently as Derek's Adam's apple moved up and down with his frustrated swallow.

"Just admit that you like it," Stiles smirked smugly, as if it were the simplest concept in the world.

"I don't," Derek yelled, sitting up as much as he could in a feeble attempt to look intimidating enough to make the teen let him go. There was an undeniable heat rising in his abdomen every time Stiles touched him, ran his hands over his skin, kissed him even though he knew Derek was frustrated.

Tugging on his shackles suddenly and roughly as if testing them for the thousandth time, Derek winced as it only cut the flesh around his wrists in a few spots. He'd had no idea how, but Stiles had found a way to secure him without worrying about that extra kick of strength or scratch of claws.

Trailing his tongue across his second finger, Stiles kissed right below Derek's erection as he slid his finger back in, finding the spot he wanted almost instantly again. All the while, the wolf was debating whether a broken hand would be worth getting out of his chains, thinking up wonderful, interesting ways to kill Stiles. Yes, maybe he held a tad of affectionate to the boy, but this.

Stiles' eyes fluttered back up to Derek's face as he pulled his head up, timing a hard jab into the sensitive gland so that he could see the violent reaction for himself. He could just make out the sliver of white teeth when Derek's lips parted in a loud, frowning moan that made both males shiver. It was the loudest sound Stiles had ever heard the wolf make during anything sex-related. Or anything really, as he rarely raised his voice. The strong reaction was exciting and ego-boosting, and as Stiles straightened his roaming finger, he made sure to drag it slowly and firmly across Derek's prostate again. This moan was choppy and strained, like the wolf didn't know how to handle such a sensation. There was something uncontrolled about the way he lay on the bed now, limbs relaxing in his bindings like they'd tremble if he tensed up again.

As much as Stiles wanted to blurt, "You do", he silently raised his hand back to Derek's erection and worked on it slowly, pushing a finger on his other hand even deeper. He wondered distantly as he continued on the routine if this was how Derek felt when Stiles was the one choking back profanities.

"Fuh-huck," Derek groaned quietly, twisting in his cuffs as this was the only kind of movement he could perform. The small, murmured word caused a sudden and intense heat to rise into the teen's chest. He'd rarely ever heard Derek swear, and especially not like this. And when he really thought about it, he'd never really seen the wolf enjoy something. Really enjoy it, even though he hated what was happening to him.

It was difficult to tell when Derek was close to an orgasm. Being able to judge it had become an art in Stiles' opinion, and one that he was fantastic at. The fact that he didn't even really sweat was an indication of how composed he always seemed to be, and how well he could hide those things. But something like a small shift in posture, or the way he would grind his teeth for only a second, or the way his chest tensed as he exhaled were all things that tipped Stiles off, and that seemed to be happening now.

Though the electricity of want in the air was almost painful, Stiles didn't want him to come yet. Since he knew he was going to die after this anyways, he may as well enjoy himself. Besides, Derek didn't know what he was missing.

Fighting a twitch at the corner of his mouth, Stiles' pulled away from Derek completely again, noticing the way his frown softened and eyes reopened with a sort of drugged look. And to be fair, it was an angry drugged. Nope, the anger had definitely not subsided during any of that. He seemed even a little bit relieved at the way he no longer had to try so hard to fight the persistent orgasm creeping into him, but suspicious and like he dreaded what Stiles was planning. Like he knew, which he did.

Sliding his shirt off and tugging down his jeans, the lacrosse player surveyed his captive fondly. Before, Derek had been tense and defensive. Now, he looked strangely weak and sort of defeated, wrung out and exhausted. It was understandable, being denied an orgasm multiple times was tiring, but it was just so hot the way he let himself lay slack and exposed. The spark of anger that was still there wanted to look serious, but it was just a dying coal compared to the previous fire. As pissed off as he was being tied up and teased, the constant flow of endorphins in his body made it almost impossible to remember the bitterness that Derek seemed to cling to desperately anyways.

What lay before Stiles wasn't even really Derek anymore. There were undertones, of course, but the dishevelled, shackled boy had a whole new side to explore. One that he tried unsuccessfully to hide for the longest time.

There was insecurity in Stiles, of course there was, but there was far more excitement. Even tied up and not himself, Derek was intimidating. Extremely so. But when Stiles spat into his hand and slicked his own painfully ready erection, the alien feeling of being in control helped soften the bite of fear.

Taking his place between Derek's knees, Stiles mentally prepared himself for the string of insults and threats he knew would come in just moments. Reaching a hand down to moisten Derek up a bit more, he looked pointedly right up into the pair of eyes he expected to be boring holes into his, but instead were aimed towards the ceiling. Was it just him, or did it seem like Derek was ready to just take it? Fighting a pleasurable knot in his stomach at this, Stiles felt safer leaning over his captive a bit as he adjusted into the right position.

Considering that Derek literally had to be restrained in order for this to happen, Stiles found it only fair to at least be slow about this next part. He let his erection bump and slide softly between Derek's legs, making sure to note the way he'd stayed just as hard as Stiles. When he finally deemed it an appropriately long break between the earlier events, Stiles breathed in through his nose as he pressed slowly, so slowly, into Derek. The tremors of pleasure racking up through Stiles' body were tremendous and caught him completely off guard. Whenever Derek and he did this, only roles reversed and sans the locked restraints, Stiles had always blamed his immeasurable pleasure on the fact that he was still sort of extremely virgin, it was Derek Hale leaning over him, and that he'd never been dominated in such a way before. Now, when he had to seriously focus on not losing it so soon, he couldn't explain what exactly he found so hot about this. It was just everything.

There was something about the way Derek would turn his head into his bicep and tense for a moment, facial expression all sexed up and surprisingly ecstasy-filled that had Stiles biting his lip to keep his hips pushing forwards at a slow enough speed. He found it almost too much when Derek let out a low moan, still into his arm, jerking a little where he lay when Stiles just sort of thrust the rest of the way in. As far as the teen was concerned, the sight before him was hotter than anything his imagination could've ever come up with. He couldn't help but pause again to marvel at the success of his plan, and the torso riddled with ripples of muscle and almost a very thin film of sweat. Stiles took this as a victory, as again, he'd almost never seen Derek perspire in his life. Something about controlled body temperature.

Again, very slowly, Stiles gritted his teeth and let himself slide out of Derek a few inches, pushing back in firmly. The thrust was gentle, but had an extremely desired effect when the wolf seemed to almost moan in his throat, breath catching there. From here, Stiles let himself stop holding back as much, bringing his hips in roughly and quickly, listening in satisfaction to the sound of both of their laboured breaths and the slight strain of the bedframe. Whether it was from Derek straining against his cuffs or the movement of their bodies, Stiles could barely care to decide as his heartbeat filled his ears.

Feeling both of them starting to get a little too worked up, Stiles softened his thrusts and brought himself further over Derek, kissing softly at the corner of his mouth as if asking permission. To his complete and utter surprise, the wolf turned his head a little and kissed back drunkenly, letting Stiles take the lead. The heat between their bodies intensified as they connected their mouths delicately every other thrust. Wondering exactly how far he could take this, Stiles pulled his lips away slowly and came back in, nipping his captive's lower lip. It was just a momentary thing, quick and subtle, and when Derek tilted his head back a little to let him, he bit back down onto it, pulling just a little with a soft pressure in his jaw. And Derek just let him do it.

Now that Stiles knew he was allowed to kiss Derek, he figured a little hand searching would be okay. He could never get over the feeling of the wolf's naked torso, all tensed and warm, under him and since it would never happen again, he needed to really remember it.

So close, Stiles thought, pulling away from Derek's mouth. He was so painfully close, but he didn't want it to be over yet. Letting out a much anticipated groan, the teen made his thrusts shorter and deeper, hoping the lack of movement would help him control himself. Fortunately, going this deep seemed to be doing the trick for Derek, because he appeared to be having his own troubles staying afloat. His face, which was still somehow garnished with a frown, looked almost surprised behind it, like he didn't know Stiles was capable of such things.

After letting out another surprisingly loud groan, Derek returned to tilting his head back and closing his eyes in his grimace. "Uhh, keep going."

The fact that is sounded kind of irritated and coarse made no difference to Stiles. It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever heard anyone say to him. Their movements were so quick. So hot. So ready for release. Stiles was ready, and Derek wanted it.

Barely able to remember how to control his own limbs, Stiles reached down in between them and gripped Derek's erection, positive that he'd probably only last another couple seconds judging by the little noises he made. And Stiles was completely fine with them, the only problem being that they could probably make him come without any sort of physical contact on a bad day. Derek's face still looked like a mixture of angry and surprised, but he was still slipping away quickly.

Another tug and he was out. There was a bit of an involuntary rock upwards, but Derek was back to restraining himself better than his cuffs in seconds. His face though, oh his face, Stiles thought, feeling the warmth of Derek's skin and glancing down only momentarily to watch a few ropes of come hit his abdomen. Apart from the naked body beneath him, the little sounds of ecstasy it was making and its slight clenches, the expression on Derek's face while he came was what almost had Stiles unconscious in an effort to protect himself from the magnitude of how hot it all was, especially his expression. It was the fact that Stiles put it there, the fact that Stiles was in control, and that he was usually the one that just had to somehow deal with the mind-blowing orgasms. Because it was also Stiles that almost hated that part, the desperation to stop the feeling of ungodly pleasure because he couldn't handle how it lingered. And now it seemed to be the other boy's turn.

Derek managed a murmured, "Oh my God," while he kind of writhed a little, no doubt trying to shake the surprisingly long-lasting orgasm. By this point, Stiles was finished, caput, finito, trying not to come and reluctantly slid out of Derek to grasp both of their erections together, jerking them softly enough not to make either boy uncomfortable. This was heavenly, rare, a once in a lifetime occurrence when Stiles finally cried out overtop of Derek with his own orgasm, not hesitating to come onto the same section of abdomen that the wolf had.

It took both of them a minute of soft moaning, drunken half-kissing, and a certain degree of shakiness (from Stiles) before the teen collapsed beside Derek, sweaty and with a dry mouth from sucking in desperate breaths. It was a new phenomenon for him; being incapable of thought or speech.

Derek cleared his throat after what he deemed an appropriately long pause and said, "Untie me."

Still kind of in his own haze of sexual relief, Stiles nodded. He made his way unsteadily over to his jeans on the floor, pawing at each pocket until he pulled out a tiny, silver key. Ignoring the glares he got from the bed, he pulled on his boxers, jeans and t-shirt slowly, preparing to bolt if necessary. Just about to lean over Derek and shove the metal into the cuff lock, Stiles looked down carefully.

"Should I be running for my life, or-"

"-undo these now, Stiles," Derek yelled, giving his wrists another wrench in the metal.

"Fine, fine," Stiles sighed, still somehow unregretful about what he'd done.

There was the short, quiet sound of a lock clicking open, the rattle of chains, and the groan of the headboard as Derek pulled his hands away. He shook off the metal in annoyance, standing up and making his way out of the room. Stiles barely noticed his departure, too busy trying not to cower on the bed.

After only about a minute, Derek came back, clothed and cleaned up to find the teen lounging nonchalantly on his mattress. The sight kind of sparked something in Derek again, but he extinguished it quickly after he dragged Stiles upright by his shirt. Before the teen could start trying to babble his way out of dying, Derek held his head in place and kissed him, not exactly in the most gentle way, satisfied when a quiet Stiles responded and pulled him as he lay back on the bed.

"You tied me up while I was asleep for that?" Derek muttered once they both fell apart onto opposite sides of the mattress in exhaustion.

"Would you have let me without tying you up?"


Stiles shrugged in satisfaction, touching Derek's arm with his out of habit. "There you go."

After a few more moments of silence, both boys still trying to shake off the feeling of the sex they just had, Stiles couldn't take it anymore. "Seriously? You're not even mad?" He couldn't help but ask this hysterically, not upset he wasn't, more unbearably confused.

"Of course I am."

Sighing, the teen forced himself to look up at the ceiling, which was still by some miracle staying put. Ditto the walls. He really didn't know what to say, so he waited patiently for Derek to continue.

"You're a dead man. Tomorrow. Just remember that," Derek finished, turning his head towards his side of the bed and shifting into his favourite sleeping position.

"Good," was his answer, slightly slurred and drowsy-sounding as he sank into the soft sheets that smelled like Derek.

Unlike Stiles' bed, his was big enough to fit two people comfortably. And as nice as it is to have to sleep so close to each other, bodies always ending up tangled by the middle of the night, both of them savoured this extra space. Derek rarely ever moved during the night, but Stiles did. And he rarely ever had any compassion in his sleepy state to mind the other person in his bed, the wolf always either ending up with no cover or hardly any room. This was nice though. There was never anything mushy about their… whatever it was, and that was exactly the way Stiles liked it. Especially after sex, the worst it would get was a playful elbow or shove in an attempt to make room for both of them.

This was a nice change, even in the half broken down Hale house. They usually had to resort to Stiles' house as his dad would come home late and notice his son was gone. It was much safer to be there and, Derek being Derek, would always be out of sight if the Sheriff ever felt the need to check in. Tonight was Stiles' dad's night shift, and he wouldn't be home until much later in the day. It also happened to be the day Derek and Scott had an especially long training session, which kicked the hell out of both of them.

How could I not have taken advantage of it? Stiles thought to himself, rolling over and allowing the exhaustion to engulf him.