I am in serious lust with werewolf!Stiles and human!Derek. Deep, deep lust.
Disclaimer: NO. ALRIGHT? NO I DO NOT.
"Oh my god, seriously?" Derek scooped the mutilated rabbit up with the gardening glove he had been forced to start keeping by the door. "You have to stop."
"Stop what?" Stiles had gone into the other room to change, and by the lingering sounds of bones popping and flesh sliding back into place, it sounded like he was done.
"You know exactly what. You can't keep bringing the dead animals here, it's getting less and less cute with each gored rabbit you drag in." Derek frowned at the answering huff from the next room. He closed his eyes as he listened to the tell-tale whisper of clothing on skin.
"Are you dressed yet?"
Derek looked up from the magazine he had been flipping through when Stiles came in.
The young werewolf had blood on his mouth and a little on his chest, which was bare on account of Stiles ditzing and forgetting to nab a shirt before he got hairy the night before. The top button of his jeans was undone, showing the waistband of his boxers and the ridiculously distracting lines of his pelvis.
Stiles reddened under Derek's unabashed scrutiny.
The human's eyes flicked back to the magazine in his lap (he would never admit it but if he looked any longer he'd tackle Stiles then and there, still bloody from the kill.)
"Just regretting my lust-blinded decisions."
Rolling his eyes, the werewolf shuffled into the kitchen and Derek listened to the water run in interest. Putting the magazine down, he trailed in after his younger companion and watched with odd fascination as Stiles cupped his hands under the faucet and rubbed his palm first over his mouth, then over his chest, cleaning away the red smears last night's hunt had left him with.
With Stiles' back turned, Derek leaned casually against the arch of the entranceway and let his gaze dip lower hungrily. Stiles' lean back curved as he bent over the sink, and Derek's eyes swept over each bump of bone. He studied the sinewy muscle of Stiles' arms, traced the ducked angle of Stiles' neck. He felt his chest grow warm with longing as his eyes roved over sweep after sweep of Stiles' skin.
Suddenly the werewolf snapped up, like someone had flicked a switch, and turned quickly to face Derek where he was now leaning a little more heavily on the wall.
His mouth opened in a fish-like and slightly disbelieving gawp.
"Sweet Jesus and all his children!" Stiles pointed an accusatory finger. "You're horny!"
"Please never use 'Jesus' and 'horny' in the same word phrase ever again. Also, I am not." Derek sniffed, indignant.
Stiles stalked closer, brandishing his finger like a priest pointing out the antichrist.
"You are! Even if I couldn't tell when you're lying, I can smell it! It's…" Stiles finally closed in on his taller counterpart and breathed in deep, pressing against Derek, angling his head for better access. "It's the best thing." When he opened his eyes they were practically silver with lust. "Ever."
That did it. That. Did. It.
Stiles was hardly finished saying that single word before Derek was pinning him up against the wall and chasing the tight tendon in Stiles' neck with his tongue. Stiles' long moan turned into a purr-like growl and he gripped a fistful of Derek's hair in his hand, tugging until Derek's face was close enough to press his mouth against.
Excitement traveled down Stiles' back like an electric shock as Derek licked greedily into his mouth, his hot tongue wet and perfect against his own. Derek pressed him farther into a wall, his eagerness only fueling the wolf's aggression. Stiles hooked a leg on Derek's hip and rolled up, satisfied with the slightly dazed look the human gave him in return. Quick to react, though, Derek ground down and practically forced Stiles into an out-of-body experience with the new waft of arousal he gave off.
"Horizontal…hah…surface." the shorter of the two managed to gasp out, pressing his hips upwards when there was no immediate response. "NOW."
It took all Stiles had not to claw excitedly at Derek's back as the taller male half dragged half carried him to the master bedroom on the main floor. As it was he was biting into his shoulder like it was the last thing he'd ever do, the effort it took to keep his teeth blunt and human an almost painful experience.
As soon as they hit the sheets Stiles was ripping Derek's shirt off without a hint of remorse. Once his chest was at least bare, the human surged forward, getting his mouth on as much of Stiles as he could. It took Stiles himself a moment to realize the guttural growl that vibrated through the hot air was coming from him, crescendoing with each hickey Derek sucked onto his skin, each aching push of his hips.
Wait a second.
Derek was giving him a hickey?
Without much lucid thought Derek found himself on his back with Stiles a growling, writhing mass of hot muscle on top of him.
Derek made an embarrassing sound as Stiles' mouth closed searing and wet over his pulse point, his slender hands putting all the right pressure in all the right places. When Stiles' thumb pressed expertly into that tender spot on his lower back, Derek panted.
Sick of the lousy amount of skin on skin contact, Derek rolled them again and tugged viciously at Stiles' jeans.
"Mm, yes, clothes off, good-" Stiles paused his unintelligible muttering for a moment to kick off his jeans from where Derek had pulled them down to his ankles. "-good idea." He helped Derek shuck his own pants off, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from ripping them too.
When Derek finally crawled back over him again, the both of them in nothing but their boxers, Stiles' eyes were almost white with desire when they looked up at Derek. This earned him a rare gift; an actual smile from the volatile terra cotta statue that was Derek Hale. Stiles' eyes flickered back to brown for a moment with the weight of the fondness that overtook him.
Slower now, less frantic, the werewolf arched up off the bed and kissed along Derek's collarbone, then his chin, then the deep corner of his mouth. Sighing with happiness, he rubbed his cheek along the sweep of stubble on Derek's jaw, savoring its burn.
"You're mine. My mate." Stiles made a happy noise as Derek kissed him slowly and he felt the curve of his smile, the push of his tongue twisting the coil deep in Stiles' stomach ever tighter. The werewolf slid a hand down between sweat-sheened shoulder blades, following the shape of the triscele he could trace blind and upside-down. Derek mouthed lazily at the hard corner of his jaw, and Stiles pressed into his thigh with a content exhale, chest heavy with pleasure. "I love you."
A great stillness settled over Derek's usually buzzing body, and Stiles froze-up accordingly. Every muscle in his body tensed as he felt Derek's pulse escalate alarmingly as if it were his own; felt Derek's breathing stutter to a halt against the hollow under his ear.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Stiles heard his voice as if from far away, and when he tentatively took Derek's face in his hands his palms felt numb and dead, as if he had some vague connection to someone else's body. He could taste panic in his mouth as Derek's painfully human eyes rose to meet his, which had gone from silver to brown in his fear.
But before Stiles could do anything else, could say anything else, Derek was moving against every inch of him, pressing him into the infinity of the mattress with such fervor it hardly helped to lessen Stiles of his fright. His gasped harshly as Derek licked with a satisfied groan along the white column of his neck, up over his chin, to his lips. He kissed Stiles like he had the very first time, when Stiles stood trembling against the wall of his foyer, half naked and covered in mud.
'My father found out' his voice was shaking so hard it had been a task to say it without choking on his own tongue. 'you should have seen his face, Jesus Christ, you should have seen his face' and then he was against the opposite wall, Derek's body a hard line of muscle against his own, kissing him so fiercely he thought his eyes might roll right out of their sockets.
"I love you." Derek was muttering now, like a prayer against his lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"Oh thank god." Stiles sighed, lapping against Derek's mouth. "For a minute there I thought of turning myself over to the hunters out of sheer embarrassment."
They couldn't stop then, wouldn't stop. Their boxers were off and they were all over each other, searching for more skin, for more places to taste.
Stiles gasped raggedly, with hardly the strength to moan, as Derek rocked into him.
The link Stiles' skinny ankles made at the base of Derek back was weak, and his thighs were painfully tense with the will he used to hold himself upright. Derek's breath was hot and broken in his ear.
When his climax hit Stiles was glad he had enough sense to sink his teeth into his own forearm rather than Derek's shoulder, because he wouldn't have been able to force his teeth back to human if he tried.
Minutes later, the two lay exhausted, curled tight around the other as if this was the last opportunity they'd ever have to twine close to the other, their legs tangled, their hearts pulsing heavy and content.
Face lax with happiness, Derek turned to the werewolf next to him and watched as Stiles idly licked the blood from his arm even as the wound healed.
"You should turn me."
The bulky human wrapped his arms around Stiles tightly when the sheriff's son gave an outraged squawk and began to wriggle away.
"No! Are you crazy? I know I bring about fantastic post-coital highs, but seriously?"
"Stiles. Stiles." Derek's voice was raw from all the previous kissing. "I'm your mate, right?"
"My human mate, yeah."
"Stiles." This time it was practically a whine. "I want feel what you feel. I want to change next to you in the dark. I want to run with you, hunt with you." With each sentence Stiles' eyes burned a little brighter, his teeth growing sharper with each confession. He attempted to snap himself out of it.
"You don't, Derek, you don't. You don't know what it's like. The hunters will be after you, you'll have to lie, have to hide, have to-" Stiles' voice broke, "have to kill. You don't want that."
He sucked in a sharp breath when Derek pulled him closer and bared his human teeth . "Don't tell me what I want." Stiles couldn't help baring his fangs back at him, snarling in approval at his mate's aggression.
"Bite me." Derek twisted to press into Stiles' sweet spot high up on the back of his right thigh.
Stiles' gasp was rough as it dove down into his lungs. "No-" He saw spots when Derek pressed harder.
With a growl that started low in his diaphragm and crawled out of his throat like a black, shapeless thing, Stiles bit deep into the hard, sweet muscle of Derek's shoulder, sinking his sharp teeth as far as the taut flesh would give so his mate wouldn't try to get away.
If Derek had cried out, Stiles would have probably broken down into a sobbing blubbery mess in his horror. Instead, Stiles felt his mate tense, let out a small sound, as soft as a sigh, before he gave completely and leaned heavily into the sink of Stiles' wicked jaws.
After what seemed like a terrible eternity, Stiles pulled away, lapping helplessly at the wound and making small, worry-stricken noises.
"It's okay, it's okay." Derek's voice was stronger than Stiles would've expected so soon after the bite.
Nonetheless, the younger of the two continued to soothe the wound until it began to heal, signaling the beginning of the change.
"It's fine, I'm alright." Derek nuzzled deep into the curve of Stiles' neck as he hummed fretfully. "I'm happy."
Stiles looked at him questioningly.
"You're all mine, I'm all yours. There's nothing holding you back from me." The new werewolf nipped gently at his maker's neck and chuckled. "You can bite me in blissed-out passion without worrying."
Grabbing his mate by the hair, Stiles pressed flush against him and breathed in. "Mine." he growled. It tasted final on his tongue.
The two wolves curled close. "Mine." came the satisfied echo.