A/N: So this is just a really short Sterek fic I wrote, for my bffsie. It's in Stiles' point of view, with a bit of Derek at the end :)
When it came to masturbation, Stiles had his hands full. His sex drive was a busy one, and with no one there to sate his needs, he found himself jerking off quite often. Several times a day sometimes, if something triggered him.
So it was really only a matter of time before Derek Hale walked in on him. Scott already had, a couple of times. It had only happened with Stiles' dad once, but that had been especially awkward because Stiles had accidentally clicked to a gay porn site in his hurry to close the browser.
Stiles actually hadn't realized Derek had walked in, or rather, hopped in through the window like the major creeper he was. Stiles had his headphones on, and was intensely focused on keeping pace with the guy on screen, that he only noticed Derek was there when the werewolf reached over and pulled back on one his headphones before letting it snap painfully back over Stiles' ear.
As Stiles tumbled out of his chair in surprise, dick still in his hand, his leg kicked out and caught on the cord of his headphones and yanked them from his computer. As he hunched over on the ground with his back to Derek, trying to shove his erection back into his pants, the sounds of wild sex filled the air.
The second his junk was out of sight, Stiles dove at the speakers and switched the sound off. He sat quietly for a moment, too aroused to meet Derek in the eyes.
"Busty Asian Beauties, huh?" Derek finally said with a smirk. "Didn't know they were your type."
Stiles gawked at the werewolf, mouth opening and closing, until he realized how stupid he looked and snapped it shut.
"Uh, whose type aren't they?" Stiles replied after a moment. He pulled his desk chair so the back was concealing his crotch from view. "So, what did you come here for anyway?"
Derek lifted his leg and put his foot on the seat of the desk chair, John Adams style, and pushed the chair right up against Stiles' pelvis, making him gasp.
"Well, I came to talk about Scott," Derek said, his voice low. "But I think that can wait."
Stiles gulped, which he instantly regretted as Derek's eyes were drawn to his neck. He suddenly noticed the very hungry look in the man's eyes.
Derek shoved the chair out of the way and stepped closer, and despite their minor height difference it felt like Derek was looming. Stiles held his breath, expecting to be punched, attacked, bitten, eaten, or a number of other gruesome scenarios.
He was not, however, expecting to be grabbed and steered over backwards until he fell tripped back onto the bed, where he was promptly grabbed and yanked up so Derek could kneel over him. He certainly wasn't expecting the hand that reached into his sweatpants then and grabbed his half- hard, already dripping cock.
Stiles had expected Derek's hands to be rough and fast. But Derek went agonizingly slow, his fingers sliding slowly up Stiles' length, thumb teasing the head as he did. Stiles resisted the urge to thrust into Derek's calloused hand, instead letting his mouth fall open, throwing his head back, and letting out a long, breathy moan. Derek leaned forward and shoved his face into Stiles' throat, sniffing deeply and licking from the boy's collar all the way up to his jaw, all the while his hand still working slowly at Stiles' erection.
Derek drew away again, leaving Stiles with his neck bared and his entire body aching and trembling in pleasure. It was obvious that the man was just teasing him at this point, trying to get Stiles off by touching him as little as possible. Stiles wanted to increase the contact, to feel Derek's entire solid, warm body encompassing him, but saying that would make him feel needy. He didn't want to be needy, he didn't even know what this was or why it was even happening. He didn't want any emotional attachments, especially not to some cold werewolf that would probably-
Said werewolf leaned over him again, and breathed hotly into his ear.
"You're thinking too much," Derek said, his voice a deep rumble in Stiles' chest. "I just want to make you feel good. Relax."
Derek tugged on Stiles' erection, pulling him sharply back into the present. His clothes suddenly felt too hot, too close to his skin, and Derek must have sensed this because he stopped to pull Stiles' sweatpants the rest of the way down his legs, then reached for Stiles' sweatshirt and shirt and yanked them both over his head, exposing his smooth, pale chest. A trail of dark hair ran from Stiles' navel down, and Derek pushed Stiles back on the bed so be could shove his face in it, breathing deeply of everything that was Stiles.
Derek's mouth strayed lower, licking and biting until his breath was ghosting across Stiles' dick, and then his tongue was there, running hot and wet up its entire length. Stiles fisted his hands in the sheets, willing himself not to cum all over Derek's unbearably attractive face.
Then Derek gathered Stiles' dick in his mouth and started sucking, his cheeks hollowing out and his eyes staring straight into Stiles', a stupid smug look in his eyes at the way Stiles came apart at the seams. So Stiles didn't feel too bad when he grabbed Derek by the hair and thrusted up into his mouth, cumming down the back of his throat.
After a moment Stiles relaxed back into the bed, letting his hands fall out of Derek's hair. Derek grunted and then extracted his mouth from Stiles' limp dick, and even though Stiles had his eyes closed he could still feel Derek's glare.
Stiles swallowed thickly, wondering if he should thank him, maybe apologize for the rough treatment, or offer to help him with the obvious erection straining in his pants (not that Stiles would really even know what to do with it), but Derek was already getting off the bed and turning to leave. Stiles watched him with a sunk feeling in his chest until Derek stopped to spin back around and place a chaste kiss on Stiles' soft lips.
Derek cleared his throat and then stared into Stiles' eyes awkwardly.
"Bye," Derek said, before turning and diving out the still-open window.
"Bye?" Stiles couldn't help the smile that tugged at his mouth. "Friggin' weirdo."
Derek barely made it to the edge of the forest before he had to deal with the almost painful problem in his pants. He hadn't had an erection severe enough to do anything about in so long- usually he could just will them away, but with the memory of Stiles moaning, arching off the bed, and taking control by fucking his face, Derek couldn't stop what his dick decided to do. He fell back against a tree and yanked his jeans down his hips roughly, his cock now straining in the air.
It only took a few short, fast strokes before Derek was cumming into his hand, the hot coil of arousal finally leaving his belly, and he looked down at his trembling, sticky white fingers as if they had betrayed him. He had licked Stiles' cum off his lips earlier, and now he tentatively licked his own, intrigued when it tasted very similar to Stiles'.
Derek growled and wiped his hand off on the tree behind him, then stuffed his penis back in his pants. He decided that he would have to jerk off a lot more often, now that he had these images of Stiles seared into his brain. He could feel himself getting hard again already.
With one last cursory glance back at the Stilinski household, Derek took off into the trees, laughing when he realized that Scott would be able to find his scent all over Stiles and in his room later and would know exactly what they had done.