There he was. The man of Stiles' dreams. Everything he had ever wanted and wished to have, and then some, sitting two rows in front of him. All Stiles could see was the back of his head, but he knew that he was making some awesomely sexy, broody face right now.
Derek's face was always sexy.
Stiles could remember the one time he had actually spoken to the guy. They were just leaving the classroom, and Stiles accidentally (intentionally) bumped into Derek and dropped all of his books in one, grand, dramatic motion. Derek, being Mr. Sexual Aloofness, just looked at Stiles as he knelt down and picked the books up before handing them to Stiles.
Stiles remembered saying thanks and then going weak in the knees when Derek replied with a simple, "Mmhmm."
That had been an eventful night for Stiles to say the least.
Right now, Professor D'Vanza was explaining some overly complex mathematical equation. And Stiles just wished he could see the look on Derek's face. He knew it had to be one that was sure to drop every pair of panties in the room. Or, in Stiles' case, briefs.
Stiles never used to wear briefs. But then, one night when Stiles was looking up everything in the history of the world as he tends to do when he's bored, he found out that briefs made your ass look better. Needless to say, when Stiles saw Derek for the first time, it was the last day he wore boxers.
Well, he still wore them to sleep.
"Stilinski quit monitoring the guy."
Stiles rolled his eyes as he turned to his left to be met by the smug look of the one and only Jackson Whitmore. Yeah, out of all the people from back home that Stiles could have gotten stuck with, for four whole years, on the opposite side of the freaking country, Jackson had to be the one who not only applied and got into NYU, but chose to come and make Stiles' life a living hell.
Things were only multiplied tenfold when Stiles learned that they were rooming together, and that Jackson had actually requested to do so. His excuse had been something along the lines of not wanting to room with someone who would have sex nonstop.
Stiles didn't admit how deep that comment had actually cut.
Sighing quite loudly, Stiles turned back to face the front of the room where Professor D'Vanza was now writing something long and difficult looking across the board with his red marker. That meant that it was to be copied and completed for next class.
"I'm not monitoring him," Stiles quipped.
Jackson scoffed. "Your eyes are about to roll out of your head and across the floor you were staring so hard."
Stiles ignored the other boy's comment in favor of writing down the problem. As soon as he finished, everyone was dismissed and Stiles all but flew to the front of the classroom so that he could be in Derek's line of sight when he dropped pen and bent over to pick it up.
He didn't switch underwear types for nothing.
Stiles bent over to get the utensil, making sure that his ass was on full display. He even arched his back a little. He had no shame.
He stood back up and turned around expecting Derek to at least be looking in his direction, but what he did see was some tall, skinny, whore talking to the love of his life.
Well, to be honest, she wasn't a whore. Paris was nice enough, and she had never given Stiles any reason to not like her… until she announced that she thought Derek was cute. That was the day Stiles had labeled her enemy number one.
With her long jet black hair, and her slivery gray eyes, and her dumb modeling career that gave her access to unlimited amounts of high end clothing in which she could flaunt her perfect size zero body.
Actually, she was a size two. But Stiles liked to exaggerate.
Today, she was gallivanting around showing the world her freakishly long legs in a pair form fitting leather pants with sheer lace cutouts. And of course the outlandishly tall pair of nightwalkers she had on made her legs look even more perfect.
They made Stiles want to puke.
Jackson walked over to him and slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Looks like he's not interested, Stilinski."
"Shut up, Jackson. Nobody asked you," Stiles snapped back.
Jackson held his arms up in surrender, but then his face softened a bit. "Really though, Stiles. I don't even think he's into dudes," the blonde boy said.
Stiles took a moment to consider that comment. Sure, he had always known there was a chance that Derek was straight. In fact, Stiles had no real reason to believe that the guy was anything but. However, Stiles couldn't tell himself that. It would ruin the fantasy.
So he just shrugged and walked out, Jackson trailing behind shortly after.
Back in their dorm, which was really more like an apartment since they were the only two in the entire suite, even though it was made to accommodate six, Stiles was standing in the mirror holding shirts in front of him, trying to ascertain which one looked the best on him.
Giving up after a few minutes, Stiles padded back into his room and flew onto the bed, letting out a loud groan.
"This is so stupid!"
Jackson strolled in, wearing nothing but a towel, dripping water all over the place and put his hands on his hips.
"Come on, Stilinski. We're never gonna make it to the club if you don't start getting ready," he complained.
Stiles took a look at Jackson and groaned again, covering his face with a pillow.
"Dude, can you not walk around basically naked all the time!? Isn't it awkward?"
"Isn't what awkward?" Jackson asked.
"You know…" Stiles drawled, sitting up and motioning between him and Jackson.
"No, I don't," the other boy said.
Stiles sighed again and fell back onto the bed. "I'm into guys and you're walking around showing off your body all the time. It's not like you don't know I'm looking," Stiles whined. He didn't like the fact that he found Jackson attractive. But there was nothing he could do about it. Jackson was hot, and he knew it. And apparently he wanted everyone else to know it too.
Smirking, Jackson turned to leave the room. "I knew you couldn't help yourself. Now get up and get in the shower before I throw you in myself."
After showering, and deciding on a totally new shirt all together, Stiles left out with Jackson and caught a cab to some club the other boy had been going on about for the past week. Stiles didn't really want to go, but Jackson kept insisting on how Stiles needed to get out and be more normal.
As if there was something weird about Stiles the way he was.
It didn't take them long to get to the club. And once they were there, Jackson used his charm to get them past the lines and straight in, not leaving the people outside too pleased.
Once they were in, Stiles took a look around. He had to admit, that it was definitely all Jackson had ranted about. The music was loud and pulsing through Stiles' bones, there were lights dancing around everywhere, people dancing around everywhere. And there were certainly a great deal of hot guys around.
Stiles guessed being friends with Danny for so long had given Jackson an outlook from the gay perspective. But he tried not to think about Danny much.
The cuts were still a little fresh.
So he shook his mind free of that wave of thoughts that was about to crash down over him, and followed Jackson over to the bar.
"Uh… Jackson," Stiles yelled over the music.
"Yeah," the other boy yelled back.
"We're not old enough to get drinks yet. What are you doing?"
Jackson just rolled his eyes and slid the bar tender, a cute brunette girl, some unknown amount of money. Then he pointed to Stiles and said something to her, to which she nodded, and proceeded to get Jackson two beers. Then he walked back over to Stiles and handed him one.
"What did you do?" Stiles asked.
Jackson shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. "A few hundred bucks to cover the drinks and a couple hundred to cover our lack of identification," was all Jackson said before being pulled away by some girl onto the dance floor.
He just took one last swig form the bottle before handing it over to Stiles and following said girl.
Stiles stood there, two beers in hand, and tried to figure out what to do. It wasn't like anyone was fighting to drag him off to dance, and probably do other things afterwards, so he decided to just go sit at the bar and finish off the two beers, before ordering another.
Which was soon followed by another.
And another, all the way until Stiles was so out of it that he could barely sit up straight. Then, of course, he decided it was time to get up and dance.
Looking around through the blurry haze of his drunken stupor, Stiles stumbled from his seat and flounced around for a few feet before someone caught hold of him from behind.
He heard them say something, but between the obnoxiously loud music, and the lack of coherence caused by the abundance of alcohol in his system, Stiles couldn't make it out. The only thing he could make out was the fact that whoever it wasthat was keeping him upright, had some very strong hands. And said hands felt really good holding him at the waist. So he leaned back.
And this person had the chest of a god. It was sculpted from pure marble, Stiles was sure.
And the breath that was now hitting the back of his neck, that was making Stiles horny. And he was even hornier now because he was so drunk and out of touch with anything in reality not having to do with sex and this person's hands on his waist.
"Yoorands… dey feel sooogood," Stiles slurred.
The other person said something, but Stiles couldn't quite get that either. So, he decided that if he couldn't hear them, he had to at least turn around. So he did.
And saw the man of his dreams.
"DEWEK! Wharyou doing here?" Stiles hollered a bit too loudly, considering he was face to face with the guy.
Derek said something back, but Stiles didn't catch it before he was dragging the man to the restroom, which, even as he was drunk of his ass, Stiles noticed were unusually clean. Especially for a nightclub.
Forcing Derek into a stall, Stiles went in after him and closed the door.
"Sex," Stiles was able to get out oddly clearly as he began to reach for Derek's belt.
Derek said something else, and pushed Stiles' hands away.
But Stiles was a persistent drunk if nothing else and he just continued to reach for the boy's belt buckle until Derek grabbed his hands and held them to his sides with all of his strength.
Stiles heard that. But he didn't. In fact, while Derek was so busy with holding his hands down, Stiles started to lift his knee up and gently rub it against Derek's groin. And for a while, Stiles was satisfied that Derek seemed to lose his resolve for a minute as his eyes went half lidded and he began to slowly grind against Stiles' leg.
But then, he stopped and shook Stiles a little. Now, Stiles wasn't into sado-machosism, but having Derek hold him still and shake him like that made the boy suddenly a million times hornier, and he put his knee back up and repeated his earlier actions.
This time however, Derek didn't fight back as strongly, and the way his face softened in pleasure was all Stiles needed to know that he had the boy right where he wanted him. And, with his knee (or thigh now) still in between Derek's legs, he moved forward and kissed him.
A first, Stiles was met with some resistance, but when he moved his leg and crept his hand down the front of Derek's pants to fondle his now obvious erection, Derek moaned a bit and Stiles took the opportunity to probe the inside of Derek's mouth with his tongue.
I tasted like beer and something sweet. Chocolate maybe? He wasn't sure, but Stiles liked it, and he kept gently licking Derek's tongue for the next few minutes until the man was out of breath and gasping for air.
Stiles lifted away to allow him to breathe, but only to drop to his knees in front Derek and begin to undo his belt, and then his fly.
Derek tried feebly to stop Stiles, but the attempts were only half hearted, as his now bulging erection spoke to his true desires. And those desires were just what Stiles wanted to fulfill.
Pushing Derek's pants down to his knees, Stiles began to slowly pump the man's member while running his tongue under the smooth head. He continued this act, licking the tip of Derek's cock until the man whimpered a bit.
Funny how Stiles could hear that.
Once he heard that, Stiles took it as signal to take the whole thing into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing once he felt the head reach the back of his throat.
Derek steadied himself with one hand on the side of the stall and ran the other through Stiles' short hair. He gently massaged Stiles' head as the boy slowly bobbed his head back and forth, moaning every so often. Derek let out a few more moans himself, as he let his head fall back in ecstasy.
After a while though, Stiles stopped and stood up, pushing Derek down onto the toilet seat. He then proceeded to drop his own pants and suck on his fingers to wet them enough so that he could stick them into his ass, preparing himself for what he really wanted to happen.
Derek's pupils were blown with lust as he watched Stiles stick first one, then two, and finally three fingers into himself and begin to stretch himself out for entrance. After a while, Derek couldn't wait any longer and lifted the boy up and held him face first against the stall.
Stiles held himself up with both arms and tried to look back at Derek, but the man forced his head back around as he continued to hold Stiles' up with his hips, while lining his dick up for entrance with his free hand.
Stiles was surprised when he felt something pushing at his backside, and moaned loudly when it forced itself in.
Derek thrust himself in and out of Stiles until he felt himself nearing. Stiles began to feel a similar heat pooling in his lower abdomen, a tingling that let him know he was nearing his climax as well.
Stiles pumped himself until he came all over the side of the stall with a moan of bliss. His clenching muscles became too much for Derek and the man too let out a moan of his own as he emptied his load inside of Stiles. Then he pulled himself out and quickly pulled his pants up.
Stiles did the same as he turned to face Derek but the other male didn't look as happy as Stiles would have expected. In fact, he looked lost. And when he finally looked Stiles in the eye, he all but ran out of the stall and out of the restroom.
Stiles, still drunk of course, didn't quite get what was going on, and so he just wandered out of the restroom until he ran into Jackson, who had been looking for him.
"Jesus, Stilinski," was all Stiles heard, and the next thing he knew, he was being undressed and put into his bed.
SO, what do you think. Ive got some ideas running around my head, but should this continue? Let me know what you think?