3 Months Later
"God dammit," Stiles groans as Derek spins out of his way, drops to the floor and wraps his legs around Stiles'. Stiles drops like a stone. Or at least he would have if Derek hadn't controlled his fall like he always does. He's still a little sore, ribs hurting every now and then and he's suffered from headache probably 4 days out of 7 since they got back from Beacon Hills. Derek grins down at him as he gets on top of Stiles and presses his hands into the mat.
"Watch for legs," he says, squeezes Stiles' wrists and gets off him. He stretches and Stiles wants to run his fingers over the exposed skin at his waist.
They haven't really touched since they've been back. Derek holding himself back from Stiles like he expects Stiles to break, looking at Stiles like he can still see the blood on him, the vivid cut down his cheek. Stiles rubs his cheek as he remembers the itch as it was healing. It's still got a long way to go, but it's scarred over pretty well, an unobtrusive line down his cheek. It could have been a hell of a lot worse and he tells himself that every time he looks in the mirror. The bruises have gone, still only a lingering hint of tenderness under his eyes where Mark broke his cheekbone but at least the skin is a normal colour now.
As much as Stiles understands Derek's desire to hold off until Stiles is completely better, he wants Derek too much to keep dancing this stupid dance.
Derek's been teaching Stiles self-defence. Although Derek admitted that Stiles did a pretty good job of Mark, he still needs to know the basics and he had said, with a low voice and his fingers around Stiles' wrist "I can't be there all the time." Derek's kissed him exactly three times since they've been back. Once three days after he got home, bringing chicken soup and X-Box games over. He kisses him pressed up against Stiles' kitchen counter, brief and soft. The next time was when Stiles got back to work two weeks ago, Derek kissed him in the elevator and whispered "I missed you" into his mouth. The last time was yesterday, with Stiles pressed into the mat of the gym floor with sweat beading across his forehead and Derek's body over his. Each time has left Stiles wanting more. HE had thought that being back here, away from Kate and the ghosts of what happened to Stiles, they would have been fucking like rabbits. Or so to speak what with Stiles' broken ribs and all. But Derek's being holding himself back and Stiles is done with it all.
This self-defence teaching isn't helping either, having Derek sweaty and pressed up against him for most of the mornings is playing havoc with Stiles' libido and on more than one occasion Derek has extracted himself from Stiles with a knowing look and cleared his throat.
"Derek," Stiles holds his hand out and Derek reaches out to pull him to his feet. He's gentle, he always is, mindful of Stiles still tender ribs, but he pulls Stiles close and flattens his hand against the small of Stiles' back.
"Stiles," he says and Stiles blinks at him. Derek's gaze flicks down to Stiles' lips as Stiles darts his tongue out to wet them and he looks back up at Stiles with a slightly glazed expression. He drops Stiles like he's burned so suddenly that Stiles stumbles.
"Derek," Stiles says again and Derek rolls his shoulders.
"You're hurt," he says and Stiles scoffs, leans back against one of the pillars in the gym and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I'm not," he replies and Derek turns to him.
"I'm trying not to take advantage," Derek says, taking a step towards him despite his words. Stiles uncrosses his arms and raises one leg to rest his foot flat against the pillar.
"And the fact that I want you to means nothing?" Stiles asks and Derek reaches him but doesn't touch him, places his hands flat against the pillar beside Stiles' head.
"When he…" Derek starts and closes his eyes. "When he took you, I thought…I thought the worst and I…" He opens his eyes and his expression makes Stiles' words of comfort die in his throat. "I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the fact I nearly lost you."
"You're in love with me," Stiles says, the words falling from his lips like he can't stop them. Derek flinches but doesn't move away and Stiles swallows and watches as Derek's eyes track the moment. He blinks and finds Derek's eyes fixed on his. He still hasn't moved any closer, just hovers over Stiles, not touching him, his hands braced by Stiles' head. Stiles can feel the warmth of his body and he wants to sink into it.
"Hopelessly," Derek mutters, and his nostrils twitch like he can smell Stiles' skin from this distance. Stiles breathes in, wants to touch Derek but he's reluctant to break this spell.
"How long?" Stiles whispers and Derek breaks, moving his thumb to brush over Stiles' temple, near where the scar Mark left starts. Stiles lets out a choked noise and leans into the small touch which is heavy with significance.
"I can't remember anymore," Derek shakes his head like he's confused and Stiles lifts his hand to the waistband on Derek's old worn track pants. Derek's hips move towards him and he lets out a small noise from the back of his throat.
"That long huh?" Stiles asks, dipping is fingers into Derek's pants. Derek's skin is warm against the back of his knuckles and Derek lifts one hand from the pillar to curl around Stiles' wrist. Not stopping, to encouraging, just touching. He lets his head rest against Stiles' with a sigh that sounds like he's wanted this for years.
"That long," he confirms and Stiles turns his hand, presses his palm to the skin on Derek's hip.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up," Stiles says and Derek runs his fingers down the scar on his cheek. Stiles reaches up and pulls his hand down, he doesn't want reminders just yet of what Mark left on him.
"Are you all caught up?" Derek asks and there's a hint of pleading in his tone, of iPlease God Stiles be on the same page as me/i and Stiles nods, threads his hand not currently clamped to Derek's hip through his hair. Derek closes his eyes and leans into the touch.
"Completely," the word has barely left Stiles' mouth before Derek's lips are on his. Stiles moans, opening his mouth, ihimself/i to Derek. Derek presses forward, but there's a trembling tension in him that Stiles knows is because he's still holding himself back from crushing Stiles to the pillar and kissing him like he wants to. "I won't break," he says as Derek breaks the kiss as runs his mouth down Stiles' jaw. Derek's answer is a rumble of noise from his chest and a nip of teeth on his ear lobe. Stiles would be happy to finish this right now, up against the pillar in the office gym, with his legs wrapped around Derek's waist and Derek buried inside him.
The door slams against the wall as someone flings it open and Derek jumps away, runs his thumb across his lower lip and Stiles nearly comes in his pants right there. Lydia lets out a laugh and Stiles manages to look at her in the doorway, with her hands on her hips and her hair framing her face.
"Round table in ten minutes," she says and then laughs again and she walks out. Derek sighs, runs his hands through his hair and his tongue across his bottom lip like he can still taste Stiles.
"Fuck," Stiles mutters and Derek lets out a shaky noise that could be a laugh. He reaches for Stiles, tugs him gently closer and kisses him, quick and thoroughly, with a promise of later on his lips.
"When this case is done…" he leaves the rest of it hanging and Stiles nudges his nose with his own.
"Your place or mine?" Derek doesn't answer, just laughs and lets him go.
"Anywhere with a horizontal surface," is Derek's reply and Stiles whines at it. "Stop whining, go shower."
The case takes a week to wrap up, missing girls, all brunette with blue eyes, and mercifully they had found them all alive. The unsub is now behind bars and Derek wants to sleep for a week. Stiles is asleep on his shoulder, breath hot against Derek's collarbone and Isaac looks up from across the small table and smiles indulgently at them both before looking back out of the window. Derek wants to rest his cheek against the top of Stiles' head but John looks at him from across the plane so he refrains. It's not a look of malice but one of wariness. Derek gets it though, Stiles has been through a hell of a lot, kidnapping, physical torture and numerous injuries. He's done well to get back to work as quickly as he has and even though Derek knows he still gets nightmares every now and then, according to John they're not as bad as they were when they first got back. Almost killing Mark can't have helped with his mental wellbeing either. Derek sighs and runs his fingers over Stiles' knuckles where his hand rests on Derek's thigh. Stiles shifts, turns his face into Derek's neck and mutters something.
Derek hadn't wanted Stiles to come with them this time but Stiles had insisted, pulled the 'I don't want to be alone' card and both John and Derek had let him come, but he'd been under strict guard the entire time and he had been practically vibrating out of his skin by the time they boarded the Jet.
It's tricky, what they have, undefinable in the sense that Derek's so totally in love with Stiles he would do anything for him. But he would have done that even before. Stiles is part of his team, his family, and Derek would do anything for any one of them. Erica smiles into her laptop screen as he looks at her and he knows she's talking to Boyd and her son on Skype. Lydia's got her feet up on one of the couches and she's reading a book on Astrophysics. Isaac's staring out of the window like he will find all the unanswered questions in his head among the clouds, his fingers tapping against his thigh. Scott's staring into space with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face and Derek lets out a small laugh at the 'Allison' expression. It's what Stiles calls it. Deaton's sitting next to John, his familiar face grounding in a way that Derek sometimes can't explain. And then there's Stiles. Stiles who is irritating and loud, who's a technical genius and can fix anything with a small screwdriver and an elastic band, Stiles who grins at Derek and makes Derek's world slow down. Derek wants Stiles in his life until the whole world crumbles and time stop. He wants that so much that sometime he can't breathe. Stiles shifts again like he knows Derek is thinking about him and Derek gives in and rests his cheek to the top of Stiles' head.
I love you he thinks and Stiles' answer is the tightening of his fingers in Derek's thigh.
"So…" Stiles toes at the floor of the elevator and looks down at his feet. Derek resists the urge to pulls his face up with two fingers and look into those brown eyes.
"Yes?" Derek answers, looking at the numbers illuminating down as the elevator descends to the basement car park.
"We don't have a case," Stiles says looking up at the numbers as well. It hits three and Derek swallows.
"And I'm assuming we're both free for the evening."
"So…" Stiles says again and the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. Derek holds the doors open as Stiles walks out. "Your place or mine?" Derek huffs out a laugh as he gets to his car. He opens the passenger door.
"Stiles…get in the car."
"Hang on wait," Stiles says as they practically trip over the pair of sneakers Stiles left in his hallway. They're at Stiles' because it's closer and there's no way in hell he was waiting any longer, especially in traffic, to get his hands on Derek. Derek freezes, unlatches his mouth from Stiles' throat and steps back. "Ground rules." Derek's forehead wrinkles so adorably that Stiles has to laugh. "As much as I want you to throw me down on the nearest hard surface and fuck me until I can't see anymore," Derek's jaw twitches at that, "I don't think my ribs will take it so just go easy on me ok?"
"Ok," Derek says, coming back to Stiles. Somehow during the trip up the one flight of stairs Derek managed to get Stiles' shirt buttons undone, whether he ripped them off or had done some magic with his fingers whilst Stiles had been distracted by Derek's teeth at his jaw he has no idea but he doesn't really care when Derek steps closer and runs his hands up Stiles' chest and across his shoulders. The shirt falls down his arms and Derek runs his fingers across Stiles' ribs, splaying out between the bones.
"Also, no complaining about my apartment," Stiles says and Derek nods as he runs his hands around and pulls Stiles closer.
"Got it," Derek's hands are hot against his skin, moving up Stiles' shoulders. He lowers his head to Stiles' collar bone and scrapes his teeth across the skin there. Stiles lets his head fall back and runs his fingers through Derek's hair. He grips the strands at the back of his neck and Derek growls softly as Stiles pulls his head up.
"For the love of God, Stiles, shut up," Derek groans and pulls Stiles close, covering his mouth with his own before Stiles can answer. Derek backs him up, Stiles stumbles, nearly falls but then his back hits the wall and Derek presses forward, his thigh slipping between his own and Stiles groans into his mouth. Derek's still fully clothed, his warmth seeping through his Henley where it's pressed to Stiles' chest, and Stiles wants to rectify that situation but can't seem to tear his mouth away from Derek's. Derek hums, pulls back and scrapes his teeth over Stiles' bottom lip.
"Too many clothes," Stiles whines, tugging at Derek's Henley and Derek huffs out a laugh as he pulls it over his head. Stiles has seen Derek half naked so many times before and has had the opportunity to appreciate his musculature more than once but now it's different. Now Stiles can reach out and run his fingers through the grooves of muscle, spread his hands out over the dips of muscle on either side of his hips. Derek breathes out through his nose, his hands pressed to the wall next to Stiles' head. He suddenly feels completely inadequate standing in front of Derek. Derek's marble, sculpted perfection and Stiles wants to lick every inch of him. Stiles is…well, he's not Derek. He frowns, wrinkles his nose and drops his hands. Derek catches them and lifts them above his head, one large hand curling around his wrists.
"Don't even think it," he says and noses at Stiles' neck.
"Have you looked at yourself recently?" Stiles asks and Derek licks a long line up the front of Stiles' throat. Stiles groans, bucks forward and tugs on his hands. Derek growls softly into Stiles' mouth.
"Have you?" Derek asks, biting on Stiles' bottom lip again.
"Mmmm…not the same," Stiles mutters and Derek runs one hand down the centre of his chest, tugs gently at the line of hair below his belly button.
"You're an idiot," Derek says and kisses him slowly, deliberately. His hand dips into Stiles' jeans, warm knuckles pressed to Stiles' stomach.
"Not the best way to talk yourself into my pants," Stiles says and Derek's fingers brush over the base of Stiles' dick.
"I'm already in your pants," Derek says, and to prove his point, he curls his fingers around Stiles' dick. The angle's off, awkward where Stiles' jeans are tight against his rapidly growing erection but it's pressure all the same and Stiles groans. Derek squeezes his fingers around the base and kisses Stiles and even that is almost too much because it's Derek. Finally.
"Ok, so can we take this to the bedroom before my legs give out?" Stiles asks and Derek pulls his hands out. Stiles thanks god that Derek knows his apartment as well as he does because he's pretty sure he couldn't direct him right now. Derek grabs his hand and tugs him gently down the hall. He pushes the door open and walks through it. Seeing Derek in his bedroom is nothing new. Seeing Derek in his bedroom with no shirt and standing at the foot of Stiles' bed, waiting for Stiles is completely different. In the best possible way. "I can't believe you're actually here," he says and Derek cocks his head at him as he toes off his shoes.
"I've been here before," Derek replies and Stiles shakes his head as he pushes himself off from the doorframe and walks towards him.
"Not like this," he says, spanning his hands over Derek's hips. Derek smiles at him, small but brilliant and Stiles grins back at him, his fingers tugging on Derek's belt.
"If it helps," Derek says, hands reaching down to Stiles' jeans and unpopping the button, "I can't believe you finally caught up," he smirks a little, eyes still downcast on Stiles' jeans and Stiles can't even come up with a decent response because Derek's drawing the zipper down and running his hands around Stiles' hips to splay his fingers out over his buttocks.
"Took me long enough right?" Stiles mutters as Derek lowers his mouth to Stiles' throat. He swallows and hears a low rumble from Derek's chest. Stiles' jeans slide down to the floor, pooling at his feet and Stiles steps outs of them and Derek tugs him close. Stiles can feel his erection hard against his thigh and suddenly needs a hell of a lot more than this slow exploration of each other's bodies. There's time for that later, once Stiles has seen Derek come apart, there's time to taste the salt on Derek's skin. But now he just needs. He groans and pulls Derek in for a kiss that's as hard and demanding as he can manage and Derek answers it in kind. "Naked now," Stiles mutters, tugging at Derek's jeans, words muffled against Derek's lips but Derek gets it and pulls away long enough to kick his jeans and boxers off. Stiles wishes he could take the time to appreciate Derek's cock, the way it curves upwards towards his stomach, the hardness of it between his hands, the bead of fluid at the tip, but Derek pulls his back in and Stiles is once against at a disadvantage. Derek's naked now, gloriously so and Stiles still has cotton trapping his erection. He shifts, tries to get his arms to work whilst still kissing Derek because Derek may be the best damn kisser in the entire world. Or maybe it's just because its iDerek/i he's kissing. Derek growls, pulls back and something in his expression tells Stiles he wants to throw him down on the bed but he doesn't, mindful of Stiles' ribs he pushes gently and Stiles goes willingly, if a little shaky leggedly. He shifts backwards, rests on his elbows as Derek kicks their discarded clothes out of the way, and crawls over Stiles. He goes slowly, running his fingers up Stiles' leg as he runs his teeth across Stiles' hip bone. He kisses at the ribs that were broken by Mark, pauses and rubs his cheek across the mending bone and looks up at Stiles. Stiles reaches down and cups at Derek's face, runs his thumb over Derek's cheekbone in reassurance and Derek moves again, ever upwards, flicking his teeth then tongue over one nipple. Stiles drops his head back and Derek's tongue runs up his throat in one line. "I'm still not naked," he grumbles and Derek huffs out a laugh against his lips.
"So lazy," Derek mutters back, but he goes back down, biting gently at Stiles' collar bone, running his tongue around the other nipple, making his way down the other side of ribs, pausing to swirl his tongue over his belly button. He curls his fingers into the waistband of Stiles' boxers and pauses, looking up at Stiles.
"Now please," Stiles says with a grin and Derek laughs again and shakes his head.
"Not yet," Derek replies and presses his lips to the cotton of Stiles' boxers. Stiles groans, the urgency from earlier still thrumming in his veins but he can't take his eyes off the sight of Derek mouthing at his dick through his boxers. He doesn't want to either. Derek mouths at his dick, the cotton soaking through with saliva and sticking to his skin, but Stiles feels his dick harden the more Derek continues, it shouldn't be as erotic as it is.
"Fuck," Stiles curses as Derek presses his thumbs into the creases of his hips. "Derek…"
"You need something?" Derek asks innocently, looking up the length of Stiles' body like he hasn't just been trying to suck Stiles' brains out through his dick via his boxers.
"Yes…" Stiles lets himself fall back against the bed and groans as Derek runs his fingers up under the leg of the boxers, fingers touching his skin lightly as he leans back to Stiles' dick.
"What?" Derek curls his fingers into the waistband of the boxers again and tugs gently. "Tell me, Stiles." The head of Stiles' dick pops out from the elastic and Derek licks at the tip. But it's still not enough.
"Derek…please," Stiles whines as Derek blows a stream of air across the sensitive tip.
"You're an evil bastard you know that?" Stiles says and looks down at Derek. Derek grins suddenly, brilliant and Stiles feels his heart trip in his chest. "Suck my dick." Derek blinks, his grin falters slightly at Stiles' boldness but it widens just before he tugs Stiles' boxers the whole way down, Stiles lifting himself to help, and then he throws them over his shoulder and swallows Stiles whole. "Holy fucking shit." Derek's mouth is hot, almost burning, wet and skilled in a way that Stiles doesn't want to think about. He swallows, hums, presses his tongue to the underside as he pulls off. He bobs down again, humming as he does it and Stiles nearly comes then and there except this is not all he wants. He resists the urge to just give up, to fuck himself into Derek's mouth and tugs on his hair instead. "Stop…wait," Derek looks up at him, swipes a thumb across his bottom lip and Stiles groans. "Fuck me."
"Was that an expletive or a command?" Derek says with an eyebrow raised and Stiles doesn't miss the way his voice sounds a little hoarse. He hooks his finger at Derek who crawls back up his body and kisses him.
"A plea?" Stiles tries as Derek nudges their noses together. He laughs gently and traces his fingers over the scar on Stiles' cheek. Stiles flinches and curls his fingers around Derek's hand. "Don't." Derek looks down at him, his arms shaking against Stiles' body where he's holding himself up and there's something unreadable on his face. Stiles shakes his head. "Just…"
"It's proof, Stiles," Derek says, tugging his hand closer to Stiles' cheek again, his fingers touch just by his temple, "proof that you're not a victim, that you fought back," he trails his fingers down and Stiles whines quietly.
"I almost killed a man," Stiles says, voice thick with something he doesn't want to define. Derek shakes his head and leans down to press his lips to the bottom of the scar.
"You didn't," he says, lips moving against his skin. Stiles runs his hand through Derek's hair.
"I would have," he replies and Derek pushes himself up and sits across the top of Stiles' thighs. He splays his fingers out between Stiles' ribs.
"But you didn't," he says, looking down at how his hands fit between the bones, "and even if you had," he moves gently, his dick bobbing against his stomach, Stiles licks his lips, "it was self-defence, Stiles."
"But…" Stiles starts and one of Derek's hand wraps around his dick and his words die in his throat.
"Self-defence," Derek says again, twisting his hand and Stiles nearly bites through his bottom lip, "you fought back." Derek leans down, one hand planted beside Stiles' head and his lips hover over Stiles'. "So do you want to shut up and let me show you how much I love you or do you want to talk some more?" Stiles lets out a choked sob as Derek runs his thumb nail across the tip of his dick and his words hit him square in the chest. He blinks up at Derek, out of focus and doubled but still brilliantly Derek and he never wants this moment to end.
"Show me," he says and Derek kisses him hard. Derek rolls his hips, Stiles' dick, still slick from Derek's mouth, slides together with Derek's. Derek reaches between them and wraps a hand around them both and twists it, draws it upwards. His hips move counter to Stiles' and it's almost too much. Stiles grips at the short hairs at the back of Derek's neck. "Show me…fuck Derek…please."
Derek growls softly, his teeth biting into Stiles' bottom lip almost painfully. He moves though, ducks to the side and fumbles one hands, the other still wrapped around them both, in Stiles' bedside cabinet drawer. He lifts condoms and a tube of lube triumphantly out of it and if Stiles' wasn't so painfully turned on he would laugh. Derek kisses him briefly as he pulls away and picks a condom from the packet. He chucks the rest of them over his shoulder and looks down at Stiles.
"As much as I want to see your face when I fuck you, I think…" he trails off as Stiles reaches between them and grips at the base of his dick. Derek's groans. "Turn over."
Stiles does because as much as he would want to see Derek's face as he sinks inside him, he's pretty sure his ribs won't put up with the angle. He turns, lays his head on his hands and lifts himself to his knees. Derek groans from behind him, the crackle of the condom packet louder than it should be. Derek runs a hand down Stiles' spin, fingers jumping over the bumps of bone and he mutters something under his breath. There's the click of the lube bottle lid and then a slick finger circles around his hole and Stiles groans and pushes his hips back. Derek pushes his finger in slowly, past the first ring of muscle, then deeper, and Stiles groans as Derek curls his finger inside. He adds another, pushing it in just as slowly and there's that familiar burn as he stretches around Derek. But it's different this time because it's Derek hand, and Derek gripping at his hip like his fingernails are going to break through the skin. Derek draws his fingers out almost all the way, pushes them back in and fucks Stiles slowly and deliberately with his fingers. He does it until Stiles is pushing his hips back, whining for more with a sheen of sweat beading across his back. Derek shifts his hand and there's a burning patch of skin where it used to be. Derek adds another finger, curls his hand around to tugs at Stiles' dick.
"Derek…" Stiles mutters, turning his head in the circle of his arms and biting down on his own skin to stop himself from begging Derek to just fuck him already. Derek leans down, covers Stiles' back with his chest and presses a kiss to Stiles' shoulders.
"You want more?" He asks, his voice low and dripping with sex. Stiles groans, tries to answer but ends up nodding the best he can instead. Derek kisses his neck and pushes himself back up only to pull his fingers all the way out leaving Stiles feeling empty and exposes. Derek squeezes at his hip to get him to stay put and he flips the lid of the lube again. The next thing Stiles feels is both Derek's hands at his hips and the head of Derek's dick pushing inside him so achingly slowly he's pretty sure it's going to drive him crazy. He pushes all the way in and stills.
"Fuck Stiles…You feel…fuck I love you." Derek grinds out and Stiles wants to answer him again but his voice is gone and all he can do is circle his hips, pulling Derek in deeper. They both groan, Derek's deeper and louder as Stiles clenches around him. He's holding still, Stiles knows what for, but he can't find his voice and he just pushes back and whines and Derek gets the message. Pulls out almost all the way and pushes in slowly again.
"Harder," Stiles manages to find words, one at least and Derek grunts in answer but pulls out and slams back in hard enough to drive the air from Stiles' lungs. It hurts, his ribs mostly, but it's so completely perfect that it makes Stiles groan again and pushes back, silently begging for more. It's so much better than with anyone else, any of the nameless guys picked up in bars, or the stand in boyfriends. They were all substitutes for this, for Derek and Stiles feels his eyes prickle with tears and Derek growls again and pushes all the way in, drags the tip of his dick over Stiles' prostate.
Derek sets a hard rhythm, his grip bruising at Stiles' hips, and he hits Stiles' prostate every time he slams in and Stiles is a sweating wreck within minutes. He's pretty sure he could come without being touched but his dick is aching for Derek's touch, his hard grip.
"Come Stiles," Derek says, leaning over his, like he can read Stiles' mind, "come without me touching you." He speaks directly into Stiles' ear when he says "come for me baby boy."
And Stiles does, comes with Derek buried inside him and Derek's teeth scraping over his shoulder, Derek's heart tripping in his chest and thumping through to Stiles'. Derek groans, leans up and fucks Stiles hard, his hips losing their rhythm as he Stiles clenches around him. Derek comes with a growl that almost doesn't sound human, and his fingers twitch against Stiles' hips.
Derek rests his forehead to Stiles' back, breathes in and Stiles feels his tongue lap out against his skin. He pulls out, running his hand over Stiles' spine as he winces. Stiles hears the snap of the condom and then the dull thud as Derek throws it into the trashcan. Stiles rolls off to the side, mindful of the mess he made of his covers and Derek disappears on slightly shaky legs down the hallway. He reappears later with a small, damp towel. He laughs and Stiles opens his eyes to look at him. He looks like something out of a wet dream, his skin damp with sweat and he's gazing down at Stiles like Stiles is the only thing in the world. He's laughing at Stiles though and Stiles frowns at him.
"You look…" He stops and runs the towel across Stiles's stomach.
"What?" Stiles asks again and Derek drops the towel to the floor and leans down to kiss him.
"Perfect," Derek mutters and Stiles whines as he curls his hands around Derek's face and kisses him. Derek manages to manoeuvre them into bed without rolling Stiles into his drying come on the covers and pulls Stiles tight against his chest. Stiles shifts against his aching ribs and tangles their legs together, pulling one of Derek's arms over him and winding his fingers through Derek's.
The air's thick with some many things that he wants to say so he just says the simplest that he can.
"I love you too, by the way, hopelessly," Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat and pulls Stiles tighter to him, his nose pressed to the back of Stiles' neck.
They've both got things to work through but for the moment Stiles is happy to stay right where he is. Where he belongs. With Derek's arms around him.