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Stiles’ pale mole-dotted thighs trembled on either side of Derek’s body as he rode him. The skin of his legs blushed peach while Derek pet them in a gentle soothing motion with his palms, pulsing his large hands every few strokes into Stiles’ plump thighs, squeezing and relaxing.
“That’s it, Baby boy,” Derek sighed.
Stiles smiled meekly, his expression hidden behind his hands both held near his mouth, covered up by the sleeves of the oversized hoodie he wore. One of Derek’s.
Derek’s sweatshirt was four sizes too big for Stiles’ thin boyish frame, and yet it was Stiles’ very favorite thing to wear. The faded gunmetal-grey hoodie was very soft, from its hundred plus washes, and it smelled like Derek. Warm fire, leather. Years and years of the same cologne, years of being against Derek’s skin.
Sometimes Stiles would bring his sleeves to his face just to nuzzle into them and inhale. Stiles loved the fabric so very much. Wearing it not only made him feel demure and delicate but close to his love, always, just like he was in a perpetual hug from Derek. It was his safety blanket.
“Can you feel me stretching you open?” Derek cooed, his hands moving up under the hoodie to caress his nails against the velvety skin of Stiles’ groin and trembling sides. Stiles twitched in his hold. His sweater-paws still in front of his mouth, he nodded, a tiny whine coming out from between his lips as Derek thrust his hips up again.
Derek pressed the flat of his large palm against Stiles’ lower stomach, right where the small sprinkle of public hair was. He continued with his nails, tickling the skin there, cupping the globe of Stiles’ right asscheek in his other hand. “You like it, Baby? Hmm?”
Stiles nodded again, the cheeks on his face heating under his love’s relaxed stare. He loved almost nothing more than when Derek talked softly to him.
It took Derek some time to fall for Stiles. His first few months of knowing him he had considered Stiles to be an extraneous participant in he and Scott’s business. Finding the incessant and overexcited boy more trouble than he was worth, until one day when he began looking at him very differently. The day it had all changed. The day Stiles had succeeded in getting under his skin.
With Stiles, after Derek had fallen, he was gentle, soft spoken, and he took all the time in the world needed to tease and toy with him. Making pleasure curl in Stiles’ belly was Derek’s purpose now, his favorite pastime. Such a beautiful little creature. Derek treated Stiles like a fine piece of the most expensive and sought after treasure.
Stiles began bouncing softly again, in tiny little movements. He opened his eyes to peep over his sweater-paws at the man laying underneath him, his focus on watching Stiles’ body undulate on top of him. Derek looked up and their eyes met.
Stiles remembered developing feelings for Derek long before they had ever spoken a word to one another. A senior when Stiles was a freshman. The forbidden fruit. Stiles would watch Derek pull his Camaro into the school parking lot every morning, jealous of the jacket he would always be wearing because it got to touch him all day.
Derek was in a league of his own. Nothing Stiles could ever fathom about coming anywhere near. No way would Derek Hale, the aloof babe of Beacon Hills, ever want anything to do with a snot-nosed annoying kid like him.
When Scott got turned years later and Stiles had miraculously fallen into Derek’s circle, he still couldn’t muster up the guts to tell Derek how much he admired him. Until one night, eye contact that lingered for too long. Confessions of secretive longing from both parties.
Some days Stiles felt like he was living inside a dream. Every morning he was scared to open his eyes, in case he woke up alone. But he never did, and Derek was always there. With big strong arms and gentle affirming words.
Stiles melted back into the present, taking mental inventory of Derek’s hands on his body, a gentle bite of his own lower lip, tugging on the wrists of his sweater to cover his own hands even further. A coy gesture that drove Derek closer to the edge.
Derek’s cock was thick, stretching Stiles’ well-lubricated hole open, and with each roll of Stiles’ hips his sounds got louder.
“That’s it,” Derek sighed, his pelvis twitching from the warmth enveloping not only his cock but his body, his senses. Looking into Stiles’ eyes always filled Derek with a sense of accomplishment, of duty. Stiles didn’t need Derek to protect him, in fact it may even be the other way around.
Love made Derek weak, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Derek felt obligated to care for the boy, to let him know, whether through word or touch, how loved he was. “You gonna come for me, Baby boy?”
Stiles nodded, his breath hitching and a moan falling from his lips from a particularly hard thrust of Derek’s cock deeper into his body. He nearly fell forward from the force of it.
“Come here,” Derek cooed, opening his arms, beckoning Stiles closer to him.
Stiles moved up, Derek’s cock slipping from his hole from the maneuver. Stiles laid against Derek’s body, nestling against him, their chests touching before they began to kiss, hot open mouths moving together. Derek’s large palm directed Stiles’ head where he wanted him, to deepen their embrace.
Derek lifted Stiles’ bent leg further up his body to stretch him open again while their tongues and lips played together, giving him an angle to slip into his boy again. Stiles whined into Derek’s mouth. Derek shushed him softly as he lowered Stiles until he was flush to his body again.
Derek was a large man, and his cock wasn’t any different. Before Stiles, he had never been with anyone who was able to take all of him to the hilt. Stiles took it with ease. If Derek wasn’t already in love, that aspect surely would have done it for him.
“Derek,” Stiles whined against his lips.
“Keep saying my name,” Derek kissed Stiles’ face, nuzzling against him as he began fucking up into Stiles’ body again. Their arms entwined, holding each other in a deep warmth embrace.
Derek’s sweatshirt fell six inches below Stiles’ ass when he was standing but had been hiked up from their activity. The sweatshirt, soft and warm, their combined body heat pressed against Stiles’ cock in the front. From Derek’s hold and movement, pressing him against his body, Stiles’ cock was trapped between them, throbbing and leaking against the fabric.
Derek pet Stiles’ face, could feel himself getting close. Pre-come and lube leaked from Stiles’ hole around Derek’s cock, slightly wetting the area between their bodies even more.
The material of the sweatshirt against Stiles’ most sensitive area, mixed with the pressure and friction of their bodies, unexpectedly sent him over the edge. He clutched Derek’s arm as he rocked forward, spilling into the sweatshirt, pretty breathy whines and whimpers spilled from his lips. Derek pet him through it, his heart pounding in his chest.
“That’s it.” He repeated, cooing and coaxing his love through his orgasm. “Relax.”
Stiles slowly floated down, his head resting in the corner of Derek’s neck. He tilted his chin, his lips ghosting Derek’s, his tongue darting out, a soft movement across Derek’s lower lip at the same time as a thrust up sent him over the edge. He groaned, holding Stiles against him as he bucked up, coming inside him. Rutting up into the boy, sighing and trying to catch his breath.
“Baby,” Derek sighed, his hand in Stiles’ hair, lackadaisically kissing the boy’s face, his eyes still closed and drawn in pleasure. “I love you.” His words came out almost pained.
Stiles kissed Derek’s neck in a small peck from where he lay, nuzzling there, clutching at Derek’s shoulder and continuing to gently pant out his lingering pleasure. Not able to articulate how he was feeling in words. But Derek knew. He could tell by the beating of Stiles’ heart.
Through happenstance, they had been brought together. But it would take Heaven and hell to tear them apart.