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“Stiles?” Derek calls into the dark forest, eyes flashing bright blue as he looks around his surroundings. The moon is hanging full above and the stars are bright in the sky but the canopy of leaves from the mess of trees surrounding the werewolf block out most of the moon’s light. “Stiles, you better be out here.”
Derek glances around himself one more time, sighing and tipping his head back to scent the air. He can smell the decaying leaves of last fall and the dew covering the fresh leaves covering the trees in a layer of green and the squirrels fighting in a tree off to his left and the rabbit scampering away from him on the right, but he doesn’t smell the annoyingly talkative, Adderall-addicted teen who happens to be the best friend of one of Derek’s only allies, and, dare he say it, friends. The wind shifts and Derek gets agitated, not having time to deal with Stiles’ games with a full moon on the rise.
He gives one last abortive sniff and turns to leave, but he runs into the solid, yet short, frame of one Stiles Stilinski. Before he can apologize for running into the teenager, or even stumble back, Stiles’ hand is snaking around the back of his neck and pulling his face down to meet the shorter male head on. Stiles doesn’t stop there, not content until their lips are mashed together and Derek’s eyes are wide in shock.
After a few moments of Stiles just resting his lips against Derek’s without a single reaction from the older, he takes a step back and Derek can smell the embarrassment rolling off of the human before he can even see the blush on the kid’s face. “Uh, yeah… so that was a terrible idea.” He tries to laugh off the whole mess and Derek just stands there, too shocked to speak or even move.
“Um…” he gets out, but his vocal chords refuse to allow anything else by.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Derek. I think I had way too much Adderall and I just sorta lost my head and had no idea what I was doing. Sorry I took away from your personal brooding and self-loathing to drag you out here.” He rambles and Derek rolls his eyes, tuning out the 18-year old and pulling him into his broad chest.
Stiles fits perfectly between the werewolf’s shoulders, his head coming to just under Derek’s jaw as he looks up at the man before him. His blush deepens when he looks into Derek’s eyes and then they’re kissing again, only this time it’s Derek who initiates it. Stiles is shocked at first, never thinking Derek would actually respond to his advances, but he soon adapts and starts to tilt his head at just the right angle to deepen the kiss and pull the taller male closer.
This all started because of a rogue werewolf rolling through town with a taste for living flesh and a lack of moral code that has kept both human and werewolf up for days. After doing some research, Stiles had found that there was an old Indian temple on the edge of the woods farthest from town because why not have an ancient temple used for human sacrifice in Beacon Hills? It makes perfect sense for it to be there.
Anyway, Stiles had driven his crappy Jeep as far as he could and then hiked the rest of the way into the forest until he found the perfect circle bare of trees and covered in fresh blood. The next logical thing he thought to do was to text Scott, but Scott was with Allison so he texted Derek and the Beta immediately replied with an “I’m on my way.” Stiles had nodded to himself and went to lean on a tree but thought better of it when he saw the brain matter splattered on the bark.
He decided to wait for the werewolf at a safe distance, away from the bloody sacrificial temple. An hour later he heard Derek’s Camaro pull up, tires crunching twigs and dry leaves on the forest floor. Stiles starts to walk up to greet his unlikely friend but thinks better of it when Derek gets out of the car.
The man is literally sex on legs! He thinks to himself in frustration, eyes undressing Derek with no shame. It really is the wolf’s own fault, I mean, he’s the one that showed up in a black shirt so tight it looks painted on with dark wash, skin-tight jeans to match. It’s his fault for wearing that damn leather jacket that never fails to get Stiles all worked up. It’s not Stiles’ fault that Derek looks like he just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. And it’s so not his fault that he finds it so irresistibly sexy.
Stiles decides then that if ever there was a time to catch Derek off guard and make a move, it was now. So he waits until the perfect moment and then springs, kissing Derek where he stands. Derek never saw it coming, just like Stiles had hoped, and everything was going according to plan, until Derek kissed back.
From then on Stiles was ruined to anyone else’s touch, anyone else’s kiss, anyone else’s flirting, for life. Derek thoroughly ruins Stiles’ mouth, lips and tongue coaxing sounds out of the younger male that he didn’t even know he could make. In less than a minute Stiles finds himself backed into a tree with his hands lost in the abyss of Derek’s hair while Derek tongues his brains out. He can feel his body beginning to react like the horny teenager he is and he does nothing to hide just how attracted he is to the werewolf.
Derek groans and grabs either side of the collar of Stiles’ grey undershirt, literally ripping it from his skin with his bare hands. Stiles moans at the show of strength and allows himself to be pushed even harder into the bark of the tree, even though he knows he will probably have scratches up and down his back by tomorrow morning. He attaches his lips to the spot just behind Derek’s ear and the wolf nearly loses it, his claws digging into the tree to the left of Stiles’ head to keep himself in check.
“Derek, if you’re gonna do this then do it. Or I will.” Stiles promises and then he’s being lifted off the forest floor and his back is meeting with the still slightly warm metal of Derek’s hood. The metal is smooth under his fingers, leaving him nothing to grip or find purchase on. He scrabbles at the shiny black paint anyway, needing something to ground him while Derek is kissing and licking and sucking and biting every single inch of skin he can get to while remaining between Stiles’ legs.
“Scream if you wanna. All the wolves are in their dens for the night.” Derek promises with a wicked grin and Stiles takes that as his cue to be as loud as he wants, which is very.
“F-Fuck, Derek! I need you so bad.” He moans, hand twisting into the thick black hair covering Derek’s head.
He pulls slightly when Derek’s tongue teases at his nipple and Derek moans against his skin, the sound sending pleasure straight to his dick. Stiles moans and groans and screams and cries out every few seconds and Derek gets harder and harder with every single sound escaping the younger man’s throat. Derek carefully strips off the remainder of Stiles’ clothes before ridding himself of his wardrobe and tossing them through the open driver’s window.
When he returns to the hood, Stiles has his hand wrapped around his dick, pumping fast and sure, with his head thrown back against the windshield and his bottom lip bitten a dark red between his teeth. Derek swoops in and steals a kiss from those lips, hands teasing up Stiles’ sides and then wrapping around the backs of Stiles’ thighs. In less than a second Stiles goes from being on his back to his dick pressing into the rapidly cooling metal with Derek’s face smashed into his ass. He can feel the edge of Derek’s nose flit across his anus and then it’s gone, replaced by something warm and wet. Derek licks his again, tongue tracing a wet trail from just behind the kid’s balls to the small of his back.
He nuzzles his face back into the space between those perfectly round, perfectly pale, mole-dotted ass cheeks, hands holding the globes back to give his tongue more access to tease at his lover’s twitching pink rim. Stiles’ moans double in volume and frequency, his hips rocking against the hood in search of friction until one of Derek’s huge hands slide around his hip to hold him in place. Once Derek opens Stiles up nice and wide on his tongue he licks at three of his fingers and slips them inside instead.
Stiles shudders and nearly collapses at the overwhelming pleasure that is coming from Derek’s tongue. The teen promises to write an entire sonnet to that tongue when he gets home, hell, possibly an entire musical. That tongue is magical, and way too experienced for Stiles’ own good. Derek’s tongue finds its way back into Stiles, his fingers following after as he stretches Stiles that last little bit. Just when Stiles thinks he can’t handle one more second, Derek pulls his fingers out, tongue retreating, too, and then the werewolf is pressing a chaste kiss to the fluttering, stretched hole.
“Stiles, if you knew how good you look right now…” Derek groans, rolling the boy back onto his back and returning to his position between Stiles’ legs. He groans again and surges forward to steal another kiss when he sees the utterly blissed out expression on Stiles’ face.
“I look good all the time, Der. You just never notice.” He chuckles somewhat bitterly and Derek blanches in shock.
“Stiles, I always notice. I always notice how fuckable you look in those damn jeans and khakis you always insist on wearing. I always notice how adorable you look in a graphic tee or hoodie with your hair messed up and your eyes bleary with sleep or exhaustion. I notice everything about you, Stiles.” Derek promises and Stiles nearly cries at the confession, gesturing the wolf forward to kiss him again.
Derek smiles and then Stiles is breaking the kiss to talk, as Stiles will. “Derek, I want you to fuck me.”
“Be mine, first. Then I’ll do whatever you want.” Derek counters and the smile that covers Stiles’ face is brighter than a thousand suns and makes Derek happier than a million of his mom’s hugs ever did.
“Do you even have to ask, you doof? Of course I’ll be yours.” Stiles beams with a nod and Derek is slipping into that still tight passage with a howl. A real, wolf howl.
Stiles briefly worries that one of the other werewolves will hear the call, but then he dismisses the thought in favor of focusing on the feel of Derek’s cock pushing directly into his prostate on the first thrust. His head tosses back and his back bends off the hood of the car and he’s screaming out in ecstasy that tops anything he has ever felt before. “D-Derek, please. I-I need…” He can’t finish his sentence, but Derek understands anyway and pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into the tight, fire-hot passage of Stiles’ ass.
“I got you, baby.” Derek promises, one of his hands sliding under Stiles to rest in the small of his back and pull him closer. The change in angle brings another round of moaning from both parties and Stiles is clawing at Derek’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood.
The wolf heals from the wounds almost instantly, but the blood still pools under Stiles’ fingernails as a reminder of what they’re doing, of the line that has not only been crossed, but has been wiped out of all memory. Derek slams in just as Stiles twists his hips in a figure eight and they both scream out at the intense feeling of the movement. Tears of pleasure escape down Stiles’ face as Derek slams into his over and over again and then he feels it.
A rush of sensation explodes in his stomach, coiling around his spine and sliding lower to his rock hard cock bobbing with Derek’s every thrust. “D-Der, I’m gonna-” He gasps breathlessly, not even having the energy to lift his head with all of the sensations zinging through his body like wildfire.
“It’s okay. Come for me, Stiles.” Derek says softly and Stiles explodes the second his fingers wrap around his cock just under the swollen head where he knows he is most sensitive. His entire body tenses and spasms for over a minute before he calms down enough to open his eyes.
By that time he realizes he has missed Derek’s orgasm – A shame, that – he thinks to himself and then Derek is wiping them both down with paper towels and pulling their clothes back on. “Come on.” He says and lifts Stiles off the ice cold hood. He opens the back door of his Camaro and Stiles crawls inside, Derek following and closing the door after him. He leans back against the door and spreads his legs, opening his arms to the kid with the liquid whiskey eyes staring at him from the other side of the car. Stiles crawls into his embrace without hesitation and snuggles into Derek’s chest, making his heartbeat skyrocket and his cheeks turn a dull shade of pink when he hears the soft snores escaping Stiles mouth softly. He nuzzles his face into Stiles’ hair and in seconds he feels his body begin to fall asleep.