Stiles got first to Derek's place because ever since Scott and Allison started their thing with Isaac, they were the last to arrive anywhere, and Stiles was fond of getting ridiculously high on pack nights. However, Stiles didn't like smoking on his own, so he usually waited for someone in the pack to get to Derek's before lighting up.
That Saturday he was particularly tense for a variety of reasons, mostly to do with his final semester at college, but the woman leaving Derek's loft when he arrived put him in a terrible mood. Her jasmine perfume still lingered in the living room, even Stiles could smell it. Derek smiled politely as she left, then raised an eyebrow at him as soon as she was gone.
"She was pretty," Stiles said, trying not to scrunch his nose at the smell of the woman's perfume.
"Erin?" he asked, frowning.
"Are you asking me her name? She was not leaving my apartment."
"Do you want her number?" Derek asked.
"Why would I want her number? Anyway." He threw his backpack on the sofa and kicked off his shoes before sitting down with his weed. He would smoke until the whole place reeked of something other than cheap jasmine perfume. "Scott didn't answer when I called so he's probably balls deep in Isaac or Allison is edging him to hell and back—"
"I did not need to hear that," Derek interrupted.
"—so I think I should get ridiculously high to forget how hopelessly single I am."
Stiles rolled a joint with the ease of someone who did this multiple times a day. Someday, somehow, he would move a bong into this loft. For now, all he could do was smoke to forget about his chronic singleness.
When he looked up from his joint, Derek was raising an eyebrow in his direction. "What?"
"I thought you didn't smoke alone," Derek said.
"What do you mean alone? You're smoking with me, big guy," he joked, not expecting anything to come out of it.
Derek, for his part, shrugged and took off his leather jacket, rolling his shoulders a couple of times before sitting next to Stiles, who was staring at the way Derek's strong arms tensed and relaxed once again.
It wasn't as if Stiles had never smoked with Derek around —Stiles regularly got high during pack nights. It was Derek who hardly ever smoked with them, and it was usually only a couple of hits before he decided that keeping an eye on the pack's increasingly competitive game tournaments was more important.
"What are you waiting for?" said Derek.
Stiles shook his head to clear the image of Derek's biceps from his brain and lit the joint. He took a big hit and passed Derek the joint, then he threw his head back and exhaled.
They smoked in silence for a while, passing the joint back and forth until Stiles couldn't take it anymore. "Who's Erin?"
"Now you wanna know about her?" Derek asked, holding the smoke in. "I thought you weren't interested."
When Derek exhaled, he turned his head to look at Stiles, offering the joint back.
"I'm not," Stiles replied too quickly for it to be casual. He didn't know why he was making a big deal out of this. Okay, that was a lie. Stiles knew exactly why he was making a big deal out of the mysterious woman leaving Derek's loft.
As far as Stiles knew, Derek would always be out of his league, but having the evidence thrown at his face hurt anyway. No matter how much he had journaled about it —not that he would ever admit it out loud—, no matter how many hours he'd spent researching for a magical fix, no matter how many people he'd slept with in an attempt to erase the man from his mind, Stiles still hadn't found a way to fall out of love with Derek Hale.
Stiles took another hit of the joint, longer this time, hoping the THC would hit him soon. He guessed smoking constantly had its drawbacks.
"You're allowed to like her, you know?" Derek said, pensive. "She's pretty."
"Well, I don't even know her. Why are we still talking about her?"
"You asked about her," Derek replied.
"I just wanted to know if she was another Braeden, I'm not looking to get her number or anything." It came out harsher than he intended but Stiles didn't want to hear Derek confirm his conjectures. "I was wondering if pack nights would have to be moved somewhere else, that's all."
"Well, considering I'm selling the loft, they'll have to be moved anyway."
Stiles sat up straight, arms flailing as he coughed. "What? You're selling the loft?"
"Yeah, Erin's been talking to potential buyers. She's been a godsend through all of this."
Stiles passed the joint to Derek and grabbed his bottle of water. He drank quickly and messily, water dripping down his chin. He dried his mouth with the back of his hand before saying "you can't sell the loft."
"Why not?" Derek asked, blowing a cloud of smoke between them.
"Well for starters, this is where the pack nights happen."
"They'll happen somewhere else," Derek said calmly.
"But this is where they started," insisted Stiles.
"Well,I'm done with this place, so get with the program or keep it to yourself."
Stiles' stomach tightened. Was Derek—? Surely Stiles misunderstood, right? Derek wouldn't leave the pack to go somewhere else, right?
"You're not leaving," Stiles said.
It wasn't a question, but Derek still said "I've been thinking about it."
"No."
"No?" Derek asked, amused. He took another hit of the joint before waving it in front of Stiles' face.
Stiles slapped his hand away.
"Stop it. You can't leave the pack." You can't leave me, he didn't say.
"It's not like the pack is based in Beacon Hills anymore, Stiles," Derek pushed. "Allison, Scott, and Isaac are in L.A.; Boyd and Erica are in San Francisco. Lydia is all the way in Boston… Jackson left and never came back."
Stiles tried to calm his own heart down. This could not be happening.
"What about me?" Stiles asked. "I'm here."
"You'll find a job in a big city and leave too. It's just the way things are." Derek said. He took a long drag of Stiles' joint, holding the smoke in for a moment before blowing smoke rings. Stiles just watched him, in silence, trying to remember how to breathe.
Derek was leaving Beacon Hills. Perhaps he was dissolving the pack as he did so. Stiles didn't think he'd ever feel this much panic in his life. Derek could not leave. Not anywhere Stiles couldn't follow.
"Where will you go?" Stiles asked, after what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a minute.
"I'm not sure… why?"
"Well, someone has got to start looking for a house where the pack's needs are met."
"Stiles…"
"No, Derek, listen to me," Stiles started, furious. "You can move to New York if you want to, but you are not dissolving this pack. I'm not letting you."
"Why do you even care, Stiles? You're always claiming you're not part of this pack."
Stiles gritted his teeth. "I'm not a werewolf."
"I fucking know! I'm not asking you to be!" Derek suddenly seemed to be done with Stiles' bullshit. He shook his head as if he was trying to swallow what he wanted to say. He ashed the joint on the corner of the coffee table, then set the rest of it down for Stiles to take if he wanted. Stiles looked at the weed burning to avoid looking at Derek.
"All I've ever wanted was for you to notice me," Derek continued. Stiles could feel Derek's eyes on the side of his face. His heart beat faster for absolutely no reason. No reason at all. "No matter how hard I tried, how much of me I offered, you never… not even once… Do you think I don't notice other people's scents on you after you've been with someone? I get it. You're not interested. Stop rubbing it on my nose all the time."
"What?" Stiles asked, his brain trying to make sense of Derek's words.
"I keep trying to show you I'm choosing you, that I want you in my pack, by my side, and you just—"
"Derek, please stop."
"And I know my feelings are probably disgusting to you, which is why I gotta leave. I need to be free from you. I need to see if there's someone, somewhere, who can make me feel a fraction of what you make me feel."
Stiles turned to look at Derek and put a hand up to signal he needed to stop saying words a minute ago. "Derek, if you don't let me speak right now I'm going to punch you."
"You'll break your hand," Derek said, smugly.
"Fuck you." Stiles took a deep breath before he continued. "What do you mean notice you? Derek, all I do is notice you, think of you, try to erase you from my mind with meaningless hookups. What the fuck are you on about?"
Derek looked taken aback by that. "What?"
"Scott and Isaac won't shut up about how fucking obvious it is that I'm into you, and you— You are the one rubbing in my nose the beautiful women you're hooking up with. One of them just left your apartment stinking of jasmine perfume."
"Erin? She's just a realtor."
"I don't care if she's a realtor or an electrician or a delivery girl. I remember all the women I've ran into getting here, Derek. I'm not stupid."
"Stiles—"
"What? Now Erin's really just a realtor helping you sell this place? And Monica was really just an electrician fixing a loose wire? And delivery girl was really just a delivery girl?" Stiles was spiraling. This could not be happening. Stiles had been so sure that Derek was fucking his way through Beacon Hills. That's why Stiles had taken the same approach.
"Stiles," Derek said, as serious as a heart attack, "you cannot seriously think I've been hooking up with the fucking electrician."
Stiles felt his face heat up. "Well, it's not like you've ever said you weren't."
"Well, I wasn't." Derek said simply. "I'm not hooking up with Erin either. I haven't been with anyone since Braeden, you know? When I realized I was completely and irrevocably in love with you."
For a whole minute, Stiles just stared at Derek. He couldn't hear anything beyond his own heartbeat in his ears.
"Stiles?" Derek asked, softer than before. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not fucking okay, Derek. What the fuck? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you knew," Derek admitted.
"Well, I fucking didn't."
"I'm starting to get that."
Stiles could not believe what he was hearing. "Since Braeden? Derek, it's been years."
"I'm aware."
He was trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but it was becoming painfully obvious that they both had been competing for the most oblivious in the goddamn Idiot Olympics.
"Hey," Derek put a hand on his arm and Stiles immediately felt goosebumps form on his skin. "Stiles?"
This was worse than learning that Derek had been hooking up with beautiful women all along. It was making Stiles see all of his interactions with Derek under a new light. The casual glances, their silent communication, the playful banter. Stiles thought they were friends, that after the animosity had passed, and Stiles grew out of his teenage years, their friendship had blossomed like the spring: slowly, then all at once.
Sure, Stiles didn't feel this at ease with anyone but Scott. But Scott was his lifelong best friend. Stiles thought Derek had become his best friend when Scott moved out to L.A., the only one who could understand him better than anyone in the world. Stiles was convinced he was in love with his best friend, like an idiot, and that his best friend had never wanted anything beyond friendship from him. Stiles was content with being only Derek's best friend if it meant being in Derek's life at all.
"Stiles?" Derek called again.
"You're telling me we could've been… what?" Stiles wasn't sure what he was asking, but he needed Derek to say it again, to say that he loved Stiles, that this wasn't a joke, that he wanted Stiles in the same way Stiles wanted Derek.
"I don't know, Stiles. Something. Anything. I want you any way you'll have me." Derek came closer, speaking almost directly on Stiles' lips. "Do you want me, Stiles?"
Stiles huffed. "Obviously."
"Clearly not to me," Derek said as his lips grazed the side of Stiles' face and his stubble prickled just the right way against Stiles' skin. "Tell me."
"I've wanted to kiss you for a long time now," Stiles dared to say as Derek mouthed along his jawline, then he stopped right in front of Stiles' lips.
"Then kiss me," Derek whispered.
Stiles didn't have to be told twice.
He always thought that if he kissed Derek, their kiss would be a hurried, filthy thing, something that could be swept under the rug as a spur of the moment. Instead, Derek kissed him slowly, intentionally, his hand coming up to cup Stiles' face tenderly. It was soft and tender, and Stiles knew with a certainty he had never felt before that he would never kiss anyone else if he could help it.
When Derek's tongue pressed against Stiles', he felt all of his thoughts vanish. They kissed and kissed and kissed until Stiles forgot about every single kiss he'd had in his entire life and everything in the world narrowed to Derek's lips.
Of course, Stiles should have known that eventually, the dam would break.
Derek gasped when Stiles bit his lower lip and Stiles swallowed it greedily, grabbing the front of Derek's jacket to pull him closer together. Derek took notice and scooted closer on the sofa until he was almost on top of Stiles. Suddenly, Stiles was very interested in having Derek on top of him. Preferably with less clothes on.
"Derek," Stiles gasped when they pulled apart.
"Hmm?" Derek's lips were currently on Stiles' neck, kissing and nibbling a path down to his shoulder.
"Shouldn't we, I don't know, talk?"
"After." Derek's hands slid under Stiles' t-shirt, sending a jolt of desire directly to Stiles' crotch.
Stiles could definitely get with the program if it meant Derek would keep touching him. He kissed him again, this time harder, deeper, trying to tell Derek he wanted him now, yesterday, and the day before that.
That's when the door to the loft opened with a sick scrap of metal on metal, and Stiles almost fell off the sofa trying to look nonchalant.
Derek spoke up before Stiles could even see who was at the door. "Pack night's cancelled."
"What? Why?" Scott asked.
Derek gave Stiles a heated look. "I've got plans."
"Can we come back later?" Isaac dared to ask from the other side of the door.
"I'm afraid the plans will keep me busy until tomorrow. Perhaps even the day after. Now, vanish."
Scott peeked his head inside and said, "why can Stiles stay?"
"Oh my God, Scott, if you don't leave right now, I'm gonna suck Derek's dick right in front of you and you will regret it forever."
"Oh. Oh. Ew. Okay, bye."
"Goodbye, Scott," Derek said with a wicked smile on his face.
Once the door to the loft was closed, Derek turned all his attention to Stiles. "So, where were we?"
When their mouths met, it was as if Stiles' heart finally remembered how to beat to the right rhythm. They kissed and Stiles understood why people could believe in magic, because suddenly, with Derek's tongue in his mouth and Derek's hands on the waistband of his jeans, Stiles was ready to believe in every single god who made today possible.
Once Scott and Isaac were gone, their kissing resumed with more heat than Stiles expected. It was urgent and filthy, and Stiles felt his blood rush South faster than he could put two and two together. Derek's hands roamed under his t-shirt and all coherent thoughts went out the window. He was kissing Derek and Derek was kissing him back while his hands moved with intent.
Derek pulled back slightly, touching his forehead to Stiles'. "I want to fuck you. God, I really, really hope you want to fuck me right now."
Stiles' skin felt on fire with Derek's words. He pressed forward and kissed Derek again, swallowing a gasp as he pushed Derek back and straddled him. He felt the outline of Derek's dick hard against his ass, and the reality of kissing Derek caught up to him. Derek wanted Stiles as much as Stiles wanted Derek. He felt dizzy with arousal, completely consumed by lust that had nowhere to go but into Derek's mouth.
Derek's hands found his ass, pushing Stiles' hips down, hard against his body. Stiles didn't waste a second, pushing Derek's jacket open, sliding it down his arms. Derek shrugged the jacket off, hands running up and down Stiles' sides, then he pushed Stiles' t-shirt up, and they separated briefly as Stiles removed the offending piece of clothing. Derek's eyes raked his body, pupils blown with desire.
Stiles didn't have a second to feel self-conscious before Derek's mouth found one of his nipples, sucking it into his mouth, hungry and needy. Stiles moaned when Derek's tongue flicked it, pushing his hips down on Derek's, rubbing his cock through his jeans until Derek groaned.
With a bit of effort, Stiles removed Derek's t-shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him. Stiles went back to kissing Derek, grabbing his face with both hands to deepen the kiss as their hips moved against each other. Stiles could have come from this only, all of his senses fired up with the feeling of Derek —Derek!— warm and pliant under his hands.
Time passed —because it had to pass, it was impossible that Stiles was stuck in a loop of Derek's mouth and hands on his body—, and he found himself wondering how far they could go, how much Derek wanted from him. Stiles already knew he would give Derek anything he wanted, all he had to do was ask.
Moving his lips from Derek's to mouth at his jaw, at his neck, anywhere he could reach, Stiles asked, "what do you want to do?"
"Everything. Anything," Derek panted, "whatever you want to do."
Stiles huffed a laugh. "We have to start somewhere."
"Fuck me then," Derek said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"How though?" Stiles pushed. "Do you want to move this to your bed?"
Derek answered by grabbing Stiles' ass firmly and standing up from the sofa, carrying Stiles to his bed still kissing Stiles' chest, the crook of his neck, up the column of his throat. Stiles' put his hands in Derek's hair and pulled slightly to angle his mouth correctly to kiss him again. Stiles shoved his tongue into Derek's mouth with more force than strictly necessary and Derek moaned.
By the time they reached the bed, Stiles was panting against Derek's mouth, feeling his erection strain against his jeans, pressing against Derek's stomach. Derek gently put him down on the bed, pushing him back until Stiles was lying on his back, then he came down to kiss Stiles, straddling Stiles' thighs. Stiles loved the feeling of feeling Derek's skin against his, still trying to wrap his head about the fact that Derek motherfucking Hale had his tongue down Stiles' mouth.
Stiles canted his hips up, feeling Derek's thick cock through his pants and he whined. "Derek."
Derek smiled against his lips, disarming as ever. "How do you want me? On my knees or…?"
Stiles blinked up at Derek, trying to pull back but failing. His hands stilled on Derek's shoulders. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes, Stiles, get with the program."
"No, no, I'm starting to get that you wanna bone. I'm asking if you want me to top."
"Gross, Stiles. Don't say 'bone'."
"That doesn't answer my question," pushed Stiles.
Derek frowned slightly. "I'm literally straddling you, what's so foreign about the idea of me riding you?"
Stiles felt like he was going to burst at the seams. He threw his head back as he said, "riding me? Jesus Christ."
Derek smiled and rolled his hips down on Stiles slow and sensual, making Stiles see stars. "Would you like that?"
"Would I like— I need a minute or I'm gonna come in my pants."
Derek had the audacity to laugh then. He moved back, sitting on Stiles' thighs, and the space between them felt charged with desire as Derek gave him a lustful look. "I want to make this good for you," Derek said.
"It's already perfect," replied Stiles
Derek smiled, his soft unguarded smile that Stiles never saw for anyone else but him. In hindsight, it was pretty obvious that Derek felt something for him, Stiles had just been too blind to notice it on time.
Derek unbuttoned his own pants and Stiles' dick threatened to go off right then. There was some shuffling around while Derek got up and removed his pants and underwear at the same time before coming back to the bed to undress Stiles. He was slow and controlled, almost as if he wasn't bothered by the sight of Stiles' body splayed on his bed. But then he took off Stiles' socks and sat back on his legs, grabbing his cock at the base to stop himself from coming too quickly.
Stiles grinned. "I thought werewolves had incredible stamina."
"Stiles… shut up."
"What? Is it too much for you?" he asked, gesturing at his dick, mild feelings of insecurity flooding his mind. Derek's cock was perfect: thick and uncut, curving a little to the left, and just big enough to fit uncomfortably in Stiles' throat probably. He could find out tonight, that was for sure.
"You're just… so big," Derek said, in awe, kissing up the side of Stiles' knee, the inside of his thigh, the dip of his hip.
"Is the big bad Alpha scared?" Stiles joked, unable to help himself. Stiles knew he was well endowed, but he didn't think it would be a problem. He had fucked enough guys up the ass to know that when there's a will, there's a way.
Derek, as if to prove he wasn't scared of taking Stiles' dick, used Stiles' momentary distraction to swallow his dick as far as he could without deepthroating Stiles' length right away. Stiles threw his head back and counted back from a hundred to stop himself from coming down Derek's throat.
"God, Derek, what the fuck, fuck, I love you, thank you." It was only marginally embarrassing to be blabbering right now. Derek took Stiles' dick out of his mouth.
"You love me?" he asked.
Stiles opened his eyes and looked at Derek through with heavy lidded eyes. "Yes, Derek, fuck, how can you even doubt that now?"
Derek replied by going back to suck Stiles' dick, bobbing his head up and down while keeping eye contact with Stiles. Stiles' hands went to Derek's hair and he pulled slightly to get a better hold of his face. He shifted his hips upwards and Derek gagged before pushing Stiles' hips down on the bed, pinning him in place.
He got lost in the intimacy of Derek's loving stare as he sucked on Stiles' cock, moaning hungrily. Stiles felt close, too close for his own liking, and he pulled Derek's hair to get him to stop.
"If you want me to fuck you, you need to stop right now, Derek."
Derek pulled out from his cock with a wet pop, lips shinny with spit and precome. He looked debauched and Stiles felt heat coil at the base of his spine. Derek moved away to rummage through his nightstand until he found a bottle of lube. He stretched on the bed next to Stiles, slicking his fingers before opening his legs wide, giving Stiles a front row seat to Derek's puckered hole as he slid his index finger inside.
Both men moaned when Derek breached his entrance and Stiles knew without a trace of doubt that no one would ever do it for him again. Not after seeing the way Derek's face twisted in relief and pleasure when he started to work himself open.
Derek's breathing became shallow as he pumped his finger in and out, and, before long, he slid a second finger in. Stiles was convinced that Derek was at his most beautiful when gagging on Stiles cock, but looking at Derek fingering himself, he started to have second thoughts. Perhaps Derek was at his most beautiful with something up his ass. It seemed particularly real when Derek twisted his wrist just so and his perfect mouth fell into a perfect O as he stroked his prostate.
Stiles looked at Derek's perfectly sculpted body and ran his tongue over his lips, wishing his thick cock was resting on Stiles' tongue instead. His eyes didn't leave Derek as he withdrew his fingers out of his ass and said, "that's enough."
"Derek…"
"I want to feel the stretch," Derek said with no hesitation.
"It's gonna hurt."
"I'll take my chances," replied Derek, throwing a leg on top of Stiles and scooting his ass up until Stiles' dick pressed against his cheeks. Derek didn't say anything else as he lined up Stiles' cock to his entrance and slowly inched down on top of Stiles. "Fuck, Stiles, you're so big."
Stiles would make a joke if his brain was capable of anything beyond static as Derek's heat engulfed him. He was so tight and warm and Stiles was losing his goddamn mind. He counted to ten as Derek slowly adjusted to his girth. Then he counted to twenty. Thirty. He swore.
"Fucking hell, Derek."
Stiles' fingers dug into the flesh of Derek's thighs, holding on for dear life as Derek started to roll his hips, slow at first, then harder when Stiles answered with a filthy moan. Stiles felt his stomach tighten with each roll of Derek's hips. He trailed his eyes up from Derek's erect cock up his abs, his broad chest, all the way to his face. Stiles could have come from the sight of Derek's blissed out face alone. As if he could feel Stiles' eyes on him, Derek opened his eyes and locked them with Stiles', clenching his ass on Stiles' dick.
"Derek—"
"God, Stiles, you feel so good inside me," Derek's voice sounded wrecked from sucking Stiles' cock. Stiles had never felt so heady at the prospect of leaving a trace on a partner as he was now. The idea of people knowing what Derek had been up to with Stiles was an aphrodisiac if he'd ever known one.
Stiles' thrust his hips deeper into Derek, still looking directly into Derek's eyes, running his hands up and down Derek's thighs. "You like that, huh?"
"I'm pretty sure I'll love everything you'll ever do to me."
"There's a pretty long list of things I wanna do with you right now… and getting longer by the minute," Stiles breathed out.
Derek leaned down to catch Stiles' mouth in a filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth and hunger, it was as if Derek wanted to devour him. Stiles was pretty happy with the idea. When Derek pulled back and opened his eyes, they were glowing red.
Stiles could not hold it anymore. He thrust up twice and he was coming hard with Derek's name on his lips. Derek fucked himself through Stiles' orgasm, hand coming up to grab his own cock in his hand to chase his own release. Derek threw his head back with a growl, painting Stiles' chest with his spend.
Stiles was vaguely aware of Derek's eyes on the mess on his chest, but he was more distracted by the fact that his softening dick was still inside of Derek's ass, that Derek had just come with Stiles' cock up his ass. Never in his wildest dreams would have Stiles imagined that his first time with Derek would be so hot. Never in his wildest dreams would have Stiles imagined fucking Derek, period. This day had already turned out much better than he expected.
"Fuck, Derek, that was something else," he said, throwing his arms on his side as Derek slowly eased of Stiles' cock, Stiles' come dripping out of his ass.
Oh.
He probably should have asked before coming inside of Derek, Stiles thought to himself. There was an apology at the tip of his tongue, but Derek flopped on the bed next to Stiles and turned slightly to catch his mouth in a sloppy kiss.
"Now you're gonna smell like me," Derek said, pleased, rubbing a hand over the mess on Stiles' chest, as if to spread his mark everywhere. "All mine."
And wasn't that an interesting prospect. Derek's possessiveness made Stiles' own possessive streak grow bigger.
"I wish everyone could smell me on you," Stiles blurted out.
"Mmm, they will," Derek reassured him, caressing his cheek softly. "I've been dreaming of this for years."
"Years," Stiles deadpanned, still incredulous.
"Years and years," repeated Derek, still a little sex drunk. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this: having you, holding you. I never want you to leave this bed."
"Should I be scared?" Stiles joked.
"Only if it makes you want me more."
"Impossible. I already want you so, so bad," Stiles mumbled, closing the distance to kiss Derek one more time.
"Good," Derek said, nuzzling the side of Stiles' face. "Do you want to go again?"
Stiles laughed, bright and bubbly and full of love. "Give me five and I'm gonna show you how good I can give it to you."
"Is that a promise?" Derek asked, barely an inch apart from Stiles' lips.
"It is."
Any further words got lost in Derek's mouth as they kissed again.