Stiles took a moment to look around Lydia’s backyard, wondering how she could be so popular still after years out of state. The place was packed with former classmates, people Stiles used to see from far away even during his brief period of popularity when Scott first became co-captain of the lacrosse team. It was as if these people forgot that Lydia was a bit of a social outcast during her senior year, after she was involved in more than one scandal of supernatural origin.
Stiles was so absorbed observing the people around him that he startled when Derek came up from behind him and put a hand on his waist, coming closer to whisper in his ear, “you look a little lost in the corner all by yourself.”
“Has that line ever worked with anyone?” Stiles didn’t need to turn to know Derek was smiling.
“I only need it to work with you,” Derek replied, moving his nose up the shell of his ear, his tongue following the movement. Then, lowering his voice even further, he added, “and I know it does.”
When Derek bit on his lobe, Stiles felt a rush of blood traveling directly to his groin and he almost lost his balance even as he leaned against Derek’s chest. Stiles had a sarcastic comeback up his sleeve, but he didn’t get a chance to say it since as soon as he turned around Derek was walking back and away from him.
Stiles missed his body like a limb, a phantom pain that ran all the way from the tip of his fingers to his chest. Ever since they first crashed against each other, Stiles kept waiting for a second flash that tore them apart, stronger than the gravity that seemed to pull them together now, but so far nothing had happened. No end-of-the-world shenanigans threatened them for a while now, no messy feelings had come between them, all was good in the land of Friends with Benefits: Stiles and Derek Edition.
It wasn’t as if Stiles woke up next to Derek at the break of dawn and stared at him with wonder until the man’s instincts woke him up. It wasn’t as if every second they spent apart was slow torture the likes of which no one else had experienced before. It wasn’t as if the idea of ever losing Derek was inconceivable for Stiles.
No, Stiles didn’t have those thoughts at all.
Derek smiled at him, none the wiser about Stiles’ messy feelings.
He made up that rule, he should be the one to adhere to it first. Set a good example. It made Stiles wonder if he set too good of an example and now it was impossible for Derek to see him as anything but that friend he fucks sometimes when he’s bored.
“Come on,” Derek reached out his hand for him.
“I haven’t even greeted Lydia,” he said. “It’s her birthday.”
“We’ll be back before they sing,” insisted Derek, giving Stiles a lustful once over.
With an all too fake tired sigh, he took Derek’s hand and followed him to the bathroom. Stiles was only a man, after all.
The door closed behind them and Derek was on him in a second, his strong hands coming to Stiles’ face to keep him still as his mouth descended on him, kissing him passionately, hungrily. Stiles’ hands found Derek’s waist and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as their bodies touched.
He ran his hands up Derek’s sides, his short, blunt nails surely leaving red marks that disappeared all too soon from his skin. It immediately ignited Stiles’ desire to mark Derek, lo leave evidence that Stiles was there, that Stiles was on and under Derek’s skin.
Derek’s mouth made its way down his chin, his throat, then back up the side of his neck, biting every other kiss and Stiles knew the rest of the party would know immediately what they were up to by the new marks littering his pale skin.
Stiles used Derek’s weight against him, pushing him against the door. A soft moan left the man’s lips, echoing in Stiles’ head louder than church bells. Lydia would be so mad if she heard what they were up to in her bathroom. Somehow, the notion of being found out only aroused Stiles more.
With some help, Stiles took off Derek’s dark jacket, the man’s large hands barely leaving Stiles’ face for half a second. Then, Stiles’s hands moved out of their own accord to push Derek’s t-shirt up, his fingertips brushing Derek’s chest hair as they went up. Derek quickly shed his t-shirt, wild hair standing at odd angles as he gave Stiles a heated look.
“You’re wearing too many layers,” he said.
Stiles looked down at his clothes, a frown appearing on his forehead. “Clearly I should’ve been thinking of bathroom sex.”
“Clearly,” joked Derek, a smirk on his lips.
Stiles took a moment to take off his hoodie, shirt, and t-shirt, then he unbuttoned his jeans, arching an eyebrow at Derek. “Unless you wanna do this part?”
The man shook his head, his beautiful smile illuminating the room brighter than the warm light overhead. “Might as well, since you’re taking this long.”
With an exaggerated hand wave at his pants, he said, “all yours, my dude.”
Stiles felt a flush creep up his chest, then his face, at those words, but he could easily ignore it when Derek said “I won’t blow you if you keep calling me ‘dude’.”
“It’s friendly,” he defended way too soon. “We’re friends. It makes sense.”
Derek frowned. “Stiles—”
Stiles’ stomach tightened. Derek knew about Stiles’ growing feelings and wanted to put a stop to this. Maybe Derek was seeing someone else and Derek felt something else for them. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
They didn’t have to do this now, though, they could keep doing exactly what they’d been doing until Stiles mentioned the one word that had the power to break his heart. “Later. We’ll talk later, I promise. Can we go back to kissing now?”
Stiles was proud of his pleading puppy eyes and he knew it worked when Derek’s hand came to rest on his cheek and he said “how could I ever say no to you?”
Before Stiles did something stupid like get on one knee and ask Derek to marry him, Derek’s lips were on his again, softer this time, as if they had all the time in the world, instead of a few stolen minutes stolen at someone else’s birthday party.
They kissed for a long time, long enough that Stiles’ lips felt swollen and raw, the slight beard burn made his skin tingle when Derek kissed down his neck. Currently, Derek was sucking a mark at the base of his neck that would peek just out of his collar when he was dressed again. Stiles would carry the reminder of those lips on his body for as long as he lived.
Apparently tired of their slow kissing game, Derek’s hands went to Stiles’ ass, then down his thighs and lifted him up. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s as he had done many times before, pulling Derek to him until he felt the shape of his thick cock against his ass, and he ground his hips down.
The moan he draw out of Derek vibrated against the spot he was mouthing on his throat, going directly to Stiles’ dick, a feedback loop Stiles wouldn’t mind losing himself in.
Derek sat Stiles down on the counter, knocking a bunch of small bottles in the process. “They’re gonna hear us, Derek.”
“Then stay quiet,” the man bit back, his teeth scraping the tender skin of his neck.
Stiles almost said something back, but then Derek’s hands found his waistline, unbuttoning his jeans, playing with the zipper as he undid it, his fingers brushing against his cock. He didn’t have time to adjust to this new development, since Derek paused his marking long enough to lick a strip up his hand and slip his hand down Stiles’ boxers.
Derek’s warm, calloused hand, lazily stroked him to fullness as his mouth came back to his neck, slowly kissing upwards until he was licking the shell of his ear. “You look so fucking hot like this. Horny and desperate for me.”
As per usual, Derek’s words only made him harder. The man knew him too well: he knew exactly what buttons to press to get whatever he wanted out of Stiles. God, he’d miss this if their thing ended. How could one ever get back to normal after getting a taste of heaven?
Probably sensing his thoughts adrift, Derek’s teeth scraped his lobe, his breath hot against Stiles’ skin. “Come on, Stiles. You said later,” he whispered. “Don’t think.”
“I wanna fuck you. Can I fuck you?” Stiles said instead, feeling his dick twitch in Derek’s hand at the idea of being inside him.
Derek rested his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder, breathing in for a moment. “Fuck, Stiles. I’m not carrying any lube.”
“When has that ever stopped us?”
Stiles felt Derek shift against him, looking up at him with his eyes dark with lust. “Not carrying any condoms either.”
“Fuck.”
Derek smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so damn beautiful, Stiles could have cried. Instead, he threw his head back until it hit the mirror, closing his eyes, then cursed his luck again.
“I wouldn’t mind,” said Derek.
“What?” Stiles’ eyes opened wide.
“I’m saying that if you don’t care either, I want you to fuck me, right here, right now.”
Stiles hit his head against the mirror a couple of times until he didn’t feel like he’d bust the minute he looked at Derek.
“Are you—?”
“If you ask me if I’m sure, I’m leaving you, Stiles.”
He laughed, pulling Derek closer to kiss him again. His lips had never felt as amazing as they did right then, half naked in Lydia’s bathroom, the party forgotten as they got lost in each other's mouths. Stiles used the advantage that being on the counter gave him to wrap his legs around Derek’s waist and pull him flush against his body, trailing kisses down his neck, sucking and biting until the skin turned purple under his lips.
“Do it harder,” Derek said, pleaded almost, as his hands gripped his waist, bruising Stiles’ skin.
How could I ever say no to that? He thought.
Stiles bit down on Derek’s shoulder, hard enough that he tasted blood on his lips. At this point, he knew how much Derek liked when Stiles staked some kind of claim on him. Sure, the bite might not last for long, but Stiles’ memory of Derek’s moan in his ear would be forever.
Derek’s nails dug into Stiles’ skin as he mumbled “fuck me, Stiles. Fuck me now.”
He slid off the counter, his cock rubbing against Derek’s deliciously slow, still infuriatingly clothed. Stiles’ hands fumbled with Derek’s button, then his zipper until his dick was free of his pants and underwear. He thumbed at the slit, stroking him to completion using his own precome as lube as Derek cursed under his breath.
Stiles turned them around, pushing Derek against the counter, then kissed him again and again and again until he was desperately panting against Derek’s mouth. “Turn around,” he whispered.
With a groan, Derek did as he was told as Stiles pushed his pants down the curve of his ass. Stiles’ right hand made its way up Derek’s chest until his fingers rested on Derek’s lips.
Derek’s eyes found Stiles’ in the mirror and he licked the tip of his fingers sending a chill down his body, straight to his cock. Stiles moaned and pushed his hips against Derek’s ass, grinding hard. Derek only took it as encouragement and swallowed two of his fingers into his mouth, all the way down to the base and sucked.
Stiles’ free hand went to his own dick, grasping at the base to keep himself from coming too soon. He committed to memory the image of Derek in the mirror: the ring of red surrounding his blown pupils, his unruly hair, Stiles’ fingers in his mouth, the teeth marks where the bite in his neck was still healing. If Stiles only had tonight, then getting his heart broken had been worth it.
He took his fingers from Derek’s mouth and used his foot to push Derek’s legs apart, sliding a finger down his crack, teasing his hole. Derek grunted, “will you just get on with it?”
Stiles cracked a smile. “Impatient, huh?”
The man was about to retort, but Stiles pushed a finger in, slowly inching inside. He wanted to make this good for Derek. If it really was the last time he got to do it, Stiles wanted him to remember. “I’m not gonna break, Stiles,” Derek mumbled.
Still, Stiles gave him a moment to get used to it before sliding a second finger in. He fingered him as deep as he could, curling his fingers just so until Derek threw his head back, a curse on his lips.
“I swear to God—”
“Shhh, Derek, they’re gonna hear us,” interrupted Stiles, withdrawing his fingers before stroking himself one last time and lining up.
Whatever retort Derek had in him got lost in a groan as Stiles pushed inside, slow and steady, giving the man some time to adjust. Stiles let his forehead fall on Derek’s shoulder, a string of curses on his lips.
“So tight for me,” he mumbled, almost like a mantra. “So hot and tight. Fuck Derek, you’re so good for me.”
Derek moaned at the praise, biting his bottom lip. Stiles couldn’t help but stare at their reflection. They looked wrecked already: hungry, frenetic, wild. It was quite the sight.
“Come on, Stiles. Fuck me.”
How could I say no to that? He wondered.
He pulled almost all the way out, then snapped his hips into Derek, enjoying the way the man tightened around him. Stiles repeated the movement, setting a slow rhythm that allowed him to control himself a little longer. God, this would be over embarrassingly fast if he wasn’t careful. He gripped Derek’s hips and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing.
“Stiles.”
He kept his eyes closed, kissing Derek’s shoulder, mumbling Derek’s name like a prayer.
“Stiles, look at me.”
There had been times before, when Stiles fucked Derek and all Stiles could think about was how the fuck did I manage to convince this guy to sleep with me? He knew he wasn’t unattractive. He just wasn’t that attractive. Or at least, not anyone’s first choice when it came to getting down and dirty.
Right then though, as he looked at Derek’s lustful eyes in the mirror as he stroked himself, he never felt more desired in his life. Stiles hadn’t gone to church in years, but he guessed this was the kind of soul-changing experience people had when they saw Heaven.
Stiles couldn’t last much longer after that, no one could’ve asked him to. He came with a low moan, erratically fucking Derek’s ass, spilling inside him with each push. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking at Derek’s reflection.
His eyes went to Derek’s cock, still hard and leaking in his hand. Stiles had the sudden urge to be marked by Derek in all the ways it was possible. He pulled out slowly, leaking come down Derek’s thigh, then grabbed Derek by his hips and turned him around, his pliant body arousing Stiles even more.
“Stiles—”
He stopped himself, eyes opening comically wide, as Stiles fell to his knees and grabbed his dick. Derek leaned his ass against the counter and Stiles didn’t waste another second, taking him into his mouth as if Derek was the holy communion.
Stiles looked up to see Derek gripping the counter, claws out, eyes closed, his head thrown back, seemingly fighting to keep control. Funnily enough, it was the last thing Stiles wanted. With some effort, he pried one of Derek’s hands from the counter, bringing it to his head until Derek caught up and pulled his hair, drawing a moan out of him.
Derek’s hips bucked until Stiles gagged, which only made Stiles’ dick twitch with interest. He scratched Derek’s thighs, leaving furious red mark on the skin that disappeared too quickly for Stiles’ liking.
A moment passed where the only sound in the world was Stiles sucking Derek off, interrupted by the occasional gag. Stiles dared to look at Derek again and saw the man looking at him with a frenetic look, his eyes shining a bright red, his mouth parted mid-swear.
“Stiles. Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
Derek tried to pull out, but Stiles grabbed his thighs and bobbed his head up and down, until his cock hit the back of Stiles’ throat. Derek came with a growl that went directly to his groin, come pulsating on his tongue, salty and slightly tangy. When he took his dick out, Derek sighed, looking down at Stiles with wonder. “You better do that exact same thing at our wedding or I’m leaving you.”
Stiles froze as he wiped his mouth.
Did Derek say—?
No, he couldn’t have.
It was a joke. Teasing. A friendly jab. It hurt like a motherfucker, but wasn’t Stiles the dumbass that fell in love with his fuckbuddy?
Stiles stood up, pulling his pants up to avoid looking at Derek as he tried to wave it off. “Sure, big man. If we ever get married, then I promise I’m gonna rock your world in the venue.”
Derek grabbed his wrist when he finished zipping his pants up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lied, his heart racing.
“Come on, Stiles. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? We’re just joking. Friendly banter, that’s all.” Stiles finally looked at Derek and saw a frown marking his face. It reminded him of a time when he didn’t know what Derek tasted like and he ached.
“Will you stop saying that?” Derek raised his voice slightly, exasperated.
“What?”
“All that bullshit about being ‘just friends’. We’re alone, you don’t have to pretend.”
Stiles’ mind was going a mile per hour. “What do you mean?”
Derek continued as if Stiles didn’t speak. “That’s what we gotta talk about. I’m tired of pretending in front of everyone. I’m tired of holding back when I wanna reach for your hand in public. I’m tired of putting up with strangers batting their eyes at you while you’re oblivious about it. When are we gonna stop acting like we’re not together?”
“We are?”
The frown deepened on Derek’s face. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m not getting it.”
“No, no, no. I’m not getting what’s going on here. What do you mean wedding? Dating? Why did no one tell me we are dating?”
“Stiles, it’s been months since we’ve been together.”
“Since we’ve been friends with benefits? Yeah. Eight months, twelve days and counting.”
“We’ve been on dates. Several of them. Over eight months.”
“I thought it was foreplay!”
Derek shook his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Stiles, please tell me you know we’re dating.” Thick silence fell between them even as the party raved outside the bathroom. “I can’t believe I was gonna ask you to marry me.”
Stiles gaped at him, frozen in place.
“You what?”
“Well, clearly I’m not gonna do It now.”
His mind was reeling, too stunned to form words. He tried to recall these dates Derek was talking about, but all he could remember were endless afternoons hanging together after fucking in Stiles’ jeep, hazy mornings laughing together after a night in the club, long nights talking on the phone while Stiles was away at college.
He thought once more of waking up next to him and wondering how anyone could get any luckier than that: getting the chance to watch over Derek’s sleep, the only person to see him at his most vulnerable and raw, to be the person to watch his back. Stiles knew he was hopelessly in love with Derek, but he had no idea the feelings were very much requited by the man.
A pounding on the door brought him back to himself.
“Stiles, come on. You promised not to pull this shit on my birthday,” Lydia fake-whispered from the other side. “I know Derek can hear me in there: be quiet or be gone.”
Derek’s eyes widened. “You told Lydia?” he said, barely audible above the music.
“Fuck. I really thought you and I were not actually together.”
“You made me promise not to tell anyone!”
“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell her, she just knew about it the day after it happened.” Derek frowned at him. Stiles rushed to explain. “Besides, I needed to talk to someone about how crazy I am about you or I would’ve burst at the seams.”
“Stiles,” said Lydia, through gritted teeth.
Pushing Stiles’ clothes at him, Derek said, “you’re gonna make it up to me.”
All the blood in his body went down to his groin. “Whatever you say, babe.”
Derek picked up his jacket and looked at Stiles, a smile playing at his lips. “If you call me ‘babe’ again, I’m leaving you.”
Stiles’ heart raced in his chest, Derek’s bright smile blinding him. He knew then that this was it for him: whatever Derek wanted for as long as he wanted. And if Derek chose forever, how could he ever say no to that?