The thing about Derek and Stiles' relationship was that officially, there wasn't one. They were friends who hung out sometimes, mostly around others, and teased each other ever since they crossed the line from allies to friends.
Unofficially, when the lights were out and Stiles was alone in his apartment, Derek climbed through the balcony and pushed Stiles against walls, closets, and beds, kissing him senseless until one of them fell to their knees.
When Derek came in that night, Stiles was coming into the room in only his towel. The man hummed appreciatively as Stiles rushed to close the door.
"I told you Jackson is still here, you idiot," Stiles hissed.
"Maybe he'll want to join us."
"Ha, ha, as if," said Stiles.
"He would. He's not subtle around me," Derek said, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the chair next to Stiles' desk. He kicked his shoes off next.
"Well, maybe I don't want to share you," Stiles said, watching as Derek took off his t-shirt and threw it on the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Catching up," he unbuckled his pants, undid his fly, and took off his pants and underwear at the same time. He threw himself on Stiles' bed with a smirk on his face.
Stiles gaped at him for a moment before locking his door. He let the towel around his waist fall to the floor and stood there awkwardly for a minute.
"Come here," said Derek.
Stiles went, climbing on the bed next to Derek. Their mouths crashed in a world-shattering collision, too much force, too much teeth, and yet, Stiles loved it. He bit Derek's bottom lip and reveled on the moan that bubbled out of Derek's throat.
They kissed for a long time, hands roaming over each other hungrily, trying to grasp and bruise as they held onto each other. When they came apart, they were both panting, lips wet and swollen, eyes blown with lust.
"I brought something for tonight," Derek said against Stiles' lips.
"More of that really nice sativa from Colorado?" Stiles asked.
"Better."
Derek pulled back and twisted his body to reach for his leather jacket. He produced a small bag of pink pills shaped like teddy bears. He shook it in front of Stiles' face. "Cora made a European friend."
"Is that ecstasy?" Stiles asked stupidly. Derek rolled his eyes at him. "What? It's not like I've ever paid attention to the shit I took in college."
Derek opened the small Ziploc bag and shook two pills into his hand. "Cora says it's very… tactile. Which means, she probably ended up hooking up with her European friend. I did not ask any more questions."
Stiles laughed. That sounded like a fun time. He took one of the pills and put it in his mouth, swallowing it dry.
"For fuck's sake, Stiles. Drink some water."
"Take one," Stiles said taking the second pill from Derek's hand and placing it against Derek's lips. "Actually, let's take two each."
Before Stiles could take the pill back, Derek used the tip of his tongue to catch the pill into his mouth. Stiles watched as the man swallowed and took the rest of the pills away. "Save some for next time."
"Next time?" Stiles asked, as if he didn't know that if Derek appeared in his balcony, he would say yes immediately.
"Yes, Stiles, next time." He slid the pills back into his pocket, then got a thick joint out. He fiddled with his pocket a little more, then cursed. "Do you have a lighter?"
Stiles reach to his bedside table and grabbed the pink Zippo he stole from Lydia last time she was here. When he turned to Derek, he had the joint between his lips, so Stiles lit it for him. Derek took a big hit before throwing his head back in pleasure. Stiles watched the column of his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobbed once, then his eyes went up to Derek's lips just as the man blew a puff of smoke up.
Derek offered the joint to Stiles. When Stiles reached for it, he pulled his hand away.
"Nuh-uh, come here," he said.
Then he put the joint directly on Stiles' lips. Stiles took a hit, keeping his eyes locked on Derek's. It itched when the spicy smoke hit the back of his throat, and Stiles pulled back, coughing his lungs out.
"Fuck. It is that Colorado shit."
Derek smiled, taking another hit of the joint. He held the smoke in for a moment before blowing perfect rings in Stiles' direction.
"Show off." Stiles said, taking the joint from Derek.
He threw his body back on the bed, taking the joint to his lips. When he was on his back, he looked at the ceiling for a moment, without really seeing anything, then exhaled a big cloud of smoke.
The next time he took a hit, he felt Derek shift on the bed, two of his fingers drawing slow spirals on Stiles' stomach.
"How long until—"
"20 minutes. Give or take," Derek replied, as if he could read Stiles' mind.
"Want you inside me when it hits," Stiles said.
Derek kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, then the side of his neck. "Turn around," he whispered in Stiles' ear.
And Stiles, who would have jumped from a tall building if Derek was there to catch him, did just that.
He got on his stomach, still smoking Derek's joint as Derek trailed soft kisses down his spine, his beard scratching just the right spots along the way. When Derek reached his crack, he ran his tongue slowly down, pushing one of Stiles' legs to the side to give himself better access.
Stiles took another hit deep hit, watching as the ash fell on top of the bed, making a mess. He didn't even bother to clean it.
Derek licked his crack all the way up, and Stiles coughed the smoke out of his lungs. He felt his eyes water with the force of his coughing, but he didn't have words to annoy Derek, not when his tongue started circling his hole, tortuously slow and delicious. A moan escaped his throat when Derek pushed his tongue inside, prodding and loosening Stiles for his cock.
Stiles felt the tips of his toes tingling and he wasn't sure if it was the pleasure slowly building at the bottom of his stomach, or the ecstasy starting to catch up with him. Derek pull back slightly and spat on his hole, pressing one of his fingers against his entrance. Stiles moaned.
Derek slowly worked his finger in, alternating between the firm press of his finger and the softer push of his tongue. Stiles forgot about the joint in his hand, lost somewhere in the bed as he grasped the bedsheets to hold on to something.
He was panting as Derek pressed a second finger to his entrance. Stiles breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly to relax, just as Derek used his other hand to slowly caressing Stiles ass, kneading his knuckles deep into the meat of his buttocks.
Derek spat on his hole again and pushed both fingers in. Stiles groaned as he adjusted to the somewhat dry entrance, but he felt so turned on that he would have let Derek fuck him without any prep. His organs felt on fire, his blood thick and hot like magma sliding under the surface. Derek kissed the inside of his thigh and pulled his fingers out.
"Pass me the lube, Stiles," Derek commanded.
Stiles squirmed under Derek's watchful eye, and reached for the lube on the bedside table.
"Turn around, I want to see you," said Derek.
Stiles turned around, lying on his back and leaning on his elbows to look at Derek as he slicked his thick cock on lube. He was so caught up watching Derek slick his dick up that he startled when Derek used his hand to separate his thighs and position himself between them.
The feather-light touch of Derek felt electric. Suddenly, Stiles wanted to touch Derek everywhere.
"You look so blown," Derek said. "How do you feel?"
"Like I need you to touch me yesterday," Stiles said.
Derek huffed a laugh and scooted closer to Stiles, lining up with his hole. He slowly entered Stiles, and white pleasure exploded behind Stiles' eyelids. He moaned as Derek slid all the way inside, as his dick leaked on his stomach, untouched.
Derek leaned forward once he was all the way in, placing a hand above Stiles' shoulder to brace himself. His other hand, caressed Stiles' side slowly up, as if he was tasting Stiles' skin with his hands. When His hand reached Stiles' nipple, he brushed it softly and Stiles cried out, overwhelmed by the feelings of Derek inside him and the quick MDMA launch.
"Fuck, Derek, you feel so good," Stiles mumbled.
"Stiles…" Derek's mouth found Stiles' and kissed him long and deep, without thrusting in or out, just kissing him until they were both panting. "Your lips feel incredible."
Stiles laughed against Derek's mouth. "Please fuck me, Derek."
Stiles got lost in the soft rhythm that Derek set, slowly sliding in and out of him, as he touched his face, his chest, anywhere Stiles could reach. It felt so good. He felt closer to Derek than he had ever felt before, which was ridiculous, they'd been inside the other enough times that this should not be new. But Stiles was riding a wave of pleasure so intense his entire body felt overstimulated.
Derek shifted on top of Stiles, pushing Stiles' legs further back until Derek was hitting his sweet spot every other thrust. Stiles slid his hands behind Derek's neck and pulled him closer. They weren't even kissing by now, just panting against each other mouths while keeping intense eye contact.
Pleasure built at the base of his stomach and tightened his balls. Stiles was embarrassingly close to coming untouched, but, for once, he didn't care. He wanted to know how deep Derek could push him before he fell over the edge.
"Derek, I think I'm gonna—"
Derek picked up the pace, thrusting into him harder and harder until Stiles couldn't hold back anymore, and he came panting Derek's name against the man's lips, making a mess between them as ropes of come painted Derek's hairy chest.
With a grunt, Derek pushed deeper, then he was coming, emptying himself inside Stiles.
They stayed like that for a minute, trapped in the hazy warmth of their orgasms until Stiles' leg started to cramp.
"Derek… my leg," he said.
Derek shook his head and blinked a couple of times before pulling back and out of Stiles. He sat by the end of the bed and looked back at Stiles. "You look so fucking beautiful."
Stiles laughed. "Those are the drugs talking, man."
Stiles looked around the bed for the rest of the unfinished joint but couldn't find it before Derek was climbing the bed and pinning Stiles under his weight.
"Do you really think that? That I only think you're beautiful because I'm high?"
Stiles felt Derek's solid frame on top of him and many stupid words rushed to the surface of Stiles' mind. But he couldn't let himself be the one to ruin what they had.
Not that it was anything.
"Come on, Derek, let's not ruin a couple of beautiful orgasms with feelings talk."
Because if Stiles got himself started, there would be no stopping him.
"Stiles—"
"Derek," he interrupted, "we are high. All of these earth-shattering feelings we have for one another right now will fade away in 4 to 8 hours."
"I see," Derek said with a frown. "So, all the earth-shattering feelings I had before getting high are nothing?"
"Derek—"
"Because I'm pretty sure you feel them too. We keep acting like this is nothing but I can tell, we are something."
Stiles pushed Derek gently off top of him. Derek went willingly. "I don't wanna ruin what we have."
"What do we have, Stiles?" Derek asked tiredly.
"Enough," he said. Suddenly, being naked felt like the worst possible way to have this conversation.
"Hooking up when Jackson is not around? When Cora is out of town? Ignoring each other like I didn't just have your dick in my mouth ten minutes before a pack meeting? Is that enough?"
Stiles swallowed. That was so far from enough that it sickened Stiles. But he also knew he wasn't exactly dating material. All of his previous friends with benefits had made it quite clear. So who cared if Stiles wanted more? If Stiles yearned for long mornings waking up next to his boyfriend Derek, that was between him and God.
"I'm not exactly dating material," said Stiles.
"Why won't you let me decide that?" Derek asked.
And Stiles wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the uncontainable love he felt for Derek, but he threw himself into Derek's arms, kissing him sloppily until Derek gathered himself and replied in the same fashion.
They kissed for a long time, long enough that Stiles felt sticky everywhere he had come drying on his skin.
"I need a shower," said Stiles.
"Hmm."
"Want to come over?" Stiles asked.
"I thought Jackson was still here."
"Who gives a fuck about Jackson? I wanna shower with my boyfriend and get him all soapy and wet."
"Boyfriend?" Derek asked with a smirk on his face.
"Well, I don't want enough. I want more," he said selfishly. Perhaps Derek wanted to be selfish too. "I want all of it. So yeah, boyfriend is as good a word as any."
Derek's smile softened. "The pack is going to be insufferable."
"Let them," Stiles said with more confidence than he felt.
"Jackson will be the worst of them."
"I thought we agreed that we don't give a fuck about Jackson."
"Eh, I still think he'd be into a threesome."
"Not Jackson. Anyone but Jackson," Stiles said, standing from the bed. He rummaged his closet for a couple of towels and tossed one to Derek.
"I think I can still change your mind," said Derek with a cheeky smile.
"Can we settle into our own thing before he start inviting the pack over?" Stiles sighed.
Derek walked to Stiles' side in all of his naked glory, taking one of Stiles' towels and wrapping it around his waist. "Okay, Stiles."
They showered together, giving each other long. drawn out handjobs that were borderline torture, then they returned to Stiles' room, where they settled for the night with some beverages and snacks. They had sex one more time after they came down from the high and couldn't sleep, until they eventually dozed off around six am.
When Stiles woke up, strong arms wrapped around his midsection, and Derek's soft breathing against his neck, he made a silent promise to thank Cora's European friend for hooking them up with those glorious, pretty pink pills.