[fic] We Fit So Tight You and I (Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and sex)
Warnings: This fic features chubby!kink, so if you find fat disgusting, then this probably isn't a fic you'll enjoy.
Notes: Written for this prompt at teenwolfkink. This kink is way too obscure and needs some love, is all I'm saying. As always, a huge thank you to ranilos, this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day without you (but you already know that, don't you?) The title of the fic is inspired by the song Do It Again by Queens of the Stone Age.
We Fit So Tight You and I
Derek Hale had always been watching people. It was a habit he had picked up when he was younger, but never shaken when he'd grown older. Through his teens, he had been one of the quiet kids that liked to keep to themselves, but he had always kept an eye on what was going on around him. Being a werewolf, he could easily listen in on conversations that were never meant for his ears, but he preferred to tune out most of the ramble. What the loud people didn't realize, though, was how much the quiet ones could see if they just paid attention.
So when Derek found out that Stiles had put on weight, it was in the same way he had learned a lot of things: By catching an unguarded moment when no one was supposed to be looking.
They were out bowling that night, the whole gang. Whose idea it had originally been, Derek never quite managed to figure out, but he had been dragged along by Lydia to "even out the pairs", as she had put it. It was not exactly a group date, but more like an extended pack meeting, with the baffled-looking Danny and his boyfriend being the only fully human pair between the four of them. With Allison naturally at Scott's side and Stiles teaming up with Lydia, all that was left for Jackson was to grudgingly pair up with Derek.
Derek didn’t mind. In truth, he couldn’t care less about bowling, but he found himself enjoying the banter that ran between the members of his pack and the rest of them, even if he was only listening with half an ear. He saw Danny whisper something into his boyfriend's ear and the other boy glanced at Derek curiously, the teen's lips curling into a soft knowing smile. Derek realized that Danny had most likely told his boyfriend about the charade that Stiles had played with Derek to get him to strip in front of Danny. He didn't care enough to listen more closely to their whisperings; he could guess what the topic of the conversation was.
"Derek, your turn," Jackson's grumbling voice brought Derek back and made him focus on the game they were playing.
He glanced at the younger male as he got up, silently amused by the sour look on Jackson's face. He went to pick up his ball, aimed down the lane and gave the bowling ball an elegant swing that made it shoot down the polished surface with plenty of speed. As it got closer to the pins, the ball started veering to the side and avoided the first line of pins by a hair’s breadth before dropping off to the side.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Jackson's loud groan mixed with the laughter and whistles from the rest of the group.
Derek met Jackson's accusing gaze with a shrug. "Maybe I'm just not that good at bowling," he said nonchalantly as he walked back and took his place next to Jackson. Jackson's furious scowl told him that the boy didn't believe a word he said, but there was nothing he could do about it.
"Aw c'mon, Jackson, give him break," Stiles called from the other side of the booth. "It's not like you'd stand a chance against Scott and Allison's super team even if your partner was the god of bowling himself."
"Shut up, Stiles," Jackson ground out through gritted teeth, glancing at the scores that showed his name in the last place with Scott's in the lead.
The next few rounds only served to further add to Scott and Allison’s lead over the rest of them, and soon they all unanimously agreed that taking a break might be a good idea. As Allison and Lydia went to get fresh drinks, Stiles headed for the bathroom. "Don't bite any heads off while I'm gone," he mock whispered to the seething Jackson on his way, flashing a grin as Jackson threw a dirty look at him.
After a moment of watching Danny awkwardly trying to unite the two rivals in a discussion of their latest lacrosse victory, Derek decided he'd seen enough. He walked past the mostly empty lanes and headed for the rest rooms at the far end of the bowling alley. It was a week night, so there weren't that many people in the alley besides them, which suited Derek well. You never knew what the two idiots might get up if their rivalry got out of hand and the less people there were to witness a werewolf fight occurring at the bowling alley, the better.
A middle-aged man was just coming out of the bathroom when Derek reached the door and he stepped inside the room, letting the door fall shut behind him with a click that echoed in the tile-floored space.
There was a wall on his right side designed to block the view from the door to the main bathroom. He was about to step inside, when Derek realized that someone had made a grand mistake in hanging the mirrors and he could actually see Stiles standing in front of the sinks through the reflection. Without any particular reason, Derek stayed silent in his place and didn't reveal his presence.
It was clear that Stiles hadn't noticed him enter the room. The boy continued to wash his hands, then shook them off before grabbing a paper towel to dry off the rest of the water. After dropping the used towel into the waste bin, he turned to look at himself in the large mirror above the sink. Stiles inspected himself, first leaning closer, then straightening up so that he could see his reflection from the waist up. He brushed his hand through the short cut of his hair and adjusted the lapels of his blue-and-green plaid shirt. He let his hand travel down to his middle, where he hesitated, before pressing his palm against his stomach.
The boy glanced down, then pulled up the hem of his shirt and poked his finger into the soft bit of flesh he’d exposed. He glanced up at his reflection again as he pinched the roll of flesh between his fingers. The expression on his face was not disgusted or horrified, but curious, and he prodded at the softness of his belly like he was seeing it for the first time.
For reasons that Derek couldn't quite decipher, he found it suddenly harder to breath. He watched through the reflection as Stiles turned and glanced at his side view from the mirror, his palm pressed up against the beginning of a gut while his other hand held up the shirt, and Derek tried to swallow the thickness that had closed his throat.
Suddenly Stiles’ gaze snapped to his in the mirror and the boy's eyes widened in surprise and shock. Stiles let his shirt fall back and pulled his hands away so fast that he almost banged his knuckles on the sink as he scrambled for something to busy himself with, ending up with washing his hands for the second time.
Derek shook off the trance he had fallen into and stepped into the bathroom. He didn’t even glance at Stiles as he walked to the urinal on the other end of the room, but he could feel the boy's eyes follow him through the mirror as he started undoing his belt.
Stiles cleared his throat and Derek tensed, waiting for Stiles to speak.
"So, ah, you really enjoy messing with Jackson's head, don't you?" the boy said with a barely believable air of nonchalance. He was speaking a little too fast, his voice a note higher than it normally was. Derek frowned to himself, feeling strangely disappointed in the fact that Stiles was avoiding the subject. "I can't believe a big bad wolf like you'd suck at bowling, so you're definitely doing it on purpose."
Derek finished and turned around, finding Stiles standing near the exit. "You are doing it just to fuck with him, aren't you?" Stiles said silently and for some reason, there was a hint of fear in his voice. The bright spots burning on his pale cheeks made him look younger than he was, but the question in his eyes was serious.
Derek shrugged. "Maybe I am, maybe not," he said and turned to the sink. He felt Stiles staring at him in silence and waited for him to argue, to say anything, but after a moment, the boy turned and headed out of the bathroom without another word.
It was no surprise when Scott and Allison ended up winning. Stiles and Lydia managed a tie with Danny and his boyfriend, which left Jackson with Derek in the last place. Derek could sense the darkening mood of his team mate and decided to give the kid a break. When on his last try, he managed a near strike that elicited cheers from most of the group, Derek felt two pairs of eyes boring into his back: Jackson's blue ones that blazed with anger and Stiles' that he couldn't read.
Despite the end result, Lydia managed to convince them to go eating afterwards. Danny made some flimsy excuse about needing to be at home before ten, but the rest of the pack headed for a fast-food joint on the other side of the road from the bowling alley. Before they parted ways, Danny's boyfriend caught up with Derek and held him back.
"You'd better apologize to your boyfriend for what you did back there," the teen said, giving Derek a gentle smile. At Derek's blank look, he nodded his head towards the retreating group that had almost reached the door to the food place. Jackson's hunched shoulders gave off his bad mood more clearly than any verbal commentary from him could. "He's been giving you this weird look all night and trust me, you don't want things to end like that."
Derek frowned at the male. "Jackson's not my boyfriend," he said.
Danny, who had been waiting on the side, now took his boyfriend's hand and pulled the smaller male closer to himself. The two of them shared a look and turned to head to the opposite way. "That's not who he means," Danny called over his shoulder.
As Derek caught up with the rest of the group, they were already busy arguing over some trivial movie they had all seen. Derek sat at the head of the table with his order, but didn't join in on the conversation. Instead, he picked up his burger and ate while watching Stiles pick at his curly fries. The boy caught him looking, but avoided his gaze. After a moment, he pushed his tray back like he had lost his appetite and his cheeks turned red.
Since the night at the bowling alley, Derek found himself stalking the corridors of the Beacon Hills high school more often than was probably necessary. He told himself he was there to see his pack, but in the back of his mind, he kept hoping to run into Stiles on his own. Derek didn't know exactly what he'd do with the boy if that happened, but he hated the nagging feeling that he had somehow screwed things up.
Unfortunately, every time he came across Stiles, the boy was accompanied by at least one of his friends.
"Oh c'mon, Derek! Like I told you already, like, a gazillion times, Allison and I are going out tonight, so I really, really can't come to the pack meeting, okay? Jeez..."
Scott's exasperated voice droned on about how despite being the Alpha, Derek should listen to others more when calling up meetings, but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. The truth was that he'd already agreed with the rest of the pack that they could meet without Scott and fill in the boy later; coming to threaten the kid had been just an excuse.
Derek caught Stiles' gaze over Scott's shoulder. The boy had kept his distance from Derek, staying back whenever they ran into each other, but the brown eyes that met Derek’s didn’t look frightened. Stiles’ face never betrayed his emotions as he stared back at Derek, before turning his eyes away.
Derek could feel the frustration building inside him as he realized that there was no way he’d accomplish anything as long as Stiles was surrounded by his friends. The way the boy kept acting like nothing had happened between them drove him strangely on edge and he found himself wanting to push Stiles to say something, anything, so that he could move on and forget about it.
"...even listening anymore?" Scott waved his hand in front of Derek's eyes to catch his attention, then jumped back and rolled his eyes as Derek's scowl returned to him.
"Fine, we'll meet without you, then," Derek said flatly and turned on his heels.
He heard Scott's voice as the kid turned to speak to Stiles. "Is it just me, or was that too easy?"
Stiles’ voice was uncharacteristically lacking enthusiasm when he replied: "Hey, you're the one who says things turn bad when you say 'too easy', so I'm having nothing to do with this, bro. There’s too much bad luck on my plate already."
The meeting was over quickly, mostly because even though Derek himself had been the one to call it, he found it difficult to concentrate on the issues the others wanted to discuss. His thoughts kept wandering and that made him even more irritable than usual, his frown deepening into a scowl. He was aware of the confused looks his pack was giving him and decided to call an end to the meet before anyone dared to ask him what was wrong. Given his mood, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the one to ask that question would be healing some severe bruising for the next few hours.
"Did you want something?" Derek barked as he turned to look at Jackson. The rest of the pack had already departed, but the young werewolf had lingered behind. Derek had noticed the male staring at him throughout the meeting and it was obvious that something was bothering him.
Jackson shirked back at the look of bare aggression on Derek’s face and hesitated. Derek could hear his nervous heartbeat as the boy gathered back his courage. "Is there... Is there something going on between you and Stiles?"
Coming from Jackson, the straightforward question was like a slap to his face, momentarily clearing his mind of the angry frustration he’d been plagued by lately. Derek didn't let the surprise show on his face, just stared at Jackson through the near darkness of former living room of the Hale house. When it became clear that Derek wouldn’t answer, Jackson's determination started to falter.
"Look, Danny told me about the 'cousin Miguel' thing..." Jackson paused, as if hoping that this would get a reaction from Derek, but he quickly continued when Derek stayed quiet. "He thinks you and Stiles have a, a thing."
Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "And?" he asked, staring down at the younger werewolf.
"Well, do you?" Jackson asked, his voice sounding suddenly strained and Derek had to wonder why even the thought of him and Stiles would make Jackson react this way; it almost seemed like the male was jealous.
Derek considered Jackson's question for a moment. This was the second time someone had alluded to there being something between him and Stiles, and while the rational part of Derek wanted to deny it, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. So he opted for the third answer.
"Maybe, maybe not," Derek said, like the question carried no more meaning to him than whether he had steak for dinner or not. "Either way, it's none of your business,” he added in a low growl that made it clear that further discussion on the subject would lead into a brawl.
He saw Jackson's fists ball up and his jaw clench in anger, and Derek almost expected Jackson to wolf out right then and there, but he managed to reign in his emotions. Jackson stormed out of the Hale house and Derek heard him rev the motor of his sports car before speeding away, leaving Derek to stare at the dark empty room in front of him.
Derek finished his workout with a set of push-ups that made his shoulders ache, but it was the kind of ache that he enjoyed. Breathing harshly, Derek wiped the sweat from his brow on the back of his hand and caught the sight of his reflection on the dusty mirror in the corner of the room. He leaned down to picked up the t-shirt he'd worn the day before and wiped the sweat from his face on it while walking to stand in front of the mirror.
He studied himself as he cleaned off. The tight muscles on his chest and arms were pumped from the exercise and felt hard to the touch as he moved the cloth over his damp skin. Derek watched the powerful muscles bulge under his skin as he went through the motions, but there was no pride in his gaze. He dropped the now thoroughly used t-shirt on the ground, but didn't step away from the mirror.
The people who hadn't known him that well had always thought he must be vain to look like he did, but Derek had never considered himself to be especially good-looking. Strength, speed and agility were what he aimed for, not aesthetics, but he had learned a long time ago that there were others who saw him as nothing more than a meathead with too much time to spend at the gym. Sure, being a werewolf gave him a boost in every physical aspect, but it was a boost only compared to humans. What Derek wanted was to be powerful among the werewolves and for that, he needed to work.
Derek lifted his hand and let his fingers brush along his tight stomach, feeling the hard ridges of the abdominal muscles under his fingertips, but in his mind he wondered what it would feel like to touch a softer, more yielding flesh that he could sink his fingers into. The thought alone was enough to send a spark up his spine and Derek let his hand fall down quickly, as if he had caught himself doing something embarrassing.
He had tried to banish the image of Stiles from his head, but the more he tried not to think about it, the harder it became to keep his mind from returning to the scene he had witnessed in the bathroom of the bowling alley. Derek found himself wondering what would have happened if he hadn't ignored Stiles then, but instead confronted him on what he had seen. He had played the scene in his head over and over again until he wasn't even sure if it had happened at all, yet there was always something holding him back from completing the vision in a way that would satisfy him.
But where Derek's conscious mind failed, his dreams more than made up for, creating alternate scenarios that left Derek waking up drenched in sweat and with a raging hard-on that didn't seem to subside even after numerous orgasms. He barely remembered the dreams that his subconscious used to fill in the blanks where his waking mind refused to provide answers, just flashes of bare skin, a pair of brown eyes and his teeth sinking into soft flesh, not to draw blood, but to tease and tantalize.
Derek scowled at his reflection, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. He could feel his bad temper returning and knew that he needed to do something about these thoughts he was having. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Stiles needed to end because he was on a fast track to being obsessed and he didn’t like it.
So when Derek found himself sitting on Stiles' bed waiting for the boy, he explained it to himself as a necessary move to make the madness stop. He had a plan that, while not perfect, would at least give him some sort of closure and maybe even revenge over past games that Stiles had played on him. After tonight, he would know for sure where they stood and the thought gave Derek a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt for weeks.
He could hear the sounds coming from downstairs, a quietly shared dinner between Stiles and his dad, but there was not much conversation to eavesdrop on. After they had finished eating, Derek heard the sheriff wish Stiles a good night and head out for work, but not before warning the boy not to do anything stupid while he was gone. Derek wondered what the sheriff would've thought if he had known there was a werewolf waiting for his son upstairs, but he didn't have time to idle on the thought as he heard Stiles hitting the stairs.
Stiles threw the door to his room open with his usual bravado and slammed the lights on, immediately catching sight of Derek. He stopped short, his hands flying up. "Jesus fucking Christ, Derek," he exclaimed, "you get a kick out of giving people heart attacks or something?" He instinctively looked behind himself before seeming to remember his dad had already left the house. "I'm starting to wish werewolves were more like vampires so they couldn't sneak up on you in your own house," the boy mumbled as he closed the door. He surreptitiously rearranged his clothes, tugging at his shirt before approaching Derek and crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, what's the trouble this time?" he sighed, looking reluctantly at Derek.
"No trouble," Derek answered. He saw Stiles' brows pull into a frown, but before the boy could question him, Derek held out the plastic bag he had brought with him. "I brought you something."
Stiles' eyes widened in child like surprise and made a reach for the bag, but suddenly he stopped. His hand hovered just a few inches away from the plastic bag as he glanced at Derek with narrowing eyes. "Why would you bring me something?" he asked.
Derek shrugged. "Just take it," he said.
Stiles seemed to consider his options, but after a couple of seconds, he snatched the bag from Derek's hand. He brought it closer and took a careful peek inside, like the bag might possibly contain something lethal. When nothing threatening appeared on sight, Stiles dug his hand in and fished out a neatly folded piece of clothing.
Derek watched Stiles' expression shift from suspicion back to surprise. The boy let the bag drop from his hands and shook open the folded fabric, lifting the t-shirt in front of his eyes for closer inspection. "This is nice! Did I forget my birthday or something?" he said, glancing at Derek over the shirt. His brief look of joy faltered and the suspicion set back in, making the smile on his lips fade. "Why'd you get me this?"
"Thought you might like it," Derek said, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he watched Stiles’ expression. As soon as he had seen the shirt hanging in a store window, he had known Stiles would love it, which was why he had chosen this particular shirt. The grungy pattern of faded arrows and letters was definitely something the boy would wear.
Stiles turned his gaze back to the t-shirt, his brows knitting in a light frown as he measured the shirt with his eyes. He felt the fabric between his fingers, testing it, and Derek could almost see him come to the same conclusion as he had when he’d bought it: the slim fitting shirt was obviously too small for him.
"Um, well, thanks, I guess," Stiles muttered, quickly bundling up the shirt. He avoided Derek's gaze as he turned to put it down on top of the drawer.
"Why don't you try it on?"
Stiles froze with the shirt still in his hand, then glanced at Derek. "What?"
Derek could feel a strange sense of stillness settling over him. He saw a blush starting to creep up from Stiles' neck to his face as the boy looked at him. "Try it on," Derek repeated and his voice was low and tight with tension.
Stiles tried to fend off his command, kneading the balled up shirt between his hands, but he seemed unable to come up with excuses. "Later, I'll try it on later, okay? Don't want to get it dirty or anything," he fumbled with the words, but he could see that Derek wasn't relenting. Stiles’ shoulders slumped. "Why now?" he asked in a final attempt, his voice taking on a slight tone of pleading desperation.
"Because I want to see if it fits."
Derek spoke the words in a slow, clear voice that resonated in the silence of the room. He saw emotion flicker in Stiles' eyes, but then the boy set his jaw and a look of determination came over him. Without another word, he turned around and after taking a deep breath, shrugged off his plaid shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled the sleeveless undershirt over his head and threw that one to the floor as well.
The boy wasn't as skinny as his baggy clothes led to believe. Years of lacrosse practice had left Stiles with a good basic muscularity, his arms thicker and his shoulders broader than Derek had expected at first glance. As the boy shook open the bundled up shirt, Derek's eyes roamed the muscles on his back and trailed to his waist.
Stiles slipped his arms through the short sleeves and pushed his head through the shirt, then tugged down the rest of the fabric, and even from behind, Derek could see that it was a tight fit. Derek saw his shoulders tense up as he pulled at the shirt, trying to readjust it to fit him better, but it was clear that there was nothing he could do to make the small shirt fit his frame.
Stiles sighed before turning around and letting his arms fall to his sides. "Well, look at that, it doesn't fit. What a surprise," the boy's voice was flat, but there was a note of anger underneath the tone of defeat.
It was lucky that the t-shirt had been made of fabric that gave out because it was truly a slim fit. Stiles' shoulders and arms more than filled the shirt, but Derek's gaze was drawn down to his waist where the fabric stretched tight over the soft mound of his stomach. The way the shirt revealed the bulge of his belly made it seem even bigger than it actually was and Derek swallowed, unable to move his eyes away. He drank in the sight, filling his mind with details, letting his eyes linger on the slight indentation over the hollow of Stiles' belly button and the curve of slight love handles that pushed over the snugly fitting jeans. He was mesmerized by the sight and couldn’t help but stare, until Stiles' voice woke him up.
"Is this some kind of revenge?" Derek lifted his gaze up almost reluctantly, but the look of hurt in Stiles' eyes sobered him up. "Did you come here just to mock me, is that it? Because I'm..." he glanced down, gesturing vaguely to his plump middle, but didn't complete the sentence. Instead, he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest in a protective gesture that somehow made his stomach even more evident and felt a wave of arousal wash through him.
"If that's it, then all I can say is that I'm sorry, okay?" Stiles continued, stressing the words, before looking down and adding more quietly, "I just did it to help Scott."
Seeing the humiliation and hurt on Stiles' face made something inside Derek unravel. No matter what he had thought when he’d bought the shirt, the embarrassment and self-consciousness were not what he wanted to see on the boy's face. What he wanted was something completely the opposite and actually quite simple. He just hadn't realized it until now.
He stood up so quickly that it made Stiles jump back and his hands lowered into a defensive stance, but the boy didn't back down as Derek approached him. Derek stopped in front of him and slowly reached his hand to trail over the taut fabric of the t-shirt. He could barely hear Stiles' nervous heartbeat over the rush of blood in his own head as he let his fingers ghost over Stiles' side, barely touching at all, suddenly hesitant now that what he had tried so hard to repress was right beneath his fingertips.
"Derek, what-"
Derek couldn't hold himself back to let Stiles finish his question. He slipped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him flush against his body, dipping his mouth down to lick his way into the boy's readily open mouth. Stiles' warmth felt so good against him that Derek wanted to drop his head back and howl from the sheer pleasure, but he couldn't bear to separate himself from Stiles now that he had him in his arms. Underneath the lingering taste of spices there was an even more intoxicating taste that made Derek hungry in a way he had never been before and he kept on kissing, licking deeper into Stiles' mouth, pulling him closer to himself.
Stiles' hands had flown up to Derek's chest and he half expected Stiles to struggle, to try and push him away, but the boy did the exact opposite. His fingers splayed flat against Derek's chest and he slipped them down to Derek's sides, knotting the fabric of his shirt in his fists as he let Derek kiss him. There was awkwardness in the kiss that told of inexperience, but what the boy lost in skill, he more than made up for in the way he opened himself for Derek to explore.
They were both panting as they broke the kiss, Derek's tight embrace leaving them breathless. Derek pulled his hands back, letting them rest of Stiles' sides. "You're wrong about the shirt," Derek murmured roughly against Stiles' mouth, nipping at his lips between words like he was addicted to the taste of them. "It fits you, mmmh, it fits you perfectly," he growled the last word and let his fingers sink into the softness on Stiles' sides, the boy's gasp against his lips making him lust for more.
He tugged at the fabric impatiently, fearing that if he didn't get to feel Stiles’ supple flesh under his hands soon he'd use his claws to make it to his target. Derek pulled at the shirt until his fingers brushed against bare skin and slipped his hands under the shirt, pushing it further up, reveling in the feel of the warmth under his hands. He grabbed hold of what his hands could find, kneading his fingers into the plump flesh, feeling Stiles' body react to his touch.
But this wasn’t enough to sate his hunger. Growing impatient, Derek caught hold of the hem of the shirt and pulled it over Stiles' head, leaving the boy bare-chested in front of him. He caught Stiles' mouth in another kiss and let his hands follow the curve of his belly to the button of his jeans, yanking the fly open and pushing the boy's pants down. He was about pull Stiles back against him when he felt an insistent tug on his shirt.
Derek stopped, seeking Stiles' dark eyes in his gaze. "You too," Stiles said in a husky voice, his face flushed with arousal.
Derek yanked his shirt off in a flash, yet he was barely done with it when he felt Stiles undoing his jeans. When they were both in just their underwear, Derek caught Stiles in his arms and they stumbled back towards the bed. He pulled the boy over himself and his senses were filled with Stiles, the boy's alluring taste on his lips and the feel of his body on him.
Stiles was a fast learner and when Derek plunged his tongue deep into his mouth, he could feel the boy's tongue pushing against his, licking at the inside of his mouth and wanting to conquer as much ground as he did. He couldn't get enough of how Stiles' skin felt underneath his hands and he kept caressing the boy’s warm body, his strong shoulders, back and sides, until finally capturing his buttocks and squeezing hard, pulling Stiles' hips against his so that their erections ground against each other in a way that was almost painful. Stiles' gasp was muffled against his lips, but Derek could feel the boy's passion grow in time with his.
Derek slipped one of his hands between their bodies and worked it to Stiles' arousal. The boy's groan was loud when Derek wrapped his hand around his cock, squeezing the hard member in his fist, but there was no room to move. He pulled back, quieting Stiles' protest by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and sucking, enjoying the shocked reaction he got in return.
While he had Stiles distracted, he ripped boy's boxer shorts apart from the seams. He didn't trust his wolf side to keep in check, so he resorted to using brute strength. This strong, insatiable lust that Stiles had ignited made him feel unstable and while Derek could guess that the wolf in him would probably more than agree to taking Stiles, the means of the wolf were too rough for the human to handle.
Derek released Stiles' lip and let his eyes linger on the red and glistening lips of the boy. "Sit up," he murmured and Stiles obediently clambered up, mounting him with his legs of either side of Derek's body. He leaned against Derek, his palms flat against Derek's solid torso and his cock speared the air, rigid hard and wanting. Derek fisted the length again and gave it a stroke, and Stiles pulled in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing. He rocked his hips, pushing down on Derek's erection underneath him, making him in turn inhale sharply.
He continued to stroke Stiles' cock, picking up a steady rhythm. He let his free hand caress along Stiles' body, brushing against his nipples and tweaking first one, then the other between his fingers, but he didn't stop there. Derek let his hand trail along the sloping curve of Stiles' belly, his fingers light as feathers over the pliant flesh. He followed the path of his fingers with his gaze, enthralled.
While his other hand was fast and sure, working a steady beat on Stiles' member, his exploring fingers hesitated. He could feel the tension building inside him, but suddenly he was unsure of how to proceed.
"Keep going," Stiles almost whispered, his voice breathless from the arousal. His fingers dug into Derek's flesh, tensing against the solid muscles of his body and the little noises he made were something between a pant and a gasp, a wanton sound that made Derek’s cock grow even harder. He glanced up and met the boy's half-lidded eyes, and he realized that Stiles was holding back to give him what he wanted. He felt a rush of emotion go through his body and let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Derek plunged his thumb in Stiles' navel, pinching the roll of supple flesh just below it between his fingers. He heard Stiles draw a breath, but he didn’t stop there. He stroked his hand over the soft flesh, pressing against it, kneading it, feeling it yield under his fingers like dough. He dug deeper, feeling the muscles underneath the layer of fat and the contrast made him choke with pleasure, his breath catching his throat. Derek could feel Stiles' body tense, his thighs flexing and releasing as Derek's hands drove him closer to the edge with each stroke, each caressing touch.
Suddenly, Stiles straightened up and pushed his hand between his legs, grabbing Derek's erection through the underwear he was still wearing. The hard grasp on his throbbing erection made Derek suck in a hiss, but he kept his pace, his hand jerking Stiles’ member with an unrelenting beat, until Stiles arched his back and groaned with a shuddering release, his pulsing erection leaking cum over Derek’s hand and stomach.
He pulled Stiles down and brought their lips together while he milked the last drops of cum from his cock and the taste of the boy’s hot mouth and the scent of his orgasm filling his nostrils are enough to push him over the edge, making him come against Stiles’ hand still grasping him.
After cleaning themselves up with tissues Stiles handily kept at his night table, they lay back on the bed next to each other. Derek could almost hear all the questions buzzing inside Stiles' head, but the boy had yet to open his mouth. Derek was content to wait, but with Stiles' gloriously naked body next to his, he couldn’t keep himself from touching the boy. He let his fingers trail along the angles and curves of his body, drawing lazy, languid patterns across the skin. He followed the lines of the muscles on his chest down to the point where they faded, slowing down as he moved his hand further down Stiles' chubby middle.
He was not sure what to think of himself now that the moment of passion had passed. As he moved his hand lower to brush over the hollow of Stiles' belly button, he wondered what the boy thought of him. Derek's hand stalled at the spot just below the belly button and he imagined himself putting his mouth on the spot in place of his fingers, sucking the flesh between his teeth and biting it, and the image is so vivid that he could feel his body tense up. For a flash of a second, Derek had to wonder if he had actually done the act because the vision felt like a déjà vu.
Derek was just about to move his hand along, when Stiles caught it with his. "So, Derek Hale the chubby chaser, huh?" the boy murmured and pressed Derek's hand against his belly, letting it sink into the flesh.
Derek's body betrayed his reaction, his arousal evident between his legs, but his first instinct was still to give his usual vague answer of maybes and maybe-nots. Yet when he looked up to meet Stiles’ gaze, he realized that the time for vagueness between them had long gone and besides, he knew the answer to this question with a certainty that rarely struck him.
Stiles’ brown eyes were not disgusted or put off, but filled with wonderment and honest curiosity. "Not really," he said, pulling his hand away as he rolled over and climbed over Stiles to straddle him, "you're the only one I’m after." He caught Stiles' lips against his before the boy could ask other questions, but he could feel Stiles' smile bloom against his mouth.
He could feel Stiles responding to him eagerly as he kissed the boy, but he still had to make sure. "You don't mind?" he asked silently, pulling back from the kiss, resting his weight against his arms.
Stiles almost snorted, looking at Derek like he had lost his mind. "Like I mind a, a," he grasped for a word while his eyes darted from Derek's face down to his body and he seemed to lose the track of his thoughts. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before his eyes found Derek’s again. "Like I would mind you doing anything to me," Stiles muttered softly and his shy smile unraveled another part inside Derek.
As he leaned down to kiss Stiles' smiling lips, it occurred to him that maybe Danny and the rest of them were right all along: Maybe there was a thing between him and Stiles before either of them knew about it, let alone how to act on it.
It was a different bathroom, but the situation was the same. This time, Derek didn’t waste a moment in hesitation when he stepped inside the tiled room, but walked straight up to Stiles and pinned him against the sink, slipping his arms around the boy from behind. He brushed his nose against the back of Stiles’ head, inhaling his scent, before letting his mouth find the patch of bare skin between the hairline and the collar of his shirt.
Stiles’ chuckle was both amused and slightly breathless. "We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Mr. Hale," he joked, but the way he leaned into Derek made it clear that Stiles was enjoying this just as much as he was.
"Why would I sit there and listen to those two idiots bicker over every little thing when I can instead be here," Derek murmured against Stiles’ skin, reaching to run his tongue against the boy’s ear, "doing this."
Derek could feel Stiles’ body react to his advances and he brushed his hands up the boy’s front to his chest, then worked his way back down, undoing the buttons of the shirt as he went. He pulled apart the two sides and slipped his hands under the t-shirt Stiles was wearing underneath, a low growl escaping his lips at the feel of the soft pliable flesh against his hands. He pulled Stiles tighter against him, grinding his erection against the boy’s backside, and he could hear the edge of arousal woven into the soft gasp that left Stiles.
"Ah, by the way, the girls know," Stiles suddenly said between breaths, "they cornered me at school and asked about us."
Derek grunted, not wanting to waste time in speaking. "You told them?"
"I said it was a definite maybe," Stiles laughed hoarsely, then sucked in a breath as Derek bit into the side of his neck, sucking the flesh between his teeth.
Derek hummed his reply against the boy’s skin. He realized that even without asking, the other werewolves would have noticed it sooner or later. After all their dates and late night visits, his scent was all over Stiles and vice versa. Lydia probably just had the keenest nose for these things, so it was no wonder she was pestering Stiles about it.
"What about the rest? You think they know?" Stiles asked.
"They know," Derek answered shortly, reluctant to carry on the conversation. He nudged Stiles’ butt with his hips in a reminder that there were more pressing matters to attend to than discussing whether the pack knew or not.
Stiles chuckled, but couldn’t keep himself from adding one last comment: "Except for Scott. He just told me that I smell funny."
The growl that started deep in Derek’s throat carried a warning note that effectively shut Stiles’ mouth. Derek let his teeth graze against the side of Stiles’ neck, glancing at their reflection in the mirror. The boy had closed his eyes, his hands holding tightly on the edge of the sink, and Derek’s eyes trailed along his exposed neck, watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, his breathing growing harder in time with his arousal.
Derek let his gaze fall, catching sight of his hands where they pressed against Stiles’ belly, the curve of it exposed from beneath the hem of the t-shirt. The image tugged at his memory, the familiarity of scene finally pulling forward the lust-filled dreams his waking mind had tried to bury. Derek’s body tightened as the flood of passion rose inside him, his senses heightening as the rush of desire lit up all the nerves in his body.
He pulled Stiles around in his arms and caught his face between his hands, kissing the boy’s mouth before he could voice his surprise. He wanted to taste Stiles on his tongue, to lap at his mouth until he found that sweet taste that was Stiles’ own, but Derek felt too rushed to concentrate on exploring his mouth, the urge to act out the scene he saw in his mind pushing him forward.
Derek released his hold on Stiles’ face and fell on his knees in front of the boy. His hands settled on Stiles’ exposed middle, resting on the supple flesh that pushed over the snug waistband of his jeans.
Stiles’ hands grasped hold of his shoulders and Derek could hear his heart hammering. "Derek, anyone could walk in," Stiles muttered, his quiet voice a mix of agitation and excitement.
Derek glanced up and caught Stiles' brown eyes looking down at him. His cheeks flustered pink and his lips parted with arousal, he looked just like the boy in Derek's wet dreams. Derek felt his lips turn into a wicked smirk. "Let them," he said in a low voice that promised a quick end to anyone who came between him and his imminent pleasure.
Then he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the bulge of Stiles' belly, dipping his tongue into his belly button before biting into the soft flesh, just like he had wanted to do ever since that first glimpse.
//end.
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and sex)
Warnings: This fic features chubby!kink, so if you find fat disgusting, then this probably isn't a fic you'll enjoy.
Notes: Written for this prompt at teenwolfkink. This kink is way too obscure and needs some love, is all I'm saying. As always, a huge thank you to ranilos, this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day without you (but you already know that, don't you?) The title of the fic is inspired by the song Do It Again by Queens of the Stone Age.
We Fit So Tight You and I
Derek Hale had always been watching people. It was a habit he had picked up when he was younger, but never shaken when he'd grown older. Through his teens, he had been one of the quiet kids that liked to keep to themselves, but he had always kept an eye on what was going on around him. Being a werewolf, he could easily listen in on conversations that were never meant for his ears, but he preferred to tune out most of the ramble. What the loud people didn't realize, though, was how much the quiet ones could see if they just paid attention.
So when Derek found out that Stiles had put on weight, it was in the same way he had learned a lot of things: By catching an unguarded moment when no one was supposed to be looking.
They were out bowling that night, the whole gang. Whose idea it had originally been, Derek never quite managed to figure out, but he had been dragged along by Lydia to "even out the pairs", as she had put it. It was not exactly a group date, but more like an extended pack meeting, with the baffled-looking Danny and his boyfriend being the only fully human pair between the four of them. With Allison naturally at Scott's side and Stiles teaming up with Lydia, all that was left for Jackson was to grudgingly pair up with Derek.
Derek didn’t mind. In truth, he couldn’t care less about bowling, but he found himself enjoying the banter that ran between the members of his pack and the rest of them, even if he was only listening with half an ear. He saw Danny whisper something into his boyfriend's ear and the other boy glanced at Derek curiously, the teen's lips curling into a soft knowing smile. Derek realized that Danny had most likely told his boyfriend about the charade that Stiles had played with Derek to get him to strip in front of Danny. He didn't care enough to listen more closely to their whisperings; he could guess what the topic of the conversation was.
"Derek, your turn," Jackson's grumbling voice brought Derek back and made him focus on the game they were playing.
He glanced at the younger male as he got up, silently amused by the sour look on Jackson's face. He went to pick up his ball, aimed down the lane and gave the bowling ball an elegant swing that made it shoot down the polished surface with plenty of speed. As it got closer to the pins, the ball started veering to the side and avoided the first line of pins by a hair’s breadth before dropping off to the side.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Jackson's loud groan mixed with the laughter and whistles from the rest of the group.
Derek met Jackson's accusing gaze with a shrug. "Maybe I'm just not that good at bowling," he said nonchalantly as he walked back and took his place next to Jackson. Jackson's furious scowl told him that the boy didn't believe a word he said, but there was nothing he could do about it.
"Aw c'mon, Jackson, give him break," Stiles called from the other side of the booth. "It's not like you'd stand a chance against Scott and Allison's super team even if your partner was the god of bowling himself."
"Shut up, Stiles," Jackson ground out through gritted teeth, glancing at the scores that showed his name in the last place with Scott's in the lead.
The next few rounds only served to further add to Scott and Allison’s lead over the rest of them, and soon they all unanimously agreed that taking a break might be a good idea. As Allison and Lydia went to get fresh drinks, Stiles headed for the bathroom. "Don't bite any heads off while I'm gone," he mock whispered to the seething Jackson on his way, flashing a grin as Jackson threw a dirty look at him.
After a moment of watching Danny awkwardly trying to unite the two rivals in a discussion of their latest lacrosse victory, Derek decided he'd seen enough. He walked past the mostly empty lanes and headed for the rest rooms at the far end of the bowling alley. It was a week night, so there weren't that many people in the alley besides them, which suited Derek well. You never knew what the two idiots might get up if their rivalry got out of hand and the less people there were to witness a werewolf fight occurring at the bowling alley, the better.
A middle-aged man was just coming out of the bathroom when Derek reached the door and he stepped inside the room, letting the door fall shut behind him with a click that echoed in the tile-floored space.
There was a wall on his right side designed to block the view from the door to the main bathroom. He was about to step inside, when Derek realized that someone had made a grand mistake in hanging the mirrors and he could actually see Stiles standing in front of the sinks through the reflection. Without any particular reason, Derek stayed silent in his place and didn't reveal his presence.
It was clear that Stiles hadn't noticed him enter the room. The boy continued to wash his hands, then shook them off before grabbing a paper towel to dry off the rest of the water. After dropping the used towel into the waste bin, he turned to look at himself in the large mirror above the sink. Stiles inspected himself, first leaning closer, then straightening up so that he could see his reflection from the waist up. He brushed his hand through the short cut of his hair and adjusted the lapels of his blue-and-green plaid shirt. He let his hand travel down to his middle, where he hesitated, before pressing his palm against his stomach.
The boy glanced down, then pulled up the hem of his shirt and poked his finger into the soft bit of flesh he’d exposed. He glanced up at his reflection again as he pinched the roll of flesh between his fingers. The expression on his face was not disgusted or horrified, but curious, and he prodded at the softness of his belly like he was seeing it for the first time.
For reasons that Derek couldn't quite decipher, he found it suddenly harder to breath. He watched through the reflection as Stiles turned and glanced at his side view from the mirror, his palm pressed up against the beginning of a gut while his other hand held up the shirt, and Derek tried to swallow the thickness that had closed his throat.
Suddenly Stiles’ gaze snapped to his in the mirror and the boy's eyes widened in surprise and shock. Stiles let his shirt fall back and pulled his hands away so fast that he almost banged his knuckles on the sink as he scrambled for something to busy himself with, ending up with washing his hands for the second time.
Derek shook off the trance he had fallen into and stepped into the bathroom. He didn’t even glance at Stiles as he walked to the urinal on the other end of the room, but he could feel the boy's eyes follow him through the mirror as he started undoing his belt.
Stiles cleared his throat and Derek tensed, waiting for Stiles to speak.
"So, ah, you really enjoy messing with Jackson's head, don't you?" the boy said with a barely believable air of nonchalance. He was speaking a little too fast, his voice a note higher than it normally was. Derek frowned to himself, feeling strangely disappointed in the fact that Stiles was avoiding the subject. "I can't believe a big bad wolf like you'd suck at bowling, so you're definitely doing it on purpose."
Derek finished and turned around, finding Stiles standing near the exit. "You are doing it just to fuck with him, aren't you?" Stiles said silently and for some reason, there was a hint of fear in his voice. The bright spots burning on his pale cheeks made him look younger than he was, but the question in his eyes was serious.
Derek shrugged. "Maybe I am, maybe not," he said and turned to the sink. He felt Stiles staring at him in silence and waited for him to argue, to say anything, but after a moment, the boy turned and headed out of the bathroom without another word.
It was no surprise when Scott and Allison ended up winning. Stiles and Lydia managed a tie with Danny and his boyfriend, which left Jackson with Derek in the last place. Derek could sense the darkening mood of his team mate and decided to give the kid a break. When on his last try, he managed a near strike that elicited cheers from most of the group, Derek felt two pairs of eyes boring into his back: Jackson's blue ones that blazed with anger and Stiles' that he couldn't read.
Despite the end result, Lydia managed to convince them to go eating afterwards. Danny made some flimsy excuse about needing to be at home before ten, but the rest of the pack headed for a fast-food joint on the other side of the road from the bowling alley. Before they parted ways, Danny's boyfriend caught up with Derek and held him back.
"You'd better apologize to your boyfriend for what you did back there," the teen said, giving Derek a gentle smile. At Derek's blank look, he nodded his head towards the retreating group that had almost reached the door to the food place. Jackson's hunched shoulders gave off his bad mood more clearly than any verbal commentary from him could. "He's been giving you this weird look all night and trust me, you don't want things to end like that."
Derek frowned at the male. "Jackson's not my boyfriend," he said.
Danny, who had been waiting on the side, now took his boyfriend's hand and pulled the smaller male closer to himself. The two of them shared a look and turned to head to the opposite way. "That's not who he means," Danny called over his shoulder.
As Derek caught up with the rest of the group, they were already busy arguing over some trivial movie they had all seen. Derek sat at the head of the table with his order, but didn't join in on the conversation. Instead, he picked up his burger and ate while watching Stiles pick at his curly fries. The boy caught him looking, but avoided his gaze. After a moment, he pushed his tray back like he had lost his appetite and his cheeks turned red.
Since the night at the bowling alley, Derek found himself stalking the corridors of the Beacon Hills high school more often than was probably necessary. He told himself he was there to see his pack, but in the back of his mind, he kept hoping to run into Stiles on his own. Derek didn't know exactly what he'd do with the boy if that happened, but he hated the nagging feeling that he had somehow screwed things up.
Unfortunately, every time he came across Stiles, the boy was accompanied by at least one of his friends.
"Oh c'mon, Derek! Like I told you already, like, a gazillion times, Allison and I are going out tonight, so I really, really can't come to the pack meeting, okay? Jeez..."
Scott's exasperated voice droned on about how despite being the Alpha, Derek should listen to others more when calling up meetings, but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. The truth was that he'd already agreed with the rest of the pack that they could meet without Scott and fill in the boy later; coming to threaten the kid had been just an excuse.
Derek caught Stiles' gaze over Scott's shoulder. The boy had kept his distance from Derek, staying back whenever they ran into each other, but the brown eyes that met Derek’s didn’t look frightened. Stiles’ face never betrayed his emotions as he stared back at Derek, before turning his eyes away.
Derek could feel the frustration building inside him as he realized that there was no way he’d accomplish anything as long as Stiles was surrounded by his friends. The way the boy kept acting like nothing had happened between them drove him strangely on edge and he found himself wanting to push Stiles to say something, anything, so that he could move on and forget about it.
"...even listening anymore?" Scott waved his hand in front of Derek's eyes to catch his attention, then jumped back and rolled his eyes as Derek's scowl returned to him.
"Fine, we'll meet without you, then," Derek said flatly and turned on his heels.
He heard Scott's voice as the kid turned to speak to Stiles. "Is it just me, or was that too easy?"
Stiles’ voice was uncharacteristically lacking enthusiasm when he replied: "Hey, you're the one who says things turn bad when you say 'too easy', so I'm having nothing to do with this, bro. There’s too much bad luck on my plate already."
The meeting was over quickly, mostly because even though Derek himself had been the one to call it, he found it difficult to concentrate on the issues the others wanted to discuss. His thoughts kept wandering and that made him even more irritable than usual, his frown deepening into a scowl. He was aware of the confused looks his pack was giving him and decided to call an end to the meet before anyone dared to ask him what was wrong. Given his mood, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the one to ask that question would be healing some severe bruising for the next few hours.
"Did you want something?" Derek barked as he turned to look at Jackson. The rest of the pack had already departed, but the young werewolf had lingered behind. Derek had noticed the male staring at him throughout the meeting and it was obvious that something was bothering him.
Jackson shirked back at the look of bare aggression on Derek’s face and hesitated. Derek could hear his nervous heartbeat as the boy gathered back his courage. "Is there... Is there something going on between you and Stiles?"
Coming from Jackson, the straightforward question was like a slap to his face, momentarily clearing his mind of the angry frustration he’d been plagued by lately. Derek didn't let the surprise show on his face, just stared at Jackson through the near darkness of former living room of the Hale house. When it became clear that Derek wouldn’t answer, Jackson's determination started to falter.
"Look, Danny told me about the 'cousin Miguel' thing..." Jackson paused, as if hoping that this would get a reaction from Derek, but he quickly continued when Derek stayed quiet. "He thinks you and Stiles have a, a thing."
Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "And?" he asked, staring down at the younger werewolf.
"Well, do you?" Jackson asked, his voice sounding suddenly strained and Derek had to wonder why even the thought of him and Stiles would make Jackson react this way; it almost seemed like the male was jealous.
Derek considered Jackson's question for a moment. This was the second time someone had alluded to there being something between him and Stiles, and while the rational part of Derek wanted to deny it, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. So he opted for the third answer.
"Maybe, maybe not," Derek said, like the question carried no more meaning to him than whether he had steak for dinner or not. "Either way, it's none of your business,” he added in a low growl that made it clear that further discussion on the subject would lead into a brawl.
He saw Jackson's fists ball up and his jaw clench in anger, and Derek almost expected Jackson to wolf out right then and there, but he managed to reign in his emotions. Jackson stormed out of the Hale house and Derek heard him rev the motor of his sports car before speeding away, leaving Derek to stare at the dark empty room in front of him.
Derek finished his workout with a set of push-ups that made his shoulders ache, but it was the kind of ache that he enjoyed. Breathing harshly, Derek wiped the sweat from his brow on the back of his hand and caught the sight of his reflection on the dusty mirror in the corner of the room. He leaned down to picked up the t-shirt he'd worn the day before and wiped the sweat from his face on it while walking to stand in front of the mirror.
He studied himself as he cleaned off. The tight muscles on his chest and arms were pumped from the exercise and felt hard to the touch as he moved the cloth over his damp skin. Derek watched the powerful muscles bulge under his skin as he went through the motions, but there was no pride in his gaze. He dropped the now thoroughly used t-shirt on the ground, but didn't step away from the mirror.
The people who hadn't known him that well had always thought he must be vain to look like he did, but Derek had never considered himself to be especially good-looking. Strength, speed and agility were what he aimed for, not aesthetics, but he had learned a long time ago that there were others who saw him as nothing more than a meathead with too much time to spend at the gym. Sure, being a werewolf gave him a boost in every physical aspect, but it was a boost only compared to humans. What Derek wanted was to be powerful among the werewolves and for that, he needed to work.
Derek lifted his hand and let his fingers brush along his tight stomach, feeling the hard ridges of the abdominal muscles under his fingertips, but in his mind he wondered what it would feel like to touch a softer, more yielding flesh that he could sink his fingers into. The thought alone was enough to send a spark up his spine and Derek let his hand fall down quickly, as if he had caught himself doing something embarrassing.
He had tried to banish the image of Stiles from his head, but the more he tried not to think about it, the harder it became to keep his mind from returning to the scene he had witnessed in the bathroom of the bowling alley. Derek found himself wondering what would have happened if he hadn't ignored Stiles then, but instead confronted him on what he had seen. He had played the scene in his head over and over again until he wasn't even sure if it had happened at all, yet there was always something holding him back from completing the vision in a way that would satisfy him.
But where Derek's conscious mind failed, his dreams more than made up for, creating alternate scenarios that left Derek waking up drenched in sweat and with a raging hard-on that didn't seem to subside even after numerous orgasms. He barely remembered the dreams that his subconscious used to fill in the blanks where his waking mind refused to provide answers, just flashes of bare skin, a pair of brown eyes and his teeth sinking into soft flesh, not to draw blood, but to tease and tantalize.
Derek scowled at his reflection, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. He could feel his bad temper returning and knew that he needed to do something about these thoughts he was having. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Stiles needed to end because he was on a fast track to being obsessed and he didn’t like it.
So when Derek found himself sitting on Stiles' bed waiting for the boy, he explained it to himself as a necessary move to make the madness stop. He had a plan that, while not perfect, would at least give him some sort of closure and maybe even revenge over past games that Stiles had played on him. After tonight, he would know for sure where they stood and the thought gave Derek a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt for weeks.
He could hear the sounds coming from downstairs, a quietly shared dinner between Stiles and his dad, but there was not much conversation to eavesdrop on. After they had finished eating, Derek heard the sheriff wish Stiles a good night and head out for work, but not before warning the boy not to do anything stupid while he was gone. Derek wondered what the sheriff would've thought if he had known there was a werewolf waiting for his son upstairs, but he didn't have time to idle on the thought as he heard Stiles hitting the stairs.
Stiles threw the door to his room open with his usual bravado and slammed the lights on, immediately catching sight of Derek. He stopped short, his hands flying up. "Jesus fucking Christ, Derek," he exclaimed, "you get a kick out of giving people heart attacks or something?" He instinctively looked behind himself before seeming to remember his dad had already left the house. "I'm starting to wish werewolves were more like vampires so they couldn't sneak up on you in your own house," the boy mumbled as he closed the door. He surreptitiously rearranged his clothes, tugging at his shirt before approaching Derek and crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, what's the trouble this time?" he sighed, looking reluctantly at Derek.
"No trouble," Derek answered. He saw Stiles' brows pull into a frown, but before the boy could question him, Derek held out the plastic bag he had brought with him. "I brought you something."
Stiles' eyes widened in child like surprise and made a reach for the bag, but suddenly he stopped. His hand hovered just a few inches away from the plastic bag as he glanced at Derek with narrowing eyes. "Why would you bring me something?" he asked.
Derek shrugged. "Just take it," he said.
Stiles seemed to consider his options, but after a couple of seconds, he snatched the bag from Derek's hand. He brought it closer and took a careful peek inside, like the bag might possibly contain something lethal. When nothing threatening appeared on sight, Stiles dug his hand in and fished out a neatly folded piece of clothing.
Derek watched Stiles' expression shift from suspicion back to surprise. The boy let the bag drop from his hands and shook open the folded fabric, lifting the t-shirt in front of his eyes for closer inspection. "This is nice! Did I forget my birthday or something?" he said, glancing at Derek over the shirt. His brief look of joy faltered and the suspicion set back in, making the smile on his lips fade. "Why'd you get me this?"
"Thought you might like it," Derek said, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he watched Stiles’ expression. As soon as he had seen the shirt hanging in a store window, he had known Stiles would love it, which was why he had chosen this particular shirt. The grungy pattern of faded arrows and letters was definitely something the boy would wear.
Stiles turned his gaze back to the t-shirt, his brows knitting in a light frown as he measured the shirt with his eyes. He felt the fabric between his fingers, testing it, and Derek could almost see him come to the same conclusion as he had when he’d bought it: the slim fitting shirt was obviously too small for him.
"Um, well, thanks, I guess," Stiles muttered, quickly bundling up the shirt. He avoided Derek's gaze as he turned to put it down on top of the drawer.
"Why don't you try it on?"
Stiles froze with the shirt still in his hand, then glanced at Derek. "What?"
Derek could feel a strange sense of stillness settling over him. He saw a blush starting to creep up from Stiles' neck to his face as the boy looked at him. "Try it on," Derek repeated and his voice was low and tight with tension.
Stiles tried to fend off his command, kneading the balled up shirt between his hands, but he seemed unable to come up with excuses. "Later, I'll try it on later, okay? Don't want to get it dirty or anything," he fumbled with the words, but he could see that Derek wasn't relenting. Stiles’ shoulders slumped. "Why now?" he asked in a final attempt, his voice taking on a slight tone of pleading desperation.
"Because I want to see if it fits."
Derek spoke the words in a slow, clear voice that resonated in the silence of the room. He saw emotion flicker in Stiles' eyes, but then the boy set his jaw and a look of determination came over him. Without another word, he turned around and after taking a deep breath, shrugged off his plaid shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled the sleeveless undershirt over his head and threw that one to the floor as well.
The boy wasn't as skinny as his baggy clothes led to believe. Years of lacrosse practice had left Stiles with a good basic muscularity, his arms thicker and his shoulders broader than Derek had expected at first glance. As the boy shook open the bundled up shirt, Derek's eyes roamed the muscles on his back and trailed to his waist.
Stiles slipped his arms through the short sleeves and pushed his head through the shirt, then tugged down the rest of the fabric, and even from behind, Derek could see that it was a tight fit. Derek saw his shoulders tense up as he pulled at the shirt, trying to readjust it to fit him better, but it was clear that there was nothing he could do to make the small shirt fit his frame.
Stiles sighed before turning around and letting his arms fall to his sides. "Well, look at that, it doesn't fit. What a surprise," the boy's voice was flat, but there was a note of anger underneath the tone of defeat.
It was lucky that the t-shirt had been made of fabric that gave out because it was truly a slim fit. Stiles' shoulders and arms more than filled the shirt, but Derek's gaze was drawn down to his waist where the fabric stretched tight over the soft mound of his stomach. The way the shirt revealed the bulge of his belly made it seem even bigger than it actually was and Derek swallowed, unable to move his eyes away. He drank in the sight, filling his mind with details, letting his eyes linger on the slight indentation over the hollow of Stiles' belly button and the curve of slight love handles that pushed over the snugly fitting jeans. He was mesmerized by the sight and couldn’t help but stare, until Stiles' voice woke him up.
"Is this some kind of revenge?" Derek lifted his gaze up almost reluctantly, but the look of hurt in Stiles' eyes sobered him up. "Did you come here just to mock me, is that it? Because I'm..." he glanced down, gesturing vaguely to his plump middle, but didn't complete the sentence. Instead, he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest in a protective gesture that somehow made his stomach even more evident and felt a wave of arousal wash through him.
"If that's it, then all I can say is that I'm sorry, okay?" Stiles continued, stressing the words, before looking down and adding more quietly, "I just did it to help Scott."
Seeing the humiliation and hurt on Stiles' face made something inside Derek unravel. No matter what he had thought when he’d bought the shirt, the embarrassment and self-consciousness were not what he wanted to see on the boy's face. What he wanted was something completely the opposite and actually quite simple. He just hadn't realized it until now.
He stood up so quickly that it made Stiles jump back and his hands lowered into a defensive stance, but the boy didn't back down as Derek approached him. Derek stopped in front of him and slowly reached his hand to trail over the taut fabric of the t-shirt. He could barely hear Stiles' nervous heartbeat over the rush of blood in his own head as he let his fingers ghost over Stiles' side, barely touching at all, suddenly hesitant now that what he had tried so hard to repress was right beneath his fingertips.
"Derek, what-"
Derek couldn't hold himself back to let Stiles finish his question. He slipped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him flush against his body, dipping his mouth down to lick his way into the boy's readily open mouth. Stiles' warmth felt so good against him that Derek wanted to drop his head back and howl from the sheer pleasure, but he couldn't bear to separate himself from Stiles now that he had him in his arms. Underneath the lingering taste of spices there was an even more intoxicating taste that made Derek hungry in a way he had never been before and he kept on kissing, licking deeper into Stiles' mouth, pulling him closer to himself.
Stiles' hands had flown up to Derek's chest and he half expected Stiles to struggle, to try and push him away, but the boy did the exact opposite. His fingers splayed flat against Derek's chest and he slipped them down to Derek's sides, knotting the fabric of his shirt in his fists as he let Derek kiss him. There was awkwardness in the kiss that told of inexperience, but what the boy lost in skill, he more than made up for in the way he opened himself for Derek to explore.
They were both panting as they broke the kiss, Derek's tight embrace leaving them breathless. Derek pulled his hands back, letting them rest of Stiles' sides. "You're wrong about the shirt," Derek murmured roughly against Stiles' mouth, nipping at his lips between words like he was addicted to the taste of them. "It fits you, mmmh, it fits you perfectly," he growled the last word and let his fingers sink into the softness on Stiles' sides, the boy's gasp against his lips making him lust for more.
He tugged at the fabric impatiently, fearing that if he didn't get to feel Stiles’ supple flesh under his hands soon he'd use his claws to make it to his target. Derek pulled at the shirt until his fingers brushed against bare skin and slipped his hands under the shirt, pushing it further up, reveling in the feel of the warmth under his hands. He grabbed hold of what his hands could find, kneading his fingers into the plump flesh, feeling Stiles' body react to his touch.
But this wasn’t enough to sate his hunger. Growing impatient, Derek caught hold of the hem of the shirt and pulled it over Stiles' head, leaving the boy bare-chested in front of him. He caught Stiles' mouth in another kiss and let his hands follow the curve of his belly to the button of his jeans, yanking the fly open and pushing the boy's pants down. He was about pull Stiles back against him when he felt an insistent tug on his shirt.
Derek stopped, seeking Stiles' dark eyes in his gaze. "You too," Stiles said in a husky voice, his face flushed with arousal.
Derek yanked his shirt off in a flash, yet he was barely done with it when he felt Stiles undoing his jeans. When they were both in just their underwear, Derek caught Stiles in his arms and they stumbled back towards the bed. He pulled the boy over himself and his senses were filled with Stiles, the boy's alluring taste on his lips and the feel of his body on him.
Stiles was a fast learner and when Derek plunged his tongue deep into his mouth, he could feel the boy's tongue pushing against his, licking at the inside of his mouth and wanting to conquer as much ground as he did. He couldn't get enough of how Stiles' skin felt underneath his hands and he kept caressing the boy’s warm body, his strong shoulders, back and sides, until finally capturing his buttocks and squeezing hard, pulling Stiles' hips against his so that their erections ground against each other in a way that was almost painful. Stiles' gasp was muffled against his lips, but Derek could feel the boy's passion grow in time with his.
Derek slipped one of his hands between their bodies and worked it to Stiles' arousal. The boy's groan was loud when Derek wrapped his hand around his cock, squeezing the hard member in his fist, but there was no room to move. He pulled back, quieting Stiles' protest by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and sucking, enjoying the shocked reaction he got in return.
While he had Stiles distracted, he ripped boy's boxer shorts apart from the seams. He didn't trust his wolf side to keep in check, so he resorted to using brute strength. This strong, insatiable lust that Stiles had ignited made him feel unstable and while Derek could guess that the wolf in him would probably more than agree to taking Stiles, the means of the wolf were too rough for the human to handle.
Derek released Stiles' lip and let his eyes linger on the red and glistening lips of the boy. "Sit up," he murmured and Stiles obediently clambered up, mounting him with his legs of either side of Derek's body. He leaned against Derek, his palms flat against Derek's solid torso and his cock speared the air, rigid hard and wanting. Derek fisted the length again and gave it a stroke, and Stiles pulled in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing. He rocked his hips, pushing down on Derek's erection underneath him, making him in turn inhale sharply.
He continued to stroke Stiles' cock, picking up a steady rhythm. He let his free hand caress along Stiles' body, brushing against his nipples and tweaking first one, then the other between his fingers, but he didn't stop there. Derek let his hand trail along the sloping curve of Stiles' belly, his fingers light as feathers over the pliant flesh. He followed the path of his fingers with his gaze, enthralled.
While his other hand was fast and sure, working a steady beat on Stiles' member, his exploring fingers hesitated. He could feel the tension building inside him, but suddenly he was unsure of how to proceed.
"Keep going," Stiles almost whispered, his voice breathless from the arousal. His fingers dug into Derek's flesh, tensing against the solid muscles of his body and the little noises he made were something between a pant and a gasp, a wanton sound that made Derek’s cock grow even harder. He glanced up and met the boy's half-lidded eyes, and he realized that Stiles was holding back to give him what he wanted. He felt a rush of emotion go through his body and let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Derek plunged his thumb in Stiles' navel, pinching the roll of supple flesh just below it between his fingers. He heard Stiles draw a breath, but he didn’t stop there. He stroked his hand over the soft flesh, pressing against it, kneading it, feeling it yield under his fingers like dough. He dug deeper, feeling the muscles underneath the layer of fat and the contrast made him choke with pleasure, his breath catching his throat. Derek could feel Stiles' body tense, his thighs flexing and releasing as Derek's hands drove him closer to the edge with each stroke, each caressing touch.
Suddenly, Stiles straightened up and pushed his hand between his legs, grabbing Derek's erection through the underwear he was still wearing. The hard grasp on his throbbing erection made Derek suck in a hiss, but he kept his pace, his hand jerking Stiles’ member with an unrelenting beat, until Stiles arched his back and groaned with a shuddering release, his pulsing erection leaking cum over Derek’s hand and stomach.
He pulled Stiles down and brought their lips together while he milked the last drops of cum from his cock and the taste of the boy’s hot mouth and the scent of his orgasm filling his nostrils are enough to push him over the edge, making him come against Stiles’ hand still grasping him.
After cleaning themselves up with tissues Stiles handily kept at his night table, they lay back on the bed next to each other. Derek could almost hear all the questions buzzing inside Stiles' head, but the boy had yet to open his mouth. Derek was content to wait, but with Stiles' gloriously naked body next to his, he couldn’t keep himself from touching the boy. He let his fingers trail along the angles and curves of his body, drawing lazy, languid patterns across the skin. He followed the lines of the muscles on his chest down to the point where they faded, slowing down as he moved his hand further down Stiles' chubby middle.
He was not sure what to think of himself now that the moment of passion had passed. As he moved his hand lower to brush over the hollow of Stiles' belly button, he wondered what the boy thought of him. Derek's hand stalled at the spot just below the belly button and he imagined himself putting his mouth on the spot in place of his fingers, sucking the flesh between his teeth and biting it, and the image is so vivid that he could feel his body tense up. For a flash of a second, Derek had to wonder if he had actually done the act because the vision felt like a déjà vu.
Derek was just about to move his hand along, when Stiles caught it with his. "So, Derek Hale the chubby chaser, huh?" the boy murmured and pressed Derek's hand against his belly, letting it sink into the flesh.
Derek's body betrayed his reaction, his arousal evident between his legs, but his first instinct was still to give his usual vague answer of maybes and maybe-nots. Yet when he looked up to meet Stiles’ gaze, he realized that the time for vagueness between them had long gone and besides, he knew the answer to this question with a certainty that rarely struck him.
Stiles’ brown eyes were not disgusted or put off, but filled with wonderment and honest curiosity. "Not really," he said, pulling his hand away as he rolled over and climbed over Stiles to straddle him, "you're the only one I’m after." He caught Stiles' lips against his before the boy could ask other questions, but he could feel Stiles' smile bloom against his mouth.
He could feel Stiles responding to him eagerly as he kissed the boy, but he still had to make sure. "You don't mind?" he asked silently, pulling back from the kiss, resting his weight against his arms.
Stiles almost snorted, looking at Derek like he had lost his mind. "Like I mind a, a," he grasped for a word while his eyes darted from Derek's face down to his body and he seemed to lose the track of his thoughts. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before his eyes found Derek’s again. "Like I would mind you doing anything to me," Stiles muttered softly and his shy smile unraveled another part inside Derek.
As he leaned down to kiss Stiles' smiling lips, it occurred to him that maybe Danny and the rest of them were right all along: Maybe there was a thing between him and Stiles before either of them knew about it, let alone how to act on it.
It was a different bathroom, but the situation was the same. This time, Derek didn’t waste a moment in hesitation when he stepped inside the tiled room, but walked straight up to Stiles and pinned him against the sink, slipping his arms around the boy from behind. He brushed his nose against the back of Stiles’ head, inhaling his scent, before letting his mouth find the patch of bare skin between the hairline and the collar of his shirt.
Stiles’ chuckle was both amused and slightly breathless. "We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Mr. Hale," he joked, but the way he leaned into Derek made it clear that Stiles was enjoying this just as much as he was.
"Why would I sit there and listen to those two idiots bicker over every little thing when I can instead be here," Derek murmured against Stiles’ skin, reaching to run his tongue against the boy’s ear, "doing this."
Derek could feel Stiles’ body react to his advances and he brushed his hands up the boy’s front to his chest, then worked his way back down, undoing the buttons of the shirt as he went. He pulled apart the two sides and slipped his hands under the t-shirt Stiles was wearing underneath, a low growl escaping his lips at the feel of the soft pliable flesh against his hands. He pulled Stiles tighter against him, grinding his erection against the boy’s backside, and he could hear the edge of arousal woven into the soft gasp that left Stiles.
"Ah, by the way, the girls know," Stiles suddenly said between breaths, "they cornered me at school and asked about us."
Derek grunted, not wanting to waste time in speaking. "You told them?"
"I said it was a definite maybe," Stiles laughed hoarsely, then sucked in a breath as Derek bit into the side of his neck, sucking the flesh between his teeth.
Derek hummed his reply against the boy’s skin. He realized that even without asking, the other werewolves would have noticed it sooner or later. After all their dates and late night visits, his scent was all over Stiles and vice versa. Lydia probably just had the keenest nose for these things, so it was no wonder she was pestering Stiles about it.
"What about the rest? You think they know?" Stiles asked.
"They know," Derek answered shortly, reluctant to carry on the conversation. He nudged Stiles’ butt with his hips in a reminder that there were more pressing matters to attend to than discussing whether the pack knew or not.
Stiles chuckled, but couldn’t keep himself from adding one last comment: "Except for Scott. He just told me that I smell funny."
The growl that started deep in Derek’s throat carried a warning note that effectively shut Stiles’ mouth. Derek let his teeth graze against the side of Stiles’ neck, glancing at their reflection in the mirror. The boy had closed his eyes, his hands holding tightly on the edge of the sink, and Derek’s eyes trailed along his exposed neck, watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, his breathing growing harder in time with his arousal.
Derek let his gaze fall, catching sight of his hands where they pressed against Stiles’ belly, the curve of it exposed from beneath the hem of the t-shirt. The image tugged at his memory, the familiarity of scene finally pulling forward the lust-filled dreams his waking mind had tried to bury. Derek’s body tightened as the flood of passion rose inside him, his senses heightening as the rush of desire lit up all the nerves in his body.
He pulled Stiles around in his arms and caught his face between his hands, kissing the boy’s mouth before he could voice his surprise. He wanted to taste Stiles on his tongue, to lap at his mouth until he found that sweet taste that was Stiles’ own, but Derek felt too rushed to concentrate on exploring his mouth, the urge to act out the scene he saw in his mind pushing him forward.
Derek released his hold on Stiles’ face and fell on his knees in front of the boy. His hands settled on Stiles’ exposed middle, resting on the supple flesh that pushed over the snug waistband of his jeans.
Stiles’ hands grasped hold of his shoulders and Derek could hear his heart hammering. "Derek, anyone could walk in," Stiles muttered, his quiet voice a mix of agitation and excitement.
Derek glanced up and caught Stiles' brown eyes looking down at him. His cheeks flustered pink and his lips parted with arousal, he looked just like the boy in Derek's wet dreams. Derek felt his lips turn into a wicked smirk. "Let them," he said in a low voice that promised a quick end to anyone who came between him and his imminent pleasure.
Then he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the bulge of Stiles' belly, dipping his tongue into his belly button before biting into the soft flesh, just like he had wanted to do ever since that first glimpse.
//end.