it’s almost Christmas. have some porn.
Stiles is face down on the bed, his mouth open against the sheets, words he doesn’t even hear tumbling out of him. Things like “more”, “please”, and “Derek”. Because it’s always Derek — whenever they fuck, Derek is all Stiles can feel around him; his big hand holding Stiles down, thumb nestled in the small of Stiles’ back. The hair on Derek’s thighs rubbing against the back of Stiles’ legs, and the slow, aching drag of his cock as he fucks into Stiles.
It’s not always like this; they’ve had their share of fast, frantic fucks where there’s nothing but skin and heat and the need to come, but sometimes —
Sometimes it’s quiet, and Derek looks at Stiles with a quirk of his lips and Stiles knows what Derek wants. That he wants to take his time, wants to make Stiles fall apart underneath him; wants to be the only word on Stiles’ lips.
Stiles goes with it, crawls into Derek’s lap and kisses him, gives himself over to Derek as soon as Derek’s hands come up and grasp the back of Stiles’ neck. He’s never known anything like this — never had anyone or anything be able to take him out of his mind so completely, be able to wipe his brain of all the thoughts that might be flowing through it at any given moment.
Clothes get shed as they stumble towards the bedroom, leaving an obvious trail for anyone who would care to look, and then they’re naked; Stiles is spread out on the bed with Derek kneeling at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking down Stiles’ body, a predatory look on his face that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine.
And then — and then Derek’s mouth is on Stiles’ cock, and Stiles can’t concentrate on anything but the swirl of Derek’s tongue, and the bruising grip Derek has on his hips as he holds him down. It’s not enough, not now, but it still has Stiles throwing his head back and twisting his fingers in the sheets because it’s Derek.
When Derek lets up, he kisses the inside of Stiles’ thigh, one hand flicking the cap of the lube and then Derek’s pushing a finger inside Stiles, distressingly slow. Stiles whines, tries to shove back, but Derek’s not having it, he’s holding Stiles in place as he adds another finger. He’s up to three fingers before long, Stiles’ cock is leaking pre-come all over his stomach, his hands reaching down in an attempt to grasp at Derek.
Derek’s fingers slip out and Stiles feels empty, his lips forming a pout as he stares down at Derek, but then Derek taps him on the hip, says “turn over,” and Stiles obeys, knowing what’s going to happen. He lets Derek pull him to his knees, falling forward on his face and — the first press of Derek’s cock against his hole makes Stiles exhale heavily. Stiles never gets tired of this, the way they fit together so perfectly, the feel of Derek’s hands against his hips as he leans over Stiles and pushes in, inch by inch and tortuously slow.
When Derek’s fully inside Stiles, he pauses, his hips up against Stiles’ ass and Stiles can barely breathe with how full he feels. Derek’s smoothing his hands down Stiles’ back, his fingers pressing into Stiles’ muscles and Stiles just melts into the bed with a groan. A low chuckle slips from Derek’s mouth and then he’s moving slowly, a roll of his hips and it’s — fuck, it’s everything. Stiles would swear he can feel each vein and ridge on Derek’s cock as he’s being fucked, each thrust making his brain go blank and —
"Derek, I can’t —"
"You can," Derek says softly, speeding up the tiniest bit. "You are."
Fisting his hands in the sheet, Stiles’ cock grazes against the sheets and he sobs, unable to decide if he wants to push back or push forward and he just — he wants to come, he wants Derek to keep fucking him, and he wants. He wants it all.
And he gets it — he has Derek fucking into him, has Derek speeding up, swearing softly, his fingers stroking Stiles’ skin as he comes inside Stiles, his hips right up against Stiles’ ass. Derek’s breathing heavily, his cock still inside Stiles and it’s good — Stiles likes it, how Derek doesn’t want to break this connection, wants to stay inside him, but he — “Am I going to get to come?”
There’s a laugh and Derek’s pulling out, rolling Stiles over and covering his body with his own, kissing him deeply. Arms wrapping around Derek, Stiles pushes his hips up, his cock rubbing against Derek’s abs; he can feel come sliding out of his ass, but what the fuck ever because he’s close, so close and then Derek’s biting on his collarbone and —
Neither of them want to get out of the bed, Derek mumbling that he’ll change the sheet tomorrow and curling around Stiles, tugging him even closer. It’s lazy kisses and delicate touches and Stiles wouldn’t change this for the world.