Rating: MATURE

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Tags/Warnings: Everybody Lives, Stiles is legal, and he's really excited about it, Established Relationship, Loss Of Virginity, Porn With Plot, Dirty Talk, Safe Words, Blowjobs, Anal Sex, Derek's got a big dick, Stiles gets a little too enthusiastic, Injured Stiles, Hurt Stiles, Worried Derek, Protective Derek, Scared Derek, Derek's kind of a mess, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Stiles' brain to mouth filter, or lack thereof, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic, Hospitals, Medical Procedures

This story was inspired by an article I saw entitled: "Lover ruptures his airway while giving oral sex to well-hung partner"

Stiles doesn't actually rupture his airway, but he still ends up in the ER, and Derek is kind of a mess about it. Chapters will be added as they're edited, because this was supposed to be a short little one shot, but Stiles kind of ran away with it.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Sadly, there's been no hand to penis contact

.

Stiles Stilinski has just turned eighteen.

He's a legal adult, whether he should be considered one or not; and let's be real, there are times when he probably shouldn't be.

But still, he is.

He can vote now, and join the military, and be called for jury duty. If he wanted to he could go out and buy a lottery ticket...or, with a little more preparation, even a house or a car—although he loves Roscoe and would never ever dream of replacing him unless absolutely necessary.

Hell, he can finally have sex with someone without his dad threatening to shoot them!

That last perk is probably the most important one as far as Stiles is concerned, because he is totally into it.

Completely on board—just go ahead and pull up that anchor, set sail for the high seas, he's ready to fucking go.

He's so ready to lose his V-Card.

Like, so, so ready.

So yeah, he's legal.

They'd had a big party for him and everything, a sort of celebration into adulthood out in the preserve, complete with hot dogs and hamburgers courtesy of his father's mad grilling skills. Mrs. McCall had even brought her famous potato salad—the one that Stiles loves, the one he's begged her to give him the recipe to for years—along with some baked beans and a salad, because party or not, his dad still needs to watch his cholesterol.

Erica, Lydia and Allison had spent a good portion of their time sunbathing, and consequently blessing everyone else with the sight of their gorgeous, swimsuit-clad bods.

Stiles, Scott, Boyd and Isaac all practiced lacrosse drills with each other while the girls got their tan on; and Derek had kept the sheriff and Melissa company so the old folks wouldn't feel left out of the day's festivities.

When they were all drenched in sweat and the sun had gotten to be too hot, the whole pack—including his dad and Scott's mom, and yes, even the big bad alpha Derek Hale—had converged on the lake to cool off. Several rousing games of chicken soon followed, and the majority of the matches were won by Berica and Sterek, respectfully, because they're awesome and they rock.

Scallison was a close third.

And then, to top it all off, after everyone was fed and tired, happy and waterlogged, they'd made S'mores by a campfire and watched the stars come out. Lydia took it upon herself to give everyone a crash course on the specific constellations visible in their hemisphere, pointing out exactly where to find each one in the night sky; and Stiles had even caught a glimpse of a shooting star while he'd been curled up in Derek's arms.

It was all pretty amazing.

His favorite part of the entire day, though, by far, without a doubt, had been when the alpha had quietly pulled him aside, leading him away from all the commotion so they could spend some quality time together, alone. They'd walked hand in hand through the trees until they'd reached a clearing in the woods, where Derek had a whole set up ready and waiting—complete with picnic blankets, sparkling cider, and a small birthday cake sitting out just for the two of them to share.

.

"Oh my god, Der, really? This is so awesome!" He flung himself into the wolf's waiting arms, legs wrapping tight around Derek's waist, arms circling the man's neck as he peppered happy, hyper kisses along his stubbled jaw. Big hands were instantly on his ass, holding him up, and he gave his body a little wiggle, letting out a seductive purr as he asked, "Do you think you could fuck me just like this?" out of the blue. The hands on him instantly tightened their hold, and Stiles felt a low growl rumbling up from the depths of the chest he was pressed tight against. It sent a thrill through him. "You like the thought of that, huh?" he smirked, leaning in, licking a long, slow stripe up Derek's pulse point to the sensitive skin behind his ear. "The big bad wolf wants to come out an play, doesn't he?" he whispered, "He wants to show me how strong he is. Wants to give it to me so good, right?"

"Stiles."

The name came out as more of a snarl than anything else. A clear warning to shut his mouth.

It made him smile.

"I'm looking forward to seeing exactly what you've got planned for me later tonight, big guy," he murmured, then laid a wet, sloppy kiss on his boyfriend's cheek and made to hop down. Derek let him go easily. "But for right now, the only thing I wanna get my mouth on is that cake over there."

The older man rolled his eyes at Stiles' wild antics, but his lips quirked up in a grin as they sat down on the blankets together, betraying his true feelings and giving his fondness away.

Softywolf.

Stiles could also see him attempting to quietly and discreetly adjust himself in his pants, but he was clearly failing. Miserably. It was hilarious.

"Shut up," Derek grouched, but there was only affection behind the words, and Stiles smiled again. He watched Derek place a single candle in the top of the cake and light it up. "Before we eat, you have to make a wish."

That caught him a little off guard.

He didn't really know what to wish for. Honestly, he already had everything he'd ever wanted, as cliché as that sounded.

Except for, you know, his mom, obviously. But that wasn't something that was ever going to happen, and there was no sense in wallowing in it. She wasn't coming back.

He did know that she'd want him to be happy, though, he was pretty sure about that; and he hoped beyond hope that if she could see him now she'd be proud of him.

Proud of her little Mischief.

So that's what he wished for—for his mom to be proud of him, wherever she was.

Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out the candle.

Derek handed him a fork, and they dug in.

"Red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting...oh my god, dude, it's like a literal orgasm in my mouth," Stiles mumbled, thirty seconds later, as he stuffed another huge bite of said cake in said mouth. He let out a long, low, horribly obscene moan as the creamy sugar melted on his tongue, and Derek dropped his fork.

It was the best.

.

It really had been the best.

All of it.

He'd spent the entire day surrounded by the most important people in his life.

His family.

His best friends.

His hunky boyfriend.

Pack.

Yep, totally the absolute best.

But now the party's over...and Stiles is alone with the aforementioned hunky boyfriend. Alone, and one hundred percent legal, and brimming with so much pent up sexual frustration, energy and desire that he feels like he's about to burst at the seams.

He's going to explode if he doesn't get some serious action, ASAP. It'll be messy, and traumatizing, and all around not good.

You see, Derek and he, they've been an item for a while now—over a year, in fact.

His dad hadn't been too keen on the idea at first. He didn't like the thought of his, at the time, sixteen year old son dating a twenty-two year old man. He'd been understandably upset; but Stiles had chipped away at him, gently, little by little. He'd worn his father down, oh so lovingly, until the man had eventually acquiesced.

But, unfortunately for them, there had also been certain stipulations put in place when his dad gave them his blessing, the worst of which being the 'absolutely no funny business while Stiles is underage' rule. Derek, for his part, had wholeheartedly and enthusiastically agreed to the demand.

Stiles had agreed as well, of course, but not quite as enthusiastically. He still doesn't know if the reason Derek agreed so quickly was because he was afraid of the sheriff, because he was trying to be respectful of the man, or because he was just completely and utterly unwilling to be anything at all like that bitch, Kate-fucking-Argent.

Not that Derek could ever, in a million trillion years, be anything like her.

But still, that's why they'd had to wait, and Stiles understands, he really, truly does.

They'd wanted to appease his dad, but they'd also waited because Derek didn't want to take advantage of a teenage boy in any way, shape or form—even if said teenage boy had already known exactly what he'd wanted from the very beginning.

The very beginning being the day he'd first laid eyes on the broody werewolf out in the woods with Scott.

That was always going to be an issue with Derek, though—consent and things of the like—and that was okay. Stiles would always, always support him in whatever way he could.

Even if that meant waiting.

And waiting, and waiting.

But they're not saints.

No siree. Definitely not.

They've done some things together. Certain things the sheriff never, ever has to know about.

There's been kissing—like, a whole lot of kissing—and a little frottage, and a bit of sexting now and then; but true to their word, pants have always remained firmly in place and hands have never roamed inside the waistlines of those immovable pants.

Sadly, there's been no hand to penis contact.

Or penis to penis contact.

Or anything fun like that, really.

They're off now, though.

The pants, that is.

After the party he'd packed a bag and told his dad he was staying at Derek's. He'd heard a resigned sigh and a faint reply of "I don't wanna know any of the details" as he'd hopped in the Jeep and headed out.

Ignorance is bliss and all that.

So hell to the yes, you can bet the pants are freaking off, along with every other article of clothing they'd both been wearing when they'd tumbled into the loft together.

Because they can do that now.

Because he's legal.

.