Impatience

NC17, Derek x Stiles, 724 words

warnings: PWP

spoilers: 1.09 - Wolf's Bane

Stiles' is barely back in his room after escorting Danny to the front door before Derek grabs him by his shirt and shoves him back against the wall. There's no time for Stiles to object, Derek pressing in close and holding Stiles against the wall with his own body, and when Stiles opens his mouth, Derek's tongue slides in to meet his own.

A small sound escapes Stiles' throat, but it's hard to be embarrassed about the little noises when Derek is sucking on his tongue and his fingers are creeping up under the hem of Stiles' shirt. He's warm, so warm, and Stiles' can feel the muscles in his stomach tremble and clench when Derek paws at him.

Then suddenly he stops.

Derek pulls away long enough to tug the shirt he'd stolen from Stiles' dresser up and off, batting Stiles' hands away when then they reach for him. When Stiles hasn't moved to take his own shirt off, because he'd much rather touch Derek's chest, the hard muscles. Derek makes a frustrated sound and starts to tug Stiles' shirt off for him, growling at the plaid shirt and making a triumphant sound when the white tee comes off.

Which, okay. Stiles can get behind this. But as soon as it's gone he's leaning in for another kiss, nipping at Derek's lower lip and tracing it with his tongue until Derek parts his lips. He never gets a chance to dominate the kiss, that's always been the territory of Derek and his sharp teeth and quick tongue, but Stiles really doesn't mind.

Another thing he definitely doesn't mind is the dragging of the heel of Derek's hand down the front of his jeans. Stiles jerks his hips forward instinctively, for more, for harder, but Derek presses Stiles' hips back into the wall with one hand.

Derek growls into the kiss, nipping at Stiles' lip. He does it again, pressing harder as he rubs Stiles through his jeans, until Stiles is whining and begging openly.

It's only when Stiles is close to losing it, nails digging into Derek's skin as he holds on tight, teeth buried in his lower lip while Derek mouths kisses at his jaw, his throat, does Derek stop teasing. He pops the button on Stiles' jeans, tugging the zipper down roughly and shoving at Stiles' jeans and boxers until they slide down his thighs. Tugging at his own belt with a growl, Derek repeats the process with his own jeans until he can press his hips against Stiles' again, nothing but hot skin and precome between them.

It's not graceful or elegant and it's not porn worthy. It's just rough rutting, their cocks dragging together along each other's stomachs until even that's not enough and Derek curls his fingers around the both of them. Derek growls when Stiles' whines, biting at his jaw roughly, but he rocks his hips up into his fist, against Stiles' cock, and a needy little whine escapes him when Stiles does the same.

It doesn't last long enough and it takes entirely too much time for them to reach a peak. Stiles comes with a strangled cry, pressing himself up on his tiptoes to feel more of Derek, Derek's hand. He comes all over Derek's fist and cock, and Derek doesn't let go until Stiles' cock is done pulsing. Tightening his grip on himself, Derek strokes his own cock faster until he's making a needy sound of his own and coming with a groan.

Stiles can feel Derek's come on his stomach, his own come, but he doesn't care. He drops his hands from Derek's shoulder to his waist, his hips, and drags Derek in close. He smiles when he feels Derek's teeth scrape against his jaw, the rough stubble as Derek nuzzles him lightly. Content, Stiles closes his eyes and sighs heavily. "If I'd known you were going to do that, I would have made Danny leave sooner."

"I thought he'd never leave," Derek growls, but it's low and sated, as warm and heavy as he is. Derek doesn't push away from Stiles and move to clean up, and Stiles doesn't make him. There's some serious shit that needs to be taken care of and figured out, and even though they can't really spare the minute to catch their breaths, they take it anyway.