Posts tagged: THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF STEREK
Derek’s refrigerator contained a carton of eggs, a pair of tomatoes, half an onion, and a six-pack of soda with two missing. There weren’t even any condiments, Jesus. Stiles eyed the tomatoes, then said, “Can I have one of your Dr Peppers?”“They’re Isaac’s,” Derek said.Stiles twisted a can out of its plastic ring. “I’ll tell him thanks.” He kicked the fridge closed and turned around. “You got any avocados? I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop eating avocados lately.”“No, I don’t have any avo —” Derek stopped and exhaled through his nose. “What do you want?”Stiles cracked the soda one-handed and took a sip, knocking his cast lightly against his side to dispel an itch. “Besides some guacamole? Your hatred of food makes me sad, dude. What would you do if you were getting marathon laid and they got hungry? They’d come in here and think you were a sociopath.”“Stiles.”Shit, the itch was getting worse. Maybe Derek had a butter knife Stiles could scratch under the cast with. Maybe he’d give Stiles the bite and put him out of his slow-healing human misery. No, bad. “I guess you probably you don’t bring people home these days. Do you even get laid at all?”Eyes narrowing, Derek said, “In what universe could that possibly be considered any of your business?”“The universe where I’m offering you a no-strings bone session, I guess.”Derek’s face wedged itself halfway into a ferocious cringe, then smoothed out again. “Funny.”As if resigning itself to Stiles’s helplessness to aid it, the itch finally began to subside. Stiles leaned against the counter and took another sip. “For real, though, I’m down if you are.”For a long moment, Derek just stared. Then he shook his head slowly, wonderingly. “What made you think there was the slightest chance I’d say yes to that?”Stiles shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”“If propositioning me is all you invited yourself over to do, I hope you came prepared to get laughed right back out the door.”“I’d like to consider myself an optimist.” Stiles flashed a grin. “I’m not, but I’d like to consider myself one.”Derek rolled his eyes. “Get out.”“Okay.” Stiles tipped his head back and downed the rest of the soda, then came back up licking his lips — and there, yes, Derek’s eyes flicked to his mouth for the briefest of moments. Ha. What a bullshitter. The Sheriff’s little boy knew better than to let a suspect know about his tells, but while Derek might turn Stiles down flat, it wasn’t for lack of animal interest. “Or, I mean, you could just let me blow you. Test drive kind of thing. I’m not promising hardmode, but I’m told I have a pretty good mouth, and I’d be into using it on you.”Derek began walking away. Well, then. Stiles pivoted and pitched his can overhand into the trash. He was getting pretty good with his off-hand. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t go back to avoiding him. They were probably going to have to work together at some —— Derek was paused in the doorway with his shirt dangling from one finger and an expression of supercilious challenge, like he was expecting Stiles to freak out and bail when confronted with the actual, naked, extremely well-muscled torso of a grown man, who was also a mythological being capable of crushing each of Stiles’s 205 currently-intact bones into jelly.Poor guy; he was obviously unprepared.
You cannot even try to tell me that you didn’t think they were about to kiss because they were seriously about to.
Especially the 2nd gif.
- The way Stiles looks at Derek’s lips and nods slightly.
- The way Derek’s eyes skit around looking at Stiles’ facial expressions.
- The way Derek swallows almost nervously
prompt: best birthday ever
Stopping myself from cleaning up my line art was challenging.
Quick sketches are totally not my forte.
Derek yanks the door open so fast he almost rips it off it’s hinges. “Are you brain damaged?!” he says, pulling Stiles in by his arm.
Stiles laughs, loud and delighted. Not even the sign clocking him in the face as he spins in Derek’s grip is enough to dampen his enthusiasm. “Nope,” he says. “I haven’t had a head injury in months.”
Derek remembers. He’s still getting the harpy blood out of his jacket. “Stiles-“
“You wanted to wait,” Stiles says. He’s done that thing where he’s all up in Derek’s space between one blink and the next. Fuck. ”We waited.”
The door rattles at Derek’s back only for as long as it takes Stiles to press him back against it. It’s heady having him this close, after months of keeping him at arms length. Months of chaste kisses and careful embraces.
Okay, yeah, screw it. Derek flips them, ducking in to nose up Stiles’ neck and feeling Stiles’ groan hit him hot and low.
“Oh god yes,” Stiles says, dropping the sign to thread his hands into Derek’s hair. Derek crushes it underfoot when he hikes Stiles up the wall.
Yep, I went there.
Mated (4129 words) by otter
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Porn, neckz n throatz
Summary: Stiles already had a history with skin magazines for werewolves. It wasn’t like he was new at this, even if his modeling portfolio was completely pathetic. He was cool and collected. He was a jaded professional. He was not at all prepared for working with Derek Hale.
WARNING: This is a motherfuckin’ WIP up in here. It WILL be finished; it’s my AO3 fundraiser auction story, for which Siess paid cash money, and I’m writing it very quickly so I expect it to be posted in its entirety… well, sometime. I can’t promise when. It’s going to be kind of long. I will be posting again when it’s done, though, so if you’re waiting to read the completed fic just keep an eye on my feed.
If you’re not already reading the NECKZ N THROATZ universe, Jen put together a fucking awesome and incredibly comprehensive list of works on the theme right here. Which is why she’s my new favorite.
OTTER IS WRITING NECKZ ‘N THROATS AND MY LIFE IS COMPLETE
So Julie/Halffizzbin had kind of a crummy day the other day. So, um. I offered to writer her a thing. This is that thing. I don’t know if it’s exactly what you had in mind, Julie, but I hope you like it! (And I got impatient so if you don’t want me to use the picture of the ask, just let me know and I’ll take it down.)
Here’s the ask for context if you’re curious:
(Also, disclaimer: I know NOTHING about gyms. I don’t have a car and I chase after 4 year olds for an hour each week. That’s exercise enough for me XD)
By the way you might be interested in this link, and this link and also this post (which is a non-explicit porn gif so, you know, click accordingly) and this post which… I will go reblog so I can link to myself so they don’t break on you. If I change my url (which I probably won’t, let’s be real, it took me ages to come up with this one), you can just replace this one with whatever’s around now. They’re tagged with “gym fic” too so you can find them.
Now, let’s see if I can figure out how read mores work! (I’m new here XD)
The thing is, Derek kind of hates gyms. They smell like sweat and body odour and way too much rubber. Usually there are about six different music players going at once, more heartbeats and heavy breathing than a goddamn orgy, people try to actually talk to him and for some reason every time he goes, somebody is listening to MMMBop and he ends up with it in his head for days.
Do you know what it’s like to fight for your life while there’s Hanson playing in the back your head?
But. The thing is. Derek would prefer to not spend any time he doesn’t need to hanging around the house where almost his entire family died. He’s… well, he’s not ready to let it go yet. But he thinks that pretty soon, maybe when the county stops feeling sorry for him and starts caring about the probably should be condemned building in the middle of the Preserve, he might not fight it. He’s not entirely sure on that, but maybe. And in any case, it’s not a place he wants to use as a makeshift gym. The subway station was fine for a while, if a little damp, but then…
Then the squirrels happened. And Derek really doesn’t want to talk about that, okay?
His loft is good. It’s dry, there aren’t any holes in the roof, he has a dresser with clothes that don’t smell like mold and mildew and his landlord finally fixed the giant-ass hole in the wall from taking out the old sliding doors. It’s good, it’s a good place. It’s the only kind of home he’s had in years.
Except. Except that there is always somebody there when he tries to work out. Isaac needs help with his homework, or Boyd’s junker breaks down again and Derek is the only person he actually knows with any sort of mechanical experience. Or Scott has something to yell at him about – there’s always something that Scott wants to yell at him about – or Stiles is around just being… Stiles. Distracting is probably in his genes. Or Lydia shows up for no reason and decides to turn his workout into an experiment or to sit on his back while he does push-ups so she can lecture him – and seriously, he doesn’t know why he gave her a key. He really doesn’t.
Well. Besides the fact that she told him to and he’s just a little afraid of her. (He’s not stupid. She is a very capable young woman and Derek grew up with Laura Hale as his sister. He’s not one to underestimate Lydia Martin. He likes his balls intact, thanks.)
There’s nothing run with running, obviously. He likes it as much as the next person who has been chased out of the burnt shell of his family’s home by people trying to murder him does, but that’s exactly not a complete workout. And he knows he doesn’t need to work out as hard as he does because of what he is, but he likes pushing his body, likes making sure that it works as well as it can, likes the way he burn off stress during a workout.
So he gives up the goose and joins a gym. Lucky for him, it’s a 24 hour gym and he can work out in the middle of the night when nobody’s around. If he times it just right, he can get in right after the janitor cleans it so everything mostly just smells like bleach and cleaners. He can ignore that pretty well, at least, and his body doesn’t let a scent-induced headache last more than a couple minutes, tops.
He’s finishing up on the treadmill when he hears it.
You have so many relationships in this life, but only one or two will last.
Stiles, you already captured him.