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Stiles had been too busy taking in his surroundings to realise that Derek had stripped his t-shirt off and was leering at Stiles expectantly.
“Oh.” Stiles laughed sheepishly, pulling his shirt over his head and resumed kissing Derek, a slight whimper falling out of his mouth as Derek pushed him down onto the bed.
He fell back onto the bed with a slight gasp, sighing with relief shortly afterwards because Derek’s bed was littered with fluffy white pillows which he was being pressed against.
He trailed his hands down Derek’s back, scratching lightly before intentionally squeezing Derek’s waist.
Derek buckled his hips at the squeeze and growled half-heartedly. Stiles smirked as they kissed, inching his hands lower.
“I want…” Stiles gasped. “You to ride me, Derek.”
Derek paused above him and Stiles grasped onto Derek’s bony hips with panic.
“Crap…you don’t have to! I can-”
Fumbling with his jeans, Derek seemed to be agreeing, his eyes flickering with hunger as he tugged them off.
Stiles arched his back to shrug off his own jeans and shamelessly moaned when Derek was straddling him again, the lack of material creating some much desired friction. He gripped onto Derek’s hips before moving his hands southwards, squeezing Derek’s behind and watching as it made him roll his hips.
“Derek, you’re-” He groaned, pulling Derek’s face down to his chest and slipping his hands past the band of Derek’s boxers.
The pair broke away, to peel their boxers off and prepare each other for the fun they were going to have. Full of moans and whimpers, mostly from Stiles.
Derek rode Stiles, the burning sensation unfamiliar to Derek and Stiles writhing underneath him with pleasureful groans. Stiles’ hands had made the way to Derek’s waist, lightly scratching at his hips each time he moved, and Derek leaned down to press the occasion kiss to Stiles’ neck. He sucked at Stiles’ neck, leaving small marks as evidence before continuing his movements in a hurried and fast-paced way.
The pair had been blissfully unaware of the consequences of their actions, as they rutted like a pair of animals desperate for survival and passed their finish lines.
Coming down from their highs, the two parted, each collapsing to their own half of the bed and panting like dogs. Stiles planted a hand on Derek’s chest with a huge sigh before laughing in hysterics and he turned to Derek with a huge smile.
“That was amazing, we should do that all the time and we-“
Derek pushed Stiles’ hand off him, sitting up with his back to the younger man. “It won’t happen again.” He growled out, retrieving his boxers which had been strewn up on the floor.
“What?” Stiles blinked, a sudden coolness flooding his chest and heat flaring on his cheeks.
“It’s not happening again.” Derek repeated, harsher and more gruffly. “Get out.”
Stiles blinked again, quickly. He watched Derek from behind, the muscles in his back stretching as he put his clothes back on, the dimly moon-lit room just about lighting up the room for his human vision. “I-what?”
“Out!” Derek roared, pushing a ball of clothes into his chest roughly.
Stiles choked, avoiding looking at the wolf because he wasn’t willing to show that he was about to burst into tears. He took his ball of clothes, using Derek’s blankets to cover himself as he got dressed.
“I thought we-you…” Stiles’ shirt was rooked up slightly and his jeans barely on but he was dressed, at least.
“I gave you the wrong impression.” Derek stated immediately. “This never happened. Get out.” The man stood up, now fully clothed and paced towards his window, not even turning to look at the younger boy.
Stiles swiped at his face, feeling the familiar burn of tears and stormed out of Derek’s room. He didn’t stop moving until he was out of the house, slamming the front door shut, resentment and fury burning in his mind and tangled with pure anguish in his chest.
He flung himself into his jeep, smacking his hands against the wheel and then profusely apologising to his car for hurting it. The engine started – to Stiles’ relief – and he sped off, away from the preserve and back home to sulk alone.
His bedroom was cold and lifeless when he got to it, he flung himself onto his bed and crying out. He’d thought Derek wanted him, he’d thought that he was going to get his happily ever after, like Scott and Kira. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Derek listened to the jeep starting up and it’s humming disappear as Stiles drove away. He felt like he’d just screwed everything up – like usual. He smacked his fist into the windowsill, the aged wood curving under his strength and he growled out.
He knew that the stupid fairies wouldn’t give him his one true desire without screwing up something. The mess with Stiles was like a pre-karma before the good deed from the fairies, of granting Derek’s desire hit. With a pout, he lifted his eyebrows. He wasn’t even sure what he truly desired.
He stifled a groan and forced himself to the bathroom. The bathroom was cold and dark, so he flicked the light on and grimaced at the mirror. His skin was patchy and hot, he had sweat lathered across his forehead and his lips were swollen.
Tugging his clothes off, he growled and threw himself carelessly into the shower, washing away any traces of Stiles he could find.
After a thorough wash, he put a fresh pair of boxers and stripped his sheets, sliding into his cold bed with a sigh. Even after removing the sheets and showering, Stiles’ scent still lingered, hovering somewhere in his room to cause problems for his sleep.
His sleep was atrocious that night, his mind replaying the moment again and again, and his uncomfortableness relentless as he just tried to sleep and forget about it. The burning and tingling didn’t help his soreness, constantly reminding him of Stiles.
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