laography | when the moon found the sun / when the sun found the moon

[ Curling his fingers with Stiles', Derek can't help the roll of his eyes in response to the grin or the way he drags the word out. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of Stiles' body beneath his, smooth skin under his mouth and hands. It's moments like this where he remembers everything that brought them there, from the unfortunate start that stuttered with arguments and threats-- legitimate, for a hot second, before the faoladh had known that he never would follow through on them-- and never seeing eye-to-eye. Now, Stiles still gets on his nerves fairly often. But where he's defensive sarcasm and deflection, with a distinct habit of putting his foot in his mouth, he learned. He learned about the pack, about their traditions and even their shared habits, cared for the faolan almost as fiercely as their birth parents did.

They both saw something more in each other, and something similar to fasten onto.

He lifts his eyes to look at him as he turns his head, mouth curling into a half-amused, half-predatory grin against his shoulder. ] Only sometimes. [ And then he gently drags human-blunt teeth against the meat of his shoulder, almost teasing. ]

[ It's starting to get warm over here; Derek's body is a line of heat down his, no matter how relaxed they're being at the moment. It's the kind of thing he's ~~fantasized about~~ used to during their training sessions, when they're wrestling on the ground so Stiles can learn how to defend himself, or the cold winter mornings when Derek curls around him like a pillbug, so that Stiles can barely feel the biting wind from outside. In this context, however, it makes the tips of his ears turn pink, and Stiles' hips shift up a little, trapped between the furs and Derek and not complaining even an ounce.

Brown eyes meet hazel-green-gold, and Stiles sucks in a slow breath in time with his teeth, mouth still quirked up in a wry grin as he leans his head a little away, fingers still loosely intertwined with Derek's from where he's still comfortably spreadeagled. ] Someone's gotta keep you on your toes.

You do an amazing job. [ At least the dry commentary remains the same as it always does.

That shifting is incredibly distracting, actually, even though they haven't actually started to do much of anything. Derek wants, most of all, for Stiles to be as warm as possible right now after spending much of his time darting around the various fires since Deaton advised keeping the tattoo uncovered. It's always his goal, so that Stiles doesn't collapse in sickness again, but this is... definitely different. Not that the intent hasn't been there since Riverrun, but now it's actually happening.

He shifts his own hips, just the slightest bit. He holds his gaze, that stupid doe-eyed stare of warm amber, before gently working his lips and teeth, with the obvious goal of leaving a mark. Where their hands are joined, he gives his fingers a gentle squeeze, rumbling contentment towards him. ]

And that's why I'm a half decent lupa. [ Stiles mouth quirks into a smile, and he clicks his tongue and winks at Derek when they make eye contact, but it melts off his face as his teeth dig in a little and his hips move. And Stiles knows exactly what that is, and he keeps his grip on his hand and follows the movement. Honestly, he's not completely sure what to expect--it's one of the few dark spots in Stiles information on Derek, considering.

But he trusts him--trusts Derek with his life, let alone his sex drive--and so he's sort of just waiting. Which is why he's quiet for...about three seconds. ] Is this about to get romance stories levels of freaky? Or, like, all animalistic and all that jazz, because like I'm not going to complain about getting thrown around or anything now that I know you're not going to hit it and quit it.

[ Stiles should really start listening to the things that come out of his mouth. ]

[ For a moment, Derek squeezes their fingers together even more. ] Amazing lupa. [ Because he can't just let that slide, even if Stiles is just joking around with him. There is no one that could've swept into the pack and taken the position the way that Stiles had, even if initially he'd been forced into it. He's Derek's lupa, and he has absolutely no plans of ever letting him forget it. Even in moments like this.

... although he does drop his head down against Stiles' shoulder, sighing heavily even as his own shoulders twitch with faint amusement. ] Seven Hells, Stiles. I'm not going to throw you around. [ A pause, his head lifts, then, ] Well, not right now.

[ He slowly untangles their fingers for a moment, sliding back up so he can carefully touch the area around the triskele that's been tattooed into his skin. There's a carefulness there, one that has him ensuring that he doesn't bother tender skin so much as he's seeing just how sensitive it is. ] Let's go with a combination of the two.

Hot. [ Oh. Okay. He's okay with that. That came out kind of stupidly, but you know what, Stiles feels like he's kind of allowed to be stupid right now, because he's got Derek Hale's hand searching his bare skin, and it's pretty much impossible to think about anything but the goosebumps it's giving him. It's half sensitivity and half anticipation, and where his fingers have been released, he curls them slowly into the covers, letting his eyes flutter shut.

In fact, he's even quiet for a minute. Again. ] ....So, like, that throwing around thing, still possible in the future.

[ Like a minute. But it's at least a joke, and there's a laugh twinkling in his brown eyes. Stiles kind of exists to give Derek a hard time. (Even if it was a serious joke.) ]

With some amount of frequency. [ Stiles jokes (seriously) about it, Derek approaches it with casual honesty. But even with the yes, often implication that comes with it, he slowly works his way up from his shoulder again with his mouth, leaving idle nips that he soothes over with lips and tongue every now and then. Not quite marking, but almost teasing with it.

The triskele is permanent. The band is permanent. But it doesn't stop him from adding more, creating them himself across the span of pale skin that's made up predominantly of dark stars. He wants to map each and every one of them out, find the constellations he knows most of all, discover the new ones. ]

Was starting to wonder if I hadn't pushed you into enough things when you first arrived.

Sweet. [ He should probably sound a little terrified of that, but it mostly just sounds hot. Stiles might have a few problems.

The lupa grins as he feels Derek's mouth coming up his shoulder and tilts lazily out of the way again, opening up the bare skin of his neck and kind of enjoying being catered to. It's kind of nice to have someone just...take care of you for once, and if it's going to be taking care of sexually, well, Stiles really isn't complaining even a little.

A low snort escapes him and he shifts, propping himself up on his left arm. ] You've got a quota to fill, wolfman.

[ A few. Derek certainly isn't going to deny him something he seems rather inclined towards, though he doesn't have any plans of it right now. (Though instinct says it would be amazing, he stamps it down with a reminder that his mate is technically injured.)

Following the tilt, he finds that spot where a trio of moles are set below his ear, leaning in to press a firm and almost claiming bite there. It's something he's been wanting to do for quite some time now, and he can't quite resist the open invitation that this position offers him. There are so, so many of these spots that he makes note to trace of, now that he can.

For now, though, he kisses along his jaw. ] I'll get to work.

Thaa--ht's, a good starting point. [ Stiles makes a little noise when his teeth brush under his ear, eyes fluttering shut--it's a sensitive spot, and his fingers curl a little against the furs where they're settled, finding purchase in the deep black of Derek's wolfskin and gripping it between his knuckles. There's a smile playing on his face when he moves down, but he's a little fidgety.

Which shouldn't really surprise anyone, because it's Stiles, but this whole getting pampered thing isn't all it's cracked up to be, because he's getting antsy. And with no way to roll them over, he just sort of tries to shift his hips again, and may or may not succeed and brushing the curve of his butt up against Derek's crotch. ]

Is it? [ Derek noses behind Stiles' ear with the noise, a pleased rumble rolling straight from his chest in response to it. That's something to file away for later-- even if it's the immediate future-- and he mouths his way along the hinge of his jaw, the faintest press of teeth as he makes his slow way down towards his pulse along his neck. He can't help the easy, sort of content air to him, even with his own faint nerves.

Though he's not exactly fidgety or antsy, that's more of Stiles' game than his own. But he still takes note of it in his lupa, bracing his hand in the furs as he presses his forehead against his shoulder a moment. His other hand set just below his shoulder blade, his eyes focused on the triskele on pale skin, he rolls his hips down to return the brush of contact. ]

You're the one who actually knows what they're doing, you tell me. [ It's a joke, albeit a self-deprecating one, and Stiles files away that pleased noise as one of his favorites as he shifts his arms from where he's spread eagled to pillow under his head instead, focuses on the warmth of his body heat, the feeling of his teeth against his neck. It's an ultimate sign of trust for Derek and Stiles, because he knows he won't hurt him, would never, and that's part of the reason why their bond, that of a lupa and a faoladh, was so strong.

His hips jerk forward when Derek's do, because he's very much keen on the idea of doing this whole consummation thing. Has been for a little while, which is almost ironic considering his first arrival to the winters of the North. ]

Guess we'll have to fix that, then. [ He can't really say that he's fond of the self-depreciating jokes, but Derek instead focuses on the contact between him and Stiles, fingers brushing across soft, smooth skin as he goes along. He can feel the warmth coming off him, and almost wants to press it back into his body, as he touches every inch of skin that he possibly can.

When his fingers reach his hips, he curls them a little into the waistline of his pants, bowing his head away to brush his lips at the knob of his spine. Following the jerk of Stiles' hips, he rocks his own after them, something low building at the back of his throat for a brief moment that's more vibration than sound. ]

I'm so down. [ It's kind of weird being on his stomach like this--he's got no real control here. And for someone who happens to be a total control freak, it's partly maddening if not partly a turn on, too. Maybe just a little bit. His hands twitch under his chin at the kiss, and Stiles pushes his hips up, matching the rhythm they're already starting to create and burying his head in his arms as he pushes up a little more, like he's starting to get up on his knees to get some leverage.

Seven hells. This is definitely happening, isn't it. Wiggling a little against the fingers on his hips, Stiles curls his toes and tries to give himself a little more of a balanced playing field--when he tilts forward, his back arches a little, a long line accented by the angry red triskele between his shoulder blades. ]

I couldn't tell. [ Knowing Stiles like he does, he knows about his micromanaging. First hand, even. It doesn't bother him like most people would think, although he's focusing on the fact that Stiles isn't kicking up a fuss, much as he keeps wiggling around here and there. He doesn't stop him from pushing up, but overall Derek doesn't move too much to let him have enough room to fully shift up. Not yet, anyways.

Especially not when he has this view that he does, eyes sweeping down the long line of his spine as he arches. A hand shifting away from his hips, he follows the arc, rough fingers a gentle pressure as he makes his way up to the matching red ink between his shoulders. His hips continue the steady rhythm, but his other hand shifts around, following Stiles' hip and dipping into the waistline of his pants. ]

Really? Did you need more emmmmmmmmmmmphasis? [ Raising his eyebrows, Stiles looks back over his shoulder again and shifts his hips back and forth once or twice, into what basically amounts to a wiggle. He's mostly being a sarcastic ass like usual, considering he can't push up much more--he's caged in by Derek's body, the heat bearing down against his spine. It's not even remotely a complaint as he simply keeps arching into it, following the fingertips trailing up towards the ink on his spine. He's used to the ink on his arm, now; the meaning of this one is deeper. A bond. And that's what this whole thing is about, isn't it? A bond. Something deeper than just a marriage.

The friction's already starting to get addictive--his hips jerk and shift along with Derek's, following him up and down a little awkwardly at first, but he pretty much twists into the hand coming into his pants. ]

No, I think that's enough emphasis. [ Derek snorts softly at him, not even fighting the fondly amused look that crosses his face as his fingers circle where the triskele has been inked into his skin. At least Stiles didn't have to have it burned in, too, but he knows he would've gone through with it if he had to. The southron didn't halfass anything. Rolling his eyes as he wiggles around, he bows his head down so that his forehead rests, briefly, against Stiles' soft hair. His entire body curls over him, supported on his knees as he responds with smoother movements of his hips.

But Stiles is a fast learner, even where hormones wind up involved. And he's stubborn about figuring things out. It applies just as much now as it does elsewhere.

Fingers dipping down to follow the shape of Stiles' hipbone, he slides his hand somewhat under him as his hips lift up again, seeking sensitive skin with a warm touch. ]

Are you sure? I'm pretty fantastic when it comes to emphasizing things. [ The affectionate gesture of his forehead against his hair isn't lost on Stiles, and the lupa turns his head a little to the side and noses at his cheek when it comes by, stubble burn and all. His long fingers curl up in the furs underneath him, and Stiles shivers as the heat continues down, brushes against skin that's entirely too sensitive and sends him rolling into Derek's calloused fingers.

It's not like he's not thought about this before--he has, multiple times, actually. They've been stealing kisses since Riverrun (made out for hours in his room back in his father's castle), but this is different. This is the only separation between them two pairs of pants and whatever inhibitions he's got left.

There aren't any, to be totally honest. Not even close. ]

Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I'm aware. [ Distinctly amused, Derek lets out a soft chuff in response to Stiles nosing his cheek, something quiet but affectionate. It's a slight contrast to where his hand wanders, and to the motion of their hips, but they've been made of contrasts since they first met. It meshes well with the banter just as much as it does everything else, even as his touch continues to brush across smooth skin.

There's barely the two pairs of pants in the way, as the roll of Stiles' body has him following the trail of hair along his stomach and down further, dipping down. This is different from stolen kisses, the post-argument heavy petting, the hours in his room back in Riverrun, but he goes about it much same way he had those moments.

Teasing, but still guiding until Stiles finds his footing. ]

Just thought I'd remind you. [ His mouth tips up into a grin, and Stiles shifts into his hand until his hips are off the furs underneath him; the fact that he can feel his fingertips shifting underneath the waistband of his pants is making his heartbeat ratchet up like crazy, enough that he can feel the adrenaline thrumming under his skin.

Is he going to get over this anytime soon? Probably not. Turning his head to the side, he makes a noise that's kind of insistent and wriggles his hips backwards, become just about as bossy as he is in every day situations. ] Are you gonna kiss me or is it really gonna be caveman style?

You frequently do. [ Not sounding particularly bothered, Derek tries not to grin, though can feel the way that the corners of his mouth want to twitch downwards. It's made all the more difficult by the fact that he can hear the way Stiles' heart hammers in his chest, so of course he's still his same old self.

He shifts his hands to the front of his hips, fingers just barely in the waistline of his pants before one moves to his stomach. ] Like I said. Cavemen complain less than you. Up.

[ He presses against his stomach, encouraging him up to his knees so that he's tucked against him, essentially on his lap. ]

I didn't say I was the caveman here. That would be you. [ A laugh bubbles out of his throat, but he does in fact follow his orders, shifting up onto his knees and back into Derek's form. He is completely down with this--it's almost familiar if it wasn't backwards--and he reaches over now that he's got better control of his limbs and brushes his hand across his stubbled cheek, pulling him in towards him so he can turn over his shoulder and kiss him.

This is definitely better--it gives him a little more of a range of motion, so he can use his other hand to brace down Derek's ~~unfairly massive~~ bicep, keeping himself steady from where he's perched. ]

Cavemen have to deal with less complaining than I do. [ Not that he sounds like he's complaining, himself. Rather, he's more than happy to accommodate for Stiles, resting on his own knees and sliding his hand from his hip down to his thigh. The other stays rested against his stomach, thumbing gently against warm skin as fingers curl against his arm.

It's easy, to just settle there, kiss him back while avoiding direct contact with the tender span of skin where his tattoo is situated. It makes it a little difficult to curl at his back, but he stays close, radiating heat and care at the same time. ]

You married me. [ That comes out muffled against his mouth as he smiles into the kiss, chasing him backwards and taking the hand from his cheek to rest in his hair, instead, twining into the thick strands and getting control of the kiss easily. This is familiar territory, and he curls the fingers of his other hand against his arm, nails digging in just a little as he reacts to the kiss, body rolling just a little into the warmth currently enveloping him.

It's slow and easy, and Stiles can't help but fidget a little, his nerves and adrenaline starting to make him edgy. And excited. Mostly excited. ]

I did. I knew what I was getting myself into. [ Even murmuring into the kiss, there's no denying the way that the corners of his mouth quirk downwards in sincerity, honest affection obvious despite his words. He wouldn't give up this for anything, not after he found it in the arrangement that he'd originally been dreading for so long. But, it turned out, Stiles was so much more than some arranged marriage between the north and the south as a favor to some lost wildling.

The sun caught the moon again.

Easily catching the way that he fidgets, he can't help a slight laugh in the kiss before his hand slides along his thigh, applying pressure to the front of his pants the moment his body rolls into the warmth between them, addding some of that friction he lost sitting up and away from the furs. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject