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

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. ]

So stop complaining about it. [ That comes out of his mouth as wryly as humanly possible, because Stiles Stilinski thinks he's absolutely hilarious, and the southroner presses a kiss to his lips that's quick and sweet instead of long and languorous like they had been before, like he's sealing off his sarcastic comment with a kiss. He makes jokes to hide his affection, but there's pretty much nothing that can cover the warmth to his brown eyes, the stutter in his heartbeat at the reminder, that yes, he'd found something kind of special here in the middle of the north. What he thought was a prison had turned out to be home.

But then there's delicious pressure, distracting, and his eyes flutter shut again, mouth still just so pressed to Derek's and body arching and twisting into the palm of his hand, already starting to naturally find out some kind of a rhythm. ]

Only when you stop complaining. [ Where Stiles is wry, Derek is dry, and he raises his eyebrows a little before tipping to return the kiss. For as much as his mouth has been tracing marks across Stiles' skin, teeth blunt but pressing, the kiss he gives is just as soft and easy, fleeting but warm. For as gruff and irritated as he often acts, the biting sarcasm he returns in response to Stiles' jokes, it's the same. They certainly have their moments of open affection, but they both mask it a good amount of time. It's just how they are, even if there's blatant warmth amidst the cold of the north-- in their expressions, their eyes, fleeting touches and jumps to their heartbeats. And he doesn't try to hide that.

Probably never will.

Grip around Stiles loosening to let him move freely, he presses down as he arches up, fingers curling even with the layer of material between them. It's largely teasing as they set a rhythm as they go, but also something of a promise, before he actually dips into the waistline of his pants again. ]

This is going to get really cyclical really fast. [ He manages to murmur out a snappy response as usual, grinning as he pulls away from the kiss for a couple seconds, inhaling deeply before leaning over and kissing him again, slowly this time, one hand coming up from the covers to cup around the back of Derek's neck. This is familiar--even the heavy petting that's about to come--and it's so, so easy to fall back into it. Personally, Stiles is looking forward to a lifetime of this whenever he wants.

He lifts his hips and shivers a little as he squirms upwards, trying to get his hand to move down a little further, because seriously, Derek, you're a tease. It's hard enough trying to be calm in this situation, let alone being teased about it. He shivers, just a bit, and makes a noise into the kiss, a heavy, pleased sigh. ]

When doesn't it? [ Taking advantage of the break in the kiss, he returns the grin with an amused quirk of his own, one that stays even as he kisses him again. The press of fingers against the back of his neck doesn't cause him to tense, and instead seems to bring out the tension that he wears much like a mantle. It's obvious in the kiss, the way that he curls his arm around him to keep him steady, hand fanned out over his ribs as he kisses him easily.

Not resisting the way that Stiles squirms upwards, Derek dips his hand down as prompted, fingers warm despite the chill outside. Maybe he has a slight problem with teasing Stiles, but with the way he reacts it's so damn hard to resist it. Besides, it's never for long, especially with those pleased sighs he gives him. ]

[ Stiles rolls his eyes, but it's not nearly as annoyed as he'd like to pretend; his mouth is turned up in the edge of the kiss, for just a little longer, before he presses into it, a little more intently. Slow and steady or not, discovering this particular aspect of their relationship had already been one of Stiles' favorite things, and he loves to chase the kisses, feel the conversations that don't happen out loud, the affection in the way he kisses him back, how it's the only real time Derek is just...open. It's kind of awesome.

He definitely sighs out something along the lines of "oh thank god" when he moves downwards, and the muscles in his thighs tense with anticipation from where he's seated, still on Derek's lap. It's easy enough to rock forward, up into the hand wrapped around him, and backwards into the pressure from behind, and when he breaks away from the kiss a little, it's to let his mouth fall open, a wordless sound coming out. ]

[ His amusement at Stiles rolling his eyes quirks the corners of Derek's mouth a little more, and he can't help the soft rumble that almost pushes on a chuckle that vibrates at the back of his throat. But he doesn't tease beyond that, just returns the easy dialogue that makes up their kisses without hesitation, the push and pull that's present even here. It's now that he can really express everything to Stiles, and he hopes that it's all coming across as clearly as he wants it to.

As he pulls away from the kiss to breathe out the noise, he takes advantage of it, turning his head to mouth against his lupa's jaw as he curls his fingers securely. While he could laugh at the sigh, he's far more interested in drawing out more sounds from him, finding what'll make him tense up or loosen his entire body. He strokes, once, in time with his hips rocking upwards to meet Stiles' own, a slow drag between them. ]

[ Here's where things start to get interesting. This is new territory for them both--or, okay, well, for them together, because with the way Derek is (and what he knows about a woman named Paige and another named Kate) that's highly unlikely--and Stiles rolls down when he strokes, shuddering a little against his frame. The hand braced on the back of his neck shoots down in between them, but it's mostly to try and get the laces undone on his stupid pants, because he's literally going to explode if he has to keep those closed much longer.

Okay, maybe not really. Maybe it'd be the fact that Derek's mouthing at his jaw that would cause that.

He jerks his head backwards to rest on Derek's big shoulder the minute he gets them undone, breathing out a sigh of relief. ] Seven hells.

[ It still qualifies as something like new territory for Derek, considering, but it's definitely territory he's more than happy to explore with Stiles. Even if he can't help the laugh that vibrates more in his chest than anything else as he works on the laces of his pants, cursing once he's gotten them undone. It's amusement and affection, but it's balanced out by the fact that he definitely keeps his mouth and hand where they are.

Stiles dropping his head back lets him move his mouth, too, finding the warm stretch of his neck with his lips and dragging human-blunt teeth just under his jawline without an ounce of remorse. ]

You're saying that already? [ And of course, he has to tighten his grip a touch and twist his wrist. ]

Haa--fuck you. [ He rolls his eyes because of course Derek is smug because Derek is always smug. Stiles loves him anyway, though, and the eyerolling is affectionate; whatever he just did makes Stiles' eyes flutter and his mouth drops open in a silent "oh", a please do that again. In response, because Stiles is not to be beaten, he lifts his hand back up and drags nails down the back of his neck, nothing but pressure where his hand'd been resting before. Two can play at that game.

Sort of. Considering Derek has his hands down his pants. Whatever, Stiles'll take little victories. ]

I think we're working on that. [ Tone low, but still somewhat dry, Derek responds accordingly to the silent request, movements confident and easy but still following every little hint and outright order that Stiles gives-- verbal or otherwise-- because this, right here, is about what Stiles wants.

Still, he can't help the soft growl that leaves him and presses into his jaw as Stiles drags his nails along his neck, bristling and arching up into it. It's a little victory, but sure as hell it's a victory regardless. ]

Not if you keep doing that--smartass. [ Okay, that really does feel kind of ridiculously amazing, with the callouses and the fingers-that-are-not-Stiles' but it doesn't change the fact that he's literally never going to make it to the actual sex if he keeps doing it.

His back arches and his hips shift anyway, though, squirming a little where he's perched on his lap and grinding back into the pressure from behind. It's kind of deliciously perfect, and the growl helps that; the hand on his neck finds it's way into his hair instead, until he can get a good grip on it and manhandle him back up for a kiss. ]

Personally I'm not in any real rush. [ Which is half a lie, considering the discomfort of his own pants that's fairly obvious every time Stiles grinds back, but Derek's focus really is mostly on drawing every possible thing out of Stiles.

Still, he rocks up to meet him with a growl still rumbling at the back of his throat, one that he muffles by finding that spot below his ear and scraping his teeth against it again. But even as much as he'd rather leave a line of claiming marks, the moment he feels the pull on his hair he brings his head up, meeting Stiles' kiss with a heady one of his own. ]

Yeah right. [ It's mostly just stupid banter at this point, the kind of stuff that Stiles sort of lives for in his relationship with Derek. He can feel the teeth against his skin and is pretty positive he's already got a huge mark where those moles are, but he can't really find himself in it to care; there's not exactly any reason to hide it. What do they think they're doing on their honeymoon? Sort of?

Stiles is eager to return the kiss, and it goes from warm to heated in a few seconds, long and languid until he's practically dying for breath. It's so easy to lose himself in the kiss, the friction behind him and in front, rocking forward and then grinding backwards, and he curls his toes and suddenly pulls up, off of Derek, because okay, these pants need to come off no matter how much awkward rearranging there is. And that includes Derek's, too. ]

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