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

[ 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. ]

[ Rather than returning the stupid banter right off the bat, Derek just snorts softly, giving a slow drag of pressure with his hand in muted response. He'd really like to continue leaving marks across Stiles' skin, to be perfectly honest, but kissing Stiles takes precedent and there really is so much time for that. Something like the rest of their lives, even if their sort of honeymoon sort of asks for as much to be done as possible.

His focus is split between their movements and their kisses, until there's a distinct absence of weight and pressure in his lap and he has to draw his hand (regretfully and reluctantly) out of Stiles' pants to let him move. But he's not completely dazed, he realizes there needs to be less clothes now.

He does take a brief moment to almost absently swipe his tongue across his palm, though, licking away precum without any trace of embarrassment for it. ]

[ The shiver that goes up his spine is especially pronounced when there's pressure like that, and it follows him into the kiss, as he presses forward even more before his inevitable pulling off to get these damn pants off. And Derek's. Pants are terrible.

What it ends up with is Stiles just kind of dropping down on his back to wiggle out of his breeches, kicking them off to the ground and looking up just in time to catch Derek licki-- ] Oh god.

[ And his brains dribble out of his ears along with a little more of that, because seven freakin hells. That was really hot. The only thought on his mind is pretty much "jump him", but he instead takes it to scramble back forward on the bed and plant his hands on Derek's chest, giving a push that's probably supposed to signify get down as he moves his palms down his body, going for the laces of Derek's breeches and undoing them with long fingers, kneeling in between his thighs. ]

[ Pants are absolutely terrible and hardly necessary. Especially right now. But before Stiles goes on his mission to get their pants out of the way, Derek practically relishes in that shiver, the kiss as he presses into it, because he can have this. He can have this with Stiles, and he's maybe been wanting for it since they left Riverrun.

The wait is definitely worth it, though. Especially with the look on Stiles' face when he stares at him, and he's hardly ruffled. More than anything else, he's just completely drawn in by the sudden spike that comes off Stiles in waves, and the moment he propels himself forward to push into the wolf?

Well, for once there's no resistance to Stiles' push, and he drops back onto his elbows, knees set wide to give him room to settle. ]

[ He wasn't expecting resistance at all when he pushed, to be honest, and that was the kind of trust Stiles put into this relationship. Getting a wolf on its back wasn't exactly an easy task but Derek just had to know that Stiles'd never do anything to hurt him to do it, so it was kind of cool to think about--not that Stiles was really focused on that at the moment, though. No, right now he just keeps working on the ties until the string gets chucked aside and his face goes victorious.

Except now for the fact that he has to get them off of him. He's never really seen Derek naked before--almost naked, yes--but considering the fact that from where he's sort of curled over undoing his pants his ass is pretty much bare to the air? Well, maybe it's just leveling the playing field.

So he starts to tug them off of him, mouth curling into a half cocked smile as he pointedly looks at his face, instead, only shimmying downwards when he as to get them off fully. ] Did you get painted into these things? Hell, dude.

[ But then they're gone, and then they're just naked, and if he's going to take advantage of Derek lying there on his back, naked, he's going to, and Stiles trails a couple of kisses up his thigh, biting down into the soft skin. ]

[ If there was anyone that Derek trusted, it was Stiles. He trusted him at his back, didn't think there was a risk of his throat being torn out if he tucked his face against his neck. Didn't think that any harm would come from settling on his back, regardless of whether it was because wrestling had led to Stiles seated on his stomach (and crowing victoriously) or because he was settled like this. And it had been a very, very long time since he last went to bed with someone else, and Stiles was a drastically different person.

He just felt safe. Like home.

Lifting his hips in an easy roll as Stiles starts to pull his pants off, something like a throaty chuckle escapes him with blatant amusement while he watches him back, a spark of red in his eyes. ] Well, they're not usually as tight.

[ Any jokes he has fade out pretty damn quickly, though, because suddenly his pants are gone and Stiles' mouth is wandering up his thigh. With the press of teeth, the muscles of his leg tense, and he brings a hand up to slide his fingers through the soft mess that makes up Stiles' hair. ]

Mmhmm. [ The response he makes is muffled, but it's plenty sarcastic, considering he's still got his mouth more or less attached to Derek's thigh. The hand in his hair is greeted with a much less sarcastic one, and he continues to press his teeth to a spot, biting and sucking until there's a a mark there. He pulls off, a little satisfied, and squirms down onto his elbows to work his way up higher, until he can drag his tongue down where his happy trail starts to where it ends, lifting his eyebrows for just a second and fixing Derek with a look, big brown eyes darkened a little and focused entirely on the quote-unquote "problem" in front of him.

It's actually kind of really satisfying, watching Derek react to whatever he's doing--it's not like he's getting off on the power play but he's...kind of getting off on the power play. A little bit. The first kiss he presses is nothing but sweet, but things start to go in a completely different direction after that, continuing the line with his tongue straight downwards until he can close his mouth around his tip, keeping his gaze locked on his. ]

[ The fact he can recognize Stiles' sarcasm even when words aren't attached says something about them, he thinks, but he's a little distracted cocking his head wolfishly to see if he can get a clear view of the mark that's now been left on his thigh. Not especially, but he figures the night's just begun and they've got plenty of pent up energy for this. There's bound to be plenty that he'll be able to see.

Watching Stiles settle on his elbows, he raises his eyebrows the slightest bit. His stomach tightens, both a sensation and the muscles of it, and he lets his fingers curl a little in Stiles' hair as he makes his way down. It's different, it's Stiles, and while he doesn't know that sensation is far from a sick one. It honestly shoots straight south, and the look that he sends up from under his brow just makes it worse.

The next moment, the breath he takes comes in a sharp inhale, and the red that had started to spark in his eyes bleeds in the rest of the way just before he exhales slowly and with a faint groan under it. ]

[ Oh that's interesting. Stiles' eyebrows go up and he has to resist the urge to grin, reaching forward and lifting his arms to drape them over Derek's strong hips. He doesn't really know what he's doing, considering, but he has a very good idea of what will happen if Derek, say, jerks his hips up a little too much. Stiles likes breathing, so he's going to try something preventative. And it's kind of awesome to be able to just sit here and hold him down like this, because Derek trusts him that much.

Okay, right. Now for the less easy part.

Stiles fidgets a little and uses the hand that curls in his hair as a guide, opening his mouth and dipping down a little further, trying to compensate for an absolute lack of skill with enthusiasm. He finally drops his gaze and flutters his eyes shut for a second, inhaling through his nose and sinking down a little more, until he has to swallow down around him and digs his fingers a little more into his hips, stubbornly working his way downwards until he can nearly touches his nose to his abs. ]

[ Maybe he's resisting the grin that wants to spread across his face, but Derek can tell that he's got a smug look about him. They've been around each other for so long, he can read his expressions and general moods without even tapping into his senses for it. And he knows he can say the same for Stiles towards him, and he relaxes under the weight of Stiles' arms without even batting an eye.

Well, until he dips down and starts taking him into his mouth. Though Stiles closes his eyes he keeps his focus on him, watching and biting the inside of his cheek to try and keep himself steady. His fingers curl a little tighter in his hair as he goes down, though he curses a little under his breath the further he goes. He will absolutely not deny that he's maybe thought about this before, but Stiles just has this stupid, perfect mouth-- and now it's all wet heat.

Once he sinks down all the way, Derek lets out an actual, if shaky, groan and tips his head back. There is definitely two words that come out with it: ] Seven hells.

[ It's one of those things Stiles' mind originally conjured up when he was first told that he was going to be coming up north. He'd always had a bit of a wild imagination (to say the least), and his thought of this marriage hadn't been what it is now--the fact that he'd had the time to fall in love with Derek, that he would come to do this because he wanted to. Derek was a lot more than he seemed at first, and it was something Stiles adored about him now, his soft layers underneath a hard surface.

His arms shift a little against his hips as he readjusts, and he has to absolutely resist the urge to smile at Derek's reaction. It fails, mostly, as the corners of his mouth turn up and he raises an eyebrow at him, ever the cocky little shit, as he tentatively hollows out his cheeks and swallows. It's not elegant but it sure as hell seems to be working, and he repeats it again, slowly shifting back upwards, then down, as to not totally choke himself. ]

[ When Deaton had spoken with him about an arranged marriage with someone from beyond the wall, Derek had been less than thrilled. It was just some errant Southron-born that would likely die in the wilds before they could even actually be married. And at first, he figured he was right. Stiles was an irritant at best, a burden he didn't want, and a reminder at worst. But then he found there was more to Stiles, because he actually took an interest in that spark he saw on the first day. That bright warmth is addicting, and that dull ache in his chest has been filled with it.

The fact he could actually let someone this close to him again blows his mind.

Grip loosening on his hair as his muscles tense, only to let him smooth his fingers through it in half an absent gesture, half encouragement, he only tightens his grip again when he starts to actually move with a purpose. It's so he has somewhere to put his hands, for the most part, but also because he can't really resist the temptation to do it. But that's all it is, just a point of contact between them, because he's not about to push. Even if he is a little shit. ]

[ Gods only knew how Stiles had managed to survive his first few months out in the wildnerness. He liked to attain it to his ridiculous stubbornness, and to wanting to learn more. The people of the north were unlike anything Stiles had ever seen, and he felt like a sponge, soaking it up as much as possible and slowly getting to know not just the pack, but their leader too.

And now here he was, with a tattoo on his arm signifying family, and one on his back signifying love, and maybe the story he'd heard once in a while back about a sun and a moon was a little more true than he'd ever really thought.

He keeps attuned to the grip in his hair, the feeling of the tug sending a shiver down his spine. By now he's at the point where he's watching again, bobbing up and down as he gets the hang of a rhythm, until he has to sit up a little and arch his back, get a better angle, spindly long fingers finding the space his mouth can't seem to cover, from his thighs to the warm, sensitive skin, occupying his tongue and trying not to shiver at the very sight. ]

[ To say that he's thankful for Stiles' tenacious attitude would be a slight understatement at this point. His determination to see this through, even if he hated it for the longest time at first, still leaves him bewildered every time he looks back on their initial interactions. Because it gave them a chance to get closer, for Derek to get to know him as more than what he figured was some banished prince from the south. Now, he's something like a king of the north, and he's his lupa.

Cursing a little breathlessly again, an almost rumbling moan that very well may have Stiles' name attached to it makes its way out in response to a certain press of tongue. He can't really keep it in, but he honestly doesn't care to try. His fingers flex, clench again, in Stiles' hair, the smallest pull but still keeping from pushing. Not to say that it's an easy thing to fight, much like keeping his hips from jerking up is far from an easy task.

At the same time, his free hand slides down a little from where it'd been gripping tight into the furs, slipping down the length of Stiles' arm where it rests and coming to a stop on his bicep. The gesture is blind, head still tipped back, but it's a path he's taken many times before: his fingers curl, pressing into that band around his arm. ]

[ With the alliance came good things--came an understanding of their lives, of his mother's life before him. Derek, who became the center of his universe over their time together in the north, Scott, who became his best friend. It was amazing how well he'd integrated once he hit his stride, and now it was hard to imagine his life anywhere but in the North. Hell, he'd been given the choice to go back, when they were in Riverrun. But Stiles had laced their fingers together and began the month long trip to the North again without ever looking back, because he knew where his home was.

Right now it was here, in this tent, where the chill was kept out as the air in the room heated up, where Derek's thighs are bracketed around his shoulders and he's pretty much enjoying every second of this, with the taste of him heavy on his tongue and his hands on the perfect vee of his hips, until a noise of his own escapes his mouth. It's apparently hard for him to stay quiet even when his mouth is full, surprising absolutely no one, and Stiles hums at the tug of his hair and swallows downwards again, nose against his happy trail and brown eyes focused directly on his face. ]

[ If Stiles had stayed down in Riverrun, after their month-long trek that he'd decided on as both a marriage gift and just an outright present to what had been a homesick Stiles, Derek would not have blamed him. Hell, he'd even been prepared for it, even if it completely broke his heart. Here, though, he has Stiles. Has him for as long as they both live, and then some it almost feels. As if the gold wolf finally caught up on the trek across the earth, but is still prepared to continue the quest at a moment's notice.

His hips actually do twitch when Stiles makes sounds around him, the first just being a flinch of muscle but the second is obviously him keeping from rocking up into that hum. Honestly, that mouth should be illegal on a regular basis. Right now, it's probably going to kill him, and it's damn obvious in the low noise he makes and his movements (as restrained as they are, outside of the tugs to his hair). ]

[ Whatever happens between them from this point, Stiles figures things have been on a constant upswing and can only get better with the addition of sex on top of it. It's not like he hasn't been, uh, resisting the urge to tear down the last wall between them; it's been a few months of making out in corners and stealing personal time when possible. Maybe it was one of their wolf rites of passage or something, but it felt weird to go ahead and go the full mile beforehand, and thinking back on it now, he's kinda glad it was going this way.

Although nothing could quite prepare him for what Scott had mentioned was going to happen when they got to that point, after much coercing and embarrassment. Was he curious? Uh, yes. Obviously. That was part of his ulterior motive, sort of. (That and he'd just kind of wanted to go for it on sight. Definitely not regretting that decision.)

He doesn't twitch too much when Derek jerks a little forward, a testament to himself, at least he thinks, and takes it as encouragement instead, drawing off as slow as possible and tracing veins with his tongue as he goes, then suddenly pushing back forwards, repeating the noise again, eyes fluttering shut. This is kind of awesome. ]

[ It was probably more just Derek being Derek and Stiles responding to it, to be honest, but that wasn't to say that they certainly didn't try anything smaller. The long kissing and heavy petting had been pretty common up to this point, in dark corners of camp where they could steal time together without immediate interruption. Which was just their luck, to be honest, but he's not surprised by it even now. At least everyone knows better than to try and seek them out right now unless it is actually an emergency.

Oblivious as he is about Scott and Stiles' conversation, at least the full details, he's fairly certain that Stiles isn't going into this uninformed. He's tenacious and curious, and absolutely nothing will stop him from gaining knowledge. So he doesn't quite think to warn him in advance, because he figures he's already gotten the heads up from someone. (Scott, or Erica. God, Erica would be delighted to traumatize him.)

A noise of his own gets caught in the back of his throat, as he tries to swallow it down and breathe at the same time, fingers curling tight in his hair and against his arm as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense. There's a little pull, but it has a different intent behind it this time as he manages to speak, just a low warning: ] Stiles.

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do you ever think "this is totally ic i can do this".....

Not in the same context but yes.

i'm gonna die

I'll smooch you back to life.

I may need a lot of smooches.

Smooches, stat.

x__x

shhhh

rip sisi

Alas.

say nice things about me at my funeral

Here lies Sisi she writes really good smut.