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

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.

[ Stiles would lock this stupid tent if he could. As it is, there was no way to keep people out, but Derek's very convincing eye flash seemed to do the trick--there were days Stiles wished he had that kind of control over people (so maybe they would actually listen to him when he was right), but between the two of them, they managed well enough. Either way tonight--and probably tomorrow--were considered no holds barred, interrupt and lose your fingers kind of days, and Stiles was beyond okay with that. He'd waited long enough. (And destroyed enough pairs of breeches.)

Hearing his voice come out of his mouth sounding a little wrecked makes something hot pool in his gut, and he pulls himself off achingly slowly, smacking his lips together and leaning on his thighs with his forearms, grinning a little lazily in response. He's pretty much aching to get a hand on himself after watching that whole display but he just raises his eyebrows in response, turning his head a little to smooch the mark he'd made earlier. Aside from the fact that his mouth is tingling, Stiles is pretty damn satisfied with his performance there, and he returns his gaze to look at Derek, biting his lip to try and get the sensation to stop for a minute. ] If the next words out of your mouth are "I'm going to lose it first" I might never let it go, ever.

[ The lack of privacy was probably about the only thing Derek disliked about how they lived, but most days he never really noticed it. Packs barely had privacy amongst one another as it was, but he wished in moments like these that they did. The locks in Riverrun were incredibly convenient for this reason, but at least everyone knows that they'll lose a limb or two if they come barging in this time. If he can just have an entire day (or two) with Stiles, just him and the heat that builds in the tent, he will be perfectly content.

A low, long groan that vibrates with a rumble at the back of his throat is drawn out of him as Stiles pulls off him, and he resits just dropping back to thump his head against the furs below them with the damn noise he makes coming off. He doesn't even need to look at him to know how much he looks like the cat that got into the cream, he's radiating the satisfaction so loudly. But he rolls his head up slowly, eyes dark but surrounded by a ring of bloody color still. ]

The next words out of my mouth-- [ well, growled out ] --are that yours is going to kill me.

[ And he reaches his hand from his arm to cup his cheek, thumb dragging across his full bottom lip. ]

[ His mouth draws up into a smile, and Stiles tilts his head into his hand, letting him cup his cheek and meeting his gaze with bright brown eyes. All things considered he's pretty damn satisfied (aside from the fact that his lower half is protesting pretty loudly at being ignored), and Stiles' eyes rove over his figure, from flushed cheeks, bright red eyes and messy hair to the rest of him, obviously taking in the view.

Yeah. This is awesome. ] What a way to go for a king of the north, am I right?

[ And just to be a little shit, his mouth opens to where his thumb traces and he draws it into his mouth, curling his tongue around the digit and letting go with a wet pop. ]

[ Hardly bothered by the way that Stiles' eyes scan over him, Derek takes the moment to catch his breath and hopefully bring his wits about him properly. It feels a little like his brains have been drawn straight out from his dick and it's sort of amazing to him that he can even be vaguely coherent right now. But he manages, as he huffs an almost breathless laugh at him. ]

Damn good way, I think. [ Except then Stiles brings his thumb into his mouth, and his brain draws to a sudden stop for a moment again. He groans, when he releases it, and then breathes out slowly as he leaves a wet line to the corner of his mouth.

If Stiles is enjoying his view, Derek sure as hell is, himself. Mouth and cheeks flushed, body stretched out in the vee of his legs, hair a mess from his fingers. He really looks forward to the upcoming future, for so many reasons. ] Hell, Stiles.

[ The grin on his face is nothing but self indulgent, even if his cheeks are wet and his mouth is swollen and Stiles tilts his head a little, propping himself up on his elbows. He could honestly probably do this all day if it wasn't for the very pressing problem currently presenting itself to his lower half, and he gives Derek an innocent look. ]

Sooooo. [ His eyes cast down again, directly, then back up at Derek's face, biting his lip. It's kind of awesome to watch things just--affect, Derek, because things don't. He is as stoic as stoic can be, and it makes Stiles want to work with it more, get that openness across his face again. It's why he lowers himself down again and presses his mouth to the crown again, keeping his eyes on Derek's with full intent. ]

[ The look on Stiles' face absolutely does not fool him, and Derek levels him with a stare that turns out to be largely ineffective due to the fierce affection underneath the very heady weight of want. And he's torn between just letting him go right back to what basically amounts to torture, and hauling him up by his neck to drag him into a kiss. Because that damned mouth is the worst thing that's ever happened to him, he's convinced of it.

Much of how this is effecting him has to do with Stiles himself. From day one, Stiles has just ignited something in him that grows and grows as the days go by. And so it's just easy, to roll his head to the side, tilting back the slightest bit. He inhales, slow and a little shaky, and gives a soft tug to his hair again because he definitely felt the full twitch pressed right against Stiles' swollen mouth. ] So.

[ The flat stare honestly just makes him a little more gleeful, and Stiles returns it by wiggling his eyebrows at him, still grinning around what's in his mouth like the cheshire cat. He even dutifully moves with the tug in his hair, and reaches up to rest his hands on the muscles of his inner thighs again, pushing them apart and follows the twitch to guide his way down again. Stiles is one of those people who likes to throw himself headfirst into a problem the minute he starts figuring it out, and considering Derek literally looks like he's either going to melt or pick Stiles up and throw him into the furs in about half a second, he's going to consider this figuring it out.

And instead of responding, he makes a "hmmm?" noise from where he's currently situated halfway down, completely realizing exactly what that does, because he's a little shit. ]

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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.

askfvlsdfjfdhkljb omg no no lying at my eulogy

But it's the truth.

It is lies and scandal. Also my unicorn soul would probably shrivel.

Truth and honesty, and your unicorn soul is already shirveling.

It is. Suffering rn.

claps gleefully

melts hgfkjdjhb