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

Challenge accepted. [ He grins a little and sways comfortably from his position on Derek's lap, eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling as Derek nips at his chin. He's not sure how he got so lucky--some days, he looks back on where he came from and almost laughs about it. It could have ended in disaster, but here he was.

Honestly, Stiles would return the favor. If he could do anything for Derek, you bet your ass he'd bend over backwards to do it. ] What about you, could I build you a castle?

[ Whatever else smart he was going to say dies as Derek rolls his hips against his, and he stutters a sigh out of his mouth again and squeezes the hand in his hair, like it's a command or a reward or a bit of both. ]

The biggest castle you can get. [ Smiling against his chin, he moves down a little more as he looks up at the ceiling, leaving an open mouthed kiss over the shape of his adam's apple. There's an absolute lack of sarcasm in his voice, because at this point he'd give Stiles everything he asked for and more.

When Stiles asks him, though, Derek just draws back a little from where he's mapping out his skin with his mouth to look at him. It's then that he finally brings up his hands, cupping his face and pressing a soft kiss to the bow of his swolen lips. ]

I don't need a castle. [ He talks right against his mouth, hardly wanting to pull away. At the same time, he rocks his hips up again, for the sigh and the grip in his hair and the sensation of hot friction between them. ] I have you.

[ His smile grows a little, ears pinkening at the tips at the thought, and he bobs his head like he's excited about it, but that's silenced pretty quickly as his big hands come up to his jaw, and Derek kisses him like he's something precious or necessary or both. It's something he might never get used to, despite coming up on a year of his being here and months and months of courtship on top of that.

It was something he never saw coming--Derek hit into him like a freight train, an unstoppable force crashing into an immovable object, and it was something he wouldn't trade for the world.

Heartbeat ratcheting up stupidly, he threads his other hand into his hair as well, until he's cradling his head, and kisses him back like a drowning man needed air, until the flush has spread over his cheekbones, and he rocks down again, shivering and managing to get out-- ] I'm not--much of a castle.

[ That's starting to get really, really good, and he gasps out-- ] Derek, fuck.

[ Though they have an expansive territory, could rule over it much like the people beyond the wall do instead of traversing it and setting up camps, Derek has never thought about it. Not with Paige, not when he thought that Kate was real, never. But Stiles has had a way about him, something that's changed the faoladh, and if Stiles really wanted a castle? He would build the greatest one that he could, for him to live in. But him, he doesn't need a castle. He doesn't need riches, he doesn't want more power like what would come with the iron throne. ]

No, but the moon is greater than any castle. [ If it were any other moment, if it wasn't Stiles, then the words wouldn't be coming out of his mouth. But as the story goes, the sun chases the moon so that they can be together again. And it feels like he's the sun, finally caught up to the moon, every time he kisses Stiles.

He breathes out shakily, eyes closing for a moment as he curls his fingers around the base of his skull, slipping into his hair. ] Stiles.

[ He wants to say something sarcastic-- "If the moon was right here, you'd have bigger problems", maybe, or a remark about wolves and howling that would have been dirty, but the weight and the gravity keep his mouth shut, because he thinks he might agree. The story'd been told to him enough times now, overheard by Peter as he talked to the faolan or by Derek, running a cold cloth over his head while he was feverish and muttering the story to him to keep him in his fitful sleep. The sun and the moon, chasing each other for all of time, maybe finally caught up.

He muffles it when he buries his face in his neck, groaning out his noises against the thin skin of his throat and keeping his hips moving, back and forth, until his toes are curling behind Derek's back and he has to bite down, sinking his teeth into the spot to keep from being obnoxiously loud. Considering how the last time he lost it went, Stiles has the distinct feeling that he will not be up for the entire consummating thing when this one hits him, and it's only with that that he manages to shudder to a stop, peppering frantic, messy kisses to the side of the neck, teeth and lips and tongue until there's a little line of marks down the side of his neck. ] 's go, I'm ready.

[ Bossy does not really even begin to cover Stiles. ]

[ If he could just stay here like this, Derek probably would. For as much as he loves their sarcasm, their more biting exchanges, there's a beast in him that is sated in this moment. It's perfect, and makes him feel like they really might have found the end to the story. Still, there's another one in the works, one that's personally theirs and not their past. Something more for him to tell the faolan.

His entire body goes tense when Stiles bites down, and there's an outright moan muffled in the curve of his pale shoulder in response to it. The mark stays behind, though it takes some subconscious reminder for his body to keep from healing any of the marks that Stiles leaves before the morning comes around. Humming low in the back of his throat, a pleased little thing, as the tension works out of him while he tilts his head aside for him to work his way along the side of his neck. ]

All right. [ Instead of asking if he's sure, because he knows better, he takes advantage of the fact Stiles has stopped moving, forcing his willpower to hold so that he doesn't rock up just to get Stiles to react. He leans back and balances with his lapful of lupa, muscles of his stomach keeping him upright as he does. It takes a little reaching, but he brings over a container that's been kept warm by the small fire of the tent. ]

[ Stiles gets tilted forwards when Derek moves, but he doesn't fight it at all--just makes a low whistling noise, teasingly, because Derek's strength is kind of ridiculous in even the most mundane situations, and wraps both of his arms around Derek's shoulders, tucking his cheek against the curve of his shoulder and watching him grab--whatever he's grabbing at. It's not that he can't guess, and his heartbeat jumps a little, overactive imagination pretty much immediately following that entire train of thought down to the caboose.

(Literally.)

One hand runs down his back, until he finds the triskele's spirals, and Stiles traces them while Derek gets settled again, running his nail down and around each spiral. It's a little point of contact, something to keep him distracted from whatever questions are on his tongue, and Stiles absently smooches one of the marks he's made. It'll disappear eventually--the fact that it's still here is still kind of impressive--but Stiles can't help but be proud anyway, tracing them gently and muttering against his skin when he talks. ]

Is this part gonna take forever? [ After a beat. ] Not that I don't love the bonding time.

[ Derek rolls his eyes a little as he whistles, but otherwise seems amused he resettles and wraps his arms loosely around Stiles' waist to fiddle around with the container. They're both in the dark on this particular area, but at least he's got a better idea of what he's doing, can squash down nerves with the idle touches that Stiles curls against tanned skin. With the way that he traces across the whorls of the triskele, it's almost like he melts, brushing his mouth against the soft meat of his shoulder as he tests the temperature of the viscous contents with his fingertips. ]

Knowing you, you won't let it. [ Well, everyone knows how bossy Stiles is.

Dipping into the salve calmly with two fingers, he nudges at Stiles' hip with his other hand, kissing the shape of his shoulder. He's prepared to tip back a little again to accommodate for this, though he needs to get Stiles into the position first. And, given the fact he doesn't want to let go of Stiles, this is the best one they can take. ] Kneel.

[ It's nice to feel Derek melt against him, a sensation usually attached to Derek flopping down beside him and tucking his face into his hip--Stiles has figured out a lot of his "buttons", things that make the alpha loosen up, to the point of where he's practically got this down to a science. This is an old one, usually used before bed, when he's wrapped around Derek's back like a spider monkey, but it has the same effect in a far different context, and the thought of it makes his smile soften, until he's looking down into his shoulder with a face that's nothing but affectionate.

And then Derek tells him to move, and his eyebrows raise--opening his mouth and closing it, he nods and squirms backwards off of his lap. And that's the end of him being silent, apparently, because when he pushes backwards and gets onto his knees, he snarks, turning over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow at him. ] Y'know, this is a lot more what I imagined when they said the phrase, "marrying a wildling."

[ The fact that Stiles has him so figured out, where only maybe two surviving people still have that knowledge, Derek is both vaguely amused and maybe a lot exploitative of it. Sure, his mate can use it against him whenever he wants, but the comfort that comes with it and the knowledge that Stiles actually cared to figure those buttons out is more than worth whenever he decides to reach out and press them. It means he can let go, for once. Can relax into a quiet moment.

Now, though, he can't help but snort loudly, a short and dry laugh leaving him as he tips his weight forward after him. ] No, I know exactly what you imagined. [ It's not as if he hasn't heard what those on the other side of the wall say about the wildlings, and maybe for some of them it's true. But not here, and he knows that Stiles has learned otherwise, has seen for himself. Leaning forward, he brushes his nose into the top of his spine, before leaving a kiss just above the bright red triskele between his shoulders. ]

[ It's not like Derek doesn't know his buttons, either. He loves to research and work, and his attempt at codifying the symbols of the wildling packs has taken him ages of hard work. And when he gets started, he works for hours and hours on end--Derek is the only one who can snap him out of it. Ever.

Stretching out like a cat across the furs, it takes him a minute to get properly settled, until he gets settled on his elbows, still looking back over his shoulder and trying to watch the entire thing go down out of curiosity. (Or possible replication later, the other way around? He could so be down with that.)

He undeniably shivers in anticipation as Derek's lips press to his spine, feeling the chill go all the way down his back , and he curls his hands in the furs so he's steadily anchored down, throwing him a little grin. ] You looked the part, dude.

[ And he wiggles backwards a little, definitely purposefully. ]

[ Granted, Stiles has an innumerable amount of buttons for Derek to press and he's still learning more. The ones that he's counted so far outnumber his fingers, honestly, so he just resorts to remembering them for later and utilizing them when he needs to. Even if Stiles' work is paying off, slowly but surely, it's not something he should keep bent over for hours on end, day in and day out.

Admiring the view as he stretches out, he keeps his slicked up fingers away from him for now, running his dry and calloused hand up his side. This is a great sight, but he has many more in mind, even if his instincts thrum with everything in his senses right now. ]

I think we're the real definition of appearances can be deceiving. [ Still, he can't resist teasing him, and he brings his hand up. Skirting across the back of his neck with his fingertips, he slides them into his hair and curls them securely. ] Most, anyways.

[ And he pulls, just the slightest bit, in response to the wiggling. ]

What is that supposed to mea-nnh. [ He obviously responds well to having his hair pulled, considering--the lupa tilts backwards in what his probably his first real obedient move of the evening, and because he is the little shit that he is, Stiles repeats the wiggle again.

The soothe of his hand is nice--his callouses create a friction up and down his back, nothing but shiver worthy. It's hard for him to be patient in these situations--in most situations, really--and Derek is really, really not helping that. At all.

Right, so that would be the part he was expecting when he got here. He's still not stopping talking, though. ] Yeah, because you're a total marshmallow?

And you're just sweet as chocolate, aren't you. [ Part of him wants to wrap his fingers around the front of his exposed throat, but he doesn't. Not yet, anyways. Instead, Derek pulls a little more firmly to get him looking up at the ceiling, mostly just to see his reaction. But it's all contained movement, nothing to actually hurt him so much as give him that friction he's been pushing for. ] We're a pair.

[ His fingers slowly ease from his hair, dragging down the back of his neck and following the curve of his spine-- carefully skipping over the still raw skin of his tattoo-- until he can dip down, touch the back of his thigh. ]

Brace. [ Head bowing, he kisses the wing of his shoulder, thumb spreading him a little. ]

[ The noise that comes out of his mouth is nothing short of a gasp, and his eyes flutter--the sting of it isn't bad at all, especially mixed with the way it shoots heat straight down to his groin. He can't resist the smart remark, either, because smart remarks are Stiles' currency, and Derek is practically his bank. ] I'm--adorable.

[ He flashes him a smile though, raising his eyebrows, and arches and rolls with the hand that goes down his skin, following the path to a tee and leaning forward a little more, pushing his weight forward to his elbows and his knees. And then when things get a little more serious, he nods, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he leans down to brace himself better. No turning back now! ]

You're something. [ It's his go-to, really, but it's no less true every time he says it. Stiles is certainly something, everything, and most of all nothing he ever expected. So Derek will take every ounce of that currency, and trade for his own when the banter rises. Especially if there's going to be a lifetime of this tradeoff.

Pressing a smile against his skin in response to the one he's given, he steadies his hand at the back of his thigh, holding him still once he leans further. There's a moment's pause, letting him settle, before he brings his other hand up and brushes his fingers, first. Leaving a warm and wet streak before he presses in, one finger first. ]

Shucks, you know, I'm never gonna get tired of your comebaaacks! Oh gods.

[ You would think, after warning upon warning, he'd actually be ready for that? But he wasn't. The streak made his toes curl, and Derek's hand on his thigh is hot and warm and familiar but any fidgeting abruptly stops, because then there's a decidedly unfamiliar pressure and he sucks in a breath to keep from pushing back against him. It's not unpleasant, really, but it's not exactly mind blowing, either, and Stiles resists the urge to squirm around and drops his head down, exhaling loudly. ] Hoo--okay. That's weird.

[ A very loud snort leaves him in exchange for his sudden outburst, and Derek stays completely still as Stiles gets onto a completely different rambling tangent. It's as entertaining as it usually is, so he simply waits him out until he feels that tell-tale twitch that tends to signal squirming on the horizon start to fade into tension. ]

I warned you. [ Not so much of an I told you so, but close enough. He waits for Stiles' retort to start to come out of his mouth, before crooking his finger midway into the smartass remark, because he's sort of enjoying the way he's been able to cut his stream of thought like a knife. ]

Yeah, by living up to your freakin' cavema--ohhmygods.

[ When he crooks his finger, it shoots a jolt of heat down his spine and he has to shudder, his voice squawking up half an octave as Derek hits that sweet spot he wasn't aware he had. He totally, absolutely did that on purpose, and Stiles turns his head over his shoulder to shoot him a look. ]

Seriously? [ Rude, Derek. So rude. It'd be more rude if it wasn't making heat pool all the way down to his toes, but it's still rude. ]

[ Simply looking back at him benignly, where he's bowed over his back rather comfortably despite the angle, he raises his eyebrows again in askance. Maybe it's rude, but they're not exactly the sweetest pair, not in the north, not in the south, not anywhere. There are softer moments-- ones like before, where sun and moon intertwine, the chase over before it has to begin again-- but this is just as much them as anything else. ]

If I remember correctly, you were actually sounding pretty keen to the idea of the caveman lifestyle earlier. Manhandling included. [ Hardly bothered, Derek just slips down the length of Stiles' spine, mouth and teeth and tongue, precisely pressed for just the right reactions as he slowly eases the offending digit out again. ]

[ Stiles returns the benign look with an impressive eyeroll of his own, but drops his head again, squirming a little again, like he's trying to get him to move a little faster. The kisses are indulgent and wet and warm and he's probably going to have an entire line of hickies down his back, but Stiles literally cannot bring himself to care about it. ]

I have no idea what you're talking about. [ When his hand moves again, it's an even weirder feeling, and he drops his head down and makes a frustrated noise. Derek you're so rude.]

Of course you don't.

[ With the squirming, and the noise that comes out of Stiles, Derek adjusts his wrist so that he can pull out almost all the way before pressing in again, moving, making something of a rhythm to see if it sates Stiles for the time being. Because knowing his lupa, it's not going to be long before he starts complaining, starts pushing, and he'll be more than happy to give him what he wants.

Even if he's incredibly rude about it, drawing it out and teasing him. But he'll thank him later for it, even if it's not in so many words. ]

You have yet to prove to me that you can be a caveman besides the word--usssage. Usage.

[ Starting a rhythm gives him something to focus on, taking away the burn of the pressure and tilting the scales much more in the favor of "oh yes, please", which is what comes out of his mouth. He starts to rock backwards and forwards with Derek's hand, finding the rhythm he's making and latching onto it.

That eventually gets followed with a hand gesture, a flop of his wrist that basically means okay I'm good don't stop. He is kind of still being a bossy little shit, even from a position like this. ]

And do you actually want me to?

[ There's an actual curiosity to the question, as he mouths at the dip of Stiles' spine, teeth pressing briefly. Keeping an amused sound to himself to his words, he keeps moving his hand, crooking his finger again to see if he can get that reaction again. See if he can get something bigger, louder.

Brows raising as he catches the flop of his wrist, Derek rolls his eyes a little and brushes his nose against the soft skin of his back, where he is most definitely leaving a scattered trail of marks everywhere. He keeps going, more than happy to. ]

I'unno, it could be a compliment--fuck! [ That comes out in what's basically a yell as his finger crooks again and Stiles' hands tighten in the furs underneath him, his head dropping down as he sucks in a deep, noisy breath, and chokes out his answer, completely distracted by the fact that his brains are dribbling out of his ears.] Yes, okay, yes, that'd be awesome, mother above--

[ His hips shift backwards and forwards as he really gets into working the whole rhythm, and that whole "not gonna make it to sex" thing is just an echo in the back of his head. ]

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