[ As Stiles' head knocks into his shoulder, Derek finally brings his hand up from his thigh to curl his fingers around the front of his throat. His touch is just this side of bruising, claiming but careful not to choke. It mirrors Stiles' touch to the back of his own neck, one that he arches up into as he presses his chest down against him. There's still the care that he doesn't leave pressure on the tattoo, but he curls as close to him as he can.
Practically purring, the rumble in his throat and the pit of his chest rolls so much, at the way Stiles' voice comes out, he kisses a vibrant mark he's left behind around the meat of his shoulder before he starts to ease the second finger in. ] You're too stubborn for that.
[ The pressure of fingers on his throat are a welcome distraction to the burn and stretch of his fingers, and a shudder rolls down his back, makes his shoulders and hips shift and jerk as he pushes himself back onto his fingers, hand wrapped around the back of Derek's neck gripping just as hard as he drops his head back a little more, pants to the ceiling.
It's easier to focus on the banter, too, and as he starts to get used to that, he continues to rock back and forth, tilting his head so his harsh, panting breaths are right up against Derek's ear, and he gives his neck a little more of a squeeze. ] The entire--moon cycle could pass by before you--ngh--before you finished the foreplay. [ It ends on a higher octave, and he lolls his head over, dropping sloppy kisses against his skin, getting an earlobe between his teeth. ]
HA I GOT IT TO LOAD clearly I must wreck you more in celebration.
[ Derek arches over Stiles a little more as his teeth catch skin, and a low growl rolls through him and presses into the hot expanse of Stiles' back, his fingers curling against his throat just a breath tighter. It's short of bruising again, but he eases up so he can slide down, hook his arm around him, drag his touch down to his chest.
Remembering from earlier, he shifts, thumbing at his nipple as he lets out a rumbling hum. ] I could drag it out for that long.
[ No he actually couldn't, but it'd be tempting to try if he could keep getting Stiles this wrecked. But instead of drawing it out, teasing even more, he works him open with a little more purpose, bowing his head forward to drag his teeth against the curve of his shoulder. ]
[ Stiles just about rolls his eyes at him at the remark, because he's not even a little surprised that Derek's totally smug about this, but when he opens his mouth, the very snappy insult that he had in mind comes out in a garbled jumble of a moan, because Derek's hand brushes across ridiculously sensitive skin and his brains just melt completely out of his ears as his circuits pretty much short out.
Gods above.
Hips rocking backwards and forwards in time with his fingers, Stiles reacts to the teeth in his shoulder with another keening noise, pushing back into the heat furnace that's Derek behind him and shifting his hands into his hair, squeezing tight when he hits a particular angle he likes. ]
[ Not feeling an ounce of guilt for the sensory overload he's putting Stiles through, without even dipping his roaming hand down below his chest, Derek continues to practically search out every single sensitive spot that he can find. He's maybe torturing him a little in the process, but it's not as if Stiles isn't enjoying it-- every single reaction tells him otherwise, especially as he rocks back on his fingers and keens. Gods above is about the same thought process that he's running on, if it can be called that.
Kissing the mark he leaves behind, Derek reacts to the fingers fisted in his hair, keeping the angle that gets that reaction. But he's painfully hard again, nose buried against salty skin as he breathes in the heady scents that've filled up their tent. Much as he'd enjoy doing this for the entire night, they've got an entire week of exploration ahead of them. This is something else entirely, something a lot more special. ]
[ He should probably be nervous, or apprehensive, or something--there's that whole virginal thing that should probably be addressed--but the thing is, he isn't. Derek's safe. Derek has been safe for a long time now. Turning his head a little into his neck again, mouth pressed just under his ear, he pants and murmurs-- ] 've only been waiting for like a whole moon cycle.
[ There's just a familiar, teasing lilt to his voice, low in his chest as it is, and Stiles presses a few kisses to the stubbled skin he can reach, loosening his grip on his hair like he's ready to brace himself. ]
[ Unable to keep in a short, breathless laugh, Derek just tilts his head to let Stiles press kisses against his skin and slowly eases his fingers away. He has to shift away from him, and that's the worst part of it, but it means getting hold of the container again for a moment as he lets Stiles brace. ] Well if that's the case.
[ Tone as dry as he can make it right now, which isn't much considering his voice rumbles in the very pit of his chest, he leans back from him. It's a good view, and he can't help but admire it, because Stiles is the most fantastic thing that's ever happened to him, and he's also incredibly gorgeous right now, this entire night. And he gets to have this, have Stiles, in his life. For once, wanting something didn't go awry, and he hadn't even wanted it in the first place. They've really changed, since they first met.
A small, strained groan leaves him as he slicks himself up, before he's curling back over Stiles again, forehead pressed just below the triskele that whorls between his shoulders. One hand braces at his hip, and he breathes out quietly. ]
[ Okay, now he's a little nervous. Mostly, it's anticipation, built up in his nerves like the tension on a bowstring, and he can't help but look backwards and watch Derek over his shoulder the best he can, curious and learning gaze all at once. He's rewarded (maybe) with Derek's admiring look, and it makes his whole face go red--he drops his head back down and leans a little forward on his elbows, exhaling and lacing his fingers together. Chances are he'll find his hair again before long, but for now, he shuts his eyes and bows his head forward so his forehead's resting on his fists.
Derek coming back over him is hot and familiar, refilling a space Stiles didn't realize he was missing, and it feels like every point of connection has sparks, from Derek's forehead to the hand on his hip. He takes in a breath and nods his head once, silly, sassy bravado stripped down and still revealing the same earnest answer. ]
[ Feeling the nod more than he actually sees it, every shift of Stiles' body loud, even at the most minute twitch, Derek holds himself steady in his free hand as he shifts his hips forward. The other stays curled securely at Stiles' hip, keeping firm hold to make sure he doesn't push back or pull away too fast. It's a slow press at first, waiting for a second with held breath, before he starts to ease in. Even with a lot of drawn out preparation, Stiles is all tight heat, and honestly he can barely take it. Biting his lip hard, his fingers grip bruisingly tight to try and anchor himself.
But he goes until he's buried to the hilt, and it's only after a moment of adjustment that he actually breathes again, the air thick and heavy around them. It comes out shaky, a little strained, and he sounds more than a little wrecked himself when he finally speaks again. ]
Hhhholy--gods above, jesus. [ He chokes out a noise at the first brush and tries to brace himself a little better, but honestly, no amount of preparation could have totally had him ready for that. Stiles' fingers curl and his first noise is a low hiss of pain as there's a stretch, but all he does is drop his head down further and inhale shakily, barely feeling what must be the marks of his fingers on his hips by now.
When they get settled, he blinks his eyes back open and exhales, toes curling a little behind him. Whatever burn there is eased when they settle, and it's just--holy gods above, this is happening right now, Derek's hips are pressed to his and it's hot and heavy and Stiles is ninety percent sure this is going to last all of six seconds by the time they get going.
Which--by the time he gets comfortable, his inner control freak decides to rear his ugly head, and he rocks backwards, a moan shocked right out of his throat. ] Ohhhh gods.
[ Loosening his grip on Stiles' hip, if only slowly, Derek brings his other hand up to mirror it and tries to soothe the markings almost absently as he tries to just adjust. Because this is a lot to try and handle at once, and every point of contact is practically burning. But he breathes in, tips his head up, and presses his lips to the shape of his lupa's spine in a small kiss to pale skin. There's an entire map of stars here that he wants to chart, but his mind is somewhere else entirely.
Especially when Stiles rocks back. He tenses, a throaty moan startled out of him almost in time with Stiles' before he's cursing a little under his breath. ] Shit, Stiles--
[ Of course impatience and his micromanaging would show up in the midst of this, but he doesn't feel even the smallest desire to argue with it. Instead, he straightens a little so that he's more or less bent over Stiles' back instead of pressing his forehead against him. This isn't going to last very long, but he's sure as hell going to make it worth however long it does.
Easing out partially, he doesn't wait before he rocks forward again so that their hips are pressed flush together in a slow, miraculously steady, movement that has him breathing out a groan. ]
[ Slow or not, it pretty much makes him see stars the minute Derek pushes forward, and instinctively he drops down a little more, bunching up the furs in the crook of his arms so he has something to hold onto and pushing his hips up so that--whatever angle he hits makes Stiles gasp and he moans into the crook of his arm, moving with him and finding whatever rhythm he's setting pretty damn quickly.
One arm snakes free of the furs where he's holding onto them and he reaches backwards, for anything of Derek's, aiming to use him as an anchor as he shifts back against him again, mumbling -- ] Come on, 's--jesus, 's okay, I'm fine--
[ And still kind of impatient. This is going to get addicting. ]
[ The way that Stiles drops down, pushes back into him, with him, is pushing on overwhelming. But he keeps moving, draws back a little more as they get a rhythm going. Shaky as it is, it's something, and he starts to even it out more as he rocks his hips to meet Stiles'.
But, almost as if drawn to Stiles' outstretched hand, Derek bows over his back again, driving himself deeper as he snaps his hips forward with a little more force. If Stiles is going to urge him on, then he's going to give him what he wants. At the same time, he almost butts his head into his fingers, mouth brushing across the wing of his shoulder.
This is definitely going to get addicting, and he can't even bring himself to care. ]
[ The deeper push pretty much garbles any words coming out of his mouth, and the fingers that had been searching for something reach back into Derek's hair again, finding a grip and basically holding on for dear life--the noises he's making are bordering on obscene and loud, and it's almost like an out of body thing, like he hasn't even really noticed he's doing it yet.
Everything is focused on the friction between them, the driving pressure, hot and full and heavy, and he urges him on with another noise, a choked off groan of his name as he clutches at the furs and pushes back, until he's practically breathless and writhing with it. ]
[ Another string of curses leaves Derek at the absolutely obscene noises leaving Stiles, and if he could record them he would be positively thrilled. It just means there's going to have to be repeat performances, testing different methods to get the sounds from him every time. He doesn't even register that the rest of the encampment can probably hear them, their alphas breathless but very, very loud. Stiles beats him by leaps and bounds, but a loud, rumbling moan is pulled from him between a thrust and the pull of Stiles' fingers.
He has to reach one hand out from his hip, bringing it down to curl over Stiles' fist in the furs, trying to brace himself so he doesn't tip over as he rocks into Stiles every time he pushes back. For as strained as he is, Stiles' name tumbles out of him again in response, pressed to his skin. ]
[ Almost immediately, Stiles turns his hand up and it finds Derek's fingers blindly, curling them together and digging his nails into the top of his palm, until it's leaving red marks in the tanned skin. Frankly, it's barely something to focus on, and when he shudders against Derek, he tugs at the hair he has in his hand before letting go and dropping a hand in between them to get a hand on himself, something.
It kind of feels like he's about to explode any second now, and Derek's name practically tattoos out of his mouth as he leans down again, buries his face in his arm to try and muscle the sound of it and continually thrusting backwards into him, toes curling. Yeah this is pretty much it. ]
[ As Stiles releases his hair, Derek tips his head to tuck his nose into Stiles' own hair, thick and damp with sweat but pushing a little on perfect. His fingers curl tight with his, an anchor for as much as he's drowning in the moment. But he realizes, after a moment, where Stiles' other hand has gone to now that it's no longer in his hair. Slowly loosening his fingers from his hip, the faoladh dips his hand down to find his lupa's, broad fingers overlapping long.
He doesn't even bother trying to muffle anything that comes out of his mouth, between rolling growls and half-snarls mixed with breathless groans and moans that sound a lot more like Stiles' name than anything else. But towards the end of it, he murmurs just behind his ear, his name and a string of three words that are meant only for Stiles and not the encampment around them as his hips snap forward, rhythm growing unsteady. ]
[ It's Derek's hand wrapping around his that's the breaking point, familiar rough callouses and a hand that definitely is not his--three-two-one and he goes off like a shot, taking in a ragged gasp of air and clutching at Derek's hand a little tighter. His stamina's not exactly prime fighter shape, considering this is the second time he's gotten off since this whole thing started, and his back arches as he rides out the waves of it, shivering and spreading just a little wider underneath Derek to accommodate what's about to come next, considering.
He pants it right back to him though, wrecked and through gasps of air, I love you too, because he does, he really, really does, whether it's in the middle of sex or getting a tattoo that marks him more or less as his. ]
[ There's a whole combination of things that pushes Derek after Stiles. He strokes him through it as best he can, but honestly his senses are so filled with Stiles that he can't focus on anything except the way he tightens around him before he's opening up to him. Bringing his hand away from where it overlaps, he fists it into the furs to mirror where he's still holding onto Stiles with the other, bracing as he presses in once last time.
Something akin to a wrecked groan leaves him as he comes, and he presses his forehead into the back of a pale shoulder when he does. Even with as muddled as his head is, swimming in everything that is this moment, he's not entirely oblivious to the fact that Stiles pretty much just braced himself for it in a completely different way typical people would.
Which is probably a good thing, because he can feel a swelling even as his entire body buzzes, breathing heavily. ]
[ This was the part he'd asked Scott about--who'd mostly shied away from an answer until Stiles basically provoked it out of him--and, once again, something he was totally convinced he was prepared for until it actually happened. He's sort of mentally barely there at the moment, brains pretty much mush, but he can feel Derek's hips snap into his and the weirdly satisfying feeling of him just letting go, and right when he sucks in a deep breath, he can feel the swelling too, pressing up against tight muscles and pretty much demanding room, and Stiles gasps and slurs out a swear, using Derek's hand as an anchor as he can still feel him pulsing his way through it, warm and wet and so ridiculously good it's making his head spin.
Holy fuck.
He barely tunes into Derek panting over his shoulder and tilts his head into his cheek, the aftershocks shaking his frame against Derek's just a little. ] Hhholy god.
[ It takes far more willpower than he is actually in possession of right now for Derek to not shift his weight forward as he essentially locks himself into place. He knows it shouldn't last long, that this is probably one of the top three best positions for them to be knotted in, but it's difficult to just sit still when it feels that goddamn good. Everything is sensitive and he can feel a thrum under his skin, it just doesn't change anything, even as his own shocks shudder up and down his spine.
Groaning out a shaky laugh, voice a little hoarse, he lets their cheeks rest together as he keeps his elbows locked so that he doesn't outright drop on Stiles before they have a chance to settle. Truth be told, though, he could probably melt down onto his mate and never move again at this point.
His mind has a hard time getting back together, from the combination of the tight pressure still around him to Stiles' own swearing, how he practically fell apart right there with Derek. But it gets some semblance of order, eventually. ] Fuck.
[ Thank god Derek is holding them up, because Stiles' arms pretty much give out immediately and he is completely content to lay there with Derek basically wrapped around, taking attached at the hip to a whole new level. The shocks are still coming every now and then, trailing down to his fingertips and toes until he has to fidget a little, which rocks Derek just a little inside, which punches a breathless little noise out of his throat. Right. Okay, moving is kind of difficult. Still, he's not in the most comfortable position in the world right now, so he just kind of turns his attention to Derek and nudges him with his shoulders, wiggling backwards like he's going to try and sit up, still attached and sitting in his lap instead.
Flashing him an exhausted, satisfied smile, Stiles resists the urge to wiggle a little and focuses on how freakin' amazing that feels, full and tight and just this shy of being too much--one of his free hands comes up to lace lazily in his hair again, and he kisses at his cheek sloppily, getting comfortable again. ] Were you planning...on telling me about this part?
[ Not that he sounds even remotely angry. Satisfied, more like. ]
[ Stiles moving to get them upright draws out a low ahh from him, and his hips twitch in an effort to keep from bucking up in response. Because holy hell, that is way too much at once and he has to close his eyes to keep them from rolling back. Still, he unwinds his fingers where they're joined on one side, carefully assisting until he has a lapful of Stiles once again.
As they settle, it's a little easier for him to adjust again. For as much as he'd worried about it before, had absolutely thought about pulling out before he could get locked into place, the fact that Stiles spread himself more for it just... encouraged it. Slowly, he winds his arms around his waist, humming contentment at the hand in his hair, the kiss to his cheek.
Every now and then, a muscle twitches in aftershock. His fingers have to adjust where they're settled, thighs going tense where Stiles is seated but relaxing again. ] Scott wouldn't look me in the eye for a week. I figured you'd wrung it out of him at that point. [ A pause, and then he admits against his shoulder: ] I wasn't going to do it, at first.
Okay, whoa, jesus, moving is not that great of an idea. [ At least where he's situated now, he has no real desire to move again, but the shocks that sent coursing through his veins almost made his vision go blurry, and Stiles carefully gets settled and leans back against Derek's chest, trying to get the deepseated tremble from his bones as he turns his head and tucks it into his neck, mumbling against an already fading mark and chuckling a little. ]
He was mortified, but it was so worth it. So worth it. [ His voice is low and weird sounding and he doesn't even care; Stiles just looks up at him with the admission, heavy lidded brown eyes looking at his face before he scoffs. ] What's the point of [ jazz hands ] ~consummation~ if you're not gonna go the full hog? Full...wolf? Full knot? Ew, nevermind. Full hog.
[ He's just gonna continue to ramble, because he's Stiles. A part of him wants to know why, though, and he frowns a little from his joke bravado, curling just a little closer. This should probably hurt, but it doesn't. ] Why not, anyway?
[ There's an agreeable grunt as his only response at first, his eyes closing as he hunches so that his chin hooks on his shoulder as they get settled. As Stiles turns to tuck his nose against his neck, he tips his head to let him, staying like that because he absolutely refuses to move again. There's a deep contentment in him that sinks right into his bones, and Derek definitely intends to hold onto it for a while. ]
On one side, Scott. On the other, Erica was grinning at me like a lunatic. It was easy to put it together. [ He snorts a little, cracking an eye open to look at him. His own voice stays low, a faint rumble tucked beneath it every time he talks. The corners of his mouth curl downward in amusement as Stiles keeps going, but he returns the half-lidded stare, red gone from his eyes and replaced with clear green. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Practically purring, the rumble in his throat and the pit of his chest rolls so much, at the way Stiles' voice comes out, he kisses a vibrant mark he's left behind around the meat of his shoulder before he starts to ease the second finger in. ] You're too stubborn for that.
posts from beyond the grave
It's easier to focus on the banter, too, and as he starts to get used to that, he continues to rock back and forth, tilting his head so his harsh, panting breaths are right up against Derek's ear, and he gives his neck a little more of a squeeze. ] The entire--moon cycle could pass by before you--ngh--before you finished the foreplay. [ It ends on a higher octave, and he lolls his head over, dropping sloppy kisses against his skin, getting an earlobe between his teeth. ]
HA I GOT IT TO LOAD clearly I must wreck you more in celebration.
Remembering from earlier, he shifts, thumbing at his nipple as he lets out a rumbling hum. ] I could drag it out for that long.
[ No he actually couldn't, but it'd be tempting to try if he could keep getting Stiles this wrecked. But instead of drawing it out, teasing even more, he works him open with a little more purpose, bowing his head forward to drag his teeth against the curve of his shoulder. ]
facehands why must things end this way
Gods above.
Hips rocking backwards and forwards in time with his fingers, Stiles reacts to the teeth in his shoulder with another keening noise, pushing back into the heat furnace that's Derek behind him and shifting his hands into his hair, squeezing tight when he hits a particular angle he likes. ]
Because smut.
Kissing the mark he leaves behind, Derek reacts to the fingers fisted in his hair, keeping the angle that gets that reaction. But he's painfully hard again, nose buried against salty skin as he breathes in the heady scents that've filled up their tent. Much as he'd enjoy doing this for the entire night, they've got an entire week of exploration ahead of them. This is something else entirely, something a lot more special. ]
Are you ready?
at least it's safe in a musebox
[ There's just a familiar, teasing lilt to his voice, low in his chest as it is, and Stiles presses a few kisses to the stubbled skin he can reach, loosening his grip on his hair like he's ready to brace himself. ]
For now.
[ Tone as dry as he can make it right now, which isn't much considering his voice rumbles in the very pit of his chest, he leans back from him. It's a good view, and he can't help but admire it, because Stiles is the most fantastic thing that's ever happened to him, and he's also incredibly gorgeous right now, this entire night. And he gets to have this, have Stiles, in his life. For once, wanting something didn't go awry, and he hadn't even wanted it in the first place. They've really changed, since they first met.
A small, strained groan leaves him as he slicks himself up, before he's curling back over Stiles again, forehead pressed just below the triskele that whorls between his shoulders. One hand braces at his hip, and he breathes out quietly. ]
i'm not ready to go public ;///;
Derek coming back over him is hot and familiar, refilling a space Stiles didn't realize he was missing, and it feels like every point of connection has sparks, from Derek's forehead to the hand on his hip. He takes in a breath and nods his head once, silly, sassy bravado stripped down and still revealing the same earnest answer. ]
Someday.
But he goes until he's buried to the hilt, and it's only after a moment of adjustment that he actually breathes again, the air thick and heavy around them. It comes out shaky, a little strained, and he sounds more than a little wrecked himself when he finally speaks again. ]
Seven hells.
THIS TAG IS GOING TO KILL ME GOODBYE
When they get settled, he blinks his eyes back open and exhales, toes curling a little behind him. Whatever burn there is eased when they settle, and it's just--holy gods above, this is happening right now, Derek's hips are pressed to his and it's hot and heavy and Stiles is ninety percent sure this is going to last all of six seconds by the time they get going.
Which--by the time he gets comfortable, his inner control freak decides to rear his ugly head, and he rocks backwards, a moan shocked right out of his throat. ] Ohhhh gods.
OR WILL IT BE THIS ONE.
Especially when Stiles rocks back. He tenses, a throaty moan startled out of him almost in time with Stiles' before he's cursing a little under his breath. ] Shit, Stiles--
[ Of course impatience and his micromanaging would show up in the midst of this, but he doesn't feel even the smallest desire to argue with it. Instead, he straightens a little so that he's more or less bent over Stiles' back instead of pressing his forehead against him. This isn't going to last very long, but he's sure as hell going to make it worth however long it does.
Easing out partially, he doesn't wait before he rocks forward again so that their hips are pressed flush together in a slow, miraculously steady, movement that has him breathing out a groan. ]
goodbye rip me
One arm snakes free of the furs where he's holding onto them and he reaches backwards, for anything of Derek's, aiming to use him as an anchor as he shifts back against him again, mumbling -- ] Come on, 's--jesus, 's okay, I'm fine--
[ And still kind of impatient. This is going to get addicting. ]
This is still fun.
But, almost as if drawn to Stiles' outstretched hand, Derek bows over his back again, driving himself deeper as he snaps his hips forward with a little more force. If Stiles is going to urge him on, then he's going to give him what he wants. At the same time, he almost butts his head into his fingers, mouth brushing across the wing of his shoulder.
This is definitely going to get addicting, and he can't even bring himself to care. ]
;/////////////////////;
Everything is focused on the friction between them, the driving pressure, hot and full and heavy, and he urges him on with another noise, a choked off groan of his name as he clutches at the furs and pushes back, until he's practically breathless and writhing with it. ]
U u U
He has to reach one hand out from his hip, bringing it down to curl over Stiles' fist in the furs, trying to brace himself so he doesn't tip over as he rocks into Stiles every time he pushes back. For as strained as he is, Stiles' name tumbles out of him again in response, pressed to his skin. ]
this one was hella embarrassing goodbye
It kind of feels like he's about to explode any second now, and Derek's name practically tattoos out of his mouth as he leans down again, buries his face in his arm to try and muscle the sound of it and continually thrusting backwards into him, toes curling. Yeah this is pretty much it. ]
Wow proud of you.
He doesn't even bother trying to muffle anything that comes out of his mouth, between rolling growls and half-snarls mixed with breathless groans and moans that sound a lot more like Stiles' name than anything else. But towards the end of it, he murmurs just behind his ear, his name and a string of three words that are meant only for Stiles and not the encampment around them as his hips snap forward, rhythm growing unsteady. ]
GONNA FINISH THIS THREAD
He pants it right back to him though, wrecked and through gasps of air, I love you too, because he does, he really, really does, whether it's in the middle of sex or getting a tattoo that marks him more or less as his. ]
AND HERE WE GO.
Something akin to a wrecked groan leaves him as he comes, and he presses his forehead into the back of a pale shoulder when he does. Even with as muddled as his head is, swimming in everything that is this moment, he's not entirely oblivious to the fact that Stiles pretty much just braced himself for it in a completely different way typical people would.
Which is probably a good thing, because he can feel a swelling even as his entire body buzzes, breathing heavily. ]
lord have mercy on me
Holy fuck.
He barely tunes into Derek panting over his shoulder and tilts his head into his cheek, the aftershocks shaking his frame against Derek's just a little. ] Hhholy god.
I think it's too late for that.
Groaning out a shaky laugh, voice a little hoarse, he lets their cheeks rest together as he keeps his elbows locked so that he doesn't outright drop on Stiles before they have a chance to settle. Truth be told, though, he could probably melt down onto his mate and never move again at this point.
His mind has a hard time getting back together, from the combination of the tight pressure still around him to Stiles' own swearing, how he practically fell apart right there with Derek. But it gets some semblance of order, eventually. ] Fuck.
cries
Flashing him an exhausted, satisfied smile, Stiles resists the urge to wiggle a little and focuses on how freakin' amazing that feels, full and tight and just this shy of being too much--one of his free hands comes up to lace lazily in his hair again, and he kisses at his cheek sloppily, getting comfortable again. ] Were you planning...on telling me about this part?
[ Not that he sounds even remotely angry. Satisfied, more like. ]
pets
As they settle, it's a little easier for him to adjust again. For as much as he'd worried about it before, had absolutely thought about pulling out before he could get locked into place, the fact that Stiles spread himself more for it just... encouraged it. Slowly, he winds his arms around his waist, humming contentment at the hand in his hair, the kiss to his cheek.
Every now and then, a muscle twitches in aftershock. His fingers have to adjust where they're settled, thighs going tense where Stiles is seated but relaxing again. ] Scott wouldn't look me in the eye for a week. I figured you'd wrung it out of him at that point. [ A pause, and then he admits against his shoulder: ] I wasn't going to do it, at first.
HARD PART'S OVER ;A:
He was mortified, but it was so worth it. So worth it. [ His voice is low and weird sounding and he doesn't even care; Stiles just looks up at him with the admission, heavy lidded brown eyes looking at his face before he scoffs. ] What's the point of [ jazz hands ] ~consummation~ if you're not gonna go the full hog? Full...wolf? Full knot? Ew, nevermind. Full hog.
[ He's just gonna continue to ramble, because he's Stiles. A part of him wants to know why, though, and he frowns a little from his joke bravado, curling just a little closer. This should probably hurt, but it doesn't. ] Why not, anyway?
YES INDEEDY.
On one side, Scott. On the other, Erica was grinning at me like a lunatic. It was easy to put it together. [ He snorts a little, cracking an eye open to look at him. His own voice stays low, a faint rumble tucked beneath it every time he talks. The corners of his mouth curl downward in amusement as Stiles keeps going, but he returns the half-lidded stare, red gone from his eyes and replaced with clear green. ]
Not exactly a common practice.
;;;
uwu
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)