[Sterek] He Blinded Me With Library Science (boyxboy) (complete)

Chapter 14 (NC17)

Apparently it's the right thing to say because Derek dives back in, knee hitching right up against Stiles' balls as he thrusts his tongue into his mouth, delving in as though he's chasing something.

Stiles shudders, lifts his hands to press futilely at Derek's jacket before he has to pull back and gasp out, "This, off, and, and-- bedroom. I have a bedroom." The look Derek gives him fairly smoulders, but he shucks off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor before inhaling sharply and grabbing Stiles by the hand to tug him down the hall, unerringly to the right room.

They haven't even made it the scant few steps to the bed before Derek is stroking his thumbs along the top of Stiles' sweatpants, glancing back up from the wet spot spreading steadily across the front and licking his lips. "Can I...?" he trails off, slipping two fingers below the waistband to press down.

Stiles whines, actually whines as his hips buck up against the pressure. "Yes, yes, come on, you too, get your clothes off," he agrees, fumbling at the button of Derek's jeans, at the hem of his shirt, torn between which item of clothing he wants to get rid of first.

Derek solves that problem for him by stepping back and stripping off his shirt unselfconsciously, kicking off his shoes and socks, unzipping his jeans and stepping out of them, his, left in charcoal grey boxer briefs that do nothing to hide how extremely interested he is in the proceedings. If Stiles looked half that good he'd probably strip off all the time.

Thankfully, Derek seems to think he looks more than good enough, because he wastes no time in sliding Stiles' shirt over his head and tossing it aside, running his hands back down his sides until he's shoving the sweats down to the floor and practically rumbling when he finally has proof that Stiles wasn't wearing anything else.

"I was going to change," Stiles can't help but feel the need to explain, "but I got caught up."

"I need to taste you," Derek growls, pressing forward until Stiles falls back onto the bed, dick bouncing up to slap against his belly, leaving a slick trail across the skin.

"Oh god," Stiles gasps, scrambling back until he can prop his back up against the pillows and watch, "Yes please, yes, any time, yes."

Derek settles himself between his legs, spreading Stiles' thighs and draping one possessive hand warm over the jut of his hip bone, the other tracing up his balls, along the vein, finally rubbing his thumb across the slit to wipe away the moisture there.

Stiles groans, loud, and arches his back to try and relieve some of the tension building in him. "Please, just, please I want your mouth, Derek, please," he begs, and that seems to definitely do it for him because Derek immediately takes the head in his mouth and sucks, teasing the shaft with his free hand, and Stiles shoves his own fist in his mouth just to keep from giving the neighbours cause for a noise complaint.

Pulling off with a slick pop and hooded eyes, Derek licks his lips. "I want to hear you," he says lowly, "I want to know that it's good for you."

"It's good for me, it's good for me," Stiles babbles, hands clenched in the duvet to keep from grabbing his hair, "Believe me, I really want you to keep doing that but I'm also like half a minute from coming, okay, and I just--"

Derek's expression shifts, and he immediately ducks down to swallow Stiles whole, right down to the root, tight and hot and wet and Stiles can't help it, he can't, he's coming just like that, back bowed, toes curling, shooting down Derek's throat without even so much as a by your leave.

He half expects Derek to be at least a little annoyed, because, rude, but instead Derek slides back up a little, hums around him happily, coaxing out a twitching last effort from Stiles' dick before pulling off and crawling up his body to kiss his taste back into Stiles' mouth.

Derek is still hard, still wearing his underwear and when Stiles has been kissed through the aftershocks and into a pleasant afterglow, Stiles fits his hand between them, slips under the band of Derek's boxer briefs to give him a firm tug. "Take these off, come on, you want my mouth? My hand? Inside me?"

Groaning, Derek ruts against his hip for a greedy minute before managing to shuck the boxers off, too, and sucks what will probably be a massive hickey high on Stiles' neck. "Just, here, like this," Derek stumbles over his words, pressing in again against him, half-frantic now and leaking steadily.

"Yeah, okay, so do it, come on," Stiles says, running his hands up Derek's back, digging his fingers into his hair and then trailing off, distracted by the breadth of his shoulders again. "Give it to me."

He judders at that, control lost, hips thrusting against Stiles frantically for a minute before he groans, low in his throat and comes all over Stiles' stomach and chest, jackrabbits into it for a minute more while Stiles strokes up his arms, his back, cops a feel just because he can.

They lay there, slumped together for long minutes, catching their breath and trading kisses without the urgency of before until Stiles feels like his brain has reassembled itself.

"So," he asks brightly, "Delivery?"