kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household: Part Two
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,309 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: underage
Summary: Derek is seventeen, Stiles is thirteen, they're stepbrothers, things happen....


"Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household"
Part Two"

by kyrene


Stiles still wasn't sure quite what had happened on the living room floor, but he did know that once Derek had banged his door closed he didn't really feel like playing Wii anymore.

That might have had something to do with the way his dick was as hard as it had ever gotten, not to mention the confusion in his head over what had gotten it that way.

He just couldn't get it out of his mind; the way Derek had felt over top of him, and the way it had made him feel. Derek's bulky body over top of him, resting on his stomach and then his hips, even though he'd been holding most of his own weight up. His hands hard around Stiles' wrists, fingers tight. The way he'd sounded, breathing heavily and growling in a voice far deeper than his usual tones.

Stiles knew why Derek had been annoyed at him, but he didn't understand what had gotten him so angry. It wasn't as though this was the first time Stiles had set out to deliberately annoy his older stepbrother while being watched by him. This was definitely the first time he'd wound up pinned to the floor, though, and the first time he'd wound up with a hard-on.

Stiles normally jerked off after he'd gone to bed, before he fell asleep, but this time it was still early in the evening and he really needed some "private time". The heck of it was that he wasn't stiff because he knew he was gonna jerk off. He was stiff specifically because of Derek, and what he'd just done.

Even the humiliation of Derek calling him on his erection hadn't been enough to wilt it. Stiles still couldn't believe that not only had Derek said something about his hard-on, but he'd actually rubbed his ass all over it. His fine, tight ass that Stiles was well aware he himself spent far too much time staring at....

And, okay, there was a reason that Stiles had stayed hard even after Derek had started teasing him about it. Because being pinned to the floor by his incredibly hot, if also asshole-ish stepbrother did it for him. And, evidently, Derek being an asshole did nothing to deter Stiles' lust.

Maybe he had a thing for assholes. It wouldn't surprise him; Stiles was kind of an asshole himself, he had to admit. At least in comparison to, say, Scott, who never said mean things to people on purpose even when he knew they were mean, like Stiles sometimes did.

Derek had been more mean than Stiles tonight, Stiles thought as he sat up and cupped himself through his jeans. His hard-on throbbed under his hand, and he squeezed it a little, though he ought to hold off on rubbing it until he was in his bedroom with his pants off.

He'd probably spontaneously combust if Derek walked back in here and found him playing with himself, Stiles thought, his cheek burning hot all the way to the tips of his ears. And he wasn't even sure whether he meant with embarrassment or horniness.

Probably both.

Definitely both, he admitted to himself as he closed his bedroom door. He couldn't even lock it to make sure he wasn't disturbed; Derek got a lock but Stiles didn't and that was so not fair. Even though, well, Stiles had had a lock until he'd broken that doorknob, and their parents had decided he got in too much trouble to be trusted with a lock on his door, and, again, not fair, but whining about it didn't change anything.

Stiles rubbed his wrists as he made his way over to his bed, his hard-on chafing inside his jeans. They still ached and for some reason that was turning him on even more. He still couldn't quite believe that Derek had held onto them so tightly. He knew he was gonna bruise; he was just a little surprised that he didn't actually care.

Maybe he shouldn't have pushed Derek quite so hard. Not over the Wii or the remote, because Derek really had been hogging the tee vee. But ordering the pizza had kind of been a dick move. Derek was probably gonna tell their parents, and Stiles would probably get in trouble.

He probably deserved it. But that didn't mean he liked it.

Stiles pondered what had led him to being such a brat tonight while he got undressed and clambered into bed, his hard-on still throbbing accusingly at him between his thighs. Because he was honest enough to admit that he'd been kind of shitty... but not without provocation, right?

Maybe he was just sick of Derek acting like it was such a burden to look after him. Stiles was perfectly capable of watching himself and they both knew it, but evidently their parents disagreed. Still, that didn't mean Derek had to be such a douche about it. Especially when they both knew that it was unnecessary.

Stiles really didn't like it when Derek ignored him, treating him like he wasn't even there. It made him feel itchy under his skin. He'd rather Derek be insulting him and sneering at him than acting like he didn't exist.

Well, he'd certainly gotten Derek's attention, Stiles thought ruefully as he reached for his lotion and propped his knees up, creating a tent for his dick under the covers. And he was about to masturbate to the lingering sensation of Derek straddling his torso and grinding back against his hard-on.

God, that had been weird. Wonderful, but weird.

Stiles chose to dwell more on the feel of it than its weirdness, though, as he began to rub his hard-on with a lotion-drenched hand. It hadn't been the first time Stiles' dick had been pressed against something -- he'd humped a pillow or two in his time, and tried other things -- but it had been the first time it had been pressed up against the body part of another actual person. One who was hot like burning, no less.

It didn't seem right to jerk off to the thought of his stepbrother, his hard muscles and his tight ass... but it would have felt even less right to not jerk off to the thought of Derek and his amazing body when it had just been draped over top of him.

Stiles jammed the thumb of his left hand in his mouth as he worked his aching dick with his right hand. He sometimes found himself sucking his thumb at night before falling asleep -- even though his Dad had tried to break him of the habit years ago -- but it was different when he was masturbating. When he was touching himself he felt like he just needed something in his mouth.

He wasn't sure why, but he did, okay?

It really was different. When he stuck his thumb in his mouth while chasing sleep he curled his first couple of fingers over the bridge of his nose and had his thumb in just a bit past the first knuckle, suckling lightly. But when he was jerking off, his fingers went over to rest against his right cheek and he had his thumb jammed in as far as it would go, sideways and deep, all the way to the back of his mouth. His teeth dug into his skin and he sucked hard, and sometimes it still wasn't enough so he stuck his middle two fingers in his mouth instead.

Stiles was pretty sure that the phrase "orally fixated" could be applied to him, even though he only had a vague idea of what that really meant. He was pretty sure it was considered a good thing, though. Especially where guy-on-guy sex was concerned.

Ever since he'd discovered internet porn, Stiles had found himself wondering what it was like to give a blowjob. He knew the normal thing would have been to wonder what it felt like to get a blowjob, and he certainly did spend plenty of time thinking about that as well. He knew that having a dick in his mouth would be nothing like having his thumb in his mouth, but he was pretty sure that his need to have it in there indicated that he'd be pretty okay with having something bigger in there....

Right now, though, he was concentrating on the hand he had around his dick, keeping the way Derek had pinned him down and ground his ass back against that very same hard dick in the forefront of his mind as he worked himself rapidly toward climax.

Stiles had seen plenty of videos of guys shooting off -- ever since he'd figured out how to erase a browser's history he'd gotten pretty bold about what sites he visited when he was on the McCall computer while Scott's Mom was out -- and he knew that it was a lot more than his own slim dick managed.

But he was only thirteen and it would get more impressive, he was sure. Right now his mind was filled with the thought of how much Derek must shoot when he came. He was almost an adult and if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by, his dick and balls were fully developed.

Stiles was torn between being jealous and just desperately wanting to see it happen.

That was what took him over the edge and had him spilling hot on his stomach. Maybe it was thinner and less copious than grown-up guys managed, but Stiles still came wet, and he was proud of that fact. He'd been playing with himself since before he could manage that much, so it was awesome to see that his body really was heading on its way through puberty.

Someday he'd catch up to Derek. And then he wouldn't feel so inferior in comparison to his stepbrother.

But.... Stiles rolled over and wiped his hand and stomach off, then wrapped a hand around his wrist, squeezing to feel the dull ache. But he kind of liked that Derek was bigger and stronger than him. He liked the way Derek had held him down, the way he'd been so heavy and hot over top of him.

Shit. Stiles licked his lips, squeezing his wrist even harder, as his dick tingled and threatened to stiffen up again. He really had a thing for Derek, didn't he. He hadn't thought so. He'd just thought Derek annoyed and infuriated him. He'd thought his fascination with Derek's body had been fueled only by envy.

He'd been wrong. So very, very wrong.

Stiles forgot to brush his teeth, and he jerked off four times that night, and every time he did it, he was thinking about Derek.

He had no regrets. Well, maybe a few. He woke up nearly glued to his sheets, with fuzzy teeth and lightly aching balls. That part wasn't so fun. It had totally been worth it, though.

+=+=+

Once Derek had started thinking of Stiles as a sexual being, he found that he couldn't stop. It wasn't that he wanted to. Stiles was thirteen. That was practically a child still. Derek was seventeen; he'd be going to college once he graduated. He'd be legally an adult in less than a year.

No, really. Thirteen was a child. Obviously, Stiles could get an erection. But he was all soft and tiny and delicate yet. There was no universe in which it was okay for Derek to be considering him in a sexual manner.

And yet.... He knew that Stiles could get an erection and he assumed that he took care of it the same way that Derek did. And his brain was swimming with images of Stiles with his long-fingered hand wrapped around his slender penis, that stupid red mouth hanging open and wet as he panted in pleasure, his toes curling....

Dammit!

Life with Stiles had already been unbearable; it was going to be even worse now.

Derek had fully expected that Stiles would rat him out the moment their parents got home, and that would probably have been fair. But instead he'd switched to wearing long-sleeved shirts that covered his wrists, and he didn't seem to have breathed a word about how Derek had pinned him down and held him hard enough to bruise him.

In return, Derek hadn't complained about what a pain in the ass Stiles had been, even though he felt like his mother kind of expected it and was surprised by the lack. She scolded him for ordering pizza and he didn't even feel the urge to tell her Stiles had ordered it without asking. Their Dad was annoyed by the missing remote batteries, and that one Derek did blame on Stiles, but he didn't tell him any of the rest of the story.

It didn't help Derek's crisis of morality any, did nothing to help assuage his guilt, when Stiles was quiet and subdued for the next couple of days. He and Derek avoided looking directly at one another and completely avoided interacting.

Thankfully their parents didn't find that part of it strange. Though Derek could tell they were a little concerned about Stiles; his Mom kept feeling the kid's forehead as though she thought he was coming down with something. Which, to be fair, some of the only times that he was quiet was when he was sick, so it wasn't a bad guess.

Derek watched Stiles when he knew his stepbrother wasn't looking, trying to figure out his strange new fascination.

Stiles was a scrawny little brat, so why had pinning him down that night felt so sexually charged?

Maybe Derek just wanted to dominate someone, and Stiles had just happened to be the first person he'd actually done it to.

That didn't feel right, though. He'd never had those kinds of urges before, and he'd had sex with girls and a couple of guys. Well, he'd had sexual encounters. As far as Derek was concerned, sex was getting off in the company of someone else, even if it involved frottage, mutual masturbation, and one solitary blowjob rather than any more complicated acts of penetration.

Anyway, Derek had never felt the slightest desire to grab any of his previous partners and pin them to the floor. So why had this urge suddenly popped up and made him get all forceful with Stiles? Stiles, who was his very young, barely pubescent stepbrother.

And now Derek could hardly meet Stiles' eyes, and yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. He was still pretty sure that Stiles had never known about Derek's hard-on, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened.

He was still confused that Stiles hid the bruises and hadn't told on him. He knew there were bruises ringing Stiles' thin wrists. He'd seen them, when he'd surprised Stiles on his way out of the bathroom after showering while both of their parents had thankfully been downstairs. Stiles had been wearing a teeshirt and boxers, his hair had been slicked down wet, and his lashes had still been starred with water around his wide eyes.

Derek had seen the bruising then, even three days after he'd done it. Faint purple marks mottling Stiles' pale skin. They hadn't been as dark as some of the bruises Stiles had given himself through his clumsiness from time to time, but Derek had been the one to create them, and he couldn't look away.

The worst thing was that he wasn't sure whether he felt horrified with himself, proud of the marks etched on Stiles' skin, or some twisted combination of both.

Stiles had stared at him wordlessly for a moment, mouth gaping red and open like it usually was, and then he'd scuttled across the hall to his bedroom.

Just as well, since Derek had been in serious danger of popping a boner. Over his baby stepbrother.

Damn it.

So it wasn't a need that Derek felt to dominate anyone he slept with; it seemed to only apply to Stiles. He wasn't happy about that realization, but he was willing to acknowledge it.

The part where he not only relived the events of that evening pretty much every time he had his cock in his hand in the privacy of his own room, but also found himself staring silently at Stiles when the kid wasn't looking back... that was a lot harder to accept and process.

Stiles was short. He was scrawny. Where he wasn't bony he still had baby fat. He was only just beginning to go through puberty. He wasn't anything that anyone should want, much less someone four years older than him at an age where even a few months could make a huge difference.

Scott came over to hang out later in the week, and that got Stiles back to his usual volume of obnoxiousness. Derek retreated to his bedroom, as he usually did when the two were tearing up the house, but not before he'd given Scott a good once-over. It made him feel even more like some sort of creepy pervert, but he had to know if this was some sort of disgusting new kink he'd developed.

The answer was, thankfully, no. Objectively, Scott was actually far cuter than Stiles. With flawless dark skin and floppy dark hair and an adorable grin. His eyes were easily as big and just as brown as Stiles' were, and he was more classically pretty than Stiles, who had an angular face and a snub nose.

And Scott moved Derek not at all. He could recognize that Scott was sort of pretty, but he was too young to consider sexually, and he was just as annoying to Derek as he's always been.

So if he still saw Scott as a kid and nothing but a kid... why was Derek looking at Stiles in a sexual way? Why didn't he see Stiles as a child, the way he had done before?

The question had no answer and it only infuriated Derek more the longer it went unanswered. It didn't go away. He tried to visualize anyone other than his stepbrother while he jerked off, and he failed miserably in this attempt.

He had no idea how this had happened and he had no idea of how to fix it, and so he did the only thing he could think to do.

He did his best to ignore it.

Unfortunately, doing so meant ignoring Stiles as well. And as his stepbrother had proved so many times in the past, ignoring Stiles was something that was far easier said than done.

+=+=+

Derek was being such a dick. If there was one thing Stiles couldn't stand, it was being ignored, and that was exactly what Derek was doing to him right now.

Stiles kind of understood, he supposed. He'd been the one pushing and pushing, That Night. The night Derek had pinned him down and set his brain aflame with unending fantasies of his older stepbrother pouncing him into the floor again and holding onto his wrists and... and....

Well. Stiles wasn't quite sure what came after that, but he imagined that it involved lots of touching with heavy hands and hot-wet mouths, and maybe their bodies pressed close together.

Derek was all muscle and Stiles was sure that he'd be hard as stone but with soft, warm skin over top of it all. And he remembered, vividly, the way it had felt when Derek had ground his behind back into Stiles' straining erection.

It didn't even feel like a submissive move to Stiles -- not the way Derek had been sitting on top of him, holding him down, squeezing his wrists hard enough to bruise. But it had been so intense. Derek's perfect ass, moving against Stiles' throbbing hard-on....

Stiles wanted more of that, wanted to have that again, wanted more. But even if he couldn't have any of that, he at least wanted Derek to stop freaking ignoring him.

He got that Derek was embarrassed. He was embarrassed too. But he still existed. He was still Derek's stepbrother. They were family but Derek was treating Stiles like an inconvenience, like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. And that wasn't fair and it wasn't nice!

And, okay, so maybe Stiles' dick was chafed from how often he was jerking off and his thumb was a little pruny from having it in his mouth while he jerked off, but Derek didn't know about that. Stiles only masturbated behind his closed bedroom door. Well, and in the shower.

It had been a week now, and their parents were planning another date night. Normally they went out without the boys every other weekend -- or maybe only once a month if they were both busy -- but it was actually their anniversary, which made this Friday extra special.

And that was why Derek didn't get away with bailing on them and declining to watch Stiles.

He did try. He claimed to have a study group at the library, which Stiles was half sure was a lie, but Talia gave him the wide eyes and guilt-tripped him into agreeing to babysit. Derek was being a jerk, but he wasn't completely selfish and he loved his mother so he caved pretty quickly and agreed to watch Stiles.

Stiles had the perfect plan to annoy Derek into paying attention to him. It had bullet points and everything, and it totally would have worked to make his stepbrother stop ignoring him... except for one thing.

The problem being that it turned out Derek really had had a study group meeting, and since he couldn't join them at the library, he had them come to him place.

And Derek's friends were -- not to put too fine a point on it -- a bunch of assholes.

Stiles knew he was the younger brother and he had ADHD, and he knew he could be annoying sometimes -- in fact, he'd been planning to be annoying on purpose tonight -- but that didn't justify the fact that Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were always so mean to him.

Well, to be fair, Boyd wasn't mean. He just regarded Stiles with a look of faint disgust, as though he smelled something nasty every time they were in the same vicinity. And that was an expression he saved only for Stiles, so he was sure he wasn't imagining things.

Isaac was just plain nasty. He'd pinched Stiles more than once when he wanted the spot Stiles was in and Stiles didn't get out of the way quickly enough, and he wasn't shy about being snotty to Stiles as a matter of course.

Erica was pretty much the worst, though; she treated him like a baby, talking down to him and acting like she was saying nice things when they were really condescending or just plain rude, as if Stiles was too dumb to realize what she actually meant.

Spoiler alert, he wasn't.

Overall, all three of Derek's friends were unpleasant to be around, though they acted decent enough to Derek and were downright angelic whenever any parents were within earshot.

Stiles tried to stay in his bedroom, getting his homework done -- and screw Derek for calling him a freak for doing so; after all, Derek was doing homework downstairs with his friends -- even though that was the opposite of what he'd wanted. That worked well enough, but then Derek ordered pizza, on purpose this time, and yelled at Stiles to come and get some.

If he hadn't been starving Stiles would have skipped dinner. If he'd thought he could sneak into the kitchen without anyone seeing him he'd have done that, because even grody leftovers would be better than spending time with Derek's friends.

But Stiles' stomach growled angrily when he cracked open his door and the scent of pepperoni and hot cheese wafted into his room, and there was no way he was going to be able to resist that. He was a growing thirteen year old boy and he needed sustenance.

It started as soon as he walked into the living room where the four older teenagers were sitting, eating pizza, surrounded by text books, papers, and laptops.

"What are you doing here?" Isaac asked scornfully, his eyes sweeping Stiles from head to toe and his lips curling to express his opinion of what he was seeing. Isaac was tall and lean and had curly hair. He also had incredible cheekbones and Stiles supposed he would have been really good looking if his attitude hadn't been at such a marked contrast to his face.

"Uh, I live here," Stiles said, at the same moment Derek snapped, "I just called him down to eat; you heard me."

Isaac pulled a sour face and stuffed a slice of pizza in his mouth. He certainly didn't do anything crazy like apologize.

"Don't chase him away, Isaac," Erica said in a tone of concern that was probably about as real as the color of her bright red lips. She was just as pretty as Isaac, with long blonde hair and nice breasts that she showed to best effect in whatever she was wearing. Her makeup was always flawless, even though Talia said she wore too much of it. She had a pretty exterior to hide her inner claws, but they were there and they were sharp. "He needs his nourishment. I mean, just look at him."

Stiles felt his cheeks and ears burn, but he gamely ignored her and grabbed himself a paper plate and a couple of slices of pizza. Yeah, he was still on the scrawny side of skinny, but he was only thirteen. Even if he worked out as obsessively as Derek did he wouldn't look the way Derek looked; he was still too young to put on muscle. It was really unfair for Erica to point that out, but then, she was always doing things like that.

Stiles knew that Derek's friends considered him to be nothing better than a nuisance, but he hadn't even really said anything yet. Well, he'd answered Isaac's snotty question, but he'd answered it legitimately, with the truth.

Derek didn't say anything to defend him against Erica's sally; probably because he agreed.

Stiles wanted to take his pizza and retreat to his bedroom again, but Derek ordered him to "Sit," and Stiles knew that if it came down to a fight, he'd lose. And he'd look like an idiot losing, which he didn't want; especially in front of Derek's friends. So he sat.

When Stiles settled on the farthest side of the sofa, Boyd, who'd been in the middle, got up. He went into the bathroom, presumably to take a leak, which was fine, but then when he came back in he made a point of sitting on the floor near the loveseat Erica was perched on. Maybe he just wanted to be closer to his sort-of-girlfriend, but Stiles couldn't help feeling that it had been a direct snub.

He chewed on his pizza, even though his stomach was in knots, and tried to make himself as small as he could. He didn't stink, he knew he didn't. He'd showered after coming home from school, because it was the easiest way to jerk off without having to deal with the mess, and after the shower he'd just been sitting at his desk, doing his homework and playing one of his MMORPGs; nothing that would make him sweat. And he hadn't farted any time recently, either.

Stiles had been starving before he'd come downstairs, but now he could hardly make himself eat one slice of his favorite pizza. He couldn't understand why Derek wanted to make him stay here to eat when he'd been ignoring him for the entire week.

Stiles was still kind of pissed off about that. And about this study group wrecking his plan to get Derek's undivided attention. He'd had a plan. It had been a good plan. And then Derek had gone and ruined it all.

Stiles found his eyes wandering to the spot on the floor where Derek had straddled him the week before, where Derek had pinned him down and rubbed his ass back against Stiles' dick. The bruises around his wrists had faded, and... Stiles kind of missed them.

He blushed as this thought crossed his mind, his face red with embarrassment and arousal rather than humiliation now.

Of course, Erica had to go and notice, and of course she would have to go and say something. Because she was awful that way.

"Ooh, Stiles looks all hot and bothered," she crooned, draping her leg over Boyd's shoulder and wiggling her stocking-footed toes. "You like pizza that much?"

Stiles scowled at her as fiercely as he was able. He was aware that it was about as fierce as a kitten. A wet kitten, no less.

"Can I go now?" he asked Derek, trying to sound bored and matter-of-fact instead of small and pathetic, the way he was feeling. He set his plate with one slice of uneaten pizza on the coffee table. He just couldn't make himself choke it down.

"No, no," Isaac said to Erica, grinning wickedly. "He's got a hot date with his hand. Treat her right, Stiles, since she's going to be your only chance at a date to the prom."

Stiles wanted to look at Derek, to see if he had any intention of standing up for his stepbrother, but he didn't think he could meet Derek's eyes right now so he stared at his knees and tried to will Isaac and Erica to stop talking. It didn't work, of course.

Erica made a hooting sound. "Nuh-uh, he's taking McCall to prom," she laughed. "They're getting married straight out of high school, didn't you know?"

Isaac nodded sagely and smirked at Stiles.

"Yeah, you're lucky your boyfriend is so devoted, Stiles. No one else would willingly spend time with you on a regular basis."

And Stiles knew that last barb was true -- even if the part about him and Scott was ridiculous -- but Isaac hadn't needed to point it out like a total douche. He suddenly couldn't stand being in the same room as Derek and his shitty friends, so he stood and darted out. Not running, but going as quickly as he could. If Derek wanted to come after him....

Well, Derek didn't come after him, not that Stiles had expected him to. Which was a good thing, because Stiles was already in tears by the time he slammed his bedroom door closed behind him. He'd endured worse jibes from Derek's stupid friends in the past, but this time it just seemed to have hit him harder than usual.

Well, he was upset that Derek had been ignoring him, and he was unhappy that his plans to annoy Derek into paying attention to him had been wrecked. And he was still lost in a welter of sexual confusion, because it was Derek's tight grip on his wrists and his heavy-hot weight pinning Stiles down that filled his head every time he jerked off lately, instead of Lydia Martin's long, strawberry blonde curls and her lush pink lips.

Stiles huddled on his bed, trying to not cry and failing miserably. This was so stupid, Isaac and Erica weren't worth crying over, and yet he couldn't seem to stop.

He was laying on his belly, hugging a pillow to his hot face and still snuffling wet and miserable, about five minutes later when there came a knock at his door.

"Can I come in?" Derek called, loudly enough to be heard but sounding strangely tentative.

Stiles tried to yell "No," he really did. But his throat was tight and so he just kind of warbled the word through a bunch of snot and tears and by the time he'd gotten it out Derek had already opened his door and walked into his bedroom.

Dammit, Stiles really wished he had a lock on his knob. Derek got to lock his door if he wanted to. It was so unfair that Stiles didn't have the same choice.

Since he couldn't will Derek back outside his room, Stiles buried his face in his pillow again. He knew his nose was red and his eyes were all swollen and his cheeks were blotchy... in short he was a total mess. He didn't need Derek seeing that.

Despite his attempts to telepathically force Derek to leave, Stiles felt the mattress dip next to his hip as his stepbrother evidently sat down beside him.

"Where are your friends?" Stiles asked, turning his head enough that he could speak intelligibly, though hopefully not enough that Derek could see how awful he looked.

Derek sighed, as though he was so put upon, and it wasn't like Stiles had made him come in here, in fact Stiles wanted him to leave.

"Erica and Boyd started making out so I told them to go home. Isaac's a jerk so I kicked him out too."

Stiles snorted, then almost choked on his snot. Gross. He sniffed and reached between his face and the pillow to scrub at his eyes. His entire face hurt and his head was beginning to pound, and he hated crying because it always made him feel worse, not better.

"They're all jerks, all the time."

Derek didn't argue that, at least.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully, and Stiles startled a little as the warm weight of Derek's hand came to rest on his lower back. It felt strangely comforting and grounding, but it weirded him out that Derek was being kind of nice to him.

"I'm not crying," he said defensively, still doing his best to hide in his pillow.

"Of course not." Derek didn't even try to sound like he believed Stiles, but at least he wasn't making fun of him. "It's just hormones."

Stiles glared over his shoulder at Derek, even though this meant Derek seeming how ugly his face looked right now.

"No, it's your friends being assholes, Derek!" he spat out.

Derek shrugged, his pale eyes fixed on Stiles' face, his thick eyebrows doing something intense that Stiles couldn't read. He didn't remove his hand, though, and Stiles had been careful when he had rolled toward Derek slightly, so that he hadn't unseated it.

He could count on one hand the number of times Derek had willingly touched him in all the years they'd been stepbrothers; not counting pushing and shoving, which happened from time to time. In fact, no one really touched Stiles, other than their parents and sometimes Scott. So he thought he could be excused for reveling in this warm sensation and the feelings of pleasure and pressure the sensation of Derek's hand on his lower back sent to his dick....

Well, at least he was laying on his stomach.

"I know they are," Derek said evenly, and he was still giving Stiles a strange look. His hand was rubbing slightly at Stiles' lower back, just above his butt, and Stiles was really beginning to get hard.

Dammit.

"I don't like them," Stiles said plaintively, falling back onto his pillow. "You shouldn't be friends with them, Derek. You're kind of a jerk to me, but you're not actually an asshole."

He was no longer looking at Derek. It was strange enough getting a hard-on because Derek was touching him; it would be even stranger to be staring in his eyes while it happened.

Derek was silent, and Stiles could feel his fingers curling where they were resting on his back.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me in a while," he finally said, and Stiles honestly couldn't read his tone of voice.

Stiles sniffed. "Well, you haven't even spoken to me in a week," he pointed out, and then he regretted it deeply when Derek pulled his hand away. At least he didn't whip it off like he'd been burned. It was more a slow slide that did even more to send tingles through Stiles' erection.

"Come back downstairs," Derek said, standing and hovering awkwardly beside the bed. Stiles wasn't looking at him, but he could tell it was awkward. "Have some more pizza. We can watch a movie or something."

Stiles thought about it. This was a peace offering of some sort, and he thought that maybe Derek felt bad about what his friends had said...?

But there was still his hard-on to consider. That wasn't just going to go away.

"Let me wash my face first," he said, peering over his shoulder again. "Okay?"

Derek nodded and left Stiles in his room.

Stiles was totally jerking off before he joined Derek downstairs, but Derek didn't need to know that. It was necessary, though.

So, Derek wasn't ignoring him anymore, Stiles thought as he rolled over and stuck his hand down his pants. That was good. Even though he wasn't sure he was too happy about the way it had happened.

On the one hand, Derek knew that Stiles had cried like a stupid baby over some insults that were actually more clumsy and heavy-handed than anything else.

But on the other hand, Derek had kicked his friends out and was willingly spending time with Stiles.

Overall he was going to count it a win, Stiles decided. But that was only if he could get off quickly enough that Derek wasn't suspicious.

Speed wasn't going to be a problem. Not with the imprint of Derek's hand still lingering on his back and the smell of Derek in his bedroom, Stiles thought, palming his dick with a little whine in the back of his throat. Speed wasn't going to be any kind of issue at all.

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