kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household: Part Eight
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 14,277 (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 Eight

by kyrene


Stiles was super-excited because there was a long weekend and they were going to take a road trip to visit his grandparents.

Since he was the sheriff Stiles' Dad was almost always busy on holidays, but twice a year he made sure to make the time to spend with his family. One vacation was for the four of them only, but the family took turns every other year going to see each set of grandparents.

This year they were going to see the Hales, Talia's parents, and Stiles was ready to bounce off the walls in the days leading up to the trip. It wasn't until he was in the car, rubbing his eyes blearily in the early morning hours, that he realized two things.

One thing was that he didn't actually like road trips as much as he thought he did. They were always better in memory than reality, but it was hard for Stiles to remember that when he wasn't actually on one.

In memory, Stiles focused on the cool morning air and the crisp smell of dew on the lawn, the feeling of accomplishment in getting the car all loaded up and climbing inside... and not on the fact that getting up before the sun rose meant dragging himself out of a warm, cozy bed at an ungodly hour.

In memory he fondly recalled the snacks that his Dad would pack in the cooler and in paper bags -- chips and soda and granola bars with chocolate coating on them -- plus stopping in diners for greasy but somehow delicious food, and he'd forget about squirming with the need to pee when they were miles away from a rest stop, forget about rest stop bathrooms, because euw.

His memory offered him the rushing sound of the tires over asphalt, the sight of an ever-changing landscape, and his brain let go of the way his butt went numb and tingly, and how incredibly boring driving for an entire day could be.

So, yeah. Road trips were definitely better in Stiles' memory than in actuality; something he seemed to forget every time until he was in the car.

And the second thing Stiles realized... was that he was about to be stuck in the backseat with Derek for close to ten hours.

In the past that hadn't been a huge, insurmountable problem. Derek had ignored Stiles with almost painful intensity, and Stiles really had done his best not to annoy his stepbrother.... Well, he'd known he was annoying Derek, just by being him, but he hadn't been doing so deliberately. Derek would put in his earbuds and nap, read, or just stare out the window. And Stiles had had his hand-held to play some games, his own books, his phone with which he'd sent Scott a crazy amount of texts when there was reception....

But things were a little different now. Stiles was achingly aware of Derek's solid bulk on the other side of the bench seat, he could see how insanely hot Derek was out of the corner of his eye, he could smell Derek, all sleep-sweat and warm this early in the morning, with a trace of his deodorant and the coffee he'd been chugging along with their parents even though it meant they'd all need a rest stop that much sooner.

Stiles kind of wanted to die. Partially because Derek was so sexy and so incredibly out of reach, but also because he was still wallowing in abject embarrassment over the bottle of lube Derek had left on his bed.

It had to have been Derek. Stiles was completely certain that it hadn't been his Dad, and while he wouldn't have put the placement of a rainbow ribbon on top past his stepmother, he was just as sure it wasn't her. She wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face if she had done it.

That left Derek, and the fact that he'd bought Stiles lube meant that he must have noticed that Stiles had been dipping into his, and that fact made Stiles' face burn hot with humiliation each and every time it tripped across his brain. Which is did a lot, since he was living with Derek and saw him every day.

Stiles wasn't sure how he managed to survive with the knowledge that Derek knew he'd been using his lube, probably guessed that he'd been jerking off on Derek's bed. The purchase of the lube was kind of a passive-aggressive way of dealing with it, but Stiles definitely preferred it to Derek getting right in his face and telling him to knock it off already.

As embarrassing as the bottle of lube on his bed had been -- and it had been so embarrassing -- Stiles would have died even more if Derek had said something out loud or, God forbid, complained to their parents.

Not that Derek would have done that, right? That probably would have embarrassed him as much as it would have embarrassed Stiles. Right?

Stiles wasn't unaware; he knew he'd overstepped his bounds by jerking off in Derek's bed every chance he got. He'd known what a horrible idea it was each and every time he'd done it. And yet he hadn't been able to stop himself. It had been like an addiction.

Laying on Derek's sheets that smelled of his sweat and spunk, breathing in that scent while he touched himself.... It hadn't been anything like being pinned and held down by Derek, but it had been incredibly arousing. And Stiles hadn't been able to make himself give it up, even though he'd known all along that Derek would figure it out. He'd used the minimum amount of lube possible, and it was obvious that Derek was using it too, but Stiles had known that eventually Derek would realize... and yet he still hadn't been able to keep himself out of Derek's bedroom, out of his bed, out of that tempting bedside table drawer....

Sometimes Stiles did things that he knew were a bad idea because he couldn't help himself, he just felt compelled, and this had definitely been one of those times.

Well, in this situation he could legitimately say that he'd been led by his dick... that was normal for teenage boys, right?

Stiles was lucky that Derek had only bought him his own bottle of lube, and not told their parents, not said anything aloud, hadn't even sent him a nasty text or email. The gift of the lube had been a little passive-aggressive and Stiles was embarrassed beyond belief, but he was also incredibly grateful for Derek's tactful silence.

But it had meant days of feeling awkward around Derek afterward. Stiles felt as though his skin had been stripped off, and he didn't know if he could ever behave normally around his stepbrother ever again.

At least Derek hadn't seemed too upset that Stiles had been unable to speak to him or look him in the eye for days. He probably expected it, all things considered. Maybe he'd been too embarrassed by Stiles' bad judgment and intrusiveness to want to look at or talk to Stiles either.

Their Mom just thought they were fighting again. She'd given Stiles a lecture, quiet and kind but a lecture nonetheless, and he was sure Derek had gotten one from her as well. Stiles had tried to assure her that he wasn't mad at Derek, but he couldn't manage that very well when he couldn't explain just why he was behaving as though his stepbrother was invisible.

It kind of sucked, because they'd actually been getting along for a while there, but it had been Stiles' own damned fault. He'd been the one who'd snuck into Derek's room and jerked off on Derek's bed, with Derek's own lube, more than once. God, he should just have been glad that he'd managed to snag his jeans while Derek had been showering that first time he'd done it, called that good, and never gone back into Derek's room unless Derek invited him.

Instead he'd lost control and potentially ruined everything and now Derek probably never would invite Stiles into his room again.

So dumb! Why hadn't Stiles been able to stop himself from doing something so stupid?!

To his credit, Derek actually smiled at Stiles as they buckled up. Stiles should have smiled back, accepting it as an olive branch and offering his own in return, but all he found himself doing was staring at Derek with his mouth hanging open.

Well, it wasn't his fault! Derek's hair was flat and soft-looking without product, his eyes were heavy-lidded with sleepiness, his cheeks were pink in the car's interior light, with pillow creases still denting his nearer cheek -- because Derek had packed the night before and all he'd had to do was roll out of bed and drink some coffee -- and he just looked so sleepy and warm that Stiles wanted to curl up against his chest and breathe him in.

It didn't help that Derek was wearing a burgundy sweater to combat the morning cold that made him look cuddly at the same time that it stretched over his muscles, and his jeans were faded and worn soft over his powerful thighs. He couldn't have looked more sexy if he'd been trying.

Stiles knew he looked like a mess himself. His hair was standing out at crazy angles and he couldn't stop yawning and his hoodie was crumpled in a way that looked slobby, not sexy. Not that Stiles would ever, could ever look as sexy as Derek. That was just impossible.

Derek's smile faded, but he didn't look upset or anything.... He reached over and palmed the back of Stiles' head, just for a moment, and he said, "Sorry," so softly that Stiles barely heard, more like read the word on his lips.

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he was actually more relieved than anything else when Derek put his earbuds in and faced forward.

Stiles knew he ought to be the one apologizing. The bow on the lube had kind of been a dick move, but the purchase itself and the fact that Derek wasn't screaming at Stiles to stay out of his room and leave his stuff alone was far more than Stiles deserved.

He blushed painfully and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Then their parents were climbing in the car after making a final check that the house was locked up, and the entire family was ready to be on its way.

"Do you have your pillow?" Talia asked, twisting to look in the back as Dad started the engine. This was the third time she'd asked, but in her defense, the first two times the answer had been "no" and Stiles couldn't sleep without it, so.

"Right here," Stiles said, lifting it in demonstration.

"Then we're ready to go," Dad said, after setting his coffee in its travel mug safely in the drink holder. "Next stop, Hale house."

Stiles snickered, because that coffee was a sure guarantee that the next stop would actually be the first or second rest area outside Beacon Hills, but he didn't say so aloud.

Instead, he propped his pillow between his head and the window and leaned as far from Derek as he could get. Not because he wanted to get away from his stepbrother, but because he wanted too much to lean into Derek. And that way lay disaster.

Stiles wasn't sure how to deal with a Derek who wasn't mad at him for jerking off in his bed, who bought him lube, and who smiled at him so sweetly this early in the morning. Instead of attempting to deal with it he closed his eyes and let the sound and the sensation of the car all around him lull him to sleep. It was ass o'clock in the morning after all, and most sane people were still in bed.

He'd try to be nicer to Derek, Stiles decided as he drifted off. Sure, he was still hideously embarrassed, but Derek had been nothing but nice to him when Stiles hadn't really deserved it.

Also, it would make for one hell of an awful trip if Stiles continued to try to act as though Derek didn't exist. He knew this from past experience, because that was how Derek had treated him the last several years.

They were actually getting along now, and that made both their parents happy, and Stiles was happy, and he thought that Derek was happy... he shouldn't let his forbidden desire for his stepbrother taint that and ruin their vacation.

He was still embarrassed about the lube, but if he was honest it wasn't the most humiliating thing to happen to him in his life, and if he was painfully honest it probably wouldn't be the most humiliating thing that would happen to him in the future. Also, Derek had clearly meant well.

Stiles just needed to try to get over Derek. And maybe this trip would help him to do that.

+=+=+

Derek's Mom was a loving older sister herself, but sometimes she got so irritated with Uncle Peter that it was amusing to watch.

"That little creep," she ranted to the sheriff as the family sat in a booth in a diner and had lunch. Stiles was slurping on a milkshake, mangling the straw between his teeth, watching the show with bright eyes, and Derek tried to focus more on the silly faces Stiles was making than the way his cheeks hollowed and his lips were red and tempting as he sucked hard to get anything through the wrecked straw.

"Maybe he didn't know we'd be visiting the same time," Dad said, but to his credit he didn't sound as though he believed it either. He knew his brother-in-law too well for that.

"Oh, he knew," Mom growled, stabbing at her fries with a fork. Who ate fries with a fork? Derek's mother, ladies and gentlemen. True, they were steak-cut, but still. Derek was glad he hadn't really inherited some of his Mom's stranger eating habits.

"I keep him in the loop," she continued, glaring at the phone she was holding in her free hand. "He knew we were coming this weekend, and he says he wanted to see the boys, which, fine. It's been a while. But he's the bachelor. He should be the one offering to stay in a hotel instead of setting up camp in the house before we even get there!"

Derek understood why his Mom was upset, but he couldn't be bothered to worry about it himself. The Hale house wasn't small, but it only had two guest rooms. That was perfect when they were visiting; their parents took one room and he and Stiles shared the other, which had twin beds. They only slept there, spent the rest of the time interacting with the parents and grandparents, so they'd never had any trouble sharing the space, even though they hadn't always been getting along every time they'd visited in the past.

Now that Peter was camped out in one of the guest rooms, however, that left the Hales with only the other guest room available. And Derek loved his family, but he was really hoping that his Mom wouldn't be stubborn about it and make him sleep on the floor.

They'd had to do that one year and Dad had stepped on Derek while making a midnight bathroom run. It had hurt. He'd was glad it hadn't been Stiles -- who'd been tiny and seemed very fragile at the time and might have actually been damaged rather than just bruised -- but Derek hadn't enjoyed the experience and didn't want to repeat it.

"We'll just get a couple of hotel rooms," Dad was saying smoothly, not feeding into his wife's rage but at the same time being careful not to sound too conciliatory, because that would piss her off even more. By this time he knew how to handle Talia, and Derek respected him for that. Heck, it was more than Derek himself sometimes managed, and she'd been his mother for longer than she and the Sheriff had been married.

"Ooh, can we stay at a hotel that has a pool?" Stiles asked, eyes wide and shining. His lips were cherry-red from the cold of his milkshake and the pressure they'd been exerting on the straw, and his cheeks were pink. There was a smear of the milkshake on the corner of his mouth, looking like something infinitely more perverted than a tasty, frosty beverage.

Derek allowed himself a moment, maybe five moments, to just stare and appreciate the picture his younger stepbrother made.

Stiles was wearing a plain teeshirt, his bulky hoodie discarded in the noon warmth, and the material stretched over the bones of his shoulders in a way that made Derek realize that he must be going through a growth spurt. In fact, Derek thought that the shirt might be one of his old ones. That was made more likely by the fact that it was a worn grey, no goofy slogan on the front. It was killing Derek that Mom was giving Stiles his cast-offs. He wasn't even going to allow himself to think about Stiles wearing his old boxers, even though he knew it had happened in the past and might well still be happening.

Stiles' hair was an absolute disaster. Derek had taken him to get it trimmed and styled, it wasn't buzzed, but Stiles didn't know how to take care of it properly. Or maybe he just didn't care because he was on a road trip with family. Either way, Derek made a mental note to tell the stylist next time to just cut it in a way that required minimal attention.

It looked good, though, which was the crazy thing. Possibly because the mess of soft brown on top of Stiles' head, falling in uneven clumps over his brow, made him look as though he'd just rolled out of bed, made him look as though someone had been running their fingers through it....

Of course Derek's mind would go and supply someone else's fingers rather than Stiles' own. Of course!

Traitorous mind.

In addition to the pink cheeks and red lips and shining brown eyes, Stiles just seemed to be in a better mood today than he had been lately, and it was a definite improvement. Derek hoped this meant that he was getting over his embarrassment. If he could go back and do things over, Derek probably wouldn't have gotten Stiles the lube, probably could have just started locking his bedroom door when he wasn't in there, but it was too late now and he was just happy that it looked as though there might be a return to normal interactions between them.

The new version of normal, that was. A better normal. Where they actually talked and interacted and behaved as though they were brothers instead of two strangers who were mildly annoyed at being forced to live in the same space.

Stiles glanced over at Derek, his thick lashes fluttering, and a warm flush washed over his face, his cheeks going a little blotchy. It was actually incredibly cute, Derek thought. Before, he'd always thought it made Stiles look even more awkward, and maybe it did, but he'd grown to like it, along with other things about Stiles that he'd either never noticed or not really cared about before.

Like the way he couldn't ever sit still. That had been irritating in the past, occasionally infuriating. But Derek kind of liked it now. It gave him an awareness of where Stiles was, at all times. It drew his eye.

The oral fixation was something that was more of a torment than a pleasure, but it could definitely be both.... Derek just wished he could allow himself to enjoy the way everything went into Stiles' mouth, the way his red lips caressed pen caps and bottle necks and straws.... Even though nail biting was a nasty habit, seeing Stiles with his fingers in his mouth led to all kinds of filthy thoughts.

Derek offered Stiles a quick smile that he hoped didn't look too manic and averted his gaze before his staring could cross the line into creepy. It was a little late for that, but....

"We won't be doing anything there but sleeping," Dad was telling Stiles while Mom angrily texted Uncle Peter, a little frown line between her brows. "And you didn't bring any swimming gear."

"I could swim in a pair of shorts," Stiles pursued, unable or unwilling to give up the idea now that it had been planted in his head. Derek took the opportunity to watch him a little more, now that he was focused on their father. "I could get up real early to swim."

Dad snorted. "I'd like to see that happen. And, no, Stiles. You're not getting up early to swim alone because what if something happened?"

"Derek could go swimming with me," Stiles protested, shooting Derek a glance out the corner of his eye.

Derek just raised his brows. He'd be more peeved about being volunteered if he'd thought Stiles had any chance in hell of winning this argument.

"You will let Derek sleep in if he wants to," Dad said, bless his heart. "And you will not be swimming in your shorts. And we probably won't be getting a hotel with a pool anyway."

"Most hotels have pools," Stiles mumbled, slumping sulkily in his seat and playing with his straw where it was standing sad and dented in his melting milkshake. Derek tried not to stare at his long, thin fingers. Stiles' hands were large and getting larger, one of the most elegant things about him when he was all flailing limbs and unfettered energy.

Derek could envision those fingers coated in his lube, wrapping around Stiles' hard cock. And that way lay madness and possibly the need for therapy someday. Derek definitely shouldn't be thinking such thoughts while sitting next to his Mom in a diner on a family vacation.

"Well, Peter's going to be a little prick," Talia declared, shoving her phone in her pocket and scowling. "So a hotel it is. Though it would serve him right if he had to share the bed with both of us."

"No!" Dad blurted, looking far more alarmed by this thought than Derek thought was warranted. Then again, he wouldn't want to have to share a bed with Peter. He liked his uncle okay, but there was something that seemed kind of sleazy about him sometimes. And Derek would swear that Uncle Peter subtly felt him up every time he hugged him hello and goodbye, despite the fact that they were actually related, his mother being Peter's older sister.

At least Derek wasn't actually related to Stiles. Not that this made the times that he'd touched him at all okay. Not the wrists or the chest or the upper lip....

"I was kidding," Mom said, rolling her eyes, while Stiles snickered and Derek smirked. "You don't actually think I'd willingly get into bed with my brother, do you? Or let him anywhere near you? Besides, it's only a queen. Even if it was a king, three adults would not fit."

Dad looked relieved, and Derek wondered if he wasn't the only one who felt skeeved out by Uncle Peter.

Their server brought over the bill, and pretty soon they were on their way. Derek wasn't thrilled that they'd be staying in a hotel, but he'd make do. Stiff, rough sheets laundered in bleach were no match for the soft, cottony, detergent-scented bedclothes in his grandparent's house. And they might get to sleep in a little more than otherwise, but that also meant maybe missing out on a delicious home-cooked breakfast if they didn't get to the Hale house early enough.

"Pool!"

Of course, Stiles' mind was fixated on the one thing to the exclusion of everything else. That was what Stiles did. Strange how Derek was now finding it more endearing than annoying, as he had found it in times past. He was filled with a powerful swelling of affection toward his stepbrother, and he liked to think he would have been even if he hadn't wanted to touch Stiles in inappropriate ways.

"We'll see," Dad said, which was essentially father-speak for "no", but at least it got Stiles to settle down a little.

That didn't make the rest of the trip a breeze, but Derek and Stiles started playing word games against each other on their phones and when they lost reception, Stiles gave Derek his hand-held and he commandeered Derek's book. Derek didn't think Stiles was going to like it, but he didn't give it back, and Derek beat Stiles' current high score, so he considered the strange trade Stiles had initiated to be a win-win.

All in all it was a quiet drive, especially for the Stilinski-Hale family, and Derek was grateful that Stiles was no longer ignoring him out of embarrassment, humiliation, or whatever the cause.

He just hoped that the rest of this trip went as well.

+=+=+

Dad didn't choose a hotel with a pool, which disappointed Stiles but didn't surprise him. He mourned the fact that he wasn't going to get to go swimming, but he knew that there would be plenty to do; Grams and Papa Hale always made sure of that.

It wasn't until time to go into their rooms that disaster struck.

Stiles, for some reason, had been expecting the same set-up they had at his grandparents' house, but evidently a single was cheaper than a double, and his father was a cheap bastard at heart. Then again, he hadn't been factoring a hotel stay into the trip budget when they'd set out.

"Since you boys have been getting along so well lately I thought that you wouldn't mind sharing a bed," Talia said, and maybe it had been her decision rather than Dad's.

Derek looked trapped. Stiles was torn between being thrilled and feeling terrified. He knew what a horrible, bad, awful idea it was to sleep in the same bed as Derek, and yet the very idea of it excited him beyond words. He already had a thing for seeing Derek right after he woke, and he obviously had a thing for Derek's bed, since he'd been masturbating in it until Derek couldn't help but notice. And yet, Stiles was at the stage of puberty where wet dreams were a regular occurrence, plus he had it on good authority from Scott that he tended to be a restless sleeper who invaded any bedmate's personal space without hesitation.

Also, as Scott had informed him and as he knew from waking up wrapped around his best friend, Stiles cuddled in his sleep.

This couldn't end anything but badly.

Mom looked so hopeful, though, that neither of them had the heart to inform her how wrong she was. Derek mumbled something, schooling his features into blankness even though he was still a little pale, and Stiles plastered a grin on that he hoped didn't look too fake.

"We'll be fine," he said, since Derek seemed mostly speechless. Derek took the card-key from his Mom, and he and Stiles grabbed their overnight bags and schlepped into the hotel room they would be sharing for three nights.

It was just three nights. They could do this, Stiles thought as he dumped his case next to the dresser and grabbed the television remote before Derek could claim it. Not that Derek seemed to care or even notice. He was standing there inside the door, staring at the one bed with a troubled look on his face.

And, dammit, no one who looked that traumatized should be able to look that gorgeous, Stiles thought resentfully as he flipped on the television and started channel surfing. They'd be going to the Hale house for dinner, but Mom had declared she needed a nap first, which really meant that Dad needed a nap after driving for so long. He'd been getting cranky and snappish, and Stiles knew that it would be a good idea for both of their parents to be rested before facing Uncle Peter.

Stiles himself was filled with energy after being stuck in a car for almost nine hours. It was too bad the hotel didn't have a pool, he thought ruefully, collapsing on the edge of the bed, his legs jiggling. He could have used a swim. As it was, he had the better part of four hours to do essentially nothing except watch tee vee.

Sucked!

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna go shower," Derek said, walking into the bathroom like a zombie. Stiles was just glad that he hadn't needed to pee, because Derek hadn't given him a chance. Though, if he had had to, it wouldn't be the first time Derek had locked him out of the bathroom.

Stiles fidgeted as he listened to the water start up. He had no attention for what was on the tee vee, instead finding his imagination firing into gear and supplying him with a vivid mental picture of what Derek looked like right now.

Naked. All his skin on display. Water streaming down his smooth muscles, darkening the hair on his chest, arms, and legs. Maybe Derek was hard. Maybe he was touching himself, right now.

About the only part of Derek that Stiles had never seen was his dick. Even though they lived in the same house and even though Derek loved to walk around half-clothed, Stiles has never caught even a glimpse Derek's junk. Hell, he'd -- accidentally, regrettably, horrifyingly -- seen his Dad's penis. That was something he wished he could excise from his mind. Derek's dick, on the other hand....

Stiles palmed himself through his jeans, then shook his head and kicked off his shoes. It would be a bad idea to get a hard-on while sharing a small hotel room with Derek, and a worse idea to try to jerk off before Derek finished showering. The smell alone would give him away in this enclosed space, even if Stiles' pale cheeks didn't do the job with the red blotches they got when he worked out or came.

Well, speaking of smells, the smell of Stiles' feet went a long way toward killing his boner.

"Euw, yuck."

Stiles wrinkled his nose and pulled off his socks, balling them up and throwing them in the corner. Maybe Derek had the right idea, showering. Stiles wasn't the most fastidious kid, he could admit. But he felt sticky and sweaty after riding in the car all day, and a bath sounded good.

He entertained the briefest of moments of insanity where he contemplated getting in the shower with Derek. But even if Derek hadn't locked the bathroom door, Stiles would have found himself knocked flat on his skinny, naked ass if he'd tried, so he let that thought slide away with only a little bit of regret.

Hey, he might not have much of a sense of self preservation, but he had that much, all right?

Stiles was going to have to rethink that internal assessment though, he realized when Derek emerged from the bathroom in a wave of hot, soapy-smelling steam, a thin, white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. Because before Stiles could pause to consider, as Derek walked toward his discarded luggage, Stiles reached out and snatched the towel away.

He couldn't for the life of him say what had possessed him, but Stiles often found himself doing things without any real reason.

Unfortunately, this time it just might mean the end of his life.

+=+=+

"Don't kill me!" Stiles squeaked, dropping the towel and squirming backward on the bed with a terrified look on his face.

Derek was... too stunned for a moment to really process what had just happened. A part of his brain knew that he was standing here naked, his junk on full display, and that Stiles was responsible, and a part of his brain recognized that Stiles was panicking on the bed, but the greater part of his brain was just. Well. Stunned.

He blinked, feeling slow and stupid, but Stiles had just stolen his towel and left him standing here naked.

Stiles was babbling something, but Derek wasn't really paying attention. He was just glad that he'd gotten himself off in the shower, because otherwise he might well have been getting hard, knowing that he was standing here on full display for the younger stepbrother he'd been lusting after for way too long now.

A logical, rational part of his brain was telling him that he ought to get moving. Grab the towel again and cover himself or put on some clothes. Preferably both. That was the only responsible thing to do. And yet the rest of him... well, kind of preened under the intent attention Stiles was paying his bared body.

Evidently Stiles had run out of words and realized that Derek wasn't actually making any move to kill him. Now he was sitting on the bed that they were supposed to share, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, fixed unabashedly on Derek's cock.

"You're... you're not circumcised," Stiles blurted, licking his lips, his cheeks pink. He glanced up at Derek and flushed more darkly, but then his eyes returned to Derek's cock as though he couldn't tear them away for long.

"I'm not," Derek replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it. He wasn't sure how he should be responding, aside from being the mature one here, and so he kept everything as low-key as he could manage.

Well, he knew that he should be putting on clothes. He shouldn't be standing here, damp and warm from the shower, his cock on full display. He shouldn't be letting Stiles stare at his cock. And his cock definitely shouldn't be plumping and twitching slightly with renewed interest, despite his recent self-induced orgasm.

"I... I didn't know," Stiles murmured, scooting back toward the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off of Derek's junk. "Wow. Can... can I touch it?"

Derek blinked, taken aback by the boldness of this request, even though he maybe shouldn't have been. This was Stiles, after all. Stiles tended to just say whatever came into his head the moment that it did, without forethought or second thoughts. Which meant that this was really what he wanted.

One piece of Derek's anatomy was interested in Stiles' question, that was for sure. Derek did what a lot of nearly-eighteen year old guys did, and let his penis lead him as he sat on the bed next to Stiles.

The bedspread was scratchy under his bare ass, and Derek had a moment of regret. Which he probably should have felt over the idea of letting his thirteen year old, sexually flexible, almost certainly virginal stepbrother touch his penis....

But it was like he was functioning in a haze -- a haze of lust -- and he couldn't seem to make himself move away as Stiles scooted closer. Well, it was a little too late to change his mind now, without being a total asshole and something of a literal cocktease.

Stiles' pink tongue was flickering over his red lips, his eyes darting up to Derek's face and back down as he reached for Derek's cock with a hand that trembled a little; so faintly that Derek could barely tell, but it proved that Stiles wasn't as confident about this as he might be acting.

Stiles' knee pressed against the outside of Derek's thigh and he leaned in, long fingers wrapping around the shaft of Derek's cock without any real hesitation.

Derek was as stunned by the reality of Stiles holding his cock as he had been by the fact that the kid had stolen his towel, but that latter had been an actual surprise. Stiles had asked Derek if he could touch him, and Derek had... well, he hadn't said yes, but he'd come within range and essentially offered himself up for his stepbrother, so it was pretty much the same thing.

Stiles' hand was warm, not cold like Derek had half anticipated, and he held Derek's cock with a gentleness that was unexpected. Derek couldn't help it, had no control, as his cock began to swell in Stiles' grip.

"It won't be much different than yours once it's hard," he said, his voice coming out hoarse. He swallowed, knowing that speaking aloud meant he was complicit in this... whatever it was. But then, if he hadn't wanted it to happen he could have told Stiles "no" in no uncertain terms and put on some pants. Probably should have, but it was too late now.

Stiles didn't seem to be listening to Derek anyway. His fingers flexed around Derek's growing hard-on, his hand not moving, just holding on loosely. His eyes were turned down, staring at his handful, lashes thick and winging against hot cheeks. His mouth was hanging open, as it so often did.

And as it so often did, the sight of Stiles' mouth hanging open went straight to Derek's libido. His lips were red and puffy, moist with saliva because he'd been licking them, and the inside of his mouth was darker, wetter, just begging for Derek to put something in there....

Stiles glanced up at Derek, caught him staring at his mouth, and he closed it, seeming embarrassed.

But then he was licking his lips again. His tongue ran along the swell of his lower lip, and Derek had to raise his gaze to the ceiling in an effort to avoid getting completely hard in Stiles' hand.

It was a popcorn ceiling and there was a nasty water stain in the corner nearest the bathroom, he noted absently, but to be honest most of his attention was focused on the sensation of Stiles' hand wrapped his cock, squeezing it lightly, and then moving....

Derek drew in a sharp breath as Stiles pulled back his foreskin then slid it forward again, kind of inadvertently jerking him off, agonizingly slowly, teasingly. Or maybe it wasn't so inadvertent.

None of this made sense. Why was Derek letting Stiles do this? Why had Stiles asked to do this? His insatiable curiosity couldn't be the only reason. Stiles might not have the best handle on societal norms, but even he had to be aware that people didn't go around asking their older stepbrothers if they could touch their uncut cocks.

"This is so cool," Stiles breathed, and Derek's skin prickled with the feeling of Stiles' body heat as he leaned in closer. He wouldn't have thought he could feel anything other than the fumbling manipulation of his cock, but his entire body was focused on where Stiles was and what he was doing, not just on the movement of his fingers.

"I wish I wasn't circumcised," Stiles murmured, and when his thumb pressed against the head of Derek's cock through the sheath of his foreskin, Derek felt something inside him break.

"This isn't fair," he said, lowering his eyes to glare at Stiles.

"What?" Stiles' eyes snapped to Derek's face, round and panicked, his mouth open again, his cheeks flaming with what Derek could only assume to be arousal. It couldn't be shame because Stiles clearly had no shame.

And here was the part where Derek threw caution to the wind. He'd held off so long, been so good. He'd tried to be a responsible older brother no matter what twisted desires he'd been feeling, but Stiles had snapped this fragile control with his lean fingers curling around Derek's cock, touching him with tentative boldness; another inherent contradiction that Stiles somehow made possible.

"You should be naked too," Derek declared firmly, reaching for Stiles and meaning the words with every cell in his body.

+=+=+

Stiles squawked and let go of Derek's dick, instinctively flinging himself away from Derek's grabby hands.

It wasn't that he didn't agree, or that he didn't want Derek to get a hold of him. Derek wanting to strip him naked was pretty much a dream come true, literally and figuratively. But on the other hand, despite the fact that Derek had let Stiles touch his dick, Stiles had no idea what was going on in his stepbrother's head.

Also, being naked meant being exposed. And maybe Derek had been naked first, but Stiles wasn't sure he was comfortable with the idea of it where he himself was concerned.

All of this was moot, though, because if Derek wanted Stiles naked, he was going to become naked in very short order. There was a brief tousle that bounced the mattress up and down, but Derek was bigger and stronger than Stiles and even though Stiles was often faster, Derek had him on his back on their hotel bed.

Stiles very nearly kneed Derek in the face, totally by accident, but to be honest he didn't really put up much of a fight, and within a couple of minutes he was just as bare-assed as Derek was.

Which might have been embarrassing if he hadn't found himself flat on his back with Derek straddling him, almost exactly like that one night in the living room, except this time they were both naked and Derek's dick was hard, and his hands were wrapped far more gently around Stiles' wrists as he pinned his arms down to either side of his head than they had been that first time.

It might make him a perv, but Stiles kind of wished that Derek was holding him more tightly. At least he didn't feel like the lack of bruising was due to a lack of passion. Not when Derek was leaning over him, breathing heavily, his dick jumping between his thighs. His hard-on wasn't touching Stiles but it was standing up proud and thick right above Stiles' soft belly. It wasn't touching Stiles because it was too hard and that almost as good as feeling it rubbing against his bare stomach might have been. Possibly better.

"If you wanted me to stop touching your dick, you could've just said," Stiles warbled, his chest heaving like Derek's was, though far less impressively. He was pleased by his ability to utter words at all. With the sexy stepbrother he'd been fantasizing about in the exact same position he had been fantasizing about, when both of them were naked, he was surprised he could even breathe, much less form an articulate sentence.

Stiles had never thought he'd actually end up here. It kind of sucked that it was on a shitty hotel bed that who knew how many people had slept on, instead of being on Derek's bed, or even Stiles' bed, but it was so much more than Stiles had ever expected.

He didn't know why this was happening, but he was totally willing to go with it.

Derek let out a rumbling sound that wasn't quite a groan, and bent his head downward. For a crazy moment Stiles thought that he was about to get kissed... but then Derek was dipping down so that his face was right beside Stiles' neck, and he was breathing in.

Stiles went still, somehow afraid that he would spoil the moment, even though he wasn't clear on the meaning behind the moment. He was pretty sure that Derek couldn't want him, right? And yet here they were, and Derek was straddling him, and Derek was hard, and it would be nearly impossible to interpret this any way other than sexually....

Stiles was hard too, duh, and he was pretty sure that if Derek rubbed his ass back against his dick he'd be coming all over said perfect ass. Especially since Derek was naked right now, so it was a bare ass.

This was so much like those fraught moments on the living room floor, and yet nothing like them. Stiles and Derek were both completely undressed. They weren't fighting over a remote control this time. And Stiles could still feel the phantom warmth of Derek's throbbing dick lingering in his palm, tingling in his fingers.

He hoped he'd get another chance to touch Derek's uncut penis in the future. He wasn't sure, though, because he had no idea what was even happening so he couldn't form any kind of a guess as to what would follow.

"Derek, what--" he managed to get out, his voice sounding throttled.

"Hush," Derek admonished, turning his face further into Stiles' neck, nuzzling his throat. His stubble was prickly and his cheekbone was hard but covered in soft skin. Then his lips were even softer where they pressed over Stiles' pulse point in what felt like an open-mouthed kiss.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, shocked beyond his ability to process, because there was nothing ambiguous about this caress. It might not be an actual kiss, but it wasn't far from it. In fact, it felt even more sexual because Derek's lips were parted.

Pleasure shivered over the entire surface of Stiles' skin, and his dick was leaking, he could feel it sliding down his shaft in a way that tickled and made him want to rub it on something.

Then he was letting out a sound that he had no control over as Derek's tongue slid up the side of his throat, because that felt amazing, that felt like nothing Stiles had ever experienced before, that felt like he was about to come just from being licked. It was hot and soft and made his dick jerk, his balls drawing up even tighter.

"Oh my God," he gasped, thrashing involuntarily underneath Derek. He was going to come ridiculously fast like this, and he wasn't sure if he should warn Derek or let it wash over him.

Derek's mouth closed around his earlobe, applying a light sucking pressure, and Stiles shouted, his hips jerking upward. He'd have thought that it would feel weird or even silly, but instead it was like having a wire straight down to his dick, hooking in and tugging hard.

"Sorry," Derek pulled away to murmur, but the next thing he did was run the flat of his tongue along the whorls of Stiles' ear, and it was only worrying about whether he'd used Qtips recently enough that it didn't taste gross, like wax, that kept Stiles from shooting off right then and there.

He writhed under Derek, jerking involuntarily at the hands ringing his wrists, and equally involuntarily Derek's hands clenched, holding on much tighter.

This had Stiles tugging at Derek's grip, not fighting to get out of it, just testing it, but after a moment Derek responded by loosening his fingers, which was the opposite of what Stiles wanted, and he raised himself up a little off of Stiles to blurt out, "Sorry," again, more earnestly.

"No, I--" Stiles bit at his lips, but he had to confess it because Derek was in very real danger of letting go of him completely. "No, I like it," he choked out, feeling his flush all along the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears. "A lot."

Derek got a speculative gleam in his eyes, and he squeezed tightly enough that Stiles could feel the bones of his wrist grind together. There was a bloom of pressure and pain, but it was a good pain. Stiles knew that he was going to bruise, and he liked it.

"Yeah," he gasped out, without meaning to, his back arching with pleasure, his mouth falling open as his eyes flickered closed.

"You like that?" Derek murmured, voice low and rough, and Stiles knew it was a rhetorical question because it was obvious how much he liked it, so he didn't even try to answer. He didn't think he could form words anyway, with Derek pinning him down, hovering over him hard and hot, all that bared flesh on display, his heavy breathing matching Stiles' own, and his fingers wrapped so tightly around Stiles' wrists.

"Yeah, you like that," Derek answered himself, smirking down at Stiles. His cheeks were pink and his hair was still wet and he looked so sexy that Stiles felt like he could go insane just from looking at him.

Stiles had no idea why someone so sexy would be interested in pinning him down and doing naughty things to his willing body, but he wasn't about to reject this impossible, impossibly hot scenario.

Derek dipped his head and ran his tongue along Stiles' collarbone. Stiles shivered, his attention torn between the hot wetness that cooled in tingles behind the caress, the feeling of Derek's hands locked around his wrists, and the radiating heat of Derek's body over top of his.

"Derek," he whined, wiggling around, legs kicking up, heels digging into the mattress. He wanted Derek to lower his body, to lay over top of him, to press his body into the bed the same way his hands were pressing down Stiles' wrists. "Derek, come on."

"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek asked wickedly, rearing up again so that the only place they were connected was his hands around Stiles' wrists. "Use your words."

"Fuck you," Stiles blurted, frustrated beyond belief, jerking at his arms. Part of him wanted to pull away and shove Derek off of him, grab his own dick and strip out his pending orgasm with a couple of quick strokes, but the greater part of him was just reveling in Derek's hard grip and the way his own movements would probably bring even more bruises to the surface.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Derek asked, still smirking at Stiles, and he looked so grown-up and so hot that Stiles had a moment of cognitive dissonance. Stiles was supposed to be fooling around with girls his age, who barely even had boobs yet, or boys his age, who might be bigger than him, might even need to shave regularly, but who didn't look the way Derek looked.

Derek was almost a legal adult. He'd be headed to college soon. And he looked it. He had stubble and muscles and hair on his chest. He looked like gay porn. No, gay porn could only dream about starring someone as attractive as Derek.

"Ha-ha, you're so funny," Stiles managed to get out, because Derek might look like sex incarnate, but he was still Stiles' older stepbrother, and Stiles was still Stiles.

Derek huffed out a little laugh and hung his head. His hands tightened momentarily around Stiles' wrists, riding the border between just painful enough and too painful, sharp and sparking, and Stiles whined, but it wasn't in protest. He was pretty sure Derek was staring at Stiles' hard-on, or maybe he was staring at his own hard-on, or maybe he was looking at both, where they were standing up proud in the annoying amount of space between their two bodies.

"Will you get down here," Stiles demanded, and he tried to make it come out sounding commanding and compelling, but it was probably more whiny than anything else. Dammit.

Derek didn't seem to mind, though. He raised his gaze back to Stiles, his pale eyes heated and intent, his expression unreadable but not blank, and then the next thing Stiles knew, Derek had lowered his body down over his and they were touching from mid-chest to groin.

"Yeah," he groaned, arching again, but this time he was restricted in his movement by the bulk of Derek's body. It felt amazing, most especially the pressure on his dick. He could feel his hard-on throbbing, trapped between them, sliding alongside Derek's equally hard, larger erection.

Which, Derek was hard. He was as hard as Stiles was, just from holding him down and licking him a little. Stiles hadn't even had a chance to touch Derek yet, aside from when he'd handled his dick a little earlier.

"Derek," Stiles pleaded, not even sure what he was asking for, and he brought his legs up to wrap around Derek's hips as best he could.

This time when he tugged at his wrists, Derek let go. Derek moved his hands to cup Stiles' bony shoulders, and Stiles found himself slinging his arms around Derek's neck before he even realized he'd meant to move.

Speaking of moving, Derek wasn't. He remained where he was, propped on his elbows but most of his weight resting on Stiles. That was putting pressure on Stiles' dick, but he was getting no friction, and that was maddening. Stiles felt like he was going to explode. He felt filled with heat, like he was too big inside his skin, like he was boiling away inside himself.

It wasn't a bad feeling, really, but it made him want to scream, and he definitely wanted Derek to move. He wanted Derek to grind him into the mattress and make him come. At this point, Stiles was pretty sure it would only take one thrust of Derek's hips.

Which, maybe that was why Derek wasn't moving. It made sense, but it still sucked.

"Derek," Stiles started, and he was definitely whining now, but before he could say anything else, Derek's mouth was pressing against his own.

It was Stiles' first time being kissed. The crush of lips against his, Derek's soft and plush as they'd always looked, was nice, but Stiles wasn't sure what all the fuss over kissing was about....

That was, until Derek's tongue slid out to lick over the seam of his lips, Stiles' mouth fell open in a gasp, and the next thing he knew Derek's tongue was inside his mouth, hot and sleek and invasive. And okay, this, this was what all the fuss over kissing was about!

Stiles did his best to give as good as he got, but he was far from an expert. He was pretty sure Derek was a pro at this, but the thought of Derek kissing lots of different people to gain his skill made Stiles burn with jealousy, and that wasn't a good feeling, so he banished that thought quickly.

Stiles had no experience and no finesse, and so he did what came to him instinctively when something was in his mouth and started sucking.

At pretty much the same moment he started doing it, he thought that it might be a really bad idea and not sexy at all. But the throttled sound that Derek made and the way his hands tightened on Stiles' shoulders and his hips jolted into Stiles' seemed to indicate that Derek, at least, liked it.

Which made it a little counterintuitive when Derek dragged his mouth away and lifted his head. From the way he was dragging in deep breaths, his chest heaving over top of Stiles' chest, Stiles thought he could understand it.

Derek was staring down at him, eyes wild and expression both intense and yet somehow vague, as if he was lost inside his own head or something. His attention seemed focused on Stiles, though, and his gaze flared with something even more heated when Stiles automatically licked his lips.

They felt bruised and friction-burned, and he could taste Derek on them, which was a really weird experience that Stiles felt he could get used to. They were probably pretty red, he thought absently, allowing them to hang open even as Derek dipped to kiss him again, but he was pretty sure Derek liked that. Not least of all because, dude, Derek was kissing him again. That seemed to indicate that he'd liked what he'd seen.

Stiles got so distracted by the way Derek was kissing him, by the thrust and slide of Derek's tongue inside his mouth and against his own, by the way Derek let him into his own mouth when Stiles hesitantly gave that a try, that he forgot that Derek was resting over top of him without moving.

His lips were getting numb and his chin was feeling kind of scratched up from Derek's stubble before Derek finally pulled away again.

They were both breathing hard, and Stiles took a moment to collect himself as Derek lowered his head to rest his face against Stiles' neck, just pressing his lips there, not licking or kissing.

He was clinging to Derek with both his arms and his legs, and Derek's hands were hard and steady on his shoulders, fingers flexing a little. Not bruising, probably, but he was holding Stiles firmly enough that he knew he was being held.

Derek's hips were moving, but not vigorously. He was pulsing them very faintly where he was locked between Stiles' thighs, pressed up close to Stiles' pelvis. Derek was heavy, very heavy -- of course he was, because he was all muscle -- but at least he was propping himself up on his elbows so that Stiles could breathe.

Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's upper back, raising his chin and tilting his head to one side, giving Derek more room. A part of him wanted Derek to suck a bruise into his pulse point there, but even though his better judgment was hazed with arousal, Stiles knew that his stepbrother giving him a hickey were everyone could see would be a really awful idea.

Derek nuzzled his way up and into the hollow beneath Stiles' jaw and under his ear, and that was evidently a hugely erogenous zone, because Stiles shivered and let out a little sound of surprise and pleasure, his dick jumping between them and blurting precome.

He sank his nails into Derek's back. Luckily for Derek, Stiles didn't really have nails. But he responded in kind, his fingers tightening on Stiles' shoulders. He shifted between Stiles' thighs, giving a couple of vigorous thrusts, and even though he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver, the sensation of his firm stomach muscles under smooth skin, slicked with Stiles' pre-ejaculate, and the crinkling brush of his pubes rubbing against Stiles' aching dick was enough to spark a reaction and send him over the edge.

Stiles would have liked to say that he let out a sexy sound when he came, but it was really more like a startled squawk. He quaked inside Derek's embrace, shuddering through it, his muscles locking as he shot off all over Derek's stomach, his head thumping into the mattress, eyes squeezed so tightly closed that he saw red stars behind his lids.

He didn't even have a moment to be embarrassed about popping off so quickly -- it felt like they'd made out forever, but coming after just some making out had to set some kind of record of sadness -- before Derek was grunting out, "Oh, shit," like the words had been punched out of him and he hunched into Stiles and came all over both of them in turn.

Stiles shivered at the flood of hot jizz that broke over his still-hard dick and his abdomen, it felt good even though he'd already climaxed, and then he groaned as Derek collapsed on him.

"Oh my God," he gasped, arms and legs falling limp, "What do you weigh, like, three hundred pounds?"

Derek's face was buried in his shoulder and there was a hot gust of breath as he snorted, even though he was still breathing as though he had just run a marathon. "Figures," he grumbled into Stiles' skin, making him shiver again at the sensation. "You don't shut up even after you get off."

"Well, not the first time, duh," Stiles said, squirming. "No, really, get off me. You weigh a ton, you asshole. And we're gonna get glued together."

"Not that quickly," Derek sighed, but he rolled off of Stiles, lounging on his side, one hand pressed to Stiles' quick-beating heart.

This time Stiles shivered because the jizz he was covered in started cooling immediately. He couldn't stop staring at Derek, though, drinking in the sight of him.

Derek was flushed and his temples were lightly dewed with sweat. His hair as still damp from the shower and his lips were dark pink and plumped from all the kissing they'd been doing. He looked a million times better than he had when he'd been mowing the lawn; Stiles had been so wrong about that being close to Derek's sex look. His stomach muscles were tight even though he looked relaxed after having come. His dick was still partially erect, its head red and shiny with jizz, half-covered now by his foreskin. Stiles wanted.... Oh, God, he wanted that in his mouth, now.

He was pretty sure Derek wasn't going to say no, because what man in his right mind would turn down a blowjob? But the moment he sat up, Derek was sitting up as well.

"We should go shower," Derek said, reaching out and touching the streaks of their mingled come on Stiles' stomach with a look of wonder and fascination. Stiles couldn't believe anything about him could bring that expression to his older stepbrother's face, but there it was.

"You just finished showering," Stiles pointed out. He didn't really want to move, but if he had to he wanted to jump on Derek and get off a second time, because it wasn't going to take him long to get hard again... especially not with Derek touching him with confident, bold fingers the way he was.

"Not with you in there with me," Derek said, smirking at him.

Stiles' eyes went wide. There was a part of him that found it hard to believe that Derek was inviting him to shower with him, but mostly he was just ready to go, to get in the shower, and get off again at the same time he got clean.

He rubbed the disgusting mess on his belly, then licked at his fingers contemplatively. He didn't think it was his imagination that it tasted different, his own jizz mixed in with Derek's.

Derek's eyes blazed again, his nostrils flaring, and he was off the bed in a shot, dragging Stiles with him.

"Whoa!" Stiles squeaked, his feet fumbling to move effectively as Derek hauled him into the bathroom. His hand was tight around Stiles' upper arm, though probably not tightly enough to bruise. "Careful with the goods!"

Derek stopped just inside the bathroom door and turned while still pulling on Stiles, so that he almost slammed into Derek's chest. Stiles squeaked again, because why be dignified and masculine? It wasn't like he was a scrawny thirteen year old covered in drying jizz who was sporting a hopeful semi at the idea of bathing with his hot older stepbrother or anything, right?

"You liked it earlier," Derek murmured, letting go of Stiles' arm in order to grab one of his wrists. He didn't squeeze it, which Stiles was actually somewhat relieved by, instead raising it to his face and nosing lightly at the thin skin right over his pulse point. Stiles could feel the bruises throbbing right under the skin, ready to bloom, and he flushed with mingled embarrassment and pleasure over how much he liked it.

Just as Derek had pointed out.

"Well." There really wasn't anything he could say to that, and Derek smirked at him, his eyes heavy lidded and heated. Stiles wasn't the only one who was half hard.

"Um." Stiles felt like he should say something, be smooth, but words failed him in the face of Derek's supreme sexiness. "I wanna put your dick in my mouth," he blurted before he could stop himself.

It was the right thing to say, evidently, if the way Derek's face went slack with shock and then tightened into a hungry expression was any indication.

"We, uh," Derek cleared his throat, his fingers flexing on Stiles' forearm. "We could do that."

Stiles was all ready to go to his knees right there on the faded, stained linoleum of the hotel bathroom floor, but evidently Derek didn't mean right now, since he let go of Stiles' wrist and turned on the water in the shower stall.

Probably a good idea, Stiles thought, eyeing the floor distastefully. It looked clean, but it also looked like it had had innumerable feet stamping over it for years. Since this place was hardly new, there surely had been.

The bathroom was disproportionately large, at least in Stiles' opinion, but that was good because it meant the toilet had a corner all its own. There was only a shower stall, no bathtub, which also didn't bother him. Stiles knew his stepmother liked to soak at home, but he was a shower man himself. Also, he didn't like the idea of laying naked in a bathtub that strangers had been naked in.

He wasn't going to think about the fact that he'd just been wallowing naked on a well-used bedspread. One that probably wasn't laundered regularly, the way the sheets were. He was about to bathe anyway.

"Come on," Derek directed, holding open the shower stall door and beckoning for Stiles.

Stiles licked his lips and did as directed. He almost expected Derek to close the door behind him and shut him in there alone, because sharing a shower with him seemed too good to be true, but he didn't. Well, Derek was covered with jizz the same as Stiles was, so it only made sense for him to wash off, even if the fact of him jizzing on Stiles didn't make any sense.

"Hey." Derek crowded Stiles up against the wall before he'd done any but the most cursory job of sluicing off. The tiles were still cool, even though the water was warm, and Stiles squeaked again, jolting toward Derek. Which had the benefit of pressing him against Derek's body.

"Hey," he replied inanely, even though he sort of wanted to shove Derek out of the way so that he could wash properly. Derek might be naked and sexy as hell, but Stiles was covered in both their jizz and it was kinda gross.

Stiles' hands were spread over Derek's chest, and he lowered his gaze to where his fingers traced over hard muscle, dark curls, and tawny nipples.

"See?" he murmured, licking his lips as he let himself rub at those nipples, making them draw up tight and causing Derek to suck in a sharp breath. "I told you it was a good idea to grow your chest hair out."

"You like it?" Derek asked, which was a stupid question, but it wasn't as if he gave Stiles a chance to answer it because in the next moment he had Stiles wrapped up in a warm embrace and he slanted his mouth over Stiles' in another deep, wet, consuming kiss.

"Hngh," was Stiles' ever so intelligent answer once Derek finally let him go.

"Come on."

Derek manipulated Stiles around so that he was directly under the water again, and Stiles reveled in the heated warmth cascading down on him as much as he did the solid bulk of Derek's body standing right behind him.

Derek reached for something and Stiles was kind of dazed and sex-stupid, so he just stood there and let Derek begin to wash him. What was he gonna do; tell Derek to stop?

Derek was using his own soap, Stiles could smell it as he rubbed his large, powerful hands all over Stiles' body. And didn't that get Stiles' dick standing to attention, as though he hadn't just come five minutes ago. They both ignored it, at least for now. Stiles wasn't the only one, at least. He could feel Derek's hard-on nudging at his lower back like it wanted his attention, and he was still hoping to get his mouth on it.

Right now, though, he was focused on enjoying the heat of the water and the smooth, steady, soothing way Derek was touching him as he lathered him up all over.

"Here," Derek instructed, turning Stiles manually again, so that he could wash his front. There was no way Stiles was imagining the fact that Derek lingered at his nipples, thumbs brushing over them while the rest of his fingers slid around Stiles' ribcage under his arms.

"They're so pink," Derek said, his voice low and deeper than Stiles was used to hearing it. He was staring down at Stiles' chest in fascination, and Stiles blushed hard.

"Sorry," he said. His nipples were standing out hard now, despite the heat of the water, responding to Derek's touch.

"Don't be sorry," Derek said, raising his thick brows at Stiles under the sodden fringe of his bangs. "They look amazing."

"They look like a girl's nipples," Stiles retorted, pulling a face.

"Maybe a little," Derek shrugged, which made Stiles wince a little because owch, Derek didn't need to agree. "But you're definitely not a girl."

Stiles probably had some smart comeback to that, but Derek freed one of his hands to reach down and grip Stiles' hard dick and he was rendered immediately dumb, and also kinda stupid.

"Oh." It broke out of him in a soft exhalation of surprise and pleasure, rather than one of understanding or agreement. Derek licked his lips, still thumbing at one of Stiles' nipples, his other hand not moving, just cradling Stiles' erection. Stiles really kind of wanted to kiss Derek again, but now that they were standing face to face in the shower instead of rolling around on the bed that seemed like an almost impossible boldness.

Even though Derek was standing here holding Stiles' erection.

"Dammit, Stiles," Derek growled, and Stiles wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. He hadn't said any of that out loud. Even though he sometimes spoke when he shouldn't have, he was never unaware of having done so. He hadn't moved to kiss Derek. It was Derek who had his hands on Stiles right now....

Then Derek had spun him around again, moving with him this time, so that he had Stiles pressed against the wall. He'd let go of Stiles' hard-on, which kind of sucked, but he propped himself right there in Stiles' space and his mouth descended to rub all over Stiles, wet and hot and open, teasing Stiles' mouth open in turn.

They made out for a while like that, but Stiles had an end game in mind that didn't involve getting pruney or falling and braining himself in a hotel shower stall.

"Can I put your dick in my mouth now?" he asked breathlessly, once Derek laid off kissing him for a bit so that they could breathe. Their faces were so close that Stiles wasn't sure they were actually getting oxygen rather than one another's carbon dioxide, but then Derek let out a low rattling groan and let his head thunk into the wall next to Stiles' head.

"You're gonna kill me," Derek rasped, and Stiles dared to reach up and caress his chest again, tweaking his nipples then tugging lightly at the curls. Derek's chest hair was softer than Stiles' pubes, which surprised him a little, but not really, and he wanted to touch it when it was dry, really badly. He also wanted to touch Derek's pubes. Maybe if he ever got to suck his dick, he'd have the chance!

"Can't I kill you with my mouth on your--"

Stiles didn't get to finish his admittedly snarky question because Derek slammed their lips together again, his tongue stabbing into Stiles' mouth as though he was fucking it.

Thank God, Derek didn't spend long kissing him this time. The next thing Stiles knew Derek had shut off the water and they were outside the shower stall. Derek grabbed a towel and began to rub Stiles down briskly and efficiently.

"Oh my God! Dude. I can dry myself," Stiles protested. "I am a big boy, you know."

Derek froze, staring at him with his mouth hanging open, his bunny teeth gleaming white between pressure-bruised lips, and Stiles was afraid he'd completely blown the whole mood by reminding Derek that he was a reedy thirteen year old virgin.

Well, maybe not technically a virgin anymore. But he was definitely lacking in experience, considering that all he'd gotten to do yet had been a little making out and some frottage.

But then Derek reached down and grabbed Stiles' dick again -- which was still hard and eager because standing here wet and uncertain didn't seem to have had any negative effect on Stiles' libido -- and said, "Not such a little boy," with a wicked crook to his lips.

Stiles smirked back, feeling his hard-on pulse where Derek was holding it. He was proud of the size of his dick, he had to admit. He wasn't on the same level as Derek, who was seventeen and wore boxer-briefs and he might never be, but Stiles was pretty well endowed for his age.

"Here." Derek dumped the damp towel on Stiles' head and grabbed another to use on his own body. Stiles was still amused that Derek had gone from the shower to covered in jizz to showering again, but he had no regrets about his part in making that happen.

He was still kind of lost in disbelief over the fact that Derek hadn't ripped him a new one for pulling away his towel.... But it had gotten him underneath Derek, it had gotten Derek's tongue in his mouth, and hopefully it would get him Derek's dick in his mouth next. So it might have been an insane move, but it had been a good one.

Stiles scrubbed at his hair with the towel, then dumped it on the floor.

"Come on," he urged, grabbing at Derek's upper arm and tugging him out of the bathroom. "Come on, come on, come on!"

"God, hold onto your balls, I'm coming," Derek grouched, allowing Stiles to drag him over to the bed the same way he'd dragged Stiles to the bathroom before. Of course, he was humoring Stiles, and Stiles hadn't been able to stop Derek from hauling him around. But that made it even more awesome, right? That Derek was going where Stiles wanted because he wanted.

Stiles had at least three perverted comebacks to that, but Derek was throwing back the covers on the bed to expose the sheets -- still kind of gross to think about rolling around on naked but much cleaner than the bedspread -- and Stiles eyes were caught and held by his older stepbrother's amazing hind view.

"Nice," he breathed, and he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but what was wrong with appreciating Derek's... assets? Hah. Ass.

Derek turned and rolled his eyes, but he was sort of smiling, a little, and his cheeks were pink with what Stiles chose to read as pleasure.

"On the bed," Derek demanded, and since that was where he wanted to be, Stiles clambered up onto the mattress.

"You too." The words hadn't even finished leaving his lips before Derek was joining him, and Stiles flung himself between Derek's legs before he could change his mind.

"Careful," Derek choked out, and Stiles froze while reaching for his hard-on.

"I know how to handle a dick," he informed his older stepbrother tartly. "I've got plenty of experience with my own, you know!"

Derek snorted, but he relaxed back against the headboard, propped up on both the hotel pillows. Stiles' personal pillow was still in the car; he'd have to fetch it before bedtime.

Derek's thighs were stretched wide around Stiles, and his erection hadn't flagged in the slightest.

"Of course, this is a different angle," Stiles admitted, leaning in close and licking his lips. Mostly it was instinctive, but he wasn't unaware of the way it affected Derek, wasn't at all startled by the low sound that Derek let out or the way his dick twitched even before Stiles reached for it.

And then Stiles had it in his hand, and it was glorious. He'd already had a chance to explore it, but as far as he was concerned he would never get his fill. Also, Derek had thrown him on his back on the bed before he'd gotten a chance to taste it before.

"Good thing I have a big mouth," he said as he clasped it tightly in his hand. The shaft was hard and hot, covered in soft skin, just like his own. But this wasn't his own dick; it was Derek's.

"God damn it, Stiles," Derek gritted out through his teeth. Stiles could see him clenching his hands in the bedsheets to either side of his hips, and the muscles of his legs were tight.

Without thinking, Stiles turned his head and pressed his lips to the inside of Derek's thigh. The skin there was soft and hot too, tender even though it was covering hard muscles, and he had a dusting of dark hairs. Stiles attention was mostly focused on the erection throbbing in his hand, but he took a moment to rub his cheek against Derek's inner thigh.

"Stiles," Derek said, his voice small and shaky, and Stiles figured he was probably being a tease or something. He was a little sketchy on what foreplay consisted of; usually the guys went straight to the vital points in the porn that Stiles had seen. He'd liked that, though. Taking pleasure in a part of Derek that was attractive to him but not his penis, and hopefully giving Derek pleasure at the same time.

"Okay," he said, as much to himself as to Derek, and scooted closer, dipping down and licking the slit at the head of Derek's stiff erection.

"Shit." Derek's stomach muscles tightened, his hard-on jumping in Stiles' grip, his legs drawing up a little more, all of this seemingly dragged out of him involuntarily.

A thick bead of precome oozed out of the tip of Derek's dick, more opaque than Stiles' was. He licked it up before he thought, wondering if it tasted different too.

"You're gonna kill me here," Derek ground out, his head falling back, his expression creased in what looked like pain. Stiles kind of thought Derek was exaggerating, but he didn't want to be an asshole, so he opened his mouth as wide as he could and let the blunt head of Derek's dick slide over his tongue.

His first thought was that he'd been right; he liked having his mouth filled like this. His second thought was about how weird it was to have something so hot and fleshy in his mouth. Something so powerful and yet so delicate. Something that could bring someone else even more pleasure than Stiles was taking from it.

His third thought was that this was a lot tighter fit than his thumb or even two or three of his own fingers, but that was kind of a given. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said it was a good thing his mouth was so large.

Derek was fresh out of the shower, so aside from the flavor of his precome, his dick really only tasted like clean flesh. Stiles liked that, though he did wonder what it would taste like straight out of Derek's boxer-briefs after a day at school.... Gross or awesome, he suspected. Maybe even a little bit of both!

But he wasn't unhappy with what he had in his mouth now. God, not even a little bit.

Stiles had thought that maybe it would be intimidating, having another guy's dick in his mouth. Like he'd be giving up control, like his mouth would belong to someone else.

But he hadn't thought about the fact that he had control of someone else's most prized body part, very close to his teeth. And suddenly he was more worried about accidentally hurting Derek than being taken control of himself in any way.

He could feel Derek's fingers sinking into his hair as he closed his eyes and did his best to suck on the hard shaft in his mouth. He trusted Derek not to choke him, and so he concentrated on giving Derek as much pleasure as he could.

Before he'd gotten Derek's erection in his mouth Stiles had been focused on his own curiosity. He'd thought about what it might feel like, what it might taste like. But now that it was in there, he only wanted to do what he could to make Derek feel good.

He could hear Derek letting out guttural sounds overhead, and true to the faith Stiles had placed in him, Derek's fingers only flexed on his skull, restless and clutching, but not dragging Stiles down deeper onto his dick.

Stiles wanted to take Derek's erection in deeper, but he knew he couldn't. He was already drooling all down the shaft, because as much as he tried to keep the suction going it was a really thick piece of flesh to have in his mouth. He took it far enough that he almost gagged, his eyes watering, and there was still so much he hadn't fit in. He fisted the shaft below his stretched out lips, the slobber making it easier to move his hand smoothly, and tried to suck harder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Derek was chanting, his hips rocking uselessly on the mattress, both his hands sunk into Stiles' hair now, still just holding on, not forcing him to anything. It was hard to tell with the sloppy mess in his mouth, but Stiles thought that Derek's dick was leaking more copiously on his tongue.

Experimentally, he let up on sucking a little -- partially because his jaw was starting to hurt -- and curled the flat of his tongue under the head of Derek's dick, moving like he was swallowing, even though he certainly hadn't managed to take it anywhere near down his throat.

"Oh, God, Stiles, I'm gonna come," Derek choked out, leaning forward, almost bent in half around where Stiles was nursing at his throbbing erection.

He probably meant it as a warning, but Stiles was in the moment and he allowed it to goad him on. Instead of pulling off, he renewed his suction, working his mouth around Derek's dick in every way he could manage at once. He fisted the rest of the shaft with one hand, and with the other he reached and carefully but firmly cupped and massaged Derek's tightly drawn-up balls.

He barely had time to take note of how hairy but smooth-skinned they were, and then Derek was spilling on his tongue with a throttled shout.

Stiles wasn't proud to say that he choked a little, the come more copious than he'd expected when his mouth was full of hard dick. At least none of it came out his nose.

He coughed, pulling off, trying to play it cool. He'd swallowed some, didn't know why people made a big deal about it, even if the flavor wasn't his favorite, and the rest was running down his chin and the shaft of Derek's dick.

Stiles rubbed at his jaw with the back of his wrist, watching with fascination as Derek's hard-on jerked and the slit flared, some more jizz spurting out, though less vigorously than the shots that has hit his tongue.

"Whoa," he breathed, licking his lips. He was still holding onto the lower half of Derek's dick with one hand, trying to clean his face with the other, and Derek's erection was jumping in his grip like a living creature even though Derek was pretty much spent. "Awesome."

Derek uttered something that was probably meant to be words, but which wasn't intelligible, as he collapsed back against the pillows and headboard again.

"You're welcome," Stiles said, grinning up at his wrecked stepbrother. Someday Stiles hoped to get a blowjob; it looked like it was pretty amazing. Right now, though, he didn't think Derek was really up to reciprocity. Not that Stiles expected that Derek would suck his dick. But thinking about having it done, on general terms, was nice.

Bringing Derek to climax with his mouth had gotten Stiles pretty worked up, and now that most of his attention wasn't on what his mouth was doing, he realized that he was completely erect himself, and aching to come a second time.

Jizz didn't make good lube, Stiles already knew from experience, but he had that and his own saliva all over his hand, and he knew he'd be coming within a couple of beats anyway, and so he wrapped his fingers around his dick and gave it a few good tugs.

"Stiles, wait," Derek said, as he evidently recovered enough to be coherent, but it was too late now, and the sound of his voice, hoarse and sexed out, was enough to have Stiles coming.

He bowed over, hunching up much the same as Derek had done, his forehead thunking against Derek's stripped hipbone, as he whined and spilled on the mattress between them.

"Damn it, you didn't even give me a chance," Derek grumbled, reaching down and closing his hand over Stiles' where he was still clutching his dick. It felt good. Derek's fingers were strong and confident and his palm was warm. "And you came all over the bed we have to sleep on."

"Sorry," Stiles panted out, smiling, his eyes still closed. He felt no shame, floating in the warm wonder of his afterglow, but....

Well, yeah, he was probably gonna regret jizzing on the mattress tonight. Oops.

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