kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household: Part Nine
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale, Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,159 (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 Nine

by kyrene


Derek woke from an impromptu nap he hadn't meant to take -- after he and Stiles had gotten each other off three times apiece and then collapsed in exhaustion -- to find he was sprawled naked on the crappy hotel sheets with Stiles' head on his thigh, curious fingers toying with his foreskin where his limp cock was resting, sated and smeared with dried come.

"That wasn't a blanket permission to touch it, you know," he slurred, shifting restlessly. Now that he was awake, the physical sensations of Stiles' hand on his cock again combined with the visual had him getting hard.... Not very hard, though; he was still pretty worn out from all the coming he'd already done.

"Shut up, you know you like it," Stiles mumbled, almost all of his attention focused on Derek's cock, one corner of his mouth crooking up in a small smile. It looked ridiculously sexy and adorable at the same time. Derek had the desire to kiss his upturned nose and then maybe to suck on his lush red lips.

"Fuck you," Derek yawned, giving a shivering stretch. He felt good. Loose, relaxed, warm. His cock was pulsing where Stiles was messing with it, but he ignored that for a moment and just enjoyed the comfortable warmth of the bed and Stiles' body heat.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Stiles asked, mimicking Derek's words from earlier in the day, grinning up at him. He didn't raise his head, his hair a wild nest, his eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

Before Derek could decide how to reply, Stiles was pulling his foreskin down and leaning in to take the sensitive head of Derek's cock into his mouth. Again.

That was the end of his lazy lassitude. Derek's cock immediately hardened, and he shuddered in renewed pleasure.

"Aw," Stiles bemoaned as he pulled off, much to Derek's mingled relief and distress. Mostly distress, though. "I wanted to suck it while it was soft."

God bless Stiles and his never-ending oral fixation, Derek thought foggily, reaching up and scrubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to regain control, to prevent himself from grabbing Stiles' head and demanding he get back to what he'd been doing. That was just bad manners; especially after Stiles had given him such an amazing blowjob a short time ago.

"If you want it soft again, you're gonna have to make me come," he informed Stiles.

"I can do that," Stiles replied in all seriousness, and Derek was suddenly that much harder.

Dammit, Stiles better never figure out that he could lead Derek around by his cock. It wasn't that Derek didn't trust his younger stepbrother, but... well, no, he really didn't trust Stiles not to misuse that power.

After they'd gotten off the first time and then showered together Stiles had blown Derek and finished by jerking himself off. Derek had felt as though he owed Stiles after that last. Big time. Stiles was a virgin -- had been, anyway -- and Derek was the one with experience. He should have been the one bringing Stiles to orgasm, instead of simply allowing Stiles to blow him, coming in his mouth, and then melting into a useless puddle so that Stiles had to get himself off.

So he'd fiercely cuddled Stiles into the bed, kissed him until their lips and tongues were tingling, then he'd tucked Stiles into the curve of his body and given him the best reach-around he could manage.

It hadn't felt right. Derek had felt as though he should have offered to blow Stiles in turn. But he'd never given head before and he'd been afraid he'd suck at it. No pun intended.

Of course it occurred to him after the fact that Stiles hadn't known what he'd been doing either, and it had been amazing, had been worlds better than the one other blowjob Derek had gotten. But Stiles was a natural at sucking on things, and he'd seemed to appreciate the reach-around....

Derek had rutted against Stiles' tight little ass, the skin soft and oh-so-hot at the center of his cleft, and had spilled his third load between Stiles' thighs. Somehow that had felt even more intimate and perverted than coming in his mouth had felt, and had left Derek feeling even more smugly satisfied.

Then, sated, they'd both drifted off and fallen asleep, Derek's arms tightly wrapped around Stiles' smaller body.

And now they were both awake again and Stiles wanted to suck Derek's cock a second time. Derek should probably be the responsible one here and say "no"... but he found he was incapable of turning down the offer.

Hey, if Stiles actually wanted to suck on Derek's cock....

This time, though, he wasn't going to shoot off in Stiles' mouth and render himself useless. He wasn't sure what he was going to end up doing, but it would involve some fair exchange, somehow. And not just a lame hand-job. Stiles gave himself hand-jobs daily, after all.

"I love your dick," Stiles murmured, snuggling down against Derek's thigh again, his lashes lower as he gazed warmly at Derek's junk, long, lean fingers smoothing up and down the shaft, tongue pressed to his lower lip in anticipating.

Derek could clearly recall what Stiles had looked like when he'd been blowing him earlier. His eyes closed and his cheeks hollowed, those amazing lips stretched wide around the shaft of Derek's cock, red with the pressure and friction, his face flushed and lashes starred with tears. It had been even better than Derek had imagined, and he was ready to see it again, even though it made him feel selfish to just lay back and let Stiles suck him.

Then something suddenly occurred to Derek, even though he really was focused on his cock and what Sties intended to do to it.

"Hold on," he blurted, coming up off the bed in a cold rush. "What time is it?"

"Crap." Stiles sat up as well, his eyes round. There was a little streak of dried jizz along the sharp edge of his jaw and his chin was reddened with what Derek assumed was stubble burn. With his hair having dried in a mad tangle that fell over his forehead and the light bruising ringing his wrists, he couldn't have looked more debauched.

Derek fumbled for his phone, which was still in his jeans' pocket on the floor, forgetting that the hotel had a clock on the small table beside the bed until Stiles announced behind him;

"We have about fifteen more minutes."

Derek did some mental calculations. They could both get off in that time, true, but then they'd be headed to their grandparents' house looking as though they'd just fucked.

"Dammit."

"What?" Stiles pouted at him. "That's totally enough time for me to suck you off."

Derek groaned and shook his head. "No, Stiles, it's not. I don't want you to just blow me real quick. I want to return the favor and take my time with you, take you apart. Not to mention we both look like we've been fucking and we reek of sweat and jizz. We need to shower, get ready to go, and that's gonna take the full fifteen minutes even if we share the shower."

Stiles' mouth was hanging wide open, his cheeks burning hot, and he was hard.

"If you're trying to convince my boner to go away, you're doing a shitty job," he informed Derek, licking at his red lips, his brown eyes burning.

Derek paused to consider.

"Let's shower together," he said, moving to unpack a change of clothes. "We can get off, quick, then get ready to go."

Stiles nodded vigorously, scooting over the edge of their wrecked bed and collapsing next to his own luggage, rooting around for clothes. "I like this plan."

It was a stupid plan, Derek knew, but unless he intended to take a cold shower, he was going to have to get himself off or else he would be heading to their grandparents' house with a hard-on. And that just wasn't acceptable.

"Derek...." Stiles looked up at him from where he was still crouched beside his case, his eyes wide and his expression open. "Can I wear one of your shirts? It'd cover my wrists...."

Derek's eyes were drawn to where there were indeed bruises already blooming and marring the pale skin over delicate bones. He should have felt guilty, but instead he felt a surge of further arousal and heat, a sense of pride that warmed his heart and made his hard-on twitch.

He knew that Stiles had brought some long-sleeve shirts. He could see them in his bag, right now, underneath Stiles' hands. But the sleeves could ride up. And was he really going to turn down the chance to see Stiles in one of his shirts? The main thing he'd been fantasizing about ever since the first time it had happened?

No. No, he was not.

"Sure," he got out, bending and grabbing blindly.

"No, I...." Stiles pointed. "Can I wear your sweater?"

Derek looked at the swath of burgundy material he'd slung over the back of the hotel chair when they'd first entered the room.

"It smells like travel sweat," he said, frowning.

"I know." Stiles stood, fidgeting with the jeans and underwear he was holding. He was blushing but his chin was raised and he looked determined.

Derek's cock twitched at the thought, at the realization that Stiles wanted to be covered in his scent.... But he had to be the realistic, responsible one.

"Here," he said, tossing Stiles the grey long-sleeved teeshirt he'd chosen for himself. "The sweater would be too warm and then Grams would ask why you didn't take it off. And it really does stink."

Stiles scowled, fumbling but catching the shirt. "Okay," he sighed, then jerked his head to the side in a way that looked more spastic than anything else. "Come on, let's get each other off in the shower."

"Smooth," Derek grinned, but he followed as Stiles led the way. They were running out of time, and right now it was all to obvious what they had just been doing.

The shower was quick, they both came more quickly, and Derek made sure that they both used deodorant and cologne once they got out, suddenly paranoid that the smell of sex might be lingering on their skin even after bathing.

They were in a hurry but Derek took the time to shave, even though Stiles whined at him about it. He could see the faint pink roughed into the skin around Stiles' mouth, not awful but preventable, and if they were going to get up to more tonight, after they got back to the room, he didn't want to leave marks. Not where they couldn't be hidden, anyway.

The bruises around Stiles' wrists were dangerous enough. Hopefully the sleeves of the shirt Stiles had borrowed from Derek would cover them and Stiles' usual mad flailing wouldn't expose them. It was pretty obvious where they'd come from. Derek doubted either he or Stiles could come up with a good excuse for their existence, especially if they had to come up with one on the fly.

Well, Derek had bruised Stiles' wrists before, twice, and each time Stiles had kept the marks hidden from their parents until they had faded. Stiles might be a bit scatterbrained, but when he had his mind set on something he generally made sure that it happened. And Stiles was smart enough to understand the need for discretion here.

"Fix your hair," Derek said, slapping on some shaving lotion even though he didn't need it the way Stiles did. He might not have such sensitive skin, but with as often as he needed to shave, it helped.

Stiles stuck out his tongue, but did as he'd been directed. Well, if running his fingers through it so that it stood up in damp tufts counted as fixing it. Derek gave half a second's thought to doing it himself with his own hair gel, but then he thought about the possibility of sinking his fingers into Stiles' hair while Stiles sucked his cock later that night, and knew he'd be happier if it was still soft and product-free.

It was probably sheer insanity to be planning to further debauch his younger stepbrother when they came back to the hotel after dinner, but Derek felt like he'd started down the highest part of a roller coaster -- things set into motion when Stiles had stolen his towel and then asked to touch his cock -- and now it was too late, there was no turning back or even slowing down.

It was easier to just stop thinking and keep doing. Derek knew that this was wrong, for all the reasons he'd been telling himself ever since that night he had pinned Stiles to the living room floor, but now he was aware that Stiles wanted this too, giving Derek even more reason to keep going.

By the time they were finished getting ready it was ten minutes past when they were supposed to be headed to their grandparents' but it didn't surprise Derek that their parents hadn't knocked on the door yet.

"Come on," he said, grabbing his wallet with the hotel card-key and his phone, shoving them in his pockets. "Let's go wait by the car."

Stiles followed obediently, his own phone in hand. Derek didn't say so out loud, but his reason for wanting to meet their parents in the parking lot mostly had to do with how much their room reeked of sex. As he closed the door behind him, he put the little "service needed" card on the outside knob, hoping that someone would see it and come change the bedsheets while they were gone. It was early evening, so it might be unlikely, but it was worth a shot.

They actually beat their parents to the car. Derek texted his Mom that they were down there waiting, and within three minutes she and their Dad joined them.

Talia yawned, scratching at her scalp through her dark hair, her eyes still sleepy.

"I swear," she drawled, reaching out and patting Derek's shoulder in greeting, "I think our neighbors on the other side were having sex. Thank God for thicker walls in this hotel than usual!"

Derek felt his face go white in sudden terror and panic. There should have been some shame there, too, but he wasn't really feeling it. Not when Stiles had been such an enthusiastic participant in what was probably the sex their Mom had heard.

Hell, Stiles had stolen Derek's towel and then asked to touch his cock; it wouldn't be wrong to call him the instigator.

"I didn't hear anything," Dad shrugged, as Derek pointedly did not look at Stiles, and made a mental note for both of them to be more quiet in the future.

If. If they fooled around any more. They really shouldn't. And yet, Derek was already addicted to Stiles' body and scent and those nimble fingers and his hungry mouth. How could he give that up? Especially if it was what Stiles wanted as well....

"That's because you were asleep," his Mom said, punching her husband lightly on the arm.

"Probably snoring too," Stiles said, and he looked a little manic, his cheeks flaming brightly, when Derek finally darted a quick glance his way, but he seemed to be holding it together better than Derek felt he was. "I'm surprised you could hear anything."

Dad glared first at Stiles, then his wife. He always maintained he didn't snore, but they all knew better. Talia had recordings on her phone, Derek knew. At least he didn't snore super loudly, like Scott McCall did. Then again, he didn't have asthma, the way Scott did.

Mom shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned while Derek felt like he was seconds away from his world coming to a shattering end.

"Well, that probably part of why I only suspect. You boys didn't hear anything, did you?" Mom asked. "I'm pretty sure it was in the room on the other side of ours to yours."

"Nope," Stiles chirped at the same time Derek shook his head and said "No," with utter certainty.

Derek was grateful that the bed in his and Stiles' hotel room was against the wall not shared with their parents' room, he was grateful for his stepfather's snoring, and he was incredibly grateful that his mother thought it had been the room on their other side. He and Stiles were going to have to be a lot more careful, though. Or else not do anything at all.

Yeah, like that last was going to happen. Derek knew better. Maybe they could turn the television on loudly to cover up any sounds that they ended up making.

"Well, the important thing is that we're well-rested and ready to head off," Dad said, reaching out and ruffling Stiles' damp hair. "Everyone ready to deal with Peter?"

Stiles wrinkled his nose, Mom sighed and rolled her eyes, and Derek grimaced.

"I'm ready for Papa Hale's barbeque, that's what I'm ready for!" Stiles declared, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He looked like a super villain in training or something, and Derek felt his heart warm with affection.

God, Stiles used to annoy the shit out of him on these family trips, but now Derek found him somewhat charming. Awkward and occasionally ridiculous, but strangely adorable.

"Stiles, why are you wearing Derek's shirt?" Mom asked, as they all piled into the car. "It's a little big on you."

"Because I only brought teeshirts, and the evening's probably going to get cool," Stiles blithely lied. There had been plenty of tops other than teeshirts in his luggage, of course, but he'd come up with a reasonable excuse. And a believable one; considering that once he'd made a trip to visit the Stilinski grandparents without packing any socks or underwear.

Of course, now he'd pretty much locked himself into wearing Derek's shirts for the entire trip, because he'd said he only had teeshirts, and he wouldn't be able to wear teeshirts. Not with the bruises ringing his wrists.

Derek burned with something that was more possessive pride than any sense of shame. He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have marked Stiles like that, but....

But Stiles had liked it. He'd wanted it. And he'd told Derek so. How could Derek regret having given in to what they both wanted?

"Did you ask first?" Mom wanted to know as they all buckled up.

Derek blushed, even though she was responding to what Stiles had said, not what Derek had been thinking.

"I did!" Stiles squalled defensively. "Right, Derek?"

"He did ask, Mom," Derek verified.

"All right, I was just making sure," she said, turning to look out the windshield as their Dad started the car. "I'm going to call and let them know we're on our way now, so be quiet."

Derek reached over and palmed Stiles' thigh for a moment, before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. Maybe on the way back to the hotel, once it was dark in the car, he'd be able to maintain a touch like that, but right now it was best not to chance any more awkward questions.

Stiles smiled at him, sweet and happy, and it made something in Derek's heart clench.

It was the way Stiles spent half the trip squeezing his own wrist through the over-long sleeve of Derek's shirt and the other half nibbling at the hem of the sleeve that had Derek's cock stirring in his jeans, though.

They were headed to spend time with the grandparents, so Derek did his best to banish inappropriate thoughts. After what they'd spent hours getting up to in their hotel room, that was easier said than done, but he made his best effort. He really did.

+=+=+

Stiles liked the Hale side of the family just as much as he did the Stilinski side, he considered them his own, he enjoyed seeing all of them... but he had always felt as though Uncle Peter was kind of creepy.

Derek felt the same way, Stiles knew. It wasn't anything in particular that Peter did; it was just sort of the way he was. Well, that and he sometimes said deeply inappropriate things, and he did it on purpose, not by accident the way Stiles did.

When Peter hugged his older sister, he held on just a little too long. When he hugged Derek, Stiles saw him brush a hand casually over his butt as he let go. And when he embraced Stiles in turn, his hands didn't wander but he turned his face toward Stiles and breathed in deeply, as though he was smelling him.

See? Creepy.

Stiles' Dad didn't get a hug from Peter. Peter had tried once, at his and Mom's wedding, then never again.

"You boys are getting so... big," Uncle Peter murmured, the pause communicating as much as the gaze that he swept over them both, head to toe. He looked a little too much like he approved of what he was seeing when he looked at Derek, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smug little smile, and then he positively smirked as he stared at Stiles' face.

"What?" Stiles asked, fighting hard not to reach up and touch his cheeks and chin. Peter was probably just messing with him and wanted him to flail like he always did....

"You're looking a little pink around the mouth," Peter said, still smirking, his eyes bright and knowing. "Skin looks a little rough, Stiles, like you tangled with something scratchy."

Oops. Stiles bit his lip, not glancing at Derek, who he could sense on his peripheral had gone tight and tense.

Plastering on a carefree expression, Stiles reached up and ran a hand over his face, because now he knew that Peter had actually seen something, and the perfect lie popped into his head and flowed easily out his lips.

"I shaved before we came over here," he offered, grinning back at Peter just as hard as he could. Their parents were talking to his grandparents and hopefully not listening, but Stiles had to put up a good front or Uncle Peter would do nothing but take advantage. "I have sensitive skin."

One of Peter's brows arched, and maybe Stiles shouldn't have tacked on that last, but it was too late to take the words back. It was true, anyway, and might help explain the stubble-burn he was still sporting.

"I'm sure you do," Peter drawled, still smiling, and he looked over at Derek. "I see that you've shaved recently too, Derek," he said, his voice filled with not so well concealed amusement and barely restrained innuendo.

Derek shrugged uncomfortably, scowling. "How can you tell?" he demanded, even though he knew as well as Stiles did that it was better not to engage Uncle Peter when he was teasing them.

"The lack of stubble was a tip-off," Peter informed him, no trace of sarcasm in his voice but the words themselves dripping with it. "Considering that you've been sporting a healthy five o'clock shadow the last few times I've seen you, I make note of its lack. So you must have shaved about the same time Stiles did." He's lip quirked even higher in one corner, but instead of following that up with anything more accusatory, he simply clapped Derek on the shoulder and said, "You're both just growing up so fast!"

The words were perfectly innocent, an uncle wondering over the maturation of his pubescent nephews, but the tone made it clear that he knew exactly why Stiles' mouth was pink, why Derek had shaved, how these things were connected, and that he also made a good guess as to what the two of them had been getting up to in the hotel room before coming over here.

Stiles flushed and Derek continued to scowl, but then Grams Hale was coming to their rescue; possibly on purpose, because she had to know how her youngest son was by now.

"Peter's right," she said, which wasn't anyone's favorite thing to hear, but then she continued with, "Both you boys are getting so big!"

And she wasn't saying it in a pervy or suggestive way; she was just a grandmother gushing over her grandsons.

"Aren't they?" Mom said proudly, reaching over and dragging Stiles into her arms for a quick squeeze. And maybe not so incidentally pulling him further away from Peter, even though he hadn't touched Stiles since hugging him. "Stiles is almost as tall as I am and he's already shaving!"

"So I hear," Peter murmured, lips curved, eyes bright.

Stiles sent Derek a longsuffering look, and Derek grinned easily at him. The tension Peter had been building collapsed in the face of mildly embarrassing parental and grandparental pride, and then they were all heading out to the back yard for barbeque and drinks and lots of laughing and talking.

Stiles stuck close to his Dad, and they both helped Grams Hale set the table and collect the side dishes and condiments. Derek followed his mother to "help" Papa Hale at the grill, which really just meant hovering, offering unsolicited advice, and bullshitting about things while drinking beer.

Peter kind of moved around the periphery of the action, seeming involved without actually helping, watching everything with bright blue eyes, and spending pretty much the whole time smirking at either Stiles or Derek.

Stiles was well aware that Uncle Peter was objectively handsome, with clean-cut features that were just unique enough to be interesting, closely-cut facial hair, and a compact but leanly muscled body. Heck, he'd had something of a crush on Peter when he'd been younger, before he'd realized how sleazy his new uncle sometimes came off seeming.

He still thought Peter was hot.... But nowhere near as hot as Derek, and right now Peter was looking at them both as if he knew exactly what they had done. Stiles had to remind himself that as long as he kept his sleeves down, Uncle Peter could only guess. Sure, the stubble-burn was unfortunate, but Stiles had explained it away. Everything else was only speculation in Peter's part.

Peter could still say something, he could plant the seed of suspicion in Mom and Dad's minds.... But he didn't. Aside from his pointed references regarding Stiles' face, he kept quiet. Stiles had expected him to utter more pervy innuendos. Heck, Uncle Peter was usually full of pervy innuendos.

But maybe only when there wasn't actually anything to be pervy about. Or maybe he liked having something over Derek and Stiles. Or maybe, just maybe, he kind of approved?

Stiles didn't think he was imagining the strange pride in Uncle Peter's gaze as he looked at them. Which was pretty gross. Because Peter was almost the same age as their Mom while Stile was only thirteen, and Derek was actually closely related to Peter; he was Peter's sister's son!

But whatever kept him quiet, right? Stiles just hoped that Peter didn't start, like, blackmailing them at some point.

Aside from Uncle Peter's smirks and his knowing gaze, the evening was just as pleasant as it always was. Even more so, actually, because Stiles and Derek could converse like normal people instead of sniping at each other or ignoring each other. Stiles could tell Mom was proud of them, and Papa Hale mentioned how nice it was, before Grams shushed him. She smiled sunnily at both Stiles and Derek, though, so she was happy too.

The food was delicious, as always. Stiles loved Papa Hale's barbeque, and ate five different kinds of meats with all the sides, until he was stuffed and groaning. No regrets. He didn't even mind helping clean up, though it was hard to move with his heavy tummy. They left out some of the food to nibble on while they sat around and talked, but for a change Stiles had the sense not to put anything else in his mouth.

Well, nothing edible. He found himself gnawing on the sleeve of Derek's shirt a few times, where it was riding down to cover his hand to the knuckles. When he caught himself doing it, he glanced guiltily at Derek and found he was watching with an intent, steamy expression that said he didn't mind at all.

And Uncle Peter just kept smirking at both of them.

Grams handed Derek a beer after dinner which made Dad roll his eyes but he didn't say anything. They were on the Hale property so it wasn't illegal, even though Derek was still more than three years away from being twenty-one.

Derek actually didn't like beer that much, Stiles knew -- he wasn't sure how he knew; he just did -- and so he just kind of nursed it for a while. He offered Stiles a sip, but it was mostly the way that Derek's lips caressed the top of the bottle that had Stiles' attention. He felt warm all the way through, his dick swelling, and he remembered that Derek wanted to "take him apart" and he kind of really wanted to be back at the hotel right now....

Thankfully, Peter was distracted, telling Mom and Dad all about his new freelancing job. Stiles thought that Mom looked a little relieved to hear that Peter was working. Even though he annoyed her sometimes, and did things like taking up the better guest room when he knew the family was coming, Talia cared about her younger brother and worried about him.

Stiles wondered if that was how Derek was supposed to feel about him. If that was how Derek would feel about Stiles in the future. Well, Stiles wasn't going to be as creepy as Uncle Peter, hopefully. And he didn't think he'd be as likely to get involved with shady work that may or may not be illegal.

He still wasn't clear on what Peter did for a living, but he knew that Dad vaguely disapproved and that Mom was concerned that he was potentially breaking the law. That was why everyone was so happy to hear about his actual real job right now.

Derek had the lip of the beer bottle pressed to his own lower lip now, just holding it there, staring at Stiles with a heated gaze. So why was Stiles thinking about Uncle Peter when he could be eye-fucking his older stepbrother?

He went to smile at Derek, then realized his sleeve was in his mouth again. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling it out and trying to smooth it down around his knuckles. It was a little damp, which was kinda gross, but it wasn't too bad. He wasn't a teething baby who slobbered all over things. He might have an oral fixation, and he might even suck his thumb in private, but he wasn't sloppy.

He was kind of bummed that he was wearing a clean shirt of Derek's, that didn't smell or taste like his stepbrother's body.... But he'd have felt more guilty over chewing on the burgundy sweater. And it wasn't as though he wasn't going to get to taste Derek's body directly, once they were back at the hotel.

Derek's brows rose and his face did that weird complicated thing that Stiles was growing used to. "Don't apologize," he murmured back, his voice low and a little husky. His cheekbones were flushed, and the grown-ups might think it was due to the beer but Stiles knew better.

He hung his head a little, smiling, and glanced at Derek through his lashes, but he didn't dare to look at him the way he really wanted. Uncle Peter wasn't looking at them right this instant, but if he caught Stiles or Derek giving each other the sex-stare he'd be even more convinced that he knew what was going on between them.

Which, to be fair, was exactly what was going on between them. But Peter didn't need to know that!

"Anyone ready for dessert?" Grams asked, as Papa Hale broke into the wine. The switch from beer to wine meant that dinner was officially over and it was time for everyone to kick back and relax. It was getting a little chilly outside, as Stiles had predicted, and he was grateful to be wearing one of Derek's long-sleeved shirts instead of a teeshirt. Yeah, he could have layered up with a plaid.... But he was wearing one of Derek's shirts.

And unless Stiles was horribly misreading things, that seemed to turn Derek on at least as much as it turned Stiles on, if not more so!

Dad groaned and clutched at his stomach. "I'm still full from dinner."

"I'm ready for dessert!" Stiles chirped, bouncing up and helping Mom begin clearing away the last of the food. The sooner it was put away, the sooner he'd be eating delicious sugary pastries baked by his grandparents. Also, it made Talia happy when her sons were helpful while her own parents could see; made her feel like she was raising them right, Stiles thought.

Anyhow, sitting around staring at Derek was only going to get Stiles more and more turned on, and that wasn't a good idea when he had a thirteen year old hair-trigger dick and they were surrounded by parents, grandparents, and Peter.

Peter was still smirking at both Stiles and Derek, but they were doing their best to ignore him. It wasn't actually that much different from usual, though it was a little more pointed and knowing than he normally looked.

The party moved inside, Stiles ate too much again, and he lobbied for some wine of his own, but evidently thirteen was too young for even a taste. They didn't offer Derek any, either, so there was that.

Stiles was no wilting flower, but it had been a long day, he'd gotten up early, and he and Derek had had some pretty vigorous sex, so by the time the clocks rolled around to a quarter to eleven, Stiles was yawning and drooping to rest his head against Derek's shoulder. His broad, warm, powerfully muscled shoulder....

Normally at this point in the evening Derek and Stiles would retreat to their guest room to sleep or play around on Derek's laptop and Stiles' hand-held game systems while the adults drank wine and talked. But since Peter was hogging up the guest room their parents normally took....

"I could drive back to the hotel and you guys could sleep in the other guest room," Derek suggested, carefully not moving. He didn't have his arm around Stiles or anything, but he didn't seem to mind being used as a pillow.

"The one with the twin beds?" Dad said, pulling a sour face. Stiles felt his own mouth draw down at the corners. Objectively, he was glad to know that his parents still loved either other enough to want to sleep in the same bed, and they shared a bed at home, but the thought of it... just, euw, no.

"Anyway, all our stuff is at the hotel," Mom pointed out, which made sense.

"I could take them in my car," Peter offered smoothly. "Then you're free to go back to the hotel whenever you want."

"Are you sure?" Mom asked, glancing pointedly at the wine glass in Peter's hand.

Peter nodded. "This is my first, and I've only sipped it," he assured their parents, setting the glass down. "And I don't mind driving the boys."

"Well, as long as you don't mind."

And just like that, Derek and Stiles were remanded into Peter's care. Stiles had mixed feelings about this fact. He was glad to be headed back to the hotel with Derek, because Derek had made him some pretty damned sexy promises before they'd gotten ready to come to the Hale house. On the other hand, they were going to be stuck in the car with Peter for as long as it took to reach the hotel.

Well, it was a short trip. Just ten minutes if traffic wasn't too bad, and it was almost eleven at night so it shouldn't be.

"Sit up front with me, Derek," Peter directed when Derek tried to get in the back with Stiles after they'd said goodnight to their parents and grandparents and promised to be ready in time to come over for a huge brunch the next morning. "Otherwise I'll feel like I'm driving a taxi."

Derek grumbled something under his breath that Stiles couldn't hear, but he did as directed. Stiles felt the passing urge to insist that he be allowed to sit up front, to protest that he shouldn't be relegated to the back just because he was younger, but he didn't really want to be in the passenger seat of Peter's car, so he let Derek take that bullet.

Stiles had expected Peter to say something as soon as they were all in the car and on the road, away from their parents and his own parents, but he didn't.

Well, he talked. But he didn't slip any pointed innuendos in there, which had to be tempting, Stiles thought.

Instead, Peter just grilled Derek on how school was going, what his plans for college were, how often he worked out in order to maintain his impressive physique.... Normal things that an uncle might normally ask about, even though that last was a little questionable.

Stiles didn't like the way Peter sometimes seemed to leer at Derek, even though he was probably -- hopefully? -- just doing it to rile Derek up. They were closely related, and that was kind of sketchy. At least Stiles wasn't actually Derek's younger brother, and they'd never really acted all that much like siblings. It hadn't felt like incest when Stiles had been sucking Derek's dick.

In the dark of the back seat, it seemed perfectly reasonable for Stiles to dwell on that memory and the fact that Derek had said he was planning to return the favor... but then they were at the hotel and Stiles was going to have to get out of the car and walk into the building with a big old boner while Peter was watching. Maybe not his smartest move ever. At least Derek's shirt was large on him and the hem hung low below his waist and around his crotch.

Stiles tried to quickly and surreptitiously adjust himself as Derek opened his door and got out of the car. He was less than smooth, but he didn't think Peter saw...?

"You boys have fun," Peter said smarmily, leaning against his steering wheel and twisting to smirk at Stiles. Derek opened the back door for him while Stiles blushed incriminatingly.

Stiles wrinkled his nose and he knew Derek was scowling fiercely, but neither of them dared to say anything. Not when Peter could just drive back to his parents' house and give the game away.

"Want me to send you a warning text when your parents are headed back?" Peter offered, and he was grinning widely at Stiles now, where he was hovering with one butt cheek still on the edge of the seat and one foot on the ground outside.

"There's nothing to warn for," Derek snapped, reaching down and grabbing Stiles' upper arm, dragging him out of Peter's car. Stiles staggered, bracing himself against Derek's broad chest as he fought to get his feet steady under him. Derek's hand was wide and possessive on his upper back, and Stiles knew even without looking that Derek was glaring at Peter even more angrily.

"Of course not," Peter said smoothly, "You'll both be sound asleep by then, right?"

"Right." Derek slammed the car door shut, and Stiles was a little worried that he was being too rude, that he was going to piss Peter off, but as Derek manhandled him away from Peter's car and into the hotel, he could hear Peter behind them, rolling down his window and calling out something that sounded an awful lot like, "Be safe, boys!"

And Peter's tone was cheerful and wicked, so Stiles figured he wasn't mad enough to go and rat them out to their parents. Hopefully. And hopefully he wasn't going to want anything in exchange for his silence.

It wasn't as if Peter knew anything.... But if he informed their parents of what he suspected then they might start being suspicious too, even if they didn't believe him.

The thought of this made Stiles' stomach churn with anxiety. He tried to banish it, though, because Peter had seemed as if he was encouraging them, which mean that he was probably going to keep their secret. Right? Hopefully. And Stiles also hoped that Peter wasn't going to ask for anything they couldn't give him in order to maintain his silence.

Then they were in the hotel room, and some kind soul had remade the bed with fresh sheets and Derek had promised Stiles could suck him off again, and he was still handling Stiles just roughly enough to completely turn him on, so Stiles let his worries slide away.

"Now, I believe you said something about taking me apart?" he said archly, gravitating toward Derek's bulk and his body heat, breathing in the scent of him. Being dragged and tossed around probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it did, but....

Stiles liked that Derek was so much bigger and stronger than he was, He liked that Derek was feeling so possessive and protective toward him. And he was really looking forward to the promised blowjob. Both the one he'd been told he could give Derek, and the one Derek had said he'd give Stiles.

Derek paused, staring down at Stiles blankly, but Stiles thought that he could see all sorts of thoughts going on behind the pale blue-green-hazel-fantasy-color of his wide-set eyes. He just wished he knew what those thoughts were.

Stiles waggled his brows, and it was a ridiculous move, he knew the moment he did it, had to look stupid as fuck, but it seemed to work, because the next thing he knew Derek was stripping his borrowed shirt right off of him.

"Aw!"

"Shut up," Derek growled, picking Stiles up as though it was effortless, plopping him on his back on the bed, and shucking off his jeans and underwear far more quickly than Stiles would have managed if he'd tried to do it himself.

"Okay," Sties grinned up at Derek. "I can work with this."

Derek rolled his eyes, but his expression was more fond than anything else and he pulled off his own shirt before he joined Stiles on the bed.

"Mm, nice," Stiles said, and he was a little embarrassed to be naked while Derek was still wearing his jeans, but at least Derek's chest was bare. His broad, sculpted, lightly furred chest.

"If I'd had to watch Peter give you the perverted eyes one more time, I'd have had to beat the shit out of him," Derek growled, propping himself on his side next to Stiles and planting a hand on his chest before he could roll into him.

Stiles snorted, reaching and running his fingers over the dark curls dusting Derek's pectorals. That was all he could reach right now, but he liked it, and he'd been the one to talk Derek into growing his chest hair back out, so he was a little proprietary over the hairs currently under his hand; not to mention a lot turned on by the feeling of touching them.

"Please," he said a little scornfully, drinking in the sight of Derek's face, his chest, his collarbones, his everything. "I'm a scrawny thirteen year old. If anything Peter was giving you the perverted eyes!"

Derek pulled a horrified face. "Gross! I'm his sister's son!"

Stiles cackled, even though he'd had the same thought. More than once, in fact, and this wasn't the first visit where it had happened.

"Doesn't stop him from groping your butt when he hugs you."

Derek's horror intensified. "He only brushed a hand against my ass accidentally," he said stridently.

"Accidentally every time?" Stiles asked archly, knowing he was right.

"Why are we talking about Peter right now?" Derek grouched, probably mad because he couldn't refute Stiles' words. "You're killing my boner."

Stiles glanced downward.

"Metaphorically," Derek grumbled. He was at least half hard in his jeans already from what Stiles could make out of the bulge in the jeans he was regrettably still wearing. Stiles himself was still sporting a full hard-on thanks to his thoughts in the car, and talking about Peter being a creeper hadn't managed to turn him off. Then again, Peter wasn't actually related to him.

"Let's get back to the part where you're a possessive asshole who doesn't want his creepy uncle ogling my nubile young body," Stiles suggested, grinning at Derek.

He expected Derek to roll his eyes, maybe even to say that Stiles had killed the mood completely, but instead he breathed, "Yeah," and rolled toward Stiles, so that his chest was resting half over top of Stiles' and he was ringing him in with his arm.

"I was kidding," Stiles said weakly, staring up at Derek, who was staring back at him, his face so close that their eyes were almost crossing. "About being nubile."

Derek arched one thick brow. "Are you impugning my taste?" he asked dangerously.

"What?" Stiles gasped. "No! Well, I mean, kind of, but--"

Then Derek was cutting him off with a kiss to his open lips, and Stiles decided that this was his new favorite way to be shut up.

Well, it was kind of tied with having a dick in his mouth. That was really awesome too. And if Stiles was lucky, and managed not to completely destroy the mood somehow, he was going to have both again tonight!

He hadn't had a lot of practice yet, but it involved using his tongue and his lips, and he was a quick study, so Stiles thought that he was getting pretty good at this kissing thing already.

At least, he hoped he was getting good at kissing. He might have asked Derek, but then he'd be inviting comparison to Derek's past lovers, and Stiles didn't want that. Derek didn't have a monopoly on being a jealous, possessive asshole, after all. It was bad enough knowing that Derek had slept with other people; Stiles really didn't want to hear about it.

Anyway, if Derek didn't like the way Stiles kissed, he'd have stopped kissing him by now, right? And he hadn't. His tongue was wedged in Stiles' mouth, sliding slick and hot around his own, and that was still just about the weirdest thing Stiles had ever experienced, but in a good way, a very good way that he enjoyed a lot.

"Hey," he gasped out breathlessly once Derek had released his mouth. His lips were tingling and he was kind of glad that Derek had shaved, even though he liked the way Derek looked with stubble. "You should take off your jeans and let me suck your dick again."

Derek groaned and dropped his head down onto Stiles' shoulder. "Damn it, Stiles, you can't just say things like that."

"Why not?" Stiles asked, worried that he'd screwed things up somehow. "Did I do wrong?"

Derek sighed and planted a kiss on Stiles' clavicle before raising his head again.

"No, but you're gonna make me come in my pants."

Stiles arched his brows. "I fail to see the drawback," he informed Derek tartly, knowing he was being something of a little jerk and not caring. "Then I'd get to put your dick in my mouth when it was soft, and you're seventeen so you would probably get it up again pretty quickly."

"God damn it," Derek gritted out, glaring down at him, his expression strained. Stiles noted belatedly that Derek had been rocking slightly against the mattress to the side of his hip; he really only realized because Derek had just gone completely still.

Man, if he was trying not to jizz himself, that was one of the sexiest, most flattering things Stiles could ever have imagined.

He was just mentally congratulating himself when Derek said, "You need to work on your bedroom talk." But then he took the sting out of the words by crushing a fierce kiss against Stiles' lips and chin, then continuing, "And I think it's time for me to return the favor."

"You mean...?" Stiles didn't want to make any assumptions, but....

"I mean I want to suck your cock," Derek growled, clarifying.

"Well, all right," Stiles sighed, letting himself flop bonelessly on the bed. "If you must."

Derek stared at him blankly for a moment and Stiles fought to restrain his amusement. Then one corner of Derek's lips twitched, and Stiles fell headlong into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my God, Stiles, you--" Derek got out, and then he was laughing too.

+=+=+

It was probably mostly nerves that had them both collapsing into gales of laughter, Derek thought as Stiles giggled underneath him, but it was always a plus when he and his partner were having such a good time and when they both had a sense of humor.

That had been part of the problem with Paige, Derek thought. She's been sweet while at the same time not indulgent of his shit, but she had never really had much of a sense of humor. Not one that was compatible with Derek's sense of humor, anyway. Which he did have, thanks very much.

Derek was well aware that some people -- including Stiles at times in the past -- didn't think he had a sense of humor. He did, it was just kind of snarky and dry and sometimes got mistaken for rudeness.

Stiles understood it now, though. He hadn't always but the longer they'd lived together and the more they'd talked -- that latter being a recent thing -- the more Stiles got Derek and his sense of humor.

Right now it was Stiles being a doofus, and making Derek laugh. It wasn't even that funny, but the whole afternoon and evening spent with their parents and grandparents and Peter, and then having to ride back to the hotel with his uncle... well, it had all gotten Derek a little on edge. Especially since Peter seemed to have realized that Derek was banging his younger stepbrother....

At least he hadn't been disgusted, hadn't immediately said something to their parents. If anything he seemed to approve, but that was gross and Derek was going to stop thinking about his uncle now.

Especially since he had Stiles' eager hard-on to consider. He'd promised Stiles a blowjob and he had every intention of delivering. So maybe he'd never done it before and didn't know if he'd be any good. Stiles had already given Derek a blow and a half and he'd never even kissed anyone before, much less sucked anyone else's cock.

Derek didn't feel superior. He felt grateful and he wanted to reciprocate.

If he could make Stiles feel even half as good as Stiles had made him feel, then he'd count it a success. Though he certainly hoped to do better than half.

"I can't suck your cock while I'm laughing," he informed Stiles, sobering up with only a little effort. "Not safely, anyway."

Stiles' eyes widened, then his generous mouth curved up in a wide smile for no reason Derek could read.

"What?" he asked brusquely, doing his best to glare when his amusement was still hovering around the corners of his own lips.

"You're really gonna do that?" Stiles was a little breathless, and Derek didn't think it was just from laughing.

"I said I would, didn't I?" Derek grumbled, "It's only fair."

A little frown creased the skin between Stiles' brows. "But do you want to?" He shifted uncomfortably underneath Derek. "I don't want you to do it just because you feel like you have to return the favor or anything."

Derek rolled his eyes. "That wasn't what I meant," he said in tones of exasperation even though he could see Stiles' point. "You know I want to do it. I've said so at least once."

Stiles' cheeks flushed even darker, and he looked pleased and a little shy, which rendered him far more adorable than he had any right to be. It also made him look younger, but Derek did his best to banish that last thought.

"Okay," he said again, but this time he didn't pretend to swoon, so Derek didn't start laughing. No, he just bent and kissed Stiles breathless. Because their parents were going to be at his grandparents' house for at least two or three more hours and so he could take his time with Stiles. He'd promised to take him apart, and Derek always tried to deliver on his promises. Especially ones like that, that he actively wanted to deliver on.

As fluid as he was in his sexuality, Derek hadn't really thought that he'd find himself actually wanting to suck someone's cock... but here he was, not only ready but eager to go down on Stiles.

Kissing Stiles was distracting, though. Derek kind of got lost in it. Stiles' lips were plump and plushy, always opening readily for him, his tongue was lithe and slick, and he wasn't shy about using it. And Derek just about came in his pants every time Stiles started to suck on his own tongue.

But kissing Stiles wasn't going to get Derek any closer to getting Stiles' cock in his mouth. So he reluctantly broke away. It was flattering when Stiles let out a sound of distress and reached for him as he pulled back, but Derek was heading somewhere good.

"Derek," Stiles whined.

"Hang on," Derek murmured, trying to think of the best way they could do this. He kept coming back to a reversal of their positions earlier that afternoon, and so he knelt up beside Stiles, not touching him anywhere. It was temporary, but Stiles set up a fuss like it was the end of the world.

"Scoot up and lean back against the pillows," Derek directed, already manually moving Stiles into the position he'd instructed him to take. He gave a brief moment's thought to stripping off his jeans, which were growing more than a bit binding at the crotch, but they'd just gotten fresh sheets on the hotel bed. If he jizzed unexpectedly, it would be better to do so in his pants. And maybe the denim straining over his balls might keep him from coming too quickly.

If it had been a little more uncomfortable than it was he'd have stripped, but it was something he could endure, for now. Most of his attention was on Stiles' cock, anyway, rather than his own.

As Derek had already noted, it was a nice cock, of a healthy size for Stiles' age, and he had zero qualms about putting it in his mouth. Well, almost zero qualms. Really, though, it kept coming back to the fact that if Stiles could do it so could Derek. He was the older, more mature of the two of them, and he was the one who'd actually had sexual experience before they'd started messing around.

Granted, the only blowjob he'd participated in with someone other than Stiles was one he'd received rather than one he'd given. But he'd be damned if Stiles was going to outdo him in something like this. Bad enough the kid beat him at most video games.

Once he had Stiles where he wanted him -- sprawled on his back with his legs spread, blushing deliciously -- Derek moved between his thighs and spat in his hand before getting a firm grip on the shaft of Stiles' cock.

Stiles let out a squawk that made Derek smirk, but then he was facing down the moment of truth and the head of Stiles' hard cock, and he set aside his amusement in order to take Stiles erection as far into his mouth as he could manage.

Which he was surprised to discover wasn't as far as he'd expected. He had a newfound respect for Stiles, not the he was going to tell him, and even more so because his own cock was even bigger than Stiles' was.

Of course, Stiles' mouth was bigger than Derek's was, he thought with more fondness than spite. And Stiles had an obvious oral fixation that Derek didn't possess.

It was still pretty awesome, having Stiles' hard-on in his mouth, awesome in ways that Derek hadn't expected. And it had nothing to do with the fact that Stiles let out a rattling, sexy moan almost immediately and sank his fingers into Derek's hair as though he needed to hold onto something.

Derek recalled how favorably Stiles reacted to being manhandled, and he reached down with the hand not wrapped around the shaft of his cock to cup and squeeze one tight little ass cheek. Stiles had a nice ass, firm and taut, and Derek actually started thinking about things other than blowjobs that he could do, despite the fact that he was still getting used to the feeling of having a hard-on in his mouth, resting against his tongue.

Like wondering how Stiles would react to being fingered... how he might feel about full-on, penetrative anal sex....

But that was something Derek should set aside for later. Yes, there was lube in Derek's luggage. He wouldn't have gone on a trip without it. But he was already committed to sucking Stiles off; his younger stepbrother might just kill him if he pulled away now and left the bed entirely.

So Derek turned his full attention to the firm young cock in his mouth, twitching and leaking between his palate and his tongue. It was extremely weird, completely different than anything Derek had ever done before, and yet he felt like he had a handle on it.

He just needed to follow Stiles' example. Suck hard, be careful of his teeth, and use his tongue. Shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Okay, it was a little difficult, Derek discovered as he worked at Stiles' erection, bobbing his head and using his fingers on the shaft below his lips the same as Stiles had done. But he made his best effort, and if the sounds that Stiles loosed were any indication, he seemed to be doing a good job.

A good job at a blowjob, Derek laughed, but only internally. Actually laughing while sucking someone's cock wasn't a good idea, and Derek didn't want to try it. The play on words that had spun out in his head hadn't been that funny.

Derek might have expected that all of his attention would be focused on Stiles' throbbing hard-on, since that was what he was sucking on, but he discovered that he was aware of everything even while he was working at giving the best head he was capable of with his inexperience.

Like the way Stiles' fingers were clenched in his hair, pulling hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, making his scalp tingle. The way Stiles' stomach muscles were tensing above his nose, his hips moving rhythmically as though he would be thrusting into Derek's mouth if only he wasn't in a completely wrong position for that to be possible. The way Stiles' thighs were tight and his toes curled into the sheets to either side of Derek, his knees drawn up in sharp points. The way his ass was tightened up in the grip of Derek's flexing fingers.

Derek wished he could grab Stiles' ass with both hands, a cheek in each palm, but he needed one hand to work the pulsing shaft of his stepbrother's cock where his lips couldn't reach. It was wet and tacky with saliva and pre-come, and Derek didn't think that was gross or unnecessary, because he remembered both how sloppy Stiles' blowjob had been, and how good it had felt.

He was pretty sure Stiles was feeling the same pleasure; mostly because of the way he could hear Stiles' breath coming short and sharp, punctuated by little noises that seemed almost punched out of him, and the way his fingers were flexing on Derek's skull.

This whole thing was really hot, Derek thought, and he set to work, sucking at Stiles' hot, heavy hard-on even harder. Which turned out to be either a mistake or a really great idea, because it was less than a full minute before Stiles was shouting and popping off in Derek's mouth.

To be honest Derek hadn't expected Stiles to come so quickly, but he wasn't all that surprised. Stiles was thirteen and getting his first blowjob; in retrospect Derek figured they were both lucky he hadn't come a lot faster.

Stiles had swallowed when Derek had come in his mouth, and lost in the haze of the moment and his own mounting arousal, Derek had no qualms about doing the same.

That, he managed to do more neatly than Stiles, and without the coughing. Not that it was a competition, Derek thought smugly as he pulled off and wiped at his damp chin and numb lips, but if it had been he'd have won it.

Stiles probably felt like he'd won, though, from the way he was sprawled limp with a blissed out expression, his face pink and sweat-dewed, his mouth hanging open temptingly as he panted for breath.

Derek was just becoming aware of his own need to come when Stiles made an entreating sound and reached up for him with clumsy arms. Since he had no desire to deny Stiles anything, Derek moved to lay beside him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Stiles was shivering slightly but calmed immediately as he pressed up against Derek's chest. Derek rubbed soothing spirals on his younger stepbrother's bony back and shoulderblades, and ignored the hard-on throbbing in his jeans and how much he wanted to take it out and do something about it.

"That was... amazing," Stiles husked out as soon as he was able to form words again, and that made Derek feel even better about the whole thing; not that he hadn't already felt good about it. It was pretty awesome knowing that he'd done well though; he definitely appreciated the positive feedback.

He grunted out some sort of reply, but really most of his attention was on the way the denim of his jeans seemed incredibly restrictive and how much he'd really like to get out of them.

"You still need to come, right?" Stiles squirmed, wriggling backwards out of Derek's arms, and he didn't have the wherewithal to stop him. "Take your pants off."

Derek moved to do as directed; not because Stiles had told him to do so, but because he needed them off, now.

While he awkwardly unzipped and peeled off his jeans and boxer-briefs, Stiles clambered down off the bed and rooted around in his luggage.

Derek took a moment to appreciate the view, even though he was annoyed that Stiles had moved so far away from him.

Stiles was naked, of course, and his cheeks were flushed... both sets. Derek imagined that he could see the marks of his own fingers, pinked into the round swell of one of Stiles' ass cheeks, but that might have been wishful thinking on his part.

At thirteen, Stiles' body was still mostly hairless, though he had a healthy thatch of pubes, and his balls were gaining a fine dusting of curls. It was nice to see that he was working his way through puberty, even if it didn't make Derek any less of a pervert for touching him.

Stiles' hair was mussed, which was ironic when it had been Derek's hair that Stiles had been tugging at. But the bed-head suited him, as it always did, as did the way his lips were red and wet.

Derek touched a fingertip to his own mouth. He wasn't anywhere near a mirror so he couldn't see himself, but he thought that his own lips were probably pressure-bruised and reddened. They felt swollen and tender, and he couldn't help the way they curved in a smile. Blowing Stiles had filled Derek with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that he hadn't expected; especially seeing as he hadn't come himself yet.

"No need to look so smug, we all know you're a god in bed," Stiles snarked, but he sounded affectionate, and he was grinning back at Derek where he was standing beside the bed.

Derek raised a brow and reached down to stroke his aching cock a few times. Stiles was holding the lube that Derek had bought him, and he noted with carefully concealed amusement that the bottle was already half empty. Stiles might have been embarrassed near to humiliation by the gift, but he'd clearly been making good use of it.

"Don't be an asshole," Stiles told him, even though Derek hadn't thought he'd been anything approaching an asshole.

"What are you planning on doing with that?" he asked, instead of responding to the unjust accusation. "I thought you wanted to suck me off."

Stiles shrugged awkwardly, still smiling crookedly. "I'll do that later," he said with adorable confidence. "I still want to. But right now I think you should use this," he brandished the lube as though Derek wouldn't have any idea what he was talking about, "To get off between my thighs while I hold them together as tight as I can. Okay?"

Derek stared, as much stunned by this suggestion as by the bold way Stiles had just put it out there.

"Um." Stiles turned a brilliant shade of red which wasn't due to arousal and looked like it hurt. "I mean, if you want to, that is. You don't have t--"

"I want to," Derek blurted, before Stiles could backtrack too far. "I do! I just... wasn't expecting that," he finished, lamely but honestly.

Stiles blushed again, but more adorably and less painfully this time. "Well, it's something that I was thinking about when you were getting off by rubbing against my butt while you jerked me off this afternoon," he said earnestly, handing Derek the lube and crawling back up onto the mattress with him. "I liked that, a lot, but I thought it would be way better with lube."

Derek nodded wordlessly, because what could he say in the face of all this candid sex talk? Seriously, Derek was supposed to be the experienced one here! And yet it was Stiles who was doing what he wanted and making his needs known. In very plain language, no less.

"Okay," he said, which wasn't really what he'd meant to say, but it covered what he meant well enough, he supposed.

"Oh!" Stiles stiffened just when Derek was about to reach for him, making Derek nearly startle. "I forgot! A towel!"

Before Derek could react, Stiles was off the bed again and scampering naked into the bathroom. A towel was probably a good idea, Derek recognized. Even though it was a delay, it would help ensure that the sheets were fit for sleeping on tonight. Lube was meant to be slick and slippery, and sometimes that was as much a drawback as it was a benefit. Also, Derek was going to come at some point. God, he hoped he was going to come; and sooner rather than later!

Derek wanted to say something when Stiles came galloping back over to the bed, ugly white hotel towel waving behind him like a banner. Something witty or snarky or complimentary... or some combination of all three.... But nothing came to mind and so he remained silent.

He was self aware enough to recognize that he wanted to speak up pretty much solely in an attempt to regain control of the situation, and he was mature enough to know that he should just let it go. Barely mature enough. It was tough, though.

At least he couldn't mistake Stiles' enthusiasm. There was no way that Stiles didn't want this; especially since he had been the one to ask for it.

Derek had gotten what he'd asked for; he'd sucked Stiles off. Now it was Stiles' turn to have what he'd been daring enough to ask for.

Derek rubbed his cock a little more, no longer on the verge of coming, but trying to distract himself from the fact that -- speaking of the blowjob he'd given Stiles -- his mouth tasted funny and he really kind of wanted to brush his teeth. That could wait until after he'd gotten off.

An event that was ever closer to happening now, as Stiles joined him on the bed again and spread out the towel with a care and focus that was a little ridiculous, but which was probably helping to keep him from freaking out.

"C'mere," Derek grunted, reaching and grabbed Stiles. He figured it would take Stiles' mind off of stressing over things if he just made them happen. Besides, he knew that Stiles liked being manhandled. And even though Derek was trying to be a patient and careful lover who was making sure that Stiles' needs were met, he was growing increasingly more impatient and he really just wanted to come already.

Pulling Stiles to him, Derek took a moment to kiss him fiercely, before turning him around and tucking him into the curve of his body where he was rolled onto his side. Stiles relaxed into this rough embrace, and Derek felt like he had done the right thing.

And he'd only kind of done it out of selfishness... he'd also been thinking of Stiles, right?

Actually, if he'd paused to think about what he was doing, Derek was afraid he'd dissolve into embarrassment or at least some extreme awkwardness. So he didn't think, he just did.

Getting the inside of Stiles' thighs slicked up with the lube was a messy procedure, and Derek was grateful that Stiles had thought to grab and put down a towel. It was either way different than greasing up a palm and jerking off, or Derek was just clumsy. He had to admit that he did linger over the incredibly soft, still hairless skin between Stiles' legs. It was so warm and so smooth... and Stiles made the most sensual sounds when Derek stroked him with lube-slathered palms.

Once he had Stiles all lubed up and had gotten the cap put back on, Derek reached down with his still-slick hand and cupped Stiles' cock, ignoring the way his own erection was throbbing and aching to get into the soft heat between Stiles' thighs.

He wasn't surprised to discover that Stiles was beginning to get hard again. He'd honestly have been more surprised if he hadn't.

"C'mon, Derek," Stiles whined, wiggling awkwardly backward in offering, as though his words weren't making things clear enough. "Hurry up."

"Don't tell me what to do," Derek ground out automatically, but he did move as directed and seated his hard cock in the soft, slick, deliciously heated space between Stiles' thighs.

After all, it wasn't as though he didn't want to, right?

It probably wasn't anything approaching penetrative sex, Derek thought foggily as he locked an arm around Stiles' bony hips and pulled him back into his pelvis, but it was still an amazing sensation; especially with the way Stiles squeezed his legs together with a force that actually surprised Derek.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped, as though he was the one whose entire body was flooded with intense pleasure and the need to hump his way to completion. Which, that was Derek, by the way. But he did retain enough mental acuity to be grateful that Stiles appeared to be enjoying this as well.

Derek would have liked to have had the ability to reach around and jerk Stiles off at the same time he was screwing between his legs, but he just couldn't. This wasn't like when he'd given Stiles a handjob earlier that day and rubbed off against his ass; the lube and the heated pressure between Stiles' thighs took this to a whole new level and kind of ruined Derek for anything other than rocking into that close, humid tightness, while clutching Stiles to him with arms that he just hoped weren't holding on painfully tightly.

At least Stiles seemed to be managing to grab his own cock and was rubbing himself as Derek pulsed against him. Derek could feel his pointy elbow moving and so he knew that Stiles was working himself closer to his own climax, taking up the slack for Derek.

In all honesty, as much as he was glad that Stiles was taking care of himself, there wasn't really room in Derek's brain for much of anything other than his own pleasure. He'd been distracted while blowing Stiles, he'd held off while Stiles had set up this whole scenario for him, but now it was time for him to fuck his way to completion between Stiles' silken thighs.

Not surprisingly after all this built-up and the novel feeling of his cock being pressed between Stiles' legs, the head of it butting up against Stiles' ballsack whenever he thrust in as far as he could, Derek didn't last very long.

He didn't even want to, as much pleasure as it was giving him, because he just wanted to come. And then he was there and it was roaring over him, and it was really very rude of him, but he shoved Stiles abruptly over onto his belly, grinding down on top of him, Stiles' legs trapped between his own, and he shouted as he shot off, probably more copiously than the towel was going to be able to contain.

The last thing he was thinking about now was the potential wet spot, though. He had Stiles under him, hot and wriggling, and the air smelled like sex, like freshly spilled semen, and fierce pleasure was still winging through him, tingling over every inch of his body, his tense muscles suddenly going loose and lax and dropping him over top of Stiles.

"Oh my God, Derek, seriously?" Stiles was squalling, and as he recovered his scattered senses, Derek realized that his younger stepbrother was trying to shove up from the mattress, his slender body pressing upward against his own from underneath him.

"Sorry," he gritted out, collecting himself and falling sideways off of Stiles, even though his instincts, even post-orgasm, were urging him to continue to push Stiles down into the mattress, to cover his entire body was Derek's own like a possessive, protective blanket.

"You're really fucking heavy after you come," Stiles grumbled, but he didn't really sound put out as he squirmed around against Derek's chest until he was facing him. He sounded almost admiring, even though Derek was pretty sure he didn't actually like getting crushed like that.

"Yeah," Derek sighed, because he couldn't refute it and because he was feeling generous and affectionate in his afterglow. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and reached down to palm one tight ass cheek, taking a moment to enjoy the reality of Stiles in his embrace before he thought about getting Stiles off a second time.

Speaking of which, though....

"I already came," Stiles said, moving so that his arms were around Derek's neck and their chests were pressed close. "When you shot off all over my balls, with my dick crushed between my stomach and the bed, it made me jizz too."

Instead of replying, Derek nuzzled at Stiles' chin and flushed cheek until their mouths came together, almost accidentally, and they both paused there to exchange some long, languid, blissed-out kisses.

"So that was good for you?" Derek finally asked Stiles, wincing internally at how cliched the words sounded as soon as they left his mouth. It was a legitimate question, though. Even though he already kind of knew the answer, since Stiles had climaxed right after him.

"So good," Stiles breathed, nuzzling at Derek's hot cheek with the tip of his cute upturned nose. Derek clutched him closer, even though he was on the verge of drifting off to sleep, filled with a sudden wave of intense affection for his stepbrother.

"Good," was Derek's intelligent contribution to this muted conversation, and he managed through brute strength and sheer determination to drag the towel out from under them both. He dropped it over the edge of the bed then pulled the covers up over them, all while holding onto Stiles, keeping him close. Then he and Stiles kissed some more until they both fell asleep with their faces only inches from one another and their arms wrapped around each other in a way that should have been uncomfortable but wasn't.

They slept like this until Derek's phone unexpectedly went off, beeping loudly to let him know he had a text message because he hadn't set it on silent, starling them both awake.

"Shit," Derek groaned, contemplated just leaving it where it was, on the nightstand where he'd put it when he'd taken off his jeans earlier, but it might be important; it might be their parents. He was on a trip and his friends were all busy with their own long weekend plans, so they would be unlikely to contact him, especially in the middle of the night.

The air was chilly as Derek emerged partway from under the covers, just enough to reach for his phone. He grabbed it and retreated back into the warmth of the sheets.

Stiles grumbled and buried his face against Derek's chest as he settled down next to him again. Derek wrapped one arm around him, then cursed and squinted as the screen of his phone shone bright in the dark room.

"Ow," Derek grunted, blinking away tears and trying to see who had texted him.

[Just letting you know your parents are on their way back to the hotel. Although I'm sure both you and Stiles are both sweetly asleep right now anyway.]

"Fucking Uncle Peter," Derek growled, thumbing off the display and tossing his phone back toward the nightstand with extreme prejudice. It didn't stay there, from the clatter and then the thud on the floor that followed his careless toss, but he didn't care. He was so freaking annoyed with his weird, pervy uncle. Ugh.

Stiles snickered and cuddled more closely, and Derek would have told him he could go to hell too, it wasn't funny, but he was distracted by a jaw-cracking yawn and by the time he'd recovered from that he was already falling asleep again.

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