kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household: Part Ten
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale, Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 14,434 (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 Ten

by kyrene


It wasn't even one full day before Peter was stirring the pot again, so to speak. In fact, it was before they had even finished the delicious and generous brunch that their grandparents had put on the table, ready when they arrived from the hotel.

"I've got us tickets for a wine tasting day-trip on a train," Peter announced, displaying said tickets with a flourish, a wide grin on his face that -- to his credit -- looked completely guileless. He seemed excited about his offering, and Peter was rarely excited over things, instead tending to play it cool no matter what was going on.

"But the boys can't join us on that," Talia protested, reaching over and running a hand through Derek's carefully styled but product-free hair. Stiles tried desperately to not think about burying his own fingers in that thick, dark hair just the night before, because Talia was his mother -- well, stepmother, same difference -- but it was hard.

Heh. Hard.

Okay, it wasn't literally hard, right now, but Stiles was in very real danger of becoming hard. Because he couldn't stop thinking about how amazing it had felt when Derek had blown him last night and how he hadn't seemed to mind Stiles puling his hair while he did it....

"Well, no," Peter said, looking thoughtfully down at the tickets as he fanned them out on the table. "That's why I only got five seats."

"It doesn't seem fair to do something that doesn't include them," Grams Hale said, looking at Peter with irritated fondness. Stiles was familiar with that expression from his own parents' faces... and that realization made him a little uncomfortable.

Well, he hoped he wasn't ever going to end up like Uncle Peter; something of a wastrel, viewed with mingled affection and suspicion by his family, potentially involved in less than legal things.

Also, kind of incestuously overly-affectionate to his sister and nephew, if the complete truth was told, though that part of it was more objective than anything and Talia and Derek both seemed to be in complete denial that it might be happening.

Well, as far as that went, Stiles didn't have a sister, and he wasn't actually related to Derek, so what they were doing wasn't really incest. At least there was that.

"They'll be fine here at your place," Peter was saying, frowning at his mother, looking a little pouty, to be perfectly honest. "It's just an afternoon trip, about four hours not counting travel time to and from the station."

"And that's today?" Papa Hale asked, raising one massive eyebrow. Derek had definitely inherited those from his grandfather, though his weren't quite as impressive... yet. "This afternoon? Pretty short notice, don't you think?"

Peter threw his hands in the air, and now he really was getting his sulk on. Stiles bit back a grin, because Peter was looking increasingly wounded but Stiles could see the sparkle in his crystal blue eyes and he was pretty sure he was playing this up.

"I wanted to do something nice, to celebrate my new job," Peter said dramatically. "I didn't know it was going to be such a problem. We don't have to go. I can see if I can get a refund on the tickets."

Stiles watch, smirking internally as the other adults all caved. Peter was over thirty years old but he was still clearly the baby of the family and he just as clearly knew exactly how to get his way.

Even though he knew better, Stiles might have bought Peter's whole act... if he hadn't fielded a quick wink from his uncle while his parents were making sure Derek was okay with watching Stiles and his grandparents started clearing the table.

"It's fine," Derek said mildly as Stiles snickered and winked back at Peter probably a little less subtly than Peter had managed but no one was looking. "I don't mind at all."

"We'll do something fun this evening," Grams Hale promised, ruffling Derek's hair and making him squawk. "Something with all of us. Promise."

Derek shrugged, then stood up and helped clear the table. Stiles took that as his cue and moved to do the same. He might be less than polite when it came to conversation, but that had more to do with his lack of a verbal filter than anything, and when manners involving being a guest came into play Talia had trained both her boys impeccably.

Once the table was clear it was already almost noon because everyone had slept in and they'd had a late brunch after driving over from the hotel. Grams Hale made sure that Derek and Stiles knew there were plenty of barbeque leftovers and ingredients for making meals from scratch in the fridge, telling them that they could cook anything they wanted while the adults were gone, and just generally making it sound like she thought they were going to starve in the five hours and change that they were going to be home alone.

"For God's sake, Anita, the boys know how to forage for themselves," Papa Hale said in exasperation, ruffling Stiles' hair affectionately.

When Talia had married Stiles' Dad, the Hales had taken Stiles to be as much their grandson as Derek was, and Stiles appreciated that. Most kids his age might have taken it for granted, but Sties could still remember his Mom and how it had felt to lose her, and he knew how important family could be.

Even when you didn't get along with them, the way he and Derek had been until recently. Or didn't trust them, the way he was pretty sure everyone felt about Peter, himself included.

"We'll be fine, Grams," Derek assured her, actually smiling. He'd been so surly while going through the middle part of his puberty -- when he'd been fourteen through sixteen, in fact; three long years -- and Stiles was as happy as their parents and grandparents to see that he was getting over himself and opening up more.

Stiles wondered if, in any small way, he'd had something to do with that. It had seemed as though Derek's mood had lightened around the same time he'd started being nicer to Stiles....

Well, it was hard to tell what was the cause and what was the symptom. Stiles was just glad to see Derek smiling as though he meant it, and so were their grandparents if the raised brows and return smiles were anything to go by.

Then it was time for everyone to leave, and Stiles felt a little zing of excitement as he hugged his Dad and Mom goodbye. He wasn't hard yet -- thank God, because next he was hugging his grandparents -- but his heart was beating faster and he knew he was flushed.

What? He was getting almost five hours of alone time with Derek! He had the right to be excited!

He gave Peter the side-eye after hugging Papa Hale. Even though Peter was the one directly -- and possibly purposely -- responsible for the alone time with Derek, Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to hug him.

It might make Derek jealous, which wasn't actually a bad thing because Stiles liked it when Derek got possessive over him, but it would also make Stiles feel squirmy and gross. Because Uncle Peter was doing them a favor but he was still creepy.

"Shake?" he offered, holding out a hand.

Peter rolled his eyes, smirked at him, and then shook his hand in a way that oh-so-clearly indicated that he was humoring Stiles.

Hey, whatever, at least he didn't have Peter cooties all over him now. Stiles was wearing another of Derek's long-sleeves shirts -- keeping up the ruse that he'd left his own at home -- but even that wasn't armor against Peter's skeeviness.

Derek managed to avoid hugging Uncle Peter as well by essentially hiding behind his mother, and then it was time for the adults to head out.

"Have fun and don't make a mess," Mom said, kissing Derek's temple and then bending slightly to kiss Stiles' cheek. He was ready for his next growth spurt, he really was. He just knew he was going to be taller than Mom someday. Maybe he'd even end up taller than Derek!

"They can't do both, Talia," Grams chided, smiling affectionately at everyone.

"Well, it's your house," she told her mother, then turned back to her boys and clarified, "Don't break anything, okay?"

Stiles puffed up his chest. "I resent the fact that you were looking right at me when you said that!" he protested, and he even kind of half meant it. But not really, because he knew his track record wasn't the greatest. Between his ADHD and his inherent clumsiness he could occasionally be a menace. And going through puberty had only made things worse as his limbs lengthened more rapidly than his brain could adjust for.

"Uh-huh." Evidently Mom agreed; her eyes were telling him as much. "Do what Derek says, within reason, but don't let him push you around."

"Mom!" Derek squawked indignantly, while all the other adults laughed. Stiles thought it was sound advice... and it wasn't like Mom knew that he liked being pushed around by Derek. Especially when Derek was pushing or dragging him in the direction of the bed or shower.

"Call or text us if you need anything. We'll bring home dinner. Okay?"

"Just go," Derek urged, trying to shoo everyone toward the door. "We'll be fine, and we can entertain ourselves."

Peter smirked at Stiles, and Stiles wrinkled his nose. But then Peter made himself useful, reminding them that they were going to be late if they didn't hurry, and that they couldn't exactly catch up to a train if they missed it.

Stiles thought they probably could, because his Dad could drive faster than a train if he wanted to, but then it occurred to him that there probably wouldn't be any stops at other stations, so Peter was right after all.

Stiles and Derek waved goodbye from the porch, then headed back inside, pausing in the entryway once the front door had closed behind them.

"So what should we do?" Stiles questioned. What he wanted to do was jump on Derek like a monkey and initiate some hot hallway sex, but until they could be certain that their family members were on the train there was a chance, however small, that they might return to the house due to illness or having forgotten something important or something, and there was no way Stiles wanted to get caught in the act.

"We just ate so there's no point even thinking about lunch," Derek said, leading the way back into the kitchen. "But Grams said we could make anything we wanted. So I was thinking... cookies?"

"Hell, yeah," Stiles enthused, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "Chocolate chip, right?"

"Of course," Derek grunted, opening the fridge and taking out several sticks of butter. "Maybe some snickerdoodles too."

Stiles nodded enthusiastically, diving into the cupboard for the mixing bowls.

"Here," Derek said, once Stiles had emerged and set the recovered bowls on the counter with a clatter, even though he'd tried to be careful. It really was kind of physically impossible for Stiles to not make noise, even when he made an effort.

Stiles turned, took one look at what Derek was holding in one hand, and rolled his eyes. "Really, Derek?"

"Really," Derek replied, moving to loop the strap of the apron he'd been offering to Stiles over Stiles' head himself since he was obviously a control-freak and Stiles obviously hadn't moved fast enough for his control-freaky nature. "You're wearing one of my shirts, remember?"

Stiles snorted, but he couldn't really argue with that logic, especially not when Stiles was pretty much physically incapable of not making a mess of himself while baking. There was just something about all that fluffy, puffy flour... and then dough was really sticky, okay?

Besides... Derek was putting the apron on for him, fingers lingering as they ran over Stiles' body, palms brushing his hips, his expression adorably intent. And once the apron was on, Derek actually rolled up the sleeves of the shirt Stiles was wearing, his hands stilling as he ran the pad of his thumb gently over the bruises ringing Stiles' skinny wrists.

He didn't bring Stiles' wrists up to his face this time, didn't nuzzle them, but Stiles still felt himself begin to harden in his jeans. Probably standing in the grandparents' kitchen, flooded with golden sunlight and filled with happy memories, was not the best time to be popping a boner, but his dick had a mind of its own and it wanted Derek.

Regrettably but probably fortunately, Derek let go of Stiles' wrists and then he put on the frilly apron that Grams kept in the kitchen so that the second person cooking always got stuck with lace and a perky pink pattern. Stiles giggled, reaching out before he thought and running his hand down the front, where it covered Derek's crotch. Completely accidentally... or, well, mostly accidentally.

There was a definite bulge there, but Derek just shoved Stiles lightly in the shoulder and said, "Come on. These cookies aren't going to make themselves."

Stiles sulked a little, but he understood the necessity. They needed to get the cookies baked first. By the time they were done they could be sure that the adults were all on the wine tasting train. Also, they would have something to show that they'd been productive while they'd been left alone. And they'd have delicious chocolate chip cookies to eat after all the sex they were going to have. It was win-win-win and it only required a little bit of patience on his part.

"All right," Stiles said, getting the vanilla and almond extracts out of the cupboard. "But you're going to be banging me by the time we finish."

Something crashed loudly behind him and Derek let out a low curse.

Stiles snickered but continued to collect ingredients. He could see the tips of Derek's ears getting pink as he turned on the oven so that it would be up to temp by the time they were ready, and he was both thrilled and disbelieving that he was able to elicit such an extreme reaction from his older, more experienced stepbrother.

Well, Derek wasn't going to remain more experienced for long. Not if Stiles had anything to say about it. Granted, Derek would always have had more sex than Stiles. But Stiles intended to try everything and do everything, and he intended their joint experience to far outstrip whatever Derek had already done before too much longer.

Stiles intended to try all the sex in all the positions. He could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought, and he still couldn't believe that for some reason Derek was willing to bang him, but he was sure as hell going to take it and run as far as he could go.

"Will you grease the cookie sheets?" Derek asked, setting them on the counter.

Stiles eyeballed his stepbrother suspiciously. "Is this an attempt to keep me out of the cookie dough?" he asked, though he did move to do as requested. "Because if it is, I can tell you right now that it's not going to work."

Derek rolled his eyes, completely predictably. "I don't understand you and Mom's addiction to eating cookie dough," he said disapprovingly. "It's got raw eggs in it. Gross." He shuddered theatrically.

Stiles smirked. "It tastes wonderful," he responded. "And we don't think about that. We just enjoy the gooey goodness."

"But... raw eggs," Derek said in tones of horror and disgust.

Stiles shrugged. He wasn't going to change Derek's mind, but Derek wasn't going to change his either. Sometimes Stiles knew when to drop a subject. Sometimes.

Besides, if they stopped talking about eating raw cookie dough, Derek might drop his guard and then Stiles might get a chance to actually do it instead of just talking about it.

"Do you want me to start on some snickerdoodles?" Stiles offered once he was done with the cookie sheets. Neither he nor Derek needed to use any recipes for baking; their mother had been teaching them how ever since they'd been older enough to reach the counter while standing on a stepstool. They could have made chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles in their sleep by this point.

Hell, right now Stiles was making cookies while distracted by thoughts of sex, sex, sex!

"Sure." Derek ripped open the bag of chocolate chips and poured them into his mixing bowl in a cascade of rich, dark, semi-sweet sugary goodness. "Just be sure you don't forget the cinnamon."

"That was one time, Derek," Stiles protested, grabbing his own bowl and beginning to assemble the ingredients. "Once."

"Without the cinnamon they might as well just be sugar cookies," Derek complained, and now it was Stiles' turn to roll his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with sugar cookies," he claimed, nose wrinkling with the need to sneeze as he measured the flour a little less than carefully. Okay, so maybe the apron had been a good idea. "After all, they have 'sugar' on their name!"

Derek snorted, mixing the chocolate chips into the bowl with a wooden spoon. "That wasn't what you said when Mom made sugar cookies last month," he said haughtily.

"That's because I was expecting her famous chocolate chunk oatmeal cookies," Stiles informed Derek absently, most of his attention caught up in the flex of Derek's forearm as he stirred. There was a dusting of dark hair on the smooth skin, and the corded muscles shifted in ways that made Stiles' jeans feel way too tight. Stiles wanted to touch, even more than he wanted to sample the delicious dough Derek was working at creating.

"You try dealing with that kind of disappointment and not say something you might not actually mean," Stiles continued, a little breathless, deserting his half-prepared snickerdoodle dough and taking the four steps necessary to bring him into Derek's space.

"What?" Derek questioned, looking a little startled. "Stiles, what are you doing?"

"I wanna...." Stiles lost his words, simply moving to take what he wanted. Derek shifted so that the bowl of dough was out of reach, but that wasn't where Stiles was headed.

"What?" Derek asked again, his thick brows creasing in confusion, as Stiles plastered both his hands to one magnificent forearm.

"How is it fair for you to be this sexy?" Stiles queried, licking his lips. He'd have scowled at Derek, but his face only seemed capable of carrying an expression of hunger right now. Derek was good at glaring sexily but Stiles didn't think he had that skill.

"Stiles...."

Derek's voice actually sounded a little shaky and he set the bowl on the counter with the hand that Stiles wasn't holding captive. He held still as Stiles brushed his fingers over the dark fuzz on his forearm that had caught and held his attention, then twitched a little as Stiles traced the pad of his thumb over the veins and tense muscles, pressing lightly against the pulse beating under the thin skin of Derek's wrist.

There was flour and sugar dusting Derek's knuckles, and Stiles held onto the wrist he had captured. He didn't squeeze, couldn't have bruised Derek the way Derek had bruised him even if he'd tried, but he did feel out the sharp bones and little hollows between them, taking his time and enjoying the sensation of Derek's smooth skin under his fingertips as much as he was enjoying the way Derek's breathing had picked up, and the way he could very clearly see Derek's growing erection under the pink lace of the apron he was wearing out the corner of his eye.

"Stiles, we're supposed to be making cookies," Derek said, but his voice was husky and he wasn't making any move to pull away, just standing there passively as Stiles explored his forearm and wrist.

"Nothing's in the oven yet," Stiles murmured, plastering his palm to the back of Derek's hand and twining their fingers together. He still had some growing to do before he was as big as Derek, but he'd always had large hands for his age and they fit together pretty well.

"Dammit," Derek cursed and it sounded like surrender to Stiles. He lifted his chin just in time to field a sudden kiss that he expected would be hard and forceful, but which was instead soft and careful. It was no less commanding for all that, though, and Stiles opened his mouth obediently when Derek's tongue sought entry.

They kissed for a little while in the sunlight-flooded kitchen, Stiles still clinging to Derek's arm, their fingers locked together, but otherwise not touching anywhere but their mouths.

"We've got to finish the cookies," Derek informed Stiles breathlessly once he'd finally broken the kiss. Stiles licked tingling lips, staring at the way Derek's lips were red and wet and noticeably plumped from the friction of their kissing. He really loved Derek's mouth... and not just for what it could do to him; it was gorgeous to look at too.

"Or we could have sex now," he offered as a viable alternative.

Derek looked torn between rolling his eyes and agreeing, but in the end he reluctantly pulled his hand away. "Stiles. Cookies."

"Ugh." Stiles let go, reluctantly, then darted for the bowl of dough Derek had left on the counter and scooped up a couple of fingers' worth. "Fine, but you owe me this, then!"

Derek's look of disgust when he realized what Stiles was doing melted into an expression of untethered arousal when Stiles stuck his dough-smeared fingers in his mouth and sucked, making blissful noises.

Stiles realized belatedly what this must look like to his older stepbrother, and he smirked around the fingers he had wedged between his lips, sucking harder. He was now enjoying the way he was turning Derek on just as much as he was enjoying the way the granulated sugar melted on his tongue, the dough all buttery and creamy, yet a little bit crunchy at the same time because the sugar hadn't been cooked into the other ingredients. It was like being in heaven, though if this was really heaven Derek wouldn't be wearing anything other than the frilly pink apron he had on.

Still, Derek was wearing the frilly pink apron, and it did nothing to disguise the hard-on Stiles was giving him, and the raw dough tasted delicious on Stiles' tongue.

The cookie dough was gone, even the chocolate chips that had been in his clumsy finger-scoop having melted away, before Stiles finally slid his damp fingers out of his mouth. Completely aside from the look on Derek's face, Stiles just felt better when he was sucking on something. He'd woken up that morning with his thumb in his mouth; thankfully rousing earlier than Derek and sliding it out before his stepbrother saw.

Though Stiles had to wonder if Derek would be grossed out if he caught him sucking his thumb like a baby... or if he might be turned on. He certainly seemed to like it when Stiles sucked on other things.

Stiles was a little mesmerized by the way the warm early afternoon sunlight was shining in Derek's clear eyes. He still couldn't pin down what color they were -- mostly he thought of them as being hazel, sometimes they were more green, sometimes more blue, and sometimes they were almost gold -- but right now what mattered was that Derek was looking at him.

Still maintaining eye contact, Derek reached over toward the counter. Stiles wasn't sure what he was doing, not even when he scooped up a generous dollop of the cookie dough himself, but then Derek's fingers were pressed to Stiles' lower lip and he automatically opened his mouth, and figured out pretty quickly what Derek had in mind.

If his mouth hadn't been full, Stiles might have mocked Derek for feeding him dough containing raw eggs. But it was kind of the point that his mouth was full, and Stiles set to sucking greedily on Derek's fingers; not to get the delicious flavor of sugar and chocolate, but because Derek had his fingers in his mouth. Stiles couldn't have not sucked, even if sucking hadn't been what Derek had wanted.

And since it was so very obvious that Derek wanted Stiles to suck on his fingers... well, that just made this all the sweeter. And not because of the granulated sugar and chocolate.

Derek's expression had gone kind of blank but at the same time his gaze had become very sharp, his eyes focused on the working of Stiles' lips around his fingers, and Stiles could feel heat flooding his cheeks and chubbing his semi up to full hardness in his pants at the undisguised hunger he could see there.

He sucked more vigorously, moaning shamelessly around his stepbrother's fingers, one hand wrapping around Derek's forearm again and the other going down to his own crotch to rub at his erection through the triple shield of the apron he had on, his jeans, and his underwear.

That was way too much material, but it still felt amazing and he moaned again, sucking harder by instinct, not even in an effort to turn Derek on.

It worked to turn Derek on more, though, Stiles could tell even before he opened eyes that he hadn't realized he had closed. Once he was looking at Derek, he could see the way his older stepbrother's high cheekbones were deeply flushed, his cute white bunny-teeth showing between parted lips, his gaze somehow even more fixed on Stiles when that wouldn't have seemed possible.

Stiles licked at Derek's fingers as he slowly removed them, able to taste the salt of his flesh once the sugar was gone. He was sad to feel them leave his mouth, though he did like the way Derek trailed the pads of his fingertips over Stiles' lower lip, smearing saliva and the last of the dough over its swell.

"You--"

It didn't seem as though Derek had any idea of how to finish that sentence, but that was okay, because he replaced his fingers with his own lips again, and they were kissing before Stiles even realized he'd been roped into Derek's arms and tugged up against his chest.

Stiles locked his fingers around the lace-lined straps of the apron Derek was wearing, rising up on tip-toe, sliding his tongue into Derek's mouth, tangling it with Derek's own. He could have teased Derek that he was getting a taste of the dreaded raw cookie dough after all, but that would have required breaking their kiss and Stiles wasn't prepared to do that.

Derek didn't seem to have any compunctions, as he lifted his head and pushed Stiles away a little. Stiles whined when they broke apart, but then aprons were being untied and stripped off and then they... well, then they both wound up in a very compromising and very promising position.

And Stiles definitely wasn't going to complain about that.

+=+=+

If he was completely honest, Derek wasn't quite sure how he ended up sitting on one of the kitchen table chairs, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles, Stiles between his spread legs, knees cushioned on Derek's jeans... but he was pretty sure that raw cookie dough and Stiles' sweet red sucking mouth had been involved.

That mouth was still very much involved, as Stiles' plushy, plump lips closed around the head of Derek's straining cock, nursing at the blunt tip, causing Derek to rumble out a surprised and almost agonized groan. His stomach muscles tightened, his hands clenched on the seat of the chair to either side of him in an attempt to retrain himself from pulling on Stiles' hair.

He felt a little delirious, lost in a haze of overwhelming pleasure, his balls already drawn up tight, his hard-on throbbing and jumping in Stiles' grip. Stiles' mouth was wet and hot and he sucked at Derek as though he was desperate for it, as though it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

Stiles pulled off with a wet pop and Derek was torn between staring at him avidly -- that bruised wet mouth and those flushed cheeks and his molten brown eyes -- and dragging his head back down onto his aching cock.

"You can grab my hair," Stiles said, and it sounded as though he actually wanted Derek to do it. "It's okay, Derek, I trust you."

"But I don't trust me," Derek ground out, his knuckles flexing as he clutched at the chair more tightly. Stiles was stroking the shaft of his cock with his clever fingers and his chin was slick with saliva and probably not a little precome, and Derek just wanted Stiles to suck him off already.

Stiles rolled his eyes, the little shit, then bent back down and took Derek's hard-on into his hungry mouth again.

Derek loosed a crackling, rattling groan and his hips jerked, wanting to leave the chair, to flex up and thrust into Stiles' mouth. Thankfully he was at the wrong angle to move that way, or else he might have choked his stepbrother.

Stiles pulled off again and Derek wanted to kill him.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Stiles said, which should have concerned Derek, but he was more focused on how Stiles was now stroking his inner thighs with tacky hands, leaving his erection twitching and aching and chilled from the lack of attention. "I want to try something."

Derek was a little worried by these words, he had to be honest, because they were usually followed by something getting broken or Stiles getting hurt, or both.

But then Stiles was sucking his cock again and he kind of forgot to be worried as pleasure and arousal surging through him, drowning all his thoughts and overwhelming his mind.

"Oh. Fuck," he managed to choke out brokenly, and if he could have pried his fingers free of the chair he probably would have grabbed Stiles' head at this point, but they felt like they were stuck the way they were, all of his body beyond his control, everything that he had and everything he was fixated on the heat and suction of Stiles' mouth.

And then Stiles shifted up higher on his knees, squared his shoulders, his fingers digging into the softness of Derek's inner thighs, and he slid down Derek's cock, the head dragging over the flat, soft bed of his tongue until it bumped up against the back of Stiles' throat.

Stiles made a little gagging sound when he did this that Derek could barely hear through the rushing of blood in his ears, over his pounding pulse, and he pulled back immediately, but before Derek could pull his broken brain together enough to tell Stiles not to hurt himself, Stiles had shifted into what he evidently felt was an even better position, and was going down on him again.

This wasn't quite deep-throating, Derek thought hazily as he did his best not to writhe where he was seated, pinned down by Stiles' mouth and the pleasure it was giving him and his desire to not hurt his stepbrother, but it was so much more than just a simple suck-job.

Stiles had just taken their blowjobs to the next level and Derek was reaping the benefits, oh God, was he benefitting!

"I've been practicing," Stiles said hoarsely, pulling off long enough to speak and grin briefly, but then plunging back down onto Derek's throbbing cock before Derek could begin to think about replying.

If he could even have managed to form words, which was highly questionable at this point.

Part of Derek wanted to know how Stiles had been practicing, but most of his attention was on the results of said practice, his entire body thrumming with pleasure as Stiles went down on him, further and further each time, taking more of his hard cock in his mouth, his head bobbing in Derek's lap with growing steadiness as he got used to his task, his hands busy and demanding. Since he was swallowing down more of the shaft of Derek's cock than he'd been able to manage before, that freed up Stiles fingers to do... other things. Which he did.

Derek was fixated on the tight, hot, wet sensation of Stiles sucking on his erection, taking him deeper with each dip of his head, and maybe by this point it was deep-throating. But the fingers sinking into his pubes and kneading at the sensitive skin there, just above the root of his cock, added to the pleasure. As did the other hand, cupping and playing with his balls.

It was when Stiles ventured behind his nuts, though, fingertips prodding at his taint with deliberate pressure, as if Stiles knew what he was doing and was doing it on purpose, that Derek let out a throttled shout and splashed his load all down Stiles' throat, coating his tongue when Stiles pulled back, throat working as he swallowed.

Derek watched with heavily-lidded eyes as Stiles licked his crimson lips, wiping his sloppy mouth and chin off with one hand and wrist, his own gaze dark and heated as he closed his other hand around Derek's over-sensitized cock. It was a little too intense, but Stiles' fingers were warm and kept his cock from getting chilled as it slowly began to soften.

"Awesome," Stiles rasped, his voice coming out low and hoarse, and Derek's hard-on twitched even though he was spent, reacting to the way Stiles sounded after something that had been so close to deep-throating that he might just as well call it that.

And Stiles was the one who thought that it had been awesome... amazing!

Derek wanted to say something, wanted to praise Stiles, wanted to offer to return the favor, but all he could manage for the moment was lifting a hand that had finally come loose from where he'd been gripping the chair and sinking his fingers into Stiles' thick hair. His own chest was still heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, and he watched with mingled affection and frustration as Stiles rested his head against one of his thighs, raising his eyes to smile up at Derek with pressure-swollen lips.

Affection because he genuinely cared about Stiles and thought that he looked fucking adorable at the same time he looked fucked-out. And frustration because he wanted to suck Stiles off in turn but was still too out of it to make the effort, or even the offer, since words were a little beyond him right now.

"It's okay," Stiles assured him, as though he was reading Derek's mind. He nuzzled the soft skin of the inside of Derek's thigh, his cheek flushed hot and lightly dewed with sweat, his thumb toying gently with Derek's foreskin as his cock became flaccid once more. "I'm not in a hurry."

Derek snorted, recovered enough for that, and tightened his fingers in Stiles' hair. "Since when?" he croaked out. And why was his voice so raspy when it had been Stiles who'd been taking Derek's cock into his throat?

Stiles smirked, looking like sex personified, especially with Derek's hand still sunk in his hair, still resting on his head. "Since I'm about to jizz in my pants and need a minute to calm down so it won't happen if I so much as twitch," he replied candidly. "I didn't bring a change of underwear."

Derek chuckled, a little surprised by this answer but not really, He palmed Stiles' head more firmly. "All right," he said, not that Stiles needed any approbation. "So once you can move without coming, how about you let me pull my pants up and then I'll see if I can't get you off without too much of a mess."

Stiles nodded vigorously, already letting go of Derek's cock and letting himself fall backward onto his ass on the kitchen floor. Derek missed the bold, possessive grip Stiles had been maintaining on his cock, but it was probably for the best, he acknowledged as he stood and reached down to tug up his underwear and jeans.

He could hear the oven ticking quietly to itself as it maintained its heat and there were bowls of raw and half-finished cookie dough just sitting there on the counter, waiting....

Mostly, though, Derek was concerned with the painful-looking bulge in Stiles' jeans, the denim stretched taut over his crotch. He could see a damp spot of precome staining the material and he kind of thought it was already too late for Stiles to avoid making a mess of his underwear. But then again, there was a big difference between pre-ejaculate and jizz, as all teenage boys knew, especially when it came to the state of their underwear.

Derek tucked his junk back into his boxer-briefs, pulled his jeans up over his ass, and fastened the fly. His cock and balls were still tingling and he swore he could feel a phantom echo of the prodding of Stiles' fingertips behind them. He... he liked that, though.

He felt sated, filled with pleasure, replete, but he also wanted to make sure that he made Stiles feel as good as Stiles had made him feel.

Derek looked down. Down, down, down, to where Stiles was sprawled on the floor, resting back on his elbows, legs spread wide, staring up at him. Despite his expression of hunger and the way he'd absolutely known what he'd been doing when he'd blown Derek just now, Derek still thought that Stiles looked small and vulnerable like this.

It made him feel equal parts predatory and protective, both at once. As though he wanted to debauch Stiles but at the same time he wanted to make sure that no one else ever did....

Which really should have made Derek feel like a pervert, he was well aware, but Stiles had explicitly said that he trusted him. Derek would live up to that trust... and he would get Stiles off.

"Derek," Stiles croaked, not making any move to rise or even sit, his eyes burning as he stared up, and Derek grinned wolfishly as he knelt, being careful of how his seams pressed against his own still-sensitive cock, but more focused on Stiles' hard-on.

"I've got you," he murmured, kneeling between Stiles' obscenely sprawled legs and then crawling over top of him with fierce intent, his eyes fixed on Stiles' talented mouth and shiny red lips. It almost sounded more like a threat than a promise, but that seemed to be all good with Stiles, if the way his gaze went hazy and the way his tempting mouth fell open were any indication.

His cheeks were burning a fiery red, there was a gleam of perspiration at his temples, and if he glanced down Derek could see both the dark rings of bruises ringing Stiles' bony wrists where the sleeves of his borrowed shirt were still rolled up and the eager swelling in his jeans.

Stiles couldn't have made a more tempting picture if he'd been trying, and Derek might have intended to take his time, but that notion went right out of his head when his hands went to Stiles' fly and Stiles basically arched up into this slightest of contact with an instinctive little sound of entreaty.

Derek made quick work of Stiles' fly, reaching into his jeans and underwear and pulling his throbbing hard-on free, and then he made even quicker work of taking Stiles into his mouth.

It gave Derek a sense of pride that he was able to take Stiles down nearly to the base of his cock before he had to stop in order to prevent himself from choking. He hadn't been practicing, so he couldn't risk triggering his gag reflex -- that wouldn't be sexy -- but he did manage to suck down almost all of Stiles' cock despite the fact that he was generously-sized for a thirteen year old.

"Oh!" Stiles gasped in surprise or maybe just pleasure, jerking underneath Derek, curling up and in toward him, fingers sinking into his hair, thighs coming in to clamp tightly around Derek's chest. "Oh my God, Derek!"

It didn't really take long after that for Derek to bring Stiles to climax, but the kid had been all wound up from the blowjob he'd given Derek, so it only made sense that he popped off quickly. Derek felt a little disappointed that he didn't have more of a chance to work that fat cock that fit so well in his mouth, but he couldn't begrudge Stiles his climax.

When Stiles shot off all over his tongue, Derek took what he had to give. It kind of seemed wrong to swallow his younger stepbrother's load on the floor of their grandparents' kitchen... but it would have been even more wrong not to.

Once Stiles was spent, Derek maneuvered them around and down so that they were spooning where they were, Stiles tucked safely into Derek's larger body.

Okay, so the kitchen floor was not the best place to cuddle -- it was hard and chilly despite the sunny warmth of the day -- but it was where they ended up. Derek was curled protectively around Stiles, nose buried in his hair, arms wrapped around his belly, just breathing and feeling Stiles' bony back move against his chest as he breathed as well.

"You like that, don't you," Derek said hoarsely, not even really a question.

Stiles grunted in what he chose to interpret as a query, and Derek nosed his way behind his ear.

"You like giving head," he whispered, as though it was a secret he was imparting, as though Stiles wasn't already aware of that fact.

Stiles shuddered, squirming back into the curve of Derek's body, his little ass wriggling tantalizingly against his crotch. "Well, yeah," he sighed, sounding fucked out and happy. "Doesn't everyone?"

Derek snorted, amused by this naivety. "Not everyone," he replied honestly.

Stiles tensed a little and shifted as he tried to turn and look at Derek. "You don't like it?" he asked in a small voice, because of course he would jump right to the wrong conclusion. "You didn't have to--"

"No, it's fine," Derek hurried to assure him. He hadn't meant to make Stiles feel insecure, honestly hadn't meant himself. "I like it, I do," he stumbled, arms tightening around Stiles so that he couldn't escape. "I mean, not as much as you, obviously. But I like it."

Stiles was silent, making Derek worry, but he just seemed to be processing. "I really like it," he finally said, the words low and intense. "Like, really, really a lot. I feel better when I have something in my mouth."

"Obviously," Derek murmured, not even trying to hide his smirk. It wasn't like Stiles could see him anyway. Though he could probably hear it in his voice.

"No, I mean..." Stiles squirmed a little more, in what Derek could tell was arousal. "I have to have my fingers in my mouth when I jerk off. But that's not enough. I like to suck on big things."

Derek chuckled, amused and really turned on. "I guess it's good that I have a big thing, then."

Stiles elbowed him, sharp and bony, but he was laughing at the same time. "Dork!"

"You're the dork," Derek replied, nuzzling Stiles' neck and rubbing at his flat belly.

"You're a bigger dork," Stiles shot back, though he melted into the manhandling. "Hey, did you know that a dork is a whale penis? Speaking of huge dicks...."

"Oh my God, seriously?" Derek pulled away and stood, causing Stiles to squall in distress before Derek reached down and dragged his younger stepbrother to his feet as well.

"Are you actively trying to kill the mood?" Derek groused, though he kept a possessive hand on Stiles' shoulder and watched intently while he tucked his cock away and zipped himself up.

"What?" Stiles looked up at him with an open mouth. He made one hell of a picture, with wet lips and flushed cheeks and messy hair and Derek really wanted to debauch him all over again. "No way, are you kidding? Talking about penises is killing the mood?"

Derek scoffed, though he could remember being thirteen and finding everything sexual. Hell, he was only seventeen and still felt that way most of the time. Not when it came to Cetacean genitalia, though.

"It is when you compare me unfavorably to another penis," he said, even though the knew this was only going to encourage Stiles on his tangent.

"Hey, you should be flattered that I had to choose the biggest animal that has ever lived to compare your dick to!" Stiles informed him. He sounded snotty, but he was grinning up at Derek, clearly amused. Then he switched into science mode. "Blue whales are even bigger than any of the dinosaurs ever were, did you know that?"

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Stiles, I did know that. Now, let's get back to making cookies."

"Aw." Stiles' face fell. "I wanted to bang again."

Derek quirked a brow. "Well, I was thinking about dragging you into the shower and showing you what rimming was... but then you started talking about whale penises."

Stiles looked both devastated and intrigued at once, his cheeks going red and blotchy. "I know what rimming is," he said, his voice small and wobbling a little but he didn't look traumatized.... "Derek!"

Derek surmised from the way Stiles moved closer to him and clutched at his shirt that Stiles was into the idea, not disgusted by it. Still, he had to be sure.

"You want to try it?"

"Oh my God." Derek caught Stiles as his knees seemed to go weak and he fell against him. "Yes, please, now, Derek, please?"

"Cookies," Derek reminded.

"Fuck the cookies!" Stiles yelped indignantly, his voice going even more squeaky.

Derek laughed, unable to help himself even though there was the danger that Stiles might think he was laughing at him. "I'd rather fuck you," he said, before Stiles could take offense, speaking in full honesty. "But after we finish making the cookies."

"Dang it," Stiles huffed, adorable as he completely failed at swearing. "Okay...."

Since Stiles' idea of "making cookies" currently seem to mean checking his phone, Derek put on the regular apron and left Stiles the frilly one. He hadn't actually minded wearing it, had no reason to feel emasculated or insecure -- hell, his grandfather wore it half the time, as did his stepfather, Peter being the only one who made a fuss about doing so -- but he really wanted to see Stiles in pink and lace.

Anyway, turnabout was fair play, right? And it was Derek's job as an older brother to do this sort of thing. At least, he was pretty sure....

"Hey, look, Uncle Peter posted pictures from the train, and everyone is in them!" Stiles said, holding his phone out for Derek to view. Evidently Stiles had thought that FaceBook was more important than the snickerdoodle dough he was halfway through mixing up.

"So?" Derek asked, scowling at the smarmy smirk on his uncle's face as he took a group selfie. Which, yes, had himself, their parents, and the grandparents all in it. They all seemed to be having a good enough time, despite the short notice. Then again, wine was involved.

"So?" Stiles turned wide brown eyes on him. "So? Duh, Derek, that means we know they're safely on the train and we know we have almost five hours to ourselves. To fuck!"

Derek could feel his cheeks heat up as that word spilled blunt and evocative over Stiles red lips, which were still slightly swollen from giving him head.

"Well, yeah," he said gruffly. "I mean, if they haven't already come home we could just as well have assumed that they got on the train."

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, point. But now we know know."

Derek nodded. The potential for getting caught hadn't added anything to their recent sex, he thought, the way it evidently excited some people. To be honest, it hadn't even crossed his mind and he was glad it hadn't. If anything, the danger of getting caught would have killed his boner, not made him more turned on.

"Derek!" Stiles yelped, suddenly realizing he'd been left with the frilly apron. He held it up, looking far more appalled than was actually necessary.

"Put it on," Derek said firmly, then grinned when Stiles' ears went pink. He liked the way Stiles liked being ordered around and roughly handled. By him. No one else, though. No one else was allowed to manhandle his stepbrother.

Derek almost thought he might have to put it on for Stiles the way he had done the other apron before their baking venture had devolved into an exchange of blowjobs. He was actually a little disappointed when that didn't become necessary, and Stiles put it on as instructed.

But it was good enough seeing Stiles prance around in pink and lace as he pulled himself together and got back to his snickerdoodle dough. It just made Derek want to bang him more.

Not that this was anything that Derek didn't want anyway. Not that it wasn't going to happen.

But they had cookies to make first. Because Derek had said so and since he'd been the one to say so, he couldn't go back on that.

Dang it.

+=+=+

Stiles was a horny thirteen year old with a very active imagination and a fixation on his older stepbrother, and yet he had never, even in his wildest fantasies, thought that he would ever end up in the shower with Derek's tongue in his butthole.

He'd read about rimming, of course he had. There weren't many sexual positions or practices Stiles hadn't looked into. He'd done some of this on the internet at the McCall house, even though he hadn't had the time or opportunity to look in-depth on that source.

And for the gaps in his knowledge... well, Stiles knew there were other ways of gaining knowledge, for all he was a child of his age and tended to use Google and Wiki as easily as breathing, and the sex-help books in the adult nonfiction section of the Public Library were perfectly explicit about what to do and what to expect. Stiles was pretty sure that by now he'd tracked down and read all of them. He hadn't checked any of them out, had put them carefully back on the shelves where he had gotten them once he was done, but he'd definitely educated himself.

The point being that Stiles had known about rimming and had been a little weirded-out but also excited by the idea of it. He'd never thought he'd actually experience it, though, and he'd really, really never thought that Derek might actually do it.

It was even more amazing than Stiles might have imagined, if he had imagined, which he hadn't, but he should have done.

He'd known about his oral fixation and because of that he'd anticipated that he would like sucking guys off... and he'd been right. He'd been sure that getting blown would be even more pleasurable than jerking himself off, and he'd been so very right about that.

But he'd never really touched himself back there while masturbating, except a few times when he'd been rubbing his perineum and his fingers had slipped in the lube, stuttering over the little bud of muscle and clenched tight flesh. It had felt good when it had happened, had made Stiles tingle in ways he didn't think his butthole should make him feel, but he'd never lingered, always in a hurry to get himself off in a more conventional manner.

Derek was lingering. Derek was lingering over his anus with broad sweeps of his tongue and deliberate prodding, and Stiles thought he was going to start sobbing and clawing at the shower walls any moment, he was so turned on.

It just felt so damned good.

The shower was hot and steamy, the water pressure just right, the nozzle set to a wide spray that covered both of them in cascading warmth. Derek had taken the time to thoroughly clean Stiles' back there before he'd gone anywhere near his butthole with his mouth, and that in itself had been a strange, slippery, invasive sort of pleasure.

Just Derek's fingers rubbing against him had felt incredible, had felt big and solid against the delicate skin, slick and sudsy with soap, and pressing up a little way inside without any real effort and only the tiniest bit of discomfort on Stiles' part. This discomfort had been overwhelmed by the toe-curling pleasure by such a huge amount that it had actually only added to the experience, not taken away from it at all.

And that had been before Derek had turned Stiles around and pressed him up against the wall and then knelt down behind him. After all the soap had been washed away and Stiles had been squeaky clean, Derek had stuck his face right into his crack, licking away as though it was something that he desperately wanted.

God, if just Derek's tongue and one finger felt this amazing, how was it going to feel when he put his dick inside of Stiles?

Stiles couldn't really fathom that right now, though, all of his attention focused on the sensations that Derek worked to drag out of him. He whined low and needy, his back arched as he pushed back into the sloppy kisses Derek was giving his butthole, his legs spread wide, and his chest, cheek, and hands plastered to the water drenched wall in front of him.

Everything was humid and hot, from the air around him to Derek's cheeks between his cheeks -- hah! -- but most of all the licking tongue that moved over his skin with so much confidence that Stiles had to wonder whether Derek had done this before.

Stiles was pretty sure Derek hadn't done this before, but he wasn't about to ask. Not now and not later. Especially not right now, because right now Stiles was suspended in the moment, in a welter of agonizing pleasure that was so intense his brain didn't even know what to do with everything he was experiencing.

Stiles whined, his dick jerking, drooling precome -- he could feel it even if he couldn't see it -- his eyes screwed shut and his face lifted a little where he had it pressed to the shower wall. Derek's hands were holding his butt cheeks open, but when Stiles' hips jerked, one of them slid free and went between his thighs and forward to cup and caress his balls, fingertips brushing against the base of his aching erection.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped, a little surprised that he was able to form words, not at all surprised that his voice came out strangled and thick, almost unintelligible.

He could feel the faintest scratching of Derek's stubble against the insides of his butt cheeks, because Derek's had forgotten to shave that morning, and it contrasted intensely with the soft lapping of his tongue, making Stiles shudder, making his skin feel hot and a little too tight, filled to bursting with pleasure.

Now Derek was palming his balls, fingers stroking the base of his dick in a really awkward way that was more teasing than anything else, but most of Stiles' focus was on his throbbing anus and how Derek was practically making out with it in a way that was super bizarre but also crazy hot at the same time.

Then Derek took his hot-wet licking mouth away and Stiles whined high in his throat, thrusting his butt desperately backward.

"Now, normally," Derek said in conversational tones, and Stiles gasped as he worked one finger into the tight clench of his hole, "Normally I'd need lube to do this. But we're in a hot shower with lots of water and I've licked you open. So I can do this, even without lube."

"Oh my God," Stiles garbled, holding still and breathing hard as he adjusted to the feeling of having what he was pretty sure was Derek's entire finger inside him. It felt huge, even though he knew that Derek's hands were more elegant and graceful than big, and he clenched around it involuntarily, feeling his butthole pulse in time with the small abortive thrusts that his hips were making.

"You're so hot inside," Derek murmured, and now he sounded turned on instead of just normal, and Stiles could feel his cheek resting against one of his butt cheeks, no doubt watching what his hand was doing. "So hot and so soft in here."

Stiles whined again, pelvis swaying in circles, as Derek pulled his finger out partway before pushing it carefully back in. He wanted Derek to fuck it in and out, hard and fast, wanted more than one finger in there, wanted Derek's tongue back in there, wanted Derek's dick in there....

"Hush," Derek said, because Stiles had broken and said most of this out loud, reduced to begging, and he shifted where he was kneeling behind Stiles. "I've got you."

Derek didn't use more than the one finger, but he continued to slide it in and out, which burned a little even with the saliva and shower water, and he reached up further so that he could hold onto Stiles' erection properly with his other hand, and then he was licking all around the tight muscle clenched around his intrusive finger, and within less than a minute, within a few rubs of the hand clasped tightly around Stiles' dick, he'd managed to bring Stiles to the edge of climax and sent him tumbling over.

Stiles wasn't ashamed to say that he sort of collapsed at this point. It had been one of the most intense and overwhelming orgasms of his life, and he'd been having a lot of orgasms in the last few years with himself, and especially in the last day, since he and Derek had started making each other come.

Thankfully Derek was there to catch Stiles; literally as well as figuratively when he sank into a boneless heap of quivering limbs.

Stiles was only foggily aware of where their bodies were, but he knew that he was being cradled in Derek's arms, and Derek's face was buried in his throat, his skin burning, his breath breaking hard and damp on the skin there as he panted rapidly, one arm jerking as he brought himself off, and Stiles was a little ashamed that he wasn't actively helping with that, but Derek had kind of wrecked him with the rimming and the finger-fucking, so it was kind of Derek's own fault that Stiles was incapacitated.

"Fuck," Derek groaned, going still, and Stiles could feel the head of his dick, pressed against his hip, could feel the flaring of its slit and the blurt of burning hot semen hitting and sliding down his skin, and he was happy that Derek had come on him even if he hadn't really helped make it happen.

They curled together on the floor of the shower stall, catching their breath -- which was harder in the steam-filled air -- and recovering from their climaxes. Stiles' butt felt empty now, which was a really strange feeling, but it had been worth it to have Derek's finger in there, and he wanted to know what it would be like if they used lube and Derek got two or even three fingers in there....

"Oh, God, my ass is going numb sitting on this floor," Derek groaned, shifting and unceremoniously shoving Stiles off his lap. "Let's get out of here before the water goes cold."

Stiles grumbled a little but didn't actually complain as he and Derek both rose to their feet. Just a couple of seconds on his butt on the floor and he knew what Derek was talking about. It was a testament to how turned on Derek had been, he thought, that he'd spent so long on his knees while eating Stiles out. Because there was nothing soft or giving about the shower floor he'd been kneeling on.

"That's why people usually have sex on a bed," he hazarded, as Derek lifted his face into the water one last time to rinse, before shutting the shower off, but he was kind of distracted from what he was saying by the picture that Derek made.

Derek was gloriously naked and soaking wet. His bangs were flat on his forehead and his body hair was matted to his skin, his nipples hardening as the air immediately chilled once the hot water was gone, his dick only partially flaccid, the red tip peering out of the foreskin, shiny and slick with just a little bit of semen. The muscles of his thighs and his hard abs and perfect pectorals took Stiles' breath away, literally, and made him wonder if he'd ever in a million years be able to look as hot as Derek did.

Probably not, he decided, but he didn't really care as long as he got to look at Derek.

"We should go have sex on a bed," Stiles added, swallowing thickly and moving to press his body against Derek's, hands wandering over all the muscles he'd just been staring at. It felt even better than it looked, and Stiles wanted more fucking, even though they'd both just come.

"We... we can't..." Derek said, but he didn't sound completely certain and he wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him close even though they both really ought to get into some towels and get dried off.

Stiles grinned impishly, because he knew better. "Oh, yes, we can."

+=+=+

"I really don't want to do this on Peter's bed," Derek made known, but considering that Stiles was already on the bed in question, it was only a token protest at best.

It wasn't as though they had much of a choice, as Stiles had pointed out. They couldn't fuck in the living room, because what if they jizzed on the sofa? Derek's beleaguered brain wouldn't even let him entertain the notion of screwing his younger stepbrother in their grandparents' bed. That was not an option. And if they made a mess of the empty guest room it would be too obvious. Either they'd leave behind rumpled, sex-stained sheets or else they'd have to launder said sheets and make the bed again, and their grandmother would be able to tell, because no matter how hard they tried, no one could make a bed as neatly as Grams could.

Peter's bed, on the other hand, was already messy. It was still unmade, smelled of sweat and semen even after only a couple of nights, and the fact that Derek was going to be grinding Stiles into the mattress that his uncle had almost definitely masturbated on wasn't quite enough to turn Derek off... though it came damned close.

Honestly, Derek was doing his best not to think about the reality that this was the bed Peter was sleeping in while he visited. An effort that might have been easier if not for Stiles, who had shamelessly flopped down on the bed already where Derek was still hovering awkwardly beside it and seemed perfectly wiling to make himself at home, naked on the sheets that Peter had slept in.

"Ooh, look!" Stiles reached over and snatched up the lube that Peter evidently had no qualms about leaving sitting out on the bedside stand in plain sight. Well, if Grams and Papa Hale were smart -- and they were -- they wouldn't set foot in this room while Peter was in residence.

"Oh my God, put that down!" Derek snapped. He felt deeply conflicted. On the one hand Stiles was waving lube around, but on the other hand... well, it was Peter's lube. And Derek knew exactly why it had been sitting there, right next to the bed, because why else would it be there?

"Nope." Stiles scooting further up onto the bed in all his naked glory, lube in hand, cock already half hard again, and a blush to his cheeks that made Derek want to kiss him stupid. "We're gonna use this."

Derek caved. It might have had something to do with how Stiles' lean arms and legs sprawled over the rumpled sheets, or how his drying hair was a wild, sexy mess, or how his lips were red and his open mouth was moist and tempting.

"All right," Derek agreed, crawling up onto the bed after Stiles and plucking the lube out of his hand. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right. And communication was key to compatibility during sex. "What do you want me to do with it?" he asked wickedly.

Stiles' face flooded with richer color and his mouth gaped more widely before clapping shut.

"Do you want me to spoon you and jerk you off?" Derek suggested, pressing Stiles back into the pillows and hovering over his prone body, not touching him anywhere except one shoulder, which he palmed with the hand not still holding onto the lube.

Stiles licked his lips and his eyes were bright, but he shook his head.

"Well, then," Derek pursued, "Do you want me to get you all wet and screw in between your legs again?"

"I...." Stiles wiggled a little and actually whimpered, reaching up and ringing his arms around Derek's neck and shoulders. "Y-yeah, kinda," he admitted breathlessly. "That was hot. But that's not what I...."

"Then what?" Derek asked, raising his brows and trying not to grin. He had an inkling of what Stiles wanted him to do with the lube -- far more than an inkling, in fact -- but he needed to hear him say it. Mostly because it was important to be sure he was doing exactly what Stiles wanted, but also because it was kind of turning him on to make Stiles literally squirm like this.

Not to mention how much he wanted to hear the actual words come spilling out of that tempting mouth.

"I want...." Stiles licked his lips, and it took all of Derek's self restraint not to swoop in and claim his mouth, to wait for him to finish talking. "I want your f-fingers... in my butt again."

And that was the point at which Derek let himself sink down on top of Stiles, pressing his body into the mattress with his own larger form, and slanted their mouths together in order to kiss him until they had to break to breathe.

"If that's what you want," Derek said, nuzzling up under Stiles' bony jaw, pressing delicate kisses to the thin skin there as he tilted his head back obediently, "Then I can definitely do that."

"Only if you want to," Stiles said, sounding soft and vague, reminding Derek of their exchange on the kitchen floor, and he levered back up to meet Stiles' eyes. Which were heavy-lidded and hot with lust, and Derek loved that he was able to make his stepbrother look like that.

"Stiles," he said patiently, gaze hungrily running over the flushed cheeks and parted red lips and smoldering brown eyes before him, "I was the one who suggested eating your ass out, remember? So if you ask me to finger-bang you, you should know that I'm more than happy to do it."

Stiles' cheeks were blazing, but he looked as much turned on as embarrassed, and if he wanted Derek's fingers in his ass then he should be able to talk about it happening.

Well, if he was perfectly honest, Derek hadn't been this forthright where sex was concerned any of the times he'd had it with people who weren't Stiles. When he'd been with his previous partners it had just sort of happened... both of them engaging in somewhat clumsy fumbling in his car, or in an empty classroom, or in someone else's bedroom....

But with Stiles, Derek wanted to make sure he did things right. And he also liked hearing the filthy suggestions that came tumbling out of Stiles' mouth from time to time, shocking in their bluntness but incredibly arousing as well, or maybe because.

"If you want me to rim you again," Derek added, "Let me know now, because once you're lubed up I'm not licking you out. Lube tastes gross."

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely gross," he said, and he just looked so adorable with his bangs drying flat on his forehead and his nose wrinkled. Derek was amused that Stiles knew what lube tasted like, but they were both healthy young males who used it to jerk off and Stiles was admittedly orally fixated, so it wasn't really surprising.

"I don't really need that," Stiles said, then hurried to add, "Not that it wasn't amazing and I'd love to do it again. But I kind of...."

Derek smirked as Stiles squirmed underneath him, and ringed one of Stiles' wrists with the hand not holding the lube, squeezing just a little, not bruising but triggering the bruises that he'd already left there. He enjoyed the way this made Stiles' mouth fall open, his breathing heavier, his eyes dark and hazy.

"You kind of...?" Derek prompted when Stiles quit talking.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, his chest pressing against Derek's, and he wanted to pay some attention to those cute little girly nipples, he really did, but first he needed Stiles to answer him.

"I already said it," Stiles whined, wiggling underneath him. "I want your fingers in my butthole. More than one this time. That's what the lube is for, right?"

Derek chuckled, startled into amusement by Stiles' cranky demands as much as his words. Not to mention turned on by them.

"I can do that," he husked. He hadn't expected Stiles to be so into fingering, but it definitely wasn't a bad thing, was definitely a good thing. And Derek wanted very much to give Stiles what he wanted.

Derek was totally going to ignore the fact that he was doing it with his uncle's lube, though. That was something that didn't bear thinking about.

No, he really, really couldn't bear to think about it.

Getting his fingers slicked and slotted up inside of Stiles' was actually a lot easier than Derek had expected it to be. It had been taking a chance, starting with two, and he half expected Stiles to wince, to complain, maybe even to ask him to take it back down to one, but instead Stiles grabbed at him, clutching him close, and tilted his hips upward into the penetration, babbling about how good it felt and how he wanted more.

Derek wasn't sure whether Stiles meant more fingers, more movement, more stimulation of other parts of his body, or all of the above, but this time he didn't bother to ask. He did what he wanted and what he thought was best for Stiles, and began sliding his two fingers in and out of his tight, clenching asshole, while at the same time moving down to lick at his puffy pink nipples.

This was obviously the right action, because Stiles was reduced to writhing, whining, gasping for breath and scrabbling at Derek's back and shoulders in a way that would have left scratch-marks if he didn't chew his nails down to the quick regularly.

Derek would say that he was doing this right, he thought smugly as he sucked on a nipple that pebbled up stiff and pointy against his tongue, stimulated by the pressure. He could feel Stiles' hard-on pulsing and leaking against his lower abdomen, and his own growing erection was grinding against the sheets as though he hadn't just recently gotten off in the shower.

As much as Derek was enjoying teasing Stiles' flushed chest -- and he was, he definitely was -- Derek knew he didn't want either of them actually jizzing on Peter's sheets. And so with a last lingering lick for the nipple he'd been neglecting, he scooted downward, headed for a bigger prize.

Stiles cried out and arched involuntarily when Derek sucked his straining cock into his eager mouth, still fucking into him with two fingers, his heels digging into the mattress and his thigh muscles quivering to either side of Derek's head. He sank his fingers into Derek's hair and pulled, hard enough to hurt, but that was probably for the better, Derek thought vaguely, because he'd been pretty close to rutting against the mattress until he came as the taste of Stiles broke thick and rich over his tongue.

Derek hadn't lied, he'd enjoyed eating Stiles out, hadn't found it to be disgusting at all once he'd washed him clean, even though the taboo element of it had made it a little more raunchy, a little more filthy than he'd expected to like. But he liked even more when he got to suck Stiles' cock. It was hard but soft at once, covered in delicate skin, hot as fire but wet with leaking precome, and it tasted like undiluted sex.

Not to mention the fact that sucking on it offered Stiles so much pleasure. That was a consideration. Derek wasn't only in this for what he could get out of it, after all. He was in it for what he could offer Stiles at the same time.

He didn't have an oral fixation the way Stiles so obviously did, but Derek liked the way Stiles' hard-on filled his mouth. It was true that his jaw got a little sore, but it was a good feeling, and anyway, Stiles usually came so quickly that Derek's jaw didn't get very sore.

This time, though, Derek was doing his best to draw out the pleasure, to make sure that Stiles lasted. He didn't suck hard, instead letting the blunt head of Stiles' hard cock rest against the flat of his tongue, his lips sealed around the shaft as he bobbed shallowly up and down.

At the same time he fucked into him with two fingers, pausing to renew the lube when he felt like it was rubbing off, and using his thumb to caress the bulge of Stiles' perineum the way Stiles had stimulated his while giving him that blowjob earlier.

Stiles keened, his entire pelvis arching up off the mattress, the inner walls of his asshole clenching convulsively around Derek's invasive fingers, and he was pulling at Derek's hair again, babbling out things that might have been directions, entreaties, or both as his pulsing hard-on leaked copiously over Derek's tongue.

Derek was gratified by all of these involuntary reactions, but he just kept doing what he had been doing. It helped that Stiles had just come in the shower fairly recently, even with the refractory period typical of a thirteen year old, and Derek was planning to milk this for all it was worth.

He drizzled more lube on his fingers during one long, slow slide out, then added a third on the thrust in, causing Stiles to cry out and arch again, his hands leaving Derek's hair to clutch at the sheets to either side of his hips. Stiles' hole around his fingers was such a tight squeeze that Derek could feel his bones grinding together at the knuckles, but it was well worth the mild discomfort for the sounds he was dragging out of Stiles.

With his thumb pressing harder at Stiles' perineum and his pinkie ending up sliding along Stiles' ass crack, Derek began to piston his other three fingers in and out more vigorously. He also began nursing at Stiles' leaking cock, feeling his lips grow red, his cheeks hollowing.

Hey, Derek was really enjoying this, and he had intended to draw this out, but he felt like Stiles' sphincter was going to crush his fingers so he was ready to get him off already. Taking his time was all very well and good, but Stiles' asshole was like a fucking vise.

Derek wondered vaguely what this hot clench would feel like around his cock -- probably a hell of a lot better than it felt around his fingers and the amount of pleasure it would give him would be amazing -- but most of his attention was fixed on the swollen cock in his mouth and the way it was beginning to twitch and throb, clearly preparing to shoot off.

Pulling off a little, Derek raised his tongue until the flat of it was pressed against the slit of Stiles' cock, so that when he came it wouldn't go straight into Derek's throat and potentially choke him. Once, when he and his friends had been drunk, Erica had informed him of this little trick. And while he'd been deeply traumatized by the thought of Erica going down on Boyd, or anyone really, Derek had filed the knowledge away for his own future use.

It was a little difficult to accomplish while still sucking, but he managed it, and then Stiles was going tight all over and shouting as he came, and Derek worked to swallow without spilling, because he didn't want to leave any traces of their activities in Peter's sheets.

He could feel the bones of his fingers grinding together in the squeeze of Stiles' ass, felt as though he could hear them creaking even though he knew better, and he was actually kind of relieved to pull them out when Stiles finally finished jizzing in his mouth and collapsed on the bed much like he had done in the shower.

Derek's erection was begging him for attention, but Stiles was shaking and whimpering and Derek's protective, possessive nature kicked in. So he ignored his own arousal and surged upward, mouth leaving Stiles' flexing hard-on, and he pulled his stepbrother into his arms, holding him close and rubbing his back as he murmured soothingly into his blazing hot, sweat-soaked cheek.

"It's okay. It's okay. You did so good."

It didn't even make sense, because Derek was the one who'd done all the work, but it sounded right, and it seemed to do the trick as Stiles slowly caught his breath and calmed.

"Don't...." Stiles gasped and shivered a little, but he was growing more steady as Derek cuddled him, and he waited patiently for Stiles to finish the sentence. "Don't jerk off, okay? I wanna...."

"Okay," Derek promised, getting what Stiles was concerned about. He'd gotten himself off in the shower after rimming Stiles, and evidently Stiles didn't want a repeat of that. Neither did Derek, to be fair, even though he'd been fine with it in the shower. If Stiles wanted to help with his pending orgasm, then Derek had no problem with waiting for him to collect himself.

"You could fuck between my thighs," Stiles offered, still sounding breathless, but his hands moving over Derek's upper back with increasing awareness. "We both like that."

"Yeah," Derek agreed, feeling his cock jump and leak precome at the very thought of it. "But then I'd come on the bed. And I'm not jizzing on Grams' towels."

"Oh, yeah." Stiles' hand wandered down to caress the top swell of Derek's ass and he squirmed a little, his balls aching in a way that was as much pleasure as pain, his cock jerking with the desire for friction. He needed to come, and he needed it now. "Do you want my mouth?"

Derek choked a little, folding inward, holding Stiles a little too tightly, but he thought that answered the question. He didn't feel comfortable demanding that Stiles return the favor, but if he was offering....

"Awesome."

And he couldn't mistake Stiles' enthusiasm as he wriggled his way downward, pausing to lick at Derek's nipples, making him gasp, fingers plucking at his short chest hairs, and then the next thing Derek knew Stiles was settled between his thighs as though he belonged there and was sucking his hard-on down with flattering hunger.

No matter how often Stiles blew him -- and he had just done so in the kitchen earlier -- Derek was always startled by how good Stiles was at it, how much he clearly enjoyed it, and he was always overwhelmed by the heat and the wetness and the intense suction. Derek didn't think he would ever get used to it, and he didn't want to.

Derek grunted, a startled sound that was almost punched out of him, when Stiles' lube-slicked fingers worked their way between his own ass cheeks and rubbed at his asshole. That was all it took, on top of the pleasure Stiles was dragging out of his cock with his sloppy slurping mouth, to bring Derek off, and he curved inward, stomach muscles and balls contracting as he spilled his load over Stiles' nimble tongue.

Knowing that Stiles was swallowing was almost as much of a rush as the actual orgasm, even though Derek did the same when he blew Stiles. That was another thing Derek never wanted to get used to.

Then they were cuddling together in the tangled sheets, enjoying the afterglow and sharing body heat, and Derek was actually able to completely ignore the fact that they were resting on Peter's bed.

"Are you ready for lunch?" Derek asked, feeling a bit of emptiness gnawing at his belly once the endorphins began to fade away some. He hadn't been gorging on raw cookie dough, unlike Stiles, though he had eaten four of the snickerdoodles they'd baked before getting in the shower.

"Yeah." Stiles sat up, looking deliciously debauched. Derek felt smug, remembering that he'd introduced Stiles to both rimming and fingering today, and that Stiles had enjoyed both of these things. Immensely.

"What do you want?" Derek asked, stretching luxuriantly, feeling all of his muscles go shivery loose and warm.

"Pizza?"

Derek scoffed. "Grams said we could cook anything in the kitchen and you want to order pizza?"

Stiles nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide and white, his lips still red and plumped from the way he'd been sucking Derek's cock.

"With pepperoni!"

Derek sighed, but he already knew he was going to give Stiles what he was asking for. That seemed to be the new norm.

Besides, pepperoni pizza did sound really good.

+=+=+

It felt weird to Stiles, after the adults got back from their train trip, to sit around and chat normally with his parent and grandparents while his butthole and dick still felt all tingly, knowing that Peter might notice that they'd banged in his bed, would probably realize that they'd used his lube... but Stiles was becoming a master at ignoring inconvenient realities.

And besides, it wasn't like he and Derek had any choice other than to act completely normal.

Stiles was pretty sure Peter wouldn't care even if he realized they'd had sex in his bed. Heck, he would probably get off on it. Which was kind of creepy, but Stiles figured Peter probably deserved some reward for getting Stiles and Derek so much time alone.

Being beholden to Peter for the fact that Derek had shown Stiles all about rimming and fingering was awkward, but no more awkward than pretending that he and Derek hadn't spent the afternoon fucking.

The fact that they'd showered -- because they'd had to bathe a second time just before everyone arrived home, to wash away the scent of sex -- was easily enough explained.

"Stiles got messy with the flour," Derek said, offering up a plate of cookies with a small grin and a wicked glance in his stepbrother's direction.

Stiles sulked a little at being made the scapegoat, but it wasn't like it was so very unbelievable, not like it hadn't happened before. Which was why all the adults bought the story without question even though the cookies were cool, had clearly been baked much earlier in the day, and Derek and Stiles were still damp and flushed; both of them.

Well, all the adults who weren't Peter bought it, Stiles thought, glancing at the smarmy smirk on his uncle's thin lips.

The cookies were declared delicious, though this wasn't anything that had been in question. Dinner was pizza, which had made Derek roll his eyes at Stiles, but it was different pizza, purchased from a real privately owned pizzeria that the parents and grandparents had passed on their way home, not ordered delivered from a chain, and it was way better than the pizza Derek and Stiles had had for lunch.

Though that had tasted really good too, since they'd been eating it right after some really spectacular sex.

And then the entire family went out and played laser-tag, even Peter. Which was the "fun" that Grams had promised them before leaving the house, and it was fun. Largely because Papa Hale was easily as competitive as his daughter, Peter was even more sneaky than Stiles tried to be, and Derek and Stiles got to be on the same team. Talia still won, of course. But they all had a good time.

It was fun to just hang out with the family and feel like a kid again, to not be obsessed with sex, though Stiles definitely got distracted more than once by the flex of Derek's forearm muscles as he pulled the trigger on his laser-gun, and the way his jeans stretched over his spectacular thighs and amazing butt when he squatted down behind cover....

But that was okay too, because Stiles was thirteen and everything made him think of sex; especially the sexy older stepbrother who'd licked his butthole earlier in the day. Then, after they went back to the hotel, he and Derek had even more sex before falling into a deep and sated sleep.

And there were still two more days left in their visit. Granted, Peter probably wasn't going to be able to secure them hours of private time again... but they would make do.

There was plenty of time for banging and for family fun, and Stiles intended to enjoy it all.

Best. Vacation. Ever.


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