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Derek unlocked the door to his and Stiles’ apartment with a long, drawn-out sigh. He was fucking exhausted. Everything ached and he wasn’t even done for the night. Being an account executive was not all it was cracked up to be and most days Derek wondered what he was doing working a job that he hated. The money was nice, that was no question, but it didn’t inspire him. He didn’t feel like he was doing anything worth doing.
“Hey, you alright?” Stiles called from his position on the couch and Derek realized that he was just hovering in the doorway, lost in thought.
“Yeah,” Derek mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Great, now he was exhausted and he was acting weird in front of his crush who also happened to be his roommate. Really, moving in with the guy he was crushing on and moving in platonically was the worst decision Derek had made, second only to his choice of career. He was suffering. “Sorry, long day.”
Stiles sat up, abandoning his TV watching slouch to look at Derek properly. “Dude, you look like shit.”
Derek flinched, hurt blooming in his chest. Normally that kind of comment wouldn’t have affected him, he would have just brushed it off as Stiles being Stiles, but today he felt it stab his chest, hurt bleeding through. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. Exactly what I wanted to hear,” He said sarcastically, giving Stiles a scowl to cover up how the comment had affected him. “Don’t call me dude.”
“Hey,” Stiles murmured, putting up his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” And Derek couldn’t stay mad at him, not when Stiles was looking at him with those wounded eyes, genuine concern shining in them.
Derek sighed. “I’m sorry. Again, it was a long day.”
“Have you eaten? I made stir fry and put a plate aside for you,” Stiles said, still looking at him with all that damn concern.
Derek softened. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I think I’m going to go shower first.”
Stiles nodded, his head bobbing in a way that should be comical but he made it work. “Go shower, I’ll heat up your dinner.”
“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek said quietly, forcing his tired body away from Stiles and into his bedroom. He set down his bag, heavy with reports he needed to get done this weekend. He made himself not think about that right now, instead collecting some clean clothes and heading to the bathroom to shower.
He made quick work of his shower, not taking time to enjoy it— just getting clean in the most efficient way possible. The hot water did relax him though and by the time he was finished he was feeling a lot better. He was still tired and stressed but things didn’t feel as heavy as they had when he walked through the door.
Stepping out of the shower Derek towelled off and got into his clothes, having decided on loose sweatpants and his favourite long-sleeved henley that had thumb holes. He wasn’t sure what it was about them that he loved so much but they always made him feel safe. They made him feel small in a way that he absolutely loved. He had a large collection of henleys but he had a whole section of long-sleeved ones with thumb holes. Anytime he was feeling down or sick or stressed, that’s what he wore.
He’s not sure when it had started, maybe he’d always felt like that, but for a big guy, he loved feeling small. He wanted to be protected and cherished, but when people looked at him they assumed that he would be the protector. His henleys with thumbholes gave him a small taste of it, feeling safe and small and protected. He only wished that he could have the real thing, and have it with Stiles.
One of the things that attracted him most to Stiles was their size difference. Where Derek was broad and built, Stiles was lean and toned. Derek would fall asleep to thoughts of Stiles wrapped around him, his smaller body blanketing Derek’s larger one.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts before they derailed further, Derek hung up his towel and exited the bathroom, his bare feet padding against the hardwood floors as he walked to the kitchen. Stiles was just pulling out a steaming plate of stir-fry and rice from the microwave when Derek entered the kitchen and Stiles nodded to their table where a large glass of water and cutlery sat.
“Drink that,” Stiles ordered, looking at the glass of water and then at Derek pointedly. Derek followed obediently, grabbing the glass and taking a large gulp as he sat down, relishing in the cold water rushing through him. It wasn’t until Stiles set the plate of food in front of him that he realized just how hungry he was. “Eat,” Stiles said, flopping down on the chair opposite Derek.
“Yes, sir,” Derek snarked, looking down at his plate and missing the look that flashed across Stiles’ face. Derek took a bite of his food and groaned. “This is so good.”
Stiles coughed, looking both pleased and strained. “I’m glad you like it, it’s a new recipe.”
“It’s a success,” Derek mumbled through another bite.
“So,” Stiles cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “Tell me about your day. Why are you so stressed?”
Derek sighed and launched into a rundown of his day in between bites. He told Stiles about his boss that never seemed satisfied, no matter how much extra work Derek put in. It didn’t matter how many late nights or how many weekends he worked, nothing was good enough. He told him about the endless meetings, the spreadsheets, the reports, everything that was weighing him down. After a moment of hesitation, Derek told him how he wasn’t even sure this is what he wanted to be doing for a career.
Stiles listened intently, giving Derek his full attention. When Derek was done with his dinner Stiles grabbed his plate and quickly did the dishes, waving him off when Derek tried to help.
“Well, it sounds like you have a decision to make,” Stiles said once Derek was finished talking. “If this isn’t what you want to be doing, a career change isn’t unheard of. Actually it’s pretty common these days.”
“I’ll think about it,” Derek mumbled, rubbing his neck with his palm trying to get the ache to go away. “I have some reports I need to get done but other than that I don’t want to think about work this weekend. Honestly I don’t want to think at all.”
“How about a movie? I’m sure we can find something that doesn’t need a lot of mental energy to watch,” Stiles suggested, nodding towards their TV.
Derek agreed and the next thing he knew they were sitting on the couch, closer than Derek could handle, with Stiles flicking through things on Netflix, looking for something suitable. Derek was tense. He was so close to Stiles right now. All he wanted was to melt against Stiles’ side and curl up against him. God did he want to fall asleep watching a movie wrapped up in Stiles’ arms. He’d had dreams about those arms, how they would feel wrapped around him, protecting him from the world while he slept. He was pretty sure that if he could have that then he wouldn’t be so stressed all the time, even if work stayed the same.
“Relax, dude,” Stiles murmured, noticing how tense Derek was.
“Don’t call me dude,” Derek replied, but forced his body to relax, losing some of the tension.
Stiles settled on a movie, some action flick that they had both seen before so they wouldn’t have to think very much about.
Derek tried to watch the movie, really he did. But all he could think about were the reports weighing down his briefcase and how Stiles’ warmth was bleeding into his thigh where it was pressed against Stiles. It was a miracle that he wasn’t hard and tenting his sweatpants. As it was he could feel himself starting to get hot under his collar and Derek squirmed, internally yelling at himself that he was being ridiculous. Here he was, a fully grown man, getting hard because his crush was sitting next to him and their thighs were touching.
Derek was a mess. He felt too warm, butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, his neck still ached from being hunched over his computer all day, and his head was starting to hurt from everything that was happening inside him.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Stiles huffed. “Let me give you a massage or something, Derek. You’re so tense that I’m actually worried about you.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled, trying to calm himself down and relax. The thought of Stiles’ hands on him, giving him a massage, was not helping matters. He’d dreamt about those hands— deft and slender fingers that Derek imagined would feel like magic on his skin. Stiles’ hands were smaller than Derek’s and he was dying to feel them wrapped around his cock. He wondered how different they would feel to his own. Dammit, he had to stop thinking like that. “I’m, uh, just thinking about work.” It wasn’t one hundred percent a lie but it definitely wasn’t the truth either.
“C’mere,” Stiles said, spreading his legs and nodding between them. “Sit in front of me, I’ll massage your shoulders.”
“Uh, I don’t know—”
“C’mon, Der. Give me a chance. If you hate it then I’ll stop and we don’t have to talk about it again.”
Derek couldn’t believe it but he was actually about to agree. He was tired and in pain and ultimately he was weak— he wanted Stiles’ hands on him and if Stiles was offering? Well, he wasn’t going to say no.
Derek got up from the couch and knelt on the ground, moving around so he was sitting on his ass in front of him, Stiles’ knees bracketing him. Derek tensed up as he waited for Stiles to put his hands on him—something he figured was the opposite of what Stiles wanted— but then it happened, Stiles’ hands were on him, slowly massaging and kneading his skin, getting a feel for his shoulders and figuring out what amount of pressure was best.
As Stiles pressed what was apparently a sensitive spot for him between his shoulder blades, Derek let out a low groan. Stiles’ hands paused on him and Derek wanted to whine— wanted to do anything to get those hands dancing across his skin again.
“Feel okay?” Stiles asked softly, working out some of the knots in Derek’s back.
“Feels s’good,” Derek mumbled, swallowing down a moan as Stiles pressed his thumbs deeper into his flesh. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“An ex of mine was a masseuse but he preferred to be massaged rather than give massages, so I learned how.” Stiles explained and Derek greedily hung on to the new information that Stiles had dated a guy before. Okay, so he at least had a chance. Good to know.
“I see,” Derek replied, trying not to feel jealous of the ex that Stiles was talking about. What must it be like to feel Stiles’ hands all over him? Derek would bet that the ex had gotten to have every kind of massage from Stiles, not just ones that were okay to give your roommate.
“He turned out to be a world class dick but the massage skills were worth it,” Stiles laughed, pressing against a particularly bad knot. “You really need to take it easy, Der. This much stress isn’t good for you.”
“I know,” Derek sighed. Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by Stiles pressing against a very sensitive spot in his back and Derek moaned. He felt Stiles’ hands pause again on his shoulders at the sound and Derek’s cheeks were on fire. “I’m sorry,” Derek hurried to say, tensing all over again as Stiles didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“You know what I think you need, Derek?” Stiles said lowly, his tone one Derek had never heard from him.
“What?” Derek felt breathless. He didn’t know what Stiles was about to say but he felt tense in a new way, a better way. He was eager for Stiles’ next words.
“I think you need to get fucked.”
The words hung between them and Derek couldn’t breathe. What exactly did Stiles just say?
“What?” Derek practically gasped out, his face on fire. Stiles’ hands were still on his shoulders and Derek felt them resume the massage.
“I said: I think you need to get fucked,” Stiles murmured casually, as if he wasn’t at all affected by his own words.
Derek laughed weakly and tried to brush it off. “I don’t have time to have sex, I have reports that need to be finished.” And wasn’t that sad? “I don’t have time to go meet someone.” Also he didn’t want to meet someone. He had already met someone— Stiles. He didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want anyone else.
Stiles hesitated before saying, “So don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Meet someone.”
“You’re making zero sense,” Derek groaned, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as he tried to follow along. “Have sex but don’t meet someone?”
Stiles swallowed, thankful that Derek couldn’t see him. “Let me fuck you.”
Once again the words hung between them, unable to be taken back. It was out there now.
“What?” Derek gasped, tensing up from shock.
“We don’t have to,” Stiles hurried to say, taking Derek’s tense posture the wrong way. “I just, I want to take care of you, okay? You’re so tense and you work so hard and I can help. Please, let me help. You can pretend I’m someone else if you want but at least this would save you from having to go meet someone—”
“Stiles,” Derek interrupted. “I don’t want to meet someone else. I…I like you.” It was easier to say without facing Stiles so Derek took the chance while he was still sat in front of him. “I get it if you want just sex but I—”
“I don’t want just sex,” Stiles said, squeezing Derek’s shoulders. “Derek if I thought you would have gone for me I would have made a move a long time ago.”
“Really?” Derek turned and Stiles tugged and then Derek was on his lap, his hands braced on the couch behind him. Stiles’ hands wrapped around Derek’s waist and Derek didn’t wait for a reply, just crashed his lips down against Stiles. It didn’t take long for Stiles to take control of the kiss, shoving his fingers into Derek’s hair and pulling. Derek whined, rocking his hips and pushing further into Stiles’ space, trying to bury himself in all things Stiles.
Stiles tugged on Derek’s hair one more time to hear him whimper before he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting their lips. Stiles couldn’t help but rub his thumb across Derek’s lips, groaning when Derek immediately sucked his finger into his mouth. “Fuck, Derek.”
Derek hummed around Stiles’ thumb and Stiles reluctantly removed it, smearing Derek’s spit across his lips as he did so. Stiles cleared his throat. “What do you want, Der? Whatever you want I’ll give it to you.”
Derek cocked his head to the side as he contemplated what he wanted first. Now that he knew that this wasn’t going to be a one time thing he didn’t feel rushed to do everything at once. So he let himself ask for the thing he really wanted. “Fuck me.”
Stiles grinned, baring his teeth. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Derek pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’ll go grab the lube.”
“We’re not fucking on the couch.” Stiles said firmly.
“Why not?” Derek was confused.
“Because I need space to properly take you apart,” Stiles said nonchalantly. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”
Derek didn’t question him, just let Stiles lead him where he wanted. After all, wasn’t that part of what had started this all? Stiles wanting to take care of him, make decisions for him for a bit so he could stop thinking so much?
Derek let himself be backed into Stiles’ room and before he had a chance to really look around— he hadn’t been in here much— Stiles was pushing him down on the bed and crawling on top of him. Derek relished in Stiles’ weight on top of him, his smaller body covering Derek’s larger one. They made out for who knows how long, until Derek was bucking his hips and squirming underneath Stiles.
Derek pulled away from the kiss to breathe and Stiles immediately set to work on kissing down his neck, nipping at his pulse point and biting where his shoulder met his neck. Derek moaned, tilting his head to the side to give him better access. “Feels…feels good,” Derek panted, arching his back to get closer to Stiles.
“Yeah?” Stiles hummed, pleased. “That’s good, baby. You deserve to feel good.” Stiles rucked up the henley Derek was wearing until he could kiss down his chest. “This is cute,” He mumbled, tugging on the fabric.
“They’re my favourite,” Derek gasped out, moaning when Stiles tugged his sweatpants down, pushing them just enough to get access to Derek’s cock. Stiles wasted no time taking Derek into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. Derek yelped, bucking his hips and Stiles banded an arm across his stomach, holding him down. Derek squirmed under Stiles’ hold, half delirious from Stiles sucking his cock and from the way Stiles was holding him down easily. He tried bucking his hips, testing Stiles’ hold and he couldn’t move. He just had to lay there and take it.
“Not— not gonna last,” Derek panted, tangling his fingers in Stiles’ hair, so thankful that the younger man had grown it out from the buzz cut he was sporting when they met all those years ago.
Stiles just hummed, smirking as much as he was able to as the vibrations shot up Derek’s cock making him yelp.
Derek whimpered as pleasure crawled up his spine and then he was tugging on Stiles’ hair in warning, but Stiles just sucked harder and Derek fell over the edge, coming into Stiles’ mouth.
Stiles drank him down eagerly, not letting up until Derek was half-heartedly pushing him away, too sensitive for Stiles to keep going. He pulled off Derek’s cock with a wet pop and Derek felt his face flush at the obscene sheen to Stiles’ puffy lips, red and spit-slick.
“Fuck,” Derek muttered, closing his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.
“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Stiles purred, slapping Derek’s flank when he didn’t immediately comply. Derek jolted, more from surprise at the slap than actual pain and he felt himself twitch against Stiles’ chin. Huh. That was new.
Stiles grinned. “Maybe one day I’ll spank you,” He mused, his tone casual like he was suggesting where they should have dinner rather than things he wanted to do to Derek in the future.
Derek groaned, his eyes fluttering shut against Stiles’ orders at the mental image that created. He’d never would have said before today that he was into spanking, but the thought of Stiles bending him over his lap and spanking him raw had his dick twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again.
“You like that idea, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Derek muttered, not looking at Stiles as he admitted it.
“Good.”
Stiles stood up, grinning at the messy picture Derek made with his shirt rucked up and his sweatpants halfway down his thighs, his soft cock laying against his stomach still shiny with Stiles’ spit. “You look so pretty.”
“Shut up,” Derek groaned, though he looked pleased, the tips of his ears turning pink.
Stiles tugged off his shirt and undid his jeans, shoving them down his legs and stepping out of them. Then he grabbed Derek’s sweatpants and tugged them all the way down. Derek lifted his hips to help and then sat up, tugging off his shirt.
“Up by the pillows, babe,” Stiles ordered softly, watching as Derek followed instructions easily, scooting up until he was laying with his head against the pillow. Stiles crawled up his body and blanketed Derek with his own, grinding their bare cocks together. Derek let out a small whimper at the feeling, his cock was still so sensitive, and ran his hands up Stiles’ sides.
“I need more,” Derek moaned, squirming underneath Stiles.
“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” Stiles reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to Derek’s lips before he opened his nightstand and rummaged through it. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a half-empty bottle of lube. He slicked up his fingers and, after getting Derek to spread his legs, he brushed a finger across Derek’s hole. He sunk two fingers into Derek and watched as he threw his head back and moaned. “That’s it, love. Take my fingers.”
Derek whined, bringing his hands down to grasp his thighs and hold himself open.
“Fuck, you’re perfect. I didn’t even have to ask, you just spread your legs for me. You’re such a good boy for me,” Stiles groaned, adding a finger and crooking them, searching for that spot inside Derek that would make him see stars.
Derek moaned, clenching around Stiles’ fingers at the praise. The praise went through him, warming him from the inside out to know that he was doing good, he was making Stiles proud. His fingers weren’t enough, though. Derek needed more, so he voiced that. “I need more, Stiles. Please, fuck me.”
“You just came and you’re still begging to get fucked,” Stiles marvelled, looking at him in awe. “You’re fucking perfect. I love it when you beg for me.”
Derek mewled, letting go of his thighs to twist his fingers in the sheets. “I need more, Stiles. I need your cock.”
Stiles slid his fingers out of Derek and grabbed the bottle of lube again before he paused. “Wait, do we need a condom? I’m clean but I have them right here.”
“I’m clean too, I just got tested a few weeks ago. I don’t wanna use one,” Derek murmured. “but we can if you want to.”
“I’m never going to pass up an opportunity to feel you bare around my dick, Derek,” Stiles grinned. He squirted more lube onto his cock and pumped himself, getting himself slick. He wiped his fingers off on the sheets below him and then lined himself up with Derek’s hole, flicking his eyes up to Derek’s to make sure that everything was still okay.
Derek nodded and spread his legs further, smoothing a hand down Stiles’ back and pressing him forward. They moaned in unison as Stiles sunk deeper inside him, feeding him inch after inch. He bottomed out and stilled, giving Derek time to adjust.
Derek bucked his hips. “Move, Stiles. Fuck me.”
Stiles grinned, baring his teeth and snapping his hips. He set a brutal pace and Derek could do little more than moan as Stiles filled him over and over again. Stiles leaned down to capture Derek’s lips with his. Their kiss was frantic and Derek groaned into it, pleasure sparking up and down his spine. He felt drunk off Stiles, thoughts of his reports and shitty day miles away as the only thing he could think about was Stiles’ cock driving into him.
Derek reached down to touch his dick but Stiles batted his hand away. “No, baby. You’ll come on my cock or you won’t come at all.”
“I can’t— I’ve never—” Derek whined, unable to finish his sentence. All he could focus on was Stiles’ cock in his ass and the fact that apparently he wouldn’t be allowed to touch his dick, he was going to have to come untouched. He wasn’t sure that he could do it but the fact that Stiles was taking this away from him, making this choice for him made his stomach clench with arousal.
“You can and you will,” Stiles crooned, slowing his pace to grind into Derek, pressing messy kisses down his throat, biting at the skin and grinning when he could feel Derek moaning. “You take my dick so well, baby.”
“Make— make me take it,” Derek whimpered, thrusting his hips up as Stiles drove down into him, the slapslapslap of flesh echoing in the room and making Derek blush.
“Oh?” Stiles murmured, slowing his pace down.
Derek whined, wrapping his legs around Stiles’ waist and trying to egg him on. “No, don’t stop. Fuck me harder.”
“First I want you to explain yourself,” Stiles crooned, bracing himself above Derek with one hand and using the other to plunge his fingers into Derek’s sweaty hair, using his grip to hold his head back and make Derek look at him. “You want me to make you take it? Tell me what that means, baby.”
“Want— want you to hold me down,” Derek panted. “Use your weight to make me.”
Stiles tilted his head curiously. “You’re bigger than me, I’m not sure what weight I have,” He chuckled.
Derek shook his head. “Please, Stiles. Make me feel small.”
Stiles bared his teeth. “Okay, baby.” He loomed above Derek, still gripping his hair and Derek groaned, clenching around him. Stiles started moving again and leaned down to kiss Derek, licking into his mouth. When Derek tried to settle his hands on Stiles’ hips, Stiles collected his wrists and pinned them down above his head. “Keep these here, sweetheart.”
Derek whined, nodding his head frantically. He could be a good boy, he’d keep his hands above his head. He liked that Stiles was still holding him down, though. That he wasn’t relying on Derek following orders, he was making sure that Derek followed orders— he was giving him no choice but to follow. Derek felt a shiver go through him at the dominance and his dick leaked against his stomach, precum pooling against his skin. Fuck, he was already hard again and ready to come.
“You’re doing so well, babe,” Stiles said breathlessly, finding his rhythm again and fucking Derek hard.
Derek whined, the praise going to his head and making him feel floaty. He fucking loved the way Stiles was fucking him, the way he held down his wrists and loomed above him. Derek was caught up in everything Stiles. In his scent, his taste, in the way he looked down at him with dark, hazy eyes, the snarl on his lips as fucked him with abandon. It was everything he had dreamed of when he thought about sex with his roommate. Everything and more because no fantasy could compare to the real thing.
“Gonna— gonna come,” Derek whimpered out his warning but before Stiles could do anything Derek was coming all over himself, untouched.
“Holy fuck,” Stiles groaned. “You’re fucking unreal. I didn’t even have to touch you. My cock was enough to make you come, yeah? Fuck.” It didn’t take long for Stiles to follow. He pressed down on Derek’s wrists, his grip hard enough to bruise and leaned down to lick into Derek’s mouth again. He sucked on Derek’s tongue as the other man whimpered underneath him, starting to tremble from all the sensations and oversensitivity. A few more thrusts and Stiles was stilling above Derek, falling over the edge and filling him up with his come.
They were quiet as they came down from their highs. Both of them let out a moan as Stiles carefully pulled out and then collapsed next to Derek.
Derek could hardly even think, feeling sore in the best way and more relaxed than he had in months. “I think you killed me.” He murmured, turning his head to look at Stiles, who gave him a boyish grin.
“Feeling better?” Stiles asked knowingly.
“Tons better. I think that’s what we should do any and every time I get stressed. Or you get stressed. Or just, every day.”
Stiles chuckled at Derek’s babbling. “That sounds like a plan to me.”
“We should probably go shower,” Derek whispered into the quiet of the room, the sweat cooling on their bodies was starting to become uncomfortable. Plus Derek could feel Stiles’ come leaking out of his ass and while right now that was hot, it wouldn’t be hot if they didn’t clean up soon.
Stiles got up off the bed with a groan, stopping to stretch and roll his neck. He gathered some boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his drawer and then looked back at Derek, who was lying on the bed still with his eyes closed. Stiles crouched beside the bed and gently brushed some of Derek’s hair away from his forehead, the sweaty strands sticking up all over the place. “Come on, babe. Showering was your idea,” Stiles murmured.
“Don’t wanna move,” Derek mumbled. “M’comfortable.”
“Yeah, well, you won’t be comfortable with come in your ass for long.”
“You’re so crude,” Derek rolled his eyes fondly, getting up and following Stiles out of the bedroom and into the bathroom for his second shower of the evening.
“You love me anyway,” Stiles said in a sing-song voice.
And Derek thought to himself— yeah, I do.