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Derek was fucking Stiles, for a change, when it happened.
It was late, well past sunset, and they’d just come back from the same munch at the bar across from the library with the rest of the crew, all mashed together happily at the end of a busy table on the rooftop patio. Stiles and Derek had arrived a little earlier than their friends, which had given Stiles just enough time to order some appetizers and lean over to murmur, “I want you to fuck me when we get back home,” right into the shell Derek’s ear.
The rest of the evening had been an intense exercise in self-control. It had only been a month since the lease on Stiles' and Scott’s place had ended, and the thought of Stiles’ home and Derek’s home being the same place still had him feeling kind of weightless. And incredibly horny, apparently.
There was also the fact that Stiles was in the mood to bottom, which he wasn’t often.
Back at the loft, Derek had swooped in to kiss Stiles and lift him onto the kitchen island, holding him close with firm grip on his wiry thighs, and they'd made out hungrily for a long moment, hands teasing and roaming and squeezing.
Delightfully breathless, Stiles had leaned back and said, “I really just want to get fucked, so I’m cool going vanilla if you are.”
Derek had hesitated.
“No?” Stiles had asked, mouthing at Derek’s lower lip between his words. “What do you feel like, big guy?”
As Derek had searched for the words, Stiles had breathed softly and rubbed at Derek’s waist. Desires weren’t always the easiest to voice. Stiles fortunately had never-ending patience.
“I think I’d like it,” Derek had said, quietly, “if you told me how.”
Stiles’ eyes had darkened, and his indulgent smile had widened.
“Yeah?” he’d said, sultry, leaning forwards and linking his arms around Derek’s neck. “You want me to tell you how to fuck me? Tell you what I want? When to speed up, or slow down?” He bit lightly at Derek’s neck, slipped a hand around to grab at his ass, none too lightly. “When to stop?”
Derek had shuddered.
“Yes.”
Now, here they were.
Derek snapped his nips forwards a little harder than he’d intended at the end of the next slow thrust, and Stiles moaned sharply right into his mouth, hands gripped desperately onto his shoulders as Derek leaned on his elbows, caging his partner in.
“God, yeah, just like that,” Stiles muttered. “So good at doing what you’re told, making me feel good.”
Careful not to break his steady rhythm, Derek pushed his face under Stiles’ jaw and freed a hand to slide down and hitch one knee higher on his hip. On the next grind, Stiles’ breath shuddered.
“You wanna go faster, don’t you?”
Derek sucked on the base of Stiles’ throat. He did want to go faster. He wanted to rut, to fuck.
“I can feel it,” Stiles said softly. “Just waiting for me to say so, hm?”
“God, yeah.”
“Get to work, then.”
And he slapped Derek’s ass, the blow landing hot on the sensitive skin of his upper thigh.
They’d played with spanking before, lightly, still adhering to their agreement to keep away from causing and receiving deliberate pain. So, when Stiles hit him, nails accidentally leaving stripes of fire in their wake, Derek froze, more out of surprise than anything else, and squeaked out a small, “Yellow.”
Stiles immediately tensed underneath him, eyes wide. “Crud,” he said. “That was harder than I meant it to be. You okay?”
“I… Yes?”
“Sit back for a second.”
Brain still caught on his tingling skin, Derek carefully slipped from his partner, holding the base of the condom, and kneeled up. Stiles followed him, sitting straight and setting firm hands on Derek’s upper arms.
“We should stop,” he said calmly. “Dial things back.” Derek nodded, swiping a hand across his face. “Okay. Shower with me.”
Still a little caught in Stiles’ magnetic pull, Derek took his hand and followed him on weak legs to the bathroom.
A shower did wonders for his mental clarity and nerves, as always. It had been a staple item on their list of aftercare activities for at least a few months, since it worked well as a reset for both of them; Stiles hated feeling sticky after sex or a scene, and Derek hated being apart while he returned to himself.
After, they dressed quietly in clothes for bed, though Stiles caught Derek’s arm before he could step into a fresh pair of boxers. His face was slightly pinched.
“Turn for me? Please?”
Understanding dawned on Derek. He turned, still naked.
“There’s no mark,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “You were nowhere near hard enough to leave one.”
“I know.” Stiles let out a loud breath. “I know.”
Derek turned again and hated the guilty expression he found waiting for him. The anxiety wafting off of Stiles was almost tangible.
“Let’s lie down,” Derek suggested. He lay back on the mattress and slid his legs beneath their summer blanket, waiting until Stiles was situated comfortably as well to rest across on his chest and tangle their legs.
Uneasy silence followed.
“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, roughly, eventually, voice vibrating under Derek’s cheek.
“It caught me by surprise,” Derek murmured. “That’s all.”
“I have to be more aware than that.”
“You’re only human, Stiles.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“You don’t need an excuse.” Derek pushed himself up on an elbow. “Mistakes happen, and this was minor. I love and trust you. I know you’d never deliberately break that trust; I’ve known that since well before we were officially together.”
Stiles made a distressed sound, eyes flitting around the room. “I can’t lose control, Derek.”
“You didn’t. Hey, look at me.” Derek waited until Stiles’ attention landed on him before repeating, “You didn’t. And you won’t.” He peered at his boyfriend. “What’s going on? We’ve paused scenes before. Why is this bothering you so much?”
Stiles bit his lip, hard. He shook his head, and then, shakily and on an exhale, “I liked it.”
Derek blinked, and Stiles started to babble.
“I just- We’ve played a bit with it before, and you’re so responsive every time, and when I felt you fucking me like that, doing so beautifully and being so good, and I just- in that moment, I swear all I wanted was to encourage you and I-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ve been thinking about it more and more.”
“About hurting me?”
“Yes,” Stiles said raggedly, eyes opening wide again. “Only in the context of pleasure, though, I swear-”
Derek shifted up and kissed Stiles firmly, halting his tangent.
“Deep breath,” he said, when they broke apart. He felt Stiles’ chest rise and fall dutifully between them. “Again.” A soft inhale, and long exhale. “Better. My turn, okay?”
A small nod.
“I’m not going to run for the hills,” Derek said, giving a smile. “So you’ve developed a bit of a sadistic streak. We can readjust.”
Stiles frowned. “You never said you were into pain.”
“I believe I said I didn’t think I was,” Derek corrected him. “But I’m not against experimenting a bit. I love the spanking sessions, and, yeah, sometimes I wonder what it might be like if we took it further.”
Stiles took a second to digest. Then, “Really?”
He looked so serious. Derek loved him so much.
“Yeah, really.” He dropped a kiss to Stiles’ sternum. “If it was something we’d already talked about, I would have told you to run with it earlier.”
“But we’re talking about it now,” Stiles said, thumbing across Derek’s cheek.
Derek nodded. “But we’re talking about it now,” he agreed firmly. “You have nothing to worry or feel guilty about.”
This time, Stiles was the one to lean for a kiss, gratitude and relief and warmth flowing between them.
They hashed out the details of what they planned to explore the next day over early morning coffee before Stiles left for work and Derek dove into his projects for the day, and the topic was left alone for the rest of the week. Derek knew without a doubt that Stiles was pestering his friends and coworkers and telling them all about what had happened and what was hopefully soon going to happen, which he honestly didn’t mind. He knew that Stiles always felt better by preparing and learning as much as he could before trying something.
Derek had caught glimpses of what Lydia kept behind a private door in her condo, so he didn’t doubt that she’d be able to tell Stiles whatever he wanted to know about embracing a little sadism.
On his part, Derek didn’t worry too much. He felt pretty settled with the recent turn of events.
Friday afternoon eventually rolled around, and Stiles announced his return to the loft by swinging the door open and calling, “I have new toys!”
Sitting by the kitchen island, Derek glanced up from his laptop. “Yeah?”
“Check it out.” Excited, Stiles dumped his backpack on the floor and pulled two items from an unassuming brown paper bag. He laid both on the countertop.
The first was a black riding crop, about a foot long, crisp leather folded neatly at one end. The second was a vinyl paddle, wider and with a more substantial handle. Even just looking over them, innocent against the marble of the counter, had Derek’s skin tingling.
“They’re nice,” he said, picking up the crop and feeling the strength in the rod. “Expensive?”
Stiles looked bashful. “Lydia let me take ‘em. She’s been dropping hints all week about what toys to try and all that, but I didn’t wanna start off with anything too fancy. I picked them out.”
“I like them,” Derek assured him. He put the crop down. “Did you want to try something tonight?”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” He stood from his stool and rounded the counter and reeled Stiles in close to him, an arm around the small of his back. “I do. What are you thinking?”
Stiles hummed and rubbed his knuckles along the hem of Derek’s top. “I’d actually love to give you a massage, to start,” he said, thoughtful. “Build on the sensations. Get you warmed up.”
“I’m down.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead. “It’s a good idea. After dinner, okay? I’ll wait in the bedroom while you wash up.” It would give Stiles the time he needed to prep both himself and his plans for the scene.
The grin that graced his face just then was beautiful. “Yes. Yes, okay. We’re doing this.”
They ate together, slowly and deliberately, sharing loaded looks. After, Derek left the dishes to Stiles and hid himself away in the bedroom. He kept half an ear out for domestic sounds from the kitchen while prepping the room how they liked: dimmed lights, neatly-made bed, lube and condoms on the nightstand for easy access if needed. He also laid out a clean towel on top of the comforter.
“Hey,” a quiet voice sounded behind him. Derek turned, watched as Stiles nudged the door shut. His expression was settled and serene in the lamplight of their room. “Why don’t you get undressed for me and lay down?”
Derek didn’t feel much like speaking as his inner self quietened, so he just nodded and did as had been suggested. He then rested on his front on the towel and sighed happily when Stiles settled across his hips, soft pants at once too much and not enough against Derek’s naked skin.
A dry palm crept up Derek’s spine and curled around the back of his neck, firm and present.
“I adore you, you know,” Stiles muttered. His weight shifted as he curled over to drop gentle, soundless kisses along the curve of Derek’s waist, up to his ribs, and along his shoulder blade. Derek’s toes flexed involuntarily.
“And I, you,” Derek said.
“I want you to close your eyes and relax.” Another kiss, down in the dip of Derek’s lower back. “Concentrate on feeling.”
“Okay.”
“Mm. Good boy.”
Derek melted into the comforter and just felt.
Warm and dry to start, Stiles’ hands mapped his body with familiarity. Derek idly counted his own slow breaths as his shoulders were smoothed over, his waist pressed against, his ass rubbed and tugged at. Soon, Stiles shifted his weight, and a small click sounded. The next touch to Derek’s skin was a smooth slide. Between one inhale and the next, gentle lavender filled his nose.
Stiles treated him for several long minutes, and, were it not for the arousal slowly gathering between his legs, Derek probably could have nodded off. Instead, he idly concentrated on Stiles’ touch and on the delicious anticipation simmering between himself and his lover.
He eventually felt Stiles shift back, let his own thighs be nudged open so his partner could kneel between them. A heavy palm pressed between his shoulder blades as Stiles leaned across his body.
“I’ll start with my hand,” he said, his even tone familiar and comforting to Derek’s floating mind. “How are you?”
“Good,” Derek murmured. “Want to feel you.”
He got no response as Stiles leaned back, but he could picture the satisfied smile gracing his lover’s face. After a moment, Derek felt a hand brush his ass cheek, then nothing for a stretched out second, then-
Smack.
He let out a small breath.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Again?”
Stiles gave him two more, a little more force behind the hits each time though still relatively light. Derek’s skin tingled where it absorbed the blows. His attention was fixed on the sensation, mind blank otherwise.
“Feels nice,” he said softly.
“That’s good, sweetheart.” Stiles’ sounded the smallest bit rough. “That’s good.”
Derek drifted as Stiles continued to warm his skin with steady spanks, alternating sides and hands. In between, he sometimes trailed nails along surprisingly sensitive skin, and Derek shivered. Time stretched on. Bones heavier and heavier, it took a little effort to push up on his knees when finally asked to do so. He kept his shoulders and chest pressed to the bed, head cradled on his forearms, eyes closed.
“I have the paddle,” Stiles said. “Colour?”
“Green.”
Stiles’ hands had stung a little, pain shrouded in warmth and familiar touch.
The paddle hurt.
The second time it landed, Derek flinched properly and made a muffled sound in his throat. A soft hand caressed his calf. For a moment, the signals warred in his head, emotion swelling in his chest. His cock swayed between his legs, only half hard, but his entire body felt dowsed in syrup.
“God, Derek,” Stiles exhaled, shaky. “Okay?”
“Mm. S’a lot.”
“Yeah, babe. Yeah. I know.” Derek barely felt the kiss dropped to the back of his thigh. Against his skin, Stiles sighed and murmured, “Do you want to stop?”
Derek’s mouth had dried out. He wet his lips and pulled the words from within himself. “No. Please.”
Stiles kissed him again, and straightened.
“I’ll give you five,” he said. “Do you want them?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to hurt you?”
Derek had never trusted and loved a person like this in his life.
“Yes. Please.”
“Alright.”
He took the first two stoically, keeping his body as steady as his could. His breath came more deeply. The third he felt in his bones, deep and aching. The fourth burned, and, on the fifth and final blow, a cry erupted from his lips, raw and helpless and uncontrolled.
Derek floated through the immediate aftercare. His body was lowered to rest on the bedspread, something cool applied to his tingling skin, a warm body draped along his side, a thigh hooked carefully over his leg where it wouldn’t jostle where he was sore.
There was quiet for a while. They breathed in tandem; Derek felt Stiles’ breath on his neck and knew he was nearby, even with his eyes shut. Listening as Stiles' heartbeat slowed and evened, Derek started to slowly resurface.
Stiles' eyes were wide and watching him when he finally cracked his eyelids open.
“Wow,” was the first thing out of his mouth, and it had all been worth it just to see the last anxiousness disappear from Stiles’ gaze as he smiled then.
“Agreed.”
“That was intense,” Derek murmured, pushing up on his elbows.
“Good intense?” Stiles asked. His hand trailed down Derek’s spine.
“Really good.”
He suddenly craved Stiles’ mouth and shifted to kiss him, hot and slow, a reconnection.
Stiles said, when they broke apart, “Thank you for trusting me.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
A hand cupped Derek’s cheek. He nuzzled and nipped at it.
“It’s no hardship,” Stiles said, amused and affectionate. “I love you a lot.”
“I hope you love me enough to help me to the bathroom, because I don’t think my legs are back online.”
Brightly, Stiles laughed, and he sat up, offering a hand to Derek.