Archive of Our Own ^beta

~~1~~

It happens by accident.

The pack has been fighting off the latest big bad all night, until finally gaining the upper hand and decimating the creature into a puddle of goo. It’s quite revolting really. Blue-green blobs of gelatinous crap spraying over them for hours as they fought, until Stiles had a brilliant idea. The idea, though disturbing in its own right, had done what they had been unsuccessful in attaining all night. It’s best not to ask Stiles how he figured it out, because that would only lead to horrified looks of disgust. Either way, it had worked, and they are each heading their separate ways home to shower off the grime and residue before falling into bed. Not a second too soon, either. Stiles has needed to piss for the last three hours, and it’s becoming urgent.

Arriving home in dire need of a toilet, a shower, and a bed, in that order, Stiles pulls into his driveway and hurries inside.  Shutting and locking the door behind him, he checks the message board by the door.

Called in to work. Should be back in time for lunch tomorrow.

Sighing, he rubs the back of his neck and is met with slick slime. Maybe he should shower first, then piss. He really doesn’t want to touch his dick with monster slop on his hands. His bladder clenches painfully at the thought of waiting, and he feels himself dribble. Yeah, no. Toilet is definitely first.

Climbing the stairs does nothing to help his predicament. Every step feels like torture, and by the time he reaches the top, he’s concerned he may not actually make it into the bathroom, much less to the toilet. Moving as quickly as he can while trying not to piss himself, he makes his way down the hall and into the bathroom, quickly flipping on the light. He takes in his appearance in the mirror only to note that whatever the creature had been made of, his insides apparently glow in a weird iridescent way. Nope, no way is he risking touching his dick with this shit on his hands.

His dick spasms, and a thin trickle of piss emits from him. He’s barely able to stop the flow this time. And oh, God. He’s running out of time. Giving up all pretense of propriety, Stiles steps into the shower seconds before his body relaxes, and he’s peeing. Fully clothed, the piss seeps into his boxers and jeans, then drips down his legs to the shower floor. He widens his stance, spreading his legs, and finally lets go completely, closing his eyes at the oddly pleasurable release. A soft hissing noise fills the room, accompanied by the sound of urine hitting the tile at his feet. Fuck. It feels so good to finally pee.

“Stiles? I need you to find something for me.”

Stiles’ eyes immediately snap open. There, standing in the open doorway to the bathroom while Stiles stands in the shower pissing, is Derek.

Derek’s eyes drop to Stiles’ jeans. Jeans that are getting progressively wetter as he continues to pee. “Are you…”

Stiles cuts him off. “Yeah, I am; and it’s not like I can stop now, so can you, uh, give me a minute?”

Derek backs away from the door, and Stiles’ piss persists in flowing from him until it finally slows and tapers to a stop. When his bladder is blessedly empty, he sighs and turns on the shower. May as well, rinse out the clothes at the same time. Derek can wait. Hopefully, a shower will give him time to figure out how to explain.

A shower does not, in fact, give him time to come up with the right words. Leaving his clothes in a sopping heap on the bathroom floor, Stiles wraps a towel around his waist and heads to his room to find Derek gone. Avoidance it is, then. Stiles can work with that.

~~2~~

They don’t talk about it. Instead, they act like it never happened, so Stiles was decidedly not expecting it the next time.

Derek calls a pack night a few weeks after “the incident”, as Stiles has taken to calling it in his head. By the time everyone is winding down, they begin pushing couches to the side and curl up in what they commonly call a puppy pile in middle of the living area. As usual, being the token human, Stiles is in the middle, with Scott, Malia, Lydia, and Derek draped protectively over and around him.

A few hours later, Stiles wakes abruptly with a pressing need for the bathroom. He really shouldn’t have had that last drink. He tries to wait. He truly does, but when his bladder spasms causing his dick to drip a few drops, he knows that waiting is not an option. Extricating himself from the bodies, he quickly makes his way to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him with a quiet snick, he steps to the toilet and lowers the front of his joggers, pulling out his dick. The splash of liquid hits the bowl when the door opens.

Glancing up, he finds Derek staring at him. No words are spoken as Derek’s eyes drift down to watch Stiles as he continues to pee. When he finishes, Derek disappears from the doorway, pulling it shut again. As he returns to his place in the center, everyone shifts back around him, and Stiles isn’t quite certain it hadn’t been a dream.

~~3~~

Like last time, though, neither Derek nor Stiles talk about it, choosing instead to pretend it never happened. But, when it happens a third time, Stiles isn’t actually surprised since he’s mostly to blame.

They are scouring the preserve for clues on the latest threat. It’s been four hours, and Stiles needs to piss like a mother fucking racehorse. Unfortunately, Derek doesn’t show any signs of letting them stop their search. Two hours later, he eventually throws in the towel and sends them home.

Stiles lags behind, knowing there is absolutely no way in hell he will make it home dry if he doesn’t take care of it now. He lets a good distance grow between him and the others before he turns back a little ways and ducks behind a tree. Unfastening his jeans as quickly as possible, he begins peeing as soon as his dick is out. 

He cringes at the sound of his piss hitting the leaves under his feet and adjusts his grip to aim toward the base of the tree hoping to muffle the sound. It’s not enough, apparently, because when he looks up, he sees Derek standing several feet away, eyes, as usual, trained on Stiles’ visible dick.

“Um, yeah. I needed to piss,” Stiles explains unnecessarily as he continues shamelessly relieving himself.

“I can see that,” Derek whispers.

Stiles cocks an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there and watch again?”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes out almost silently in response.

Stiles closes his eyes at Derek’s words and can’t stop the moan that falls from his lips as he doesn’t hold back and completely empties his bladder against the tree. By the time he’s down to a few dribbles, he opens his eyes. Derek lifts his gaze to Stiles’ eyes, nods once, and turns around, walking away.

~~4~~

As is becoming their habit, they never speak of what happened, and Stiles is beginning to think maybe it’s just his vivid imagination and ill-timed luck. Well, that is until they spend a day at the beach.

The pack is on the beach, having a day off from the latest madness of Beacon Hills. Stiles, Derek, Scott, Isaac, Kira, and Liam are in the water bumping a beach ball around while Lydia, Erica, Boyd, and Allison take up residence on several beach chairs nearby. Stiles’ bladder has been twinging for the better part of an hour, but he’s been too lazy to get out and walk to the port-a-potties. Honestly, he’s still too lazy, but he figures he still has a little time left so he’s not overly concerned.

It’s over an hour later when the beach ball bounces too far off Scott’s latest hit, ending up on the beach. Everyone scrambles to chase it, fighting over it once they reach the sand. Stiles stays behind in the water, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s already peeing. Too late, he notices that Derek hasn’t left the water with everyone else. And by too late, he means he doesn’t notice until Derek is standing right in front of him, where the water is warming around him from his urine. Unable to stop the jet of piss from flowing from his body, he takes a step back.

“Dude, you really don’t want to be that close to me right now.”

Derek’s eyes flick down and back up, and he moves closer to Stiles than before. “Yes, I do.”

Stiles tries to move again, but Derek grabs his wrist under the water, holding him still. “I’m…”

“I know,” Derek says, cutting him off and dropping his free hand between them, fingers barely grazing the front of Stiles’ swim trunks.

Stiles closes his eyes as he continues to pee, knowing Derek can feel the pressure of the stream coming from him, can feel the temperature change. Derek doesn’t move away until Stiles finally stops. Seconds later, the ball is floating in the air toward them, and Derek tips it back to them with a quick flick of his fingers. The same fingers Stiles had just been pissing against. His dick twitches in interest, and he groans. Now is not the time for Stiles Junior to want to play.

~~5~~

They continue their silence about what Stiles now knows is not a coincidence. Unsure how to approach the topic, Stiles bites his tongue and swallows down any words that try to form, maintaining their unspoken pact of silence.

The pack is celebrating their latest victory at a club on the outskirts of town. Stiles is drinking, tossing them back as fast as the bartender will serve him. No bartender in Beacon Hills will serve the underage Sherriff’s son. Here on the outskirts, though, they don’t ask, and as long as you don’t tell, everyone gets what they want.

Having been dancing with a chaotic flailing of limbs all night, Stiles doesn’t pay attention to how much he’s drinking and in turn how much he needs to pee. When a strong urge overcomes him, he waves to his friends and points to the bathroom. It doesn’t take long to figure out that there is not even a glimmer of hope that he will make it when he sees the line is twenty or so people deep, and if his eyes aren’t deceiving him, it looks like the creepy guy about ten feet from him near the end of the line is pissing where he stands, dick out and everything. A second glance confirms this, and now, Stiles needs a brain bleach. A steady leak begins to dampen his boxers, pulling his attention back to his unrelenting need. Definitely not going to make it.

Hoping to keep from pissing his pants, Stiles pushes through the nearest exit door, finding himself outside on the side of the building. He makes his way around the building to the alley, uncaring of the footsteps he hears behind him. He’s pretty sure it’s Derek, anyway.

Coming to a stop, he calls out, “Derek?”

“Yes. Are you alright?”

Stiles’ drunk ass throws caution to the wind and turns to face him. Without removing his eyes from Derek, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans and is pissing before he can pull his dick out completely, effectively wetting the already damp material more until he finally frees his dick through the hole in the front of his boxers with fumbling fingers.

Derek gasps as soon as the sound of liquid hits the ground. Never taking his eyes off Stiles, Derek walks towards him, casually adjusting his own dick in his jeans as he stops just in front of where the puddle at Stiles’ feet ends. Stiles pees for what feels like forever, his stream steady and strong under Derek’s steadfast and unflagging eyes. In his drunken haze, he can see Derek’s cock thickening behind the fly of his jeans and keeps his eyes focused on the sight, biting his bottom lip until his piss finally slows to a stop. Dragging his hand around his dick, he tugs once, then twice, his penis hardening under the combination of his hand and Derek’s hot gaze.

“I’m too drunk for this,” Stiles whines softly, tugging on his cock again.

“You are. Next time, though,” Derek responds.

“Next time, what?” Stiles demands.

“Next time, you’re mine,” Derek murmurs, his hand coming up to trail over Stiles’ neck before disappearing into the night behind him.

~~ 1~~

If you ask Stiles what he is doing driving to Derek’s loft in middle of the night while about to piss all over himself after holding it for most of the day, he’s not sure he could give you a straight answer. He just is. Letting himself inside the loft with the key he had made right after Derek moved in, he slowly climbs the spiral stair case to Derek’s bedroom. Stairs…not any better this time.

Unsurprisingly, when he enters Derek’s room, he hears a soft, “Stiles?”

“Yeah,” he answers quietly.

Derek’s eyes flash red, and he props himself up on his elbow. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Stiles hasn’t thought this through. He has no idea what to say or how to respond. His dick releases a dribble of pee into his joggers as his bladder begins to spasm painfully. He really needs to piss. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Stiles?”

“I need to piss,” he stutters as the dribbles become more of steady trickle. “Like really bad.”

Derek reaches out a hand toward Stiles. “Come here.”

Stiles doesn’t stop to think. He takes Derek’s hand and allows himself to be pulled closer. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Okay,” Derek replies, pulling Stiles onto the bed with him. Before he can react, Derek is lifting Stiles to straddle his waist. With his legs spread open, the trickle increases to a continual leak. Stiles grabs his crotch and squeezes, trying to stem the flow.

“Derek, what are you doing? I really need to pee. Like I’m already losing it, dude.” Reaching up, Derek presses over his slightly distended abdomen drawing a soft whine from Stiles. “Seriously, I’m going to piss all over you, unless I get to the bathroom right now.”

Derek pushes again, harder this time. “Do it. Piss all over me.”

“I will,” Stiles hisses. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Prove it,” Derek challenges pulling Stiles’ hand away from where he has a death grip on his dick before sinking the heel of his hand harder into Stiles’ bladder.

“I…I can’t…I need…I’m gonna…” Stiles gives one last valiant attempt to stop, but before he can complete a thought, his piss rushes out of him, his gray joggers turning dark gray and heavy.

Derek lowers his hand to the growing wet spot on the fabric, feeling where Stiles is freely peeing now. With his other hand, he pulls Stiles down over him, their mouths hovering less than an inch apart. Derek moves his hand from the front of Stiles’ joggers and shoves it inside.

“No boxers,” Derek acknowledges, thumbing over the tip of Stiles’ cock while he continues to relieve himself.

“They were putting too much pressure on my bladder,” Stiles says by way of explanation. Derek circles his hand around Stiles’ dick, continuing to drag his fingers through the pee as Stiles shows no sign of slowing down. What? Don’t judge him. He held it all day for this.

Derek slides his fingers over the slit to brush just under the edge of the head of Stiles’ cock while using his other hand to lower the joggers so that Stiles’ stream is flowing directly onto Derek’s bare torso. Stiles gasps as Derek’s continues to push the joggers until they are solidly under his ass, baring his dick completely. Derek nips at Stiles’ bottom lip, before biting down softly and tugging on it. Stiles spreads his legs further, struggling to finish peeing as his dick tries to harden. His movement slots Derek’s still clothed and already straining erection against him.

Once he’s reduced to a few pee shivers and drips, Stiles pulls back, staring down at Derek under him. Unable to stop his dick from hardening at the press of Derek’s cock between his legs, Stiles moans softly.  Shaking his head to clear it, he asks quietly, “What are we doing here?”

Derek lifts his hips, pressing his trapped dick harder against Stiles. “What do you think?”

“You said…” Stiles stops and hisses as he feels Derek’s dick spasm under him when he surges up into Stiles again. “You said, next time I’d be yours.”

Derek reaches up with the hand that hadn’t been previously drifting through Stiles’ pee and drags his fingers over Stiles’ red, teeth bitten bottom lip. “I did.”

“What does that…” Stiles closes his eyes as Derek’s touch sends shockwaves of arousal through him. “What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want,” Derek offers gruffly.

Opening his eyes, Stiles searches Derek’s face for answers. “And if I want everything with you?”

“Whatever you want, Stiles,” Derek repeats gripping Stiles’ hips and bumping his hips up again.

“Right now, I want…” he trails off and presses his palm to his aching cock. “Right now, I want you to bury your dick in my ass.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that? Okay?”

“Yes,” Derek answers, reaching over to open the drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a half-used bottle of lube. Tossing it onto the bed, he rummages around for a condom. Finding one near the back, he flicks it next to the lube and meets Stiles’ hungry gaze with a decisive nod. “Okay.”

Stiles falls forward, mouth open, his tongue licking into Derek’s mouth before their lips have a chance to fully meet. Grinding down, he gasps into Derek’s mouth. Stiles hears the click of the lube being opened, and before he has time to register the enormity of that, Derek’s finger slips down his crack and prods at his tight hole.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Done what? Sex?” Stiles shakes his head. “No. Pissed on another person on purpose? Also no, until a few minutes ago.”

“Have you ever had fingers in your ass?”

Stiles snorts. “I’m 17, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not exactly the straightest arrow in the sheaf,” he says as he pushes his ass down until the tip of Derek’s finger slips inside. With a quiet hiss, he nods, “Yes. I’ve done this to myself.”

Derek pulls his finger from Stiles, immediately popping it back in, taking care not to push further than before. He does this several more times until Stiles can’t take it anymore and bears down, meeting Derek’s upward thrust of his finger and sinking to the next knuckle. They continue this pattern until the entire length of Derek’s finger buries itself easily with every thrust.

Stiles groans when at the next press against his hole, he feels a second finger seeking entry. Derek looks up at him, a question in his eyes. Nodding, Stiles lifts up slightly before lowering himself onto both fingers. The burn at the presence of the second finger has Stiles stilling, both fingers still ensconced deep in his ass. With a soft exhale, he slides up until Derek’s fingers are almost completely out of his body before dropping back down again. When Derek pushes a third finger against his rim, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to spread his legs further on the next push down, effectively taking all three fingers inside, nailing the soft, spongey bundle of nerves in the process.

“Oh, my God! Do that again!” Stiles yells. “Please for the love of God, do that again!”

By the time, Derek’s fingers are sliding in and out easily, hitting Stiles’ prostate repeatedly in the process, his cock is angry red and purple and dripping pre-come like a sieve onto Derek’s stomach. “Get in me,” Stiles demands as his cock pulses. “Hurry. Please. I want to come on your cock.”

Derek grabs the discarded condom, and Stiles bats it away picking up the lube and coating his fingers. “No condom.” Encircling Derek’s cock with his lube covered hand, he slicks every hard inch before lifting to his knees.

“Are you sure?” Derek manages to rasp out with an aborted thrust upwards.

Stiles responds by guiding Derek’s dick to his hole and sinking down onto him until Derek bottoms out with Stiles seated tight against him. “I’m sure.”

Stiles doesn’t move, instead he remains motionless and revels in feeling of Derek’s dick stuffed inside him. He never wants to let this feeling go. Tentatively, he squeezes around Derek’s cock, pulling a broken moan from the man. “Stiles, if you do that again, this will be over in seconds.”

Being the mischievous brat that he is, Stiles tests the theory, squeezing again and watching in awe as Derek tips over the edge, his hips driving up hard into Stiles with several well aimed thrusts. When Derek’s cock pulses hot against his prostate, Stiles throws back his head and arches as thick white ropes of come shoot from his dick, landing on both his and Derek’s stomachs as he continually rocks his hips through it.

He collapses, spent, onto Derek’s chest, the squish of come between them not nearly enough of a deterrent to stop him. When Derek’s dick softens and slips from his ass with an obscene squelch, Stiles’ face flames red in embarrassment. Keeping his head tucked into the side of Derek’s neck, he whispers, “I didn’t know I could do that. I’ve never come untouched in my life, and I’ve done my fair share of experimenting on myself.”

“We can experiment anytime you want,” Derek promises quietly.

Stiles lifts his face to peer up at him. “We can? This isn’t just a one-time thing?”

Derek shrugs lightly. “Only if you want it to be.”

“I don’t. I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known you,” Stiles admits on a whisper.

“I know,” Derek smirks.

Stiles half-heartedly swats at Derek’s chest before waving his hand around in the air. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want a piece of all this.”

“Never claimed that I didn’t.”

A smile steals over Stiles’ face as he tucks his face back down into Derek’s shoulder. “Obviously, you have a piss kink. Is it just piss, or is it wetting, or what?”

“Yes,” Derek answers. “Only with you though. I’ve seen other people piss, and it didn’t have the same effect.”

“Any other kinks that I should know about?” Stiles asks, his curious nature begging for answers.

Derek nods. “Probably.”

Stiles smiles into Derek’s neck. “Good, because from what I have been able to determine, I’m pretty sure I’m a kinky bastard; and I want to explore them all with you.”

“We can do that.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes, until Stiles eventually lifts his head. “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“We need a shower.” Stiles wrinkles his nose.

“Let’s go then,” Derek says in agreement, tapping the back of Stiles’ legs. “Hop up.”

They make their way to the shower, cleaning themselves quickly and efficiently. Pulling on borrowed joggers that Derek offers, they return to the bedroom. Derek changes the sheets and cleans the plastic mattress pad before remaking the bed.

“Why do you have a plastic mattress pad? Do you wet the bed?” Stiles teases, already knowing the reason for it since he himself invested in one when Scot had been turned.

“No, but I do bleed, and in our line of work, that happens more often than not,” Derek replies simply before tugging Stiles into the freshly made bed. “Stay?”

“Yeah. My dad is on the night shift.”

Derek wraps around Stiles from behind, dick nestled into the groove of his ass, only two thin layers of clothing separating them.

“I’m going to have to pee again soon. I held it too long,” Stiles whispers into the silence of the dark room.

“That’s okay. The bathroom’s right there.”

Heat floods through Stiles when he asks, “And if I don’t want to get up?”

“Then don’t,” Derek murmurs, pulling Stiles tighter against him and nodding off to sleep.

~~*~~

The next morning, Stiles wakes to find himself facing Derek, his leg slung over Derek’s slim hip and Derek’s morning wood poking against his ass. Carefully, he lowers his leg and inches his joggers off, kicking them to the bottom of the bed. Reaching down, he lowers the front of Derek’s joggers letting his cock spring free before lifting his leg and returning it back over Derek’s hip. Grabbing the lube from the nightstand, he slicks the fingers of one hand and immediately pushes one, then two, fingers inside his hole easily. The third provides a burning stretch; but several sure thrusts of his fingers later, and they move freely, as well.

Adding more lube to his fingers, he drags his hand over Derek’s erection cautiously so as not to wake him. Removing his hand, he uses his leg to pull Derek in closer so that his cock again prods against Stiles’ ass. Leaning forward, he kisses Derek softly several times, rousing him slowly and languorously, unsurprised when Derek’s eyes open with a lazy smile. With a soft thrust of his hips, Derek nudges the tip of his cock harder against Stiles’ greedy hole that, in turn, sucks him in immediately.

“You’re already prepped,” Derek says, stunned.

“Yeah. Didn’t take much. I was still pretty open from last night, or well, a few hours ago,” Stiles admits. “You should be good to push all the way in.”

Derek pulls himself completely out and pushes Stiles to his back. Hoisting Stiles’ legs over his shoulders, Derek presses in with one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt and hitting Stiles’ prostate in the process. “Oh, my fucking God!”

“Derek? Is everything alright? You didn’t answer your phone. We wanted to see if you wanted breakfast,” Erica says, walking into the room.

Stiles groans as the red flame of embarrassment covers his face, neck and chest. Derek, well, Derek flashes his eyes at Erica until she holds her hands up in surrender. “No breakfast. Got it. Can I watch?”

The growl that emits from Derek has Erica backing away quickly. “I’ll take that as a no. Just gotta say, though. Get it, Batman. It’s about time you wrapped your legs around our resident, grumpy alpha.”

Derek shifts, his teeth snapping, and Erica runs giggling from the loft. When he begins to shift back, Stiles stops him with a hand on his face. “Don’t change back.”

Shaking his head, Derek whines, “I have to. I can’t control the wolf like this.”

“That’s okay,” Stiles tells him, running his hands over the ridges of Derek’s beta-shifted face.

“No, Stiles. You don’t understand. My wolf wants to claim you.”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate to tilt his head, baring his neck to Derek. “I belong to you anyway. Just do it.” He watches as Derek tries to fight for control, watches as he battles the wolf inside.

“Stiles…” Derek chokes out brokenly as he begins losing the war inside.

“Do it, Sourwolf,” Stiles urges.

“You don’t know what it means,” Derek says, continuing to fight his wolf.

Stiles scoffs. “I know exactly what it means. Did you forget who you’re talking to, big guy?”

“But…”

“Make me completely yours, Derek.” Stiles tips his head further and squeezes Derek’s dick where it is still buried in his hole. Derek immediately pulls out and slams back into him, sinking his teeth into the juncture of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. “Fuck, yes!” The scream tears from Stiles’ lips, and Derek adjusts his teeth, biting harder.

Derek’s hips piston into Stiles, setting a brutal pace, but Stiles meets him thrust for thrust without holding back. When Derek arches his back, coming hot and heavy inside him, Stiles can’t stop himself from biting down hard on Derek’s neck, breaking the skin and claiming Derek as his. Sensations flood into Stiles as the bond snaps into place, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he spills onto his stomach.

His dick slipping out, Derek pulls Stiles on top of him, holding him close and licking at his mark on Stiles’ pale skin. When their breathing returns to normal, Stiles’ stomach growls.

Derek chuckles. “I can make breakfast. Pancakes sound okay?”

“Yeah. Pancakes sound great,” Stiles answers, snuggling in tighter against Derek, his tongue sneaking out and licking at his own mark on Derek’s otherwise flawless skin.

Derek snickers and slaps Stiles gently on the ass. “You have to get up.”

Wiggling closer, Stiles closes his eyes. “Okay, but first…” Stiles trails off as he spreads his legs around Derek’s hips and begins to pee between them, pulling a moan from Derek. Lifting Stiles’ head, Derek slams their mouths together while Stiles continues pissing.

Epilogue

To say that Stiles’ dad was livid is an understatement, but in the end, after many arguments and tears and a lot of lectures and questions and some stipulations like Derek coming to dinner every Sunday and Stiles’ grades not slipping, he caved. Stiles spends the nights that his dad has to work at the loft, and the other nights, Derek slips into his room at home. Stiles isn’t under any illusion that his dad doesn’t know, but much like the bar across town, they have a don’t ask don’t tell thing going on, and Stiles intends to keep it that way.

The pack didn’t bat an eye when Stiles and Derek became Sterek, just shrugging like they had expected it all along. Scott did whine and complain for a while, and at one point voiced his unhappy opinion rather angrily and loudly, but Stiles had told him to spank his inner moppet and get over it.

No one mentions the fact that Stiles never goes to the bathroom alone anymore unless he’s at school or somewhere else that Derek isn’t. It’s just become the norm for them. Hell, Derek usually drags Stiles with him when he has too pee, too. The first time it happened, Stiles didn’t know where to look before finally succumbing to his curiosity and focusing on Derek’s pissing dick.

Most nights, the loft is filled with the much closer and more cohesive pack, either doing homework or chasing the current big bad or engaging in a much-needed puppy pile. Tonight, though. Tonight, everyone has plans…even Stiles.

Staying away from Derek all evening after school has been hard, but it will be worth it, he knows. It’s almost 10:00 p.m. when Stiles finally lets himself into the loft. As expected, Derek greets him at the door with a heart pounding kiss. “Hey,” he whispers against Stiles’ mouth.

“Hey, Sourwolf,” Stiles answers immediately, his words being swallowed in another kiss.

That’s the thing about Derek and Stiles and the mating bond. When they are separated for any reason, they are nearly insatiable when they are reunited. The longer they are separated the more intense the hunger is. The pack has found out firsthand on more than one occasion just how urgently needy they can be. Stiles has lost count how many times they have been caught with their dicks out.

Stiles has only been away for twenty-four hours or so, having spent the night at Scott’s, but usually the school day only separates them about nine hours, so this is outside their normal parameters. As hard as it has been today, though, it’s all part of the plan.

When Derek finally pulls back again, Stiles smiles. “I take it you missed me?”

Derek shoots him a glare. “You know I did.”

Stiles drops his backpack near the door and pushes Derek to the living room. “I missed you, too, big guy, but I’m here all weekend. Dad has a convention that he has to attend.”

“Did you have fun at Scott’s? Get everything done?” Derek asks as he sits on the couch, pulling Stiles to straddle his lap.

“Yes, and yes,” Stiles smirks, knowing Derek wants more information but choosing to keep him in the dark a little longer. Derek growls softly, and Stiles can’t resist dropping a kiss over Derek’s mouth.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Derek mutters with a whine as his hands run up and down Stiles’ thighs.

Stiles shakes his head. “No. I’m going to show you,” he whispers shifting further down onto Derek’s lap.

“Tonight? Tomorrow? When?”

Stiles groans at even the thought of waiting until tomorrow to show Derek what he has planned. “Tonight.”

“When tonight?” Derek pushes as his patience wains.

“Now,” Stiles says on a gasp as he relaxes and begins wetting himself on Derek’s lap. At first Derek looks confused, until the sound coming from Stiles’ pants draws his attention. Eyes falling to Stiles’ lap, he watches as the jeans darken. Stiles knows the second Derek feels the hot piss reach his own pants from the growl and the quick thrust of his hips. “I’ve been holding it since about midnight last night.”

Derek trails his fingers over Stiles’ cock through the wet material of his jeans before leaning forward to capture Stiles’ mouth with his own. Stiles finally stops peeing, and they break apart, a string of spit still connecting their mouths. “You did this for me?”

Swiping at Derek’s lips, Stiles nods. “Duh, I love you.”

Derek’s eyes snap to focus intently on his. “You love me?”

“Thought that was pretty obvious,” Stiles teases. “I don’t just piss my pants for anyone.”

“I love you, too,” Derek replies, lifting Stiles and carrying him to his room, leaving behind a puddle on the couch.

Stripping off their clothes, they fall into bed, Stiles sprawled on top of Derek. Their hands claw at each other, and their teeth nip and bite every inch of skin their mouths can reach. When Derek lowers his hand down Stiles’ back and over his ass, he gasps when his fingers encounter the plug Stiles had inserted before coming to the loft.

“Pull it out, and get your dick in me, Sourwolf.” Wasting no time, Derek tugs on the plug until it pops free with a slick, filthy squish. Tossing it to the side, he slips his dick inside Stiles’ lube drenched hole without any further preamble, pulling moans from them both.

Stiles reaches down and strips his cock hard and fast as Derek pumps up into him, and in seconds, they both tumble over the edge, one right after the other.

Derek pulls Stiles down and kisses him, his tongue slipping inside as he languidly explores every crevice of Stiles’ mouth.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispers, pulling away as his bladder twinges. “I’m gonna…” he trails off as piss begins pouring from his dick onto Derek. “Piss again,” he says with a content sigh.

“That’s what showers are for,” Derek says with a chuckle.

“Mmm,” Stiles moans as he finally stops. “Let’s make it a bath.”

It takes them an hour to move to the bathroom, both too exhausted from being away from each other for far too long. When the tub is full and just this side of too hot, Stiles sinks into the water with Derek slipping in behind him. Resting back against Derek’s chest, Stiles sighs. “I think I’m going to be peeing all night. I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it here earlier. I had to go so bad that I had to pull over twice to keep from pissing in Roscoe. Sitting was torture.”

Derek just pulls him closer, sucking at his mark as Stiles tilts his head giving him better access. “Thank you.”

“For what? Pissing all over you?” Stiles asks with a soft laugh. “You do know that couch is ruined, right? There’s no way it escaped the amount of pee that came out of me.”

“I don’t care. I’ll buy a new couch everyday if I have to,” Derek promises.

They stay in the tub for over an hour, refilling it with hot water several times and just enjoying being back with each other, when Stiles murmurs, “Hey, Derek?”

Derek lifts his head from the back of the tub. “Yeah?”

“I’ve gotta piss again.”

“Do it.”

“Okay.” Stiles opens his legs, letting go, and watches as the water turns yellow around them.