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Stiles knew there was an issue the second he opened his eyes. Well, even before that actually because the only reason he was forced to open his eyes was because it was cold. Like really freaking cold.
Stiles has become accustomed to Derek's body heat keeping him warm and comfortable throughout the nights, but even without it, he never ends up freezing.
This morning is different.
It feels like it's below zero degrees in the room and Stiles really isn't understanding why that is.
He sits up, clutching the comforter around his body and looks towards one of the windows in the master bedroom that is mostly covered by the curtains draping over it. Still, there is a slight crack of visibility and from that alone, it becomes clear that something is off.
His feet hit the carpeted floor as soon as he gets out of bed and he walks over to the window.
Stiles shoves one of the curtains aside and is met by… snow?
Snow.
There was actually snow outside, not just a thin sheet covering the ground, but, instead, a couple feet completely blocking out the sight of cement.
It looks like Winter Wonderland outside, which would've been fine really, if it weren't for the fact that he lives in California.
Stiles releases a sigh and makes his way towards the door, not even a tad bit surprised by the fact that the metal of the knob is cold.
The second he steps out of the room, his nose is met by the delightful smell of bacon and he follows the scent until he's standing in the kitchen where Derek's already occupied by the stove.
The older man is shirtless, only dressed in a pair of pajama pants and Stiles is pretty certain he's wearing nothing underneath them. Apparently going commando is a thing Derek does often. He didn't find out until three months into their relationship.
Derek turns and he's immediately greeted by soft eyes and a faint smile.
Stiles walks closer to his boyfriend who completely abandons his previous task to wrap his arms around Stiles' slim waist and tug him forward.
"Why are you dragging my favorite comforter around the house," asks Derek as he noses along Stiles' jawline.
His breathing picks up almost instantly with the feeling of Derek's cool breathe ghosting over the skin of his neck. Stiles sighs and leans into the touch, finding that his body is suddenly beginning to warm up, but he still utters, "I'm cold."
"I just turned on the heater, it should start getting warmer in here in a bit. Didn't even know we'd ever need to use the heater."
"I know right. Yesterday it was seventy degrees and now it feels like its negative ten."
Derek shrugs easily, obviously not even a tad bit effected by the sudden change in weather. Stiles figured as much given the fact that he's shirtless. His body temperature is just about perfect no matter what the actual temperature is. Fucking werewolf genes.
"Weather probably has a lot to do with the snow."
Stiles rolls his eyes, refraining from uttering, "no shit, Sherlock."
Derek's an intelligent man, makes sense since he's an English professor, but he is constantly pointing out the obvious or just saying the most ridiculously stupid things whenever he gets distracted with Stiles, which Stiles really can't complain about.
"A snow day in Beacon Hills? I mean, how crazy is that. Obviously, there's something going on which means we should—"
"Take advantage of this situation to stay in and do as we please for the first time in a very long time? Yes, I agree."
Stiles really couldn't find it in himself to argue about the lack of alone time they've been having these days. It's been busy with Stiles working on his getting masters degree, Derek's teaching schedule varying from the eight a.m. to nine p.m., and, the supernatural, of course.
Despite how odd the situation is, Stiles now finds that he's more than thankful for it.
Stiles looks at Derek through his lashes as a grin spreads across his features. "Exactly what I was about to suggest."
-
"Oh fuck."
Stiles leans forward, grip around the top of the headboard tightening so much his knuckles begin to pale. The hand on Derek's chest is firm, firm enough to keep his boyfriend down as he rides him into oblivion.
Okay, logically speaking, Derek can easily flip them over and pin Stiles to the bed and have his way with him and Stiles wouldn't even think to complain. But Derek's a great boyfriend and Derek also really enjoys it when Stiles takes control, even when bottoming.
Therefore, Stiles curves his hips and grinds his ass and throws his head back and just does.
It's been far too long since they've had sex like this. Sure, they've been doing it rough for the past two months since their sex lives only contained a few quickies, but those times were sloppy and fast and though they were pleasuring, they weren't enough.
This time, they're allowed to take their time. It doesn't exactly stop the speed Stiles' hips are moving but they're grown men with a lot of stamina which means they can postpone this orgasm for as long as they want.
Stiles bites his lip so hard it almost breaks skin when Derek unexpectedly thrusts upwards to meet with Stiles' own movements. It's a violent attack to his prostate and Stiles screams, eyes rolling back as he begins to drag his short yet blunt fingernails down Derek's chest, towards his abdomen.
A whimper escapes Stiles' wet lips as he hears his lover groan from beneath him.
Fingers trail up his sides, slick with sweat, and it sends a chill down his spine. The fingers take a rather interesting trip, until two of them, Derek's thumb and his index finger, are trapping one of his nipples.
Stiles gasps at the feeling, back arching at the caress of one of his most sensitive areas.
"Fucker," he hisses at his boyfriend who simply smirks like a smug bastard as he tries his best to glare.
It doesn't really work out that well.
Derek takes hold of his forearm to yank his body down until Stiles is pressed up against him. The werewolf then wraps an arm around Stiles' waist to make sure to keep him secure where he is so he has no means of movement.
Stiles should've guessed what was to come next, but his mind was already so faded, he only caught on when it actually happened.
The tip of Derek's tongue laps over the same nipple he had been occupying with his fingers just a minute ago before he sucks it into his mouth. With his free hand, Derek flicks the fingernail of his thumb over Stiles' other nipple, resulting in the jerking of the younger male's body.
"Shit. Sh— oh my God."
His grip loosens around the headboard until his arm eventually gives out and his hand falls back down onto the bed.
His entire body feels like it's on fire now with Derek is in full and complete control.
Derek's the one doing the thrusting now, hips moving upward furiously, making sure the tip of his cock pierces Stiles' prostate with every thrust. This movement also has Stiles' own body moving in a forward and backward motion which has his dick sliding up and down Derek's abs, creating the loveliest friction. Those occurrences with the addition of the toying of his nipples is becoming far too much for him to handle all at one.
A tear actually slips from his eye, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.
"Derek." A whimper, a warning, a plead, something.
Derek slows but doesn't stop his actions completely. He is obviously on a mission now, seeming to need Stiles' release more than his own.
"D-Der, I'm close," Stiles moans as his body begins to tremble.
Then Derek stops sucking on his nipple and just faintly grazes his teeth over the nub and Stiles is coming.
He cries out, body shaking due to the force of the release as his hole clenches around the pulsing cock that's still buried deep inside of him.
Ropes of come spurt out between his and Derek's upper body as Stiles caves in.
The position is suddenly flipped so Stiles is on his back with Derek in between his legs. Stiles instinctively lifts his legs and bends his knees and Derek immediately goes to town on him.
Stiles looks up at his lover, who's eyes are closed with his mouth sealed shut, releasing muffled grunts with each thrust.
And he knows. He understands.
He reaches a hand up to stroke a thumb over one of Derek's cheeks, prickly with stubble.
"It's okay," Stiles whispers.
Derek visibly relaxes but he refuses to do much else.
"Open your eyes, please. I want to see you, Derek. Please."
And just like that, glowing golden orbs are staring directly into his own and his heart starts racing faster, feeling that familiar heat take over him again.
"Beautiful," he says.
Stiles pulls Derek in for a kiss, not minding the extended canines as he slips his tongue into his lover's mouth.
The kiss is slow, as it always is in moments like these. Stiles still can't figure out if it's because Derek is fearful of hurting him or if it's because he's usually overwhelmed with so much emotion at the reminder that Stiles accepts him and who he is, who he was born as.
"Stiles," Derek gasps into the kiss. The werewolf pulls away and Stiles watches as he gazes down at him with that familiar intensity.
"Do it," he encourages, "right inside of me. I wanna feel you. Do it."
It's like something inside Derek snaps when Stiles says it. His thrusts suddenly become almost brutal in a way that has Stiles throwing his head back as a loud and filthy moan escapes his parted lips.
Derek comes with a roar, the sound of his claws dragging through their bed covers mere and pathetic in comparison to his cry of pleasure.
Stiles holds him through the entire thing, caresses every bit of Derek he can reach and praises him, tells him how well he's done and how good he makes Stiles feel.
When it's over, Derek collapses with a deep breathe, heart beating so hard that Stiles swears he hears it even with his human ears.
He cards his fingers through the damp locks atop the werewolf's head, massaging at the male's scalp with a smile plastered on his face.
"That was…" Derek trails off.
"Perfect."
-
By the time they get in the shower, the entire house is already properly heated but that doesn't stop them from using mostly hot water to bathe anyway.
They spend over an hour in there together, most of their time consisting of them making out with Derek pressing Stiles against the glass door of the shower.
Their fingers start looking like raisins as time passes but their make out session didn't falter.
At least they get clean in the end.
-
Derek goes back to making the breakfast he had abandoned making that morning when Stiles offered something more appealing than cooking.
The bacon is cold but the pancakes are warm, soft, fluffy, and filled with chocolate chips, just like Stiles like them.
He rewards Derek for the well cooked meal by rimming him against the kitchen island.
-
"Seriously dude, the snow really isn't making sense. Sure we've had a few snow days, but those times, the snow barely went up passed two inches. Now we're up to six feet of snow? Six feet? We need to figure out what's going on."
Stiles nods then rolls his eyes at his own stupidity because Scott can't even see him being that they are speaking on the phone.
Therefore, he voices his agreement instead, "yeah… it's super weird. I was talking to Derek about it this morning."
"Did you guys think about what might've happened," Scott asks.
"I said a witch, maybe, but that's as far as we got. We've used this snow day as an us day."
"I don't even wanna know what you mean by that."
"Probably not. Anyways, we'll go to Deaton tomorrow if it's safe to walk, but what I suggest is that you just enjoy the rest of the day with Allison and Isaac. It's not like you have anywhere you can go and it obviously isn't a chore."
Scott hums over the phone, "that it is not. I'll catch you later, bro."
"Bye dude."
Stiles ends the call and walks into the living room where Derek is seated on one of the couches with his legs up and folded as he reads a book.
"Scott," the werewolf questions as Stiles approaches, eyes still moving over the pages in front of him.
"Yeah, asking about the snow," Stiles briefly explains.
Derek nods his head slowly and spreads his legs slightly when Stiles is near. Stiles gets on the couch and slots himself between Derek's legs, resting his head on his boyfriend's chest while Derek wraps an arm around him, slotting their fingers together.
Stiles smiles at this, snuggles in a little more and closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a nap in comfort.
-
It's possible that there's nothing else that Stiles enjoys more than cooking with Derek.
Earlier in their relationship, when Derek was always insisting on being the one to cook, Stiles thought there would never be anything he enjoyed more than watching Derek cook.
Boy, was he wrong.
Cooking with Derek is not only a closer view of watching Derek cook, but it's hands on which is great because Stiles enjoys cooking himself.
He never really understood, at first, why Derek was so passionate about cooking.
Personally, Stiles loves it because he's good at it and he generally has fun creating new things so it's always exciting discovering a new meal.
It was never just that for Derek, and he knew it the first time he watched Derek cook.
It took some time, but Stiles eventually got Derek to talk about it.
"My mom… she's the one who taught me," he had explained, "she taught me just about everything I know. I was always in the kitchen with her ever since I was six. At first I used to just watch and observe as she spoke and explained what she was doing. At ten, she started letting me do simple things like grating cheese and grabbing ingredients. By twelve, I was boiling the pasta and at thirteen, I made my first meal. She was always there, always leading me through it or just keeping an eye, always helping me even when I was beginning to surpass her in cooking. It was our thing. I guess cooking just helps me feel close to her even though she isn't here."
Stiles had felt like he wanted to cry, and he did. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying, but Derek started crying too and they just began holding onto each other.
Ever since, Stiles started cooking with Derek. He knew it wouldn't have the same exact affect, but Derek was always happy to have Stiles accompany him. He was even happier whenever he got to teach Stiles something new.
It sort of became their thing until they stopped having time to spend with one another a few months back. One of them would cook, whoever had the most time on their hands that day, and then they would eat, sometimes but very rarely together.
That's exactly why Stiles is currently feeling like he might actually burst with joy because he's finally cooking with Derek again.
It's been far too long and he hadn't realized up until that point just how much he's missed it.
Derek turns to look at him, possibly what he's doing, and arches a brow. That's when Stiles realizes that he's been staring.
"Why are you smiling at me like that?"
The younger man shrugs his shoulders, voice low as he says, "I don't know."
Stiles averts his eyes to look down at the onions he was supposed to start chopping up about five minutes ago.
"I just— it's been a long time since we've done this and I missed it… I missed this, all of it." His smile fades away and his eyes begin watering and he mentally curses at himself for being so emotional. "I missed you…"
Stiles' vision is now a blur. He can hardly see how he's cutting the onion at this point and should probably stop. It's the smartest idea.
He doesn't, but Derek does, stops him, that is.
Derek pulls the knife from his hand and sets it aside. Then there are arms snaking around his waist, tugging him in until he and Derek are in each other's space.
"You're crying."
"It's the onions," Stiles responds immediately.
He couldn't even cover up that lie if he tried. Even if Derek were human, he'd probably be able to detect it.
"Why are you crying," asks Derek, as his hands run up and down Stiles' side. Soft and patient, as always.
Stiles spills almost as soon as the question is asked, already feeling as though a weight is lifted off his shoulder just from Derek asking. "We haven't had much time to each other lately. We're always busy and worrying about other things and it's so stressful. All of it. I just want to be with you at all times or at least have a solid two or three days with you all to myself every week like how it was at the beginning of our relationship. But everything's changed and I just— I don't want it to be like this anymore. What if this is where—"
"Don't finish that question."
"But—"
"No," Derek says firmly, "no. Don't even think of that. Us breaking up isn't something that's gonna happen, at least not now."
Stiles gives Derek a look, eyes narrowing into slits. "Well that's reassuring," he spat sarcastically, trying to get out of Derek's grip but it doesn't quite work out that well because Derek only ends up tugging him in closer.
"Stiles, I can't predict the future. Neither of us can and you know that. The chances are very very incredibly slim, but we don't know what's going to happen so I can't promise that we'll be together for the rest of our lives. All I can promise is that I will love you decades from now as much as I love you now, regardless of if we're together or not. I love you and the amount of time we spend together doesn't change that. You're still the man I think about throughout most of my day, you're still the only man capable of making me smile and laugh in a way only you can, you're still the only person outside of my family that I've ever opened up to the way I have with you, you're still the only person who owns my heart completely. I love you, Stiles. And the lack of time that we have to ourselves isn't ideal, but at the end of the day, whenever I come home to you cuddled up to a bunch of pillows in our bed, well that… that just about makes up for everything because at the end of the day, I'm still with the man I love."
Stiles is bound speechless, only being able to gaze into Derek's loving eyes as his eyes begin to water all over again.
Goodness, he's an emotional wreck, but can he really be blamed when he's lucky enough to be in a relationship with a man as understanding and as caring as Derek?
No, he cannot. And he'd be damned if anyone said any different.
Sometimes, on very rare occasions, Stiles is the one who becomes bad with words. Derek says a lot and he takes too long to process how he ever got so lucky and his thundering heartbeat is so distracting and Stiles can hardly find it in him to utter a sound.
He can't deny how much he loves it when Derek opens up, and still, 'til this day, after five years of being together, can't help how his knees weaken and how his heart pounds and how his eyes glisten due to it.
"God, I love you. I love you so much," Stiles finally utters right before smashing his lips into Derek's, and yes, there are definitely tears there.
-
Stiles traces the shape of Derek's tattoo with the tip of his index finger for the fifth time now since their second round of sex in front of the fire place.
They're currently laid out in front of said fire place, in the living room, on a pile of blankets and comforters and pillows. It wasn't all that necessary to do so, but Stiles had figured a change of scenery wouldn't hurt anyone.
Derek's laying on his stomach with his arms pillowing his head. Stiles is on his stomach too, partially on the covers and partially splayed out over Derek's body.
"Having fun," Derek questions rhetorically, voice relaxed, a sign that he's obviously enjoying the action.
"I've always liked this tattoo, you know that. But I loved it after you told me the meanings…" Stiles trails off, "alpha, beta, omega. Talia, Laura, Cora. Friends, pack, family," he lists off.
"Can't believe you remember all of that."
"'course I do. It's important to you, it's important to me too."
It's silent for a while, just the sound of their light breathing and the outside world playing out around them.
Stiles basks in this moment, realizing that he hasn't felt this calm and relaxed in a very long time. It makes sense. He's had a great day, one that he never wants to end.
"Der."
"Mmm?"
"I understood what you said earlier… I know time away from me won't change the way you feel and time away from you won't change the way I feel, but I still want days like these. Today was a reminder of just how much I missed being with you. I don't want to sound selfish or anything, I just want to spend time with you, as much as I can. I understand our lifestyles so it won't always work out that well, but please promise me that this isn't our last day like this."
This has Derek turning his body so he's facing Stiles.
Derek takes the hand that slipped off of him into his own hand and intertwines their fingers.
The smile that follows is the most sincere look Stiles has ever seen, one filled with so much passion and appreciation.
"I promise."
And Derek was right, maybe they can't be sure of forever but it's okay.
It's okay because they have this day with these memories they will forever carry.
They have now and a promise.