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The afternoon sun shines into the loft, the sky overcast and the light pale. The only sound is Derek’s voice, wrapping up the last segment in his plan.
"So I'll circle around behind her, and we attack, just like in training, and we take her down."
Stiles scoffs. "Pfft, yeah, okay."
Derek feels his eyebrows descend dangerously low, his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare (he's tried to stop doing that ever since Stiles made that Cro-Magnon comment and he can't).
"I'm sorry Stiles, did you have a problem with that plan?" He asks with a dose of sarcasm and a shot of 'not that I give a fuck'.
Stiles gives him a pitying look. "Yeah well, if you call that a plan."
Derek grinds his teeth together. "There's nothing wrong with my plan Stiles, it will work and it will kill off the fucking Baba Yaga in the woods."
Stiles smirks (that fucking smirk it drives Derek batshit), "Your plan is stupid dude, and the night is totally gonna end up with Baba Yaga sitting on your chest and gnawing on you until by some miracle, one of the other flunkies, which will most likely be Scott because I’ll call him, and he likes to show up at the last possible second, chases her off of you, and then I will get to spend the rest of the next 24 hour cycle researching why you aren't healing, keeping you alive and completely ignoring all your little werewolf teeth ripping threats."
"Damnit Stiles, my plan is not stupid."
Stiles throws his hands up in disgust. "That’s what you took away from that?"
Derek gives in to frustration. "Fine, Stiles. Just, fine. If my plan is so stupid--fine, what would you like to do?"
Stiles flails and says, "What would I like to do? I'd really like to suck your dick, and everyone knows my plans are the best fucking plans, the plans that work, so that's what we're going to be going with here."
Derek responds automatically, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Yeah, alright Stiles then that's the plan we'll go with--" and then he stops abruptly as he fully processes what Stiles' 'plan' actually was.
Derek opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a sound that suspiciously resembles a squawk. He knows his face is frozen and twisted into a look of complete shock, but he can't control that, so he tries to speak again, spluttering out meaningless syllables in an attempt to regain some normalcy in a world that has taken a swan dive into 'that fucking kitsune must be back and screwing with him again’ waters. "I--well--just--something--you--" After a few moments of utterly failing to produce anything resembling a coherent sentence, Derek gets a lid on it and watches Stiles' face, which has gone from that look of amusement he gets when he knows he’s gotten to Derek to a sort of semi-panicked look. His eyes are darting side to side without seeming to actually see anything and his forehead is creased in concentration as he says, "Wait, what--what did I just say out loud?"
And then silence descends on the loft.
A lot of silence, filled with them not moving and staring unblinking at one another, in which Derek can see his blank, shocked expression mirrored on Stiles' face.
Derek can feel his pulse quicken because that, what Stiles said about his dick and sucking it, that's something he's very strongly not been thinking about since that day he'd shoved Stiles against his own bedroom door and gotten distracted by that fucking mouth.
He can hear Stiles' heartbeat jump up, than ratchet upwards again, becoming rabbit-like and all the things that certain, less human parts of Derek, love.
He clears his throat. "So, that--plan. That could happen." Wait. What? That was not Derek’s brain. It was still his head though, most likely. One of them, anyway.
Stiles' eyes sharpen, he licks his lips and croaks out a "Yeah?"
Derek feels every muscle in his body freeze. Wait, what just happened? Yes? "Yeah," Derek chokes out. This is going to happen. Is it? Fuck. Fuck.
And then they're moving towards each other, Stiles dropping to his knees in front of Derek right in the middle of the loft with a crack sound that Derek winces at in sympathy and also finds really fucking hot. Stiles' hands are fumbling at his belt and Derek can hear them both starting to gasp for air like it's suddenly in short supply, can feel his already hard cock twitch and leak out a spurt of precome.
Derek's hands start to shake so he sinks them into Stiles' hair (fuck it's gotten so long now) and Stiles makes a choked-off sound, something needy that travels straight down to Derek’s dick with a jump and another heady rush of arousal.
Stiles gets the belt unfastened and then jerks on his buttons until they come free, and Derek has to let out an audible gasp for breath as Stiles yanks his zipper down and pulls his jeans down to his knees.
Then his hands are on the edges of his underwear, fingers stroking the skin of his hips and Stiles mouth descends on Derek’s cock through his boxer briefs and a wrecked sounding "fuck" falls from Derek’s lips and his hands clench down in Stiles hair.
Stiles groans, his mouth wet and hot, his lips wrapping around Derek's cock through the material. The sensation is ruining Derek for anything else ever and yet it’s not enough when Derek wants it all right now, his chest heaving with it. He can hear his gasps growing louder and echoing through the loft. Fuck, and Stiles isn't even really doing anything yet.
Derek has to catch himself as his knees start to buckle when Stiles starts mouthing at his balls. "Shit," he curses, and kneads his fingers against Stiles' scalp, which earns him a groan right up against his cock that makes him moan from the fucking vibrations.
Derek has to close his eyes against the sight of Stiles with his eyes closed and his face looking blissed out against the hard bulge of Derek’s dick against the dark fabric. "Please," he manages to get out. He has no idea where that came from.
Stiles likes that. Derek hears his heart stutter in his chest. "Yeah, okay," Stiles whispers against his skin as he licks his way up to the edge of the boxer briefs, his tongue pressure and wet heat against the length of his dick, making Derek’s stomach muscles clench and ache, a sensation of freefall right in his core.
Then Stiles licks his way back down the skin that's revealed as he slowly drags the fabric down, down over Derek's thighs and knees where it meets his pants. Derek's cock is so hard it hurts, jutting up against his stomach and starting to leak continuously from the tip. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, so turned on he's dizzy with it, the smell of sex and their mingled desire sinking into his very skin.
Then Stiles catches his eyes and holds his gaze as he licks his own hand, a long, slow stripe starting at his wrist and traveling up over his palm and along his fingers, tongue peeking out between them. Derek’s not sure the sound he makes at that is entirely masculine, but it gets him that grin, that fucking wicked grin from Stiles, and when Stiles spit-slick hand wraps around Derek's cock, he finds a whole new level of turned on.
His hands clench down in Stiles hair again, but this time he doesn't let up his grip, tangling his fingers up in the strands of his hair and hisses as he rocks his hips and his dick starts sliding in and out of that fucking perfect grip, just on wrong side of too hard, just how Derek likes it.
"You like that?" Stiles asks hoarsely.
Derek's answering "Yeah," comes out breathy and he honestly did not know he could sound like that.
Stiles grins again. "Want my mouth yet?"
Derek feels his own heart stutter inside his chest this time. He grits out a "Yes," that sounds more like his usual demanding self if you take it out of context.
Stiles draws his mouth level with the head of Derek’s cock, precome glistening out of the slit, and licks his lips. Derek almost comes all over his face right there, has to draw in a breath, close his eyes and make himself breathe out, shaky, and it's still barely enough to hold onto his control. Then he feels Stiles' tongue flick out and tease his slit and his eyes snap back open. All breathing after that is accomplished only when Derek can remember to actually breathe, because if he doesn't, then he passes out, and all dick sucking by Stiles will most likely cease.
Stiles teases Derek until he feels like he might die, swiping his tongue around his cockhead, licking the length of him in broad lingering strokes. It isn't until he teases the sensitive underside of the head and Derek grunts like his just been punched in the gut that Stiles abruptly abandons all pretense and draws the head of Derek’s cock into his mouth.
Derek’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. It’s so wet and hot inside his mouth, so perfect; Stiles' tongue still working over and around him, and then he starts sucking and the pressure and the pull of it almost undo Derek all over again.
Because it's Stiles, and Derek’s cock is inside his fucking mouth. Derek wants more, and he can't stop his hips from pulling back, and then thrusting more of his dick inside the slick and the tightness of it, slowly but insistently and Stiles takes it, wraps his hands around Derek’s hips and guides him into a rhythm that he’s comfortable with.
Derek lets himself go, lets his whole body lose itself to Stiles and his mouth; the slick sounds of his flesh sliding in and out, the needy sounds that Stiles starts making and the rhythmic 'ah, ah, ah' sounds that Derek hears come out of his mouth in return.
Stiles fingers abruptly dig into his hips and he starts pulling Derek forward faster, and deeper and Derek can’t help himself, digs his fingers even harder into Stiles' hair and scalp, starts pulling his head forward into his thrusts and everything starts to fade away, starts to focus on the tightness in his balls, the liquid heat building inside him, can feel it in the base of his spine, edges of white and sparks in his mind. He's close, so close. "Stiles!" he warns, tries to pull back and get his hands to let go of Stiles head, and it’s a good thing that Stiles response is to pull Derek’s hips hard against him, take Derek's dick so far in him he starts choking, because Derek doesn't think he was successful in letting up on Stiles and then he feels the head of his cock hit the back of Stiles throat and his orgasm overtakes him, pulsing through him in waves of mind-ending pleasure, and Stiles swallows it, his throat working hard around him and Derek knows his eyes are open but he can't see anything for the fucking intensity of it.
When Derek comes back to himself, his dick is hanging soft against his thigh, his hands are stroking gently through Stiles hair, and Stiles has buried his face against the side of Derek’s stomach, whole body heaving and shaking for breath.
Derek drops to his knees and brings his hands down to cup Stiles face "Stiles," he asks, terrified that he hurt him, that he did something wrong, "Are you alright?"
Stiles gives a shaky laugh and wraps one hand around Derek’s wrist, thumb dragging back and forth across his pulse point. "I came in my pants."
Derek's brain is one part relief and the other part is total mind reset with the knowledge that Stiles just came in his pants from blowing Derek. "Oh," he says lamely.
"Fucking Christ, the sounds you were making," Stiles groans.
Derek feels that shit-eating grin of his stretch across his face (Stiles has commented on this grin several times). "You liked that?"
Stiles rocks forwards into Derek’s hands. "I liked that a lot," he groans.
Derek looks with an absent sort of detachment as his thumb starts stroking the edge of Stiles cheekbone. "That’s because your plans are the best fucking plans and they work."
"Yeah?" Stiles asks with a pleased looking grin Derek isn't sure he's seen before.
"Yeah." he answers softly.