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“It’s my party and I’ll drink if I want to, Scott!” Stiles slurred as he waved a half-empty bottle of tequila in the air over Lydia’s head. She leaned back in her chair right before the moment of impact without even looking up from her phone.
“No one’s stopping you, bro.” Scott rolled his eyes in fond amusement as Derek snuck the bottle out from behind Stiles’ back and quickly replaced it with a glass of water. Stiles spun around, spilling half of the water on Derek and some on Allison as he poked a finger into the center of Derek’s chest.
“Cheating cheater who cheats,” he hissed as he reached around Derek’s back for the tequila. Derek lifted the bottle above his head, smirking at Stiles until he gave up and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. Lydia reached out and caught the glass as it fell from his hands while simultaneously typing out an increasingly lengthy text.
Stiles sometimes wondered if Peter’s bite really did turn her to some degree, or if she was really just that intense and talented. He was banking on a little bit of both.
“You can have this back,” Derek said as he gently shook the bottle in front of Stiles’ face, “when you go refill that cup in the kitchen and down it.”
Scott wasn’t even attempting to hide his laughter as Stiles tried his best to out-glare Derek. He gave up when he felt Allison pinch his butt and shove him towards the kitchen, and really there was no arguing with hands on his butt. Or so he thought.
Okay, so maybe Derek had a point. He might be a little drunk.
The water felt like heaven and angels singing on his throat, and he was about halfway through his second glass when a hand settled on his waist.
“Holy mother of-” he yelped as he spun around, effectively spilling the rest of the contents of his glass on Derek’s t-shirt. Stiles smiled sheepishly as Derek shot him an unamused look and moved to step forward, effectively crowding Stiles into the counter in one short move.
Stiles went very, very still.
Derek’s multidimensional, multicolored, multi-everything eyes flicked back and forth between his in the narrow space between them, and his pupils visibly dilated when Stiles felt his breath hitch in the silence. He smiled, predatory and beautifully as he reached a hand behind Stiles and…
Grabbed the roll of paper towels sitting on the counter.
“S’cuse me,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear as he took a step backwards and turned to walk away.
It took Stiles an embarrassingly long amount of time before he got his breath back enough to leave the kitchen.
He was pissed.
Derek wasn’t in the main room of the loft with everyone else, though. No, when he gave a cursory glance around he saw Erica pointing at the stairs with an absolutely devious glint in her eyes, Allison giving him a sheepish thumbs up for luck and Scott looking a little green around the gills.
“I hate you all,” Stiles muttered as he stomped over to the stairs and climbed.
The short hallway on the second floor was dark, with only a thin strip of golden light shining from under the bathroom door at the end of the hall and illuminating the hardwood flooring that Stiles had helped install the previous summer. He could hear water running from the tap, but only just louder was the sound of low and melodious humming. Stiles stalked forward and threw open the door with an argument on the tip of his tongue when suddenly the door slammed shut behind him and he was pressed roughly up against it.
“Fucking hell, Derek?!” Stiles shouted before a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Derek shushed him with a finger to his lips as he cocked his head to the side and listened to something off in the distance. He tried shooting his best glare at Derek, but he wasn’t paying a lick of attention, so.
Stiles licked a hot stripe up his palm.
Derek’s mouth dropped open as his gaze shot back to Stiles, and Stiles smirked against the clammy skin. The smirk dropped from his face when Derek stepped forward, heat smoldering in his eyes as he pinned Stiles to the door with his hips. Stiles’ heart kicked up as they stood there, tension stealing the air from his lungs as Derek lowered his free hand down to tuck under Stiles’ shirt and press against his hip.
Slowly, so slowly, Derek pulled his palm up from Stiles’ mouth and dragged his fingers across Stiles’ lips.
Stiles parted his mouth and sucked Derek’s middle finger in with his tongue just as the hand slowly creeping across his stomach slid into his pants.
“Jesus fuck,” Derek groaned as he surged forward and started sucking on Stiles’ neck. Stiles gasped around Derek’s finger as his hips bucked forward, and Derek brought both of his hands down to Stiles’ thighs to lift him up and slam him against the door.
Stiles moaned as he scrambled his hands across Derek’s back for purchase, and he arched suddenly and violently into Derek’s body as teeth dug into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
“Derek, fuck, touch me,” Stiles pleaded as arousal and warmth spread through his body. He felt incoherent, reduced to a needy ball of wantneedwant at the feeling of another warm body rutting up against his. Derek growled into his neck, and Stiles barely had a second to shudder at the feeling before Derek’s lips were on his in a hard and pressing kiss.
He fucking loved it.
“Derek, Derek,” he breathed into his mouth as hot muscles pinned him against the wall and strong hands went to work on the button of his jeans. He was shameless in his need as Derek finally undid his zipper and yanked his pants down to his shins before undoing his own button and zipper and pressing Stiles back into the wall. He yanked Stiles up around his waist, and Stiles bent an arm back to grab at a towel rack for support while his other arm wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck.
Derek threw an arm back, scrabbling it across the counter as he ducked his face back into Stiles’ neck and licked from his sternum to his chin. Stiles felt him bring his arm back around, heard a click just before a slick finger pressed straight into his hole.
“Oh fuck, yeah, fu-” Stiles groaned as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He slammed his head back against the door when he felt a second finger push its way in, followed soon by a third. Moaning and cursing filled the bathroom, and it took Stiles a solid minute to realize it was him.
“Yeah, fuck, love your mouth Stiles, keep talking. Fuck, say anything,” Derek whispered as he crooked his fingers deep inside. Stiles mewled and internally hoped that their friends had all left by now. Or, in Erica’s case, been forcibly dragged out.
“I’m ready, I’m ready, Christ, I’ll be 20 by the time you finally fucking get in me,” Stiles said against Derek’s ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth. Derek shuddered, pulling out his fingers as he muttered about bossy humans.
Stiles used his free hand to grab the side of Derek’s face and pull it to look at his own. “Fuck me like you mean it, puppy,” Stiles taunted with a pout and a grin.
Derek didn’t need to be asked twice as he simultaneously growled, bit down on Stiles’ lower lip and let all of Stiles’ weight fall down to impale on his cock.
All of the air left Stiles’ lungs in a whoosh as he was fucked into the door, and the rattling of the handle was just as obscene as the sound of flesh pounding on flesh. Stiles felt like crying at the sensations coursing through his body, tightening his muscles and loosening them as want and heat built in his very core. Derek seemed to be emitting an eternal loop of growling as he sucked dark marks into Stiles’ neck and pounded into his ass, but all Stiles could do was moan wantonly in short bursts as each thrust pushed the air from his chest.
Stiles was about 87% sure that he was going to pass out when he came, and he was 99% sure that he was riding the edge when Derek wrapped his hands around Stiles’ hips and slammed him down harder than he thought possible once, twice, three times before grinding his hips in a jerky circle and coming in thick pulses, deep inside Stiles.
Stiles came untouched as the last stroke hit his prostate in an explosion of white-hot waves of pleasure.
And then he passed out as Derek shouted his name.
He woke up in a bed, head pounding and body still twitching from aftershocks and soreness. Derek had a death grip on his hand from his chair beside the bed, and he let out an audible sigh when Stiles opened his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, Stiles. You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Derek muttered as he smoothed the hair away from Stiles’ forehead. He felt his headache and overall soreness fading rapidly, and he smiled weakly up at Derek. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be the other way around if this is gonna be a regular thing, big guy.”
Derek quirked an eyebrow and gave a teasing smile. “You gonna pass out like that every time?”
Stiles made to sit up, but Derek’s hand on his shoulder brought him back down to the bed gently. “I don’t know, but I definitely-” Stiles paused as he openly and heatedly gave Derek a once-over, “-want to find out.”
“Oh my God,” Derek sighed in exasperation as Stiles broke out into laughter beside him.
He shut him up with his lips that time, instead of his hand.
“Happy birthday to me,” Stiles muttered into the kiss.
Derek pinched his butt and snickered at the indignant yelp.