Work Text:
"Hey- woah- sourwolf-" Stiles stammered as Derek nearly took him off his feet, crushing him back against the door, snuffling and licking all over his neck.
"Don't smell right," Derek groused between swipes of his tongue against Stiles' sensitive skin. The pants situation was already becoming precariously tight as the werewolf kept up the rhythm.
Letting out a gusty sigh, Stiles tangled his fingers into Derek's hair. "I'm sorry," he said, pitching his voice a little softer, a little lower. "We can shower, get those months of college off my skin."
Derek rumbled, tucking his nose into the space behind Stiles' ear. "Can I-" he started, cutting himself off. From where Stiles was, he could see the way the tip of Derek's ear went bright pink. "I just-"
Flicking through past conversations, Stiles tried to work out what would leave Derek so embarrassed. "You wanna take a shortcut to scent mark me?" he guessed, grinning widely when Derek nodded, still hiding his face as he snuffled at Stiles' hair and ear. "Bathroom then," demanded Stiles, bodily shoving at the brick wall of Derek's body. "Come on, real shower then golden shower and then I can rinse it off." Stiles' dick gave a slight twitch as he momentarily lingered on the idea that he was asking Derek to pee on him.
Almost like he hadn't been expecting Stiles to agree—and really, Derek should know better, he knew Stiles lived by the motto of 'try everything once' when it came to sex—Derek jerked and moved back, eyes wide. His mouth had twisted, jaw thickening and lips being pushed by fangs, but no other part of his face had shifted. "I- uh. Okay," agreed Derek, letting Stiles move past him, towards the bathroom.
It had seen several upgrades to the already luxurious space since Stiles has last been here. There were honest-to-god plants hanging from loops in the ceiling, fluffy towels draped over the towel warmer, the evidence of other people trying to soften the space that had previously been beautiful but clinical and empty.
The spider plant even had baby plants dotted along a stem.
It was a lot, and Derek looked sheepish as he joined Stiles in the doorway. "When Lydia came back for the weekend-" he started, and Stiles nodded in agreement. There was a sea blue bath mat on the floor that he wanted to bury his toes in.
"Shower," said Stiles, and started stripping off his layers. Derek let out a noise that was caught between amused and interested, which was followed by the clattering of pipes and the pattering of water on tile.
"Stiles-" started Derek, once Stiles was naked, stepping forwards as if to capture him.
"Nope," said Stiles, slipping around him to the now-steaming water. "Help me wash this off, we can talk in the shower."
Derek grunted, but peeled off his clothes to comply. Stiles didn't look, let Derek stare as he drenched himself under the stream of water, droplets dripping down his back, luxuriating under the best shower pressure he'd been stood under in a while. Since he'd last been here, really.
As he splashed his face with water, Derek's tongue traced the path of a droplet on his shoulder blade, and Stiles jumped. He hadn't heard Derek's approach over the hiss of the shower, but he didn't miss the rumbling chuckle that Derek gave.
"Oh fuck you," Stiles grumbled, reaching for Derek's shampoo. "Wash my hair?"
There wasn't really a reply, just a hum as Derek took the bottle and started working the lather into the roots of Stiles' messy hair. Steam billowed in clouds around the pair of them, fogging up the glass wall of the shower.
It was only when Derek turned him to rinse his hair out that Stiles tried to talk again. "So, don't get your pee in my hair," he said, conversationally, as casual as he could manage.
Derek's ears went red again, and he fought to keep his face stoic.
"And if you're well hydrated, you can pee in my mouth too-" said Stiles, Derek shifting on his feet vaguely uneasily, reaching around Stiles for the shower gel. It was only faintly scented, the tingle of mint hitting Stiles' nose as the cap popped open.
Derek squinted as he focused on Stiles' body, running the body wash all down his torso and arms before speaking. "I just- your mouth is fine, you just don't smell like me." His cheeks were starting to pinken too, and he went back to focusing his intense gaze on Stiles' body, the soap suds that slipped over his skin. The gaze kind of tingled, like Stiles' body was warning him that a predator was eyeing him up like meat. Which was, to be fair, pretty accurate. Stiles tried to ignore the urge to move under his skin, only twitching when he failed. Instead of moving for his throat, though, Derek dropped to his knees, sliding soap-slick hands down Stiles' legs, finishing with rubbing between his toes. Stiles twitched away automatically, a giggle wrenched from his chest.
Derek smirked, but let his ticklish feet go.
Finally, he stood, and Stiles backed into the water, letting it sluice around him. "Better?" he asked softly. Derek nodded, relief etched into his face until he pulled it back to the same self-contained expression as before, very carefully neutral. Stiles hummed, rubbing under his arms to get rid of the last bits of soap. He felt better, to be rid of the grime of travel too.
"How do you want me?" he asked, encouragement for Derek to take the lead. Something hot squirmed in Stiles' belly, and his half-chubbed dick started to harden further. There was something about the knowledge that he was about to get pissed on, the taboo of it, the fact that he was looking forward to it, that sent those thrills of shame through him.
For all that Derek had almost been reluctant previously, that seemed to evaporate when his eyes flicked downwards, taking a deep breath through flared nostrils.
"Oh Stiles," he murmured, and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat at the smirk that began to make itself known at the corners of Derek's lips. "Making it all seem so altruistic, I should have known-"
Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but found it quickly occupied with Derek's fingers, holding down his tongue, thumb, ring finger and pinky pressing into his jaw. It effectively sidetracked Stiles' brain, his cock filling out the rest of the way until it throbbed almost painfully.
"Pervert," said Derek, smug affection and satisfaction on his face. "Get on your knees, brat."
Feeling every second of the loss of blood in his brain, Stiles dizzily and obediently sank to his knees, lips closing around the fingers in his mouth to suckle, whimpering when they were pulled away.
Fingers smoothed through Stiles' hair as he gazed upwards, feeling as though he almost exuded hearts around his head in a pink cloud. The steam haloing Derek made it seem like they were out of the streams of time, somewhere ethereal and isolated.
"Can't get too hard, baby," murmured Derek, only just loud enough for Stiles to catch his voice over the splattering of water that lapped against his toes. The tile beneath him was cool, grounding, a little uncomfortable. "Can't piss with a boner."
"It's the urethral sphincter," said Stiles, absentmindedly. "Stops the semen entering the bladder."
Derek stared for a moment, considering this information, eyes fixed on Stiles. "Okay, well, the words 'urethral sphincter' are sufficiently unsexy." His fingers tightened in Stiles' messy hair, making him gasp, unleashing the first awkward spurts along Stiles' collarbones, the stream of piss becoming more consistent as Derek coated Stiles' torso.
The scent was a little acrid, hot at first but quickly becoming cool on his skin, and he shuddered. Derek's face had quickly transformed back to that intense scowl, but his eyes were hazed, almost dazed by Stiles.
He was being so thoroughly owned- Stiles' dick pulsed again, letting out a blurt of precum that dripped to the tile. It was… almost humiliating that he was so turned on by being pissed on, claimed in such a base, animalistic way.
As if sensing his thoughts, Derek pulled Stiles' head back, exposing the line of his throat.
"Mine," he rumbled, stream of pee getting ever closer to Stiles' mouth. "Open up, brat, let me inside you."
Stiles whined, squirming desperately, letting his jaw drop.
"Don't swallow," Derek commanded, letting his piss fill Stiles' mouth. It was bitter, salty, several shades of gross, and it trickled out the corners of Stiles' mouth as it overflowed, leaving cooling trails down his neck. It was ownership, control, and Stiles really wanted to hump Derek's leg. "Good boy," the werewolf praised, the stream of pee sputtering to an end, his dick hardening. "So good. Swallow."
Ignoring the urge to spit out his mouthful, Stiles closed his mouth, swallowed hard, once, twice, and opened up to show Derek his empty mouth.
Something feral was tinging Derek's movements, desperate to restake his claim everywhere. "Lemme use your mouth, Stiles, please-" His voice was rough, unsteady, and Stiles didn't faceplant into Derek's groin, but it was a close run thing.
"Yeah, please, just, you can, you can take," rambled Stiles, hand curving around his own erection. Derek nudged at his wrist with a foot, sliding his leg to give Stiles a place to ride, to hump like a naughty puppy.
The slide of Derek's cock against Stiles' soft palate was almost overwhelming. The scent of him was basically in his sinuses, the musk of werewolf that lingered no matter how clean he got, the scent of piss rising from Stiles' skin just adding another layer to that musk. Stiles' hips twitched, uncontrolled until he hit a good rhythm. He wouldn't take long, needy as he was.
Derek held his hair, pain prickling at Stiles' scalp in a delightful tease, curved his other hand at the back of Stiles' neck. Warm, grounding, a claim.
Time went a little mushy, as it always did when Derek used Stiles' mouth. All Stiles knew was the mounting heat that spread up his spine as his dick dragged against the hair and skin of Derek's leg, the way that humiliation and shame curled in warm delight and left him almost more breathless than getting his mouth fucked, the way his throat constricted when he gagged, the heated non-verbal grunts and sharp gasps that marked Derek's increasing pleasure-
Stiles felt the world go white, visual snow tingling across his nerves as he striped Derek's furred shin with his cum.
"Fuck," gasped Derek, flooding Stiles' mouth with seed mere seconds later.
Stiles swallowed, pleasantly drifty. He pulled his mouth off Derek after the last couple of twitches with a sharp suck that made Derek convulse with the overstimulation.
A sharp smile edged at Stiles' lips, quickly smoothing out to something sweeter. "Rinse me off?" he asked, kissing Derek's hip.
"Yeah," said Derek in a gravelly voice. He sounded like he'd been gargling rocks. "Soap?"
Stiles shook his head, pressing his face against Derek's skin. "Wanna smell like you for as long as I can."
A pleased growl rumbled through Derek's chest, and Stiles felt his smile widen. "Love you, Stiles," said Derek as he leaned forward to get the hose, not moving more than necessary. Stiles appreciated that.
"Love you too, Sourwolf," Stiles replied, kissing at the skin he leaned on again. Hot water cascaded down his back, and Stiles hummed in pleasure. "I'm yours."
***
“Nephew, you’ve had quite enough time alone, back to-” Peter stopped at the edge of the kitchen, nostrils flaring as he took in a debauched, bruised, happy Stiles. “Well. I see.”
Stiles hummed, stacking another layer of meat on his sandwich, reaching for the mustard. “It’s been an eventful couple of days,” he said, carefully not making eye contact.
Peter’s nose wrinkled. “What did my nephew do to you? Piss on you?”
Stiles went bright red, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks, even as Peter cackled his way out.
“Asshole,” grumbled Stiles, leaning back against Derek’s chest when his arms slipped around Stiles’ waist. “He’s a total fucking asshole.”
Derek didn’t deny it, instead licking behind Stiles’ ear. “Hurry up with that sandwich,” he demanded, nibbling at the lobe. “Come to bed.”
The sandwich didn’t get abandoned, but only because Stiles needed to make sure he had the sustenance to orgasm. Again.