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After the night of fireworks, they take to hanging around each more closely, finding any excuse to bump into each other around the Hale house. A cup that’s up a little too high in the cabinet requires Derek to reach over Stiles to grab it, his chest pressing into Stiles for the briefest of movements. Stiles turns his head slightly and gives him a soft smile. When Derek’s mother needs more flour for the cookies she’s baking, Derek volunteers to get some more from the pantry, and Stiles just happens to be in there grabbing some chips. Derek crowds him against a shelf and kisses him breathless before grabbing the flour and leaving as quickly as he comes in.
When Stiles stays for dinner, and Talia calls for everyone to come eat, he offers to go and fetch Derek from his room when he doesn’t come on the first call. No one else is allowed in Derek’s room, and he always has the door shut for privacy. But Derek doesn’t mind when it’s Stiles knocking on the door, sticking his head in with a smile, and then with a quick glance back to make sure no one is in the hall, he steps into Derek’s room. They don’t have much time with the rest of the Hale family waiting for them, but they sneak a few quick kisses, lips eagerly meeting over and over as hands trails over and under clothes. But it's nice to have these small moments together.
They start working out together since Derek likes to keep in shape, and Stiles wants to try out for the lacrosse team in the fall. Derek takes them around the edge of the preserve for runs to build Stiles’s endurance. It gives them a chance to be alone, and if they take a break from running out of sight from the house, bodies pressed close together as they kiss, shoved up against trees, hands trailing under a loose t-shirt or across a bare chest in Derek’s case, no one would be the wiser. Their breathlessness and slight redness of their face excused by the exercise.
It’s on one of these runs where their kissing takes them from being upright to a mess of limbs; Derek crouched over Stiles as he lies on the grass. They kiss for long moments, hands buried in each other’s hair before they pause to breathe.
“Do you think we could do more,” Stiles asks softly, fingers twirling around a length of Derek’s hair. The question has Derek’s mind going blank for a second. “I haven’t done much, but I’m guessing you have.”
“I have,” Derek says carefully. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, most of them short term but all of the relationships had involved kissing and, more than a few, sex.
Stiles takes to fiddling with the grass next to him, averting his eyes from Derek as he talks. “I think about you. At night. Or whenever, really. But definitely when I masturbate.” He takes a deep breath, working past what must be extreme nervousness to be broaching this topic. Derek finds it rather cute, holding his tongue and watching the blush works itself across Stiles’s face. He finally turns towards Derek, meeting his gaze with determination. “I would like to do something like that with you. I’m not…I don’t really know what to do. You’ll have to show me.”
“Do you want me to do something?” Derek teases, grinning down at Stiles. “Maybe you want me to kiss you here?” He places his lips against Stiles’s neck, feeling the rapid pulse, tastes the slight salt. He pushes Stiles’s t-shirt up to his armpits and drags his lips from Stiles’s chest down to his navel. “Or maybe here.” He glances up without removing his lips from where they tease against warm skin to see Stiles watching him, bottom lip caught between teeth,
Stiles swallows hard, eyes wide. Derek watches as Stiles looks him over carefully, hands trailing down the path the same path his lips did. His fingers smooth over Derek’s where they rest at the band of his shorts, tugging them under and lower so Derek knows to go lower.
It’s sweet how, as Derek pulls Stiles’s shorts down, he goes from looking wide-eyed at Derek to covering his face with his arm. Derek doesn’t mind, though. He was just as shy and hesitant with his first girlfriend.
He rather enjoys this side of Stiles, who is normally so full of confident energy, a forceful chaos that pokes and prods at the things or people that interest him. This new shyness would not last long. Soon, he would be as confident about this as he was about everything else.
Still, Derek goes slow, watching Stiles every now and then to make sure he’s enjoying himself. Head tilted back in the grass, lips parted with every pant, and hands buried in tufts of grass that help to anchor him in the moment.
Derek starts with his hand, just slow strokes that build up in speed as Stiles pushes up into his fist. Then as moans spill past his lips, quickly stifled by a hand but still audible and arousing, Derek takes it a step further and uses his mouth. It's different than what he’s done before, and maybe he would be worried that he isn’t any good if not for the hands that bury themselves in his hair, urging him on.
Even as his focus is on making Stiles feel good, swirling his tongue around everywhere, it can reach as he pulls off and sinks back down, his own arousal builds in him, and he reaches a hand down into his shorts so he can stroke himself at the same time.
It doesn’t take much for Stiles to finish, and Derek doesn’t pull off, wanting it to be as good as it can for Stiles, and he swallows quickly so he doesn’t taste much. And looking at Stiles all blissed out, eyes closed and face flushed, Derek finishes with a groan.
He wipes his hand onto the grass, cleaning it as best he can, and falls over next to Stiles. They lay there in the grass, just breathing the summer air, enjoying the sounds of nature as water burbles in the creek, birds sing at each in the trees, and bugs make little buzzing noises as they fly through the air.
“You think things will be different when school starts?” Stiles rolls over to look at him, hand resting on Derek’s chest. “Will we be different?”
Derek holds Stiles’s hand where it lays against him and thinks. He knows what Stiles is asking. What are they outside of this little world they’ve created for themselves?
“We don’t have to be.”
***
They’re not obvious about this thing, whatever it is, choosing instead to be affectionate outside of school. They see each other in the halls, and Stiles always smiles and gives him a little wave before turning back to his friends. Maybe a few people notice the attention Stiles gives Derek.
“The little twerp is staring at you again.” Derek stops shuffling his books around his locker to look at Tyler, who’s eyeing a group of rowdy freshmen with annoyance. Even a few weeks in, the freshman have yet to settle down, the novelty of high school having not worn off quite yet. Having to move rooms for every class, being able to go off campus for lunch, and more clubs and sports.
At the center of the group is Stiles. He’s talking animatedly with some other freshmen, head turning to look at Derek every now and then. When he sees Derek looking over at him, he gives a small little wave and quickly looks away. A little thrill of excitement goes through Derek at seeing Stiles in the hall. He’s just the same, dressed in loose jeans and a hoodie, and even though they spent the summer, practically every day, together, Derek sees that he looks older.
Hair slightly longer, just a little bit taller, and less baby fat with all the running Derek made him do. A few girls in their little group look at him as he talks, and Derek can see the interest in their faces, bodies turning in towards Stiles. One even reaches out to touch him on the shoulder, and Stiles just grins more. Derek does not feel jealous.
That hot flame that tinges cold from where it stokes in his belly, he squashes that feeling down. He’s not keen to be overly affectionate at school for everyone to witness. He doesn’t say anything to Tyler. He just slams his locker shut and walks off to his next class.
They see each other in the hall during passing period and at lunch though they sit with their own friends. Mostly they exchange glances, and Stiles sends him little waves that Derek will acknowledge with a nod. It’s nice to see Stiles throughout his day, even if they don’t talk to each other until school is out and the bell rings. He waits at the entrance of the school, no longer having to stop at the junior high now that Cora is a freshman.
He sits against the brick wall, waiting and waiting, and finally, Cora walks out with Stiles, her head down as she texts something on her phone. She all but ignores Derek as she passes him, continuing to walk to his car, but Stiles slows his steps so he falls out of sync with her and falls in line with Derek, who’s begun to trail after her.
Their shoulders barely brush together, and Derek lets himself glance down at Stiles, who’s looking every which way, body practically vibrating with barely constrained energy, fingers twitching around the strap of his backpack.
He must feel Derek staring at him because he looks up and gives Derek a smile. Even though they do this every day, he still asks. “Do you mind giving me a ride?” It’s a running joke at this point.
Derek nods at him, and the smile gets bigger.
“Thanks.”
Stiles is more talkative than this usually. Definitely was when this first started, but sometimes he goes quiet. A little shy. Maybe in anticipation. Or in excitement. Derek doesn’t blame him. He gets a little flutter in his stomach too.
“Dude, can you go any slower?” Cora quips at him. She leans against the Camaro. Her eyes don’t lift from her phone. And just for that, Derek unlocks his side of the car with his key and pushes his seat forward so Stiles can crawl in the back. Only after he gets in himself does he unlock her side.
“Funny.” Finally, she looks up from her phone. “Remember, I need to go to the library to work on a school project. So drop me off first.”
“You need a ride back?” He looks in his rearview mirror to find Stiles watching him. There’s a tension in the car that he fears Cora might even feel, but she’s back to texting on her phone.
“No. I’ll get a ride. My group and I are getting food after.”
Derek heads to the library, attention slipping every now and then to watch Stiles, who smiles and looks through the window. “Mom knows your plan?”
“Yup.”
He drops her off at the library, and Stiles climbs in the front seat; his left leg bounces up and down in a distracting way. Derek puts his hand on it to keep it from moving, and even after Stiles settles down, he leaves it there.
Normally he drops Stiles off at home first, and then he drives Cora and himself home. Sometimes, Stiles comes home with them when he and Cora have a hang session planned but rarely does it end up being just him and Stiles alone. This is an opportunity neither of them wants to waste.
Derek drives them out to the preserve, taking them to an area where they can park and have privacy. The trees are all sorts of red and brown and gold that provide decent cover from any prying eyes. The public never comes out this way, and it’s unlikely that anyone in his family would either.
When he turns off the car, there’s the immediate clicking noise of a seatbelt coming undone, and he watches as Stiles scrambles to the backseat, and Derek, slightly more dignified, gets out to move the seat forward so he can slide into the back.
But any sense of control he thinks he has disappears quickly as a pale, freckled body immediately slides into his lap, lips covering his with an eagerness that speaks of sexual frustration. He has to grip Stiles by the hair and the nape of his neck to slow him down a little, lips parting from his with pants only to press right back this time with a tongue that slides easily into Derek’s mouth.
They kiss for long moments, only separating for greedy breaths of air and to look at each other just briefly. Looking is good and all, but they spend most of their days just looking at each, waiting until after school when they finally might have a moment to touch and taste.
Derek can feel the hard press of Stiles against his stomach, and he grabs at Stiles’s hips and helps him rock against Derek, against the hard planes of his stomach. And at the moans that stutter out of Stiles’s mouth, his cheeks flushed as he pulls away to look at Derek before embarrassment gets the better of him and he buries his head in Derek’s shoulder but continues to rock into the pleasurable friction, Derek has never been gladder that he has abs.
He can feel the warm pants against his neck, the insistent rubbing of Stiles’s cock through is jeans, and with each rocking motion, Stiles rubs against Derek’s own hard-on. It’s not enough to get him off, but he’s not really interested in that at the moment.
No, he likes to listen to Stiles as he tries to muffle his moans, feel the fingers scrambling at his shoulders as the rocking gets more insistent, more desperate. And even as Stiles tries to slow down, move slower, Derek doesn’t let him. Instead, he shifts until his legs fall open, and he moves Stiles down until he’s straddling one thigh so he’s forced to ride Derek’s leg.
“Derek, ahh —“ Stiles gasps, his face completely flushed. Embarrassed or not, he doesn’t stop pushing into Derek, even as Derek’s hands fall away to let Stiles chase after the pleasure himself.
Derek lets Stiles pull him into a kiss, desperate and full of tongue. It’s messy and incredibly hot, especially when Stiles moans into his mouth, body jerking as an orgasm tears through him.
“Ah, ah. Derek” He moans into Derek’s mouth, and it’s the hottest thing Derek’s ever experienced and he kisses Stiles harder before frustration gets the better of him, and he pins Stiles onto the seat awkwardly, his legs hanging off the seat. The space is tight, and they’re both a little too tall to fit comfortably.
Derek undoes his jeans just enough to get his cock out, and he can’t wait because Stiles has him too worked up, and he jerks his hand on his cock roughly, wanting to cum now. And he’s almost there when hands touch him, and he’s jerked back from the edge. He opens his eyes to look at Stiles in surprise, who, face still flushed and avoiding his eyes, tugs at his hands. And bewildered, Derek lets him tug his hands away so his cock hangs loosely. But only for a moment as Stiles grabs him and, with a quick look up at Derek for what? Permission?
He fits his mouth over Derek’s cock, hot and wet and tight as he sucks. He doesn’t get his mouth very far down, but he does swirl his tongue around what he can reach, and it doesn’t even matter that he has no technique because it’s Stiles, and it’s incredibly hot, and suddenly Derek is coming, biting at his fist to contain his moans, hands gripped tightly on the seat so they don’t bury themselves in Stiles’s hair, to force him down further on Derek’s cock.
Maybe later, when they’ve had more practice.
Derek feels a touch of guilt when Stiles pulls away, making a face of confusion like he can’t quite decide on what he thinks, but can’t help but to laugh and gives him a kiss.
“I’m sorry, I should have warned you. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“No, it’s fine. I was prepared for it to taste bad. Not that it did; it just tasted different.” Stiles licks his lips thoughtfully. “I read up on semen, the general taste and smell, its components.”
Anyone else, and it would just be weird. But it’s Stiles, so all Derek can do is smile and shake his head as he cleans them up, reaching into his console for some wipes that he now strategically keeps in the car. After they sit in the back for a while, just breathing, Stiles's head under Derek's arm and leaning into his chest.
The moment is calm and relaxing, the two of them just sitting and breathing quietly together, until Stiles asks somewhat hesitantly, “Derek?”
His voice is quiet, unsure, and Derek wonders if this is finally the moment where Stiles is going to ask what they are; ask Derek to give him a definition and what is Derek to say other than he likes Stiles. Likes him a whole lot, and if Stiles asks for more, asks for a relationship, Derek is ready to say yes.
Instead, what comes out is, “Could we stop for fries?”
Derek smiles and shakes his head. “Sure, but make a mess in my car, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“You can spank me if you want. I think I’d like that.”
Derek swats at him, and they separate, albeit a little sticky, and shrug their clothes back on. Stiles once again crawls to the front seat while Derek gets out of the car and slides into the driver’s seat, shaking his head.
Stiles fiddles with the radio while talking so fast that eventually when he does breathe, he has to pause for a couple of breaths before he can keep going. It’s amazing how fast he can switch from shy and tense to excited and chatty when his needs have been met. Even after they get fries, he talks around the soggy bits of potatoes in his mouth.
Derek drives quietly, just listening to Stiles ramble, and thinks he might be a little disappointed that Stiles hasn’t asked for more.
But then again, nothing says Derek can’t be the one to do it.