Summary: Derek hadn't left, he had gotten trapped in wolf form. Now, five years later, Stiles and he are reunited.
Stiles let out a long groan as Derek pressed him down and back into the pillows of his bed. Derek’s eyes were red, his top lip pushed out unnaturally by long canines, and his entire body tense. He was on his knees hovering over Stiles with an excruciatingly hungry look on his face, his long hair mused from Stiles’ fingers. It was glorious. Stiles surged up beneath him for another kiss.
Having been feral for the past five and a half years had definitely taken its toll on Derek’s finesse, but the eager way he tried to devour Stiles was equally amazing. Stiles was painfully hard, his stomach doing flips with every scrape of Derek’s teeth and kneed of his hands.
“Stiles,” whisper-panted Derek pulling back from the kiss.
His eyes were so, so intense, but his expression almost looked childlike in its hopefulness. It made Stiles' heart flutter and twist in his chest. It hurt to think that Derek had been left alone for so long.
“Derek,” panted Stiles in response.
Derek leaned in to kiss at Stiles’ jaw and down his neck before saying anything more.
“Stiles,” he whispered again, against Stiles’ skin, “I want…”
He didn’t finish, as if afraid to say whatever it was he was requesting. Was he scared of Stiles’ answer? Was it really weirdly kinky and he was scared he would scare off Stiles? Stiles went to college, he knew all about scary kinky sex shit.
“Whatever it is,” panted out Stiles, pausing to lean in and kiss Derek’s swollen lips once more, “you can have it. If you want it then I want it too.”
Derek smiled at that –a nervous, embarrassed, little smile, but a smile nonetheless. And, okay, maybe it was stupid of Stiles to give him free reign like that when it was their first time having sex and he really had no idea what Derek, a half-feral werewolf, might want. Perhaps Stiles was a complete idiot to even jump into bed with Derek so soon after being reunited, especially given the man had been in wolf form for the last five and a half years. Perhaps Stiles was a complete moron altogether, but, regardless, he was quickly learning that he would do pretty much anything to see those little smiles of Derek’s.
A low growl built in Derek’s throat and he laid down on top of Stiles, kissing his mouth and face, and practically eating his neck. Stiles was so turned on that he thought his dick might explode into a thousand pieces. Well, actually, that mental imagery helped a little.
And then, suddenly, Derek was covered in dark fur and the way his body pressed down on Stiles instantly changed. Stiles froze, staring up into Derek’s wolfy-face for a beat before taking in a deep breath and letting it out through his nose.
“I know I said ‘anything’, but—” started Stiles, feeling his heart leap into his throat. Derek jumped down off Stiles’ bed and walked over to the corner. “No! No! Derek! I’m sorry!” he hissed lowly, feeling frantic that he'd pushed Derek away, “We can totally do it with you in that form. I get it, you’re more comfortable in that form. And, I mean, it isn’t really bestiality because you’re you. It’s more like… uh… really, really authentic ‘doggy-style’, right?”
Even in wolf form Derek looked like he was judging Stiles. Then, suddenly, there was a knock on Stiles’ bedroom door and a half second later it was being pushed open.
“Dad?” asked Stiles in surprise, immensely happy he was half under his blankets, “what do you need?”
“I was just going to tell you that I’m headed to work,” said the sheriff, giving Stiles a funny look. “I am going to meet a few people for dinner and drinks after my shift, so I won’t be home until late.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” squeaked Stiles, nodding furiously. “Have fun tonight, don’t drink too much and make sure there’s something green in your order.”
“Yes, sir,” sighed the sheriff, smiling in amusement.
Once his father had shut his door, Stiles threw himself back on his bed and let out a soft sigh. He was twenty four, he could sleep with who he wanted, but he’d prefer his father not walk in on it. He really needed to find his own place.
Derek came back to him a few moments later, probably having waited until he had heard the sheriff pulling away in his SUV. He switched back into his human form and laid down next to Stiles, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Now that he surprise and near mortification over his dad nearly walking in on him in a compromising position had passed, he could fret over his current mortification. Derek was still nervous of other people since spending so long trapped in a feral body, he hadn't shifted for 'doggy-style sex', he had shifted in knee-jerk anxiety. Stiles was a moron. He peeked an eye open and, yep, as he suspected, Derek was silently laughing at him.
“Shut up,” snapped Stiles, “I was trying to be supportive. Maybe if you used your words, I’d know what was going on.”
Derek let his laughter manifest in an audible chuckle before leaning in to press his face to Stiles’ neck.
“Don’t forget I’m doing all this for you, you big ol’ ass,” said Stiles. “I had no plans to move back to Beacon Hills once I got out. Now, here I am looking for apartments in the fucking Hellmouth of North America all because the idiot I thought was dead all these years needs me to help him learn how to be a proper citizen again. Hmm, okay, maybe not again, you’ve never really been a proper citizen, but—”
“Stiles,” cut in Derek, his hand rubbing soothing and arousing circles over Stiles’ belly.
“Yeah?” asked Stiles, watching the little smile growing on Derek’s face.
“I’ve missed you,” said Derek before leaning in to kiss him.
Stiles let out a soft sigh and pulled Derek closer. He had missed Derek, too.
Original posted Here