Derek has Stiles whimpering as he uses his mouth on Stiles and with his other hand, fingering Stiles’ pert little ass when the smell of smoke curls around Derek, making his nostrils flare and a growl rumble out of his throat. Stiles wails as the vibrations go through his cock and fists Derek’s hair tighter before coming in thick, hot pulses down Derek’s throat. The sensation distracts Derek from the smoke and for a second, his eyes water and he almost chokes before managing to swallow it all down.
“Fuck, Derek,” breathed Stiles as he flops back onto the bed. Derek takes a moment to direct a smug look at the way his mate looks debauched before the acrid smell of smoke reminds him of what made him growl in the first place.
“Stiles,” Derek prods Stiles to get his attention. Stiles rolls his head over to languidly gaze at Derek through lidded eyes. “Stiles, do you have something in the kitchen?”
Stiles looks confused for a second before springing to his feet, cursing loudly. Without bothering to pull on any clothes (not that Derek was complaining), he rushed through the apartment to the kitchen. The evening light flowing into the room highlighted the tendrils of gray smoke coming out of the oven.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck!” shouted Stiles, grabbing up a pair of potholders and yanking the oven door open with a loud clang. “Ohhhh my baby!” he crooned at the blackened casserole dish as he pulled it out gently.
“What is that?” asked Derek, unable to identify the charred mess in the pan.
“It was meat-lovers-lasagne-supreme a la Stillinski,” said Stiles mournfully as he gazed down at the pan with the air of someone at a funeral.
“Why…why are you so upset about it? It’s just food,” said Derek gruffly. Stiles turned slowly to face Derek with a look of disbelief on his face.
“Just food? Food is never just food, Derek!” he cried out indignantly. Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ dramatics and clanged the oven door shut again and crowding up close to Stiles. Stiles sniffed in disdain and turned his head to one side as Derek bracketed him in the cage of his arms.
“C’mon baby, your turn.” Stiles glowered at Derek.
“You think that after that—that blasphemous comment, I’d go down on you?” Stiles said, scowling at a laughing Derek.
“Yeah,” Derek whispered huskily, “I know that. You love having my cock in your mouth, you love the taste of my come on your tongue too much to not.”
Stiles swallowed visibly as his pupils darkened in lust before he froze, a devious smile spreading across his face.
“Stiles…” said Derek, looking wary as Stiles pressed closer to Derek. He wasn’t quite sure why Stiles looked like it was Christmas and Derek was his present.
“Derek,” Stiles purred, reaching out a finger to slowly drag down Derek’s pectoral muscles, down his abdominals, and finally to trace the outline of Derek’s half-hard cock in his briefs. “What say you that we add some…adventure…to our sex?” Fluttering his eyelashes at Derek, he continued to trace Derek’s cock, which was steadily getting stiffer.
Derek was noticeably aroused as his breathing quickened and he looked down at where Stiles was now gently sliding a finger into his underwear.
“Hmm?” Stiles murmured as he palmed Derek’s cock and Derek let out a small moan. He watched as Derek succumbed readily, albeit still a bit suspicious.
“Alright then,” Derek breathed.
“Great!” chirped a suddenly energetic Stiles. Derek was a bit dazed at the abrupt change in Stiles’ manner. Stiles shoved Derek away from him and pulled open the refrigerator door.
“Stiles?” asked a confused Derek, cock still hard and leaking from Stiles’ prior teasing.
“Got it!” came Stiles’ reply. Derek watched as he pulled out a canister of whipped cream from the refrigerator. He suddenly understood what Stiles meant by adventure and was totally onboard with the idea until Stiles pulled out more ingredients; Stiles was getting out pepperoni, sausage, popcorn chicken, cheese, and strangely, tomato sauce.
“So it’s not exactly what I made the meat-lovers-lasagne-supreme with, but it’ll do,” Stiles started, eyes bright with anticipation.
“Why do you need the ingredients for your lasagna?” asked Derek, looking bewildered, “Are we making dinner?”
Stiles gave a snort of laughter and shook his head. “Nope, we’re going to add some kinkiness to our sex.” Stiles paused as he finished his sentence, and then smirking, tacked on, “Well, some extra kinkiness. I’m pretty sure that knotting with a werewolf counts as a kink.”
With that, Stiles dropped down to his knees and pulled down Derek’s briefs in one smooth pull. He reached out and gave Derek’s cock a full strokes before reaching behind him and grabbing the tomato sauce. Unscrewing the lid open, Stiles stuck his fingers into the jar and scooped out liberal amounts of tomato sauce which he proceeded to plop onto the velvety soft of Derek’s cock. Derek hissed as Stiles spread the cold sauce across the length of his cock and then had to bite down on his lip in order to stifle the moan when Stiles’ tongue flicked out and caught a drop of sauce that had leaked over the tip of his cock and was sliding down the slit. Pre-come and sauce mixed on Stiles’ outstretched tongue as he licked the side of Derek’s cock in order to catch the sauce sliding off.
“Stiles,” Derek hissed, eyes slits as he watched Stiles finally, finally, open his mouth wide and take Derek in, humming as he takes the full length. Vibrations hum up Derek’s groin as Stiles smirks wickedly around Derek’s cock, head beginning to bob up and down. Red sauce is smeared all around Stiles’ lips now, and Stiles pulls off with a wet sounding pop that causes Derek’s cock to twitch and licks his lips, murmuring in happiness at the tangy taste mixed in with Derek’s scent.
Stiles grabs some cheese and pepperoni, frowns at the chicken and sausage, and (thankfully, Derek thinks) bypasses them. Balancing the pepperoni on Derek’s shiny, wet cock, he sprinkles some cheese on.
“It’s like making a Derek pizza,” Stiles remarked. Derek felt that it was incredibly wrong to be turned on by that. But somehow his dick didn’t get the memo on proper dirty talk and he was harder than he’d ever been. Stiles scraped his teeth down the pepperoni, tongue flicking out to catch the cheese into his mouth, and Derek could feel the faint pressure as Stiles teeth passed by. And then the sensation was back, blunt human teeth gently sliding down the full length of Derek. Stiles’ tongue lathed at Derek’s cock as he gathered the pepperoni slices into his mouth and Derek can only watch feebly as Stiles sits back on his heels and chews the cheese and pepperoni.
“How is this hot, fuck,” Derek mutters, fists clenching at his sides in an effort not to reach forward and tangle his hands in Stiles’ hair and just start fucking his mouth.
Stiles swallows, a bright flush on his cheeks, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You can,” he says huskily, “fuck my mouth.”
Derek blinked, he hadn’t realized that he’d said it out loud. Shaking his head, he took the invitation and grabbing a hold of Stiles’ hair, yanked him forward to start roughly fucking into Stiles’ inviting, warm mouth. Stiles moaned in approval as he felt the tug on his scalp, and Derek’s barely able to get in a few thrusts before he thrust in a last time, forcing Stiles to stay put as he came. Stiles greedily swallows up every drop of Derek’s come (thankful that Derek’s knot only makes appearances for Stiles’ ass--he’d never be able to swallow the gallons of come then) as he frantically jerks himself off, groaning around his swallows as he comes, shooting ropes of pearly come onto the floor of the kitchen.
A while later, they’ve showered (nothing kinky in the shower, unfortunately as even Derek’s werewolf stamina could only do so much) and are in the kitchen as Stiles makes another batch of lasagna, with Derek helping and blushing every time Stiles licks sauce off his fingers (not that he’d ever admit to blushing). The pack’s about to come over (somehow, Derek finds out, in the week that Derek’s been gone, Stiles has become a sort of pack-mom and feeds them every other day) so Derek can’t do anything more than kiss Stiles silly a couple times before Stiles puts his foot down and demands that Derek either “help or back the fuck off because I will not let Scott have food knowing that I was hard while making it!”
The doorbell rings and Derek opens the door to a pack that is happy to see him back (so much has changed since those first years) and engulf him in a group hug. Suddenly, Erica pulls back, frowning at Derek. She taps Lydia and Allison on the shoulder, and saying a last “I’m glad you’re back” to Derek, pulls them off to the island in the breakfast area next to the kitchen and start whispering amongst themselves.
Derek looks confusedly after them but shrugs because, well, girls.
Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Boyd bound into the kitchen to attack Stiles and steal food, leaving Danny to update Derek on the things that had happened the week Derek was gone.
A loud voice interrupts their conversation as Scott shouts, “Stiles! You smell weird!”
Derek’s heart stutters a beat before he reels himself in and listens for Stiles’ heartbeat and realizes that all is fine. Scowling, he and Danny walk into the kitchen to find that the girls are all huddled around Stiles, hands on his shoulder, apparently forcing him to stay seated. Scott is staring at Stiles with a kicked puppy look, while Jackson stares at Stiles with a sort of horrified but also protective expression. Derek, if he hadn’t known better, would have said that he looked ready to block Stiles from standing up if he’d gotten past the girls—which is ridiculous, because while Jackson and Stiles are friends now, they’re the type of friends that bicker 90% of the time. Boyd looks amused at the whole thing with Scott and is standing next to Jackson, looking as if he’s second in line after the girls (and maybe Jackson) in stopping Stiles from standing.
“What’s wrong,” asked Derek, “why aren’t you letting Stiles get up?”
Stiles looks up at him indignantly, “I don’t know! They just shoved me into a seat and started cooing at me!” If Derek weren’t concerned at the problem in front of him, he’d laugh at the way Stiles looks so very wronged.
“Derek,” Isaac starts slowly, nose twitching as he sniffs the air.
Erica beats him to it though, and asks happily, “Derek! How come you didn’t tell us that your freaky werewolf genes could get Stiles pregnant?”
Derek blinked. And then blinked a bit more. And then the world sort of blacked out.