prompt: sterek bodyswap + masturbating in front of a mirror?
-kazu.
So this might be a little crack-y, but I've spent a hot minute brain storming on what I would do with this idea and it has finally come to me. Since I think Derek especially has a lot of consent and bodily autonomy traumas just the usual stuff wasn't quite sitting right and so I kept turning over and over in my head ways that this could play out that would still be horny, but that would be crossing certain lines for him. And this still might not really get there, but idk it's what made my brain excited when I finally got it.
Imagine them in their UST phase. Everyone keeps asking them independently when they're gonna ask the other out and it's just always met with deep sighs and wistful looks. Neither one thinks it would be a good idea. Whether they don't feel worthy of each other or think it would just be messy to date within the pack or feel like they're not ready, who could say? Maybe it's a mix of all those things and more.
What is apparent is how much they want each other and how much they already act like a couple. They already spend so much time with each other, lean on each other emotionally and physically. They act as alpha and his second within the pack structure and everyone hates when one or the other leaves town for a while because they know the boy left behind is going to be a moody mess.
No one knows what to do about it and then a trip comes up for the group. It's time to renegotiate boundaries or something and they have to head to some sort of resort town to meet up with the neighboring packs. It's cold and cozy and the town the end up in has the nicest ski bum vibes. It's all pub food and wool coats and old booklets of DVD's in a log cabin.
Stiles and Derek are flirting like mad on this trip. Sharing ski lifts and sitting together on the balcony with coffee mugs and falling asleep under the same blanket on the couch. It's driving them both mad, but in a way that's almost fun for the first time. Almost like foreplay. Neither will be the one to make the first move, to lean in for a kiss, but they're dangerously close to holding hands and their shared body heat hits just the right temperature.
There's a night where everyone stays out drinking and they separately come home early, not realizing the other is there. The tension has ratcheted to this pleasant, tingly itch beneath their skin. Stiles loves a night shower and climbs into the hot spray not intending to masturbate, but not at all mad when he starts to get hard. Derek had just wanted to curl up in his bed with a book, except he didn't realize just how steamy the novel he'd brought was. The fight for their life spy thriller suddenly slowed down to have some shockingly smutty bits and when he got sticky in his sweats it felt like a nice little indulgence to just roll over and start humping the bed.
They're both closing their eyes, starting to get into it. Their breaths are getting shorter, lips needing to be bitten to coyly smother a moan. Even though they both think they're alone in the house, it still feels too illicit to wantonly enjoy their pleasure in a group space. Stiles puts his back to the cool tile for contrast. Derek can feel sweat starting to work up between his belly and the bedding. They think of each other in this moment and...
Derek thinks the roof has started leaking. Stiles wonders if he fell asleep in the spray. They don't question it for a moment, wanting to stay in this heady space. But then Derek wonders when his fingers got so long and as Stiles ruts he pauses-- considers the distinct slip and tug of a foreskin. Their eyes fly open and when they look down the cock in their hands is not theirs.
Both startle. Both groan. Both feel a guilty twinge as they can't help but at least stroke once, twice more. Stiles feels his ears prick, catching... well catching his own aroused groaning. Down the hall. Derek stumbles out of the shower and looks into the mirror, stomach squeezing as he looks and for the first time in a long time is swamped with deep, dirty desire. He can't remember he looked head on in the mirror and openly stared. Pale skin flush from the heat. Moles dotting long stretches of intimate flesh. Surprisingly dark and thick and wild hair. A cock all pretty and pink and the perfect size, curve, softness.
The doorknob rattles and he goes to shout that it's occupied, but his voice cracks and he squawks and... his body walks through. Meaty and hairy and obscene. Precum is drooling from his garish erection like snot, his uneven and grotesque balls sweating. He has a look of shock and then smarmy interest on his face that is hauntingly detached from any expression he's ever made before.
"I didn't know you were home," they both gasp at the same time. Their dicks jump. Stiles moves further into the bathroom, shuts the door behind him. Derek can't help the way languid hands stroke the fuzzy insides of his thighs as he watches the approach.
"Do you like that?" Stiles husks, and Derek hates the way his voice is so thin, even when deep with arousal. Derek's thumb pushes up into his taint, brushing past the coinpurse balls and threatening to feel for what he just knows to be a soft, sweet pink hole. "I'm so sensitive there. Love when guys blow on it, give it a little bite." Derek gasps and his fingers push at the bundle of nerves as he imagines sitting on his own face to test it.
"I knew you were big," his own voice chuckles, his hands reaching down to scoop at his drippings, slather them into his bush and pinch at the gushing abundance of wrinkly skin at the tip. "I had no idea you'd get this wet though. I've never seen it like this before. Fuck. I feel like I could take you raw."
Derek gasps as he's pushed up against the sink, made to feel small and slight and desperate for the first time since... since he decided he should never feel that way again. But he likes it. He likes it when he's easily lifted, legs spread, put on display. He likes seeing himself so openly lustful as he drinks in the object of his desire for so, so long. He mewls and he loves the way it sounds coming out of Stiles. Needy and boyish and deliciously unaffected. He wouldn't know how to filter it even if he wanted to. But he adores the naked youth, femininity, lewd wetness.
His own face smirks at him, eyes shining with understanding. "Oh you're already there huh? Usually it takes me a while. I think I built up a tolerance or something. Used to jack it for hours, you know? Dad gone all weekend and I'd just play video games and eat cheetos and cum all day. God it was grotesque, but like... kinda hot." Stiles reaches out and plays with the small length he used to feel such shame over, pinching at the plush head and watching it pulse. Always so needy. "But you sound like you've been at it a while. I'd say two spunks in. Starting to feel a little greasy, but can't stop yet. You gotta make it sore."
He takes himself in foreign hands and starts to slowly wring at it, puts Derek's against him. It looks almost comical. Longer and thicker and hairier. He'd thought he'd really been growing out of his baby face, but here and now he'd believe his body was still sixteen, still not fully developed. He ruts them together and they both groan, both spit. "Don't stop!" He hears Derek talk through him for the first time and his ass clenches. Stiles feels it itch with want and wonders if that's something he's brought or if Derek would love to have it played with.
There's not a single universe where he would ever stop. In fact, as long as they both nut, he's pretty sure he could die happy after this. He looks so vulnerable, but more lived in than ever. No matter how far away he gets from those gawky teenage tauntings, he still feels awkward. Limbs too long and voice all warbly and not an ounce of muscle on him. But Derek moves him effortlessly, with grace. He makes Stiles' body look like that of a dancer. Elegance and finesse. Self assuredness. The kind of person used to knowing how each nerve works and how to make it a tool.
They sigh. They grind. They stare into their own eyes and grip at the counter. Even as the shower has stopped the steam doesn't subside. Their hands tangle over their cocks and the wet, sticky sounds echo off the tile. They press their temples together, chests tight and whine for each other. Pleasure pops and fizzes like a bottle of champagne and it's hard to distinguish the gush of spunk that spills over them and spatters on their bodies.
When eyes open again their vision swims but they are back. Derek is staring down at Stiles. Stiles is spread eagled beneath Derek. They tremble and their breaths quiver and as one they move together into a kiss.