in this, and all else

@whumpril Day 2- Bite for Blue

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if any of you saw this on monday no you didn't

ANYWAY sterek (wip) wednesday

you are so right bestie this song is an absolute sterek banger,,, let me demonstrate

Derek has a problem.

A two inches short of six foot, beauty-mark splattered, annoyingly confident - if not just annoying - plaid-clad problem.

He is in front of him now, manning the DJ booth while Derek himself is trapped behind the bar counter, nowhere to look but forward towards the stage, towards Stiles. 

He’s wearing a tight black crewneck and skinny jeans that may as well have been painted on, one hand on the mixing table while the other holds one end of a pair of headphones to his ear. He moves with the music in a way that DJ’s don’t always, making it a performance as much as a presentation. Bouncing, throbbing, electric energy condensed into a one hundred and fifty pound snack.

Not that Derek is hungry.

These just so happen to be Laura’s words, her reasoning for why Stiles would be taking over the DJ timeslot during Derek’s shifts (the busiest nights of the week) after Cora finally pulled her head out of her ass and asked Lydia out. Now that the two of them are dating they don’t want conflicting schedules, which left Lydia’s usual DJ in need of a landing pad. 

And now here he is, smack in the middle of Derek’s line of vision, every single goddamn shift.

And Derek can’t even preoccupy himself with serving drinks to customers. The bar is deserted, as it always tends to be during Stiles’ sets. Instead, the entire crowd of The Wolf Den is moving as one, thrashing wave underneath the stage, trapped under the spell of Stiles’ performance like Derek himself.

~He's the baddest of them all~

~The baddest of them all~

Derek’s eyes fall to where Stiles is perfectly mouthing the words; he might as well be singing them himself. Derek feels a sensation creeping up over his shoulders, a wave of heat. That clever mouth, those pretty pink lips, pull into a devilish smirk.

~Do you wanna dance, baby?~

Feeling the tingling of being watched, Derek’s eyes leap up to find Stiles’ electric gaze already locked on him. 

~I know you see me lookin' at you on the daily~

That building heat culminates over Derek’s head and crashes down. Stiles presses into the performance even more, curling into the beat, neck arching back.

~Ooh, I'm in a trance lately~

~I need something to wake me up, something to faze me~

Derek's already knuckle-white grip on the counter edge tightens even more. He doesn’t even want to blink. In front of him, Stiles bats his eyes demurely, and Derek wishes he were close enough to see the fan of them. He knows from the times that Stiles comes up after sets for a drink that they can be very, very dark. 

~Do you wanna kiss, maybe?~

Derek swallows. Thickly. Never more glad to be shrouded in dim lighting than in this moment. He knows his face is burning, and there’s no denying how personal Stiles’ performance has become. How blatantly it is intended for Derek. 

If he weren’t so completely enraptured by the man on stage in front of him, he might have noticed the few people taking notice of this themselves, and shooting curious backwards glances his way. He would have noticed Laura, grinning like the cheshire cat in the back corner with Boyd the Bouncer.  

But all he does see is Stiles.

~I know I’ve seen you lookin' at me, wanna date me?~

Derek’s feet start moving. He wonders, belatedly, as he moves out from the bar into the crowd to cross the distance to the stage, if he really has been put under a spell. He can’t stop moving towards Stiles. Whose features have flared at the sight of Derek moving, flared in the way a fire sparks. 

~Ooh, I feel my knees start shaking~

Derek has reached the stage now - which doesn’t have stairs up to it from the customer side - and so he has to grip it and launch himself up. The crowd - already raucous from Stiles’ heated performance, riles into even more of an uproar. Stiles - beautiful, captivating, magnetic Stiles, is watching Derek with an expression of both utter delight, and complete astonishment.

~Everything you do, it just seems to amaze me~

Whatever comes next is left to be finished by Eliza Rose herself, because Derek is twisting a hand in the fabric of Stiles’ shirt and yanking him into a kiss, warm, soft lips opening on a gasp that Derek drinks.

The crowd explodes - so loud that even the thumping music fades to background - and Derek decides in that moment that he’s done having an audience. 

He pulls back with great reluctance to peer down at Stiles, his eyelashes fluttering open to peer up at Derek dazedly. 

“Come with me,” Derek rasps. 

By definition you can't accidentally queerbait. Queerbaiting is specifically using a same sex pair from the show to market the show to queer audiences with no intention of ever following through on a romantic relationship.

There is officially licensed Destiel merch signed off on by Kripke. Teen Wolf had a commercial with the actors for Derek and Stiles draped over each other talking about being "on a ship." Both shows actively used scenes between them as marketing while actively mocking fans for wanting them together. Sherlock has multiple characters refer to Johnlock as a couple, including characters we're supposed to believe are never wrong about human behavior and pushed those scenes in marketing. Then they acted insulted when fans saw them as a couple.

That's queerbaiting.

Done on accident it would just be queer subtext. Done because they had no other choice due to censorship is queer coding.

The specific meaning of the word is really starting to get lost and it's a pretty important one to keep accurate. It describes a very specific phenomenon that was done repeatedly and maliciously for decades and is meant to examine that specifically.

@scunthotter ohhhh you get it…

Shane has his legs up to his chest, Ilya in between them and fucking into him hard and deep. Ilya’s propping himself up on one elbow, his other hand in Shane’s hair, on his cheek, caging him in.

It started out with the usual flirty banter and dirty talk, but no-one’s talking now. Neither of them know how long it’s been, but the only sound that fills the air is their desperate panting and filthy wet smack of skin on skin.

Ilya’s staring in open awe, and Shane is holding his gaze, unflinching. The exquisite drag of Ilya’s cock against his prostate and filling him up is electrifying, all consuming. Every time he clenches down, Ilya feels it, squeezing his cock until he’s sure he’s going to pass out.

Nothing compares to this. No one night stand, no bump of coke, no pay check.

They don’t usually face each other. That’s what makes this different- but neither of them want to acknowledge it. An active denial is happening with every passing moment.

It’s just the sex. They’re really good at it, and that’s why it feels like this. It has nothing to do with the way Ilya’s eyebrows pinch up like he’s in shock, like he can’t believe this is real, or how his hand comes to lay gently around Shane’s throat, possessive but also guarding- he’s holding Shane everywhere. Protecting him.

Ilya’s thrusts pick up speed and they both know it’s coming. They know each other’s tells- a silent language developed over years of scrutiny.

Shane’s so hard it hurts, and Ilya’s driving into him at the perfect angle, and he’s looking at him like he- like this means something- and before he knows it… blinding pleasure. Like nothing he’s ever felt before.

Not even the first time he came hands free.

Ilya is right there with him. the movement of his hips is stunted, his toned stomach tensing and his mouth dropping open in a sigh that turns into a drawn out moan- and he’s cumming with Shane.

They’re breathing each other’s air, swallowing each other’s moans, never breaking eye contact. It’s soul rending, and it feels like it crests and lasts forever.

But nothing does.

Ilya collapses on top of Shane, both of them utterly spent and speechless. They lay there longer than they normally might, but Ilya has an early flight, and Shane has a brand lunch, and the bubble has to burst.

Both of them are a little unsure and awkward as Ilya leaves. Both of them performing a self lobotomy with a hot poker to cauterise the wound left by whatever that was.