#lycaonthropic

"Stiles!"

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," he raises his hands in surrender, and it's enough to distract him for a while.

"You suck," Scott complains, and Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

"Hell yeah I do," he grins. Scott literally looks like he's about to punch him, and Stiles is getting ready to duck out of the way when there's a knock on his door.

He dives to the floor just as Scott lunges for him, and there's a brief scuffle, before he manages to wrench the door open, all the while shoving his hand in Scott's face to keep him away. It might be playing dirty, but Scott's a werewolf. He can deal.

He's not expecting Derek there, looking as awkward as he did on their first date, when he wore an overly starched black dress shirt and brown shoes. Brown shoes. Lydia would've had a conniption.

They'd decided to stay in instead, and order takeout so Derek could watch the new Captain America movie in Stiles' sweats and an old Beacon Hills Police Department shirt that was too big for him but perfect on Derek.

He's smiling at the memory when he realizes he's still got Scott's face in his hands and Derek's shifting awkwardly on his feet.

"Shit, sorry, come in," he drops his hand from Scott's face, and steps to the side, letting out a little 'oof' when Scott takes the opportunity to jab Stiles in the side. "Scott, you can go now," he says unsubtly, and doesn't miss the way Derek's mouth twitches up into a smile briefly. It makes his heart thud in his chest, something he belatedly remembers both guys can hear. Too bad, he doesn't care. Derek looks downright adorable in a maroon thumbhole sweater, a gift from Stiles his birthday two months ago.

Scott stands there for a moment, watching Stiles carefully, as if to say "you're sure?"

Stiles nods, almost imperceptibly, and Scott beams at him. He skirts around Derek, but not before nodding at him with a wide smile, and patting him on the shoulder.

The door has just closed behind Scott, when Derek pins him with a look. A sexy look. Stiles wriggles in excitement, his cheeks flushing preemptively, but even while Derek is leaning forward, he can't really get the whole blowjob snooze button thing from this morning out of his head. So, before Derek gets to his mouth, Stiles inhales sharply, and blurts out,

"Why did you snooze button me?"

Derek loses his balance, toppling forward in surprise and accidentally headbutting Stiles in the face.

+++

"Ow," Stiles whines, when he finally comes to. His whole face aches. He's lying on his bed, where Derek must've carried him, and he's sitting at the edge of it, looking guilty as sin. "That hurt."

"I'm sorry," Derek says gruffly. "You surprised me."

"No shit," Stiles says with a sigh, closing his eyes.

Derek clears his throat. "About this morning - "

"No, it's okay!" Stiles cuts in quickly. He just realized he doesn't actually want to know if he sucks at blowjobs, or if Derek wants to break up with him. Especially not right now. They only just got together. "You don't have to explain."

Derek looks like he's about to march into war without a weapon.

"You should hear it," he says seriously. Stiles heart sinks, and he opens his eyes to find Derek studying his feet.

Bastard should at least look him in the face when he breaks up with him.

"Okay." Stiles' voice is small, and it takes a bit of effort to make sure it doesn't crack.

Derek takes a deep breath, and opens his mouth -

"I'll be better at blowjobs, I swear!" Stiles nearly shrieks, the panic in his chest rising. He really, really doesn't want to lose Derek. "I'll practice, every day. But only on you! No one else! Or," he winces. "On like, toys and stuff, until I'm good at it. Please," his voice drops low, and he's not sure he wants to look at Derek, but he does it anyway. Derek looks gobsmacked. That's the only word for it.

"What?"

It's one word, and Stiles swallows against the lump in his throat. He's not got a lot left to lose anyway.

"I'm sorry I'm bad at blowjobs," he starts, and to his mortification, he can feel his eyes stinging. He holds the tears back by sheer force of will, and he stares at Derek seriously. "I'll get better at them. I just haven't had much practice, so I know I suck. But please don't leave because of it."

"I..." Derek looks lost for words, and Stiles feels like an idiot.

"Never mind," he mumbles. "This was stupid."

"You don't suck at blowjobs," Derek tells him, and Stiles' head snaps up.

"I don't?"

Derek shakes his head. "I don't want to break up with you. Not because of your blowjob ability, which is more than satisfactory, by the way," Derek's cheeks go pink, but they're no match to Stiles' own, which feels like they're warm enough to fry some eggs. "That's a dick move, first of all, and I'm not like that. I don't want to break up with you at all."

He stares at Stiles, who shrinks under his gaze.

"I was trying to be funny," Derek admits, after a long pause. Stiles blinks in shock. "You're always the funny one, but... I just wanted to make you laugh."

Stiles can feel his heart do a happy dance in his chest.

"You always make me laugh," Stiles tells him, and Derek shakes his head.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it was nice to hear I'm not bad at blowjobs, so I guess it was a win-win," Stiles shrugs, unconcerned. Derek smirks, and his eyes darken. Stiles feels a flash of lust surge through his belly.

"You're more than good, Stiles," he says quietly, and Stiles feels like he's on his way up a roller coaster, the anticipation making his head dizzy. "But you could always practice more, if you'd like. On toys," he continues, his voice dropping as he puts a knee up on Stiles' bed. "I bet I could give you some pointers." Stiles can feel the bed dip under Derek's weight, and his breath catches in his throat when Derek keeps moving, crawling up Stiles' body, pressing against his own. "Or," Derek's voice is nothing more than a whisper now, and Stiles has to hold back a whimper. "You could always practice on the real thing. I wouldn't mind."

Stiles inhales sharply when Derek settles over him, and the sheer bulk of Derek feels so good against his body, that he can't help but thrust up against it. The friction makes him choke, and Derek looks every inch the predator he is. Derek's acting really casual, and his fingers are tracing feather-light touches on Stiles' collarbone.