@ninakask You sent it as a Tumblr message instead of an ask, so I canât reply to it publicly, but here you go all the same!Â
Request was Sterek + Nail Polish (technically two words, but Iâll let that pass :P)Â
Nail polish.
Derek had no idea how heâd allowed Stiles to talk him into this, but he shouldâve known better than to doubt his ability to convince him to do basically anything. It was like a gift.
That, or a spell. Really, Derek wasnât sure. It couldâve been a spell. Maybe Stiles was magic. Or maybe Derek was one of those sleeper agents who was activated by a code-word and Stiles knew the code-word and it somehow got him to do anything he wanted him to do.
Who knew? Not Derek, that was for sure.
âThis is nice. Isnât this nice?â Stiles turned to grin at him.
Derek just slowly turned to look at him, Stiles beaming at him like ten thousand fucking suns, and then slowly faced forward again because no. No, this wasnât nice. This was ridiculous. And embarrassing. And a waste of money, actually.
How had Stiles talked him into this again?
Right. In the guise of âwe need to relax, Derek!â
After the most recent big bad, Stiles had adamantly insisted that he and Derek needed to go relax, and apparently relaxing in Stilesâ book was booking a spa day. They were literally the only men in the entire damn place, and way too many women had been checking him out on his way from one room to another.
It made him uncomfortable. No one should be looking at him in that way except for Stiles. Who had been looking at him in that way, but that was hardly the point. The point was, other people had been looking at him in that way, and it made him uncomfortable.
But, Stiles was happy, and that was the important thing. Theyâd gone off to do all the usual spa things, none of which Derek understood. At one point they were in a mud bath.
A literal mud bath.
Heâd turned to Stiles while they were lying side by side and had said, âIf you wanted me to cover you in mud, I couldâve just thrown you into the dirt back at the Preserve.â
Stiles had just beamed at him and settled back comfortably.
Derek was positive there were places this mud was going that he was never going to be able to clean.
The massage had beenâall right. Not great, not appreciated because he wasnât fond of other people touching him when he didnât know them, but it had been all right. Tolerable. Some muscles had loosened up, he supposed.
And his skin felt weirdly smooth. He didnât know that he liked that, because Stiles always commented on how much he loved his rough beard so he assumed Stiles liked his rough skin. But well, something to worry about later. And it wasnât like their lives werenât going to bring forth more situations where Derekâs skin would harden up again.
He wouldnât stay baby smooth forever, thank God.
They were now in the last phase before ârelease.â
âFreedom,â more like.
This was probably the most embarrassing by far, though, because they were currently sitting in comfy, plush leather seats, and they each had a woman across from them filing their nails.
Derek had vehemently argued the manicure, because it was ridiculous and pointless for him since he was a fucking Werewolf, and claws just grew at the flick of his wrist, but no. It was part of the package, and Stiles insisted they had to finish it off with the manicure.
So, here Derek was, sitting in the plush leather chair, watching some poor likely underpaid woman file his nails.
Manicures were ridiculous. Why pay someone to cut your nails when you could do that yourself? Derek had nail clippers, he cut his own damn nails when he deemed it necessary. He saw no point in having someone else do this for him when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself.
Thankfully, they were almost done. Almost done with this ridiculous day, and while he was glad Stiles looked so happy, he also was never doing this again. He was going to find that code-word Stiles used on him and he was going to ensure that he stopped it from escaping his boyfriendâs mouth the second it sounded like he was trying to talk him into something unpleasant.
The woman across from him had just put his hand down in the basin, and he was positive she was done, but she pulled out a small bottle of clear nail polish and Derek instantly retreated his hands when she reached for his left one, getting water on his bathrobe.
Yes, he was in a fucking bathrobe.
âI donât need that,â he informed her.
âItâs nail strengthener,â she explained calmly, having already dealt with his sour expressions and clipped tone for the past few minutes.
âI donât need that,â he said again.
âScared of a little nail polish?â Stiles teased from beside him.
Derek turned to glare at him and saw that he already had one hand part of the way done, not a care in the world that the polish was being applied.
âMy nails are fine,â he said curtly. Which was true, because his nails turned into claws and he could disembowel Stiles with ease if he wanted to.
Which he didnât normally, but it was tempting right now with the smirk on his boyfriendâs face.
âCome on, Derek. Itâs part of the experience. Donât be such a sourwolf.â
âStop calling me that,â Derek replied grumpily. âAnd no.â
âCome on, Derek.â
âNo.â
âPlease?â
âNo.â
Stiles sighed and held up his index finger of his free hand. The woman across from him pulled back and Stiles leaned over closer, lips brushing Derekâs ear when he spoke and voice lowering. Stiles knew Derek could hear him without being this close, so he was obviously just trying to get a rise out of him.
It was working, the fucking asshole.
âItâs part of the experience, Derek,â Stiles breathed hotly against his ear. âIf you behave, and stop being such a downer, Iâll blow you on our way home. Might even get you to lose control of the car, Iâll suck you so good.â
Derekâs expression didnât change, but he felt himself stirring downstairs.
Stiles did not like giving blowjobs. It was something Derek had learned early on in their relationship. He loved sex, and he loved receiving blowjobs, but he did not like giving them. Stiles reserved offering blowjobs for special occasions. Like birthdays, and holidays, and holy-shit-you-almost-died days.
Derek turned to Stiles when his boyfriend pulled away. Stiles wasnât looking at him, but he had a smarmy little smirk on his face when he put his hands back down for the woman across from him to continue with the coat of polish.
He wasnât going to let Stiles win. Not like this. It was too easy. He would know he could manipulate him! Derek was not going to put fucking nail polish on, no matter what Stiles said!
Derek slammed one hand down on the table, making the lady across from him jump.
âJust put the damn polish on.â
Fucking Stiles. He was going to be the death of him.
END.













