#sterekweeklythreshold

Derek pressed Stiles against the closest wall as soon as the front door slammed shut behind the sheriff. They were finally alone. Not that Derek had been in a rush for the sheriff to leave. They were heading back to school in the morning, and he knew Stiles would miss his dad, so he'd been patient all day. Even with Stiles smelling absolutely delectable—the spicy scent of his arousal hanging heavy in the air all day.

Christ.

Didn't Stiles realize how hard it was to maintain control when all Derek could think about was rubbing all over him? And Derek had great fucking control! Usually. Just not where Stiles was concerned, though he'd done a pretty good job of not rutting up against Stiles while the sheriff had been home.

Now though…

Now Derek ran his nose up the side of Stiles's neck, inhaling that scent that drove him crazy. That made him want to fall to his knees and worship the ground Stiles walked on. His gums tingled, and Derek was careful with his fangs as he mouthed over where he hoped to claim Stiles. The thought sent a rush of pleasure through him. Apparently, through Stiles, too, if the way he shivered was any indication.

"Do it." Stiles's words came out shaky. Breathy. Like it had taken everything in him to say it. Not because he didn't want it but because he wanted it so badly. Derek knew he did. It was evident in the flush on his skin, the hitch of his breath, and the hardened desire in his eyes—eyes that probably mirrored Derek's own in intensity. They'd also talked about it incessantly, so Derek knew how much Stiles wanted it.

Still, they'd only been together for a few months, so he needed to be sure it wasn't too soon.

"Now? Are you sure?" he asked, amazed his voice came out steady, even if it was a little husky.

"I love you. I want you to claim me. Make me yours," Stiles said with a nod before biting his bottom lip. He always did that, making Derek want to bite it, too. God, he looked so good with his lips all swollen like that, spit-slicked from hours of kissing. Some days, that was all they did. They'd lie in bed and just make out. Okay, more than make out. They honestly couldn't keep their hands off each other or stop from rutting against each other, making each other come in so many different ways.

The only thing Derek hadn't done was knot him. Yet. He'd wanted to save that because he knew he wouldn't be able to knot Stiles without biting him and—

Fuck!

Why was Derek just standing there instead of taking Stiles upstairs and finally claiming him?

So he did just that. He reached down and lifted Stiles up, urging Stiles's legs around his waist. He ground against him once, twice, three times before spinning around and marching toward the stairs.

Derek was a man on a mission as he took the stairs two at a time, and it was definitely a feat because Stiles also seemed like he was on a mission to drive Derek crazy. Kissing him. Writhing against him. Baring his neck. Running his hands up Derek's chest.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of Stiles's room, Derek kicked the door shut, rushed across the room, and threw Stiles onto his bed, climbing over him. The room was illuminated in a soft glow from the lamp on his nightstand, and Derek didn't bother turning it off before rucking Stiles's shirt up with his nose, breathing in his scent. Mouthing at his stomach and chest. Licking his nipples until they were pebbled. Until Stiles was panting, thrusting up against him, not-so-silently begging for more with every groan, whimper, and moan.

And Derek couldn't possibly deny him. No. Derek wanted to give Stiles everything. So he sat back on his haunches and yanked his shirt over his head.

Stiles wet his bottom lip, propping himself up on his elbows. "Fuck. You are so unfair."

Derek chuckled. God, Stiles was ridiculous. He always made it so obvious that he thought Derek was hot, and usually, Derek hated it when people did that. He hated being objectified, but this was Stiles. Derek knew it was more than that for Stiles. Stiles wasn't with him because he was hot. It was just a benefit. Just like Derek wasn't with Stiles just because he was hot. And Stiles was.

Fuck, he was the most beautiful person Derek had ever seen.

So Derek told him just that. "I'm unfair? Fuck, Stiles. Look at you."

Derek trailed his fingers over Stiles's stomach, through the thatch of hair that led under the waistband of his pants, letting out a low growl. He loved rubbing his face there. Loved the way Stiles couldn't contain himself at the sensation. Loved the way his stomach contracted, the way his scent only grew stronger as his cock leaked.

"You are so gorgeous," Derek said, leaning down and running his nose over Stiles's groin. He could smell Stiles's precome, knew there'd be a damp spot on his boxers that he just had to taste. So he deftly undid the button on Stiles's pants, dragging them down his legs and throwing them over the side of the bed. His underwear was next—Stiles's cock slapping against his belly when Derek pulled them off.

Stiles was hard, so fucking hard. And there was something indecent about him lying there naked except for his shirt rucked up to his armpits with his hands fisted in the sheets.

Chest heaving.

Cheeks flushed.

Derek sat there, staring at his nearly naked body, drinking up the sight like water in a desert. He had to get himself under control enough so he wasn't shifted anymore. He didn't want to hurt Stiles and was so desperate for a taste of him—a definite incentive.

Especially when Stiles begged so prettily. "Derek, please."

Stiles's heart beat like crazy, kicking up even faster when Derek finally sucked him down. The muscles in his thighs contracted, and Derek could tell he was holding back from thrusting. Derek couldn't help but smile. It was so considerate, and usually, Derek would tell him to give in, to let go and just take what he wanted, fuck his face until Stiles was coming, but this was different. Derek wanted Stiles to come on his knot. To come when Derek finally claimed him and was buried so deep inside him, marking him in more ways than one.

It seemed like that was what Stiles wanted, too, because the bed shifted, and when Derek looked up, Stiles was reaching over for his nightstand where he kept his lube. There was a clatter, and then Stiles chucked it over, the bottle hitting Derek's shoulder. An adorably embarrassed expression crossed Stiles's gorgeous face.

"I'm so sorry!" Stiles exclaimed before falling back on the bed with a groan.

Derek chuckled, not the least bit upset. Not when he was so worked up himself. Desperate. So he popped the cap, slicking his fingers up, and then teased them down Stiles's crease. He ran two fingers around Stiles's hole before pressing one in, loving the way Stiles clenched around him and the encouraging moan he let out.

He knew Stiles wanted more when he spread his legs farther apart and pulled his knees back, fully exposing himself to Derek. Derek's pulse raced. His cock throbbed, somehow growing harder, which was damn near painful since he still had his pants on. But he couldn't make himself stop, not even to free himself. Not when Stiles made the most beautiful sounds—every breathy little pant and throaty moan going straight to Derek's dick.

One finger became two, two fingers became three, and then Stiles tugged on Derek's hair, so Derek pulled away. When their eyes met, Derek knew Stiles was ready. His cheeks were ruddy, eyes glazed over with lust, hair in complete disarray, probably from pulling it as he writhed around the bed.

"I need you," Stiles begged, and Derek kissed the inside of Stiles's thighs before crawling up the bed and hovering over him.

Stiles cupped the back of Derek's neck, his thumb creating circles on Derek's skin that exploded through his body as Stiles pulled him down into a heated kiss.

"Pants," Stiles mumbled against his lips. His hands trailed down Derek's back to his ass, fingers digging into his skin as he tried to push Derek's pants off.

Derek worked one hand between them, popping the button on his jeans and working the fly open to help him. It took a lot longer than it should have, but they refused to let go of each other long enough to get his pants down the easy way.

But then Derek was naked, and it was warm skin against warm skin. Stiles hooked his legs around Derek's waist. Derek hauled him up, wrapping his arms around Stiles after helping get his shirt off. Devouring him as he licked into Stiles's mouth and moaned at the brush of Stiles's tongue against his.

Stiles's fingers threaded through Derek's hair, and he rocked against him, his hole rubbing against Derek's rock-hard cock.

Derek broke the kiss long enough to mutter, "Condom?"

They'd talked about it before, and Stiles hadn't wanted to use condoms since Derek couldn't carry any diseases, but Derek still wanted to ask just in case Stiles had changed his mind. But Stiles shook his head.

Derek laid him back down, taking a moment to steady himself since his head was spinning. He pulled in a long breath, inhaling Stiles's scent. This wasn't just a quick fuck to get off, so Derek didn't want to rush things. He wanted this to be special. So he blew out a breath and propped himself up on his forearms to stare down at Stiles.

"I love you. So much," Derek whispered.

The smile that appeared on Stiles's lips was like a sunrise. It started slowly, with just the corners of his mouth tilting a bit until it widened, lighting up the whole room.

"And I love you." Stiles cupped Derek's face, his touch gentle. Almost reverent. As if Derek were the most precious thing to him. It made Derek's heart thump wildly against his ribcage to know that Stiles loved him so much and with such tenderness.

Derek leaned back in, trailing kisses along Stiles's neck and collarbone as Stiles sighed, the sound full of contentment.

"Derek," Stiles sighed again, his fingers trailing down to linger on Derek's waist, "I need you. Now."

Derek gave a small, nervous chuckle but reached for the lube, slicking his cock up before positioning himself at Stiles's hole. His hands shook. Fuck, his entire body vibrated with excitement. He was so amped up for what they were about to do. But before he pressed in, he caught Stiles's eyes and asked once more, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, God...please," Stiles moaned, head thrown back as his hips bucked against Derek. "It's all I've thought about since you first said you wanted to claim me. I want it. I want you. I'm yours."

And that was all it took before Derek pushed forward, entering Stiles with a slow slide that had Stiles gripping the sheets again.

"Slow, slow," Derek murmured, stilling once he was all the way inside, giving Stiles time to adjust to him. Every flex and shift of Stiles's body underneath Derek sent shivers up his spine, and his heart pounded at every small gasp and moan that Stiles let out. Nothing had ever sounded so perfect.

Derek stayed buried in Stiles, drinking in the moment until Stiles's hands moved from the sheets, gripping Derek's shoulders, signaling him to move.

"Yes..." Stiles breathed as Derek pulled out and pushed back in.

Stiles's eyes were on him. Soft, trusting, and so heavy with desire and love that Derek's throat closed up at the wave of emotion passing through him. His gut twisted, knowing he could make Stiles feel this way. Make him gasp and writhe like this.

"I love you," Derek said. Repeated like a mantra, "I love you, I love you, I love you," peppering kisses anywhere he could reach.

It had been so easy to fall for Stiles. To love him. And Derek could only wish he'd paid more attention when he was younger and they were in high school together. They could have been together sooner. Had this sooner. Because since getting together, there had never been a time when they had to try to fit together. It had just always worked—from day one.

"Oh, God," Stiles responded, his voice rising by a few decibels to almost a low shout. He arched his back as he cried out, "I love you. God, fuck, I love you so fucking much."

And it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

"Stiles," Derek growled, pushing all the way in again. He paused for another moment, bending down and breathing against the shell of Stiles's ear. "My mate. Mine."

Stiles's response was a beautiful, aching moan, one Derek might have mistaken for pain if he didn't know any better. This was pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"Yours," Stiles whispered. "Only yours."

"You feel so good," Derek continued, punctuating the words with tiny kisses and nibbles on Stiles's hot skin. He pulled his hips back, then thrust into Stiles again.

"Fuck, Derek," he cried out between moans that drove Derek crazy.

Derek's body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was hot and breathless, focused only on Stiles's body as they rocked together.

"Touch me," Stiles said. His voice was deep and ragged in a way Derek had never heard before. "Please. I need more."

Derek reached between them, fisting Stiles's cock and stroking him with every thrust. "I've got you."

Stiles's back arched off the bed again, pleasure washing over his face, so Derek repeated his movements, angling to hit that spot inside Stiles, making his fingers spasm and his mouth fall open in a silent cry.

God, Derek never wanted this to end, but he was already so close. And then their pace picked up, Stiles digging his heels into Derek's ass, spurring him on. Hearts racing, breathing rough. Derek was lost, completely absorbed in Stiles. Giving everything. Wanting everything. Locked in his own world where nothing else mattered but the two of them.

Derek thrust into him, his groin pushing up against the cushion of Stiles's ass, so hard and soft all at the same time. He met Stiles's gaze and saw the silent command in his eye—come for me—there was no holding back any longer, so he let go.

It came over him stronger than ever, a tidal wave of sensation coming from deep within him. The base of Derek's cock swelled, and it was only two thrusts before he couldn't pull out again, coming deep inside Stiles. Filling him as Stiles squeezed tight around him, as if he were trying to coax every last drop out of Derek.

As he ground against Stiles, riding out wave after wave of his orgasm, Derek's gums tingled and his fangs dropped. So he buried his face against the crook of Stiles's neck. He tasted like sweat, and his body was so responsive, trembling at Derek's touch. Those trembles turned to shudders of pleasure when Derek bit down hard.

All at once, it was as if something had snapped into place. Their bond. A connection so bright, so powerful. Beautiful as a sense of completion and rightness engulfed him, and Derek knew he had found his home, his everything in Stiles. Derek's emotions ran high, spilling over in tears down his cheeks.

Stiles met Derek's tears with his own, going still for a moment as he came hard over Derek's hand and onto their stomachs. After a few moments, his body relaxed, and he lazily circled his hips, smearing his warm release between them. The sight was raw, intimate, and Derek didn't think he'd ever get enough of it.

"The connection," Stiles gasped, chest heaving as he panted for breath. He clung onto Derek, his nails digging into his back. "It's...overwhelming."

"I know." Derek wanted to say more, but words failed him. Nothing seemed enough. Instead, he did the only thing he could do—wrap his arms tighter around Stiles and let his lips speak for him, kissing Stiles deeply and with everything he had.

When he was breathless, he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. A silent promise, a connection that stretched deeper than the physical.

Stiles raked his fingers through Derek's hair. His eyes were unfocused as he stared lovingly at Derek before speaking again, "This is more than I ever dreamed of."

"I know." Derek nodded. He never thought he could feel this content, this happy. But Stiles made it so easy. With a soft chuckle, he captured Stiles's lips again—careful, not wanting to break the afterglow.

The room was filled with the scent of them, of sex and sweat. And love. It was intoxicatingly perfect. It was alive. Derek looked at Stiles, mesmerized by the glow of his skin in the dim light, the peace on his face, and the lazy, content smile on his lips.

This was everything. He was everything.

"Love you," Stiles murmured sleepily, his fingers idly tracing patterns on Derek's back.