delirium of the diggler

Done with my stream peeps, Derek in sweats/yoga pants. 8)  Thanks to everyone in the stream for all the encouragement, company and feedback!  Dedicating this to canistakahari because she likes young teen Derek and I was totally going for that but I think I failed.  SORRY.

Here is a special version just for Betp:

Stiles sighed, far louder than he would if his faculties were not soaked through with alcohol, and licked his lips.

Derek looked fine. Damn fine.

It was a good thing, Stiles thought, that everyone in the room, even the wolves, were just as sloshed as he was. ‘Cause otherwise they’d be able to smell just how turned on he was by Derek. They also probably wouldn’t all still be naked after their evening run, either, though.

Derek, in Stiles’ completely unbiased opinion, was rocking the whole skin-is-in vibe better than any of them. 

It wasn’t wasn’t just because the obvious, either. Oh, Stiles could happily rant and rave — until the moon danced around the earth and back again — about Derek’s perfectly round nipples and the astonishingly exquisite V of his Adonis belt and his superbly furry chest and the impeccable cut of his abs and well, now that Stiles’ had got a look at it for more than a few seconds? Even the man’s cock looked exquisite: long and thick, with a magnificently generous foreskin and heavy, low hanging balls that Stiles just wanted to suck inside his mouth and…

Stiles sat back and hoped no one noticed he was hard, or drooling. Thankfully they were all, apparently, too focused on the fact that Derek had just downed his third wolf’s brew in a row. He was beating the Markowitz pack’s alpha by at least half a glass.

What really turned Stiles on, more even than all of the above, was that Derek was letting himself relax and enjoy and be something akin to what he might have if not for all the shit that Beacon Hills had thrown at him over the years. 

He looked happy.

“Hale’s going to beat Dad,” Alexandr, the future Markowitz alpha, moaned as he slid a little closer. He’d been friendly with them all, but a little more so with Stiles. The attention was nice. Even if it could go nowhere because of distance and pack politics and the fact that Stiles was very much head-over-unrequited-heels for his own grumpy alpha. “You’ll help me deal with the shame, won’t you, Stiles?” Stiles could practically hear the guy’s lashes fluttering.

Then he heard a crunch and crash and turned around and Derek’s eyes were rage-red and he was bleeding around the shards of shattered beer glass in his hand. He was making a sound Stiles didn’t think he’d ever heard before — a low, warm rumble that seemed to come from under his lungs rather than in them. His fangs had dropped.

Stiles caught, out of the corner of his eye, the sharp movements as Alexandr bent his neck and then most everyone else followed.

The Markowitz alpha didn’t quite go that far, but the man sounded contrite, even to Stiles’ drunk ears. “Our apologies, Alpha Hale. We didn’t realize Mister Stilinski was spoken for. I’m sure my son meant no offense.”

Stiles blinked and tried not to notice that Derek’s body, all of his body, was at attention, ready to fight: the knot was difficult to miss. He summoned his own voice, hoping that it didn’t waiver. “Derek?”

Derek shifted his gaze from Alexandr to Stiles, his eyes fading back to green. He blinked a few times and seemed to focus his gaze on Stiles and flared his nostrils and.

Stiles could not not notice that Derek’s still-hard cock twitched.

Oh.

Stiles was spoken for.

This gets continued, kinda, here.

-hi?

Someone requested a mirror piece with Dean Winchester of the latest Castiel artwork I made, so here it is! :D

Castiel on a monster hunt! Just wanted an excuse to draw Castiel with a shotgun :D

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...

(Happy Star Wars Day!!!! ✨)