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Derek (surlier) wrote,

"You make it easy," he rasped out. It didn't matter how much experience Stiles did or didn't have, having his hands on him? It always worked for Derek. Or his tongue. Or his cock. Or any part of Stiles really. He couldn't be bothered to feel shame about it either, not when everything they did felt so fucking good.

And especially not when the words out of his mate's mouth made him want to preen. Growling a little, deep in his chest, he shifted on the bed, his fingers pushing into and curling around Stiles' hair with every lick. His feet pressed a little deeper into the mattress, alternating almost as if he was pacing as pleasure started to spark up his spine and make his skin heat.

"Such a good boy for me, cleaning me up. Love having you in me, doesn't matter which part of you I've got, I love it all," he rambled as his rim was traced, hips bucking up when his mate's tongue slid back inside. "Fuck, Stiles--"

He whined as he listened to the words coming out of him, hips twitching upward. "I am, I am, gonna come on your tongue --" and cried out when when he started humming, the vibrations traveling in and up, his fingers curling tight in Stiles' hair. "Oh, fuck --" and then he was, hips jerking into the air as he came, one hand on the back of his head to keep him there while he rode out the aftershocks, and his body finally splayed boneless beneath his mate.

"Fuck," Derek whispered, half dazed as he blinked up his ceiling, fingers crawling around his jaw to touch his chin lightly, pushing a little to bring him up. "Up, baby. Want a kiss."