for totallynotrobin

[sourgrowler]

He had broken into Stiles' house before, but he hadn't been preoccupied then with the connection that demanded they stay close together. It made sense for him to sneak in unseen through Stiles' window, while Stiles let himself in through the front. Stiles' age, and his connection to the local law enforcement via his sheriff father could cause some very uncomfortable problems if someone were to see the adult Hale kissing the breath out of him in the front yard. And, really, once he had started, it had taken every ounce of his willpower to stop.

It took him a minute to get the latch to the window to open, and then he slid inside and stripped off his jacket and his shoes. Stiles' scent was everywhere, permeating the air, the bed, the curtains. He breathed in deep through his nose, and waited, listening to Stiles move through the house.

Comments

[sourgrowler]

One of Derek's hands splays out under his t-shirt, across the small of Stiles' back, pulling him closer. He presses his lips to Stiles' neck, then replaces them with the gentle nip of teeth. He bites and sucks there until he's satisfied with the mark he's left.

"Shirt?" he asks, eyes hooded, lips damp, catching the hem of Stiles' shirt and tugging.

[totallynotrobin]

Stiles flushes pleasantly as Derek sucks a mark into his neck. God, that felt amazing.

"Yeah...I mean, there isn't much underneath there worth looking at, with me, but..."

[sourgrowler]

Derek gives Stiles an unhappy look, pulling his shirt off and letting himself take a moment to drink Stiles in. Pale skin. Little imperfections - beauty marks - that he wants to memorize. He laves at Stiles' collar bone, curling up off the bed to do so.

"You're perfect," he says, voice rough, then spends a beat leaving another hickie. He wants to mark every inch of him; where they'll be seen, and where they won't. Little, possessive tags on his skin.

[totallynotrobin]

Stiles flushes, something warm blooming in his chest at the praise. "Th-thanks, Derek..."

He groans, unable to help himself, at the marking, running his fingers through Derek's hair.

[sourgrowler]

Derek makes an encouraging noise, leaning into the fingers in his hair. He wants Stiles to touch him more. He wants him to feel free to take whatever he wants. He pulls back, taking care to make eye contact, and bares his neck. His wolf bays encouragingly, and he licks his lips.

[totallynotrobin]

Stiles' eyes widen and he nods, leaning forward eagerly to take his own turn at kissing and nipping Derek. Any marks he leaves will heal, he knows, but it's satisfying to see them stain Derek's skin, if only for a moment.

[sourgrowler]

Derek has a feeling the marks that Stiles leaves won't fade for quite some time. It's an instinctual knowledge, that any mark from Stiles will long lasting and meaningful. His lips part, and he lets out a low, pleased moan. His fingernails - blunt, still, human - press against the skin of Stiles' back, leaving red lines across when he drags them down.

Marking, claiming. Being marked, being claimed. His eyes flash red, and he pants.

[totallynotrobin]

Stiles makes a soft noise, shivering and biting down harder on Derek's shoulder, leaving a purpling trail of lovebites and hickies. "Mm..."