|Dira Sudis (dira) wrote,|
@ 2012-12-16 10:21 am UTC
|Entry tags:||fic post, teen wolf|
Many thanks to iulia, who made sure I wrote an actual very short story and not a description of a very short story. ♥
Derek/Stiles. 670 words. Not very explicit.
Stiles loves new moon nights.
"Vindictive is one thing," Derek says, shaking his head. "Trust me, short of actual psychopaths, flagrantly incompetent is worse."
"Mm?" Stiles says, and takes another bite of pizza.
He loves new moon nights, and tonight is the best kind. It's a Saturday, so Stiles hardly had to lie at all to spend the night at Derek's--he will lie as much as he has to for new moon nights, just like full moons, but tonight was easy. Even better, there isn't a big crisis wrecking the way Derek gets laid-back, by Derek's standards, when the wolf's strength is at its lowest ebb. They fucked as soon as Stiles got to Derek's place, and Derek was in the kind of patient mood that meant Stiles came long before Derek's dick got anywhere near his ass and again while Derek was inside him, moving slow and steady and merciless as the tide.
Now they're eating cold pizza in bed (because hot pizza and exposed human skin and Stiles's post-coital motor skills are a really mood-killing burn just waiting to happen). They're still naked, and while their phones are on the nightstand in case of emergencies, Derek isn't constantly checking the doors and windows.
Stiles feels warm and pleasantly used up. He's draped over Derek like an extra-firm body pillow, chewing on a pizza crust and deciding whether he wants another piece. Derek has a smudge of tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth and either hasn't noticed it yet or is deliberately baiting Stiles with it. His right hand is resting firmly and unhygienically on Stiles's ass, and his left hand is on the edge of the pizza box like he's going to snatch the next piece away before Stiles can take it.
Derek isn't eating right now, though. Derek is talking in the easy, unhesitating way that he only does on nights like this. Stiles makes the occasional encouraging noise with his mouth full, and Derek picks up crumbs from his abs and flicks them into the pizza box. He's telling a story about the third high school he attended, in Georgia, insisting that his chemistry teacher there was more dangerous than Harris could ever be.
Stiles swallows the last bite of pizza crust and puts his hand to Derek's mouth. Derek raises his eyebrows and says, "You can just tell me to shut up if you're bored."
"Nah," Stiles says, wiping up the tomato sauce with a fingertip. "I'm hanging on every word."
It's a risky thing to say; Derek will hear that it's actually true, and for Derek self-consciousness is a heartbeat away from defensiveness and then stony silence. But they're as far from the moon tonight as they ever get, and Derek doesn't have to keep the anger he uses to control himself stoked up so high. This is the night when Derek's free to be perfectly human if he wants to be. If he remembers how, and is willing to trust Stiles with that.
Stiles holds Derek's eyes and holds his breath and waits. Derek licks Stiles's fingertip clean and then swipes his thumb over Stiles's lower lip. There's a teetering second when they might jump straight into the next round of sex--a little rushed on what ought to be a lazy night, but preferable to Derek kicking him out or retreating into silence.
Stiles flicks his tongue out to lick Derek's thumb and winces as he gets mostly thumbnail and none of whatever it was Derek was wiping away.
Derek grins and shakes his head a little. Stiles exhales and gives a wide smile back, knowing they've cleared the hurdle.
"We had five different lab accidents that quarter," Derek says, licking his own thumb clean and flexing his other hand on Stiles's ass. "Two girls in the class were convinced I was literally an angel sent by God to protect them all from this idiot, which Laura thought was fucking hilarious at first...."
Stiles snuggles closer, looking forward to the long dark moonless night.