It’s dark behind the blindfold, but Stiles is well aware thats what Derek wants, wants Stiles helpless and completely at Derek’s mercy. Stiles blinks against the soft material, whines as Derek runs his hands up Stiles’s thighs, pushes his legs apart. There’s hot, damp breath against the soft skin of his thighs, the rasp of stubble, a long lick where his thigh meets his hip. Derek mutters something, lost behind the roar of blood in Stiles’s ear, but it vibrate across the skin of his stomach. Derek’s tongue swirls around Stiles’s navel, teeth scraping gently and Stiles finds it hard to catch his breath. Stiles tugs against the bindings at his wrists when Derek clamps his teeth around a nipple, soothes the sting with his tongue afterwards then rubs his cheek against it. ”Love you,” he hears, low, far away, and he wants to answer but the words die in his throat as Derek licks up his neck.
“So good,” Derek’s voice is in Stiles’s ear, a tongue licks around the shell, “so fucking gorgeous like this.” There’s a joke in there about Stiles being still for once but Stiles bites on his own lip as Derek drags his nails up his ribs. ”You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” There’s awe in Derek’s voice and Stiles finds his own.
“Yes…God Derek, yes.” He’s on the tipping point of babbling, throwing caution to the wind and just fucking begging Derek for anything other than this slow torturous exploration of Stiles’s body. But then Derek finally, God finally, kisses him, his tongue pushing its way into Stiles’s mouth, teeth dragging over the skin of his bottom lip.
He’s pretty sure he could come just like this, his cock throbs between them, pre come sticky against his stomach as Derek pushes his hips down, slots their dicks together. He’s been hard for what seems like ages, strung out and desperate for too long and when Derek reaches between them and wraps his hand around them both, Stiles lets out a sob.
“What did I do?” Derek’s asking, fingers working up and down them both, his thumb runs along the slit of Stiles’s cock, nail scraping lightly, “what did I do to get you?”
Stiles can’t even answer, cant joke away his embarrassment at Derek’s awe. All he can do is shudder, come for the third time that night, dry shudders working their way up his body.
Boneless and beyond sated, Stiles relaxes his grip against the headboard and Derek slips the blindfold off. He blinks against the dim light and Derek gazes down at him, runs the tip of his index finger down the bridge of Stiles’s nose, over his lips and under his chin.
“Ok?” Derek always asks that, like he’s afraid he’s going to hurt Stiles, or that Stiles is going to run, or say no. Like Stiles could deny Derek anything.
There’s come drying on his stomach, his fingers are starting to tingle, he’s sore but in all the right places.
He’s never been more ok.
