Fucking a boy.

Derek had never really thought about it, never imagined anything more than the wetness between a woman’s legs, round hips moving over his as he fisted his cock, rubbing his palm over the red, swollen head and smearing pre-come all over his sensitive skin.

And then, when he’d thought that nothing could change him, no one, because he’d already been through too much, tempered by fire and tears and loss- Then Stiles had crossed his path, and every certainty had melt into Derek’s chest, slowly dripping in his abdomen and catching fire like dark, liquid sugar.

It’s not like Derek hasn’t tried to fight it, tried to push his thoughts in the darkest corner of his mind, where they would be safe and available for the nights he spent alone in his bed, heat crackling right under his skin and pure, deep hunger biting at his guts.

But it hadn’t been enough. Not when Stiles’ skin looked so pale and new to Derek’s eyes, like just a small touch could have him quivering, eyes huge and dark, red lips parted, just asking for more. The boy’s smell was a challenge to Derek’s will, so sweet, so fresh, so deliciously tempting- He wanted to bathe in it, sink his teeth into Stiles’ skin and bury his cock in the boy’s ass, so deep they wouldn’t know where one begun and the other ended, wouldn’t remember how their life was before this.

Derek had never considered that the things he craved could be his, had never hoped for the boy, Stiles, to desire Derek the same way he did. And that’s why he’d watched, speechless, at Stiles dropping on his knees in front of him. “For fuck’s sake, Derek, ” he’d muttered between clenched teeth, trembling hands finding hard muscles when his palms had landed on Derek’s thighs.

Stiles had looked up at him, intelligent eyes searching Derek’s in the same way he did in Derek’s dreams, and when he’d rubbed his face against Derek’s crotch, feeling the roughness of his jeans, the hardness of Derek’s erection under it, closing his eyes and moaning like he loved it- “Come here, ” Derek had whispered, and his hand had found Stiles jaw, guided him to stand up so Derek could kiss him, his lips and his chin and his neck, cover every inch of him with kisses and smiles, slowly explore him as Stiles’ clothes landed on the floor one piece after the other.

Hot and so soft, Stiles’ body had felt so good, so right, when Derek’s cock had pushed against his opening, muscles slowly giving in, opening around Derek and enveloping him. “Yes. Take me, take everything, ” Stiles had cried.

And Derek had taken everything and even more, thrusting and burying himself deep inside Stiles, driving into his body with an eagerness and amazement that had surprised even him. He’d watched as Stiles had fallen apart between his arms, thighs splayed wide open and back arched, beautiful beyond imagination.

The orgasm that had hit Derek had been like the lash of a whip hitting him straight in his abdomen, he’d felt his balls tighten, his fingers clenching around Stiles’ hips, keeping him in place as he’d shot inside him, come splashing Stiles’ insides and, finally, fucking finally, marking him as Derek’.

“My boy, ” he’d whispered, watching Stiles between half-closed eyelids. “My delicious boy.” And when Stiles had come, warm, copious spurts landing all over Derek’s chest, Derek’s hands had found his, and Derek had promised himself that he’d never let them go.

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