One Night

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    "Derek!" Stiles gasps after practically yelling the werewolf's name. His head dipping downward as Derek leans over his back with the 17 year olds wrists pinned under one hand. Stiles pinched his lips closed as his eyes follow suit when a humming sound runs through his throat.

    Derek kisses the back of Stiles's neck, a strong sensation tingling down his back. "Do you know how you smell." Derek's growling voice pauses. "Incredible. You smell insatiable, stiles." Derek leans back down and sucks promptly on the side of Stiles's pale neck. His skin crawls.

    Derek presses his hips down again, rolling them inward and earning an inward moan from the human below him. The werewolf grins to himself at the prize of the movement and does it again. Rubbing his cock down against Stiles's thighs and pushing the teens hips with the movement; Stiles's own member gaining friction against the bed with the constant motion. The werewolf leans down, his hand on Stiles's wrist loosening slightly as he reaches the teens ear and growls in it. Literally growls. The only thing he needs, not words, just the animalistic sound of his wolf side, and growls into Stiles's ear.

    The teen whimpers pathetically- and he'll take note of it, a small wave of fear spiking under the heavy arousal flowing through the room. Derek takes the smell but doesn't act on it, he can't, not know. Not with the sweet smell of vanilla, and moss, and something close to nature- almost like running water and the forest. Along with that not-so-normal normal underlying anxiety that's always present. Derek can't get over that smell, just stiles, it's perfect for his nose, flooding, and intoxicating. It drowns all of Derek's senses and working thought. In a moment the black leather belt that held his pants is off and tightening over Stiles's wrists. He's scared he'll run, of course he will, but it's not a humanly thought that makes him tie down the teen.

    Stiles struggles against the leather that tightens his hands to the wooden post of his bed. The once perfect nest know tousled and scattered at the top. Derek's hands slip down over Stiles's exposed sides as his shirt had ridden up slightly. The werewolf is too focused on the pale skin scattered with moles to even hear the teens voice, hoping he can get to the wolfs human side. Derek's thumbs press into the teens lower back muscles, another strangled and withheld moan like sound catching in Stiles's throat. Again the werewolf, at the moment, more-wolf grins to himself as he presses down and rubs into the humans back in a soothing motion, inching up his back and pushing the grey shirt over Stiles's torso up.

    Derek leans down and kisses the spot between the humans shoulder blades, Derek's hands rolling over the top of Stiles's shoulders with his shirt clumped over his wrists. Stiles shivers again and know his voice is heard, his breath shaky, and all fear gone from his scent as arousal takes over quite quickly.

    "Derek, my hands.." stiles pleads almost silently. Tugging them lightly against the wood and belt. The red on the back of his hands and white on his knuckles proving the strain put on them. "It hurts." He finishes with a plea.

    Derek practically lunges forward to Stiles's hands and begins to undo them, a moment of control, a moment of just... shit. Stiles hands are free in an instant, the belt torn and clear indents in the humans wrist where the metal bracket and tight tie pushed into his skin, a small dribble of blood from where one of the prongs on the belt broke skin. Stiles sighed thankfully and pulled his hands forward to his chest as he sits up slightly with the werewolf, just behind him. Derek's hands were back on the humans shoulders and back, rubbing anxiously and wanting-ly. Stiles hummed and bowed his head.