Sterek // One-Shots

lap magnet|§|part 4

Author: Prairie_Grass
Ao3

Additional Tags: Dubious Consent,Mating Bond,SomnophiliaKnotting,Loss of Virginity,characters who are unaware of their actions,five times ficsort ofPost Season 2ish,Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall,the sheriff is a canny dudeand trolling everyone,BAMF Stiles,Accidental Bonding,Self-Lubrication(but no mpreg)

Word's: 30,771
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Summary;

Wherein an ill-advised floral arrangement leads to a whole new definition of obliviousness, accidental mate-bonds, and far more sex and tropes than one fic really needs.

or

Five times Derek and Stiles didn't notice how close they were (literally) and then a whole bunch of times when they did...
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Stiles watched the ceiling-fan spin. He smacked his dry, cracked lips and tipped his head to the side to stare listlessly at the glass of water on his side-table. Condensation was forming on the side of the glass, droplets sliding down inch by slow inch.

He was officially losing his mind. Tomorrow was the first day of school but right now Stiles didn’t like his chances of making it. Every bone in his body ached, and the last time his Dad had checked his temperature he’d even offered to take the day off to make sure he didn’t die or something. It was real encouraging.

“Stupid Derek and his stupid sex bite.”

It had only been a day since they’d found out what was wrong. One day since Derek and Stiles had promised to avoid each other so that they didn’t end up werewolf-married.

Stiles made a face and crept a hand up the bedspread, he was only about half the distance to the glass of water before he gave up, his muscles trembling and exhausted.

There was no way he was going to survive the next two weeks to the full-moon. He’d be a dried up husk by then.

He let out a slow, pained breath. This sucked. It sucked because he felt awful, and it sucked because despite feeling like he'd been put through a meat-grinder, he was still kinda horny and couldn't stop thinking about Derek's dick.

He glanced down to where his cock was tenting his boxers. Okay so, maybe not so much 'kinda' horny as 'raging unstoppable boner' horny. And 'unstoppable' was definitely the key word here. He'd discovered, to his considerable displeasure, that the longer he went without seeing Derek, the harder it was to actually get off. He had all the eager equipment in the world, but no release.

Basically this was just the most fun day ever.

He glanced forlornly at the water-glass. This just wasn't fair. He was essentially dying in a metaphysical desert right now, and why? Some sort of 'residual subconscious attraction'?

Did appreciating someone having a fine ass now cross you over into 'available for mating' territory? Surely then at least 70% of Beacon Hills would be casting 'take me now' vibes at Derek. Sure Stiles and Derek had been spending more time together this summer, and maybe they'd crossed over into something resembling 'friends' territory, but the guy was what, 23? 24? Just the look on the Sheriff’s face if he found out that very-adult hands had been in Stiles' very-underage pants gave Stiles chills.

It also made Stiles' cock jerk in said pants. He glared down at it. “You are a bad influence, and no one is listening to your opinion on this matter.”

Great job, Stiles, now you're talking to your dick.

He let his head fall back on the pillow. “Traitor,” he added, for good measure, because if you're sex-cursed and dying, you might as well embrace the conversations with your genitalia.