Sterek // One-Shots

Wanted and Wounded [|] part 1

Author:            RoxyRosse
                                Ao3

Additional Tags:Coming UntouchedScentingOrgasm DelayHand JobsCome EatingEmbarrassed!Derekoblivious!StilesButnotforlongBecauseStilesisaSmartCookieGood PeterMatesEmotionally Constipated DerekHurt/ComfortDerek is a FailwolfScent MarkingAnal FingeringRimmingAnal SexKnottingMultiple OrgasmsBitingShit'sGonnaGetHawt

Word's:  12,781
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Summary:

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits.

Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side.

So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.
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Derek realized after his fifth failed attempt at getting off that this whole inability to perform thing might be more of a problem than he’d originally thought. It took another four days with no luck at-fucking-all for Derek to pinpoint the problem as psychological as well as physical, and another twelve hours after that for his mind to make the connection.

Stiles.

Of course this was all about Stiles. Of course it had to be him , the fidgety, brilliant teen who seemed to feel everything with his whole self.

Still, their weekly pack meeting was not where Derek wanted to be when he put it all together.

Everyone was piled into Derek's loft, binge-eating pizza and arguing about what movie they wanted to watch. It had been Stiles’ suggestion that brought “pack nights” into fruition, and his encouragement that kept the betas coming week after week, despite Derek’s generally sullen and disinterested affect. One of the only non-wolves among them, and Stiles still seemed to understand the importance of pack bonding better than Derek ever had.

They settled on “Iron Man,” after some considerable whining from Stiles and Scott both, and everyone rushed to find a spot on the couches.

By that point, Derek was used to feeling on edge. Nothing he’d tried over the last week had managed to get him off, and he flat out refused to go to Deaton with the problem, or god forbid a doctor. He’d learned to accept the low throb in his stomach, and the way his entire body tingled with unsatisfied need.

And sure, maybe tonight he was a little more hair-trigger than usual. But that could surely be attributed to the heady cocktail of teenage hormones wafting around the loft with all his betas present. He could ignore it. He was the fucking jedi master of ignoring big, embarrassing problems. All he had to do was make it through the movie. Then the pack would head home, and he could maybe take another shot at milking one out.

Derek was already seated at the far end of the main couch when the scuffle began. Scott snagged the spot at the opposite end, with Allison pressed into his side. Lydia managed to grab the ideal seat at the center. Jackson situated himself on the floor, against Lydia’s legs, and Isaac, Erica, and Boyd piled themselves onto the loveseat in a ghastly entanglement of limbs. Peter claimed the recliner with one well-intentioned glare at the others, and Cora flung herself down onto the bean bag in the corner.

Stiles was the last to skid into the makeshift living room. His eyes flicked over the lack of remaining seating options, then settled on the sliver of leather between Derek and Lydia. He beamed, and hopped over the pillows on the ground, stumbling gracelessly in Derek’s direction. With a triumphant grin, Stiles plopped himself down onto the couch, grabbing onto Derek's shoulder for guidance when he began to lose his balance.