Sterek // One-Shots

tropes galore

Author:       haleofStilesheart
                                 Ao3

Additional Tags: Tropescaught masturbatingAccidental VoyeurismAccidental ExhibitionismMasturbationEvil HuntersKidnappingFeral DerekLove ConfessionsPining DerekPiningPossessive Derek

Words: 6327
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Summary;

It's just sexual, it's just sexual. It doesn't mean anything.
Derek repeated it over and over in his head like a masochistic mantra, gritting his teeth and clenching the steering wheel dangerously tight. Just sexual. Doesn't mean anything.
But his self-flagellating thoughts couldn't drown out the memory of Stiles' husky moans; his breathy sighs; the soft, almost inaudible gasp he had made as he'd come, calling out Derek's name.
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It's just sexual, it's just sexual. It doesn't mean anything.

Derek repeated it over and over in his head like a masochistic mantra, gritting his teeth and clenching the steering wheel dangerously tight. Just sexual. Doesn't mean anything.

But his self-flagellating thoughts couldn't drown out the memory of Stiles' husky moans; his breathy sighs; the soft, almost inaudible gasp he had made as he'd come, calling out Derek's name.

He tightened his already vice-like grip on the steering wheel, hearing the vinyl creak and groan beneath his white-knuckled hold. He was on the verge of grinding his teeth, instead resorting to breathing deeply through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down a fraction.

But it was counterproductive. With every breath meant to steel himself against the tantalizing memory, he inhaled the heady scent of cum still clinging to Stiles' skin, the scent so pungent he could practically taste it.

Before that thought could lead him down another rabbit hole of debauchery, he moved a hand to roll down his window, generously giving the steering wheel some reprieve from his crushing grip. He desperately hoped the fresh, cold air would help wick away the thoroughly distracting scent.

"Could you roll that up? I'm freezing over here," Stiles asked from the passenger seat, teeth chattering the slightest bit. "Not all of us have wolfy thermoregulation, y'know."

Derek spared a quick glance at him. He was bundled up in all of his usual layers: graphic tee, flannel, red hoodie. His arms were folded over his chest, his hoodie zipped up to his chin, the hood flipped up over his head as he shivered a bit.

Derek silently, and almost a little reluctantly, rolled his window back up before reaching over to the center console to turn on the seat warmers and crank up the heat. He was doing anything he could think of to both alleviate Stiles' chills, feeling inordinately guilty about having momentarily let it slip his mind that Stiles was human, and distract him from the fact that Stiles' cheeks were still flushed pink, but not from the cold.

"Dude, are you okay?" Stiles asked, looking Derek up and down suspiciously. He shifted in his seat, adjusting to the warmth of the heated seats. "You're grumpier than usual. What's up?"

Derek just shrugged and grunted something unintelligible under his breath, not helping his case in the slightest. His lack of an actual response only prompted Stiles to probe, "Is it the hunters?"

Right. The hunters. The ones that had rolled into town about a week or so ago and were demanding a meeting with Derek.

He had finally agreed after exhausting every other option imaginable besides confronting the hunters head-on with the rest of the pack, not wanting to risk his betas' lives in addition to his own. Which was why he had been so reluctant to get Stiles involved.