Sterek One-Shots (tumblr edition)

Sterek. Knotting. That's the prompt. Yep.

Source: tumblr

Author: All hale the king

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They come together in the aftermath of La Iglesia like a storm that had been brewing for months finally breaking. Stiles has spent the drive frantic, confused, grasping at revelations he only half understands. He finds Derek at his loft the night they get back to town, not pausing for more than a sharp breath and a searching look before surging up against him in the doorway.

And Derek – empowered and whole, confident and energized and alive in a way he hasn’t been in months – catches him and cradles him close: sure caresses and hot kisses.

They haven’t done this since last summer. It had been a fling then, a few frantic, wild nights in the clichéd trend of summer dalliances that had ended as soon as school had started back up again, as soon as Scott had stopped focusing so much on self-betterment and Isaac and the constant gaping pit of not-Allison. They’d parted ways and neither had thought to count it as anything more than a brief fling.

Now they’re stumbling back into Derek’s loft, barely clawing the door closed before Stiles is up against it, his head cradled in Derek’s sure grip, shoulders bracing and hips surging forward roughly as their mouths slide, slick and wet, against each other.

It’s been too long. Too long since Derek had felt anything remotely this intense.

And Derek had nearly died. Stiles had nearly lost him, without even knowing he’d wanted to have him.

Stiles’ hands are raking up Derek’s back, under his shirt, while Derek rakes a hand through Stiles’ hair, gripping and tugging at it in earnest. He’s never felt it like this long before, the absence of the slowly growing buzz cut strange and unfamiliar under his fingers. But it’s good too, so good, as he grips it tight and feels Stiles moan, mouth going slack against Derek’s. Derek tugs harder, baring Stiles’ neck for him to taste and to bite.

His to bite. His. His wolf’s singing in his ears, more clearly than it ever has in the past, more clearly than he knew it was capable of, and he can’t help wondering, vaguely, as they grind hard and slow against the door, if his wolf has been calling to Stiles as well. If his own unconscious longing had brought Stiles here to him.

If Stiles would still choose to be here if he heard Derek’s mind screaming mine mine. Mate.

“You were dying,” Stiles is murmuring, thick and distracted, one hand slipping under Derek’s waistband to grip his firm ass, urging him forward rougher, faster. “You were dying, you died.”

Derek comes up for air, moving to bite his lip, light and mock-fierce.

“And that turns you on?”

“You resurrecting like fucking wolf Jesus turns me on.” He grins, challenging behind heavy lids. “Is it weird that you being able to go full on White Fang now is ridiculously hot?”

Derek’s wolf preens. The man kisses Stiles roughly.

For a few minutes they get lost in that, in the harsh slide of their mouths, on the jerk and grind of fabric-covered groins, until Stiles is breaking away, gasping hard and pawing at Derek’s shoulders.

“Bed. Bed, god, why aren’t we in the bed?”

They’re both hot and too hard to still be in their jeans, and the smell of StilesandDerek is screaming to Derek’s wolf, making him dizzy with want, withneednowclaim.

He shakes the thought off with a shiver, laughs against Stiles’ ear.

“Door sex not doing it for you?”