We Found Love in a Halloween Rave (The Team Jacob Chronicles)

Still a Better Love Story Than Twilight

Stiles wakes slowly, body warm and limbs still aching from lugging boxes around all day.

The large hand wrapped around his middle is petty his stomach soothingly. There's a leg wedged in between his own.

His face feels flushed and he can't stop the sleepy moan that works its way up his throat. The bed is gently rocking, and for a second he thinks that's what woke him.

That is, he does, up until he realizes that his dick is rock hard, Derek is whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and apparently, there's a thick cock working its way slowly in and out of his ass.

Oh, fuck.

They've talked about this. Stiles wasn't sure that Derek would ever take him up on his offer.

He's never been more glad that he was wrong.

Stiles peeks out of his tired eyes and moans again as Derek slows his thrusts and just grinds against his prostate.

"Oh, I see my sleepy baby finally woke up," Derek rumbles. "I hoped you would—didn't want you to miss out on all the fun."

Stiles nods weakly, mouth opening as he starts to make pleased little noises as Derek continues to rock into him gently.

"I can't believe you're here," Derek whispers into the dark. "That you're here to stay."

"Yes," Stiles gasps out. "Yes, Derek. M'stay here with you. My home now."

Derek whines in his ear and drags a possessive hand under Stiles' t-shirt and over his heart. "Love you, Stiles—love you so much. Thank you," he whispers roughly. "Thank you for saying yes."

"Love you, too, Der," Stiles whimpers, head turning into his pillow as Derek grinds into him again and again. "But this," he flops a limp hand at their intertwined bodies, "doesn't mean you're getting out of giving me a massage tomorrow." He shivers as Derek pinches his nipple. "You promised."

"I know, sweetheart," Derek murmurs, body curling even farther on top of Stiles. "I know I promised. You'll get your massage, baby," Derek purrs, the timbre of his voice dark with promise. "But only if you lay here and take my cock like a good little slut."

"Oh, fuck," Stiles breathes, body going limp as Derek starts to fuck him harder from behind. The thrusts are just as agonizingly slow, but they're now pegging his prostate with a force that causes Stiles to bite at his pillow.

"That's it," Derek praises, hips snapping in time to the stinging tweaks he delivers to Stiles' sensitive nipples. "There you go, baby. My pretty little slut, all worn out, and letting me wear you out all over again." Derek nips at his neck. "What a good boy you are, letting me use your tired little hole. You just can't help yourself can you, baby? My slut just needs to be full all the time."

Stiles groans, the sound muffled by the fluffy pillow between his teeth.

"Can't get enough of my cock, can you baby? You need a good dicking even in your sleep."

Stiles' eyes cross as he feels Derek's cock start to grow wider.

"That's the sign of a good little slut, wanting your hungry hole to be full all the time," Derek says lowly. "And you know what good boys get, don't you Stiles?"

Stiles nods, cock twitching and toes curling in anticipation.

"They get Daddy's knot."

"Oh, fuck!" Stiles wails, his entire body shaking as Derek works himself inside his tight ass. "Daddy!"

"Good boy," Derek growls, wrapping his hand around Stiles' dick. "Good fucking boy, Stiles."

Stiles' sleepy brain can't handle the sensory overload—the sheer euphoria of having Derek on top of him, wrapped around him, inside him—and then everything goes blissfully back to black.

----------

"You knocked me out with your dick," Stiles slurs, eyes blurry as he regains consciousness in Derek's arms.

"Mmhmm," Derek hums happily, hands running up and down Stiles' pliant body.

"Don't sound so smug y-you...you...Smugwolf," Stiles stutters out.

Derek's hands freeze. "Holy shit," he marvels quietly. "I fucked the sarcasm right out of you." He kisses Stiles' temple. "I'll make a note of it in my diary."

Stiles huffs. "Don't be an asshole."

"Isn't that my line?"

"Fine. Don't be such a girl, then."

"I think I just showed you how manly I am. Quite thoroughly."

Stiles harrumphs and wiggles obnoxiously as a means of throwing a pseudo-tantrum. "Unhand me, you giant toaster oven. I don't want to snuggle with you anymore."

"You're just mad I'm winning a war of the words for once."

Stiles harrumphs again and starts to tug off his sweaty t-shirt, only to have Derek pull it back down.

"What?" Stiles splutters, struggling to yank it off.

"Don't take it off," Derek says. "Please."

"Why?" Stiles whines. "It's just a—"

And then he gets it.

Stiles looks down at his shirt and then back over his shoulder at Derek.

His boyfriend's eyes are shining and there's a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. "I like that shirt," he says softly, words something of a confession when said in the dark.

"Yeah," Stiles answers back, voice equally soft. His grumpy mood and sweaty skin are quickly forgotten. Stiles lets himself fall back against Derek's chest and snuggles back under the covers. He runs a hand over the curling white script on the shirt that he no longer wears ironically or just as a Halloween goof. He relaxes into Derek, into their bed, and sighs contentedly. "Yeah, Derek. I love it, too."