#didn't i know he would say yes please give Derek Hale another bad day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evanesdust · 1 year

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MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

this was written for MultiEleonora as part of her sterek secret santa event on twitter 😁 fic below the cut, but can also be read on ao3

Derek shakes his head as yet another rendition of Last Christmas blasts through the radio near the Christmas tree. It's the third one tonight.

Seriously, how many versions of this song are there?

At least there's still eggnog. Too bad it's not spiked, but Derek's still got three hours left on shift even though the holiday party's winding down.

The sheriff's office door opens as if on cue, and Sheriff Stilinski steps out, donning a Santa hat and fake beard. "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"

Honestly, Derek's surprised that Stiles wasn't able to talk him into wearing the whole suit.

Not that it stopped Stiles from dressing up as an elf, complete with red, green, and white striped tights.

Stiles smiles brightly as he jumps out from behind the sheriff, following along and passing out little white envelopes that contain their holiday bonuses.

"And for you," Stiles says, bounding over to Derek like an overgrown puppy.

Stiles's scent washes over him like a warm bath. The little bells on his elf shoes chime with every shuffle of his feet.

Derek takes the envelope and gives the sheriff a quick nod before turning his attention back to Stiles. "You look ridiculous."

That only makes Stiles smile even bigger somehow. "Yeah, but you still love me."

Honestly, Derek's not sure how they ever got to this point, considering they could barely stand each other when they first met. It's not Derek's fault that Stiles was speeding and got pulled over. Of course, Derek didn't know that Stiles was the sheriff's son at the time, not that it would have mattered to him either way. Especially not when Stiles tried to flirt his way out of the ticket. Just because Derek was an alpha didn't mean he would succumb to a pretty omega batting their lashes at him.

When that didn't work, Stiles narrowed his eyes and demanded, 'Don't you know who my father is?'

Considering Stiles's driver's license was in his hands, marked clearly with the last name Stilinski, Derek had a pretty good assumption as to who Stiles's dad was. Stiles was not pleased when Derek signed and handed over the ticket anyway, obviously not caring that he was the sheriff's son.

And a day later, when Stiles brought the ticket into the sheriff's department, the smug grin left his face when the sheriff praised Derek for a job well done instead of ripping the ticket up.

It took four months before Stiles stopped glaring at him.

Derek's not exactly sure what changed over the course of those months or when he started looking at Stiles as something other than an entitled brat. It seemed reckless to think about him. About his hands, his mouth, his body. His fucking scent made Derek salivate. But it was as if Stiles's fucking smile alone tore through Derek's self-preservation, making it too easy to rationalize Derek's desire for him.

Not that Stiles wasn't still an annoying little shit who liked to push all of Derek's buttons. But at some point, Derek found himself wanting to shut Stiles up using his mouth instead of his fist.

It's been two years, and while Derek still wants to strangle him sometimes, there's no doubt that Stiles is the love of his life—as proven by the black tungsten band adorning his left ring finger.

Stiles punches his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts; his mouth set in a hard line that doesn't look right on his beautiful face. "This is when you're supposed to say, 'Why yes, Stiles, I do still love you.'"

Derek snorts, drawing him close and rubbing their noses together. "Why yes, Stiles. I do still love you."

"Mmm…" Stiles leans into him, making a joyful sound that turns into a chuckle. "Deputy Hale…is that a nightstick in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" As he adjusts Derek's duty belt, Stiles grins, sliding the holster for Derek's taser to the side.

"You're an idiot," Derek says, rolling his eyes. He presses his index finger over Stiles's lips, already knowing there will be another quip of 'but you still love me.' "Yes, I still love you."

Stiles bites the pad of Derek's finger before sucking it into his mouth.

Fuck.

Derek reluctantly pulls his finger back because the last thing he wants or needs is to pop a boner in the middle of the sheriff's department. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened, so he knows that all the deputies would give him all sorts of shit about it.

The grin on Stiles's face says he knows exactly what he is doing.

"Oh, you're gonna get it when I get home."

Stiles reaches behind him and squeezes his ass while wiggling his brows. "Promises, promises."

"Be. Good," Derek says, punctuating each word with a kiss to the tip of Stiles's nose. God, he used to make fun of people who did sappy shit like this. But with Stiles, he doesn't care. Anything to keep Stiles looking at him like this. Like he's the only person who matters, like Derek's his whole world. "We wouldn't want you to land on the naughty list, now would we?"

"Why? What are you gonna do? Spank me?"

"Don't. Tempt. Me." Derek lets out a low growl, already imagining Stiles's ass, red from the slaps.

Stiles gives him a wide-eyed look that's two parts mischief and one part innocence. "Who, me? Never. Besides, is it really naughty when it brings so much pleasure?"

Derek throws his head back and barks out a laugh. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because of all the naked, fun sexy times we have," Stiles says with such a straight face that Derek can't help but laugh again.

"You only want me for my body, don't you?"

"It's a very nice body." Stiles doesn't bother with subtlety as he lets his gaze roam down the length of Derek's body. And if it were anyone else, Derek would feel outright violated by the eye-fuck. But with Stiles, the perusal is like an electric current under his skin. It makes his body sing.

"You're lucky I love you."

"I know." The words are said so softly, so sincerely, and with a smile that has Stiles's eyes crinkling in the corners, which always makes Derek's knees go weak.

Derek has to kiss him. It's a need that drives him forward, cradling Stiles's head as their lips touch. Though, being in the sheriff's station, he has to hold himself back from kissing Stiles as deeply as he'd like.

Instead, Derek slides his hands down Stiles's sides, slipping them under the hideous green tunic as he kisses the corner of his mouth.

The tights Stiles is wearing are butter soft. And smooth. A little too smooth.

Derek pulls back, eyes narrowed as he cups the swell of Stiles's ass. "You're not wearing anything under these, are you?"

Stiles gasps in mock indignation. "Why, Deputy Hale, what kind of man do you think I am? Of course, I'm wearing...something under these."

Something.

Heat courses through Derek's veins. All logic flies from his mind as he grips Stiles's wrist, tugging him from the bullpen and down to one of the empty offices.

The door clicks shut behind them, bathing them almost completely in darkness. There’s minimal light peeking through the closed window blinds, but it's enough for Derek.

"What are you doing, Derek?" Stiles asks, but Derek can hear the smile in his voice as the air around them grows heavy with his arousal.

Derek locks the door and backs Stiles up against the wall, growling as he noses along Stiles's chin. "Don't play coy."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking abou—" Stiles's words are cut off with a gasp when Derek shoves his hands down the back of Stiles's tights.

Stiles's skin is warm and soft, so soft. Derek lets out a pleased sort of rumble-purr as he squeezes Stiles's ass. His fingers brush over delicate lace, and he groans.

"Told you I was wearing something."

Derek doesn't even have to look to know Stiles is wearing a red lace thong. The red lace thong. It's Derek's favorite with the way it shows off his pert ass. The first time Derek saw it was when he surprised Stiles after work one day. They'd been dating for a few weeks at that point, but Stiles had given Derek a key to his apartment. After working an overnight shift, all Derek wanted to do was crawl into bed beside Stiles, so instead of going home, he went to Stiles's apartment and let himself in.

Stiles had been sprawled out in bed, the covers pooled at his waist. He wore Derek's old football jersey. The sight sent a wave of possessiveness through him like he'd never felt before. He wanted nothing more than to mark Stiles all over so everyone knew that Stiles was his.

Derek had undressed faster than ever before and crawled onto the bed, kissing Stiles’s back as he rucked the jersey up while sliding the blankets down so he could bite his ass. However, he stilled when he saw the dark red lace thong Stiles was wearing.

It wasn't something he'd ever seen before, so he wasn't ready for his own reaction to it.

His cock had gone from half-mast to rock-hard immediately. Before that day, the most he and Stiles had done was handjobs and blowjobs, but at that moment, he feasted on Stiles like he was a man starving.

They didn't leave Stiles's bed for anything other than the bathroom and food for the next two days.

"There's another surprise." Stiles's sex-drenched voice pulls Derek back to the present. His pupils are blown wide with a primal and feral look that makes Derek's blood catch fire.

Derek hadn't anticipated doing anything here. Hell, Stiles probably hadn't either. He'd probably only meant to tease, but he should know better. Stiles should have known that when it comes to him, Derek's like a live wire, all coiled, sparking energy just waiting to strike.

He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Stiles's neck and crushes their mouths together. It's a passionate kiss, fierce and claiming as Derek ravishes him. But Stiles takes as much as he gives, so Derek's not at all surprised when Stiles yanks his head back and flicks his tongue out to lick a long line up Derek's throat, making him growl.

As an alpha werewolf, he doesn't let anyone do this—wouldn't allow himself to be this vulnerable. But it's Stiles, and for him, Derek would willingly submit.

Without wasting another second, Derek turns Stiles, one hand on the back of his head, holding him to the wall. "Bend over. Now."

Stiles whimpers, his breathing erratic and shallow, but he complies. With his hands beside his head, he pops his ass out.

Derek slaps his ass once, then twice, before sliding Stiles's tunic up and hooking his fingers under the waistband of Stiles's tights.

When Stiles lets out a pleasure-filled groan, Derek smirks. "You ready to show me that tight little hole?"

"You ready to put up or shut up?"

Derek hates to reward such sassy behavior, but he honestly can't wait to taste the slick dripping down Stiles's taint and balls. He gets to his knees, slowly lowering Stiles's tights, revealing his ass and that thong. It makes Derek want to bow to whatever deity deemed him worthy enough of this gift.

He kisses his second favorite mole—just above the swell of Stiles's right ass cheek. Yes, he has favorites. The first is the mole on the inside of Stiles's left thigh. He remembers the way Stiles's legs quivered when he spent an inordinate amount of time lying between them the first time he sucked Stiles off. He would pull away every time Stiles got close to the edge and place a kiss on that mole while praising him.

'So good for me,' he'd say while Stiles whimpered, groaned, and cursed.

Between the memories and having Stiles bent over in front of him like a perfect glowing angel, Derek's achingly hard.

Just a taste, he tells himself. But then he spreads Stiles's cheeks and damn near chokes on his tongue.

It's not the first time Stiles has worn a plug outside their home. Derek knows he loves the way it brushes over his prostate just right, but this is the first time Stiles has worn one with Derek's name emblazoned on its base.

Fuck.

Derek was never this possessive before, but since they started dating, he's had this primal need to mark, mate, and claim. And seeing his name guarding Stiles's hole is no different. It makes a dark, animalistic lust sweep through him.

He takes hold of the base, fucking Stiles with short, shallow pumps over and over.

Stiles shudders. His legs tremble, his back muscles ripple with every movement, and his shoulders tense as he claws at the wall. "Oh yes, oh fucking yes, please."

Derek can't help leaning in and sinking his teeth into the meaty part of Stiles's ass.

The only other sound in the room is a slick squelching every time Derek pushes the plug back into Stiles's hole. Derek spreads Stiles's cheeks as best he can with his other hand and laps up the slick around the plug.

"So good," he murmurs, pulling the plug out and burying his face in Stiles's ass. He unhooks his duty belt with one hand and gets his pants open. He'd only meant to tease Stiles a little, get them both worked up so they'd be raring to tear each other's clothes off when Derek got home later. But now, all he can think about is burying himself in the tight heat of Stiles's body.

He really should have known better.

Derek wrenches himself away, not even giving Stiles enough time to protest before spinning them and pinning Stiles to the conference room table as he enters him in one hard thrust.

"Oh God!" Stiles cries out.

Derek covers Stiles's mouth, bending over him and breathing into his ear. "Gotta keep quiet, baby."

They both know the conference room is soundproofed, but the idea that they could be caught, that someone could hear them plants tempting images in his head. Stiles, too, if his muffled groan and the way his hole clenches around Derek's cock are any indication.

"You'd like that though, wouldn't you?" Derek pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in. "Someone hearing you. Someone walking in right now and seeing you bent over for me."

Stiles stares at him with a look of pure need and pleasure. His eyes scream, 'Yes.'

Though, they both know that Derek would never let anyone see Stiles like this. No, this—Stiles spread out all pliant and willing—is for Derek's eyes only.

As Stiles groans, urging him on, Derek refuses to rush. He eases into him with slow, measured strokes that he knows Stiles loves. Especially when his eyes close. Stiles had once said it was like heaven to him and that nothing had ever felt so good.

Derek inhales deeply, drunk on the scent of Stiles and the way they fit together.

Stiles's lashes flutter as his mouth falls open in a silent cry, his lips swollen and red from biting back his moans. He looks like debauchery and sin.

Derek grinds against him, licking up the bead of sweat that trickles at Stiles's temples.

"Derek," Stiles whispers.

"Derek," he groans.

"Derek," he curses.

"Derek," he cries as if Derek's name fills his every emotion.

Stiles clenches around him, his body rigid, tightening around Derek's cock as he throws his head back in ecstasy. Derek's name is a hoarse cry on his lips.

Good God. With Stiles splayed out for him to take freely and willingly, he's going to combust.

He moves faster and harder, flattening his chest against Stiles's back as he ruts against him, chasing his orgasm.

It's coming.

Rising.

Building, building, building until it crashes over him like a wave—drowning him as he comes apart at the seams.

"Fuck."

It takes a minute to regain his bearings, but he shakes his head when he does.

It's certainly not the first time they've fucked at the sheriff's station. Still, he always wonders how the hell he manages to lose any semblance of self-control and professionalism. Then he looks at Stiles, with his hair stuck to his forehead, his face shining with sweat, and he remembers that he's never had any when it comes to him.

Stiles's laughter is loud and enticing in the darkness of the room.

"The fuck are you laughing at?" Derek asks, pulling out.

"Sorry, I was just wondering what the fuck was in my tights, and I think it's the plug."

"What?" But when Derek looks down, the metal plug sits nestled in Stiles's tights that are bunched around his thighs. He reaches down for it and grins as he slides it up the inside of Stiles's thighs.

Stiles gasps and then groans when Derek pushes it back inside him.

"Don't take it out," Derek whispers, placing a kiss on the small of Stiles's back. He tugs his pants back up, zipping up. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna get stuff to clean up."

After quickly grabbing some cleaning supplies from the storage closet, he and Stiles make sure the conference room is exactly as it was before they defiled it.

The same can't be said for themselves. They head to the bathroom and splash water on their faces, but no amount of freshening up can cover up what they just got up to. Their faces are red, hair disheveled despite running through it with wet hands, but they've been away from the party long enough that they can't avoid it any longer.

Thankfully, no one seems to pay them any attention when they get back to the bullpen. At least not until someone yells, "Yo, Derek!"

Derek turns at the sound of his name, giving a small smile to their newest deputy.

When Farrow holds a hand out, Derek shakes it. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Good. Good. Just got back from patrol." Farrow glances between him and Stiles, his eyes narrow for a moment before a knowing look crosses his face. "You must be Derek's husband."

Stiles grins. There's a teasing glint to it that has Derek pinching the bridge of his nose. Stiles loves messing with the new deputies, and somehow Derek already knows what's about to happen when Stiles turns to him, mouth dropping open in apparent shock. "You're married?!"

The look on Farrow's face is comical. It's horror and dread mixed with confusion as he lets out a nervous laugh. It's fairly obvious what Stiles and Derek were doing before walking back into the party. And now poor Farrow probably thinks he inadvertently caught them red-handed—or red-faced, considering their disheveled appearance. "I, uh…"

"Please excuse him," Derek says, shaking his head. "Yes, this is my husband, and he likes to think he's funny."

"Excuse you. I am funny." Stiles sticks his tongue out at Derek before reaching out and shaking Farrow's hand. "Nice to meet you. Stiles Stilinski-Hale," he says, gesturing to himself, "Also known as a pain in this one's ass."

Derek kisses the side of his head. "And I wouldn't have you any other way. Let's go easy on the new guy, though, alright?"

Stiles pouts. "You never let me have any fun anymore."

Farrow lets out another nervous laugh because what else is anyone supposed to do with Stiles's antics? "Well, it was nice to meet you."

After Farrow walks away, Derek nips Stiles's earlobe. "I'm not really sure he thinks it was nice to meet you."

"Eh, wouldn't be the first time." Stiles shrugs as if he doesn't have a care in the world. "I seem to remember a certain sourwolf who didn't care for me much when we first met."

"And look at us now." Derek kisses him before nudging him away. "Now go before you get me in any more trouble."

When Derek swats his ass, Stiles gasps in mock indignation. "Oh, careful there, Deputy Hale. We wouldn't want you to land on the naughty list, now would we?"

Derek winks at him. "Someone's gotta keep you company."

All too soon, the party is over. As much as Derek would love to clock out and go home with Stiles, he still has a couple of hours left on his shift.

Stiles gives him a lingering kiss, earning them catcalls from the remaining deputies. "I'll see you at home. I love you."

Derek flicks the bell on Stiles's Christmas hat before reluctantly letting him go. "Love you too."

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek secret santa #holy shit i wrote something

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