Stiles stumbles over a log and almost falls, but Derek catches him around the waist and he regains his footing.
“Derek, what—” Stiles’ words are silenced by Derek’s mouth covering his own in a wet kiss, taking his breath away as he’s backed unceremoniously into the nearest tree. Derek’s hands find the front of Stiles’ shirt and begin to impatiently yank at the buttons, probably ripping several as he works to expose his mate’s pale flesh to the moon. He pulls back long enough to push the plaid button-up off Stiles’ shoulders and run his long fingers up under the white undershirt he’s wearing underneath.
“—if someone see us—” Stiles gasps as Derek’s hands skim over his ribcage and he begins pressing kisses to Stiles’ jaw. Stiles throws his head back against the tree to expose the pale column of his throat, allowing Derek complete access to the flesh to mark as his own.
“Let them,” Derek growls into Stiles’ neck as he runs his hands back down Stiles’ chest and starts pulling at Stiles’ belt. He nips at Stiles’ collar bone possessively but doesn’t stop when a howl in the distance fills the air.
“Derek—” Stiles whines when the werewolf finally works his zipper down and thrusts a hand into the fly of his jeans. Derek looks up at the sound, his lips parting almost in awe of the sight of his mate like this.
Stiles’ thin chest is heaving with each breath, so pale it has an almost ethereal glow by the light of the full moon. His throat and collar bone have been marked by Derek’s mouth, a light peppering of bruises that would fade by morning. But his eyes, oh his eyes, wide with apprehension and dark with lust, draw Derek in. The werewolf licks his lips and stares, and he pulls his hands away from Stiles’ body in order to grab his mate by the face and draw him in for answer blissful kiss.
“God, Stiles,” he whispers against his Stiles’ lips, bumping noses with the human and then tilting his head up just so. The full moon, in all its glory, reflected in Stiles’ irises is the most beautiful sight in the world.
“What?” Stiles asks breathlessly, red lips parting in wonder at the look on Derek’s face.
Derek cannot express through words the feeling that fills his chest. Instead of replying, Derek tilts his face up to the sky and howls, a call to the world to let it know that the warm body against him is his. Mine, he tells anyone who’s listening. All mine.
Stiles’ hands on his shoulders bring him back, focus him back on the young man he’s holding against the tree. “Mine,” Derek growls, though his throat feels like sandpaper and his eyes feel gritty. He presses his body flush against his mate’s and roughly jams his knee between his legs, pleased by the gasp that falls from Stiles’ mouth. “All mine.”
“Yours,” Stiles agrees breathlessly, fingers grabbing and Derek’s hair and pulling him in. “Absolutely.”
Derek lunges and clicks their teeth together with the force of his next kiss, but it doesn’t matter. The pair desperately cling to each other, holding each other as close as is humanly possible as the wind rustles the leaves in the trees around them. They fall, tangled in each other, to the forest floor, and Derek claims his mate by the light of the moon.
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Fill - By the Light of the Moon
Date: 2011-12-20 10:35 pm (UTC)Stiles stumbles over a log and almost falls, but Derek catches him around the waist and he regains his footing.
“Derek, what—” Stiles’ words are silenced by Derek’s mouth covering his own in a wet kiss, taking his breath away as he’s backed unceremoniously into the nearest tree. Derek’s hands find the front of Stiles’ shirt and begin to impatiently yank at the buttons, probably ripping several as he works to expose his mate’s pale flesh to the moon. He pulls back long enough to push the plaid button-up off Stiles’ shoulders and run his long fingers up under the white undershirt he’s wearing underneath.
“—if someone see us—” Stiles gasps as Derek’s hands skim over his ribcage and he begins pressing kisses to Stiles’ jaw. Stiles throws his head back against the tree to expose the pale column of his throat, allowing Derek complete access to the flesh to mark as his own.
“Let them,” Derek growls into Stiles’ neck as he runs his hands back down Stiles’ chest and starts pulling at Stiles’ belt. He nips at Stiles’ collar bone possessively but doesn’t stop when a howl in the distance fills the air.
“Derek—” Stiles whines when the werewolf finally works his zipper down and thrusts a hand into the fly of his jeans. Derek looks up at the sound, his lips parting almost in awe of the sight of his mate like this.
Stiles’ thin chest is heaving with each breath, so pale it has an almost ethereal glow by the light of the full moon. His throat and collar bone have been marked by Derek’s mouth, a light peppering of bruises that would fade by morning. But his eyes, oh his eyes, wide with apprehension and dark with lust, draw Derek in. The werewolf licks his lips and stares, and he pulls his hands away from Stiles’ body in order to grab his mate by the face and draw him in for answer blissful kiss.
“God, Stiles,” he whispers against his Stiles’ lips, bumping noses with the human and then tilting his head up just so. The full moon, in all its glory, reflected in Stiles’ irises is the most beautiful sight in the world.
“What?” Stiles asks breathlessly, red lips parting in wonder at the look on Derek’s face.
Derek cannot express through words the feeling that fills his chest. Instead of replying, Derek tilts his face up to the sky and howls, a call to the world to let it know that the warm body against him is his. Mine, he tells anyone who’s listening. All mine.
Stiles’ hands on his shoulders bring him back, focus him back on the young man he’s holding against the tree. “Mine,” Derek growls, though his throat feels like sandpaper and his eyes feel gritty. He presses his body flush against his mate’s and roughly jams his knee between his legs, pleased by the gasp that falls from Stiles’ mouth. “All mine.”
“Yours,” Stiles agrees breathlessly, fingers grabbing and Derek’s hair and pulling him in. “Absolutely.”
Derek lunges and clicks their teeth together with the force of his next kiss, but it doesn’t matter. The pair desperately cling to each other, holding each other as close as is humanly possible as the wind rustles the leaves in the trees around them. They fall, tangled in each other, to the forest floor, and Derek claims his mate by the light of the moon.