bakerstreet | what's your number

Uh... you can... ask me... anything?

[Yeah. Right. So fair. Because Stiles' life was so interesting.]

Because you're full of secrets, right?

[Okay, maybe not really.]

You're on, Stiles.

You have no idea.

[What was he getting himself into?]

Okay. Bring it on. I'll even let you pick the game.

[Derek, if he plays his cards right... His head, not his ass... maybe.]

I don't know any of the games, though. They're all new to me.

[Derek, his meta was so confused right now.

And vaguely turned on. But he was usually always in some state of arousal. It was the secondary stage of it that varied.]

Oh my god... Let's play Mario Kart. That's a nice easy game to start you off with.

[And that's why pinning Stiles to the wall was a bad idea sometimes. The kid probably has no idea what smelling him, and that arousal, all the time was like. Animal magnetism? More like horny teenager.]

I can't tell if that's your way of saying it'll be easier for me, or that it'll just be more embarrassing when you beat me at it.

[Not his fault. Maybe Derek should turn down some of that masculine allure. Or stop smelling good himself. Not his fault he was reacting to some biological chemistry.]

... both?

[Smirk.]

[Look, they're not pinning this on the fact that Derek takes care of his body. How does Stiles even get through the day if he can't keep that kind of arousal in check?]

Fine. Just hurry and set it up so we can get this over with...

[Not that he's kind of looking forward to it or anything. That would be too honest.]

[All Derek's fault. And he doesn't. Sort of. Why do you think he has so many bathroom breaks at school? Hmm?]

Patience, wolfiwan. Build up some anticipation for the game.

[Derek tries really hard not to think about what Stiles does on his breaks. Or how he even knows that Stiles does that so often. Sometimes being a werewolf really was a curse... and a test of willpower.]

What's the point of waiting? It's not like you have anything better to do right now.

[If Derek kept looking at him like that, he was going to have to go take another 'break'.]

Oho. Someone's impatient. Fine. Fine. We'll do it now. Your place?

[If Stiles can hold off one of his 'breaks' for once, then he might get a hand for the next one.]

My place works... You'll need to bring a TV too.

[Stiles doesn't know that and might take a break while getting his system and tv. Good thing he has a great recuperation rate. Bad thing he might forget to wash his hands after. >>]

Fine. Twenty minutes.

...

Make that half an hour.

[It's cheating if Stiles forgets to clean up after himself, since then there will be no way for Derek to actually focus on the game. The way things are going right now, they might not even make it to the game if that happens...]

Really? You're going to stop for that too?

[Because you're kind of obvious, Stiles.]

Fine... I'll pick up some snacks or something.

What?!

[He couldn't help it. He had a healthy libido. A healthy, healthy libido.]

I have no idea what you're talking about.

[Yeah, he was totally going to stop for that.]

Snacks are good. See you there.

[And overactive libido is more like it...]

You're unbelievable.

[And doing a great job at making Derek jealous right now.

He can handle snacks though, since, as much as he doesn't care about all this (or says he doesn't), he's going out of his way to get chips and soda, and even pizza and curly fries. It's way more than just a quick game or whatever would suggest.]

[Maybe someone should do something in relation to helping it wear itself out...

There's a laugh as the end of the conversation, then Stiles has some very serious business to get down to. Namely packing up his gaming stuff and taking care of some very pressing business with his bedroom door locked. Ahem. He's got time.]

[Maybe if Stiles would hurry up and stop taking his time, he could get over here and get worn out for the rest of the night... and after breakfast... and well into the next afternoon.]

[Maybe he was making sure he didn't have a hair trigger.

But he does finish up (and forget to wash his hands) and get everything ready to bring over to Derek's, pulling up at the loft and hefting the bag over his shoulder.]

♫ Who's afraid of the big bad wolf...

[Fair enough. Derek is waiting for him expectantly by the time Stiles finally shows up, pushing the door open to taking the bag for him.]

Stop that. [He says with a roll of his eyes in response to the singing.

He has to stop for a moment though, because Stiles' scent is all over... Stiles. And all the restraint and willpower doesn't really help that much. Thank God he wasn't wearing loose jeans that would be pitching a tent right now. Just tight jeans that outline everything.]

Do you want to set up in front of the couch or upstairs in the bedroom? [Because those are the only places to sit... Not because he's inviting anything... but he is.]

Stop what?

[He's grinning as he comes in, still whistling the tune because just-jerked off Stiles is a happy Stiles.

He hums as he passes Derek, looking around and then shrugging.]

Where do you want your beating?

[Just-jerked off Stiles is just as insufferable as regular Stiles, and about a hundred times more distracting.]

Let's move upstairs. It's darker and the glare won't hit the TV.

[Plus, for as run down as his loft was, Derek's bed was amazing, and way more comfortable than the couch.

And if he was going to take a beating, he might as well be comfortable.]

Lead the way.

[Not at all because just-jerked off Stiles was still running on endorphins and maybe wanted to see just how tight those jeans were.

How're them wolfy senses doing, Derek?]

Come on.

[Wolfy senses are either the worst or the best right now. Derek hasn't decided yet, but he's intentionally knocking against Stiles' shoulder as he walks past him, just for that little bit of contact and scent.

He leads the way up the stairs. And Stiles better be enjoying the view, because those jeans leave nothing to the imagination, and he should appreciate his future prize, really.]

[Hefting the bag, he follows Derek up the steps, eyes maybe following the curve of that ass and wondering how he gets those jeans on every day. Must be hard. Ha ha. Get it? Hard.

Of course, now that Stiles is up in Derek's bedroom, Derek might regret the fact that his hands that haven't been washed are going to be touching things. Like the bed. And the pillows. And pretty much everything.]

K, just give me a second to set this all up.

[Says the teen as he bends over to start doing just that.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject