Cat's Fancies

and i vow i shall not savage you: thegoodlannister: Wanna hear a secret?I think the reason Tyrion is so...

Fri, 17 May 2013 21:12:47 -0400

and i vow i shall not savage you: thegoodlannister: Wanna hear a secret?I think the reason Tyrion is so...:

Wanna hear a secret?

I think the reason Tyrion is so hated (when the worst deeds of so many ASoIaF characters are readily written off) is that fans aren’t comfortable with people who have Tyrion’s disability being actual, three-dimensional people. They can be caricatures…

Wait, Tyrion is hated? WHY? He was my favorite character in the books, forget about the TV show. He’s brilliant and funny and sarcastic and he sees everyone for who they are and- oh, wait, I’m sorry. I just answered my own question.

People annoy me.

Hi. Have some utterly and completely in media res porn. It has no point except for porn. Yeah, I...

Tue, 14 May 2013 14:30:00 -0400

Hi. Have some utterly and completely in media res porn. It has no point except for porn.

Yeah, I don’t know either.

Anyway. Stiles/Derek, dubious consent, some very not-okay language and not a lot of coherency. That last one isn’t a trigger-warning. Just, you know. A regular warning.

This doesn’t feel like hell, though. It feels like Stiles, the searching pressure of his eyes, the weight of his body still keeping Derek pinned and pressed, and his curious, unexpected skill in making Derek feel nothing but good. He feels good.

“Little bitch,” is hissed again his neck and Derek can’t move. He can whine he finds out, wounded and pathetic, but he can’t move. It’s only Stiles’ weight on his back, the heat of his cock up his ass, but somehow that weight- that heat- melts through the strength Derek normally has on tap. He feels weak, vulnerable and uncertain while Stiles mouths the back of his neck and calls him a good boy. He should be able to push Stiles away. He can push down walls when he needs to, tear down trees older than God with his bare hands.

He can’t push Stiles away.

“See? This is what you needed. I know, baby,” Stiles croons, ugly and mean. ”Such a good boy. Spread your legs now. I’m going to fuck you again. And you’re going to love it.”

Stiles does.

And Derek- does. He does. He loves it, making all kinds of noises he can’t control, his dick achingly hard as Stiles rolls into him with the slow, focused precision of someone who knows what they’re doing.

“I watched a lot of porn.” Stiles doesn’t even sound out of breath and how.

Derek tries to answer but what comes out is a string of vowels that ends in a hiss as Stiles cups his hand around Derek’s hip, gliding over the smooth skin and burrowing underneath. Now, suddenly, Derek can move, arching his hips up and away so warm fingers can curl around his cock. They stroke once, fumbling and uncertain. The second time is surer, confident. The third pulls away something from inside of Derek, broken and hurting and somehow now gone with Stiles’ long fingers clenched around his cock, Stiles’ cock pressing hard against his prostate.

Milking, Derek thinks, leaning into the movements. He’s too helpless to avoid it. He always has been. The pleasure of it overwhelms him, destroys the guilt and self-loathing the way nothing else ever has (will), and Derek is fucking helpless, a pun that makes him laugh, rough giggles that shake his body like sobs.

“Hey,” Stiles says, warm breath at Derek’s ear and sharp enough to cut. ”Stop it. You were being so good before. I know you can be, Derek. I’ve seen it. You want to be, and you will for me. I won’t do what happened before. I don’t want anything else from you. Just this.” His hands stroke up, thumb working over the tip until Derek has to cry out, has to shudder like he’s been hit. ”That’s all. Just sex, baby. I’m not what she was. But I can take you to that place, the one she showed you. I can get you there.”

The only place she- and it’s obvious who she is- ever took him to was hell. Be it the burned carcass of his family, his life, or the dungeon she’d chained him to, it was hell.

It doesn’t make sense.

Stiles laughs, a huffing sound that’s mostly air and wet and sex that Derek wants to inhale. ”It doesn’t have to. I’ll explain it later, I promise. I’ll explain all of it, what I figured out and what we’re going to do. It’ll be good, you’ll see. It’ll be fantastic. But first you’re going to come, baby,” Stiles hasn’t once said his name since this started, just baby or boy (always with ‘good’ attached, and fuck if Derek doesn’t shiver every time he hears it), “and then maybe again when I do. I want to see you fall apart before I put you back together. But I will. I will put you back together. I promise.”

And weirdly enough Derek relaxes at hearing that. Stiles keeps his promises. He scratches and claws and snarks at the world, he stumbles and fumbles like any boy learning how to be a man, but in this Stiles has always been absolutely consistent. If he makes a promise, he keeps it.

Derek doesn’t know how to be put back together. There’s no glue out there that can fix eleven deaths.

Only Stiles promised. And Stiles is moving faster now, hips snapping. He’s focused on Derek is a slow, dawning realization accompanied by moans and pants Derek can’t stop. This is about Derek’s pleasure, Derek’s release- and it’s that thought he comes too, whining like a pup and burying his face in the pillow to hide it.

Stiles works him through it and doesn’t stop. It hurts, but Stiles doesn’t stop. Derek can’t figure out how to make him. His hands are balled into sweaty fists, nails dug into his palms; he can’t move them. He can’t do anything as Stiles breathes and stays exactly where he is, only his hand moving up and down along Derek’s cock until the pain goes incandescent, tight in his gut and burning in his lungs- and suddenly Derek is getting hard again.

“That’s it,” Stiles says. ”That’s it, good boy. Better, right? I bet you feel better now. I’ll get you better still when you come again. I told you, I’m going to help. This is going to help.”

“This is going to get you off,” Derek growls, the sudden splutter of words catching him off guard.

Stiles laughs. It isn’t nice. ”I didn’t say I was doing this for free. Now, up, there we go. Better angle.”

It is, but only because Derek is making those noises again, Stiles’ cock hitting him somehow even more perfectly than before.

“I’m going to mount you now,” Stiles says, the animal terminology insulting and wanted at the same time. How Stiles knew- but how Stiles knows anything is a puzzle Derek hasn’t figure out. ”I’m going to breed you like you need to be. And then I’m going to stick a plug that’s way too big for you here,” he rolls his hips for emphasis, “to make sure you know exactly what you are.”

He’s the Alpha, Derek wants to say. Only he can’t because Stiles has his hands pressing on Derek’s fists. He always forgets that Stiles is the same height as him, his arms and legs still coltish and gangly, promising a few more inches of growth to come. He’s lean against Derek’s muscle but he isn’t weak. Nothing about Stiles is weak.

That, somehow, more than anything, is proof that Derek doesn’t know what he is. Alpha or man or werewolf. Friend or foe- he doesn’t know. The confusion makes him whine but Stiles is there, mouthing along his spine and neck, his cock pressing up in a slow, easy rhythm. The tension in his body is unreal and Derek can’t count his heartbeats, the pound of it so fast it blurs into one unending song.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what you are,” Stiles says, nonsensical. It’s the first time since Derek arrived, since somehow they ended up this way. ”You’ll see. I’ll show you how to be so good. Such a good boy. Because you want to be.”

And once again, Derek does. He wants to be good.

He rocks his hips back, taking more of Stiles’ cock, actively participating as he’s spread wider as Stiles relentlessly fucks into him. Just like he knew before Stiles was focusing on him, now he’s just a body, just there to be used for Stiles’ pleasure. That it doesn’t have to be him, doesn’t even need to be. Stiles just wants to fuck something and Derek is here, ready to take it.

Wanting to take it (be good).

When Derek comes it’s to Stiles’ panted good bitch panted in his ear, his ass already slick and wet with Stiles’ come. It’s one of the best orgasms of his life and he collapses, feeling empty and calm for the first time in forever. He feels good and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it.

Stiles kisses behind his ear. ”Good boy,” he says, and, “stop thinking, it’s okay. I’ll do the thinking for both of us.”

So Derek does. He stops thinking and lets his mind go blank under the weight of Stiles’ body, their sweat and spunk cooling on their skin. It’s good. Nice.

“I’ll put you back together,” Stiles says, so low that Derek has to focus to make out the words beneath the reverberating hum in his chest. ”You’ll see. I can help, I always say I can.”

He does say that, Derek knows, and for every plan of Stiles’ that doesn’t work, at least two or three do.

Derek closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of the two of them together. It smells good. Rich and heady. “‘K,” he says back. ”Okay.”

Stiles doesn’t react beyond rubbing his face into the back of Derek’s neck. ”Never knew muscle was so comfortable.”

It shouldn’t make Derek feel good but it does, and the following good boy and stay, just like this does too.

So he stays. Just like that.

Stiles falls asleep with his cock still in Derek’s ass. It isn’t quite the plug that Derek can see if he turns his head just a little- not too much, or that will wake up Stiles- black and thick and bulbous at the bottom- but it works pretty much the same as what Stiles wanted. He can figure that out now because the fullness of Stiles, of being had, is sweet as poppies in full bloom and just as addictive.

Derek falls asleep like falling off a cliff.

He doesn’t dream. Not once. It’s the first time since another person called him boy with that saccharine falseness- only maybe it isn’t false, not this time. Because Stiles is still there, tapping away at the computer when Derek wakes back up, smirking and gloriously cruel as he surveys the wrecked mess of his bed and Derek, striped with come and the plug held too tight in his ass.

“Objections?” Stiles asks, like this is a trial he’s running.

Derek shakes his head. No, there are none at all.

id-based not-fic of doom: plushwolf

Tue, 14 May 2013 13:20:26 -0400

theragnarokd:

(please note the tags, this has a shitload of triggery stuff in it.)

Read More

HOT SO HOT. ’Ware the trigger warnings but this is MY kind of fic and I want more of it. Yes. The dirty angry bad wrong but omg HOT fic.

Seriously hot.

Reblog if you're a girl that likes any of the following:

Mon, 13 May 2013 09:25:05 -0400

gallifreyan-pizza:

X-Men

Avengers (that includes any of the individual characters movies)

Batman

Star Trek

Star Wars

And pretty much anything that’s action or targeted to guys

A guy friend of mine today said it was weird that my friend had all the X-Men movies because she was a girl. Needless to say we almost threw him out of the car. So I would like to prove to him that just because we have vagina’s that doesn’t impair us from enjoying an action film.

Women of tumblr please back me up.

Yup, all of them, plus a lot more. Also I watch things like Fast and the Furious for the explosions and the girls as much as the guys.

Source: gallifreyan-pizza

WHERE HAS THIS PICTURE BEEN ALL MY LIFE

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 12:34:15 -0400

WHERE HAS THIS PICTURE BEEN ALL MY LIFE

saucefactory: breakingnews: NBA star Jason Collins reveals he...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:37:43 -0400

saucefactory:

breakingnews:

NBA star Jason Collins reveals he is gay

Sports Illustrated: Washington Wizards center Jason Collins reveals he is gay in a story published Monday.

Collins writes in the story:

I didn’t set out to be the first openly gay athlete playing in a major American team sport. But since I am, I’m happy to start the conversation. I wish I wasn’t the kid in the classroom raising his hand and saying, “I’m different.” If I had my way, someone else would have already done this. Nobody has, which is why I’m raising my hand.

Best ever.

AGREED.

elijah120607: Vincent Kartheiser＠「FILLER - Spring 2013」. Holy...

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 15:04:43 -0400

elijah120607:

Vincent Kartheiser＠「FILLER - Spring 2013」.

Holy god almighty

January Jones and Vincent Kartheiser At "Mad Men" Season 6 Premiere

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 11:32:09 -0400

madmendaily:

“Liar.” Lessons for life.

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 11:12:23 -0400

“Liar.”

Lessons for life.

"The same Hebrew word that is used in Genesis 2:24 to describe how Adam felt about Eve (and how..."

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 11:04:55 -0400

“The same Hebrew word that is used in Genesis 2:24 to describe how Adam felt about Eve (and how spouses are supposed to feel toward each other) is used in Ruth 1:14 to describe how Ruth felt about Naomi. Her feelings are celebrated, not condemned.

And throughout Christian history, Ruth’s vow to Naomi has been used to illustrate the nature of the marriage covenant. These words are often read at Christian wedding ceremonies and used in sermons to illustrate the ideal love that spouses should have for one another. The fact that these words were originally spoken by one woman to another tells us a lot about how God feels about same-gender relationships.”

- Ruth loved Naomi as Adam loved Eve

(via apiphile)

shakinghandswithgod: For Ladycat777 THANK YOU! Also hnnngh he...

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 18:28:40 -0500

shakinghandswithgod:

For Ladycat777

THANK YOU! Also hnnngh he should not make smoking look that good.

youlldreamofthatbox: galadhfea: #can we just take a moment to...

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 10:56:02 -0500

youlldreamofthatbox:

galadhfea:

#can we just take a moment to appreciate
#that Clint
#while holed up doing a job of watching all the scientists working away
#managed to work out BEFORE the quantum physicist exactly what the fuck is going on
#with the tesseract
#by using pure logic
#it also shows that even though Nick chastises him for doing his whole ‘brood in the rafters’ nesting thing
#that Clint was paying attention the whole damn time
#this is the guy who can fire arrows without looking
#who can calculate on the fly the trajectory needed to lodge an explosive arrow into a propeller
#I will punch anyone who says Clint is useless or a deadweight because he’s squishy-human and is only good for being a marksman
#because he’s deceptively smart
#and plays that close to his chest

Caw caw motherfucker

drinkmasturbatecry: oh look uncut and untagged teen wolf season 3 spoilers on my dash fuck you very...

Mon, 04 Feb 2013 18:11:34 -0500

drinkmasturbatecry:

oh look uncut and untagged teen wolf season 3 spoilers on my dash

fuck you very much

This. FFS people this is why we have tumblr savior. Not everyone likes spoilers.

Clearly I’m old. And bitter. Didn’t we have this war already?

Yoga Pants Girl #91

Thu, 31 Jan 2013 14:36:02 -0500

yogapantsgirl:

[Image description: YPG is sitting with her arms around her knees. She looks unhappy. There are bills on the floor in front of her. Bad brain is there and says “Opening any of those will mean that you have to make a decision.”

The caption says “Why I delay paying bills even when I know I have the money to cover them.”]

Because having to make decisions is SCARY!.

THIS IS ME.

*whimpers* make it stop

mattyrab: Historical moments in shade throwing, Inauguration...

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 15:56:36 -0500

mattyrab:

Historical moments in shade throwing, Inauguration Edition 2013. Keep your eyes on FLOTUS’ reaction to what Boehner said to her and POTUS.

I love my President. I love his wife even more.

life, affectingly: wolfbad replied to your post: Ugh can I just wax poetic about how much...

Fri, 11 Jan 2013 15:37:30 -0500

life, affectingly: wolfbad replied to your post: Ugh can I just wax poetic about how much...:

affectingly:

wolfbad replied to your post: Ugh can I just wax poetic about how much I love…

One day my ethnic media professor mentioned Scandal and went on like a 15 min rant about how he saw the first ep and it was way to over the top and he hated it. Then the next day he came in, siad he…

THIS ALL OF THIS.

Scandall is awesome. Perfect amount of intrigue vs soap, gritty greyness vs good and evil. No one is perfect, no one should be, but there are still clearly those we’re meant to root for and those we aren’t- at least until the next episode and you aren’t sure anymore.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO WATCH THIS SHOW.

gdfalksen: Chiune Sugihara. This man saved 6000 Jews. He was a...

Thu, 10 Jan 2013 13:14:21 -0500

gdfalksen:

Chiune Sugihara. This man saved 6000 Jews. He was a Japanese diplomat in Lithuania. When the Nazis began rounding up Jews, Sugihara risked his life to start issuing unlawful travel visas to Jews. He hand-wrote them 18 hrs a day. The day his consulate closed and he had to evacuate, witnesses claim he was STILL writing visas and throwing from the train as he pulled away. He saved 6000 lives. The world didn’t know what he’d done until Israel honored him in 1985, the year before he died.

Fic? oh god. darkish...

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 15:57:00 -0500

Stiles buys the bed on a whim.

He isn’t trying to be mean, really. The bed looks soft and warm and is nearly as big as his actual bed, only rounder and lacking things like a frame and the mattress box. Only it is mean because even without those normal, mattress-y type things, it’s still better than what’s currently being used, plus what it literally is, the name written on the side and everything.

And fine, so Stiles is kind of an asshole. He can accept that. He’s god damned surrounded by assholes so if he wants to buy a bed that is more like a pallet he’s going to do it, and put it by his window too.

Because why the hell not.

* * *

His Dad doesn’t notice.

Stiles tries not to feel relieved. Or resigned. Upset? There are all these feelings and honestly, Stiles is pretty crap and dealing with them.

Sometimes when he’s sitting at his desk, browsing on his laptop, he’ll glance over to the bed and when all those feelings start coming up, he’ll concentrate on how much of an asshole he is.

And how fucking funny it’s going to be.

* * *

It isn’t funny.

* * *

Ok, it is the first time. When Derek climbs through his window like the creeper he’s decided he’s going to accept and embrace since it obviously isn’t going away. He’s getting stealthier about it, no longer this sudden presence, tall and broad and so damned full of muscles that seriously, Michelangelo would have wept to use him as a model.

Instead Derek sticks to the shadows. He actually creeps now, hands and knees sometimes, with his back low and his head down. Stiles bites back every single joke he desperately wants to make because he’s already made the worst one possible.

Derek stares at it.

He’s in the shadows by Stiles’ bed- the real one, not the one he just bought and occasionally piles his clothes on because it’s easier to find stuff that way, stupid drawers- and Stiles honestly doesn’t notice him for probably a half hour. Maybe more. Derek is barely breathing, just sitting there, legs drawn up with his arms around his knees like some sort of classic heroine pose of angst and pain, staring.

His expression is fucking hilarious Stiles doesn’t even startle when he notices Derek, just laughs and laughs. Cruel and cutting as any scalpel, he laughs until Derek stops staring and glares instead.

There is absolutely a difference. Stiles has been the recipient of both and he can study, okay, and research and learn. It’s just really hard sometimes.

“Why.”

It isn’t a question. Stiles continues laughing so hard he cries, stomach aching. When he’s done catching his breath he looks over at Derek and manages a not-at-all-giggly shrug. ”Because, dude. It fits.”

On the side of the bed-pallet-thing it reads For A Good Puppy.

* * *

It actually does fit. That’s when it stops being funny.

* * *

Stiles doesn’t know when Derek starts to use it. Just that the plush brown fabric stops looking absolutely pristine. There are patterns in it that sort of indicate a body, depressions along the curve of it and heavier marks at either end.

Nobody comments on it. Nobody being Stiles since no one else knows. Scott doesn’t come up to his room that much anymore and no, Stiles is not bitter, it’s summer vacation, nobody is in their rooms unless they want to be.

Derek, clearly, wants to be in Stiles’ room. To sleep. Sleep deprivation is something Stiles is sadly a little too familiar with, same with the hyper-vigilance that no one else seems to see in Derek but Stiles does. He remembers it, that tension that buzzed under his skin until his muscles felt like they were going to snap, bones brittle and pressing too close to the skin.

He’s read the DSM-IV.

Yes, all of it. He got bored once and read about half of it, then couldn’t stop thinking about it so a couple months later he read the other half. It’s oddly come in handy.

So Derek comes to his room and sleeps in a dog bed, curled up and sort of adorable looking with his face relaxed out of that permanent scowl, mouth curving in what could maybe be an upward direction if the stubble wasn’t obscuring it, the lines between his eyes smoothed out into the skin of a man just into his twenties.

A werewolf. Who is, and this cannot be stressed enough, sleeping in Stiles’ room.

On a dog bed.

* * *

It isn’t funny.

It’s mean.

Only Derek is still there, sleeping, and doesn’t mind that Stiles is watches him when he does. Or sleeps in the bed next to them, the sound of their breathing matched into a white noise that makes Stiles sleep without nightmares. Or that sometimes Stiles rubs his cock through his boxers, tingling and half-hard, because curled up like this Derek does look like a good puppy.

He looks like he’s Stiles’ good puppy.

* * *

Stiles is a complete and utter asshole.

And kinky as hell.

* * *

One day in the heat of early August, when everything is sticky and slow no matter how many trees try to combat the pervasive, oppressive weight of the sun, Stiles pushes his shorts down and his boxers too and he strokes his cock past half-hard. He’s done this before but usually on his bed. Derek would be asleep, or pretending, whatever Stiles is ok with Derek’s creeper self, he really is. So Stiles would jerk off with Derek right there.

They wouldn’t talk about it. Ever. But Stiles started doing it more often and sometimes over the sound of his own breath, wet and jungle-hot in his lungs, the roar of his own blood, sometimes he’d hear something else. A gasp, maybe, or a hitch of breath that is definitely not his own.

He’ll come from that, sometimes.

This day, though, this day Stiles is feeling mean. He’s feeling like it’s good that he’s standing over Derek, curled up and cozy looking, holding his cock and stroking it so that Derek has to watch. He has to see that Stiles is hard from this, from him, from this situation.

Stiles thumbs over the head of his cock and tries not to gasp. ”A good puppy,” he says.

Derek makes a noise. It isn’t a growl, or at least it definitely isn’t an angry sound. It’s just a sound- awareness, acknowledgement.

“Good puppy,” Stiles says again, and this time he does gasp because he’s cupping his balls now, rolling them with his legs slightly spread and his back arched just a little. ”That’s right,” he says in the tone everyone uses with dogs and babies and small things they want to patronize and please. ”Good puppy.”

Derek smoothly uncurls up onto his knees. The light makes his nose look like a blade, the darkness of his eyebrows hiding whatever might be going on his eyes.

His mouth is wet, though, and sweet. It’s hot and slick and it slides over Stiles’ cock like he’s done this before, like he likes it. Stiles definitely likes it. He thrusts when he feels like it, instinct and uncaring pleasure both driving the head into the back of Derek’s mouth, into his throat. It makes Derek choke but he never stops, just sucks and flicks his tongue like he can’t get enough of the taste.

Stiles isn’t quite sure when he started petting Derek’s head, sliding over hair that has way, way too much gel in it, seriously Derek, down to the silky heat of the back of Derek’s neck. Over and over he does this because whenever he does Derek hums. Or growls. A low, pleased sound, helpless and hated, and fuck does it make Stiles feel fantastic.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “good puppy, that’s right. Gonna come, boy,” is a gasp, and he grips Derek’s hair tight in his fist.

Derek straight up whines.

And swallows every drop.

He even licks Stiles clean, his tongue carefully flat and light as he glides over the length of Stiles’ cock, his balls and even some of his thighs.

Just like a puppy, Stiles thinks, and pets Derek’s head again. ”Good boy.”

* * *

Stiles isn’t surprised to learn he likes getting blowjobs.

He is surprised that Derek loves to give them.

* * *

Anytime he wants, all he has to do is push his boxers down. At least at first. By the end of the second week, Stiles can starfish over his bed, mostly naked because it is so hot, the heatwave clearly not going anywhere.

He’ll say, “Where’s my good boy,” is that tone, everyone knows the one. That half cheerful, loving tone that dogs always respond to no matter what the actual words are. ”C’mere, cocksucker, come be a good boy for me.”

Sometimes it’s ‘puppy’, still. Derek likes them both equally as he crouches on the bed and puts that slick-hot mouth to use. He loves when Stiles pets him especially, leaning into the caress whether it’s given when he’s got both of Stiles’ balls in his mouth, focused on gently sucking them, or when Stiles is sitting at the computer, Derek settled at his side with his head leaning on Stiles’ thigh.

Somehow that part is hotter than the way Derek is so eager every time, the way he tries no tricks and techniques Stiles has never even dreamed of, anything to get Stiles off.

To get him to stroke Derek’s hair and croon what a good boy he is, such a good puppy boy.

* * *

“Do you want to get off too?”

It’s been weeks since this started. Derek is always hard when he’s on his knees for Stiles but as far as Stiles knows, Derek doesn’t ever come. He’s learned he tends to pass out after the second or third orgasm, waking up dazed and sated and calm to find Derek curled up in his bed again.

Derek flushes. It’s a think Derek does kind of a lot. The stubble hides it but Stiles knows to watch his ears. ”Yes.”

“Have you been?”

“Yes.” Derek’s head is down, shamed and waiting for punishment.

“Show me, puppy,” Stiles requests.

Derek glances up, startled, but eventually nods and creeps over to his doggy bed. He curls up with his pants pushed low enough that Stiles can see his thick, uncut cock.

Rubbing up against the bed. Humping it.

Delighted (cruel), Stiles laughs. ”Do it right,” he orders, and laughs again as Derek pushes flatter on his stomach so he can rub his cock against his bed, coming with a low gasp and an exhaled breath of relief.

“How long have you been doing that?” Stiles asks, still grinning. He waves and Derek approaches, head down this time for the pets he’s so eager to receive.

“Since the first time.”

“So basically, I get to come in your mouth or over those abs,” which Stiles hasn’t licked yet, but only because Derek seems furtive whenever he does. Stiles is mean, sure, and a bastard, but he isn’t stupid and he’s getting regular sex whenever he wants it. He can roll with it. ”Or do whatever it is I want to you, and you go and hump your bed like a puppy before he’s neutered. Then you sleep in it.”

Another blush, hot as an oven coming to temperature under his palm. The back of Derek’s neck is so soft and Stiles can’t help but run his fingers over it, over and over. ”Yes.”

“And you like that? Does that make you feel like a good boy?”

Hotter now, probably a nice roasting temperature if Stiles is any judge. His cock is getting hard again and Derek keeps sneaking looks at it and licking his lips. ”Yes.”

“You like that, I know. Being a good boy for me.”

“Yes.”

Just here, though. The moment Derek leaves Stiles’ room, the moment Stiles’ leaves his room, it’s all different. The same, or normal, or whatever passes for it in a town that should probably be called Sunnydale and give awards for years with the lowest student death count. They haven’t had that yet, thank god, but Stiles can see the writing on the wall.

He can also feel the way Derek is pressing kisses into his naked hip, forehead hot against his ribs.

“I honestly have no idea what I’m doing,” Stiles says. ”How this works.”

Derek stays silent, mouth better occupied by licking around the base of Stiles’ cock, encouraging it to stand up straighter. The tip is already pearled with want because understanding or not, Derek is there, and wanting it, and Stiles just turned seventeen years old.

He doesn’t have to have any idea of what he’s doing.

“I’m going to fuck you, probably,” he says as he pushes Derek’s head down, watching cut shoulders, moon-pale and softer than Stiles ever imagined push down against the bed so Derek and haul himself further up. ”I’m going to get you on all fours and listen to you mewl. I’m gonna lay here, just like this, and watch you slide up and down on my cock, your eyes half closed because you’re so into it you can’t concentrate on two things at once. You’re such a good boy for me, puppy. Such a good boy.”

Derek shivers. He opens his mouth all the way to take Stiles in, sucking hard and tight. Desperate and- there has to be another word for eager, Stiles decides, watching as Derek sucks him off. He’ll have to research it, probably. Find the right way to describe how Derek loses everything but this, but making Stiles come in him and on him, as many times as Stiles wants. Hell, there are times when Derek will lip him through his jeans even though Stiles isn’t even hard.

Craving. Maybe that’s the word. Addicted.

“Oh, that’s it, good boy,” Stiles gasps, when Derek does this one twist with his tongue that makes Stiles see stars. ”Do that again.”

Derek does, but then he slides off until his lips are brushing over the head, his breath a hot, unsteady gust that makes Stiles want to shove up into him.

“Are you going to do that?” Derek asks. ”Really?”

Pushing Derek’s head down back where it belongs, Stiles groans out something satisfied and mean, so mean. He’s always mean to Derek. ”Course I am, puppy. I’m gonna have you every way y- I want. So long as you’re my good boy. And you will be. I know it. You want to be my good boy.”

Derek hums something that sounds more like a promise than mere assent.

* * *

When Stiles finally does fuck Derek, after a half an hour of Derek sliding thick, long fingers into himself, sloppy and leaking with lube, he bites the back of Derek’s neck, his shoulders, he calls him, “A good boy, such a god damned good boy, come in your bed. Come all over it, just because I’m fucking you, the way you’ve always wanted. Because you’re a good boy, Derek, and I want to see you come.”

It isn’t immediate but pretty soon Derek’s puppy bed is once again soaked with come. It makes Stiles fuck him harder, faster, mouthing all over Derek’s skin. He knows what this means to Derek, alpha but not, leader but so fucking bad at it.

Stiles knows, and it makes it him glad.

Because he’s an asshole.

But Derek is nearly sobbing with relief, gasping little choked out noises that sound almost like thank you or even please. His body is heaving backwards, tightslickhot around Stiles’ cock, but he never once throws Stiles off of him. He could.

He doesn’t.

When Stiles comes, someone howls. He’s never completely certain who.

* * *

If anyone knows about it-

and they have to because werewolves and also sometimes Derek will sit a little too close to Stiles, duck his head a little no matter how angry he is about whatever the problem is, and occasionally Stiles will cup the back of his neck and feel the way tension seeps out of too tight shoulders, a spine so rigid it’s going to snap -

nobody says anything.

Stiles has no idea why but hey, he can roll with it. He can smile and joke and flail around and mean all of it, every second. He’s good at that. Maybe even likes it.

But when he goes home to find Derek waiting he doesn’t smile or joke or flail around. He pulls his lips back into something too hard, too cruel for such simple labels as smiles or grins and holds up his hand.

Says, “Good boy,”’ when it’s immediately filled with hair that’s no longer coated, just bristly and thick, and “that’s it, I want to feel your mouth today, fuck I’ve needed this,” and listens to Derek make that low growl that he’s pretty sure means yesplease, all pushed together.

And Stiles thinks that if this is what happens when he’s mean, maybe he’ll let it out a little more.

Just to see.

On a whim.

idyllspace: WTF why did no one tell me Sacred got linked/recced/whatever on afterelton.com in...

Tue, 04 Dec 2012 15:51:49 -0500

idyllspace:

WTF why did no one tell me Sacred got linked/recced/whatever on afterelton.com in October? And when did they start doing that? Is afterelton now a fandom tool?

Afterelton does fanfic now? That is… surprisingly logical. And congrats! I think.

GREATEST MOMENT EVER. Love you, Charlie Batch. Be seeing you...

Mon, 03 Dec 2012 14:47:27 -0500

GREATEST MOMENT EVER.

Love you, Charlie Batch. Be seeing you next year in coach greys.