A Red Pen

Chapter 1: Chemistry, Kisses, Choices

Stiles seriously considers quitting school and putting in his application for that McDonald's job when he opens the practise Chemistry paper, and realises he barely knows half of what's being questioned. Harris had also made it clear it was to be done by tomorrow. Asshole. He hates all his students, Stiles most of all, so he probably increased the difficulty to a level no-one could handle just to screw with them. He hadn't even taught half of the material on the paper. How he got qualified as a teacher, Stiles will never understand.

A pen being thrown at the back of his head draws Stiles away from imagining Harris being hanged, drawn and quartered. "Hey!" he exclaims, rubbing the back of his head, even though there isn't any real pain there. He swings his head round to glare at his boyfriend, who is sitting pretty over at Stiles' desk. "What's your problem, oh beloved asshole?"

"I'm trying to work and your foul chemosignals are putting me off, so please stop," Derek pleads distractedly, still concentrating on the trig problem in front of him.

"You know, if you resort to physical violence every time you don't like how I smell, we're not going to last very long," Stiles tells him with a smirk, turning around to fully face Derek.

"Stiles, we've been using violence against each other since we were six when you stole my juice box." Derek finishes the problem and gives his mate a sideways smile.

"I told you, I couldn't find mine and I was thirsty. I was only going to take a sip. But no, you thought I was stealing it, and instead, decided to tackle me. Some mate you are."

"Yep. I know. I suck. Better call the authorities now and start cancelling all of this," Derek advises him with a wry grin, spinning the chair to face Stiles.

"Oh, I plan to," Stiles purrs, getting up and slowly approaching his mate until he's towering above him. Derek looks up at him with lust-filled eyes. "I plan on calling the authorities, giving them a long spiel about how terrible my mate is, how deeply wrong we are for each other, how we should cancel our mating ceremony right now and end all this heartache." Stiles drops himself down on Derek's waiting lap, who immediately encircles his arms around the human until his hands are resting on his ass, already pulling him in to make their crotches graze. Stiles shudders at the beautiful friction.

"So why don't you?" Derek asks a little breathlessly as their hips movements become more frantic. "The phone's right over there." Derek's fingers, one's that had been smoothly running up and down his back, now slip under the hem of t-shirt to map the curves of his back muscles. Derek knows Stiles likes this, likes it when Derek dips into those hollows that only he is aware of. A secret only the two of them know.

"You know why, you dick. And by the way, did you have to throw my favourite red pen at me?" Derek's eyes sparkle mischievously, and Stiles can't take it anymore. He swoops down and crushes his lips to Derek's, diving in with his tongue to taste his mate as much as possible, searching all corners.

"I love you too," Derek whispers when he has a second to breathe, "and of course I did, that pen is special, gotta use it for occasions like these." Stiles laughs and then the two boys are kissing like their lives depend on it. Stiles scratches his way up Derek's face to tug at the ends of his soft hair, finding the right strands to make Derek groan into his mouth. Meanwhile, Derek's wandering hands grow more vicious and start attacking the jeans that cover Stiles' swollen erection. The werewolf's fingers trace the outline like it is precious.

"God Stiles, the things you do to me," Derek says while reaching to shrug off Stiles' shirt and his own. Stiles nearly drools at the sight of Derek's washboard abs and peaked nipples. He's like a freaking Greek God. Stiles remembers all the times he's watched Derek in the gym, muscles popping under all the weight and skin stained with sweat. Stiles nearly blows a load every time he goes and watches.