FBI (For Basic Idiots) [FemStiles&Derek]

Four Legs

“So...” Stiles slips her knitted cardigan off, hooks it on a branch beside her.

“So...??” Derek (respectively, and as requested) keeps his back to her, while he takes the time to unbutton his shirt.

Stiles turns back around at his sudden movement, her heart then racing a little when he slips his shirt from his shoulders and her sight is filled with the large expanse of his muscly back. Though, she’s smiling fondly to herself as her eyes drift up to his Triskele tattoo.

Stiles turns her back to him then as he begins to unbuckle his belt. “So, I changed my mind – I’m kinda in the mood for milkshakes now...” She says while she shimmies out of her short-shorts, grins to herself when he chuckles.

“We can still go later, if you want. It’s no problem.” Derek knows she’s teasing him, but he’s still a gentleman. He slips his jeans off, hangs them on the branch with his shirt and belt.

Stiles smiles, feels the silly giddiness bubbling away in the pit of her guts (and a little more further south...) Finally, she strips off her tee, now, only left in her bra and panties (which she’s so glad she remembered NOT to mismatch tonight.) “Depends how hungry you make me.” Her eyes widen in mortification as soon as the words leave her mouth.

Derek laughs at that (maybe a little too loudly just to distract himself from her clear intent.) “Careful. I might take that as a challenge.”

Stiles scoffs out a chuckle. “Take it how you want, Derbear – oh my GOD!” Stiles squeaks out, eyes back to widening in mortification. “What is wrong with me today?!”

“Just today?” Derek quips, tone clearly teasing.

Stiles can just hear him damn well grinning. “How dare you?” She grumbles. “Can I turn around before you do? – I gotta hide it first.”

“Uh... yeah, sure.” Derek is slightly perplexed upon hearing that.

“OK. Thank you.” Stiles takes a silent breath to brace herself... from staring at that tightly muscled ass of his (those silky black boxer shorts, no matter how loose, still leave nothing left for the imagination.)

“You know I can feel you staring at my ass, right?”

Stiles’ eyes snap up to the back of his head and narrow as she snootily informs him, “My apologies, I was just appreciating.” (Because there’s absolutely no point in lying. Especially at this point anyway.)

Derek chuckles quietly. “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “You can turn around now.”

Derek forces himself to turn slowly to face her, but is unable to help himself as his eyes slowly trail down to length of her body. She’s even more beautiful than he could ever have hoped to imagine – lean muscle covered in soft flesh, topped off with that creamy white skin and dusted with even more of those sweet little beauty marks (like tiny constellations of her own.)

“Unreadable face, Derek...”

Derek snaps out of his teenage stupor, eyes snapping back to hers, her anxious tone snapping him back to himself. “Sorry. I...” He quickly gives up trying to explain himself, simply breathes out the words, “You’re beautiful.”

Stiles lets out a rather loud and unladylike snort. She instantly slaps both hands over her mouth when his eyes widen slightly before he smirks amusedly at her. Slowly, she pulls her hands away, her eyes narrowing back at him. “Shut up.” She snips when his smirk widens into a grin. “Still think I’m beautiful?”