I'll Always Know It's From You (A Sterek Novella)

Chapter 4

{WARNING: SMUT AHEAD. IF YOU DON'T WISH TO READ THIS, YOU MAY SKIP IT OR ENDURE IT. I PROMISE IT'S NOT TOO BAD. I'LL STILL LOVE YOU IF YOU DECIDE TO SKIP THIS PART, BECAUSE IT IS COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE AND YOUR CHOICE ONLY, UNLESS YOU WERE FORCED TO READ IT BY A FRIEND, THEN GOOD LUCK, BECAUSE YOU'LL NEED IT.}

Stiles' POV

Derek and I stand by the window, watching Dad get in his car and pull away, his headlights passing over us like a deer on the back roads, our eyes wincing from the brightness of the sun-like level of intensity of high-beams.

"We're alone again." My words fill the new silence, the coldness of Jack Frost being heard outside ruffling the trees and darkening the sky early.

"Maybe we can get to finish what we start earlier? I know you could use it." Derek's husky voice raises the hair on my neck as I feel his arms engulf me from behind again, sensing the smirk sitting upon his ivory face.

I feel a blush creeping on my face as I try and bury it in my hands, but the attempt fails as I feel Derek's lips on my neck, pushing the fabric of the collar to my shirt away, revealing more skin.

"D-Derek, not here," I gasp out, feeling my hormones kick hard at my body.

I hear a low growl escape Derek. "Yes, that wouldn't be good to have your Dad catch us again, now would it?"

I feel my heart beginning to run a marathon in my chest; certain Derek can hear it as I shake my head, the movement a bit sporadic.

Derek's chuckle is low and husky, full of obvious lust. He tugs on me gently, his lips abandoning their post on my neck as I follow him like a slave to his destination. We wind up in the kitchen, a devious smile on Derek's face.

"Why do my instincts tell me that your smile only means trouble?" I ask, trying to lock eyes with Derek and hold his gaze, but failing miserably as he grabs me close and brings our lips together, earning a surprised gasp from me.

"Because your instincts would be correct." His voice is a growl, his hunger for me winning over his mind as he forcefully kisses me, continuing to tug me towards somewhere.

I feel his arms pick me up during the kiss as he sets me down on his lap.

When was he sitting? 

And what is he sitting on?

"Better?" He asks, pulling away for a short moment to give me a look and for me to survey my surroundings, which lead me to the conclusion that we're sitting on top of my kitchen table, where we had eaten on not that long ago.

I nod but give him a puzzled look, my brows coming together, a burning question coming to my lips. "Why are we on my kitchen table?"

He smirks, sliding off his black leather jacket and placing it on one of the chairs nearest us as his muscles bulge freely over his grey tank top, his eyes holding mine the entire time. Derek keeps the silence between us deafening as he waits. I restrain myself from asking him again because I know that is what he wants, but the uncomfortable silence makes me start to squirm on top of Derek's hard lap.

His smirk widens as he brings his lips to my ear, my squirming seizing, Derek's hot breath filling my ear and grazing my neck, sending me to high alert.

"Because, Mr. Stilinski," he begins, dragging the words out as long as he can, still keeping me in angry suspense, "While I have the chance to be alone with you in your house, I'm going to fuck you on your kitchen table, because I can."

Derek moves back, his face closely in front of mine again, gauging my reaction.

"Shit," I breathe out, my heart racing so fast it feels like it will beat from my chest and run away as fast as it can. 

My answer brings out a Cheshire grin from Derek. "That's a good reaction." He laughs, pulling me close again, intertwining our lips once more.

The kiss becomes heated as he slides his tongue against mine, his hands running up the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up as far as it'll go without breaking the kiss. My hands instinctively go to his hair, my calloused skin meeting his soft thick hair, our two bodies pressing so tight together we would look like we were connected at birth by an outsider.

"Stiles." Derek says through the kiss, his voice ragged.

"Mhm?" I ask absentmindedly, not wanting to break the kiss.

"Take your shirt off." The command comes out huskier than I think Derek intended it to, but the huskiness drives me over the edge as he helps my trembling hands to discard my shirt.

His breathing is still ragged as he lifts me off his lap and shifts, setting me down on the table, face up. I have time to give him a confused look before he takes his shirt off as well, putting my chest to shame. 

He climbs onto the table as he grabs my hands, intertwining them with his as he starts the kiss back up again. We sit like that for a bit, just kissing with him above me, but something inside me drives my next actions.

I unclasp our hands as I grab Derek's belt buckle, sending a shiver up his spine as he smirks through the kiss, not bothering to stop me. I smirk back; sliding the belt from his pants and throws it on the same chair as his jacket and our shirts.

Derek breaks the kiss again as he looks down at me. "Trying to take control now, aren't you?" He asks a hint of playfulness in his voice.

I set my jaw and nod confidently, trying to see what kind of reaction my actions bring. I'm given a deep laugh and a shake of his head. "I don't think so."

He leans down, bringing his lips to my collar bone, following his words with strong actions as his lips bruise my skin, and his love taint my innocence.