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Stiles was making the most frustrating of noises and all they served to do was make his blood boil in way that was both addicting and frightening. He dropped one of the hands to bring his hand down, gripping at a hip. Stiles used his partial freedom to grip into Derek's hair, tugging firmly. Derek gasped, sucking the other's lower lip in before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled away his deep green eyes locking with honey brown, and his mouth twitched as the other grinned dazedly at him. Then the teen--Damnit, he was sixteen! What the hell was he doing?--then blushed and Derek felt the rumble of enjoyment that was his body's reaction. He pulled in his lips for a moment before releasing, still watching. Stiles wanted to say something, that much was obvious.
When too much time had passed, Derek rolled his eyes.
"What is it? And don't say nothing, Stiles. You are a really bad liar."
Stiles chuckled softly at this and it seemed more to himself than to Derek. The older male rose his brows.
"It's nothing really... I just..."
"Stiles. Spit it out."
"I really like that... when you do stuff. With my neck."
Derek blinked. Okay, he hadn't been expecting that. He blinked, not sure he completely understood.
"When I do stuff with your neck?"
Stiles gave a long suffering sigh and looked away, suddenly interested in whatever was off to the left. Derek didn't bother to look.
"Yeah. Like. The kissing yeah. Really digging that. And the biting. I'm like... surprised I haven't come from that. But I also love when you grab it. It's like... kind of possessive and aggressive and as stupid as it probably is, I really find it hot. Like... hot. Really, really hot."
Derek stared for a long moment before he slowly smirked. His green eyes glinted as he pressed in a bit more.
"Hot, hm?"
Stiles nodded rapidly. "Yeah. You have no idea."
Derek shrugged. He was finding this very interesting and his body was also enjoying the turn of events.
"No, I really don't," he agreed. "But, I'd like to get an idea."
Stiles didn't move and Derek didn't expect him to. He released the hand he still held to the wall, moving his own arms to wrap around the younger male, tugging him hard against him. He was half hard and he didn't know if Stiles would be able to feel him, but if he could, he'd definitely feel him now. The other gasped and pressed closer and Derek could feel his excitement.
Trying not to pay attention to that, he kissed along Stiles's jaw, punctuating the path with little nips. He grinned as the other's body wriggled the closer he got to his neck. He lifted a hand to grip at the side and back of his neck, pressing his fingers firmly into the skin. Stiles pressed his neck back into the touch which tilted his head to give him more room on the other side. Derek's eyes flickered to Stiles's face which was lax in relaxed pleasure and the boy licked his lips.
The ranch hand teased his nose along his jaw the rest of the way down and then he was kissing at Stiles's neck, switching between biting and soothing with a swipe of his tongue. He knew that he was better off playing it safe but with the noises Stiles was making--breathy gasps and needy whimpers and other sounds that Derek couldn't place names to but they set him on fire anyway--and they way he writhed and shifted between him and the wall, and the friction was making it harder--how ironic and annoyingly so--to take things slowly. Finally, he gave in and tugged at his shirt to reveal one particular patch of skin that tempted him. With the shirts Stiles wore, no one would ever see any marks me made there. He was torn between wanting people to see what he had marked as his own and the excitement of the secret that was his and Stiles's. He bit down hard and laved his tongue over the mark before he sucked upon it. When he pulled away, he admired the mark before Stiles was gripping him by the face and pulling him in for another hot and heavy kiss. Derek gave in and it was when they were writhing and rutting against each other that Stiles's dad came calling.
"Stiles? Son?" Derek and Stiles jumped apart as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dropped onto them. It might as well have with how fast their arousal wilted away. By the time Mr. Stilinski joined them, Stiles was brushing Henrietta and Derek was working on a saddle. If the older man noticed the obvious tension in the air, he said nothing. Instead, he cleared his throat.
"Stiles, yours and Derek's entry forms for the horse show came in. Judge Martin said to get them in before next Tuesday. Stiles nodded a little more sharply than was called for but his father had looked away to focus on Derek. The ranch hand did his best to not betray a thing, and the sad part was that unlike his son, he was good at it. Finally, the older man shrugged and dropped the papers on a nearby work table.
"I'll get out of your hair. Derek. Don't let him get you distracted." He glanced at the saddle. "Missed a spot." With a nod, he took off.
Derek felt the bile rise in his mouth. He knew. Maybe not all the details, but he knew. He let Stiles have his happy dance of relief but deep down, he knew what he had to do.