the following mini-fic is a follow-up to THIS mini-fic.
“We are so doing this in your office next time,” Stiles says, stretching out wide and unashamed on the floor next to Derek. “I mean, if we have to have sex somewhere uncomfortable, might as well be your desk, right?”
Derek just snorts and throws his arm over his eyes. “Who says there’s going to be a next time?”
Stiles groans, and Derek hears him turn on his side—presumably to shoot a glare Derek’s way. “Oh, there’s definitely going to be a next time. And a time after that and after that and so on and so forth until I get bored with your abs.”
Derek’s never tried rolling his eyes when they’re closed, but he thinks he does a pretty good job of it. “What if I’m bored?”
“No way, man,” Stiles laughs, and Derek can hear him pulling his clothes over. “You just fucked me against the door. You didn’t even say hello first.”
“Hello,” Derek says sweetly, and Stiles laughs.
“Seriously, though. Your office. I’m only a student for, like, four more days. I feel like I deserve a reward for my 4.0, don’t you?”
“They give you a tassel.”
“That’s dumb; I don’t want a tassel. I want sex on your desk preferably during regular school hours.”
“No,” Derek grunts, and suddenly Stiles is on him—straddling Derek’s thighs. “I thought you were getting dressed.”
“Nope,” Stiles says, and Derek throws his arm out to get a good view of the smug expression on Stiles’s face. “Just getting ready for round two here. My turn. When I’m finished with you, you’re totally going to let me fuck you on your desk.”
“That’s probably not going to happen,” Derek says flatly, but his voice comes out a little weaker than he’d intended, and Stiles must pick up on that because his grin widens.
He leans down and presses his lips to the hook of Derek’s jaw and whispers, “Please, Professor?”
“Shut up, Stilinski,” Derek says, playing along. Stiles opens his mouth to say something else—probably some filthy pun that will make Derek groan for very un-sexy reasons—but Derek’s quicker and pulls him into a kiss before Stiles says anything.
Stiles will get his way because he was always that student in Derek’s class—the one who’d follow an argument to the end, ask questions when the other students just wanted to mindlessly write notes, write his essay in fluent sarcasm when he found the prompt boring or mindless. Stiles will get his way because he picks his battles wisely, picks the ones he knows he can win, and the way he presses himself against Derek feels like evidence to some great argument, some assertion that Stiles and Derek are meant to do this.
Also, Derek would be lying if he said he’d never had a sex-on-his-desk fantasy.
He’s only human, after all.