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what mood is that, sir? the subjunctive?

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WIP amnesty: the Derek/Stiles noncon-knotting one
i heart yaoi
I don't remember where exactly I was going with this, which is irritating because I do remember having a very good idea of where I was going with it at one point. I need to keep better notes. Anyway, the gist of it is clear from what I did write: consensual sex with explicitly nonconsensual knotting, and the emotional fallout in Stiles' later relationship.

“Okay, do it,” Stiles pants. “Just don’t knot me.”

Derek is already lining up his dick as he says, “I won’t.”


Danny seems fine with taking things slow. Of course he’s fine with it. He’s perfect in every other way, why not add teenage-hormone-resistance superpowers to the mix? He clearly wants to fuck, even flat-out says it early on. But when Stiles tenses up, trying to figure out how to say no, he immediately backs off. Kisses Stiles some more. Keeps his hands away from the bathing suit area, and waits for Stiles to move things forward.

Which Stiles wants to do. God, he wants Danny. Everyone wants Danny, and somehow Stiles has managed to score exclusive access to him, and he’s wasting it. He tries to tell Danny that he can go fuck other people if he wants, because it’s not fair to blue-ball the poor guy like this, but he can’t bring himself to say the words.

It’s not going to be much longer, anyway. He’s going to fuck Danny, because he wants to and Danny wants to and there’s no reason they shouldn’t. Soon.

In the meantime, they make out a lot, and Stiles spends a lot of time hard and pissed off at himself.


Derek shakes his head. “You’re a kid, Stiles.”

“Really?” Stiles rips off his shirt--actually rips it a little getting it off, because it’s old and has a hole in it already. “Do I look like a kid? Are you thinking about a kid when you perv on me? Yeah, I’ve seen you looking, don’t even give me that shit.” He steps close. “Come on. Touch me. I know you want to.”

Derek’s face is fiercely expressionless. “No.”

Stiles stares him down, then snatches his shirt and storms out. Five minutes later, after he kind of ruins the whole maturity angle by stomping around a lot, he puts the shirt back on and comes back. “Why?”

Derek hasn’t moved. “Because we shouldn’t.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. “Right. Because you only do things you should do. Basic tenet of your life philosophy, right there. No, you know what’s actually a basic tenet of your life philosophy? Feeling fucking sorry for yourself. Listen, Saint Dickbag, when you manufacture reasons to sulk, it really devalues the actual legitimate shit you have to complain about.”

Derek closes his eyes, like maybe that got through. Or maybe he’s just falling asleep. Stiles is about to stomp out again--if he’s not reaping the benefits of acting like an adult, he might as well not bother--when Derek says, “You’re a virgin.”

Stiles sighs. “Yep.”

Derek opens his eyes and fixes them on him. “How much of a virgin? What have you done?”

There’s not much point in trying to lie. “Two kisses, one of which missed.” Turns out you’re supposed to close your eyes after you’ve successfully made contact. The more you know.

This entry was originally posted at http://jedusaur.dreamwidth.org/103818.html.

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