It had been there when he came in after school. The open window had greeted Stiles and had announced he had had a visitor while not at home. Going to close it, he saw the leather jacket. Derek’s leather jacket to be exact. He would know it anywhere, had made contact with it several times when Derek had shoved him around. Window closed, Stiles puts on some comfortable clothes before he steps closer to investigate.
The jacket feels soft under his hands. Strangely warm even though it hasn’t been worn in probably hours. Stiles can’t be sure here really. He decides to move it from his chair so he can sit down properly but when he feels the weight of it in his hands he just can’t seem to let go of it.
With a sigh he sinks down on the desk chair, eyes darting left and right to make sure he is indeed as alone as he hopes he is. Then he closes his eyes and brings it to his nose. Stiles is unsure what he expected but he isn’t disappointed. On the first inhale he gets leather of course and some sandalwood maybe, probably something in Derek’s aftershave. The scent is layered. There is something that reminds him of the forest, deep and earthy but also there is the smell of sweat. Not old sweat, fresher than that and unmistakably male.
Stiles can feel his mouth water as he breathes in a second time. Deeper this time. Lets his lungs be filled with the essence of Derek clinging to the jacket. He wiggles around on the chair for a moment. Thighs pressed against each other to feel the wonderful kind of friction it creates against his cock. He feels only a smidgen dirty when he slowly pulls the jacket over his face and leans back in the chair. Just surrounding himself in a cloud of the smell. Sure as hell he can feel himself leaking the first bit of precum into his boxers.
Too excited, Stiles can’t hold still for long. He spreads the fingers of his right hand until he feels the skin of his palms go tight. Once. Twice. Then he can’t stop himself any longer. Deceptively slowly for how desperate he feels for this touch already, he lets his hand slide under the waistband of his sweatpants and into his underwear. His skin prickles where he touches it. Perhaps a bit too forceful, he squeezes down on the root of his dick, slack lips falling open in a breathless moan. Starving off an early end to his little adventure.
Stiles has never been a quiet person. He keeps on whimpering and huffing in the slightly damp air under the leather jacket, his chest rising quickly. Now that he has opened his mouth he can taste Derek’s scent on his tongue. But it is not enough until he makes contact with the material. Feels it in his mouth.
He briefly thinks this is a very stupid idea, but his hand now smoothly moving up his cock is enough to drown out the voice in his head. Precum keeps on leaking down from the tip, making his movements slick and wet. He has always suspected he might be blessed with a slightly more enthusiastic output when he didn’t have the same need for lube other boys seemed to have. It trickles down his balls, makes his thighs sticky and tickles when it slides along his taint, soaking into the sweats he is still wearing. He will regret not putting down a towel later.
Now however the only thing he regrets is not having his second hand in his boxers right this second. Flailing a bit, Stiles manages to get on his feet again. His legs shake like a young fawns as he blindly, still wearing the jacket over his head, leans forward over his desk. He squeezes his left hand down the back of his pants, letting two finders glide though the wet mess that has collected between his cheeks. When he pushes them against his rim it burns as they sink in, right to the fist knuckle. Oh he needed this. “Oh god yesssss” The moan might be loud enough to be heard by his neighbours.
Not giving himself any chance to adjust much, Stiles presses his fingers deeper. He likes it this way. Likes the painful bite of muscles not prepared for an intrusion. He can imagine Derek doing this to him. They have been getting along a bit better lately, he wouldn’t want to unduly hurt Stiles. Certainly Derek is not a patient man. Stiles can just imagine him pressing his fingers in a bit too quickly and eager.
With the image in his head, Stiles changes his angle slightly, spreads his fingers apart a bit and shoves them in deeper, pressing them against the place that makes his legs tremble even more violently. “Ah, ah, ah.” Each push forward makes him sigh out another little mewl. He can feel his orgasm coming. His rim clamps down on his fingers each time he pulls them back. The hand on is cock has begun to squeeze and rub along his tip just the way he likes it. He wishes it wasn’t his own. Can imagine Derek’s strong form caging him in and pushing him down on the table. Another deep inhale fills his being with Derek’s scent. Stiles bites down on the jacket, his teeth sinking into the material and locking together.
The hot burning feeling in his veins flushes down through his whole body. Unconsciously he thrusts his fingers deeper inside of him, it almost feels like he is manually pushing out his cum. He paints his surroundings with spurt after spurt. Can’t see it but can feel it running down his hand and stomach. The ragged breathing is the only thing that can be heard for what feels like hours. Stiles just lays there, slumped over his desk, head still hidden in the darkness of the leather jacket over his head and listens to his own breath and the blood flowing in his ears.
With a rush of movement his brain comes online again. “Shit, shit, shiiiiiit!” When he wrenches the jacket off his head his fears prove well-founded. Not only is there a very visible spot of saliva and the suspicious indent of teeth visible in the material, just under the left sleeve. No, that would be extremely bad and hard to explain already. But there is also a wet, glistening trail of cum that slides down the leather. Stiles stares at it. His mouth opens and closes as if to imitate a fish out of the water. And if he is honest that might be exactly how he feels. How is he going to explain this away?