Irie
Rated: Explicit (4.4k)
Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Original Characters
Tags: POV Stiles, Getting Together, Jamaica, Gratuitous Nyammin' & Jammin', Patois/Patwah, Explicit Sexual Content, Hickeys, Song Lyrics
Summary: The one where Stiles and Derek go on an errand for Deaton and have some time to kill in Jamaica. They thoroughly enjoy themselves eating, swimming, relaxing, and exploring the island…and then each other.
Soundtrack
Super Blue Moon prompts: Joy, Grain, Red Haze & Summer (Mead Moons prompts: Aphrodisiacs, Claiming, Herbs, Hot & Revelry)
TW Anchor Down (Full Moon Round) prompts: Word - Unstoppable, Phrase - “Grab the bull by its horns," Song - "Feel Good Inc.," Trope - Roommates, Picture - Cove @tw-anchor-down
Usually when Stiles got a message from Deaton about some errand or another it ended up with him and Derek searching for an artifact buried in Back of Everywhere, North Dakota during the dead of winter or rifling through a dusty pile of old papers in a dank, foreboding basement in Romania while being stalked by a cāpcāun or something.
But not this time. For once it appeared they were being sent somewhere warm and sunny in service of the supernatural. They were headed to the Caribbean to fetch half a dozen varieties of rare and apparently invaluable live plants for the druid that needed to be transported carefully under specific conditions once the specimens were ready.
What’s more, because they were on their way back from visiting Cora in Ecuador instead of trekking all the way back to Beacon Hills and then turning around to fly south again at most a week later they were just going straight to Jamaica and would have some time to kill.
Beverly, an Obeahwoman whose network of multidisciplinary magic practitioners they’d gotten to know during their frequent trips to the Bay Area, lit up with excitement during their video call when she heard they’d be going to the country of her birth. She not only had recommendations for them, but tips and resources as well.
“Look, the big all-inclusive hotels and the curated activities are fun, not gonna lie, but there’s a lot more to the island than what you can find in those expensive, insular spaces if you’re interested in a bit of adventure or some actual peace and quiet,” she told them, dark eyes sparkling.
He and Derek had looked at each other and grinned. On one hand, there was something to be said for lounging around and having a parade of colorful cocktails pass by — he was a year past the drinking age of 18, of course he checked — but on the other, an adventure that didn’t involve something trying to kill them for once or some secluded relaxation would be nice. Plus, he was sure there were lots of other places a bit off the beaten path where he could chill on the beach with a beverage.
And so here they were careening on some winding mountain highway in a van driven by a sprightly 30-something guy sporting sponge twists in a fade named Desmond, or Dezzy, who was apparently a cousin of Bev’s.
“More like ‘Dizzy’,” he whispered to Derek when the way too calm driver, who was currently humming along to “Getaway” by Earth, Wind and Fire, overtook a car on a longer stretch and cheerfully honked the horn, swerving back into the left lane before they could be smashed or knocked off the mountain by an oncoming semi truck. The tires hugged the edge of the road around the next curve and they all leaned to the side.
They’d flown into Montego Bay a couple days before, leaving in the wee hours and arriving in the late morning. They shared a room with two beds as usual while on a job at the guest house Bev hooked them up with. It was in Runaway Bay about a 20 minute walk to beach, which they visited as soon as they’d settled in and got their bearings. If Stiles had his way he’d be wearing one of his two pairs of swim trunks the entire trip.
The owner, Tish, sent them off with a tote bag of sandwiches made from slices of a sweet and spiced brown bread and some salty, tangy, cheddar-based cheese that apparently came from a can. There were also a couple bottles each of grapefruit Ting and D&G kola champagne. They took their bounty and beach supplies down to the white sands and ate in the shade of an almond tree, the gentle, bright blue waves beckoning them.
Derek didn’t need sunscreen like Stiles did, but he said he found the low level burn before his body healed annoying, so they both applied the SPF 50 lotion afterward, helping with each other’s backs when done with rest of themselves. Stiles tried to distract himself from the expanse of skin and muscle underneath his roaming palms, blushing when he found himself absentmindedly tracing the triskelion between the werewolf’s shoulder blades. He then had to fight to keep from making any noises when it was his turn, deft fingers spreading the goopy substance over him.
As soon as those warm, massaging hands were removed from his hyper aware body — his, uh, starting to react body — Stiles took off running toward the clear water in an attempt to both hide and dampen the state he was in. Derek was soon chasing after him and he felt a thrill of excitement as he crashed through the warm liquid before being tackled. He came up sputtering and shaking his head, retaliating as soon as he wiped his stinging eyes by kicking water at the smug wolf and getting into an all out splash battle until he tired out.
They floated and swam, goofed around trying to knock each other over, and just hung out semi-crouched in the sea for a while before returning to land, spreading out towels to sit or lie on and air dry in the hot sun. Stiles looked over to see Derek resting prone with his head on his forearms, eyes closed and smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the Alpha so at ease and watched him fondly before turning to gaze out at the ships dotting the horizon, fingers trailing through the sand.
We’ll run away together. We’ll spend some time forever. We’ll never feel bad anymore, flashed through his mind, a relic of summers past.
Heh, if only. Him and Derek? Maybe in another lifetime. Sighing, he pushed the thought away and stretched out on his back, gazing up at the clouds dotting the late afternoon sky.
Stiles was liable to fall asleep right there, but didn’t want to wake up a lobster once the sunscreen stopped being effective, so before he nodded off he poked Derek in the shoulder and suggested either moving back into the shade or heading back to their accommodations. Their hours in the water had worked up an appetite because before the wolf could answer his stomach growled and they both burst out laughing.
Shortly after returning they saw Tish in the side yard picking what looked like bumpy green pinecones from one of the fruit trees. She handed them one to try, a curious fruit with many names. Sweetsop, sugar apple, custard apple, and more. Derek broke it open and the creamy segments of flesh covering black seeds inside were indeed sweet and reminiscent of custard.
Seeing that they liked it she gave them a couple more and they thanked her, finishing the first one and part of another back in their room.
It was almost dinner time, so they both used the wait to make some phone calls, Stiles to his father and then to Scott in San Diego and Derek to Isaac and Malia to check-in on the pack. If he recalled correctly international calls were around $0.30 cents a minute with his phone plan so he kept each conversation to around 15 minutes knowing he’d probably talk to at least his dad another couple of times. Derek, laconic as usual, had been done with his in a fraction of the time and was reading a novel in Spanish that he picked up in Ecuador by the time he finished.
That evening’s meal was savory brown stew chicken with rice & gungo peas cooked with coconut milk, thyme, and some flavors he enjoyed, but couldn’t quite place. They ended up chatting with Jacob, the cook, when they sat in the courtyard outside the kitchen afterward and he was happy to talk about the food that he and the other staff members prepared. Stiles found that he could mostly understand Patois, or Patwah, at least if he was paying attention and it wasn’t too fast.
“Dere x-amount ah spice an ‘erb dem, but eff yuh haffi pick tree dat gi yuh dat tayse ah Jamaica? Den mi seh tyme, pimento — wah yuh call allspice — an scotch bonnet peppa a most important. Eff yuh waan mek it four, den skallion fah chuu,” Jacob said, holding up what seemed a cross between a spring and red onion.
That night they turned in early tired out from the long hours of travel and activity and he fell asleep replaying the happiest day he’d had in a long time.
The second morning started with a hearty breakfast of escovitch fish — whole red snapper fried until the skin was crispy and then topped with a vinegary mix of sliced onion, carrot, bell pepper, that ever present fruity and fiery scotch bonnet pepper, and spices — with boiled green banana and circular pieces of a cassava flatbread called bammy. Then it was off to see the sights in Discovery Bay and Ocho Rios. (“Yeah, I’m sending you to some busy tourist destinations tomorrow but they’re popular for a reason,” Bev told them yesterday.)
They explored the Green Grotto Caves first, entertained by the guide explaining its history and about the animals that lived there. The underground lake was really cool and swimming was allowed up above so of course they took a dip in the brilliant aquamarine water. Next came a scenic drive through Fern Gully and then they arrived at Dunn’s River Falls.
Derek had no problem climbing up the tiers of limestone barefoot, saving Stiles from injury on multiple occasions despite him wearing the silly water shoes. Indignity and near-braining aside, it was fun and the view beautiful. Every so often they would stop to wade or sit in one of the pools, the cold water from the mountains feeling good after the exertion on the sweltering day. After reaching the top and walking down the hill they hung out on the beach where the river emptied into the warm Atlantic.
We ready for the road!
Now it was their third day on the island and they were on the way to Portland Parish. After a couple hours the van stopped by one of the ubiquitous stands by the road with grills made from halved oil barrels. They climbed out to stretch their legs and he watched as Derek closed his eyes and inhaled the intriguing scents carried by the smoke.
“Time fi nyam pon jerk, mi yutes,” Dezzy said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
He ordered for the three of them and Derek insisted on paying. A platter of jerk chicken and pork and one with long, fried cornmeal dumplings and thick slices of dense bread were soon placed on their table along with 3 chilled green coconuts with straws poking out from the chopped open tops. Each of them were lost in their own little worlds as the combinations of flavors exploding on their tongues, the doubly hot, spiced meats cut with the lightly sweet carbs and washed down with the refreshing coconut water. Dezzy recommended saving the drained fruit for scooping out later.
Then they were back on the road again, the two of them dropped off at another guest house around an hour later, this one right off a beach near Fairy Hill. It belonged to another acquaintance of Bev’s, a friend of a friend or a friend of a cousin or something. Dezzy was staying with relatives nearby and told them to give him a call when they wanted a ride somewhere. They checked in at the reception area and were shown to a cozy, standalone single room dwelling.
Once again they went swimming right away and then ended up joining an impromptu volleyball match and tossing a frisbee around with a group of local and American youths that were staying there with their folks ahead of attending a big family reunion. Afterward they went for a walk to check out the neighborhood, stopping in at an outdoor bar and restaurant called Spinnaz.
“Siddung likkle bit, nuh,” called a server mixing up a fruit filled concoction while they were standing back reading the menu board. She gestured at a couple empty seats and they sat down at the bar to finish deciding what to try.
Bottles of Red Stripe beer in hand a few minutes later, they leaned back and watched the other patrons socialize and dance, enjoying the light breeze. A fast tempoed number backed by a drum machine and horns came on and got most of the guests on their feet, hips swinging left, right, backward and forward increasingly fast with the lyrics.
Cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar.
When it came time for the “big money wine” the crowd went wild shaking and gyrating.
Stiles was itching to move, but he felt too self-conscious/sober to join in, so he just worked his shoulders in his seat, swaying and tapping his fingers on the counter behind him and his feet on the footrest of the high-backed swivel stool.
Several tracks later a distinctive cackling marked the beginning of “Feel Good, Inc.” as Derek ordered another round of drinks, this time house made ginger beer with glasses of amber Appleton Estate rum on the side. He was nodding along with the beat when a platter of garlic butter shrimp and lobster with more of those fried cornmeal dumplings, festival, arrived for them to share.
Afterward they ambled around some more, passing by various shops and vendors. Stiles bought a green shirt shirt that said “Who cyaan ‘ear, muss feel” in white letters with a stylized donkey on it and Derek got a gorgeous mahogany leather wallet engraved on the front with an anchor in the center and ferns and hibiscus flowers around the edges. Lastly, on the way back they stopped where a man was selling cut and peeled pieces of sugar cane on the side of the road.
“Of course you would buy a cup of straight sugar,” Derek teased as they continued on.
“Hey, it’s bi sugar because I’m eating it,” he replied, taking the stick he’d been chewing on out of his mouth. “And anyway, this is unrefined from a plant. Plants are healthy, I don’t make the rules.”
Derek snorted and shook his head, but grabbed one of the sticks himself.
Huh, maybe the werewolf wasn’t as immune to the sun as he thought. He looked a little red.
Back in their room he set the rest on the table for later and then flopped onto his bed, turning on the satellite tv and flipping through channels as Derek sat up on his and found where he left off in his book. They went out again in time to watch the sun start its descent over the ocean.
A couple colorful boots were now pulled up a ways down the beach and they walked over when a person standing next to one of them called out and appeared to wave at them. There were three men who looked to be in their early 40s, two with close-cropped hair — a short, stocky guy named Joseph and a taller, leaner man called Leslie — and another tall guy, slender with fine, tied back shoulder length braids who introduced himself as Malcolm and asked if he and Derek were interested in buying dinner. They were.
The fishermen had an ancient boombox going and Leslie was tending a makeshift grill as Malcolm scaled a variety of freshly caught fish and handed them to Joseph to clean. Closer up Stiles could see the boats were held in the shallows with anchors that were hunks of metal which looked like wheels with extended spokes. He shuddered at the thought of accidentally running into one of those.
In no time at all the prepared fish were on a piece of wire fencing over the small wood fire, a pot of mysterious contents bubbling on top of stones off to one side as well. Leslie explained that this type of grilled fish was called “bun finga” because digging into it shortly after it was done as people were wont to do would indeed burn your fingers and they laughed.
Unlike most dishes which were generously seasoned this had only the salt of the sea and the smoke and char from the fire along with the oil of the skin itself for flavor, but that alone was enough to make it taste amazing and he experienced the accuracy of the name himself. Stiles soon noticed that the men were eating something else from the pot for their own meal and inquired about it.
“Mannish Waata soup,” replied Leslie.
“Yuh waan try?” asked Joseph with raised eyebrows. A sucking, kissing sound came from the right.
“Mi tink him cyaan handle,” Malcolm said with a mischievous grin.
Stiles huffed and grinned back, not one to back down from a challenge.
“Yeah, I’ll try it.”
Joseph filled up a cup and then offered one to Derek as well with plastic spoons.
“How much do we owe you for these?” the curious werewolf asked, sniffing the contents.
“Nuttin,” answered Malcolm.
“Dis wan pon wi,” added Leslie watching Stiles with anticipatory amusement.
Cautiously, he blew on a spoonful and then tasted it, his eyes widening. He took a few more bites, trying to discern what type of meat was in it. Definitely not fish or chicken or pork, but he didn’t think it was beef either. The flavors were strong and there were some odd chewy bits, but it was pretty good, the spice making him break out in a sweat. There were chunks of various root vegetables, dumplings, and what turned out to be slices of green banana with the skin on as well.
Near the bottom he bit into a piece of hot pepper and started coughing, flapping a hand uselessly and trying to wash it down with the rest of the warm broth. Joseph handed him a cold bottle of water from a cooler and he all but ripped it open, gulping down over half the contents in seconds.
“Thanks” he croaked as Derek and the fishermen laughed.
He wasn’t the only one feeling the burn though because after finishing his portion the werewolf stripped off his shirt and dashed into the water to cool down. Stiles was content to stay on the beach with another bottle of water, enjoying listening to the men razzing each other as they started gathering up their things and also the music coming from the crackling radio. As Derek stood up and started walking out of the waves a woman’s voice sang “Laaawwwd, ‘av is mercy!” and Stiles had to agree because goddamn.
Realizing his eyes were lingering on the Alpha’s swoon worthy form he quickly looked away and started getting their leftovers and towels together. They said goodbye to Leslie, Joseph, and Malcolm and walked back toward the guest house looking around at the red haze now making the whole sky seem to glow. Stiles suggested a detour around the property before returning to their little studio to check out some of the other buildings. They passed by a shaded lounge area with hammocks that he made a mental note to revisit another time.
Over a dozen people were in the dining room when they peeked inside, background music flowing from the speakers on stands on either side.
I’m trying to change the rules, you deserve something good in your life. We’ve waited for far too long, so come get your blessing tonight, baby.
They strolled through a tropical garden with a little bridge over a koi pond and then circled back around toward the rooms and apartments.
Still feeling peckish they set upon their leftovers after a short blast in the microwave and washed it down with glass bottles of pineapple soda from the mini fridge. He watched Derek demolish his portion making little growly noises that managed to be adorable while also seriously turning him on.
Stiles tried to put the kibosh on that train of thought and turned his attention back to his own food, pulling apart the savory morsels and licking his fingers clean. When he glanced up again Derek was staring at him, his eyes glowing red. Stiles swallowed and the wolf’s gaze dropped to his throat and then up again when he deliberately brought his fingers back to his mouth, maintaining eye contact. The moment stretched and grew taut.
Feeling brave he tipped his head up and bared his throat in invitation and Derek sprang up from the other bed and stalked over. A hand burrowed into his hair as the werewolf leaned down to claim his mouth, the kiss flavored salty and sweet. It took a long time to get here, but now that the dam had broken the desire thrumming between them felt unstoppable.
When they broke apart, Stiles knew exactly what he wanted and just needed a few moments to work up the courage. It was time to grab the bull by its horns, or rather the wolf by the hips.
With his fingers gripping the waistbands of Derek’s trunks he looked up for permission. At the sharp nod of his head Stiles tugged them down and was met with the Alpha’s swiftly rising and hardening cock.
He’d seen Derek naked before, but this was the first time seeing him with an erection and it was both tantalizing and intimidating. A chuckle snapped him out of his mesmerized state and he grasped the thick shaft after spitting in his palm. Stiles kissed the head, licking over the slit, and then drew him into his mouth. He worked his hand at the base while he bobbed and sucked, lips straining around the hard member as Derek caressed his head and alternated between murmured words of filth and praise.
He did his best to swallow when the Alpha came, spurting copious amounts of cum onto his tongue and then pulling out to mark his face and throat as well. It was hotter than it had any right to be, even better than he’d imagined, and he felt proud to have brought the not-so-unattainable-after-all wolf off. Derek grasped Stiles by the chin and swiped his thumb across a messy cheek, sliding the coated digit past friction plumped lips for him to suck.
“So perfect for me,” he growled. Stiles went to touch himself, but the now sharp-fanged werewolf caught his hand. “Let me.”
At Derek’s urging, Stiles crawled backwards further up the bed and then turned over onto his stomach, all but vibrating with want. His shorts were pulled off and he felt those strong, warm hands on him again, this time palming his ass and then spreading him open for the Alpha’s viewing pleasure.
Blushing, he looked over his shoulder to see Derek breathing heavily and staring red eyed like he couldn’t wait to devour him.
“Please…anything,” he whispered. The next thing he knew a tongue was licking over and pressing against his hole and he gripped the comforter below him, crying out . Soon he was rubbing himself on the bed and then pushing back wantonly, eliciting a pleased rumble from the wolf.
Stiles whined when Derek pulled away a minute later, but then he was being flipped onto his back, the complementary bottle of cocoa butter lotion tossed down beside him. Crawling onto the bed and taking hold of his cock, Derek mouthed at the tip before sinking down on him, tonguing the underside of his shaft on the upstroke. In between his own babbling moans Stiles heard a cap being flicked open and then cool, viscous liquid was being squeezed onto his thigh.
Derek ran his hand through the fragrant dollop and then a slippery finger began teasing his entrance. Slowly, it pressed in and starting pumping to target his prostate, joined by a second one once he relaxed at the intrusion. He’d done it himself occasionally, but it was definitely better when it was someone else, holy fuck. The twin pleasures of hand and mouth reduced him to a mewling mess and he orgasmed faster than he would’ve liked gasping Derek’s name.
The wolf had no complaints though it seemed, cleaning his sensitive cock and then nuzzling into his belly and trailing kisses down his inner thighs. Stiles made grabby hands at him, but Derek evaded them, skipping away with a laugh. He returned a couple minutes later with warm, damp cloths and gently wiped over his face and between his legs before climbing beside him and pulling him close.
Of course Stiles couldn’t stay quiet for long.
“Sooo…that just happened.”
The expression on Derek’s face said “No shit, Sherlock,” his eyebrows raised and scrunched together. Stiles fidgeted and looked back at him again.
“And, um, it’s a thing we do now?” he asked hopefully.
“Mmm…yes,” Derek replied, reaching down to pinch his ass with a smirk. He did not squeak, dammit!
“Cool.” Looking away and taking a long, slow breath he attempted to quell his internal flailing. Act normal! “So, just for funsies or—“
“No.”
Stiles found himself being thoroughly kissed and then manhandled until he was facing away from the Alpha, but wrapped firmly in his embrace. He’d been little spoon’d!
Before he could lodge a formal complaint with Boyfriend Services (omg, were they boyfriends?!) a hand covered his opening mouth.
“Go to sleep,” Derek ordered. Stiles stubbornly dropped his jaw and caught his pinky finger, sucking it and rubbing back against the other man’s crotch. A low rumbling vibrated against his back and the arms around him tightened. Warm breath tickled his ear lobe before it was nipped. “The sooner we sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up and fuck you,” Derek promised huskily.
Stiles made a frankly ridiculous high-pitched sound. He would be more embarrassed, but apparently Derek liked his weird noises if the way the werewolf was now doing a convincing lamprey impression on his neck was any sign, so that was okay. He closed his eyes and focused on the thrilling sensation, sighing when Derek released his tender skin.
Everything was okay. Way better than okay.
Irie.
