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Sterek AU — Cowboy!Derek [ 1 / 3 ] ↳ in which Derek works at Stilinski's ranch the summer Stiles returns from school

► James Newton Howard - The Gravel Road

( this only happened because of this commission I made for literaryoblivion that made my bestie Ty's cowboy fetish resurface so I wrote him 5k whoops <3 )

Derek knows, the moment he enters the stables, what's waiting for him there. Or rather: who.

He's barely stepped in far enough to be out of sight from the house, where the ranch owner's wife is still sipping her afternoon tea on the front porch, when a pair of hands grabs him by his belt loops and pull him into a shadowed corner. The reins that's been slung over his shoulder are dropped to the floor with a dull thud against the concrete. Derek grunts a little when his back hits the wall, but there's already a smile growing at the corner of his mouth as his gaze lands on his capturer.

Stiles; son of the man who hired Derek to work at his ranch. His beautiful face is lit up by that young and mischievous spark in his brown eyes, accompanied by the dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he takes one step back, never letting go of Derek's belt.

"Careful," Derek warns with a sigh. "Someone could've seen."

"My dad rode out with the group."

"Your mother is on the porch," he points out, but sags against the wall despite himself. With all the cowboys out riding, there's little chance for someone walking in on them here.

Stiles rolls his eyes lightly, unfazed by the danger as always, as he steps into Derek's personal space again. Fingertips sneak their way above the waistband of his jeans, cold to the touch compared to his own hot skin from riding the stallion all morning. Derek usually starts the day wearing a shirt, but just like most days it's currently left behind at the paddock. Because it's fucking hot outside and breaking in horses does nothing to help you cool down.

"We're fine," Stiles promises. "We're good. Just kiss me," he whispers.

And Derek does, because he's wanted to all damn day. Every time he spotted Stiles with his mother up by the house, or when he came down to watch the boys taking on the new stallion and their eyes met for a split second. And worst of them all: when Derek had worn himself out and sat on the fence with the rest of the audience while Boyd took over, and Stiles had been right there.

Within reach, as well as sight, of his father standing two feet away.

He groans against Stiles' lips, both relieved and desperate at finally being able to. He cups Stiles' face with both hands and kisses him hard, wanting the boy to feel just how much he's longed for it. And judging by the sympathetic hum he gets in return, it comes across. Stiles spreads his big hands on Derek's waist, fingers digging into his hips. He nips at Derek's bottom lip, using his lithe body to crowd the older man against the wall, and it drives Derek nearly mad with lust.

"Fuck, I wasn't even into watching guys breaking horses before you came along," Stiles mumbles against Derek's mouth. "Isaac's been here for years and I never even glanced at him twice. And you just—" He sighs, sounding frustrated. "You makes it look so damn sexy."

Derek just hums, secretly pleased, as he moves to trail open mouthed kisses down Stiles' long, slender throat. The boy moans quietly and tilts his head back to give him better access, one hand abandoning Derek's hips to catch the cowboy's hat as he dives in. It could fall in the mud for all Derek cares, too busy running his tongue over the vein in Stiles' neck. He's got a feeling he doesn't value his hat like most men in Texas do.

"Is that why you came down to the paddock?" He murmurs against Stiles' skin, tugging at the collar of his plaid shirt to reach more of it. The boy always wears plaid, with long sleeves hiding his pale skin. Derek absently wonders if he'd tan easily if he stayed out in the sun more, instead of just sitting on the porch reading his course books. "To get a closer look?"

"Yeah," Stiles whispers, pulse moving against Derek's lips. "I kept glancing over, until mom said I should go watch if I was so distracted." He huffs, a little out of breath. "She thought it was the new stallion that caught my eye."

Amused, Derek buries his scoff into Stiles' neck. Deucalion—or Duke as most has come to call him—was no doubt the wildest horse to set its hooves on the ranch all summer, and is currently Derek's new project. Breaking him will be a challenge; only a fool wouldn't be impressed by this animal's size and strength. Stiles doesn't care much for horses—reason why he left to study at UT Austin—but if he can pretend to be interested in Duke rather than the man riding him, it'll make things easier for everyone.

"Good," Derek says, leaning back to look Stiles in the eyes. "It'll throw off some suspicion."

Stiles smiles, adjusting the hat riding on the back of Derek's head with a thoughtful expression. Because Stiles doesn't do things half-assed; he puts all his focus into things, whatever it is. If there's something he likes, it gets his full attention. Derek considers himself lucky to be one of those things.

He leans forward to capture Stiles' lips in another kiss, this one deeper than the first, and Stiles sighs happily into it. They mouth at each other for a long moment, Derek's arms circling Stiles' waist whilst Stiles sneaks his hands into the back pockets of Derek's jeans, conveniently framed by his chaps. At first they just rest there, an innocent weight against his ass, but soon enough Stiles gives it a purposeful squeeze. It makes Derek grit his teeth into the kiss, blood rushing south.

"Want you," he murmurs against Stiles' parted mouth, their bodies close enough for him to feel the skip of Stiles' heart. His own does the same, because saying it out loud still makes the butterflies in his belly stir to life. It feels dangerous, and wrong, and so right. "Want you so bad."

Derek is well aware that it's not a good idea—probably the worst idea, if he's being honest—to get involved with your boss' teenage son. He sure as hell wasn't planning on it when he first took on the job, but to be fair: there had been no Stiles running about when John hired him. The boy had been at school and only got back home for the summer two weeks after Derek moved into the property's guest house.

First time they met, Derek had been covered in dirt, his hair in disarray and shirt clinging to his sweaty skin. He'd just fallen off a horse in the paddock—far from a proud moment—and was heading back to the stables to fetch another saddle when Stilinski had ran into him there, in the middle of showing his newly returned son the changes around the ranch since he left in the early spring.

Derek doesn't believe he gave off a very good first impression, being the mess he was, while Stiles stood there with his hair combed and wearing a clean hoodie with his university's logo. But the teen had offered Derek his hand—those long, slender fingers touching him for the first time—and had glanced back at him over his shoulder when his dad continued the tour. Derek knows because he'd been doing the same.

The irrational half of him has wanted Stiles since, and the other half has an inner crisis about it every single day.

"Likewise," Stiles breathes into the corner of Derek's mouth, pressing their hips together so Derek can feel how hard he is inside his jeans. "Fuck, all the time—"

Words don't happen for a while after that. Derek swallows every sound that leaves Stiles' mouth with feverous kisses, teeth nearly clashing by the force of it. He lets his hands roam over the boy's body, first through the fabric of his clothes before slipping one hand beneath the hem of his shirt to touch bare skin. Stiles moans into the kiss, sending a vibration down Derek's throat, and he responds with an agreeing hum.

Stiles' skin is burning hot under his fingertips, and he can practically feel the eagerness radiating off him. He sneaks one hand down to cup one of Stiles' ass cheeks while the other grabs his naked hip, thumb stroking along the pointy hipbone.

They're grinding against each other now, both of them panting between hot kisses as their bodies grow more restless. Stiles clumsily pushes Derek back up against the wall again, bracing himself on one arm next to Derek's head, hips still thrusting forward.

It's the sound of a horse snorting coming from one of the boxes at the far end that makes Derek snap back to reality; the reality in which they're making out in the corridor of the ranch's main stable in broad daylight. Stiles' dad and the others won't be back for a while, but that doesn't mean Claudia or anyone else can't walk in on them. Not to mention Stiles' childhood friend Scott and his girlfriend, whom are most likely sneaking around much like they are right now. Only difference is that everyone knows about them.

He reluctantly pulls back, hands gripping Stiles' biceps to still him. The boy looks disappointed, but doesn't complain when Derek instead takes him by the hand and drags him along to the ladder leading to the hayloft.

"Come on."

Stiles goes without a word. After all, it's not the first time they've done this.

The loft is well stocked, but not nearly as full as it'll be in time for the winter. Hay bales in all various shapes and sizes are lined up against the eastern wall, but some of it is lying scattered on the wooden floor, creating a big mattress made of soft hay that's usually given to the oldest horses to chew easier.

Derek pulls Stiles with him until they're in the middle of the huge bed, both of them smiling as their eyes meet again. Derek lets go of Stiles' wrist, letting his arm go limp at his side as he reaches up with his other hand to run through the boy's hair.

It's not as put together as the first time they saw each other; ever since Stiles got back home he seems to have fallen right back into the old habits of his life on a ranch. His hair is always a mess now, clothes simple and rarely spotless after hanging out with Scott or the other workers during the days. No matter how much his mother keeps telling him he's got homework to do up by the house, he usually manages to sneak away. His father doesn't seem to mind; he actually looks pleased by the fact that Stiles chooses horses over books. Derek suspects he's got a part to play in that.

Stiles puts a hand flat on Derek's bare chest and pushes him down on the ground, determination burning bright in his eyes. It makes something stir in Derek's gut as well as make his cock press against his zipper, and he sits down on his butt in the soft hay, legs spreading automatically as Stiles kneels before him. Neither of them break eye contact as Stiles palms him through his jeans, tracing his bulge with his whole hand. Derek groans low in his throat, lifting his chin up a little at the amazing friction, but doesn't look away from Stiles' face.

"How do you ride with this?" Stiles asks in a teasing whisper, leaning in to breathe on Derek's face.

His thumb strokes down along the side of Derek's clothed erection, earning a small gasp from him. And despite him being the grown up, those rules no longer apply when Stiles goddamn hands are anywhere near his dick. Derek thinks me might be crushing on those hands alone; he feels like a horny teenager all over again whenever they're touching him.

A sly smile tugs at the corner of Derek's mouth as he lowers his chin again, leaning forward.

"Let me show you."

Stiles eyes widen for a split second before he's being flipped onto his back, the hay rustling beneath them as Derek lands on top with a triumphant smirk. He bluntly goes for his belt, unbuckling it while still straddling Stiles' waist. The boy's hands land on Derek's thighs, both chaps and jeans preventing the heat of them from reaching Derek's skin. It makes him grunt in frustration, and as soon as he's rid of the belt, he stands up to get rid of the rest.

It's been five weeks since the first time he undid his pants in front of Stiles, but he can still feel the heavy weight of Stiles' gaze on him as he practically rips off the chaps before unzipping his jeans. Due to their lack of time and place to be alone together, they rarely bother to undress fully. The risk of getting caught is always nagging at the back of their minds. Derek has yet to feel Stiles' naked body pressed up against his own; he hasn't even seen him shirtless. Most of their times getting off together, Derek doesn't even get his pants past his calves.

Derek hates it, but he knows there's no way they could ever share a bed. Stiles got his own bedroom up at the house while Derek bunks with Boyd in the workers' courters. There is no way they could actually sleep together. The biggest luxury they have is their stolen moments on the hayloft.

Once he's standing there stark naked—boots and pants kicked to the side—he realizes it's probably the first time Stiles gets to see all of him at once. It doesn't make him feel insecure, per se, but there's a tiny tug of uncertainty in his gut as he waits for Stiles' approval. Which he immediately gets when he sees the look of wonder on the younger boy's face and a familiar flush creeping up his neck. He's popped himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over Derek's exposed body.

"Condom?" Derek asks, approaching Stiles and sinks to his knees before him.

"Right. Yeah," Stiles somewhat stutters, hurriedly digging into his pockets.

He pulls out a condom and a tube of lube, holding them out in the palm of his hand as if unsure of whom they're for. Their eyes meet, and Stiles' are shining with disbelief. Derek doesn't hesitate—because he's made up his mind already—and only takes the lube, leaving the condom.

Stiles blinks, lips parting as if he's about to ask, but then Derek slicks up his middle finger and reaches down behind his balls, leaving Stiles to watch with his mouth open. It's kind of adorable, and Derek huffs in amusement, but immediately cuts himself off with a groan as his fingertip brushes over his entrance. He presses in, only feeling a faint burn, and eases all the way down to his knuckles without much effort.

"Christ," Stiles moans, looking transfixed with his gaze locked on Derek who starts pumping his wrist in and out of himself. He bites his lip, seeming to consider it before he reaches down to rub a palm over his clearly visible bulge. "You do this often?" He wonders, sounding amazed.

Derek scoffs, breath hitching as he starts thrusting properly.

"More so since I met you," he admits, watching Stiles through his lashes.

And that's not even half of it. Ever since he first saw the boy's slim hips he's wanted to ride him. Only reason he hasn't already is because, for some reason, Stiles took his role as bottom for granted and Derek hasn't had the courage to bring it up. It's not that he doesn't love being inside Stiles, because he does, but he can't help but imagine the pretty face Stiles would make as Derek sinks down on his cock.

He withdraws his hand to lube up another finger, knowing he doesn't need much prep and they can't stay up here for too long anyway. They're always running against time, it seems.

Stiles keeps watching him in tense silence only filled by their heavy breathing and the movements of their hands. Derek accidentally hits his prostate and moans loudly, causing Stiles to curse and grab himself roughly through the denim of his pants. The loft is loaded with tension, and Derek's heart is galloping away by nerves as well as excitement.

"I wanna do it," Stiles murmurs suddenly, voice rasp. "Sometime," he quickly adds, eyes flickering between Derek's face and groin. "Another time. This time I'm ready to go when you are."

Derek huffs breathlessly, chest heaving. Beads of sweat roll down his temple, and his body feels like it's buzzing with anticipation.

"Ready," he breathes out, removing his fingers to leave himself feeling far too empty.

Not for long, he reminds himself.

He edges closer to where Stiles is still sitting with his legs open and hand still rubbing his clothed hard-on. Derek arches an eyebrow at him, glancing down at the condom still clasped in his other hand. Stiles follows his gaze and flushes.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I'm not. I got, uh, distracted."

Derek smiles softly, shuffling forward on his knees until he's close enough to peck him on the lips.

"I'll do it," he whispers, already reaching for the button of Stiles' jeans.

"Oh-kay," Stiles nods, steadying himself on his propped up arms.

Derek's own dick hangs heavy between his legs as he pulls the zipper down to free Stiles'. He debates with himself just how much clothing he needs to get rid off to do what he wants, and reluctantly decides that it isn't much. Once he's past the zipper, he just yanks the pants and underwear down Stiles' thighs. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach, and Stiles lets out a sound Derek can't quite describe. It's relief and desperation mixed altogether.

He knows how cliché it'd sound out loud, but Stiles dick literally makes his mouth water. It's just so damn pretty, and while it's slightly slimmer than Derek's own, it's longer and has that perfect curve to the right. Derek might be crushing on Stiles' dick as well as his hands.

The head is already leaking, and he goes fully hard almost the second Derek wraps his fingers around the length. A long moan slips out of Stiles, but Derek doesn't look away from his own thumb tracing a vein. He follows the boy's dark happy trail that disappears up under his t-shirt with his eyes, wishing he could spend hours mapping it out with his tongue.

"I wish I could have you exactly the way I want you," he whispers. "Just once."

"How's that?" Stiles rasps.

Derek tilts his head back to look him in the eye, hand stroking downwards almost absently.

"Naked," he says, seeing the blush spread across Stiles' cheeks. "Laid out on a bed. Somewhere where I can take my time with you without the constant fear of getting caught. And hanged."

Stiles smiles weakly, his pupils blown with arousal and chest heaving under his breathing.

"My dad would never hang you," he says. Then his smile widens. "He's got a shotgun."

Derek laughs lightly, ignoring the lump in his throat. He's well aware how important it is to keep their relationship hidden—Stiles does too—but sometimes they allow themselves to joke about it. Because thinking about just how furious John would be if he ever found out is enough to leave Derek restless some nights. Usually twice a week, actually.

Stiles tries, and fails, to suppress a gasp at Derek jerking him once more before taking the condom and ripping it open, rolling it on with ease. He can feel his cock stir at the sight of Stiles leaning on his elbows, shirt wrinkled and face flushed. While Derek's completely naked, he remains nearly fully clothed.

"Close your legs," he instructs, and Stiles does without any hesitation.

Derek straddles his thighs, hovering right above Stiles' groin as he reaches down to guide the head of Stiles' dick to his hole. He leans forward to capture the boy's lips in a deep kiss, tongues colliding and fighting for dominance before Derek lets Stiles have it. Then he lowers himself on Stiles' cock and they moan in unison into each other's mouths.

"Fuck," Stiles pants against his parted lips, and Derek is helpless but to hum in agreement.

It burns a little from the stretch since he didn't bother with a third finger, but it doesn't stop him from sinking down relatively fast. Stiles grabs his hip once he bottoms out, and they both take a moment to collect their breaths. Derek feels like his whole body is vibrating, feels so damn good to finally have Stiles inside him. He hasn't felt this full in ages, but he's positive it's never felt like this.

When Stiles suddenly reaches for something in the hay next to them, Derek is confused, but then he holds up Derek's hat with a big smirk on his face. Derek cocks an eyebrow at him, because he can't even recall when it came off, and who the hell cares about a hat right now anyway? Then Stiles reaches up to put it back on his head before settling down again.

"Ride me, cowboy," he says, probably going for suggestive, but it comes out all raspy and deep.

Derek can't even begin to explain what it does to him.

He lifts up a few inches, placing one hand on Stiles' shoulder to steady himself, before dropping back down. It's slow and coordinated, because he wants to feel every inch of Stiles inside him. The hay tickles his bare legs, but he hardly notices, too busy watching the awe and pleasure on Stiles' face. One of his hands reaches for Derek's hip while he leans back on his other elbow, a loud gasp escaping him as Derek repeats the motion.

"Oh my god," Stiles moans, his fingers digging into Derek's hip. "Fuck me."

Derek wants to correct him and say actually, it's the other way around, but he can't. Instead he grunts and grinds down before rolling his hips, and the noise that comes out of Stiles makes him shudder in delight. He sets a pace, switching between bouncing and rolling his hips, changing the angle until Stiles' dick hits that spot inside him just right and he nearly sobs at the sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

It grows hot and desperate not long after that, Derek speeding up the movement of his hips until he's riding Stiles hard and fast. They're breathing too heavily to be able to kiss, just panting into each other's faces. Derek can feel sweat drops tickling over his skin as they run down his forehead and temple, notices parts of Stiles' wild hair is lying flat against his scalp.

The hand that's been holding Derek's hip moves back to instead grab his ass, drawing an approving groan out of him. It makes him jerk out of rhythm for a second before he finds it again, responding to Stiles' devilish smirk with a low growl that sounds more encouraging than anything else. He can tell the boy's orgasm is already starting to build by the way his hips buck up in a desperate attempt to meet Derek's downthrusts, and his head start lolling a little.

"Fuck, yes, god," he slurs, eyes wide and pupils blown. "Don't stop, please."

Derek has no intention of stopping, just hums reassuringly as he starts bouncing for real, fucking himself back on Stiles' cock while hitting his own prostate nearly every time. He's moaning out loud now, mindless of the world outside the hayloft and the feel of Stiles' body beneath him. His thighs are starting to protest, muscles used to riding wild stallions but not quite like this, and he knows they'll be sore in the morning.

Stiles whole body suddenly jerks, a sob forcing its way out of his mouth, and then he falls over the edge, coming so hard he's shaking with it. Derek rides him through it, chasing his own release as he feels the dick inside him twitch. He reaches down to wrap a hand around his own neglected cock that's been slapping against Stiles' clothed belly, fucking up into the tunnel of his fist with every thrust.

"Come on, Derek," Stiles murmurs, surprising him. He focuses his gaze on the boy who's staring right up at him with that sex-drunk look on his face. "Shit, just— Come on my dick, come on."

And Derek does; so hard he almost stops breathing.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure running through his whole body, he watches himself come all over his hand as well as Stiles' plaid shirt. If the boy is conscious enough to be troubled by it, it doesn't show. He's got a big and sloppy grin growing on his lips, eyelids looking ready to slide shut any second.

Derek ducks his head down to nuzzle the boy's neck, feeling high as he mumbles sweet nothings against the warm and damp skin. Stiles hums into his ear, sounding pretty out of it himself. It makes Derek smile all goofy and happy.

Soon enough Stiles is getting too sensitive and gestures for him to climb off. Derek grunts as he rolls to the side and is left empty as Stiles' soft dick slides out of him, only barely registering him tying a knot on the condom before those hands are on him again. They reach up to adjust the hat that's nearly fallen off again, and Derek snorts.

"Next time I might ask you to keep the chaps, too," Stiles mumbles, voice tired and sated.

Derek swallows, feeling his heart jump a little at the next time as he circles one arm around Stiles' waist, sighing at all the layers of clothing that prevent him from touching naked skin. Neither of them move for a while, catching their breaths and coming down from their highs. It'd be a perfect time and place for a nap, only falling asleep with Stiles in his arms would be incredibly dangerous.

"You should probably go," he says eventually. "Before your mom comes looking for you."

Stiles makes a disapproving noise, but he moves to sit up anyway. Derek takes another second to close his eyes before reaching for his own clothes to dress in.

As always, one of them leaves before the other. It might not do much of a difference, but it makes Derek feel a little safer. Him entering and leaving the stables all tousled and sweaty won't surprise anyone, but it's different for Stiles. Even more so if they were to emerge both at once.

Stiles pauses on the top of the ladder, locking eyes with Derek who's standing in front of him. There's an expression on his face that he's never seen before, and it both interests and terrifies Derek. He makes a noise of surprise when Stiles tugs him in by the belt loops to kiss him hard on the mouth, but he sinks into it.

Every time they do this, it dawns on Derek all over again that they can't keep this up; that someday they'll get caught. Today is no different.

When Stiles withdraws from the kiss, he doesn't let go of Derek just yet.

"One day," he says quietly, close enough for Derek to feel his breath on his face, "I'll let you make love to me for real."

Derek's heart aches at that, but before he can come up with a good response, Stiles is already climbing down the ladder and disappearing from his line of sight. He can hear footsteps walking down the hallway before exiting the stables, and then there's nothing.

Closing his eyes, Derek ducks his head down towards his chest and just breathes.

They never talk of love. Deep down Derek knows it's something that's been building up for a long time, but it's like an unwritten rule between them. They know this thing probably won't last past the summer. Knows Derek won't stay here forever—might get on a train to go south when it starts getting colder—and Stiles is going back to school in the fall.

And while Derek is far from an expert when it comes to relationships, but he's pretty sure that's what he and Stiles have.

He misses Stiles on the days he barely gets to see him, and knows he looks like a love struck idiot whenever he does see him. Sometimes he just wishes he could just take Stiles' hand and kiss his knuckles. Sometimes he wants nothing more than to go sit down on the porch and watch the boy read. He wants to learn everything there is to know about him, and wants to tell everything about himself in return.

Kissing Stiles for the first time had seemed so easy, all future problems so distant.

It had happened behind the house, under the big oak tree that was out of sight from any of the windows. Rain had been pouring down from the clouded sky, soaking everyone's clothes and chilling them to the bone. John and the men had just come back home from a long ride, everyone longing to gather around the dinner table up at the house over a warm meal.

Derek remembers his heart racing like crazy, body set on fire the moment he'd spotted the boy under the tree. Stiles had pushed him back against the thick tree trunk, hands clutching the soaked fabric on Derek's chest.

Tell me you don't want me, he'd demanded, misery burning in his gorgeous eyes. Tell me I'm just a kid so I can start to get the fuck over you.

Derek hadn't, though he probably should've. He'd leaned forward to brush his lips against Stiles' own; finally giving in to the feelings he'd tried to bury within himself for so long. He wanted Stiles, even if it was wrong, and he can't recall ever feeling happier when the boy had kissed him back.

Their first kiss had tasted like summer rain. Sometimes he wonders what their last will taste like.

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