This pornlet is a continuation of the situation in this one.
Stiles smacked his lips together and scrunched his shoulders up and rolled his neck. The sun was hot on his face, and he hated himself for not remembering to close the bedroom curtain again.
He opened his eyes and, well.
He wasn’t in his bed. He wasn’t in Derek’s bed. He wasn’t on any kind of furniture or even in a building, for that matter. The sun was just past it’s highest point and filtering through the tops of the trees around… Stiles sat up, bending at the waist and feeling surprisingly limber for the fact that he’d apparently slept on the ground the night before. He was in what seemed to be a clearing of sorts in the Preserve. He hoped he was in the Preserve.
He looked down at the surface he was on and discovered it was a bed of flowers. Some were attached to the green bits of the plants they grew on, some seemed to be cut. It was a strange mix, as if a florist had decided to dump their off-casts into a random garden.
He reached out and picked up a rose from just next to his hand. It didn’t have any thorns. He went to reach for one from the other side of him and.
The Fae and their nectar. The surge of energy and power. Derek coming to be with him.
He turned, sitting up on his knees as he did and, there, half-buried by the strewn blossoms, was his Consort. The word seemed comfortable and strange at the same time. Mate was a more familiar choice, and just as right.
Even if he hadn’t been able to see Derek’s face, Stiles’ knew that hirsute bottom very, very well. He grinned a moment, remembering how he’d worn Derek out with his tongue after they’d fucked—carefully, slowly, licking every bit of his come off Derek’s balls and from Derek’s insides—and the very conscious decision he’d made to put that dusky-pink rose between his Consort’s cheeks.
Derek mustn’t have moved a muscle since. He looked peaceful in the way he usually did when he slept. Stiles was loathe to wake him, but the trees were whispering reminders of what the wolf would need to do before the Mate Declaration and Claiming Run tonight.
Stiles shook off the absurdity and brilliance of the realization that he could hear the trees speaking, and reached out to push a lock hair off his Consort’s forehead. It seemed to have grown a little overnight, if that was possible.
“Derek.” His throat felt unused, but not sore.
“Hmm?” Derek rubbed his cheek into the huge, deep-red dahlia his face was resting on, then blinked his eyes open. He turned and looked at Stiles, and
Derek tilted his head at the sound. “Hmm?” he repeated as he twisted himself up to sit next to Stiles.
Stiles traced a finger across Derek’s forehead, down his cheekbone, and then cupped Derek’s jaw as he leaned in to brush his lips across Derek’s.
“Apparently my fae inheritance wasn’t the only thing that woke up last night.”
Derek lifted an eyebrow, and Stiles started to giggle. The sweet-yet-incredulous expression was even better with Alpha-red eyes.
There is more of this universe here (or the lot on AO3, sans pics of course.)
[Image Source.]
More like this on tumblr, and AO3.
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