The house is officially finished, the pack helped Derek move in a few weeks ago, and there have been numerous shopping trips to purchase stuff to fill up all the empty space since then. It’s Derek’s house, but there are six extra bedrooms, plus a library and game room and rooms that don’t even have a purpose yet. It’s a pack house, obviously, since Derek is likely to get lonely being by himself in a place this size. Stiles knows that Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are planning to move in with him after graduation. Jackson has even talked about the possibility of claiming a room, despite the fact he’s going to college in San Francisco, though Stiles thinks that’s more about having somewhere to call his own that isn’t dependent on his parents than plans to actually use the room consistently.

It’s been tempting to call dibs on a room of his own, especially when one of them is practically perfect complete with a window seat and the best natural light outside of the master. But Stiles isn’t really pack. Not like that, at least. Obviously, he is pack, but he’s a sarcastic human member of the pack who doesn’t really rate high enough in the Hale Pack hierarchy for a room claim. If it were just Scott’s pack, he’d totally be second, well, maybe third to Derek, but the combined Hale-McCall pack thing changes his position even if he knows he’s still number one in Scott’s eyes.

Derek considers him a nuisance who is too often getting in the way because Stiles refuses to listen and just sit around while his pack is rushing off into danger. And he does research, does figure out successful strategies (take that, Derek), but it doesn’t add up to all that much when compared to supernatural creatures or hunters with a deadly accurate aim. Stiles knows there’s not a chance that he can get a room of his own so he can move out of his dad’s house and give his dad a chance to get a serious relationship going with Melissa or Natalie or, hell, both of them is that’s their thing. His dad’s a bit of a player, it seems, and his skills at being charming and flirting well have totally skipped Stiles. He can’t even get a first date with anyone, much less get two total MILFs on board with sharing.

His dad is working overnight tonight, and Stiles is putting off going home to his empty house. Even though he doesn’t really spend time with his dad late at night, it’s always nice to hear him moving around or to just know he isn’t by himself. The pack had gathered in the new family room, which still smells faintly like freshly sawed wood and paint, and there had been bonding over superhero movies. They had taken sides for the upcoming release of Civil War, and that had led to a discussion about who was which Marvel superhero, which had then led to Stiles having to justify why he was Team Cap when he was totally the Tony in their group, according to everyone else, minus the billions, string of women, and alcoholism. Derek had put an end to the whole pile on Stiles when he casually remarked he felt Stiles was more of a Charles Xavier than Tony anyway.

Most of the pack have left by now, and Stiles is hiding in the game room. It’s near the back of the ground floor, so maybe Derek won’t be able to hear him or realize he hasn’t left yet. It’s not like Derek is going to kick him out of the pack house, but Stiles would rather not admit he’s lingering around because he’s lonely. Everyone else seems to be coupled up or, in some cases, involved in some kind of poly arrangement that makes the participants happy, but Stiles is still flying solo. His relationship with Malia ended months ago, and it was probably good that the last couple of months of it had been mostly friends who fucked occasionally because he likes having her as a friend too much to have wanted to lose that.

Graduation is in a little over a month, and Stiles is eighteen now. Happy birthday to him was last week, not that he feels any different. He can at least legally go to the Jungle now, and his lovely ladies are planning a wild party for him there next weekend, actually, and he’s promised Trixie that he’ll let her make him pretty for the night. Stiles is actually looking forward to letting loose and being young and stupid for a couple of hours, especially because he knows his ladies will keep him safe from any of the not so great guys who frequent the Jungle. Stiles is ready to explore his sexuality, though, and he might finally have a chance to find a guy willing to experiment with him. He’s thinking someone short, blond, and lithe because he totally knows choosing someone tall, dark, and built would just be him trying to replace Derek in his fantasies with some poor imitation.

Because if Stiles didn’t need to be any more of a walking cliché, he’s got a huge fucking crush on a guy who isn’t interested in him that way. Not only that, but the pack alpha who could cast him out of the pack, regardless of Scott’s arguments to the contrary, and Stiles would lose his entire friends group. Derek’s also straight, so far as he knows, which does at least make it a little easier to handle the inevitable rejection. So, yeah, it sucks getting feelings for someone who isn’t interested, but Stiles is used to it, at least. He’s got the unrequited love and pining thing down pat, and he’s mature enough now to respect the fact that Derek isn’t into him that way at all without being obsessive like he’d been with Lydia.

The game room is huge, double the size of his bedroom at home, but all of the rooms in this house have been made oversized. He supposes it’s easy to afford that type of luxury when you’ve got millions of dollars, so he’s just grateful that Derek’s been willing to spend so much on designing the perfect pack house for them. Stiles totally knows this house is for the pack more than Derek because Derek would have been content with a small cottage in the woods with enough room for bookshelves and a home gym. Derek’s needs are simple, and this extravagance is definitely for the rest of them and not himself.

Just like the stuff in the game room, really. The big screen television and multiple game systems complete with the games the pack plays most often, the darts board that Allison totally dominates, the pinball machine that Erica fondles constantly, the board games that Isaac and Kira always want to play, the air hockey table that Jackson and Malia battle over, and the pool table that Boyd rarely steps away from when the pack’s playing games. Stiles enjoys all of it except the pool table. That’s just because he doesn’t know how to play, but he’s planning to learn. He watched Paul Newman in The Hustler the other night, and he hadn’t really learned anything because Paul Newman was hot, so he’d been distracted.

Stiles stares at the pool table for a moment before deciding now might be a good time to try to teach himself. Everyone else is gone or not around, so he won’t feel foolish not already knowing how to play, and it won’t matter if he plays terribly because no one will know. With that thought in mind, he starts to get the balls from the pockets of the table and roll them onto the flat part. He’s so focused on making sure he doesn’t miss anything that he totally does miss someone entering the room until they speak.

“Do you know how to play?”

So he’d definitely deny it, but Stiles squeaks in surprise when he realizes someone is there. He looks up to see Derek watching him with a slightly amused smile on his lips. “Uh, does watching The Hustler count?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiles sheepishly.

“Not really,” Derek tells him. “Especially since you probably spent most the movie staring at Paul Newman instead of watching them play pool.”

“I’m not that predictable, alright?” Stiles has to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at Derek. Derek just arches a brow at him, and he sighs. “Whatever. Newman was hot, even if I’m not normally into blonds.”

“You want to see hot? Watch him in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. He’s not my type, either, but I’d have made an exception for Brick,” Derek says casually, as if his sudden admission to finding guys hot isn’t completely rocking Stiles’ world.

“Not your type because he’s a dude or because of something else?” Stiles blurts out the question without thinking, sort of needing to know if he’s right about the bisexual thing even if that’s likely only going to make his crush even worse because then it really will be him that Derek’s not into it instead of just being straight.

Derek steps over to the pool table and rolls the purple ball across it towards Stiles’ side. “Gender doesn’t particularly matter to me, Stiles.” Derek just stares at him. “He’s not my usual type when it comes to men. I seem to find myself attracted to tall, slender, pretty boys with beautiful lips and wicked tongues these days.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Stiles says weakly. He’s not that tall, about two inches shorter than Derek in fact, and he’s definitely not a pretty boy. Tall and pretty is an accurate description of Isaac, though, and Stiles wonders if Derek’s dealing with some unrequited feelings, too, since Isaac is happily dating Scott and Allison. Before he can think twice and realize it’s probably not the best thing to say, he’s already speaking. “Wanting someone you can’t have sucks, doesn’t it? Wish I could tell you it gets easier, big guy, but it doesn’t.”

“You have a lot of experience with it?” Derek finally asks after several long minutes of silence when he just stares at Stiles like he’s got two heads.

“Too much. Lydia was an obsession, but the other, it’s a little painful sometimes because it isn’t a fixation like that was,” Stiles murmurs, staring at the pool table and rolling the ball back and forth between his hands. “When real feelings get involved, it makes it worse. Isn’t just about fucking or having the perfect seven year plan then.”

“You’re an idiot, Stiles,” Derek mutters as he walks around the pool table. When Stiles glares at him, he shakes his head. “Do you want to learn?”

“Learn what?” Stiles frowns at him, watching him get a pool cue off the wall. “Oh, pool. Yeah, I want to learn how to play.”

“I’ll teach you.” Derek actually smirks when Stiles feels his heart race at the idea of Derek teaching him. It’s obvious he knows why Stiles would be excited yet panicked at the idea, which means he’s doing this deliberately. Derek gives him a challenging look. “If you’re up to it.”

“Fine.” Stiles meets the challenge with a stubborn tilt of his head. “Teach me how to play, Derek.”

“Take off the plaid. It’s too loose and will just get in your way as you’re trying to learn.” Derek walks over to the mini-bar. “Want something to drink?”

“Beer’d be great, but you’re too uptight to let me have that, so I’ll take a bottle of water.” Stiles shrugs out of his long sleeve shirt, tossing it on the air hockey table. “Damn, you keep it cold in here.”

“We run hot. Don’t worry. You’ll warm up as we play.” Derek shrugs and hands Stiles’ the bottle of water. “Not giving you alcohol when you’re underage isn’t uptight, by the way. It’s practicing the laws that I swore to uphold when I went to work for your father at the Sheriff’s Department. Besides, I want you completely sober tonight.”

“I’ve seen enough movies to know that people can still play pool when they’re tipsy, but whatever. Wouldn’t want you to lose your job, would we?” Stiles twists the lid off the bottle and gulps down a fourth of it. When he straightens, he notices Derek staring at him. “What?”

“What?” Derek repeats, his eyebrows talking but not in any language Stiles understands. “If you’re ready, I’ll teach you how to use your stick now.”

Stiles chokes on his water, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as Derek obviously tries fighting a smile. “Real funny, asshole,” he says, putting the lid back on his water. “I’m good with my stick, thank you very much. Lots of practice with it. A pool cue, however, is something else entirely.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Derek deadpans as he gets the balls and puts them into the triangle thingy. When he removes the triangle, they’re all perfectly in order. “I assume you know the basics of the game?”

“I want to get my balls into the pockets, but I don’t want the black ball in there. Right?” Stiles tries to focus on actually learning because it isn’t often that he and Derek get to spend time together when it isn’t some dire emergency.

“Right.” Derek walks around the table to come up behind him. “You only play with your balls, Stiles. Your opponent’s balls are off limits.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” he quips, waggling his eyebrows as he looks over his shoulder. “I might want to play with my opponent’s balls.”

“You have to practice some self-control then.” Derek looks unimpressed with his leer, but Stiles does notice that the tips of his ears are turning red. “Take the cue and move into position. I need to see how you hold it.”

“What position do you want me in, Derek?” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Derek bangs his leg against the air hockey table as he jerks in surprise at Stiles’ comment. “Oh, wait. I remember this. I need to bend over and put my ass in the air, right?”

“Not like that,” Derek says, stepping up behind him as he leans over the table and tries to imitate what he’s seen his friends do when they play. Derek’s crotch is pressed tight against Stiles’ ass as he manhandles Stiles, shifting him around and changing his stance. Stiles’ amusement is gone by the time he finishes, replaced with a low key arousal that’s making his face flush. Derek leans over him, his chest snug against Stiles’ back. “That’s better. Now, stroke your stick for me, Stiles.”

“Derek,” he breathes out the name but isn’t sure what else to say. If he asks him to step back, he’ll have to explain that he’s turned on right now, but if he lets Derek keep showing him, he might very well come in his underwear if there continues to be this much physical contact.

“Shh.” Derek is whispering right into his ear. “I know, Stiles. It’s okay. Just stroke your stick, and I’ll teach you what I know.”

He knows what? Stiles has a moment of panic, fully aware that he must stink of lust right now but hopeful that Derek just chalks it up to teenage hormones instead of something more serious. Derek’s into Isaac with his pretty boy looks and stupid scarves, not Stiles, who is awkward and rambly and too hyper for most people to handle. After taking a couple of deep breaths, Stiles forces himself to relax. “Alright. I’m good. Teach me, Yoda.”

“Loose and easy, you hold the stick,” Derek says dryly, earning a snorting laugh from Stiles. Derek chuckles into Stiles’ ear, the sound deep and husky, causing goosebumps to break out on his arms. Derek moves his arms around Stiles, his hands gripping Stiles’ on the cue. “Like this.”

Contrary to popular belief, Derek is actually a really good teacher. He might not have started off that way with his pack a couple of years ago, but he’s patient and attentive and he no longer snarls when someone does something wrong. Instead, he teaches Stiles how to hold the cue, how to use the right amount of force to break, which is what he calls sending the white ball into the other ones. Stiles is actually learning how to play, even if he’s totally distracted by the way Derek is touching him and moving him and breathing against his neck and whispering in his ear like he’s not allowed to speak normally.

By the time Stiles has actually sent a striped ball into the pocket on his own, he’s flushed, so hard it almost hurts, and his senses are overwhelmed by the scent and feel and sound and sight of Derek. His voice whispering in his ear. The scent of manly nature musk that Stiles can’t even describe is all around him. The feel of Derek’s body pressed intimately against his back, his crotch even grinding against his ass as they lean forward to hit a ball. And the vision of Derek’s hands on his, the dark hair of his arms a contrast to Stiles’ arms, the tan skin healthy and vibrant compared to Stiles’ own pale freckled forearms.

“You did it,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear. “You got your ball in all on your own that time.”

“I had a good instructor,” Stiles says, clearing his throat when he hears how hoarse he sounds. Derek still has him pinned against the side of the pool table, and the position has his hard dick pressed against the wooden boundary of the table. Stiles stares at the colored balls still on the table, his cue gliding back and forth above the green felt covering the surface.

“There’s a lot more I could teach you,” Derek tells him, shifting slightly in a way that presses a rather obvious bulge against Stiles’ ass.

Stiles gulps because there’s really no way to miss his meaning. “What about Isaac? I’m not…I don’t want to be a stand in because you can’t get who you really want, Derek.”

“What about Isaac?” Derek sounds confused. “You can’t be a stand in for yourself, Stiles.”

“You’re into Isaac. He’s the only tall pretty boy I know, at least.” Stiles licks his lips as he presses back just a little to feel more of Derek against him.

“You’re being deliberately obtuse to fuck with me, right?” Derek suddenly steps away, pulling on Stiles’ shoulder and turning him around so his ass is against the pool table. He stares at Stiles for a moment before he huffs a laugh. “Fuck, you really are just that oblivious.”

“And you’re being Deaton levels of vague right now.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s fine, Derek. I get it. We were in some very intimate positions, and your body reacted. Mine did, too. I’m not holding you to that like it’s a promise or anything just because you got hard. We can just laugh awkwardly about this and go back to normal without anyone needing to know.”

“Stiles, there’s no going back. I knew that when I walked into this room and offered to teach you how to play pool.” Derek takes a step closer. “I’m not into Isaac. He’s my beta, and already involved with two other people. There’s only one sarcastic asshole that I’m into it, and he might not realize it, but he’s definitely pretty.” Derek reaches out to stroke his knuckles down Stiles’ cheek. “Do you want this? I think you do, but I need to hear you say it. I waited for you to turn eighteen, given you time to grow up, let you figure out what you really want, and been so damn patient so I wouldn’t influence you one way or another, but I think you’re ready now. I know I’m ready.”

“You---but---we----how---“ Stiles is fully aware that he’s stammering, but his mind is reeling and he can’t form any coherent thoughts right now because Derek is touching him and staring at him with a decidedly lusty hungry look in those beautiful eyes and this might be a dream, but, if it is, he hopes he doesn’t wake up for a while. “Yes.”

Derek arches a brow. “Yes what?”

“I want this. You. I want you. I’m ready. No going back. I got it. I don’t care. I want to go forward with you.” Stiles glances at Derek’s mouth. “You can, uh, kiss me now, if you want?”

Instead of replying, Derek leans in and kisses him. At the first feel of lips against his mouth, Stiles reaches up to grip Derek’s hair and returns the kiss. For a first kiss, it isn’t awkward at all. It also isn’t very innocent. If anything, it quickly escalates to toe curling hot and fucking amazing. Derek is licking into his mouth as they kiss, his hands gripping Stiles’ ass, and then he’s picking him up, putting him on the pool table. Stiles shoves the cue to the side, hearing it smack against the wooden frame, lying back against the table and bringing Derek with him.

There’s a ball under his head that he swats to the side, not pulling his mouth away from the kiss to even look at it. Derek pins him to the table, sucking on his tongue and grinding slowly against him, teasing him even as Stiles tugs on the arms pinning his wrists down. When Derek starts kissing his way down Stiles’ neck, he gasps at the feel of hot suction against his skin, knowing there’s going to be a bruise remaining behind when Derek is finished. The idea of Derek wanting to mark him is hot, and Stiles rolls his hips up to press his erection more firmly against Derek’s.

When Derek finally releases his wrists, Stiles moves his arms, tugging on Derek’s shirt, bunching it up under his arms, stroking Derek’s bare skin, feeling the dampness from sweat that’s covering his spine and shoulder blades. “Feels so good,” he murmurs, realizing he can talk now that they’re not kissing. “You’re big, aren’t you? Bet your dick is so pretty. Flushed and pink and so big. Can’t wait to feel it in my hand, in my mouth, in my ass.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls raising his head up from where he’s been leaving more bites and bruises on Stiles’ neck. “Keep talking.”

“I can do that.” Stiles tilts his head to the side so Derek has more access to his neck. “Do you know how many nights I fucked my fingers wishing they were yours? I can take three now easily, with prep, but it was a struggle even taking one when I first started. I tried that night after we met you, when you were so hot and rude and it just got me hard despite everything else. I even bought a toy finally, used it on myself while jerking off, and realized that I like having my ass filled. You’re going to fill me so well, I’ll be tight for you but you’ll still take me hard and deep without caring that you’re my first real dick.”

“Would care,” Derek murmurs, shoving Stiles’ shirt up and licking at his nipple. Oh God. He’s so sensitive there, and Derek chuckles when he realizes, laving the hardened nub with his tongue before sucking and scraping his teeth against it.

“Yeah, I know you’d make it so good for me,” he pants out, shifting just slightly and, holy fuck, that’s good. The grinding is getting more intense, the friction making him buck up against Derek. “Bet you’re tight, too. Thought about it, about fucking you, about spreading your cheeks and eating you out until you’re writhing and begging me to fuck you. My dick’s thick, Der. It’s going to stretch you so nice, so wide, and you’re going to love it. Going to beg me for it after you’ve had it once.”

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, Stiles. Knew you’d be like this. Such a wicked tongue.” Derek kisses him then, claiming his mouth with confident licks and strokes of his tongue. It’s such a hot kiss, unlike any Stiles has ever had before, not that he’s had a ton of experience. Derek starts rubbing against him faster, grinding harder, and Stiles breaks his mouth away from the kiss so he can gasp for breath as his hips start bucking up erratically. So close. So fucking close.

“Gonna---“ Stiles manages to get one word out before his body tenses then shudders. He comes with a grunt, his dick pulsing in his underwear, come spurting into the cotton and soaking it through to his jeans. Derek whines low in his throat before he’s trembling on top of Stiles, his hips bucking forward like he’s fucking him, his face buried against Stiles’ neck as he comes in his own pants. God, they’re like a couple of horny teenagers. Well, Stiles is a horny teenager, but Derek’s like twenty-four. He probably feels pretty foolish about coming in his pants if Stiles is feeling a little embarrassed about it.

“I, uh, didn’t plan for that to happen,” Derek admits, raising his head and looking down at Stiles. “I didn’t intend to seduce you into sex when I first suggested teaching you how to play.”

“Well, maybe I seduced you,” Stiles points out, reaching up to touch Derek’s face because he can do that now. He can touch Derek as much as he wants. That’s awesome. “I am pretty hard to resist, you know?”

Derek slowly smiles, a shy smile that’s sweet and beautiful. “Yes, you are,” he agrees. “You’re okay with this? Really okay? No regrets?”

“None at all.” Stiles grins. “I’m definitely okay with us, Derek. I mean, it isn’t just a one-time thing, right? You aren’t going to pretend we didn’t just get off like a couple of horny teenagers and ignore me.”

“Of course not.” The tops of Derek’s ears are definitely flushed. “I haven’t ever come in my underwear like that, not even when I was a horny teenager. Not very smooth and seductive, was it?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I thought it was pretty hot that you were so into me you just wanted to make out and get off,” Stiles tells him. “Besides, the whole pool playing lesson was totally foreplay, and I know now that you were doing that on purpose, so that was pretty damn smooth.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wanted Isaac. I was trying not to be that obvious about lusting for the pain in the ass underage human, but Isaac?” Derek rolls his eyes. “I had to resort to drastic measures to make you realize there’s only one pretty boy I’m interested in dating. I want to take you out tomorrow, go somewhere for dinner, maybe see a movie, all the traditional dating stuff that I’ve never really wanted to do before. You make me want that, Stiles.”

“Dating. I like the sound of that. Dinner and a movie tomorrow is good. I accept, and I want all that, too.” Stiles leans up to kiss him. When he pulls back, he smiles mischievously. “You know, my dad’s working tonight, and I seem to remember you saying there was a lot more you could teach me. And I don’t think you were talking about pool.” He leers playfully. “So, you want to go clean up the whole messy sticky underwear thing and maybe give me a lesson in blow jobs? I really want your dick in my mouth.”

Derek groans, pupils dilating slightly. “You can’t just say things like that,” he says, ghosting his lips over Stiles’. “But, yeah, that’d be a good lesson. A great one. Fuck, I want your dick in my mouth, too. Want to see if it’s as thick as you say, want to feel it pulsing on my tongue, want to taste you.”

Stiles gulps, feeling his spent dick twitch at Derek’s words despite the fact he’s just come. “That sounds really amazing,” he says, licking at Derek’s bottom lip. “It can be the first of many lessons.”