I want the K
Kiss Along the Hips
Fingers danced along pale flesh, feeling the young man’s muscles tense and clench up beneath the pads of his fingertips. Stiles was spread out before him, gloriously naked, Peter holding him snuggly against his chest so that he couldn’t go anywhere. Not that either one of the ‘wolves thought that he actually would. Stiles was just as willing a participant in this little game of theirs as they were, and they both knew that he was more than enjoying this. From the way his lips parted, the way he sucked in a breath only to gasp softly when Derek’s fingers caressed the trail of hair just below his navel all the way to the top of his pubic hair, to the heavy scent of arousal filling the entire room, Derek knew that he wanted this just as much—-if not more—-than they did.
He met the whiskey-colored eyes, darkened and half-lidded, and gave him a wolfish, predatory-like smile, teeth flashing for a moment before he dipped his head low, brushing his nose against the other’s inner hip, inhaling deeply.
Fuck. He didn’t think the other realized just how intoxicating his scent was. It drove him insane, made him want nothing more than to take him, claim him, mark him as his—-his and Peter’s—-so that all could see that this human was theirs as much as they were his.
Stiles might’ve thought he was the lucky one, what with him snatching up both the owner of Neckz ‘N Throats magazine and his top photographer, but Derek knew the truth. He and his uncle were the lucky ones. To be given the opportunity to see the other man like this, splayed out and on display for their every want and desire, there was no question in his mind who came out ahead in this.
Slowly, painfully slowly, he pressed his lips against the sharp curve of his hip, placing an open mouthed kiss there, enjoying the way Stiles hips arched upwards towards his mouth, silently asking for more. And Derek was nothing if not willing to give Stiles everything he wanted.
His hands curved around the pale man’s hips, gently pressing him back down onto the mattress, before he rained kisses along his hips, teeth grazing against the tender skin, nipping every now and then only to soothe the sting with a swipe of his tongue. He continued to shower Stiles in the attention he so deserved before finally pulling away, loving the sight of his mate’s head tossed back, cradled in the crook of his uncle’s neck, mouth slack from both the kisses that Derek paid him and the way Peter’s thumb brushed idly across his nipple.
