Seth Rollins/OC. For Anon: Seth Rollins one where Seth (Colby) takes the reader home to his
parents and they share a bed (his dad’s idea) and the reader tries to respect
his parents’ wishes and not have sex in their house but Colby talks her into it
anyways. Bonus point if his dad brings up the noises he heard at breakfast the
Hope this ticks your boxes, @inell! I may be working on a shower kiss for this prompt, also, but I hope you feel the heat here, too!
It was the best mistake Stiles ever made, the first time he kissed Derek.
They’d been spending more and more time together, usually, Stiles would show up at Derek’s, often with a pile of books, and he’d sit on the oversized couch and study, just enjoying the quiet, steady presence of the other man. Sometimes, they’d watch a movie or two together, a bowl of popcorn between them and easy commentary falling from their mouths.
Occasionally, it was for research, Stiles pouring over ancient texts while Derek strategized, though this was no longer a common occurrence, thankfully.
They’d gotten so comfortable with one another, it was wonderful, really. Wonderful and problematic, because the more time they spent together, the more Stiles came to realize that even though they were best friends, he had decidedly unfriendly feelings for Derek. So, he was a little confused, distracted, really when he kissed Derek that first time.
He was sitting on the couch, legs curled up next to him, arm bent and resting on the arm of the couch, a book held in one hand, pen tapping at the corner of his mouth and he was totally engrossed in the text. Derek was puttering around the kitchen, making sandwiches and coffee as he often did when Stiles was immersed in his work. And then, Derek was there in front of him, pressing a mug of warm coffee into his momentarily idle hand, their fingers brushing and warming Stiles in a way the hot beverage couldn’t. And then Derek’s scent, the warmth he seemed to radiate was closer, as the man leaned over him to place a plate on the end table beside him, his “You should eat,” low and fond and close, and Stiles was still mostly distracted by the book he couldn’t quite look away from and the new challenge of not spilling hot coffee on himself, and so before Derek pulled away and stood up, Stiles placed a small absent minded kiss at the corner of his mouth, complete with a murmured “Thanks, babe,” as Derek righted himself.
In the time it took Derek to stand, Stiles’ brain caught up with his actions, and he went completely still for a moment before scrambling to put his coffee and book down and look at Derek with an apology perched on his lips.
Only, Derek was looking at him with something like wonder on his face, two fingers touching the place where Stiles has kissed him, his lips curling up slightly. Before Stiles can launch himself from the couch and into a rambling explanation, before he can do more than set his feet on the floor, Derek is leaning toward him, cupping his face in one warm, wide palm and pressing their lips together.
It’s all Stiles can do to avoid moaning into it, and then, Derek is climbing into his lap, those strong legs he’s so often admired straddling his hips, bracketing his own thighs with a delicious pressure. And their lips are still just touching, Derek is holding Stiles’ jaw with his fingertips and Stiles has settled his hands on Derek’s hips, but their lips are just, touching.
Derek sighs, and his lower lip slots in between Stiles’ lips, and then he drags it ever so slowly up, it catches on Stiles’ upper lip and a hint of wetness from Derek’s mouth paints the bow of it. One of them groans, and then their lips are fitting together again, a slow, almost chaste dance. Until Stiles tentatively parts his lips ever so slightly, tilts his head just a little, and Derek darts just the tip of his tongue across Stiles’ top lip, earning a whimper that he eagerly swallows.
Then, their tongues are teasing each other, slow, shallow licks, until as if by unspoken agreement, they both open wider, tilting in opposite directions to deepen the kiss, lips dragging and brushing wetly together, hands threading through hair and exploring under cotton to find smooth, warm skin. Their tongues making deep, slow sweeps into one another’s mouths, tangling together eagerly. They part briefly, panting against one another’s lips, eyes opening only enough to look at each other in awe. A bead of sweat trails down Stiles’ neck, and Derek traces it with his tongue, Stiles throws his head back with a whimper and Derek growls against his throat before sucking at his pulse. Stiles drags him back to his mouth, sucking Derek’s bottom lip between his, greedy for the sound it pulls from him, and then they’re kissing again. It’s slow, and dirty for all it’s gentleness, all deep, exploratory thrusts of tongue and nipping teeth and the wet/dry glide and drag of lips.
Their hips rocking together in perfect rhythm, Derek’s beard creating delicious friction on the sensitive skin around Stiles’ mouth, the low rumbling moan that seems to come from both of them, the feel of their hard, denim trapped lengths dragging against each other, the knowledge that they can do this to each other, the incredible heat of the space between them; all because of one little mistake of a kiss?