Stiles stared openly at the photo on his computer. Stared at the way Derek’s skin was wet and heated, the way the tight boxers clung to the hard outline of his cock, the dip of his hips and the flex of his arms.
He stared, mouth open and gasping, fucking up into his wet fist, whimpering helplessly as his toes curled and his muscles clenched. Fuck, who knew Derek modeled in new york? He didn’t but God yeah, he found the photos and Jesus, Derek’s cock.
Tip flushed and red and glistening and he could almost feel it buried inside him and splitting him open and fucking him hard - Jesus.
He came to the image, jerking against his fingers, making them sticky and wet, lungs burning as he sucked in air, head thrown back and ass clenching, already struggling for his phone typing out a shaky message, cum smearing the screen.
To Derek; You have a nice cock