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Detention loomed like a storm cloud over Derek's head. He'd managed to (unintentionally, of course) set off a stink bomb in the chemistry lab, resulting in a mandatory after-school stay. But there was a bigger problem – Mr. Harris, the tyrannical detention king, was out sick. This wouldn't be so bad, except for the substitute: Stiles Stilinski.Stiles, the bane of Derek's existence. The hyperactive, wisecracking, and undeniably annoying class president who seemed to take a perverse pleasure in tormenting Derek at every turn. Now, the thought of enduring detention under Stiles's watchful (and possibly gloating) eye was almost as bad as the smell of burnt chemicals clinging to his clothes.Derek, sprawled in detention like a king dethroned, propped his feet on the desk with a nonchalant swipe at his phone. He was the sole audience for the glowing screen, oblivious – or so he pretended – to the lone figure occupying the teacher's chair. Stiles, the normally easygoing TA, scowled from his makeshift throne. "Feet off the desk, Derek," he barked, "and the phone too." True to form, Derek, the resident overgrown man-child of detention, remained glued to his phone, ignoring Stiles' protests like a toddler refusing vegetables. He propped his feet on the desk with a defiant swipe, pretending the stern-faced TA didn't exist. Stiles, usually the picture of patience, felt his jaw clench. "Must be a fly in here," Derek drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice like cheap syrup. "Real noisy one." Stiles, pushed to his limit, stormed over and snatched the phone right out of Derek's hand. "Looks like it found its way to your ear," he growled. "Consider it grounded until detention is over." The frustration simmering beneath Derek's nonchalant facade reached a boiling point. Veins throbbed on his forehead as he tried to maintain a cool exterior, the telltale flush betraying his simmering rage. In a display that spoke more frustration than defiance, he lashed out with a swift kick, sending the detention desk sprawling. "Oops," he mumbled, feigning innocence as he glanced up at Stiles, eyes blazing. Stiles, unfazed by the outburst, met Derek's gaze with a knowing smirk. "Try not to destroy anything valuable in your tantrum, Derek," he quipped, snapping back at him before sauntering back to the teacher's desk, phone still clutched in his hand. Derek's bravado faltered as Stiles simply ignored his taunts. his face was morphed into a furious display as sweat beaded on his forehead. Blind rage took hold, erupting in a guttural yell. "YOU LITTLE SHIT!" he roared, storming towards the teacher's desk. Unfazed, Stiles plopped down in the chair, a nonchalant smirk twisting his lips. He met Derek's heated glare head-on, his voice laced with cool amusement. "Calm down, tough guy." That was the absolute worst thing Stiles could've said to Derek. In all honesty, Derek was fully considering beating the class president into a pulp, right then and there. Instead, he gripped Stiles's jaw, squeezing it as he forced the man to look up at him. “GIVE IT BACK, FUCKER!” "Phone down, Derek! Detention isn't a fashion show for your thumbs, can you grasp that concept?" Stiles retorted, his voice tight as Derek's hand clamped onto his head. Inching closer, fury contorting his features, Derek roared, "WHY ARE YOU SO DAMN STUCK-UP?! IT'S JUST US - TWO GUYS IN HERE! NO TEACHERS,CAN'T WE JUST FUCKIN’ RELAX? HAVE FUN?!!" His voice boomed, barely contained inches from Stiles's face.Their eyes locked in a heated challenge. "These ain't your personal stomping grounds, Hale!" Stiles retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "There are rules, believe it or not, and I'm following them! Maybe if following the damn rules was in your skillset, we could skip this little detention party." His usually bright eyes were now a shade of red that mirrored Derek's growing rage, their gazes locked in a tense duel. A playful smirk tugged at Derek's lips despite the tension crackling between them. "Relax by following orders, huh?" He teased, his fingers tightening playfully on Stiles's collar, pulling him even closer. "Maybe living a little involves breaking a few rules, wouldn't you say, little bitch?" Stiles leaned in, their noses practically touching, a whisper of space separating their foreheads. His voice, though low, radiated fury. "Pathetic? You're the one who's pathetic, Derek! Picking fights to prove... what? That you grunt the loudest? I don't need to act tough or bully my way up to feel like a man!" Derek's tirade sputtered to a halt, his bravado momentarily deflated. Frustration gnawed at him, a formless anger that demanded release. Lashing out, he spat, "Yeah? Well, well... you're nothing but a pathetic lapdog! Just an obedient little puppy, always doing what you're told! Pathetic, can't think for yourself, so you rely on others!" His words dripped with contempt, a desperate attempt to mask the insecurity gnawing at him. "I'VE NEVER HAD TO RELY ON ANYONE!" Stiles spat, his knuckles white as they gripped the desk. The last part of his sentence tumbled out, half-formed and desperate. "I do as I'm told because I'm... I'm a… well functioning member of society unlike you" His voice trailed off, a tremor running through it. The air crackled between them. They were mere inches apart, a storm brewing in their shared space. Each ragged breath of the other was a tangible thing, fueling the simmering anger that threatened to boil over. Both were teetering on the edge, a hair's breadth from breaking. Derek, still gripping his collar tightly, leaned forward. With one hand, he swiped away everything on the teacher’s desk. Then, he pinned Stiles onto it, faces pressed close together. “YOU! I-! YOU FUCKER!” He wanted to beat this bitch into a pulp. Carve his name into Stiles’s body and make him suffer. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, HUH? BEAT ME?" Stiles snarled, hands pressing against the desk. "THAT'S PRETTY MUCH THE ONLY THING YOU'RE GOOD AT!" A bitter truth settled in Derek's gut. Stiles was right, and the knowledge scraped raw against him. Every fiber of his being screamed to let loose, to physically overpower the smug smirk on Stiles' face. But a cold logic doused the flames. Violence wouldn't solve anything. He couldn't. In a fit of anger, Derek overpowered Stiles, his grip tightening around his throat. Despite the situation, Derek couldn't deny a strange attraction to Stiles. The yelling, the flushed face, it all seemed...appealing. Fueled by a mix of rage and unexpected desire, Derek slammed Stiles onto the desk and in a surge of dominance, kissed the hot nerd deeply. It wasn't love or longing, but a primal expression of fury channeled through their lips. Startled at first, Stiles met Derek's aggressive kiss head-on. His hands dug into Derek's shoulders, nails leaving indents through the fabric. He wrapped a leg around Derek's, anchoring himself for the heated exchange. It wasn't a lovers' embrace, but a fierce clash of wills. Their frustrated desires battled for dominance, channeled through the fury of their kisses. Derek roughly forced Stiles onto the table, not pulling their lips apart. After unbuckling his pants, he moved to Stiles’s, basically ripping them off his body. He was purposefully harsh, letting out every single ounce of rage in his body towards Stiles. In response, Stiles grinded his huge dick against Derek's tight stomach, growling up at him. He pulled his lips off, bringing Derek on. "Yeah? You want me to pound you into the table? Punish you for being such a disgrace?" Derek started going even harder, hastily getting undressed and getting on top of Stiles. He growled back, adjusting his position so that Stiles’s cock was pressed up against his ass. “I'll milk you till you can't breathe, fucker!” "I'd like to see you try!" Stiles grinned in response, smacking his cock against Derek's ass. "Unless you're not a man enough to do it." This angered Derek all at once, reigniting the spark of rage inside him. thankful that his hole was still open after taking the biggest dildo he owned the previous night. He let the tip inside him, starting to ride Stiles’s length. Even if Derek didn't expect the nerd to have a cock this size... Derek was grateful and was still going to milk the fuck out of it. Almost immediately, he slammed the length inside himself, going close to balls deep. “Think I won't? Honestly, it's pretty pathetic that you can't even fuck me. You need to be used like a toy.” "You're the one who wanted to ride me in the first place, stupid. I'll bend you over the desk and fuck you until you forget your own name if you want." Stiles put his arms behind his head cockily, bucking up into Derek's ass. Derek could immediately feel Stiles's thrusts. For a second, it threw him off. However, he soon matched this, forcing the length in and out, again and again. “No need, fucker- you'll be begging for more.” Derek snarled, his own cock dripping precum onto Stiles’s abs. Stiles gripped Derek’s hips and thrust back into the jock in time with Derek’s bounces, periodically slapping Derek’s oversized ass. The jock smirked, looking down at Stiles as his anger slightly subsided. He continued to use Stiles like a fuck toy only made for his own pleasure. "F-Fuck, you might actually be good for something..." Stiles groaned out as Derek's warm anal walls squeezed and milked his cock. He settled for grabbing Derek's big ass cheeks as he thrusted up the jock’s g spot. Derek's smirk widened, a predator reveling in the sight of Stiles's composure crumbling under him. He closed the distance between them, drawn back into the heat of the moment. "Looks like I can hurt you in more ways than one, Stilinski." Derek’s voice was a low rumble as he trailed a heated line with his tongue, starting from Stiles's shoulder and lingering possessively at the vulnerable junction of his neck, all the while riding the nerd’s big cock non-stop. "Yeah, you just have a nice ass. That's all." Stiles rolled his eyes, smacking Derek's fat ass again. He sucked on the jock's collarbone too, leaving several red hickies all along the way. “And, uh... for a nerd, You gotta have a pretty big cock.” Derek allowed Stiles to keep on making out with him, still milking his cock as tightly as he could. “Psh... That's the only compliment I can think of for you.” In response, Stiles slammed harder into Derek’s ass, still licking and kissing him. Derek, of course, slightly winced, eyes widening. Still, it was nothing he couldn't handle. After a small moment of adjusting, he was back to normality, riding and forcing Stiles's cock inside himself. The bravado drained from Stiles's face, replaced by a grimace. A knot of pressure tightened in his gut building all his way up to his cock – all that talk, and now what? He wasn't the only one feeling the heat; a similar tension crackled in Derek.His prostate was continuously being rammed into, his face looking slightly worried while his cock sprayed precum. They never stopped, however. They were too filled with rage to admit they were about to finish. As a last-ditch-effort, Stiles gripped Derek’s cock, trying to get the jock to cum. Instead, they both erupted, moans echoing through the detention classroom. Derek didn’t pull out, and instead shot all over Stiles’s white shirt. Stiles, however, was too preoccupied with his orgasm to care what happened to his shirt. He steadily pumped his load deep into Derek while sinking into the table. This continued for a while, before Derek pulled himself out of Stiles’s cock, trying to keep all the cum inside him while at the same time, he began dressing. School walls seemed to close in around them. Stiles scrambled to pull his pants back up, but a fresh wave of panic hit him. His shirt – it was a disaster zone, wrecked with the lingering scent and the cum of Derek. Stifling a groan, Stiles opted for silence. Derek, meanwhile, averted his gaze, a blush creeping up his neck as he sheepishly extended his jacket toward the nerd. Stiles shrugged into the jacket, wincing slightly at the stale scent clinging to the fabric. It wasn't exactly a bouquet of roses, but somehow it wasn't a deal breaker either.In an unspoken truce, Stiles returned Derek's phone as they filed out of the classroom, neither uttering a word what happened.