
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/937360.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale_&_Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Allison
      Argent, Cora_Hale, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Hurt, Frottage, Hand_Jobs, Suicidal_Thoughts, Season/Series_03
      Spoilers, Mates, Texting, Anger, Scenting, References_to_Knotting,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Come_Marking, References_to
      Docking, Oral_Sex, Blow_Jobs, mate_bond, True_Mates, Rimming, References
      to_Mpreg
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-22 Updated: 2013-09-28 Chapters: 10/? Words: 41261
****** So throw me a line. ******
by devilscut
Summary
     Derek is taking Cora and leaving Beacon Hills after the events of
     'Lunar Ellipse'. There is one person he needs to see before he goes
     and that's Stiles. They are friends of a sort and maybe more, but
     Derek is determined to leave and let Stiles resume as normal a life
     as possible without him in it. 'Goodbye' is easier said than done and
     before the night is over and the moon sets with feelings running
     high, it's not possible to let go without intimacy of both the
     emotional and physical kind. After 4 months apart, Derek returns to
     Beacon Hills after finding out that Stiles isn't doing too well
     without him and that Peter may be sniffing around. Stiles and Derek
     will have to learn to overcome their self-esteem issues if they are
     to become a true mated pair.
Notes
     I've been busy writing the sequel to another fic of mine, however,
     after seeing 'Lunar Ellipse' I was blown away by the idea of Derek
     and Cora leaving. Then I heard this song by "The Temper Trap" on the
     same day and it was as if they were singing about Derek in the chorus
     and I was inspired.
     Trembling hands - The Temper Trap
     So throw me a line
     Somebody out there help me
     I'm on my own
     I'm on my own
     Throw me a line
     Afraid that I have come here
     To win you again
     With trembling hands
     Hear me now make me whole
     Hear me now make me whole
     Unbeta'ed - but tweaked, edited, revised etc etc.. by me for better
     or worse.
***** Chapter 1 *****
“I can’t.” Derek says the words, his lips and ever present stubble on his
strong jawline, the only features visible from where he’s buried his face in
his hands.
Stiles can feel his heart splinter into a million pieces as he watches the
other man, who is hunched over and perched on the edge of Stiles’ bed, as
though ready to spring to his feet and leap out the bedroom window. Who’s to
say he won’t?
“Please.. Derek.. stay.” Stiles wants so desperately to say stay with me.. stay
for me.. stay because of me.. just stay. But he doesn’t.
He’s disgusted with himself. Too chickenshit to tell the man in front of him
how much he lo.. cares for him. God, it’s one little four letter word and he
can’t even bring himself to think it, let alone say it out loud in relation to
Derek Hale.
Stiles staggers from the knot of emotion that feels all twisted up in his
chest, letting his desk prop him upright. His hands tremble as he runs them
through his hair, he feels wired up and a little depressed all at the same time
and it’s confusing as hell. Where’s his Adderall? Maybe he should take a tablet
or two or three.. maybe not stop, because Derek’s leaving and Stiles survived
dying in the ice bath but he doesn’t think he can survive this.
Derek’s hands are pressed so tightly to his face that it’s pure blackness that
he sees before him. He’d better get used to it, this is going to be his life
now. Away from Beacon Hills, away from the pack and.. away from Stiles. The
future looks so bleak that he can’t quite stifle the hitching breath he draws
in, but he can’t stay. He’s not losing someone so close to him ever again and
he so very nearly did this time, it makes him want to throw up.
He drops his hands from his face. The light, after all-consuming darkness,
makes him want to squint but he’s been around other wolves too long to give
away any weakness and keeps his expression carefully neutral, not aware to the
teenager watching him it looks hard, even cold. When the blurriness goes and
his vision returns to normal, he sees Stiles leaning against his desk, laptop
by his hip. It’s such a familiar sight that it takes Derek a moment to
recognise the pained devastation etched on the teenager’s face and when he does
it makes his chest ache.
“Stiles, you died.” The words gouge huge rending scars through his heart and
soul. They may be invisible, but the pain is still excrutiating. That he hadn’t
even been there when this boy was dying makes him want to howl down the moon
with his anger, his fear and rend and tear death itself with his very claws for
trying to take what is his. And that there is the problem, he thinks. He’s
starting to think of Stiles as his in a totally primal and possessive way.
“I’m stronger than you think.” Stiles whispers the words he wants to shout, but
he’s having trouble speaking now, his throat feels tight and closed. “I came
back.” He shuts his eyes, the anguish on the older man’s face is simply too
painful to bear witness to.
“After 16 hours.” Derek stands on legs that feel like jelly. He needs to go,
has to go. Just being here with Stiles is heaven that he’s alive and hell
because he’s got to leave him behind.
Has to leave him so he can be safe. So the others can be safe, Scott and
Allison died as well and it’s all because of him. The mistakes he’s made make
him cringe inside.
Twice, he’s been deceived by a soft voice and pretty face and it’s nearly cost
him everything. The strange thing is both of them remind him of Stiles in some
way. Kate because her mouth was almost as sarcastic and funny and Jennifer was
similar in looks and slightly skewed in behaviour, he’d felt almost out of
control around her and it hadn’t been natural, far from it considering her
magic. They were pretty but Stiles is.. Stiles is beautiful.
He’s a coward, knows it, because he can’t bear to lose anyone else because it
will literally destroy him, will finish the job started by the deaths of his
family and then Erica and Boyd. If anything happens to Stiles he will simply
cease to exist.
“It’s my fault you were put in such a position.” They will be safer with him
gone, he tells himself that, has to believe it.
“You are kidding me, aren’t you?” Stiles can only gape at the sheer arrogance
of the wolf in front of him. “Let me tell you something Mr Derek-it’s all about
me-Hale… it’s not.”
Stiles gets angrier at the stony facade the other man is presenting, his
obvious disbelief in what Stiles is saying simply fanning the flames. “So no
one else is responsible? Not Deucalion, not the Darach.. not me?”
“What do you mean? You’re not responsible for any of this mess.” Derek scowls
fiercely. Stiles is too naïve, too innocent to know what he’s saying. Always
looking for the best in people, always trying to find an upside when in this
case there’s none to be found.
“If I had told my Dad earlier what was happening with the Darach, about me
running with wolves then maybe he wouldn’t have been taken so easily. He
would’ve been on guard.” Stiles is almost proud of himself, he sounds so
reasonable that he wants to run screaming into the night, because Derek is so
stubbornly certain that he is the cause of so much misfortune it’s frightening
to see the lengths he will go to, to justify that reasoning. Freud would have a
field day with one guilt-ridden werewolf with monumental trust issues.
“This doesn’t change anything Stiles. Cora and I will be leaving in the morning
and I.. I just wanted to say goodbye.” Derek flexes his hands, the impulse to
grab Stiles and draw him into a farewell hug is almost irresistible. Almost.
His eyes are starting to burn and he can’t look at Derek anymore because it
hurts, god how it hurts. Stiles turns his face away, closing his eyes.
“Are you coming back?” He’s able to choke the words out, past a throat clogged
with held-back tears and snot and overwhelming grief.
“I don’t know.” When Stiles lets out a small gasp of pain, Derek wishes he’d
lied, but for all his faults he can’t. Especially, not to Stiles. They have
saved each other’s lives over and over. This loud, flailing and sarcastic
teenager has burrowed his way beneath what Derek had believed was his thick
skin and straight into his hearts. His human and his wolf one.
The wolf has always known, right from that very first meeting in the middle of
the woods between three scared young men. Oh how he’d been terrified back then.
Laura, his big sister, missing and a rogue wolf on the loose and then he’d
caught a scent in the woods, one that had made him run, heart pounding, trying
to track it down. Needing to claim whatever, whoever was producing that
intoxicating scent. When he’d gotten closer and realised it was the thin,
almost gawky looking teenager, it took everything he had in him not to pounce,
because he’d also got a whiff of another scent on the boy he recognised. The
Sheriff.
That’s no longer a barrier now, the Sheriff knows everything and the wolf has
wanted Stiles for a very long time. Now that Derek’s human side has finally
acknowledged the need, the wolf is raking its metaphysical claws through
Derek’s restraint, demanding that he do something right now, like claim his
mate.
Damn it. He has to leave right now before he does do.. something. Something
could be touching, kissing, licking, rubbing.. the choice is endless and
Derek’s starting to sweat because he’s got a great imagination and Stiles scent
has always drawn him, tempted and teased him enough that it has become normal
for him to only take shallow breaths through his mouth whenever they are near
each other. It’s half the reason that he hardly speaks to him or if he does
it’s through clenched teeth.
Stiles possesses a unique scent combination of spiced oranges dipped in vanilla
it’s exotic and makes Derek’s mouth water even though he’s only scenting the
barest amount possible while still being able to breathe. He knows that Stiles
takes medication, Adderall, which has filtered through and taints the sweetness
with a slightly cloying chemical odour like fuel after it’s been ignited.
“Goodbye.. Stiles.” Derek feels a piercing pain shoot through his chest as he
turns away and carries on walking to the open window when he hears rapid
footsteps behind him and a hard body slams into his back, arms wrapping around
him in a fierce hold.
Stiles buries his head into Derek’s back, in between his shoulder blades right
where he knows the triskelion tattoo lies. The leather jacket is soft and
supple against his cheek and if it’s slightly damp to match his weeping eyes
when he lifts his head up a moment later he’s not going to tell. He’s just glad
that Derek’s standing there and not fighting him off or telling him to stop
being an idiot.
With his arms wrapped around Derek’s muscular torso it’s only natural that
Stiles’ hands end up sliding against the warm gray cotton Henley that he’s
wearing beneath the unzipped jacket. The fabric clings and beneath Stiles’
seeking fingertips he can feel each dip and ridge of Derek’s abs that have
haunted his dreams, both sleeping and awake for what seems forever now.
When Derek releases a deep sigh, head dropping forward and places his large
hand over the top of Stiles’ and presses it hard against his flesh, Stiles’
breath stutters and his heart pounds, rattling his ribcage with its ferocity.
He starts to pant like he’s running a marathon.
Derek can’t take anymore. Stiles is touching him and it burns through his shirt
until his slender fingers feel like a brand. He turns and gathers the teenager
up into his arms and then somehow, Derek doesn’t even know how, he’s got Stiles
trapped between the bedroom wall and himself. He still retains enough sense to
keep some distance between their lower halves, knowing there are limits to even
his self control.
It reminds him of the first time he visited Stiles’ bedroom, he had stolen in
and surprised, or rather horrified, the younger man particularly when his
father knocked on the door. Even back then he’d been so tempted to kiss him,
just like now. Derek’s eyes flash, back and forth, between Stiles surprised
amber ones and his lips that are parted into a succulent tempting O shape.
“Stiles let me.. just once.. I just need to taste..” Derek lowers his head
slowly, giving Stiles every opportunity to push him away feeling a thrill
ripple through him when he doesn’t, just tilts his head slightly to give Derek
better access to all parts of his face and neck. Derek presses his lips softly
against Stiles’ trying to control it, trying to control himself. He can do this
he tells himself, even as burning flames flicker over his lips and he realises
that as gentle and chaste as he’s trying to be there is an incredible desire to
ravage and devour the boy before him which he’s barely keeping in check.
“Need to taste you.. before I go.” He murmurs against Stiles’ lips, gently
parting them with his own. Derek slips the tip of his tongue into the wet heat
of Stiles mouth and he doesn’t know who groans louder, Stiles because he’s
inexperienced and everything feels good or Derek because he’s just got an all
too intimate taste of Stiles and if he smelt good, he tastes even better.
What Derek doesn’t know is he’s just waved a red flag to a bull. Stiles
realises that if Derek’s going to leave Beacon Hills indefinitely, this might
be the only chance he ever gets to kiss the wolf the way he wants to, the way
he needs to. The way he’s dreamt of.
He surges forward, teeth clashing, as he covers Derek’s mouth with his own,
pressing hard and wide open. It’s innocence and desperation all at the same
time and Derek realises he’s a fool he has no control, no resistance at all.
Stiles is all wet heat and slick, darting tongue pressing deep into Derek’s
mouth and he groans in anguished need, before he’s tangling his own tongue with
the flickering, gliding one that is Stiles’.
Stiles is in heaven and what’s that noise. Oh it’s him whimpering. Derek’s oh
so hard body is pressed against him and he can feel every ridge, muscle and
tendon while he’s being kissed with such hunger that Stiles unknowingly,
unwittingly surrenders to Derek. He cedes all control of his rational mind to
the simplistic primal hindbrain that compels him to grind his aching swollen
cock against the older man’s, frantically seeking the friction that he craves.
He’s three parts conflicted, the cock he’s grinding against for starters is
huge. It’s long, the fat head poking over the top of Derek’s jeans but still
beneath his t-shirt and it’s thick, the spread of it bulging out the front too.
Stiles wants it, every delicious inch, while at the same time being awed by its
dimensions and plain out and out scared too. He’s a virgin and while he know’s
that Derek would never deliberately hurt him, it’s still fucking huge and he
gets the feeling that Derek is a natural born top. What a surprise.
Derek could take Stiles now, the teenager is so lost to sensation and he grips
the boys hips hard controlling his movements, denying him the wild headlong
rush he is seeking so urgently. Derek pumps his hips into Stiles’ and savours
the crazed moans that escape between the hungry, sucking, drugging kisses
they’re exchanging. His wolf is keening in his ear, instinct is demanding that
he claim Stiles, that he fuck him every which way possible until the boy can’t
deny, won’t want to, that he is Derek’s.
Derek wants it so bad he’s shaking, but he’s leaving and he can’t risk it,
because he suspects that if he even takes Stiles once, he’s never ever going to
let him go. He’ll mate him and knot him and that will bind them together
forever and that’s not what he wants for Stiles. He wants him to be safe and
there’s no way that’s going to happen if he’s trapped in a relationship with
Derek. Relationship is too tame a word to use if they become mates, everything
is more. More intense, more feeling, more need, more desire. Once bound they
could never part, they would always need the close contact, the intimacy that
the mate bond brings.
“Derek.. please..” Stiles head is rolling back and forth against the wall as
Derek buries his face into the crook of the teenager’s neck and shoulder.
“God.. I need you.. Derek.. Derek..” Stiles is chanting his name like it’s a
prayer and Derek feels like he’s going to explode and he’s frantically rutting
against Stiles. It’s all too much, he can smell the orange and vanilla that
belongs to Stiles and the burning heat of his body pressed hard against his
own. Derek’s cock is throbbing and pulsing in his too tight jeans and he’s
waited and wanted this boy for so long, to hear him beg and call out his name
is his undoing. He comes.
Stiles trembles as he feels Derek thrust against him, even harder than before,
and he knows he’s close. Once, twice and the third time is when Derek thrusts
and holds still as heat spills over his groin. Derek’s neck arc’s back and he’s
howling his ecstasy to the night, the sound rolling and echoing around his
bedroom, imprinting into the very walls. The exposed column of tanned flesh is
too close and too hard to resist and Stiles tilts his head forward and starts
biting and nipping at the taut cords.
Derek stiffens and he’s growling and the vibrations carry through his chest and
into Stiles where he is pressed against him. Stiles is amazed to realise that
Derek is coming a second time and it’s all because of him, the biting and
nipping is enough to drag another orgasm out of him. Derek has stopped howling,
mainly because he’s panting so hard, his electric blue eyes ablaze.
“Derek.” Stiles sighs his name wistfully. He wants so badly, aches for it,
aches for him. “I need you.. I love you.” Stiles can’t even find the energy to
blush so he just closes his eyes. He’s just told Derek Hale he loves him.
“Stiles.” His name is a rumble of thunder, it’s compelling and he finds that
he’s opening his eyes to meet the searching scrutiny of Derek’s. His pelvis
feels achy and sore where Derek’s fingers have gripped him so tightly, but it’s
the good kind.
Derek reaches down and flicks open the top button on Stiles’ trousers and tugs
the zip down, reaches in and pulls out Stiles’ cock. Derek is surprised to see
that Stiles’ isn’t exactly small either, not as long as Derek but still above
average and it’s fat. He’s practically drooling, the mushroom tipped head would
stretch his mouth nice and wide he decides, but it’s too risky, he knows
himself and his wolf too well, he wouldn’t stop there, so he starts to move his
hand up and down the fat length. Thumb flicking over the weeping head, smearing
pre-cum all over.
The cool air and hot hand on him is such a contrast that Stiles’ whole body
starts to spasm uncontrollably and he’s pushing in and out of Derek’s grip. The
sensation of another person’s hand on that most intimate part of him is almost
too much and he’s crying it’s so good. Derek croons softly in comfort, watching
with blazing blue eyes as the tears spill from the corners of his eyes and with
the way his head is tilted back against the wall, they start to run into the
sweat slick hair at his temples, but before they can Derek quickly swipes his
tongue along the delicate skin and drinks down Stiles' tears.
Derek flicks his thumb over the head, catching on the gaping slit, a bubble of
pre-cum smearing and then Derek nuzzles his neck, tongue lashing the taut cords
before delicately nipping and holding his adam’s apple between fangs that have
appeared out of nowhere. The pleasure and threat are such a delicious contrast
that it’s over before it’s even begun and Stiles is coming. Derek is still
stroking him and Stiles didn’t even know his body could actually produce so
much fluid, it’s just pumping out of his dick until he feels like his very guts
have been turned inside out with pleasure and he’s can’t stop moaning.
Stiles’ legs give way and before he can collapse totally Derek swings him up
into his arms all too easily. He carries him to his bed and gently lays him
down, before going to the bathroom. He cleans himself up, because two orgasms
later and the inside of his jeans and cotton boxers are a helluva mess. He
grabs a cloth and rinses it thoroughly in warm water. He returns to quickly and
efficiently wipe the tear stains off Stiles’ face, although he does tend to
dawdle around the smattering of brown moles that mark the boy’s jawline as
though they are Derek’s own personal Stiles’ dot-to-dot.
Where he doesn’t dawdle is when he cleans Stiles’ groin. The brush of fabric
makes Stiles cock twitch, given half a chance it would be more than ready for a
second round. There’s no way in hell that Derek could touch Stiles like that
again without claiming him, so he quickly drags the bed covers over, hiding all
the delicious temptation from view.
Stiles watches him steadily. Those beautiful amber eyes hold thoughts and
secrets that he would love to take the time to seek out and discover. He feels
a pang when he thinks that is something a mate or a lover would be entitled to
do, not a wolf who is about to leave him. The thought of someone else loving
Stiles, being able to be with him and touch him, learn those secrets makes him
growl in jealousy and frustration.
Stiles lifts his hand and cups Derek’s face, letting the rasp of his stubble,
prickle against his fingertips until the nerve endings tingle like mad. He rubs
a soothing thumb across lips that are red and slightly puffy from the ferocity
of their kisses. Derek clasps Stiles’ hand, holding it and turns his face into
it so he can passionately kiss the very centre of his palm. It feels like a
brand, like Derek’s marking him permanently and maybe he is, because Stiles
seriously doubts that there will never ever be anyone who can compare to Derek
Hale for him.
“Goodbye Derek.” There is the faint shimmer of tears, just barely held in
check, the voice tremulous. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here.”
Waiting for you, are the unspoken words but they both hear them just as
clearly.
Derek nods in understanding. He leaves Stiles’ bedroom through the window,
feeling the heavy weight of Stiles’ eyes upon him as he steps out onto the
roof. As he’s making his way down the street, for the first time he curses his
lycanthropy doesn’t consider it a gift, because it lets him hear the
heartbreaking sobs that echo from the bedroom he’s just left and they follow
him under the moonlight.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek and Cora have been on the road for months and in that time
     Derek has been getting texts from Stiles. They are funny and sad and
     Derek finds that he looks forward to reading whatever is going on in
     his mate's mind. He's still determined to stay away from Stiles to
     keep him safe, but when the texts stop coming and he finds out that
     Peter is somehow involved, nothing's going to get in Derek's way from
     returning to Beacon Hills and to Stiles. But, does Stiles still feel
     the same way he did all those months ago.
Chapter Notes
     Did not expect this to keep getting longer and longer - not the one
     shot I was expecting.
     Unbeta'ed, but tweaked until it can't be tweaked no more!
He may have left Stiles behind in Beacon Hills, but with the number of texts
he’s been getting from the teenager it’s clear that his idea of ‘waiting’ for
Derek doesn’t include being quietly patient about it.
Not that Derek is going to go back, but he can’t help but admit he kinda looks
forward to getting those texts. They are random, with no logic or obvious
direction to anything that even remotely looks like a conversation between
adults. Not that he responds to them, he just reads them, doesn’t text back. He
doesn’t delete them either, because some of them he reads over and over.
He receives them at any time during the day and night, so he takes to having
his phone always close at hand and if he finds himself constantly checking for
any new messages well that’s something he tries not to think about too much.
The very first one he receives is on the night that he went to Stiles’ bedroom
and said goodbye, it makes his stomach muscles clench hard and fast when he
reads it. His wolf wants to go to the boy so badly that Derek finds himself on
the floor, writhing in the agony that comes from having his wolf and his
humanity tussling it out for control. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or
not that his human side comes out on top and in reality he knows there are no
winners.
3am Stiles
Miss you already. It sucks. You suck.
3.02am Stiles
You don’t suck. Wish you had.
3.03am Stiles
Wish I had, even more.
It seems that whatever thought that pops into Stiles head he feels compelled to
text Derek about it regardless of time and place. Some he laughs outright at,
which spooks Cora and she gives him these weird looks, but he doesn’t care.
12.01pm Stiles
Lunch - yes. Curly fries – yes. Lydia and Aiden copping feels under the table –
no.
12.02pm Stiles
Just no. Puts me off my fries.
12.06pm Stiles
Fries all gone. Nothing can put me off salty fried goodness when I put my mind
to it and gouge my eyes out.
Others, he’s either torn between WTF bewilderment or a sad longing that makes
him want to run back to Beacon Hills as fast as he can.
10.45pm Stiles
Do you miss me?
10.46pm Stiles
I think about you all the time. Every second, every minute.
10.50pm Stiles
Make it stop. Please.
Derek wishes he knew how, he’d cure himself first.
He and Cora have been travelling. Just moving from place to place, criss-
crossing the country, wherever, the mood takes them. They’ve got the money and
the time. Sometimes they’ll do the touristy things, like check out the Grand
Canyon and Mount Rushmore, other times they find themselves in small towns
where they’ll get a room and just chill, watching cartoons together like when
they were little kids and eating cocoa puffs in bed. As they travel they share
what had happened to them both over the time they had been apart. It breaks
Derek’s heart to think of his little sister all alone. He at least had Laura to
watch over him.
Cora can’t remember much at all about the past seven years or so and where
she’s been. The fire licks at her memory and she can recall the choking smoke
and fiery heat, the frightening crack and rumble as part of the ceiling and
wall collapse. Screams that break off all too abruptly. That someone had pushed
her through a newly formed gap in the brick cellar wall, because of the
collapse, leading to the house’s outer foundations, she’d barely been able to
squeeze through, her skin scraped raw.
Stretching through the gap, she’d held the strong hand fiercely, listening as a
smoke ravaged voice tells her to run and just keep running, don’t stop. In
hindsight, she recognises the voice as being Peter’s and she'd done exactly
what he’d told her, because they’d been under attack. She’d dragged her hand
from his and run until she couldn’t run anymore and then she’d gathered
whatever pitiful strength she had and kept going.
Her nine year old mind had shut down at the horrors she’d witnessed in that
cellar and she stopped talking. When she was inevitably picked up by the
authorities miles from Beacon Hills where someone might possibly know her, with
no apparent family and no leads to one she was placed in the welfare system as
a Jane Doe. Living in orphanages, too old to be selected by prospective
adoptive or foster parents who didn’t want a ten year old little girl who
couldn’t talk and wouldn’t smile or laugh.
It’s a connection he’s glad that they are taking the time to reforge. With all
the pain and death that had been going on in Beacon Hills once they found each
other again, they had really so little time to actually just sit and talk, now
that they are able to he realises that Cora is more like their mother than he
had realised. Not just in looks but in the forthright way she speaks her mind.
“You know you love him. Right?” It’s out of the blue when she speaks one night
and it takes Derek a moment to realise that it’s actually Cora speaking to him
and not some background noise from the tv.
He puts his book down next to him on the bed, it’s “The hitchhikers guide to
the galaxy” appropriate because he’s telling himself “Don’t panic” when his
mind replays what she’s just said.
“Yes.” Which is so not what he meant to say at all. He looks at her, puzzled by
his own truthfulness and Cora reaches across the space between their beds and
smoothes her thumb across his eyebrow that he can feel has quirked high on his
forehead, she’s smirking.
“And you know he loves you. Right?” He remembers that night when Stiles had
told him “I love you” in a soft broken voice, it’s a memory that he keeps
locked away tight and every now and then he pulls it out and peeks at it, still
amazed that such a funny, brave and beautiful person like Stiles finds
something in him that is worth loving. He nods in response to her question.
“Then why are we here? Shouldn’t you be there, getting all hot and bothered in
your mating heat instead of here with your sister in..” She pauses for a long
moment. “Derek for God’s sake where are we?” He’s not in a laughing mood, not
at all, but he can’t help it when a small chuckle escapes him, because he can’t
remember where they are either. Is it Iowa or Indiana? It’s definitely a state
starting with an I, he’s pretty sure.
He’s dragged them both from one end of the country to the other, for no other
purpose than to NOT be in the one place that is home. It’s home because that’s
where his mate is. Its clichéd, but wherever Stiles is, that is home for Derek.
“Cora.. he died. Stiles died because of me.” He turns his head, ashamed. A wolf
protects his mate always and he’s done a very poor job of it with Stiles.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure he died because he chose to.” His head snaps around
and he’s about to tear strips off her, maybe even literally as his canines have
dropped, then he sees the expression on her face. It’s so understanding, that
he feels guilty when he remembers that she has lost someone recently. He
doesn’t know exactly what bond she had with Boyd but there was definitely one
there. Maybe one day it will be okay for him to ask.
“Don’t underestimate him. He may not be a wolf, but he’s strong. Probably
stronger than you or I. He’s human. Fragile, easily broken and yet he doesn’t
hesitate. The things he does.. if I wasn’t a werewolf I’d be outta there so
fast, but I know I can heal… most things.” Her eyes darken momentarily and he
knows that she’s recalling the Darach’s spell that had almost killed her, her
eyes flick up to where his are shining electric blue, a testament to his
sacrificing his Alpha hood for her life. He doesn’t regret it for one second,
he puts his hand out to her and she takes it, her small hand swallowed by his
larger one and he squeezes gently.
“I don’t underestimate him. If you could’ve seen him swing that bat at the
twin’s head.. “ There had been a grim determination in the teenager’s face as
he’d waited in that hospital room for the twin’s combined uber wolf to appear.
Derek was proud of the younger man, he’d never doubted Stiles’ courage even
when he’d so obviously been afraid of Derek when they first met, the refusal to
back down and his never ending sarcastic digs and pokes revealed a young man
who stood by his friends even at the risk of his own life.
Derek was so afraid that characteristic was going to be the death of Stiles, he
had come close too many times to count now and far too many of them involved
Derek. What the boy even saw in him? He just didn’t understand it.
Thinking about Stiles, inevitably led him to surreptitiously check his phone
which he’d left on the bed beside him. There was no symbol showing for incoming
texts. He tried to crush the disappointment that welled within him. There had
been nothing for the past week.
What had he expected? He’d left and Stiles had to continue his life in Beacon
Hills. There would be school, homework and lacrosse practice in between hanging
with friends. A darker thought wouldn’t be denied, maybe even a girl or a boy
who would be sweet and kind… would recognise just how special Stiles is… and
they would fall in love and he would forget all about the wolf, his mate. Damn
it.
“What’s put that look on your face?” Cora still held his hand and she dipped
her head to keep his eyes in sight when he tried to avert them. Spotting the
phone on the bed, she nods in understanding. “No messages from Stiles.” Derek
tries to keep the surprise from his face when she starts to laugh. “Derek it
wasn’t really hard to guess and the sleep talking well.. moaning actually, that
just gave it all away entirely.” She winks at him with a leering expression
that makes him cringe in mortification.
Huffing in disdain, he tries to shake off her hand in his, but she refuses to
let go. Her face is suddenly serious.
“We need to go back. You’re not the only one who’s been getting messages.” Cora
pulls out her phone from her jacket pocket and flicks through the functions,
easily manipulating it with one hand. “Read this.”
It’s a message from Scott, only ten minutes old.
8.50pm Scott
He’s not good. Too thin. His Dad even came to see me. Asked me if I knew what
was going on. Please please get Derek to come back before it’s too late. More
important I can smell Peter on him. He says I’m wrong I’m not. Get Derek here
now.
Derek’s standing next to the bed, doesn’t even remember getting to his feet,
the phone in his hand. Cora’s lucky it’s still intact, because he’d nearly
crushed the thing when he first read that message and the second and third
times too. His thumb drags through the messages and he sees that Cora’s been
keeping in touch with Scott since they left.
He’s not doing it to intrude on her privacy, just needs to see if there’s any
more information about Stiles. It started out with small brief messages every
now and then and lately he realises they’ve been longer and more personal..
really.. Scott? Almost every day now. It’s mainly in the latest ones that show
Scott’s increasing concern for his best friend.
Derek hands back the phone and reaches for his own. He presses the saved number
for Stiles and waits impatiently as it starts to ring. He looks at his watch
and realises that yeah with the time difference it’s still reasonably early on
the west coast.
“Hello.” Derek freezes as he recognises the voice on the other end of the line.
“Peter. What are you doing with Stiles’ phone?” Derek knows he’s growling as he
speaks, but he can’t control it, not when another wolf answers his mates’
mobile.
“Why Derek. This is a pleasant surprise. I haven’t spoken to you for such a
long time.” Peter’s voice is still as smooth and silky as ever and it makes
Derek’s hackles rise.
“Where is Stiles and why do you have his phone?” If Derek could reach through
the phone and rip out the man’s throat he would.
“I’m just looking after it for him.. while he’s in the shower.” It’s said so
calmly, so innocently it takes a moment for Derek to register what’s just been
said. Then it clicks and he’s roaring down the phone, beta’ed out and he has no
control whatsoever and his phone bears the brunt of it as it snaps loudly,
falling to pieces and trickles out of his clenched fist.
He doesn’t need to say anything to Cora, she’s a wolf so she heard every word.
She stands and grabs her bags and starts to pack.
2 days later…
Without bothering to turn on the light, Stiles pushes his bedroom door open and
slings his lacrosse kit onto the floor, his school bag onto the end of the bed.
It’s twilight and dark shadows are growing larger in his room as the light
recedes. In the corner by his desk, he sees a pair of flashing blue lights and
stumbles back in alarm, his hand slapping frantically at the wall to find the
switch.
“Stiles.” The voice is a low rumble and Stiles thinks he recognises it, but
he’s heard that voice before and when he’s woken up no one’s there and… he’s
dreaming now must be… when did he even fall asleep… the dark shape he can just
make out by his desk switches on the lamp and… Holy crap. Derek is sitting in
his chair, watching him.
He’s kinda thankful that the wall is so close behind him to prop him up,
otherwise his legs would’ve given way underneath him and that’s not the kind of
image he wants Derek to have after nearly four months apart, Stiles collapsed
in a heap on the floor.
“You’re back..” Smooth, Stiles smooth. He cringes inside. “Obviously.”
Derek’s sitting there so calmly, hands resting on his thighs. His eyes have
lost the blue glow of a beta and returned to their normal state of WTF colour
is that and light green is the closest he can come to and it doesn’t reflect
how beautiful they really are. The guy’s unflappable, nothing seems to shake
him and it’s infuriating.
Then Stiles recalls that night in this very room 4 months, 2 days and 19 hours
ago. Derek was trembling and moaning in his arms, there was nothing calm about
him then and it was all due to what he likes to call the Stilinski Effect. He’s
replayed that night in his mind so many times that whenever he walks into the
room he’s sure he can see ghost images of it, that it’s so monumental an event
it’s etched itself like a recording into the very fabric of time and space in
his bedroom.
His confidence increases and he can feel his heartbeat settle into a more
normal rhythm. Good, it’s such an unfair advantage that werewolves’ senses are
acute enough to pick up any irregularities in the beat.
“For how long?” That’s a valid question he decides. Derek may just be dropping
in on his way through to somewhere else that’s far far away from Stiles.
“I haven’t decided yet. It depends..” Derek’s voice is low and controlled and
it grates against something that Stiles has been pushing down deep inside
himself, but lately it’s been trickling out. Stiles pulls himself upright, away
from the wall, his hands tightly curling into fists.
“Depends on what?” Stiles never knew he possessed as hard a tone in his voice
as his father does when he’s in full Sheriff mode, but there it is. Go figure.
“How long it takes to hurt me all over again?”
Derek visibly flinches at the bitterness coating the words and a small bubble
of satisfaction bursts in Stiles’ chest. It slightly soothes and appeases him,
after all he’s just a human and humanity is one of the only species that truly
has a vindictive nature.
Derek shifts in his chair, the first indication that he’s maybe not as at ease
as he would like to appear. Stiles looks more closely at him, then he sees it.
A strange feeling washes over him as he realises that Derek’s hands that are
resting on his thighs are not purely human, the claws are out and they are
digging deep into the taut flesh of his thighs as if it is the only thing
restraining him from reaching out and... his head feels fuzzy for just a moment
as he tries to decipher all the implications of what he’s seeing, but Derek is
talking and he’s losing the thread of that thought.
“No I don’t want to hurt you Stiles… it just… it depends on you.” Derek feels
nauseous. This is not going at all how he expected. Did he expect Stiles just
to be grateful because he came back for him? No… well maybe just a bit… yes..
“God damn it, Stiles. You stopped texting me… and I needed to make sure you
were okay.” Derek huffs out a breath of air, loudly.
The fury that has been grinding away deep in Stiles’ belly rises in an
unstoppable rush.
“That was only one week Derek, multiply that by 16. Sixteen weeks.” Stiles
starts to pace, the room isn’t long enough for the amount of furious energy he
needs to burn off, but he gives it a damn good try. Pacing back and forth.
“Four months Derek. Four months where I didn’t hear a single fucking word from
you. Not even to say ‘hey Stiles I’m still alive’.” He lifts a trembling hand
to run it through his hair, tugging and pulling at the fine strands.
“I only knew you were alive because Cora was texting with Scott.” He pauses. So
angry. Angry at Derek, even more angry at himself. He shakes his head in
disbelief as he recalls his own words and actions the last time. “I let you
walk all over me. I was too shocked and maybe too in awe of you to stand up to
you and tell you exactly how wrong and stupid I thought you were being.”
“Is it wrong to want you to stay alive, to be safe?” Derek’s starting to get
angry himself now, he can feel the fury coming off Stiles in hot waves.
It’s changed his scent slightly as well, there’s still orange and vanilla but
threaded through it is coffee. Not the generic, bought over the counter in some
safe little chain store in the local shopping centre version, but the strong,
aromatic Turkish blend that comes only as a rich, bitter, black liquid in small
delicate cups from a café in some exotic market bazaar.
It’s compelling and alluring, just like his mate is, particularly at the
moment. Derek is amazed to find that he likes this argumentative Stiles, one
that is ready to go toe to toe with him. It’s kind of hot and the way Stiles
has been prowling back and forth in front of him, he’s lucky that Derek hasn’t
jumped him. He doesn’t hold back, he draws in a deep breath and lets it sit in
his lungs for as long as possible so it soaks into his body, permeates every
cell. It makes him hard.
“No. I want you to stay alive and be safe as well. What I don’t want, is you to
decide what the best way to do that is without even talking it over with me
first?” He takes a couple of steps closer to the older man, unable to resist.
“Why do you insist on believing that you are to blame for all the bad shit that
happens?”
Derek stands jerkily, his claws dropping away from his thighs and Stiles can
just make out tiny slits in the denim where they had pushed through to the
flesh below. He can feel his face flush with heat when he realises that just
above where he’s looking there’s that huge bulge tenting out the front of
Derek’s jeans that he remembers from that night.
“Maybe because everyone I love either ends up hurt or dead and I’ll be damned
if I let that happen to you.” His voice is harsh and Derek’s eyes are wild and
flashing blue with his emotions.
Stiles lets that statement sink in for a moment. Replays it in his head. Once,
twice checking for tone or any other nuances that might mean he’s
misinterpreting what Derek’s said. His heart starts to gallop in his ribcage
and right now he doesn’t care that the other man can hear it because…
“You love me.” He breathes the words out and they are barely audible because
his chest has just about seized up in reaction, but he can see Derek visibly
flinch when he hears them. A stripe of red flushes across Derek’s high
cheekbones, it’s adorable and sweet and Stiles loves him so much right then
that it borders on pain.
“Stiles..” Derek begins. But, Stiles is in no mood to be denied or told that
he’s misunderstood and wilfully interrupts.
“You. Love. Me.” Stiles can’t stop the grin that’s stretching his cheeks so
wide that it almost hurts. This stubborn, controlling and most sour of wolves
is in love with him, Stiles Stilinski, and he’s so happy that it almost feels
like he’s going to rupture something. Wouldn’t that be just his luck, find out
the love of your life loves you in return and then have a heart attack.
Derek closes his eyes. He almost can’t bear to look, because Stiles is glowing.
It’s like an internal light switch has just been flicked on and every inch of
him is pulsing with energy. Amber eyes flash brightly, dazzling him with the
intensity of Stiles’ emotions that are flooding out of them.
His scent doesn’t hold that bitter coffee flavour anymore, Derek feels like
he’s standing in an orchard of oranges and he’s drowning in the citrus scent
only able to surface because of the richer, sweeter vanilla scent that helps to
ground him, anchors him.
“You knew that night, didn’t you?” Stiles asks hesitantly. Does he really want
to know? “That’s why you left. It wasn’t just to keep me safe, you were
running.” With everything that he knows of the older man, his history and trust
issues, Stiles quickly pieces it together. “Running from me. I get it.. I
really do.”
Derek opens his eyes and doesn’t see any condemnation or rancor in Stiles’
expression just curiosity, he simply nods his head. He needs Stiles to know the
truth, that it is more than the simple notions of love and happy ever after
that he’s grown up with. Being with a wolf is so much more, he trembles at the
thought of having Stiles as his mate, he wants it so badly.
“A part of me has always known, right from the very first moment we met.”
Derek’s voice is harsh, he coughs to clear it, but it’s an emotional rather
than physical cause that is constricting his throat.
“Stiles my wolf knew instantly because… you’re my mate.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek wants to explain about the mate bond and what it means to be
     mated to a werewolf before they get intimate. However, Stiles
     misunderstands entirely due to his own self-esteem issues and
     believes Derek actually wants to either use him as a booty call or
     bump him off so he can get a more suitable mate. When Stiles tries to
     escape it provokes Derek's inner wolf to chase him down and once he's
     caught.. well who knows what will happen then.
Chapter Notes
     Seriously, chapter 3 and I'm still not finished - so much for my
     intended quickie.
     Unbeta'ed - but poked and prodded.
“Stiles my wolf knew instantly because… you’re my mate.” Derek’s voice is
harsh, he doesn’t mean it to be, but he’s struggling. Struggling with control,
he’s off balance and unsure of himself because he can feel that he’s at one of
those life changing turning points that people talk about and he’s so damned
scared that he’s going to mess it up.
He’s this close to getting everything he’s ever wanted in life. Family, pack, a
home and the most important thing of all, a mate. He’s dreamed about it, what
wolf hasn’t, but in reality true mates are rare. More often than not the
matings that are found in werewolf packs, while still intense, are usually
based solely on the choice of the human side of the individual. Their wolf side
while protective, particularly when offspring are born, don’t connect with the
mate on any level beyond that of a packmate.
When the wolf side chooses a mate, an empathic bond between the two develops
after the first knotting. They can connect on the physical, mental and
spiritual planes. The term soul mates is all too easily bandied around, but
Derek thinks in this case it’s possibly true. Derek the wolf found Stiles and
declared him mate and Derek the human sealed it by agreeing.
There was no doubt in either his wolf nature or his human one that his mate is
truly exceptional. Stiles is strong and caring, passionate and honourable, and
willing to stand his ground for what he believes in. It’s a never-ceasing
wonder to Derek that of all the people in the world, Stiles appears to have
chosen him. Even though he’s not an overly religious man, he prays that he
won’t disappoint the teenager.
It won’t be easy, Derek doubts he will ever be able to control the need he has
to protect Stiles from everyone and everything, even himself. He will more than
likely drive the boy crazy, but he knows now that Stiles will definitely let
him know if he starts to overstep his bounds and make decisions for him. He
won’t tolerate it if Derek tries to take away his right to choose for himself.
He huffs out a quick breath. Compromise will be the key he thinks. He tells
Stiles what to do, Derek listens to Stiles say no then he makes Stiles do it
anyway, sounds like the perfect compromise to him. Yeah right, that’s so going
to happen. It almost makes him smile.
Stiles is his mate and the look in his eyes as he stands before him right at
this very moment is one he’ll never forget. There’s a glow in those amber eyes,
a warmth that soothes him and makes him want to lay his head in Stiles’ lap and
feel him stroke his hair. Feel those strong slender fingers carding through the
length, nails gently scraping against his scalp. He whines in longing, knows
that Stiles won’t hear it because it’s too low for human ears.
The longer he looks at that warm glow though, Derek can see beyond it, deeper
to a fire that rages and burns and it stokes the flames within his belly and
makes his groin feel heavy and aching. He can’t give in to the desire, not yet,
later he hopes fervently. He and Stiles need to talk, he needs to tell him
everything, what being a mate entails. He has to tell him the truth, before it
goes any further, because Stiles needs to know these things if he’s to choose.
He’s quietly terrified that the answer will be no.
“Derek..” Stiles voice is hoarse and he takes an unsteady step towards the
wolf.. his wolf.. his mate. He wants, he needs and he burns and it’s Derek that
his body and instincts are telling him will satisfy those desires. It’s been 4
months since Stiles had last felt Derek’s hands on him, 4 months since he had
last kissed him and Stiles calculates that means he and Derek have at least 8
months of catching up to do. Good thing he's got stamina.
“Stiles wait.” There’s panic in Derek’s voice and he holds up one hand as
though to ward Stiles off. “We need to talk.” He quickly steps back until
there’s a huge gap between them.
Stiles is confused, are they mates or not? Derek shouldn’t be scared but Stiles
can tell he is, it's all over his face, so he stops and waits.. hears a loud
released sigh of relief from Derek’s lips.
He’s trying to think of what he’s said or done that would make Derek pull away
from him. He tracks back over what’s been said and then he gets it and it
hurts, hurts so bad that he wraps his arms around himself and hunches over,
keening his distress.
“Stiles.. Stiles what’s wrong?” Derek watches in horror as the boy who’d been
moving towards him with a look in his eyes that’s so sensual he’d thought he
was going to have a stroke, suddenly hunches over, his pain a tangible thing
reaching out to Derek through his scent. It’s bitter, like biting into an
unripened orange and it burns with citric acid, the vanilla is weak and faded
as though it’s been left exposed to the sun for too long.
Derek is at his side instantly, arms seeking to wrap around the younger man and
comfort him. His heart breaks when Stiles throws up his hands and tries to push
him away, shouting fiercely, vehemently “No, get away from me.”
Derek’s so much stronger he could force his embrace onto him, but he doesn’t,
Stiles is distressed enough as it is. His wolf whines and it takes over his
throat and it echoes in the bedroom mingling with Stiles panting breaths.
“Okay. You can leave now.. I got the message… loud and clear now.. so you can
go.” Stiles is desperate to get Derek out of here before he breaks down
completely. He’s a fool. Stupid, stupid. He starts to itemise all the reasons
why he’s an idiot for even thinking he had a chance.
Derek’s known ever since they first met that Stiles is his mate, he doesn’t
know quite how it works, but surely if Derek had really, really wanted him
wouldn’t he have approached Stiles well over a year ago? You would think if
your perfect wolfy match appeared you would at least give them a heads up. But,
no tonight is the first time he’s heard about any of this.
The only time they’ve been intimate is the very night before Derek leaves and
disappears for four months without so much as a word from him in all that time
and now after Derek admits he loves him.. although now that he thinks about it
he didn’t exactly say the words just nodded his head. Plus the fact he’s almost
frantic that Stiles keeps his mitts to himself and not touch him. It all adds
up to one case of extremely reluctant attraction, its all gone so terribly
wrong.
Derek may want him, may even love him in some weird, wolfy way, but he really,
really doesn’t want to. He’s starting to feel that they’ve been talking at
cross-purposes. He’s been talking about love and forever and Derek’s been
thinking Stiles is the perfect booty call and Stiles has too much pride to be
anyone’s toy. Particularly a werewolf chew toy, because he knows all too well
they have a kink for nibbling and biting. He even admitted he was only going to
stay long enough to.. let's just say party on Stiles' ass.. and that it would
all depend on Stiles, saying yes of course.
He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised as he looks at the other man who’s
still the hottest thing on two legs that Stiles has ever seen in his life, even
with the puzzled, quizzical look that he’s wearing right now. Stiles is the
equivalent of a human meerkat and Derek is the very epitomy of a Greek God and
ne’er the twain shall meet or mate, he thinks.
Heaven and hell, all in the space of a few minutes. He starts to laugh,
slightly hysterical. What did Ms Morell say to him that time? If you’re going
through hell, keep going. That’s all well and good he thinks, but what if hell
is all you can see ahead of you now and it’s here to stay.
Derek’s had enough. His wolf’s going crazy, knowing that his mate is in
emotional pain from something he just doesn’t know what, and Derek can’t
control it any longer. The wolf overpowers him, forces him to beta out, roaring
and growling his frustration loud enough to make the glass in the bedroom
window shiver. It’s enough that it seems to snap Stiles out of whatever
headspace he’s in and he’s slowly backing away from Derek, eyes wide with fear,
face so pale that in contrast the delicate brown moles scattered along his
jawline appear to glow against the white skin.
So this is how it ends. Stiles thinks he understands now, if Derek gets rid of
Stiles maybe this mate thing will shift to someone more appropriate for him.
Someone more worthy, someone his equal in beauty and strength.
He’s so fucked up that even now, Derek’s beta form has an appeal for Stiles.
The beautiful electric blue eyes that spark heatedly as they trace the length
of his body are particularly compelling, even with the knowledge of why they
are blue.
Derek’s panting, his mouth parted, fangs glinting. Derek’s finally going to use
those teeth on him and tear out his throat, like he’s always threatened. He can
feel his pulse fluttering madly in his neck as though it’s anticipating the
rending of sharp fangs.
He can’t go down without a fight, there’s his Dad to think about and Scott.
They care about him and if he dies who’ll look out for them. Fight or flight?
The adrenalin that’s shooting through his system is asking the question. He has
to choose..
Derek can hear Stiles’ heartbeat, it’s racing and he feels sick because he
knows it’s from fear. Stiles is afraid of him. He should turn around and leave,
go back through that window and disappear from his life forever.
The only problem is that when he lost control to the wolf and was forced into
his beta skin, his wolf hooked it’s claws well and truly into his psyche and
his primal instinctive hindbrain and so for the moment his humanity has lost
dominance. He’s running on wolf instinct and it’s telling him to claim and
protect his mate at all costs. He takes a step forward and with his enhanced
senses can feel Stiles body tense, winding up like a spring. No, damn it. Don’t
run. Don’t make me chase you, he knows that it will push buttons in his wolf
that he won’t be able to control.
“Stiles whatever you do.. don’t run.. please.” Derek is begging him, but it’s
too late because Stiles has already chosen.. it’s flight and he’s quick, all
that lacrosse training is paying off, and he’s out the door and running. He
hears an excited yip from the bedroom then he can feel the thump thump
vibration of footsteps against the wooden floor right behind him, but he knows
his house, he hopes that’s enough of an advantage.
Stiles feels the gentle scrape of claws against his neck before they hook into
and slice through the thin cotton of his t-shirt from collar to hem, the sound
of tearing material is deafening. The torn fabric flutters free as Stiles hits
the stairs and like he’s done so many times before, much to his Dad’s
displeasure, he has one hand on the bannister railing and vaults over to the
lower level and gained precious seconds.
The howl that echoes throughout the house makes the hair on the back of his
neck stand on end as he realises, maybe too late, that by running he’s turned
himself into prey.
He chooses to head to the front door, hoping to get to the street. It’s not
very late and there will still be people out and about in this ordinary
suburban neighbourhood and it may be just enough to deter the wolf on his heels
from devouring him whole if there are witnesses. It’s a great plan, too bad he
doesn’t make it.
Derek tackles him. All the air in Stiles’ lungs feels like it’s being forced
out of his body in one great big whooshing exhale of breath. Derek’s heavy
muscular frame drags Stiles lighter one to the ground effortlessly. He’s about
a metre and a half from the front door and it may as well be to the moon, the
older man’s simply too strong.
Derek has wrapped his arms around him and as he’s falling to the floor he rolls
so that Stiles is cushioned from the impact by Derek’s body underneath him. His
naked back pressed to the furnace-like heat of Derek’s chest, it burns even
through the cotton t-shirt he’s wearing. Even landing on Derek, doesn’t prevent
Stiles from being winded. He’s breathless and doesn’t move for a moment or two,
knowing he must feel like a dead weight to the man beneath him.
He hears a soft whine as Derek frantically nuzzles his neck and ear. His
stubble drags across the delicate, sensitive flesh and Stiles can’t help the
shiver that ripples through his body. Maybe he’s dead, he thinks. Derek’s
actually ripped his throat out and this is the afterlife, this is heaven,
because as far as Stiles and his traitorous body are concerned it feels too
good not to be.
He can feel the hard, muscled body beneath him and Derek’s heat is scorching
his skin. Stiles is only dressed in pants and his sneakers now, the remnants of
his t-shirt somewhere near the stairs. The muscular arms wrapped around him
keep his own arms pinned to his sides and he feels Derek shift slightly beneath
him and woah.. just woah.
Now that Derek’s moved him slightly he can feel a rock hard bulge pressing
against his ass and he tries to move away from it but Derek’s got him pinned
tight and is obviously enjoying his movements because his chest is vibrating
quite strongly against his back and there’s a low rumbling sound coming from
him. It’s almost like he’s purring which is impossible because - hello - canine
dna in the mix, but still.. Derek’s moaning something into his neck, it’s so
low he can just barely make it out.
“You’re mine.. Stiles.. mine… my mate… mine… mine... Stiles…mate…”
Derek uses his immense strength to all too easily drag Stiles’ body further up
his torso. It’s disconcerting on so many levels. It tips his head back against
Derek’s shoulder, almost draping him over the other man like a living blanket,
allowing the wolf to have complete access to his neck, ear and face on that
side.
He takes complete advantage by licking a hot wet stripe up the side of Stiles’
neck. Then nibbles and licks each and every brown mole that dots his jawline
lingering lovingly, when he eventually reaches Stiles ear he gently nips the
rim before swirling his tongue firmly against the inner whorls. Stiles groans,
dear God it’s so hot. Why has he never done this before? Oh yeah right, no
one’s ever wanted to.. until now. Until Derek. He groans again because it’s
just too good.
When he’d hauled him up Derek’s hands slid over his bare torso and he’s ended
up with one arm wrapped firmly around his upper chest, the claws of that hand
just resting lightly over his heart, the nails gently pricking the flesh there
drawing out goosebumps across his arms and chest. It makes his nipples stand
out, hard and erect.
The other one has somehow ended up on his belly, fingers splayed, claws idly
ruffling through the trail of hair that leads from Stiles’ bellybutton to below
the belt of his pants. The shivers that rock through him, at that sensation are
bone deep.
The final piece of torment that is slowly but surely driving him insane, is
that Derek’s threaded a muscled thigh between Stiles’ legs, bending it at the
knee. To all intents and purposes Stiles is flat on his back, draped over
Derek’s body and riding Derek’s leg and it’s pressing against his balls and the
base of his cock creating the most wicked of sensations. Stiles can’t help
himself he’s moving and grinding. Pressing his ass down against the hard heavy
length beneath him then surging up and forward to grind his aching groin
against the firm hard thigh.
Stiles is lost. He’s awash in the most amazing sensations that his body has
ever produced, all at the hands of Derek Hale. The man who says he loves him,
but then wolfs out as though he’s going to kill him, although Stiles’ isn't so
sure now unless the plan is to sex him to death. He just doesn’t care anymore.
Decides that no matter what happens he will forever love Derek Hale and he’s
not going to hold back on that now, letting the warm glow surge through him
making him moan softly. Whatever, Derek can kill him afterwards, but for right
now at this very moment he’s going to enjoy every bit of pleasure that Derek
can conjure up in his body. He releases all control over his mind, heart and
soul, stops thinking at all and just sinks back into the hard body that is
beneath him.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek's chased Stiles down, brought him to the floor, he needs to
     touch his mate desperately. It's wild and frantic and in the midst of
     desire Derek and Stiles truly connect and it's not what either of
     them expect. What will the aftermath bring?
Chapter Notes
     Unbeta'ed - as always, therefore, it's all on me - the good, the bad
     and everything in between.
Derek’s going to mate him. Has to, needs to, wants to. His wolf has chased his
mate down and all his senses are focused on the boy who’s currently writhing
above him. The relief he feels when he starts smelling his mate’s natural scent
is overwhelming. His eyes sting and start to well up with unshed tears, he
tells himself that its remnants of that awful bitter acidic scent, that he
never ever wants to smell coming from Stiles again. Who would dare to call him
a liar?
Derek breathes in spiced oranges drowned in vanilla and rich dark chocolate and
he knows that this is the scent he will carry in his heart forever, it’s the
scent of Stiles in love, in desire, in acceptance and he can’t stop the heated
whine that escapes him, because it means that Stiles is saying ‘yes I choose
you’ to him.
The knowledge is shattering, his mate has accepted him and Derek feels not only
humbled and in awe, but also strong and anchored, tethered to something,
someone else in this life. He’s not on his own anymore. Stiles has thrown him a
line, a lifeline, and Derek’s going to hold on tight forever. He feels a
stirring in his chest, a tentative reaching out, of something deep within him
towards Stiles, it feels good, it feels right and he’s greedy, so greedy
because he wants more.
He slides his hand up from Stiles smooth firm chest to caress the long line of
his neck, cupping his chin and jawline fingertips resting on the pulse that’s
fluttering wildly beneath the pale almost translucent skin, his claws scraping
oh so delicately. It reminds him of how fragile the boy is, makes him want to
wrap him up and carry him away, protect him from any and all harm.
Derek tilts Stiles head where it rests on his shoulder, angles it towards him,
to allow him to press open mouthed kisses along his cheek down to the corner of
his beautiful wide mouth. Stiles’ gasps at the sensation, it allows Derek to
push his tongue into the hot wet cave of his mouth and Derek’s softly keening
over the top of the constant uncontrollable rumble of pleasure that’s vibrating
through his chest.
God, he has to be so careful, his fangs are still dropped and it would be so
easy to lose himself. He’d forgotten the full extent of the sweetness of
Stiles’ kiss. He’d remembered the moist heat and the taste which he’s now
currently trying to suckle off Stiles’ tongue, but the enthusiastic innocent
demanding sounds that Stiles is currently making. How on earth had he forgotten
those? They make him feel crazed, the urge to possess him is almost a frenzy in
his blood, a violence that he needs to.. has to.. deny. His wolf is pushing
hard for what it wants.
Stiles is making little mewling noises in the back of his throat and Derek is
getting progressively more and more aroused, his mouth wilder and more
demanding on the younger mans. His hips lift clear off the floor, even with
Stiles draped across him, and he’s grinding his hard aching cock into the sweet
firm flesh of Stiles ass and dear God… Stiles has entwined his legs around
Derek’s thigh that he’s riding and is pushing into it even harder. Stiles pulls
his mouth away from the kiss gasping, his breath is hitching wildly.
“Stiles.. I can’t… Stiles.” Derek’s control is slipping fast and he needs to
touch his mate. Wants to touch him intimately. “Stiles.. let me.. Please.”
He’s not sure that the teen’s even heard him, until he hears him speak in a
voice that’s rough and broken with the pleasure he’s been feeling. “Anything..
anything you want.. Derek I need you.. Please..“ He trails off in a long
whining groan.
Derek moans, a wave of heat rushing through him at Stiles words. He’s just been
given free rein and he has to bite down on his lower lip hard not to rush to
take advantage. His cock is so hard and aching it feels like it’s going to
burst, he’s half tempted to reach between them and free himself but it’s not
what he really wants. He wants to touch Stiles again like he did all those
months ago, the way he’s dreamt about night after night for the past 4 months.
But, this time he wants to see him properly, not half hidden between their two
bodies where he only caught glimpses.
He can’t resist, the hand that has been resting on Stiles’ belly, playing with
that oh so tempting trail of soft hair, finds the buckle of Stiles’ belt and
undoes it. It takes him a moment to flick the button of his pants back through
the buttonhole with one hand and it’s even easier to drag the zip down. The
rasp of which sounds extra loud, even above the gasps and moans that are
echoing in the long hallway. Derek pushes his hand into the front of Stiles’
pants and finds the hot, hard length of his cock and it's leaking pre-cum
furiously all over his underwear.
Stiles groans, turns his head desperately seeking Derek’s mouth like he’s
dying, pushing his cock into the tight hot grasp of Derek’s hand. Derek kisses
him for a long moment, before reluctantly dragging his mouth away. Derek
doesn’t just want to feel it, he needs to see it and he gently pushes the boy’s
underwear down, so it’s cupped and bunched around his balls. He then slowly
pulls out Stiles cock to expose it to the cooler air of the hallway and to
Derek’s hungry gaze.
“Fuck.” Derek can’t help grind out. He keeps a firm grip on the base of Stiles’
cock keeping it proudly upright for them both to see down the length of Stiles’
slender pale torso, Derek lifts his head off the floor slightly so he can see
over Stiles’ shoulder. “Look at you. You’re perfect, Stiles.. simply perfect.”
He whispers against his mate’s ear, Stiles shudders, Derek doesn’t know if it’s
from his breath, the rasp of his stubble, the feel of his lips or simply the
words of admiration. Doesn’t care which, just gently nips the rim in approval,
drawing a ragged moan from the teenager.
Stiles cock is long and fat, not quite as big as Derek’s, lacking a few inches
in length, but it’s still bigger than he remembers, bigger than average. Stiles
could even be a fraction of an inch thicker. The column of flesh is helmeted by
a mushroom-shaped head that is flushed the deepest, rosiest red Derek’s ever
seen and it’s all glistening, a bubble of pre-cum oozing from the slit and
trailing down its length. He swallows hard at the sight, saliva gathering and
pooling in his mouth, dripping from his long incisors, his body responding
faster to the visual than his brain can keep up.
He drags his fist up from the base to the tip, there’s more than enough
moisture from where Stiles has been leaking pre-cum to make it an easy glide,
then tugs down letting some of his fingers gently caress the weighty sac behind
his cock on the downward stroke. Stiles wails, his hips jerking uncontrollably.
“SSShhhh. I’ve got you.” Derek whispers to Stiles, who opens eyes that have
been screwed tightly shut. The amber ones look searchingly into his for a long
moment, before he tilts his head slightly letting Derek know he can continue.
That trust makes Derek’s chest feel tight and achy. He needs to make this good
for Stiles, needs to show him that Derek is worthy of him and his trust. That
he’ll honour them both and never abuse it.
He grips the heavy weight of Stiles cock and slides his hand back up then down
the straining length again and before Stiles can recover Derek’s done it a
second time. He can feel the boy trembling above him, muscles spasming, he
stops to let Stiles catch his breath, because he’s aware the teenager’s been
unconsciously holding it for far too long.
“Breathe baby.” Derek’s torn between watching Stiles cock get redder and
slicker in his hand and the needy, hungry expressions that have been crossing
his mate’s face. When he calls him ‘baby,’ Stiles eyes open wide, his pupils
are blown with arousal and a strip of burning red flushes high across his
cheekbones and nose. A high needy whine pushes out of his gaping mouth.
“Derek.. Derek..” Stiles is pleading, begging him for something.. he can tell
the boy’s not even sure what and it trips a switch inside of him. He’s going to
give Stiles everything he wants, everything he needs even the things that
Stiles hasn’t even thought of, Derek’s going to give him those too.
“I’m not going to stop now.. gonna keep going until you come baby.” He hears
Stiles breath stutter and hitch as he growls it softly, nuzzling into Stiles
neck drawing another sweet hit of Stiles scent deep into his lungs. He manages
to gasp out. “God.. you smell so good.”
Derek starts to stroke the teenager’s cock. He stays in rhythm for a while
until he can feel that Stiles has found it and is starting to pump his hips in
time, Stiles’ breathing is loud and harsh and he’s moaning, his head is
grinding back hard into Derek’s shoulder. Then Derek deliberately puts a twist
into the motion of his hand, which lets his palm drag across the sensitive head
and Stiles loses it. Absolutely fucking loses it.
He’s bucking and thrashing, the wild movements pressing and rubbing Derek’s
cock that’s trapped hard against Stiles ass. It has Derek groaning heatedly.
His hand is almost a blur moving over Stiles’ cock. The strangled huffing
noises that Stiles is making are going straight to Derek’s groin and he’s
certain he’s never ever been this hard before in his life.
When Derek moves his other hand, that’s been pressing down on Stiles’ chest to
keep him from rolling right off the top of him, he slides it across pale silky
skin to Stiles taut nipple. In a delicate pincer movement, he uses the claws on
his thumb and forefinger to lightly pinch the pink nub. He doesn’t expect the
reaction that he gets.
Stiles screams. The hair on the back of Derek’s neck stands on end and a wild
thrill moves through his body leaving goosebumps in its wake, because it’s his
name that Stiles has just screamed out. His wolf howls its approval and he’s
echoing it, throat hoarse with the effort. His cock is throbbing, it’s so damn
hard and painfully aching, he wants to whine and whimper like a pup.
Stiles is coming. Derek angles Stile’s cock down slightly so he can see the
jerking rosy head shoot hot, thick white stripes of cum across Stiles belly and
chest from the pulsing slit. It’s so beautiful that he can’t move, can only
watch until his unblinking eyes dry out, watches until the last weak spurts
trickle out, coating that same trail of hair below Stiles bellybutton that’s
fascinated him all night. Derek’s shaking with need, his balls are tingling and
he knows that it’s only a matter of time before he’s coming as well. Fuck, he
needs to be inside his mate right now.
As gently as his trembling hands allow, Derek slides Stiles to one side and it
lets him roll out from underneath the younger man and he can lower Stiles
gently to the floor. He’s kneeling between Stiles’ sprawled legs and Derek
sucks in a harsh breath as he looks down at his mate.
Stripped and sprawled before him, only in his unbuttoned pants, he can see all
too clearly now the weight loss Scott had mentioned in the text to Cora. Stiles
face has always had a fine boned angularity and with the baggy t-shirt he’d
been wearing it hadn’t been as noticeable. Now, Derek can see that Stiles
ribcage is prominent under his pale almost translucent skin, he can see the
lines of each rib clearly defined. His hipbones stick out sharply as his
stomach dips in hollowly between them. Derek closes his eyes, distraught. This
is his fault for leaving. Never should’ve left.. never.
“No you shouldn’t have.” Derek’s eyes flash open, he didn’t even realise he’d
been talking out loud. Stiles looks back at him, anger gone in an instant
replaced by a curiously vulnerable expression on his face. “I’m sorry I know
I.. “ He turns his head to the side, one arm lifting to curl around it, he
hides part of his face in his bicep. “I know I look.. different, to before. It
just seemed to happen.. one day I wasn’t hungry and before I knew it..“ Stiles
flicks an ashamed glance down at his body, before openly staring at the well-
muscled one hovering above him. The contrast is painful to see for both of
them.
Derek reaches down and gently strokes his flushed cheek. “You’re beautiful,
Stiles. Always. It just hurts me to know that I.. that.. that you felt so bad
that this is the result.” His hand moves from Stiles face to gently trace the
line of a rib on his chest. “You will eat.” There is no arguing at the tone in
his voice and Stiles turns to look at Derek’s face and what he sees there seems
to satisfy him and he nods his agreement.
Derek doesn’t know what to do, his wolf is still dominant and it’s hungry for
its mate. It’s pushing Derek to claim him, but looking at Stiles right now he’s
far too fragile for half the things Derek wants to do with him, to him.
There’s no way he can knot Stiles now, he’d break him and a small voice
whispers in his head that he hasn’t had the chance to talk to him to explain
about mates, bonds and knottings. His human part wants Stiles to hear what he
has to say and still choose him regardless. His wolf part is demanding that
they mount him first to claim him, then feed him and fatten him up ready to
breed pups.
It’s all twisted around and Derek’s confused because both ways seem like
really, really good ideas to him and he’s torn. The wolf isn’t in the mood to
negotiate and is starting to claw at his human psyche, demanding he surrender
to its will. It hurts. Hurts so bad, like that night when he’d got Stiles’
first text message, he’d been in agony. The only reason he’d beaten it was he’d
eventually passed out.
Derek hunches over. Trying not to show Stiles he’s in pain. What can he do? The
wolf will claw his humanity to pieces if he doesn’t give in, unless he gives it
something else. Not a full claim that he would get if he knotted with Stiles,
but a true scent marking might appease it. Might make it back off. He lets the
wolf feel his intentions and receives a vaguely interested chuff in response. A
hand on his stomach makes his whole body clench hard and tight. He looks down
and Stiles has propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes are wide and concerned
and he’s reached out to place his palm flat against Derek’s abdomen.
“What’s wrong? You’re hurt. I can feel it.” His face screws up in bewilderment.
“Derek how come I can feel that you’re in pain?”
Dear God. Can it be. Derek can scarcely bring himself to breathe and for once
his wolf is in total agreement with him, he can feel it waiting. Tentatively,
he searches for that place inside him, the one where he pushed out from before,
where he reached out to Stiles seeking to connect with the boy when he felt his
acceptance. It’s where his wolf lives deep inside him and most times when he
dares to venture there it’s like a forest, tall trees, damp undergrowth and the
scent of prey on the wind. This time though..
He closes his eyes and… there, right there he can feel it before he sees it in
his mind. There are tendrils of blue, as electric as his beta eye colour,
coiled inside him that extend out towards a golden rope. It’s thick and sturdy
and as he watches, the wavering tendrils of blue lash outwards and latch onto
the rope, entwining it’s threads so it’s blue, gold, blue, gold.
Derek feels a huge jolt go through his body centred on the hand pressed hard
against him. Stiles and Derek, both gasp in shock simultaneously, eyes opening
wide. Derek sees the younger man collapse onto his back, his eyes closed and he
roars out his mate’s name “Stiles.”
It’s a gut-wrenching few moments before Stiles opens his eyes and Derek’s heart
and soul seize abruptly. For the briefest moment, Stiles eyes are no longer
amber, they flash the electric blue of a Beta. The electric blue of Stiles’
werewolf mate. The flash ebbs away and they return to their natural beautiful
golden amber colour.
Derek can feel him. He can feel Stiles breathe – feel the air filling his lungs
before it puffs backs out between lips that feel swollen and achy. Can feel the
hunger in him as he looks his fill at his mate or is that what Derek’s feeling?
He can’t tell. He’s lost between sensations and emotions, doesn’t know if it’s
his own he’s feeling or Stiles, just knows that it’s intoxicating. Derek looks
down at his mate and his cock throbs a reminder that it hasn’t lessened in
hardness at all. That he still wants, still hungers, still needs Stiles.
No words can describe how truly beautiful Stiles is at that very moment,
regardless of his too thin body. His spent cock, lays twitching across his
belly slowly filling out again even as Derek watches until it’s fully erect,
one arm still raised above his head curling over his crown slender fingers
almost brushing against the opposite ear, the other arm draped across his
middle, his fingers idly playing in the white fluid smeared all over his torso.
Stiles watches him with slumberous amber eyes and he’s licking his swollen red
lips. It’s all too obvious that Stiles is feeling the same needs and wants that
Derek is and that about does it for him, kickstarts the runaway raging hunger
all over again. Desperation burns him like a fever, makes him sweat .
“Fuck.. Stiles.. need… you.” Derek’s frantically pulling off his t-shirt, can
hear the seams stretch and tear slightly in his haste, flinging it away from
him. Then, he’s yanking at his belt buckle and thank god it’s one of those that
clamps into place and not threads through. He’s tugging at his jeans and boxers
pulling them down low onto his thighs and then merciful God he’s finally free.
The cool air on his groin and bare ass is soothing on his burning skin. His
cock feels like a club it’s so engorged and it’s so full of blood that the
head, which is poking out of the foreskin, is a deep dark shade bordering on
purple.
He grabs hold of it in one clawed hand and strokes just once. The groan he
makes sounds like it’s come from the very depths of his guts. His eyes are shut
tight, because it just feels too good, it’s bordering on pain. This won't take
long at all to mark him. When he feels a hand on top of his he opens his eyes
to see Stiles watching him intently.
“Derek.” He’s prising at Derek’s fingers, trying to get Derek to let go of his
own cock. He’s not sure that’s such a good idea until he hears Stiles whisper.
“Let me. Please… wanna touch you..” His cock evidently likes that idea because
it gives an involuntary jerk.
Derek releases his hold and it sways freely from his groin, so heavy he can
feel the tug on his abdominals. When Stiles slender fingers wrap around it, he
shudders. He knows it’s not deliberate, that Stiles is just exploring him,
feeling the weight of his shaft, fingers wrapping around to gauge the
thickness, the worst of it is when he starts toying with his foreskin gently
poking at the peek-a-boo head and rubbing it’s soft texture between his
fingers. Stiles is apparently fascinated with its uncut extra skin as he keeps
glancing down at his own which looks somewhat sleeker for the lack of it. It’s
torture.
“Stiles.. please..” He’s not ashamed to beg and he knows that Stiles can hear
the pleading in his voice when the boy’s face flushes bright red in arousal at
his tone.
“Sorry.” Stiles mumbles, biting those plump red lips and Derek can’t help
himself he leans over, hands either side of Stiles’ head and lowers himself
down to flick his tongue at those lips and when Stiles gasps, Derek’s thrusting
his tongue inside. Licking and swallowing down the heavenly taste of his mate.
It’s good, so good for both of them and Stiles grip slackens and releases
Derek’s cock, which thumps heavily into Stiles’ belly and he can feel the head
drag through the still warm cum that’s coated across it. He feels frenzied
knowing that his cock is getting covered in it, in his mate’s juices.
Stiles grabs him again in a trembling hand and starts to stroke him while their
mouths are locked together and Derek’s moaning in ecstasy and pushing the sound
into his mate. He’s arched over the boy, arms and legs supporting his weight
but he doesn’t know for how much longer because he’s trembling so hard.
Stiles is using both hands to caress him, it’s not nearly as hard, as forceful
as Derek normally likes, but it’s Stiles and it’s good. He pulls and pushes,
dragging the foreskin backwards and forwards, slick with Stiles’ cum and when
he reaches further back with one hand and starts fondling his balls with the
lightest butterfly touch as though afraid he’s going to hurt him, Derek can’t
stop the feral whining growl that pushes out of him.
“So big.. and hot.” Derek’s struggling not to have a heart attack when he hears
the next words Stiles uncensored mouth speaks. “I want to taste you so bad, you
have no idea.” Stiles is looking directly at his groin when he says this, a
heated look in his eyes as he licks his lips. Doesn’t he know not to tease a
werewolf. Unsurprisingly, Derek’s done.
He roars as the first spurt of cum strips out of him to land flush on Stiles
belly, then watches wide-eyed and panting as Stiles directs the flow of cum
that’s pouring out of his cock in shuddering, jerky spurts all across his torso
as though he’s bathing in it. His claws spasm uncontrollably, raking the wooden
floor either side of Stiles’ head.
Stiles sounds breathless as he says “Yes.. come on me Derek.. please.. come all
over me..” Then he angles Derek’s cock slightly downward and the instant white
stripes of his cum splatter all over Stiles’ own cock and balls, Stiles is
coming again, crying out hoarsely, almost sobbing his pleasure. His pink
flushed cock, is pumping his own seed all over his belly to mix with his mate’s
scalding contribution.
“Stiles..” Derek chokes out, before he collapses, like all his strength has
been drained away. He knows he’s heavy, but can’t seem to move and the feeling
of their cocks pressed against each other, still twitching, and their cum
mixing together, smeared between them and soaking into their skin has his wolf
chuffing in his head in approval. Satisfied, it releases its hold, steps back
and Derek can feel his humanity slowly filtering back into his brain. His beta
side withdraws.
Stiles is struggling to breathe. Much as he loves feeling Derek against him,
this is a bit more than he can handle Derek’s literally a dead weight.
“Derek.. Can you hear me?” He shoves at the broad muscular shoulders that are
pinning him down, not able to resist stroking across the tattoo that adorns
Derek's back, even while he's suffocating. “Dude, seriously you gotta move
‘cause I can’t breathe.” Stiles is desperately wheezing by the end of that
sentence. It seems that’s enough to get Derek moving, because he rolls to one
side and as he does he’s locked an arm around Stiles to draw him in against
him, holds him to that deliciously firm and incredibly ripped chest. Stiles is
a bit dumbfounded because.. well are they cuddling? He starts to pull back
slightly, but Derek just drags him back against him all too easily.
“Stop fidgeting.” Derek’s voice is firm. Stiles tries again to inch away again.
“I’m not fidgeting.”
“Yes you are. Now stop it.”
“Stop it.. How can I.. when you are.. when we are.. Derek are we cuddling
here?” Stiles voice is a bit thin and reedy sounding to Derek.
“Yes.. and if I do this..” He turns towards Stiles, still holding him and
starts to nuzzle into his hair, then moves on down to his throat and presses
his face there and starts to snuffle madly at his skin. It’s hot and wet and
definitely teasing. Derek pauses to continue “..this is snuggling.” It’s
ticklish and Stiles is laughing, he can see the corner of Derek’s mouth twitch
as if he’s trying not to smile.
“So we’re cuddling.. and snuggling?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” Yes indeedy.. Stiles and Derek Hale are cuddling and snuggling, who’d
have thought. He lays there quietly just listening to the other man breathe,
it’s soothing and his eyes want to close and just allow him to drift away. Not
surprising he thinks, because he’s come twice tonight and they both come in as
joint winners of the “best ever orgasm of Stiles life thanks to Derek Hale”
award.
Thank God his Dad was rostered on the night shift tonight, because the way he
can feel their mingled cum rapidly running down his side they’re going to have
a lot of cleaning up to do. Although, how is he going to explain the claw marks
in the wooden floor is anyone’s guess at the moment.
Stiles keeps his face tilted towards Derek’s who is just lying there with his
eyes closed. Typical man, rolls over and goes to sleep, he thinks. Although, he
knows that Derek isn’t asleep at all. Is he simply exhausted or just not
wanting to have to deal with the aftermath?
He sucks in a breath to give a deep, noticeable to all parties concerned type,
sigh. Then he smells it. Smells something, nothing bad quite the opposite, in
fact it’s so good he moans. Where’s it coming from? He nuzzles his face closer
into Derek’s throat and pulls back in surprise. It’s Derek. He smells amazing.
Before he knows it, Stiles is up on his knees hunched over Derek and sniffing
him, yes that’s right he is sniffing Derek and can’t for the life of him seem
to stop. Can his life get any weirder? There’s another scent he can make out on
Derek’s belly where their combined cum is still slick and glistening. It’s a
citrus tang. Oranges?
“Stiles.”
“Yep.” He can’t stop smelling it because he’s trying to figure out what it is.
His nose is scraping against Derek’s fevered skin so he can inhale deeply, this
deliciousness that apparently is all Derek. It’s not just one thing, there’s a
couple of scents combining.
“What are you doing?” Derek’s seriously starting to get freaked now, because he
knows Stiles isn’t a wolf but he sure is acting like one… Oh.
“I don’t know.. but Derek you smell awesome.” Stiles is pushing harder into
Derek’s neck with his face and he tentatively sticks out his tongue and gives a
little kitten lick to the skin he can reach. It’s in his skin, he can taste it
although it's not quite as strong as the actual scent that’s coming out of his
pores, still it tastes.. “Yummy.”
Derek abruptly sits up. He’s rumbling again and his eyes are flashing blue but
he’s not completely beta’ed out like before. He takes hold of Stiles by the
upper arms and draws him away from his neck, Stiles eyes are locked onto that
part of him and Derek gently shakes him out of his trance.
“Derek.” Whines Stiles, then looks at Derek guiltily. “Did I just whine like a
little.. kid?” He was going to say ‘bitch’ but in present company and
circumstances thinks better of it.
“Yes.” The sourwolf is apparently back in residence, Derek’s face is grim and
he’s giving monosyllabic answers. Stiles isn’t going to let that put him off.
“You smell like the forest you know.. kinda wild. I can smell the trees, grass
and earth. I can also smell water.. it’s not salty, it’s…” He thinks for a
moment. “It’s rain.” Stiles smiles, he’s going to solve this puzzle. There’s
just this one element left and it’s sort of familiar. “There’s something else
though, I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Derek’s still got a hold on Stiles’
arms and they tighten reflexively.
“Cinnamon.” Derek can’t believe this is happening. They haven’t even had actual
sex yet.
“Cinnamon.. “ Stiles eyes widen thoughtfully. “Yes that’s it.”
Derek’s face looks so unbelievably sad that Stiles’ heart stutters in
apprehension.
“Derek what is it? What’s going on?” Stiles can see that the other man is
struggling to talk. “I know you’re not going to kill me now, is that it?”
“Kill you. Is that what you thought I was going to do when I caught you?”
Stiles nods sheepishly. Derek can’t believe it. Stiles had actually allowed
Derek to touch him when he believed that he was going to die. Derek can feel
the anger seeping into his voice, he can’t control it, doesn’t want to.
“What the hell? You’re my mate Stiles I can’t harm you, my wolf won’t allow
it.. I won’t allow it.” He’s speaking in nearly a whisper by the end. What’s he
doing so wrong that his mate who he would give everything for even his life,
thinks he’s going to kill him?
“I’m sorry.” Stiles tries to think of a way to explain it without sounding like
a lunatic, not an easy task he concedes.
“Derek, look at me.” He waves a hand in front of his face and drops it down the
length of his body as though he’s a game show hostess presenting the prizes.
“Now look at you.” His hand flaps wildly in between them like a crazed bird.
“Go on.” He insists, only continuing when he sees Derek drop his eyes to
quickly look over his own mostly naked body, before intently watching Stiles
again.
“This is me. Plain old Stiles. Everyone’s friend, everyone’s buddy. No one’s
ever wanted to be with me the way you’re saying you want to and I can’t.. I
can’t quite believe it.” Stiles wants to turn his head away so badly, not
wanting Derek to see how much this is affecting him, but they’ve gotta start
talking to each other more, be up front, so he keeps looking into those amazing
eyes that are intently following every move he makes. Watching his mouth like
Derek wants to devour it again and man that is just so hot.
“It’s easier for me to believe that you’ve come back to town for a booty call
or to get rid of me permanently so you can find a replacement.. than to
actually..” He gulps nervously. “Than to actually believe you want me for me.”
Derek is stunned and he thought he had self-esteem issues. Now that he looks
back on his actions over the past 4 months he can see how they would look
through the eyes of someone that doesn’t recognise how special, how important
they are.
Derek reaches out and puts his hand on the back of Stiles neck and draws him in
so that their foreheads touch. He’s looking into startled eyes and can feel the
puff of warm breath against his lips as Stiles’ gasps.
“Stiles I came back for you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted since I first saw you.
You’re smart, brave… sometimes foolishly so and ridiculously loyal.” He pauses,
raises the other hand to cup Stiles’ chin and swipe his thumb over the plump
lower lip. His voice has noticeably lowered when he starts to speak again. “And
you’re so beautiful.. those amber eyes they kill me when you look at me in just
that way and your lips..” Derek sighs and lowers his head to press his lips
softly, sweetly against the other boy’s for just a heartbeat. “Never doubt that
I want you for you.”
Stiles is trembling uncontrollably and he can feel his eyes are welling with
unshed tears. He can’t believe this is his wolf, his sourwolf, telling him
these things. It’s like a dream.. maybe it is. He pinches himself hard on the
arm.
“Oww.” Nope not a dream. He sees the look that Derek gives him, a mix of
concern and fond resignation. “Just testing.”
“Now why are you so worried about what I can smell?” He can see Derek’s hands
clench and flex when he asks the question. He turns his head slightly away so
Stiles can’t see his eyes properly. “Nuh-uh.” Stiles reaches up and grabs
Derek’s chin and turns his face back toward him.
“We’re starting again. No hiding. Okay?” Stiles looks into his eyes and wills
him to see that they can deal with this together. Whatever this is, mind you?
Derek slowly nods his head in agreement.
“I tried to talk to you about this earlier.. before you got..” Crazy, weirded
out, plumb loco there’s just so many to choose from. Stiles tilts his head and
gives Derek what he calls the Sheriff look, his Dad's specialty, daring him to
continue that sentence. It’s obviously effective as Derek’s eyebrows attempt
vertical liftoff and he looks suitably startled before he continues. “upset?”
It’s more of a question really and Stiles gives a nod.
“Yes before I got upset.” Stiles agrees.
“I was going to talk to you about what it means to be a mate. I didn’t want you
to go into this not knowing. I wanted you to be able to choose. But, I think
it’s too late now.” Derek’s face is grim.
Stiles’ heart freezes mid-beat. “Too late. You mean we can’t. Why? Have you
changed your mind?”
Derek grabs Stiles hand in both of his, squeezing in reassurance.
“No. I mean as it’s too late because it’s already started. The mate bond, I
didn’t know that it could start without the umm.. you know having actual sex.”
Derek starts to squirm under his scrutiny.
He really is too adorable, Stiles decides as he snorts loudly. “I don’t know
what you were doing, but I’m pretty sure I’ve just been having actual sex with
you.”
Derek is blushing and Stiles leans forward curiously trying to examine the
effect closer, until he’s practically sitting in Derek’s lap. Which isn’t a bad
thing because drying cum all over his chest and stomach plus the cool air in
the hallway and he’s starting to get a bit chilly, whereas, Derek is like a
furnace and Stiles snuggles against his chest, delighting in the bare skin and
rippling muscles, trying to leech all the warmth out of him.
“You know what I mean.” He growls and mumbles under his breath. “Knotting. I
thought I needed to knot you before the bond could establish.. but, when we
were.. together I could feel something in me reaching out to you. I think that
was the start.”
“Knotting. Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles can’t help but feel horrified,
maybe a little bit turned on but.. yep the majority is horror. “You mean it
gets bigger?”
Derek can’t help but smirk at the tone in Stiles voice. He’s definitely feeling
those virginal nerves, although Derek can scent a sliver of arousal there too.
That he can work with when the time is right.
Stiles decides to ignore the question of knotting at this stage and focus on
other aspects of the mate bond. “So this is why I can suddenly smell.. umm..
the real you?” Stiles asks fascinated. Derek nods. “And the oranges.. that’s
me?”
Derek’s eyes flash to blue and he huffs in agreement, before dropping his face
into the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He inhales deeply. “It’s delicious, spiced
oranges with vanilla and the dark chocolate is just uuhh.. I just want to eat
you up.” His tongue rasps a hot wet line up the cord of Stiles neck. “All the
time.”
Stiles can feel his face heat up at the obvious enjoyment that Derek gets from
his scent. It’s really sweet and really, really hot. Although, if he doesn’t
have a shower soon, nobody’s going to be enjoying his ‘natural’ aroma at all.
“I guess we should clean up and maybe talk about this mate bond thingy.” Stiles
says.
“Yeah and there’s some other things we need to talk about too.” Derek replies
lifting his head from Stiles’ throat, his blue eyes tracing the contours of
Stiles’ face.
“Like what?” Really what else could be more important than this mate bond
between them, Stiles wonders.
“Peter.”
“Oh, that.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles has collapsed and Derek has to take care of his mate. He
     thinks he's the worst mate in history, Stiles doesn't seem to think
     so. Barely recovered and all Stiles wants is Derek, all of him, and
     Derek's desperately trying to do the right thing and just look after
     his mate, but Stiles just makes it all incredibly hard.. literally.
Chapter Notes
     Chapter 5 and I think my porn brain has been left in the 'on'
     position, because seriously after the last chapter I didn't think any
     more yummy stuff was going to happen again so soon. But, those boys
     have needs and who am I to deny them (or myself - tee hee!) Oooh -
     sorry that sounded a bit creeper-like.
     Unbeta'ed - as per usual, but lovingly tinkered with.
Derek whines softly, as he gently lays an unconscious Stiles on the bathroom
floor of the Stilinski house. Damn it, he’s a fucking idiot, he berates himself
as he switches on the taps to the shower letting the water run hot for a few
moments before setting it to a more comfortable warm temperature. Steam rapidly
fills the small room.
He should’ve waited before mentioning his uncle’s name to Stiles. They’d been
talking downstairs in the hallway after.. he groans as his stomach muscles
spasm hard at the memories of what they’d been doing prior to their talk.
He’s never felt this way about anyone else before and it feels like Stiles has
given Derek the moon and stars already and this is only the beginning. God help
him, if and when it goes further. His cock twitches at the thought of Stiles
under him and completing the mate bond by knotting, his very vivid imagination
goes wild, and suddenly it’s not just twitching he’s got a raging hard on. So
totally inappropriate while his mate is lying unconscious, half dressed.
It’s not just the sex, which has him enthralled with his mate. The talking part
had surprised him, they had actually been communicating, really quite well,
considering Stiles is always telling him to use his ‘words’ and the boy hardly
ever shuts up himself. It was a revelation, successful mainly due to Stiles’
refusal to let him hide both physically and verbally. At least right up until
Derek had said they needed to talk about Peter.
Stiles had jerked away then and struggled to his feet not bothering to try and
button and zip his pants, considering the long line of cum, both Derek’s and
Stiles’, that had run the length of his torso it was understandable. It had
been absorbed by the fabric of his trousers leaving an extremely prominent wet
patch on the front. His face had looked.. almost guilty as he swayed back and
forth in front of Derek.
“’m sorry.. can we discuss him like.. nev.. errr.” Stiles is starting to slur
his words when his eyes roll back in his head and he’s falling loose-limbed,
almost graceful for a change. Derek’s wolf reflexes enable him to catch the boy
before he even touches the ground. Clasped tightly to his chest, this is when
he realises that Stiles is shaking. He’s such a fool he realises, when he feels
how cool the teenager’s skin is beneath his fingertips.
A werewolf’s core temperature runs much higher than a human’s, so he’d never
even noticed that the hallway was particularly cool. It’s even colder to a
teenager who’s dropped too much weight, not eating enough and has just endured
the all too intimate attentions of an aroused werewolf, all after a typically
active day as a high school student.
Because now Derek thinks about it, Stiles dropped his lacrosse bag in his
bedroom earlier, so he’s obviously had training tonight after a long day at
school, then been chased through his own house add the two orgasms and Stiles
was more than likely cold, exhausted, dehydrated and hungry. He’s lucky he
didn’t kill him.
His first priority is to get Stiles warm, to raise his core temperature.
He’s a terrible mate.
 
Stiles comes too with a face full of hot water, coughing and spluttering he
tries to dodge the spray and realises that he’s propped up against a hard
surface, facing the shower head.
“Sorry, you slipped… here let me.” A muscular arm reaches past him and adjusts
the angle of the spray so he’s not copping a direct hit in the face, it’s lower
onto his chest. This is when it dawns on him that he’s standing in the shower
cubicle of his bathroom and he’s not alone. He’s completely naked and he’s not
alone. That hard surface he’s leaning against is moving. Like it’s fucking
breathing.
Holy crap. This is one of his biggest fantasies coming to life, how many times
had he imagined a naked Derek Hale in this very shower with him. If he’s
holding a loofah and a pair of exfoliating gloves he just might expire on the
spot.
He shifts wanting to see the other man behind him and sways seeing black spots
dance in front of his eyes. What’s happening? Are they on a boat, because the
floor feels like it’s moving up and down. A strong hand wraps gently around his
waist, holding him upright.
“Easy. Don’t move around too much.” Derek’s talking to him softly like he’s
sick or something. Is that it? Is he sick?
“What happened? Am I sick?” His head’s feeling really fuzzy and the powerful
spray is hitting him right between the shoulder blades now, which is nice and
soothing. Stiles drops his head forward so he can rest it against the hard
muscled chest of a very naked Derek Hale.
“Not sick, but not real healthy either. Definitely, too thin and maybe
dehydration and exhaustion.” Stiles can feel the vibration of Derek’s voice
against his forehead where it’s pressed to his broad chest. He barely has the
energy to nod his head, but the slight tilt he gives is enough for Derek, who
lifts his other hand that had been at his side and cups Stiles jawline. His
thumb rubs gently back and forth across the soft skin dotted with tiny brown
moles.
Stiles closes his eyes and the whirling fuzziness fades, he takes a breath and
slowly opens them again, prepared to close them quickly if he sees anymore
dancing black spots. Thankfully, there’s none and he sighs in relief and feels
Derek twitch slightly. Stiles can’t help but notice, now that his vision isn’t
spotty, that with his forehead tipped forward and resting on Derek’s sternum he
has an absolutely clear line of sight directly down between their two bodies.
Their two naked bodies.
Did he mention naked? There’s also nude, bare, unclothed, stripped, in the
altogether, starkers, in the buff, exposed, buck naked and in the raw. He’s
starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy fixation on nudity or should that be on
his and more specifically Derek’s nudity because for the life of him, he can’t
drag his eyes away from the huge erection that Derek’s sporting just below that
magnificent six pack of ridged muscle.
If a cock can be called beautiful this one is it. It’s thick and heavy and
mouth-wateringly wet, water beading and dripping off the purple head just
poking out of the foreskin. It juts out defying gravity by slightly arching
upward from his groin, because if Derek was lying down Stiles knows it would
lay flat against his stomach, the tip just past his belly button. Derek Hale
and his monster cock and they were both his. All Stiles’.
How had this happened? Less than 4 hours ago, he’d been a heartbroken teenage
boy coming home to an empty house, wondering if the man he loved was even alive
or if he was even.. was even missing Stiles too? Now.. he can only think he
must’ve done something real good in a previous life, because all his dreams are
coming true.
At the realisation, all the air in his lungs escapes in a big rush through his
gaping mouth and he can see Derek’s abs twitch and flutter as his warm breath
gently blows across his wet skin. Derek’s cock bobs up and down in what Stiles
likes to think of as an approving ‘here I am, come and get me’ jerk and doesn’t
that just crank Stiles up a notch or two, fuzzy head or not.
The hands he’s kept hanging at his sides are seemingly no longer under his
control and he reaches out to lightly brush one fingertip against the soft
foreskin, letting it dock into the hollow where the head is peeking out, the
soft skin wrapping around his fingertip as he stirs the bead of pre-cum against
the slit. It looks like Derek’s cock is trying to suck Stiles’ finger inside.
Derek groans harshly and Stiles feels one large hand grip his hipbone tight
while the other rests on the back of his neck idly threading fingers through
his hair at the nape. The scrape of nails against his scalp makes him shudder.
God almighty, Stiles didn’t realise he had a foreskin kink, but this… this
proves it beyond doubt as heat ripples over him extending from the finger he
has lodged in Derek’s foreskin and it spreads out in a wave up his arm, neck
and head then down to his toes and all the places in between.
Is it a case of wanting what you don’t have? Like curly hair versus straight.
He’s not really sure, but he kinda gets off on the idea of placing the head of
his cock against Derek’s, the tips kissing each other, and seeing if he could
roll out that extra skin and cover his cock head as well. A shiver rocks
through him at the thought of that connection, that link to the man he loves.
His mind shatters as he closes his eyes. He wants to be close to Derek, closer
than a human being can be, he wants to climb into his skin, wants to merge with
his nervous system, wants to see, hear and feel everything that his wolf can.
He’s such a freakin’ creeper, has he been hanging out with Peter so long it’s
starting to rub off. Nah, he decides, he’s a different brand of creep, less
psychopathic serial killer and more teenage geek. It’s just like that song by
Radiohead, he used to equate it with Lydia when he had a crush on her, but
now.. he thinks it’s more like a love song from a nerdy teen stalker to his
stalkee, is that even a word, one smokin’ hot werewolf.
With his eyes closed he remembers Derek’s words earlier about how he reached
out. That it started the mate bond between them. He doesn’t doubt it exists,
too many strange feelings and impulses had come over him for that. What the
hell, he decides and with everything he is, every bit of love that he has for
the other man he reaches out, pushes out seeking, searching for that
connection.
It’s almost too easy. It’s like he’s travelling through darkness and he’s
following a rope, a line maybe. It’s gold and the golden light it casts
disperses the shadows that flicker lurking out in the dark. Just up ahead he
can see the glow change, it’s an undefinable colour much like Derek’s human
eyes, it’s still beautiful, more so when he arrives at the spot where he can
see glowing blue tendrils entwining with the gold line.
It makes it thicker, stronger and he can see where the two energies golden and
blue merge and the power he senses is phenomenal. There’s a scent in the air..
he almost recognises it, a metallic tang.. then it dawns on him, it’s ozone.
That metal charge in the atmosphere you can taste and smell just when lightning
strikes. The two energies combined are creating the raw power of lightning.
It’s awe inspiring.
He meanders further along the line more to the blue side when in the distance
he hears it. A wolf howling, then again.. it’s closer. He’s almost frightened
by the intensity in the vocalisation but not fully, he knows the wolf wants him
and that’s okay because he wants the wolf right back. He reaches down and
caresses the blue line sending a wave of love and longing through his touch.
“Stiles.” Derek’s roaring out his name and it draws him back. Stiles opens his
eyes to see that Derek is in his beta form. Eyes glowing blue, mouth snarling
exposing long canines and his claws scrape slightly harder against his flesh
and it feels so good it makes him shiver. Derek’s holding him, clutching him
tight like he’s the most precious thing on earth, afraid he’ll disappear. He’s
pulled him in close and is scenting his neck and vulnerable throat, licking
Stiles’ adam’s apple with a hot swipe of his tongue. He pulls back, heavy
panting breaths gradually slowing as the tremors that rack through his body
start to subside.
“My mate..” Whispers Derek, hot breath swirling against his ear. The words are
laden with awe and almost disbelief. “I felt you. I could feel you here.” He
puts a visibly shaking hand on his chest, near his heart.
“My mate.” Stiles says back, watching in delight as Derek’s face lights up with
a joy that he never, ever thought he would see there. He loves him, wants him
all over again. “I want you.. Derek, please.” He pushes his finger, which is
still trapped in Derek’s foreskin, against the head giving the slit a gentle
tap. Derek thrusts uncontrollably, in response, his cheeks flushing hotly.
“Stiles.. no.. I.. you need to rest.” Derek whispers the words against the top
of his head, pressing a kiss there, before moving his hips back and away trying
to put his cock out of reach. The foreskin is reluctant to let go of Stiles’
finger and it slowly peels back eventually freeing it. Stiles snickers, is
Derek in denial? His cock’s way too big to ever be out of reach, unless they’re
in separate rooms.
It’s funny, this time Derek’s trying to head him off and Stiles isn’t worried
that the older man’s trying to avoid him, do the mate equivalent of a wifeswap
or even kill him, no nothing like that, not after what they’ve shared tonight.
He can tell that it’s different this time, because even though Derek’s saying
‘No’ his eyes are saying ‘Hell, yes’ and he can feel it too. Can feel that
Derek’s body is straining towards his.
Stiles is saying ‘hell yes’ as well and he can literally feel the blood rushing
from other parts of his body to pool in his groin as his own cock makes a
valiant attempt at joining in all the fun and getting perky. Oh big mistake,
his head feels light-headed and his knees are really, really weak, like jelly
and before he knows it he’s drooping as they can’t support him anymore.
He’s sliding down, his cheek pressed to Derek’s chest, then his abdomen.
Sliding, sliding and he can feel Derek try and grab hold to pull him back up
but his skin is wet and slick and he can’t get a good grip without hurting him.
Stiles winces as his bony knees make contact with the tiled floor of the
shower.
He wraps his arms around Derek’s thighs to stop himself from sliding any
further and realises with a start of surprise that his cheek is pressed all too
intimately to Derek’s groin. The crisp black curls tickle his skin and just
below his chin he can feel something iron hard but wrapped in soft velvet,
twitching and tapping against his jawline as though it’s trying to get his
attention.
He buries his face into the curls and inhales deeply, groaning. Derek’s scent
is stronger here. It’s rich, wild and musky, the scent of the forest trapped in
Derek’s pubic hair, in his pores. It’s addictive, if Stiles has to breathe to
live, this is all he wants to inhale for the rest of his life. Everything else
is tainted, polluted.
“Stiles..” Derek’s voice is thready and shaking. Tilting his head Stiles looks
up the magnificent length of Derek’s body and realises exactly what this
position looks like to Derek. It gives him a jolt, a surge of lust and it’s
like rocket fuel and his head isn’t fuzzy or light any more. There is clarity
and knowing what he wants to do right now more than anything else in the world.
He sits back on his heels and licks his lips watching trails of water run down
those delicious abs. He’s ever so thirsty.
Derek is trembling. Can’t control it, how on earth can he control it when
Stiles, his beautiful mate, is kneeling at his feet. His face pressed tight to
Derek’s groin and he can feel Stiles’ hot breath stirring the curls there as he
groans long and loud. It does something to him deep inside. A werewolf’s
natural dominance can only find this incredibly arousing, the sight of his mate
on their knees before him, the simple submissiveness of it makes him roar in
approval. Stiles, submissive. Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, he was in serious trouble
here. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Stiles..” He’s about to tell him to stop, to explain that he’s really too weak
to be.. where he is right now. Before he can Stiles has rocked back on his
heels and his hair is plastered tight to his skull, the water trickling over
his face. Beads drip from the ends of unusually long lashes that fringe amber
eyes, they look up at him so sultrily that he forgets to breathe. Steam swirls
around them both and Stiles looks like Derek’s hottest wet dream ever,
literally. When the boy licks his lips Derek is certain that his heart, which
has been beating a frantic rhythm since he first got them into the shower
together, is going to punch right through his ribcage as it hammers harder and
harder in his chest.
Stiles darts forward and Derek is totally unprepared for him to lick up the
running trails of water that are snaking their way down, through the line of
hair extending from his belly button to his cock. He convulses. Limbs jerking
wildly.
“God damn it Stiles.. you need to stop this..” Derek’s hands fall heavily onto
Stiles’ shoulders. He really, really means for them to be there to help lift
the younger man up to his feet, but somehow the message from his brain to his
hands via his overloaded nervous system gets awfully confused and he’s holding
Stiles in place, not wanting him to get away.
“You’re too weak for this.. you need food and water.. you’re seriously
dehydrated.” Derek’s trying to be rational and it’s really hard when Stiles now
has one hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He’s going to explode he’s
sure of it.
Stiles has Derek’s huge throbbing cock pointed directly at his mouth, he can
feel Derek’s heartbeat forcing more and more blood into its length, can see it
pulsing under the delicate flushed skin. Stiles’ nibbles on his lower lip
thoughtfully, as he scrutinizes the organ in front of him.
He’s never done this before, never had it done to him either. He’s watched
plenty of porn though, but he doesn’t want it to be like that. This is special.
It’s Derek and he loves him. He just wants it to be good for him. Good for both
of them. All he can think to do is just not hold back, try it all, find out
what they like and go from there.
He lifts his eyes to meet Derek’s gaze, noting the flush of red staining the
wolf’s cheeks and that his eyes are no longer his human light green colour they
are the vibrant blue of his wolf, he opens his mouth to speak only a breath
away from the other man’s cock and hears a swiftly bitten off whimper.
“I’m on a liquid diet at the moment.” Says Stiles, Derek whines long and loud
at his words. All or nothing he decides and Stiles swallows the tip, letting
his lips push the foreskin back and at the same time Derek’s driving his hips
forward, slowly pushing his cock into his mate’s lush, red mouth.
All the time he’s maintaining eye contact with the wolf who’s watching him with
the hottest most feral look on his face that Stiles has ever seen. He’s looking
at Stiles like he’s a miracle, like he’s invented the blow job just for him.
He’s done that, put that look onto his face, made the most magnificent man he’s
ever known, inside and out, stray from his good intentions. Stiles feels sexy..
powerful, desirable, it’s intoxicating. He is fucking awesome, just ask Derek.
Stiles’ own cock is heavy and throbbing as it lies against his leg. He thinks
about tugging on it with his other hand, but he’s worried that it might
distract him too much so he leaves it alone, concentrating furiously on what
he’s doing.
The bulbous head fills his mouth and the texture is surprisingly silky and it
tastes.. sweet, not what he’d expected at all, he feels a large pulse of pre-
cum land on his tongue and swallows it down greedily. He swirls his tongue
around it, trying to chase every drop and Derek’s groaning loudly. Reassured
that he’s doing something right, Stiles pulls back slowly, letting the tip of
his tongue probe into the slit as far as he can reach, pushing deeper,
stretching it, trying to extract some more of that sweetness.
Derek’s heavy breathing hitches audibly, he starts to pant and his hands that
are holding Stiles in place flex and stretch, claws popping out to dig into his
wet flesh. The little bite of pain has Stiles moaning around Derek’s cock and
he plunges his mouth back down wanting to take as much of it as he possibly
can. The head hits the back of his throat and he’s only just half way, he has
to pull back his eyes watering furiously at the sensation.
Derek’s growling and his hips are starting to move, thrusting into that cave of
wet heat because it’s so fucking good. His mate is sucking him off and it’s
heaven on earth. Stiles has pulled back and is licking his lips as though
trying to work out the best plan of attack. Derek can save him the trouble, all
he needs to do is open wide.
He nudges his cock against lips that are red and puffy from friction, growling
in warning as Stiles teases him by slowly, slowly letting him push inside to
find that suckling wet heat. He wants to pump his hips and push his cock deep
into the teen’s throat, but Stiles is working it like he’s trying to suck a
ping pong ball through a straw, he’s applying the hardest most forceful suction
that he can. All the blood in his body feels like it’s been drawn to the one
spot and his cock is brutally swelling even more. It’s a good hurt. Werewolves
can tolerate much more sensation, whether it’s pain or even pleasure bordering
on pain, than humans. He likes it, a lot. He wants more.
Derek can barely move and it’s good, so good because Stiles is laving his
tongue underneath at the same time, flicking at the big vein that runs its
length and rasping the sensitive bundle of nerves clustered at the delicate
little frenulum under the head. Just when Derek thinks he’s about to combust,
Stiles releases him with a loud pop and presses his forehead against Derek’s
thigh, panting for breath.
“Sorry.. sorry..” The boy murmurs apologetically, ragged breaths puffing
against the hard flesh.
Stiles rocket fuel has fizzled out, he feels more like a broken ‘party popper’
now, one that can’t pop. In fact his head currently feels like it’s going to
explode, his own fault, he was applying so much suction to Derek’s cock that he
ignored the pressure inside his skull. He’s trying to fight off the waves of
black that are trying to pull him back into unconsciousness, when Derek is
suddenly right there kneeling beside him. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s him
because he’s looking a little bit blurry at the moment. He winces as the pain
throbs harder.
Derek’s gutted. He is the absolute worst mate in living history. All it takes
is for Stiles to touch him and he’s fucking on him like a wild, rutting animal.
What the hell is wrong with him? Looking at the grimace of pain on Stiles’ face
kills him. He truly is a monster, pushing himself onto a boy who’s borderline
anorexic and on the verge of collapse.
“Stiles, baby. Did I hurt you?” Derek’s trying to be calm, but he and his wolf
are both feeling guilty and anxious at the obvious pain their mate is
suffering.
Stiles lifts his head towards the voice, but he can barely see now, even
squinting the light hurts his eyes. He manages to say “No.. head… “ He whines,
before managing to continue. “aches… migraine..”
Derek places his hands gently on the top of Stiles head and begins to draw out
the pain. He can see the veins in his arms darken and turn inky black. He draws
and draws until he hears a small heartfelt sigh of relief from his mate.
He pulls back to look into the young man’s face, seeing that it's peaceful and
no longer pained eases the tightness in his chest somewhat. His wolf nature is
taking care of the pain that he’s drawn into his own body with its natural
strength and healing abilities. He shuts that down. Needs to feel the pain that
his mate has been going through, because of him. There’s no excuse for what he
did. Taking advantage of his mate, who’s health at this time is nowhere near
what it should be for a boy his age. His head immediately starts to throb as
though someone’s taken to it with a baseball bat.. from the inside. It’s
nothing though compared to how it must have felt to Stiles.
That same feeling washes over Stiles like it did earlier tonight. He can’t
explain what it is exactly or how it feels, maybe it’s more apt to describe it
as an awareness, a ‘knowing’. He knows that Derek is in pain. He knows that
Derek is in pain because of him. It hurts. He rises up on his knees and presses
gentle kisses all over Derek’s face, the warm water streams over them both,
spilling into his mouth.
“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” Stiles begs his wolf, before pressing a soft
sweet kiss to his lips. Derek pulls back to look into Stiles’ face, wide-eyed.
Amber eyes plead with blue.
“Stiles.. how? I’ve drawn it out.” Derek and his wolf are getting more frantic,
not understanding what’s happening.
“The same way I knew before. I can feel it Derek, you’re hurting, but this time
you’re doing it to yourself and I.. I can’t bear it. Please.” Stiles slides his
arms over Derek’s broad shoulders, wrapping them around his neck, drawing him
into the staggering contradiction that is his embrace, it’s both fierce and
gentle all at the same time. It feels like home.
The water is pouring over them, cleansing. They are both on their knees and
plastered thigh to shoulder against each other, both their erections have
subsided, Stiles because he was in pain and Derek’s… because Stiles was in
pain. Derek has wrapped one arm low around Stiles’ hips, the other cups the
back of his head, supporting it, as he tilts it back to whisper against Stiles
mouth.
“Alright.” He doesn’t inhibit his body’s natural defences anymore and the god-
awful throbbing in his head swiftly dissipates.
“Thank you.” Stiles says, he swipes his tongue delicately over Derek’s bottom
lip and when the wolf gasps at the incredible pleasure that simple action gives
him, he draws Stiles into the sweetest kiss he’s ever known.
He doesn’t linger though, much as he wants to, he’s been reminded of his
responsibilities to his mate in the worst way, by knowing he’s in pain. He
steps out of the shower and gathers what he needs before turning the water off.
Derek lifts Stiles out of the shower and quickly wraps him in the huge clean
bath towels he found in the cabinet under the washbasin, not wanting him to
cool off before he has a chance to completely dry him first.
Stiles is too tired to care what happens to him, but he does appreciate the way
that Derek is looking after his needs so sweetly. Every nook and cranny is
rubbed and patted dry over and over, until he thinks that his Dad can forget
about the Solar panels he’s been considering, Stiles may be able to power his
home simply from static charge.
He grabs his deodorant, about to spray liberally when Derek grabs his hand with
the can in it.
“Please don’t. Not tonight anyway. I just want..” It’s so hard to try and
explain. “Your scent changed tonight. Changed for me.” Derek’s got this look in
his eyes, he’s begging Stiles to understand.
“Oh. That’s just.. No.. that’s fine.. it’s cool really.” Stiles puts the
deodorant can back onto the countertop. Derek gives him a smile that’s
dazzling, he can feel his heart trip and stumble at the sight.
He wipes his palm over the condensation on the mirror and flinches at his
reflection. What little hair he has on his head is standing out in random spiky
chunks. He looks like a startled pineapple. He doesn’t get a chance to adjust
it before his legs are swept out from beneath him and he’s held tight against
Derek’s chest.
Derek’s carrying him like a virginal bride to the marital bed, as he stalks
from the bathroom to Stiles bedroom naked, like an eager newly wed. That
thought makes his chest go tight and ‘little Stiles’ twitch. He absolutely,
positively knows his face must be crimson because his neck, face and ears feel
like they’re on fire… damn it. He wouldn’t be surprised if his eyebrows
spontaneously combust.
Derek lowers him to his bed, still wrapped in the towels, before going to his
large chest of drawers and getting out a pair of socks, a t-shirt, hoodie and
trackpants. He finds another pair, older and a lot baggier from frequent
washings and quirks an eyebrow at Stiles.
“Can I..?”
Stiles doesn’t even let him finish, waving his hand generously.
“Yeah.. take whatever you need.” The hungry look Derek gives him then, makes
him squirm as he swiftly pulls on the trackpants, never taking his eyes off the
teenager sitting on the edge of the bed. He ties a knot in the drawstring, but
pulls too hard and it snaps. Cursing, he drops his eyes to fiddle with the cord
and it’s almost agonizing how long he’s taking to thread it through to the
right length to tie it again.
“Do you need help?” Stiles can’t help but ask, because he’s feeling the tension
in the room building, but he can’t for the life of him look away from where the
waistband is dipping low enough for him to see the perfect muscled ‘v’ cut of
Derek’s pelvis and abs. He swallows, hard. Derek lifts his head, eyes piercing.
Uh Oh. Werewolf super hearing. So not fair.
“No.” Derek snaps out, tying the knot again before sighing almost in
resignation. “No. Sorry I broke the drawstring.” He says in a softer tone. He
rubs a hand over his face tiredly, before pushing it through his hair.
“It’s okay.” And suddenly it is, whatever, tension has been building in the
room evaporates. Derek walks over and hands him the clothes he’s dug out.
“Do you need any help?”
“Nah.. I’m good.” He can’t help but flush when he quickly changes, yanking the
trackpants on and hauling the t-shirt and hoodie on over his head, knowing that
Derek’s getting an eyeful of the Stilinski ‘goods’. He may be his mate and
after everything that they’ve done together tonight he can’t believe that he’s
actually getting embarrassed, but it’s all still so new and overwhelming. He’s
slightly relieved, when Derek turns his head away and gathers up the damp
towels and takes them back to the bathroom.
He shuffles back onto his bed, propping the pillows up so he can lean against
them and stifles a yawn. Which is when Derek walks back in carrying their
clothes. Stiles’ stuff he tosses into the laundry hamper in the corner, with
his own he folds them neatly and pops them onto the chair. It’s looking like
he’s going to have company tonight and Stiles can’t keep the smile from his
face at the thought.
A shirtless Derek staying in his bedroom. All night. Wow. Just wow.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek's taking care of his mate and it satisfies his wolf's
     protective instincts. Derek, Stiles and the Sheriff have a "talk"
     because that's what Dad's do when their son is about to start a
     relationship. The Sheriff is no exception.
Chapter Notes
     The Sheriff's scent that I've described includes 'charred oak' this
     is in reference to the Jack Daniels process of whiskey making that
     involves the use of charred oak barrels for aging.
     Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Have been tied up with
     "The first time" my one-shot that is still going (will I never learn
     - focus on one fic at a time *sighs*) and also been ill with a virus.
     Hope that quality control has not been compromised on this, so if you
     think it's off kilter or screwy blame the fever, because I intend to.
     Unbeta'ed - edited and revised by me, in my plague house.
It’s a close run thing with his wolf… again, when he carries his mate from the
bathroom to the bedroom. Derek finds it particularly stimulating, with Stiles
safe in his arms wrapped up tightly in the large towels, his protective
instincts being satisfied by taking care of him.
Most of the time Derek doesn’t even think about being nude, it’s just his body
no big deal, the thing is it’s obviously a big deal to his mate. Because it is
to him, it suddenly is to Derek. Stiles is blushing furiously and there’s a
renewed scent of arousal surrounding him and it’s adorable, because it’s tinged
with innocence.
If Stiles only knew what it does to him, knowing that his mate is still a
virgin, maybe less so after tonight admittedly, and that no one else has
touched him. His wolf is territorial that’s a given, it’s in its’ nature, but
Derek, the so-called civilised human, is even more so. It’s primal and
instinctive, he will tear apart anyone who thinks to touch Stiles or try and
take him away from him and if that makes him an outdated, chauvinistic, caveman
of a werewolf then so be it. Stiles is his. All of him.
Stiles’ scent which had been subdued under the running water of the shower is
returning full force and Derek has to firmly tell himself not to nuzzle. There
will be no more nuzzling, particularly after what’s just happened in the
bathroom with Stiles ending up hurt and in pain. It stops here, from now on
it’s all about what’s best for Stiles and if that means he has to leave to
sleep somewhere else tonight, then that’s how it’s going to be. He clenches his
jaw, teeth grinding. He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to though.
“Yeah.. take whatever you need.” Dear God, does he do it on purpose? Or is it
him, does he read too much into it. It’s just that Stiles says things, they
should be innocent… and yet they just make Derek a little bit crazy. Whatever
he needs… hmmn… let him think about it… Stiles, he needs Stiles. His wolf is
almost slobbering in agreement. Yipping, yes..yes..yes.
Then he’s asking “Do you need help?” The thought of those long slender fingers
at his groin, fixing the broken drawstring of the pants he’s wearing has his
cock twitching and he’s snapping at his mate. Feels guilty almost instantly.
It’s not Stiles fault that Derek wants him so desperately, that everything he
says and does keeps pushing his buttons. His cock has been up and down so many
times tonight that he’s starting to wonder if it’s remotely possible for it to
get whiplash.
What is he doing? Derek runs his hand over his face and up through his hair.
He’s tired. He and Cora had practically driven back to Beacon Hills non-stop
from Indiana. What he needs to do is to make sure his mate is comfortable and
then get some sleep. They both could use it.
He swears that the disappointment that comes off the teenager when he asks “Can
I borrow one of your Dad’s shirts? You know yours don’t fit.” Is almost a
tangible thing.
He thinks Stiles is going to give him an outright ‘no’ but he seems to shake it
off, going into his father’s room and returning with a plain white v-neck
shirt. It’s a little bit clingy, but nowhere near as skin tight as what some of
Stiles’ shirts would be on him.
Stiles is wandering around barefoot, before flopping back onto his bed, and
after getting him nice and warm, Derek’s determined not to undo the good work.
“Put on your socks.”
“Manners much, Mr Wolf. I’m good, my toes like to be free when I’m at home.”
Stiles is lying back against a pile of pillows on his bed, legs stretched out
as he starts to wriggle his toes furiously.
When Derek grabs his ankle and drags him effortlessly towards the end of the
bed he squawks, arms flapping like a giant mutant parrot, but ends up lying
there quite passively when Derek lifts his leg and rests his foot against his
broad chest. He wonders if Stiles can feel his heart beating through the sole.
Those big golden eyes watch him intently as Derek tugs a sock onto his foot
dropping it onto the bed before grabbing his other ankle and doing the same.
Derek likes taking care of his mate, a lot.
Stiles shimmys back on his elbows, looking thoughtful.
“Thanks.” He says, in a low voice. Derek almost preens at his mate’s approval.
“I’m hungry, let’s go down and fix something huh?” says Stiles, he’s suddenly
kneeling, hands resting on his thighs.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Derek turns to go, sighing. Stiles
kneeling in the middle of his bed. His big, soft bed. Big enough for two. Big
enough for two to roll around on and… yep, major button pusher right there.
“Derek..” Stiles says his name in almost a whiny little voice, when he looks
back at him, his eyes are huge and hopeful. “Can I have a piggyback?” He pauses
for a moment. “Pleeeaaaasssseee. Pretty please.”
Derek can feel his eyebrows rise and… what the hell, if he’s tired then Stiles
must be exhausted. He moves closer to the bed and bobs down ready to feel his
mate’s body pressed into his back. Then he hears laughter and arms wrap tightly
around his shoulders and warm lips press a kiss to his cheek, he’s so confused.
“You were so going to do that, weren’t you?” Stiles looks at him with a
mischievous spark in his eyes. “You must love me.” Derek huffs, but he can’t
help the small smile that escapes when Stiles grabs his hand to climb off the
bed and doesn’t let go, leading him downstairs to the kitchen.
 
Derek tries to get him to sit down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, but
Stiles is too hungry to sit still for that, just props himself against the
cabinet as Derek starts checking the fridge and pantry.
“I’m starving, feel like I’ve not eaten in days, weeks..” He stops dead. Derek
has dropped the spatula he’s holding and is looking at him with the most
horrified, stricken expression and Stiles realises what he’s just said. He
swiftly picks up the spatula off the floor and puts his hand on Derek’s arm.
“No, don’t think that. I swear I’ve eaten today and yesterday and the day
before that. Maybe not as much as I should’ve, but I didn’t starve myself like
you’re thinking. Okay. Believe me.” Stiles tries to send truth through their
bond and slowly, slowly he feels the tension in the muscular arm under his hand
lessen and the expression on his face eases and is almost back to his normal
stoic look. He’s starting to get quite good at that, doesn’t even need to close
his eyes, can locate that conduit in his chest easily.
He thanks his lucky stars the next instant that he still has a hold of Derek’s
arm when he feels him, otherwise his ass would’ve hit the floor. Stiles can
feel him inside, this isn’t like the ‘knowing’, the awareness he has of Derek
in pain, this is different. It’s a gentle breeze, covered in a pelt of fur and
it brings with it relief, wrapped in tenderness and longing and it takes his
breath away as it moves through him, leaves him reeling in its wake.
“Derek.” He whispers, stunned. Was this how it felt for Derek? My God, it hits
him like a tonne of bricks. They are mates and this is what mates feel and do.
They know each other.. intimately. He realises that earlier tonight he was
wanting to climb into Derek’s skin, to know and feel everything that Derek
does. Looks like he got his wish.
He tilts his head forward and slightly up and presses his lips softly against
Derek’s.
Derek’s head is spinning. Stiles is kissing him, it’s soft and gentle and he
melts. The burning desire that he always feels in Stiles presence has eased
back, has gentled into a loving sweetness that makes his heart ache and his
soul hunger.
For the brief moment he believed that Stiles was literally starving, he was in
anguished denial that he had caused this. Stiles instinctive reaction to use
the mate bond to ease his mind and his pain leaves him feeling unsteady and
hopeful.
“Thank you.” Stiles says after, pulling his head back to look into Derek’s
eyes.
“What for?” Derek’s puzzled, why is Stiles thanking him.
“For letting me see, letting me feel the real you.”
“Oh.” He can feel himself start to blush. Stiles undoes him. “You’re welcome..
that is a good thing isn’t it?.”
“Yeah, lets go with that. Now what are we going to cook?” Stiles twirls the
spatula in his hand.
It ends up being breakfast. Derek convinces Stiles that with a shrunken stomach
he can’t overload it too much, so they start with scrambled eggs on a slice of
toast and a couple of rashers of bacon from Stiles’ secret freezer stash. Derek
wants him to have protein and carbs to build him up. The smell of cooking bacon
makes Stiles stomach knot and twist.
“You know I’m going to have to air out the house. My Dad can sniff out bacon
like a hound dog.” Stiles proceeds to do an impersonation of a hound dog which
somehow ends up sounding like a cross between a howl and a yodel which makes
Derek wince. He slaps a broad hand across Stiles mouth.
“No.. Just no. The only howling that will be done around here from now on is by
wolves and.. possibly you when I have my wicked way with you and even then I’ll
probably have to kiss you to keep you quiet. There will be no hound dogs.” The
smile he gives Stiles is positively lethal. It’s all teeth and his eyebrows of
mass destruction are cocked just so making Stiles eyes bug out above the hand
that is currently pressed to his mouth. He bites the fleshy part of the palm
just below Derek's thumb and his eyes open even further when claws instantly
pop out on the fingertips of that hand.
“Stiles.” The low rumble of his name has Stiles stirring restlessly. “No
biting. Or I’ll start biting back.”
“Oooohh.”
Derek watches Stiles blush and it does things to his confidence, knowing that
his mate finds him attractive and is more often than not so overwhelmed when
they are together that he can’t hide it. Stiles' body gives him away every
time. In some ways it is a good thing that Stiles isn’t a wolf because then he
would realise just how badly Derek’s body gives him away all the time too.
“Enough.. we need food… more specifically you need food.” Derek turns back to
the cooktop and lights the gas trying to ignore Stiles singing softly behind
him..
“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog.. crying all the time. You ain’t nothing but
a hound dog..”
Derek can’t help the smile that crosses his face. Stiles is his mate and he is
the luckiest wolf in the world.
 
“Stiles.” A low voice is calling his name softly and there’s a weight on his
hip, a heavy hand shaking him.
“Mmmmffff.” Yeah, that’ll tell ‘em for trying to wake him up so god damn early.
Stiles stretches languidly, wrapping his arms around his pillow. He’s had the
best nights’ sleep since… well he can’t actually recall, because usually
there’s some sort of supernatural monster of the week bullshit going on and if
it’s not that, it’s because of… oh my god… Derek freakin’ Hale. The very same
Derek Hale who… and they had… and penises were involved… it’s burnt into his
memory forever. Now his sourwolf was trying to wake him up so they could… oh
yeeeaaaah… he was a sex god and Derek so wanted a piece of this.
Stiles bolts upright and wraps his arms around the man perched on the edge of
his bed giving him a lingering, smacking kiss on the lips.
“I love you soooo” Not Derek. Not Derek. He pulls back. Does not smell like
mate. Does not compute. The scent is safe and familiar, it’s clean and composed
of soap, charred oak and gun oil. “Soooo much Dad.” He finishes, lamely.
He opens sleep stained eyes to see his Dad looking at him in bemusement.
“Yes. My Dad… sitting here on my bed and..” He darts a quick covert glance
around his bedroom. There are no werewolves in sight. How did his life get to
this point where he even has to check for something like that? “Just you and
me... Together.”
A large strong hand pats him on the back. “I love you too Stiles. I know it’s a
Saturday, but don’t you think you should be getting up now. It’s nearly 3.30.”
“What?” Stiles leans back against his pillows, can’t believe it. He’d slept
practically the whole day away when he could’ve been spending it with Derek.
Unless, Derek didn’t want… no no no he’s not going to start messing his head
again with thoughts like that. One thing at a time.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay. You needed your sleep.” The sheriff reaches up to place his hand on
the top of Stiles’ head, ruffling his hair gently before letting it slide down
to cup his son’s cheek. “It’s working. This is the best you’ve looked in a long
time.”
Stiles wishes he could tell his Dad, that the majority of it is due to Derek.
He slept the night in his wolf’s arms and he’s never felt so rested in his
life. He wants to tell him that Derek’s back and Stiles may not know where he
is at this exact moment, but he’s feeling confident and peaceful just knowing
that he’s in the same town. He doesn’t say anything. He remembers the lies from
before, how it had almost driven a wedge between them. That’s not going to
happen again. He’ll tell his Dad when he’s got it figured out himself first.
Stiles and his Dad look at each other silently. It’s been a long time since
they’ve had a shared moment just the two of them, without one or the other of
them having to rush off somewhere. Without one of them being kidnapped,
tortured or hurt.
This time when Stiles leans forward to wrap his arms around the other man, it’s
with intent and the knowledge that he just wants a hug from his Dad. After the
longest time, slowly, almost reluctantly his Dad draws back and stands up next
to the bed.
“I’ve got to get ready for work.” He pauses at the bedroom door, looking back
at his fragile son lying in his bed.
“We’re going to pretend that those marks on the hallway floor are from your
lacrosse cleats and not the clawmarks I know they are.” He’s speaking so matter
of factly, that it takes Stiles a moment or two to register what he’s saying
and when he does, Stiles can feel he’s doing his best goldfish impersonation as
his mouth opens and closes rapidly, but he can’t say a word.
Seriously, his Dad does not miss a thing.
“And Derek you’re welcome to join us for a family dinner as soon as I finish
nightshift.” His Dad is standing there like he’s talking to a ghost, his head
slightly tilted to the ceiling as if he’s waiting for a response.
Stiles almost falls out of bed. His Dad is beyond amazing. Three words. Super
werewolf hearing.
“You can come in the house while I’m not here, because you’re seriously
starting to frighten some of the neighbours with your lurking.” Stiles is
reeling, because WTF. Derek’s being a creeper for him. It does run in the
family and it sorta makes him want to smile.
“Thank you, Sir.” Derek is suddenly there, climbing through his bedroom window,
before coming to stand by his bedside. It’s ever so subtle, because the rest of
him is standing so casually, but Derek’s hand that hangs at his side gives the
minutest flex. Stiles can feel what Derek wants. He reaches up and puts his
hand into Derek’s, their fingers entwining. It’s comforting even if it does
make his heart beat faster. His Dad’s stern gaze fixes on their joined hands.
“I don’t need to tell you that Stiles’ birthday is still a couple of months
away. His 18th birthday.” The inference is clear and Stiles is blushing that
this conversation is even happening.
“I understand, Sir.” There’s a tone in Derek’s voice and Stiles inwardly
groans. Oh for pete’s sake, does his wolf have to be so honourable. His Dad
obviously hears it too, because his face lightens momentarily before it darkens
again and this time it’s a little bit scary. His Dad can be one scary dude,
particularly where Stiles is concerned. His hand tightens around Derek’s.
“Good. How long do you intend to stay in Beacon Hills?”
“This is home.” Derek glances down at Stiles. “It’s for good now, Sir.”
“Because if you intend to leave, do it now before…” The sheriff pauses, his
eyes trace over Stiles too thin features. “Before someone gets hurt, because
this time it won’t be Stiles. Do you understand me?” His voice is almost
unrecognisable it’s so cold.
“Dad.. it’s okay. I’m okay. It was a big misunderstanding.” Stiles is a little
bit in awe of his Dad, because he’s just threatened a werewolf with serious
damage if he hurts his son again. But, he doesn’t want his Dad and his mate at
odds with each other either, they’re both too important to him.
“It’s not okay Stiles. I hurt you.. I may have thought I was doing it for all
the right reasons.. keeping you safe and letting you have a normal life, but I
still hurt you. That’s unforgiveable.” Derek is looking down into his mate’s
face and says the words that Stiles has never heard cross his lips in relation
to himself before. “I’m sorry.”
Stiles doesn’t know what to say, there aren’t words really. He squeezes his
mate’s hand and finds that place inside himself that begins the cord of
communion between them and pushes out his love and acceptance. Derek’s whole
body stiffens and his hand clutches Stiles’ tightly, almost painfully. He looks
down at his mate, his eyes flashing blue and Stiles can see the adoration that
Derek has for him in their depths.
Stiles shivers at the responsibility. The vulnerability that Derek carries with
him now, is because of him. He can’t bear the thought of ever letting his mate
down or disappointing him and that’s a definite possibility, because… well,
he’s Stiles. There’s always a possibility, many many of them. Things have been
known to happen to him, he’s starting to feel like a magnet for the
supernatural.
The sheriff has been watching this whole exchange closely, listening and
examining their body language. The worry that he’s been holding inside since
last night, when he discovered that Derek Hale was back in town has vanished.
It’s more than obvious that the boy’s head over heels for his son and Stiles is
just as smitten. The way they are looking at each other as they hold hands, it
makes tears start to well in his eyes as he wishes Claudia was here to see
their son in love.
If they slip up and cross the underage line he could almost understand,
whatever is between them is so powerful, but somehow he doesn’t think he has to
worry. Derek is committed to protecting Stiles, even from himself and the way
he spoke it sounded very much to him that the boy was giving him his word.
“There will be no misunderstandings between us. I think we’re both clear on
where we stand.” ‘Regarding Stiles’, is left unsaid, but it’s understood.
“Isn’t that right Derek?”
The two most important men in Stiles’ life look at each other for the longest
time, silent messages between them, that Stiles can’t interpret and he starts
to twitch uncontrollably.
“Yes Sir.” Derek says eventually.
“There’s going to be some rules if you two are together but we can talk about
that further, over dinner on Monday night. Okay? But, I really need to get
ready.”
The two boys nod as he turns away, mumbling under his breath. He hears a loud
huff of laughter as he walks down the hallway, followed by Stiles saying “What?
What are you laughing at? What?”
He smiles. Relieved and thankful. His son might just be okay now.
 
Derek’s been patrolling the neighbourhood around Stiles’ house since about 6.30
in the morning, he'd snuck out when the Sheriff had gotten home from duty. He’s
not been bored though. It’s actually given him time to think. Time to think
about the previous night, while he listens to Stiles regular breathing as he
sleeps, he can easily do that within a few streets of the Stilinski home.
After he’d managed not to be distracted any further by his mate the previous
evening, they’d sat down at the dining table and ate their late night
breakfast. Stiles had only been able to eat half, but Derek knows it’s going to
take a while for his stomach to return to normal after it’s shrunk over time,
so he’s not too disappointed. Much.
Pushing his plate away, Stiles had laid his head on his bicep after stretching
his arm out towards Derek, across the wooden table, letting their fingers
entwine. Just the feel of Stiles’ hand in his, those eyes the colour of
drippin’ golden honey sleepily watching his every move as he finished eating
and he felt like he was in heaven. The food tasted better than what it was, he
should know he’d cooked it, his mate was safe, warm and content and Derek was..
Derek was happy. Happy and scared. Scared because now he had so much more to
lose.
When Stiles’ eyes had finally drooped closed and not opened again, Derek had
gathered the sleeping teenager into his arms and carried him to his bed. He’d
not been able to sleep much, the excitement of being with his mate had kept him
awake. Sharing Stiles’ bed with the boy in his arms had been too much for his
wolf and it had just wanted to inhale his mate, absorb him into his very
system. Drenching himself in the scent of oranges, vanilla and chocolate.
Their legs were entwined and Stiles head was pillowed on his chest. The feel of
Stiles’ breath puffing across his chest had been a delight and a torment all at
the same time. He thinks he may have got a couple of hours with his face
pressed hard into Stiles’ neck, just breathing him in.
Hearing the Sheriff inviting him into their house in the afternoon had sent him
into a tailspin. His mate's father had requested his presence. If a werewolf
could hyperventilate it would be happening right about now. The only thing that
had kept him grounded when he entered the bedroom was Stiles and the moment he
slid his hand into Derek's, his chest had relaxed easing the squeezed tight
feeling that had settled there. He was in awe that his mate understood him so
well.
He and the Sheriff understood each other very well now too. He felt that they
were in total agreement. Stiles' wellbeing was their sole focus and priority.
Nothing was to harm the boy and anything that tried to was going to have to
answer to Stiles' mate and his father. It wasn't going to be easy, they both
knew that. Derek hadn't been able to control the laugh that burst out of him
when he'd heard the older man mutter under his breath, so Stiles didn't hear
him, as he walked out of Stiles' bedroom.
"Good luck Derek, you're going to need it to keep up with Stiles. He's always
run rings around me, God knows."
Derek never had a chance to talk about everything they needed to, particularly
being mates and his Uncle Peter. Today, he's going to sit Stiles down and not
let him distract him. Not too much. He can only hope.
He still can’t believe this is happening. He’d only come back to Beacon Hills
to make sure Stiles was okay, he’d never had any intention of going beyond that
and staking a claim on him as his mate. He has a feeling though that this is
what his life is going to be like from now on, that his world will regularly
get tipped on its’ axis now that Stiles is an intimate, essential part of it.
He’s not quite sure that Stiles fully understands just how essential.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     After their talk with Stiles' Dad, Derek and Stiles are in the family
     room of the Stilinski home. Derek is determined to have a proper
     discussion with Stiles about werewolves and their mates, when he
     realises that Stiles is feeling very guilty about something..
     something to do with Peter and he needs to find out why.
Chapter Notes
     Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and such kind comments - you
     make my day, seriously.
      
     All I'll say about this chapter is - it's not what you think.
      
     Unbeta'ed - 'coz that's how I roll.
“Mates don’t keep secrets from one another.” Stiles frowns disapprovingly at
Derek, who just gives him a look with his eyebrows that screams inscrutable.
Stiles lasts at least another 30 seconds before he starts to beg.
“Come on Derek, please. What did Dad say? Go on tell me.”
“No.”
“Awww come on man. You’re killing me here. Is that what you want? Really any
second now I’m just gonna… gonna.. Derek.. urk!” Stiles starts to flop around
on the couch like a stranded flounder, hands clutching his throat and his eyes
bugging out wide before he collapses across its length. His body stills, until
he jerks with little spasms before letting out an extremely unconvincing death
rattle, at least that’s what Derek thinks it’s meant to be, he could be
mistaken. Anything’s possible with Stiles.
He has to turn his head away to hide his smile when he sees that Stiles has
opened one eye to check what effect his demise has had upon his mate.
“Really. Seriously, you’re not going to tell me are you?” Stiles struggles to
pull himself up and props his body up against the arm of the couch, drawing his
knees up to his chest. It’s really rather endearing Derek decides, those long
gangly limbs tucking into his body, elbows and knees bowing outward. He reminds
Derek of a baby giraffe. A grouchy baby giraffe he amends when he sees Stiles'
pout. So cute.
“No.”
Stiles huffs out a breath in irritation, feeling it flutter up his face to
ruffle an errant lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead.
“Can you say anything else besides ‘NO’?”
“Yes.” Derek doesn’t hide that he’s smiling, which is practically laughing in
sourwolf terms, at Stiles.
Stiles can feel his lips twitch and he’s up and throwing himself against the
hard body of his mate who has commandeered the opposite end of the couch. His
body slightly turned, one foot on the floor and his other leg bent across the
seat cushion, knee touching the back of the couch leaving a little hollow of
space between his thighs, which is where Stiles lands. It ends up with Stiles
pressed against Derek from chest to groin.
“Big Bad’s gotta sense of humour, huh?” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips,
delighting in the way he feels Derek suck in a breath of air like the room’s
suddenly running out of oxygen. He tilts his hips and the muscles clench tight
in his abs and stomach when he realises that Derek’s gotten practically
instantly hard, with that magnificently huge cock making the biggest ridge in
the older man’s jeans. Zero to sixty, just like that and it’s so hot, Stiles is
almost dizzy, because he knows that he’s doing this to Derek. He’s the one that
pushes Derek’s buttons taking away his control.
Stiles slides his tongue between his lips to delicately probe at Derek’s. Heat
washes over him when Derek instantly opens his mouth and lets Stiles in. He
tastes like toothpaste and cinnamon and… it’s hot and wet and Stiles can’t help
but groan his appreciation at all the wonderful flavours that Derek is.
Or is it appreciation that Derek’s lifted one hand to gently cup Stiles’ jaw,
thumb under his chin, his long fingers stretched the length of his cheek
stroking his skin. Or that he’s reached back with one large, heavy hand and is
palming Stiles’ ass through his chino’s, pressing down then releasing him, down
and release. Derek’s encouraging Stiles to rock against him in a rhythm that
has his head spinning, ‘coz all his blood has drained from his head to.. God
yeah.. that’s it.. right there. He pushes his swollen, aching length against
Derek’s. Fuck.. he appreciates it all.. he really, really does.
“God.. right there Stiles.. right there.” Derek mutters the words against
Stiles lips, echoing what’s running through the younger man’s head, as they
hump and grind against each other harder, faster.
“If this is how you want to ‘talk’ I’m all for it.” Stiles mumbles back, hips
pulsing almost as fast as his heart’s beating. When Derek freezes, Stiles
mentally curses. Why did he have to open his big mouth?
Derek slowly, slowly pulls his head back, drawing his lips away from Stiles.
Damn it. What just happened? He can’t believe he got distracted by Stiles
again, although it’s hard not to when he’s in his lap and licking red-kissed
lips and looking at him with amber eyes that have melted into liquid honey.
He gently lifts the boy off his lap and sits him at the far end of the couch
and groans aloud when Stiles surges forward his hands clinging to whatever part
of Derek he can hang onto, long slender fingers sliding down the back of his
collar making tingles race up and down his spine. Stiles’ other hand locks onto
his hip and grips it tight trying to pull him down on top of him. Yes.. God
yes.. damn.. no he means no.. really it’s no.. he’s fairly certain he means no.
“Stiles.. please. We really need to talk.” Stiles darts in a kiss against the
corner of his mouth. It burns.
“Please.” Derek steps back goes to sit at the other end of the couch, thinks
better of it, because look how that just turned out and ends up sitting in an
armchair the other side of the coffee table. Drawing in a shaky breath, he runs
his hands through his hair.
Stiles is looking delightfully dishevelled. Lips red and puffy, eyes languid
and slitted watching his every move. His mate is pure temptation and Derek’s
struggling really hard not to succumb, but he made a promise to Stiles' Dad.
Not a verbal one, but an unspoken, unwritten one. Man to man. Right now with a
boner from hell, he almost wishes he hadn't been so fucking noble.
Derek swallows hard. Where to start?
“What you said about there being no secrets between mates, that’s how it should
be. I want you to know everything about what it means to be the mate of a
werewolf.” As Derek watches, Stiles looks less sinfully debauched and is
shifting restlessly listening, his face thoughtful and almost guilty looking.
What for Derek has no idea.
“Like you said last night ‘no more hiding’ between us. Everything needs to be
out in the open if we’re starting a.. a relationship.” Derek’s starting to get
concerned. There’s a scent that’s coming off Stiles and it makes his nose
twitch and.. God what is that? It’s like sour milk.
Stiles sits forward, hunched over, elbow on knee his hand cupping his chin, the
other dangling between his legs towards his ankles his eyes fixed on a spot on
the floor. As soon as Derek started talking about secrets and hiding he could
feel a wave of nausea sweep over him, knowing that he was keeping something so
big from his mate. He just didn’t know what would happen if he came out and
told him the truth. He was starting to feel a little bit scared and a whole lot
guilty.
“Stiles.. what’s wrong?” Derek can’t stand it. The rancid scent coming off
Stiles is increasing in intensity and it’s practically making his eyes water.
He sends out a tentative probing along their bond and nearly gags. The fear and
guilt that is coming from Stiles makes him want to throw up.
“Stiles tell me right now.. what’s going on with you?” Derek isn’t even aware
he’s standing until he’s looking down at the top of Stiles head, because the
boy’s looking at the floor as if the answers are all within the threads of the
carpet and he has to unravel them one by one.
Stiles darts a quick look up at his face before ducking it back down and
rubbing the back of his neck. The fear is just intensifying and Derek can feel
his wolf pacing within him. It wants to chase down whatever is causing this
feeling in Stiles. Chase it down and kill it. The wolf’s plan is pretty simple
and Derek thinks it’s got a lot of merit. Teeth. Throat. Ripping.
Stiles jumps up and he’s moving, can’t sit still. Derek’s looking at him and
the bewilderment that’s written on his face just makes it all so much worse. He
moves to stand behind the couch, isn’t really conscious that he’s putting a
barrier between them until he sees the expression on Derek’s face. It’s hurt
and worry bleeding into a rising sense of aggression that he doesn’t even need
to feel through their bond, it’s in the way Derek’s eyes have sparked into blue
and his canines have lowered. He can’t stand it.. he needs to confess.
“Derek uhm.. before you go any further about this mates thing I.. I need to
tell you.. aahh..bout me and Peter.. uh Peter and I.” He can feel himself
shifting from foot to foot with nerves, can’t control it because he just
doesn’t know how Derek’s gonna react.
“What about you and Peter?” Derek’s rumbling the words out and it sends
adrenalin spiking through Stiles’ system, because his mate’s gotta mouthful of
sharp teeth which he’s flashing widely at him.
Derek lifts his shoulders rolling his head as he cracks his neck first one way
then tilts his head the other way to crack it again. It’s so fuckin’ badass
that Stiles can only gape, half in awe and half in terrified lust that this
wolf is his.
“He cornered me in the parking lot after practice a week after you left… I
didn’t want to.. but he wouldn’t leave me alone.. kept pestering me..” Stiles
thinks back to that awful, awful week.
“I was a mess ya know… you’d left and I.. I was here.” Just thinking about that
time and Stiles can feel the memory of his grief roll over him like a tsunami,
he’s not aware that it spills over and surges into and through the mate bond.
“He said it would help… help me to forget.. and.. holy shit.. Derek what the
fuck??” Stiles cries out as Derek has moved so fast that he’s dragged Stiles
over the couch and has started pulling at his clothes, his face buried in
Stiles neck.
“Where? Where is it?” Derek’s nuzzling and licking his neck furiously. His
claws catching and dragging through material, the rasp of tearing fabric sounds
especially loud to Stiles ears, it sends a shiver down his spine. Derek has him
pinned to the couch and he’s thoroughly running his nose and mouth over every
inch of exposed flesh huffing wildly and growling uncontrollably while he does
it. Nothing is spared, he snuffles over Stiles’ shoulders before veering down
into the all too sensitive armpit, which has Stiles writhing and choking as he
tries to stop the giggles that somehow inappropriately want to erupt.
“Tell me Stiles.” Derek demands as he drags the last piece of material from his
mate’s body. He’s torn and ripped off every piece of clothing until Stiles is
completely nude, trapped beneath the heavy weight of his seemingly ‘out of his
ever fucking mind’ mate.
“What? Tell you what?” Stiles asks becoming increasingly more desperate. This
is kinda hot, his mate running his face over his chest and lower to his
stomach, but there’s something about Derek, the tension and barely restrained
fury he can sense in him, that tells him this isn’t foreplay, this isn’t sexy
times.. it’s serious mate bond shit and it’s scaring him almost as much as it’s
turning him on.
“Where’s the mark? Stiles tell me right now.” Derek’s eyes are blazing down at
him, it’s a conundrum he’ll have to think about later that the electric ice
blue of Derek’s beta eyes are able to project such scorching heat at him he can
literally feel his skin prickle like he’s gotten too much sun.
“What mark?” He can’t think because Derek’s nosing around his groin now and
oh.. holy.. oh.. oh.. he’s pushing his face against his cock and balls. Tongue
flicking out and tasting the fuzz of hair that covers his sac. Stiles growing
arousal from all the touching and nuzzling is now a full blown weighty
erection, pre-cum leaking out of the slit at the head and dribbling into his
belly button where it’s lying flat against his stomach.
When Derek nuzzles under his sac, his nose actually lifts Stiles’ balls to
expose the delicate stretch of perineum that leads to his fiercely clenching
pucker, Stiles whines. Derek pulls back and shakes his head in confusion.
“I can’t scent..” Growling harshly, he grabs Stiles and flips him, positioning
him exactly how he wants him, on his knees facing the back of the couch.
Kneeling on the floor behind, Derek holds the back of Stiles’ thighs just below
the crease of his ass, his thumbs pull the cheeks apart, claws pressing gently
into the delicate firm flesh.
Stiles can’t believe this is happening. Somehow their ‘talk’ has devolved into
Stiles completely naked while his mate is fully clothed.. actually.. that is
really, really hot and they will seriously have to do this again when Stiles is
convinced his mate isn’t out of his head crazy. He’s completely exposed to
Derek, hanging onto the back of the couch with trembling hands, his ass cheeks
spread so that Derek can see his opening and the hanging weight of his balls
below.
“Where did he touch you?” Derek’s rumbling, growling voice goes even lower when
he asks. “Did he rape you? Tell me Stiles.” Derek’s hot breath blows across
Stiles’ ass and balls and the sensation makes him shiver, goosebumps forming on
his sac. He didn’t even know they could there. It takes a moment for Stiles to
realise what Derek has said because his body keeps trying to override his mind,
telling him that this is all good, and while it is, Stiles knows that it isn’t
at the same time. There is something desperately wrong and now he knows.
Dawning horror washes over him as he tries to absorb what Derek’s been
thinking. He tries to look over his shoulder at his mate, he can’t move because
Derek’s grip is so firm.
“Derek.. that’s not what.. DerEEEEK.” Stiles squeals as a hot wet flat tongue
licks a scorching trail from his balls along the crack of his ass to swirl
firmly against the rose pucker of his anus, letting it penetrate slightly and
rasp the thousands of nerve endings that are housed at the entrance before
pulling back.
Stiles wails, feels like he’s been punched in the guts.
He’s feeling way too much from a part of his body that he’d never given a
thought to in that regard. Sure when he’d been playing with himself, enjoying
Stiles’ special alone time, he may have rubbed his hole as he jacked off, maybe
even slipped a finger in part way, but this was as far removed from that as
pecking your maiden aunt on the cheek was to tongue kissing the hottest
cheerleader in the backseat of a parked car, not that he’s done either mind
you.
It’s light years apart and he can’t cope, it’s too intense. He’s fighting the
blissful sensations and that translates into physically fighting the cause of
this unexpected and mind blowing experience.
“What the fuckin’ hell?” Stiles reaches out searching for a weapon, twists and
starts to frantically beat the wolf around the head with a chocolate brown
velour cushion. “Give a guy some warning why don’t cha?”
Derek’s surprised enough that Stiles has a chance to scramble away from where
the werewolf is kneeling and huddles in the corner of the couch, cushion
strategically covering his bits. He’s trembling and panting, it’s hard to catch
a breath when it feels like his heart’s about to explode. Too late. Boom! There
it goes.
“Stiles.. I’m sorry.. I should’ve realised..” Derek is shaken to his core. The
last time he’d been this distraught, this devastated he’d lost his family.
Stiles has been abused by Peter. Derek’s heartbroken for him.
He can’t quite work out how, because he’s not caught any of his scent on
Stiles, anywhere, and he’d been extremely thorough. There are no markings
either, so Peter hasn’t claimed him, which Derek is relieved about. If he had
he would’ve claimed Stiles too and then when he killed Peter, Peter’s claim
would disappear only leaving Derek’s.
The things Stiles has said are indicating Peter used a lot of coercion and put
pressure on Stiles when he was particularly vulnerable. Vulnerable because he’d
left him alone. Idiot.. idiot. Derek groans aloud, when he recalls Stiles’
reaction at having his ass touched. He’d cried out and then fought him. A
victim not wanting to be victimised again.
He cringes inside at his own sick desires, because he can still taste Stiles
musky scent on his tongue, dark chocolate and vanilla, it’s tarter, richer.
It’s bittersweet and he wants more, craves it. He’s still hard as a rock in his
jeans and he still wants to push his cock deep inside that tight, sweet hole
and fuck him. Fuck Stiles till he screams. Fuck him till he comes just from the
feel of Derek’s cock riding him hard.
Derek grabs his head, claws tangling in his hair, the thoughts that are running
through it are wild and crazed. The need for vengeance on behalf of his mate
rakes at his gut alongside the guilty desires.
He doesn’t realise he’s rocking back and forth on his heels keening in mourning
for Stiles’ violation until he feels sweet lips press against his and he comes
back to himself. Stiles has moved to kneel in front of Derek and cups his face
and gently, gently pushes his tongue into Derek’s mouth ignoring the sharp
teeth and teases the tip of his wolf’s tongue with his own.
“Stiles..” Derek pulls back looking into his mate’s eyes.
“Derek. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.” Stiles grabs his
arm tightly as Derek shakes his head.
“No. I know.. don’t worry anymore baby.. I’m going to kill him.”
“No Derek. Stop this. Will you just listen to me.” He grabs Derek by both arms
and tries to shake him, but so not happening with a supernaturally strong
werewolf. Sighing at his own foolishness, Stiles presses his forehead into
Derek’s and looks into his eyes willing him to believe.
The agony the older man had displayed, rocking his body while this terrible
noise came from deep in his chest, a whining moan had brought Stiles before his
mate. He'd been shocked, there was no denying that, but he couldn't let his
mate suffer like this, so he'd kissed him. Even knowing where Derek's mouth and
tongue had been didn't deter him, the fact that he could taste a heady, muskier
flavour on his mate's tongue had surprisingly caused a knot of heat to form low
in his belly.
He’s trying to feel Derek through the bond but terrifyingly it’s blocked.
Derek’s closed off their connection. How is that possible? Stiles has come to
rely on it and its only been 24 hours since he came home from training and
found a wolf in his bedroom. Fear is rippling through him. He needs Derek,
needs all of him. Body, heart, soul and mind, Stiles wants it all.
“Derek. I have not had sex, willing or unwilling, with anyone but you and
believe me I’m definitely willing when it comes to you.” Derek just blinks.
“Stiles.. don’t.” He can’t bear to have his mate trying to comfort him when it
should really be the other way around.
“Why have you closed me out? Please..” Stiles can feel his eyes are welling
with tears and he’s so not going to cry, not in front of Derek. Needs to be
strong for his mate. “I need to feel you.. I need to feel you here.” Stiles
touches his chest with one hand before reaching out with his other and placing
it on the hard muscled chest of his mate. Heat radiates through the soft cotton
of his t-shirt warming Stiles’ palm.
“No.. never close you out. You’re mine Stiles.. mine.” Derek places his larger
hands over the top of Stiles and they cover each other’s hearts, pressing hard
into their flesh, linking them physically. Derek lets go of his fear and anger
which he’s using to block feeling Stiles. “Couldn’t bear to feel your grief.”
It’s a rushing wave and slams into them both making them sway with the force
and Derek’s head is spinning as the burst of light that he always feels when
Stiles connects with him, fills him, floods through his entire being. There is
an ethereal quality to Stiles essence when it travels into him, wrapping itself
around him letting him know that the almost champagne-like bubbles of orange
scent that fizz and tease his senses harbour no darkness. None that Deaton had
warned of from Stiles’ sacrifice and none that would be there if Stiles had
been assaulted. Relief is a living palpable thing and he sags under its weight.
Stiles is crying. Tears rolling slowly down his face and he can feel his hair
on his scalp lift and ruffle as the strong fresh breeze that is Derek blows
through him. The fur rubs him from the inside and it’s soothing and calming
until Stiles is only just sniffling. Stiles pulls and draws and tugs every
ounce of love that is in him for his mate and pushes it out, pushes it down
that line of communion until he can feel Derek sagging against him.
“Stiles..” Derek croaks as he simply tips over, limbs loose, and lies on the
floor writhing in the bliss that it is to feel just how much love his mate has
for him. His beta form dissolves and it’s just Derek bathing in warmth, love
and light. All from his Stiles. He tugs on the hands he’s holding and Stiles
lets himself go and falls sprawling on top of his body.
Their hearts are beating furiously and breaths come in laboured pants and
Stiles pushes his face into Derek’s neck and with his blunt human teeth latches
onto the pulse there, holding it firmly. Derek groans in surrender, arcing his
neck further pushing his flesh against Stiles mouth and teeth. It’s the
ultimate trust for a wolf to bare his throat to another. He doesn’t hesitate
for Stiles.
Stiles nips and mouths along the tendons before pulling back slightly and
letting his hot breath blow against the moisture he’s left behind. The
sensation has Derek shuddering beneath him.
“Peter did not rape me. Peter and I have never had sex. I have never had sex
with anyone but you. Do you hear me?” Stiles asks Derek his voice raspy, his
throat feeling raw from emotions.
Derek slowly nods his head. “There is something between you though.. isn’t
there?”
“Yes. Nothing physical because eww… have to say it Derek, you Hales are a good
looking bunch but at heart you’re all creepers. You watch and lurk in the
shadows and the worst of you all is Peter.” Stiles shudders and Derek doesn’t
think it’s for effect.
“Why the fear then? What has you so worried and guilty that it changes your
scent so drastically? I have it on very good authority that ‘mates don’t keep
secrets from each other’.” Derek runs his hand up the long smooth line of
Stiles’ spine, revelling in the texture of his skin, but this is part of the
reason Stiles collapsed last night, getting chilled, so he gently moves Stiles
to one side and pulls off his t-shirt and drops it over his mates’ head.
Stiles sighs as the warmth wraps around him and unconsciously tugs the collar
up to his nose and inhales deeply, drawing the forest cinnamon scent of his
mate deep into his lungs. Derek chuffs in approval, wrapping his arms around
the boy and nuzzles into his throat.
“Derek, Peter and I.. we’ve done something and I don’t know if you’re going to
be happy with it.. us.. or not and I’m just afraid that I’ve stuffed up. You
see I’m good at that..” He lifts amber eyes to look into the light green of
Derek’s wanting the other man to see how genuine he is. “and I don’t want to
with you. I don’t want to hurt or disappoint you.”
“What is it? What are you afraid to tell me?” Derek’s mind is racing, but if
it’s not his worst case scenario of Peter trying to force himself and a claim
onto Stiles then all else can be dealt with.
“It’s better if I show you.” Derek lifts his eyebrows quizzically. Stiles
presses his lips to Derek’s in a fleeting kiss before standing.
“I need to get dressed AGAIN seeing as a certain Mr Grabby Claws destroyed my
clothes.” He walks to the hallway before pulling off Derek’s t-shirt and
throwing it back at him. His body, pale and lean, his ass a rounded bubble of
perfection. Derek’s mouth waters and he growls in appreciation at the sight.
Stiles looks over his shoulder at the sound.
Derek locks eyes with Stiles.
“Can I still kill him if I don’t like it?”
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek get frisky in the driveway of the Stilinski home.
     The sexy Camaro makes a reappearance and Stiles gets to drive it on
     the way to meet Peter. Something old is new again and Peter lets slip
     some very interesting facts about werewolf/human relationships which
     cause Stiles to freak out. Again.
Chapter Notes
     This is for all the readers who commented on my last chapter - you
     guys are just too smart or I'm too obvious - really I'm leaning to
     the smart factor because everyone knows that TW fans are the bomb!!
     Smart, cool and funny. I'm so lucky to have you guys on board with
     this.
      
     Unbeta'ed - you know the drill.
Stiles can’t believe he’s driving the Camaro. It’s powerful and responds to the
lightest touch, a sleek panther compared to the sturdy, unwieldy bulk of his
Jeep that Stiles is used to.
When they’d left his house Stiles had started to unlock his blue beast, the
paint of which still sparkled brightly after its recent stay at the bodyshop,
when he’d realised he was blocked in.
“What the..?” Stiles turns to his mate. “I thought you got rid of this when you
got the SUV.”
“No. She’s my baby.” He reaches out to stroke the Camaro’s fender lovingly.
“Kept her in storage while Cora and I went travelling.”
“Would you two like some alone time?” Stiles almost feels jealous of the way
Derek’s eyeing the sexy black car as he rubs at an imaginary smear on the
paintwork.
“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
Stiles can feel his jaw drop, until he sees the smirk on his mate’s face. Who
was this teasing man?
“Who are you? And what have you done with my sourwolf?” He grumbles trying to
control the twitch of his lips.
“Am I?”
“Are you what?” Stiles is confused.
“Am I yours?” Derek gives him an indecipherable look. Stiles may not be able to
tell as accurately by Derek’s outward appearance of what he’s feeling, but what
he gets through their connection is longing and wild hope wrapped in the musky
scent of fur and the cool forest air after a fall of rain.
Stiles steps into Derek’s space and backs him up against the car. He leans
against his mate’s hard muscular body and reaches up to gently cup his face,
looking into those kaleidoscope green eyes that draw him in so effortlessly.
“Yes, you’re mine. No one else’s. If anyone tries to touch you.. if anyone
tries to take you away from me.. even if it’s you.. trying to leave me..”
Stiles pauses and closes his eyes. There’s a sudden wildness in him that wants
to claim the man in front of him. Right now. “Believe me when I say it’s not
going to be pretty.”
He opens his eyes and sees Derek looking back at him with awe and hunger all
over his face, like he desperately wants to be possessed by Stiles so
intimately.
“Stiles.. you’re eyes.. they’re blue again.” That’s all it takes for Derek’s
own to start glowing and Stiles feels the magnetic pull of their bond drawing
him to his mate and he presses his lips to the other man’s. He slides his
tongue across Derek’s lips demanding access to the wet heat of his mouth.
Groans, deep in his chest when it’s instantly granted.
Does everyone feel like this when they kiss someone they love? That they’re
drowning in them, that you would die if they stopped because your heart would
simply burst, your lungs collapse and your brain seize. If this is what Scott
had felt when he was with Allison, then all is forgiven. Every unanswered call,
every cancelled ‘Call of duty’ night and every vague, dazed, bewildered
expression when he’d been trying to talk serious stuff to him is now all too
understandable.
Derek tips his head back panting roughly.
“Fuck.. Stiles you don’t know.. how much.. ” His nostrils flare wildly and the
blue lightning of his eyes scorch as he traces lovingly the angles and planes
of Stiles’ face.
“Yes I do.. I do know.” Stiles croons back as he nips and nibbles the older
man’s jawline, enjoying the rasp of his stubble against his tongue. “I know
because I feel it too.”
Derek moans hotly and grabs Stiles face between his hands and kisses him
wildly, his tongue is fucking into his mouth and his hips are echoing the
rhythm. He’s growling, low and hungry. He’s never going to last until Stiles’
turns 18. Everything the boy says and does just makes him want him more and
more.
A jarring vibrating beep from Stiles phone jolts them out of the haze of desire
and longing that they’ve been lost in. Stiles pulls it out of his pocket and
glances at the display.
“Are you serious?” He steps back from Derek and looks around the driveway and
up the street. Derek can feel Stiles’ is anxious and nervous, his mate’s desire
dissipating almost instantly, it makes him twitchy.
“What? What’s going on?”
Stiles just lifts his phone and shows him the text message he’s just received.
Dad 5.25pm
Stop that right now. Our driveway is not the place for that.
The phone beeps again.
Dad 5.26pm
In fact there’s nowhere that’s the place for that. Behave.
Derek’s admiration of the Sheriff just went up several notches, despite the
guilt that prods at his conscience and the fact that his jeans are cutting off
the circulation to his swollen cock and balls.
“How did he know?” Stiles looks around the neighbourhood as does Derek. He
can’t spot anything unusual, not by sight, hearing or scent. He shrugs at his
mate confounded for the moment.
“Let’s go.” Stiles turns and pops the Camaro’s locks with the security clicker.
Sitting in the leather seat, his hands on the steering wheel he turns to his
mate shaking his head.
“I can’t believe my Dad has just creeped me out enough to give Peter a run for
his money.”
“Who knew?” Derek agrees.
Derek laughs when he reads the text Stiles sends back.
5.28pm Stiles
Well played, father dearest. Behaving, mostly.
 
They drive through Beacon Hills, Stiles is going almost under the speed limit
he’s so cautious. Firstly, because this is Derek’s baby, he knows that, and if
there is a mark on it while he’s driving it then a price will be paid. Possibly
with his ass. Hmmm it almost might be worth.. he’d have to think on it.
Secondly, he’s just so anxious about when they get there, he’s delaying it as
much as possible. Is he even going to have a mate by the end of this evening?
“I rang your phone a couple of days ago.” Derek feels the car pull to one side
as Stiles’ hands visibly spasm where they sit on the black steering wheel.
Stiles corrects automatically while sucking in an audible shaky breath.
“You called me.” Stiles starts to smile, it’s breathtaking. “You called me.” A
little laugh escapes him. Derek feels like he’s basking in sunshine, Stiles’
happiness is flooding through their bond, it’s like a drug. Addictive, he wants
more. Wants Stiles to always be this happy so he can feel it too.
“I lost my phone about a week ago. There didn’t seem to be much urgency to get
another one..” Unspoken is the knowledge that Derek hadn’t responded to any of
Stiles’ texts while he was away. Guilt leaves a bitter taste in Derek’s mouth.
“So I didn’t bother, but it showed up a couple of days ago in the change rooms
at school, I must’ve left it behind.”
Derek’s trying to give his mate some privacy but he can’t help it his ears are
automatically tuned in to Stiles’ heartbeat and respiration, even his scent can
indicate if he’s not being.. completely truthful. So far it’s all normal and
steady.
“Peter answered.”
“He what?” Stiles swerves again, enough that Derek puts his hand on the
steering wheel and corrects the direction.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“No.” Stiles chews on his lower lip, Derek can’t stop watching, it’s quite
mesmerizing seeing the pearly white teeth nibble on the succulent pink flesh.
“You’re telling me that Peter answered my phone when you called a couple of
days ago.”
Derek just nods, then realises that Stiles has his focus solely on the road
ahead and simply says “Yes.”
“Oh.. What did he say?” Derek’s confused, there is disappointment and sadness
coming off Stiles in absolute waves, like a tsunami and all the aftershocks
following through. This isn’t what he expected.
“That he was looking after it while you were in the shower.” Stiles slams on
the brakes, thankfully they are on a deserted stretch that leads to the woods.
Derek jerks forward, thankfully he’s got his seatbelt on because even with
werewolf healing he so would’ve been wearing an imprint of the dashboard on his
forehead if he hadn’t.
“That.. that.. oooh.. that creepiest creeper ever.” Stiles snorts, breathing
out an agitated breath of air.
“So you weren’t in the shower then?” Derek breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Yes I probably was..” Derek growls low, relief quickly changed into jealousy.
“Hush now.. you know it’s not like that. I’d actually been working and.. look
why am I explaining you’ll see in a minute.” Stiles admonishes him and Derek
shuts up because he can still feel that Stiles isn’t happy not like he’d been
five minutes before. He wants that happy Stiles back, but doesn’t know what
happened to drive him away.
Stiles accelerates and they drive in silence and Derek can feel his spine
tingle. It always does when he’s back in Hale territory. It’s home.
When they turn onto Hale Road, his family has been in the town for generations,
so long that even if this road had started out with a different name over time
it simply became known by the sole family that lived at the end of it. He
almost knows what he’s going to see.
They round the bend and Derek chokes out a sob, which he tries to stifle but he
can’t. He’s breathing great big huffs of air because he’s feeling so
lightheaded.
Stiles stops the car momentarily to let him absorb it and reaches across and
takes his trembling hand. Actually they’re both trembling, for differing
reasons, Stiles because he’s worried about his mate’s reaction and Derek
because he’s home. The feel of their mate anchors them both.
“I want you to always have a home you can come back to.” Stiles says the words
quietly as Derek just looks through the windscreen at the house.
Dusk is falling and the Hale family home glows with welcoming light scattered
throughout the new unbroken windows of different rooms. The lamps on the
outside of the house are also lit and he can see the fire damaged boards have
been replaced and repainted in gleaming white with forest green trim on the
architraves and frames. Derek is home.
Stiles drives closer and parks in front of the steps that lead to the front
porch.
Derek can’t move. He can see his family home and it’s almost perfect. The only
way it would ever be completely perfect is if his Mom opened the front door to
stand on the porch as she used to and would welcome him home with a hug. He
can’t breathe when a dark figure does exactly that. The front door is left ajar
and the light streams out flooding the porch.
Derek blinks his eyes furiously getting them to adjust and realises with aching
disappointment that it’s his Uncle standing there waiting. That would be one
miracle too many, the mere fact that he is sitting here with his true mate is
more than he ever dreamt of and he’s grateful to whatever divine powers there
may be in the universe that they’ve brought Stiles into his life.
He swings his head back and sees Stiles trying to mask a look of anxiety and
concern on his face as he watches for his reaction. Reaching out he grabs both
of Stiles hands drawing them in between their bodies, cupping them within his
own larger ones. He lowers his head and buries his face in Stiles’ palms gently
kissing every inch of skin, breathing in his mate’s overwhelming scent of
oranges, vanilla and chocolate letting it fill his senses and suddenly, it’s
all beyond his control as the first tear falls.
“Thank you.. thank you..” Derek murmurs over and over again pressing Stiles’
hands hard against his face, his tears falling onto some callouses that he now
realises are newly formed. The evidence of Stiles hard work on his body and in
the very building behind him. He doesn’t deserve this boy, this teenager who
didn’t abandon him even when he’d been gone for such a long time.
Derek doesn’t cry. At least Stiles has never seen it before. He’d seen the
unrelenting agony on his face at Boyd’s death, the devastating sadness when
they found Erica’s body and the constant pain he’d endured from injuries and
wounds too countless to mention. But, he’d never seen him break down and cry
until now.
Stiles watches the strongest man he knows bow his head, hunched over before
him, and weep into his hands that capture each and every tear and will hold
each precious one in his heart. They are the rarer than any jewel.
Gently, Stiles raises his mate’s head and pulls away his fingers, sucking in a
shaky breath. Christ, he’s so beautiful even when he has tears trickling down
his face, it makes Stiles' heart ache and his stomach clench tight.
If it had been Stiles he would be puffy eyed, blotchy red patches on his skin
and snot streaming out of his nose, but Derek’s skin looks just a little paler
against his dark stubble and his green eyes shimmer brightly.
He’s beautiful and perfect and Stiles’ can’t believe Derek’s letting him see
this vulnerable, human side of himself. He pushes out what he hopes feels like
love and comfort into their bond, hopes that Derek will feel like he’s being
wrapped in a warm blanket. Thinks he succeeds when a soft sigh eases past his
mate’s lips.
Stiles uses the tips of his fingers to brush away the wet tracks down the
planes of his face before leaning in and kissing each trembling eyelid feeling
the delicate flutter of eyelashes against his lips.
With a last gentle brush of his lips against Derek’s, Stiles leans back.
“Do you want to see inside?” He asks quietly, not wanting to pressure the other
man either way.
“Yes.. God yes.” Derek replies.
The minute they step out of the car Derek changes. Stiles can see it happen
before his very eyes. The vulnerability is gone and the protective instincts of
a wolf are definitely in place as he angles his body between Stiles and Peter,
watching his Uncle warily from the bottom of the porch steps.
“Derek and… Stiles.” There’s a lilting intonation in the way Peter says Stiles
name, it’s too friendly and too intimate and sets Derek’s wolf off.
“Peter.” Derek’s growling and his eyes are flashing blue in warning.
“Oh now, now.. no need to get all growly we’re all family here.. or soon to be
family.” He looks at Stiles, draws in a breath, that Stiles recognises as a
scenting one, and quirks an eyebrow at Derek. “You’ve not claimed him yet?”
“No. He doesn’t know exactly what it means to be mated to a werewolf.”
Peter folds his arms and rolls his eyes.
“It’s not that hard Derek. You mate.. you knot.. you’re tied together forever..
he can leave, you can’t but you’ll die if he does.. I think that’s pretty
straight forward.” He looks at Stiles. “Do you know what it means to be mated
to a werewolf Mr Stilinski?”
“You can die if I leave you?” Stiles is horrified. This is.. this is.. he has
no words. He will literally have the power of life and death over Derek.
“I think he’s got it.” Peter smiles like he’s done them all a big favour.
“Shut up.” Derek and Stiles speak in unison.
“What if I need to go away and.. and visit an Aunt in Baltimore or something?”
“Do you have an Aunt in Baltimore?” Derek growls.
“No.. but you know what I mean.”
“It doesn’t work like that, we can travel apart quite freely. When he says
‘leave’ he means reject our bond.. close it off completely.. forever.” Derek
looks sad as if he can picture it happening already.
“I can do that.. shut it down?” Stiles needs to get it clear in his head,
because God forbid he accidentally kill his mate in the middle of an argument
or something. “Like if we’re having a fight.. would you die straight away?”
“No it would take longer than that and I think even if we were having an
argument it wouldn’t get to that point. You wouldn’t let it.. would you?”
There’s a note of uncertainty in Derek’s voice which just about kills Stiles,
that he can put it there is devastating.
He walks to Derek’s side and grabs his hand and looks into those intensely
burning blue eyes, knowing that his wolf is holding his breath.
“Never.”
“Great. That’s settled.. finally.” Peter spreads his arms out and with a
flourish motions to the front door. “Welcome to our new home.” Derek doesn’t
move, holding Stiles hand and keeping him on his far side away from Peter.
“Seriously.. alright I’ll go first. God forbid I should have your back.” Peter
steps through the doorway, before abruptly poking his head back out. “You
should carry him across the threshold.. it’s tradition.”
“We’re not married.” Stiles frowns at the older wolf, who shoots him a dazzling
smile. Really, this family is genetically blessed or something because they are
all ridiculously good-looking, even the weirdo Uncle that nobody really likes,
but has to invite to family functions and everyones’ really upset because he
actually shows up.
“Close enough.” Peter disappears inside.
“Engaged.”
“What?” Stiles tugs at the hand that’s clasping his tight. Derek’s not looking
at him. “No hiding remember.”
Derek huffs out a resigned breath, as he looks at Stiles from underneath his
brows of doom. “It’s more like we’re engaged than married.”
“Oh.. oh.” Surprisingly, Stiles feels okay about this. Engagements can last as
long as either of them want. “Okay.”
“It’s when we have sex and knot for the first time that we’ll be essentially
married.” Derek frowns as he sees Stiles start to sway.
“Derek.” Stiles feels lightheaded. “Eighteen.” He mumbles over and over,
because he realises that when he turns 18 in a couple of months, when he and
Derek finally get together and there is no doubt in his mind that they will,
their engagement will be over and he will be married/mated to his wolf.
Forever.
Holy shit. He’s gonna be a teen bride. At least he won’t be knocked up as well.
Did he say that out loud? Because Derek’s got this look in his eye and Stiles
is struggling to work out what it means. It’s not like a WTF are you talking
about you idiot. Derek’s silently begging for understanding. He holds Stiles
hand tighter as though he’s worried that once he works it out he’s going to run
away.
Stiles likes to think he’s reasonably intelligent. Okay he’s not dumb, but it
still takes a moment for it to click that Derek didn’t exactly fall apart
laughing when Stiles said…
“Holy fucking shit.” He tries to pull his hand away, but Derek’s obviously
anticipated this because he’s holding it in a gentle but unbreakable grip.
“Stiles.” Derek tries to send a calming and soothing feel through the bond.
Uh uh. That is so not going to work on Stiles because.. damn it.. just because
this is fucked up beyond all belief.
“When were you going to tell me?” His voice is sharp and reedy.
“I’ve been trying to tell you for the past 24 hours but things keep getting in
the way.. like your lips, you running away, you collapsing, your lips again.”
Derek’s freaking out. He’d hoped to have a calm and reasonable discussion about
mating, particularly between true mates, a male werewolf and a human male. He
sighs, what was he thinking? This is Stiles. Calm and reasonable don't seem to
be in Stiles' vocabulary.
Peter pops his head back around the door frame, obviously getting tired of
waiting and obviously having heard everything they’ve been saying.
“Really Derek do I have to do everything.. Stiles you can get knocked up as you
so eloquently put it by your mate. Derek can get you pregnant. There see how
easy that was.” He smiles benignly at both of them. “I personally can’t wait to
see you nice and round with his pup or pups. Our family is well known for
multiple births.”
“Shut up.” Stiles and Derek yell in unison.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek are both suffering as they try to deal with recent
     revelations. Only they don't realise that they are concerned about
     different issues to each other. Peter steps in to help smooth things
     over between them.
Chapter Notes
     Finally, a new one to post. This took me in a different way than what
     I had expected, but I like it because it allowed me to have more
     Peter again. And who doesn't want more of Peter I ask??
     Avunculicide - from the latin, to kill a maternal uncle
      
     Thanks for the kind comments and kudos - you make my day (and often
     my night as I type into the midnight hour).
      
     Unbeta'ed - just 'coz I can
Stiles refuses to talk about it anymore saying he doesn’t want to ruin Derek’s
first time in the newly rebuilt Hale family home. It’s too late. Derek is all
too aware of Stiles standing over near the front door, where he’d only moments
before stomped off to. There’s a divide between them, a veritable yawning chasm
of misunderstanding and Derek is desperate to find a bridge.
He knew he should’ve pushed the talk he needed to have with the teenager sooner
rather than later... he knows he gave Stiles a list of excuses why it didn’t
happen, he just didn’t tell him the most important one. That he’s scared to
death.
Derek’s terrified that, if he hasn’t already, he’s going to botch things so
badly with Stiles that the younger man will just walk away from him. Turn his
back and never look back at the heartbroken wolf he’d leave behind.
Instinctively, he knows it’s something from which he’d never recover.
He’d been so scared that if he told Stiles he could become pregnant that it
would be over before it even began, so he’d kept telling himself that next time
they would talk, which became the time after that and so on and so on.
Now he can barely get Stiles to even look at him, let alone talk to him. He
thumps his head against the porch post he’s leaning against, the pain’s
curiously grounding. He looks out across the grounds to the forest under the
blanket of stars that almost appear to pinwheel overhead.
He’s stopped trying to use their bond, he took a quick peek but seeing the gold
threads unravelling around the blue just about killed him to see it so he
doesn’t dare look again. Derek can feel Stiles has clamped it down at his end.
Not a final severance, which at this point wouldn’t kill him because their bond
isn’t complete yet, but it would still be very, very painful and Stiles isn’t
that cruel. He’s left enough open in their conduit that a trickle of emotion
can get through. That trickle from Stiles is full of hurt and betrayal. Derek
can scent rotten oranges and rancid chocolate.
It makes Derek feel sick. His stomach is rolling and he can feel sweat trickle
down the length of his spine and it feels like ice water. Derek’s vision goes
blurry and he realises that his eyes are overly moist. They’re not tears and
damn it, no he’s not crying. He just wants his Stiles back.
The Stiles who for that brief shining moment in the Camaro had radiated such
happiness that Derek had been dazzled and blinded by him.
Stiles stands by the open front door that he so lovingly painted a rich green
only a fortnight ago. Golden light from inside the house spilling onto the
porch and his feet. He rocks back and forth on his heels, idly noticing yet
another hole has appeared in his ‘Batman’ Converses. He’ll have to check the
net for another pair. Wishes that it would be just as easy to fix the gaping
hole that has settled in his chest.
Derek is behind him looking out into the night, they’re only 10 feet apart and
it may as well be from one side of the universe to the other. Stiles can’t look
at him otherwise he’d cave and be all over him. It’s strange how his presence
is so soothing to Stiles and at the same time such a torment. God, how he loves
him. Loves him so much, but he just can’t.. just can’t believe that Derek
didn’t tell him such an important facet of their relationship. Stiles can kill
Derek.
He’s afraid, can feel fear pooling low in his gut and it sends out tentacles of
ice that spread throughout his body. What if they have an argument? What if he
loses control? Stiles told Derek that he’d never cut their tie, but what they
have between them is so wild and emotional that Stiles feels like he loses
control a lot of the time. Be honest, he tells himself, he loses control all of
the time whenever his wolf is near.
They are each other’s weakness and the frenzied feelings, good and bad, that
they generate together plays havoc with any rational, sane thought. From one
moment to the next it feels like they contradict themselves, it’s just too
intense, the crazed and mixed up emotions that roll through him, through them.
Derek’s not immune either, sometimes he thinks it’s worse for him because all
of his senses are so highly tuned.
Stiles almost wonders if he should get himself checked for bipolar disorder.
The heady highs, the gut wrenching plummeting lows he’s been experiencing. He’s
balancing on a see-saw and it’s tipping wildly either way.
That afternoon, he’d had Derek bailed up against his car wanting to claim him
and if they hadn’t gotten that text from his Dad, well let’s just say the
neighbours would’ve had plenty to talk about the Sheriff’s kid and his
escapades for the next fifty years.
In desperation, Stiles uses the very knowledge that he fears the most, to clamp
down on their bond. It would drive Derek insane if he felt the fear that was
crippling his mate, he’s already lost control a couple of times already within
the past 24 hours and Stiles just can’t bear the thought of him hurting anymore
because of him.
Would Stiles have the strength to cut the tie and leave Derek if he was a
threat to him? He just didn’t know and he only had two months until his
birthday to decide.
From the moment he did it though, it feels like he’s got an open wound in his
chest, a cannonball size hole and he feels.. incomplete. It hurts.
“Damn it.. Stiles.” Derek’s voice is low and urgent, talking into his ear. Hot
breath against the sensitive skin of his ear and cheek, it makes him shudder.
Stiles knows Derek’s whispering to pretend they have some semblance of privacy
while Peter is lurking.. around.. somewhere.. oh who the hell knew where the
little creeper was.
Stiles can’t help the way his body reacts to having Derek so close. He snuck up
on him so at least that could account for the way his heartbeat jumps and
skips. But, not the suddenly dry mouth and trembling hands.
He’s not touching him at any point, but Stiles can feel him. He’s standing
right behind him. All it would take is for Stiles to lean back.. ever so
slightly and.. fuck.. It’s like Derek’s aura.. lifeforce whatever you want to
call it is pushing into Stiles’. He can feel his body heat radiating towards
him, although it’s not as hot as it usually is, it still feels like he’s being
wrapped in a warm blanket though.
“Don’t do this. Please.. don’t shut me out.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry I
should’ve told you. I wanted to but I.. I couldn’t.” Stiles is so still, it’s
like talking to a statue, except Derek can see his pulse throbbing against the
delicate, too vulnerable skin of his neck.
The neck that Derek’s desperate to put his face against and just breathe in his
mate, draw his normal scent into his lungs. There are times he feels that he
wouldn’t need food or drink ever again if he could just have that delicious
scent with him always. He has to fight the almost overpowering urge to lunge at
the teenager. The need to gather him close and hold him is almost more than he
can stand, but the fear that he would push him away or fight him off is
stronger. He’s such a coward.
“Yes, you should’ve told me. My God.. how could you not.” Stiles hasn’t turned
to look at him, just fiercely whispers the words back. “Derek I trust you..
trusted you to guide me in this ‘cause it’s so different.. I needed you to be
honest with me.”
Derek’s heart plummets. He’s lost his mate’s trust and it’s devastating. He
wraps his arms tight around his middle to keep from drawing his mate to him and
selfishly getting as much comfort as he can from the feel of him. He rocks,
back and forth silently keening in pain, it takes him a couple of minutes to be
able to compose himself enough to speak.
“I was scared.. I still am.” Derek says, watching as Stiles’ head tilts,
listening. “I thought you would turn away from me at the possibility.. and yet
you’re turning away because I didn’t tell you anyway. I’ve fucked up Stiles I
know it, but please not because I wanted to keep secrets or hurt you.. nothing
like that.”
He sighs deeply. “I just didn’t want it to end before I could have the chance
to make you love me again.”
Stiles turns to face him, with the light from the inside of the house behind
him it’s hard for Derek to see his expression.
“Of course I would’ve turned away.. it’s just too big a risk.. and I can’t.. my
god.. what if it happened? It would kill me.” Stiles is trembling. “So you were
going to make me fall in love with you and what.. spring that on me as a little
surprise. You’ve gotta be kidding. That’s just cruel to both of us.”
Derek sways slightly, he feels nauseous. Hadn’t quite realised until right now
how badly he wanted children of his own. More specifically, children with
Stiles. A little boy with amber eyes or maybe a little girl with delicious
chocolate freckles on her jaw. He grieved that they wouldn’t come to be, but
there were other avenues, he couldn’t lose Stiles. No matter what he simply
couldn’t.
“If.. if you wanted to .. we could adopt.” Derek’s talking so hesitantly, he
sounds shattered. Stiles’ head is reeling.
“What the fuck are you talking about Derek?” Stiles voice gets louder. Not
worried about dear old Uncle Peter hearing him anymore. He needs to work out
what the hell their conversation has been about or at the very least what Derek
thinks its been about.
“That we could adopt since you so obviously don’t want to have natural born
children with me.” Derek snaps back. Anger rising in his gut and he’s trying to
control it, but it’s hard when Stiles is looking at him like he’s insane.
“Who told you that?” The bewilderment in Stiles’ voice sounds genuine.
“You just did.. Stiles are you not feeling well or something?” Derek’s starting
to worry. Has it all been too much for Stiles? He’s still recovering.. gotta
remember that, even when he’s being snarky.. gotta remember he needs to be
looked after. Guilt rolls through him savagely.
Stiles is pacing, nervous energy making him move restlessly up and down the
porch.
“That’s not the conversation we’ve been having. I’m talking about me being able
to kill you.” Stiles pivots and turns. His hands gesturing wildly as he walks.
“The fact that you could die is way more important than us having children.
Thanks for reminding me, you didn’t tell me about the pregnant thing either,
sooo not good.”
“Please stop. You’re making my head hurt.” Peter stands in the doorway.
“Go away.” Snaps Stiles belligerently. Derek just snarls at the other wolf,
showing a hint of fang.
“Honestly, you two I’m starting to feel like you’re taking advantage of my good
nature.” He leans against the door frame, looking like he’s intending to stay
for a while. “I’m starting to feel like a couples’ therapist if this keeps
going.”
“Couples’ therapist.” Stiles snorts rudely. “At an insane asylum maybe.” He
mutters, giving Peter the evils.
“Well we’d all fit in very nicely wouldn’t we Mister Stilinski?” Peter chuckles
softly. “Two young men suffering from PTSD, one of whom has been diagnosed with
ADHD already and the other who is guilty of avunculicide and extremely bad
judgement in his choice of girlfriends. As for myself… well I have issues but
don’t we all.”
“Killing you does not make Derek guilty of anything.. except maybe not doing a
proper job of it.” Stiles looks across at his wolf who gives him a disgruntled
look. Stiles just shrugs.
“You speak latin?” There is genuine interest in Peter’s voice.
“I get by.”
“For two young men in their prime with a supposed modicum of intelligence
between the two of you, you are doing a terrible job at communicating.” He
sighs loudly. “Maybe you should text or email, that’s what your generation
does, isn’t it?”
Walking between them, he gestures towards Stiles while talking to Derek. “He’s
more concerned about killing you than about conceiving with you. However, you
should’ve mentioned both to him from the start even though you were afraid
you’d lose him.”
Turning to Stiles he gestures to Derek.
“He thought you didn’t want to make little Stereks together and is therefore
willing to give up his dream and adopt as long as you stay. He’s willing to
risk being with you, even if you change your mind later. Love isn’t safe
Stiles, it’s always a risk whether it’s emotional or physical. That’s it.
Time’s up.” Peter saunters back to the front door, turning to look back at both
of them, smirking when he sees they are both watching.
“My diagnosis, you’re both so head over heels in love with each other that you
can’t think straight. This session was free, but I will charge for any future
ones that may be required.” Pausing, just before he shuts the door. “And you
may not like the price.” The porch is plunged into darkness.
Stiles sucks in a breath. “Your uncle is..”
“Crazy. Don’t I know it.” Derek finishes for him.
“What he said though. Head over heels, huh?” Stiles lets his eyes adjust before
walking towards his wolf. He stops just in front of him. The starlight casts
deep shadows across the porch and across Derek’s face, so he can really only
make out the white flash of teeth and the shimmering reflection of what little
light there is in his eyes.
“Yep.. only I can’t stop tumbling.” Derek is quivering, can feel the shivers
running through his very bones.
Stiles sighs deeply. “You know you never needed to make me fall in love with
you again. You didn’t need to win me again ‘cause I never stopped. I’ve always
loved you.” Derek makes a small hitching noise in his throat. “I love you even
now.”
Derek takes a hesitant step forward. Stiles loves him.. that’s good.. that’s so
good. But, he feels so cold, light headed and sick.
“Don’t cut me offffff….” He pitches forward straight into Stiles. Derek’s a
dead weight and Stiles can feel his legs and arms start to shake at the effort
of keeping them both upright.
Stiles heart starts to beat frantically with fear. Oh my God. Oh my God. He’s
dead.. he’s dead. Relief ripples through him like waves at the tidemark when he
hears Derek make a small pained moan.
He does something he never thought he would do in a million years. He screams
his name.
“Peter!”
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek's collapsed and Stiles is suffering believing it's all because
     of him. He has to journey back into his very soul and try and repair
     the damage to their bond. While in the metaphysical world he makes
     many discoveries but nothing compares to what secrets about Stiles'
     family Peter reveals.
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for all your kind comments it is appreciated.
      
     It's going to be a couple of weeks before I can post again as I'm
     going overseas for a short holiday - think tropical beach, sunscreen
     and cocktails. I'm almost sorry to be going as I can't access my
     works for the duration, but still it might just recharge the
     batteries.
     Unbeta'ed - 'cause that's just the way it is.
Light bursts onto the porch and Peter’s there beside him, almost like he’s been
lurking on the other side of the door. Takes one look at Stiles struggling to
hold himself and Derek upright and is easily lifting his nephew into his arms
and effortlessly carrying him into the house.
Ignoring Stiles’ flapping hovering movements he walks past the new staircase to
the back of the house where he lays him down on one of the massive recliner
sofas that are scattered around the huge cathedral like family room.
“What happened?” Peter asks while pulling back an eyelid and checking Derek’s
pupil. It contracts to a tiny dot. Frowning, he lays the back of his hand
against Derek’s forehead. “He’s cold. It’s like he’s gone into shock.”
Stiles has to check himself, pressing trembling fingers against Derek’s arm and
frowns when he realises that Peter’s right. Derek’s almost cooler than a human
being and werewolves always run hot. He can’t remember a time when he’s never
felt the warmth that being in Derek’s presence normally brings.
“Have you noticed anything unusual today?” Peter asks and Stiles is biting his
lip as he racks his brain.
“No. I sorta noticed on the porch earlier that he was cooler, he was standing
right next to me but I didn’t feel it like the way I normally do. I should’ve
said something then.” Blood spills into his mouth from where he’s bitten his
lip too hard, the copper tang makes him want to vomit. Peter looks at them both
for a moment, closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyes flash blue
when they open.
“What have you done Stiles? The bond isn’t anywhere near as strong as it was
when you first got here. It is from Derek.. but you..”
“Oh shit.. shit.. shit. I closed it down..” Suddenly, Peter’s all up in his
face and Stiles doesn’t know where to look.
“Why would you.. uuahh I don’t even want to know.” Peter growls angrily.
Shaking his head in apparent disgust and Stiles couldn’t agree with him more.
What has he done to Derek?
“I was afraid damn it..” He runs a trembling hand over the back of his neck and
head, the very thing he tried to prevent and it’s happening. He’s killing
Derek.
“I didn’t close it all the way, I left an opening.” Stiles grabs Derek’s cool
hand between both of his. “You said when we completed the mating it could kill
him.. not now.. not now, I didn’t think it would. I didn’t want him to know..
how afraid.. If I.. I should go.. if I leave will it give him a chance to..”
Stiles is scarcely coherent. Rambling. He’s the one saying the words and even
he doesn't really understand himself.
“No. If you go it’ll get worse. He needs you here right now and he needs you to
reopen your mate bond completely. Don’t hold anything back, he needs all of
you.” Peter reaches out and grabs Stiles by the back of the neck, claws
pricking into his skin and drags him close until they are practically nose to
nose. Peter’s fangs gleam, white and sharp below eyes that are bluer and icier
than any arctic glacier yet manage to convey a blazing white-hot fury.
“I won’t lose any more of my family Stiles, not because of your childish
insecurities. You are mating a wolf, be worthy of him.” His voice is harsh and
Stiles flinches at the home truths Peter’s telling him.
He looks down at the young man unconscious on the sofa and Stiles is shocked to
see that Peter’s electric blue eyes are glistening. His face wears the most
real expression that Stiles has ever seen on it. It’s a very human mix of
regret, fear and a certain fondness. “He deserves it most of all.”
Abruptly, Peter shakes his head, it reminds Stiles of a dog shaking off water
from its’ coat. Then the Peter he knows is back. Face, smooth and unperturbed.
The perfect, urbane sophisticated mask back in place. It’s the freakiest thing
that he’s seen Peter do and that’s saying something.
Peter easily manoeuvres Derek gently to pull off his black leather jacket and
throws it onto an armchair across the room. Doesn’t bother trying to pull his
t-shirt off over his head, simply extends his claws and slashes until it simply
falls off him.
“What are you doing? Don’t we need to get him warm?”
“Take off your shirt. The quickest way to get him warm is..” Stiles understands
instantly where Peter is going.
“Body contact.” They say in unison. Peter flicks him a look and Stiles sees the
smallest of smiles appear on the older wolf’s face. It almost looks genuine or
as genuine as Peter can appear.
“I’ll grab some blankets. Come on hurry up.” Peter snaps out, before
disappearing.
Stiles rips off his hoodie and t-shirt in one movement. Thinks about whether to
take off his belt and decides it might dig into Derek and hasn’t he already
caused his mate enough pain tonight. Swiftly Stiles unbuckles it, drawing it
out through the loops and chucks it and his clothes onto the armchair with
Derek’s jacket. He holds his jeans up with one hand as they sag and gape.
His red hoodie and Derek’s black jacket look entwined together, Stiles feels
almost wistful at the sight, maybe it’s foolish but it makes something inside
him twist with longing.
Toeing off his Converses, Stiles looks down at his mate. An unconscious Derek
is a revelation.
He’s too pale, but his face is so relaxed that it reveals what has lurked
underneath the dark stubble that covers his jaw, he’s young. It reminds him of
their first encounter in the woods, he’d looked not that much older than he and
Scott. He'd forgotten that. After all the long drawn out battles they had
fought, Derek just seemed to age overnight with the injuries and the losses the
pack had endured. The weight of his responsibilities had made him seem so much
older.
Stiles had always thought that Derek was probably about 25 or 26, now he
revises that estimate down, maybe 22 or 23 tops. Something aches and grieves
inside of him thinking about how much this young man has endured, always
struggling to do the right thing.. always there for Stiles just as Stiles is
always there for him.
What Peter said, it strikes a chord within Stiles. He’s been looking at this
whole thing with Derek completely wrong. He’s been looking at their
relationship with human eyes and certainly there is that component of human
love in it, obviously from his side entirely, but there’s also the werewolf or
wolf part and he’s not really understood the needs and hungers of a wolf mate.
He’s researched wolves and although there’s a lot of contradictory evidence out
there, the majority of sites he’s read tend to agree, wolves mate for life.
There’s no ifs, buts or maybes and definitely no separation, not until death.
Divorce is out of the question. Of all the people and all the werewolves that
are in this world, Derek and his wolf have chosen him. It’s about time he
acknowledged the honour that they’ve done him by finding him worthy of being
their mate and start acting like it.
No time like the present, he thinks as he determinedly straddles Derek’s waist
and hips. Settling his ass against Derek’s groin, it sends an uncontrollable
wave of heat through him, which he has to tamp down fiercely so he can
concentrate and not just melt into a big squirmy Stiles puddle of goo.
Stiles cups Derek’s jaw, caressing the rasping stubble. A shiver of delight
ripples through him as it makes his fingertips tingle.
“Derek, come back to me.” He whispers.
With his left hand he grabs Derek’s right and pulls it to his chest, covering
it so it rests flat against his pec where his nipple peaks into hardness, he
grits his teeth just barely able to ignore it. This is where the gaping hole in
his chest lies, right where he’s always found his way to the mate bond. With
his right hand he places it directly over Derek’s heart, feeling sick as he
realises that the normally strong rhythmic beat of his mate’s heart is now a
weaker more stuttering version. Fear that he’s going to lose him makes Stiles
want to vomit so bad that he starts to gag uncontrollably.
Just as he’s positive he’s about to lose the contents of his stomach, Peter
hurries back in, thankfully the perfect distraction, his arms loaded with
pillows and blankets. He drops everything onto the neighbouring sofa, his eyes
never leaving Stiles’.
He walks up and looks intently at the ribs and collarbones that jut out so
prominently, he reaches out but doesn’t touch, his long fingers hovering at his
shoulder.
“Too thin.” He whispers sadly. Stiles finds himself strangely wanting to
reassure the older wolf.
“Derek’s making me eat.” He shifts and reaches into Derek’s pocket, trying not
to feel like he’s violating the unconscious man, and pulls out a protein bar
and throws it at Peter who catches it and reads the label. Derek’s already made
him eat two this afternoon, as well as a ham sandwich and a big glass of milk
after his Dad left for his shift.
“Okay.” Peter nods and drops the bar onto the coffee table, quirking his
eyebrow as he examines the way Stiles has positioned himself on top of Derek.
“I thought this was about keeping him warm not giving him a lapdance.”
“I need to check the bond, see if it’s still intact.. I mean it feels like it
is from my end, but Derek’s I dunno.. maybe there’s something wrong there.”
Stiles can see Peter’s eyes are becoming increasingly wider and more
incredulous as he talks. Stiles’ is getting more and more uncomfortable at his
blatant scrutiny.
“Stiles.. are you telling me you can see the bond?” At Stiles’ hesitant nod,
Peter continues more silkily than ever. “You can see your life forces.. are
they linked.. connected in anyway?”
“Yeah.. the last time I looked they were entwined.. my gold and Derek’s blue..
owww!” He yelps as Peter smacks him across the back of the head like a naughty
kid.
“What the hell..?” Stiles scowls fiercely at Peter, not appreciating the not so
gentle tap.
“Morons. I’m related to morons.” Peter frowns down at them. “You can pass that
onto him when he recovers as well.”
“It’s starting to make a little bit of sense.. your mate bond isn’t at the
beginning stages Stiles, it’s very nearly complete. With most of our kind we
can sense each other’s life line but until the first knotting it doesn’t
usually touch or link in anyway. And as for a human being able to sense it so
strongly let alone see it.. it’s unheard of.”
"I'm not totally sure why this is happening.. there’s obviously something very
powerful between you both. You’re bonding on emotion not on the physical. For
wolves it’s.. unusual. Even for true mates.” Peter looks at him thoughtfully.
His eyes focusing on the way Stiles is gently holding Derek’s hand in place,
the unconscious stroking of his chest as he sits and waits for him to finish.
It’s very disturbing to be so thoroughly.. assessed.
“Why didn’t Derek know? I’m sure he’s been able to feel it the same way as me.”
Stiles can feel his forehead furrow as he puzzles it out.
“My stubborn nephew has not asked for any advice regarding mating and as you
may recall, most recently wasn’t even in the same state for a number of months.
He’d only be going on the little information that’s out there on mating and
true mates.” Peter looks down at Derek and runs his hand over the top of his
dark head, petting him affectionately. “Most of its rubbish. He’d have done
better to simply ‘Google’ it. Idiot.”
Looking down at his mate’s face, Stiles thinks he looks paler than when they
first brought him into the house.
“Enough talk.” Stiles hangs onto his mate even tighter. He’s so ready for this,
he needs to bring his mate back.
“You almost look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Of course.” He says lying confidently, knowing that Peter can tell he is when
he quirks his lips and raises his brows.
Peter stands back out of Stiles’ line of sight, for which he is grateful, he
doesn’t want anything to take away his focus from Derek and what he’s about to
do.
Closing his eyes, Stiles looks inward to where he’s found that bond once
before. A little whimper escapes him when he sees how dull both of their lines
look. The gold thread looks tarnished and the blue one is simply washed out,
not the brilliant electric blue he’s been used to seeing. They look like
they’re unravelling and it breaks Stiles’ heart. He’s done this. Done this to
both of them. If he’d only been stronger, braver. More worthy.
He’s weak and afraid. Never been worth anything to himself or anyone else. God,
even his mother died trying to get away from him and now Derek was too… WTF.
Where was all this shit coming from? Stiles looks around. There are more dark
shadows surrounding him than he remembers. They’ve crept closer, they are
indistinct and have no recognisable form as they shift and pulse trying to
surround him. They radiate cold and fear, so much that Stiles just wants to
curl up into a little ball and rock back and forth. So this is how Harry felt
when facing the Dementors. It blows.
Stiles hisses and growls at them wanting them to stay far away, particularly
from his mate who is so vulnerable at the moment. They are keeping their
distance from his golden line, like it pains them, swarming all over the blue
line until it almost disappears from his view. In the distance he can hear a
howl and his wolf snapping and snarling like a cornered wild beast.
Anger and dismay rock through Stiles. Deaton had warned them of this, but
Stiles hadn’t really felt any different, so he hadn’t thought much of it. Sure
Scott and Allison carried permanent dark circles under their eyes, but so did a
lot of high school kids. Too much homework, too many late nights, the normal
angst-ridden lifestyle of a teenager.
This here, right now at the very core, the very heart and soul of him reveals
exactly what Deaton was talking about. His heart of darkness. He screams his
fury and frustration, his mate is in serious trouble, he needs to do something,
anything.
He looks out into the surrounding darkscape, Stiles can see it isn’t as
completely enveloping as he first thought, he can see many pinpricks of light
almost like stars. He’d never noticed them before as their bond lines were his
sole concern.
The pinpricks look sorta familiar almost like constellations, but it’s not
that.. he changes his focus, like when you look at those posters that have a
picture within a picture depending on how you’re looking at it. How you’ve got
your eyes focused. Then he sees it. They look like many rivers of stars all
flowing towards what looks like the biggest star, twinkling brightly, in his
view.
It’s the biggest and brightest one he can see wherever he looks, it feels like
he’s in the ocean, caught in the current being drawn to.. to it... Holy fucking
shit. Stiles knows what he’s looking at now. It’s the telluric currents that
run underneath the entire town of Beacon Hills. He can see them with his heart
and soul. They are rippling and flowing with energy, it’s strangely soothing,
this is the earth's natural power source. This is natures' fuel.
The large star calls to him, not in words and Stiles isn’t afraid, all he can
feel coming from it is pure chaos and energy. It feels like him when he hasn’t
taken his Adderall. It feels like kindred.
When he sees a tendril of green, blue and yellow stretch out from it to him,
it’s almost instinctive to reach out with one of his own. He sees his thread of
gold link together with the multi-coloured one, sparks flying from where they
join and he’s almost immediately thrust out of his inward soul and returned to
where his mate lies beneath him so pale and cool to the touch. He can feel
energy bursting through his cells and rippling through their bond forcing it
wide open so it can receive all the power that Stiles has tapped into.
Lightning cracks overhead making the roof shake and Stiles can smell the
metallic tang of ozone. Beneath him Derek jerks, his eyes opening wide, as his
hips drive upwards and Stiles feels like he’s riding one of those bucking bulls
you see in the rodeos on ESPN. Although he bets none of those cowboys has to
ride the biggest, hardest cock bulging beneath their asses.
He clamps his thighs tight around Derek’s hips and grinds down, only then
realising that he’s just as hard and aroused. It’s only through sheer
determination that he’s able to deny what instinct is telling him he should be
doing with his mate and keeps their hands firmly pressed to each other’s
chests, they don’t even move almost like they’re glued on.
Stiles watches as Derek arches his back and tosses his head from side to side,
his Beta side is coming out. Blue eyes blazing under his heavy brow, fangs
dropping and razor sharp claws popping out one after the other in a deadly
progression.
“Stiles.” Derek’s roaring out his name and Stiles can feel Derek moving through
him. It’s not a breeze anymore it feels more like a hurricane now, the wild
fresh scent of the forest fills his nostrils and the deliciously erotic
sensation of fur rubbing him from head to toe inside and out makes him groan
heatedly. He wants Derek so bad. It’s an ache, a pain deep inside him that
grinds through his very soul and leaves him shaking.
Stiles goes weak, he has no strength and collapses on top of his wolf. He
doesn’t intend to kiss him, but their mouths are just so close he can’t resist
and he tilts his head and bingo. His tongue is sliding in carefully between
Derek’s dropped fangs, even so he nicks himself but it’s so good that he
doesn’t care and can’t stop.
With his eyes closed and mouth still locked to Derek’s, Stiles forges back into
the bond he’d been thrust out of. He has to shield his metaphysical eyes, their
bond is glowing, radiating with the heat and light of a small sun. The shadows
that had been attacking Derek are literally melting away, blasted by the
intensity. Sparkly ashes swirl wildly around him the remnants of the cold
things that had wanted to latch onto their lifeforces.
Stiles rushes along the gold line until he sees where it joins with the blue.
The threads have been repaired with green, blue and yellow ones, it’s thick and
sturdy. He travels further until he’s solely on the blue side.
Reaching down he caresses that blue line and hears the yipping, joyful call of
his wolf. He thrusts into it all the love, longing and apology for what he’s
done to them both. The wolf is coming. Stiles can feel it. Getting closer and
closer..
The wolf is here.
Stiles is standing in a green forest. Tall trees and green underbrush
everywhere he looks. This is the place that he’s scented so many times before.
This is where the wild, fresh scent of Derek originates from. It’s earthy,
almost primeval.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees the bushes and grasses stir slightly as
the largest, blackest wolf he’s ever seen in his life emerges. It stands there
for a moment just looking at him, the stillness it contains within it is the
most awe-inspiring thing he’s ever seen in his life. The wolf is one with
everything and it’s seeking to be one with him he can feel it. It wants to be a
part of its mate. When it springs at him, Stiles isn’t afraid.
Not even when he lands flat on his back with one giant black wolf pinning him
to the ground. He meets its eyes and sighs. These are Derek’s eyes. His
marvellous eyes that are no colour and every colour all in one. They are a
myriad of colours that somehow reflect down at him as the most beautiful and
unusual shade of green.
“Derek.” He whispers and the wolf chuffs softly at him in turn before nuzzling
at his neck and licking him over and over, up his neck and along his jaw. It
whines and whimpers in happiness.
When Stiles reaches up and slides his hands into the thick ruff of protective
black fur at its neck it shudders and collapses on top of him. The heavy weight
forcing out an oof of air from Stiles’ suddenly compressed chest and lungs. All
Stiles can do is hold the wolf in a fierce embrace. When he’s being drawn back
uncontrollably into his real body back down their lines he’s still wrapped
around the wolf who’s yipping and growling in excitement.
Opening his eyes, he’s looking down into Derek’s. They are his green ones and
they shine at Stiles with the fiercest of emotions. He recognises trust and
devotion and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest, thinking that what he
did maybe doesn’t warrant such an outpouring towards him.
“Stiles.. my mate.. mine.. you’re mine.. always.. never be apart again.. need
you..” The words come tumbling out of Derek’s mouth and Stiles can feel his
cheeks flame with heat at the deep longing he hears in them.
As he watches Derek looks momentarily startled and then awestruck. His body
starts to ripple and morph as he changes. It’s nothing like those hard fought
painful werewolf changes you see in the movies with bones snapping, muscle and
tendons realigning, this is effortless like a gentle wave rolling over Derek as
he changes from human to full wolf.
Black fur sprouts and ripples across his flesh, his mouth and nose merge
together as a muzzle pushes its way out of Derek’s skull. His muscle and flesh
shifts within his human form and his shape changes before Stiles amazed eyes.
Stiles hurriedly moves back so he’s not crushing him.
Although when Derek the big black wolf tries to sit in his lap Stiles' realises
from his weight that he so did not need to worry about hurting his mate in this
form. He’s roughly three times the size of a normal grey wolf and it’s all
solid muscle and bone. The sleek muscular black wolf is the very definition of
power.
He’s so big and solid, panting from the change. His hands tangle in his fur and
Stiles can’t help but stroke and pet and smooth Derek. Who is obviously
thoroughly enjoying being touched by his mate going by the keening and huffing
breaths of approval that emerge from his muzzle.
A long red tongue lolls out of his mouth, white fangs flashing and Derek gives
him the hottest, wettest lick from his naked belly up over his ribcage and
pecs, sneakily flicking out and lashing a hard nipple making Stiles jerk and
gasp, before sliding up his throat and neck. Wow, it’s so hot. Surprisingly,
Stiles only finds it arousing, not the potential gross out it could’ve been.
He wraps his arms around the wolf and buries his face in Derek’s ruff and
inhales deeply drawing in the wild musky scent of his beast.
“I almost feel I should pay you for that performance.” Peter’s voice comes from
the armchair to Stiles left, where the older wolf sits in an elegant sprawl
watching them.
“I knew I should’ve courted you harder.” There is a serious note in Peter’s
voice that makes Stiles shift nervously, because it’s serious and tinged with
longing. Derek lifts his head and with his penetrating green eyes watches the
human wolf and his lip curls back on his muzzle revealing gleaming white teeth
as he growls, low and dangerous.
“Courted me.” Stiles lifts his head from where it’s been resting against
Derek’s fur.
“Courted me..” Stiles says again, his voice is getting more and more high
pitched. “Kidnapping me and offering me the bite is your crazy idea of dating.”
“Of course it is. I’m a gentleman.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells
Stiles that he believes every word he’s saying. It’s more than a little bit
scary.
“Stiles, gentleman don’t kiss and tell.” He lifts a hand and examines his nails
as though considering whether to get them manicured or not. “But, I need you to
know something.”
The hair on the back of Stiles’ neck starts to prickle, an instinctive reaction
to knowing that he is so not going to like what he hears from Peter’s mouth.
“Once upon a time I was going to ask your mother out on a date.”
That is so not what he expected to hear that when he hears a snort from the
wolf in his lap, he looks into the wolf’s eyes and sees his muzzle is wide open
in shock, he can’t help but think that they must mirror each other because
surely his mouth is hanging open just as wide.
“It was when your mother first arrived as our pack’s Emissary.”
“No.” Stiles says stunned, before saying with more certainty. “No. You’re
wrong. My Mom is not an Emissary.. there’s just no way. She’s not a druid.” He
shakes his head at Peter, denying what the older wolf is telling him.
“I’m sorry Stiles. But, it’s the truth. Not even your father knows the real
reason why your Mom first came to Beacon Hills and she loved him, but she kept
her secrets. Her's and ours. Your Mom was Talia’s first choice as her
Emissary.. and don’t you think that doesn’t burn Deaton every time he remembers
it.” He smirks as though delighting in the idea of Deaton’s nose being so
severely out of joint.
“Talia, my sister and Derek’s mother, wouldn’t let me ask though. Said it
wasn’t a good idea for wolves and Emissary’s to mix and that’s why Emissary’s
were celibate. Particularly the ones of your mother’s calibre, natural-born.
It’s a hereditary gift and I think after what I’ve just seen I know why Talia
was so concerned.” He pauses looking at the teenage boy and the huge black wolf
sitting watching him on the large sofa. “You can transfer your power to your
mate.”
It takes a moment for it to sink in.
“Derek’s never ever had the ability to change fully into a wolf. Only a few
members of our family could. Talia.. Laura.. it’s normally the gift of the
natural-born Alpha’s.” Peter looks pointedly at the big black wolf currently
pressing it’s weight into Stiles body, where it leans against him. Tongue
lolling out the side of his muzzle in surprise.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Stiles swears, it’s the only coherent language that he can use
at the moment his brain is so stunned.
“Stiles, your mother was a natural-born Emissary and I think you are too.”
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