
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13705602.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha_Derek
      Hale, Omega_Stiles_Stilinski, Werefox_Stiles, Mating_Rituals, Full_Shift
      Werewolves, Wolf_Derek_Hale, Self-Lubrication, Rimming, Anal_Fingering,
      Fur_Kink, Anal_Sex, Top_Derek_Hale, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, Knotting,
      Multiple_Orgasms, Mating_Bites, Come_Inflation, Mating_Bond
  Series:
      Part 6 of The_Kinky_Adventures_of_a_Wolf_and_His_Boy
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-16 Words: 6863
****** The Fox and the Wolf ******
by halcyon1993
Summary
     Every year, a ceremony is held to help the weres of Beacon County
     find mates. Derek, an alpha werewolf, has never bothered to
     participate, not until Stiles, an omega werefox, finally comes of
     age. Stiles is his, and Derek is going to make it official.
Notes
     As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have
     written.
See the end of the work for more notes
Derek Hale walks through Beacon Hills on the day of the 178th annual Mating
Ceremony. He passes by some of the town's other denizens, all of whom gossip
amongst themselves and speculate who will be bound together for life the
following morning. It's the same every year, ever since the ceremony was
established to help the alphas of Beacon County find their mates.
Some see it as a chance to claim the objects of their desires, even though they
have never explicitly made their intentions known before. Some look forward to
finally making their existing relationships official. And then, even though
Derek thinks they're crazy, there are those rare few who take part without a
particular mate in mind, just for the thrill of it.
Derek himself falls in the first camp. For years now he has known who he'll
pick when the time comes—Stiles Stilinski, an omega werefox.
Ever since Derek laid eyes on the boy and befriended him many years ago, he has
known Stiles is his. Even though neither of them had presented yet, some
instinct deep inside told him that they were meant to be. He kept it a secret
from most people, and even now he thinks the only ones who know are his older
sister, his parents and Stiles' dad.
Derek's sixteenth birthday came and went, he presented as an alpha as he knew
he would, and still he didn't take part in any of the ceremonies. It wasn't
time. Stiles was too young.
But that isn't the case this year. Derek's long wait is over. Now sixteen
himself, Stiles finally has his second gender and is eligible to participate in
the ceremony. It'll be his first, which means it will be Derek's first, too—and
if he has his way, it will be the last for both of them.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, Derek continues on his way. He hasn't got
much time left to get to the edge of the preserve, where the beginning of the
ceremony is held. He knows that Stiles and his dad are already there, as are
most of the others who will be running this year. The thought of any of those
people laying eyes on what is his and wanting has him walking faster, his hands
shoved in the pockets of his jeans as the wind whips around him, blowing
through his short black hair.
He walks for five more minutes before the preserve comes into view.
There is a large crowd this year, unusually so, which sets Derek on edge. He
pushes his way through the spectators, the family members and friends of those
taking part, until he reaches the front and can join one half of the
participants, the alphas.
He hears shocked murmurs behind him as some of the townspeople notice him and
talk to their neighbours. Seeing him here after so many years of him skipping
the ceremony must shock them. He is aware of what this town thinks of him, how
he is regarded as an unpleasant hermit who has no interest at all in being
mated to anyone. They don't know him, though, and the only person whose opinion
matters to him is Stiles.
Speaking of the omega, out of the corner of his eye Derek spots him. He looks
nervous, his enchanting cinnamon-coloured eyes scanning his peers anxiously
every thirty seconds as if he is searching for someone. The mayor is talking to
the two groups, but Derek doesn't hear them. All of his attention is glued to
Stiles. The omega scans the crowd of alphas again and, when his eyes finally
meet Derek's, the frown on his face is replaced by a relieved smile.
Obviously Derek wasn't the only one anticipating their impending mating.
The two keep looking at each other while the mayor continues with the
rigamarole of explaining the ceremony, as if everyone present doesn't already
know it inside and out. Derek ignores the mayor and takes in Stiles' state of
dress—or undress. He is in just a pair of boxer-briefs, a smart choice that
will make it easier to shift into his much smaller and more agile fox form. His
pale, mole-dotted skin is slowly overtaken by the red flush of anticipation and
arousal, the strongest lodestone Derek has ever encountered. It causes his gums
to ache as his fangs try to break through, but he doesn't let them. Not yet, he
tells himself.
Derek only breaks eye contact when the mayor's voice booms, "One…two…three!" at
which point all of the omegas shoot off into the trees and he has no one to
keep eye contact with. The alphas are left behind with the spectators, all of
them antsy to give chase. Derek knew it would be like this. That is the whole
point of the ceremony being set up this way, after all—to tap into an alpha's
predatory instincts to hunt down their prey.
Well, if what they want is for him to hunt down his mate, then a hunt he'll
give them.
The mayor keeps the alphas waiting for several tense minutes before finally
counting down again.
"One!"
Derek bends his knees slightly so that he can launch himself forward.
"Two!"
He blocks out everything but the mayor and the thought of his soon-to-be mate.
The seconds tick on, and then, finally…
"Three!"
In a blur of motion, the alphas race after the omegas. Derek is near the back
of the group as it splits apart, everybody going in different directions. When
he is just inside the tree line, Derek stops temporarily to literally tear off
his clothing, uncaring as fabric frays and seams split. It's all old anyway,
chosen specifically because he knew he wouldn't be able to afford the time to
strip properly.
When he is naked, Derek calls forth the beast within and allows his full shift
to overcome him. It's fast thanks to years of practise, and then he stands on
all fours, a huge wolf covered in dark fur, ready to hunt down the little red
fox that is Stiles.
Knowing that he has already wasted enough time changing, Derek starts running
again and breathes through his nose, searching for a hint of Stiles' scent. He
knows it better than anyone else's, but it still takes longer than he would
like to pick it out amongst all the other scents of omegas and alphas hanging
in the air. Once he finally has it, he follows the trail.
The preserve is alive with sound as Derek runs, with growls and howls, yips and
the patter of paws from those who have transformed like himself and Stiles.
It's distracting, but he keeps his nose to the ground and just concentrates on
not losing his omega's trail. He follows it for a long time—he has known how
swift Stiles is in his fox form since they both learned to shift long ago, but
somehow Derek is still surprised by how deep into the preserve Stiles has gone.
The trail loops around itself, goes backward and forward, likely in an effort
to prevent anyone else from being able to claim him.
It's probably also a game of sorts.
Stiles wouldn't be Stiles without some mischief, and Derek can just imagine the
deviously happy expression on the fox's little face as he wove in and out of
the trees. For a long time Derek tracks his omega, until the trail stops
suddenly. He stands on the edge of a clearing and makes a questioning noise,
staring down at the dirt where Stiles' tiny paw prints end. How is that
possible?
Derek spins in a circle and sniffs the air again, trying to pick the trail back
up, but he can't find it. For the first time that night he feels fear that some
other alpha may beat him to Stiles. He can't let that happen. He is pacing
around the clearing a little desperately when he hears something that makes him
freeze. The sound is just barely audible, but it's there, high above him. Derek
knows what it is—Stiles' vulpine laughter. This is a trick. Raising his head,
Derek scans the trees in front of him a couple of times before he spots them,
two pinpricks up in some low branches. They widen and then all of a sudden a
flash of red comes right for Derek.
The werewolf doesn't have time to react before Stiles is jumping on his head
and then darting off in the opposite direction.
You little brat, he thinks, amused despite himself.
Derek chases the fox before he can disappear from sight. As fun as it would be,
he doesn't have the patience for games and just wants to claim his mate right
then and there. His strides widen and he lowers his body closer to the ground
to make himself more streamlined. He moves faster, to the point where even
Stiles' agility shouldn't be enough to keep him from being caught.
They chase each other in between tree trunks and up and down steep hills, but
every time Derek gets close enough to catch the white end of Stiles'
ridiculously fluffy tail between his fangs, the fox seems to get a sudden burst
of extra speed that puts him just out of reach. Derek growls irritatedly every
time it happens, and by the fifth occurrence he wonders whether he will
actually be able to catch Stiles after all.
He slows to a trot and then stops completely in the centre of another clearing,
where he waits to see what Stiles will do when he realises he is no longer
being chased. It takes a couple of minutes, and then light footsteps approach
Derek's vicinity and he can just about see a red face peeking out through the
green leaves of a bush in his periphery. Stiles' head tilts to the side in
confusion, and he makes a noise as if he is asking Derek what is wrong, but
Derek keeps his head turned away, hoping to be the one doing the tricking this
time around.
His plan appears to work at first—Stiles leaves the concealment of the bush and
steps closer to Derek, but then, just as Derek is about to whirl around and pin
the fox in place with his front paws, he picks up the sound of someone else
getting too close for comfort to the pair of them. He turns even further from
Stiles instead of toward him, his hackles raised as another werewolf emerges
from the darkness, ignoring Derek's defensive stance. They ignore Derek
completely, their eyes locked on where Stiles stands a couple of feet behind
him.
Derek bares his fangs, a warning to the other werewolf to back off, but they
either don't notice or don't care. Either way, Derek doesn't like the
possessive glint in their eyes, so he steps to the side to obscure their view
of Stiles. This finally brings the other werewolf's attention onto him with a
snarl that clearly says, "Get out of my way."
Their fur is a tawny colour and looks coarse, like it isn't well taken care of.
They're a bit bigger than Derek is and their eyes are a darker red, but Derek
doesn't allow himself to be intimidated.
He snarls back and braces himself for a fight, which he gets. In the next
second, the other werewolf lunges for him and Derek retaliates by doing the
same thing. They collide in midair and fall to the ground in a heap of growling
and scratching. Derek howls when he feels a searing pain in his side where one
of his adversary's claws nicks him. Instead of giving the other werewolf
another opening to get an attack in, the pain only spurs Derek to fight harder.
He extricates himself and rolls away from the tawny wolf so suddenly that it
leaves them bemused, clearly wondering where the black wolf beneath them has
gone. This bemusement doesn't last long, but it's still long enough for Derek
to gain the upper hand. He pounces again, and this time he manages to clamp his
jaws around the back of the tawny wolf's neck. He is shaken around as they
attempt to get free, but Derek just exerts more pressure on their neck until
they are forced to go limp with a sharp whining sound, conceding defeat.
Derek tosses them aside and watches with angry satisfaction as they scarper off
into the trees, tail between their legs.
The injury on his flank still throbs and probably will for a little while
longer—he curses the slower healing rates of wounds from other alphas—but he
blocks it out and turns his head in search of the reason he and the other
werewolf had fought in the first place. Stiles lingers at the very edge of the
clearing, mostly hidden again in the bush he had emerged from when Derek had
stopped chasing him. Now that it's clear the violence is over, Stiles comes out
once more and trots right up to Derek, giving up all pretences of the playful
hunt he'd had them engaged in.
Knowing that his mate-to-be is safe, Derek sits on his haunches, catches his
breath and holds himself still as Stiles leans in close to inspect his injury.
He gives a small yip and then Derek feels his small, rough tongue tenderly
sweeping across the cut. The werewolf winces but allows himself to be tended
to.
For a few minutes Stiles cleans the wound, until the pain is gone and Derek
stands up on all four legs again. The fox steps back around to his front and
looks into Derek's bright-red eyes for a few moments, seeking reassurance that
the larger were is alright. Derek bows his head and then, without further
hesitation, Stiles presents him with the back of his neck.
Knowing what this means, Derek opens his maw and clamps his jaws around the
fox's fragile neck. It's a show of trust that Derek would never even dream of
abusing. A stark contrast to how he had treated the neck he'd just had in his
mouth a few minutes previous, Derek is as gentle as can be as he picks Stiles
up and begins carrying him away from the noise that can still be heard
elsewhere in the preserve. He walks toward quiet, searching for one of the many
caves that are scattered throughout the preserve for a singular purpose. They
only see use once a year, on this very night.
Derek's hunt is over, and now it's time for him to make his claim official.
                                     * * *
It doesn't take long for Derek to find a cave that isn't already occupied. The
mouth is partially hidden by a moss-covered rock, which will provide ample
cover while he and Stiles are inside. The cave goes deeper than Derek thought
it would, which he approves of because it lessens the chance of someone else
seeing Stiles in a state that only he should see him in. It contains a pile of
blankets and an already burning campfire, which he knows was all put there by
the townspeople who volunteer each year to deck out every known cave in the
preserve in preparation for this night. Because the fire is already roaring,
the cave is nice and toasty.
Derek puts Stiles down next to the pile of blankets and then takes the corner
of one of them between his teeth to start rearranging them. He makes a nest of
sorts, a large oval shape near the fire that will be perfect for their mating.
When he is finished, Derek turns around to locate Stiles and finds him
stretched out beside the campfire. He is a long line of red and white fur and
his eyes are closed in bliss as he enjoys the warmth of the flames. He looks as
enticing as ever, and Derek doesn't think he can wait any longer. Eight years
of pining was long enough, so he barks once to get Stiles' attention and steps
purposefully into the nest, making it obvious what he wants to happen.
Luckily, the fox is as eager as he is, because he scrambles to his little paws
and races over to the nest to join Derek. This close, Derek can already smell
it, the slick that leaks from Stiles' virgin asshole. He inhales deeper than he
has to to get more of that delicious scent, but it isn't enough. He has to have
even more, so he circles around Stiles and knocks him over onto his side with a
headbutt, an action that gets him an affronted yip. He ignores it and continues
down Stiles' lithe form until he reaches his target.
Stiles' little hole is a sight to behold, wet and dripping and likely aching to
be filled. It makes arousal flood Derek's entire being, his tapered cock
already beginning to emerge from its sheath. He simply stares at Stiles' hole
for a long time, until the way it clenches around nothing becomes too much to
resist.
He hunkers down low to the ground and sticks his snout right in there, much to
Stiles' surprise. The fox jolts but doesn't move otherwise, which is good
because Derek honestly doesn't know what his possessive and predatory alpha
instincts would've made him do if he had. The werewolf licks once, twice over
Stiles' asshole. The taste of the omega's slick has his cock exposing itself
fully to the air, his knot already throbbing at the base because it is
desperate to be buried in his intended's tight orifice. That could never
realistically happen while they are both in their animal forms—he would
literally tear Stiles apart—but it's hot to think about nevertheless.
Derek continues his ministrations with enthusiasm, taking advantage of how
strong his tongue is in this form to wiggle it past the tight ring of muscle
and taste Stiles' insides. It's searing-hot, and he would happily fuck the
fox's hole with his tongue for several minutes longer than he does, but Stiles
grows restless. The omega shuffles away from the slick muscle invading his body
and rolls over onto his back, all four of his legs in the air. It makes for a
ridiculous sight, and Derek has a second to wonder what the hell Stiles is
doing before most of his red-and-white fur recedes, his body grows larger and
Derek has nearly six feet of gangly teenager lying supine in front of him.
The only parts of Stiles' fox form that remain are the tail between his legs,
the two pointed ears that stick out of the hair on his head—adorable, Derek
thinks—and his claws and fangs. The look in Stiles' eyes can only be described
as sultry as he parts his legs and reaches between them to unceremoniously
shove two fingers inside of himself. Derek stares with rapt attention, can't
look away even if he wanted to.
"God, can't believe we're finally doing this," Stiles gasps out, inserting a
third finger. "Thought about this every day since I presented."
Derek can relate.
"Fingered myself nearly every night thinking it was you, your fingers, your
huge cock inside me instead."
When a fourth finger fits snugly inside Stiles' hole, the boy extracts all of
them and holds his hand out for Derek to clean off. The wolf does so with
alacrity and doesn't think he has ever tasted something as delicious as Stiles'
slick. Once Stiles' hand has been cleaned and all Derek can taste is the fox's
skin, Stiles grabs one of the blankets Derek hadn't used for their nest and
shoves it beneath his lower back, raising his ass to a more convenient height.
He parts his legs even wider and invites Derek to step between them, which he
does.
"Hi there," the omega grins up at him.
Derek licks his face and then whines when Stiles' arms and legs wrap around
him, holding him in place. The position puts his cock over the omega's balls,
and he knows that if he moved just a little bit he would be able to sink into
his hole. He doesn't try to, though, not yet. Instead he closes his eyes and
begins to push back his inner wolf so that he can shift back to his human form
as well, but he doesn't make it far. Stiles pokes him on the nose, distracting
him from his task. He blinks open his eyes and peers down at the werefox,
silently asking for an explanation.
"Not yet, Sourwolf," Stiles says, sounding a little breathless now. He brings
his legs higher up Derek's body, which puts the wolf's cock right there.
Derek's eyes widen.
"Like this. Fuck me like this first," Stiles demands, his eyes flashing gold.
The werewolf is stunned. They may be weres, but never did he think that Stiles
would want him like this. Then, after a moment of contemplation, he supposes
that was stupid of him. After all, he finds Stiles' fox form attractive, so why
wouldn't Stiles feel the same about his wolf form?
"Before you ask, yes, I'm positive," Stiles assures him. His face is flushed
but he still wears a cheeky grin.
Derek doesn't need any more convincing; he'll take Stiles however he can get
him, and if he is honest with himself, the idea of taking the fox like this
taps into the most feral part of him and fills it with lust. With Stiles' limbs
still wrapped around him, keeping their bodies pressed together, it isn't the
easiest thing in the world to reposition himself so that he has the leverage
needed to fuck the boy. But, after some careful finagling, he somehow manages
it.
With the tip of his red lupine cock poised at Stiles' entrance, Derek can feel
the heat of him and starts moving his hips forward, sinking in slowly because,
even though Stiles is desperate for it and has already prepared himself, it's
still their first time and Derek doesn't want to hurt him. When he is about an
inch inside, the fox's hole clenches down on him repeatedly, like it is trying
to suck him in further. Derek isn't one to deny Stiles anything, so he keeps
moving until all eight inches of him are finally buried deep, right up to the
knot. His furry balls rest over the top of Stiles' ass, so swollen and full of
seed that Derek can't wait to pump into the guts of his mate-to-be.
Stiles' virginal walls are unbelievably tight around him, and his head is
thrown back against the blankets as he gets used to being filled so completely.
His fingers are knotted in Derek's fur, pulling it just hard enough to hurt,
but Derek doesn't complain. While the omega adjusts, he just takes it and holds
himself as still as he can, which isn't an easy feat. In fact, it's one of the
most difficult things he has ever had to do, but it's worth it when the pained
frown on Stiles' face is gone and he doesn't hold on to Derek's fur so tightly.
"Okay, Sourwolf," he says, his voice hoarse. "Fuck me."
Stiles' arms stay wrapped around Derek but his legs relax, keeping the alpha's
upper body close but allowing his hindquarters more freedom. Derek takes
advantage of this to withdraw from the amazing heat of Stiles' hole before
plunging back inside, gradually picking up speed until he is fucking his mate
hard enough that he pants with the effort it takes.
The sounds of their mating are obscene, the loud, wet squelches of Derek
fucking his mate-to-be mingling with the moans of said mate. Derek mostly fucks
into him with abandon, but he uses the Stiles' moans to guide him a bit so that
he knows which angles will provide the fox with the most pleasure. Their faces
are close enough together that each of his sharp exhales disturbs Stiles' hair
and causes the pointed ears on his head to twitch—not that the fox cares. No,
Stiles actually seems to like it, at least judging from the fact that his
salacious and pleasure-filled expression doesn't change at all.
Derek knows his suspicions are correct when, after a particularly hard thrust
that hits Stiles' prostate dead on, Stiles moves one of his hands, grabs the
back of Derek's head and brings them even closer in a mess of a kiss. Derek
closes his eyes and allows Stiles to do what he wants, to lick into his mouth
and taste him. He would be worried about it being gross, but he had brushed his
teeth before coming to the ceremony and he knows he still tastes mostly of
toothpaste. Stiles seems to like it well enough anyway, because he doesn't stop
licking at him.
After a while of this, Stiles switches tactics. He sucks Derek's rough tongue
into his own mouth and then lets it hang open, an obvious sign that the alpha
is supposed to take over. Derek gladly does so. He can taste toothpaste in
Stiles' mouth, too, but beneath that is pure Stiles, an indescribable taste he
knows he will never get enough of, no matter how much of it he has.
In truth, everything about Stiles is like that, even the parts of him that
annoy Derek to no end. Their mating so far has already been amazing, far beyond
anything that Derek had ever hoped for, but it's the thought of what will come
afterward that tips it over into euphoria. His heart swells in his chest as
what this night means hits him. He knew beforehand—of course he knew—but the
reality of it, actually tangibly having it right in front of him, beneath him,
around him, is something else entirely. Being inside of his precious omega and
knowing with absolute certainty that they will be together for the rest of
their lives, knowing that Stiles will be annoying him with his yammering about
inane topics forever…it's perfection.
                                     * * *
Stiles is also in heaven beneath the huge black wolf that is his mate. It's his
place, where he was always destined to be, where he has longed to be ever since
he was old enough to know what sex was and Derek entered his life. There are so
many different sensations he is feeling all at once, and all of them are too
amazing to even try to describe.
The cave is kept warm by the fire still burning a few feet from them, but most
of the heat Stiles feels comes from the body atop his own. Werewolves radiate
heat more than any other were, and Derek's wolf form is certainly no exception.
It's almost too much, makes Stiles sweat, but he doesn't care.
He wouldn't change a thing about it.
The soft fur of Derek's belly rubs all over his front and the insides of his
thighs with every jackrabbited thrust, stimulating his aching cock where it is
trapped between them. The fur must be soaked in his pre-come by this point, he
is leaking so much of the stuff, and from the burning in his gut that is only
getting more intense every time Derek fills him up, it'll be soaked even
further soon enough. Derek's fur is exquisitely soft, like silk beneath Stiles'
hands as he clings to the wolf. He believes he could spend hours upon hours
just running his fingers through it—maybe he will when they're done with their
mating.
Derek's cock is unrelenting as it fucks into him, his hindquarters moving
faster in this form than he could possibly move them as a human. Each time he
withdraws until just the tapered tip is in Stiles, he is fucking back inside
before the fox really has time to notice that he is gone. His cock is so thick
and long that it reaches places deep inside that Stiles' own fingers could
never hope to touch. It hits his prostate on every other thrust and makes stars
explode behind his eyelids, the glide easy thanks to the slick he leaks in
copious amounts to soak the sheets beneath them.
Derek's weighty, furred balls smack against Stiles' ass, sending little
shockwaves up his spine, and he can feel the knot battering away against the
rim of his hole, demanding entrance. He can't wait to welcome it inside when it
finally comes time.
The lower half of Stiles' face is coated in slobber that drips down his neck,
and his mouth is filled with Derek's tongue as they continue to sloppily make
out. His own tongue grazes across the alpha's deadly fangs, giving the kiss a
sense of danger that does nothing but heighten the pleasure he experiences.
Eventually, though, he has to bring the kiss to an end or risk suffocating. He
tears his mouth away from Derek's and tilts his head to the side to take in
huge lungfuls of oxygen. This new position puts his neck on display, something
Derek takes immediate advantage of. Instead of plundering Stiles' mouth, the
wolf licks across the expanse of vulnerable flesh and—with care and precision
that Stiles didn't think he'd be capable of with how hard he continues to fuck
him—takes small sections between his fangs to nibble on.
Stiles' skin isn't pierced even once, but he knows that by the time Derek is
done, his neck will probably just be one big bruise. This image has him moaning
and tipping his head back even further, pushing up into Derek's mouth because
he wants to wear his marks more than anything. He wants everyone to be able to
see evidence that he belongs solely to Derek, an instinct that he thinks has
been heightened for both of them by the near-miss of him almost being claimed
by someone else earlier that night.
The memory of how terrified he had been when the other werewolf showed up in
the clearing has Stiles holding on tighter to Derek. He curls his tail up to
entwine with the alpha's and babbles nonsense without thinking about it—words
about how amazing Derek is; how glad Stiles is to have him as his mate; how
much he loves him and can't wait to bear his pups.
The last sentence spurs Derek on, has him changing things up. Instead of the
indescribably quick thrusts he was blessing Stiles with before, he slows down
and makes each one more purposeful. Every couple of times he sinks in to the
knot, he lingers and grinds it against the resistance of Stiles' hole,
gradually coaxing it to relax and let the thickest part of him inside. Stiles
relaxes his lower body as much as he can, knowing that it will be easier to
take the massive bulb of red flesh that way, but it isn't easy. He can't
concentrate on anything else and the anticipation has him tensing up
involuntarily, not in an effort to keep Derek out but because he knows that
this will be the culmination of their mating and they'll have to stop after
this.
At least for a little while.
As enticing as the thought of being filled with Derek's seed is, Stiles doesn't
want it to end just yet. He doesn't ever want it to end, but there isn't an
effective way to communicate this because the ability to speak seems to have
suddenly deserted him.
Every time Derek grinds his knot against Stiles' hole, the fox can feel himself
opening up more and more, wider than he ever thought he could go. Although his
mind is telling his body, "No, not yet!" his body doesn't listen. His hole
sucks on the knot each time it comes close to sliding past, trying to get it in
entirely so that it can seal tight as a vice on the other side, locking them
together. It's odd to have such little control of his own body, but Stiles
isn't afraid. He knows this is his biology, that he was quite literally
designed to take what Derek is attempting to give him.
Maybe not the very-much-proportional cock of a massive werewolf in their alpha
form, but a cock and knot all the same.
Stiles whines and moans and gasps nearly constantly, the sounds pouring
uninhibited from his lips. He just keeps clinging to Derek and decides to stop
overthinking it, to let it happen. His hole continues to open up under the
alpha's onslaught until, finally, it stretches wide enough for the knot to
shove past and up into Stiles' insides.
For a few seconds Derek becomes even more frantic in his movements, fucking the
omega with his knot. It slips in and out several times, and every time he is
left empty fills Stiles with distress and has him clenching around the
thickness of Derek's shaft in an effort to keep himself full.
It seems to take Derek some time to come back to himself, to realise how what
he is doing is affecting Stiles and put a stop to it. With one last thrust
Derek sinks home and allows Stiles' asshole to clamp around the base of his
cock, right next to the soft, fine fur of his sheath. They lock together, and
Stiles sobs into Derek's neck as he spurts between them, the constant pressure
of the wolf's knot against his prostate tipping him over the edge.
He has never had an orgasm like this before. It seems to last forever, and by
the time it's over their stomachs are drenched in his come. But still Derek's
knot is there, unremittingly stimulating him nearly to the point of pain.
Stiles almost blacks out, it's so much, and he thinks he actually does for a
few seconds when Derek starts moving again. Even though his knot is in, the
alpha hasn't had his own orgasm yet and so he resumes fucking Stiles as much as
he is able—which isn't much. He can only move about an inch or so without the
knot tugging too hard on Stiles' hole, but it's enough.
By the time Stiles is coherent and can focus on what's going on, Derek is
howling so loudly it nearly deafens him and then a bright pain spreads from the
right side of his neck to the rest of his body. He knows that the werewolf has
just buried his fangs in his flesh, breaking the skin this time in order to
leave a claiming bite that will officially and irrevocably connect them
together for the rest of their lives.
For a few seconds all Stiles feels is the pain of the bite, but then his mind
and heart are occupied by something else—or someone else.
Realisation isn't instantaneous, not with everything he is feeling, but
eventually he recognises the unfamiliar presence for what it is. Derek. He can
quite literally feel Derek in his chest, a pulsing warmth that soothes the pain
of the bite on his shoulder. Stiles blinks open eyes he hadn't realised he had
closed and stares up at the ceiling of the cave as he parses through the new
emotions that aren't his own.
He picks out the sexual aspects of it first, which makes sense given the
positions that both he and Derek are still in. It's not exactly like he can
feel everything that Derek is feeling, but there is some sort of phantom
pressure around his cock that he knows is how his ass is for Derek. He wonders
if Derek can feel something similar, if he is experiencing the phantom
sensation of being filled so completely like Stiles is for real. He makes a
mental note to ask him later on.
Once Stiles moves past that, it's like he can touch the very core of who the
alpha is, everything that makes him Derek Hale.
There is both affection and annoyance for various members of his family.
There is fear that he isn't good enough, a sense of inadequacy that Stiles had
never known Derek possessed.
And then—the thing that would knock Stiles off of his feet were he not already
lying down—there is love.
It was a fact that Derek and Stiles loved each other. Everyone that has ever
been around them when they are together is aware of this—it's concrete fact—but
Stiles had failed to recognise just how deep Derek's love for him goes.
It's endless. Stiles doesn't think there is anything anyone could do to change
it. Overwhelmed, he doesn't register the salty moisture trailing down the sides
of his face until he hears Derek whine worriedly at him. He lifts his head and
tries to meet the werewolf's eyes, but his vision is blurry from tears he can't
prevent from falling.
"I'm okay," he croaks, laughing wetly. "It's just a lot, y'know?"
Stiles doesn't have to guess that Derek does know. The alpha's eyes are still
burning red, but that isn't what makes them appear so warm. Stiles is certain
that Derek is feeling everything he is feeling, that Derek can see deep into
him and experience the wealth of emotion he feels for the wolf in return.
"God, I didn't think it would be like this," the omega says, his cheeks aching
with how wide he is smiling. "No one warned me."
Stiles takes a shuddering breath and attempts to get ahold of himself—not an
easy task, but he manages it and checks in with the rest of his body.
His cock is sore between them, and he frowns when he thinks he can feel even
more wetness there than before, like he came a second time and just doesn't
remember it. It's possible, he supposes, given how he had blacked out.
Elsewhere, his shoulder twinges every time he moves even a little bit, causing
him to wince. Derek doesn't miss this and is smart enough to know the reason
why without having to ask. He licks across the bite, and something in his
saliva dulls the pain. It will take a few days to heal completely—the healing
rate of a werefox is slower than a werewolf's, especially when the wound is
from an alpha—but Stiles believes he can manage until then.
His stomach is heavy. He frees his right hand from the fur on the side of
Derek's neck, wedges it between them to prod at his stomach and discovers that
it is distended ever so slightly. What's responsible is obvious, as Derek's
cock continues to twitch and jerk inside Stiles' ass, pumping him even fuller
with come. It's an oddly pleasant sensation.
Everything else about his body appears fine, just small cramps in his legs from
having them bent up for so long that are easily remedied by some careful
rearranging.
When that is done and his cursory examination is complete, Stiles sags back
into the sheets and settles in to wait for Derek's knot to go down. He strokes
his fingers through the wolf's fur like he'd thought he would earlier and just
revels in the afterglow. He is comfortably warm now that his blood isn't racing
so fast. The cave is suffused with the scent of their sex, a heady, musky thing
that, if he hadn't already come two times in such quick succession, Stiles is
certain would lead to him becoming aroused again.
He pokes at the new bond between him and Derek, testing its limitations and
giggling when Derek pauses where he still cleans the bite on Stiles' shoulder
and pokes him back. It's playful, and Stiles can't resist doing it again just
to get another reaction from his mate. Derek lifts his head and growls down at
him, a sound that Stiles doesn't find threatening at all. If anything it's
endearing, and he just can't resist pressing a chaste kiss to Derek's wet nose.
"Love you, Sourwolf," he says, scratching behind the alpha's ears.
Derek pushes into the touch and rumbles, pleased, his tail disentangling from
Stiles' and wagging back and forth across the ground.
Even though Derek can't say it back in this form, the glow in Stiles' chest
gets brighter and he knows the sentiment is returned wholeheartedly. He can't
stop smiling.
He doesn't think he'll ever stop.
Tomorrow there will be a bunch of stuff to do. They'll have to go to City Hall
to register themselves as mates. They'll have endure the teasing of their
families—Stiles can just imagine how red Derek's face will be when Laura and
Cora get to him—and they'll have to figure out living arrangements. Now that he
and Derek are mated, there is no way they can live apart like they currently
do. Maybe Stiles will move in with Derek, or maybe Derek will move in with the
Stilinskis until Stiles is eighteen.
The latter is the most likely option, but Stiles doesn't care—they'll figure it
out, and as long as they're together, that's all that matters.
For now, Stiles stays in the blissful bubble he and Derek have created for
themselves inside of the cave.
He keeps smiling.
End Notes
     This was quite fun to write. It seems I just can't stay away from
     including some good ol' wolf dick for very long in this kinky little
     series, but I regret nothing! It's just too hot to resist, in my
     opinion, and I know that the person who gave me this prompt feels
     similarly on the matter. There will probably be more wolf dick in
     future instalments of this series, but I'll shy away from it for a
     little while so that I can inject the series with some variation.
     This fic also got fluffier and sappier at the end than I had
     originally intended, but I don't think any of you will disapprove of
     that, will you? ;)
     A big thank you to Mulder200 for this prompt. I hope it was
     everything you wanted. If anyone else has suggestions for other PWPs
     they would like to see me tackle, feel free leave them in a comment
     down below and I'll try to make them happen. Seriously, all
     suggestions are welcome, as long as they're Sterek M/M. :)
     P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future
     fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff
     planned. And feel free to check out my past fics if you haven't
     already. They're good, too.
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