
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1620878.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall, past_Kate
      Argent/Derek_Hale_-_Relationship, Derek_Hale/Danny_Mahealani
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Danny_Mahealani, Scott_McCall, Allison
      Argent, Kate_Argent, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      BDSM, Alternate_Universe_-_Human, Past_Abuse, Trust_Issues, Control
      Issues, Dom/sub, Dom!Derek, sub!Stiles, dom!stiles, sub!derek, Puppy
      Play, Spanking, Paddling, Anal_Sex, Implied/Referenced_Dubious_Consent
      (past), Past_Underage, Clubbing, Mild_Daddy_Kink, Stiles_calls_him_Daddy
      in_some_of_the_scenes
  Series:
      Part 20 of Roleplays
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-15 Words: 40286
****** The Meaning of Submission ******
by impalagirl, wilddragonflying
Summary
     After Derek's family died, he ended up in New York, where he met Kate
     Argent, Domme. Kate took advantage of sixteen-year-old Derek until he
     finally got out. Now a Dom himself, Derek doesn't give up control to
     anyone. Enter Stiles, the new sub looking for the perfect Dom.
Notes
     It's finally done! This is definitely one of my favorite roleplays
     that impalagirl and I have done, and all credit for the idea goes to
     impalagirl!
Derek glanced around the club; its decor hadn't changed much since he'd been
here with his first—and last—Dominant, and even in the years he'd been a Dom
himself, the club was still the same, especially the bracelets the patrons
wore: Green for available, yellow for unsure, blue for subs searching for a
long-term Dom, and red for no touching. The potential subs or Doms taking a
night off wore the bands.
Derek was pulled from his musings by someone—a familiar someone—draping
themselves over him. "Derek," Danny purred. "Been too long since you've been
out to play."
Derek smirked, shifting so Danny was straddling his lap. "Been busy with
research," he explained. "What about you?"
"Been trying to find a friend of mine a Dom to play with him," Danny answered,
shrugging. "He wants one he knows he can trust, and I suggested you."
"What color?" Derek asked cautiously; since he'd become a Dom, he hadn't taken
a sub on long-term. He hadn't wanted to. 
"Green or blue, he's not sure. Most likely green. The way he was talking, he
just wanted to try one or two more intense scenes; he's still kind of new to
our world," Danny answered. "So, can I tell him you'll do it?"
Derek mulled it over for a moment. "As long as he understands I don't do long-
term," he said finally. Danny grinned brightly. 
"Awesome!" His grin turned into a smirk as he leaned forward, grinding down in
Derek's lap. "So, have you found a playmate for the night yet?" he asked, his
voice a low purr. 
Derek's answering grin was feral. "I believe I just did."
***
Stiles stood outside the club, trying to avoid the gazes of the people milling
about. He was dressed kind of sluttily, in tight skinny jeans and a mesh
shirt—typical twink attire—but that wasn't what was attracting the attention.
Danny had picked up a green bracelet for him the night before, and it was this
that was drawing the eye of quite a number of Doms. The heat of their gaze
wasn't pleasant, though. Stiles was here to meet with a particular Dom, one
whom Danny assured him was perfect for what he wanted, and as such he wasn't
quite as available as the bracelet may suggest. Still, apparently this Derek
character wasn't the committing type, didn't normally so much as agree to meet
with a sub in advance, so a red bracelet hadn't been advisable. Stiles didn't
want to appear to be taking liberties.
A pair of shoes came into view while he was staring at the floor, and he looked
up somewhat apprehensively to find Danny grinning at him. Stiles grinned back.
Danny was a good friend, and he was hot as hell, but neither could provide what
the other was looking for—hence, Derek. "Oh my God, finally!" Stiles hissed.
"It's fucking cold out here and I feel like all of these people want to eat me
alive."
Danny grinned. "Dressed like that, I don't doubt it," he laughed, slinging an
arm around Stiles's shoulders. "C'mon, Derek's waiting on us."
Stiles huffed out a laugh and let himself be led into the club. He'd been here
once before, and hadn't even learned the name of the man he'd played with, but
he already knew that he felt comfortable here. The people who ran the place
knew what they were doing, and they kept a close eye on all but the most
trusted of participants. According to Danny, Derek fell into that category.
As Danny led them through the club, fending off overly-eager Doms who wanted a
piece of Stiles, he explained what was going to happen. "Derek's good; one of
the best here, and believe me, I'd know. He'll take care of you, before,
during, and after—the guy doesn't skimp on aftercare. His old Domme did. She
was a bitch—her treatment of her subs got her banned from any club the owners
could contact. Anyway, Derek learned what notto do from her. He'll ask you what
kind of scene you want to start with, limits, preferences, the standard stuff.
Don't be afraid to be honest with him, okay? He's not gonna judge."
Stiles nodded. "Sounds good to me. Thanks for doing this, man."
Danny smiled. "No problem, dude. I think you and Derek will be good for each
other. Speaking of—this is Derek."
Derek offered Stiles a smile and his hand. "Stiles, right?"
Stiles' jaw dropped. If Danny was hot, Derek was on fire, and this
motherfucking god was all his for the evening? Working hard not to choke on his
own spit, Stiles quickly collected himself and shook Derek's hand. "Uhh, right.
Nice to meet you."
Derek chuckled at the look on Stiles's face. "Danny tells me you're looking to
try a few new things, take it up a notch?"
Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly bone dry. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah,
I haven't really done much in this area, but I've liked what I've tried, and I
wanna do more. I mean, spanking and light bondage is great, but I want to try
something more... intense, you know?"
Derek nodded, watching as Danny edged away towards another Dom who was eyeing
him interestedly; several were eyeing Stiles as well, but when they realized he
was with Derek, they quickly moved on. "We can start off with something small,
work our way up. When do you need to leave, so I know how much time we've got?"
Stiles shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "It's not like I have a curfew. I can
stay as long as I want."
Derek raised one eyebrow. "What's the latest you can leave for a class you
can't miss?" he amended.
Stiles didn't even hesitate. "Two o'clock tomorrow afternoon," he answered
promptly, his eyebrows raised to match Derek's expression. "My class isn't
until three. I'll need at least three hours' sleep, though, so better make it
ten AM."
Derek nodded. "So we've got until six for the scene," he surmised. "That should
leave plenty of time for the aftercare—Danny told you I don't skimp, I hope?"
"Uhh, yeah, he said something about it." Stiles was actually kind of surprised
that Derek intended to keep him around for that long, but he wasn't about to
complain. He'd wanted an intense experience, after all. 
Derek caught the look on Stiles's face, and took a shot. "That doesn't mean I'm
planning on drawing it out that long," he explained. "Danny told me you were
still relatively new; I added a good bit of time just in case we needed it for
various reasons."
Stiles let himself relax. "Okay. Okay, that's good." He had to admit that he
was a little relieved, but he wasn't one to feel off-balance for long. He
smirked at Derek, his usual sass coming back to him no problem at all. "So,
what should I call you?" he quipped. "Sir? Master? Daddy?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "'Sir' is fine. But you don't have to call me that until
we really get started." Derek gave Stiles a moment to think before he asked,
"So, you still want to do this?"
Stiles nodded, meeting Derek's gaze head on. "Yeah. Yes, I want to do this."
Derek nodded. "Okay then. I've got a room here at the club—it's open all night.
Follow me." Derek led the way through the crowd and down a hall, not looking to
see if Stiles was following him—if the boy wanted this, he would have to come
get it.
Stiles followed Derek obediently through the club, the back of his neck
prickling with excitement. Whatever Derek had in mind, this was going to be
awesome. The room, when they got there, was dimly lit, with a bed in the middle
and what looked like a St Andrew's cross up against the far wall. If there were
any toys or other kinds of equipment on hand, they couldn't be seen; Stiles
suspected that the chest of drawers behind the door was the reason for such
subtlety. He moved further into the room and turned to face Derek, fidgeting
uncertainly. "Now what?"
Derek gestured to the bed. "Before we start doing anything, there's a couple of
things we need to discuss—safewords, limits, preferences, that sort of thing."
He sat down first, and patted the spot on the bed beside him.
Stiles was quick to join Derek, regaining his confidence quickly. "My safeword
is 'lacrosse'," he answered with an easy grin, and lifted one shoulder in a
half-assed shrug. "And where limits are concerned, well, as long as you don't
draw blood..."
Derek raised one eyebrow. "How do you feel about watersports?" he deadpanned
before growing serious. "Mine's 'triskele'; I'll only use it if I feel like we
need to break the scene and you aren't saying anything, okay?"
Stiles' eyes went wide, and he instinctively spat out, "Lacrosse." He gave
Derek a sheepish grin. "See? I will say something, I swear. But it's still good
that you have a safeword, too." He hesitated, considering. "Do you seriously
want to pee on me?"
Derek snorted. "No," he answered. "That's something that I, personally, feel is
too intimate for what I do—maybe if I had a sub of my own, but that's not how I
work." He smiled at Stiles, though, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good.
Don't ever be afraid to safeword if you feel uncomfortable; I'll stop
immediately. Now, what sort of treatment do you prefer?"
"Treatment?" Stiles asked curiously, his brow furrowing. He hadn't even been
talking to Derek for half an hour and he was already getting the impression
that there was a lot about this lifestyle he didn't know. But he wanted to
learn.
"Do you prefer to be treated like a slave, a sub, or somewhere in the middle?"
Derek explained. "Your answer basically determines how rough I can be with you
and how much I can order you around."
Stiles thought about it. "A sub," he answered. "I mean, slave stuff might be
good, but like you said, there's some stuff you need a full time Dom for."
Derek nodded, pleased that Stiles wasn't just jumping straight into the deep
end. "Good. So, do you have any kinks or anything you really want me to do?"
"Not really," Stiles said thoughtfully. "Nothing too extreme, I guess. But
whatever you do, can you... maybe blindfold me?"
Derek nodded. "I've got a few different materials you can choose from. Why
don't we start with paddling and blindfolding? You said you enjoyed spanking
earlier, right?"
Stiles grinned. "Oh yeah. Spanking is definitely what got me into this whole
thing. The first girl I almost slept with smacked my ass a couple times while
we were making out and I just sort of came, everywhere. It freaked her out and,
needless to say, we did not have sex. But!" His cheeks flushed and he gave
Derek an apologetic look. "You didn't need to know all that stuff. Sorry.
Paddling sounds great."
Derek offered Stiles a comforting smile. "Don't be afraid to tell me stuff,
okay?" he said gently. "Communication is key for these sorts of things. Is
there anything else you think I should know, before we start?"
"I really want you to know that I have better stamina now, but other than
that..." Stiles shrugged. "Nope, there's nothing."
Derek nodded, getting up and moving towards the chest. "I generally tell my
subs that orgasms are a privilege, and thus must be earned. Do you think you
could hold yourself from orgasm, or do you need a cock ring?"
"Um." Stiles hesitated. "Would I look really weak if I asked for a cock ring?"
Derek tossed a smile at Stiles over his shoulder. "Of course not. I actually
like it when they do." He selected a few blindfolds of a softer material, a
black oak paddle with a good grip, and a cock ring. "Select the blindfold you
want, and then we'll start. Once we start, you'll address me only by 'Sir,' and
I will address you only by 'boy,' do I make myself clear? When I tell you 'Mets
won the championship,' the scene is over."
"Okay," Stiles said softly, standing up to inspect the blindfolds Derek had
taken out. "I'll remember." He took his time, gently fingering each blindfold
in turn, before he made his decision and held it out. "This one. Sir."
Derek nodded, holding the blindfold in one hand as he moved to put the others
away. "Strip and kneel, boy," he ordered as he put the blindfolds away and
double-checked the paddle, making sure it was still smooth, with no splinters
or anything else. 
Stiles did as he was told, peeling his clothes off and folding them neatly
before placing them on the floor beside the chest, where they wouldn't be in
the way. Only then did he move to kneel before Derek, his gaze lowered
respectfully. He was already half-hard, his cock throbbing with anticipation,
but he resisted the urge to give it a few strokes. His body wasn't his own now;
it was Sir's.
"Good boy," Derek praised, squatting down to fix the cock ring, testing its
tightness before standing. "Now, you do not have permission to speak, but you
may make noise—no words, expect for your safeword if you need it. Nod if you
understand."
Stiles nodded, his gaze still fixed on the floor. "Good boy. Now for the
blindfold." Derek tilted Stiles's head up so that he could tie the blindfold
properly, checking to make sure the knot wouldn't slip. "Can you see anything?"
Derek asked.
Pretty sure he still wasn't allowed to speak, Stiles shook his head, and let
his tongue dart out to wet his lips. Asking for the blindfold had been the
right thing to do: just having the simple privilege of sight revoked was enough
to have his heart racing with excitement.
Derek smiled, running a thumb over Stiles's lower lip. "Shake your head yes or
no: May I kiss you?"
As if that was even a question. Stiles nodded; Derek smiled and leaned forward
to kiss Stiles softly. When he pulled back, he reached down and gave Stiles's
cock a quick tug. "Bend over the bed, ass in the air," he instructed.
Stiles got to his feet and carefully felt out the edge of the bed before
bending himself over it, spreading his feet apart so that his ass would be on
display for Derek. A whimper almost escaped him when his cock brushed the duvet
beneath him, but he managed to choke it back.
Derek could feel his cock hardening in his jeans at the sight of Stiles's ass
on display for him, and his mouth nearly watered at the thought of what it
would look like when he was done. Paddle in hand, Derek walked over to the bed
and tenderly rubbed Stiles's back, working his way down until his hand was on
Stiles's ass. He smacked it lightly before saying, "Since this is your first
paddling, you may make noise—but no words, except for your safeword—for the
first ten hits. After that, I want you to be as quiet as possible, and lie
there and take it. Nod if you understand." Stiles drew in a shaky breath,
suddenly nervous—but he nodded. Derek noticed the slight tension in Stiles's
shoulders. "Remember, you can always safeword," he reminded Stiles gently. "I
won't be mad or disappointed, and I'll stop immediately." He'd had a few subs
do that to him before—in the middle of a paddling, they suddenly freaked out
and safeworded, uncomfortable with being spanked with anything other than a
hand.
Stiles nodded again. He knew that, of course he did. Danny wouldn't have
recommended Derek if he wasn't a good Dom. But he didn't want to safeword; he
wanted to make Derek proud.
Derek rubbed Stiles's back soothingly before stepping back, laying the paddle
on the bed beside Stiles. "I'm going to start with my hand—you don't have
permission to make noise while I use my hand. When I start with the paddle,
then you have ten strokes to make as much noise as you wish before you must be
silent." Derek didn't wait for a response, instead starting by first rubbing
and massaging Stiles's ass, getting the blood flowing, before the first hit
landed with moderate force—he wasn't one of those Doms who just went straight
into it, he liked to tease his subs a bit first.
The first hit wasn't so bad, and Stiles found himself leaning into the next
one, hips canted back in anticipation of the third. They stung a little, and
Stiles was savvy enough to notice that they were getting harder, but they felt
good. His cock was definitely taking an interest in the proceedings, a blurt of
precome beading at the tip. It was easy to stay quiet—for now.
Derek kept going with his hand, increasing the force at random intervals, and
sometimes decreasing it, just to keep Stiles on his toes. Finally, when
Stiles's ass was a dull red, Derek stopped, rubbing his hand to lessen the
tingling. He picked up the paddle, adjusting his grip before landing the first
hit.
Stiles didn't know why it came as a surprise, but it did, and it hurt. He cried
out, completely unable to help himself, and then choked on the apology that
automatically sprang to his tongue. He was allowed to make noise now, but he
still wasn't allowed to speak.
Derek's cock twitched as Stiles yelped, and he smirked. "Good boy," he said
absently, adjusting his aim for the next hit. It landed in a completely
different place to the first one, and Stiles cried out again, the sound high
and pathetic. Still, he wasn't giving up yet, and he wiggled his ass, enticing
Derek to really lay into him this time.
Derek took the invitation, bringing the paddle down hard across Stiles's left
cheek, landing a few hits before he checked Stiles again; the skin was an angry
red, the flesh hot to the touch. "How you holding up? Still good?" Derek asked
conversationally, rubbing one hand over Stiles's ass. Stiles hissed and arched
into Derek's touch like a cat, chasing the pain. The paddling was unlike
anything he'd experienced, and his ass was throbbing, but he loved it. He
wanted more.
Derek smiled at how responsive Stiles was, and how good he was being; if Derek
were to ever take on a sub of his own, he would pick one like Stiles. "Good
boy. That was the fifth hit; better get all your noise out in the next five."
Stiles did, but not for the reason that Derek intended. He wasn't shouting or
crying out in pain; he was moaning for more. He was loud, too, utterly
shameless as he rocked back into each hit like the eager slut he wanted to
prove he was.
Derek couldn't help the satisfied smirk crossing his face; Stiles was even
better than Danny had told Derek he would be. "Look at you," Derek said, a hint
of pride tinting his voice. "So fucking eager for it; natural sub, you are.
Would you let me fuck your ass after I'm done spanking it?" Derek punctuated
his question with a particularly hard hit, just skirting the edge of Stiles's
buttock and upper thigh. "Let me fuck you with minimal prep?"
Stiles groaned and canted his hips, nodding desperately. He'd let Derek do
pretty much anything at this point, but the idea of getting fucked while his
cheeks were still burning in the aftermath of the paddling was particularly
appealing. He suddenly wanted Derek to split him open on the huge cock he was
sure to have more than he'd ever wanted anything.
Derek's cock jumped, and he had to hold back a groan of his own at Stiles's
eagerness. "Maybe I shouldn't fuck you right away," he mused, carefully aiming
the seventh stroke. "I've got several toys in the chest—maybe I should fuck you
with one of those, get you begging before I fuck you with my cock."
Stiles whined in agreement and fought the urge to grind himself against the
bed. He was so hard he was starting to worry that the cock ring would prove
useless, and then what would Derek do to him? 
Derek chuckled at Stiles's whine, but he didn't say anything else until he had
finished the ten strokes he'd allowed Stiles to make noise. "I'm going to spank
you five more times—if you're good, and don't make any noise, I'll let you come
before I fuck you. But if you make even a single sound, you won't be coming
until after I do, understand?"
Stiles nodded once, and sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He didn't care if
he drew blood; he was desperate to come. The next few blows were hard and
punishing, but Stiles managed to hold his tongue despite how good they felt,
taking each one like a pro. However, by the time Derek landed the fifth, Stiles
was oversensitive and overwhelmed, and he let out a small whimper before he
could stop himself. He froze, horrified. Had Derek heard?
Even if Derek had not heard the whimper, the sudden tension in Stiles's back
and shoulders would have given it away. He made a disappointed noise, saying,
"You almost made it, boy. You were doing so well."
Stiles choked back a sob, his whole body trembling with need. He was
devastated, not only at having lost his chance to come but also at
disappointing his Dom. That wasn't part of the plan.
Derek clucked his tongue disapprovingly, returning the paddle to the chest
before sorting through it to find lube and a dark blue dildo. "I'm going to
fuck you with my fingers and then this dildo before I fuck you myself. I'm not
going to expect you to be silent, but I do expect you to be as quiet as
possible, do you understand?"
Stiles nodded before hanging his head, ashamed of himself. This must be his
punishment, but in dealing it out Derek was delaying his own pleasure as well
as Stiles'. It made Stiles feel even worse.
Derek popped open the lube and dribbled some over Stiles's hole, using one
finger to spread it around a bit before he started working one finger inside.
"Fuck, you're tight," he muttered. "Ever had a cock inside this hole? Doesn't
feel like it."
Stiles couldn't really answer that with non-verbal cues, so he took it as
permission to speak. "Y-yes, Sir," he stammered, trying his best to relax.
"M'not a virgin."
Derek dropped a stinging slap onto Stiles's ass with his free hand. "A
headshake would have sufficed," he reprimanded mildly, still working Stiles
open.
Stiles whimpered and pressed his forehead to the mattress, deeply embarrassed
and even more ashamed. God, he must be an awful sub; Derek was going to laugh
at him when this was over. But then Derek's finger nudged at his prostate and
Stiles forgot everything but his need to get fucked and come.
Derek didn't say anything else until he was sure that Stiles was open enough
for the dildo, and then he withdrew his fingers and wiped them off before
reaching for the dildo. He hesitated, debating, and then instructed, "Roll over
onto your back, spread your legs, and stay still." Derek got to his feet and
moved to the chest to grab two lengths of a soft rope. 
Stiles did as he was told, straining his ears as he tried to work out what
Derek was doing. It sounded like he was on the other side of the room, maybe
getting the dildo? He didn't take long in returning, but Stiles didn't relax
until he felt that Derek was close again.
Derek rubbed the inside of Stiles's thigh soothingly. "Good boy. Reach up above
your head, get a good handful of the blanket in each hand, and don't let go."
While Stiles was doing that, Derek tugged Stiles's ankles farther apart and
started tying one to each bedpost.
Stiles jerked when he realised what Derek was doing, but he didn't protest; he
just moaned. The few times he'd strayed into this territory, there had been
bondage involved, and it was always hot as hell. Accompanied by the blindfold
and the way Derek seemed determined to take him apart piece by piece? Stiles
was pretty sure he was going to die.
When Derek was satisfied that the ropes were tight enough to keep Stiles's feet
in place but not tight enough to cut off circulation, he reached up and tapped
Stiles's stomach purposefully. "If you feel anything start to fall asleep, you
let me know immediately, understand?"
Stiles nodded, and flexed his toes to test the restraints. They didn't feel too
tight, but they would definitely restrict his movement. A little thrill ran
through Stiles at the thought that he was completely at Derek's mercy.
Derek smiled. "Good boy." He picked up the dildo and lube, slicking the dildo
before he dragged the head up between Stiles's legs, rubbing it over his balls
before dragging it back down to tease his hole. "Make sure you don't let go of
that blanket," he ordered right before he started working the dildo into
Stiles, twisting it slightly and working it in short thrusts.
Stiles gripped the blanket as tight as he could, using it to ground himself as
Derek fucked the dildo into him. Being blindfolded somehow meant that every
other sense was heightened, and feeling Derek's breath stutter across his skin,
knowing—or at least assuming—that he was turned on by this, made it even
better. Free to make noise again, Stiles let out the harsh pants and little
whimpers he'd been holding back, and gave himself over to Derek.
Derek reveled in Stiles's submission; it was written clearly in every line of
his body, every noise, every movement. As he worked Stiles over with the dildo,
Derek smacked Stiles's ass lightly, keeping the flesh red, giving it no
reprieve. He managed to hit Stiles's prostate, and he deliberately dragged the
head of the fake cock over it again and again. 
Finally, Derek couldn't take it anymore; he stripped, kicking his clothes out
of the way—but not before grabbing a condom from his wallet—and fucked the
dildo one last time into Stiles. "Keep it there," he ordered as he rolled the
condom onto his cock. He grasped Stiles by the hips, yanking his ass to the
edge of the bed so that he could pull the dildo out and line himself up. "I
want to hear you," he said, pushing in slowly—Christ, even after being fucked
with the dildo, Stiles was still tight. "Everything—that means I want to hear
your words, too."
Stiles barely heard the instruction, but he couldn't have held his tongue for
the life of him when Sir—because he was definitely Sir now, not Derek—started
to fuck him. It began slow, with the usual yesand more and please, but when
Derek picked up his pace, pounding into Stiles like he was there for nothing
but his Sir's pleasure, Stiles fucking lost it. "Oh God, yes," he moaned
helplessly. "Yes, so good Sir, feel so good inside me, please Sir, please, I
need—Ah! Need you to fuck me, use me, make me yours..."
Stiles wasn't just submitting—he sounded like he'd hit subspace, and that just
spurred Derek on even more; he'd only had a few subs reach that before. He
fucked into Stiles as hard as he could, pounding him mercilessly until he
finally came with a sharp jerk of his hips and a growled curse. He stayed in
Stiles for a moment, catching his breath and composing himself, before pulling
out and efficiently removing and discarding the condom. He walked back over to
Stiles, looking him over appreciatively. 
When he was close enough, he reached out and held Stiles's cock in a firm grip,
stroking slowly. "You've been a good boy for me," he praised. "And I promised
you an orgasm—do you think you've been good enough for it?"
Stiles whined, the sound high and thin, and tossed his head. "I don't know,
Sir, I don't know," he sobbed, distressed. "I tried, I tried so hard, but I
don't know."
Derek rubbed Stiles's stomach soothingly, shushing him gently. "You did very
well," he reassured the young man. "You did try, you did your best. I think you
do deserve an orgasm." He undid the cock ring, tossing it over to the chest—he
would clean everything up after they were done with everything. Once the cock
ring was off, Derek stroked Stiles's cock purposefully. "You've been such a
good boy for me," he said gently. "Now I want you to do one more thing for me:
come."
And Stiles came; he came so hard that he saw God. It seemed to go on forever,
and if he wasn't so busy being liquefied by pleasure, he might have worried
about making a mess of Derek. As it was, he didn't even think of it when it was
over—he just collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, breathing hard and
trembling all over.
Derek had expected an intense orgasm, so he'd made sure he wouldn't get any
more messed up than necessary. He stroked Stiles through the orgasm, and when
Stiles collapsed, Derek gave him a few moments to catch his breath before he
leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "Mets won the
championship," he said, enunciating clearly and firmly. 
For a long moment, Stiles struggled to remember what that meant, but then he
forced himself to release the grip he had on the blanket and sat up, pushing
the blindfold out of the way to blink blearily at Derek. "It's over?" he asked,
and holy shit, his voice was wrecked. He didn't want it to be over. He felt
shaky and strange, kind of floaty, and it was really hard to fight his way to
the surface of the submissive mindset he'd entered during the scene. What was
he supposed to do now?
"Hey, easy," Derek said, supporting Stiles as he laid him back down. "Lay down,
okay? I need to get you untied, and grab a couple of things from the table next
to the bed." He set to work quickly untying the knots that held Stiles's legs
apart, rubbing where the ropes had been to help encourage the circulation to
keep flowing. The ropes joined their clothes in a corner of the room, and he
grabbed the washcloth on the bedside table, dipping it into a bowl of water and
wringing it out before carefully cleaning Stiles up, making sure to murmur
soothing words to him as he did so. "Water, chocolate, and a blanket," Derek
said, grabbing the items from a drawer in the bedside table. He helped Stiles
up to the head of the bed, and wrapped him in the blanket before pulling him
close and offering him the bottle of water. "Small sips," he instructed.
Jesus Christ, Danny had been right when he'd said that Derek didn't skimp on
aftercare. No one had ever treated Stiles like this after a scene, but then,
he'd never participated in a scene like that before. He leaned gratefully
against Derek and did as he was told, sipping the water slowly. It was cool,
and soothed his throat, which he suddenly realised was raw—had he been
screaming? "Thanks," he rasped when he'd had enough, turning his head away and
into Derek's chest. He was still shaking.
Derek rubbed Stiles's shoulder through the blanket. "Here, eat a piece of this;
it'll help with the shaking," he said gently, offering Stiles a piece of the
chocolate. "Also got some granola bars if you want some."
"Maybe later," Stiles mumbled, chewing carefully. Maybe it was the sugar, or
maybe having to eat just gave him something else to focus on, but he felt a
little better, like he was starting to come down from a high. Or up from a low.
He hadn't decided yet. Whatever it was, though, it brought a new clarity, and
Stiles used it to look back on what had just happened. He felt sick when he
realised how bad he'd been for Derek, how he'd let him down.
Derek wasn't sure what it was that made him do so, but he pulled back just
enough that he could look Stiles in the eye. A slight frown flickered across
his face before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. "Hey,
what's wrong?" he asked, careful to keep his tone gentle and his touch soft as
he reached up to frame Stiles's face. "What is it?"
Stiles couldn't meet Derek's gaze, but he was helpless to do anything but lean
into his touch. "I messed up," he croaked. "I made a noise when I wasn't
supposed to, and I spoke. You must think I'm so pathetic."
"Stiles, no," Derek said gently, his thumbs running over Stiles's cheek. "I
don't, believe me, I don't. I was hoping you could do it, yes, but I wasn't
asking it of you because I expected 'perfection' or something like that. This
was your first time doing a more intense scene; I knew you'd make some
mistakes, and I'm notdisappointed, or mad, or whatever else you may think I'm
feeling. Just the opposite, in fact; I am so, so proud of you—you were even
better than I was hoping for."
"Really?" Stiles asked, and he hated how much hope he'd managed to put into
just one word. "I just didn't want to let you down."
"You didn't," Derek said confidently, offering Stiles a reassuring smile as he
pulled the younger man back against him, settling both of them more
comfortably. "You want the honest truth? That was one of the best scenes I've
ever done. Definitely one of the most satisfying, if not the most. You were
amazing—and that bit, right after I started fucking you? I'm pretty sure you
hit subspace."
Stiles blinked. "Subspace? Is that what that was?"
Derek nodded. "Subspace is basically where you totally give up control—you
become totally submissive, and you truly enjoy submitting. I've only had a few
subs reach it before while I was playing with them; it's hard to reach for a
lot of new subs."
Stiles shrugged. "I trusted you, I guess," he mused. "It felt really weird,
especially after the scene ended. Like I wasn't ready to come back, y'know?
But... it was good. I felt free."
Derek smiled, rubbing Stiles's back rhythmically. "Yeah, I know. I never
experienced it, but everyone that I know that has—Danny has; he was one of the
subs who reached it while I was playing with him—says they loved it."
"I wasn't expecting it," Stiles admitted. "I've never had that happen before.
But I guess now I know what was missing from all those other scenes." He
smiled. "Thank you for showing that to me."
"Thank you for letting me," Derek said sincerely, offering another piece of
chocolate to Stiles. "I meant what I said; that was one of the best scenes I've
ever had the pleasure of playing."
Stiles blushed and snuggled closer. The rest of their time together was spent
in much the same way, with Derek holding and reassuring Stiles, answering all
of his questions. Stiles ate all of Derek's chocolate and one of his granola
bars before he felt like his knees would support him if he tried to stand up,
but even then Derek kept him on the bed, and they lapsed into easy
conversation. It was what he needed, and it was about two hours in total before
he felt ready to leave. 
"What time is it?" he asked softly. He was sitting across from Derek on the bed
now, instead of in his arms. "I feel like it's really late. Or maybe early."
Derek reached over and fished in one of the drawers for the portable clock—he
didn't like having one in plain sight during a scene. "It's a bit after two in
the morning," he answered. "So I guess it's rather early."
Stiles made a surprised sound. "I guess I'd better go."
Derek shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, you're probably going to want as much sleep
as you can get," he answered. "And you're also going to want some painkillers
for your ass tomorrow," he added, chuckling softly. "Did you drive here?"
Stiles got off the bed and started to get dressed. "Yeah, I've got no problem
getting home," he answered. "Do you want a ride?"
Derek followed suit, pulling his own clothes on as he spoke. "Thanks, but I'm
good; I still need to check over the equipment, make sure nothing happened to
it or anything like that."
Stiles shrugged and pushed his feet into his shoes. "Okay. I guess I'll see you
around?"
"Probably," Derek said, smiling at Stiles. "You'll probably run into me at one
of the campus coffee houses or something, now that you know what I look like."
That wasn't quite what Stiles meant, but he smiled like it was. They said
goodbye not long after that, and as Stiles made his way out of the club, he
reached a decision. He had to get Derek to take him on as a permanent sub.
***
Danny made his apologies to the Dom he'd been chatting up, ducking out from
under the man's arm in order to chase down a very familiar head of hair.
"Dude!" he hissed, grabbing Stiles by the arm. "What the hell are you doing
here again?" This was the fifth night in a row that Danny had seen Stiles here,
but the weird thing was that he always brushed off every Dom that showed an
interest in him. Like he already had one in mind.
"Am I not supposed to be here?" Stiles asked evasively. "Is it a crime now?"
"No, but you never play with anyone, not since Derek. Man, please tell me
you're not angling for him," Danny said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You
know he doesn't do long term; hell, he barely even plays with the same person
more than once."
Stiles couldn't even hope to argue; he'd been made straight away. "I know," he
groaned. "Every time I catch his eye he just grabs the nearest sub; it's like
he's scared of what will happen if he plays with me again. But he wants to, I
can tell. He said our scene was one of the most satisfying he's ever done. Why
is he avoiding me?"
Danny sighed. "Look, Derek doesn't do long-term because of his old Domme. He's
got this thing about control—he can't give any of it up. The only reason he's
played with me as many times as he has is because I'm more of a slave than a
sub—I love being told what to do. I love being controlled. I know he said it
was great, with you, but that's also why he's not going to play with you, not
for a while, if ever."
"But what's easier to control than consistency?" Stiles argued. "If he takes me
on permanently, he'd be able to control everything. I don't want any other Dom,
Danny. It was so good with him. And if he liked it too, don't you think he'd
give me a shot?"
"You'd think," Danny muttered. "Look, Stiles—it comes down to trust. He trusted
his old bitch of a Domme, and she ran roughshod over him. He's afraid of having
someone trust him to take care of them; he's afraid he'll let them down or
inadvertently hurt them."
"Well he can tell me that himself," Stiles huffed, and he pushed away from
Danny to force himself through the crowd, towards Derek.
Danny watched him go and debated stopping him, but decided against it. Maybe
Stiles would be good for Derek. 
***
Derek didn't see Stiles's approach, though he was looking for it. He wasn't
sure why, exactly—though he told himself it was because he wanted to be ready
to grab the nearest available sub to use as a shield. The rest of him knew that
that was a pile of bull, and knew it was because he wanted to see Stiles again;
even if he would ultimately end up rejecting the younger man, he still wanted
to see him again. There was something indefinable about Stiles that drew Derek
in.
Stiles approached Derek from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," he
said, grinning, when Derek turned. "How's it goin'?"
"Jesus!" Derek hissed, jumping. "Fuck, what are you, part cat? Christ." He took
a breath, trying to calm his racing heart and climbing excitement. "Hey. It's
been going... good. Except for this sub who appears to be stalking me." Derek
raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't happen to
know anything about that, would you?"
Stiles's grin widened. "Not a thing," he teased. "See, I've got my eye on this
Dom, but every time I get anywhere near him, he just grabs a sub out of
nowhere. One time he even picked one he'd just rejected. Would you know
anything about that?"
Derek tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Y'know, I think I might. Seems like he's
not interested in taking a sub of his own, but this other sub—who I'm beginning
to suspect is you—won't take the hint, even though he's been told that multiple
times."
Stiles shrugged, the very image of innocence. "I don't want to be taken on
long-term," he lied. "I just wanna play."
Derek raised one unimpressed eyebrow. "Really? So that's why you've been
turning down every other Dom who's shown an interest?"
"I wanna play with you," Stiles clarified, suddenly serious. "I've never felt
anything like that before. I just... I wanna feel it again."
Derek gestured around the club. "There are plenty of Doms who could get you to
that feeling again."
Stiles fixed Derek with a hard look. "None of them look at me like you do."
Derek was silent for several long minutes. "I don't do long-term," he said
finally. "Not even for you."
The smile quickly returned to Stiles' lips, and he took Derek's hand. "We'll
talk about that later," he promised, and tugged him toward the room they'd used
last time.
"Whoa, hey," Derek protested, but he didn't have the heart to yank his hand
from Stiles's until they were back in the room. "What do you think you're
doing?" he snapped. "I didn't agree to anything. That comment wasn't saying I'd
be willing to go one more time."
"Wasn't it?" Stiles asked innocently, smiling. But that wasn't the way to get
what he wanted. If what Danny had said was true, then Derek was all too used to
being manipulated by his partners. Stiles couldn't do that to him. He sighed.
"If you don't want to, then fine, I'll go. It's not a problem."
Derek searched Stiles's face intently before he replied, "I do want to, and
that's the problem. You hounded me for five days after the first time, even
though you knew before we even started that I don't do long term and I rarely
play with someone more than once. I don't want to seem like I'm encouraging you
to keep pursuing me when I won't be able to commit to you."
Stiles flushed, feeling a little guilty. Maybe he'd been manipulating Derek
this whole time; maybe Derek sensed it. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't
mean to put pressure on you. The first time was just so incredible, and it's
always a risk, y'know, playing with different Doms. I guess I know I feel safe
with you." He frowned. That wasn't really an excuse.
Derek sighed. "You're friends with Danny, right? Did he tell you why I've
played with him so often?"
"Yes," Stiles answered simply. "Because he'll let you control him completely."
"And he's not attached to me," Derek elaborated. "I like control, and I like to
control, but the biggest thing is he doesn't depend on me like a full-time sub
would. I don't know that I would do well with that, not with the only
experience I've had in a long-term contract."
Stiles shook his head. "I don't want that from you," he said, and it wasn't
even really a lie. "I'm only just starting out; I don't know that I'm ready to
enter into a long-term contract. That kind of commitment is huge, and I like
you, and I trust you, and what we did together the other night was goddamn
explosive, but I don't know you nearly well enough to just hand you the rights
to myself. All I'm asking is that we do one more scene together, and after—only
if you want to—we maybe get to know each other a little better."
Derek thought Stiles's proposition over, his determination wavering. Maybe it
wouldn't be so bad, with Stiles; he liked the kid well enough, and he seemed
like a good guy, one who would be honest with Derek. "Okay," he said finally.
"One more scene and then... we'll see."
Stiles beamed, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Then I guess I'm all
yours for the night... Sir."
***
Afterward, Derek had Stiles wrapped in a blanket again, and laying with his
back to Derek's chest as he offered Stiles a bottle of water. "You good?"
Stiles nodded, accepting the water and sipping slowly. Although this time had
been just as intense, just as amazing as last time, he'd found it easier to
come back to himself after, like he knew what to expect and was better
prepared. Still, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to snuggle with
Derek; it might be his last chance. "Are you?" he asked tentatively.
Derek took a moment to think; the scene had been just as good as last time, and
Stiles had followed Derek's orders almost perfectly. He was still a bit wary,
but he felt like he could trust Stiles more than he'd felt like he could with
any other sub. "Yeah, I'm good," he murmured, pulling Stiles a bit closer to
him.
"Good," Stiles murmured. "Do you want to talk about..." He skipped a few words,
not wanting to give voice to them in case he made Derek uncomfortable, and then
picked up his sentence again. "Or not?"
Derek shook his head. "Not yet," he said quietly. "After, when we're both back
to ourselves."
Stiles nodded, and rested his head against Derek's chest. He felt warm and
safe, grounded, and he closed his eyes, hoping that Derek would choose to take
a risk and keep him.
It took about the same time as the first for Derek and Stiles to feel
completely in control of themselves once again, but once they did, Derek was
the one to broach the topic of continuing to play with each other. "I like
doing scenes with you," he started, "but I haven't done anything remotely
resembling 'committed' since I started playing a Dom."
Stiles thought about that for a moment before responding. "Would you rather
keep it that way, or are you considering trying something else?" he asked,
careful to keep any inflection out of his voice. He didn't want to pressure
Derek any more than he already had.
"I'm... considering trying something else," Derek said finally. "I don't want
long-term, but... I would be willing to play exclusively with you for a few
months."
"Is that possible?" Stiles asked, his gaze flickering up to meet Derek's. "I
didn't think people did that."
Derek nodded. "There are a lot of people who go into a trial period of sorts;
they find someone they like to play with, and they set up a contract stating
their limits, rules, and how long they'll play together before they decide
whether or not the relationship has a chance of working for a longer period of
time."
"And you want to do that?" Stiles pressed, just for clarity. "With me?"
Derek nodded. "Maybe not particularly with the aim of going for a long-term
relationship after the contract, but—You're not completely annoying; I suppose
I could bear playing exclusively with you for a few months." He offered Stiles
a cheeky grin to reassure the younger man that he was teasing.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "I feel so privileged," he drawled, but honestly, it
was true. No one had played with Derek exclusively before—not since he'd broken
his contract with his Domme. Stiles was practically glowing with pleasure at
the thought that he was the one Derek had chosen to break the ice with. "I
guess this means we have to start thinking about a contract?"
"Yeah. Here, give me your number." Derek grabbed his phone from his pants.
"I'll send you a text so you have my number, and we can meet sometime to start
hashing out the details."
"Sure." Stiles took the phone and saved his number to Derek's contacts, putting
a little winky face next to his name because Derek would probably hate it. He
handed the phone back with a smile.
Derek rolled his eyes when he saw the winky face, but he didn't change it. He
fired off a quick, simple text to Stiles's phone before putting his away once
more. "So. Anything else you wanted to talk about tonight?"
"I don't think so," Stiles answered carefully, snuggling up to Derek once more.
"What about you?"
Derek shook his head, wrapping his arms around Stiles. "No, I don't either."
"Should I go?" Stiles asked quietly. He didn't want to; he wanted to stay right
here, in Derek's arms, but he didn't want to push things, either.
Derek shrugged one shoulder. "You don't have to," he returned, his voice just
as quiet as Stiles's. Truth was, he half-hoped Stiles would stay; it was easy,
natural, with him, to be close and hold him.
Stiles closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Then if it's all the
same to you, I think I'll stay."
***
Derek had classes the next day, but after they were finished, he texted Stiles.
[Meet me at the coffee house by the observatory; people there know about me,
won't get any awkward looks if they overhear anything.]
Stiles was still in class when he got the message, but he texted Derek back to
say that he could meet him in an hour. It turned out to be more like an hour
and a half, even though Stiles ran to the coffee shop. He crashed through the
door, almost upsetting the nearest table, and was already gasping out apologies
when he fell into the seat opposite Derek. "I'm so sorry," he panted for the
third time. "My professor held me back after class to talk about a paper. I
swear I could've killed him."
Derek grinned. "It's fine," he reassured Stiles. "Hey, Erica!" he called,
waving the blonde barista over. "Do you know Stiles?"
"No, I don't." Erica swooped in from somewhere behind Stiles and put a mug on
the table in front of him, filling it with steaming coffee before topping up
Derek's. "But he's a cutie. You guys on a date?"
Stiles looked at Derek uncertainly, even as he reached for cream and sugar.
"Umm."
"Not exactly," Derek said. "Testing the waters, sort of."
Stiles blushed, ducking his head to hide his smile, and as such missed the
meaningful look on Erica's face. "That's great, Der," she said
sincerely, touching Derek's shoulder. "It's been too long since I saw you in
here with even a study partner. This one's on me, okay?"
Derek smiled gratefully at Erica before turning to look at Stiles. He chuckled
slightly at the flush staining Stiles's cheeks. "Told you people knew about me
here," he said, grinning at the younger man. 
"You did," Stiles conceded, smiling. He finished stirring sugar into his coffee
and raised the mug to his lips, pursing them so that he didn't scald himself as
he took a sip. A glance over his shoulder told him that Erica was serving
another customer, and he carefully set the mug down again. "So. You wanted to
talk?"
Derek nodded, taking a quick sip of his own coffee. "I figured we could at
least start figuring out what exactly we want the contract to cover."
Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "I don't really know what contracts like these are
supposed to be like," he confessed, his gaze flickering to Derek's and then
away. "And I guess you don't either. But I did some research? I guess the first
thing we have to pin down is the timeframe. You said you didn't want long-term,
but we should probably be more specific than that."
Derek chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe three or four months, about
that long? You're right that I don't have much experience with this; my last
relationship... was really unsafe."
Stiles winced, nodding. "Okay, four months," he said decisively, and then
grinned. "I have a thing for even numbers." He took another sip of his coffee
and just held the mug, needing something to do with his hands. "So what next?
Maybe how that's gonna work. Like, would I come stay with you? Would I have to
come when called? Would we have set days and times to meet? And how would we
factor our schoolwork into that?"
"Schoolwork comes first," Derek said immediately. "As for the rest... Am I
right in thinking your friends don't know you're a sub?"
Stiles shook his head. "I mean, I don't think they'd care, but it's definitely
something I'm keeping to myself. At least for now," he explained. "Is that
okay?"
Derek nodded. "I was asking so I could get an idea of how much time I could
require of you, and how much I could request," he clarified. "Do you think you
could get away with spending the weekends with me for the four months? I've got
an apartment close to campus."
"I can do that," Stiles agreed readily. "As long as you give me at least a few
hours to do work."
Derek nodded. "Of course. When you're in my apartment, we won't constantly be
in a scene—I just want to make that clear. I thought maybe we could keep using
the same phrase to end the scene, but come up with another way to start one, to
make sure we're both in the mood for one, you know? And I've got my own
schoolwork to work on as well."
"That's a good idea," Stiles said. "So, weekends for definite, and I can
probably come over sometimes during the week, too, but we shouldn't put that in
stone just in case."
"Definitely not," Derek agreed. "During the week, if I text you with whatever
we end up going with to start a scene, then I won't be expecting a yes, okay?
I'll be hoping for one, but if you can't, then I'm perfectly fine with that.
And even on the weekend, if you don't want to do a scene, you do have the
option to tell me 'no'; I just wanted to make that clear."
"I understand," Stiles promised, meeting and holding Derek's gaze. "And the
same goes for you, too."
Derek smiled. "Good. Now, if you want to, we could continue doing like we did
the last times—use nicknames during the scene, to help differentiate the scenes
from real life."
Stiles nodded. "Okay. Are we sticking with what we used last time?" He'd liked
using 'Sir' and 'boy', but they'd felt kind of impersonal—like Derek used them
with every other sub he played with, too. Stiles wanted desperately to be
different from them.
Derek was thinking along the same lines as Stiles. "I don't think so; this
isn't just us playing at the club anymore."
Stiles beamed. "Okay, well, we'll think about it," he suggested. "For now let's
talk about stuff we actually know. When we were talking about it at the club,
you mentioned limits?"
"Yes, I did; do you have anything that you absolutely will not do or anything
you might do under certain conditions?" This step was especially important to
Derek; he'd seen far, far too many BDSM relationships go awry because a
Dominant ignored their submissive's limits, even the soft ones, and the
submissive got hurt.
Stiles had thought about this; he was ready. "I don't want you to make me
bleed," he answered promptly. "I'm... really not into blood play at all. Or
knife play or anything like that. I don't think I want to be in bondage
overnight or in public. Also I found a sleep suit thing on the internet with a
hood and everything, and it scared the shit out of me, so please don't put me
in one of those. As for stuff I might do..." He sighed. "I know you mentioned
watersports the first time we played together, and if you really want to, I'd
be willing to try it, but I'd reserve the right to not do it again if I didn't
like it."
Derek nodded. "Those are all perfectly reasonable, and honestly, they fall in
rather neatly with my own; I want a submissive, yes, but I also want you to
still have some independence." He was quiet for a moment, sorting his thoughts
out before he told Stiles his limits. "I don't like drawing blood, or anything
that will leave a permanent mark. To me, that's a sign of ownership, and while
some people might get off on it, I... don't want to inflict that feeling on
anyone. Bondage is all well and good, but there's a time and a place for it, in
my opinion, and once the time is done, then the bondage needs to be done as
well. I won't put you in the sleep suit; I don't even see why that would be
attractive to someone in the first place, but I can definitely understand why
it would be frightening. I don't do humiliation, but if you were interested in
it, I would like to do some minor things; get you to leave a plug in all day,
or something like that. Maybe once we get to know each other better, we could
try watersports if we decide that's something we both want, but I really wasn't
serious when I suggested it. I also won't do a scene if I don't have at least
some idea of how you want it to go down, whether you want something long and
drawn out, or just something quick, to relieve tension or something like that."
Stiles smiled. "I'm down with all of that," he assured Derek. "Especially the
part where we discuss a scene first. I wouldn't like it if you sprung something
new on me while I was in subspace; I'm not sure I'd be able to say no."
Derek shook his head emphatically. "I would never do that," he swore. "I've
seen subs go so deep into subspace that they would try to choke themselves to
death if their Dom asked them to. I know how dangerous subspace can be."
Stiles' eyes widened, even as his cheeks flushed with heat. "I really don't
want that to happen," he mumbled, not meeting Derek's gaze. "But, umm.
Breathplay. Safe breathplay. Might be something I'm into?"
Derek grinned. "We can try that," he promised. "But not right away."
"Sounds good," Stiles agreed, nodding. "So, what now?"
Derek considered that for a few moments. "Why don't we take a little while, see
if we think of anything else to discuss, and then we'll meet up again to write
the contract?" he suggested.
"Awesome," Stiles said, draining the dregs of his coffee. "I guess I'll see you
soon?"
Derek nodded. "Definitely."
***
After a week apart, they met up again to review their contract. Derek had drawn
it up, based on a pretty solid template a fellow Dom had provided him with,
and everything they'd discussed last time was on there plus some other things.
A list of promises from Derek, mostly to take care of Stiles emotionally and
physically during their time together, and a list of expectations for Stiles.
These were more specific, instructing him to always be completely open and
honest with Derek as well as detailing how he should behave during a scene
unless told otherwise. The only thing Stiles disagreed on was the dates. Derek
had put down the date that they were meeting on, a Monday, as the date their
contract would start, and had counted forwards exactly four months to find the
date it would come to an end. After Stiles pointed out that they wouldn't
actually be starting anything until the coming Friday, when they were due to
spend their first weekend together, Derek conceded and changed the dates. Derek
had also left blank spaces where the contract was supposed to indicate what
they would call each other and how they would start a scene, and even though
they both signed their names at the bottom, they still didn't fill those
in. That was something they could add in later, once they'd played together
again and had found names and a method that felt comfortable. After a good
couple of hours of discussion, coffee, and looks from Erica that were equal
parts calculating and smug, they parted ways with promises to meet up soon.
Stiles felt excited, and eager to get started, but he had a feeling that the
contract was a dead weight in Derek's coat pocket. The Dom probably needed some
more time to get used to the idea of having an exclusive sub.
Whether or not that time was necessary, Derek didn't call to back out of the
contract or postpone their plans, and so Stiles didn't regret not pushing for
something to happen sooner. He found himself sitting in a small café with Scott
and Danny on Friday afternoon, fighting the urge to impatiently check his watch
for the fifth time in as many minutes. Why had he agreed to go to lunch when
Scott asked this morning, anyway? Derek's last class got out at two, and
Stiles' got out an hour earlier - he could be on his way to Derek's right now;
he could be getting closer and closer to subspace in the time it was going to
take him to convince his friends that no, they didn't need to order a second
slice of chocolate cake, even though it was really good here. Frustrated,
Stiles gave in and checked his watch, and yep, another minute had passed.
Great.
"What's your deal?" Scott asked around a mouthful of whatever the fuck he'd
ordered today. "You got someplace to be or somethin'?" 
Stiles sighed. "Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be meeting up with a friend in
like twenty minutes." He shouldn't have said anything; as soon as the words
left his mouth, Scott's head perked up in interest.
 "A friend? What friend?"
 Stiles thought fast. "Just a friend. He's housesitting and wanted some
company, so I said I'd stay with him for the weekend."
 Scott raised his eyebrows. "Well it's the first I'm hearing of it. What's his
name?"
 Fuck. Stiles could feel Danny's gaze on him, but he couldn't lie about this.
It would be too easy to slip up in the future if he gave the wrong name now.
"It's Derek."
Normally, Danny prided himself on being collected and in control of himself
unless he was in a scene—but Stiles's statement, that he was friends with
Derek, and spending the weekend with him, completely threw him for a loop.
After hastily clearing his airway of the nearly-choked-upon chocolate cake, he
blurted, "You got Derek to commit?!"
Seriously? Stiles wanted to slam his face into his own chocolate cake. "Yes,"
he answered slowly, turning to stare at Danny. Go with this, his gaze said, or
I'll kill you. "I got him to commit to housesitting."
Danny opened his mouth to say something further, but then thought better of it.
"Right," he said, his voice sounding vaguely faint. "Good for you."
"Good for whoever he's housesitting for," Scott piped up cheerfully, completely
oblivious to the sudden tension at their table. "Go you, Stiles. I bet they're
relieved they don't have to find someone else."
Scott McCall had been Stiles' best friend since they were in diapers, and they
were like brothers to each other, but in that moment Stiles had never wanted to
kiss anyone more.
***
Derek looked at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "Bit eager to get here, were
you?" he asked, grinning. Stiles's knock had been so rapid-fire that Derek had
half-thought someone had been opening fire on his door with a semiautomatic. He
wasn't going to lie to either himself or Stiles and say that he had been
looking forward to this weekend with no reservations whatsoever, but he was
looking forward to it nonetheless; he liked Stiles, liked spending time with
him, and he was interested in seeing how Stiles might act in a more domestic
setting as opposed to a club setting.
"More like pissed off that I wasn't here already," Stiles huffed, entering the
apartment when Derek stepped back to let him in. "I wanted to be waiting for
you when you got here, y'know, make a good first impression—which is ridiculous
'cause you already know me but this is the first time we've seen each other
since we signed the contract so it kind of counts, and I wanted to prove to you
that I can be a good sub so you don't back out before our time's up, but
fucking Scott and fucking Danny—who knows now, by the way, sorry if you didn't
want him to—had to order a fucking third slice of chocolate cake and—" He cut
himself off, realising that whatever good impressions he'd wanted to make, he
was definitely doing the opposite right now. He gave Derek an awkward smile,
flustered. "Sorry. I meant, hi."
Derek raised one eyebrow. "I'm gonna take that little rant one item at a time,"
he informed Stiles before pulling him in for a quick hug. "One: hi; two: I'm
not going to back out of this before our time is up, but I appreciate the
thought that you wanted to make a good impression; three: I don't mind if Danny
knows; and four: if it's that chocolate cake from Giorgio's, I don't blame them
for wanting several slices."
Stiles hid his smile against Derek's shoulder. "It is good chocolate cake," he
conceded; "and I went in for a third slice myself, but I'd still much rather
have been here." Somewhat embarrassed by the admission, he pulled back to look
Derek in the eye. "Are you sure you don't want to back out? Because you can. I
don't want you to keep to our agreement just because we have a contract; we
should probably add a little clause at the end that says you can break it if
you start to feel uncomfortable."
"We can, later," Derek said, bringing his hands up to rest on Stiles's neck,
his thumbs idly brushing back and forth. "And we'll put one for you, too. But
I—I don't want to back out. You're interesting, and I want to see where this
goes."
Stiles smiled. "I'm glad," he murmured, feeling some kind of warmth blossom
inside him. It felt a lot like hope. "Will you kiss me?"
Derek nodded. "You're a good boy, for asking," he murmured, carefully tilting
Stiles's head as he lowered his own until he could slide his lips across
Stiles's, taking his time exploring and mapping Stiles's mouth and his
reactions. 
It wasn't Stiles' first kiss, or even his first kiss with Derek, but this one
felt better than all of the others combined. It was soft but sure, almost
tender, and it stole his breath. Carried away on a tide of sensation, Stiles
chased Derek when he pulled back, wanting more—but he was stopped with a firm
hand on his chest, and his eyes snapped open. "Oops."
Derek raised one eyebrow. "I didn't tell you that you could follow," he said,
his voice stern. "I think you need a little lesson in exactly how I'm going to
expect you to kiss, you impatient little brat."
Stiles jerked back, his face heating as he realised exactly how hot he found
that name. Brat. Maybe he could convince Derek to use it in their scenes? "I'm
sorry," he said after a beat. "What kind of lesson?"
"Nothing bad," Derek reassured Stiles, taking in the flush on his cheeks and
wondering what, exactly, had put it there. "This is just your first lesson; I'm
not punishing you, I'm going to teach you the rules."
"Okay," Stiles mumbled, licking his lips uncertainly. "So what are the rules?"
"First one: If you want a kiss, you have to ask for it," Derek said, and he
smiled. "You've already got that one, though. Second rule: I decide where the
kiss goes—how hard, fast, and long—unless I give you express permission to
control it."
Stiles nodded. "I'll remember."
"Good boy. Third: We can kiss anywhere in the apartment, but it goes no further
than kissing unless we're in the spare bedroom."
"The spare bedroom?" Stiles asked, blinking.
Derek nodded. "It helps to keep the scenes separated from the rest of the
living space," he explained. "It helps to differentiate between what's a scene
and what's real."
"What's real," Stiles repeated, nodding. "Yeah, okay. I get that. What else?"
"Last rule," Derek continued, raising one eyebrow at Stiles's expression, "if I
deny you a kiss, I will hear no whining, or you will be punished in a suitable
manner."
Well that sucked—but who was Stiles to say so? That was the whole point of this
agreement: Derek was the one in control. "Okay. Noted."
"Good." Derek smiled at Stiles before curling one hand around the back of his
sub's neck. "Do you want to take a look at the spare room?"
Stiles grinned. "Lead the way."
***
Derek allowed Stiles a few moments to look around the spare bedroom before he
beckoned him over to the bed. He'd set up the spare bedroom as a simpler
version of the one at the club; the main difference was that rather than a St.
Andrew's cross, Derek had bought a spanking stand from one of the other
Dominants at the club. He'd made sure to double-, triple-, and quadruple-check
the stand to make sure it was completely safe. 
When Stiles moved closer to Derek, Derek sat down on the bed. "I want you to
sit next to me while I talk to you."
Sensing that something between them had shifted, Stiles didn't speak, but he
did as Derek asked and sat down beside him. "You can talk," were the first
words out of Derek's mouth as soon as Stiles was situated. "I wanted to discuss
this scene." Derek gestured toward the spanking stand. "Do you know what that
is?"
"Yes," Stiles answered, eyeing the stand with curiosity and maybe a little
hunger. The St. Andrew's Cross from the room at the club had been intriguing,
but not something he'd felt ready to try; this, however, was another story
entirely.
Derek smiled at the look on Stiles's face. "Would you like to try it out?"
Stiles' mouth suddenly felt very dry; he moistened his lips. "Yes please," he
whispered.
Derek reached over to clasp Stiles's knee, squeezing comfortingly. "I thought
we'd start out slow—with my hand, like we did the first time. I've got a few
other things I'd like to use on your ass instead of the paddle this time,
though."
Stiles felt his heart rate speed up, anticipation and excitement mingling into
one. "Can I make noise?" he asked softly.
Derek nodded. "I want to hear you this time; specifically, once we get started
with the other equipment, I want to hear you count out the hits."
"Okay," Stiles agreed. "I can do that."
Derek smiled at Stiles. "Good. You remember the end phrase?"
"Mets won the championship," Stiles repeated dutifully.
Derek nodded, pleased. "Good boy. I'm going to get the equipment ready, and I
want you to strip down to one piece of clothing of your choice. Then we'll
decide what we'll use on you."
Stiles stood and began to strip slowly, peeling off his jacket before bending
to untie his laces. In the end he was completely naked save for his t-shirt,
which he'd chosen as the one item of clothing he was allowed to leave on.
Perhaps it was strange—Derek had seen him naked before, and all of his
important bits were still exposed—but he felt oddly self-conscious, doing this
for the first time in the daylight and in Derek's own home. He hoped Derek
would be okay with it.
Derek rummaged through a couple of drawers before returning to the bed with a
flogger, riding crop, and leather glove. He eyed Stiles shirt, but didn't
comment beyond "Interesting choice" and a reassuring smile. "Before we
continue, I want you to tell me our safewords."
"Mine is lacrosse," Stiles answered, eyeing the flogger with some concern. "And
yours is triskele."
"Good boy." Derek noted Stiles's uneasiness, and carefully set the equipment
down before he sat down next to Stiles. "I want you to tell me which one of
these you want the most and which one the least."
Caught. Stiles blew out a breath. "The crop looks... interesting," he admitted.
"The flogger mostly looks scary, though."
"It can be," Derek said. "We don't have to use all of these," he told Stiles.
"Remember, this is just as much, if not more, about your pleasure as mine. I
want you to feel safe and comfortable."
"I do," Stiles promised. "Just... Could we maybe leave the flogger this time?"
"Of course," Derek answered, smiling at Stiles to show he wasn't mad; he'd
honestly expected Stiles to turn down the flogger, but he'd figured it wouldn't
hurt to offer. He got up to put the flogger away, and when he came back, he
gestured to the glove. "Are you comfortable with that? It'll be like my hand,
just more intense."
Stiles nodded. "I figured. I'm fine with it."
"Okay. For this scene, we're going to use the traffic light system. Do you know
what that is?"
Stiles nodded. "Green is good, yellow is not-so-good, red is stop. Right?"
Derek smiled. "Exactly. But I'm going to adapt it just a little for this—Green
is harder, yellow is slow down, and red means you need a break. Is that okay?"
"Yeah." Stiles bit his lip, his gaze flickering between Derek and the spanking
stand. He felt antsy, eager to get started.
Derek smiled and nodded toward the stand. "Come on." He instructed Stiles
through getting situated comfortably before he began strapping him in. "I'm not
going to put a cock ring on you this time; I want to see how long you can hold
out."
Stiles closed his eyes, feeling a delicate shudder run through him. "Okay," he
breathed. "I'll try to last for as long as I can."
Derek rubbed Stiles's back tenderly. "Good boy. I'm going to use my hand first,
and then do you want the glove or the crop?"
The answer rolled to the very tip of Stiles' tongue before he realised that it
wasn't his decision. But Derek had asked... He bit his lip. "You decide," he
said at last, and hoped it was the right answer.
Derek hummed thoughtfully, his hand running over Stiles's ass as he thought.
"Crop first," he decided. "Then glove."
Stiles relaxed, accepting Derek's choice readily. It was actually kind of nice,
having the decision made for him. Now all he had to do was wait for Derek to
deal the first blow.
Unlike the first time he'd spanked Stiles, Derek made his sub—the phrase sent a
little thrill through him—wait while he slowly and methodically undressed,
gathered up the riding crop and glove, and also some lube. When he was
satisfied that he had everything, Derek wandered back over to Stiles and set it
all up just out of Stiles's line of sight. Only then did he move back behind
Stiles, one hand patting his ass possessively. "You've got a real pretty ass,"
he said conversationally as he dropped the first hard blow onto the right
cheek. "Looks even prettier when it's burning for me."
Stiles moaned. "Feels pretty," he confessed, like that even made sense. "Feels
so good."
Derek smirked, dropping the next slap onto Stiles's left cheek. He set up a
steady rhythm, enjoying the sounds coming out of Stiles's mouth. Once Stiles's
ass was thoroughly sensitized, Derek stopped. "How you doing?"
"Good," Stiles panted, already hard beyond belief. He squirmed a little, eager
for more. "Really good. Please..."
"I'm going to start with the crop now," Derek told Stiles, rubbing over his ass
affectionately as he bent down to pick up the crop. It was a good length, and
had a smaller piece of leather on the end than most riding crops did; he
preferred it that way, it stung more sharply. "What did I say I wanted you to
do once I started with the equipment?"
For a split second, Stiles' mind went blank. "Traffic lights?" he hedged.
Derek spanked Stiles with the riding crop, hard, with no warning. "Count," he
corrected.
Stiles yelped, and inwardly cursed himself. "Sorry, sorry," he said aloud. "Uh.
One."
Derek raised one eyebrow; he didn't like the way Stiles had apologized. Still,
he wasn't anywhere close to being done with his sub, so he dropped another
blow, this one just below the first. He paused to admire the two stripes
already coloring Stiles's ass, and to listen to Stiles count. He kept the
rhythm steady, but varied his aim, making sure the welts criss-crossed over
Stiles's ass. After seven more hits, he paused. "How many was that?" he asked,
rubbing the handle of the crop over Stiles's ass, letting it just skim over his
hole.
"N-nine," Stiles gasped, jerking hard when the crop ghosted over his hole. He
felt so sensitive, especially there, and he struggled to spread his legs wider,
offering himself to Derek. "Please don't stop."
Derek smirked. "Of course not," he said soothingly, angling his next blow so it
landed across the very bottom of Stiles's buttocks. The next one came much more
quickly than the previous ones, and landed squarely over Stiles's hole.
Stiles screamed. "Oh my God, fuck, oh my God," he sobbed out, writhing against
the stand. "Do it again, please, please D—" And here he caught himself, nearly
choking on the word. He wasn't allowed to call Derek by his name during scenes,
but what else was he supposed to say? Desperate, Stiles seized the first word
that came to mind. "Daddy."
Derek was caught completely off-guard by the way the name seemed to race
through him, hot and fast as lightning. "Fuck," he groaned, obliging Stiles's
request. "God, you're such a good boy. Gonna keep being good for me, count off
your hits for Daddy?"
Stiles was helpless to do anything but go with it. "Yes, Daddy," he whined,
thinking quickly. "Twelve."
"Good boy," Derek praised, adding three more hits with the crop. "What color
are you at, sweetheart?"
Nearly mindless with blissful pleasurepain, it took Stiles a second to remember
the system Derek had implemented, and then he simply panted, "Red."
Derek immediately set the crop down and moved to crouch in front of Stiles's
face. "You okay?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah," Stiles gasped, quick to reassure Derek. His heart was racing and his
cock was fucking drooling, but the heat in his face was more due to
embarrassment now than arousal. "Was about to come."
Derek couldn't help the relieved chuckle that escaped. "Okay. Do you want me to
wait a little bit, or...?"
Stiles felt a little bit more in control now, and he shook his head. "But...
Are you okay with the 'Daddy' thing?"
Derek nodded, bringing one hand up to caress Stiles's cheek gently. "Yeah. I
am. Are you?"
Stiles nodded too, leaning into the touch, and bit his lip. "I like it," he
admitted slowly. "And I liked when you called me a brat, before."
Derek smiled. "Do you want me to keep calling you that?" he asked gently.
"Yes," Stiles whispered, feeling oddly vulnerable. "Please, Daddy."
Derek shushed Stiles gently, carefully kissing his forehead. "I'll take care of
you, brat," he said affectionately. "I'm going to put the glove on, and I want
you to start your count over."
Stiles let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, excited despite the way his
ass was throbbing. "Yes, Daddy."
Derek smiled. "Good boy. Don't forget to count."
***
It took eleven hits with the glove before Stiles was sobbing, almost coming,
and on the twelfth, he came, and Derek almost came with him. He opted for using
the lube and rutting against Stiles's ass instead. After he came, Derek
unfastened Stiles's restraints and helped him to carefully stand up before
moving to the bed. "Let me clean you up before you sit down," he murmured.
"Okay." Stiles swayed slightly on his feet but remained standing, not really
sure if he even wanted to sit down. His ass was burning, and would probably be
sore for at least a few days. Given the pleasant, kind of detached sensation he
was experiencing, however, it was definitely worth it.
Derek carefully wiped Stiles down with a wet wipe and grabbed some soothing
cream before sitting on the bed and pulling Stiles down with him. "Let me put
this on," he murmured. "It'll help." Stiles just went lax in Derek's arms,
trusting him to take care of him. Derek carefully applied the cream, re-capping
it when he was done and setting it aside before pulling Stiles closer. "You did
well," he praised, pressing a kiss to Stiles's temple. 
"Thank you," Stiles whispered, squirming closer to Derek. He felt shaky,
strange, like he needed to be touched, and he suddenly wished he'd taken his
shirt off when he'd had the chance. He would have to remember that for next
time.
Derek ran his hands over Stiles's arms and shoulders, rubbing firmly. "You want
me to take your shirt off now?" he asked quietly, still touching Stiles,
comforting him.
Stiles nodded, his face hidden in the crook of Derek's neck, and pulled back so
that Derek could do just that. Instantly he felt better, Derek's warm hands on
his skin working wonders toward soothing him, grounding him. Stiles melted back
into his hold, a contented sigh escaping him.
Derek carefully shifted them so that they were under the blanket before he
reached for the dresser, pulling out a bottle of water and a granola bar. "Glad
I thought to stock this," he murmured, twisting the cap off of the bottle
before offering it to Stiles.
Feeling suddenly parched, Stiles drank deeply before accepting the offered
granola bar. "You did know I was coming," he pointed out as he peeled the
wrapper open. "But I'm glad, too. I always feel shaky after scenes, like I need
to eat."
"It's common," Derek replied, holding Stiles close. "Your body puts out so many
endorphins during play that when it stops producing them in such huge amounts,
you feel like you're going through withdrawal."
Stiles nodded, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. "What about you?" he asked
softly after a moment. "How does it feel for you?"
Derek considered the question for a moment; he'd never given much thought about
how he felt after a scene before. "It feels good," he said finally. "Taking
care of someone, both during and after the scene. It makes me feel satisfied,
to the point where orgasms are just a bonus; I could be happy with a scene
without them."
Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "I can understand that," he supposed. It would be
good to take care of someone like that; to know that he could provide what they
needed. "And I guess not needing orgasms is a good thing. Scenes don't always
include them, right?"
"Right," Derek said, nodding. "But that's usually in partners who have been
together for a while."
"What if I'm bad, and you have to punish me?" Stiles asked, smirking. "Do we
still get orgasms then?"
Derek lightly smacked Stiles in the back of the head. "Of course not, unless I
decide you're sorry enough to deserve one," he said, smiling fondly as he did.
Stiles grinned apologetically and tilted his face up a little. "Kiss me?" he
breathed.
Derek smiled, tilting his head down to slowly kiss Stiles. "I like kissing
you," he confessed softly.
"Good," Stiles murmured back, his grin relaxing into a lazy smile. "Because I
like kissing you, too."
***
By the time both Derek and Stiles were feeling steady, it was almost dinner
time; Derek helped Stiles get dressed before they headed out to the kitchen.
"I've got... spaghetti, frozen dinners, hamburgers, hamburger helper, ramen
noodles, pizza, chicken tenders... What's your taste?" he asked, rummaging
through his cabinets and fridge.
"Pizza sounds good," Stiles answered, seating himself on a stool at the
breakfast bar and looking around. "Have I mentioned that this is a great
apartment?"
Derek pulled a plain cheese pizza out of the fridge and set the box on the
counter. "No, you haven't; but thanks." He turned back to the fridge.
"Toppings? I always like putting my own toppings on."
Stiles shrugged, smiling. "Whatever you want. I'm easy—in a non-sexual way."
Derek chuckled. "Meat lover's?" he suggested. "I've got pepperoni, sausage, and
bacon. Also some vegetables if you want them. Peppers, onions."
"All of the above," Stiles decided. "Pizza is a rare thing at my place."
Derek grinned. "Sounds good to me." He got the ingredients out and started
layering the onions, then pepperoni, and sprinkled sausage, bacon, and peppers
over top. He gestured to the oven with one hand while he was working. "Preheat
that to 375 degrees."
Stiles hopped down from his stool and did as he was told, preparing a baking
tray for Derek to put the pizza on afterwards because he was just that nice.
"Anything else, Chef?"
Derek pointed at the fridge. "I have drinks in there; get me a bottle of Gold
Peak Tea, and help yourself to whatever's in there, but don't touch the
alcohol."
Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Against underage drinking?" he asked, smirking,
even as he grabbed Derek's tea and a soda for himself. "Seems pretty mild,
given what we're likely to get up to this weekend."
Derek snorted. "No, that's Jackson's alcohol; Danny hid it from him. And you
may be my sub, but if Jackson found out you drank his alcohol, I don't think I
could do much to protect you."
That brought Stiles up short. "Danny comes here?" He'd thought Derek and Danny
only knew each other from the club.
Derek glanced over his shoulder, and then turned to face Stiles fully once he
got a good look at the expression on Stiles's face. "No," he said slowly. "He's
only been here twice—once when a Dom wouldn't take no for an answer, and then
again to hide Jackson's beer."
Stiles nodded, trying not to show how much the thought of Danny being a regular
visitor of Derek's had affected him. "Oh, okay."
"Hey," Derek said quietly, moving forward to rest his hands on Stiles's
shoulders. "I'm only playing with you, now; you know that. And Danny and I only
ever played at the club; you're the first person I've played with here."
Stiles shrugged, feeling awkward and self-conscious. "I shouldn't care," he
dismissed. "It doesn't matter, right? You said yourself that this is only
temporary."
Derek shook his head. "Even if it's temporary, that doesn't mean that this and
whatever you and I feel are not real—because it is." One hand moved to cup
Stiles's cheek gently, as Derek tried to find the right words. "I've committed
to you. You've been with other people before me, and I've been with other
people before you. But what matters right now is that we're with each other, no
matter how this ends up."
Stiles leaned into the touch, his cheeks flushing as he let himself get lost in
Derek's eyes. They were gorgeous—how had he not noticed that before? He licked
his lips. "If I was allowed to, I'd totally kiss you right now," he rasped.
Derek considered allowing this one exception, but... Well, rules were rules.
"You could ask for one," he suggested, smiling softly.
Stiles's eyes softened, his lips curving upwards to match Derek's smile.
"Please kiss me, Daddy."
Derek nodded, leaning down to kiss Stiles softly. It was slow, tender, and
almost made Derek want to run from the room. He didn't, though; he'd meant what
he said to Stiles earlier: he was committed to this relationship.
The kiss took Stiles' breath away, and although he let Derek control it like he
was supposed to, he threaded his fingers into Derek's hair, pressing himself
against that strong chest. He whimpered softly when they broke apart, opening
his eyes and falling into Derek's gaze again. All of a sudden the moment felt
too real, too raw, and he had to say something to break the spell. "I really
want you to know that my dad and I have a really healthy relationship," he
blurted. "I don't know why calling you Daddy gets me hot, but my actual father
doesn't have anything to do with it."
Derek blinked, momentarily confused by the non sequitur. "Okay," he said,
slightly amused, but keeping things as serious as he could. "And I don't have
any children, but incest really doesn't do it for me. But I like to hear you
call me Daddy, and I like to call you my brat. We're not hurting anyone, so
it's okay."
Stiles nodded, but he still felt unsure. "Are you sure we're not perverts?" he
asked tentatively.
Derek shook his head. "We're not," he said firmly. "Are we any more perverted
because we're two men? No. We're not perverted."
"Okay," Stiles murmured, smiling. "Okay, Daddy."
***
Danny studied Stiles closely. It had been a little over two months since the
"housesitting" conversation, and since then Stiles had left every Friday
afternoon, and wasn't seen until the following Monday. "So," he said
conversationally, scooping up a piece of chocolate fudge pie with his fork.
"You still helping that guy, Derek, housesit every weekend?"
Stiles jerked, hard, and let out a strangled sound when the movement jostled
the plug buried inside of him. "Uhh, what?" he asked, feeling his face heat.
"D-Derek? Yeah, he's a... a good friend." A good friend who liked it when
Stiles called him Daddy. A good friend who had sent Stiles a text that morning
instructing him to keep himself plugged until they met later that day.
Danny felt one eyebrow rise. Stiles was... not himself. He was more spacey and
flustered than usual. "You okay, dude?"
Stiles closed his eyes, composing himself, and put on his very best poker
face—which admittedly was not that great just now. "I'm fine," he said,
pointedly ignoring the throbbing in his jeans. "Just a little... warm."
"You never get warm," Scott broke in, looking up from his burger, concern
written plain on his face. "And what's with the squirming?"
"Yeah," Danny added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I mean, you're usually
fidgeting, but this time it's like you're in pain."
Stiles wanted to die. "Not in pain," he insisted, but then quickly thought
better of it. "Or, I might be. I guess. It's kind of embarrassing." He avoided
Danny's gaze. "I fell and landed funny. I kind of... bruised my ass?"
Danny snorted, choking as he tried to stifle his laughter, and Scott reached
over to thump him on the back. "Really? How'd that happen?"
Stiles winced. He really didn't have enough brain power for this right now; a
slight adjustment of his position had the plug pressing right up against his
prostate, and he was seeing stars. "I tripped..." he began haltingly. "Over...
a table..."
"You tripped over a table?" Danny echoed, snickering. This time when Scott hit
him, it was upside the head. 
"You know Stiles isn't always graceful," he chided.
"Let's talk about something else," Stiles said quickly, surreptitiously sliding
a hand between his legs to adjust himself. Even that touch was too much,
though, and he couldn't quite contain a whimper. God, he needed to get out of
here.
Danny decided to take pity on Stiles, and turned the conversation to other
things. When they left, though, Danny yanked Stiles to the side. "He's got you
wearing a plug, hasn't he?"
Stiles whined and gripped Danny's arm to steady himself. "Yes, you sadistic
bastard," he hissed. "You're killing me, man!"
Danny patted Stiles's arm soothingly. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't
have teased you in front of Scott. Are you meeting up with him today?"
Stiles nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm gonna head over there
now. I can't take this much longer." He needed Derek.
Danny smiled. "I'm sure he's gonna be proud of you for lasting through the
day," he said reassuringly. "You better get going, though, or he might not be;
you look like you're about to come in your pants."
"Oh my God, is it that obvious?" Stiles groaned, but he didn't even need to
ask. The look on Danny's face told him everything he needed to know.
***
By the time Stiles finally reached Derek's apartment, he was ready to lose it.
He didn't know what that meant, whether he would come or pass out or just break
down in tears, but he was definitely on the edge of something and it was as
terrifying as it was exhilarating. He lifted a shaking hand to knock on the
door, gripping the doorframe when his knees threatened to buckle, and prayed
that Derek was home.
Derek wasn't home; he'd had to run out and grab some groceries to restock the
spare bedroom and the fridge, but he was coming down the hall when he saw
Stiles gripping the doorframe. "Stiles?" he asked, concerned, shifting all of
the groceries to one arm as he reached out to lay his free hand on Stiles's
shoulder. "You okay?"
Stiles gasped and turned, falling against Derek's side. He immediately felt
better, but not by much. "Daddy," he panted, face hidden in Derek's shoulder.
"Need you."
Ah. Derek shushed Stiles gently, pressing a kiss to his brat's temple as he
fumbled for the keys and opened the door, hustling them in before he locked the
door behind them and dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter. "Let's go to
the spare, brat," he murmured. 
Stiles clung to Derek as they moved through the apartment, every step sending a
shock of pleasure through his body so acute it was almost pain. He was shaking
when they reached the bedroom, utterly overwhelmed, and he didn't feel it when
a tear slipped down his cheek.
Derek noticed, and was quick to wipe it away. "Let's get you undressed," he
said softly, gently stripping Stiles down before pulling his own clothes off
and sitting on the bed. He tugged Stiles down onto his lap, placing his knees
on either side of Derek's hips. "You're close," he stated, gently running his
hands up and down Stiles's sides.
Stiles pressed himself into Derek's arms, nuzzling the side of his neck. His
breathing was ragged and little needy sounds were making their way past his
lips, but he couldn't hear them. "Been close all day," he confessed, his voice
wrecked. "Can't get there, though."
Derek murmured soothing nonsense in Stiles ear. "I'll get you there," he
promised, reaching behind Stiles to grasp the end of the plug and twist it a
little bit. "Think you can come untouched for Daddy, brat?"
Stiles moaned and gripped Derek's shoulders, hard. "I can—I can try," he
stammered, squirming back against Derek's hand. "Oh Daddy, please..."
"Keep your hands where they are," Derek ordered, wrapping one arm around
Stiles's waist, his other hand still toying with the plug. "Did you put this in
right when I asked you to?"
"Yeah," Stiles breathed, still squirming. "Got me so fuckin' hot. Was hard even
before I put it in. Had no idea it'd be like this, though."
Derek hummed, pleased. "Good boy. And you haven't come at all today?" he
asked—he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he wasn't going to
make this too easy for Stiles.
Stiles shook his head. "No, not once. Came really fucking close a few times,
but I just—I couldn't."
Derek smiled, placing a kiss to the base of Stiles's throat. "Good boy," he
repeated, pulling the plug almost all the way out  before slowly pushing it
back in, angling so it scraped over his prostate.
Stiles cried out, his hands like claws on Derek's shoulders. "Oh, please," he
begged, utterly shameless. "Daddy, please help me, make me come."
Derek shushed Stiles gently, his free hand rubbing up and down Stiles's spine
soothingly as he worked the plug in different rhythms, sometimes fast and
relentless, sometimes in barely-there pulses. After a little while, though,
Derek finally took pity on Stiles. "Do you think you can do one more thing for
me, brat? Do you think you can come when Daddy tells you to?"
"Yes, yes," Stiles sobbed, fucking back against the plug. "Anything, Daddy,
anything, please just let me come."
"All right then: Come." Derek punctuated his order with a particularly hard
thrust, twisting the plug so it rubbed just right against Stiles's sweet spot.
Stiles came with a shout, completely untouched just like his Daddy had asked
him to. It rocked him to his core and left him shaking, clinging to Derek and
whimpering soft thanks into his neck.
Derek carefully worked Stiles through his orgasm until his brat was shaking
from over-sensitiveness. Then Derek slowly removed the plug. He set it to one
side of the bed before pulling Stiles closer, molding him along Derek's front
as he scooted up the bed so he could lean against the headboard. "Mets won the
championship," he whispered just before pressing a soft kiss to Stiles's
temple. 
For the first time since they'd started this, that phrase didn't bring Stiles
out of the scene. He'd been flirting with subspace all day, but now he was so
deeply immersed that he didn't know how to get out. Instead he simply burrowed
deeper into Derek's hold, seeking that wonderful skin-on-skin contact that
never failed to calm his racing heart, those small, needy sounds still falling
from his lips.
When Stiles didn't respond the way he usually did, Derek pulled Stiles as close
to him as he could, rubbing his back and shoulders soothingly. "Stiles, baby,
we're done with this scene," he murmured. "I know it's hard, brat, but I need
you to focus—can you tell me your safeword? I want you to tell me your
safeword, sweetheart."
Even then, it took Stiles several moments of slowly blinking himself back to
awareness before he could answer. "L-lacrosse," he whispered. "It's lacrosse."
"Good boy," Derek praised, pressing a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "What about
mine? What's Daddy's safeword?"
"Triskele," Stiles answered, this time with only the slightest hesitation.
"Very good. One last question: Who's the president?" 
Stiles, having mostly returned to himself now, smirked. "Teddy Roosevelt?"
Derek rolled his eyes and smacked Stiles lightly on the back of the head.
"Nope, try again."
"Obama, duh," Stiles answered. "I was in subspace, not a coma."
Derek shook his head. "I was just making sure," he chuckled. "How you feeling
now?"
"A little weird," Stiles admitted, sitting up some. "But okay. Do we have
anything sweet?"
Derek nodded. "Yeah, still have some chocolate left over. Got some more today
while I was out getting groceries if you need it." He rummaged through the
drawer in the bedside table and produced a chocolate bar, which he unwrapped
and broke off a piece of to hand to Stiles.
Stiles popped it into his mouth and closed his eyes, savouring the taste as it
melted over his tongue. "Thanks," he breathed when it was gone. "That scene was
really intense."
Derek nodded. "It was," he agreed. "Which means you're going to be feeling the
effects for a while. Here." Derek grabbed some wet wipes and used them to clean
both of them up before chucking the wipes into the small trash can next to the
bedside table and then grabbing a bottle of Gatorade and opening it.
Stiles downed half the Gatorade in one go and then handed the bottle back to
Derek, snuggling into his arms again. "Danny knew," he mumbled, eyes closed.
"He was making fun of me while we were having lunch. Asshole."
Derek shook his head, chuckling slightly as he wrapped his arms around Stiles
again. "He is an asshole," he agreed, resting his cheek against Stiles's. "Did
anyone else notice?"
"I think Scott thought I was stoned," Stiles mused. "But he didn't work it out.
I love the guy, but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."
Derek chuckled. "Sounds like it," he agreed, shifting so that they were laying
flat on the bed. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "What have you told
them about me?"
Stiles hesitated, feeling inexplicably guilty. "I've told Scott that I'm
keeping you company while you housesit," he confessed. "Danny knows the truth,
obviously, but he goes along with it."
Derek digested that. "So to everyone but Danny, I'm just a friend?"
"Yeah," Stiles said slowly. "Is that okay? Did you want me to tell them the
truth?" Dear God, he hoped not. That was not a conversation he ever wanted to
have with Scott, let alone anyone else.
Derek shook his head fervently. "No, of course not. I just thought—Well, it's
kind of hard to believe that Scott could be that oblivious, that he hasn't
asked you if we're fucking or something like that, despite what you've told me
about him. Or that he hasn't asked to meet me or something."
Stiles shrugged. "I think once he gets over the fact that I'm close to someone
other than him, he'll start asking questions," he offered. "He's not possessive
or jealous or whatever, we're just used to being joined at the hip. And it's
definitely not going to occur to him that we might be fucking; he knows I'm
into guys, but he doesn't really think about it, y'know? If you were a girl
it'd be a different story."
Derek nodded understandingly. "It's a problem for later," he decided. "Whenever
Scott finally figures it out."
***
It was a wonder Scott didn't catch on during the next few months—Stiles was
flagrantly abusing the "housesitting" excuse, and the one time Derek openly
wondered how many times Scott had been dropped on his head as a child, Stiles
had pummeled him with a pillow on principle before informing him that Melissa,
Scott's mother, had lost count of the number of times Scott accidentally ran
into walls or doorframes or cabinet doors. Derek had commented that he wasn't
surprised, and then had gone down, laughing, under Stiles's second assault. 
Stiles spent enough time now at Derek's that it felt wrong to come home to his
apartment and not see Stiles's books and bags strewn across the living room,
and sometimes even Stiles himself sprawled across the couch, napping. Sometimes
he came home and Stiles was waiting for him in the spare bedroom, or, on one
memorable occasion when Stiles had been more than slightly buzzed, buck-ass
naked. 
So it wasn't surprising when Derek walked in, carrying the mail, and made an
irritated noise, assuming Stiles was there to complain to. "Rent's due soon,"
he announced.
"Yeah?" Stiles asked, barely glancing over. He was curled up on the couch with
a textbook, highlighter in hand, his bare toes flexing rhythmically against the
soft fabric beneath them. "Same here. Scott told me this morning that he
doesn't care if I'm hardly ever there, I still have to pay my half. Smartass."
Derek raised one eyebrow. "You signed a contract with him, didn't you?" The
word "contract" seemed to stir something at the back of Derek's mind, but when
he didn't immediately recall it, he decided to leave it be; trying to force
whatever it was wouldn't do any good. "Be thankful you've only got to pay
half."
Stiles laughed. "Oh, I am," he said sincerely. "But I do kinda feel like it
should be you I'm going halfsies with. I'm surprised Scott even remembers my
name."
Derek outright laughed at that, dropping onto the other end of the couch to
sort through the rest of the mail. "You do spend an awful lot of time here," he
agreed.
"But you're not complaining, right?" Stiles asked as he slid his feet beneath
Derek's thigh, his eyes bright and playful.
Derek reached over and squeezed Stiles's ankle affectionately. "Of course not."
Stiles grinned, his gaze dropping to the letters in Derek's hands. He'd just
discarded one, and it lay against Stiles' shin in such a way that the header
was clearly visible. Stiles blanched and snatched it up along with the
envelope. It was stamped with a guarantee for next-day delivery. "Holy shit, is
that yesterday's date?" he demanded, waving the letter in Derek's face. "Our
contract's been up for weeks!"
Stiles's words made Derek's heart stop. He grabbed the letter from Stiles's
hand, looking at the date intently. "It is," he agreed weakly. "Holy shit.
We've been—we haven't been under the protection of a contract." He could feel
the blood draining from his face as he got up and started pacing.
Stiles watched, feeling devastated. Why was Derek reacting so strongly? "It's
not that big of a deal, right?" he asked desperately. "The contract's expired
but we didn't realise, so we were still sticking to it. It's not like we did
anything wrong—we just... forgot."
"Contracts are important, Stiles!" Derek snapped. "They're used for a reason."
"Okay, so what do you want me to do?" Stiles snapped back, feeling hurt and
embarrassed. Everything in him told him he shouldn't be talking to Derek like
this, but their contract was up—he wasn't Derek's sub anymore; hadn't been for
a while. "We didn't break the contract, it just ran out and we didn't notice.
We were still playing by those rules! And I can't go back in time and fix it,
so what is the point in freaking out about this?"
"The point is I could have hurt you," Derek said, frustrated. "Dammit, Stiles,
why can't you see that? I could have hurt you!"
"How?" Stiles demanded, pushing his textbook aside so that he could get to his
feet. "How could you have hurt me? You thought we were still under the
contract; you would never have hurt me before our time ran out. So what damage
could our failure to look at a calendar have really done?"
Derek couldn't think right; he was still panicking because he'd unintentionally
put Stiles in the same position Kate had put him in, and he always, always
strived to be everything she hadn't been. "I could have taken advantage of you,
and you would still have thought you were bound to follow my orders under the
contract!"
"Derek!" Against every instinct he had as a submissive, Stiles stepped up and
grabbed Derek by the shoulders, forcing him to stop and listen. "You had
opportunity to take advantage of me, it's true," he conceded. "But you didn't,
and you never would. That's not who you are, okay? And I know that. Look at me.
You are not her."
Derek stared at Stiles, still panicking slightly, for a few long moments before
he finally nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay." He took a deep breath, willing himself
to relax. "Okay. I'm sorry for freaking out."
Stiles sighed and released Derek's shoulders, only to wrap his arms around them
and pull him in close. "It's all right," he said softly. "I get it. Are you
okay?"
Derek's next exhale was more than a little shaky. "Not exactly," he murmured,
wrapping Stiles up in his own embrace, accepting the comfort offered.
"Just—shook me."
Stiles could work that out just from the slight tremble in Derek's voice. He
stroked a hand down Derek's back, and just like that it became apparent that
the carer/cared for roles had been reversed. It was a surprisingly easy mindset
for Stiles to slip into. "Okay, come on," he breathed, gently guiding Derek
over to the sofa without breaking their hold on each other. Once they were
sitting down, he tightened his arms around Derek and began to speak in a low
voice. "I meant what I said. You're not her. You could never hurt me like that,
or any other sub. You're a great Dom, Derek. I wouldn't be here if that wasn't
true."
Derek nodded; Stiles words made sense, but they merely washed over him. He
heard and understood them, but they weren't what was important. What was
important was the fact that Stiles was holding him, was comforting him in a way
that Derek hadn't allowed himself to be in a long time. Stiles was quick to
realise that Derek wasn't really listening, but it didn't really matter. He
kept talking, telling Derek that he was okay; that he was safe; that Stiles was
safe—and more importantly, he didn't let go. They ended up sprawled on the
couch, legs tangled together, Stiles gently carding his fingers through Derek's
hair. He knew all too well how grounding a simple touch like that could be, and
that seemed to be what Derek needed most just then. Stiles was more than
willing to provide it for him.
It took several minutes before Derek was calm again, and even when he was, he
didn't make any move to get away from Stiles. "Thanks," he murmured, from where
his face was pressed into Stiles's chest.
"Anytime," Stiles said fondly, dropping a kiss onto the top of Derek's head. It
was strange, but it definitely felt right, having Derek in his arms, seeking
comfort from him. He just didn't know what that meant.
They stayed like that for a while longer, until Derek's stomach rumbled.
"Dinner?" he suggested, sitting up.
Stiles nodded, getting to his feet. "Unless you want me to go?" he asked
uncertainly. There was no real reason for Derek to want him around now that
their contract was up.
Derek hesitated; their contract was up, there was no reason for Derek to want
to hang out with Stiles, except... Except he liked Stiles. A lot. Not even just
as his sub, but as a person as well. "You don't have to," he said finally. "But
I'd like you to stay."
Stiles smiled, soft and surprised. "Then I'd love to stay."
***
They ended up ordering out for Chinese, and Derek was the one to broach the
subject of renewing their contract. "So," he began, poking at a dumpling with
his chopsticks, "if I were to ask if you wanted to stay with me, what would you
say?"
"Stay with you like what, like spend the night?" Stiles asked, a piece of lemon
chicken halfway to his lips. He dropped it back onto his plate. "I think I'd
say yeah."
Derek shook his head. "No, I mean like—with me. As my sub."
"Oh." Stiles sat up a little straighter at that. "Then I'd say yes. Hell yes.
But that's probably not what you want to hear, is it?"
Derek shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. On the one hand, he
really enjoyed their scenes, but on the other—if Stiles said yes this time,
then Derek knew it would be for the long term, and that thought terrified the
shit out of him.
Stiles' gaze softened. "It's whatever you're comfortable with—you know that,
right?" he asked quietly. "I know I was an asshole at the beginning and pushed
you into this, but I know better now. If you don't want to, that's okay."
Derek sighed. "It's the same problem as when we started—I do want to, and
honestly, that scares me."
"Okay," Stiles said slowly. "Why does it scare you?"
"Because it's new," Derek said simply. "I know we've already been together for
several months, but that was when I thought we'd end this at the end of the
contract. But we didn't, we just kept right on going, and it scares me how well
we work together."
"New doesn't always mean bad," Stiles reasoned. "And you're right. We do work
well together; really well. So what's the worst that could happen?"
"It's not that it's bad because it's new," Derek struggled to explain, "it's
just because it's new—you know I've only been in one other long-term BDSM
relationship, and it didn't go well. Granted, I was the sub there, but it's
still my only other experience. So I know that this will be different, because
I'm not the sub, and I'm not her, but it's still intimidating because it's
unknown. I don't have much experience with this."
Stiles set his food aside and scooted closer until he could lay a hand on
Derek's leg. "I don't have any experience with this," he reminded gently. "But
after what happened with your Domme, you know exactly how not to go about this,
and whatever we don't know, I think we could learn together. If you'd feel more
comfortable writing up another short-term contract and actually keeping an eye
on the date this time, then I understand. Or if you'd rather take that step
with someone who knows what they're doing, or not take it at all, I understand
that, too. At the end of the day, I just want you to feel safe." He squeezed
Derek's thigh, and then stood up. "I think I should go home. Call me, okay?
Whatever you decide, I want us to stay friends."
Derek wanted to disagree, wanted Stiles to stay so they could talk this out—but
that wasn't what they needed. He nodded, instead. "All right. I'll call you,"
he promised.
Stiles gathered his things together quickly and then all but fled Derek's
apartment, needing to get out of there before he lost his resolve, pressed
himself into Derek's arms and begged him not to send him away. By the time he
made it back to the dorm he shared with Scott, he felt miserable, utterly
certain that Derek was going to choose not to extend their contract. All of the
reasons he'd given for being cautious were good ones, really good ones, that
far outweighed any benefit Derek could get from continuing a relationship with
someone like Stiles. And Stiles wasn't bitter about that; he was just sad.
***
Derek didn't call Stiles until the following Thursday; it was a long time to
make Stiles wait, and Derek felt a bit guilty about that, but he wanted to be
absolutely certain about what he was doing. He'd spent every free moment
thinking about their situation, looking at every side, every potential problem,
and every good thing about them. In the end, there was no contest—Derek liked
Stiles, he liked their scenes, and he wanted to continue to play exclusively
with Stiles. He couldn't let what had happened with Kate destroy them. He was
still nervous, yes, but Derek thought that they had a good chance of making a
long term relationship work.
Choice made, Derek picked up his phone and dialed Stiles's number, waiting for
the younger man to pick up. When he did, he spoke right over Stiles's greeting.
"I want you to be my sub," he said in a rush.
Stiles, who was in the middle of a class that was about to start, flushed
bright red and hastily turned the volume down on his phone. "I'm sorry, can you
repeat that?"
"I want you to be my sub," Derek repeated, still slightly breathless; he
really, really hoped that Stiles wasn't about to shoot him down.
Stiles was utterly helpless to stop the grin that lit up his whole face, but he
did manage to keep his voice steady for the benefit of his classmates. "That's
great, Derek. I've gotta go, but I'll come over after class." But the second
half of his last sentence was lost to Derek as Stiles' phone was snatched out
of his hand, and the call ended.
"No cellphones in my class."
Stiles peered sheepishly up at his professor. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen
again."
"You're right," the professor said coldly, and to Stiles' horror, he slipped
the phone into his breast pocket. "You can have this back after class."
Almost everyone in the room by now was trying to stifle their laughter, but
Stiles didn't care. "I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to do that!" he
squawked indignantly at the professor's retreating back. "This isn't
highschool!"
"Then stop acting like a child," the professor called back as he resumed his
position at the front of the room. Stiles only barely resisted the urge to slam
his head down onto his desk.
***
Derek was freaking out. He'd told Stiles he wanted to keep their relationship
going—but Stiles hadn't seemed too enthusiastic about that. He tried calling
again, but when the call went to voicemail, he remembered Stiles had a class
now. 
Then he tried again, when he was certain Stiles was out of class, and this time
the call didn't even ring; it went straight to voicemail. Either Stiles was
avoiding him, or his phone was dead. But Stiles was usually good about keeping
his phone charged. By the time there was a knock on his door, Derek was ready
to just give up and pretend none of the past few months ever happened. 
He opened the door and blinked at Stiles in surprise. "Can I help you?"
Stiles was a little taken aback at the coolness of Derek's tone, but he didn't
let it deter him. "I hope so," he grinned. "You said something about wanting me
to be your sub?"
"I did," Derek said, but he didn't make any move to let Stiles in. "Is that
something you're interested in, now?"
Stiles' face fell. "What?" he asked. "Of course. Didn't you hear me last week?
I'm pretty sure I made my feelings clear."
"I'd say you made them pretty clear earlier," Derek said, crossing his arms.
"You sounded pretty disinterested, and then you hung up on me. Then you didn't
answer any of my other calls. Sends a pretty clear message, don't you think?"
"What other calls?" Stiles demanded, digging in his pocket for his phone. He
pressed a button to light the screen up and prove to Derek that he had no
missed calls, and immediately realised the problem. Oh shit. "The bastard
turned it off! Look, Derek, I sounded disinterested because I was in class and
I didn't want to draw attention to myself, but I said that it was great and
that I'd come over after I was done—or at least I tried to, before my professor
snatched and fucking confiscated my phone. I swear to God, I wasn't trying to
blow you off. I'm seriously, like, ecstatic that you want me to be your sub."
Derek studied Stiles intently. He didn't seem like he was lying... "You really
got your phone confiscated?"
"Yes, I did," Stiles said, with as much dignity as he could manage. "I was
furious, said that I wasn't a highschooler, and he just told me to stop acting
like one. The guy's a headcase. Derek, I'm so sorry."
Derek nodded. "Okay then." He stepped to the side, letting Stiles in.
Stiles let out a relieved breath and walked into the apartment, turning to face
Derek when he heard the door close. He felt kind of giddy, but with nerves or
excitement he didn't know. "I guess we should talk, huh?"
Derek nodded. "Yes, we should." He hesitated, then, unsure of how to start.
After a moment, he took a deep breath and decided to get his most worrying
topic out of the way. "I want this to be long term."
"Okay," Stiles said, nodding. "So do I."
Derek nodded, smiling softly. "Okay, then. I figured the rest would still be
the same?"
"Works for me." Stiles returned Derek's smile. "Daddy."
***
Derek drew up another contract and after going over it with Stiles, they both
signed it. They would review the contract every six months for as long as they
were together, but there was no end date. 
 A month and a half into the renewal, Scott finally said, "I want to meet
Derek," while he, Stiles, and Danny were at their weekly lunch. 
Stiles had definitely seen this coming a mile off, but he still choked on
his chocolate cake when the words finally came out of Scott's mouth. "You wanna
what?" he spluttered, his gaze nervously flickering to Danny. "Why?"
Scott looked at Stiles incredulously while Danny just paid his cake very close
attention. "Because you're over with him all the time. I want to meet the guy."
"Aw, Scott," Stiles cooed, reaching over the table to squeeze his cheek. "Do
you miss me, buddy? All you had to do was say."
Scott smacked Stiles's hand away. "That too," he admitted, "but mostly it's
that we know nothing about him."
Once again Stiles' gaze landed on Danny, but he was stubbornly keeping
quiet. Stiles couldn't decide whether that made him a traitor or the best
friend he'd ever had in that moment. "You know plenty about him," he argued
weakly. "You know his name, and that he housesits every weekend, and that he's
older than us. You have friends that I don't know anything about, but you don't
see me demanding that you bring them home to meet the roommate."
"I also don't spend as much time with any one of them as you do with this Derek
person," Scott countered.
Stiles knew he was cornered. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" he
asked.
Scott knew it, too. "Nope," he said, grinning.
Stiles sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll ask him, but that's all I'm going to do.
He's very... private."
Scott reached over and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. "That's all I'm asking,
buddy."
***
Derek merely raised one eyebrow when Stiles asked him. "About time," he
commented. "Do you want me to meet him?"
Stiles shrugged. "It's up to you. If you want to meet him, you can, and if not
I'll just say you have social anxiety or something. But if you want to, we need
to talk about what to tell him."
"I want to," Derek assured Stiles, taking his hand. "We're together, now. Scott
deserves the chance to give the best friend speech."
Stiles looked down at their hands, his own so pale in comparison to Derek's,
and felt his heart skip. "Is that what you want us to say?" he asked softly.
"That you're my boyfriend?"
Derek instinctively flinched from the word as it echoed in his ears, spoken by
a voice both sweeter and crueler than Stiles's. "Not that word," he said,
looking at Stiles pleadingly. "Another one. Partner."
Stiles' eyes widened briefly in understanding, and he nodded, swallowing.
"Okay. Partner," he agreed. The word sounded a lot more serious than
'boyfriend', a lot more like 'forever', and he knew that Scott would
have plenty of questions, but it didn't matter. The main thing was that Derek
felt comfortable; Stiles could deal with Scott.
Derek smiled gratefully at Stiles, squeezing his hand gently. "Thank you. When
do you want to meet?"
Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "What about this time next week?" he suggested.
"You could swing by the café after class and grab a slice of cake with us? That
way we have an excuse to leave if things get awkward."
Derek nodded. "Yeah, that works for me," he said, smiling. 
***
The next week passed impossibly quickly, until all of a sudden it was Friday
again and Stiles found himself sitting with Danny and Scott at their usual
table, halfway through a slice of chocolate cake. Derek wasn't there yet, but
that was okay; he had a class at the time the group normally met for lunch, so
he was going to swing by soon to pick Stiles up and say hi to Scott while he
was at it. The plan was for it to be a flying visit, only long enough for Derek
to consume his own slice of cake, but it was open to them staying longer if
Scott and Danny behaved themselves. At this point, Stiles didn't think they
were going to. Scott had been trying to quiz him since they'd sat down, and
Danny just kept sending them both looks that said he was highly amused by the
whole situation. Stiles kind of hated them both.
Derek took a deep breath before stepping through the doors, heading straight
for Stiles's table. He leaned down and kissed Stiles on the cheek before
sitting down in the open chair next to Stiles. "Hey," he said, offering Danny
and Scott a smile. "I'm Derek."
Scott stared at Derek in amazement. "This is Derek?" he demanded, looking at
Stiles incredulously. Pieces were beginning to fall into place.
"Yeah," Stiles said slowly, eyebrows raised. "This is Derek. And you promised
to be nice."
"Hey, Derek," Danny said, grinning. He held up a hand with three fingers,
ticking them down until—
"You've been sleeping with him?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "Yes, Stiles and I have been sleeping together." He
offered the waitress an apologetic smile before requesting a slice of chocolate
cake.
Stiles stared at Scott. "How did you get that from one look at him?" he
demanded. "Also, could you raise your voice a little? I'm pretty sure they
didn't hear you in Europe."
Scott looked sheepish. "Allison tried to tell me," he muttered. "I didn't
believe her, but then Derek kissed you."
Stiles flushed. He hadn't even noticed; he was just so used to the easy give
and take of affection between him and Derek. "Well, Allison was right. We're
together."
Derek mused that Scott looked rather like a fish, with the way his mouth kept
opening and closing. Danny just laughed. "Glad you two are sticking it out," he
said, clapping Derek on the shoulder. 
Stiles gave Danny a genuine smile. "Yeah, me too."
Derek smiled again and laid his arm across the back of Stiles's chair. "So,"
Scott began, "how long has Derek been your boyfriend?"
Derek stiffened, his hand clenching on the back of Stiles's chair. "Partners,"
he corrected through gritted teeth, concentrating on keeping his breathing
even. 
Scott looked between Derek and Stiles, frowning in confusion. "What?"
"We're partners," Stiles said firmly, squeezing Derek's knee under the table.
"Not—anything else. Partners."
Scott opened his mouth to question further, but yelped instead when Danny
kicked his shin and glared at Scott until he shut his mouth. 
Derek turned his attention to the cake the waitress brought, digging his fork
in; he wasn't going to waste any of Giorgio's cake. After a few minutes, Scott
mumbled an apology, and Derek nodded in acknowledgment. He and Stiles stayed
only long enough for them both to finish their cake before making their excuses
and leaving. 
Once they were in the Camaro, Derek just sat in the driver's seat, his fingers
flexing against the steering wheel. "That was relatively painless."
"That's why you're so tense," Stiles quipped, but he was smiling. "Come on,
Daddy. Take me home."
The name seemed to relax some of the tension, enough so that Derek could turn
the key and quip, "Why? You going to help Daddy relax, brat?"
Stiles's eyes glinted. "I wouldn't be a very good boy if I didn't, would I?"
***
Derek had a few more encounters with Scott, but they were easier to get through
with each one. He and Stiles were still spending a lot of time with each other,
to the point where Derek was considering asking Stiles to move in with him when
the lease on Stiles and Scott's apartment was up. 
Thoughts like those were far from his mind at the moment; he and Stiles were in
the spare bedroom, and Derek had given Stiles permission to touch and explore
Derek's body to his heart's content, and he was taking full advantage of that.
"Fuck," Derek breathed, his stomach clenching and his hands fisting in the
sheets. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, brat?" He knew Stiles was;
they'd recently begun employing the traffic system when they'd started
experimenting a bit more in the bedroom, and the last check-in had been all
green. 
"Any chance to touch you, Daddy," Stiles breathed, smirking. He was currently
in between Derek's legs, mapping out the inside of his thigh with lips and
gentle teeth. He was working his way higher, towards those delicious abs that
he was just dying to taste, and when he finally reached them of course he gave
into the urge, slipping his tongue out to give Derek's stomach a long, slow
lick.
Derek's arousal fled like rats from a sinking ship. "Red, red, red," he gasped,
scrambling backwards, away from her—no, Stiles, he was with Stiles—and trying
to keep his breathing under control. He wasn't have much luck.
Stiles backed off immediately, acutely aware of Derek's distress but completely
clueless as to what had caused it. "Okay, okay," he soothed from his new
position at the foot of the bed, hands raised to show that he wasn't a threat;
that he wasn't going to touch Derek without permission. "You're okay. Derek.
What's your safeword?"
Derek sucked in a breath. "Triskele, it's triskele," he answered, his heartbeat
starting to calm. He took a few more breaths before consciously relaxing his
muscles. "I'm sorry, it just—She did that. A lot."
"It's okay," Stiles promised, once again slipping into the role of caretaker
with ease. "I won't do it again. Can I come hold you?"
Derek swallowed and nodded, easily adjusting himself so that they were laying
on their sides, Derek wrapped in Stiles's arms. "Thanks," he murmured. "I know
you're not her, it's just... hard to separate, sometimes."
Stiles threaded one hand up into Derek's hair, gently massaging his scalp. "You
don't have to thank me," he said softly. "It's my job to take care of you,
too." He sighed, wondering how hard he should push. "Do you want to talk about
it?"
Derek was quiet for a moment. "It's been a long time," he said uncertainly. "I
haven't talked about it with anyone, really."
"It might help," Stiles suggested tentatively. "But if you don't want to, it's
okay."
Derek worried his lower lip. "Her name was Kate," he said quietly. "She... We
started when I was sixteen. I didn't know anything about BDSM, and at first, we
mostly did really light stuff. But she was always pushing."
"She didn't respect your limits," Stiles surmised, now sweeping a hand slowly
up and down Derek's back.
Derek nodded. "And... she punished me, for safewording," he added quietly. "Not
like when I punish you—She would punish."
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. "That's so wrong," he breathed, horrified.
"Derek, I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine..."
"Don't," Derek said sharply, looking up and meeting Stiles's gaze. "It
happened, it sucked, I know. But it's over."
"You're right," Stiles murmured. "It is. But that clearly doesn't mean you're
over it. If there's ever anything I can do to help, just say the word."
Derek smiled gratefully. "Thanks," he murmured. He was quiet for a few minutes
before whispering, "Sometimes I miss it. The submission. Not the way she made
it, but in the very beginning."
"Yeah?" Stiles asked quietly, gently prompting Derek if he wanted to be
prompted. He couldn't just assume here, or push too hard; it would be too like
what Kate had done.
Derek nodded. "It was... nice. To have someone else in control, to not have to
be in charge of myself, after everything."
Okay, so maybe Stiles could push just a little. "After what everything?"
Derek tensed slightly. "My family died," he said shortly. "Gas leak. Me and
Evan were the only ones not home at the time. I'd taken him to Little League
practice; I'd just gotten my driver's license, wanted to be a little
independent."
"Shit," Stiles hissed, clutching Derek closer. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I know
what it's like to lose a parent, but everyone..." He cut himself off. Derek
didn't need to hear that. "Do you still see your brother?"
Derek moved closer to Stiles, holding onto him just as much as Stiles was
holding him. "No. Foster care separated us. The family could only take one, and
they chose him. I don't know where he is," he admitted, his voice catching,
tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 
Stiles felt his throat catch, and leaned in to press his lips to Derek's
forehead. "You'll find him," he whispered. "I bet he's looking for you, too,
and you'll find each other."
"Maybe," Derek murmured. He didn't hold out much hope—the foster system was a
bitch to try to crack.
You can't give up, Stiles wanted to protest, he's your family, but that wasn't
what they needed to talk about right now; the loss of his brother wasn't what
had caused Derek to safeword. "So," he pressed carefully. "How soon after did
you meet Kate?"
"Three months," Derek answered, his voice soft. "I got relocated up here, and
started hanging with an older crowd. They took me to this club—not the one I
met you at. She was older, and just... She seemed like she cared for me."
"Was she your first?" Stiles asked, dreading the answer.
Derek just nodded mutely. "I'd fooled around a bit, before, but she was the
first I went all the way with," he elaborated.
Stiles closed his eyes. Derek's introduction to BDSM had also been his
introduction to sex, and that was just... incomprehensible. Kate had taken away
all of his choices.
Derek looked at Stiles worriedly. "Stiles?" he asked; the younger man's silence
was worrying him.
Stiles gave Derek a soft smile. "I just can't believe she did that to you," he
murmured. "You were young and vulnerable and you needed someone you could
trust, and she totally took advantage of that. How did you get away from her?"
Derek flushed, slightly embarrassed. "Danny," he confessed. "We met at a class
my sophomore year, and after we became friends, Kate... got really possessive.
Pushed me harder than ever. I finally told Danny, and he knew some people. Got
Kate banned from clubs, and helped me get a restraining order."
Stiles nodded, processing this. "He's a good friend," he said at last. "And you
did the right thing, getting help."
"He is," Derek agreed. "He's a really good friend."
"I'm so glad you got away," Stiles breathed, a fierce protectiveness rising up
within him. "I could kill her for what she put you through."
Derek shook his head, pulling back to look Stiles in the eye. "Don't," he said
firmly. "It's over, she's gone. It's not going to help anything if you think
like that."
"I'm not going to kill her," Stiles said, pulling Derek back into him. "I
just..." He sighed. "I wish I could make it better."
"You do," Derek vowed fervently. "You make it so much better—I trust you, more
than I've trusted anyone since her. I didn't think that would happen."
Stiles couldn't even hope to express how much those words meant to him, so he
just pulled Derek in for a kiss.
Under normal circumstances, Derek would have reprimanded Stiles for kissing him
without permission. Under these circumstances, he just went with it. 
And if his knees got a little weak and his heart stuttered, well, he'd just
bared his soul. It was to be expected. 
***
Over the next week, Derek couldn't shake the thought of submitting to Stiles—it
scared him, yes, but mostly it really turned him on. He wanted to submit to
Stiles, wanted to experience what it would be like to submit to someone he
fully trusted, that he knew would never hurt him. 
It took another week before he could bring himself to broach the subject, and
when he did, he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest, it was
thundering so hard. 
Stiles had been sitting on the couch, flicking through channels on Derek's
television, when Derek kneeled on the couch before swinging one leg over
Stiles's lap to straddle him. "Stiles?" he asked hesitantly, waiting to see his
partner's reaction.
This wasn't something that had ever happened before, Derek putting himself in
this position, but Stiles rolled with it as best he could. Derek had called him
by his name, so this wasn't a scene. Okay then. Stiles smiled and slid his
hands up Derek's thighs, the touch intimate but not necessarily sexual. "Yes,
Derek?"
Derek took a deep breath; now or never. "I've been thinking," he started, but
then he faltered. He couldn't look Stiles in the eye, so he focused somewhere
around his collarbone. "I want to submit to you," he said in a rush, and then
held his breath.
Stiles did too, not sure that he'd heard correctly. Had Derek really said that,
or was this just some cruel fantasy? Never in his wildest dreams had he dared
to imagine this happening, but there was a first time for everything, he
supposed. "You want to what?"
Derek flushed and barely managed to keep himself from squirming. "I want to
submit. I miss it, and I thought—"
"Hey, hey," Stiles interrupted, giving Derek's thighs a gentle squeeze. "Calm
down. It's okay. I'm not gonna say no; I just need to know that you're sure."
Derek took a deep breath before nodding. "I am. I've been thinking about it a
lot, and—I meant it, when I said I trusted you. I want to try, at least."
Jesus Christ. "Yeah, yeah, okay," Stiles murmured, giving Derek an encouraging
smile. "We can try."
Derek looked up finally, and a small smile crept across his face at what he saw
in Stiles's. "Thanks," he murmured. "Not... Not right now, but soon, maybe?"
"Maybe," Stiles agreed, bringing a hand up to cup Derek's face. "When you can
look me in the eye and ask for what you want; that's when we'll do it."
Derek shivered delicately, but it was in a good way; he'd forgotten what it was
like, to have a gentle order given to him and for him to want to obey it.
"Okay," he agreed, leaning into Stiles's touch just a little. He appreciated
that Stiles was letting him set the terms, letting him control some aspects of
it.
Stiles could read all of that on Derek's face, and he thought he could take it
just a little further. If they were going to even entertain the idea of doing
this, it was important that Derek feel comfortable, like he was safe. "Good
boy," he whispered.
Derek's gaze snapped to Stiles's face in surprise. He'd never really been
praised much before, even when Kate was still bothering to keep up her little
pretense, and he was more than a little shocked at how strongly it affected
him; his hips jerked instinctively, and he whined, softly, pleased. He wanted
to hear that again.
Stiles stroked a gentle hand through Derek's hair, soothing him. "Soon," he
promised. "When you're ready."
***
"Soon" turned into two weeks later, when he and Stiles had the weekend to
themselves, and he'd thought a lot about how he wanted to start it off. Derek
waited until Stiles was on the couch again before he approached him.
He'd stripped off his shirt, and he kneeled down in front of Stiles,
tentatively resting his hands on Stiles's knees. He took a deep breath before
looking up to Stiles, making sure to hold eye contact as he said, "I want to
submit, Sir."
Stiles had been waiting for this, but as he met Derek's gaze and let his words
wash over him, he realised that he wasn't as ready as he'd thought. Still,
everyone had to start somewhere, and he was never going to be completely ready
until they'd tried this for the first time. He collected himself quickly and
smiled down at Derek, his fingers making their way into his dark hair. "Good
boy," he praised. "Shall we take this into the spare bedroom?"
Derek nodded, leaning into Stiles's touch. "Please?"
Stiles nodded, encouraging. "Go on," he murmured. "Go and get ready. I'll
follow you in a minute."
Derek hesitated. "How ready?" he asked, still on his knees.
"As ready as you feel comfortable with," Stiles answered. "Take your time, and
don't push yourself. I'll be happy with whatever you decide."
Derek nodded and got to his feet, walking down the hall with even, measured
steps. His heart was still going just a bit too fast for comfort, but he felt
freer than he had in a long time, already settling into submission. He
hesitated, debating, once he was in the spare bedroom, before he decided to
just take his pants off, leaving his boxers on. He kneeled by the bed once he
was done, and waited.
Stiles gave them both a few minutes to gather their thoughts and centre
themselves before heading into the spare room. What he saw there made his
breath catch in his throat. It was a simple picture, Derek kneeling beside the
bed in nothing but his underwear, but Goddamn, it was beautiful. Derek was
beautiful. Stiles crossed the room and sat down on the bed, resting a hand on
Derek's shoulder. "Look at you," he breathed, hushed and reverent. "You're so
gorgeous, Derek. How are you doing?"
"Little nervous," Derek admitted, but there was a small smile playing around
his mouth. He might have a little bit of a praise kink.
Stiles nodded in understanding and gestured for Derek to get up and sit beside
him. "I want us to use the traffic light system," he said calmly. "As well as
our safewords. And we need to talk about limits."
Derek nodded, sitting next to Stiles with an odd sense of deja vu. "Okay," he
started. "My safeword is still triskele."
"And mine's lacrosse," Stiles confirmed. "Do you actually want to do a scene
today, or do you want to just talk?"
Derek thought it over. "I want to try," he said finally. "Just... take it slow.
But I don't want to just talk."
Stiles nodded, perfectly okay with that. "But we do need to talk first," he
reminded gently. "Have you thought about what you want? What you don't want?"
Derek nodded. "No punishment things—spanking, cock rings, things like that. I'm
not ready for any fucking, but... I would like you to play with my ass a
little."
Stiles smiled, secretly thrilled at the idea. "Okay, I can do that," he agreed.
"Do you want to be tied up, or blindfolded, or do you just want me to touch
you?"
Derek shook his head quickly. "No. Just touching."
"All right," Stiles said, leaning in to give Derek a soft kiss. "I want you to
take your underwear off and lie on the bed, on your front or on your back,
whichever's best for you."
Derek nodded, breathing deeply as he reached for the waistband of his boxers,
tugging them off before scooting back on the bed, laying on his back. He
trusted Stiles, but he needed to keep Stiles in his line of sight. "Is this
okay, Sir?" he asked hesitantly, looking to Stiles for instruction.
"That's perfect, babe," Stiles told him, twisting to kneel on the edge of the
bed. Derek wasn't hard yet, but Stiles thought he saw him twitch under the
praise. Interesting. He smiled and reached into the bedside drawer for the
lube. "What colour?"
"Green," Derek answered, watching Stiles intently. He could feel the arousal
starting to hum under his skin, and he let himself relax, trusting Stiles to
take care of him.
Pleased, Stiles moved until he was between Derek's legs, encouraging him with a
gentle touch to his thigh to spread them. "I want you to keep your hands to
yourself," he instructed, even as he slid his own hands over Derek's chest.
"But you can make as much noise as you want. Okay?"
Derek nodded, relaxing back into the bed. His fingers twitched, but he kept
from moving his hands by grabbing two fistfuls of the sheets and waiting for
what Stiles would do next.
Stiles took his time, letting his hands roam over Derek's skin, tweaking his
nipples and caressing his abs until he was panting and flushed with arousal.
Stiles wanted Derek completely relaxed, listening to the demands of his body
rather than the fear in his head, and it looked like it was working. "How're
you doing?" he asked at last, hands now resting lightly on Derek's waist. "You
ready for me to move on?"
Derek nodded. "Still green," he reassured Stiles, slightly breathless, but it
was a good breathless.
Stiles grinned. "Good boy," he breathed, even as he uncapped the lube and
spread some over his fingers. "God, you're so good for me." He dropped his hand
between Derek's thighs and slid it back until he could rub the tip of a finger
over his hole, only just pressing inside.
Derek whined, his hips rocking back on Stiles's finger. He'd had one boyfriend,
back in high school, and they'd fooled around a little, and Derek's favorite
part had always been when he'd finger Derek. They broke up before they got past
that, and Kate had never had any interest in actually putting anything inside
his ass. He was grateful for that; it meant he could fully enjoy having
Stiles's fingers in his ass. 
"Shhh, I gotcha," Stiles murmured, rubbing Derek's hip with his free hand. "Try
and stay still for me, okay? We need to take this slow." Even as he said this,
he decided to oblige Derek, carefully working a finger into him.
Derek nodded, the breathy gasps and moans falling from his lips without his
consent. He wanted to beg Stiles to go faster, but he hadn't said Derek could
speak aside from lights and his safeword, so all Derek could do was whine and
rock against Stiles's hand, begging without words.
Stiles huffed, torn between amused and exasperated. "I told you to stay still,
remember?" he chided, tightening his hold on Derek's hip.
Derek whimpered, but when Stiles's hold tightened, so did his muscles.
"Yellow," he whined, not moving for fear of being reprimanded again.
Stiles immediately loosened his grip, at the same time as he crooked his finger
and began his search for Derek's prostate. "Easy, easy," he soothed. "You
okay?"
Derek took a deep breath, reminding himself firmly that he was safe, he was
with Stiles, Stiles wouldn't punish him. After a moment, he nodded,
concentrating on making himself relax.
"Talk to me," Stiles coaxed. "Give me a colour."
Derek hesitated, but he wasn't quite relaxed enough for 'green.' "Still yellow,
Sir," he whispered.
"Okay." Stiles stilled his finger inside Derek and began to withdraw. "What do
we need to do to get you back to green?"
Derek shook his head. "Don't stop," he begged. "Just—keep going. Please."
Part of Stiles was aching to obey, but the rest of him slammed the brakes on.
"Not if you're not on board," he said firmly. "I need you to be into this,
too."
"I am," Derek reassured Stiles, and it was true; he was still hard, and he
still wanted Stiles's fingers in him, wanted to feel him opening Derek up.
"Please," he added, his voice soft as he looked at Stiles pleadingly.
Stiles took a moment to war with himself, and then made up his mind. "Okay," he
sighed, "okay. Good boy." He dripped more lube down onto his fingers and
returned to Derek's ass with two, carefully working them inside before resuming
his search for the spot that would hopefully help Derek to relax.
Derek took a deep breath and leaned back, letting his eyes close as he focused
only on the feeling of Stiles's finger in him. His eyes flew open when Stiles's
finger scraped over his prostate. "There," he gasped, barely able to keep his
hips still. "Right there, Sir, please, do it again."
Stiles grinned and obliged, rubbing the pad of his finger over Derek's prostate
again and again.
Derek moaned, fighting to keep himself still under the onslaught of pleasure—he
hadn't feel like this in years. He could feel Stiles taking him apart, piece by
piece, and it was wonderful, great, the best thing he'd ever felt—
Until it wasn't.
Until he felt like he was completely losing control, like he couldn't take that
control back. He was frozen, terrified, and he wanted to safeword, but he
couldn't, he'd be punished, of course he would, he wasn't allowed to
safeword—But that had been when he was with Kate, and he wasn't with her, not
anymore, he hadn't been with her for years. He was with Stiles, and Stiles
would let him safeword. After that, he couldn't hold it back.
"Red, red, red," he whined, scrambling backwards and ignoring the sting of
Stiles's hastily-removed finger. "Fuck, triskele, triskele."
Stiles flew to the other end of the bed, making sure that no part of him was
touching Derek. "Okay, it's okay," he said hastily. "You're okay. It's over.
Breathe."
Derek followed Stiles's instruction, breathing deeply for a few minutes before
he felt in-control again. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his
face.
"No," Stiles said firmly. "Do not apologise. You did really well, and it's okay
that you had to stop." In the minutes that Derek had taken to collect himself,
Stiles had washed his hands and put away the lube so that the only traces of
what they'd been doing left were between Derek's thighs. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Derek admitted, watching Stiles move around the room. He was still a
bit shaky, but he wasn't quite sure about the cause. "I just—felt like I was
getting too overwhelmed, too fast. Losing control."
"That's okay," Stiles repeated calmly, coming to stand beside the bed. "Can I
hold you?"
Derek nodded. "Please," he murmured, going willingly into Stiles's arms.
Stiles held him close, reaching back after a minute or two to snag a bottle of
water from Derek's stock. "Here," he murmured, uncapping the bottle and
offering it to Derek.
Derek took it gratefully, sipping slowly. It gave him something to focus on,
and Stiles's arms around him grounded him. "Thanks," he said when he was done,
handing the bottle back to Stiles.
"No problem." Stiles put the bottle on the nightstand and replaced his arm
around Derek, idly stroking his hip with slow swipes of his thumb. "When you
feel ready, I'll clean you up, all right? And then we can talk, if you want
to."
Derek nodded; that lube was going to get really annoying really fast. Still, it
was a while before he was willing to let Stiles further away from him than
absolutely necessary. After Stiles was done cleaning him and was back on the
bed, Derek sighed. "Guess I've got more issues about control than I thought."
Stiles nodded in agreement, stroking Derek's hair. "I get it, though," he
murmured. "It's completely understandable. Just means we have some stuff to
work through—if you still want to."
Derek thought it over for a moment before he said anything. Yes, he'd been
fucking terrified at the thought of losing control, but he'd also been been
enjoying himself before then, and he wanted to know what it felt like to truly
submit to Stiles. "I want to," he admitted. "Maybe not for a while, but I do
want to try again."
Stiles kissed Derek's temple. "When you're ready," he promised softly. "Only
when you're ready."
***
Two weeks later, Derek still wasn't ready. Not that Stiles minded, he would
never push Derek to do something he didn't want to and he liked their regular
set-up just fine, but since the first—and admittedly disastrous—time Derek had
tried submitting to Stiles, something had changed. The fear of losing the
control he'd clung onto so fiercely all these years had really shaken Derek,
and seemed to have resulted in him tightening his control on everything
else—including Stiles.
It wasn't like Derek was abusive. He still respected Stiles' limits, and took
care of him after scenes, and listened to him when he gave a colour or
expressed a concern or said no—but everything had become very intense very
fast, and Stiles felt like he was standing on unstable ground. Before they'd
tried switching things up, they'd managed to develop an easy friendship and a
closeness that was almost completely removed from their play, but that wasn't
the case now. Yesterday, Derek had paddled Stiles for almost an hour because
he'd tried to go in for a kiss without permission while they were fixing
breakfast. The day before, he'd been reprimanded for using Derek's name, once
again outside of a scene. Everything that was happening between them was still
consensual, and Stiles enjoyed it, but he still felt like something had to
give. He felt stifled, like he hadn't signed up for such an intensive
experience, and he understood what Derek was doing, but it just couldn't
continue. So he decided to confront him.
"Daddy?" Stiles asked tentatively, avoiding eye contact like he was supposed
to. Derek had just come into the living room after taking a shower, his hair
damp and his feet bare, and he looked equal parts adorable and unbelievably
sexy. Stiles kind of wanted to curl up with him on the sofa and just watch some
TV, but that was another thing that wasn't happening lately. He sighed, his
resolve strengthening. "Can I talk to you about something?"
Derek glanced over at Stiles, nodding before he settled on the couch, ignoring
the remote on the arm. "Sure, brat," he said easily, patting the cushion beside
him. "What's on your mind?"
Stiles stared at his lap, not sure what to say now that he had Derek's
attention. "Things have been different lately," he said at last, slow and
careful. "And I'm not comfortable with it."
Derek nodded slowly; he knew he'd been acting differently than usual, but he
hadn't been able to stop himself. "Okay," he said, careful to make sure he
didn't seem anything but open and non-confrontational. "What, exactly, is
different?" He needed to know so that he could work on adjusting his behavior.
Stiles sighed again. "I feel like we're never not in a scene," he confessed. "I
can't call you anything but Daddy and you get mad when I try to act familiar
with you. We don't ever just relax as ourselves, as friends—we're always Dom
and sub, and I know being a sub is about letting go and giving up control, but
when it's all day every day I'm here, it's exhausting. You're—It's like you're
smothering me."
Derek was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I hadn't
realized I was being that demanding. I don't mean to smother you, I've
just—what happened, it scared the hell out of me. But that's not an excuse."
"I understand," Stiles said softly, peeking over at Derek. "I really do. If you
never want to try submitting to me again, then that's okay, but I can't keep
doing this. Please don't make me keep doing this."
Derek reached over to take Stiles's hand. "I won't," he promised. "I want you
to feel comfortable and safe—and I'm sorry that I haven't made you feel that
way these past weeks."
"It's okay." Stiles squeezed Derek's hand and shuffled a little closer to him,
wanting to go into his arms but not sure if that was allowed. "I just missed
you."
Derek tugged on Stiles hand, looking at him questioningly, his other arm open
in invitation. "I missed you, too." He hadn't realized how true those words
were until just now.
Stiles went willingly, the tightness in his chest that he hadn't even noticed
loosening as soon as Derek's arms came around him. Whether it was because
things were no longer tense between him and his Dom, or because he was being
allowed to be close to Derek again, he didn't know—he just knew that he
couldn't bear it if Derek let go.
Derek rubbed Stiles's back soothingly, pulling the younger man as close to him
as possible. "Thank you," he murmured. "For talking to me."
"Thank you for listening," Stiles whispered, and closed his eyes.
***
Derek and Stiles settled back into their previous rhythm easily, and Derek was
happy about most of it. The only thing he wasn't happy about was the fact that
he and Stiles hadn't tried Derek submitting in a scene since they'd talked.
Derek was determined to change that—Stiles deserved the chance to see what it
was like to be the Dom. 
When Stiles came to the apartment after class, Derek was waiting for him in the
living room. He was kneeling beside the couch, and he looked up at Stiles,
careful to keep his expression calm. "I want to try again, Sir."
Just like the first time, Stiles was momentarily struck dumb, but he pulled
himself together quickly and slipped into the role that Derek needed him to
take with ease. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, holding Derek's gaze.
Derek nodded. "Positive."
Stiles smiled. "Okay. You know what to do."
Derek nodded, getting to his feet and walking down the hall to the spare
bedroom. Unlike the first time, he stripped completely, and then waited,
kneeling, with his eyes downcast, for Stiles.
Stiles followed a few minutes later, and was honestly surprised by what he
saw—but he was pleased. "Good boy," he praised, sitting down on the bed. "Come
sit with me, tell me what you want."
Derek lifted himself to the bed, sitting close to Sir but not touching him. "I
want the same as last time—I want you to finger me, and then fuck me."
Stiles blinked. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked incredulously. "Are you
sure?"
Derek nodded. "Yes," he said firmly.
Stiles let out a slow breath. "Okay. Lie down: hands to yourself, stay as still
as you can, make all the noise you want."
Derek nodded obediently before scooting back on the bed so that he could lay
down a bit more comfortably. He kept his hands resting by his sides and looked
up at the ceiling, tracking Sir's movement out of the corner of his eye.
Stiles was quick to grab the lube and get situated between Derek's legs. Just
like last time, he spent a good while teasing Derek until he was hard and
flushed with arousal. This time was a little different, though. While his body
was clearly begging for what he'd asked for at the start, his eyes were...
distant. Disengaged, somehow. Was this what Stiles looked like when he was in
subspace? "Derek," Stiles murmured, and then again a little louder, calling him
back. "You need to give me a colour before we go any further."
Derek blinked once, slowly. "Green," he answered, spreading his legs further.
He'd felt everything Sir did to him, but it also felt like it was happening to
someone else. 
Reassured, Stiles nodded and slicked up his fingers. He circled one of them
against Derek's entrance before pressing it into him, carefully watching his
face for any sign of discomfort.
Derek's mouth twitched in mild discomfort at the slight burn and stretch, but
he quickly schooled his expression back into that detached expression he'd
affected before, concentrating on breathing deeply and relaxing his muscles. 
And so it continued. Stiles took his time opening Derek up, keeping a close eye
on his reactions. They were few and far between, but every time Stiles asked,
Derek gave the colour green, insisting that he was okay and that he wanted to
keep going. Something about the lack of light in Derek's eyes was making Stiles
uncomfortable, but Derek wasn't asking him to stop, so he supposed that it was
normal. Subspace was like going to another place, right? So it made sense that
Derek would look like he wasn't really in the room with him. At least, that was
what Stiles kept telling himself.
When Derek was finally ready, Stiles hopped off the bed to get undressed and
grab a condom. When he returned, that awkward uncertainty still squirming in
his gut, he decided to ask once again. "Hey, babe. You still with me?"
Derek startled when Sir spoke; he hadn't even realized Sir had left the bed.
"W—What? I mean—yes, yes Sir."
Alarm bells instantly started ringing in Stiles' head. "Give me a colour," he
instructed, praying that Derek would be honest.
For the first time, Derek hesitated at the sound of Sir's voice. "Green," he
answered finally.
Unlike Derek, Stiles didn't need to hesitate. "Lacrosse."
Derek blinked at Sir—no, Stiles. He wanted to protest, but safewords were not
to be questioned. He carefully sat up, watching Stiles warily. "Stiles?"
"Derek." Stiles sighed, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "You don't want
this."
"What? No, I do," Derek protested.
"No, you don't," Stiles told him. "I don't know why you're acting like you do,
but you don't, and I'm a dick for not seeing it sooner." He met and held
Derek's gaze, leaving him nowhere to hide. "Derek, what are you doing?"
"Submitting," Derek answered, but it was hesitant, confused.
Stiles' stomach dropped. "No," he murmured, taking Derek's hand. "Submitting
like that isn't what I want from you. You didn't like it, Derek; you weren't
enjoying it. And if it's not good for you, then it's not good for me."
Derek worried his lower lip, not looking at Stiles. "I wanted to submit to
you," he said quietly. 
"Why?" Stiles asked, just as quiet as Derek.
Derek sighed. "I've never experienced subspace," he confessed quietly. "I want
to. And I want to think of you when I sub, not... Not her."
Stiles squeezed Derek's hand. "Okay," he said softly. "And I want to help you
experience it. But whatever that was, right there, that isn't subspace.
Subspace is... freedom. It isn't trapping yourself in your own head; it isn't
forcing yourself to submit because you think it's what your Dom wants."
Derek nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have put you in that
position."
"You don't get it," Stiles argued. "It isn't that I don't want me to be in that
position. I don't want you to be in it." But something about his own words
sparked something inside his head, and he hissed in a sharp breath. "Derek, is
this about what happened after the last time we tried to switch?" Derek didn't
say anything, but the way he turned his head away from Stiles guiltily said it
for him. "Oh, Derek," Stiles whispered, feeling his heart sink. "You don't need
to punish yourself for that, especially not like this. It's been dealt with,
and we're okay now—that's all that matters. I won't let you put yourself
through something like that because you feel like you deserve it. You don't."
Derek hesitantly looked back at Stiles, searching his expression intently. He
wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he felt like he found it, because the
tightness in his chest eased a bit, and he found himself leaning in toward
Stiles, a soft whimper escaping.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Stiles took Derek into his arms and held him close. "It's okay," he murmured
soothingly. "It's okay."
Derek relaxed into Stiles readily, sighing softly. He was really glad that he'd
decided to take on Stiles all those months ago, and to keep him after their
first contract expired. He honestly couldn't imagine trying to switch with
anyone else.
***
Surprisingly, it didn't take as long as Stiles expected for Derek to decide he
wanted to try again. Stiles had thought for sure that Derek would shy away from
the idea for a good while, and he wouldn't have blamed him at all—last time had
left them both pretty shaken. But it was Sunday afternoon a week after Derek
had used submitting to Stiles as a punishment, and he was acting weird.
Stiles knew the signs. The averted gaze, the hesitancy, the way he kept opening
his mouth to speak but then closing it again. Derek was afraid of rejection,
and that could only mean one thing: he wanted to submit. It was a difficult
situation for the both of them. Derek clearly knew that Stiles would be
hesitant to agree after last time, unsure that it was what he really wanted,
and so he didn't want to bring it up—but for the same reason, Stiles couldn't
bring it up for him. He could prompt him, though.
"Derek," Stiles said sharply, with authority, after Derek had been hovering in
the doorway of the kitchen for a good five minutes, just watching him wash the
dishes. "Is there something you need?"
Derek startled at Stiles's words, but then he made himself relax as much as he
could as he walked over to Stiles, stopping a few feet away to lean against the
counter. "Yes," he started, and he almost had to force the rest of the sentence
from his throat. "I need you."
Stiles dried his hands on a towel and turned to face Derek, opening his arms
with a smile. "What do you need me to do?"
Derek went readily into Stiles's arms. It was easier to speak with his face
buried in Stiles's shoulder, despite the fact that he had to speak a little
louder to be heard clearly. "I need you to take me apart and put me back
together."
A smile twitched at the corner of Stiles' lips. This was different than last
time: he could hear the sincerity in Derek's words; could feel in the way
Derek's body relaxed into his that he was ready. "I think that can be
arranged," Stiles said slowly, his heart hammering. "Why don't we go to the
spare room together this time?"
Derek nodded. "Please."
Slowly, carefully, Stiles released Derek from his hold, and held out his hand
instead. "Come on."
Derek took Stiles's hand, smiling at him gratefully as he followed him down the
hall. Derek was kind of amazed at how much of a difference it made, walking
into the spare with Stiles, instead of before him. He hesitated once they were
inside. "What do you want me to do, Sir?" he asked, not letting go of Stiles's
hand just yet.
Stiles thought for a second, looking down at their hands. The other times
they'd tried this, he'd let Derek keep some control, letting him walk into the
room on his own and decide for himself what clothes he took off—but what if he
took that away? He raised their hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against
the back of Derek's, and looked up to meet his gaze. "I want you to tell me if
I say anything that makes you even remotely uncomfortable," he said firmly.
"And I want you to get undressed."
Derek shivered, but it was a good shiver. He nodded, taking a step back from
Stiles to take off his clothes and toss them into a corner of the room. When he
was done, he took a deep breath and licked his lips, his heartbeat elevated but
not in panic. "What now, Sir?"
"Kneel beside the bed," Stiles instructed, sitting down on the edge of the
mattress. "Hands behind your back, eyes on the floor." Derek followed Stiles's
instructions, sinking to his knees in front of his Dom. He waited patiently for
the next instructions, a flush of arousal spreading over his skin. Stiles'
breath caught at the sheer beauty of Derek's submission, and reached down to
thread his fingers into Derek's hair. "Good boy," he praised softly. "Now, what
are your limits for today?"
Derek thought for a second. "No punishments, no fucking," he said quietly but
firmly. "I just want you to touch me, Sir."
Stiles nodded, pleased that Derek wasn't trying to push himself too hard.
"Okay. Lie on your front in the middle of the bed, and hold onto the headboard.
Now."
Derek obeyed, crawling up the bed until he could lie comfortably and grip the
headboard. He waited, head turned to one side, wondering what Stiles was going
to do. This already felt much better than either of their previous
attempts—Derek already felt safe, and more and more reassured with each order
Stiles gave him.
Stiles gave Derek a minute to adjust before climbing onto the bed and moving to
straddle his lower back. "Colour?" he asked.
"Green," Derek said confidently.
The surety in Derek's voice was all Stiles needed to hear. He began to touch
Derek, smoothing his hands along Derek's sides and over his back, his
shoulders. His fingertips skimmed up Derek's muscled arms until Stiles' long
fingers could fold over Derek's, and then Stiles was leaning forward, pressing
a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "And now?" he breathed.
Derek smiled, relaxing into the bed. "Still green," he murmured.
Stiles returned the smile against Derek's throat, and then proceeded to work
his way back down his sub's body, worshiping his skin with soft kisses and
gentle nips. "You're such a good boy," he sighed, slipping his tongue out to
taste the sweat that had gathered at the base of Derek's spine. "Such a
beautiful sub. How does it feel, being under me like this?"
Derek shifted slightly under Stiles's mouth. "Good," he breathed. "So good.
Feel safe."
"You are," Stiles promised, his heart full to the brim with how proud he was of
Derek; how much they both felt that it was true. "You're safe, baby." He sat
up, enjoying the rustle of his clothes against Derek's bare skin, and moved
away to kneel on the edge of the bed. "Turn over for me, yeah? Wanna see you."
Derek did, and looked up at Stiles questioningly. "Do I still need to hold the
headboard, Sir?"
"Yes, you do," Stiles answered, smiling. When Derek complied, he grabbed the
lube and set it to one side before straddling Derek once more, a knee on either
side of his hips. "Colour?"
"Green," Derek answered, adjusting his grip on the headboard as he watched
Stiles's hands attentively.
"Good boy." Stiles resumed his task, first touching and then kissing Derek
everywhere. He made sure to keep his tongue to himself when he reached Derek's
abs, but he skated featherlight kisses along them, interspersed with soft,
soothing words, and then spent a good few minutes playing with Derek's nipples
as a reward.
Derek had tensed when Stiles skated over his abdomen, but when he didn't lick,
only kissed, he had relaxed. He was currently whining, high-pitched, his chest
arching into Stiles's fingers. "Please, Sir," he groaned, his cock twitching.
"Don't stop."
Stiles obliged, rolling one nipple between thumb and forefinger while he
lowered his mouth to the other and flicked his tongue over it. "You're
sensitive here, aren't you?" he asked, before blowing softly. "Could you come
from this?"
Derek whimpered, panting slightly. "Don't know, Sir," he gasped, hips
twitching. "Never—Never tried before."
Stiles could tell that the last of Derek's control was starting to slip, and
while he was interested to find out if he could push Derek over the edge just
by playing with his nipples, it might be a bad idea to risk overwhelming him
this time. "We'll try that another day," he promised softly, capturing Derek's
lips in a heated kiss before backing off once more and grabbing the lube. "I
have something else in mind right now."
Derek nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief as he gathered himself back from
the edge. He wanted to submit, but he didn't want to lose control that quickly.
"Thank you, Sir," he murmured, watching Stiles attentively.
Stiles kissed him again, stretching out along Derek's side as he squeezed lube
into his palm and reached for Derek's cock. "I still want you to come, though,"
he said, stroking slowly. "You want me to make you come, babe?"
Derek nodded, feeling a little desperate. "Please, Sir, I want to come."
Stiles drizzled some more lube into his hand and then returned to his task,
jacking Derek nice and easy. His grip was loose and slick, his fist just
gliding over Derek's flesh; Stiles was willing to let him come, but he wasn't
above drawing it out.
Derek whined, frustrated, as he bucked his hips, trying to get more friction.
"Please, Sir, I need it tighter," he whimpered.
"Shhh," Stiles soothed, tightening his grip only a fraction. "Relax. I'll get
you there; just let it happen."
Derek whined, but he let himself relax, trusting Stiles. He could feel himself
getting closer with every stroke, until he was dancing along the edge. "Please,
Sir, I need to come," he whimpered. "I need to come; can I come, Sir, please?"
"Yes," Stiles breathed. "Show me what a good boy you are, and come for me."
Stiles's words let Derek go, and he came with a hoarse shout, his back arching
and the muscles in Derek's arms tensing with the strain. When he was done,
Derek collapsed back against the bed, panting heavily.
Stiles had never seen anyone fall apart as perfectly as Derek just did. It was
truly a privilege to be permitted to see it, to cause it, and Stiles was in
awe. "Mets won the championship," he murmured breathlessly, bending to kiss
Derek's slack lips. "That looked like it felt good."
It took Derek a moment to reply, mostly because he was focusing on relaxing his
fingers enough that he could release the headboard. Once he had and was
stretching them, he nodded, smiling at Stiles. "It really, really did," he
said, feeling more than a bit giddy.
Stiles grinned, shifting to sit cross-legged  beside Derek and pulling a hand
into his lap. "You were amazing," he said sincerely, gently manipulating
Derek's fingers to get the blood flowing again. "Absolutely amazing. Just—thank
you, for letting me be a part of that."
Derek smiled shyly. "Thank you, for trying again," he returned. He shifted so
he was closer to Stiles; it hadn't been a really intense scene, but he needed
the physical contact nonetheless.
"I wasn't gonna give up on you," Stiles murmured, running a comforting hand
through Derek's hair. "Let me clean you up, and then we can cuddle, okay?"
Derek nodded, stretching out and letting Stiles clean him up. Once Stiles was
done, Derek curled into him readily, throwing one arm over Stiles's chest. "'m
really glad I chose to keep you," he murmured, tucking himself in along
Stiles's side.
Me too," Stiles said, grinning as he wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled
him in closer. Three words flowed to the tip of his tongue, taking him
completely by surprise even though they felt like the most natural thing in the
world. He didn't know if Derek would want to hear them, though, or even if he
really meant them, so he choked them back and chose a different route. "How are
you feeling?"
Derek thought the question over for a moment. "Good," he decided. "I'm feeling
really good." His brain was still a bit too scrambled to think of any better
adjectives.
Stiles laughed and kissed Derek's forehead. "Good," he said. "So am I."
***
Derek jumped when the doorbell rang. He and Stiles had been curled up on the
couch, the television playing softly in the background unheeded as they dozed.
Derek poked Stiles in the side as the doorbell rang again. "Go get it," he
mumbled, shifting sleepily. "See who it is."
"Bossy," Stiles complained, but he did as he was told, brushing his lips along
Derek's cheek before unfolding himself from the sofa and stumbling to the door.
He was still half asleep, but the sight that greeted him when he opened it was
more than enough to wake him up. "Scott. And Allison?"
Allison smiled sweetly. "Hey Stiles. Scott and I got bored hanging around the
apartment, so we thought we'd come and see if you and Derek wanted to double
date?"
Stiles was vaguely horrified by the idea. Not only were he and Derek not
actually together and therefore completely unaccustomed to going on dates
together, let alone with other people, but they were still recovering from a
pretty intense scene that had included Stiles being handcuffed to the headboard
and edged until he'd cried. He really didn't want to go out, and he doubted
that Derek did either—but he couldn't turn his friends away. "Uhh," he said
stupidly. "Come on in, I guess."
Derek propped himself up until he could look over the couch when he heard the
door close. He got to his feet, coming over to stand next to Stiles, wrapping
an arm around his waist as he offered Scott and the girl a smile. "Scott," he
greeted. "Who's this?"
"My girlfriend, Allison," Scott said proudly, grinning at Allison.
"They want us to double date," Stiles said darkly, leaning into Derek.
Allison laughed. "Or we could just hang out here. Anything, as long as we're
out of that apartment."
Stiles didn't really understand that. He was never home on the weekends, so
there was absolutely no reason that Scott and Allison couldn't spend the whole
time having sex—how could they possibly be bored? Then again, maybe vanilla sex
did get boring after a while. Stiles wouldn't know; he and Derek never did the
same thing twice. "Well, okay," he said slowly. "I guess it must get tedious,
looking at the same face all the time." It didn't when he was looking at Derek,
but everyone was different.
It was the right thing to say; Allison's face lit up. "Right? I've been staying
with Scott because my aunt came to visit and insisted on crashing at my place.
She kept me cooped up in the apartment for like a week and then wanted to spend
the weekend partying—I swear, I'm going stir crazy." She rolled her eyes and
shrugged, an exasperated gesture that Stiles could immediately translate to,
Grownups. "So hanging out with you guys is okay?"
Derek nodded. "I'm okay with it." It wasn't like he and Stiles had anything
planned besides cuddling and maybe getting food at some point. "If it's okay
with Stiles, you guys can hang out here."
Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, it's cool with me."
Derek rubbed a soothing hand up and down Stiles's back. "I've got Netflix," he
said, herding Stiles back toward the couch and pulling him into his lap.
Allison and Scott took the loveseat, and Derek pulled up The Avengers for
approval. When it was approved, he hit play.
Twenty minutes in, Scott spoke up, "Where's your bathroom?"
Stiles had already drifted into a light doze, his head resting on Derek's
shoulder, but now he cracked one eye open to look at Scott. "Down the hall, on
the left."
Scott nodded, getting up with a quick kiss to Allison's temple. He encountered
a dilemna, however—there were two doors on the left side of the hall. He looked
back and forth between them, debating, then chose the second one. Luckily, it
was correct—but once he was done, he became curious about what was behind the
first door. 
He wished he hadn't looked. There was something that looked like a sawhorse
with cuffs attached to its legs, a large dresser with a couple of open
drawers—he could see a riding crop and what looked like a whip in one—and on
the bed were two pairs of handcuffs, an open tube of lube, and a—very—large
dildo. Scott backed out of the room and shut the door quickly, his face flaming
as he walked back into the living room and sat down next to Allison.
"Everything all right there, Scotty?" Stiles asked, frowning quizzically at the
look on his friend's face.
"Yep," Scott said, a little too quickly. 
Derek eyed the flush staining Scott's face. "You don't look fine," he
commented.
Allison put a hand on Scott's arm, concerned. "Baby. What is it?"
Scott mumbled something under his breath, and Derek suddenly got a horrible
sinking feeling in his stomach. "Did you go in the spare bedroom?"
Stiles' jaw dropped. "Scott!"
"What?" Allison looked from the other couple to her boyfriend, lost. "What's in
the spare bedroom?"
Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Scott refused to answer, so
Derek did it for him: "Our equipment."
It took Allison a second to process this, but then she flushed bright red too.
"Oh," she said, and to Stiles' surprise, hid her smile behind her hand. Then
she turned to Scott. "I told you."
Scott muttered under his breath, and Derek looked at Allison in surprise. "How
did you know?"
Allison shrugged. "It was obvious," she said vaguely. "I know about the
lifestyle through a friend, and from what Scott's told me and what I've seen
myself, it's pretty clear that Stiles is the biggest sub on the planet."
Derek stared at Allison, his arms tightening protectively around Stiles.
"Excuse me?" he demanded.
Allison looked surprised by the hostility in Derek's voice. "I mean, are you
telling me that faraway look he gets sometimes when he's out with us isn't
because you've got him doing something that's put him in subspace?"
"How do you know he's not thinking of something he's doing to me?" Derek
challenged.
Allison actually laughed at that. "You're kidding, right? Stiles is not a
Dominant."
"Oh my God!" Stiles cried, embarrassed and angry. "That is enough discussion of
my sex life to last me a lifetime. Can we please just watch the movie?"
"Please God," Scott agreed, looking desperately regretful about his snooping. 
Derek shot Allison one last hard look before resettling himself and Stiles.
"Sorry," he murmured apologetically, just loud enough for Stiles to hear.
Stiles twisted in Derek's hold to give him a soft kiss, effectively blocking
Allison from his view for a few seconds. "She didn't mean anything by it," he
whispered. "Just enjoy the movie."
Derek grumbled wordlessly, but settled nonetheless, keeping his arms firmly
around Stiles's waist. It was irrational, really, to feel threatened by the
fact that now Allison and Scott knew, as well as Danny, that he and Stiles were
in a BDSM relationship—but he didn't want them to think that that was all Derek
wanted out of the relationship, because it wasn't. He genuinely liked—and
lately, there was another "l" word coming to mind—Stiles, even the more
annoying parts. 
***
Scott and Allison did the smart thing and said their goodbyes once the movie
was over; Stiles did the right thing and left Derek on the sofa while he showed
them to the door. Scott embraced him before he left the apartment, but Allison
lingered, looking unsure.
"Listen," she began quietly. "I'm really sorry if I upset Derek back there. I
didn't mean to—I don't think that you being a sub is something to be ashamed
of, or anything."
Stiles grimaced. He had a feeling that that wasn't what Derek was upset over,
but he couldn't very well tell Allison that he wasn't just a sub
without betraying Derek. Not even Danny knew that Derek was experimenting with
subbing again, and Stiles just couldn't do that to him.  "It's okay," he
reassured her instead, giving her his most sincere fake smile. "I'm sure he
knows that. He just gets protective; you know how it is."
Allison smiled back, convinced. "Yeah, I get it. But I'm still sorry, Stiles."
"It's fine," Stiles insisted. "Really. But I don't think your boyfriend is; he
might need your help bleaching his brain."  Allison giggled, and it was easy to
get her to leave after that. Stiles felt an overwhelming sense of relief when
he finally shut the door behind her, followed almost immediately by a
nauseating sense of trepidation. He walked back into the living room to find
Derek exactly where he'd left him, wearing his very best thunder face.
Great. "Well, that was fun, huh?" he hedged, sitting down on the opposite end
of the sofa.
Derek leveled Stiles with an unimpressed look. "I suppose it could have been
worse," he commented after a moment. "They could have walked in on the middle
of a scene."
Stiles winced. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked. "Okay, so Allison
assumed that I'm exclusively a sub, but we both know that's not true. And the
only reason I hadn't told Scott the truth is that I didn't want to have to
explain it to him, talk about awkward, and we have Allison for that now. It's
not like I'm ashamed that we're in this kind of relationship." He hesitated as
something new occurred to him. "Are you ashamed?"
"What? No!" Derek looked at Stiles incredulously. "How could I be? I just—I
didn't like her immediately filing you under an exclusive sub." 
Stiles shrugged. "I could have told her that I'm not, but I didn't think you'd
be comfortable with that," he admitted. "Besides, it's not like she's the
world's greatest authority on the subject of Stiles Stilinski. She doesn't know
me very well at all; she pays more attention to Scott, and so do I. What she
said doesn't mean anything."
Derek was quiet for a moment. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "Still,
I just didn't expect Scott to go nosing around the apartment."
"Neither did I," Stiles admitted, smiling. "But it serves him right.
He'll definitely know better next time."
***
Stiles reported that Scott acted weird for the next day or two, and then it
seemed like he'd just forgotten about his discovery and the ensuing
argument—unless Derek texted Stiles something that made him get that "faraway
look" in his eyes. About a week after that, Derek and Stiles successfully
completed Derek's second scene subbing. They'd taken it a little further this
time—this time, Derek had come with Stiles's finger in his ass, rubbing against
his prostate. Afterward, they were cuddling on the bed, and Derek was taking
the opportunity to run his hands over every part of Stiles's body that he could
reach, his face buried in Stiles's neck, just breathing deeply.
Stiles was trying to return the touches, wanting to show the same level of
affection, but he just couldn't keep up. It was kind of adorable. "I don't know
why," he murmured, smiling fondly, when Derek nuzzled up under his chin, "but
it always surprises me that you're so cuddly after a scene. I should've known
from the start that the growly exterior is just a front; you're really just a
big puppy, aren't you?"
Derek had been smiling softly until Stiles's last words—as soon as they
registered, he tensed, pushing off of Stiles to sit up. "Red," he spat, his
heartbeat racing. He didn't back away from Stiles, but it was a near thing; his
mind was telling him that he needed to get away, needed to protect himself, or
he was going to be punished—You're just a big puppy, Der-bear, that's all.
Disgusting, really—look at you, you should be a man, after everything you've
been through. Maybe you need some more toughening up. He bit his lower lip hard
enough to almost draw blood, and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to
breathe deeply.
Relaxed and basking in the afterglow of a successful scene, it took Stiles a
few seconds to catch up with what was happening, but then he was on high alert,
kneeling in front of Derek with his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat.
"Okay, okay, you're okay," he said quickly, racking his brain for what he could
possibly have said to produce this reaction. "I need you to calm down, Derek,
look at me. Look at me. You're safe, okay? You're safe, Derek."
Derek nodded, pulling in deep breaths. "Okay," he whispered, looking up at
Stiles. "Sorry, I just—Bad memories."
Stiles' hands fluttered over Derek's skin, desperate to touch but not sure if
he was allowed to. The fear in Derek's eyes was actually scaring Stiles, and
he was devastated to think that he'd done something to put it there. "Don't
apologise," he said shakily. "It's not your fault. Can you tell me what I did,
so I don't do it again?"
It took several minutes before Derek could finally manage to push out, "Don't
call me a puppy." Even that much was enough to make him cringe, instinctively
waiting for the punishment for even daring to mention that word this soon after
a scene.
But no punishment came. Stiles just blinked, and nodded. "Okay," he
murmured soothingly. "I won't, I swear. I'm really sorry, Derek."
Derek watched Stiles warily for a moment before nodding. "Okay," he murmured.
Stiles let out a shaky breath, and willed his heart to stop racing. Derek
clearly wasn't going to be capable of talking about this, but Stiles was
scared; he didn't know what to do. So he caved, and asked. "What do you need,
Derek?"
Derek hesitated. "Hold me?" he asked tentatively.
A wave of relief crashed over Stiles. "Of course," he murmured, opening his
arms. "Come here."
Derek moved forward, nearly crashing into Stiles's arms. He was shaking
slightly, and he made himself take deep breaths, trying to calm down, reminding
himself that he was with Stiles, not Kate.
Stiles held Derek to him, running soothing hands over his skin and murmuring
nonsense into his ear. They were both freaked out, but nothing mattered more
than calming Derek down. Stiles only wished he knew exactly what had freaked
him out.
***
Scott eyed Stiles curiously. It was almost a month after he'd
accidentally—although Danny refused to believe it was an accident, the
fucker—walked into Stiles and Derek's... spare bedroom. Allison had told him
before that Stiles and Derek didn't exactly have the same kind of sex that they
did, but he'd brushed it off with a "Well duh; they're gay." Obviously that had
been not entirely correct. 
"How long have you and Derek been together?" he asked curiously.
"Umm, since the first time I said I was housesitting with him," Stiles answered
around a mouthful of cheesecake. The café was out of chocolate cake today. "We
met at a club a little while before that—" His gaze slid to Danny and then
away. "—and did a scene, but we didn't start doing anything official until that
weekend. It was only a temporary contract at the time."
"'Was'?" Scott pressed, ignoring Danny stomping on his foot.  
Stiles nodded, glancing at Danny again. They hadn't told anyone about this
part, but he didn't feel like he shouldn't. Scott wouldn't really know what it
meant, and Danny was a good friend of both Stiles' and Derek's. "We decided to
give exclusive play a shot for four months, but we kind of kept it going for
closer to five," he confessed. "Didn't realise the contract was up until way
past the deadline, and we freaked out about it a little bit, but then we
decided that we wanted to renew the contract on a long-term basis, with no end
date."
Danny's eyes widened in understanding, but Scott just made an interested noise.
"So are you guys like, dating, or are you just fuckbuddies?"
Stiles sighed. "Neither," he answered softly. "What we do needs a lot more
trust and affection than simple fuckbuddies, but we're not, like, in love or
anything." At least, Derek isn't.
Danny tilted his head, thinking, and Scott nodded. "Makes sense. But why are
you still with him if you're not in love?"
"Because it's worth it," Stiles said simply, feeling the truth of his words
deep in his bones. "I mean, if he meets someone further down the line and wants
to be with them, then of course I'll let him go, but for now why mess with a
good thing? What Derek and I have is amazing. We don't have to be in love to be
happy."
Scott opened his mouth to add something, but he snapped it closed when he saw
Derek coming through the café doors. Derek, for his part, raised one eyebrow at
the look on Scott's face before coming up behind Stiles. "You almost ready to
go? Movie starts in half an hour."
Stiles grinned. "Yeah, sure," he said, twisting in his seat to offer Derek a
spoonful of cheesecake. "You want the last bite?"
Derek took the offered bite, making a surprised noise. "That's good," he said,
swallowing. "I'll have to get it next time I come here."
"Only if they're out of chocolate cake again," Stiles told him seriously,
standing up and turning back to his friends. "I'll see you guys on Monday,
okay? Scott, please do not forget that you have a paper to write."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, go on, get. Go out on your date," he said
smirking slightly. 
Derek rolled his own eyes. "Have fun writing that paper. Nice seeing you,
Danny," he said with a little wave at the other man as he led Stiles away.
The movie theatre was only a minutes' walk away, and it was late enough on a
Friday afternoon that there were plenty of people on the streets, meaning that
they had to make their way in relative silence. Not that Stiles could be kept
quiet for long. "So Scott finally cracked," he told Derek cheerfully once they
were in line for their tickets. "Hit me with all these questions about when we
got together and how our relationship works if we're not spending half our
time making moon-eyes at each other and planning how to fit our multiple
assbabies in your apartment. It was adorable."
Derek laughed. "I bet," he said, grinning. "Scott's just.. Well, an overgrown
puppy, really." When he was poking fun at someone, it was easy to compare
someone, even himself, to a puppy—but when he was in a scene, or just after, he
couldn't even bring himself to say the word. 
"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Der-bear?"
Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around to face the woman behind
them in the line. The hot, older woman with a dirty smirk and a sadistic glint
in her eyes, who was staring at Derek like she wanted to eat him for dinner.
Stiles didn't even have to ask to know who she was.
"My, my," Kate drawled, dragging her gaze down Derek's body before returning it
to his face. "This one grew up in all the right places. I don't know whether to
kick it, or lick it." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and if this had
been anyone else, the move would have brought Stiles to his knees. "You used to
like it when I licked you, didn't you, Puppyboy?"
Derek didn't know whether to flee or crumple or lash out—his brain had shut
down, and his instincts were conflicting with each other. On the one hand, he
wanted to get the hell out of here, away from her; on the other, he needed to
stay, to protect Stiles. "'Used to' being the key term," he finally managed to
say, but it didn't come out anywhere near as confidently as he'd hoped.
Stiles had no idea what the fuck was going on, but he could tell that Derek was
tense as all hell, and they needed to leave as soon as possible. But how to get
away from Kate without causing a scene?
"I bet you'd still like it, given half the chance," she was saying. "I bet
you'd beg. Would you beg, Derek?"
"Not for you," Derek snapped, edging closer to Stiles. Desperately, he wished
he had renewed the restraining order, so he could threaten her with it without
lying—he'd always sucked at lying.
Stiles took Derek's hand, hoping to offer him strength and comfort, but all he
did was draw Kate's attention onto himself.
"And who's this?" she asked, amused. "Don't tell me. You beg for him now,
Puppy? My God, this is priceless."
"Back off, bitch," Stiles snarled, stepping between Derek and Kate, who just
laughed in his face.
"Oh, please, please tell me he gets on his knees for you. I would pay to see
that. Oh, Derek." She sighed mournfully, shaking her head, but the smirk didn't
leave her lips. "You've fallen a long way since you had me, haven't you?"
"Stiles," Derek murmured, tugging on his hand. "She's not worth it."
"You're kidding, right?" Stiles asked incredulously. "After what she did to
you? She deserves everything she gets."
Kate laughed again. "What I did to him? What exactly did I do to him,
sweetie? All I did was give him what he wanted; he said 'yes', every time."
"Only because you didn't give him a choice," Stiles argued. "He was sixteen. He
didn't know what he wanted!"
People were starting to pay attention to them now, but Kate didn't seem to
care. She just smirked at Stiles, like she knew something that he didn't. Given
all of the issues and the secrets that Derek still had, she probably did. "Oh,
he knew," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "He knew exactly what he
wanted—didn't you, Puppy? And even though it was sick, and disgusting, I
gave it to him every time he asked." Kate's words were painting a picture for
Stiles that chilled him to the bone, and all of a sudden he became abruptly
aware that Derek was shaking beside him. They needed to leave, now, but Kate
was still talking. "Does he ask you for it? Does he dare? Or does he know that
no one can make him feel it quite like I could?"
"He doesn't ask me for it," Stiles answered honestly, thinking fast. "But that
isn't because you were good at it; it's because you were really, really bad.
And when he does ask me for it? I'll give it to him, no
hesitation, because nothing about him could ever be sick or disgusting. He's
not the one who used to get his kicks by torturing a child."
Derek really, really didn't like the look on Kate's face—and he didn't like the
people who were watching them, either. He felt antsy, like his skin was two
sizes too small. He needed to get out, now. But Derek couldn't just leave
Stiles to fend for himself against Kate—not that he didn't believe Stiles
couldn't handle himself. Derek moved closer to Stiles, wrapping an arm around
his waist—though whether it was to support Stiles or himself, he didn't know.
"Babe, people are staring."
Stiles took the prompt for what it was and slid his hand over Derek's where it
rested on his hip, squeezing gently. Kate still hadn't said anything, but she
looked furious, and they couldn't stick around for whatever shitstorm she was
about to unleash. "Come on, Derek," he said softly, holding her gaze. "We have
better things to do than stand here and listen to her poison." Stiles moved to
walk around her, but she stepped in front of them, her mouth open to say
something else. Stiles didn't have time for it. He shouldered past her,
and when she stumbled back, the people behind her got out of the way so that
she fell on her ass with a hard thump. Stiles didn't so much as spare her a
glance as he led Derek out of the theatre.
***
Derek didn't talk or stop touching Stiles, not until they'd finally arrived
back at the apartment. Then Derek just walked over to the couch and collapsed
heavily on it. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his
face. 
Stiles wanted to go to him, but he didn't know if Derek would like that. This
uncertainty seemed to be a recurring theme, these days. Instead, he hovered
awkwardly beside the loveseat, resolved to wait until he was given some sort of
clue. "Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.
Derek shook his head. "No," he said frankly, looking up at Stiles and holding
out a hand, silently asking for comfort. "I'm not okay."
Stiles took the offered hand and let Derek pull him down onto the sofa, curling
up beside him with his head on Derek's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his
gaze on their fingers as he twined them together. "For causing a scene. I was
just so angry; I didn't want her to hurt you again."
Derek shook his head. "Don't apologize," he whispered. "I understand." He felt
calmer with Stiles closer to him, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of
Stiles's hand.
Stiles gave Derek's hand a grateful squeeze, and sighed. "Do you want to talk
about it?"
Derek shrugged. "I don't really know what to say," he confessed quietly. "I
never thought I'd see her again."
"Hopefully this is the last time," Stiles murmured. "If she keeps popping up,
though, we can take steps to make her stay away. You could get another
restraining order, or I could punch her in the face..."
That earned a small chuckle. "The point is to keep her away from me, not get
you arrested," he murmured, a small smile on his face. "But yeah, I'm
definitely going to get the restraining order renewed, even if we don't ever
see her again."
"Good." Stiles sighed, letting them lapse into silence for a little while. It
wasn't long before he had to say something else, though. "You know it wasn't
true, right? All those things she said?"
Derek tensed, but then made himself relax—this was Stiles he was talking to. He
could trust Stiles. "Yeah," he sighed. "Doesn't mean it doesn't affect me,
though."
"I get that. But you're not disgusting, Derek. There's nothing wrong with you."
Derek shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe," he muttered.
"What?" Stiles tilted his head back so that he could look Derek in the eye.
"What does that mean?"
"Means you don't know everything," Derek answered, but he wasn't looking at
Stiles, instead focusing on their joined hands.
Stiles sighed. "I don't need to know everything to know that you're not
disgusting, Derek," he said softly. "But can you tell me anyway, so I can prove
it to you?"
Derek hesitated, considering. "There was one kink she made fun of me for," he
started, his voice quiet. "More than some others. I think that's why she made
me do it so much, even when I didn't particularly want to. She got off on the
humiliation."
"Well, that was wrong of her," Stiles said. "But just because she behaved like
that, it doesn't mean the kink is wrong. It doesn't mean you're wrong."
"Maybe not, but the kink is... really, really unusual," Derek added. "I thought
I could trust her, but—she started punishing me, anytime I brought it up."
"It's okay," Stiles murmured, squeezing Derek's hand again. "You can tell me."
Derek worried his lower lip. "Remember what I asked you not to call me?" he
said finally.
"Yeah..." Stiles coaxed.
Derek took a deep breath. "Puppy play," he whispered, so quietly that it was
almost inaudible.
A small smile quirked Stiles' lips. He'd known, of course—how could he not,
especially after what Kate had said that afternoon?—but he'd needed to hear
Derek say it. Stiles sat up, careful not to let go of Derek's hand, and kissed
him softly on the mouth. "I'm so proud of you for telling me," he said. "And
now I can honestly tell you: there is nothing wrong with you."
Derek looked at Stiles, then, feeling hopeful. "You really think that?"
"I know it," Stiles told him.
Derek let a small smile curve his lips then. "I love you," he murmured, leaning
forward to kiss Stiles. 
Stiles let out a soft, surprised sound that was quickly muffled by Derek's
lips, and then he lost himself to their kiss, his eyes fluttering closed with a
sigh of pleasure. It was tender, and sweet, and unlike any kiss they'd shared
before, and it was perfect. So perfect that it completely wiped Stiles' mind
blank. When they finally broke apart, he ached with how badly he wanted to hear
those words again, but when he tried to ask, what came out was, "What did you
say?"
Derek frowned, confused by Stiles's question, until he realized what he had
said. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that—he'd meant to say, "Thank you." He
swallowed, looking at Stiles nervously, hoping and praying that this wasn't
going to blow up in his face. "I said, 'I love you.'"
A smile brighter than the sun broke out on Stiles' face. "I thought so," he
said, kissing Derek again. "God, Der, I love you, too."
Derek was stunned; when Stiles pulled back, all Derek could do was look at him
in shock. "You do?" he asked, and he was vaguely embarrassed by how confused,
lost, and hopeful those two words sounded.
Stiles' smile softened. "Yeah," he murmured. "I do. Of course I do."
Derek smiled back before kissing Stiles gently. "I love you," he repeated,
happy to be able to say the words without fear.
Stiles was just as happy to hear them, and he pressed himself into Derek's
arms, needing to be close. "I'm so lucky," he whispered.
"How so?" Derek asked, winding his arms around Stiles, needing the physical
contact just as much.
Stiles huffed a soft laugh. "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I've hit
the jackpot. Back when we first met you didn't even want to play with me more
than once, and now you love me? Someone upstairs is smiling on me, man, I
swear."
Derek chuckled. "Good point," he admitted. "Guess you've grown on me."
"Like a fungus," Stiles agreed cheerfully. "A really cute fungus that you love
a lot."
"For some reason," Derek agreed, rolling his eyes. But his voice was fond.
"Come on," Stiles said, getting to his feet and taking Derek's hand to pull him
up. "We're going to bed, and we're not going to move until one of us has to pee
really bad. I think we've earned it."
"We have," Derek agreed, following Stiles without untangling their fingers. "We
really have."
***
A week later, Stiles' life was pretty much perfect. School was going
well, Scott had finally stopped asking awkward questions he really didn't want
the answers to, and things with Derek were awesome. Not a lot had changed since
their big declaration—Derek still liked to tie Stiles to the bed and make him
scream; Stiles still liked to work Derek over until he sobbed as he shook apart
and then take his time putting him back together again—but things were
definitely different. And better. In just that one week, which they'd spent
together, they'd held hands at the dinner table on five occasions; they'd lost
themselves just making out on the couch for hours three times; and they'd
had sex of the more vanilla variety twice—in Derek's bed. Stiles knew this,
because he'd been keeping track.
The latter was possibly the biggest change, and certainly the most exciting.
They slept in Derek's bed quite a lot, but before, when their relationship had
been all about the contract, Derek had refused to entertain any sexual advances
except in the spare room or in the shower. Kinky sex was still designated to
those places, and for good reasons, but normal sex—Stiles had taken to
tentatively calling it lovemaking in his head - was now allowed to happen in
the master bedroom. Stiles still got a little thrill whenever he remembered
that Derek had said, right back when they'd signed their first contract, that
his room was off-limits so that they could differentiate between what was kink
and what was real. This new re-evaluation of their boundaries meant that
Derek believed in them enough to let that control slip.
But exciting as their newfound intimacy was, there was still something missing.
Derek was happy, Stiles knew that, but he seemed withdrawn, distant, even in
their scenes together. Especially in the scenes in which Stiles took
control. It wasn't the same as the second time they'd tried it, when Derek had
been subjecting himself to things he didn't want because he thought Stiles
wanted them; it was more like he just wanted something... more. And Stiles
thought he could make a pretty good guess at what that something was.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and Stiles was planning to go back to the
apartment he shared with Scott tomorrow, so it seemed like the perfect time to
bring it up. If Derek needed space, Stiles would be able to give it to him, and
if not then they could always arrange to extend his stay. Stiles was currently
sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through tumblr on his laptop. He'd finished
all of his work about an hour ago, but he was stalling the conversation he'd
decided to instigate while he tried to work out how best to bring it up. It
took another twenty minutes for it to register that the answer was staring him
in the face. Feeling his heart start to pound, Stiles typed a couple of words
into the tag search at the top of the screen, and found exactly what he
needed. Clicking quickly onto another tab, he twisted in his seat to face the
doorway. "Derek! Can you come in here, please?"
It took Derek a moment to surface from the book he'd been reading. He marked
his page and set it down before coming into the kitchen and looking at Stiles
curiously. "What do you need, babe?"
"I want to show you something," Stiles said, smiling softly as he gestured for
Derek to join him in front of the laptop. "Don't freak out, okay? Just, keep an
open mind." Once he was sure he had Derek's attention, he clicked back onto
tumblr, and revealed the puppy play tag.
Derek wasn't freaking out, per se—but he wasn't exactly the epitome of "cool
and collected," either. He watched the images scroll by on the screen, frozen
to the spot. "What—Why?" he finally managed to ask, and he was proud of how
steady his voice came out. "Why did you want to show me this?"
"Because." Stiles nodded to the most prominent image currently on the screen,
of a man crawling across the floor to his mistress; he was wearing leather mits
on his hands, a leather hood with pointed ears and a muzzle, a heavy metal
collar and a butt plug that looked like a tail. In the picture beside that one,
a woman knelt at the feet of another, wearing a headband with fluffy pink ears
attached and a similar plug with a matching fluffy tail. "I wanted you to see
that other people like it, too. Some people prefer to do it at its bare
minimum, and others like to take it to its extreme. I don't know where you fall
on that spectrum, but my point is, you're not alone. There's a whole community
full of people who are into all kinds of pet play, not just puppies but kittens
and bunnies and ponies and God only knows what else, and it's not freaky or
sick or disgusting, it's just another kink. There's nothing wrong with any of
them—there's nothing wrong with you."
Derek tentatively stepped closer so he could get a better look. "I always knew
there were others who liked it," he murmured. "Just—never thought there were
this many."
"Trust me, there are plenty," Stiles said confidently. He stood up and grasped
Derek's shoulders, guiding him into the chair in front of the laptop. "Have a
poke around, okay? There's some text posts in there from people talking about
their own experiences with this kind of play, and I'll bet you can find whole
blogs dedicated to it. You've just got to look." Derek was already riveted, so
Stiles leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'm gonna go for a shower. I won't be
long."
Derek made a vague noise of acknowledgment before focusing on the computer
screen once more. By the time Stiles was done with his shower, Derek had come
to a conclusion. "I'm not ready to really try it," he started when Stiles came
back into the kitchen, "but maybe we could work up to it?"
"Yeah?" Stiles asked, sliding his arms around Derek's shoulders from behind and
leaning down so he could see the screen. "What did you have in mind?"
Derek shrugged. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I just know that I want
to try to work up to doing it myself—I used to enjoy it, before Kate. And they
look like they're enjoying it, too." As he spoke those last words, Derek
gestured to the computer screen.
"Okay," Stiles said easily, moving to sit in another chair and take Derek's
hand. "Why don't you tell me what your experience of it was like before Kate?"
Derek turned his hand so he could lace their fingers together. "I didn't do a
lot," he started. "Just the very basic stuff. Crawling on all fours, being
treated like a pet, earning treats. I wanted to do more, but could never really
bring myself to ask my partner for it. It just seemed like it was too big."
Stiles nodded slowly, understanding, encouraging. "And then Kate came along."
Derek nodded in agreement. "And then Kate came along," he said softly. "She
seemed nice, at first, but then—She was subtle."
Stiles didn't think Kate had seemed very subtle when he'd met her, but then
again, she'd had so much more to gain by earning Derek's trust back then. "So
you told her about your kink," he prompted gently.
Derek nodded. "Yeah. Told her I hadn't gone very far, but I wanted to try some
more. She seemed to be just as into it as I was, but like I said, she was
subtle. She'd just... she was degrading. But she was cunning about it." He
really didn't like talking about his time with Kate, but he supposed it was
necessary.
Stiles raised Derek's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. "I'll never do
that to you," he murmured. "And when you're ready to try, I'll prove it."
Derek smiled, leaning in for a kiss. "Thank you," he murmured.
***
They talked for a little while longer, carefully steering clear of any
reference to Kate, before abandoning the topic for calmer waters. Stiles could
tell that Derek was still thinking about it, though, and when he crawled into
bed that night he figured it was safe to bring it up again. "So... How would
you feel about introducing some elements of puppy play into our scenes?" he
asked, watching Derek carefully.
Derek took his time thinking about his answer. "Just small stuff?" he asked for
clarification.
Stiles nodded. "We'll only do as much as you feel comfortable with."
Derek was quiet for another moment. "Okay," he said softly. "I'd like that."
Stiles grinned, and wiggled into the middle of the bed so that he could sling
an arm over Derek's waist and give him a kiss. "So would I," he promised. "Now
go to sleep."
Derek smiled, cuddling closer to Stiles. "Night," he murmured. "Love you."
He was asleep before he could hear Stiles return the sentiment.
***
Over the next few weeks, Derek and Stiles had several more scenes where Derek
was subbing—in each, Stiles was careful to make sure that Derek was okay with
him bringing up the puppy play, and he only proceeded with Derek's permission.
That was the trick—with each scene they completed, Derek found himself more and
more eager for when Stiles would bring up the puppy play. He still couldn't
bring himself to mention it, but he knew that was okay; he would, one day.
It was almost three weeks after the first time Derek saw the tumblr tag—he and
Stiles had browsed through it together a few more times—when Scott and Danny
invited them for a night out at a local club—a normal one, not one like where
Stiles and Derek had met. Allison would also be coming, and knowing Danny, he'd
find someone to fawn over him within the first ten minutes, so it would turn
into more of a triple date than anything else. They agreed, and the four of
them met up at the club, waiting outside for Allison. 
"Where is Allison, again?" Derek asked Scott, his arm around Stiles's waist
possessively—Stiles had decided to wear the outfit he'd worn the very first
time he and Derek had met, and it was drawing quite a lot of attention.
"Said she had some family matter or something," Scott answered. "But she should
be here soon."
They waited outside for another ten minutes before deciding that it was too
cold to do so any longer. Scott, because he was whipped, opted to stay outside
while the others went in, and it was no surprise when Danny got whisked onto
the dance floor by some muscly stranger within seconds. The stranger's friend
tried to make a move on Stiles, but he just grabbed Derek's hand and led him to
the bar, leaving absolutely no room for misunderstandings about who he was here
with. They were waiting for their drinks when Scott and Allison appeared at
Derek's elbow, Allison looking vaguely harassed.
"I'm so sorry!" she yelled over the pounding music. "My aunt insisted on
coming!"
"Your what?" Stiles yelled back, leaning closer.
"My aunt!"
"Why would your aunt—?" But no further explanation was required, because there
was suddenly a very feminine hand on Derek's shoulder, and when both he and
Stiles turned to look, they came face to face with Kate.
Derek jerked back, Kate's nails digging into his shoulder and raking across it
as he did so. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded angrily.
"I'm here with my niece, of course," Kate answered innocently. "When Allison
told me the names of her friends, I couldn't resist coming to say hi."
"What, you know each other?" Allison interjected, but she was ignored.
"I've gotta admit," Kate continued, gesturing to Stiles. "I'm surprised this
one hasn't kicked you to the curb yet. How long do you think you've got left,
Derek?"
"Longer than you've got here," Derek snarled. It was only Stiles's hand in his
that was giving him the courage to speak like this—that, and his anger at just
how badly he now knew she'd treated him, now that he knew the experience of
subbing that she'd robbed him of. "I've got a restraining order against you,
Argent. As I was here first, you need to leave."
"A restraining order?!" Allison demanded, staring at her aunt.
Kate just laughed. "Please. You really think that's gonna scare me away? An
idle threat?"
"Who says it's idle?" Stiles asked, pulling out his phone. "I can call the cops
right now, and they'll come and arrest you."
Scott finally chimed in. "What's going on?" he asked, bewildered at all of the
hostility. 
"Kate was just about to leave—either by herself or by police escort," Derek
answered, staring Kate dead in the eye.
Kate's eyes narrowed menacingly, but it was clear that she knew she was beaten.
"Fine," she snarled. "But don't think this is the last you'll see of me, Der-
bear. You'll come crawling when the boy here gets tired of his new pet.
Allison, I'll see you at home."
Stiles didn't take his eyes off her until she left the club.
Derek managed to hold himself up until the doors had closed behind her; then he
collapsed into the nearest available bar stool. "Jesus," he muttered. "I'm glad
she left and didn't make us actually call the cops."
Stiles was already at his side, arms wrapped around him, offering protection
and comfort. "Do you wanna go home?" he asked.
Derek shook his head. "No, I'm good to stay," he answered.
Stiles nodded and kissed Derek. "Okay. I'll go find our drinks; I think we need
them."
Derek nodded, offering a grateful smile. "Thanks, babe." After Stiles walked
off, there was an awkward silence at their portion of the bar. 
"So..." Scott started. "Anyone wanna explain what just happened? And maybe why
you've got a restraining order against Allison's aunt?"
Derek sighed. "Abusive ex-Domme," he said shortly. "She really fucked me up."
"What?" Allison scoffed, incredulous. "Kate isn't in the scene."
"Trust me," Stiles said, appearing behind her and moving to Derek's side to
give him a glass. "That's for a very good reason. She's been blacklisted by all
the fetish clubs in New York."
Allison looked shocked, but it was clear that she believed them. She turned to
Derek, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry for bringing her here. I swear I didn't
know."
Derek took the drink from Stiles with a grateful smile. "Thanks, babe." To
Allison, he added, "It's fine; you couldn't have known. It's not something I
talk about a lot."
"I'm gonna kick her out of my apartment tomorrow," Allison promised. "She won't
bother you again."
Derek offered Allison a small smile. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
Stiles downed the rest of his drink, which was bright pink and had a little
umbrella in it, and grabbed Derek's hand. "Come on. We're gonna dance."
Derek laughed, quickly finishing his own drink before following Stiles. "All
right, all right, geeze," he chuckled. As soon as they got onto the dance
floor, Derek laid his hands possessively over Stiles's waist, turning him so
that Stiles's back was to Derek's front. "Look at all those guys staring at
you," he murmured, leaning closer so he could nibble on Stiles's ear. "Remember
how they all stared at you in the club where we met?"
"I remember," Stiles answered, dropping his head back onto Derek's shoulder.
"Thought I was gonna get eaten alive. But I didn't want any of them. Just
wanted you."
Derek smiled. "Even before you met me, huh?" he teased lightly, catching the
eye of one guy who was staring at them and lightly scraping his teeth down the
side of Stiles's neck to nip at the join of his neck and shoulder.
Stiles hissed and his hips jerked out of their rhythm, causing his ass to press
back against Derek's crotch. Shit. He was hard. "...Uh-huh," Stiles answered,
somewhat belatedly. "Danny told me about you, you know that. But especially
after that first time... Knew I couldn't give you up."
Derek hummed affirmatively, smirking when the guy who'd been staring at them
flushed and looked away, a discernible bulge in the front of his pants. "I
almost didn't want you to come back, you know," he said conversationally,
wrapping his arms more solidly around Stiles. "Knew I wouldn't be able to
resist you for long."
"Are you glad I did?" Stiles asked, flinging an arm back to drape around
Derek's neck as he ground against him, completely oblivious to everyone else
around them. "Or would you rather be in your room at the club, fucking a
different guy every night?"
Derek chuckled. "Why would I want that, when I can fuck the guy I love every
night?" he answered, pulling Stiles back into him.
"Or be fucked by him?" Stiles suggested lightly, half hoping that Derek
wouldn't hear.
"One day," Derek agreed. Stiles's words didn't make him anxious, not like they
would have done even two months ago; instead, they only made him feel content,
and more than a bit excited.
Stiles grinned, twisting in Derek's arms and pulling him into a hard kiss. "I
love you," he murmured when they broke apart, breathing the words against
Derek's lips.
Derek smiled back. "Love you, too," he whispered before kissing Stiles again.
***
As promised, Allison had kicked Kate out of her apartment; according to
Allison, Kate had left the state, and hadn't been heard from since. As the
woman hadn't shown up anywhere where Stiles, Derek, or any of their friends
could have seen her, they put her from their minds. Derek and Stiles officially
moved in together after Stiles's last classes were completed for the year;
Scott complained, but only until Stiles pointed out that now he could ask
Allison to move in with him. Derek continued to experiment with subbing for
Stiles, and he had fewer and fewer inhibitions the more they worked together.
The time spent in scenes was evenly split between who subbed, and more and more
often, Derek and Stiles just made love for the pleasure of it, not for the
purpose of doing a scene.
About three months after they moved in together, Derek decided he wanted to try
a scene with actual puppy play. Up until this point, he and Stiles had only
talked about doing it, both in and out of scenes. This would be the first time
either of them had seriously brought up actually doing this scene. Derek was
waiting for Stiles on the couch—he'd debated waiting beside the couch, on his
knees, but decided against it; he didn't feel like that would be the best way
to start this conversation off. Stiles should be home any minute from his lunch
date with Danny and Scott.
When Stiles walked in the door, Derek turned to face him. "Hey, Stiles. Can we
talk?"
"Of course," Stiles said easily, smiling as he hung up his jacket and toed off
his shoes before crossing to sit beside Derek on the sofa. Derek didn't seem
tense or upset, so it was nothing at all to lean in and give him a kiss.
"What's on your mind?"
Derek returned the kiss readily; when they pulled apart, he said, "I want to
try puppy play."
Stiles sat back, searching Derek's face. "Like... you want to include more of
it in our scenes?" he asked slowly.
Derek nodded. "In a way, yeah. I want—I want to try a puppy play scene."
Stiles was surprised, but definitely pleased. He grinned. "Yeah," he said.
"Yeah, okay. I want that, too."
Derek smiled, relieved. He hadn't seriously thought Stiles would turn this
down, but it was still nice to be reminded of exactly how lucky Derek was, that
he had a partner he trusted enough to even think about doing a scene like that
with. "Can we do it tonight? I've got dinner cooking in the slow cooker, but
it's pot roast, so it'll need to be watched, and the carrots and potatoes need
to be added still."
Stiles nodded. "Sure. No need to rush into it. Besides, I'm starving."
Derek chuckled. "Didn't get enough at lunch?" he teased. "Or were you too busy
running your mouth?"
Stiles shrugged. "I'm always hungry," he said, grinning. "You know that."
Derek rolled his eyes, getting to his feet with a quick kiss to Stiles's cheek.
"You'd think I would, with how long we've been together," he called over his
shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. 
Stiles just laughed and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Not for the
first time, it occurred to him that he'd really lucked out with Derek.
***
After dinner, Derek and Stiles spent some time just cuddling on the couch
before Derek pulled back to look at Stiles. "I want to try now," he said
quietly. He was nervous, but more than that, he was excited; he really wanted
to do this scene.
"Okay," Stiles said, standing up and offering Derek his hand. "Let's go into
the spare room."
Derek took Stiles's hand readily, following the younger man into the spare
bedroom. Once they were in there, Derek turned to Stiles. "I just want a basic
scene," he said quietly, making sure to look Stiles in the eye as he did so. 
Stiles nodded. "Okay. You know what to do."
Derek nodded and stripped quickly; once he was completely naked, he lowered
himself to his knees, and then to all fours, just the way he and Stiles had
discussed when they'd talked about doing this scene in the past. He leaned back
so his weight was on his haunches and looked up at Stiles, tilting his head
slightly, waiting for the next command. They'd agreed that Derek, unless
voicing a concern or safewording, wouldn't talk. 
Stiles grinned, pleased. "Good boy," he praised, reaching out to scrub his
fingers affectionately through Derek's hair. "Such a good boy. You wanna play,
pup?"
Derek felt a thread of warmth curl low in his stomach, and he didn't
nod—nodding was a human thing to do—but he did push against Stiles's hand
before turning his head to lick playfully at Stiles's wrist.
Stiles laughed, not at all disgusted the way he would be with a real dog, and
nudged Derek out of the way so that he could stand. "Well, let's see what we've
got," he said, crossing to their toy chest and opening it up. He bypassed all
of their sex toys without thought, instead picking out a small box that he'd
put in there a few weeks ago. Inside were a few toys, including a plushy purple
sheep with rope for legs and a squeaker in its belly. Stiles squeezed it
hopefully, watching Derek's face.
Derek considered Stiles for a moment before crawling forward and carefully
taking one end of the sheep's rope in his mouth and tugging gently, looking up
at Stiles hopefully, letting his hips sway in a rough imitation of a wagging
tail.
"Nuh-uh," Stiles admonished, pulling so that the rope fell out of Derek's mouth
but still dangled close by. He squeezed the toy again. "If you want if, you're
gonna have to work for it, pup."
Derek let out a soft whine, but settled back, watching Stiles attentively,
waiting for the next instruction.
Stiles scrutinised Derek's face, but he saw no real distress there, just
disappointment at not getting what he wanted. It seemed like it would be safe
to improvise; put Derek through his paces a little. Stiles held out his free
hand. "Paw." Derek hesitated only a second before carefully raising one hand
and laying it in Stiles's. Stiles beamed and gave Derek's fingers a gentle
squeeze before releasing him. They quickly cycled through a few other commands,
including 'sit', 'lay down' and 'stay'. It was after the latter that Stiles
tossed the sheep onto the bed, and he felt a warm swell of pride as he watched
Derek's gaze follow its arc through the air. He was doing so well. "Stay,"
Stiles warned again, just because he could, and then: "Okay, go get it!"
Derek let out a soft woof, enjoying himself, before scrambling after the toy
and up onto the bed. He turned back around to face Stiles, the toy in his
mouth. He was aware that his cock was a heavy weight between his legs, but he
ignored it. This was nothing like anything he'd ever done with Kate—this was
fun.
Still grinning like an idiot, Stiles followed Derek onto the bed and engaged in
a game of tug-of-war with him. He was also aware of Derek's arousal, but was
content to let him set his own pace. Seeing Derek enjoying himself like this
was more than enough for Stiles, should Derek choose not to include a sexual
aspect in the scene.
Derek was sporting a grin to match Stiles's, and when he was tired of playing
tug-of-war, he dropped his end of the rope and crawled closer to Stiles,
bumping his head against Stiles arm gently before attempting to maneuver
himself so that Stiles's arm was around him.
Stiles complied happily, and pressed his face into Derek's hair. "Good boy," he
murmured, stroking a hand down Derek's back. "Being so good. Haven't even tried
to mark your territory on our furniture yet."
Derek huffed indignantly; as if he'd try something like that. He had more
dignity than that. He arched into Stiles's touch, burying his face in the crook
of Stiles's neck for a moment before shifting so he was sitting on his ass, and
brought his arms up to wrap around Stiles's waist. "I'm done for now," he
murmured. He felt like now was a good place to end this scene—he didn't quite
feel comfortable with adding sex just yet.
Stiles smiled and nodded, whispering their closing line. "How do you feel?" he
asked after a moment, kicking the sheep off the bed. It landed on the floor
with a quiet squeak.
Derek smiled, not moving his face from where it was pressed against Stiles's
skin. "I feel good. Satisfied," he murmured, just loud enough to hear.
"Good," Stiles said, smiling softly. "You were so amazing, Derek. I'm really
proud of you."
Derek pulled back to kiss Stiles quickly. "Thanks," he said, almost shyly even
as the praise seemed to settle in his bones as a pleasant warmth.
"Do you need anything?" Stiles asked, his gaze fond as he ran his fingers
through Derek's hair.
Derek considered the question for a moment. "Just this," he answered, leaning
against Stiles again. "Just this."
***
The next year flew by. They had their ups and downs, at home as well as with
friends and school, but they refused to be beaten by anything—even Stiles'
father, who had been in the middle of cleaning his guns when Stiles first
brought Derek over to visit. As it turned out, the sheriff loved Derek, and the
three of them had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together. Stiles was still a
little shellshocked by how well Derek got on with his father.
In the privacy of their home, they kept up the BDSM lifestyle, and Derek
blossomed with Stiles by his side. Puppy play had become a big part of their
lives, especially once Derek introduced sex to those scenes. Stiles would never
forget the first time Derek made him come just by lapping eagerly at his cock.
There were still bad days, times when something would remind Derek of Kate and
he had to safeword out, but even so, the dynamics of their relationship had
shifted so that Stiles hardly ever took on the submissive role in their scenes
anymore. He liked it that way, though. Derek was beautiful when he submitted to
Stiles, open and trusting and just perfect, and making love in their own bed
was pretty awesome, too. Stiles didn't regret the way he'd come into Derek's
life, but he was incredibly grateful for all of the ways they'd grown since
then.
Which was exactly why, on the anniversary of their first successful puppy play
scene, Stiles pulled Derek into the spare room and sat him down on the bed. "I
have something for you," he began, needlessly holding up the box in his hand.
"And you don't have to accept it if you don't want to, but... Derek, you've
come so far, and I know you still have a ways to go, but I'm just so fucking
proud of you, and I think you're ready." Taking a deep breath, he pressed the
box into Derek's grip and waited.
Derek took the box and carefully opened it; inside was a simple leather collar,
the name Derek stitched into the leather in an elegant script. Derek blinked, a
bit surprised, and looked up at Stiles. "You bought me a collar?" he asked
quietly, his voice betraying his surprise.
Stiles flushed and ducked his head. "Yeah..." he said to his knees. "I know
that it's a big deal for a sub, a—a puppy to accept a collar. It's just that
we've had a really great year and I think you're amazing and I wanted to do
something to show you that. But if you're not ready, then that's fine. Just say
the word and it's gone."
Derek shook his head. "No, it's fine, I just—wasn't expecting it." He picked
the collar up and held it out to Stiles. "Put it on me, please?"
Stiles took the collar, but he hesitated, searching Derek's face. "Are you
sure?"
Derek nodded, leaning forward to kiss Stiles softly. "I love you, and trust
you."
Stiles grinned. "I love you, too," he murmured, and fastened the collar around
Derek's neck.
Derek lifted his hand to touch the collar; the weight wasn't oppressive, but
rather comfortable, a reminder that he had a master who loved him and cared for
him. "Thank you," he said softly.
Stiles took Derek's hand, brushing a soft kiss onto his knuckles. "You're
beautiful," he whispered. "My beautiful pup."
***
Having the collar helped immensely with Derek's confidence in scenes over the
next few months. He hardly ever even thought of Kate anymore, now, and when he
did, it was never during a scene.
Stiles had been acting a bit odd; not bad odd, just... odd. Derek didn't pry,
but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. So when Stiles called him into the
living room where he had the laptop set up with a Skype call to his father,
Derek was even more curious. "Evening, Sheriff," he greeted, sitting down on
the couch next to Stiles and wrapping his arm around his partner's waist. "What
can I help you with?"
"Actually, son, it's something that we can help you with," the sheriff
answered, his gaze flickering to Stiles.
Stiles nodded. "I asked my dad to do some digging, and, well... We found
something."
Derek's curiosity only grew. "Found what?"
"I sent a couple of documents over from the station," the sheriff said.
"Stiles, if you could..?" Stiles complied and handed Derek the file he'd put
together earlier that day. "It's all confidential. No one besides the three of
us knows about this, and you can do whatever you want with it."
"Absolutely," Stiles agreed. "There's no pressure at all. I just wanted you to
have the option."
Derek took the file and opened it—the first thing he saw was the name Evan
Hale. He looked up in surprise. "You found Evan?"
Stiles beamed. "Yeah!" he cried. "Yeah, we did! I know how much you miss him
and how you hate that you lost him, so I figured, I have the resources—why not
exploit them?" The sheriff snorted, the sound crackling through the laptop's
speakers. "This way, even if you don't want to do anything more, you at least
know he's okay."
Derek stared at the photo attached to the file—it was unmistakably Evan, even
though he was several years older in this picture. He blinked, and realized
there were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.
Stiles practically melted, and he reached out to pull Derek into his arms.
"You're so welcome," he murmured against Derek's temple. "I love you."
Derek fumbled for the 'end call' button, dropping the file onto the keyboard as
he leaned into Stiles, letting himself cry. "I'm gonna find him," he said in
between hitching breaths. "I'm gonna find my brother."
Stiles held him close, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair. "I'll
support you however I can," he promised.
Derek managed to get himself under control after another few minutes. "God, I
love you," he murmured, kissing Stiles quickly. "You're better than anything I
ever could have hoped for." Before he'd met Stiles, Derek had barely let
himself hope that maybe one day he'd find someone he could trust and be happy
with, without the BDSM elements—he may not have had the best introduction into
the lifestyle, but Derek had still loved submitting and dominating. He'd never
dreamed that he could find someone like Stiles, someone he could love whole-
heartedly, and who could love him back just as much; someone who would accept
him, and help him through the numerous issues he'd had.
Someone who could teach him the true meaning of submission.
 
 
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