
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/893637.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Sex_with_Sentient_Animals, Bestiality, Underage_Sex, Alternate_Universe_-
      Werewolves_Are_Known, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Hale_Fire, Discrimination,
      Blow_Jobs, Anal_Sex, Alpha_Derek, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, What
      Was_I_Thinking?, One_Shot, Knotting, Wolf_Derek, POV_Stiles, Bottom
      Stiles_Stilinski, Xeno
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-22 Words: 3102
****** Wolf Moon ******
by mznaughty01
Summary
     The Hale pack only had three Alphas in total, the one in charge and
     the two eldest offspring. Considering that Mrs. Hale and Laura were
     both females and, therefore, neither could be the owner of the pink
     dick Stiles could see just poked out of its protective sheath, Stiles
     was going to go with this being Derek here in front of him.
     Derek, who was coming closer, big paws crunching over grass, rocks
     and fallen leaves. Coming ever closer—and, no, no that wasn’t Derek
     just coming closer.
     That was Derek stalking towards Stiles.
Notes
     Whelp, I decided to go ahead and write the pseudo-bestiality story
     I'd been thinking of. So, here it is. This fic now easily takes the
     title of the freakiest thing I've ever written, but hey, it's all in
     the name of kink, right?
See the end of the work for more notes
                                  Frosty Moon
So. Maybe Stiles’s idea to climb out his bedroom window in the middle of the
night wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. And maybe, just maybe, deciding to
walk into the woods, alone and on tonight of all nights, was possibly a top
contender for the most moronic he’d ever come up with. Which, really, yeah,
that was saying something as Stiles had come up with some pretty moronic ideas
over the years.
Most recent example: toilet papering Harris’s house on Halloween. It hadn’t
been that the idea itself was bad, the douchebag had deserved it, and any
occasion that allowed Stiles to dress as Batman (because if there was ever a
villain to be taken down, it was Harris) was an awesome thing indeed. But
relegating Scott as the responsible party to plot their escape route? Worst.
Idea. Ever.
Until tonight, that was.
But, in his defense, all Stiles had snuck out for were a few minutes of peace.
Extended family, man. Extended family which included Mom’s brother, her sister,
Dad’s step-brother, each of their spouses, plus two sets of grandparents, and
an assortment of kids ranging in age from Oh, my God, what is that smell? Is
that coming from his diaper! to I’m gonna paint my toenails, finger nails and
lips black, then write really depressing shit in the name of poetry all to show
just how much this fucked up world truly doesn’t understand me.
They’d been in town since the day before Thanksgiving. In Stiles’s house. In
range of his hearing. In his sight.
Just, there was no getting away from them. Stiles had even been forced, against
his will, so much against his will, into sharing his bedroom with one of his
cousins. While Stiles was eternally grateful to have been spared the horror of
sharing space with a shoulda-been-potty-trained-long-before-now toddler, Alex
Evans’s long lost twin of emoness wasn’t a much better alternative (what,
Stiles knew who Alex Evans was for reasons). The annoying, broody shit’s
instant, intense crush on Scott was the reason Scott had taken off, terrified,
and had yet to come back over and why Stiles was seriously considering trading
in for a better, upgraded version of a 4EverBro.
Three days Scott had left Stiles to his family. Thursday. Friday. Saturday.
Three. Days. Each filled with dejected poetry resulting from Scott’s disgusted
disinterest in pale, very much underage, pre-teen ass, and by his subsequent
abandonment. Just...no. A whole world of no. No to prose, no to style and, most
important, hell no to subject matter. Because, ugh, Scott.
Stiles was never forgiving him.
Anyways, the last few days hadn’t exactly left Stiles in his right mind, so
moronic decisions were only to be expected at this point. With so many other
things to think about, such as best practices to be employed when toeing the
thin line between cousin-ignoring and cousin-throttling, it hadn’t even
registered that tonight was the full moon. Not that Stiles actually kept track
of full moons, other than noticing when the Hale twins were absent from school
the day of and the day after. And, in all honesty, noticing Laura and Derek had
less to do with wanting to know what nights their wolfy counterparts came out
to play and more to do with, OMFG, werewolf or not, Derek Hale was hot like
burning and, crap, uh-oh, Laura was side eyeing Stiles, again, because, shit,
she was a werewolf, too, and could totally smell that he wasn’t disgusted by
what they were, but instead aroused, couldn’t she.
And that meant Derek also probably—Mayday! Mayday! Evasive maneuvers, evasive
maneuvers stat.
So, with no school in session until Monday, meaning no Hales to covertly watch
until Monday, and with Stiles’s stupidity generated by family who would not be
leaving until Monday and (because someone up above seriously must’ve had a
massive haterbone for Stiles), there was some serious cloud cover blocking his
view of the sky, Stiles was unaware that the full moon was out. Didn’t become
aware of that important fact until after he’d walked about thirty minutes and
reached the clearing in the woods right on the edge of the Hale’s property
line. Mr. and Mrs. Hale had always made it clear that the residents of Beacon
Hills could hunt and camp and hike in the section of the woods that they owned
surrounding their house (though no one ever took them up on the offer) so long
as they never did so during a full moon (everyone steered clear all the time,
but definitely during full moons) because the Hales sometimes struggled to hold
on to their human selves while in their moon forced shifts and if they detected
a person they didn't intimately recognize in their territory...yeah, just not a
good situation for anyone involved.
Yet, there Stiles was.
With a bottle of Jack he’d liberated from his father’s liquor cabinet and a
good buzz going. A blanket spread under him because, while the weather was
unseasonably warm for November, the ground was still too freaking cold for an
intimate meeting between it and Stiles’s ass, thanks.
And with his shirt rucked up, pants and boxers pulled down and with his dick in
his hand.
Oh, also, Stiles had just been made aware of the presence of some unexpected
company. A big, black wolf. Easily twice Stiles’s size.
Grandmother, what big legs you have!
Grandmother, what big ears you have!
Grandmother, what big eyes—
Red. Red eyes. Red fucking eyes.
Shit, caught on Hale territory during a full moon, was Stiles’s first frantic
thought as the sky cleared just long enough for him to understand how fucked he
truly was. Then, immediately afterwards, Holy fucking hell, an Alpha.
The Hale pack only had three Alphas in total, the one in charge and the two
eldest offspring. Considering that Mrs. Hale and Laura were both females and,
therefore, neither could be the owner of the pink dick Stiles could see just
poked out of its protective sheath, Stiles was going to go with this being
Derek here in front of him.
Derek, who was coming closer, big paws crunching over grass, rocks and fallen
leaves. Coming ever closer—and, no, no that wasn’t Derek just coming closer.
That was Derek stalking towards Stiles.
That should not be as hot as it was, because while this was Derek, this was
Derek as an actual facts animal.
And, fuck, why hadn’t Stiles’s brain yet communicated with his hand that it
should really stop stroking up and down his erection? Oh, yeah, stupid
question. Because it was too good to let go now, so fucking good. Had been much
too long since the last time Stiles had some personal time like this to
himself. And sixteen year boys needed this personal time like they needed air.
The orgasm was building, a point of hot, bright, sparking pleasure at the base
of Stiles’s spine. He slowed his pace, moved his hand up to the tip. Grip
tight, he focused on just the head, the feel of his pre-come slicked palm
slipping over his sensitive flesh.
Derek was there now. Standing at Stiles’s side, within touching distance, but
not, not touching.
Stiles wanted to touch.
His free hand flailed out. Found purchase in soft fur at the scruff of Derek’s
neck and he clutched a fistful, moved his other hand down to the base of his
cock in a corkscrew motion and—
Knees bent, feet planted on the ground, Stiles’s hips bucked up. The hot,
bright, sparking pleasure intensified and—
Come streaked up Stiles’s belly. In spurts, all the way up to the hem of the
shirt bunched up across his chest.
A duck of Derek’s head made Stiles let go of him. Then moist breath bathed
Stiles’s skin. One rough drag of Derek’s tongue, that resulted in a low moan
from Stiles, and the mess was cleaned up, a part of Derek now—just gone.
Then so was Derek. Leaving Stiles by himself in the clearing once more.
Stiles’s head thumped against the ground.
Fuck.
 
                               Long Nights Moon
It had been thirty days since the last full moon.
And it was now Christmas and with the holiday came the return of Stiles’s
extended family. They’d all arrived just hours ago, late Christmas Eve, so
while they’d been plenty annoying, things hadn’t yet reached Thanksgiving
levels of aggravation. Regardless, Stiles had snuck out and was back on Hale
land in the clearing. Figured it didn’t hurt anything to try and get a hand
(haha) on the situation early on by rubbing one out with the goal to be able to
keep his calm later for as long as he possibly could.
Maybe a teensy, tiny part of him also hoped to see Derek again.
Things...hadn’t really changed between them on the school front. Stiles was
still a human and a Junior, Derek a werewolf and a Senior and Derek still
ignored Stiles for the most part. Except when he didn’t. Although Derek never
spoke to Stiles, ever, he stared. A lot. Just intense, lingering stares that
even Scott had started to notice and question. Especially because Laura stared,
too, more than ever now, her attention split evenly between Derek and Stiles, a
knowing expression on her face and a teasing smile always on her lips.
Without any type of conversation taking place between them, and Stiles was too
chicken shit to just walk up to Derek himself and start a convo (and, besides,
what would he say—remember that time wolf you cleaned up my come with your
tongue, because I do and, apparently, I’m kinda kinky like that ‘cause I really
liked it and, so, hey, you wanna maybe do it again sometime?), Stiles didn’t
know what to think. Maybe Derek thought Stiles was a freak. Derek had a reason
for what he’d done that night, more animal than human, but Stiles, Stiles on
the other hand...
Still, Stiles hoped—
It was a wet nose that knocked off the hand he had wrapped around his stiff
length. His eyes fluttered open to see a massive body, black fur, a hint of red
eyes.
A long moment passed, nothing happened. Stiles held his breath.
Then let it loose in a rush when Derek lapped across the head of his dick. The
texture was rough, the pressure perfect, as Derek licked Stiles over. Stiles
was leaking a ton of pre-come, just like he always did, but it didn’t deter
Derek, but rather seemed to draw him in even more. Derek fixated on Stiles’s
slit, sweeping away the moisture soon as it pulsed out with broad strokes of
his tongue.
Stiles’s crotch was a mess. Wetness trickled down towards his thighs, the crack
of his ass, Derek chasing after it as he worked his way down Stiles’s erection.
He stopped at Stiles’s balls, which were no longer loose, but pulled up tight.
To give Derek room, Stiles kicked free of his jeans. Spread his legs wide open.
As Derek crowded in closer, his tongue brushed lightly over Stiles’s perineum.
Dragged hard over his balls. And Stiles was coming. Coming so hard, the muscles
in his thighs tightened up, then spasmed, as he slide his ass against the
blanket, pushing himself towards Derek, in search of more, never wanting Derek
to stop, needing it, needing Derek, wanting more, more, more—
With slow, gentle passes of his tongue, Derek cleaned Stiles just as thoroughly
as he had that first time. He lay next to Stiles afterwards, fur soft and
downy, a much needed warmth against the December chill, while Stiles’s
breathing returned to something approximating normal. When Stiles tried to ease
a hand down to touch Derek’s sheath to coax his dick out, Derek pulled away
from his reach and took off, but only after giving Stiles a long look full of
want, and that’s when Stiles got it. He really, truly got it.
Derek did what he did because it brought him joy, brought Stiles joy. He chose
to only do it in this form because Stiles had accepted him as such for whatever
reason. There had been no human interactions between them yet because human
interactions carried the possibility of disgust and rejection in accordance
with what everyone, society at large, expected.
Far as Derek was concerned, there was no need for Stiles to return the favor,
because why would he even want to? With the very rare exception, humans stuck
to humans and werewolves to werewolves.
It was a damn good thing that Derek was such awesome eye candy. Because he was
also a fucking idiot to not see that Stiles was not just an exception, but the
exception.
 
                                   Wolf Moon
Next full moon, when Derek arrived at the clearing, Stiles made sure it was to
one hell of a sight. Specifically, to Stiles, naked, on hands and knees, in the
center on his ever present blanket, breaths coming in fast, visible puffs of
wintry air.
Take that, Derek Hale! He could ignore-stare Stiles all he wanted at school,
and only be willing to take things so far with Stiles all he wanted during
these encounters, but Stiles wanted to see how Derek’s willpower held up in—
Stiles almost collapsed down to the ground when Derek hopped up onto his back,
the pads of his front paws landing on Stiles’s shoulders, claws retracted, and
his haunches already thrusting before he even made contact. His dick slid all
over the place, hot and wet. Across one of Stiles’s buttocks, up the crease of
his ass, over his balls.
The more animal than human aspect had never been clearer than at that moment.
Which is why Stiles was glad he’d taken the time to stretch himself open before
sneaking out. And thank fuck January didn’t come with the types of holidays
that included visits from extended family, so Stiles had been allowed ample
time and privacy to prepare himself correctly.
He reached one hand back and got hold to Derek. Guided him in. Quickly braced
both hands on the ground again to avoid a face plant when Derek slammed
forward.
Jesus.
Derek fucked him hard. There was no other word for it, no way of mistaking it
for anything else. It was all base needs and aggression reduced down to their
most animalistic forms.
This was like a dog fucking its bitch.
Like a werewolf fucking its mate.
They could never actually be mates. It just didn’t work that way between humans
and werewolves. But, but they could be just as good.
Because there was one thing that even the rare human who was the exception
objected to, a thing that was so unthinkable, it could only be found on the
most dirty of websites that catered to werewolves and humans alike who had this
taboo kink in common.
But it wasn’t unthinkable for Stiles. Never for Stiles, not when Derek was
involved.
Knotting.
When Derek next pulled back, Stiles felt the bulge at the base of his dick tug
at Stiles’s rim when he slid out. Derek pushed in, but not all the way, using
his last bit of humanity to prevent tying himself to Stiles.
“Do it,” Stiles said, aware that this was the first time he’d spoken to Derek
on these nights when the moon hung full in the sky over them, possibly the
first time he’d spoken to Derek ever. “Do it, please, I want you to.”
A surprised cry escaped Stiles when Derek shoved his inflated knot inside. But
it wasn’t bad, quite the opposite. The extreme sensation of being full, so
fucking full, was made better by Derek’s comforting presence draped across
Stiles’s back, the heat his body fed to Stiles’s chilled one from the outside,
the hotness he spurted inside of Stiles that felt like it would never end, that
Stiles never wanted to end.
Derek growled, set the sharp, pointy tips of his teeth to the back of Stiles’s
neck and bit down, light enough for Stiles to recognize that Derek was pinning
him, claiming him, but not so hard as to break skin. Ass contracting around the
cock and knot stuffed deep inside of him, Stiles spilled on the blanket under
them, his come mixing with that of Derek’s that leaked out of him in wet trails
down the back of his thighs to the cover below.
 
                                  Hunger Moon
After their last full moon together, Derek had come up to Stiles the next day
at school, a day he normally didn’t attend, that was always counted as an
excused absence for him and Laura both, as they spent the day recovering from a
night spent romping through the woods with their pack, all of them slave to the
call of the moon. He’d appeared just as tired as Stiles had felt, yet also just
as happy.
Foreheads tipped together and soft press of their lips and Stiles had known.
They were together.
So fuck everybody, all of their teachers, every single last one of their fellow
students, who had stopped to stare. To look on in revulsion and to speak
whispered words that still had carried to Stiles’s human ears, so most
definitely had carried to Derek’s supernaturally enhanced ones.
Thank God for Laura, who had attended with Derek that day and, with a
threatening snarl, sent everyone running. And also for Scott, who had stuck
around as well, not so much to show support for Derek and Stiles, but to stare
at Laura in a way that could only be described as stupid and besotted, until
Laura had sent him scurrying off, too. Her growl that time had been decidedly
less threatening, however, and extremely more on the interested and predatory
side.
And, really, Scott? Laura was ten times scarier than Stiles’s cousin and Stiles
was certain that she would maul Scott if he ever broke her heart, rather than
wallow in depression while writing mind-numbing poems that made absolutely no
sense at all.
Since then, Stiles had told his parents about Derek. They were concerned, yet
supportive, just as much as they were with all causes regarding discriminatory
behaviors and practices towards werewolves. But as long as Stiles was happy,
they’d told him, then they were happy for him as well.
For February’s full moon, when Stiles showed up at the familiar clearing, a
big, black wolf, easily twice his size, was already there. Waiting. Proof that
climbing out of his bedroom window, and walking into the woods, that November
night were the best ideas Stiles ever had.
End Notes
     You can find me on Tumblr. I don't really use it much other than for
     occasional reblogging. I may start using it more in the future to ask
     for prompts when I want to write, but can't think of anything, who
     knows. But you can always stop by to say hi if you want.
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