
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2417810.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Knotting, Alpha_Derek, Omega_Stiles_Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics,
      Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Mates
  Collections:
      Omega_ss
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-07 Words: 2012
****** let's get carried away ******
by morallyambiguous
Summary
     Off his suppressants, Stiles's heat hits him at the most in-opportune
     moment. Derek doesn't find it inopportune.
There's something savage about Derek Hale, Stiles thinks, watching the man go
about his business. Not that he was creeping on Derek, or anything (which is a
flat out lie, but whatever). It is just in the way he moves. Everything about
his movements screams Alpha. Stiles is lucky if anyone picks up on the fact
that he's an omega on a good day. He is though, and he has omega needs. Like
Derek. But he's been on suppressants long enough that he can ignore the way
that he wants to bare his neck every time Derek gets closer. That he wants to
show Derek that despite what he might believe, Stiles can be obedient. He wants
to lift his hips up and let Derek take-
Derek fumbles with the knife.
"Everything okay over there?" Stiles asks, flushing slightly, train of thought
interrupted. Almost certain that Derek knew what he was thinking about.
"I'm fine. It would help if you actually did something useful for once." Derek
snipes.
"It's your house, you’re cooking for your pack; I'm just here because I have
another week until the doctor “Okays” me for lacrosse." Stiles says,
embarrassed. He would really love it if he could go back to taking his
suppressants, because this shit is embarrassing. He might be an omega but that
doesn't mean that he wants to act like one, he has more self-respect than
letting himself turn into a stereotype. He shifts in his seat, feeling the
beginnings of wetness in his underwear.
"Yes, Stiles, everyone and their mother already knows that. But your arm still
works, and I would appreciate it if you would finish chopping these vegetables.
I have to wash my hands." Derek says. There's a firmness to his voice that
makes Stiles want to listen to it, want to lean into it. Despite every
objection from his common sense, he does.
"Sure." He says, walking close to Derek, hips just brushing. He shudders, a
chill rippling across his skin. He hears Derek growl lowly.
"Stiles!"
"Yeah, yeah."
Derek rolls his eyes.
Then Stiles decides to run his big mouth. Because if there's a wrong time to
run his mouth, he always has to find it. "Look at the big bad Alpha: providing
for his pack, keeping them safe in his den. The only thing you're missing now
is a mate." He teases. If only because he's jealous and he wants all of that,
everything Derek has to offer (which admittedly is not that much, but Derek’s
grown on him).
Derek's eyes glow red, and Stiles knows that he's fucked up. He knows that he's
hit a sore spot, because even though Scott is The Alpha, Derek is still an
Alpha and he still has those instincts. A hand wraps around his waist. He's
pulled flush against Derek. He lowers his nose to Stiles’ neck. And Stiles lets
him, bares his neck to him, and lets Derek scent him.
Derek looks up at him, and smirks. "Why? Are you offering, Stiles?" He nips
Stiles’ neck, and Stiles can't even control the jerk of his hips.
Stiles blushes, pushing himself flush against Derek, hands bunching up his
shirt, trying to keep him there. "I-"
And then Scott walks in and Derek is across the kitchen chopping vegetables.
Stiles can't even control it, he hits Scott on the arm. "Worst best friend
ever." Before shuffling out of the room, because that's all his boner will
really allow him to do.
In the kitchen he can hear Scott saying, "What? What did I do?"
He collects himself in the bathroom, trying to get his libido and his instincts
under control, because all he can remember is Derek asking him if he was
offering to be mate. He splashes some cold water on his face and rests his face
against the cold porcelain of the sink.
Someone bangs on the door. "Hurry up Stilinski! You better not be jerking off
in there, we have a meeting to start!"
Godammit Erica.
He dries off his face and tries to ignore the way his body angles towards
Derek's. Because he wants. Dear God does he want.
He fidgets the entire meeting, feeling hot and anxious and like he wants to
just drop to his knees in front of the entire pack and put his mouth all over
Derek's dick, let him knot his mouth until he's choking. Scott looks at him,
and across the room Derek's eyes flash red, a sub-vocal growl the undertone of
the entire meeting.
Stiles wants so badly to submit to him, bare his little pink hole to be knotted
by Derek- and fuck he’s wet, almost leaking, all over Derek’s couch this is
embarrassing.
When the meeting is over, and it ends quickly after Stiles realizes he’s
leaking, the pack averting their eyes from his in order to give him some
semblance of privacy.
The others leave, and it's Derek and Stiles again. Derek shuffles through the
den, picking up discarded plates and cups, muttering about messy teenagers and
Stiles squirms in his seat, suddenly distracted from thoughts of Derek's knot
with thoughts of Derek and kids. Derek and Stiles' kids. Stiles round and bred
full like a good omega. Derek throwing him over the couch and breeding him so
full-
"Do you mind?" Derek asks. He's standing in front of Stiles, legs spread wide,
thighs strong enough that all Stiles can think about is those thighs pushing a
knot into him so deep it hurts. "Stiles, are you-?"
Derek leans over to sniff him, filling up Stiles' senses with the woodsy, male
scent of him. His eyes roll back in his head and he moans. But Derek just rolls
his eyes, searching for more than the smell of arousal that constantly follows
Stiles around, and he stops, chest puffing up and eyes glowing red as his fangs
descend. "You're in heat." He says, and just by acknowledging it, Stiles
realizes that he is, he’s been on suppressants so long that he didn’t even
recognize the onset of one.
Why had he ever gone on them? This was great, and he had a strong alpha like
Derek to breed him.
He throws his head back, presenting his neck for the older male to take.
"Please, Derek." He moans. Feeling the beginnings of his wetness seep out into
his underwear.
"Fuck." Derek says, biting down with sharp teeth against Stiles' pulse. Stiles
tries to jerk, but Derek is holding him down, wrists grasped sharply behind his
back as Derek attacks his neck. But he wants—needs more.
"Derek." He whines. He feels so empty.
"Stiles, I need to prepare you, get you ready. Ready to take my knot."
Stiles' nails dig into Derek's shirt hard enough that they draw blood. He looks
at Derek with a fire in his eyes, "I don't need you to treat me with kid
gloves, Derek. I need you to stop being a bitch for one day in your life and
commit to something. Fucking knot me, you asshole.”
And then, God, he's face down on the couch, hips up and pants pulled down,
slick sliding down his balls, and he can hear the rustle of Derek’s pants. He
thrusts his hips back, presenting for his alpha. Derek forces his neck down,
holding it, forcing his submission.
"There’s only one bitch here, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be a
good one. You fucking brat.” Derek says, lispy through his heavy fangs, eyes
bright red like blood. "You asked for this." Derek moans, pulling himself out
of his briefs. "God, you smell so good, I was going to go slow, going to feed
my knot to you nice and slow until you were crying for me, begging me."
Stiles whined high in his throat, pushing his hips back against Derek's thighs.
Derek's grip on his neck turns punishing. "But you're such an easy little slut
for it, that I'm going to blow my knot in your tight ass, and you're going to
take it."
"Derek, please, Derek, pleasepleasepleaseplease-" And Derek fucks in in one
smooth stroke, fucks in deep, deep, aided by the omega slick, and Stiles' eyes
roll back. "Fuck, Derek!"
Derek has to stop for a moment, because Stiles is hot and wet like a vice,
smelling like a new omega ready to be bred, even though this isn't—can’t be—his
first. Stiles moves his hips in little circles, like he can't wait, that he
needs it so bad that he'll fuck himself on Derek's dick until he finally gets
the knot that he needs.
He pulls out, tip just hovering outside of that heat slick hole, and Stiles is
crying, whining with high little breathy noises. Derek soothes him with harsh
strokes against he back of his neck, praising him for submitting so good, so
good. "Shhh, shh, good bitch, I'm gonna take good care of you. You’re doing so
well."
“Damn it, Derek, please!”
Derek fucks back into that heat, some deep instinctual part of him angling his
hips until he can get so fucking deep it feels like he's part of the kid. He
angles his hips and listens to the way that Stiles's breath hitches as he hits
his prostate, until he's hitting the kid's prostate on every stroke, and Stiles
is crying, little hitching breaths, like it's too much to take and he can't, he
can't, he can't Derek-
"You can, and you will." Derek growls, fucking harder against Stiles' prostate
until the kid's back tightens up and Derek can smell his orgasm like lighting
on the horizon and then he remembers what the little brat called him.
He pulls out, "Who is your alpha?"
Stiles yells, angry and heat-muddled, "No, please, come back."
"Who is your alpha?"
"You, you asshole, now please, give me your knot, I need it." And he's crying,
and it's the most beautiful thing Derek's ever seen, his mate begging for his
knot. He fucks back in, except this time, he doesn't hold anything back,
rutting into the kid with deep, dirty rolls of his hips, moving the couch with
each thrust. He bites down on Stiles's neck and growls in alpha satisfaction as
Stiles screams and comes, getting it everywhere, and clenching down on Derek's
dick.
And Derek knots the kid tight and full, filling him so full of his come that
there's no way he won't come out of this heat with his belly swollen with
Derek's pups.
Stiles moans, heat sated for the moment. But Derek rolls his hips, enjoying the
feeling of hot and wet and tight around his knot. "You know, I hate how you
always smell like your hand is connected to your dick." He mutters into Stiles'
ear. "But you've never had a heat, in all the time I've known you, horny little
omega slut that you are." Stiles hiccups a soft little moan as the knot rubs at
his prostate, and feels the heat swelling up at the base of his spine again.
"And now I know why, because you would've given it up to the first Alpha you
saw, would've let any knot fill you up, that's how badly you need it." Derek
mutters, face curved into Stiles' neck, savoring the smell of
DerekandStiles,and StilesandDerek, and the spicy-sweet scent of ripe omega.
"No." Stiles moans, still a little out of it with his heat, crying with little
hiccup breaths, so full, "Just you, since sophomore year. You've been my Alpha.
Only your knot. And it feels so good, Derek, such a good Alpha.”
Derek sits them back on the couch, letting Stiles lean back against his chest,
so he can be more comfortable, licking at the mating bite with little kitten
licks and ignoring the way that Stiles twitches and whines on his knot.
He looks forward to the rest of his heat, both of their first with mates, his
knot pulses at that thought and Stiles lets out a weak little moan. Derek did
so good with this one.
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