Actions

Work Header

Disposition

Chapter Text

Stiles wonders if it’s a wolf thing; if a majority of them are stupidly rich and Scott is just unfortunate, because the numbers he sees scrolling past his eyes right now are bordering on obscene.

 

Okay, so Stiles is hardly one to judge what people do with their money, especially as he’s sitting here with the intention of taking some of what is being offered.

 

The website itself is niche to say the least. He only knows about it because of Erica, who was laughing about it during their last group dinner, scoffing at the wolves who would use it. Boyd had snorted and tightened his grip on her, and what did they even know about needing rutting partners? They had each other. Isaac had looked confused at the prospect and wondered why rich wolves didn’t just go out and pick someone to fuck. Scott, too, had seemed bemused, confused, and had joined in the laughing just to not feel left out. Derek had frowned, staring at the wall ahead of him and offering not much commentary. But then Derek was hardly Mr. Conversation Man. And Stiles? Stiles had laughed along, sure, but it was only a cover up, because money and knotting are two things high up on his list of stuff he is passionate about, and okay maybe he doesn’t have actual experience with knotting, but God if he doesn’t want to, and if the thought of it doesn’t make him come so, so hard-

 

So rutting.com is absolutely one thousand percent up his alley. Lonely, stupidly rich wolves who want to pay stupid money to someone to spend their ruts with them; humans or wolves or anyone else willing to spend a week getting fucked and knotted and covered in wolf come and God damn that’s Sties’ dream.

 

He’s opened an account, (he at least gave himself a courtesy ten minutes once he got home that night before he logged on and signed up) and initially he’d felt a little put out about the fact that he is required to provide pictures, but the paying clients aren’t. They can choose who they like the look of and Stiles’ half of the equation are just flying blind. But once the initial indignation has worn off, Stiles finds a certain thrill in the feeling of being brought like a sex toy by someone he has never seen.

 

And the money is really ridiculous.

 

Sure it might be dangerous, too, but his sign up screen has a list of assurances about the clients (Stiles feels more and more like a hooker every time he reads that word) and tells him that they’re all vetted (he laughs and wants to high five the person who wrote this as a credit to their dog joke) before their profiles are approved.

 

Stiles scrolls through and clicks his preferences. Male. Between twenty and thirty. Location? Beacon Hills is big enough that he’s not too worried about giving himself away. Location of partner? He mulls that over for a moment, but since he’s going to have to take a week off to be a personal flesh light for someone he might as well go the distance. He clicks ‘willing to travel’.

 

Then comes a list of his...other preferences. Stiles’ eyes widen at the amount of things he can select or not select, which go from tame to well shit.

 

He selects dirty talk (he kind of wants to be called ‘bitch’ whilst being fucked by a wolf), non-scarring marking, biting, bondage, plugging, knotting (he wants to quadruple click that, but there isn’t an option), half-shift sex? Yes please. He hovers for a moment over the question of whether he’d like to be shared between more than one wolf. But perhaps this time no. Not the first time. BDSM? He’ll go for some of that. Watersports? Well, wolves do like to mark their territory. Pet play? Stiles has seen a lot of that in his porn searches, and he admits he’d be kind of into it, so yep, pet play is a go. Versatile roles? Well shit, if his wolf friend wants to be fucked Stiles can provide. Barebacking. Yep, not like wolves can pass on anything. Full shift sex?

 

Stiles’ eyes widen even more. Full shift sex? He knows that isn’t a common thing for wolves to be able to do. He knows there’s only a few who achieve it. Does he want to be fucked- does he want to be fucked by a wolf in full form? Bent over and mounted by an animal, for all visual intents and purposes? Well, who’s going to tell? Who’s going to know that Stiles suddenly desperately wants that more than he wants anything else?

 

He clicks yes, his dick throbbing between his legs.



Stiles has a few good photos from other dating sites that he knows will do for a start, ones that he got Scott and Kira and Lydia to okay for him, and a few racier ones that he'd hesitantly shown to Erica for approval. They're all good. To start. But the site also allows more explicit pictures that are locked to friends only, and Stiles thinks that if he's going to compete with everyone else on here to live out his ultimate fantasies, then he needs to nail his picture game.

 

He puts his camera at the end of his bed and takes the remote control in hand, stripping down to his underwear. Underwear he then changes for his tightest, whitest pair. This is going to show off the focal point of his partner's desires, after all.

 

He bends, lifting his bottom, presenting. Even the word sends a little thrill through him. He pressed the button on the remote and hears it click, then shifts slightly, taking another, followed by a few more, adjusting his position every time. His cock is hardening slowly between his legs, and his brain slips back to the question on the profile, the full shift rutting and fuck, he hadn't known he'd wanted that until he’d known it was something he might be able to have. His cock fills rapidly between his legs and he groans, settling down onto his sheets. He takes a few seconds, enjoying the pressure of pressing his dick into the firm mattress, before he turns towards the camera and kneels up, taking a picture of his erection straining against the white material of his underwear.

 

Stiles peels his underwear off, tossing them to the side and, flushed and hard, turns over again, presenting his naked bottom to the camera. He closes his eyes as he snaps the pictures, imagining a big, strong wolf looking at him, looking at what he's offering, pushing into his tightness and fucking him, holding him down, praising him for being a good little bitch. He wonders if he can slick himself up enough that his wolf will purr and compliment him on how wet he is.

 

Stiles' cock aches. He hopes his wolf won't hold back on knotting him, hopes they're not gentle, because Stiles has wanted this since he knew what knotting was, and that his wolf friends could do it. He has a toy, a big thick dildo that he uses when he wants to try and replicate how that might feel-

 

He needs it now. So badly. Once again he turns over, rolling onto his back and reaching into his bedside table for lube and the toy he hides deep beneath pens and scraps of paper, tissues, leaflets, anything unincriminating. He has no intention of taking the time to open himself, just slicks up the toy and presses its blunt head against his entrance. His body resists, but Stiles wants it, toes curling against the burn as he pushes it into his body, crying out as his muscles stretch. He takes another picture, the click of the lens making him moan, his toy slipping in a little deeper. He wants someone this thick, wants to be stretched like this without his own defensive hesitance getting in the way.

 

“Alpha-” Stiles whines, thrusting the toy a little, pulling it out and pushing it back in. “Fuck me, Alpha-” he whimpers. His favourite fantasy. He hopes his wolf won’t hesitate in holding him down, won’t worry about Stiles being human. But of course they won’t, it’s their rut, they just want to fuck, and that’s exactly what he’s providing himself for. “Yes. Yes, deeper-” he breathes, forcing the toy in, relishing the feeling of his precome dribbling over his belly. He lets go of the camera control and wraps his fingers around his dick, stroking roughly. “Yes, Alpha. Yes. You feel so big- keep going. Deeper-” He manages to get it deeper still, his body stretching around the head of it. Pleasure is spiking in his belly, he’s sweating lightly, and Stiles lets out little whines and whimpers. He really has watched a lot of porn, he can make pretty noises that his Alpha will like, he’s sure.

 

“Alpha, Alpha-” Stiles mewls, pushing his toy in deep enough that it just brushes his prostate. His muscles grip down on it and his hand moves faster as he circles the dildo to make it rub that spot over and over until he’s so close. “Yes. I’m there, I’m there, please-” he gasps. “I’m there, I’m coming, I’m coming, Alpha-”

 

He tenses as arches as his orgasm rips through him, covering his chest and belly and neck in ropes of come. Stiles keeps jerking, milking himself until it’s almost painful. Only then does he let his hand drop away, reaching for the camera remote again, snapping a few pictures of his come-coated skin, toy still pressed inside him, his dick red and pulsing against his stomach.

 

He can’t wait for a wolf to find him. To choose him. He can’t wait for this to be real.

 

 

***

 

Derek had spent his last rut, four months ago, alone. The one before that he’d picked up a girl who had said all the right things but had only lasted two days into his rut before she’d complained that she was bored of the sex and had gone home.

 

He’d signed up to the website only a few days before Erica had brought it up at one of the pack gatherings, and he had been mortified. He was sure that she knew, he was sure that she’d probably found his account or he’d left his laptop open on the table and she’d seen, but then again he’s even more certain that she would have made a harder campaign to humiliate him personally if she’d actually known.

 

Despite that, Derek isn’t ashamed of his profile. It’s a lot more tasteful than a lot of the other wolves on there, and he isn’t offering a gross amount of money, but he intends to make sure his rutting partner is taken good care of. He already has a location in mind, far from his den here, that he’s going to take them to, to make sure they have privacy but also a luxurious experience.

 

A lot of the offerings on the site have been- Derek doesn’t want be rude, but they’re desperate little fetishists, who probably won’t really enjoy the event once they’re wrapped up in it. They have pictures of them dressed sluttily, a few of them wearing ears and tails and Derek skips right past them. He isn’t interested in that kind of thing. He’s sent friend requests to a couple of potential partners, only to get crass messages back from them, crass or badly spelt, and sure, maybe Derek is only looking for a fuck, but there’s down time in between when he wants to be able to hold a conversation with his lover.

 

He has that written on his profile, his list of likes that aren’t necessarily sexual. Reading, languages, cooking, movies. He’s sure none of the non-wolves on this site are reading that. They see his age, his location maybe, and the money he’s offering, the words ‘luxury accommodation’, and that’s it. He doubts any of them even look through his wants, and even fewer would have reached the point where they’ve read about his hobbies and interests.

 

There’s twenty three friend requests waiting in the time it’s taken him to shower, dress, and make coffee. The other notifications in the bottom of the screen tell him there are new mates in his area. They make it sound a lot less sordid than it is.

 

Derek clicks on the new offerings and scrolls through slowly, looking at the pictures, the usernames, rolling his eyes. His coffee cup is halfway to his lips when he notices- when he sees-

 

“No-” he breathes, though it’s not displeasure. Shock, if anything. He clicks on the profile for LittleRed and yeah, that’s Stiles. It’s one hundred percent Stiles. Not that Derek is proud of the fact that he could tell his friend from the tiny icon displayed on screen before he clicks to open the profile. He has full face pictures, so Derek can hardly be left uncertain. Stiles is on this website looking for a wolf to rut with him. The thought excites Derek a lot more than he was aware it would. Stiles. Stiles wants this. Derek wants this. He has to have him-

 

That thought pushed aside for analysis later, Derek scrolls through the pictures, smiling at the way Stiles tries to make himself look sexy. Stiles doesn’t realise he doesn’t have to try, that he’s distractingly good looking without posing. Not that Derek doesn’t appreciate the way his eyes glow softly in one of the photos, or the way his skin seems more beautiful and pale in certain outfits.

 

He isn’t expecting the next picture. The one of Stiles bent over in white boxers, presenting himself to the screen.

 

Derek’s cock jumps in his jeans and he lets out a breath, slamming his coffee cup down on the table with a force that makes the liquid spill over his hand and onto the wood. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but convincing Stiles to share his rut with him. Again, he’ll wait until later to think about this properly, but his wolf is taking the reigns right now and his wolf knows what it wants.

 

He stares at his friend’s ass, licking his lips and almost purring with desire. Stiles is presenting, and he could have him presenting to him. His wolf is certainly happy with the choice.

 

The next picture nearly kills him, though. Stiles kneeling up, looking coy, his big amber eyes fixed on the camera as his cock strains in his underwear. It isn’t as though Derek hasn’t maybe thought about this once or twice, hasn’t done a double take on Stiles before, but he’s seemed out of reach. Now, though, now it feels as though barriers in his brain have been ripped down and all he wants is Stiles. As though all he’s ever wanted is Stiles.

 

His cock pulses between his legs, and he moves his mouse up to click on the friend request button. He’s going to send a message. He doesn’t want Stiles to know it’s him, though. Not until they’re face to face. It seems safer that way. He wants to seduce Stiles and not just say he’s going to offer Stiles what he wants, because the odds are Stiles would just laugh in his face and call him a creeper wolf and then go off with someone else.

 

Stiles doesn't know him as seductive. Hell, Stiles barely even knows him as a nice guy. But they’ve been apart a long time-

 

Derek takes a moment to scroll through Stiles’ profile, even though he knows everything about h-

 

His eyes scan down Stiles’ list of preferences and Derek whimpers. All of these things- dirty talk, barebacking, marking, biting… then watersports, fuck. BDSM? Half-shift… Derek drops his gaze to the bottom of the list and lets out a groan. Stiles is interested in full shift sex? Derek- he can provide. His wolf would be more than happy to oblige.

 

Derek’s hand is pressed between his legs, rubbing his stiffening cock. Thinking about Stiles. Thinking about Stiles beneath him whilst his wolf takes him. Calling Stiles his good boy. His pup. His mate. Filling him, coming on him-

 

It’s two weeks until his rut and he doesn’t know if he can keep his hands off of Stiles until then. He’ll have to try, though. And not give the himself away.

 

Derek scrolls up to send a message. He doesn’t know what to write, he doesn’t know if he should say something dirty or if he should try and be seductive or-

 

Derek licks his lips. Well, if this doesn’t work he’ll just go with Plan B; confront Stiles and see if they could do something about this, seeing as they tick each others boxes so well. Literally.

 

I want you

 

He keeps it simple. Hits send. Hopes Stiles at least accepts his friend request because he wants to see those explicit pictures. No one else will do now. He’s not going to bother looking through any other offerings. He wants Stiles. Goddamn. He wants Stiles.

 

Derek opens his jeans and shoves his hands into his boxers, wrapping his fingers around his dick. He flicks back to the pictures, flicks to Stiles on his bed with his bottom raised in the air as an offering. He doesn’t know how much experience Stiles has sexually, but he bets the kid has a filthy mouth on him. He’s sure of that. He’s seen Stiles’ list of kinks now, and how willing he is to display himself on the internet.

 

Derek desperately wants to see those explicit pictures. But he’s going to have to live with imagining for now. He can do that. Stiles on all fours for him, offering up his ass that’s already nicely slicked up, possibly with Derek’s come. Stiles would smell of sex and arousal, whimpering (Derek wonders if Stiles has looked up what happens when wolves fuck. He’s pretty sure he has, because Stiles doesn’t do things by halves.) So he’ll whimper for Derek, whimper as his alpha presses a hand to his shoulders to hold him down as he lines up behind him, rubbing the head of his cock against that beautiful hole, teasing the rim, smearing precome over it before he pushes in without prep. WIthout any more foreplay. Just right into the tight heat of his mate’s body. He hopes that Stiles is loud. He hopes he makes a lot of noise or talks as he’s being fucked until he can’t form sentences.

 

He tightens his grip on his dick to mimic the tightness of Stiles’ body, jerking up and down, eyes half lidded and fixed on the screen. His hips lift to push into his fist, wanting it to be the boy’s ass. He hopes one time he can take it slow, he hopes he can spend his time rolling his hips, basking in the tightness, setting up a rhythm that teases both of them.

 

A gentle ping breaks him out of his fantasy for a second and he blinks towards the popup in the corner.

 

LittleRed has accepted your friend request.

 

Derek blinks again, looks at the words, and then clicks on the picture gallery he has open, scrolls past Stiles kneeling there, hard and wanting, and hits the first explicit picture.

 

He whimpers, his cock spurting precome against his stomach as he looks at the uncensored version of the photograph he was just jerking off to. Stiles’ backside, his soft, pale cheeks, the little moles that kiss his skin, up the back of his thighs, all over his bottom, one or two between his cheeks.

 

Derek wants to lick them. He wants to run his tongue between them and find the moles and then kiss the tight little hole that Stiles is showing off to the world. He wants to eat him out, fuck him with his mouth. He’s never been so enamoured with anyone’s ass before, especially not been so fixated on their entrance when he’s not about to fuck it, but he can’t stop staring. He wants to touch and lick and run his fingers around the sensitive rim.

 

As he looks, Derek’s hand moves rapidly up and down his cock, the tip dribbling precome freely down his shaft. His other hand clicks on the next picture and Derek nearly comes. Stiles spread out, hard, a toy pressed in that tiny hole, stretching him open. Fuck. Fuck. He growls, hating that there are other wolves looking at this, other wolves flirting with Stiles, talking to him, offering him money for sex. He doesn’t even know if Stiles is planning to do this a lot, over and over again with other wolves through their ruts. Derek doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to share. He wants him. He wants to pull Stiles down onto his cock and keep him there, bounce him up and down in his lap until he fills him with his come, until his knot stretches Stiles open. Because he wants it. Stiles wants to be knotted. He’ll give his boy anything he wants.

 

Derek groans again, feeling his knot swelling as he thinks about it. It’s not as big as it will be when he’s buried inside Stiles, but it’s there, and he’s so close. There’s one more picture but Derek wants to look at this one-

 

“You’d take it, wouldn’t you?” he asks Stiles’ photo, eyes fixed on the poor ring of muscle that’s been stretched around the toy. “Take all my dick. Let me spread you open. You wanna feel my knot-” Derek breathes. “Fuck. Stiles. I wanna breed you-” he whispers, hand speeding up more until he’s teetering on the edge. There’s another little ping but Derek ignores it, feeling his fangs dropping slightly, claws on his free hand lengthening and digging into the arm of his chair. “Gonna fill you full of my come-” Stiles will let him fuck him in his wolf form. Stiles will let Derek mount him and thrust into him and knot him in his wolf form.

 

Derek whines and paints his chest with his come, the pleasure almost blinding him. He strokes himself until he’s spent, laying back on his desk chair with his eyes closed, dick still pulsing softly in his hand.

 

With bleary eyes he finally reaches over to click on the last picture, whining again when he sees Stiles naked, covered in come. Beautiful boy. He’s going to be Derek’s.

 

***

 

Stiles is a little smug about the amount of hits he has when he next logs onto the website. He has nineteen friend requests and twenty one new messages. Most of the request correspond to a message, so he can vet them easily.

 

The first message is long, sloppy almost, full of words of how much the wolf is going to take care of Stiles and worship him. Which is great, but if the guy is going to treat Stiles like a fragile ornament then he’s not interested.

 

Next one is full of poor grammar and spelling mistakes, and Stiles might be about to take someone’s money in exchange for sex, but he has some standards.

 

Third says simply ‘I wanna bite yo ass and suck yo titties’ and Stiles isn’t into that.

 

The fourth talks about his cunt. Which- maybe he could be into, but not right off the bat.

 

The fifth message tells Stiles that it’s author wants to make him bleed. No thank you.

 

The next few are actually interesting responses, genuine messages that pique his interest, complimenting him on how pale he is, how beautiful his backside looks, how they want to fuck him and fill him up. A trip to their profiles isn’t too shoddy either. One of them is a chef, one of them is a businessman of sorts, another ‘owns property’ which is great. He adds them all as friends, even if one of them has bloodplay on his list of kinks, and another might want him in a diaper. None of them say they can full shift, but that’s hardly a deal breaker.

 

He types out some responses and sends them off, then carries on scrolling through the rejects and the ones that are coming on slightly too strong.

 

His most recent message is very blunt. To the point.

 

I want you.

 

For some reason that’s kind of more flattering than the longer, more descriptive, more specific messages he’d read before. There’s something kind of primal to it, kind of possessive, and Stiles likes it. He looks on the profile and his brow furrows slightly. This guy, this wolf, seems like a normal person. He enjoys things. Has normal hobbies. Is offering to take them to somewhere nice for the duration of his rut. Which is appealing. He’s making offers to take care of the person he chooses, which is- kind. Thoughtful.

 

His eyes skim down some more, read over the list of likes, none of which are particularly concerning. Then at the bottom….

 

Full shift. The guy can full shift.

 

Stiles wants him. Whoever this is.

 

LittleRed: That’s very to the point. Your message.

 

There’s no reply, but he doesn’t expect a message straight away. One of the others have replied, though call him fickle, he’s decided who he wants. But there’s no harm in having some back ups.

 

He’s half-heartedly replied to a message about having his ass eaten when he sees another message pop up.

 

ThirdSpiral: I didn’t see the point in beating around the bush. I want you. We’d work well together.

 

LittleRed: Well, all my other suitors are a little more descriptive in what they want.


Stiles hits send and then worries if he shouldn’t have been so- was he rude? Because he does have other suitors but he doesn’t want them like this.

 

ThirdSpiral: You want me to tell you everything I want to do to you? I was going to surprise you-

 

LittleRed: Give me clue?

 

Stiles sits apprehensively. He wants this man, this wolf, to tell him things, to work him up, to give him something to jerk off to.

 

ThirdSpiral: I’m going to tease you. A lot. I’m going to edge you. I’m going to make you call me Alpha as I spread you open. You’re going to beg for my cock inside you. Then I’m going to fill you. I’m going to fuck you into the bed, we’ll make it slam against the wall. Everyone will know what we’re doing, because they’ll hear you. I want you to be nice and loud for me. I won’t stop when I start to knot you, though. I’ll keep fucking until I can’t move anymore, until I’m shaking you with the bed and I’m caught on your rim and rubbing again and again on your prostate-

 

 

Stiles sits back and reads, his mouth dry, his cock throbbing between his legs.

 

LittleRed: I want you to knot me.

 

It seems stupid, he feels dumb for having typed that out, but most of his blood supply is in his dick now.

 

ThirdSpiral: You want me to mount you, too, don’t you?

 

 

Stiles whimpers, wrapping his fingers around his cock.

 

LittleRed: Yes

 

ThirdSpiral: Yes, what?

 

LittleRed: Yes, Alpha.

 

ThirdSpiral: Good boy.

 

 

The words are only typed on the screen, but Stiles still preens at the praise.

 

ThirdSpiral: You’re going to lay on your belly and present to me. You’re going to stay there as I climb on you in my wolf form. You’ll take my dick like the good boy you are, take it as I fuck you.

 

LittleRed: Yes. Yes Alpha.

 

Stiles strokes himself slowly. The thought of being mounted by a full grown wolf, fully shifted, has only been a possible possibility. But now- now he can make it happen, he can make it so, and it’s hurting with how turned on it’s making him.

 

ThirdSpiral : We’re going bareback. You’ll feel me come inside you. I’ll knot you and then fill you with my come.

 

Stiles’ hand moves faster, biting down on his lip. He has to type with one hand, so it’s not as fast as he’d like, and sure he could stop jerking off in order to type properly but-

 

LittleRed: You read all the other stuff I ticked?

 

ThirdSpiral: Yes.

 

He wouldn’t want to admit it out loud to anyone, but he kind of likes the gruffness of that reply. It reminds him a little bit of Derek. But Derek would never talk like this. Not that Stiles has ever thought about Derek in bed, not much, but he doesn’t imagine that he’s vocal or rough or filthy.

 

A little thrill runs through him at the thought of this wolf. His wolf-

 

LittleRed: Is there anything else you want to do to me?

 

ThirdSpiral: I’m going to do everything to you, pup. My rut is usually four days, but if you can stay and play a while longer I’ll make sure you’re satisfied. I’ll take care of you.

 

Stiles’ breaths come out shorter and harder. He knows it’s an alpha’s instinct to care for their mate, to make them happy and comfortable. He might just be rutting with this guy, but he’s still an alpha, and apparently the instinct rolls over to that. It makes sense. And the domesticity of it turns him on even more, which is just stupid.

 

LittleRed: I can. I can stay.

 

He’s so close, Stiles leans back on the chair, exposing his neck and wondering how much his wolf would love that, how much he’d like Stiles offering himself to him. How much he’d like his scent. If he’d bite gently, if he’d leave bruises over Stiles’ pale skin-

 

He comes suddenly, gasping as he covers his belly with his orgasm.

 

ThirdSpiral: It’s going to be in two weeks. I’ll book us a hotel. Near Beacon Hills. Then you can leave easily if you want to. Maybe the Sheridan. And we’ll discuss your pay when you’re ready.

 

It takes Stiles a few minutes to have a clear enough head to look at his screen again. To see the message. The dirty talk has done it for him, absolutely, but the consideration that accompanies it makes warmth curl inside Stiles in a different way. He doesn’t even think about the money, or the hotel of choice which is ridiculously opulent. That the wolf has chosen Beacon Hills because it’s near Stiles’ home, that it’s specifically because Stiles will feel comfortable there, that’s what really gets him.

 

LittleRed: Thank you, Alpha.

 

 

 

Derek is hard again. It doesn’t help at all that he knows this is Stiles. That he already knows what Stiles smells like in every way, That he knows he’s going to like it when Stiles is pressed beneath him, when he’s got his nose buried against Stiles’ neck. He wants Stiles beautifully talkative when he’s being fucked, or at least loud. Loud will do nicely. And he clearly has a good imagination.

 

He hadn’t shirked away when Derek had talked about mounting him.

 

That’s all Derek can think about now. He’s pushed his laptop to the side and is on his bed, his cock freed from his jeans so that he can rub it against the mattress. He hasn’t shifted, though he knows his claws are out, his teeth have lengthened- He’s obviously thinking of Stiles,  of all that beautiful skin, imagining what his backside will look like presented to Derek when he can touch and kiss, not just on the other side of a computer screen. Pale skin littered with moles, the secret little ones between his cheeks-

 

Derek growls, rolls his hips, rubs down- he’s smearing precome on the sheets but he really doesn’t care. He’s never really grown out of rutting against the mattress like a teenager.

 

Two weeks. Two weeks and he’ll have Stiles beneath him. Fuck, he didn’t know why he hadn’t realised this before. He could have had Stiles months and months ago. Another growl rips from him when he thinks of the fact that he nearly missed his chance, that Stiles could have been with another wolf. No. That won’t happen. Stiles is his. He’s going to make sure no other wolf touches him.

 

Derek’s hips piston faster, rolling against his bed, thinking of the tight heat his cock will be enveloped in soon.

 

This isn’t enough. Derek lets out yet another growl, this time with frustration, flipping onto his back and taking himself in hand. He reaches for the lubricant in his bedside table, covering his palm so that there’s something warm and slick for him to fuck up into. He knows already that he’s going to knot, he’s going to knot in his hand just from thinking about the body he’s going to have during his rut.

 

The sounds in the room shouldn’t be so sexy; the slight creak of the mattress, the wet sound of his hand moving with his dick, his own harsh breathing. He shouldn’t find listening to himself a turn on- but it’s easy enough when he imagines someone else involved, someone else he’s pounding into the bed, someone else moving against him.

 

Derek moans and he arches up as his knot fills out, coming sudden and hard, covering his belly and his clothes, his bed, his hand. The room fills with the scent of him. It’s pleasing to his wolf, but it’ll be even better when it’s all over his mate.

 

No, no. No. Not mate. Rutting partner.

 

Of course, there’s the thought that Stiles will hate that Derek is luring him away without telling him who he really is. Will he feel betrayed? Lied to? Will he just turn around and walk away, his desire destroyed and replaced with resentment?

 

Derek will make sure that doesn’t happen. He has two weeks to warm Stiles up, to show him this new side of Derek, to seduce him properly. He will.

 

***

 

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna be going away for a few days in a couple weeks,” Stiles announces a few days later when everyone is gathering in Scott and Kira’s little lounge.

 

“What? To where?” Scott demands, his head poking around the corner  from the kitchen where he and Kira are taking an unusually long time to pull together bowls of snacks.

 

They’ve been re-establishing these pack meetings since everyone came back from college, even if they’re less pack meetings and more casual hang outs. They have the bonus addition of Jackson back among them, and sometimes Peter turns up just to smirk around at everyone as though he knows something none of the rest of them do.

 

Derek also comes along.

 

Stiles had been surprised when Derek had first shown up, had turned up the first time Scott had text about the pack getting back together. He hasn’t said it out loud, but he thinks that Derek is lonely, and that he wants to spend time with people. They’d all upped and left to scatter around the country, had deserted Beacon Hills and Derek with it, surrounded by his demons and the shadows of their collective histories.

 

He’s noticed that now Derek comes along, touches everyone gently, accepts touches back, and then remains peacefully in the corner of the room enjoying the mingled scents of his pack. It’s different to the man he’d known and left, and Stiles desperately wants to get to know him again.

 

“Just away. For work. Not too far, only the other side of town, but I’ll be swamped. I’m staying in a hotel-” Stiles lies; though it isn’t really all a lie. Just that it’s for work. But he’s getting paid for it as well, so that’s kind of also not a lie.

 

The door opens partway through his explanation, but Scott is still frowning at him and not really paying attention to whoever else is arriving.

 

“If it’s the other side of town why are you going away? Just drive over-”

 

“Late nights and early mornings, Scottie,” Stiles replies, waving a hand and turning around, finding himself almost face to face with Derek.

 

“Hey, big guy!” Stiles beams. He touches Derek on the shoulder, gives it a little squeeze, then runs his hand down Derek’s arm. He’s totally not feeling Derek up. No no, he’s just mimicking scenting. He’s looked that up a lot the last few days, since securing his date with his wolf. Of course he’s familiar with it already, but there’s intricacies to it, different ways for different relationships and Stiles likes to try things out.

 

Derek is watching him curiously, because this is the first time Stiles has touched so much. But Stiles thinks Derek needs the touching more than any of the others. His thumb rubs the inside of Derek’s wrist and then he pulls away.

 

“Stiles,” Derek returns, perhaps a tiny smile curling in the corner of his mouth as he lifts his hand and rests it against the side of Stiles’ neck. It’s so warm and heavy, it’s just a little touch, but Stiles feels heat trickle through him.

 

And Derek doesn’t usually go for the neck! Ever. He does arms, little taps to the hip or chest in greeting. But necks- necks are super special places and Stiles is blushing, he knows he is. Which is stupid because he has a… uh. Date. A meaningless, sex fuelled date that he’s being paid for, sure, but he probably shouldn’t be letting himself get carried away with little touches from other alphas.

 

 

Derek moves over to the sofa, stroking Erica’s shoulder and pressing his hand to Boyd’s chest. They return the touches, Erica with honest enthusiasm, Boyd with gentle sincerity. Derek’s wolf preens. He likes all the touching, he likes the way no one shies away from it with him now.

 

He can still feel Stiles’ hand on his arm, feel the path it took down to his wrist. Stiles’ normal scent seems to fill his nose faster and easier than it had before, and now there’s the soft, woody scent mixed in that makes Derek’s wolf want to stalk back over and breathe in as deep as possible.

 

He looks over and Stiles is still standing where Derek left him, a flush in his cheeks. He looks as though he’s frowning, as though he’s lost in thought, but a few moments later the door opens again, and Isaac and Allison walk in. Stiles snaps out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in and goes to greet them with hugs.

 

Derek wonders if he should initiate a hug with Stiles one time.

 

 

The pack finds their places around the double corner sofa that dominates most of Scott and Kira’s small lounge. Stiles has wedged himself in one corner, between Isaac and Scott, and Derek is sat on the opposite end. They’ve been working their way through Christopher Nolan’s films, and have hit the first of the Batman ones, so Derek is surprised to see Stiles with his phone out, frowning at the screen instead of paying attention to the film. Of course he’s seen these films a few thousand times already, but he usually loves to offer his commentary to whatever they put on.

 

Derek’s phone buzzes in his pocket just as Stiles puts his down. Lydia is on her phone anyway, and Boyd is half watching the film, half scrolling through something, so Derek doesn’t think there’s any harm in him checking his.

 

The notification from the website lights up his screen. A message from LittleRed. He wonders if Stiles is onto him, wonders if he knows, and Derek can’t stop himself from looking across the sofa. But Stiles is fixed on the film now.

 

He slides his thumb across the screen to get to the message.

 

LittleRed : I have other wolf friends. We touch a lot. Not in a sexy way, but enough that I probably smell like them. Is that going to be a problem?

 

Derek frowns at the message for a few seconds and knows he can’t reply right now. Though he desperately wants to send something back to Stiles, something that’ll get him a little bit worked up.

 

It’s kind of what he signed up for.

 

A few minutes later he slips off of the end of the sofa and heads for the bathroom to tap out his message, only hitting send when he’s stepping back into the lounge.

 

Stiles doesn’t even try to be subtle when he reaches for his phone.

 

 

 

ThirdSpiral: I wouldn’t expect anything less. You have a pack, you’d smell of other wolves. I don’t mind. Even if you smell of another alpha. It’s just a question of how your pack will feel when you come back smelling of me, when you come back smelling of us . When you smell like you’ve been claimed. If they see the bruises I’m going to leave all over you.

 

I hope none of them want to mate with you, because they’ll smell me on you for weeks.

 

 

Stiles makes a noise that he hopes he can cover up as a cough, certain that the volume of the film will stop wolfy ears getting too inquisitive. The first paragraph of the reply makes his cock twitch in his pants. One of the things he’s really enjoyed about his conversations with his wolf is the possessiveness. He’s always sounded so possessive, it’s not the first time the word claim has been used, and Stiles wonders if he should be worried about that.

 

The last line makes something heavier settle in his chest, though he doesn’t know why. And he doesn’t know why he looks over towards Derek, who has just sat back down on the other side of the room.

 

Perhaps he wants to ask Derek about it. About claiming. About rutting. About whether or not this is a good idea. Because telling Scott these things is out of the question, he can’t even imagine Scott having a rut. But Derek must have had one. He must understand.

 

The wolf glances over at him. His expression isn’t its usual glare of annoyance at being looked at. It’s soft, almost questioning. And yeah, maybe he should talk to Derek.

 

Stiles gives Derek a little smile, surprised when it’s returned before the wolf looks back at the screen as though nothing happened.

 

 

LittleRed: Are you thinking of claiming me?

 

Stiles hits send in a slight panic, then remembers how courteous his wolf is, how thoughtful he’s been so far. He might talk that possessive talk, but he’s polite, he’s considerate about Stiles’ wants and needs, he’s making plans to have things Stiles likes to drink and snack on on hand in the hotel room. And now his message seems too bold, or too accusing. He doesn’t know. But he doesn’t want to send just that.

 

LittleRed: I didn’t mean- you make it sound so sexy. You make everything sound so, so sexy. You know how to seduce a guy. And I really can’t wait to smell like you. I can’t wait to smell like us. I know it’ll linger no matter how much I shower. I kinda can’t wait to see their expressions. I want them to think I’m claimed.

 

He does. That’s not a nice thing to think. But Stiles wants that. He wants to make the other wolves curious, wants them to know he’s not just a special little human to them . Of course he’ll assure Scott that he’s not being taken away, that he’s not immediately going to be mated to a wolf he’s only just met, even if he already really likes the normal conversations they’ve had as much as the sex talk. When he’d mentioned a book he was reading, they’d gone off on that tangent late at night. When he’d received a picture of a pancake stack one morning, it was accompanied with promises of providing as many as Stiles can eat. When he’d gone on a lengthy rant about some historical facts he’d read the night before, his wolf had given his insight.

 

Stiles wants to know how Derek will react. Which is even worse, because he’s been the one trying to get Derek comfortable around them all. But no one here has any actual claim to him.

 

Again, Stiles looks over at Derek, enjoying the way the soft light from his phone and the light from the television throw all of Derek’s facial features into relief. His eyes are almost clear, the colour from them lost in the way he’s illuminated. He’s watching the film for the moment, and doesn’t turn to look at Stiles this time.

 

His phone buzzes in his hand.

 

ThirdSpiral: Is there anyone in particular you’re trying to make jealous? I bet you’re a right handful for your pack, aren’t you? I already know that a part of you is at least one good handful.

 

I think it’s really hot that you want to smell like me. And us. I can’t wait to scent you. I want to press my face against your neck and breathe you in. I want to press my face between your legs and memorise what you smell like when you’re turned on.

 

 

 

Stiles thumps his head back against the sofa, and this at least draws the attention of the rest of his pack. He’s going to die of blood constantly flooding down to his dick. That’s it. That’s how he’ll die. His eyes slide over to Derek, who is looking at him again (along with everyone else, to be fair) his expression gently curious.

 

He couldn’t call him Sourwolf now. There’s nothing sour about the tiny curl of his lips, the little twinkle in his eyes, even  the softness of his hair that Stiles doesn’t remember from before. Before Derek. And Now Derek.

 

Maybe Stiles can use this as a learning experience. Get to know how to please a werewolf and then come back and seduce Derek. No. God. He’s just drunk on lust. On want. Like any wolf will do. Oh God, he’s a wolfslut.

 

Stiles scrubs his hand over his face and blinks at the television.

 

Two weeks can’t pass soon enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

LittleRed: Can you tell me your real name? Before we meet?

 

ThirdSpiral: I'd rather wait, if that's okay with you?

 

LittleRed: Well, I suppose I'll just be calling you Alpha, anyway.

 

ThirdSpiral: Would you tell me your name?

 

 

Stiles frowns. That's a good point. They don't know each other, really. His wolf is nothing but his username to Stiles, no photo or anything. His wolf knows what Stiles looks like, and roughly where he lives, so giving his name will destroy that one little fragment of privacy he has. And understandably his wolf won't give out details, not until they're face to face and can trust each other (Stiles is still putting a lot of faith in this wolf not being a psychopath luring him into a trap, but he'll take some solid precautions). There can't be that many full shift wolves in the Beacon Hills area. Derek would probably know them, if Stiles mentioned it.

 

But he can hardly go up to him and ask 'hey, Derek, do you know my buddy Jack? He's a full shift wolf, lives around here, we met on the internet- on a completely unrelated note, what can you tell me about rutting?'

 

Nope. Solid nope.

 

But he does want to talk to Derek about it. He thinks it might break the ice, give them a way to get to know each other again. Okay, it’s kind of an awkward way, chatting about Derek's sexual proclivities and Stiles' kinks, but at least they'd be able to talk about normal things easily afterwards.

 

LittleRed: No. I'll tell you when we meet. What else were you planning on calling me?

 

ThirdSpiral: Pup? Babe? Bitch?

 

Stiles smiles. He likes all of those names for different reasons. And of course his wolf would think of calling him ‘bitch’. It’s as though Stiles has dreamt up this guy. He’s too good to be true.

 

Yeah, way too good to be true.

 

He scratches his jaw, frowning at his computer. This could be some weird looking creeper wolf. He could be sixty, or look like Ennis. Or just massive. Like Scandinavian shot putter four-hundred-pounds of solid muscle. And that might kill him.

 

LittleRed: Can I get a picture? Just so I know what I’m going to be working with, you know?

 

 

He wonders how that will go down, if he’s pushing or prying too much. But they’re going to be fucking in...nine days.

 

Oh God.

 

 

The urge to talk to Derek is amazingly strong right now.

 

Stiles picks up his phone and idles over Derek’s number. He knows Derek doesn’t like speaking on the phone, has never liked it. He also knows Derek would pick up if Stiles calls, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. So Stiles texts.

 

Can I come over? I need some wolfy advice. For research. S x

 

His computer chimes just as the message sends, and Stiles blinks, confused for a second about what’s coming and going and did he message himself or-?

 

ThirdSpiral has sent you an image. Would you like to view it?

 

Stiles agrees quickly, clicking on the box and watching the image load.

 

He bites his lip hard as the picture begins to fill his screen; tanned skin- so much tanned skin, thick muscles, defined abs. Stiles' eyes traced the solid v of hip bones and the dark trail of hair that leads down into the man’s jeans.

 

Stiles' eyes had immediately travelled downwards, but now he lets his gaze wander up again, his mouth watering slightly at the dusting of hair that is littered down the middle of his chest, the dark nipples and firm pecs. One arm hangs by the wolf’s side, more gloriously defined muscles (all the better to hold Stiles down with. Or pick him up. Flip him over) but the other is curled up, hand out of shot, holding up a piece of paper that reads, in neat, solid capitals- HEY, LITTLE RED! X

 

Something about the fact that he’s put in effort to disguise his handwriting rings a tiny bell in the back of Stiles’ head, but he’s far too engrossed in the fact that the sign is an assurance this this body belongs to his wolf, that this isn’t just an image pulled off of Google.

 

This is the body that’s going to be rutting against Stiles. This is the body that’s going to be holding him down, moving over him, that Stiles will get to touch and lick and ride.

 

His mouth really is watering. Literally. He’s lucked out. Big time.

 

LittleRed: Thank you, Alpha.

 

Stiles blinks slowly at the picture again, and then glances at his phone, forgotten beside him. There’s a message from Derek, still listed as ‘Sourwolf’ in his contacts. He should change that.

 

I’m surprised you’re asking and not just barging over with a notepad. You’re always welcome here. - Derek

 

Stiles’ face melts into a soft frown. Always welcome? Well, that’s a change. Derek’s rage at them always bursting into his loft uninvited is fondly etched in Stiles’ mind. But apparently Derek’s new den is an open house.

 

Thanks man. Be over soon. S x

 

 

He spends a few more moments looking at the picture. His wolf hasn’t replied to his thanks, but Stiles is sure that if he had a body like that, he’d have to jerk off every time he took his clothes off.

 

Speaking of, it’s not really a good idea for him to jerk off before he sees Derek, because he knows he’ll get shit for smelling of come. All of the wolves in his life give him shit for that. So Derek will have to deal with Stiles’ arousal instead, unless he can get rid of the pulse in his cock before he gets there.

 

 

Derek lives in a small bungalow - well, it’s a bungalow, but it’s beautiful and only really small in comparison to the loft. It has one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a rather spacious lounge. Stiles has only been over once, but he remembers the walls being lined with bookshelves that make the living room smell like a library. He remembers the feeling of actually being in Derek’s home , his territory. That it’s steeped in his personality, that it’s a place where he feels absolute peace. It’s a massively far cry from the loft.

 

 

Stiles pulls up behind the Camaro, heading for the front door that looks very recently painted, the wood stained a few shades darker, the front step still lightly speckled with stray splashes. It’s strange to think of Derek pottering around painting doors and cleaning windows, doing housework. Mowing the lawn. It gives him a warm feeling.

 

He knocks and is once again surprised when the door opens quickly to reveal a soft, smiling Derek.

 

Smiling.

 

Stiles opens his mouth, but no words seem to make their way out.

 

“Hey, come in,” Derek greets, stepping aside for Stiles to pass.

 

“Hey-” Stiles replies belatedly, walking through to the lounge. He doesn’t need to be a wolf to be able to smell the heavy scent of books and coffee, and it settles comfortably in his chest. He takes a moment to look around; Derek’s laptop is open on the coffee table, a couple of books piled up next to it, a notepad and some pens. Derek has a small television now, though it’s not on at the moment. A single family photo of the Hales sits beside it in an ornate brass frame.

 

“Coffee? Or is this just business?” Derek asks from the archway leading to the kitchen, pausing to look over at Stiles. There’s still a smile on his face, as though he’s genuinely happy to see him, as though he’s really glad for Stiles’ company.

 

“Coffee would be good, thanks,” Stiles says, moving towards the bookcase, unsurprised to find the books all arranged neatly by category. Shelves bow slightly, weighed down with fiction books (divided by genre, of course), and Stiles affectionately rolls his eyes when he sees the ones in their original languages. Nerdwolf.

 

The more familiar books, those on mythology and lore, well thumbed over the years, cover the shelves on the other side of the television, though the bottom few shelves giving way to a few rows of  cook books.

 

Next, Stiles turns towards the sofa, looking at the open laptop, pad and pen, the other books that Derek is using at the moment for whatever he’s doing.

 

“Am I disturbing you?” he asks, because clearly Derek is in the middle of something.

 

“No, no, just a bit of work, I’m getting ahead of myself,” Derek says, returning with their drinks and sitting down, his body turned towards Stiles and the vacant spot beside him.

 

Stiles sits, takes his drink with thanks, and feels a little awkward now that he’s here in this nice, warm place with this new, gentle Derek, who seems so keen to help him. And Stiles is just here to pick his brains about sex. Jesus. Great work, Stilinski.

 

“So, what’s up?” Derek asks after a pause. “Are you okay? Some kind of wolfy predicament?”

 

“Uh-” Stiles clears his throat. “Well, obviously not my own predicament, but uh-”

 

“But you’re asking for a friend?” Derek supplies for him, with a little smirk. “Fire away.”

 

Stiles wants to make sure Derek knows that he isn’t actually asking for a friend, because otherwise he’s going to be putting Scott in an awkward situation, but Derek is handing him an easy out from explaining anything, so it would be rude not to roll with it-

 

“Uh, they might be kinda personal questions. Which you totally don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Stiles prefaces, receiving nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement and a gentle, encouraging smile that makes him feel even more like a douchebag.

 

“So, so I know that wolves, were- and otherwise, have uh- ruts. And heats-” Stiles starts slowly. “Can you tell me about them? Just like, generally?” He hopes that if he starts on the wider topic Derek won’t be too suspicious, and then he can hone in on the one thing he’s really here to talk about. “Cos there’s stuff on the Internet, and obviously I’ve read all that, but I don’t know how much is true, and I don’t want to be out there peddling misinformation-”

 

Derek nods again, as though this is all perfectly reasonable, as though Stiles isn’t rambling and asking questions about his sexual activities.

 

“Well,” he stars. “Heats happen to omegas and some betas. They occur more frequently than ruts, though sometimes they can lessen to fall into sync with their mate’s rutting cycle, or it can change if they have pups, or really any number of things. It’s not something to set your watch by. But both of them are designed for conception, to attract a mate, to ensure there’s a high a chance as possible to reproduce. Omegas smell amazing during their heats, and their bodies are so soft and warm, and they’re just-”

 

Derek trails off for a moment, and Stiles bites back an unexpected pang of jealousy that rears out of nowhere at the way Derek is speaking, and the slightly distant look in his eyes.

 

“Uh,” Derek snaps back to the moment without prompt. “Omegas have it worse, I think, because their bodies are programmed to want to be pregnant. Even the males. It’s a genetic throwback and it’s just unfortunate. But wolves tend to- not put much weight on the gender of their partners, if you know what I mean,” Derek tips his head, his expression saying he really does hope Stiles knows what he means. “So male omegas are just as likely to seek out a male mate during their heat, to knot them-.”

 

Stiles’ eyes widen, because that’s certainly something  that’s never come up before. But then again he’s never asked. Derek likes guys. Derek. His heart is beating harder in his chest and he can tell that Derek can hear it, but he makes no comment.

 

“But I guess it’s harder for omegas to be sated in their heats without a knot in them-”

 

Stiles wonders if the flush creeping into his cheeks is as obvious as it feels.

 

“Knots, huh? Sounds, uh-” Stiles starts, attempting as much nonchalance as he can muster.

 

Derek gives him a little frowny face that says he’s failed at that. “You must have read something about them?” he presses gently.

 

Stiles shrugs, though his cheeks are burning and his eyes are comically wide. “I guess, um, I read that the, uh, the base of the...the penis kinda swells when the male is close to orgasm. Swells enough to lock him inside his partner so that when he comes it all stays...in.”

 

The last few words come out a little breathlessly, and Derek is still wearing his frowny face.

 

“Well, yes, essentially,” Derek nods. “Alphas and some betas will knot. Usually during their rut, or the full moon, or with an omega. It’s not every time. Special occasions-” he adds frown blending quickly into a cheeky grin.

 

“You have one?” Stiles asks, his heart still hammering at an elevated pace.

 

Derek nods, though this time Stiles sees some colour creeping into his cheeks.

 

Stiles can’t help but glance between Derek’s legs, thinking about- no, no. No. Shit. Not a good idea. The arousal he’d tried to push down earlier is back in full force, Derek will be able to smell it. Will he assume it’s because of him? Not that that’s a lie, it’s also better that than having him know that Stiles jerks off to the thought of being crammed full of werewolf knot. And the idea of Derek knotting him is the perfect combination of everything he wants.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“How big is it?” he whispers, then realises what he just asked, and shakes his head. “You don’t- you don’t have to answer. I’m sorry-”

 

“No, no, it’s fine-” Derek says gently, though he’s steadily matching Stiles in colour. “Um, I can’t say, I mean, I can’t say how big it gets when I’m inside someone,” he starts. “But um, I guess- I guess it’s about the size of my fist.”

 

Stiles looks down at Derek’s hands, at his long, masculine fingers, wondering if his whimper was audible. “And that’s- that’s normal? Average?”

 

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “I think so. I don’t really ask around, but from what I’ve heard, about the size of a fist. Depends on the size of the dick, though, of course.”

 

Stiles flails slightly. For one, he’s never heard Derek say the word ‘dick’, especially not referring to parts of his anatomy. Secondly, how big is Derek if his knot is the size of a fist? Should he be asking his wolf for approximate measurements?

 

“And-uh- so, you think a knot can fit inside a guy?” Okay, that’s probably a suspiciously specific question. “Or do alphas- can they only knot girls? Would it be uncomfortable to knot another guy? I mean, there’s not as much room-”

 

Derek licks his lips, which cuts off Stiles’ next line of babbling, though he doesn’t make eye contact for the moment. “As far as I’m aware, you can just as easily knot a guy. It’s a pretty gradual growth, so stretching helps it fit. It’s not painful, not really, only as much as fingering yourself open is…”

 

“You speaking from experience, big guy?” Stiles snorts.

 

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “It’s never really hurt me,” he says quietly.

 

Stiles’ brain goes blank for a few moments as it processes those words, followed by the multiple images of Derek on his back, or on his hands and knees, being fucked and knotted by another wolf. He imagines the blissed out look on Derek’s face, the tauntness in all of his muscles before he comes-

 

Oh God. He really wants Derek. The hormone driven teenage fantasies are long gone, now replaced by this very real want. It’s not even lust. It’s absolute desire.

 

He remembers the tick boxes on the website asking whether he’d be into switching. He hasn’t asked his wolf about that, either.

 

“Do you- do you like being fucked when you’re in your rut?” Stiles asks. There’s nothing he can do to stop Derek being able to smell his arousal, so he might as well continue.

 

Derek’s eyes are dark when they meet Stiles’. He nods his head. “Yeah, I like it. I know not all wolves do, especially not alphas, but it’s more common among betas, and since that’s what I was born…” he draws in a breath and Stiles knows he’s breathing him in. That’s absurdly hot. “I like it the rest of the time, too.”

 

Stiles’ brain may well have just turned to jelly.

 

“Yeah?” he rasps, pushing back the urge to reach for Derek now, to touch him, to press him into the sofa, undress him. “When- when’s your rut?”

 

Derek gazes back at Stiles steadily, eyes drinking him in. “In a couple of days,” he replies softly, before looking away.

 

Stiles thinks he’s finally pushed too hard or too much. It seems like a very private question to have brought up. So he nods. He doesn’t think he’s actually asked any of the questions he meant to when he came here, but now he’s distracted by a whole lot of other things.

 

“I just- there’s just one or two more questions. Then I’ll go and I’ll never mention any of this again,” Stiles says quickly.

 

Derek nods his head and meets Stiles’ eyes again, gesturing for him to continue.

 

“How long do they usually last?”

 

“Heats about five days. Ruts usually three, maybe four.”

 

“Is it just constant sex? Is it- or does it come and go?”

 

“It comes in waves. You get to recognise the signs of when the next one is coming so you can...prepare. But there’s some down time to rest and drink and clean up before the next bit hits. The first few days it builds up, and then it’ll reach a peak, then they get less and less. It’s the same with heats, I believe.”

 

“And are you- do you- are you aware of stuff or do you just...fuck?”

 

“I don’t become a mindless sex machine,” Derek smiles. “Actually, I’m kind of needy, but that’s just me. It can get more intense as I reach the peak, more handsy, a little rougher, but I always know the person I’m with. If I’m with someone.”

 

Stiles purses his lips and nods. “And you can go through them alone?”

 

“Yeah, I kinda have mostly, just because- because I… it’s harder for omegas to but-”

 

“Do you think a human could spend a rut with a wolf safely?” Stiles blurts out.

 

“Of course,” Derek says softly. “Wolves are very considerate of their partners. Even if it’s just a one night thing.”

 

Stiles nods. Derek would be considerate in bed. He’d be protective. He’d make sure Stiles didn’t want for anything. Or… not necessarily Stiles. Just anyone. Any partner. He’s a good man. He’s proved that often enough.

 

He directs his gaze away from Derek before he gives into the urge to climb him. He maps the items on Derek’s coffee table, the books and the open laptop, the pad covered in notes that are neater than they have any right to be. The paper is unruled, but still the lines of writing are almost perfectly straight. Stiles remembers each of the few times he’s seen Derek’s stupidly neat writing on notes or maps or plans, and he’d given him shit for writing like a goddamn typewriter.

 

But right now even that’s sexy.

 

“Okay, cool. Well. That’s all-”

 

“Oh,” Derek sits back. Stiles hasn’t realised how close they’ve been to each other until Derek moves. “That’s everything?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, thank you,” Stiles nods, standing. “I won’t tell anyone else any of this, you know that, right? And uh, I hope you- I hope your rut...goes well?” he’s moments away from offering himself to Derek, and he needs to leave because he’s pretty sure if Derek asks, Stiles will ditch the hotel and his Internet wolf and spend three to four days here in Derek’s bed.

 

“Okay. Well,I’m glad I could help,” Derek murmurs, standing to walk Stiles to the door.

 

Stiles turns and pauses, only now noticing the triskele branded artfully on the inside of the door, deep black on the dark wood. He remembers the one tattooed on Derek’s back. He remembers Derek describing it, the way it makes him think of the family he’s lost. So much of his family. And Derek has been through so much more since, on top of that. It makes a ache start in Stiles’ chest, and turns on a little light in his brain, like he’s supposed to remember something, like the triskele is reminding him...

 

He feels Derek behind him and glances over his shoulder, seeing the other man’s slightly nervous expression.

 

“It looks really good,” Stiles says, giving Derek a genuine, bright smile.

 

He doesn’t know why Derek looks relieved, nor why it means so much to Stiles that he does.

 

“Thanks for everything, Der. I’ll see you soon.”

 

“See ya, Stiles.”

 

 

***

 

LittleRed : Do you like being fucking during your rut?

 

ThirdSpiral: Feeling a little dominant tonight, pup?

 

LittleRed : Well, I’m not going to roll over for you every time.

 

ThirdSpiral: I like being fucked. And if you think you can take me you’re welcome to try.

ThirdSpiral: Your list of wants is growing by the day, Red. We’re going to need more time to tick off all your boxes.

 

LittleRed: I don’t know, I know a wolf or two in my pack I’d quite like to have a good go with-

 

ThirdSpiral: You’re just goading me, aren’t you? I’m going to make sure you’re so thoroughly fucked you can’t remember anything but my name. I’ll have you begging for my knot, and craving it when we’re not together. Nothing will stretch you and fill you the way I will-

 

***

 

Two days later, Stiles has had enough. His brain is hurting and he doesn’t think he’s slept that well, because he keeps waking up thinking about Derek, or thinking about his wolf. Things are nagging him, and he needs to deal with it before the weekend, otherwise he’s going to go mental.

 

He arrives home from work, just as perplexed as he has been the last few days. He has to write things down, to work out all the thoughts in his head and unravel them like threads so that he can start making sense of everything. A mind map. He needs to get this sorted.

 

Pad open on his desk, Stiles opens his wolf’s profile. It hasn’t changed at all since they met, nothing has been added or updated.

 

He makes a few notes of the things he knows, specifics. Full shift wolf. Open to switching. Can knot.

 

Stiles licks his lips. Those three things could very much be coincidence. He doesn’t know that his wolf is from near here, doesn’t know that he’s actually in Beacon Hills - he could be any of the surrounding towns or further, and that means he might be far enough out that he’s never interacted with any of the pack here, or with Derek.

 

The Internet wolf is a little possessive, but he also seems protective of Stiles which could also be coincidence. Derek had said the other day that wolves cared for their sexual partners, people they were intimate with, even though Stiles hadn’t been intimate with his wolf yet they’d shared pictures and rather graphic messages. And he’s generous. Considerate. Considerate.

 

Stiles doodles around that word. That isn’t much to go on, it’s not exactly a big flashing sign to accuse anyone with. Not all wolves outside of his pack are massive dicks, he’s sure.

 

He scrolls down to the hobbies and interests section, staring at the short list. Reading, check . Languages, check. Cooking, check. Movies? Derek doesn’t have any on display, but there’s a cabinet beneath his television, and Stiles knows that he has a Netflix subscription because he’d laughed and commented on Derek finally catching up with the decade.

 

Shit, he’s been such a dick to him.

 

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at the new additions to the list. The coincidences are building up, now. Way too much. He’s seen Derek’s bookshelves. He knows that’s all him.

 

Then there’s the timing of their ruts. It’s probably not unlikely that ruts fall at the same time, there’s only so many weeks in the year after all, it can’t be too uncommon. But still, both of his wolves having their rut at the same time is too much to push to the side.

 

Next he opens the picture his wolf sent him. The chiselled chest and tanned skin. He hasn’t seen Derek’s body in years, but he’s clearly still in good shape, and the skin tone is similar, though he can’t put that down on the certain pile because of the lighting-

 

The lack of visible hands in the photo had alerted Stiles right off the bat, he just hadn’t realised it at the time. Why would they be hidden? If this wolf was a stranger, there would be no need to hide that part of himself, an inconspicuous part of him that would be open to viewing at all times. After all, Stiles had looked at Derek’s hands only the other day when he was talking about… comparable sizes. He’d recognise Derek’s hands, he’s sure. In a line up of hands, he’s confident he could pick them out.

 

That’s why they’re not in the picture.

 

And it’s for that exact same reason that the handwriting is disguised. Because Stiles would recognise it. Why else would it be in little block capitals which, now he looks closer, are disgustingly neat? Stiles has pointed out Derek’s handwriting enough times, so he’d know it. No one would bother to do that otherwise. Why would they?

 

Stiles’ heart is skipping in his chest.

 

Now, now for the thing that started this; the thing that has been ticking over in his head for the last two days, that finally seemed to unlock the gentle flow of facts that Stiles had happened to ignore, being swept up in the tide of lust for his wolf and then the frightening realisation of his actual feelings for Derek.

 

The triskele on Derek’s door. Triskelion. Three spirals. Third spiral.

 

Stiles can feel it all light up in his brain, all the dots connecting finally to form the perfect picture.

 

His wolf is Derek. Derek is his wolf. It’s Derek. All this time it’s been Derek.

 

He’s going to fuck Derek. Sweet Jesus.

 

Stiles closes his eyes, squeezing them closed with pinched fingers. No, no, he needs to confirm it first. He needs to look at the evidence again. He need to go back and visit Derek.

 

***

 

Derek isn’t expecting anybody. Despite the fact that he’s actually given permission for them to come over whenever they want to, with or without reason, none of the pack have.

 

He wonders if he should revoke his offer, perhaps they’re all just little shits and only want what they can’t have.

 

Okay, he is expecting Peter, but not for a little while, and Peter has a key. And he wouldn’t knock.

 

Derek scrubs his fingers through his hair and pads over to the door, barefoot and clad only in soft sweatpants and an ancient wifebeater that Laura gave him. Even though the neckline has frayed and stretched down a few inches to bare a little chest, even though there are holes worn through in places, even though the image on the front is beyond recognition, he knows he’ll never get rid of it.

 

He opens the front door to find Stiles, who initially looks excited and nervous, before his gaze moves up and down Derek and his expression and scent turn into a confusing mixture of satisfaction and anxiety.

 

He presses a warm hand to Derek’s chest, pushing him back so that the door can close behind him.

 

“Stiles-” Derek greets slowly, frowning slightly as he watches the younger man move around the lounge, looking at seemingly very specific things; the bookshelves, the set up on his coffee table, touching his fingers to the laptop, opening the cupboard under the television, the scent of his satisfaction growing before he turns to face Derek.

 

“Is everything okay?” Derek asks, as Stiles licks his damn lips and stares at him. Then nods.

 

Derek paces slowly into the lounge, skirting slightly towards his kitchen.

 

“You want a drink?” he asks, hoping to prompt Stiles into some kind of action.

 

“No,” Stiles replies, licking his lips again. A soft, spicy scent begins to ebb into the room, mixing with Derek’s and the usual warmth of Stiles’ already familiar smell. He smelt it before, the last time Stiles was here. During their last conversation.

 

Derek’s heart begins to beat a little harder.

 

“I met a wolf on the Internet. On a website,” Stiles starts, taking a step towards Derek. “I’m meeting up with him next week,” he continues his slow approach until he has Derek backed against the wall. “We’re meeting in a hotel. He’s booked us a room-” Stiles voice is low, rough, his eyes full of heat. “I told Scott that I’m going away for work, but I’m actually going because I want this guy to fuck me. All week. It’s his rut. That’s why I was asking you about it-”

 

Derek whimpers and swallows heavily, letting out a gasp of breath when Stiles presses a hand to his chest again.

 

“Do you think I should go?” Stiles asks in almost a whisper, head cocking to the side, his eyes locked on Derek’s. “I mean, I really want him. And I know he wants me. Some of the things he says to me-” Stiles sighs, his fingers moving over one of the tiny worn holes in Derek’s vest. “He gets me so hard, Derek. You know?”

 

Derek parts his lips to ask why Stiles is telling him this, why he thinks it’s appropriate to ask this of Derek, as though he’s asking permission. But he knows. Obviously Stiles knows.

 

“I’m going to let him do everything to me, Derek. I’m going to be such a good boy for him,” Stiles breathes out against Derek’s lips, almost like a kiss. His eyes are dark, dark with the blown pupils, a tiny ring of golden whiskey around them, and his heart is pounding heavily, hard enough that Derek can feel it against his own chest. The spicy scent is stronger and Derek can feel the gentle pulse between his own legs. “I’m going to let him fuck me. And knot me. I’m really really looking forward to that-” his hand begins to trail down Derek’s chest, slowly, slowly, though Derek can tell he’s alert to whether or not the movement is okay, whether it’s welcome ornot. “God, Der, I’ve wanted to be knotted since I knew what it was. And he - my wolf - he can full shift.” As he says it, Stiles inches closer so that he’s pressed up against Derek’s thigh, and Derek can feel the gentle pulse of Stiles’ cock through the fabric between them.

 

“Your wolf-” Derek rasps, his eyes half lidded as he gaze back at Stiles.

 

“Mhm. My wolf,” Stiles nods. “I’m gonna let him fuck me in his wolf form.”

 

Derek lets out another breath. His fingers reach out gently and grip Stiles’ hips, pulling him even closer, closing the slim gap between their bodies. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods so that their noses brush. “I’ll be on my hands and knees, presenting to him. I want to be covered in him. I want to smell like him. I want to come back and everyone will know I’ve been with him.” His eyes drift to Derek’s for a second, and Derek feels paralysed, his own cock hardening too, pressing against Stiles’.

 

Stiles’ eyelashes flutter gently, and he gazes up through them, worrying at his lip. “But, see, I don’t know him, Derek. My wolf-” (Derek’s actual wolf preens at the wording, at belonging to Stiles) “-I don’t know him. He could be anyone .”

 

“Uh-huh,” Derek breathes, tipping his head so that their noses touch again. Stiles’ eyes slide closed for a moment before he nuzzles back gently.

 

Stiles knows. Of course Stiles knows.

 

“So, do you think I should go, Derek? Let him have his way with me?”

 

His hand moves back up, slides over Derek’s chest again and up his neck, cupping the back of it, fingers teasing Derek’s hairline.

 

“I really think you should,” Derek rasps, his grip settling in the small of Stiles’ back, just above the curve of his bottom, holding him to his body. “I don’t think you should worry. I think he’ll treat you well. He’ll keep you satisfied,” Derek whispers, their lips almost brushing when he moves his head again. Stiles trembles gently against him. “He’ll take good care of you.”

 

“You seem really certain about that-” Stiles replies, eyes closed, very apparently holding back from touching their lips together.

 

“Mhm,” Derek hums. “I’m very confident-”

 

“Confidence is sexy-” Stiles whispers, leaning in to Derek.

 

The sound of a key in the lock reaches both of them belatedly, and they jump apart nanoseconds after the door opens. It isn't fast enough to stop Peter seeing them, and Derek knows there's nothing that can stop the scent of their arousal that's filling the air.

 

Stiles takes a calm yet defensive stance, giving Peter a cool look over his shoulder from his new position about a foot from Derek, arms crossed over his chest. Derek blinks at his uncle mutely, his hands now pressed back against the wall behind him.

 

"Boys," Peter grins. "Not sure interrupting anything, am I?"

 

His facial expression and the smugness of his whole posture indicates that he knows he did and he's just being a shit about it.

 

"I was just getting some advice from Derek," Stiles says smoothly, his heart rate back to its normal pace surprisingly fast.

 

"Oh?" Peter asks, closing the door

 

Derek feels painfully uncomfortable with his uncle here, enclosing the three of them in the space of his home. There's a flare of protectiveness in his chest that wants to keep Stiles and his territory safe, another part of him irritated at being interrupted. His feelings have done a complete one-eighty in seconds.

 

"Yeah-" Stiles draws out his one word response, eyeballing Peter who has the decency to retreat slightly, glancing at Derek, and then back to Stiles.

 

"And you found out what you wanted to know?"

 

Derek frowns at him and Stiles let's out a dark laugh.

 

"I wouldn't worry, Peter; even if he couldn’t help you're right up there with the very last people I'd ask for advice," Stiles says, turning back to Derek. "Thanks for the chat. You've cleared up a lot of questions. I guess I'll see you when I get back."

 

He gives Derek a wink out of the eye that Peter can't see, patting Derek's arm and heading to the door, giving Peter a wider berth as he leaves, waving a hand over his shoulder.

 

Derek is reeling almost painfully. He's doubting absolutely everything that passed between them before Peter arrived. Is doubting now that Stiles knows, is actually certain now that Stiles thinks he's off to fuck some other wolf with Derek's assurance or blessing or whatever it was he was asking for.

 

 

“So, you’re going to be spending your rut with Stiles-” Peter says matter of factly as they both hear Roscoe starting up at the end of the drive.

 

“No, I’m spending it alone,” Derek replies. “He’s going to spend the week with a wolf he met online.”

 

“Mhm,” Peter runs his fingers along the spines of books on Derek’s shelves. “Certainly smells like that. And the way he had you pinned to that wall-” he smirks, looking up at Derek. “He’s gone, by the way. You can move now.”

 

Derek flustered, because he’s still right where Stiles left him, and still not moving.

 

“I always had an inkling the two of you would get together. Or at least work out all of your sexual tension. The year or so before he went to college- well-” Peter sneers. “He smells good. The smell in here is very nice.”

 

Derek narrows his eyes and clenches his fists, a little growl rumbling in his chest.

 

“Easy, Nephew. You know that Stiles would pick you over me any time. Now- we have things to do.”

 

Those things include tedious analysis and observations of the family trust funds, the investments, and the ingoings and outgoings of the three remaining Hales. Derek and Cora both work, but Peter apparently doesn’t give a shit, and just lives off of very good investments. That isn’t to say that Derek and Cora don’t benefit too, but Peter makes his living this way. At least it’s a mood killer. Any residual arousal Derek might have felt is extinguished very fast.

 

 

LittleRed: How good do you think our sex will smell?

 

 

The notification pops up in the corner of his laptop screen and Derek’s heart skips, feeling Peter look over at him. Derek keeps his face blank and draws his computer closer, clearing his throat as casually as he can before he starts to type back a message.

 

 

ThirdSpiral: So good. I’m going to come all over you one time. Mix it together on your belly. Mix it with yours. I bet you smell so sweet.

 

 

He sends it quickly. It’s not his sexiest nor more profound reply, but Peter is still here, wandering around, reading some of his paperwork, and that isn’t really conducive to an amorous environment.

 

 

LittleRed: Just one time?

 

 

Dammit, Stiles! Derek rubs his hands over his face.

 

“I’m going in a minute,” Peter huffs, smirking again. “You can call him over for a practise run.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek growls.

 

 

LittleRed: You should have put your hands on my ass.

 

 

Derek stares at the new message, his brain short circuiting. He reads it over and over again, reads that one line. Stiles is referring to what just happened. To what they were doing here. Derek wasn’t in some kind of lust induced hallucination.

 

 

ThirdSpiral: No one will interrupt us next week.

 

LittleRed: Would you have fucked me up against your wall if we were alone?

 

ThirdSpiral: On the sofa. Your legs wrapped around me. Wouldn’t even get all our clothes off. I’d just get your pants off, undo mine enough that I can press into you.

 

LittleRed: I wish I could get wet for you-

 

 

Derek bites his lip and lets his head fall against the back of the sofa. His cock stirs, but then Peter laughs and all of his arousal dies again.

 

“Okay, Nephew. I’m leaving. You call your boy-”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek grits out again.

 

“I’ll see you on Friday at the meeting, if you’re not too busy-” Peter says, slapping his hand against Derek’s arm before he heads for the door. “I’ll be sure to knock next time I come over.”

 

Derek glares at him, then continues to glare at the door for a few seconds once Peter’s gone and his heartbeat is fading.

 

His computer pings to get his attention.

 

 

LittleRed: I can make myself wet for you, Alpha. Do you want to see?

 

 

Derek grumbles happily, closing his eyes for a second to get himself back into a good place.

 

 

ThirdSpiral: Yes. Yes, show me how wet you are, pup.

 

 

Derek presses his hand against his hardening cock, stroking up and down the length through the denim.

 

 

LittleRed: Tell me your name and I’ll show you.

 

 

Derek thumps his head against the sofa again. Stiles knows. Of course Stiles knows. He knows and he wants Derek to admit it. But if Derek admits it… what if Stiles just wants it confirmed so that he can get on with loathing him for lying to him and leading him in a big deceptive dance? Not that Stiles felt particularly angry earlier. Far from it. If Peter hadn’t walked in they really might have been having sex right now.

 

 

ThirdSpiral: You know my name.

 

 

He taps back  and sends it. Closes his eyes. He smoothes his hand over his vest, feels the softness of the fabric -

 

His phone vibrates and Derek sighs. He can smell Stiles in the room around him. He wants that smell all over him. All over his home. He wants Stiles, regardless of his scent. He just wants him.

 

Derek stops rubbing his vest and swipes his hand over his face, before looking down at his phone.

 

Stiles’ name is on his screen. There’s an image attached. Derek’s heart thumps hard in his chest and he hesitates before opening the message.

 

“Oh, Jesus-” Derek gasps, his cock jumping straight to attention again.

 

The picture is of Stiles on his hands and knees, his bottom face the camera, his hole glistening with lubricant.

 

Derek pants as he looks at the two little moles between Stiles’ cheeks.

 

He undoes his jeans and takes his cock out, stroking it to full hardness, tapping out a new message to Stiles.

 

You look so lovely. So wet. So ready for me. You’ve made me so hard, Stiles.  You keep making me hard.

 

Derek sends and flicks back to the picture. He doesn’t have lube to hand, so he goes slow as he strokes himself, waiting for his precome to slicken the movements.

 

He closes his eyes, focussing on the thought of Stiles naked beneath him. For the moment his knot is barely there, very small, but Derek knows it’s going to start to inflate, that he’s going to swell bigger. Just thinking of Stiles.

 

His eyes peels open when he feels his phone buzz again. Stiles. Obviously.

 

Show me.

 

Derek’s dick twitches hard, a soft dribble of precome slipping from his slit. Fuck.

 

He fumbles with his phone without hesitation, turning the camera around and holding it angled up from his thigh so that the screen shows his whole cock, including the thickening base and his balls. And just that, the action of taking a picture for Stiles, makes his cock dribble again.

 

Derek hits send and sits back, working his shaft a little faster and a little harder. He bites his lip, lifting his hips to push into his fist. He almost doesn’t want to stop when his phone buzzes again, but glancing at the screen he sees Stiles’ name, and he has to look.

 

Jesus, that’s your knot.

 

Derek smirks, slowing down his strokes to message back.

 

It gets a lot bigger.

 

He’s never felt this kind of smugness, he never uses any kind of wolfishness to flirt, and now he’s doing it exclusively. And bragging.

 

But his rut is getting close. Posturing comes very easily right now. He knows Stiles will laugh at him, but it’s instinct and right at this moment he’s sure Stiles’ isn’t complaining.

 

I bet it does. I can’t wait to see it. And feel it inside me.

 

Derek rumbles happily, his wolf pleased that he’s been able to attract and impress someone.

 

He’s going to fuck Stiles. In a few days he’s going to be inside him. And Stiles wants him.

 

***

 

 

Stiles has showered. He’s come hard, twice, thinking of Derek, and now he’s finally pulled himself together to clean up, drink some water, and pull on some clothes. He’s sprawled out on the bed, feeling loose, staring at the ceiling. He also feels an odd sense of… relief? Maybe it’s relief. He was so geared up when he was putting all of the pieces together, convincing himself of his wolf’s identity, confirming it- everything filled his brain and now it’s gone and he’s calm and he knows that it has only a little to do with his two orgasms.

 

Calm.

 

He’s going to spend a week with Derek. They’re going to have sex. So much. He’s going to get to have sex with Derek Hale. Derek Hale is going to knot him, mount him, use him.

 

Derek chose him off of a whole site. Messaged him knowing who he was, seduced Stiles, gave him so much wank fodder.

 

He wasn’t going to tell Stiles. That much is obvious. Because? Because why? Because he didn’t think Stiles would want him? That doesn’t make sense, unless he’s working on the assumption that Stiles would just turn up, see Derek, shrug, and be too lazy to leave. Put up with not being attracted to Derek - which is a combination of words that can’t be said seriously together - just to get to live out his fantasies. Stiles can’t work it out, and now it’s going to bug him until he knows-

 

You weren’t going to tell me until we met, were you? Why? S x

 

 

He taps out the message and then lays in the silent room, somehow knowing that Derek won't keep him waiting, that he'll reply and he'll be honest.

 

I didn't think you'd go through with it if you knew it was me. I wanted to take this time to seduce you, impress you, so you'd be pleasantly surprised. I hoped you would be anyway. I hoped you wouldn’t mind. x

 

 

Stiles frowns at the text. He reads it over several times, trying to ascertain what Derek is saying. That he thinks Stiles wouldn't want him if he was just Derek? That he's assumed he has to charm Stiles and flirt and seduce? Sure, that's been fun, really fun, but is Derek really brimming over with this much insecurity that he thought it better to hold back the truth, that Stiles is more likely to want to sleep with a stranger than him?

 

Then again they never ascertained anything about their relationship before Derek left, and the brief time he spent in Beacon Hills before the pack went to college was spent acting as though there had never been any kind of possibility between them.

 

Stiles has always assumed Derek is way out of his league - he still does - and that there was never any point in addressing the maybes. Derek... Derek has taken that as rejection, apparently (possibly?), as Stiles thinking he can do better, which is impossible.

 

But then Derek has lacked any real, positive relationships to affirm his worth. It's only now, even, that he's being touched gently and familiarly by the pack. Only now that he's not being hurt by every close bond he's formed. Even Stiles has to admit he’s taken a lot of little jabs at Derek, out of fun, sure, but it’s still not kind. Just another little hurt Derek is put through. His track record is dismal as far as romantic relationships go as well, and Stiles knows it didn't improve with the pack away at college, because his dad kept Stiles up to date with everyone important that had stayed behind, including Derek.

 

Derek, who is obviously a different person to the man Stiles left- who everyone abandoned to deal with the fallout of their lives. Derek, who has always been selfless and reckless and brave and shed blood for all of them. Who has opened his home to them all, who can read and speak multiple languages and has interesting opinions on world history and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Who cooks, and smiles softly, and spoke so candidly to Stiles when he had questions, as private as they were.

 

Derek, who has turned Stiles on with words and given him images that have made him come and has been protective and accommodating and considerate and so, so sexy-

 

 

You're an idiot.

 

Stiles sends the message, aware that time has lapsed due to his internal analysis of his wolf. His wolf . Derek is his wolf. Though that's pretty blunt and not really indicative that Stiles is being fond rather than just calling Derek an idiot for thinking his plan would work-

 

I want you. S x

 

he adds, fingers idly stroking the bed sheets beside him, his mind wandering to where they'll be this time next week-

 

His phone vibrates softly as a reply comes through.

 

Do you think you can come a night earlier? Sunday night? So that I can take you for dinner, before everything . D x

 

The smile of Stiles' face shouldn't be allowed. Nor should the sudden eruption of butterflies in his stomach. It’s just dinner. Just the two of them, sure, but it’s only dinner. They’ve eaten food around each other before. It’s not like it’s a date. They’re just having sex. Derek is paying for their hotel and is paying Stiles.

 

Oh yeah. He’s paying Stiles.

 

Stiles wonders what would happen if he refuses the money. What will that make the arrangement then?

 

Yes, please. I’d love that. S xx

 

The butterflies are still there, but Stiles is still jittery. What if Derek is going to call it all off? What if it’s too much for him now that Stiles knows? He starts to write another message, rephrasing it over and over until he just thinks it’s best to throw the question out there.

 

Is this a date? S xx

 

He thumbs through his phone, looking for something to occupy himself until he gets a reply. He tries Instagram, liking a few photos of his friends, his mind wandering to him posting a photo of himself and Derek, of the dumb little heart emojis and the dumb, cliche hashtags he’ll use. Derek as his boyfriend-

 

This is getting out of hand. He wouldn’t be thinking this if it was still a stranger he was meeting. But now he’s gone ahead and analysed the package that is Derek Hale, all of the things he knows about him, has known, and wants to know, and it kind of- it feels right to feel this. It isn’t as though it’s serendipity- though both of them being on the same website is maybe a twist of fortune - because Derek saw him, knew him, and said he wanted him. But Stiles had gotten giddy over a wolf he only had words from, and tick box kinks. So if this is the only way in the world for Derek to make a move on him, then Stiles will take it every time. He knows that without a doubt. He is meant to be Derek’s. He should have said something sooner. So much sooner.

 

Maybe a predate? D x

 

Stiles blinks at the words, quickly reminding himself before the disappointment sets in that Derek hasn’t had an easy run and isn’t going to put his heart right out there so soon. Which means no one else can know about it. Not yet. Not until they both know-

 

His phone buzzes again, and Stiles focusses on the words in front of him.

 

Do you mind if we keep this quiet for a little while? D x

 

I was just thinking the same thing. S xx

 

Thank you, Pup. D x

 

A warm flush trickles through Stiles, his toes curling slightly with the pleasure of it.

 

You’re always welcome, Alpha. S xx

 

 

The smile feels as though it’s stuck to his face over the next few days, despite the fact that he and Derek are exchanging more mundane messages than any dirty, filthy wank fodder. But they are exchanging a lot.

 

Stiles wakes up the day after their revelation to a simple ‘Good morning x’ message from Derek (he can almost see the nervous hesitance around those two little words, feeling the massive step they’re taking with such a simple and timed greeting) and that’s where it all starts. They update each other about their days; Stiles talks about his annoying know-it-all coworkers at the precinct, and Derek updates Stiles on what he’s writing. Stiles is embarrassed to admit that he actually didn’t know what Derek did, or even that he actually had a job. But Derek is patient and explains as best he can over text that he writes and edits articles for various periodicals on the study of the supernatural, which sounds exciting, but he assures Stiles it’s as hard going as working with any other class of academics.

 

They exchange news, they ask little questions, and Stiles feels like he did when he last started dating someone he was totally into, when they’d write novel length texts in between seeing each other. It’s just like that.

 

Except that he forgets that he and Derek are supposed to see each other at the pack meeting on Friday. There seems to have been a silent agreement between them that they’ll see each other for dinner on Sunday evening and not before, as though they are still strangers (otherwise Stiles would have been back at Derek’s house days ago, ripping his clothes off of his body and doing everything- just everything to him).

 

But they have to spend a few hours sat with the rest of the pack, and Stiles has no idea if he can be subtle about it and not give them away.

 

***

 

Derek isn't late, he arrives at his usual time, but the rest of the pack are already there, so nearly all eyes turn to him when he walks through the door.

 

He draws in a breath, scents all of the people present, sifts through them until he finds the sweet scent of Stiles. Derek glances around and finds him, standing by the kitchen door where he was probably talking to Scott moments before, but now his eyes have locked with Derek's.

 

Derek licks his lips and breathes in again. It's one of those moments he's read about, those stupid cliche moments where everything else fades away and it's like they're the only two people in the room. Everything else shrinks back, and he’s sure he can hear Stiles’ heart beating, solid, just a little quick.

 

A heavy hand on his shoulders shocks Derek out of his dreamy gazing, landing hard enough to make him stagger forward slightly.

 

"Nephew, glad you could make it," Peter smirks.

 

"Peter. I didn't expect to see you," Derek grits out.

 

"Well, Scott insisted we all be here since you and Stiles won't be at the next one-"

 

"Why, where are you going?" Allison asks him with a frown, leaning across the sofa and looking from Derek to Stiles, who is staring hard at Peter again.

 

"Nowhere," Derek mutters.

 

"You just both happen to be disappearing for a week at the same time?" Peter asks, sarcastic disbelief dripping from his words.

 

"Well, I don't work with Stiles, so I’m hardly going to be at his conference week, am I?” Derek snarls.

 

Erica seems enthralled by Peter’s hinting, and is also staring back and forth between Stiles and Derek.

 

“Uh-huh,” she drawls out. “So where are you going, Derek?”

 

Derek feels his cheeks heat up, raking his fingers through his hair.

 

“I-it’s- it’s my rut. So-” he swallows heavily. “I’m uh- I’m going away to deal with that. Privately.”

 

The wolves in their room all look suitably uncomfortable about weedling that information out of Derek. None of them are going to question his whereabouts now, but Derek is still embarrassed.

 

“Thanks a bunch,” Derek hisses at Peter, who has the decency to look a little remorseful.

 

Derek stalks to the opposite end of the lounge, perching on the end of the sofa and taking out his phone, blush still burning his skin.

 

They settle down for the group viewing of Dark Knight Rises, and Derek looks up to find where Stiles is. He’s exactly opposite, right on the edge of the other end of the sofa.

 

Their eyes meet only for a moment, and Derek is sure everything has fallen apart because of Peter.

 

His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down at Stiles’ name.

 

I can’t wait to see your knot. - S xx

 

Derek smiles and licks his lips, reassured. He isn’t going to look up because that will give them both away completely, but he’s pleased.

 

You’re going to love it when I knot you. When you feel it swelling inside you until you can’t move away. Until we’re tied together. And those orgasms are really intense for me. I’ll keep coming when I’m locked inside you. Keep filling you, trying to breed you, trying to get you full of my pups.

 

 

Derek hits send. He’s gotten himself a little flustered writing that, so he’s not actually surprised, and just a little smug, when Stiles stands up, shifts around a little, readjusts his shirt, then sits again, drawing a curious look from Scott beside him.

 

He relaxes slightly and focuses back on the movie. There’s a long pause before his phone buzzes again, Stiles slumping in his seat opposite.

 

Can you knot my mouth? S xx

 

 

No. I’m not being kinky here, but it’s too big. D x

 

 

Across the room he sees Stiles lick his lips. Subtle.

 

 

There’s going to come a point next week when you’re going to beg me to fuck you. S xx

 

 

Derek bites his lip as he reads the message, musing over his reply.

 

He stands, unsurprised when Stiles looks up to meet his eyes.

 

“I’m getting a drink,” Derek says, although no one in the room will care where he’s going.

 

“I’ll help,” Stiles replies, scrambling up to join him in the kitchen. It’s fortunate that Stiles is still as flailing and unpredictable as he was as a teenager, otherwise that would look suspicious.

 

Frankly, Derek’s amazed no one knows yet.

 

He waits quietly, smirking when Stiles appears, cheeks flushed pink, hair mussed up beautifully. Derek lets himself be backed up against the fridge, Stiles’ hands pressing against his chest, running up and down as though he’s starving for Derek’s body.

 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Stiles mouths so that no one but Derek will hear. “You want me to fuck you.”

 

Derek’s hands move to Stiles’ arse, groping the way he should have the other day.

 

“You could have asked sooner-” Derek replies, pressing the words softly against Stiles’ ear. His claws extend just a little, gently pricking Stiles through his jeans. “Now  you just have to wait and see.”

 

Two more days.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Scott has insisted he and Stiles have a bro date on the Saturday night, because they aren’t going to be seeing each other for ages. Which is annoying because, for one, Stiles can go at least a week without seeing Scott outside of pack events since he shacked up with Kira, and that isn’t through Stiles’ choice. For two, Stiles very much wants to spend his Saturday panicking and getting ready, in no particular order. Derek has booked dinner for seven, so really he should be glad of the distraction. There really is only so much personal grooming his body can cope with. But if he wants to zone out in those few hours (in between panicking and getting ready) thinking about the body that’s going to be pressed against him soon, and jerk off to the few pictures he has so he doesn’t come too quickly when they get down to it, then he should be allowed the time to do that, dammit.

 

He’s never prepared himself so thoroughly for sex. Even though it won’t even matter in a few days, this first time - their first time - it seems important. He doesn’t think he’s ever had this much notification, either. Sex has never been a planned escapade for him, it just kind of happens, and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the prepping or if it’s giving him more time to worry.

 

Derek hasn’t actually explicitly said that they’re going to have sex on Sunday night, but Stiles is going to try his hardest to make that happen.



Scott has insisted on spending the night, so Stiles has actually had to work on the cover up. His travel bag is half full of shirts and good pants, his laptop and a notebook ready to be packed. He can’t just have a bag full of lube and clean underwear sitting in the middle of his room.

 

He’s at least managed to explain his anxiety away by reminding Scott that is is his first big ‘work thing’, which Scott absolutely understands, considering Stiles and Kira both spent several hours trying to calm him down the day before his first shift as an official trainee vet. So any flailing, any unusual zoning out, any weird bouts of whimpering, Scott’s in the know.

 

His dad, though - Stiles has actually told his dad mostly solid truth; that now that he and Derek are both in good places in their lives, they’ve finally decided they want to take their relationship to the next level, or at least to spend some time together and see where it goes. And can he please not tell anyone the truth about where he’s going, because they don’t want pressure from the pack to influence any decisions they might make, and they don’t want to be disturbed (he tags the last bit in because he knows it’ll stop his dad from asking any other questions.)

 

The Sheriff agrees easily, taking the whole thing in his stride with a rather pleased smile. Mostly because he loves his son and, as Stiles has learnt since he got back, he kind of loves Derek in a similarly paternal way. Oh, and he’s known that Stiles has been harbouring feelings for Derek for years now. He wants them both to be happy.

 

Stuttered denials and muttered acknowledgements along those lines later, Stiles feels better that at least someone knows the truth. It isn’t as though he thinks anything terrible will happen to him , but if something comes for them , then his dad will know where they’ve spent the week.

 

His evening with Scott goes much the same as it has done for every sleepover they’ve had over the decades. Video games until dinner (they drive to get take out burgers and so many additional sides) with a movie, and then more video games and obscene amounts of candy until they’re slurring their words and passing out. Stiles tries to hold back a little on the snacking, because he doesn’t have a hyperactive teenage metabolism anymore and he needs to work to maintained his reasonably toned body.

 

He hasn’t really heard from Derek, but then Derek is smart enough to not send him a barrage of texts when Stiles is with Scott. Scott might be incredibly oblivious to most things, but he’d probably start to question who Stiles was talking to.

 

Still, at half past nine there’s a little ding from his phone, and Derek’s name lights up the screen. Scott is spending way too long customising his car on Mario Kart, so Stiles is glad of the reprieve. There’s only so much time he can spend watching anyone scroll through the same sparse collection of vehicles and wheels, as though it’ll make any difference whatsoever to Scott’s game. It won’t. Scott sucks.

 

He opens the message and holds back a smile.

 

I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. - D x

 

Stiles feels the butterflies swarm in his chest again, quickly tapping out a message in return whilst Scott is still distracted.

 

I can’t wait to be alone with you - S xx

 

***

He manages to get rid of Scott about midday, which isn’t too hard because he’s gone over eighteen hours without seeing Kira, so he’s going into a slight withdrawal. Scott at least manages to fit in a hug and a backslap before he goes, telling Stiles not to let himself get pushed around, to assert himself, and make a good impression. And maybe try and pick up a nice girl. Or boy. Whatever.

 

Stiles assures him he’ll keep all of that in mind.

 

As he makes his way back up to his room to pack his actual essentials, Stiles wonders how much he smells of other wolf now. He and Scott touch a lot, anyway, and they shared a bed last night because they always have - Will Derek notice? Will his wolf mind? He’s never really thought to ask the pack how much he smells like Scott, but then again in recent years it’s probably decreased in potency, considering all of the time they’ve spent apart.

 

His wolf friends at uni could smell Scott on Stiles’ clothes and belongings for a while, just because the scent had been ingrained through the years. But it faded. Scott faded from him.

 

Stiles decides to shower again before he sees Derek, and change into something Scott hasn’t touched. It feels important to him, even if Derek is used to the combined scents. He wants to be as Stilesey as possible.

 

At a quarter past six he texts his dad, throws his bag into the passenger seat of his jeep, and starts in the direction of the hotel. And Derek.

 

Stiles knows that both the hotel and the restaurant attached to it are quite fancy, usually used for business meetings, conferences, weddings and the like. So he’s dressed in a shirt and some of the nice pants he’d dug out to trick Scott with. He also kinda hopes that it’ll entice Derek just a little into taking Stiles to bed tonight.

 

Oh God- he’s going to having sex. Soon. With Derek.

 

He tucks Roscoe into the space beside Derek’s Camaro. It’s a newer version, and Stiles takes a few moments to stare at it whilst he composes himself. The mental image of Derek driving it, the top down and his stupid sexy Ray Bans on, only makes Stiles even less composed than he was. So much for that.

 

Grabbing his battered backpack, Stiles starts towards the wide, glass doors of the restaurant, feeling more and more out of place with every step.

 

“Stiles.”

 

Relief washes through him before Stiles has even registered who the voice belongs to, or taken in the vision that is Derek Hale striding towards him in a black suit jacket and matching pants, light grey shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease at what’s underneath.

 

Their arms wrap around each other without another word. Stiles wishes he could name the last time he’d actually hugged Derek. Derek is solid and warm and holds Stiles so tightly, in the most comforting embrace Stiles can remember in a long time. They’re of a similar height, and Derek smells clean and fresh and masculine, and he can feel the other man’s warm breath against his neck, nose ghosting against the skin behind Stiles’ ear. He’s scenting him, which makes Stiles’ knees weaken a little.

 

“Do I smell good?” Stiles asks, breathing the words against the lobe of Derek’s ear.

 

“Mmm,” Derek moans happily, the sound rumbling in his chest so that he’s practically vibrating against Stiles. He breathes in again before taking a step back, a soft smile on his face. “Come on. I have a table.”

 

The restaurant is almost empty, just a few groups of men in casual business attire occupying tables in little gatherings, chatting quietly.

 

Derek and Stiles have a table by a window which looks out over the shadowy trees on the edge of the woodland; the same woods that spread all the way over Beacon Hills.

 

“Are you okay?” Derek asks once they’re seated, alone with the menus and a carafe of water.

 

Stiles nods. “Yeah, fine. Just a little nervous.”

 

“Me too,” Derek replies with a gentle, reassuring smile. “But I’m, uh, I’m looking forward to our time together.”

 

There’s a swooping feeling in Stiles’ chest, and he looks down at the menu to distract himself, which works, because holy shit the prices here are ridiculous.

 

“Holy moly-”

 

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Derek says easily, with an air of something about him that really kind of turns Stiles on. “It’s all part of the deal. Speaking of-” he puts his own menu aside and reaches for the messanger bag Stiles has only just noticed. “Firstly, here’s your room key. For your room. It’s down the hall from mine. If at any point in the week you need a break or need to rest, you can go there. I won’t follow you, I won’t make you come back. That’s your space. And here’s a card to mine, so that you can come and go.” Derek hands over two cards, the room numbers embossed on them.

 

Stiles stares at him. He wasn’t expecting his own room. He’d thought he’d be with Derek the whole time. That was what he was here for, after all.

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, pocketing the cards.

 

“You’re welcome. Secondly, this. It’s the same questionnaire, I printed it off of the website,” Derek continues, sliding some paper over to Stiles. “I want you to answer this again. Now that you know-  you know who you’re going to be sleeping with. In case anything has changed because of that.” He flushes, frowning at the table.

 

Stiles sees the tick boxes that he’d filled in before. Derek has already ticked off his answers in black, passing Stiles a blue pen for his own. He shrugs and pushes the paper back. “I trust you. I don’t care mind. Whatever you want.”

 

Derek frowns deeper, placing the questionnaire in front of Stiles again. “Fill it in. I don’t care if you trust me. I want to know your boundaries. No biting, no making you bleed, no scat. Put it all down, Stiles.”

 

Stiles purses his lips, but he picks up the pen. Derek is right, and if he’s honest, it makes him trust him more. This time, though, he follows the ticks Derek left, pausing as he reads his preferences. Derek seems to like it a bit rough, but he also likes giving up control.

 

Sex with Derek is going to be amazing.

 

He makes exaggerated ticks at knotting, switching, and full shift sex, seeing Derek smile.

 

“Somnophilia?” Stiles pauses beside one of Derek’s ticks.

 

“That’s one of the reasons I got you your own room,” Derek says. “I’m going to want it in the middle of the night, when you might want to rest. And even if you’re asleep I might try to fuck you. Of course you might not mind waking up to me pounding you into the bed, or riding you as you sleep-”

 

Stiles makes a little noise and ticks the box. Derek’s eyes follow the pen as it ticks watersports, marking, barebacking…

 

“What exactly are you planning on doing with pee?” Stiles asks, pausing again, looking up at his wolf.

 

Derek meets his eyes and shrugs. “I’d kind of like you to pee on me,” he replies, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

 

Stiles gapes at him, his skin prickling with warmth. Well, Derek is full of surprises. “Oh-”

 

“Or it can be the other way round. Or both-” Derek remarks casually. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, if anything.”

 

Stiles nods, and Derek gestures for him to continue.

 

“Do you have anything we can use for bondage?” Stiles asks, ticking the box.

 

“Not on me,” Derek replies.

 

“Oh. Spanking?”

 

“We can do that in the down time, if you want. It might help you enjoy the sex.”

 

“Do you think I’m not going to?” Stiles queries, because that seems ridiculous.

 

Derek smirks. “We won’t know until later, will we?”

 

“Are we going to have sex tonight?” Stiles says quickly, before the appropriate moment passes.

 

A flush floods Derek’s cheeks. It’s difficult for Stiles to associate the man in front of him with the man who was typing such filth to him not long ago.

 

“I was hoping we might,” Derek replies. “I didn’t want our first time to be- I wanted to be able to remember it properly. Not just in the blur of my rut. Something separate”



He takes the paper back and pulls one more thing out of his bag, another slip, considerably smaller.

 

“We should have discussed this before,” Derek says softly, passing the blank cheque to Stiles. “I don’t want  you to feel awkward about it. Just name the price you would if we were strangers.”

 

Stiles looks down, feeling a little sick. Other wolves had offered thousands, tens of thousands, and Stiles could do with just a single grand. It would make a massive difference to his life. But then, so would having Derek. So would being with him. He doesn’t even need to think about it, really. No need to weigh up his choices. He wants Derek.

 

Stiles shakes his head and hands the cheque back. “I don’t want your money, Derek.”

 

Derek stares at him. “But- but that’s why- that’s why you’re here. You’ve changed your mind?”

 

“No, no!” Stiles jumps in quickly. How someone as beautiful as Derek can be so insecure? He reaches across the table, touching his fingers to the back of the other man’s hand. “No, I haven’t changed my mind about doing this. I just don’t want money. Not from you.” He rubs his other hand over his face, groaning. “I mean, I want- I want this. I want to do this because it’s you .”

 

Derek looks completely lost.

 

“You know what I said before, in a message, about knowing other wolves that I wanted to try things with? Things on my list?” Stiles starts.

 

Derek frowns, his eyes glowing for a second. “Mhm,” he grunts, looking away from Stiles.

 

Stiles sighs heavily. “I was talking about you, you dumb, jealous, idiotwolf.”

 

The expression on Derek’s face doesn’t change. He still looks unsure, and Stiles almost kicks himself when his brain catches up with him. Of course Derek has a lot of trust issues. It doesn’t matter if the two of them have been exchanging getting-to-know-you texts and flirting. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been saying dirty things to each other as Derek and Stiles. It doesn’t matter if they’ve mapped out the most mundane parts of their days for each other because it’s comforting. This arrangement had given Derek an emotional safety barrier, and Stiles is trying his best to break it down.

 

“This isn’t about money anymore. Not for me. I don’t just want you for the sex - which we’re still doing by the way - but you’re smart, and brave, and funny when you want to be. We have shared interests and-”  Stiles sighs, turning Derek’s hand over and stroking the inside of his wrist. “And I should have said this years ago, before I went to college. Or months ago, when I came back. Because you know- you know we have something between us. And I always just thought you were out of my league, and then I guess I just thought I’d missed my chance with you.”

 

Derek looks down at their hands, shifting his slightly so that their fingers lace together. He looks so serious, but his eyes are so soft. Stiles’ heart is pounding in his chest just from this simple touch and -

 

“I want you,” Derek says simply, echoing the first words he’d said on the site, the words that had caught Stiles’ attention. Simple. It’s all either of them need now. Uncomplicated.

 

Things seem to take an easier turn immediately. The air clears, a weight lifts, Stiles and Derek are smiling stupidly across the table at each other.

 

Derek again tells Stiles to pick whatever he wants from the menu, and Stiles spends a while umming over the extravagantly named food, asking his dining companion what various items are. He’s glad it’s Derek, he really is, because Stiles knows he’s not going to be mocked for his ignorance. He’s lucky to be here with one of the most patient men he’s ever met, and he knows that Derek will explain every item on the menu if Stiles asks.

 

“Do you just want me to ask them to make you a burger?” Derek smiles as Stiles frowns over the fish dishes.

 

“What? No! How often do I get to come to a place like this?” Stiles protests. He might as well make the most of it and pick something fancy. Fancy but edible.

 

“We’ll come as often as you want,” Derek shrugs his shoulders, smiling even brighter over the rim of his glass. “So if you want a burger, I’ll get you a burger.”

 

Stiles looks up, a little glint in his eyes. “Thank you, daddy,” he coos, biting his lip coyly.

 

Derek certainly looks the part, despite the flush in his cheeks. His suit, his neatly trimmed facial hair, his whole demeanor screams sugar daddy. Especially when he’s sitting across the table from Stiles, who looks like a teenager trying to play businessman.

 

It takes another half a second for Derek to get back in the game. Stiles is- he’s perfect. And he’s glad there’s a table between them, because it saves him the embarrassment of having to try and hide the twitch in his pants at being called ‘daddy’.

 

He gives Stiles a smirk, which knocks the cheeky look from the younger man’s face, leaning back in his chair and holding up a hand to signal the waiter’s attention, his eyes never leaving Stiles.

 

“Sir?” the waiter appears, nodding at them both.

 

“We’d like to order,” Derek says. “I’ll take the steak, rare, mashed potatoes and the Diane sauce. My boy would like a burger, all the trimmings.”

 

The waiter pauses at the request, but Derek reaches into his pocket and pulls out a neatly folded note.

 

“I know it’s not on the menu. I hope this is enough to compensate the chef for the inconvenience,” he says, passing the money over smoothly. He’s trying to impress Stiles, of course he is.

 

“Of course, sir. We’ll do our best.”

 

“Thank you,” Derek nods, turning back to Stiles as the waiter walks away, enjoying the thundering of his heart, the spicy scent of his arousal rising up around them, and the heat in his cheeks.

 

“Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy to take care of you?” Derek asks, running his fingers over his beard.Their legs rest together under the table, Derek watching Stiles shift around, looking bashful. It’s not an expression Derek sees on his face a lot, and it’s rather endearing.

 

“Yes, daddy,” Stiles replies. His heart is still pounding, perhaps nervous that they haven’t spoken about this, haven’t laid out any ground rules for this, but the scent of his arousal is growing, so Derek is confident everything is okay.

 

He winks across the table, then reaches over to take Stiles’ hand again. “We can go to my room  and watch a movie after this, if you’d like? Or you can go to your room and rest up-”

 

“I want to stay with you,” Stiles says immediately. “I don’t want to go to my room.”

 

“Okay,” Derek nods. “You can pick the movie.”

 

“I was hoping we could spend some time getting to know each other, daddy,” Stiles starts. “I was hoping-”

 

“I’m still going to take you to bed, baby,” Derek interrupts, brushing his thumb over Stiles’ wrist. “I want to get my scent all over you. I want to get you used to the size of my dick before I knot you every day-”

 

Another strong wave of arousal rolls off of Stiles, strong enough that one of the men on another table turns around and looks at them, a little flash of blue in his eyes. Derek knows the other wolf won’t challenge him for Stiles, but he also likes knowing that his boy is attracting attention.

 

“You said you didn’t want to have multiple wolves on you,” Derek comments, referring back to the questionnaire from earlier. His eyes roam slowly, pointedly, over to the other wolf. “Do you still feel that way?”

 

Stiles’ eyes widen and he follows Derek’s gaze. The man on the other side of the room lifts his glass to them, obviously able to hear everything they’re saying.

 

“I- I don’t want that. I don’t want that, Derek,” Stiles whispers quickly, panic souring the scent that has been building around them.

 

“Hey,” Derek’s attention is immediately back on him, gripping his hand. “Hey, no, I know. I know. Baby, I’m not going to share you. I don’t want to share you. You’re mine.” He brings Stiles’ wrist to his lips, nipping at the soft skin on the inside of it. Stiles’ shivers and calms. “Good boy. My good boy. Mine.

 

Stiles nods his head, eyes wide. “Yours.”

 

Derek remembers the way Stiles referred to him as his wolf before, how it had pleased him.  Made him preen.

 

“Your wolf,” Derek adds, letting his eyes flash slightly. He smirks at the stutter in Stiles’ pulse, releasing him as the waiter comes over with their food.

 

“Steak, rare, for sir,” a plate is placed in front of Derek. “And a burger with the trimmings for the young man.”

 

Derek and his wolf rumble happily at the bright smile that breaks over Stiles’ face when he sees his dinner. They provided something pleasing for their partner. Providing. It’s a very base, very primal instinct for an alpha, and Derek is feeling it now. He’d get Stiles anything on earth, whatever he asked for.

 

He thanks their waiter, still smiling softly at the expression on Stiles’ face as he starts to pick at his fries, licking his fingers, looking at the oozing, meaty burger. The noises that follow, when Stiles finally bites into it, are almost obscene, and Derek is only half interested in his own food, perfect as it is.

 

“I hope you make those noises for me later, baby,” he comments softly. “Louder.”

 

Stiles smirks at him. “If you’re good to me, daddy. You don’t want me to fake it, do you?”

 

“You won’t need to fake it,” Derek replies. “You won’t be able to help yourself.”

 

He’s enjoying teasing the scent of arousal out of Stiles. He enjoys each little burst of it. He wants Stiles naked as soon as possible. But he is adamant that Stiles at least look in on his room.




“Holy shit,” Stiles whimpers a while later, when Derek has coaxed him into peering at the room he’s rented for him. It makes Derek and his wolf preen again. The rooms are nice. He made sure they’d have everything they needed, including a fridge and microwave for snacks. “This TV is bigger than my one at home!” Stiles yells from just around the corner, even though Derek is only standing in the doorway and can hear everything.

 

His boy saunters back, hips swaying gently. At close enough range he reaches out and runs his fingers down the centre of Derek’s chest.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he purrs softly. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Derek’s hands move to Stiles’ hips, and he can hear his heartbeat picking up again. Derek’s thumbs slip under the hem of Stiles’ shirt, brushing against the warm skin beneath.

 

He can see Stiles’ eyes dilating as they lean into each other, the younger man grinning as he pops open another button of Derek’s shirt, brushing his fingers over the exposed patch of chest hair.

 

Derek’s palms move up and around to press against Stiles’ lower back, pulling him closer. Stiles’ scent is bright with arousal, and clouded by the softest wisp of nervousness.

 

“Derek-” his own name almost makes Derek whimper. “Can we go back to your room?”

 

He’s glad that Stiles is calling him by name. He wants their first time to be just them. No games. No smoke and mirrors.

 

Taking Stiles’ hand in his own, Derek leads them down the hallway. Happiness is overwhelming the scent of nervousness now, and it makes Derek feel on top of the world, unable to keep the stupid smile from his face as he opens his door.

 

“There’s food in the fridge, and drinks. Snacks are in the cupboard, you can have anything-” Derek starts to explain, before he’s cut off by a warm hand on his cheek and soft lips grazing his own. A thrill runs down his spine and settles between his legs.

 

“Shh,” Stiles whispers. “I’ll find everything when I need it. There’s other things we could be doing,” he smiles, bumping their noses together and pressing up closer so that their bodies are flush against each other.

 

Derek can feel his dick throbbing between his legs as well as the gentle pulse of Stiles’ against his thigh.

 

They’ve been in this position before, but this time no one is going to walk in and disturb them, no one is going to interrupt them, not for a whole week.

 

Derek touches their lips together, and Stiles all but melts into his arms, pressing against Derek, walking him backwards since there’s nothing behind them for support. It’s nothing but the chaste brush of their mouths for a few more seconds, but then Stiles’ lips part and Derek doesn’t hesitate to lick in, drawing another groan from the younger man as the kiss deepens, roughens, desperate need colouring the way they press against each other. Little rumbles and purrs rise between them. Stiles’ fingers wind in Derek’s hair, and Derek’s move down to grope Stiles’ backside, barely getting a good handful before his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he stumbles back, pulling Stiles down with him.

 

Their mouths only part for a second, though when they meet again the kisses slow down, lazier, languid. Stiles’ hands cradle Derek’s neck, and Derek’s hands rest firm against Stiles’ backside, pleased with how Stiles is straddling his lap. And oh, how he loves the scent of arousal building up around them again, for just the two of them, confined in this room.

 

He keeps a firm grip on the other man as he sits up, one arm still supporting Stiles’ bottom as he

tries to wriggle the other out of his suit jacket. Clothes need to be removed. Both of them need to be naked. If he would just will their clothes away they’d be in the perfect position now.



Stiles huffs between their lips when he feels Derek’s attempts at stripping, rolling his hips forward to completely throw off his wolf’s concentration. As he hoped, Derek stutters and lets out a little moan, so soft, softer than Stiles would ever have imagined from him.

 

He likes the way he’s being held, likes that Derek would rather contort himself than let go of him.

 

But Stiles does want him naked. He wants them both naked, but mostly Derek. So he assists, unwinding his arms from around Derek’s shoulders and helping him ease out of the jacket, which is thrown across the room. Stiles then starts work on the buttons of Derek’s shirt, tipping his head so that their lips can meet again in slow, heavy kisses that make Stiles dizzy. He’s kissed a lot of people, but he’s never been left breathless, never so turned on by just the touch of lips-

 

The shirt joins the jacket somewhere on the floor and Stiles leans back to drink Derek in.

 

Derek looks apprehensive, shy almost, as though Stiles might not like what he sees. Which is ridiculous, because Derek is perfect. He’s toned, his skin is so warm in colour, his nipples a few shades darker. His upper chest covered in short, dark hair that leads down to his belly, down into his pants. Stiles is completely enamoured. He’s staring, fingers dancing lightly over the body beneath him.

 

“Jesus, Der-” he sighs, brushing his thumbs over Derek’s nipples, smiling as they harden immediately under his touch. “You’re so hot. You’re- Christ. Are you sure you want me?”

 

Derek looks up at him and raises one of those eyebrows.

 

“Are you serious?” Derek asks, though he isn’t teasing. He’s trying to make sure, he wants to check- “Stiles, I want you,” he says firmly. “I’ve imagined doing filthy things to your body. I want to trace all of your moles- you have two-” his fingers trace the length of Stiles’ spine and over the curve of his bottom, pressing a firm line down the middle of his cheeks- “right between here. I want to kiss them. I want to lick you everywhere. I want to rub myself off against you.”

 

Stiles trembles, his breath coming out in a shaky little gasp. “Oh.”

 

“I’m- really into you-” Derek says shyly.

 

That’s another new word to describe Derek. And the tiny smile on his face afterwards makes Stiles want to never let him go.

 

There’s a pause in which they look at each other, enjoying the moment, and then without warning Stiles finds himself on his back, pressed beneath Derek’s weight.

 

Big hands roam over his skin, and a few moments later, the buttons barely undone, Stiles’ shirt is off and joining the other items of clothing on the floor. His mouth falls open as Derek begins to kiss his way down Stiles’ chest, his beard leaving a tingling, scratchy path as it goes.

 

He slides his fingers through Derek’s hair, not quite guiding him down his body, but enjoying being able to touch. Touching Derek anywhere is really- it’s just excellent. But he likes Derek’s hair. It’s thick and warm and fuck, Derek can full shift...

 

Stiles’ cock aches, and Derek is getting closer and closer to it. He wants to last, he wants to drag out everything even though he knows over the next few days he’s going to be getting more than enough.

 

“You’re gonna fuck me, right?” he asks, breath hitching as Derek nips around his belly button.

 

Derek looks up, dragging his tongue gently down the dark hair leading beneath Stiles’ waistband. It’s the sexiest thing Stiles has ever seen in his life. The heated gaze and the lavish way Derek is just licking him-

 

“Unless you want to fuck me,” Derek grins, letting out a low laugh when he feels Stiles’ dick twitch against his stomach. “Oh?”

 

“Not tonight,” Stiles shakes his head. “I want- I want to feel you like this before- y’know-”

 

Derek’s expression softens. He presses a little kiss to Stiles’ belly. “I might knot you. Slightly. Tonight. Um-” Derek is flushing, gone from smug to shy in a heartbeat. “It’s been, um- when I’ve been jerking off when we’ve been talking, it’s been forming-”

 

Stiles cocks his head. “And it doesn’t always?”

 

Derek sits up, and Stiles misses the warmth of him on his legs.

 

“No, no it doesn’t. I think I mentioned it before. Just with an omega or full moon, or in rut. With a mate- it’s just for procreating-”

 

“But it does when you think of me?” Stiles asks, taking his turn to be smug.

 

Derek lifts his shoulder in a bashful little shrug, not making eye contact.

 

He’s adorable. Stiles is head over heels.

 

He reaches for Derek then, guiding him up his body to kiss him, sliding their mouths together slowly again.

 

Stiles kicks off his shoes and spreads his legs, wrapping them around Derek to draw their bodies closer. Derek is hard, too, and Stiles feels unexpectedly relieved to know he’s just as turned on. The older man rolls his hips, grinding against him, and both of them break out of the kiss to moan.

 

“We need to be naked,” Stiles murmurs. “I want to- I really want to put my hands on your dick. Or my mouth-”

 

Derek smirks at him, kneeling up and running his hands down Stiles’ chest. His eyes are hungry and it makes Stiles tremble. A part of him may have thought Derek was just running on lust and his rut, but the expression on his face now is undeniable want.

 

Derek’s hands move over Stiles’ hips and then down his thighs, fingers splayed to allow him to touch more. Stiles can hear his slightly laboured breathing, still amazed that this man wants him. The muscles in Derek’s upper body are thrown into sharp contrast by the soft lighting in the room and Stiles can’t wait to lick him everywhere.

 

One hand presses between Stiles’ legs, cupping the swell of his cock. Derek is playing with him, Stiles is sure, but he signed up for this. He signed up to be played with for a week. So Stiles relaxes, closing his eyes and arching his hips, smirking when he hears the little grumbling noises Derek is making.

 

A gasp slips from his lips, gives him away, when Derek slides down the zipper of his pants and pops open the button, all with one hand. The other is stroking over Stiles’ belly, the slight softness that he hasn’t ever really managed to shift, but it seems to fascinate Derek. Probably because Derek doesn’t have an inch of fat on him.

 

There’s another growl from his wolf, and Stiles lets out an undignified noise as his boxers and trousers are pulled off in one rough motion. He feels a flush run through him as Derek stares at him, gaze heavy as they rake over his naked body. He remembers that Derek has already seen pictures of him naked (naked and covered in his own come) but it’s different when he can see the expression on the other man’s face. Something between adoration and desire.

 

Stiles draws his knees up, resting his feet on the bed, fighting against his nervousness as he offers up his body. Derek actually licks his lips, hands moving down to the fastenings of his own trousers, pulling them open and stripping them off with impressive grace.

 

Derek is naked finally, and Stiles gapes. Genuinely gapes. He’s so much better in real life.

 

“Oh my God,” he rasps, lowering his legs again so that he can sit up and move closer. The picture on his phone of Derek’s dick doesn’t do it justice. The lighting in here is better, he can see how big it actually is. He can stare openly at the uncut head. He hasn’t seen a lot. Something about that turns him on even more.

 

He looks up and meets Derek’s heated gaze, shivering happily at the smirk on Derek’s lips.

 

“You seem pleased,” his wolf purrs.

 

Stiles nods his head, reaching out his hand and wrapping his fingers around Derek, feeling the width of him. That his knot is the size of a fist isn’t unbelievable.

 

“I’m gonna be tight,” he whispers coyly, stroking slowly up and down Derek’s length.

 

“I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” Derek replies, the words soft, and Stiles knows that Derek will do everything he can to make it so.



Derek gazes down at Stiles, naked and pale, his long fingers stroking up and down his cock. Stiles is lovely. Derek has always thought so, but right now it’s bordering on sinful.

 

His cock twitches and he sees a little sparkle in Stiles’ eyes.

 

“Roll over,” he whispers, watching eagerly as Stiles does as he’s told, getting himself into the position Derek had seem him in online. “Good boy.”

 

Stiles glances over his shoulder and smirks, lowering the front of his body towards the bed, lifting his bottom higher. Presenting.

 

Derek growls. “Good boy,” he says again, his voice rougher as he steps forwards, pressing both hands to Stiles’ cheeks and spreading them. He finds the two little moles and leans in, pressing his mouth to one.

 

Stiles yelps, the sound dissolving into a low moan when Derek flicks his tongue over one of the marks, then drags it up towards the other. He presses a kiss there, pleased to finally be able to touch them. It only takes a tiny shift of his head to be able to brush his tongue over, grazing the tight ring of Stiles’ entrance.

 

“Fuck, fuck, oh-” Stiles pants quietly. Derek can feel that he’s trying hard not to push back, not to grind himself onto Derek’s face.

 

Taking pity, Derek pushes his tongue in, groaning himself as the muscles tighten and flutter around the intrusion, barely loosening even as Derek starts to gently fuck him, waiting for Stiles’ moans to bleed into sobs before turning his head to kiss the moles again, his beard brushing the sensitive skin around Stiles’ bottom, making his boy gasp.

 

“Jesus Derek, what-” Stiles moans roughly into the mattress, and Derek is pleased with himself. If he lifts his gaze again he can see fingers wrapped tightly in the sheets, knuckles white as Stiles tries to maintain control of himself.

 

Derek growls softly and bites the opposite cheek.

 

“You want me to eat you out until you come?” he asks, flicking his tongue over Stiles’ entrance again.

 

There’s a muffled sound in reply, and then Stiles gasps for breath. “No, I want to come on your cock.”

 

“You just want me to knot you, don’t you?” Derek smirks, thrusting his tongue in a few more times and enjoying how Stiles bucks and whines. “You can have that all week.”

 

“I’m just a slut for your knot,” Stiles replies, though he pushes himself back against Derek’s tongue, making Derek moan. He might be an alpha, he might be going to get all dominant-rutting-animal on Stiles in the next couple of days, but there’s no doubt in his mind right now who is, and who always will be, in control. He’d do anything Stiles asks.

 

He turns his head once more, kissing those two little moles he’s fallen in love with, that have been here all the years he’s known Stiles, and Derek never knew. Then he pulls back, taking a few moments more to look at the offering before him. Stiles’ heart is pounding hard but he smells of nothing but happiness and sweet arousal.

 

Derek had unpacked everything they’d need before Stiles arrived. There’s a lot of lube -an almost embarrassing amount of lube- in the bedside table, and he has only to reach in and grab a bottle, uncapping it and letting the cold gel dribble down between Stiles’ cheeks. He loves the reaction he gets.

 

“Fuck, Derek. Fuck,” Stiles gasp in protest, his indignant grumbles melting quickly into a moan when Derek presses his finger very gently against his rim,  penetrating just slightly.

 

A softness washes over Derek. He thinks he could easily fall back into the role he’d had online, tell Stiles how beautiful and wet he was for him, how he wanted to mount him and breed him- But it’s Stiles. Right now it’s him and Stiles, and he wants to be with Stiles as Derek. And Derek is a dumb romantic.

 

His free hand rubs against the small of Stiles’ back as he gradually increases the depth of his finger, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of his lover’s body stretching slightly to accommodate him. Stiles moans like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever felt, and the noises go straight to Derek’s cock. He loves sounds, and he knows Stiles will provide. He’s never doubted that.

 

He takes his hand off of the warm, pale skin to squeeze out more lube, making Stiles slick enough to start pushing in another finger.  Stiles is louder. Derek hopes this is a pattern because his dick is a lot bigger than his fingers, so hopefully that’ll make Stiles scream.

 

Two stretch him and it’s mesmerising. Derek can hear himself panting as he moves his fingers, only just now realising that his hips are rocking at the same time, rolling forward as though they’re already fucking.

 

“More, Derek, c’mon, please-” Stiles gasps, his voice already a little wrecked from the moaning. “I need you inside me.”

 

“Not yet, one more finger,” Derek whispers, because he doesn’t want to stretch too much and make the next succession of times painful for Stiles.

 

“Derek, if you think I haven’t fucked myself open with bigger things than your two fingers-” Stiles starts before he cuts himself off with a bark of protest when Derek pulls both hands back as though they’ve been burnt.

 

There’s really no problem, only that Stiles’ words have almost tipped him over the edge already.

 

Derek grips his dick, trying to will away the already swelling knot at the base, because he really wants them to enjoy this first time, and that’s going to be impossible if he can’t move. Stiles kneels up and turns around, looking at him with concern which almost immediately melts into smugness when he sees the expression, the I’m-really-on-the-edge expression on Derek’s face. Derek can feel Stiles’ eyes travelling down his body, feel them lock onto his cock, and hears the shuddering intake of breath when Stiles sees his knot.

 

“If we go slow,” Derek starts, “then I might not blow my load in you immediately.”



Stiles wants it. Stiles wants to feel that knot stretch him out, he wants Derek to have to force himself inside him, wants Derek to not be able to move because he’s coming and filling Stiles and trying to breed him.


Stiles is going to bring that up again when Derek is rutting. He’s going to beg Derek to fill him with pups and see how long it takes his alpha to climax.

 

He smiles and shuffles back on the bed, beckoning to Derek with a finger. Derek’s eyes are blown and dark and he’s honestly the most beautiful creature Stiles has ever seen. Settling back on the bed, he places a pillow beneath the small of his back, spreading his legs in offering once more.

 

Derek stares at him. It’s almost a moment too long, almost enough to make Stiles want to cover himself up, but then Derek is crawling up the bed towards him, and Stiles is reminded of the predator his lover is.

 

Derek kisses his knee and then the inside of his thigh, welcoming Stiles’ fingers into his hair with a little purr that Stiles feels all the way through his body. Derek’s mouth moves to his belly, and he kisses it with a gentle reverence, nuzzles into it’s softness. He avoids Stiles’ cock on the way up, though his tongue drags and his teeth graze in all the right places as though he’s playing Stiles like a fucking instrument.

 

The leaking tip of Derek’s cock drags over Stiles’ hip, and automatically Stiles arches towards it, letting out a gasp of breath, a whine of impatience. Derek lifts his head when they’re eye to eye and it’s so perfect, so intimate. Derek is really here with him, wanting to be with him.

 

“I want you,” Derek says those words again, but this time with a softness to them, a painful sincerity as though he thinks he’s going to be denied at the last minute.

 

“I’m yours,” Stiles replies, never breaking eye contact, because he wants Derek to be able to see that truth, to breathe it in and taste it. Stiles could never be anyone elses’.

 

“Do you still want to go bareback?” Derek asks, his hips twitching as he speaks, dragging a wet line of precome over Stiles’ hip.

 

“Jesus Christ,” is all Stiles can say for a moment. Derek might be concerned about coming too quick, but Stiles is just as on edge. And he’s going to have Derek inside him. That’s one of his long standing fantasies.

 

His fingers stroke through Derek’s hair, giving it a tug that makes the wolf growl happily. “I want you to fill me up,” Stiles purrs. “Come inside me. Claim me.”

 

Derek’s hips twitch again, and Stiles sees a brief flash of red in his eyes.

 

“I want,” Stiles continues, cut off suddenly by tiny kisses pressed to his lips. Derek’s right hand is braced beside Stiles’ head, the other moving slowly from hip to thigh, pushing Stiles’ legs further apart. “I want you,” he manages to rasp out finally, when Derek pulls back to lift his hips, guiding his cock to Stiles’ entrance.

 

He stares straight into Stiles’ eyes as he pushes forward, the intimacy of the moment taking Stiles’ breath from his lungs just as much as the slight burn and stretch of Derek pressing into him.

 

“Good boy,” Derek whispers those words that Stiles is so fond of, the flush in his cheeks darkening with the praise and his muscles relaxing all the more in an innate desire to please his alpha.

 

His hips twitch, trying to push down, wanting to feel full.

 

“Slowly, Stiles,” Derek chastises gently. “We’ve got all night.”

 

Stiles wants to complain that he’s been waiting five years for Derek, his patience can only stretch so far, but his wolf chooses then to roll his hips, a smooth motion that pushes him deeper.

 

Stiles lets out a little cry, because he’s never been filled like this. He may have had the stretch with some of his toys, but now he has the heat of Derek’s body too, the weight of him, and the hand pressed intimately to the top of his thigh.

 

“I thought you’d be louder,” Derek murmurs, bumping his nose against Stiles’ jaw and nuzzling.

 

“You want me to be?” Stiles rasps with a soft laugh, because usually people want to use sex to shut him up.

 

He tips his head to the side, smirking as Derek growls at the offering and resumes nuzzling at his now exposed throat.

 

“I want you to be you.”

 

Stiles’ cock throbs, and Derek chooses that moment to bottom out.

 

“Oh, Jesus, Derek!” Stiles mewls, blunt nails pressing into Derek’s shoulders. Above him his wolf stills for a second, and Stiles whines. “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop.”

 

Derek buried fully inside him is a dream. He’s long and thick, and he can feel the small swell of Derek’s knot at the base, only the slightest addition to the stretch for the moment.

 

He whines again, trying to wriggle and encourage movement, wanting to feel the drag and push of Derek filling him over and over-

 

“I want to make you feel good, Stiles,” Derek whispers. “But if you keep doing that I’m going to come too fast-”

 

“And you think that won’t get me off-” Stiles smirks. “I can feel you. I can feel you wanting to knot me,” he breathes. “Come on, Derek. Take me.”

 

Derek growls very softly, rolling his hips, drawing his cock out nearly all the way and pushing back in.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles groans as Derek hits his prostate. “More.”

 

“I got you,” Derek breathes back, starting up a slow rhythm, rolling his hips, rocking in and out. His hand guides Stiles’ thigh, lifting, repositioning so that the head of his cock makes contact with his prostate each time.

 

More moans are punched from Stiles with each thrust, ripples of pleasure running down from his neck where Derek’s face is buried, panting, and kissing, and groaning.

 

“Stiles,” Derek whimpers, hips still working like goddamn magic, fluid and exact in their aim. “It’s starting. I’m gonna knot you-”

 

“Oh God, yes,” Stiles groans in response. “Do it. Derek, please...”

 

Derek braces himself properly, hands either side of Stiles’ head, thrusting forward harder, the slow rhythm forgotten, abandoned in favour of this, of pounding Stiles into the bed, of drawing louder and louder noises from his boy’s lips.

 

Stiles groans and arches, clinging onto Derek, cursing as he feels Derek’s knot begin to swell, tugging slightly on his rim as it moves in and out, in and out. That extra bit of stimulation is making him dizzy with pleasure, in addition to the easy way Derek is finding the right spot inside him each time, means that Stiles is about to fall apart completely.

 

Derek breathes against Stiles’ neck, nuzzling, growling as he fucks him. Stiles’ moans louder with every thrust, and not just for show. The animalistic noises Derek is making, as soft as they are, are really doing it for him. That, and it’s Derek.

 

He wraps his legs tighter around the man on top of him, clinging as the swelling at the base of Derek’s dick increases and each inward thrust takes a little more force so that he can push properly inside Stiles. God, God, it’s as good as he imagined. It’s everything he wants.

 

“Oh Jesus, oh, fuck, fuck, Derek-” Stiles whines. “I’m close. Fuck, you feel so good. So good. Stretch me open, God, you’re so big,” he babbles, gasping as Derek rocks forward harder, as Derek grunts quietly with the force he has to use to penetrate. His knot is huge. The stretch each time sends zings of pleasure all the way through Stiles. He didn’t ever think he could feel this full. He didn’t think anything would be this good. He spreads his legs wider, hoping he can open himself up more, to fit as much of Derek’s knot inside him- it is like a fist. Stiles curses and writhes, moan after loud moan being fucked out of him.

 

He’s almost sobbing by the time Derek can’t pull out, clinging to his wolf as Derek rocks his hips to keep up the stimulation, a constant, terrifyingly good pressure on his prostate and against his rim.

 

“I’m going to come, Stiles,” Derek pants, nuzzling his way up to Stiles’ lips, hovering over them. “Oh God, you’re amazing. I’m gonna come.”

 

Stiles somehow manages to get his hand between their bodies, wrapping his hand around himself. That’s all it takes, just the light grip of his fingers, to make Stiles’ orgasm rip through him. He arches, this time actually unable to let out a noise, lips parted in a silent scream whilst he coats his stomach and Derek’s chest.

 

“Stiles-” Derek moans, mouthing at Stiles’ jaw. “Yes.”

 

His hips twitch as the first pulse of his own orgasm hits. Stiles can feel it. He turns his head to find Derek, to touch their lips together, smirking when Derek gasps at the kiss, hips canting again as another wave of pleasure rolls through him.

 

“How long are you going to keep coming?” Stiles asks, his fingers sliding up into Derek’s hair. They aren’t going to be moving for a while, but Stiles is still enjoying the pulse of Derek’s knot against his rim, the tingles of his climax still very close to the surface, his nerves still buzzing lightly.

 

Derek shivers. “I don’t know. I don’t know. A few minutes?”

 

“And you’re just going to keep filling me up?” Stiles smirks, nipping at Derek’s lips. “Breeding me-”

 

“Nngh, Stiles-” Derek whines. “Save that for later. Let me just enjoy you.”

 

Stiles huffs a little laugh, relaxed and calm from his orgasm, warm from the weight of Derek on top of him. He lowers his legs, letting out a little surprised groan at the tightness between them where Derek’s knot is locking them together. Which he also likes, a lot. Above him, Derek whimpers, tensing, riding through another small wave. Hell, Stiles’ will lay here for hours if he can just keep teasing those tiny orgasms from his lover.

 

“Are you comfortable?” Derek asks, nuzzling at Stiles’ jaw, kissing softly, everything gentle.  “This could- this’ll be a while-”

 

“I know,” Stiles smiles, his fingers still carding through Derek’s hair. “And I feel perfect.”

Chapter Text

Stiles has showered with people in the past, both before and after sex, and it’s always been handsy, and usually at least one of them orgasms.

 

And yet showering with Derek is echelons above any of that.

 

He helps Stiles to the huge bathroom once his knot had gone down enough for them to move apart. Derek is so gentle, his hands on Stiles’ hips as they move, firm and sure in their guidance, finally settling him down on the towel covered toilet seat whilst he fusses around with the water. He frowns as he tries to get it to the temperature he deems satisfactory, tiny little turns of the handle either way, standing bodily under the spray.

 

Stiles aches in such a good way. Derek’s knot has stretched him a delicious amount, and once he’s standing he can feel the warmth of the other man’s come running down his legs before he’s guided to sit on the lid. He’s grateful for the towel both for the sake of his bottom (it’s sore and the toilet seat is bound to be cold) and for the lack of mess it’ll ensure.

 

The care that Derek takes in making sure Stiles is comfortable (and the serious expression on his face as he waits for the water to reach a temperature that pleases him) would have made Stiles laugh before, or if it was anyone else, but he understands that Derek was driven to it by instinct; the need to care for him, to provide, to please.

 

Stiles has done his research very thoroughly.

 

It’s that instinct that makes the shower with Derek so exceptional. It also helps that beneath the water, hair plastered to his head, the spray running down his muscles, Derek is more beautiful than Stiles can believe. But it gives him a kind of vulnerability, too. Especially once the soft little smile returns to his face.

 

The water is perfect.

 

Derek’s hands move slowly over Stiles, with a reverence that Stiles doesn’t feel worthy of. For the moment he isn’t touching back, enjoying the motion of sure fingers on his body, and also knowing that this is what Derek needs right now.

 

Derek’s smile grows, his hands brushing down Stiles ribs to his hips, stroking carefully over the softness of his belly. It isn’t supposed to be sexy, but just that simple touch, the focus in Derek’s expression, it makes Stiles feel more desired than he ever has before.

 

“You like that?” he asks as Derek traces warm fingers around his navel.

 

“Hm?” Derek hums absent mindedly as he continues on his touching mission, fingers circling Stiles’ navel and then following the trail of soft, dark hair down.

 

Stiles doesn’t respond, doesn’t repeat anything, just closes his eyes and enjoys the touches. They skirt around his half-hard cock, though he doesn’t mind. It’s pleasant, he’s stimulated enough that he tingles gently everywhere, but he isn’t desperate to get off.

 

Derek starts with soap then, smoothing slippery hands all over Stiles, covering him in white suds.

 

Stiles hums this time, enjoying the care. His own fingers lift and begin to trail over Derek’s hard abs and then up through the chest hair that Stiles finds incredibly attractive. Only on Derek, though. He isn’t a fan of lots of body hair, but he is here with a wolf- a wolf who can get a lot hairier. He strokes up the centre of Derek’s chest, letting the dark curls slide between his fingers, almost fascinated by their texture and how God damn hot he thinks this man is.  

 

The soap is unscented, Stiles realises after a moment. There’s something quite nice about that, too. Of course anything heavily scented is a no no, but there are neutralising soaps too that would strip them both clean of anything but the smell of their skin. Simply unscented kind of maybe means that Derek wants to be able to smell them both, to not wash away the scent of their sex.

 

Rinsed down, Stiles then finds himself pressed against the shower wall, the tiles cold against his back, but Derek warm against his front. His wolf dips his head and nuzzles Stiles’ damp neck, his breathing slow and even. Stiles can feel a smile on the lips that press to his skin, and he doesn’t think he knows the last time he was sure Derek was happy. But the other man is grinning and huffing and touching as though it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

 

Stiles can’t help but wonder if anyone else would hold him like this, if it’s a wolf thing or a Derek thing, but it doesn’t matter. He never intends to find out what anyone else is like.

 

Derek doesn’t really speak again until they’re both dry and in their pyjamas. He seems satisfied, content, the softest expression on his face as he finally stops fussing around and settles beside Stiles on the big bed.

 

“I’m sorry-” Derek says after a pause, his smile fading slightly. “About-”

 

“Fussing over me?” Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows at Derek’s fallen expression. “I’m enjoying it. You’re enjoying it-” a little note of questioning lingers at the end.

 

“It’s been a long time since I had anyone to look after,” Derek says softly, face falling further, looking all the more forlorn and vulnerable in his soft pants and tshirt, his hair fluffy and at angles.

 

Stiles feels a tightness in his chest at just how much he cares about the man beside him.

 

His hand reaches for Derek’s, their fingers lacing together. “It’s nice. I haven’t been looked after this well since I was a kid.”

 

Derek smiles returns, lifting his eyes to meet Stiles’.

 

“At the end of the week I’m going to take such good care of you. Help you unwind- and, you know, in between sessions-” he flushes at the last words. Even his flushing is beautiful. Stiles knows he goes splotchy and flushes in various spots over his pale face like an uneven sunburn, but Derek is just- damn him. “I’m going to do my best to look after you.”

 

“I know you will,” Stiles nods, inching up against Derek’s side, resting his head against his broad shoulder.

 

It’s all very chaste, the two of them sat together in bed fully clothed. It’s actually kind of sexy, Stiles thinks. This domesticity, this snapshot of how their lives could be in the future. Or in some future, where both of them are more whole than they are now, settled, patched up better. Some other Stiles and Derek living and growing together.

 

Fuck it, there’s no reason he can’t have that, too. Who better to help him heal than someone with just as many scars, as many shared experiences of horror and pain?

 

“You can put the TV on, pick whatever you want to watch,” Derek says, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts. He inches down the bed, readjusting their positions and  turning bodily towards Stiles, closing his eyes.

 

Again there’s an ache inside Stiles chest when he gazes down at Derek’s peaceful face, noticing how long his eyelashes are, and how his lips have parted slightly, soft breaths brushing over Stiles’ arm. He never wants Derek to hurt again. Never wants this man’s heart to be broken by people unworthy of his loyalty.

 

***

 

He wakes up to an empty bed. He can hear the low hum of the television where he’d forgotten to turn it off before he’d fallen asleep.

 

A breeze is blowing through the room, and Stiles turns in the direction of the window.

 

Derek is silhouetted there, the morning light bright behind him, curtains billowing around him. He’s stripped down to his underwear, his eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

 

“Der?”

 

“Hm?” Derek opens his eyes, the slightest flash of blue in them just for a second.

 

Stiles sits up and stretches. “You okay?” he asks, reaching for the bottle of Gatorade that’s materialised on the table beside him at some point whilst he slept. He cracks off the lid and swallows nearly the whole bottle in a few gulps.

 

“Yeah,” Derek replies, leaning forwards, closer, his head resting in the palm of one hand. “It’s going to start soon,” he adds. “We should get some breakfast.”

 

It’s almost eight. Monday morning. Breakfast will be being served now, so Stiles nods. They’re not putting anyone out by ordering room service.

 

“I’m warm,” Derek says slowly, to explain the window, though his eyes are moving over Stiles. Derek is looking at him in a way that makes Stiles feel like he could very much be breakfast. “You should maybe do a little prep before- I don't want to hurt you.”

 

Stiles blinks rapidly, because he’s sure that shouldn’t sound so hot; growled instructions to open himself, stretch himself, slick himself up so that Derek can fuck him without worry. Yeah. He’s very into this.

 

***

 

It starts about mid morning.

 

Derek paces the floor, back and forth between the door and the window, rolling his shoulders, his breathing heavy, rumbling like a growl in his chest. His fingers clench and unclench into fists, irritated by the tingles in his nail beds where his claws want to extend.

 

Stiles watches him, holding his own breath, putting down the coffee cup he’d been holding. Derek hasn’t shifted at all, he’s still very much human, but he’s moving like a predator, stalking from left to right  across the room that suddenly seems a lot smaller.

 

Lowering his gaze, Stiles can see the growing bulge in Derek’s soft pants.

 

He looks as though he’s holding back, as though he’s trying to fight it, trying to resist. Stiles can feel his own arousal start to build with the anticipation, his pulse fluttering his eyes following Derek’s path side to side in front of him.

 

He’s getting closer , Stiles realises with a jolt, adrenaline spiking as though he really is the prey, caught in a trap. Derek has advanced to the end of the bed, his eyes glowing, a smirk on his face.

 

Stiles barely has time to draw another breath before Derek’s fingers wrap around his ankles, yanking him down the mattress. Rough hands pull at the waistband of his pants, and they’re stripped off of Stiles, leaving him naked. The cool air chills the lube between his thighs, goosebumps breaking over his skin when Derek pushes his legs apart to rest either side of his hips, shoving his own pants down to mid-thigh and freeing his cock.

 

Stiles is glad that Derek told him to prep first, because his wolf doesn’t waste any fucking time. He lifts Stiles’ lower body enough that he can line up, then pushes himself inside with one stroke, his whole length filling Stiles..

 

It burns and Stiles curses, but it isn’t bad, it isn’t painful. He likes the slight ache of the stretch, likes how Derek is manhandling him without any of the gentleness of last night. The thrusts are hard and unrelenting, and Derek’s head is arched back, not even looking at Stiles as he drives into him.

 

Stiles’ fingers fist in the sheets, trying to steady himself against the pull and push of Derek’s body, Derek’s hands gripping his lower thighs but barely supporting him, jolting him with each rough movement.

 

This is exactly what he signed up for.

 

Derek pounds into him at this angle for a short time, getting good leverage from his standing position, but then Stiles feels his body lifted again. Clearly Derek isn’t satisfied with the first position. Instead he kneels at the end of the bed, bending Stiles over slightly and wrapping his legs around his waist before he thrusts forward again.

 

The new angle is better for both of them. Derek growls, his fangs dropping slightly, and Stiles can feel his cock even deeper inside him, rubbing teasingly over his prostate with every other stroke.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles moans, letting out a little hiss when he feels Derek’s claws scraping against his thigh.

 

Derek ignores him, but he isn’t making him bleed, he isn’t pressing too hard, just enough that Stiles enjoys the prickling feeling creeping over his skin like intense goosebumps.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Derek-” Stiles begins to gasp out with each inward motion. He doesn’t know if Derek can hear him of if he’s too far gone to care, but it doesn’t matter because Stiles loves it. If he lifts his hips at the same time, the pleasure spikes, his lover’s cock finding the right spot over and over-

 

Derek’s pace is suddenly harder, quicker, and Stiles begins to feel the tug of the wolf’s knot against his rim. The friction on the nerves there makes him mewl, sharp pleasure building in his body as he is stretched open a little more every time. Derek’s hips are moving too fast for Stiles’ body to get used to each wider penetration, so he can really feel it. It’s far more intense than last night, tears sting the corners of his eyes at the intensity and the dull ache of being forcefully stretched makes Stiles moan like it’s his damn job.

 

When Derek can’t pull back anymore he presses himself against Stiles, pushing him hard into the bed. The headboard slams against the wall behind them, and though Derek is growling through his pleasure, he still leans down to nuzzle Stiles’ throat before he comes.

 

Stiles feels the pulse of his orgasm inside him, as well as the slight, gentle swelling of his knot as it continues to expand, continues to stretch him. He hasn’t come, but that might be a good thing, because this is just the first of many and he may as well wait for his own release so that he’s not exhausted and over sensitive.

 

Derek growls quietly against his neck, but he’s nuzzling, his movements are gentle, like he’s trying to smear their scents together. And Stiles kind of likes feeling the cresting of Derek’s orgasms every minute or so, with the pulse of Derek’s knot against his sensitive rim.

 

There’s an intimacy to this- laying with Derek - that Stiles doesn’t think he’d feel with a stranger. It feels right.

 

“You’re okay?” Derek asks as he starts to come down properly, his orgasms easing off. He licks softly at Stiles’ neck where he’s just been scenting, another wolfy trait that would be alarming if Stiles really didn’t know the nature of this man.

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Stiles murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke through Derek’s hair.

 

“I didn’t hurt you?”

 

“No. No, it was good. It was everything I was hoping for.”

 

Derek lifts his head and frowns at him. “Really?” As though he can’t believe sex with him is anything that amazing.

 

“Hey, you saw my list of kinks,” Stiles replies with a grin. “You know what I was signing up for. You can throw me down and mount me and I’ll beg you for more.”

 

Derek’s eyes flash blue again for a second. He looks like he’s going to say something, but bites back the words at the last moment, distracting Stiles with the drag of his mouth along his jawline. Kissing is good. Stiles likes kissing. He’ll ask later.




Stiles gives himself a cursory wash down after they part. He isn’t going to shower properly every time they fuck, otherwise he’s pretty sure his skin will fall off. But he rinses down, glad he closed the door of the bathroom, though he’s certain it doesn’t block out the sound of his moan whilst he cleans away Derek’s come as it runs down the backs of his thighs, realising just how filled up he was. Fuck. He could leave it. He kind of wants to leave it, to know he’s full, that Derek’s body wants to breed with him. His unsatisfied cock gives a throb of want, and Stiles already knows what he’s going to be begging for next time. He wishes he owned a plug, something he could put inside him to stretch him the way Derek’s knot does, to keep his come inside him after-

 

And whilst he’s sure he could find a wolf knot plug on the Internet, he’s also sure he doesn’t want to get it delivered to the hotel. Shit. Next time.

 

Stiles preps himself again, trying not to overindulge in his own fingers too much, and then heads back to the room, pulling up his boxers as he goes.

 

Derek has chugged down a bottle of water, and is holding another out for Stiles. He’s rumpled again, hair at all angles. Soft looking and beautiful. And naked.

 

Stiles is infatuated with him, and also still surprised that Derek has chosen him of all people. Him. Because there are more leagues between them than even Jules Verne can comprehend. And though Stiles never saw anything good on the site, he’s sure Derek had a lot of offers. So many offers. Yet of all of them he chose a guy he knew, someone who knew a lot of his dirty secrets and vulnerabilities. Someone he shares friends with.

 

Maybe that’s what Derek desires, though. Familiarity. Stiles is certainly enjoying this a lot more than he’s sure he would if he didn’t know Derek. Amazing, brave, loyal Derek who has been through so much hurt, had so many people, including Stiles, crap all over him.

 

But there he is, smiling at Stiles in that almost bashful way he has, stepping towards him to hand over the water.

 

Stiles isn’t expecting a kiss. It surprises him but, God, it makes him light up inside. Derek just hands over the bottle and leans in, brushing their lips together and then leaning in for a firmer press, the quiet sound of their lips parting sending a shiver through Stiles.

 

“Oh. Hey. Thanks,” he mutters, the only words he’s managed to pull out of his brain for the moment, and even they’re more slurred than coherent.

 

“I’m gonna read. Relax for a bit,” Derek whispers, pressing another kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth and moving away, but towards the window..

 

Stiles goes to lay on the bed, digging out his phone to catch up on everything he might have missed today and last night. Instagram, Twitter,  he’ll pass by Reddit if he gets bored of social media and his friend’s lives.

 

He pauses and blinks when he sees that he has two messages from the website, which surprises him. He’d all but forgotten about it, in all honesty, up until a few minutes ago. But they’re both from the same wolf. Alpha13.

 

 

Alpha13: You’re so fucking cute.

 

Alpha13: I want to know what noises you make when you’re being played with.

 

 

Stiles blinks and clears his throat, closing the messages. He should unsubscribe. He really needs to unsubscribe. Delete his profile.  Another message pops up just as he closes the first two.

 

 

Alpha13: I think we’d get on very well. You’re beautiful. If I guess how many moles you have, do I get a prize?

 

 

Stiles looks over at Derek, then back at his phone. Derek is engrossed in his book. Stiles doesn’t think he should reply. Well, he knows he shouldn’t. He and Derek have… they have something going on. Even if they don’t talk about it until after this week is done, there’s something, and it doesn’t invite involvement from other people, including wolves.

 

So he has to be polite, turn the guy down gently, since he knows what he looks like now, and the ballpark area of where he lives.

 

 

LittleRed: Now isn’t a good time. But thank you.

 

Alpha13: You’re with another wolf. That’s fine. I can share. We could share you.

 

 

Stiles wants to write back that it says on his profile that he doesn’t want to be shared, but then he realises he shouldn’t be engaging any further with this person. He frowns. They’re only words on a screen but they make him slightly uneasy. If he told Derek, he has no doubt that Derek would charge out into the night and hunt this guy down, but that isn’t necessary. Stiles closes the notification again and opens any other app for distraction, to bring his mood back up.





Derek watches Stiles as he checks his phone, watches the expression on his face as it slips away from relaxed. He hopes that Stiles isn’t regretting this. He hopes that he isn’t having second thoughts after that first experience with Derek’s rut. He knows it was different from last night, he wasn’t as gentle, he didn’t kiss and praise as much as he had before. He hopes it isn’t too much.

 

Another wave will hit soon. And he doesn’t want to be forcing himself on Stiles.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks across the room, closing his book.

 

Stiles jumps slightly and looks up. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is still dishevelled from the sex they’d had earlier, but he looks a little startled, as though he’s been caught out.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Is this still okay? This set up?” Derek asks, wondering how much he has to do with that expression. “You’re okay to stay with me?”

 

“Of course,” Stiles replies, moving from startled to sure in one smooth motion, putting his phone to the side to give Derek his full attention.. “Why? Why do you ask?”

 

“Cos there’ll be another- it’ll start again soon, and I don’t want you to have to just put up with it. I don’t - you look kind of sad. I just wondered.”

 

Stiles frowns at him, moving into a seated position on the bed. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing, Derek. Seriously. You’re so fucking hot. And this is- this is brilliant. I want to stay. I consent, fully. Okay? You have my consent for every time. I promise. I’ll tell you if not.”

 

There’s no lie in Stiles’ words, and his expression is equally as serious.

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m being honest, Der. There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be and I still can’t actually believe I’m here,” Stiles says softly, earnestly. “I’m good. Really good.”

 

Derek nods, averting his eyes back to his book, though he isn’t reading. He can hear Stiles on his phone again after a few moments, his heartbeat a little too fast. He might be excited, though. He doesn’t smell unhappy. He smells warm and comfortable.

 

Stiles gets up a couple of minutes later to get a drink from the fridge, one of the sugary ones, which Derek approves of. Stiles needs to keep his energy high. He puts his book down and watches, his eyes moving slowly over Stiles’ body, drinking him in. He is really lovely to look at. It’s making the warmth build up in his body, like the next wave of his heat is coming on already. It isn’t usually so fast. He’s probably imagining it. He’s just always running on warm right now-

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Even Derek is surprised by his words, so the look Stiles gives him is expected. Derek is sure he’s crossed a line, that this isn’t something they should be discussing now, in their down time. Kissing is for in the moment, like touching, like staring at each other naked.

 

Stiles is giving him a little frowny face, his drink held halfway to his mouth, and Derek wants to shrink away from him and apologise for being so bold, maybe leave the room, hide in the bathroom for a while until his wolf is in control again and he doesn’t have to worry about crossing any lines.

 

“You don’t have to ask,” Stiles replies softly. “You didn’t earlier.” His tone isn’t accusing. If anything it’s slightly confused.

 

“No, but we’d just finished, then. And now- we’re doing our own thing,” Derek tries to explain his reasoning.

 

Stiles is still frowning at him, taking a few steps forward, his hips swaying gently in a way Derek hasn’t noticed before. “Der- seriously. You can kiss me whenever you want. However you want. Wherever you want.” He strokes his fingers gently through Derek’s hair once he’s close enough, leaning down towards him. “Even if it’s just for this week, I’m yours.”


Their lips touch, just brush over each other, and then Derek is parting his, pulling Stiles’ closer with his arms around the younger man’s waist. Stiles moans softly, tongue sliding slowly against Derek’s, everything comforting and warm and easy.

 

It’s easy. There’s no anxiety, no bubbles of fear. Solely contentment. He doesn’t linger on the sentiment he was offered before the kissing started. That Stiles is his. For this week.

 

Stiles phone buzzes, but he doesn’t seem to hear it. They’re kissing hard and deep, catching desperate little breaths every so often. Derek can feel the hardness between Stiles’ legs as it bumps against his chest, remembering he didn’t come the last time they were together. His hand slips around, cups the outline of his cock, and he swallows the sound as Stiles moans again.

 

Everything smells and feels so good. The next wave is starting.

 

“You didn’t come,” Derek says softly, moving his palm up and down so that Stiles stutters out breaths against his lips.

 

“Don’t matter. Plenty of time,” his boy replies, though his hips rock forward into the contact, dick filling up and hardening more.

 

“It’s starting again,” Derek murmurs. “You okay?”

 

“You don’t have to ask,” Stiles reminds him, hooking his own thumbs into his boxers, inching them down his hips. Derek palms at his dick, enjoying the heat and hardness of it, his other hand drifting down between Stiles’ cheeks and feeling the slickness of the lubricant he used to prepare himself.

 

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers, smirking as Stiles’ cock twitches.

 

“Can you blame me?” Stiles replies. “I’ve been wet for you since I walked in here.”

 

Derek bites his own lip and looks up at Stiles’ grinning face. “You’re a fucking terror.”

 

“You started this-” Stiles pulls back, wriggling out of his underwear completely. He stands himself just out of Derek’s reach, drawing a little growl of annoyance from Derek. His eyes flash, and Stiles smirks at him.

 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bait a wolf?” Derek asks, standing, tingling all over when Stiles takes another step back, like he wants a chase, like he knows how riled up that’ll get Derek.

 

“Oh yeah,” Stiles is so cocky, so sure of himself, he radiates a natural confidence right now that makes Derek’s heart sing.

 

Beautiful boy, he thinks. Mine, his wolf adds.

 

Derek takes a quick step forward and Stiles dodges back, smirking. Oh, he really wants to play?

 

“You sure you wanna do this?” Derek asks, his cock pulsing, hardening rapidly.

 

“If you can catch me you can have me,” Stiles replies, inching away.

 

He jerks out of Derek’s reach again, leaping onto and over the bed. They circle each other, and Derek feels the tension in the air, he can almost taste the way Stiles will feel beneath him. Everything smells of adrenaline and want and it’s fuelling his desire more than anything he can remember in his life.

 

He waits until they’ve paced around in another circle, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat increase with every moment he doesn’t lunge. But Derek has enough self control for the moment that he isn’t going to just slam Stiles into a wall or onto the floor, because that’ll hurt him. No, he waits, waits until Stiles is almost level with the bed, and then he lunges again.

 

Stiles dodges, but Derek has preempted that movement, grabbing and pushing and shoving Stiles face first onto the mattress. Derek growls happily, nuzzling at Stiles’ throat, his cock sliding through the slick crease between his cheeks.

 

“I won,” he whispers, running his palms down Stiles’ arms, pinning his hands against the pillows so that he’s arched beneath him, bottom raised, chest to the bed.

 

“You want your prize?” Stiles asks, lifting his bottom, rubbing teasingly against Derek’s cock.

 

“I want everything,” Derek replies.

 

He can’t stop himself now, it’s too much. He’s going to take Stiles like this, on his hands and knees. Derek is there in his head, but he’s only observing now. His wolf is in charge.

 

He rolls his hips back and transfers his grip of Stiles’ hands to just one of his own so that he can reach down between them and guide his cock into Stiles waiting body.

 

“You’re so ready for me,” Derek growls, nipping at the younger man’s throat as he rocks forward again, filling Stiles in one quick stroke. “So wet. So ready for me- Jesus, you’re still so tight.”

 

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles whispers back, his voice strained, his backside still lifted in offering. “Yes. For you.”

 

“You feel so good,” Derek continues, rolling his hips slowly, enjoying the sensation of Stiles’ slick, tight body around his dick.

 

“Fuck. Fuck me,” Stiles gasps. “Fuck me-”

 

“Like my bitch. My pretty little bitch ready to be bred,” Derek growls, fangs slipping as he slides his hand down Stiles’ side and around his chest, wrapping an arm around him. “Yeah. So wet for me. So eager. Presenting for me. You want me to knot you?”

 

“Yes-” he hears Stiles whimper, his fingers wound tight in the sheets. “Yes. Fill me up. Knot me. Breed me-”

 

“Fuck,” Derek’s hips stutter, his pace increasing. His wolf is pleased, very pleased with his mate. That’s exactly what he wants to hear right now. “Wanna see you full of my pups. Wanna see you heavy with our children.”

 

Stiles lets out a sob beneath him, his muscles clenching, rippling around Derek’s cock. Derek presses his mouth to Stiles’ neck, his fangs grazing the skin, though he’s able to hold his wolf back from biting and claiming, remembering his stipulations. Derek’s hips continue to piston, hard, shallow thrusts into the heat of Stiles’ body. Beneath him Stiles whimpers, little noises of supplication that Derek’s wolf laps up along with the pleasing scent of mutual desire.

 

He can smell the precome leaking from Stiles’ cock, can smell the arousal in his pheromones. Derek kneels up and releases his grip on Stiles’ wrists, instead pressing his hand between his shoulder blades, bowing his mate’s back further, giving him a better angle. Stiles moves as he is instructed, his cheek pressed against the bed, head to the side, tipped slightly to bare his throat, pulling another growl from Derek. An offering, a submission. Moans fall from Stiles’ lips with every rough rock of Derek’s hips, his eyes closed as though he really is having the time of his life.

 

Derek covers the younger man’s body with his own, his thrusts shorter and shallower, claws pricking at the skin of Stiles’ back but not breaking it.

 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes-” Stiles begins to chant every time their bodies meet.

 

“You’re taking it so well, baby. So good.”

 

“Bitch,” Stiles gasps. “Call me your bitch.”

 

Derek groans. God, he’s dangerously close to loving this boy. Roughly, he grabs Stiles’ arms and spreads them up the bed, pushing Stiles down so that he’s flat on his stomach. Derek presses on top of him, working his hips in short, slow drags, the angle meaning that Stiles’ is gripping him tighter. His chest to Stiles’ back, he can lean in, mouth his neck and jaw, whisper in his ear-

 

“My good bitch. You’re taking my cock so well. Nice and tight for me. And so wet. You want me to fill you up? You’re so needy, aren’t you, bitch? You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk? Until you’re so full my seed is running down your thighs-”

 

Stiles sobs again, the scent of his arousal billowing up around them.

 

Derek’s hips move faster, the movement erratic, his claws now pressing into the duvet, tearing the cover slightly.

 

“Gonna get you so full- so full of my pups, Stiles. Can you feel my knot? Yeah- yeah, fuck, fuck, it’s starting. Can you feel it?”

 

“Yes, yes Alpha,” Stiles whimpers, twitching his hips towards Derek, rubbing himself against the covers to stimulate his dick. He’s getting tighter, and Derek’s knot it growing. He loves the feeling of his knot pushing in, loves feeling that his mate is too tight to fit him, he’s swollen too much that he has to really stretch Stiles open. And he loves it. Stiles fucking loves it, too, if his increasingly louder moans are anything to go by.

 

“Yeah, fuck, you can take it, come on. So nice and tight. Fuck. You can take it, bitch, come on.”

 

“I’m coming. Der, I’m coming. Oh my God, I’m coming-” Stiles mewls beneath him, fists bunched in the duvet, pressing his face into the covers to try and muffle the scream of pleasure.

 

Derek grunts, pushing harder into Stiles, forcing his knot into the tightness of his body until he can’t pull out anymore. Stiles is clenching, Derek can feel the moment he comes, but he needs his own release.

 

He braces himself to get more leverage, pounding his hips even though he isn’t moving very far. Next time he’s going to keep Stiles up on his hands and knees, kneel behind him so that he can see him stretched open by his knot, see Stiles’ entrance as he drives himself inside.

 

“Yeah, nngh-” Derek moans, crying out as he comes, feeling the first pulse of his orgasm rush through him with dizzying intensity.

 

Derek lets his wolf bask for a few moments, taking a backseat as the other half of him whines and nuzzles and sniffs at Stiles’ still bared throat. His claws are still out, as are his fangs, but he can hold back from hurting, he hasn’t allowed himself to sink fully into his beta form. Which is pretty impressive self- control. Even though Stiles has said he wanted it like that, half-shifted, animalistic-

 

Derek’s beta form is the least within his control, the point where his wolf is closest to the driving seat. Perhaps because it takes a certain degree of something to be able to full shift, that’s the form that he’s absolutely at peace in. He and his wolf are very much one then. He knows no matter what, no matter how much he relaxes into himself then, he wouldn’t hurt Stiles.

 

And if Stiles still wants it he’s more than happy to fuck him like that.

 

His boy moans, and Derek realises he’s scenting him quite roughly, as though the smell of their sex alone won’t be enough to deter other wolves, as though he needs to lay claim. His beard has left a little red rash on Stiles’ neck, but it’s pleasing to Derek. A mark, or close enough that it’s soothing. Stiles looks fucked, he looks as though he’s been with someone possessive, it’s a good way to deter any competition. Oh, and Stiles is full of his knot, his cock, his come- mated. He growls, happy at his efforts.

 

Another pulse of his orgasm rolls through him and Derek purrs softly, grazing his teeth against Stiles’ throat again.

 

“Mine,” he hears himself murmur, unable to stop the words through the torrent of pleasure.

 

“Yeah, big guy,” Stiles breathes out. “All yours.”

 

Derek’s wolf preens, and he manages to turn them both gently, rolling them onto their sides with his knot tying them together. Stiles moans once again at the movement, clenching his muscles around Derek.

 

“Geez, Derek,” his boy sighs in his arms, eyes closed. “Jesus. That was amazing.”

 

“Mmph,” Derek manages to reply. “ You’re amazing.”

 

Stiles makes a noise like a laugh, one of his hands finding Derek’s where it rests against his chest, sliding their fingers together.

 

“That was- you were way more wolfy. It was hot,” Stiles slurs, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “God, I love feeling your knot. Feel like I’m fucking crazy. That was so good.”

 

“You were very encouraging,” Derek rumbles. “The way you move, the noises, you’ve been watching wolf porn-” he grins, his tone playful.

 

Stiles doesn’t reply but he doesn’t deny it, either, and maybe there’s a little smirk on his lips from what Derek can just see of them.

 

Derek lets it go easily, breathing in deep and nuzzling Stiles’ neck once more. It’s another thirty seconds or so before the next wave crests and he groans, trying to muffle the sound as he starts to fill Stiles with more of his orgasm.

 

Stiles’ breathing hitches, so he must be able to feel it. Which is incredibly hot.

 

“You liked me talking about getting knocked up,” Stiles says, breaking the easy, pleasured silence that follows, his fingers trailing away from Derek’s to rest against his belly. “I guess cos that’s what your rut is for, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek replies after another pause. That’s all instinct. That’s what it is. Not all of this, no, not his feelings, not the emotions tying themselves tighter with every act of sex they go through together, but some of the words, the movements, the wants, they’re all built in.

 

“How would you feel if you could get me pregnant?” Stiles asks.

 

Derek is alarmed by the throb his dick gives, at the warmth that floods through him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can work out the right words to respond, though he’s sure his brain has just blown a fuse at Stiles’ unabashed calmness.

 

“I couldn’t imagine a better mate,” he whispers softly, almost as though he doesn’t want Stiles to hear. “I would have loved to raise kids with you.”

 

Stiles’ eyes open and he turns his head so that their gazes finally meet.

 

“I would do it in a heartbeat,” he replies with so much sincerity.

 

Stiles is still talking in present tense, and for one wild moment Derek wonders if it would actually be possible. If, at the end of this, he and Stiles will have created a life. It causes an ache in his chest, a painful longing for it to be real.

 

“We can keep trying,” he says with forced joviality, hoping that Stiles forgives the roughness in his voice, puts it down to the sex they’ve just had and his now retracted fangs. He didn’t know he wanted it this badly. He didn’t know he’d wanted anything this badly until right now.

 

Derek closes his eyes and moans as another pulse of pleasure rocks through him. He hears Stiles hum happily, hand moving back up to find Derek’s.

 

“I want you- I wish-” Stiles murmurs, but he doesn’t finish the sentence, and Derek isn’t going to push, like always.

 

He knows they won’t ever mention this conversation again.

***



Derek wakes slowly, his arm still curled around Stiles, his soft dick resting against Stiles’ bottom. He doesn’t think much time has passed, maybe half an hour? A little nap. He’s painfully thirsty.

 

Slowly, and as gently as he can, he extracts himself from the embrace they’ve wound themselves in, regrettably waking Stiles in the process.

 

“You want a drink?” Derek asks quietly, sliding from the bed, his muscles protesting all movement. .

 

“Please,” Stiles mumbles, sitting up with a little wince that Derek catches.

 

“You’re hurt?”

 

“No, no. Just my muscles. Sore-” Stiles smiles, stretching and rolling his shoulders, joints popping.

 

Derek huffs out an amused noise. Yeah, he gets that. “You can have a bath. Maybe in your room? Have a rest-”

 

“I don’t need to rest,” Stiles yawns, his eyes fixed on Derek as he opens the fridge for the drinks, then goes to the cupboard to get some chips for them. “And I don’t want to go to my room. I’m happy here with you.” He thumps the pillows behind him and gets comfortable again. “Can you bring my phone, too?” Stiles adds, waving vaguely in the direction of where he’d put his phone down earlier.

 

Derek grabs his own phone, then reaches for Stiles’ just as the screen lights up with a new message. One of several in the familiar looking pop up boxes from the rutting.com app. Derek only glimpses a few words, but it’s enough. He gets the idea. There’s mention of Stiles’ ass, of seeing him naked, of making him come. All from the same person.

 

Derek knows that he has no right to say anything. Stiles turned down his money, so he might want to get some from someone else. There are ridiculous numbers thrown around on there, way more than Derek was going to offer. Why wouldn’t Stiles want some of that?

 

It isn’t as though Derek has any claim over him. Not in real life.

 

“You have some messages,” he bites out anyway, unable to keep the venom from his voice. He drops Stiles’ drink and the chips on the bed with the phone, then turns towards the bathroom. “I need to clean up.”

 

He doesn’t wait for Stiles’ reaction, doesn’t want an explanation because he isn’t really owed one.

 

Derek closes the bathroom door behind him and cracks the lid off of his drink, downing the whole bottle in a few gulps. He looks at his own phone. He has a message from Peter and a couple of email notifications.

 

Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, Derek taps in the passcode to see what Peter has to say.

 

 

Peter: Enjoying your time with Stiles? I’m sure you are. I always thought he’d be fun.

 

 

Derek really isn’t in the mood for this. He doesn’t need to know how much everyone wants a piece of his boy. His boy who isn’t his, he reminds himself.

 

He feels hot again, and he knows another wave is going to start. He’s going to want to go back out there and fuck Stiles, but he doesn’t- he just doesn’t want to want Stiles this much, not when he won’t be able to keep him. Not with their conversation from earlier still ringing in his brain, still bringing up images of them making a child, raising a family, building a pack together-

 

He closes his eyes and leans against the cool sink, as though that’ll stave off the next wave of his rut. Derek groans softly, listening to Stiles’ slightly elevated heartbeat on the other side of the door. He wishes he could find a way to convince Stiles to go to his own room. Wishes he had the balls to call this whole thing off.

 

“No,” Derek sighs as his arousal begins to build again at an alarming rate. Because he’s thinking of Stiles. He wants to convince himself he slept longer than he thought, that this is the normal time for it to come on, and not that Stiles is causing the waves to come faster.

 

He whimpers, the sound melting into a growl when he hears a knock at the bathroom door.

 

“Der? Are you- can I open the door?”

 

“No,” Derek growls. “No.”

 

“Derek? Please?”

 

“Go to your room-” he demands, wrapping his hand around his dick and squeezing to try and stop his arousal in it’s tracks.

 

Stiles does the opposite, because of course he does, opening the bathroom door and staring at Derek. His eyes go from Derek’s face to his dick and then back up again.

 

“You don’t want to come out here and fuck me?” Stiles asks softly, making Derek ache, making him throb. Still, he shakes his head.

 

“Those messages, they don’t mean anything. I’m not interested,” Stiles continues insistently with a shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t want anyone else.” He seems so confident in his words, throwing them out as though he’s without a shadow of a doubt.

 

Derek lifts his eyes, half glaring, his emotions warring inside him. “It’s not of my business,” he growls, because he doesn’t want this conversation. He doesn’t want to talk about what he wants.

 

Stiles glares back at him.

 

“Well, I’d quite like it to be your business who I fuck,” he replies, advancing towards Derek, smacking his hand out of the way of his cock and replacing it with his own. Derek whimpers pathetically at the contact. “Now, are you going to come out and fuck me, or do I have to ride you here?”

 

Derek… Derek feels way too much. And he doesn’t know what to say. He’s pinned to the spot by the ferocity of Stiles’ expression, and it’s turning him on even more.

 

“Bed,” Derek whispers finally, standing, his arms wrapping around Stiles’ waist and pulling him closer roughly. He can’t deny himself this, not now. Not right now. He’ll deal with the heartache when it comes, but that’s days away yet.  Stiles is here, malleable and warm and willing to go wherever Derek wants. Wanting to be held down and fucked and knotted. Stupid, perfect boy. “Bed with me.”

 

“Only you,” Stiles says firmly, pulling Derek down for a kiss as they stumble back out to the bedroom.

Chapter Text

Derek is honestly trying really hard not to wake Stiles- who is breathing peacefully beside him, deeply asleep- whilst his hand moves rapidly up and down his own achingly hard cock.

 

It isn’t enough. It isn’t going to be enough. It has been before, in previous ruts (shit, he went through nearly four years of them just jerking it in various ways until he had his first partner in college in New York) but now it isn’t. Now, because of reasons he is absolutely not going to think about, his hand will not help.

 

He can’t finish unless he’s with Stiles.

 

Derek has maintained a lot of control over himself since this wave started, which might also be part of the problem. He’s holding his wolf back as much as possible and it isn’t letting him relax into the moment.

 

But Stiles did give his permission for Derek to fuck him as he slept if he needed to. Maybe he didn’t have to try and satisfy himself this way.

 

It isn’t so much the fact that Derek doesn’t want to. For the sake of consent he’s taking Stiles at his word that it’s fine - it’s just that he doesn’t want to wake him. He wants Stiles to sleep. He wants him to rest properly.

 

Maybe if he’s gentle-

 

Derek rolls onto his side and cuddles up against Stiles back, slotting his cock between his cheeks. It slides over his skin and Derek purrs.

 

“Good boy,” he breathes, because Stiles has slicked himself up before bed, just in case. Just in case Derek wanted to fuck him-

 

Everything feels immediately better, the pleasure is turned up a notch now that he can feel Stiles against him, not that he can smell him. It would be the same pressed against anybody, he tries to reason with himself.

 

No, his wolf laughs.

 

Derek grips Stiles sides as gently as he can, rolling his hips and letting his cock move between the slick cheeks. He isn’t being rough enough to wake his sleeping partner ( not yet, his wolf kindly adds) and it’s good. It’s satisfying. Perhaps still not enough, but so much better than his hand.

 

He leans back a little so that he can watch himself slide between Stiles’ legs, watching the head of his cock brush against Stiles’ tight, slick hole. He groans, his grip shifting downwards to the younger man’s thigh, enjoying the softness of his skin and the ever-so-slight change in angle.

 

He has to be inside him . Derek can feel desire pulsing up his spine, the itching in his gums and fingers. Stiles still hasn’t moved, is still breathing sweetly when Derek lines up his cock with the tight little ring and pushes forward.

 

Now Stiles reacts, tenses, lets out a breathy moan. Derek growls softly at the response, staying in the right position to watch as he pushes in, slow inch by slow inch, seeing Stiles stretch to fit his length.

 

Stiles gasps, making a groggy little noise that Derek’s wolf loves, another growl rumbling in his chest. He rocks forwards and bottoms out with a grunt, which really does wake Stiles.

 

“Der-?”

 

“Sh, baby,” Derek murmurs, rolling his hips, drawing back, pushing in again. Yes. This is it. This is what he needs. He can feel the pleasure building in his belly, the pleasure his hand alone could never have given him. “You’re so good.”

 

“Der,” Stiles breathes softly, his fingers winding slowly in the sheets as his muscles flutter around Derek, around the cock pressed deep inside him.

 

Derek doesn’t respond this time, just pumps slowly in and out, nuzzling the back of Stiles’ neck to breathe in his soft, sleepy scent that is becoming dappled with other emotions as Stiles wakes, moving involuntarily back against Derek, still making those little noises that are driving him and his wolf crazy.

 

“Mine,” Derek breathes, claws prickling at Stiles’ hips as he thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before he slides back in, enjoying the drag over his whole length and the curling heat in his lower body. His knot is pulsing, pushing into Stiles with every thrust.

 

“Can you feel it?” Derek asks, mouthing at Stiles’ ear. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me? You make me swell up so big, baby-”

 

Stiles doesn’t speak, just whimpers, turning his head and bearing his throat to Derek.

 

“Fuck. You’re a good boy,” Derek moans, licking a stripe up Stiles’ neck. “Such a good boy. So wet for me, so ready for me. So proud of you.”


Stiles’ hand moves to where Derek’s is, pulling his palm around to rest against his belly.

 

Derek growls, his wolf pushing to the forefront of his brain as he caresses the soft skin. Stiles wants him to touch there. Stiles wants to remind him what all of this is really for; making a baby, expanding his pack.

 

“You want me to fuck you til you’re full? I wanna put a baby in you, Stiles. I wanna have pups with you. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good,” Derek rambles, hearing the words as he says them, surprisingly not frightened of their weight.

 

Stiles hums quietly, not words, but it’s a sweet and encouraging sound nonetheless. He’s more relaxed, muscles no longer tensing as Derek slams into him, but Derek can smell his arousal, smell the precome leaking from him, and if he moves his hand down just an inch or two he’ll be able to touch Stiles’ cock.

 

That Stiles is enjoying this is only spurring him on, turning him on more. His knot is starting to inflate quickly and he groans as he pushes himself into Stiles body. Stiles is growing louder, letting out little gasps of pleasure, little moans that please his wolf.

 

“Yes, so tight, baby,” Derek growls, rolling them over so that he can get more traction, so that he can push harder into Stiles. Stiles is on his belly again, and Derek pulls him up, gripping his hips to raise his lower body, bowing his back so that he’s nicely presented-

 

“So good, so good,” he chants, enjoying the slightly muffled moans from Stiles as Derek’s knot swells and he has to push harder to get inside.

 

Stiles is a good boy, he stays still, he doesn’t pull away. Derek’s wolf adores him.

 

He forces his knot into his lover once more before it’s too big to pull out and Stiles whimpers at the jolt.

 

Derek continues rolling his hips, growling happily as his orgasm begins to build, heat curling in his belly, his thighs trembling before he cries out, stilling his thrusts as he fills Stiles, leaning over his body to push him into the bed. His claws and teeth have elongated, scraping both gently over patches of Stiles’ soft, flushed skin as the boy shivers beneath him. Beautiful boy.

 

Ours, his wolf confirms.

 

Yes, Derek agrees.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes again to the sound of the shower. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but his body aches and he doesn’t know if he can take more sex again just yet. Derek is bathing, clearly, and Stiles hopes it sates his urges for a while. If not, well, Stiles is going to need breakfast.

 

He reaches for his phone and the room service menu to get breakfast brought up to them. Probably the same as yesterday. Maybe with some more coffee pods for the machine because Derek goes through them like-

 

Alpha13: I’ve been having dreams about you spread out beneath me, my fingers opening you up.

 

Alpha13: And then my cock after. I’ll need to work you open because my knot will stretch you so wide.

 

Alpha13: I’ll fill you up, so deep little one. Get you on your hands and knees like a good boy, pound into you so the bed shakes beneath us.

 

Alpha13: You want it, I know you do.


Stiles reads the messages and feels his skin flush. Something prickles through him, but he isn’t sure if it’s shame or if he’s upset or- it’s not arousal. Maybe if Derek had said it- those are some of the things he really wants Derek to say to him. To whisper in his ear as he fucks him.

 

LittleRed: I’m deleting my account. I’m sorry if I’ve been wasting your time.

 

Alpha13: Scared of wolves, now? Did your one turn out to be a big bad?

 

Stiles glares at his phone and then glances at the bathroom door. He realises he can hear Derek humming. It’s something so innocent and normal that Stiles forgets everything else for a moment. But then his phone buzzes again.

 

Alpha13: I bet I can change your mind. Give me one night.

 

LittleRed: Actually it’s the opposite. The guy I’m with, we’ve decided to get serious. We’ve been talking about forming at bond at the end of the week and going from there.

 

Stiles has done his research. He knows the progression of wolf courtship, so he knows he isn’t going to be called out on this. Bond, spend time together, mate, take the claiming bite. Serious dating, engagement, marriage.

 

Alpha13: Is that so? Well, congratulations on your bond. No hard feelings at all.

 

He’s surprised it actually goes that easily. He’s expecting protests and more attempts at convincing him; but then again, wolves respect boundaries that humans don’t always.

 

LittleRed: Thanks, man. Good luck with your endeavours.

 

Stiles doesn’t wait for another reply, because that’s getting into conversation territory. And that’s something he’s ruling out. He holds his thumb down on the app and deletes it. He’ll cancel his account when he gets back on his laptop.

 

It’s stupid, but for a moment he believes what he’s just said. That he and Derek are going to try for more after this. That they’re going to be together.

 

The shower has turned off and Derek walks out into the bedroom in a cloud of steam, a towel around his waist. He has a smile on his face, and Stiles- Stiles has the overwhelming urge to hold onto him, to wrap around him, to feel those strong arms holding him when they aren’t in bed.

 

Derek has the unfair advantage of being able to smell the changes in Stiles’ mood, and he gives Stiles a curious little look.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just- Just thinking about breakfast,” Stiles replies, opening the food menu and dropping his phone onto the bed. “You okay? Have we got time?”

 

Derek’s face does something. There’s an expression that Stiles can’t read, but the smile is fading.

 

“Why don’t you go downstairs for breakfast. Have a shower, go and have breakfast, spend some time not in bed. I’ll change the sheets and things, it’ll be fine. You need a break.”

 

“No,” Stiles says immediately. Because he’s supposed to be here with Derek, he’s supposed to be helping him through his rut, not just swanning off to be on his own. “I don’t need to-” And he doesn’t want to. All of the above, but he doesn’t want to.

 

“Please, Stiles,” Derek’s voice is so gentle, his expression so soft. “I can’t do this to you. You’re not a thing for me to use. I’m not paying you to be here-”

 

“No, I’m here because I want to be here,” Stiles cuts in. “It doesn’t matter, Derek.” I want to be used , he doesn’t say.

 

“It does to me,” Derek continues, pacing slowly around the room in carefully measured steps that don’t bring him any closer to the bed. “You’re better than- than me just- I don’t want to use you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Okay, and if I was your mate would you be saying the same thing?” Stiles demands. “Would you push me out if we were together and I wanted to help you though? Because that’s what a mate would do, right? Help you through your rut, take care of you, make sure you were eating and drinking-”

 

“We’re not mates,” Derek replies, his back to Stiles.

 

“Yet you’re doing all that for me, anyway,” Stiles counters. “Taking care of me, making sure I’m eating and drinking and resting. Everything except the rut stuff. But I bet if I was really horny all the time you’d help me out. So what’s the difference? You think I can’t handle it?”

 

“We’re not mates,” Derek’s voice raises slightly, the calm tone gone, more of a growl than before.

 

“Yeah, well… well fuck you,” Stiles snaps, pushing himself off of the bed, pulling on his boxers and grabbing his bag. “You’re a dumb, stubborn asshole and you don’t know what’s good for you. It’s me, by the way. I’d be good for you. And when you stop writing your emo poetry long enough to pull your noble, self-sacrificing head out of your ass maybe you’ll see that. Maybe you’ll realise this thing between us is there for a reason and it hasn’t gone away. In six years, Derek, it hasn’t gone away. Or maybe you’ll just let it go, keep ignoring it because you’re a goddamn coward.”

 

He clamps his mouth shut so fast his jaw clicks. A coward is the absolute last thing Derek is. But Derek hasn’t even flinched. Tensed, sure, but he doesn’t argue. Just turns his head and stares at Stiles with that typically Derek expression, the walls going up, a raw sadness clouding his face.

 

“You should go,” he says finally, because Stiles hasn’t moved from the side of the bed, still gripping his bag tight enough that his fingers hurt. “Don’t worry about coming back.”

 

“Derek, I didn’t-”

“You did. Get out.”

 

Stiles, for once, makes the right choice and doesn’t argue, backing up towards the door. He can order food to his room, shower, nap, give them both a chance to calm down, then come back. Because he needs Derek as much as -he’s convinced- Derek needs him. If not more. The hallway is cold and smells of cleaning products, the carpet out here is rough on his bare feet. His room is going to be cold, it’s going to smell the same. Not like him and Derek. The sheets will be too stiff, the bed too big, too empty after two days living in the bubble they’d built around them. With every step he wants Derek to stop him, wants him to call him back. But it isn’t going to happen.



Stiles has left his phone behind. Oddly, it’s the first thing that Derek notices. Oh, that and the cavernous emptiness yawning in his chest. He reaches for his own phone, discarded by the television at some point in the evening, and stares down at the two messages from Peter.

 

Peter: I take it from the silence that you and Stiles are getting on very well. Should I expect mating bites and the pitter-patter of tiny paws?

 

Peter: That serious, hm? Well done, nephew. I didn’t think you’d ever admit it to yourself, let alone him.

 

Derek lobs his phone at the door, furious when it doesn’t break. He wants to smash it. And everything else in the room. The television, the bed- he wants to rip the sheets up and shred the mattress. His claws prickle, his gums hurt, his eyes sting. And the heat begins to slowly build in his belly because his whole life is one big fucking joke.

 

He drops his towel and goes to the bed. Part of him is reasoning that maybe the smell of Stiles will sate him, but he’s not stupid enough to think that will actually be the case. No, in reality, it’s only going to make everything worse. Or better. Derek doesn’t know. But the bed is saturated with the scent of them together, of Stiles’ body and come, making Derek groan as he inhales, cock swelling so rapidly it nearly makes him dizzy. He rolls his hips to press against the duvet as though it’s Stiles’ body, though it doesn’t resist him, doesn’t warm him.

 

He can’t go down the hall and beg for Stiles to come back. He won’t do that. He’ll do this himself. He’s done it before.

 

Derek grips the sheets with sharp fingers and rocks again, face pressed into the pillows. It’s painful just how not-enough it is, but it’ll have to do.

 

He groans in frustration more than pleasure as he humps the bedding, enjoying the barest of satisfaction, the slightest stimulation. He can come without Stiles. Of course he can come without Stiles. He’s done it his whole life. It isn’t as though Stiles is special.

 

Ten minutes later finds Derek curled around himself on the verge of tears because it isn’t working. Rutting against the bed isn’t working, fucking into his wrist isn’t working, even covering his hand in lube and jacking himself off is doing nothing for him. His cock hurts, he feels too hot all over.

 

And Stiles left his phone here.

 

Derek groans, his slickened fingers stilling on his dick. He forces himself to steady his breathing and focus, push through the woolly sensation in his brain and conjure up the right images.

 

Stiles. Naked, pale, his own erection hard and dark against his belly as he leans over Derek on the bed. His long fingers are slippery with lubricant, and he trails them down Derek’s thigh, brushing over his balls before pressing between his legs.

 

It’s been awhile since Derek has done this, and his touch is gentle and hesitant as it brushes over his rim, his body tensing even though he knows it’s coming. He lets out a breath, imagining someone else touching him there. If he turns his head he can breathe in someone else’s scent, and it’s not that difficult to pretend.

 

His cock jumps when the tip of his finger works into his body. It’s not the perfect angle, but the spike in pleasure is encouraging. Slowly he presses it deeper, licking his lips as his mental image of Stiles leans over more, pushing into him.

 

Derek moans quietly, the fire in his veins turning up another notch, but it’s good, this time, it’s really good. His free hand wraps around his throbbing erection as, carefully, he begins to slide his finger in and out. Imaginary Stiles has gone from fingering him to fucking him, though Derek knows Stiles is a lot thicker than a single finger. He’s tight enough and tense enough that it gives him that full feeling, pushing slightly deeper each time until he’s teasing his prostate, not quite able to touch it properly, but even the proximity is sending him hurtling rapidly towards the orgasm he’s been chasing for so long. He barely has to stroke himself before a surprised moan is punched from him, come shooting over his belly and chest, blinding relief washing through him.

 

Fuck, it’s so good.

 

His knot hasn’t swollen this time, but he’s still come enough, relieved and satisfied. He knew he didn’t need Stiles. Not physically here . It didn’t count that he’d thought about him, because he could have thought about anyone.

 

It’s fine, he can do this.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up after a long nap. He’s eaten, showered, and slept, but since he’s only  just realised that his phone is in Derek’s room he doesn’t know how long he’s slept or what the time is.

 

Time to make amends, his witty, witty brain supplies helpfully.

 

He picks up his bag and heads for the door, fishing out the second key card for Derek’s room. He’s been asked to leave, so technically he should knock on the door, but hey, technicalities.

 

The door clicks and he pushes it open, stopping dead in the doorway when he looks up to see Derek spread out on the bed, head thrown back, fingers buried inside himself, pumping in and out. He’s moaning, and it’s such a beautiful sound that if the vision before him hadn’t already made his cock jump to attention, the audio would have. He’s keeping that locked away for some alone time later.

 

He jumps suddenly, lurching forward into the room and closing the door. Because this is all for him. No, no, because other people might walk past. And this is all for him…

 

“Stiles-” Derek purrs, his voice rough from apparently moaning since Stiles left. Stiles’ cock twitches again, as though he isn’t aware of it straining at his jeans. When Derek turns his head their eyes meet, and Stiles feels himself moving forward, bag dropped to the floor without a second thought, hands moving to unbutton himself.

 

Moving to the end of the bed, he takes in the view of Derek’s body stretching around his fingers, his own wrapping around his growing erection through the thin fabric of his underwear. Derek doesn’t stop, if anything Stiles is sure he spreads his legs a little more, offering up the view or his body. Or both.

 

“Can I join you?” Stiles rasps, alarmed at the roughness of his own voice, how dominant he sounds even asking a question. As though he’s playing at giving Derek a choice. Which he isn’t, because he’s already leaning with his knees against the bottom of the bed, ready to crawl up and claim this beautiful man.

 

“Please,” Derek breathes. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

 

Stiles makes a strained sound, worried that he’s going to come before he gets a chance to do anything more than observe. That can’t be allowed to happen. He pushes down his underwear and climbs up onto the mattress, shuffling forward until he’s knelt between Derek’s parted thighs. The rest of his clothes are staying on. There’s no time.

 

“You need me to-?”

 

“I’ve been fingering myself all morning,” Derek growls. “I’m ready for you.”

 

As though the last few hours have all been leading up to this. Stiles’ eyes darken with want, looking down at Derek, at his leaking dick, at the evidence of previous orgasms splashed across his otherwise flawless skin. He gets to take him, to be inside him, to feel those muscles grip him to release. He gets to make Derek come whilst slamming him into the bed, gets to hear his name moaned breathlessly by this beautiful man who is going to ruin him.

 

He braces himself on one arm beside Derek’s shoulder, his other hand guiding his own leaking cock towards where Derek’s fingers are still moving in and out, as though he can’t go a second without the sensation. He rubs his head gently against Derek’s knuckles, smearing precome there and making Derek moan. Slippery fingers graze down his length before they retreat and Stiles can press forward, pushing his way into the oh-my-fucking-God tightness of Derek’s body.

 

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles slurs, his jaw dropping at the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt. Derek lays beneath him, his arms spread above his head, curled in the pillows, a blissful smile on his face. “You’re so tight, fuck-”

 

He pushes in in one slow, smooth motion. “Fuck,” he breathes again, his now free hand coming to rest by Derek’s other shoulder. He ducks his head and presses his lips to the other man’s throat, moaning when he feels a rumble of a purr beneath the skin.

 

Stiles’ hips twitch, buck, pushing him forward, deeper into the heat. He’d wanted it, he’d asked for it even, but there was no way he could have imagined anything feeling like this.


“Stiles, please-” Derek tries to encourage him, tries to press him to move by shifting slightly.

 

“Yeah, yeah-” Stiles breathes in reply, rolling his hips to slide back out, groaning as he fills Derek again. And again. And again. Oh, Stiles has fucked people before, he’s had eager people, men and women, beneath him and around him, but no one has been like Derek. He licks a stripe up Derek’s bared throat, and Derek whines softly.

 

Stiles debates biting, debates sucking a bruise there so that Derek is marked, even if it only lasts a few minutes.

 

But then he’s distracted by the movement of Derek’s fingers, the way they unwind from the fabric of the pillow cases and slide through Stiles’ hair instead, angling them both so that their lips meet in a slow, passionate kiss.

 

Stiles’ rhythm stutters helplessly for a few seconds, their tongues both pressing into each others mouths, deep and desperate. Derek’s legs drape themselves over the back of Stiles’ thighs, keeping them pressed together as though Stiles is mad enough to pull away. No, quite the opposite. His own hands cup the sides of Derek’s face as they kiss like they haven’t before, rocking into the man beneath him at a steady pace.

 

He is bowled over by the kiss almost as much as being inside Derek. THe kissing takes his breath right from him, deep and passionate and slow, to the point that Stiles is almost forgetting to move. It makes his chest ache. The need he feels is echoed back in the way Derek touches him, the fingers in his hair caressing, the soft sounds that escape his lips when they both break to breath, lips hovering millimeters apart as though that’s all they can bear.

 

They could be lovers who have been apart for weeks, not friends with benefits who were separated by a few doors for a few hours.

 

Or maybe lovers who should have been together a long time ago.

 

“Move in me, I need to feel you,” Derek whimpers, his voice rough and heavy, cracking from the kissing.

 

Stiles complies, rolling his hips slowly, groaning, pushing himself into Derek.

 

“Like that?” he whispers against Derek’s lips with a smile.

 

“Yeah,” Derek breathes, turning his head so that their mouths meet properly again. “Yeah, keep going. You’re amazing.”

 

“You feel so good,” Stiles whispers back. “I didn’t imagine-”

 

“I want you,” Derek cuts him off, curling his fingers tightly in Stiles hair, pulling it so that they’re eye-to-eye. “Don’t stop,” he adds, his pupils huge, ringed with the green-blue of his eyes. “Please, don’t stop.”

 

“I won’t. I won’t, don’t worry,” Stiles coos, forcing himself to breathes despite the intensity of Derek’s gaze.

 

It’s too intimate.

 

“I’m-” Derek lets out a breath. His muscles are gripping Stiles’ cock tighter, increasing slowly with each thrust. Stiles is trying to keep the rhythm, trying to focus on that so that he doesn’t blow his load straight away. “Close-” Derek rasps out, his fingers pulling even harder at Stiles’ hair. His teeth and claws haven’t extended, he hasn’t shifted at all. He’s just gazing steadily up at Stiles, moaning softly, eyes fluttering closed just as he comes.

 

Stiles gasps, groaning at the sudden hard tightness around his cock and the sight of Derek beneath him, arching, flushing, his muscles rippling and massaging Stiles’ erection.

 

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful,” Stiles whimpers, moving his hips harder, faster, listening to Derek getting louder and louder beneath him. He nuzzles at Derek’s jaw, and the older man obediently turns his head, baring his neck.

 

Stiles grumbles happily and parts his lips, biting down. Derek mewls, the sweetest, sexiest sound that Stiles has ever heard. Even then Derek shows no sign of letting him go, no signs of ending the embrace, which is absolutely fine with Stiles.

 

“I’m gonna come,” he breathes, seconds of warning before his orgasm slams through him, making him cry out because fuck, nothing has ever felt this good. Ever.

 

Stiles pumps his hips almost desperately, trying to chase the sensation as it washes through him over and over again.

 

“Oh my God,” he sighs, smearing his lips over Derek’s jaw. And still Derek holds him, keeps their legs tangled together so that Stiles couldn’t pull back even if he tried.

 

He brushes a few kisses to Derek’s neck, lingering over the fluttering pulse point, body rising and falling with the heavy breaths of the man beneath him.

 

“You okay?” Stiles asks, because Derek is so quiet otherwise. “Der?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles echoes. He doesn’t want to pull out, but he doesn’t have a knot to keep him there either.

 

“Kiss me again?”

Stiles lifts his head and looks at Derek, meets his slightly glazed eyes and basks in the soft expression on his face.

 

“What?” Stiles asks, because he has to check, in case he’s hallucinating, in case all of this is just a blissed out illusion.

 

“Kiss me again. Please.”

 

Stiles blinks slowly and leans down, brushing their lips together. Derek’s part beneath his own and their tongues touch.

 

No fangs. No shifting.

 

“I- Derek-”

 

“I want you,” Derek interrupts him again.

 

“What?” Stiles thinks he really needs to find better ways to articulate himself because he sounds like an idiot right now.

 

“I want you,” Derek repeats for him. “I want this. I want more.”

 

Frowning just a little, Stiles touches his fingers to Derek’s jaw. “You want, like, us ?”

 

Derek smiles softly. “It might be worth trying. Do you think? Do you want?”

 

“Of course I want,” Stiles breathes out, wondering what is scent and the pounding of his heart is telling Derek. Most likely that he’s really fucking down with the idea. Which was his idea in the first place, by the way, but he isn’t going to say that out loud. At least not right now. Later. Maybe on their wedding day.

 

“I wish I could knot you,” he says instead, because he has to pull out and it seems like a travesty.

 

“I wish you could, too,” Derek replies as they kiss again.

 

It’s better than anything Stiles has ever had before.

 

***

 

The hard vibration of Stiles’ phone breaks them both out of the almost loved-up stupor they’ve sunken into, laying on their sides, their hands tangled between them. Derek’s eyes have been closed, and he knows that Stiles is dozing from the evening out of his breathing and the slow, steady thump of his heartbeat.

 

Derek frowns. He’d forgotten for nearly a whole, blissful hour about Stiles’ phone, about his admirer, about how they got to be where they are in the first place.

 

“You left your phone here when you went,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. “I haven’t looked at it. I don’t know if you have any important messages.”

 

Stiles grunts. “If anything it’s Scott asking if I can sneak out and do something. Tuesday is Kira’s pilates or yoga or I dunno,” he murmurs sleepily. “I should call dad.”

 

“It might be your… other friend,” Derek prompts, because apparently he really likes the pain.

 

“Huh?” Stiles cracks open his lovely golden eyes, brow furrowed. “You wanna be more specific, big guy?”

 

“From the site,” Derek grits out, impressed with the levels of control he has over his voice.

 

“Oh that,” Stiles’ nonchalance at the subject is just as gratifyingly painful. “I deleted the app. I’ll delete my account when I get home. I told him you and I were dating, or like, we were talking of forming a bond and mating, so sorry to waste his time.”

 

Derek pushes himself up on his elbow and gazes at Stiles. “What? When did you do that?” They hadn’t moved since Stiles had come back, they’d been wrapped around each other the whole time.

 

Stiles frown turns into a smirk. “Before I left for my nap.”

 

Derek’s mouth opens and closes several times in obvious surprise. Stiles had dismissed the other wolf on the grounds of being in a relationship when they hadn’t- they hadn’t even discussed it properly. Or- well, it would have been before Stiles started yelling at him anyway, so that was possibly the catalyst for all of the things and-

 

“Are you just doing this cos you think he’ll be pissed if he finds out we’re not?” Stupid, insecure brain.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles laughs. “You think I need some excuse to want to spend my life with you?” Life? Wolves mated for life. Stiles is prepared to spend his life- “I thought I’d made it pretty clear when I turned down your money that I wasn’t doing this for any reason other than you. Which I don’t regret and absolutely stand by, by the way. Hell, I thought I’d been making my feelings pretty clear since then.”

 

Derek’s frown deepens, but Stiles doesn’t seem annoyed, he doesn’t seem troubled by Derek’s apparent density.

 

“Come on, Sourwolf,” his fingers brush through Derek’s beard, thumb grazing over his lips. “This is just about you and me. No one else. No one else comes close to you. If I could go back in time and tell sixteen year old me this would be happening he wouldn’t believe anyone as hot as you would be into me-”

 

“Yeah, but sixteen year old you didn’t know how handsome you were gonna turn out,” Derek replies gently, frown softening once again as his own fingers now moving gently over the hair on Stiles’ chest, the lean muscles beneath. “Sixteen year old Stiles was cute, but you-”

 

“So charming,” Stiles smiles, which causes a tug in Derek’s belly, makes him lean in closer until he’s covering Stiles with his own body. It isn’t the harsh, building heat that he was anticipating, the brief warning before another wave of his heat hits. Just a want to be nearer that is quietly satisfied by his movement.

 

***

 

Something has changed between them. It should be obvious that it would, but Derek still isn’t prepared for it. For how good it feels to have Stiles rest against him as they lay in bed, for how comforting it is to see their fingers laced together on top of the duvet as they watch TV into the early hours (or how his heart swells with affection when Stiles shouts out the answer to quizzes and gets them right over and over again because fuck, his boy is smart and it’s so sexy) or how easily Stiles takes to the touching, gentle brushes of his hand over Derek’s skin whenever they move apart, like he’s scenting him.

 

It’s so easy. As though this was always going to happen, as though they rehearsed it and are now putting it into practise.

 

“Is Scott going to mind, do you think?” he whispers against Stiles’ ear, trailing his lips down to his jaw.

 

“That I lied to him and ran off for a dirty week with you in which we’ve both discovered our true feelings for each other? And that you’ve tried to impregnate me?” Stiles asks, tipping his head to the side and offering his throat that is already covered in bruises. “Sure he’s gonna be pissed, but that’s my problem, not yours.”

 

“If we mated he wouldn’t be your alpha anymore,” Derek says quietly, his stomach already knotting at the thought of possible rejection even as he runs his nose up and down the pale, blemished skin.

 

“That’s just life,” Stiles says instead, taking the idea of them mating completely in his stride. “That’s how wolf packs change and grow. He and Kira will probably have kids eventually. He’ll build his pack on that. Or make some more terrible decisions about who to turn-”

 

Derek bites back a grin at that little criticism, just as Stiles leans over and brings their lips together in a gentle, gradual kiss, both of them moving slowly closer. Fingers slide through hair and bodies turn towards each other, synchronised perfectly. They sink down onto the bed, Derek moving over so that he can lay between Stiles’ thighs and press him into the mattress. Stiles doesn’t even hesitate to spread his legs and wrap them around the older man’s waist.

 

Derek has noticed, among the other changes, how sated his rut has been this time, that in all the hour or so they’ve been lying quietly together he hasn’t felt that pull, that heat, the unbidden need. But he feels it now, the blood pumping in his lower body, his heart beating a little faster. He’d already been moving against Stiles, though. Already had every reason to be aroused. It isn’t spontaneous. It isn’t the same.

 

He presses his face against Stiles’ neck, rolling his hips and rubbing his hardening cock over the crease of Stiles’ thigh.

 

Stiles groans sweetly beneath him, as though he’s been waiting for this. “I really wish I could have your pups,” he breathes. “I wish I could help you grow your pack.”

 

It should be too much. It should be frighteningly too much to have Stiles say that, he should want to call him crazy and ask him to leave, because they’ve only just started to explore this and it’s the second time they’ve mentioned that kind of future, babies, mates, family-

 

“I want that too,” Derek says instead, pressing the words against Stiles’ throat, brushing his lips over the soft skin. “I do. I want that. I want it to be you-”

 

His hips are still moving, still rubbing against Stiles who is shifting eagerly to meet him. The heat of his rut is building now, even if it is slow, even if it isn’t as rapid as it usually is. Something is very different.

 

Stiles draws his knees up, opening himself for Derek who needs only to shift slightly to drag his cock down, to press the head against Stiles’ entrance and slide in.

 

Even their first time didn’t feel like this.

 

Derek pushes forward in one slow motion until he bottoms out, their heads both turning in sync so that their lips meet. No need for words.

 

The kissing is slow and falls in time with the gentle thrusts of Derek’s hips, each one drawing a soft moan from Stiles, whose fingers slide lovingly through Derek’s hair over and over.

 

Derek’s wolf rumbles happily, satisfied with the human’s choice of affection. Mate. His. Finally.

 

The pace picks up gradually until Stiles is crying out, his neck arched back, skin flushing. Derek can feel the tightening of his muscles around him, which makes it even more difficult to press his growing knot in.

 

“Relax for me, baby-” he pants. “I need to come inside you.”

 

Stiles does his best to comply, and Derek can at least push in one last time before his knot is too big and Stiles too tight for them to move apart.

 

“Good boy,” Derek whispers, nipping at Stiles’ lower lip. “Mine.”

 

“Yours,” Stiles affirms. “Touch me?”

 

Derek props himself up on one arm, still rolling his hips, and wraps his fingers around Stiles, jerking him in time with the movement of their lower bodies.

 

God, this boy is beautiful. And his. Yes. Absolutely his.

 

“You still want me to fuck you as a wolf?” Derek asks with a growl, his eyes flashing briefly at the thought. “You still want me to shift and fuck you?”

 

“God- yes, I do-” Stiles pants, his fingers grabbing at Derek’s arms, blunt nails pressing into his skin.

 

“Tomorrow,” Derek replies. “Tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, his voice a high whine, his orgasm moments away. “Hands and knees. Mount me. Fuck me into the bed-”

 

A rumble rolls in his chest.

 

“You’ll submit to me,” Derek rasps, slamming in harder. “I’ll take you-”

 

Stiles lets out a cry, a sob, arching up off of the bed and releasing over his chest. The grip of his body milks the orgasm out of Derek, the pleasure so hard and fast that he can’t stop his claws from growing, his growl of pleasure rougher as his teeth elongate, scraping against Stiles’ neck.

 

“Don’t hold back,” Stiles whispers, the devilish little asshole apparently fully aware of what’s going on around him. “I mean it. Claws, teeth, everything. I want it all.”

 

Derek leans back and gazes down at his boy with glowing eyes as another pulse of another orgasm rolls through him. Stiles gazes back, and Derek knows he can see his wolf there. He doesn’t flinch. He just fucking smirks. Smirks and tips his chin up, offering his neck again like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

 

Impossible. He’s impossible. He’s got Derek and his wolf completely under his thumb, because Derek can only comply, pressing his face against the soft skin, listening to the rasp of his beard, the thump of Stiles’ heart, the thick scent of his desire. Derek licks along the tendon, grazing his teeth there, feeling the boy shiver beneath him as his body takes all of Derek’s come, over and over-

 

***

 

Stiles breathes softly beside him, one arm draped across Derek’s chest, his long fingers twitching gently in his sleep.

 

Derek, though, is very awake. He’s awake and listening to the sound of his own heart beating slowly and steadily in his chest. He’s trying to track any sensation, anything at all that will imply he’s still in the middle of his rut.

 

He should be all over Stiles right now; he should be overwhelmed by his desire. He should be wanting to pound into Stiles until neither of them can walk, or at the very least he should be climbing into Stiles’ lap and riding him-

 

But he’s peaceful. Certainly he’d love to do those things, but it’s not driven by any uncontrollable instinct. It’s just driven by desire. Just his desire for Stiles.

 

Derek tries to call his wolf, because there’s a brief moment when he’s worried that he’s not there anymore. Of course he is- but his rut shouldn’t be over so soon. There shouldn’t be this much down time.

 

His brain leads him around to the least pleasant solution to his problem; text Peter.


***

 

Stiles wakes with a start when he hears a knock on the bedroom door. He blinks hard several times, rubbing his eyes to try and focus in the dim light that comes from the low lamps around the room.

 

Derek is moving slowly, dressed in his pajama bottoms and nothing else, thanking whoever is on the other side of the door before he closes it gently. There’s a tiny stab of jealousy somewhere in Stiles’ chest at the thought of someone else seeing Derek looking so soft, so beautiful, half dressed and rumpled as he is. But then he focusses on Derek, who stands with a loaded tray in his arms, the brilliant scent of cheese and meat and onion wafting over to Stiles. Derek’s head is cocked, a little smile on his face.

 

“Hey. You slept well.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologises, as though the words were an accusation. He feels guilty. He shouldn’t have slept.

 

“Why?” Derek asks, setting the tray carefully down on the bed before he climbs up beside him. “You can sleep.”

 

Stiles scratches his chest. Derek has taken him at his word of consent and fucked him awake before, he’d probably do it again if he wanted to.

 

“You didn’t need me?” he asks once Derek has settled down beside him, and boy, doesn’t he sound pathetic? And needy. Don’t forget needy.

 

Derek looks away, which only fuels Stiles’ new assumption that Derek doesn’t need him at all.

 

“Something, um- something has- something’s wrong,” Derek stammers out. “With me. With my wolf.”

 

Stiles’ heart misses a beat. “Are you dying?” he blurts out. “Is your wolf dying? Is that possible? What can we do?” He can’t lose Derek. He only just got him. He’s been daydreaming about marriage and mating and adopting pups since they can’t get him pregnant apparently-

 

Derek glances up again, his expression amazingly soft. “No,” he replies. “It’s nothing like that.” He blinks and then gestures to the tray in front of them. “I got you a burger and fries and onion rings-” he says, veering off tangent so fast that Stiles needs a few seconds to catch up.

 

“Uh, thanks, but we kinda need to get back to you and your problem-” Stiles insists, resisting the urge to shake Derek.

 

Finally, Derek meets his eyes. “I’ve spoken to Peter about it. About how my rut is different this time, how it’s different with you-”

 

Stiles tries not to frown at the mention of Peter, and that Derek has been discussing their sex life with him. But then who else is Derek supposed to talk to? Stiles sucks it up and nods. “And?” he prompts, because Derek looks as though he wants to finish talking right about there.

 

“And- he thinks the reason- the reason my rut isn’t so intense is because my wolf thinks you’re his mate. Our- my-my mate. You might be my actual mate. But that’s just what Peter says-”

 

“And you don’t believe him?” Stiles asks. His heart is keeping a rather eccentric rhythm now; relief that nothing awful is wrong with Derek, elation at the thought of what the actual issue is (because mates ! Like they’re destined to be together, like all of this waiting, all the time that has lapsed between them, all that chemistry and the longing and the sleepless nights and the confusion are all for something. That he of all people is somehow worthy enough to be that), then disappointment at Derek’s very passive reaction.  “Or you don’t want it to be true?”

Derek fixes him with a steady look that Stiles wonders if he’s supposed to be able to decipher, but he can’t.

 

“I’m not asking you to accept that,” Derek shrugs. “There’s a difference between us being boyfriends, there’s a difference between us saying these things now, when we’re in bed, and being actual mates.”

 

Stiles bites down on his lip for a moment to stop himself from yelling at Derek again. Accuse him of being a patronising fuck and wondering out loud whether Derek has learnt anything at all today- whether he was listening to Stiles at all, whether he even remembers saying that they should try and be something more.

 

“Do you think I’ve just been saying all this stuff? Do you think I was joking earlier?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, but there’s a difference-” Derek starts to insist again before he’s cut off.

 

“You think I don’t understand?” Stiles raises his voice a little. “Do you think I’m just going into all of this blind? I wasn’t moaning about wanting your kids just to get you off.”

 

Derek purses his lips and looks away. “If we mate- if we mated properly then- then I don’t know what I’d do if we broke up.”

 

“Derek-” Stiles inches closer. “Der, I understand. I’m not just going to quit this. Wasn’t I making it obvious enough today? I want you. I really, honestly want you. And everything that entails.”

 

Derek has a lot of issues, Stiles reminds himself, leaning in and touching their lips together. Derek makes a soft rumbling sound, his hand sliding it’s way around to rest against Stiles’ hip.

 

“I get to meet your wolf properly tomorrow,” Stiles murmurs, remembering Derek’s promise. “I’ll thank him for his decision then.”

 

Derek keeps rumbling, smirking against their lips. “You should eat,” he starts, though Stiles has begun to pick up when Derek’s rut is starting to come on again. He can tell from the noises, from little movements, the expression on his face.

 

Maybe he should have realised what they were sooner.

 

“So it isn’t stopping your rut?” Stiles asks with a grin. “You’re still gonna wanna pin me down, huh? Still gonna be uncontrollably horny until you’re buried inside me-”

“Stiles,” Derek groans.

 

“Or vice versa cos that was amazing, you were so tight.”

 

“Stiles!” Derek says again, tone a little more pleading

 

“I’m just checking,” Stiles says with no believable innocence. “You might wanna move the dinner tray onto the floor, big guy,” he adds. He’s kind of pleased that this doesn’t mean the rutting will stop altogether. He’s very much enjoying being Derek’s plaything.

 

Derek hesitates for a moment as though he doesn’t want to move the food (possibly because he can hear Stiles’ stomach growling periodically, and he wants to look after him, provide for him, because they’re mates-) so Stiles decides to move it away himself, putting it on the bedside table.

 

For a moment it means he’s turning his back on Derek, and they’re both lucky he’s managed to balance the tray properly because seconds later Derek’s hands are on his hips, dragging him back over to the middle of the bed.

 

Stiles finds himself on his belly, letting out a chuckle as Derek leans over him, his mouth close to Stiles’ ear. “Mated wolves don’t need to fuck as much during their rut,” he breathes, the ghosts of his words making Stiles shiver. “There’s more chance of them getting their mate pregnant at any time of the year. But ruts still happen, because pups are important. Might as well give it a helping hand.”

 

Stiles whimpers, enjoying the biology lesson being purred into his ear and the feeling of Derek’s cock pressing against his thigh. And knowing that Derek’s body wants to breed him, that Derek’s wolf wants him to carry his children, even if it isn’t possible. He can hear how close it is to the surface in the way the older man breathes, he doesn’t need to see the flash of bright eyes or see the claws or teeth. Oh, he adores Derek, but they both know this started off because Stiles had a long list of werewolf related kinks, and it’s not like any of them have lessened.

 

He likes that Derek, despite obviously now having a lot of control over his wolf, is willing to let go. Willing to toy with Stiles, to push and pull him around, to hold him down. He likes that Derek has this side to him, that Derek’s wolf has chosen him, and so he knows he can trust that he’ll never be hurt, no matter how rough they get.

 

Fuck it, he loves all of those things. To say anything else is a damn lie.

 

“Guess we better keep having sex until I’m pregnant, then,” Stiles murmurs, arching up and pressing himself against Derek.

 

Derek’s mouth moves over his neck, and he shivers when he feels Derek’s teeth against his skin too, then the jostle as Derek lines himself up, his cock brushing against Stiles’ entrance, pushing in in one motion.

 

Stiles groans happily. He wants this. This is everything he could have asked for. Derek doesn’t pause, just pulls back and slams back in again.

 

Stiles cries out this time, twisting his fingers in the sheets. He can feel the hard pulse in his own cock as he grows harder. Derek’s hands are braced either side of him, and he can see claws digging into the bedding. He wants to feel them on his skin-

 

Derek continues to mouth at his neck, teasing brushes of his teeth that prickle like electricity. His hips are still moving hard, relentless, and Stiles lets himself float, enjoying the movement of their bodies, enjoying the way he’s being stretched, the way he can feel Derek’s knot growing as it opens him.

 

Derek just growls, low and rough, keeping the movement fluid as hard as he fucks him.

 

“Yes, yes,” Stiles begins to chant with each thrust, rubbing himself against the bed. The friction is building up the pleasure in his belly, twisting and coiling like fire. “Yes-”

 

One of Derek’s clawed hands moves to his hip, pulling his lower body up. Stiles moves without argument, and the change of angle is amazing. Derek’s cock slams straight into his prostate, and Stiles sobs out his pleasure. He’s supporting himself on his elbows, presenting himself to Derek, letting him do anything, everything-

 

Derek drapes over his back, pressing his claws lightly against his hip. Stiles likes the tease, mouth  open in a silent cry, gasping in his breaths, fingers fisting the covers. He wants to reach for his cock, wants to jerk himself off in time with Derek’s thrusts, but it’s already blindingly good and he doesn’t want to come yet, he wants Derek to knot him, wants to ride it out then-

 

God, he loves the feeling of being stretched, he loves the way it feels. This- the rough, hard fucking, the forcefulness of Derek’s movements as he pushes his knot into Stiles’ body- this is all he wanted. He feels like he’s being used and he loves it.

 

Derek is letting out punched out growls as with every thrust. The headboard of the bed slams against the wall. The pace continues until Derek lets out a bark, his knot finally catching, drawing a yelp from Stiles as well.

 

“Come, come for me, I need you to come,” Stiles whimpers. “Wanna feel it. Breed me-”

 

“You’re gonna take it all,” Derek growls at him. “Take it all. My good little bitch- gonna fill you up. Yes-”

 

Stiles doesn’t expect the words to pull his orgasm from him, to unravel him so easily, but he’s there, coming over the sheets, squirming on the knot buried inside him because it’s too much, he’s too full, it’s pressing against his prostate and Stiles can’t take the pleasure. But he knows Derek won’t stop, and he won’t ask.

 

His mate makes a pleased noise, though, hips bucking to keep up the friction around his cock, which is just driving Stiles more and more crazy. Just as the first waves of his pleasure ebb away, another one hits, another spurt of come hitting the bed.

 

“Take it, baby, I’m right there, take it all-” Derek rasps, slamming in once more before letting out a loud groan of pleasure as he begins to fill Stiles.

 

Despite the fact that his arms and legs are wobbling, Stiles stays as he is, body arched in offering to his mate. His mate.

 

Wow.

 

***

 

“So, what happens now?” Stiles asks into the warm silence between them, their bodies tangled beneath the covers, their fingers touching each others bodies and arms in slow caresses.

 

“Hm? We can rest-” Derek starts, his fingers stroking through the hair on Stiles’ chest, skimming close to his nipples and smiling as Stiles sucks in a breath.

 

“No, I mean,” Stiles begins again. “ Us . What happens now?”

 

Derek lifts his eyes. Stiles’ are dark, darker than normal. But he smells warm and safe and comfortable.

 

“I’m going to ask your dad’s permission to take you as my mate,” he says softly, his own pulse picking up at the thought. It is exactly what it sounds like; the werewolf equivalent of asking for Stiles’ hand in marriage. John is- well, he understands supernatural things well enough. Being werewolf married is probably something he won’t flinch too much at, except that it involves Stiles…

 

Stiles, who is gaping at him now. “Holy moly. Seriously?”

 

“You don’t want-” Derek starts, anxiety washing through him, but Stiles’ gentle fingers press against his lips.


“I do want. I very much want-” Stiles whispers. “But it’s just- it’s just really nice. Very honourable. And- and then?”

 

“Then?” Derek gives a little shrug. “Then we just go on dates. Eventually move in together if you want to, just...regular stuff.” He can’t make eye contact as he lists such vague, ridiculous things off, and when he glances up, Stiles is giving him a look that says he knows Derek is missing out a crucial part, because of course he knows. Stiles probably knows as much about werewolf mating as Derek. Definitely more than Scott.

 

“And-” Stiles prompts. “You’re going to give me a mating bite?” he supplies, because Derek is now just blinking at him, desperately looking for a way to avoid speaking.

 

“I mean-” he just doesn’t want to pressure Stiles, he doesn’t want him to have to feel obligated to be with Derek forever. And also because Derek can’t allow himself to have anything nice. If Stiles is his mate officially, that makes Stiles his family, and Derek doesn’t have a good track record of being able to take care of his family.

 

“You’re going to have to use your words, sweetheart. My telepathy skills haven’t quite developed yet,” Stiles continues gently. His fingers are tracing long, soothing strokes up and down Derek’s biceps.

 

“It’s old fashioned,” Derek begins, wincing when he hears the tone in his voice.

 

“No, it’s an intrinsic part of being mated,” Stiles interrupts, a frown marring his lovely face, his fingers pausing. “Der, I’m kinda beginning to think you and your wolf are disagreeing with it’s choice-”

 

“No,” Derek jumps in immediately. The comfortable scent that had surrounded Stiles moments ago has soured with anxiety. “No, no, I want you as my mate,” he replies. “I really do.”


“But you still don’t trust my judgement? You think I can decide for myself what I want? Or that I’m going to feel obliged to be with you, which is just fucking ridiculous. Finding out I’m destined to spend my life with you is better than winning the lottery-” Stiles says, drawing himself closer, taking Derek’s face gently in his hands, fixing their gazes. “You bite me, you claim me. I don’t think I want to be a wolf, I’ve had years to think about it and I’m still confident that I’m happy as a human, but that doesn’t change anything. We move in together and wriggle about, getting our scents all mixed up. We work out a way to get babies, and we build your pack. You’re smart and brave and protective. You’re hilarious when you let your guard down. Did I mention smart? Because seriously, you’re so fucking smart. And you’re ridiculously self sacrificing, which is going to have to stop, because me and our pups are going to need you around. So if you ask me again now, or tomorrow, or in a week, or a year, or years, Derek, I’m always going to tell you I want to be your mate.”

 

Stiles is so fierce and so sincere that Derek can only gaze back at him in adoring wonder.

 

“But you need to bite me, and you need to leave a mark. If I’m going to be your mate, you have to. And I want it, I want people to see it and know I’m yours-”

 

Derek can feel a prickling behind his eyes at the words, because it seems as though Stiles, despite what he just said about his telepathy skills, has just unravelled all of his anxieties and is now soothing each in turn without Derek having to say a word.

 

Stiles’ expression softens and he leans in, pressing a kiss to Derek’s neck. “I’m gonna bite you, too,” he whispers, dragging his tongue over the exact place Derek would expect the bite to be. “Mine.”

 

“Yours,” Derek breathes, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of them, already mixed in the sheets and the room. Them.

 

***

 

Stiles’ phone screen illuminates for the fourth time, though it’s face down on the table, and both of them are too wrapped up in each other to notice. There are email notifications coming through from the site - though Stiles doesn’t remember ever making his email public;


BigBadWolf:   - 16.20

 

Hey, LittleRed. Couldn’t help but notice that we might be destined to be together =)

I’ve seen your public pictures. You’re beautiful. I’ve never been so taken with anyone before, and I’ve been looking for a long time.

 

I don’t want you just for my ruts. I would love to provide for you, take care of you. You’re so young, I bet you have college loans to clear. I’ll help you.


Add me as a friend. I want to see your other pictures. Or maybe you’d be interested in taking some more for me? I’ve got $500 I’d be happy to send you. Just to prove I’m serious.

 

BBW

 

BigBadWolf :  - 17.07

 

Perhaps you’re busy with someone else right now. I don’t blame anyone for wanting you, though I can’t say I’m not jealous. I’d like to show you what a real wolf can be like, how good it can be for you. I’ll give you everything you’ve listed in your profile. I’ll play with you, make you come, make you feel more pleasure than you’ve ever felt.

 

And you won’t have to be on this site anymore. I’ll give you everything you need.

 

BBW

 

BigBadWolf: - 17.08

 

P.S. I’ll only be as bad as you want me to be. You look like you enjoy a little excitement (and a little mess ;) ) but I’ll be as gentle (or as rough) as you desire.

 

17.08

 

BigBadWolf: - 19.12

 

I’m touching myself thinking about licking that come off of you.

 

Get in touch when you’re done with the puppy you’re currently playing with.

 

I’ll be waiting.