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Opening the door of the Stilinski house on his own initiative carries strange weight for Derek. There’s no reason he shouldn’t. The Sheriff is at work; Isaac and Stiles are on Skype helping Scott with his summer school work so it makes sense for him to do it. Just the fact that answering the door when the bell rings is a thing he can do now, in this place, with these humans and wolves who are becoming his family feels like home which is just…bizarre.

Turns out, Derek can also close the goddamn door like it’s 2006 and he’s a Panic! at the Disco song. He can, in fact, slam it shut and lean with his shoulders shoved back against the wood with all of his wolf strength. Facing into the living room, Derek pants, his hands covering the gentle curve his lower belly has finally taken on almost five full months in.

He feels silly because his logical mind tells him he must be hallucinating what is on the other side of the door. It’s just one more in a series of weird visual and auditory manifestations he’s had since that first moment of heat set in. That would make what he’s doing ridiculous but safe, so, please. Please, please let him be hallucinating.

The bell rings again.

Derek takes a deep breath and lets his fangs drop. His eyes glow red. He carefully, mindfully, pulls his hands away from his stomach and lets his claws flex as he opens the door again. He smiles all teeth at the decade old nightmare on the other side of the doorway. It’s been ten years. Derek has gained a foot but the Alpha still towers over him.

“Well, damn look at you,” Ennis says with a smile of his own that is all shallow cheer and repressed hunger. “The eldest remaining Hale cub all grown up and fuck-filled. I don’t know what I was expecting but a fecund slut on some goddamn human’s leash wasn’t it.”

Ennis speaks with a cheerful tone which does nothing to keep Derek from feeling trapped, the dizziness of the aftermath of a vicious smack. He is breathing deep and uneven and he stings. It’s just, the words. They’re terms a bornwolf would know like the true slurs they are. Erasure of the terms have been their best defense against them - hiding their existence in books and stories that recounted hunter slurs about their captives. They were the words humans used to use to twist the natural biological lust into something perverse, the miracle of gender transmutation to bear cubs into something ugly. Wolves aren’t supposed to talk like that to each other, not even enemies. Keyword here being enemy. Ennis’s words shouldn’t hurt.

“You know,” Ennis continues, “When Kali told me that you were reduced to bitch status I thought she had it wrong. You’re the Alpha of the area so I didn’t believe her before now. I mean, please. A needy little bitchboy lost in heat turns out to be a male Alpha?” He lets out a slow whistle then shakes his head, his smile morphing into a wry grin. “Unheard of. Deucalion’s got the kids doing research. We’ve never actually heard of it happening. Betas, sure, but then, your love life seems to like left turns huh? I mean, clearly it didn’t work out with your little violinist.”

“Cello.” Derek hisses through his fangs. His whole body is vibrating with hating Ennis, hating Peter for ever directing him towards this prick, hating himself for ever even looking at Paige in the first place and hating these fucking hormones that make his feelings spike so sharply with every thought he has. “Paige played the cello.”

“Well, she wasn’t strong enough to join my pack so who cares. It’s got nothing to do with why I’m here.”

He did. He cared. He still missed Paige. He didn’t think he would still be with her even without the bite disaster but he’s pretty sure she would still be around as a friend and he could really use someone, anyone, other than Peter and this psycho, who knew the boy he was before everything. He pulls his upper lips back. “Why are you here?”

Ennis holds up a piece of paper between two wholly human fingers. “I’m the messenger.” He holds out the paper. “Our emissary will be lifting the wards holding the rest of your pack hostage at moonrise. You’ll want to be there beforehand. Trust me.”

“I think I’m going to pass on that what with not actually being stupid, despite past actions that would indicate the opposite,” Derek growls, hoping that his eyes glow brighter red.

When he looks at this man, all Derek can see are his countless fuck-ups. He is drowning in his own selfishness and Paige, choking on black vomit and begging him for death, for a release from her agony. He can feel her blood on his fingers, as if he were killing her right now.

The roiling tension of it makes his cub do a disgruntled twist inside his womb. He can actually hear it move when he feels it, which means Ennis can too. Fuck.

“Come on kiddo. Relax. Don’t want to upset the future of the Hale line do ya? Do you know how often Deucalion gets to give baby presents? He’s tickled. You can trust that if nothing else. Now be a good boy and take the directions.” He waggles the paper again. “Or don’t. Fuck if I care but I have my orders.”

Derek takes them from the other Alpha with trembling claws. Ennis smiles again, all teeth and feral glee. “Have good full moon, kid.” He’s gone before Derek can shut the door with Alpha speed he’s had control over for more than a decade.

Sinking to the floor with his back against the door isn’t a conscious choice. Derek is just on the ground, curled up, arms around his midsection with his knees up for added protection.

Derek’s precise internal clock lost a spring but he is aware that not much time passes before Stiles finds him. As soon as he appears, on his knees in front of Derek, he begins carefully uncoiling his limbs from their tight protective posture.

Distantly, Derek is aware that he’s just letting Stiles do this. He’s a fucking Alpha fucking werewolf and he’s allowing a skinny, spastic teenage boy to move him like a doll until his arms and legs are loose and he’s seated mostly normally except for the slump.

“Isaac could smell you crying,” Stiles begins his babble, climbing into Derek’s lap and taking his face in his large hands. “Oh my god, Derek, he was right. You’re crying.”

“I’m fine,” Derek says and really he is. He didn’t know he was crying before Stiles started wiping the tears away.

“Why are you crying? It’s okay. ” He rubs tears away with his fingers and follows up the cleaning swipes with closed mouth kisses. His mouth could be the definition of heat and softness if Derek were writing a dictionary. “I’ve got you. Really. You can cry if you want but you don’t have to. I’m here.”

“They’re just tears,” Derek chokes. “Hormones. You got me pregnant, asshole. Remember?”

“Stileses and elephants never forget. I remember all the time. No, seriously, all the time. Every second, every day, twenty-four-seven. You should see me. It’s obnoxious. I go around grinning like a stupid person because I’ll be doing something and get hit with this wave of remembering ‘oh yeah, I’m having a baby with Derek’ and stupid person grin will appear.”

“Stupider person.”

“Fine. Stupider.” Fingernails rake through his hair and Derek leans into the contact. “But these tears, they’re not pregnant tears. You should see your face. I know hormone face. This is not hormone face. This is crying. Please don’t cry.”

“Come on, Stiles.” He chokes out on what is meant to be a laugh but comes out as more of a sob.

“Did you know that there’s like, a chemical in tears that makes guys super vulnerable to the whims of the cryer.”

“That superpower doesn’t work. I’ve seen it not work,” Derek grumbles into Stiles’s neck because Stiles has stood up to his tears before - the truly hormonal ones that make no sense, come out of left field or explode over small things and just mean that at the end of all this they get the Puppy. Yes okay, even Derek is thinking of it as that now. That’s how he knows it doesn’t work.

“Well, I mean usually its women’s tears but like, I love you and stuff so, um, you’re hurting so I’m hurting for you so I really need you to not be crying.”

Derek feels like a bomb was just dropped. “Right.”

Stiles looks like it. What a matched fucking set they are. “Right. That’s so selfish right? But this way you can cheer up and do that self-sacrificing thing you love to do so, hey.” He presses a gentle kiss to each eyelid, before finishing with his lips against Derek’s own. “You get a win-win for once.”

The gesture is warm, soft, and so Stiles that it hits Derek like a car how stupidly fucking in love with Stiles he is. The realization sucks the air from the room and makes his head drop back against the door and turns his brain into a buzz of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.Derek is fucking in love with Stiles like he’s never loved anyone before. This, sitting here, with Stiles on top of him, feeling like his chest is going from an overabundance of emotion is being in love, really in love in a way he thinks will last. Hell, in fifteen years, being just like this with their own kid upstairs doing homework instead of Scott will be him being in love with Stiles too.

Oh yeah. He’s terrified but he’s not crying anymore. He’s not because this is going to be fine…somehow. Stiles just said he loves him back.

“I’m okay, Stiles, really.” He lies because they’re having a baby and there is an alpha pack and everything is a mess and he is fucking in love with the father of his child. Fuck.

“Isaac said you smelled scared.”

“Isaac needs to keep his nose to himself.”

“Well, I’m going to kiss you until I feel better,” Stiles declares. “You’re going to have to deal with that, okay?”

Derek chokes on a laugh then Stiles kisses him, holding onto his face with both hands. He exhales into the kiss and it really does seem like Stiles is looking for something with his lips and tongue, something for himself and not for Derek. Probably that shouldn’t make him feel better, but it really does. Stiles isn’t totally care taking here. Stiles needs Derek is perfectly happy to fulfill, cupping the back of his neck and lowering him to the floor slowly and carefully. The weight of his body on top of Stiles makes Stiles groan and wrap his legs around Derek’s waist. “Isaac’s here,” Stiles whispers.”

“Isaac needs to get the fuck out of our room unless he wants to see and smell some R-rated shit.”

“Moving!” comes a call down the stairs. “I’ll keep watch for the Sheriff. Open a window or something, though, for decency’s sake.”

“Oh my god. I so don’t care,” Stiles mumbles directly into Derek’s mouth. He can actually taste Stiles’s words. “If he wants a window open he’ll open it and if not then he will smell our deliciousness because I bet we’re going to smell like baking chocolate chip cookies to werewolf feeling-sensors after this.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, weirdo.”

“No,” Stiles declares as he wraps himself tightly around Derek’s body. “I’ve been waiting for you to want me back and now you do. You want me back Derek, I can feel it. Now is not the time for shutting up. I’ve only done it the once but I’m pretty sure quiet isn’t how I get it on.”

“But-“

“No. Loud, Derek. Get us upstairs and don’t try to be quiet about it. We’re going to have a baby. Everyone in the house knows we totally do it.”

“Do it,” Derek snorts but Stiles has a point. Lots of points, all pointy bone ridges under smooth warm skin. “If you can’t say it you can’t do it.”

“Yeah okay Risky Business. They know we fuck. Well, fucked. Once.” He kisses Derek again, dirty and sloppy and so slow. Derek melts into his mouth and when he pulls back his lips are tingling and are spit slick to rub against Stiles. He feels every word when Stiles says, “This is good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees. Normal sex sounds so good. He doesn’t think he’s had that with someone who loves him in his entire life. Not for real. Kate doesn’t count. He’s not thinking about that now because he’s thinking he’s surrounded by Stiles all around him. Inside his body, Derek’s super senses can actually feel the life the two of them created settle and go to sleep. His little wolf cub can feel that its parents are together - mates - and so there’s no reason to be on alert. Mates. God.

He surges to his feet, taking Stiles with him and bullies him upstairs. Stiles laughs the whole way. He mumbles about jerking off to this, about liking him pushy, about doors and walls and how “we are so having wall sex at some point after the Puppy is born” and yeah. Fuck yeah, Derek pants into his mouth because Stiles talking about this relationship in terms of Later and After like the future is a certainty makes him harder than any of their kisses.

He hears Isaac jump out the window in his room about the same time they make it into their bedroom. Stiles has the presence of mind to lock the door. Good, because Derek is thinking about how Stiles is going to feel inside him again, at last. He remembers feeling full and whole during his heat but that was different. This is breathing in the air on each other’s skin with wet open mouths. It’s stumbling across the room with legs tangling together. This is mutual pulling at each other’s clothes until Derek is So. Fucking. Done. His claws pop out on reflex and he rends first Stiles’s clothes then his own and Stiles giggles.

“What?”

“I always wondered,” he laughs, “If you wolfie guys could actually rip clothes off.” He snorts into the underside of Derek’s jaw and presses his naked body against Derek’s. “You can. It’s so great.”

“Mm,” Derek agrees. He’s strangely pleased Stiles approves. “Bed?”

“Oh my god yes.”

Derek’s always stronger around Stiles lately. It’s the pregnancy, according to Deaton, a feedback loop of magic and building energy focused around created life. He lacks it almost all the time when they’re not touching now so he’s more than thrilled for the chance to use it now to shove Stiles back on to their bed.

Stiles is grinning as he bounces onto the mattress. He holds out a hand to him in invitation. No. Not invitation. It is a welcome to a place he already belongs. Goddamn pregnancy hormones, Derek is so turned on it hurts and he wants to cry at the same time. Maybe. A little. He takes Stiles’s hand, kissing each finger as he climbs over him.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says again, when Derek lets go of his hand. He cups Derek’s cheek and drags those long fingers through his beard then downwards, over his jaw. “I can’t believe we’re here.” He keeps moving his hand over his shoulder then across his clavicle. Derek shivers. The touch is so soft he wonders if a human could feel it. He can though and that’s all that matters. He can feel it and it gives him the sense of being worshipped as Stiles trails across his chest in slow zig-zag patterns then downwards to stop on the gentle curve of his stomach. “We’re here,” Stiles says again before dropping his hand and taking Derek in his fist.

Undignified is the best description for the sound Derek makes as Stiles strokes him. He pitches forward so he can kiss Stiles again. Derek had forgotten how much he loves kissing. He and Paige had done nothing else and Kate had won him with her gloss-slick mouth. Stiles’s lips are a little chapped and only wet with saliva but they’re so honest and care so deeply Derek can’t help but sink into them. Plus, draped across him like this, he can reach the bedside table and there are supplies in there. Stiles thought he was sneaky but he really wasn’t.

“What are- oh. Right. Condom.”

“No, moron. Lube.” He pulls it out and tosses on the bed. “No point in a condom anymore.”

Stiles’s laugh is nervous this time. “Right. Because you’re already pregnant.” He laughs again, high and reedy. “Sorry I just, I didn’t think. You’re like… an actual bottom. I didn’t…“

“Then don’t. Just do it,” Derek says, clicking open the cap of the lube and squeezing it onto his own fingers. He won’t need much and he wants it to ache, to burn and feel only Stiles, who looks like he got slapped in the face with a very cold, very dead fish.

“Stiles.”

“I- I thought it was just the sex emergency. I never thought-”

“That I could just like it? It feels good. You felt good inside me, Stiles. Can you shut up and fuck me?”

“Can I shut up and make love with you instead? That sounds like it would be a lot...nicer.” Stiles tangles the fingers of his right hand with Derek’s. He travels with him behind Derek’s balls to his hole, sharing the slippery lube to feel as Derek slides two fingers in. Stiles’s fingers don’t follow inside but instead rub on the rim in what would be a soothing gesture if it didn’t make Derek whimper in pleasure.

“Yeah. See this slower, God, is really awesome. I mean, we fucked last time. I don’t want to do that this time. I want to see, you know.” His amber eyes are wide and sincere. His fingers are a smooth counterpoint to Derek’s own thrusting ones with their callouses and dragging knuckles. “Your face, you’re so beautiful like this. I didn’t know before. I didn’t get to see.” His left hand cups his face, thumb on his cheekbone. “Pleasure looks so good on you, Derek. You should always look this way.”

“Stiles,” he chokes out, more because of the words than the combination of touches. It’s too much. He can’t hear this. He’s not built for it. He’s not sure he’s capable of doing any of this, parenthood, a relationship, a family, not anymore, but he definitely can’t take that kind of praise all by itself. It makes his chest feel scraped out with an ice cream scooper.

“You say my name like that and I want to die,” Stiles says, the fingers on his rim pressing harder, “Because it’s like, my life has peaked. It can’t get better.”

Enough. He needs to be on Stiles’s cock right the hell now. It will probably make him stop talking, at least long enough for Derek to get his head on right. He pulls his fingers out of his hole and reaches back with his still slightly slick hand and lines up Stiles’s cock before sinking down.

Stiles’s eyes actually roll up in his head. Derek can hear his heart beat change, smell the change in scent as his body exudes pheromones and hormones in his sweat, can feel the ridges and valleys of his fingerprints as he grabs at Derek’s hips. The only sense that isn’t fulfilled is taste and Derek fixes that by bending down to take Stiles’s mouth and tasting every one of his teeth.

The stretch and fullness in his ass is the same as he remembers from his heat. He can feel it in his ribs somehow, as though Stiles is filling more than the physical. Stupid but there it is. He reaches out, grabbing for some sort of purchase as he works himself up and down on Stiles’ cock but can’t seem to make his hands stick in their sheets.

Then fingers lace with his and he’s grounded. He pulls back with a gasp and sees Stiles arms stretched over his head, holding his hand. It’s more intimate than the kissing, the fingering, the sex and it makes Derek come because…Because…He doesn’t know. He’s going to blame it on his out of control hormones. All he knows for sure is that he’s bucking as though Stiles were one of those mechanical bulls and he was trying to stay on as he shoots across Stiles’s chest all the way up to his neck and even one thin streak on his chin.

Stiles looks up at him awestruck. He watches Stiles wipe his come off his cheek with his thumb. On instinct, Derek takes his hand and sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking away his own come and watching amber eyes darken to blown pupils. He is still hard inside Derek, and moving to take Stiles’s index finger in next, Derek starts to move again.

He’s had sex with men before, in New York when even looking at a pretty girl made his skin crawl but he was still eighteen, nineteen, twenty and needy. Yet he’s never wanted like this. He’s never revealed the dirty little desires he hid like he is now, as he rocks back and forth on Stiles, loving the oversensitivity of his used body still taking his lover’s cock. He’s not stopping as he drags his fingers through the come on Stiles to rub it into his skin. He has never been free to do what he can do with Stiles, who knows everything. Stiles knows he’s a wolf so Derek lets go, only a little, but is nonetheless left free to let loose some of his speed and strength released to rip the orgasm out of Stiles so hard he screams. It’s mostly empty vowels but Derek’s name is in there too.

“Holy fucking shit,” Stiles says when Derek flops onto his back beside him.

“Mm.”

“No seriously. I can’t fucking begin…”

“Mmhm.”

“You are just. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Derek yawns, curling into Stiles like he has every night for the last few months. Tonight’s just messier than most.

“We’re awesome at sex. Like wow.”

“Stop talking Stiles.”

“I can’t. That was sex and it was awesome. We are awesome at it. I feel like there should be a medal ceremony where they play the national anthem for us.”

“That might require clothes.”

Derek watches Stiles bite his lip. He’s too tired, with Ennis and said awesome sex, to play banter games at the moment. Stiles can usually carry a conversation all by himself though so that's all right.

“The cadet’s logic is sound,” Stiles sighs. “I still think we should get medals though.” He reaches down and puts a hand on Derek’s belly then, resting over the small but obvious bump. “This is better though.”

Derek covers Stiles’s hand with his own. His pack is coming back together, starting right here in this bed and spreading out to getting Boyd and Erica back in mere days. He squeezes Stiles’s hand once and Stiles squeezes back.

“Yeah. It is.”