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The Life of Stiles

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There was no warning. Stiles didn't have super werewolf hearing or night vision but he still had ears and eyes and, he liked to think, quite the brain between them, and he hadn't noticed anything unusual.

No, getting pushed away by Derek just as things were starting to get interesting was pretty frigging usual. So he'd been angrily shouldering his way out of Derek's car so Derek could lurk in front of/stakeout the tattoo parlor where the people who went in had this weird habit of also not coming back out, which was apparently something Derek had to do alone despite how Stiles was the one who had found the place for him.

What did Stiles get for it? A hand on his shoulder urging him out of the car and the standard Derek, "Get out and wait here, Stiles, this could be dangerous." Stiles was just turning back around to say something brilliant like "And waiting alone in a dark alley isn't dangerous?" and then to add how he wasn't a child or a helpless human, whatever Derek thought, when he caught sight of Derek's profile in the bit of streetlight that reached the car. It was all shadow and stark planes and Derek's mouth, and Derek's mouth was surprisingly soft and open. His head was up at that angle that meant he'd heard something but Stiles barely had time to process how perfect he looked, or to consider his choice of the word 'perfect', or the alarm that wrecked Derek's perfection in the same instant. Because it hit him that Derek was alarmed, alerted to a threat, and Stiles couldn't think why that would make Derek reach for him, but he flinched and kept a hand stubbornly on the car door even as fingers closed around the back of his neck.

"Not one second ago you were telling me to get out." Talking was reflex, a clumsy spill of words that rose higher and higher as Derek's other hand popped his seatbelt and slid over his hip. For a moment Stiles existed in two states, frozen and melting, and then Derek moved his hand and yanked Stiles back. And by 'back' Stiles meant 'abruptly and painfully over the gearshift and parking brake until he was in Derek's lap and bruised who knew where and contemplating murder'. This was his life.

"The serious fuck?" His voice cracked as he looked at his knees and his jeans. Then he shifted.

The response was an arm around his stomach to hold him where he was and a low, "Be still."

Stiles shifted again and elbowed Derek right in the solid wall of muscle that he called his chest.

"What the hell, Derek?" His voice was broken. Derek had broken his voice with his current insanity. Stiles kicked out and clenched his fists, only to stop breathing for a moment when Derek's arm pulled around him even tighter. He could feel the muscles flex against his stomach, like their clothing wasn't even there. Not that he was thinking about being naked, naked with Derek. Like this.

He went back into Derek's chest without a fight. He could hear, feel, Derek breathing, fast and deep and hot.

No. He corrected himself. Scott was hot. This was… hotter. Steady, rising heat, warm but uncomfortably something, like every exhale Stiles could feel behind his ear. He shuddered all over and became aware of Derek's heartbeat, though he couldn't tell if it was fast too. His own was loud, like the sound of his quick, panting breaths.

"What?" So Derek was grabbing him. He tried to recover his cool. In his experience, werewolves--mostly Derek--did a lot of weird-ass things. Stiles was adaptable, especially to things that let him stay with Derek--stay where the action was. "Am I staying or going?" he demanded, hating how his voice sounded. "A rumble is not an answer," he continued after a moment, wetting his lips because Derek couldn't see his face right now and it seemed like a thing to do when someone whose lap you were on couldn't see your face.

Derek's arm was like the heaviest weights in the gym, but a whole lot warmer. Stiles pushed against it anyway and then glared out the window before trying to twist his head around to give Derek his best pissed off look. Derek just twisted his head back the other way.

"Shut up and don't move, Stiles." It was a human growl, but it was still a growl. Stiles arched up and squirmed as he felt the sound travel down his back.

"Have you lost your wolfy mind? I. Am. In. Your. Lap." He pronounced each word slowly, as if that might help them penetrate Derek's perfect face and thick skull, and only then realized the truth of what he was saying. He jerked upright and then back, his heart thundering as he felt, he would swear to god, movement under his ass. The movement of a cock. The cock under his ass.

"I'm not gay," he squeaked it out, or thought it, he honestly had no idea which.

"I'm aware of that," Derek answered, not that Stiles knew which statement he was answering, not that it mattered. Derek smacked the back of his head in what was probably a reminder to stay still and then put his hand back on Stiles' neck like it belonged there, like there weren't any other places he could have put his hands.

Stiles made a choking sound and held still for the time it took for him to draw in more air.

"Yet here I am, on your lap," he argued, puffing and huffing all over the place. Derek slid his hand around to the side of Stiles' neck, bringing Stiles' head back against him. It was the opposite of comfortable. Stiles was suddenly, unaccountably, very, very tense. He couldn't tell whose heartbeat was whose. His neck was warm. His ass was… situated on some rock hard muscular thighs. And outside he saw lights, headlights, and heard the sound of another car approaching.

"Oh fuck my life. This is you being sneaky." Stiles sagged against Derek and frowned unhappily at his jeans and his shoes. This was another one of Derek's attempts to protect him. Because two guys screwing in the front seat of a car in an alley was way less suspicious than two guys staring at a tattoo parlor in the dark. Okay… Derek might have had a point with the subterfuge. But just because Derek was fine getting into fights or getting arrested if they should get caught and Stiles wasn't didn't mean that he had go around thinking he knew what was best for Stiles

Usually that heavy handed werewolf protection meant some "minor" injury for innocent, awesome Stiles. In this case, Derek had gone with massive embarrassment. Stiles was starting to think just facing the danger with Derek would be better. But asshole Alpha Derek evidently did not agree.

"Just try to look like you're enjoying yourself," Derek ordered as the other car cruised past them down the alley. Stiles couldn't look. He didn't want to know who it was in that car and what they were thinking at seeing him squirming and shifting in Derek's lap, or what expression was on Derek's face as he let them see. At least Derek had to be embarrassed in return to have people see Stiles Stilinski inching back and forth on his lap in public. Derek was hot. Too hot for Stiles. Everyone knew that. He was so hot that just the thought of anything like this was inconceivable, even to Stiles.

The thought stopped him just as Derek's fingers came back to his nape and spread out. They were… warm, warm and strong. But not hot. Because Stiles did not think Derek was hot. He knew he was, objectively. That even before the added charisma of being a powerful alpha Derek had attracted people. Been attractive. But he wasn't hot to Stiles. Derek was annoying, confusing, and scary, so scary it made Stiles' heart pound just to be around him. But not hot.

"Stiles." Derek's arm slid away from his stomach. Stiles shivered and moved without thinking.

"Fine I'm going!" He almost fell out of the passenger side door. "I'll just stay back here, waiting for you to admit you need me--my help!" He was talking too fast without any help from Adderal. Derek looked the same in the dim light, or his face did anyway. Stiles straightened up and did not look down, not that he could see in the dark.

"I need you." There was a scowl in Derek's voice, like always, like Stiles was being difficult. That was nothing new.

Stiles shivered again just the same and looked back at him.

"…To stay out of this and to call Scott for me," Derek finished and leaned over to pull the car door closed.

If Stiles weren't breathless and almost blind in the dark and afraid for his life he could have kicked the door of Derek's stupid, sleek, sexy car.

"Some people in my position would at least get a dollar!" he called out instead, then shook his head and tried again, secure in the knowledge that 'perfect face, hard thighs, big cock' Derek could hear him and was probably seething. "It would serve you right if someone we knew saw that and told everyone!"

He nodded at the end, though it was weak and he could have done better, then got out his phone to call Scott. He hand was shaking and his dick was hard, but he was willing to ignore both of those things. There was stuff of greater interest at the moment anyway, like danger and making sure Derek was okay, and getting Scott to answer his frigging phone for once. Anyway, he was sixteen. He got hard all the time. It absolutely did not mean anything.


It might have meant something if Stiles had thought about it, but there were other things to occupy his mind after that, like werewolves, and werewolf hunters, and vengeful, murdering lizards, and his dad. Contrary to what people thought, teenage boys didn't just think about sex. Thinking about sex only took up a good three-fourths of his day and most of his nights but Stiles knew how to manage these things.

Which was why he was totally cool with Derek appearing out of nowhere in his room as if he didn't know how to knock on doors or use telephones and then sitting down right on Stiles' bed as if he had a right to be there. Which he didn't, and to make that clear, Stiles yelped and jumped and threw his Chem book at him.

Derek caught it and tossed it aside without incident, but Stiles thought he got the point. There was a chair, Derek even looked at it. Then he stayed right where he was, right on the edge of the mattress, right where Stiles rolled over in the mornings to stroke himself if he had time before running around getting ready for school.

Stiles looked up, watched Derek's nostrils flare in a really interesting way, then deliberately turned back to his computer so he wouldn't have to think about Derek smelling his favorite place to jerk off outside of the shower. There were several tabs open to porn sites in front of him. Luckily Derek had never heard of the internet and probably wouldn't know porn if a dick slapped him in the face.

Stiles started coughing, dying from swallowing his own spit wrong and that image, and quickly got up out of his seat when it looked like Derek was going to come over. A pat on the back from Derek would probably land him in the hospital.

He shook his head and wiped at his stinging cheeks and then went over to sit in the chair that Derek was ignoring. He had to know what Stiles did in that bed. Maybe it didn't matter to werewolves, though Scott complained plenty about all kinds of smells.

"This has been a good talk," Stiles announced, making Derek raise his head sharply to stare at him. Derek understood sarcasm even if he almost never responded to it with words, just big, rough touches. Stiles swallowed but raised his eyebrows back at him. "But I have homework to do."

"Do that with one hand?" Derek snorted without taking his eyes from Stiles' face. Stiles felt his mouth working, trying to form the right words. The stinging in his cheeks got worse.

"Of course," he started defiantly anyway, "I'm a horny teenage boy with no girlfriend. It's that or go insane. It's the usual response to frustration, right? Oh wait, you just hit things."

There was a flash of something not quite red in Derek's eyes and then Stiles looked away again, down at his bed, now occupied by Derek's ass, then at Derek's leather jacket and the broad chest it wasn't hiding very well.

His eyes dropped and he flung himself up out of the chair when he realized Derek was just watching him.

"Did you need something or is this visit just because you can't stay away from me?" Stiles smiled and put a hand dramatically over his chest, which was as mocking as he could get when he noticed just how hard his heart was pounding. Derek raised an eyebrow and didn't answer right away. Instead his gaze slid over to the computer and Stiles really had to learn to stop underestimating him--and his werewolf super vision.

"Are you sure it's the no-girlfriend that's the problem?" Oh yeah, Derek was reading the titles on those porn tabs, Stiles could tell from that tone in his voice. He rolled his eyes and went over to close the tabs. Then he took a deep breath and turned around. He crossed his arms and stared back at Derek.

He didn't know why Derek was frowning--and--he didn't care.

"I get it. You're hot. You could get a girlfriend right this second and choose not to for reasons unknown to anyone."

Derek looked like he was thinking about some big, rough touches right that second, like maybe shoving Stiles into the door again or grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him forward to snarl in his face. Stiles let the silence sit there between them, though he already knew Derek wasn't going to volunteer any reasons for why he wasn't dating. He probably had some stupid werewolf reason. Or he had a thousand women on the side and didn't bother dating any of them. Either way, it didn't matter to Stiles.

He kept his arms crossed. Stiles decided to fill in for him. "I know. It's different for the Alpha, right?" He had a feeling it really was, not that Derek would answer.

"Stiles." When Derek bit out his name like that, it meant that Stiles was getting close to something. Usually getting eaten, but sometimes the truth. He leaned forward despite himself, prepared to be brilliant if necessary. Derek's voice went even lower. "I have a problem." Derek glared at him, his eyes as fierce as they could get without turning red. "I need you."

"What was that?" Stiles dropped his arms and straightened up. "You need me?" He edged closer to Derek and the bed and only regretted it a little when he got close enough to feel Derek's body heat radiating toward him. The spot on his bed was going to be warm all night. Maybe even into the morning. He ran a hand down his chest, not exactly over his nipple. "Could you say that again, please?"

Derek snapped at him and grabbed his shirt to yank him closer, so fast Stiles couldn't even see the motion. One second he was standing and the next he was barely on his feet and wobbling over Derek and he could feel Derek's knuckles over his ribs.

Derek held up his other hand. "Taste this."

Stiles wasn't sure he understood the words. Maybe they weren't English. He blinked back at Derek, hot and stiff like he hadn't been since that night in Derek's car a few months before, and then looked at what Derek was holding out to him. Which was… nothing.

"What?" Derek's hand was empty. "Also, no." Stiles made it a rule not to taste strange, invisible things.

Derek sighed, as if Stiles was a source of unbelievable frustration that he did not deserve. Stiles knew that sigh, his dad sighed like that all the time. He looked at Derek's hand again, studied his long, oddly fascinating fingers, the blunt fingernails that weren't clean and weren't dirty at the same time. Like natural dirt, like Derek had been in the woods.

Then he realized.

"You want me to taste your fingers?" He shouted it, completely and yet in no way on purpose. Derek narrowed his eyes at him and pulled him forward.

"Open your mouth," Derek barked. Like that was going to work. Stiles scrunched up his face. "I touched something," Derek explained even little things like it had been dragged out of him on pain of death. Stiles waited. It was the least he deserved for these push/pull sessions of theirs and how his bed was going to smell like Derek even to Stiles' nose from now on.

"It's not wolfsbane," Derek went on, just shy of a grunt. Stiles realized he wasn't trying to get free and make a token play for his shirt that made Derek tighten his grip. Derek had to feel every kick against his ribs, had to hear everything, the way he probably always did, and Stiles suddenly had a horrifying thought about how much Derek might know.

"It's not wolfsbane," Derek said again, "but I'm not sure what it is. It's not harmful but the taste reminds me of something my family used to use and I want you to look it up. On your computer." Derek swung his gaze away. Stiles almost fainted with shock at Derek talking so much, about his family of all things, to Stiles, only then Derek immediately looked back at him. "Open your mouth."

"Do you hear yourself?" Stiles demanded, gasping down air and yet still feeling unsteady, like he was missing oxygen and might fall down. He thought, he knew, Derek's eyes went to his mouth. He breathed harder and fought the urge to lick his dry lips. "Like I'm going to open my mouth. Just because you're the Alph--"

Derek put his fingertip on Stiles' bottom lip and let the words do his work for him. Stiles had one shocked moment, then two, of awareness of his tongue and Derek's index finger and Derek's eyes and his own, and then Derek pulled his hand down and Stiles had Derek in his mouth.

The taste of him, and part of the smell, if he breathed right. It was like salt and the forest floor, and that same heat. Stiles swallowed spit, so much suddenly, just filling his mouth, and then jerked away at the sound of tentative knocking on his door.


The concern in his dad's voice had him moving, just spinning around and leaving Derek there and going to the door, only to stop because, yeah, older man, ex-murder suspect Derek Hale was in his bedroom. This wasn't happening, except that it was. This was his normal.

"Uh, yeah, Dad?" He was out of breath from crossing the room and his lips were numb. They were numb. That had better be a side effect of whatever Derek had touched--the only side effect. He put a hand to his mouth and then realized Derek was watching him and dropped it.

He worked his jaw, which felt tight, though not sore exactly. Not that he had a reason for it to be. "Yeah, Dad?" His voice was strangled.

"Stiles are you… alone in there?" His dad was all reserved caution.

"Yes of course!" He answered too fast and too high. "It's just me…." He looked around his room and just saw Derek. Derek raised his eyebrows. Stiles scowled back at him. "It's just me and… well, Dad, do we need to have this conversation again about 'alone time' and a teen boy's right to privacy?"

If he'd hoped to embarrass his father into leaving him alone, it didn't work. "Do we need to have the talk again about the volume on your computer?" his father shot back through the door and Derek made a soft, amused sound.

"No! Nope! Not ever." Stiles accepted those terms. "I will turn it down right this second, okay?"

He paused, then frowned when his father didn't agree and disappear so Stiles could masturba--talk to Derek. He hovered on the other side of the door. "Okay." He coughed. Stiles almost opened the door to ask him what was wrong. "Just remember, Stiles, if you ever need to talk, to say anything to me, I will listen."

"That's real nice, Dad." Stiles blinked once or twice then finally heard his father walk away. He scratched his head and licked his mouth without thinking and turned back around. To face Derek,who was still on Stiles' bed and who was still staring at him.

Stiles thought about his dad, worrying for a moment until Derek moved as if he was going to get up off the bed.

"Don't judge. I like a full sensory experience and that includes a wall of sound." Stiles waved at his computer.

"You? Loud? That doesn't surprise me." Derek was just so pleased with himself this evening for someone who'd put his hand in something weird… by which Stiles meant that herb that he'd touched and not his mouth. His mouth wasn't weird, it was nice, and someday someone was going to want it on them so much they'd make up stupid reasons to get it.

Was that a smile on Derek's sculpted-from-granite stupid face? Yes it was.

Stiles snarled at him and didn't appreciate the smile he got in return, all fangy and toothy. Toothsome? Whatever

"So how did it taste?" Derek asked as if they hadn't just been interrupted by his dad or spent more time than necessary discussing how Stiles liked to jack off. "Did you like it?"

His dad banged on the wall. "Stiles!"

He must have been walking by. Stiles ducked reflexively then decided to blame it on Derek.

"Sorry!" he yelled out, though it wasn't his fault at all, and crossed his arms again. Derek's smile disappeared. Stiles forgot all about him and turned toward the wall, though his dad was probably long gone.

His dad had heard two male voices and come up here and… and… what kind of porn did his dad think he was watching? Gay porn, that's what. And he'd only told Stiles to keep it down, because his dad was awesome like that, even if Stiles wasn't, well he mostly wasn't…. He looked at Derek. He pointed at Derek.

"My dad thinks I'm gay, or bi, or experimenting!"

"Experimenting." Derek repeated the word, one single unhappy, fierce word. He didn't make it a question, he made it a demand. Stiles hopped forward.

"Bi?" he blurted out, then hopped back and rubbed a hand over his chest, over marks Derek hadn't left and his racing heart. He could feel Derek staring at him but Derek didn't move for a while, other than to settle back onto Stiles' bed. He wasn't careful about it. It was rude. Stiles was going to say something about it when he could breathe again.

When the silence went on, Derek let out a long, long breath and moved, too fast to see, and yanked Stiles forward, this time to smack the back of his head. He waited a second and Stiles gave a tiny, miniscule nod without considering why. Derek grunted, then waited another second.

"Taste?" he asked, asked, and held out his finger. The finger Stiles wanted in his mouth. Holy God. He looked up and leaned forward before he could think better of it, letting the tip slide onto his tongue before he closed his lips around it.

Derek growled, growled, animal and rough, and Stiles opened his mouth and jerked his head away.

"Definitely bi," he squeaked and then had nothing but glowers for the werewolf who chose that moment to let him go.


It was cool. It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything, realizing something like that about yourself and that there was a particular object of your bisexual affection. Especially not when that object acted as if nothing was different and continued to treat you like you were an especially annoying fly buzzing around his ear--a fly that sometimes saved his life. Not that Stiles expected kisses of gratitude or sex full of mutually respectful feelings, but something other than growls and flashes of teeth might have been nice. A 'Thank you, Stiles'. Or a, 'You are awesome, Stiles'. 'I love you, Stiles' would be perfect, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Instead things went on pretty much the same, school, werewolves, summer vacation, Derek showing up on a pretty regular basis to get his scent all over Stiles' bed and giving Stiles' dad the idea that Stiles watched some seriously strange porn, which he didn't, even if the rougher stuff made him uncomfortable in a good way, though it lacked something that even the most casual hand splayed against his chest to shove him against a wall from Derek had. And in between those, there were the random moments that were Stiles' life now. Like standing by Derek's car outside the 7-11 with his mouth around a straw buried deep in a delicious Slurpee, minding his own business while Derek and his betas were inside debating things like Funyons versus Cheetos and then finding himself being observed by an older women and her group of friends, who had that look on their faces that Stiles had come to call the "you make tasty dinner" look.

He might only recently have turned seventeen, and the colleges he'd applied to might not have replied back yet, but he knew werewolves when he saw them, thank you very much.

He didn't get to take another gulp. The spike of alarm in his stomach left him cold and suddenly Derek was there, hot at his side and the others were filing out the door after him.

Stiles had the vague thought that he should study what was about to happen for posterity and then that he ought to just try to stop it before anything happened. At least Scott wasn't there. Scott was react first, think later… maybe, even more than Derek was.

He opened his mouth and one of Derek's hands settled at the back of his neck and squeezed. Stiles tried to glance over at him then swore when the werewolf woman and her pack were suddenly a lot closer than they were before.

"Shiiit," he exhaled, carefully, trying to focus on anything but her amazing breasts and the sound of the betas around him tensing up for a fight. He didn't know how he knew that sound, but he did. It was like the absence of a sound, because now all he could hear was the mellow voice of the Alpha with the nice tits in front of him and his pulse, beating hard under Derek's fingertips.

"Your human smelled of wolf, so I knew you were close." She spoke first, and unlike Derek she was all fangy smiles all the time. It seemed about as aggressive as the way her boobs were pushed up by the leather corset she was wearing. Despite the cleavage almost in his face Stiles leaned back until he pressed against Derek's just as aggressive but also more reassuring leather jacket, so close he could smell it.

That made her show even more teeth, though she wasn't looking at Stiles, she was looking at Derek, which made sense, leader to leader. She was older though, much older. Stiles hadn't really thought about how young Derek was, comparatively, but now seeing an older experienced Alpha looking at them like she was checking for weaknesses made him think about it, vaguely, with the part of his brain that wasn't panicking at the thought of a werewolf territory dispute in the 7-11 parking lot.

"Rachel." Derek greeted her with one word. Stiles blinked, then bit down hard on his straw. Derek needed to not know so many hot older psychos. "On your way somewhere?"

"Passing through. Thought I'd pay my respects." Rachel kept her eyes on Derek. So did the rest of the werewolves behind her. Stiles wondered if the betas around Derek were watching her in the same way. Then he was trying not to jump or let out anymore undignified noises than the one he'd just made as Derek took his Slurpee away from him and took a drink from it before handing it to Erica. His mouth was like, right on Stiles' chewed up straw, where Stiles' mouth and teeth had been and there was spit clinging to it as he drew it away and Derek licked it up like that was normal. Like that was his life.

Stiles swallowed.

"Hello? That was mi-iine. Aaaah." Stiles closed his mouth when Derek's fingers fanned out over his neck and he could just feel the scrape of almost-claws over his skin. He glared over as best as he could though the way Derek had him he could really only see part of Derek's face.

"He's got a mouth on him." Rachel finally looked back at Stiles and Stiles gestured at her to say an emphatic 'Thank you!' because he did have a nice mouth, only to realize that she was referring to his sarcasm.

"You have no idea." He wasn't expecting Derek to answer, or for Derek to push his chilly hot, damp with condensation hand under Stiles' shirt to touch Stiles' bare stomach. Whatever Stiles had been going to say turned into a body-long shiver and a moan.

"Oh my God." He closed his eyes, then opened them. Yeah, still surrounded by werewolves while getting pawed by Derek. This was not a dream.

He looked down, watched Derek's hand move under his shirt, petting him, fingertips dragging through the trail of hair that led lower and then curling back up to take his shirt with them. Stiles slammed one hand into the car door and grabbed Derek with the other one. This wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. He was so, so turned on by this and maybe public exhibitionism was something he was into, or maybe he was just seventeen and horny, or maybe it was just Derek touching him, but whatever the reason, if he was turned on than the wolves around him knew it. All of them.

"Derek what the… sweet… lord…." He wasn't aware of Derek pulling him closer, which meant he was moving himself closer, leaning to the side in front of Rachel and everybody and bending his head just a little under the pressure of Derek's hand. And Derek, oh God, responded by putting his mouth next to his ear, letting his teeth graze the shell before ducking down to nip at Stiles' earlobe. Stiles was breathing with his mouth open and did not care.

"He's so young," Rachel remarked, watching Stiles get nibbled as if she was considering getting some of that action. Stiles would have whimpered, "Yes, please" at her but Derek's fingers curled against his stomach and he growled softly, a not-human growl, and Stiles felt a dangerous heat spiraling down toward his balls. He nodded and kept his eyes on Rachel. He was grasping tighter at Derek's shirt now, but Derek didn't seem to mind. He definitely wasn't pushing Stiles away.

"I'm not…." Stiles felt the need to defend his honor while pretending that all this was normal, that Derek normally molested him in parking lots in an unmistakably possessive way. "I'm not that young."

Derek made a sound by his ear, something low that Stiles couldn't interpret, but straightened. He left his hands where they were, all gently scratching claws and hot, padded fingertips. Stiles was going to come. Right here.

Derek sucked in a breath.

Right. Stiles should try to control himself. If Derek was pulling him close and acting like this he had a reason, even if he wasn't sharing. It wasn't like Derek wanted this, he just didn't want Stiles to die or get jumped by Rachel and for some reason this meant sliding his thumb along the waist of Stiles' jeans to make Stiles bite back whimpers. It was probably a territory thing, nothing personal, and as for the bag of arousal that was Stiles' scent right now, Derek had smelled that before, had smelled it for a while now, Stiles was sure; it wasn't anything new.

Derek probably made most people smell like that and was used to filtering it out. The fact that Derek had never commented on it was kind of decent of him actually, like a not-rejection that left Stiles free to roll over facedown onto his bed after Derek had gone to beat off to the lingering heat and forest floor and leather smell that Derek left behind. Like a gift, just for him, except that Derek's visits were probably more likely a way to make sure Stiles smelled like his pack, the way Rachel had so nicely pointed out. And….

"Hey, I'm not his hu--" Stiles yelped without finishing the sentence when Derek slid their bodies together and shuddered against him. The weakness in the act made no sense, because Derek was all strength at his side, muscle so solid it could probably a stop a car.

Rachel disagreed. "But then you're young too," she addressed Derek, shrugging. "It's why we stopped by. I was curious how the last Hale was doing."

Stiles knew Derek's stone face. He was willing to bet there was no sign on it that the words upset him. Stiles however, felt like he was getting everything through the hand at his neck, holding him tight.

Stiles relaxed his hold on Derek's shirt and stroked down over his abs. He leaned in, lifting his head to get Derek's mouth back at his ear and got his cheek nuzzled by Derek's stubbled jaw instead.

"You've seen him, he's fine, so you can go now," Stiles managed and risked a glance into her yellow eyes.

"He must be to have taken you so young." Rachel wasn't any less aggressive, even when she half-turned to share a laugh with her pack. Derek trailed his hand down Stiles' side and then tugged at his jeans like he wanted them off. He made another low, unhappy sound and put his hand back on Stiles' stomach. Stiles shivered, then blinked. If they were talking about what he thought they were talking about, then they were so wrong. He'd thought no one could lie to werewolves, but if they were pretending Stiles and Derek were a thing then they were going to get so caught, because they weren't. Derek should know better.

Sure, he could guess that humans didn't usually run with wolves and Derek had wanted to make sure Rachel didn't get any ideas about Stiles, but pretending to be a couple, with the Alpha, was just ridiculous. He was Stiles and so far everything he'd read about wolves and werewolves made it very clear that that kind of pair bond was very serious.

Werewolves seemed to have a flexible sexuality and a desire to bond with others that was entirely human. Or, their matings were more animalistic, spiritual connections that involved biting and big knots in their dicks and, really, Stiles was having trouble with his ability to discern internet from reality. He'd tried asking Scott, but there was only so far that conversation could go. Allison at least, when drunk, as they had both been after the last homecoming dance, had smiled in a way that made it seem like spiritual connection wasn't too far off.

She hadn't said a word about any freakish things going on with Scott's dick. Stiles had been both grateful and annoyed at the lack of confirmation. But Derek really was young and stupid if he thought a little groping was going to fool someone like Rachel.

Stiles turned at the thought and closed his eyes and pressed himself against Derek. He held onto Derek's chest and angled his head so that his mouth was at Derek's jaw. He didn't get even a hint that Derek was surprised except for the curl of Derek's fingers into his waistband. Stiles didn't want to look into his eyes and see green, flashing anger, so he slid a look over to Rachel and licked Derek's jaw.

It was like sandpaper. It was still going to fuel Stiles' fantasies for the next year at least. He hoped he wasn't moaning too loudly when Derek urged his head back and forced Stiles to look at him, staring at him as if he needed to read something from Stiles' face.

Stiles scowled at him despite his blushes and parted lips and then wriggled uncomfortably away to lick under Derek's ear. Rachel was still talking, he realized, and felt Derek's answers echo through him where their chests were touching.

"…Act newly mated."

"He doesn't always know what's good for him." Derek did not seem happy to say that out loud. If Stiles hadn't been busy exploiting his chance to live his fantasies he might have responded, but he figured he had about a ten percent chance of surviving this when it was all over, so he shouldn't waste a second. He'd be lucky if Derek just slammed his face into a steering wheel for groping him like this, even if Derek had started it.

"I'm right here, you know," he stopped to say, rocking slightly forward to make his point, though he didn't dare reach down to see Derek was reacting to this the way he was.

"He requires a lot of attention." Derek's voice was inhumanly blank. Stiles made a face but then barely kept from whining when Derek tightened his grip on his jeans but didn't move his hand or haul him closer. Derek was holding him without pushing him off. Stiles flicked a look at his face and saw that Derek's eyes were still green though he wasn't looking at Stiles, "but he can surprise you with his strength."

The compliment made Stiles fall back. He stared into Derek's face with his mouth open and his eyes wide but Derek was watching Rachel. Rachel, who was telling Derek she was glad he was being taken care of and getting back into a car with her pack as if some business had been concluded while Stiles had been mouthing Derek's neck and trying to rut against Derek's hip.

He didn't move, nobody did, not until their car was back on the road and away, and even then, it was only Isaac, who let out a long breath.

"Seriously?" Erica asked. Stiles didn't bother to ask who or what she was asking. He just shook his head and then ducked away from Derek before he could get smacked upside the head.

"So that happened," he announced, and why he was trying to make this easier when he was the one who had been put on display and teased into half a hard on in public, he had no idea, except that it was pointless to act like he hadn't enjoyed himself when they all knew he had.

"Stiles." Derek was looking at him like Stiles had done something wrong when Stiles was the one who had finally convinced Rachel that they were mated with his decisive and brilliant choice to mack on the Alpha.

Derek's hands were clenched at his sides but as low as his voice was it carried across the pavement to where Stiles was standing apart from the group. He was wisely keeping his distance. Danger aside, all he needed was for Boyd or Erica or Isaac to remark on his frantically beating heart or the sticky pre-come smell that was saturating his clothes.

"Thank you, Stiles," Stiles thanked himself since the betas looked confused and Derek was just staring at him. "You're awesome, Stiles," he went on, then looked away from the fire in Derek's eyes and didn't say the rest. "You guys owe me a Slurpee."

Derek's mouth was open, like he couldn't breathe, or like he was pissed. "You shouldn't have done that. Do you have any idea how that could have gone?" He must have been really angry and without Stiles to push around he had to actually speak. "You should have trusted me."

"So you had to pretend to like me for a few minutes." Stiles rolled his eyes despite how that stung, or hurt. Hurt like hell. "Just think of it as being one of the lucky few who gets to worship at the altar of my hotness." His voice cracked, but he was willing to ignore that the way he was doing his best to not adjust himself through his jeans.

"The very few," Isaac remarked and must all have been strung tight with tension because Derek moved at him and everyone jumped. Derek stopped and breathed out through his nose.

"Rachel is an old friend of my mother's, but if she'd wanted to, if she'd been any other alpha, she could have decided our pack was weak." He left the rest unspoken and focused back on Stiles and only on Stiles. Stiles felt his pulse in every fiber of his being, especially in the lower half of his being, and stumbled backwards over a cement car stop.

"Stiles." Derek tried to call him back, which was typical. He'd try to protect Stiles, then get mad when Stiles acted to protect himself, or to protect them, or Derek, but however mad Derek was right now, he'd be over by the next time Stiles did his laundry. Then he'd be back in his room, sexy but distant, and frowning just like he was doing now.

He might be able to act like that hadn't just happened, but Stiles was going to need some time. A lot of time. And a free hand.

Stiles took another step backwards. "On that awkward note, I think I'll just walk home." Being crammed inside a Camaro with a pack of werewolves did not sound like a good idea to him, even when his dick wasn't throbbing. Whatever it was that they had wanted to talk to him about that had gotten detoured by a craving for jerky and Slurpee could wait.

He turned away and resolved to look up more on werewolf matings the second he got home. The second he got home and he'd taken care of his current problem, which might take a while, because it wasn't like he could stroll casually while half-hard.

He heard the Camaro roar to life behind him and snarled to himself before licking his lips. He didn't even have a straw to bite down on.


As Stiles understood it, because of course he'd done his due diligence on werewolf matings after something like that, werewolves weren't exactly like regular wolves but they weren't exactly like regular people either. Either way, a mating didn't seem like the kind of thing you could fake, which meant that Rachel must have been a true friend to Derek because she'd gone along with it like she'd believed every second of their act. Their scent alone must have been off, because Stiles could admit that he probably reeked of Derek now, but the only time Derek ever came near him was when there was danger or when he was in Stiles' room, and that was hardly enough to mark him.

It must be nice, knowing your scent was all over someone to the point where even other animals and humans would know to steer clear of them. With wolves being so social there was probably a lot of touching involved too, which he imagined might be even better, though the whole monogamy, mate for life, thing made him think of his dad and how he still sat on the couch alone sometimes, like he was waiting for his mom. His dad acted like he could wait forever. Stiles didn't think he had that kind of patience and didn't know of anyone else who did.

Not that he was interested in an everlasting spiritual and physical connection to someone who made his heart beat faster just by being near him and who insisted on acting as if Stiles needed saving all the time. He was young. He had high school to finish and people to ask out and get rejected by. So what if a hot guy made him feel hot too? He wasn't going to sit around and wait for that guy to notice that he wasn't a kid anymore or to finally decide to it was more fun to make out with Stiles than to push him away.

Which was why he'd waited in line for half an hour so he could get into this nightclub and why, when he saw Derek stalk through the crowd toward him he raised his head to the spinning lights on the ceiling and almost cried.

"No no no no. No." When he looked back Derek was still there, the mass of bodies parting around him and saying that anyone in that crowd would do whatever he wanted. Stiles glared at them and then at Derek who of course stopped right in front of him, and even if that was making some of the people around them jealous, it still was not a good thing.

"This is Stiles time," Stiles yelled at him over the music even though he could have whispered and Derek would have heard him just fine. Derek grabbed his elbow and spun him around and herded him back around the bar and down by the bathrooms, which looked a certain way to the people they passed, Stiles could tell from their raised eyebrows and smirks. It was possible that Derek intended them to think that, because Stiles could feel his jacket pressing into his back and he was speaking directly into Stiles' ear. It probably looked like he was whispering sexy things.

"I need you." Derek said it like he said those things all the time, and God help him, but it was sexy. So sexy Derek had to push a suddenly weak-kneed Stiles toward a flimsy door and then down a dark hallway. He let Stiles go once there were there, not that Stiles could go far, stumbling around in the dark. He latched onto Derek's shoulders after first bumping into the wall and hissed in the general direction of Derek's face because that was his fault.

"You should say that more. Again. More. All the time." He added it to his collection of Derek-related thoughts to contemplate when he was alone, or bored, or busy, or masturbating. It was getting to be a big collection, but Stiles' mind was vast, it could contain many things. Like the conflicting desires to curl up next to Derek or rip his clothes off or smack the annoying, cryptic Alpha-ness right out of him.

"I need you," Derek repeated, with irritation and confusion lacing the words, as if he could possibly be blind to the effect those words had on Stiles and Stiles gave him a very put-upon sigh to hide the urge to smile goofily in the dark.

"Now why are we here?" He waved around and smacked Derek's arm when Derek stopped and didn't answer right away. "I was about to get my dance on." Also hopefully his freak, but the nerves that had kept him at the side of the dance floor weren't going away now. Maybe if he'd had a drink, but once again his fake ID had failed to fool anyone. He was almost eighteen. How was that old enough to join the army and get married but not old enough to buy alcohol? Someone had some explaining to do.

Derek stopped where he was and then turned around.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. This was not the time for Derek to go silent. Not with the music carrying on without him and shaking through the walls to mock him.

"There is a reason I'm here with you right now, right?" Stiles demanded, long past the point where he thought he might get his ass kicked. If anything Derek would probably just crowd him against a wall to make some point--something Stiles was deliriously aware that he should not find as big of a turn on as he did. But when it was his only chance to have Derek that close to him, he'd take it. "You have some crazy question?" He went on, letting his voice go up because the music would drown him out to every non-werewolf in the place. "There's a door covered in wolfsbane? You need me to lick something? What?"

"You came here by yourself," Derek said instead of answering and Stiles made a face that Derek would definitely see.

"Worried about witnesses? Don't worry, as usual my virginity remains pathetically intact." He huffed and sagged back about where he figured the wall was. He didn't quite hit it, but Derek caught him. Stiles shrugged off his big, warm hands and stayed where he was. He waited a second, then two, but Derek didn't seem inclined to talk more. Stiles waved his hand in front of, hopefully, Derek's face. "You dragged me down here, Derek, remember? Are we waiting for something?"

He tensed. Or Derek tensed next to him so he tensed in response. The dark made him stupidly aware of how close Derek was actually standing to him. Personal space was a foreign concept and Stiles should remind him by stepping away, but he was weak and it wasn't like Derek wouldn't know he was hiding something.

He wet his lips and twisted his head away so that at least Derek would be as blind as he was about something and felt the heat and bulk next to him shift as Derek probably came closer. He didn't make a sound doing it of course, Stiles just became aware of more of him, like a shadow that burned energy at an incredible rate and had eyes that were probably glowing in the dark right now and whose entire being could have been focused on Stiles at that moment for all Stiles knew. Or hoped.

He groaned out of sheer frustration. "Derek what are we waiting for?"

There was a pause that Stiles decided was significant, because it meant Derek was actually trying to think of an answer. Derek was worse than Scott; he never planned for anything. After everything they'd been through, you'd think he'd learn to ask Stiles about these things first. It wasn't like Stiles didn't get by now that Derek didn't always know what he was doing. He, usually, had good intentions but planning was not his most obvious skill.

"We are waiting for something, right? There is a reason that I am here with you other than… other than…." He couldn't think of how to end that sentence other than how he wanted it to end.

"I was… worried." Derek said it like he was clinging to a ledge and couldn't let go. Stiles turned back toward him.

"Is there danger?" Stiles cocked his head but of course he couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Derek moved. Stiles was pinned to the wall before he could blink, but he was used to it by now. He shoved at Derek's chest out of principle and looked blankly around for the source of the problem. He noticed Derek's elevated heart rate, felt it, against this palm, and his breathing hitched.

"Someone's coming," Derek remarked, his voice pitched for Stiles to hear over the music. His breath brushed across Stiles' mouth. Stiles instantly tilted his head back and gave Derek a small nod.

"Okay then," he agreed before Derek could say anything else, because he knew the drill. He lived for the drill. He slid his hands down to Derek's sides and grabbed his jeans to tug him forward. Derek made a small, startled noise that turned into a groan when Stiles shoved his body closer so that their mouths met.

Derek's lips were open, his breath hot, and he pushed back, instantly, like this wasn't the beginning but the middle of something, slamming Stiles into the wall and licking at him. It wasn't a kiss. Stiles had hoped for a kiss, but this was Derek putting a hand to his face to hold him still and panting over his mouth, and when Stiles shifted to bring a leg up around him, he slid his hot hand up Stiles thigh and held it just where Stiles wanted it.

Stiles rocked up, without shame, because he didn't know the exact situation, but he knew this wouldn't last long. He had to make it count. He had to make Derek smell like him so everyone would know. He had to make it matter. He skimmed over Derek's chest and went straight for his fly, only to die inside at the pounding feel of Derek's erection against his palm. Derek's cock, so close, and hard for this. Stiles loved friction, he really, really did.

Derek grunted and pushed forward again, so hard Stiles' head thunked against the wall, enough to make him dizzy thought not enough to make him stop. "Stiles," Derek was killing him, talking now, in between nips at his bottom lip, in between his tongue finally in Stiles' mouth. "Stiles." He growled and Stiles dropped his head to rub his face against Derek's jaw, gasping at the burn. He rocked up again and Derek's hand tightened on his thigh a second before Derek was pushing back between his legs, grinding down against Stiles' dick. He was gulping down air, Stiles could hear him, his heart, his breathing, was so much louder than Stiles', like Derek was the one about to cream his jeans.

Light flooded the hallway as someone opened the outer door, bright enough to make Stiles shut his eyes and to bring Derek's head up from where he'd been inhaling over Stiles' skin. Stiles shook his head and slapped a hand up, slapped Derek really, bringing his face back down to his because no way was this ending yet. Not yet.

He gripped Derek's hair and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Derek's mouth as smoothly as he could and touching him everywhere. Literally, everywhere. He had his hands on Derek's ass when he recognized the voice of the person standing in the doorway watching them.

"We thought there was trouble," Isaac managed to sound flustered and totally cool at the same time.

"It sounded like a fight." Stiles thought that was Boyd. Derek pulled his mouth away, then his body. Stiles kind of fell back to his feet and then collapsed against the wall. Derek put his hands on the wall on either side of him without touching him and sucked in a long, long breath. Stiles took pleasure in just how long of a breath it was. His life.

"I hate you all," Stiles told the others, squinting at the light. "We thought you were like… bad guys." He pushed at his dick.

"Derek knew we were here." Of all of them, Erica was the only one who didn't seem even a tiny bit bothered. Stiles hated her most of all at the moment, because he was so bothered, he was beyond bothered, and Derek was practically shaking.

Derek was practically shaking. It took Stiles a moment to grasp what he was seeing, and then he looked up into red eyes and felt his mouth fall open.

"Derek?" he started and shivered hungrily at Derek's wolf-like growl. He turned to the pack, and saw Scott just staring with wide eyes so he looked over at Erica. "And when you saw it wasn't a fight why didn't you back the fuck up?" he demanded, then frowned and turned back to Derek when Derek growled again, weakly this time. "You knew they were there?" he asked, honestly confused, and Derek straightened.

He put a hand on Stiles' jeans and brought Stiles with him, but only to yank Stiles' jeans and shirt back into place and then release Stiles again. When he moved, he put his body between Stiles and the doorway. Stiles guessed the world was allowed to see Derek's massive erection but not Stiles'.

He wasn't sure the comparison would have been flattering anyway.

"You know, I can take care of myself, Derek." But he stuck up for himself because he had his pride here. "When I need you to save me from the scary… ier… things, I'll ask." It wasn't like he'd been forced to grind against Derek or to kiss him or like he wasn't still thinking about it.

Derek turned back to give him a betrayed scowl and then scowled harder when Stiles just glowered back at him.

"You're human and you're young." The betas probably didn't argue with Derek when he spoke in that tone or narrowed his eyes, but too bad for him, because Stiles knew for a fact that Derek didn't always know everything.

"I'm not that young." He crossed his arms. "And it didn't stop you a second ago."

Isaac whistled. Scott went, "Dude". Derek looked like he wanted to shove Stiles into the wall and not in a sexy way this time. Frustration would do that; Stiles knew that for a fact too. Stiles stared him down for another minute, until the glints in Derek's eyes turned back to green, and then he huffed and looked at the werewolves in the doorway.

Okay, so he'd just stared down an Alpha werewolf and he wasn't really sure if that was supposed to be possible or how that had worked even. Derek was the only one he could ask, and frankly, Derek seemed surprised by a lot of Alpha stuff. There was one possibility, aside from Stiles just being that awesome, and that was that Derek cared what Stiles thought and what Stiles was feeling.

Really cared. Needed to know like he needed air. The realization made Stiles itch in his still-burning palms and in his lungs and he shuddered to make the feeling go away but it stayed. If anything it settled into his bones like liquid fire. It was not comfortable, not at all. He blamed Derek and years of Derek acting like this wasn't a thing.

He adjusted himself and didn't care who saw it this time or what kind of furious, hurt, starving sounds Derek made when he did it.

Or he did care, so much that it was difficult not to turn around and start this all over again.

This was a thing. Later Stiles was going to have to think about this, add it to the collection of things to make him ache. He loved Derek.

His life. Seriously.

"So why are we all here exactly?" he snarled abruptly and slid past Derek to focus on the task at hand. Derek followed after him anyway, close enough for Stiles to feel his leather jacket pressed into his back.


He'd been pushing aside this thing for so long, it should have been almost nothing to keep on doing it after that. Except that Stiles didn't feel like pushing it aside anymore, maybe because he was going away to college at the end of summer, not that far away from Beacon Hills but far enough to make him already miss Derek's semi-regular presence in his bedroom. Far enough away to make him anticipate the loss of even the way they could fight without actually fighting, the way they were most of the time these days, like Derek couldn't come near Stiles, leaving them in a Cold War with occasional flare ups of red hot passion.

Red hot passion that Derek was continuing to deny and Stiles was getting pretty freaking sick of it.

It was the last week of his senior year of high school. He was supposed to be partying, possibly even trying once again to get laid without Derek interfering and totally cockblocking him.

"Which is exactly what you are doing." Stiles accused, watching Derek stop ahead of him and slowly turn around. "Not that you made me come out here," Stiles added with his hands up. Made him, no, strongly encouraged him, yes. Because Stiles didn't need much convincing to be alone with Derek and Derek probably knew it. He'd probably known it the first time he'd been alone with Stiles in his Jeep, the way he probably also knew that even if Stiles had found someone to mess around with, he was so ruined from Derek and his smelling and his touching that it wouldn't even have been good. Well it would have been good, but not great, and Stiles would have felt like shit afterward because Derek would know and be angry and hurt and fuck, Stiles should get to actually date someone if he was whatever-werewolf dating them.

"Bastard," Stiles added under his breath, staring at Derek's stupid face and watching Derek react to that by not-reacting. After a minute, Derek turned back around and kept walking. Since he could see the forest floor better than Stiles could, Stiles followed him.

"You aren't subtle about it, you know." Stiles edged closer to Derek after tripping over an exposed root and let his fingers touch Derek's jacket. Derek let his fingers touch it. It was the most messed up way to tell someone you cared about them but Stiles had been indoctrinated into this early and let his heart thump away in his chest.

"Why did you invite me out here tonight again, tonight on the night of the big house party that was going to be huge and epic and possibly even awe-inspiring in its levels of teen debauchery?" He kept his hands on Derek's leather. "Are we chasing a monster? A possible monster? Maybe you're going to," he stopped to swallow, "touch something and ask me to suck your fingers?"

They were at the edge of the woods now, the trees thinning, moonlight from the crescent moon illuminating the road and Derek's car. Derek stopped.

"No, we just went for a walk didn't we?" Stiles put his head back and howled though it had actually been a nice walk. "You are worst cocktease in the history of ever." It didn't help even a little bit that Derek didn't deny it. He just rolled his shoulders and sighed, the 'Stiles is being a problem again' sigh.

"I have my reasons, Stiles." The Alpha had spoken. Stiles gaped for a moment then stalked around Derek and headed to the car.

"To say no, not to torture me!" he hollered and waved furiously at Derek behind him. "Not to torture the both of us. Because let's be honest, I'm not the only one with blue balls in this relationship."

He'd never called it that out loud before, but technically they had some kind of relationship and so he didn't take it back. He reached the car and drummed his fingers across the hood. He didn't hear Derek, but he assumed he was still there from the way his pulse kept spiking.

"Let me guess," Stiles thought out loud as if he hadn't already obsessed about this every day for the past few months. "You're protecting me. Because Mr. Alpha Wolf feels some insane need to think about me before he thinks about himself. Which--" His mouth clicked closed.

He turned around and stared at Derek, who was clearly trying to understand why his fiercest glare wasn't sending Stiles running. Please. Stiles would admit to goosebumps, but Derek had been trying to push him away for years, he was practically immune by now.

"You're young." Derek put a lot of force into that word. Force was how Derek expressed feelings. Stiles pursed his lips.

"If you say that to me one more time I am going to smash your perfect face in." It was the best he could come up with, and it came out in a needy little whine that didn't do anything to make him sound older. Stiles was trembling, but he made himself stay still and try again. "I'm almost eighteen." He had no idea why that made Derek clench his teeth.

"I'm not just asking you for sex, Stiles."

The direct answer was so unexpected that Stiles stepped back and bumped into the Camaro, his ass landing on the hood.

"Um, what?" Stiles was going deaf. The world was only his pulse roaring in his ears and what he thought he was hearing. Derek sighed and furrowed his brow.

"I can't expect you to understand, to make a choice like that. It's easy to mistake things when you're young." He looked away for the first time and Stiles breathed, in and out, fast and hot, and thought about that.

"You…. That…." He cleared his throat. "Then all the other stuff was…. Ooh!" He stood up and pointed. "You can't keep your hands off me. Yes!" Stiles didn't bother to hide his excitement, though he did focus back on Derek after a moment or two, if only because Derek thought he was hot. "You think I'm hot!" He stopped suddenly, right there, and sat back down on the car. "All this time? That is not okay, Derek. We could've… we could have done everything. You didn't have to pretend that you were worried and that you had to protect me."

"I was worried. And I do have to prot--" Derek stopped himself then moved to the side of the car.

"Pretend that someone is coming all the time so you had an excuse to touch me?" Stiles filled in. Derek raised his head.

"Someone is coming." So he could hear a car or something in the distance that Stiles couldn't. It didn't mean anything. Stiles inched back on the car, expecting to at least get hauled off of it and unsurprised when that happened. He inched forward instantly, nudging Derek's head to the side so he could talk against his throat. Derek tensed but Stiles didn't really care.

"What should we tell them if they wonder why we're out here? What do you want me to say? Investigating werewolves or taking a romantic walk together?" It came out heavier on the sarcasm than he'd intended, but Derek hadn't let go of his shirt, so he was calling it a win.

"Stiles." Derek worked his jaw. He smelled more like the woods than ever. Stiles wondered what he smelled like to Derek. He was guessing it was good. Derek's mouth was moving over his skin, his voice was getting low. He was actually talking. "Sex, Stiles. You want it and you'll agree to anything."

Stiles wanted to ask why Derek hadn't let him have sex with anyone else then, to make him a little less horny, but Derek probably wouldn't answer questions about his epic cockblocking and territory issues and right now Stiles didn't care anyway. He drifted back towards the car and took Derek with him. His ass hit the hood and Derek exhaled but stepped between his legs.

Stiles must smell amazing. He might be able to make Derek do whatever he wanted. It was almost a scary thought. He settled for a simple question, not that he thought Derek would answer. "What…" his mouth was so wet he had to swallow, "what do you want me to agree to?"

Derek's hair was between Stiles' fingers and Derek's breath was starting to come faster. He slid his hands to the car on either side of Stiles and Stiles fell back so Derek could climb over him and press him down. He was staring with wide, wild eyes. Stiles wasn't even scared. He just thought, 'hot' and 'yes' and 'freaking finally' and clawed at Derek's neck.

Then Derek's mouth was on Stiles' stomach, his nose pushing his shirt up more than his hands. Stiles arched his hips and dragged Derek's head down, because that was where Derek was supposed to be, forever if Stiles had his way. Derek was breathing over his crotch and scratching at his skin and Stiles pushed up again, whining in the back of his throat.

"You so didn't need an excuse to do this." He tried to slide his knees up and shivered impatiently when Derek stopped and hovered over him. It felt like Derek was shaking, his muscles straining, though Stiles was pretty sure that wasn't possible. He stroked his hands through Derek's hair and Derek made a hoarse sound against his hip. His nails were sharp in Stiles' skin, barely holding on.

"To stop." A growl and a bite, a careful one, not breaking skin. The sensation went straight through Stiles anyway. He dropped his head to stare up at the moon and pushed up into Derek's teeth. The second bite was harder, better, claiming, Stiles thought, and felt a streak of hot, possessive need go down his spine. He was shaking too, tangling his fingers tight in Derek's hair while Derek growled against him. "Stiles I need an excuse to stop."

"You need an excuse to stop?" Stiles repeated in a cracking voice and thrust his body toward Derek's mouth. The heat of him against his cock was too much. He was going to die before he ever got to touch Derek back. He bit down but nothing was going to shut him up now. "But I don't want you to. If you stop I'll rip your throat out. With my teeth."

Derek inhaled and then hands, hands were at Stiles' jeans, over them, on his zipper, and he could hear Derek panting. "Stiles."

"God, Derek, just touch me!" Stiles yelled and then gasped and arched up when he felt a mouth on the outside of his jeans, a mouth wet and wide open, fanged and hungry, and then he was coming, coming with no warning at all, against his jeans, against the heat of Derek's mouth, so hard he saw flashing lights.

Someone was moaning. Stiles thought it was him but then thought it was Derek and gripped tight at Derek's hair while Derek drew in long breaths against his dick, gulping like he was drowning. His hands were curled and human against Stiles' hips. His eyes were closed, like he was a half-second away from coming and collapsing there between Stiles' legs. He looked good there. Stiles wanted to tell him to stay.

"Forever," Stiles finished a thought he must have had earlier but nodded and sighed. Derek should be like that forever.

Stiles spent another moment petting him, dizzily aware that that was exactly what he was doing and Derek was letting him and not moving other than to inhale and exhale and fight to control himself, like he needed to. Stiles was about to tell him that when he realized that the lights he'd thought were orgasm-related weren't going away and that they were red, blue, and white. Like the lights on a police car, he decided, and then jerked up and slammed into Derek's body.

Derek's hands grabbed his hips and held him still and that was so bad because of course the car pulling up, the car that Derek was completely ignoring while he panted, oh God yes, at Stiles' neck, was a police car, and that was his dad behind the wheel.

Stiles tried to bounce forward and squawked as Derek got with the program at last and spun him around by his shirt so that he was between Stiles and his dad.

"Hey, Dad," Stiles began with as much calm as he could muster with his heart racing and his underwear filled with jizz. He wasn't going to think about what his dad had seen while driving up. He wasn't. That was for his nightmares later.

"There was a report of a car blocking the road up here," his father said, after long, long pause in which Stiles frowned and hit his forehead against Derek's shoulder, because seriously? Because Derek couldn't park?

Then he realized he was all over Derek in front of his dad and needed an explanation. "Heeey, so would you believe me if I said that this honestly wasn't what it looked like?"

"No." His dad spoke bluntly and turned his, whoa, not happy, gaze on Derek.

"It was exactly what it looked like." Derek lifted his chin and spoke in his Alpha voice.

"Oh my God, so not helpful," Stiles informed him, then shook his head and slipped out from behind him so he could stand between Derek and his dad's gun, which wasn't drawn at least. His dad's eyebrows went up. Stiles couldn't think why, unless the wet patch in his jeans was visible. He stuck his hands over his junk, just in case, but his dad was looking from him to Derek and back again.

"The thing is…." Stiles' voice broke. He tried again because he wasn't a kid. "There's a thing, Dad. There is most definitely a thing here, but this was the only thing."

"Stiles." Derek did not care for his explanation. "This is more than a 'thing'." Stiles waved him and his audible air quotes off without looking, then watched his dad's eyebrows go even higher.

"Of course it is. We're totally dating."

"Dating," Derek echoed flatly. "You think this is dating." He sighed in disgust at how slow he thought Stiles was being. "This is why you're too young."

"What is it then?" Stiles twisted around to give Derek an impatient, incredulous look because Derek had done everything but put a ring on it, which in werewolf terms he probably had. The scent he left all over Stiles' bed alone was….

Stiles' mouth fell open. "Holy God."

Red eyes answered him.

"But we haven't even touched before this," Stiles spun around to face his dad and continued bravely despite the heart attack he was having. He winced when his dad and Derek snorted at the same time and the words continued to fall out of him while he thought, deliriously, dizzily, that Derek wanted to make him his mate. Maybe they already were and that's why the other wolves had known it. "Okay we touched, but not like this. This was…. This was…." He'd come in his pants. That didn't even count as sex. He sagged a little. "I'm still a virgin," he complained as this fact sank in, letting his disappointment be known. "Damn it."

"Stiles shut up."

Stiles turned around with a raised finger and glared at Derek. Then he turned back to his dad who was looking at Stiles like Stiles was tweaked out of his mind on the Adderal he wasn't even taking, much, anymore. "He does that. He tries to protect me all the time." He rolled his eyes for effect. His dad did not seem impressed. "It's annoying actually," he went on anyway. "I'm not a baby."

"Stiles I think you need to stop talking now." His dad responded in this strange, careful voice, sending one hard look Derek's way and Stiles flung his hands up in the air and decided to be direct.

"Dad! No penetration is happening is, trust me, okay? Anyway, I turn eighteen in like a month, what's the big deal?"

Which, in retrospect, was exactly the thing you shouldn't say to your sheriff father unless the sight of your wolfy, brutally hot, older boyfriend handcuffed with a hard on in the back of a police car turned you on.

Which, it turned out, turned Stiles on a lot. He just hadn't known it at the time.


There were some things people should never have to hear, and some things they'd kill to hear. Sometimes the same thing was both of those things to different people. Like Derek in his dad's office at the station talking to his dad about Stiles with Stiles listening with his ear pressed to the wall.

Because his dad saying, "My son informs me that you are all about monogamy and that you're going to have his babies." to Derek, and Derek responding with what Stiles' dad probably hadn't realized was an attempt at humor, "I am, and he's going to have my babies." had obviously been something his father had not wanted to hear.

On the other hand, the awkward silence that had followed, "What are your feelings for my son?" had not made Stiles feel good inside at all, even knowing that it sometimes took Derek awhile to articulate werewolf emotions. Anyway his final answer had more than made up for it.

"He's my mate."

Stiles couldn’t believe it had taken Derek so long to admit it. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to figure it out and he had the excuse of not being a werewolf. Sure, Derek failed at trying to stay away from Stiles and not pressure him into anything, but Derek made mistakes all the time, Stiles would try not to lord it over him too much.

He would try. Though it really was too perfect. Like Derek's face. Stiles had spent the time his father--and Derek, what the serious fuck?--had ordered him to spend thinking about everything curled up on his bed with his hands on himself and his nose in his pillow and had felt exactly the same in the morning.

Which was why he was walking into the middle of a werewolf's lair and huffing to himself as Derek glared at him and told him he hadn't had enough time to think. Typical. Pushing him away just as things were getting interesting.

"Just because my dad agreed with you doesn't make you right all the time," Stiles imagined telling him, trying not to remember his horror at realizing that Derek and his father had been getting along in that police station, though he was sure he was never going to be able to forgot them commiserating with each other about him.

"Sometimes you try to tell Stiles not to do something for his own good and he does what he wants anyway."

"He doesn't listen. Threats and intimidation don't work."

"Neither does telling him no, I've tried."

"Even before he told me about all of you, he thought I wouldn't notice that he was researching werewolf mating habits? I'd hoped it was some comics thing, but…."

Commiserating, Stiles thought indignantly. Sharing stories about him like grizzled war veterans, then shouting through the wall for him to go sit down like he'd been told to do. Stiles was almost eighteen. An adult. He'd ignored them and stayed where he was until his father had released Derek and then dragged Stiles away from him and both of them had ordered him to stay away until he knew his own mind.

This morning his dad had taken one look at him and told him that he'd better see Derek at the graduation ceremony. "By the way, you have to come to graduation," Stiles passed that along to Derek instead of replying to Derek's order to go away, though he knew Derek would probably have lurked in the back anyway if only for the teens in his pack.

The pack, some of it, were down in old station with them and were watching them carefully. Stiles looked over at them then back at Derek. He sucked in a breath and ignored his stinging cheeks.

"I have a problem. I need you. It's important," he announced while looking into Derek's eyes and then, repeated it, "I need you." He stepped closer to Derek for good measure. The betas all looked to Derek too. Stiles grinned at him, though his heart was going nuts and there were residual nerves in his stomach making him shiver uncontrollably.

"Stiles." Derek moved forward and argued at the same time. "You don't listen." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Look I could see other people but you wouldn't like it and this is going to happen sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner." He smiled toothily and drew up his t-shirt to scratch at his stomach. There was a warm, bruised, human bite mark just over his hip that he'd played with all night.

"Fuck," he heard Isaac exclaim breathlessly and then the movements of the other werewolves, probably heading out though he couldn't be sure, were just vague noises as Derek swatted his hand away and replaced it with his and traced the mark. Stiles opened his mouth for a gasp that shouldn't have been so surprised and Derek pulled him forward by his hips. Stiles swallowed desperately.

"Fine. You going to last longer this time?" Derek snarled the question, and Stiles remembered Derek tense in the back of the police cruiser, hard and probably in agony with every breath. Stiles had reeked of come, even with the windows down.

He reached down without thinking to stroke Derek's cock through his jeans and stepped closer to slide his open mouth over Derek's throat. "You going to need a reason to stop?" He did his best to be teasing, but he didn't really want teasing. He wanted fucking. Now. "Derek," he whined as fingers bruised him and Derek's pulse leaped under his tongue. Derek tasted earthy, sweaty and dirty in a good way. His cock moved for Stiles, twitching into his hand. Stiles inhaled. "Fuck, Derek let me blow you."

Too much porn, he decided, then changed his mind, when he felt claws against his skin, just for a moment, as if Derek were already close to losing control at the very idea. He moaned and forced his hand up to Derek's fly, feeling his knees go weak a second before he hit the floor.

Which hurt. His knees. His pride. His life. Right up until he looked back up and saw, Holy God, dick. His mouth was open before he could even try to swallow his drool. Drool slipped down his chin even before his first attempt to suck a mouthful.

The sharp fingernails--sharp claws--digging into his scalp were distant things, like the need for air and Derek's voice rasping above him. Stiles put a hand on one of Derek's thighs and curled the other around Derek's cock and decided to just go ahead and ignore the growling above him. The weight in his mouth said he could ignore that all day, and all night if necessary, as long as his jaw could take it.

Sex. He was actually having sex with Derek and everyone would know it. Derek's dick was going to smell like Stiles' mouth. Stiles sucked at it, slobbering a little and sucking that up too, because what was spit when this was his mate? The thought made him want to bite but the barest scrape of teeth and Derek was yanking him back to pant at him.

Stiles wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and scowled back at him. "You keep me a virgin, you get a virgin blowjob," Stiles snapped raggedly at him and then pushed Derek's hand away to get back to business. He took in the tip and then more until he gagged, and then he did it again, and again, because he liked the surprised sounds Derek made every time he did it, and how Derek's hands went back into his hair, how they didn't stay hands for long.

He wanted Derek to come and he made that clear the only way he knew how, choking himself on Derek's thick cock until Derek tried to warn him by saying his name and pulling away, as if they hadn't come too far for anything but Stiles hanging on and swallowing, swallowing, musky hot come until he had to breathe and ducked away.

He thought maybe he would have fallen down onto the cement if Derek hadn't grabbed his shoulder and hauled him up. His back hit a wall a second later, though Stiles didn't remember moving. Always with the walls. He didn't even know how Derek could move right now. It must be a werewolf thing.

He licked at his numb lips and gave Derek a smile. Then a frown. "I thought I'd feel different." He considered it, vaguely, right up until Derek shoved his jeans down and started to jack him, sticky and gooey and gross-good, like he had his come on his hand. That was not safe sex. Stiles had kind of figured on condoms going out the window anyway, so that wasn't really news. He put his head back to enjoy the official losing of his virginity.

"Epically mated I guess?" Stiles made a face at his own words a second after he said them, then curved his hand around the back of Derek's neck when Derek bent his head to make animal sounds against his neck.

The others were gone. Stiles didn't care about that either. Maybe he was going a little wild. Public sex. Sex with no protection. Married at almost-eighteen. What was next?

"Is this the honeymoon?" he gasped, pulling at Derek's shirt until he found more skin.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek huffed at him, and then did something fast and awesome with his hand. There was no warning. Stiles came with his pulse roaring in his ears and his hand curled viciously over Derek's chest.

"Sweet lord," he croaked as he got his eyes back open and turned his head to look at Derek. Derek raised his head, then angled it up as if he heard something approaching, probably the other werewolves wondering if the room was safe to come back into. Stiles did his best to not squirm.

"Is someone coming?" He didn't even mean that as a sexy pun. Derek considered, then nodded. Stiles didn't have to consider anything. Seriously, he'd been waiting freaking years for this.

"I'm staying," he insisted with a wriggle. He wasn't asking. Derek snorted a laugh and put his head back down to Stiles' shoulder. Stiles put his hand up to hold him there. "So what's next, handsome face, hot body, stupid, stubborn werewolf Alpha mate?" He hummed. "You do have a bed, right? Because I think cement might do it for you, but…."

Derek cuffed him on the back of his head, not very hard.

"Aw, I love you too." Stiles cooed at him just to be a dick and heard Derek snort again. It made his heart thump.

His life.