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The night before he left for college, he was snuggled up close to Derek’s side.

Derek was quiet, even more than usual. He hadn’t said in words that he was afraid of losing Stiles, but the silent desperation in his movements, in his touch, gave him away. Now he was lying close, his nose buried in Stiles’s neck, taking in deep breaths like he was trying to memorize the scent.

Stiles was tired but nervous about leaving, and he wanted so much to reassure Derek that it wouldn’t be forever, that he was coming back, that he wouldn’t meet someone new and forget about the boyfriend he had at home.

“Hypothetical question,” Stiles murmured, twining his fingers with Derek’s. “Totally hypothetical and not real. Speculative. Um-”

“I know what hypothetical means,” Derek said.

“Right. Well, say you bit me. Gave me the actual Bite and turned me,” Stiles said. Derek stiffened and Stiles ran a hand down his arm. “Remember, hypothetical? Okay, so. Where would you do it?”

“Where?” Derek said faintly.

Stiles pressed on. “Yeah, like, you bit Jackson in the side and Peter wanted to bite my wrist.”

The inevitable growl at Peter’s actions came and Stiles smiled a little at the possessiveness in it.

“Shh. Tell me where you’d bite me. This may or may not be important,” Stiles said.

Derek was quiet for a long moment. Stiles tried to turn in his arms to look at his face, but Derek held him still and kissed the back of his neck, then dragged his lips across to his shoulder and bit down gently with blunt, human teeth. “Right here.”

Stiles shivered. “Why there?” He felt Derek getting hard again against the swell of his ass. Felt the rumble of Derek’s pleased growl as he sucked a bruise right there.

“I’d want to do it while I was fucking you. And even though it’d heal, I’d always know exactly what you looked like with my mark on you, and I’d be able to see it clearly every time I took you from behind. And I’d do it again and again, every time I fucked you. You’d feel my teeth in your shoulder and you’d come for me. Every. Time.”

Stiles shivered even though he was burning up, heat spreading throughout his body with every new word. His own cock throbbed now, and Derek reached around to palm it almost roughly. Stiles was sensitive, already having come once, so it was just this side of painful. But Derek seemed to know exactly how much Stiles could take, stroking him just hard enough to pitch him closer and closer to the edge. He was already slick and open from being fucked earlier, but Derek didn’t take advantage of this, even when Stiles begged him to.

“Too close to losing control,” Derek growled, and Stiles’s heart hammered in his chest at the bald statement, lust and a tinge of fear making him moan wantonly. He sounded like such a slut to his own ears, and the noises he was making made Derek rut against him faster and faster, his cock sliding along Stiles’s crack, sweat and precome slicking the way. “Come,” he said, and Stiles’ whole body tensed up at the command before he obeyed, sobbing out his release as he let Derek’s hand wring it from him.

Derek’s hands dropped to Stiles’ hips then and he held him still, his own hips rocking and stuttering before he came with a loud grunt, his come painting Stiles’ lower back.

When they both got their breath back, Derek gave a pleased-sounding rumble and kissed the hickey he’d made on Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles smiled, a plan forming in his mind.


Three weeks wasn’t really a long time. Stiles knew this intellectually. But when it came to time in practice and deed, it felt like a lifetime and even the newness of college couldn’t distract from that.

He kept his hands to himself in the Camaro, fists on his thighs, and kept his eyes straight forward on the headlighted road. He felt wound so tight that if he even looked at Derek, he would break apart. So he did his best to ignore him completely.

“You okay?” Derek asked, and his voice caused a spike of arousal deep in Stiles’s belly. Derek must have smelled it because he didn’t push Stiles to answer and Stiles kept his mouth shut tight.

The motel was just this side of seedy, but Stiles didn’t care. While Derek got out to pay for a room, Stiles thought about the secret hidden underneath his shirt. He was nervous and excited and so, so horny. His dick strained against his jeans and he adjusted himself with a hiss.

Derek got into the car to pull it around the back of the hotel. After he parked, he reached out to touch Stiles’s face. It was gentle and when Stiles finally looked at him, he saw his own barely-contained need mirrored in Derek’s eyes.

Fuck,” Stiles whispered, shutting his eyes against the sight. “We need to move this inside.” His words were shaky and he barely got them past his lips before Derek was getting out of the car and making his way to the motel room.

Stiles followed him inside, and found himself pressed up against the door as soon as it was closed.

“You don’t smell like me, not enough,” Derek said, growled, against Stiles’s neck.

“So do something about it,” Stiles gasped out as Derek scraped his stubble over sensitive skin. Stiles’ throat was going to have some major beard burn. He grinned, because he hadn’t had beard burn in three weeks and he never knew he could miss it. “Get naked or something, geez.”

Derek shook his head and dropped down to his knees, undoing Stiles’ jeans and pushing them and his underwear down around his thighs. He nuzzled Stiles’ balls and licked a stripe up his cock before taking him into his mouth.

Stiles gasped. “Or we do it this way. This way is good too.”

A grunt was all he heard then as Derek took him down deep, so deep that he could feel the back of Derek’s throat with the head of his cock. Derek was merciless, bobbing quickly up and down Stiles’ length, sucking hot and wet and perfect. It was too much, he was doing it to get Stiles off as fast as he could, using every trick he knew. Stiles cried out as he got closer, his hips rocking forward before Derek held him in place with a grip that would leave marks.

Stiles came before he could even think to warn Derek. Not that Derek seemed to mind; he swallowed Stiles’s come down greedily, moaning around Stiles’ cock.

“Jesus fucking...” Stiles slurred, his knees going weak. Derek looked up at him with a predatory grin and Stiles knew they’d only just begun. Then Derek was surging up to his feet and into a deep, bruising kiss. Teeth scraped against Stiles’ lips, bringing more blood to the surface, making them tingle and ache for more when Derek pulled away.

Stiles wanted to protest, but then Derek was picking him up and carrying him over to the bed, kissing his neck as he did so.

“So, I’m guessing you missed me?” Stiles said when he felt less dazed. Derek was taking his shoes and pants off, completely focused. “You too, you have to get naked, too.”

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt off over his head, toeing his shoes off at the same time. Stiles fidgeted on the bed, nervous now, fingers picking at the bottom of his shirt. Derek tilted his head and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Stiles took a deep breath and pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor beside the bed. “I did something for you.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Instead of telling him about the freshly-healed tattoo on his shoulder, Stiles rolled over on his stomach and reached back to run his fingertips over it. “Here.”

Derek didn’t move and he didn’t say a word. There was a sudden stillness in the room that worried Stiles, made him wonder if he’d done the wrong thing after all. He looked over his shoulder, nervous, and locked eyes with Derek. Derek, whose eyes began to glow red as he slowly stalked forward and crawled onto the bed, prowling up Stiles’s body, breaking eye contact in order to stare at the tattoo.

“It’s...” Derek said, trailing off, like he couldn’t put it into words.

“Yours,” Stiles said, and he meant It’s your tattoo but he also meant I’m yours and everything else inbetween.

Derek got it, like Stiles had known he would, and he pressed his lips against the nearly-fresh ink gently, reverently. “Mine,” he whispered. He pulled back and Stiles wanted to whimper, but then a bottle of lube was hitting the mattress to the side and Derek was crawling out of his jeans.

“So, you like it, I guess?” Stiles said, smiling a little.

“When did you get it?” Derek asked. His voice was rough and he looked as if he wanted to put his teeth to it, through it, just to taste the ink.

Swallowing down his giddy lust, Stiles told him, “The night I got here. The day after you told me about my shoulder and … stuff.”

This time when Derek touched the tattoo, it was with his fingertips. “It’s perfect. You’re-”

He didn’t have to say it. Stiles felt it inside him like a ball of gooey warmth. He got up on his knees and bowed his head down to the pillow, letting Derek know exactly what he wanted. But, just in case the sight of it wasn’t enough, Stiles said, “Hurry up. I need you inside me, like, three weeks ago, okay?”

Then Derek was grabbing the lube, slicking his fingers, and pressing his thumb against Stiles’s hole. Not enough to breach him, though. He was teasing, and Stiles whimpered out his protest, rocking back against Derek’s thumb, trying to get it inside.

“Derek, c’mon,” Stiles gasped, and then moaned happily as Derek’s thumb pushed inside, past the tight ring of muscle there. “More. I need...”

“I know what you need,” Derek said, shushing him.

Stiles didn’t have to wait much longer before Derek deemed him slicked and open enough to fuck. Derek took his time getting him ready, but as soon as he was, Derek didn’t waste another moment. He lined up and pushed in, and they both moaned in unison.

“You’re tight,” Derek said, his voice low like he was telling a secret.

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, just clenched around Derek’s cock in order to hear him moan again. He didn’t, though. The sound that came out of his mouth was more like a whine.

“Fuck me,” Stiles gasped.

“Yeah,” Derek said as his hand found Stiles’ shoulder and he ran his thumb over the tattoo. He kept his other hand on Stiles’ hip, vice-tight, and began to thrust. It was slow at first, long and deep strokes designed to drive Stiles crazy, but then Derek’s hand tightened on Stiles’ shoulder and the thrusts became harder and faster, and Stiles just knew Derek was entirely focused on the ink. Also, he knew the tattoo was the thing that caused the sharp pricking of claws at Stiles’ hip and he knew if he’d look into Derek’s eyes, they’d be a glowing red, focused on the place he wanted to bite, focused on the mark Stiles had put there willingly to brand himself as Derek’s.

Derek bent himself over Stiles’ back and mouthed at the tattoo, tongue coming out to lick at it roughly. It was more difficult for him to fuck Stiles in that position, and he growled in frustration before backing away again so he could thrust harder.

Stiles felt himself shifting forward as Derek pushed him closer to the headboard with every thrust. Finally he gave up and spread himself wider before putting his hands at the top of the headboard, holding on in a white-knuckled grip. Derek plastered himself against Stiles’ back again, one hand coming up around Stiles’ throat, pressing lightly. The gentle threat of it made Stiles’ cock jump and leak clear precome, and he had to close his eyes against the powerful want.

Stiles,” Derek said, hand tightening, not enough to choke but enough to make him really feel it there.

Stiles felt like he was breaking apart, like Derek was everywhere, all over him, chipping away at every weak point. Derek’s hand left his throat and Stiles whimpered at the loss before gasping when Derek circled one of his nipples with a sharp claw.

“God, you are such a tease, Derek, c’mon, touch me, fuck me, c’mon,” Stiles said, closer to begging than he would have liked but at the point where he didn’t care at all.

“Want, fuck, I want to-” Derek bit out, then sucked hard at Stiles’s shoulder, and Stiles felt a thrill of something not quite fear when he realized what, exactly, Derek wanted to do.

They’d discussed it in the past, at length, and Stiles had always said no. He didn’t want the Bite. He couldn’t take that last step off the cliff, even though he knew Derek would be there to catch him if he did.

He’d never wanted to say yes more than he did right now, with Derek’s arm around his middle, holding him possessively, lovingly, cock thick inside him, still thrusting, claiming him.

But the tattoo was his compromise. It was the closest he could allow himself to get to that edge.

“Want to make you mine,” Derek said, and Stiles’s eyes went wet as he felt the pricking of fangs at his shoulder. Derek didn’t bite, and Stiles knew he wouldn’t, not without consent. He’d never gone this far before, though.

Stiles took a deep breath and tangled his fingers with Derek’s where he held him. “I don’t need to be a wolf to be yours. I’m already there. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

Derek’s arm tightened as he held Stiles closer against him, and he panted harshly against Stiles’s shoulder, getting himself under control again. “Mine,” he said, and placed a barely-there kiss over the tattoo. He started thrusting again, harder. Stiles knew he wasn’t using his full strength, that he never could as long as Stiles was human. That was okay. This was enough for them, for both of them.

Then Derek angled differently and Stiles jerked as the cock inside him hit his prostate.

“Yeah, like that,” Stiles said, demanding more. “Give it to me, Derek, fuck me...”

Growling always turned Stiles on. At least, the sexy kind did, and Derek was definitely growling in the sexy way. His hips snapped forward over and over, and Stiles hadn’t thought he’d be coming without his cock being touched but it looked like he was heading right that way.

"So good, so good,” Stiles babbled, and probably would have said a lot more if he hadn’t bit his lip to ground himself. He tasted blood and the pain kept him focused so he could enjoy every deep thrust. He didn’t want to come yet, never wanted this to end.

“Close,” Derek said, his voice hoarse and low. He ran his hand down to Stiles’s cock and began to stroke. “I can’t- You have to- Stiles...”

It was good to hear Derek was just as close to the edge as Stiles. That he was losing control. But that even though he was right there, he still cared enough to want Stiles to come first. It never stopped making Stiles’s heart turn over, knowing Derek would always put Stiles ahead of himself.

Now Stiles was caught between Derek’s hand and his cock, and he rocked between the two without thought, just seeking pleasure as his orgasm rushed toward him. It hit him like a meteor, hot and fast. Just as he was spilling over Derek’s hand, there were blunt teeth in his shoulder, biting hard, and then Derek stilled completely, his cock pulsing as he came.

They both collapsed at some point, and Derek gathered Stiles against him so that they were spooning. A low murmur started. At first, as he came back down, Stiles didn’t understand what Derek was saying. The words were soft, muffled by Stiles’s skin. Stiles was so blissed that he didn’t even care. But then he listened, and something inside him swelled to the point of bursting.

“I love you, too,” Stiles whispered. “I love you, too.”