It was laughable, really, that Stiles felt like he didn’t have anyone else to turn to. He was in a bit of a bind, and Scott definitely wasn’t the one he wanted to call with the current predicament he found himself in. It would be easier if he hadn’t deleted Derek’s number one night after one too many drinks, bitter that he’d left Beacon Hills in the midst of their junior year of High School. That was years ago, now, and Stiles regretted the fact that he’d lost Derek’s number forever. Scott, too, had deleted it after a few years of silence. He didn’t think he’d ever need it again, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
So, Stiles called Cora.
He started out sitting down, his leg bouncing before he decided that standing was a better option so that he could pace back and forth as it continued ringing. Eventually, the voicemail picked up. Stiles hung up the phone, clenching it tight in his fist. He tried to calm down, knew the consequences if he didn’t, but it was difficult. He breathed in and out a couple of times, then tried calling again. This time, Cora picked up the phone.
“Who is this?” She asked, voice terse as ever, annoyed even. Stiles would have smiled if he wasn’t so damned frayed already.
“It’s Stiles, Stiles Stilinski,” he said, then grimaced. Like she’d know another Stiles. There was a pause before she spoke up again.
“What’s wrong?” She asked in almost a whisper.
“Funny you should ask that,” Stiles said with a laugh, though he didn’t feel much like laughing. “I’m kind of up shit creek and I’m looking for Derek, is he there?”
“Why?” Cora asked. “Don’t you have Scott to--”
“I can’t ask Scott,” Stiles blurted out, closing his eyes. He sat down again. “Can you just tell me if Derek is there with you, or can I have his number?”
“We aren’t coming back to Beacon Hills,” Cora stipulated.
“I’m not in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said honestly. “I’m in Boston.”
“Huh,” Cora said, the line going quiet. “Alright, hold on.” She’d obviously covered the reciever with her hand, thinking that Stiles had human hearing and therefore wouldn’t be able to hear her whispering to Derek.
Again, it was laughable, only it wasn’t.
“It’s Stiles,” Cora said. “He says he wants to talk to you about something.”
“Why?” Derek asked.
“I don’t know, just take it. He sounds strung out.”
Stiles tried to remember to breathe as he stood again, continuing to pace. Moving helped, but not by much.
“Stiles?” Derek asked, his voice sounding crisp and concerned.
“Yo,” Stiles said. He rolled his own eyes, tugging at his hair with his free hand.
“What’s going on?” Derek asked.
“Okay, so, here’s the deal,” Stiles said taking a deep breath before continuing. “Hypothetically, what if, while at college, I got bit by an alpha--”
“What?” Derek asked. Well, he growled. Stiles would definitely describe the sound of Derek’s voice as a growl, a half-shifted, angry, fanged growl. “Who bit you?”
“Hey, hold on,” Stiles said, licking his lips nervously. “We are on a hypothetical situation here, buddy, alright?”
“Right. So hypothetically: I get bit by an alpha, I’m part of his pack but don’t really want to be but what can you do because my best friend is in California--”
“Where are you, Stiles?”
“Boston,” Stiles said. “But that’s not important. What’s important in this tale, ole buddy ole pal, is did you fucking forget to tell me about some shit?”
“What ‘shit’, exactly?” Derek asked. Stiles hesitated, because he really, really didn’t want to spell it out loud for Derek. It was embarrassing, really. “And where is Scott in all this? When did you get bit? How?”
“Scott stayed in California, I went to MIT, there was some shit senior year, alright?” Stiles swallowed. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t tell Derek. He was completely alone.
“When did you get bit, Stiles?”
“Like, beginning of the semester,” Stiles mumbled.
“Stiles, it’s April.”
“I know,” Stiles groaned. “I was fine, I swear. Well, sort of fine-- but dude. Werewolf anatomy 101, we didn’t discuss some shit.”
“Again, what ‘shit’ are you talking about?” Derek asked. “Your anatomy doesn’t change, Stiles.”
“Au contraire,” Stiles said, his voice shrill. “It fucking does.”
Derek was silent for a long, long while.
“Fuck,” Derek said, sighing.
“So you know what I’m fucking talking about?” Stiles asked. He could collapse on the ground out of pure happiness in the fact that he didn’t have to describe what he was going through to Derek.
“I mean, not personally, no-- unless we are talking about two different things-- Stiles, tell me right now what color your eyes are.”
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Well, it’s funny, you know, because I thought mine would be blue.”
“But they aren’t, are they?” Derek asked.
“No,” Stiles admitted. “They aren’t, which was the first thing that tipped me off that something was... off.”
“What color are they, Stiles?”
“Green,” Stiles whispered.
“I’m in New York,” Derek said. “Cora and I-- I can come up there or you can come to us.”
“I don’t think I can travel,” Stiles admitted. “Unless I left right now.”
“You’re in heat?” Derek asked, his voice indiscernible. Stiles hated that he didn’t know what Derek was thinking, what he thought about the fact that he was different. He didn’t even know if there was a name for what he was; no one in his pack here knew. He’d thought about asking Lydia, but she knew less about werewolves than he did. He had been the researcher, once upon a time.
“I don’t fucking know, dude. All I know is that my entire body aches right now. I feel like I have the flu, but I’m a fucking werewolf, so I know I’m not sick, okay?”
“Anything else? What symptoms?”
“Body chills, aches--” Stiles hesitated again. “I’m-- dude, don’t make me say it this is so, so not okay.”
“I see why you didn’t want to tell Scott.”
“He’s bitten, Derek. I know more about werewolves than he does.”
“I know,” Derek said, sighing. “We can get you here, are you alright with Cora?”
“Alright with Cora, how?” Stiles asked, a little hysterically. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t think I’m supposed to be, like, leaking.” He said the last word as low as possible. He waited for Derek to laugh, but he didn’t.
“To help you through your heat,” Derek stated.
Stiles was taken aback. “What, no!” Stiles shouted. “I called her to get to you!”
“Me?” Derek asked. “You want me to...”
Stiles groaned; he knew he'd made a mistake. He should have just called Scott, even though it would have killed him to tell Scott that his body was on fire and he felt like he needed to be fucked. The idea made him gag a little bit, actually. Stiles was at a point that telling Derek was preferable to telling Scott mostly because he didn’t want anything to do with Scott’s dick. Derek’s, on the other hand--
“Yes, alright? Of all of the lycanthropes I know personally, you are the one that I got ahold of.”
“What about your pack?” Derek asked.
“That’s the thing,” Stiles said with a sigh. “I was sort of seeing the alpha, but then he turned out to be a fucking asshole, so I’m kind of an omega.”
“Get a flight in tonight, I’ll pay.”
“LaGuardia or JFK?”
“LaGuardia,” Derek said, hanging up. Apparently he didn’t need more of an explanation. He managed to book a flight back, and text Cora his flight information before he threw up. Cora texted their address, which was thankfully in Queens and only three stops from LaGuardia via bus.
He didn’t think he’d make it much farther. By the time he landed in New York, he felt clammy and not at all alright. It was a miracle he was able to get a metrocard and get on the right bus. He only had a duffle bag with him, and his coat and pillow, but he felt like he was carrying a literal shit ton of luggage. His limbs felt like pins and needles and he whimpered when he got off the bus and saw Derek standing there, waiting for him in his leather jacket that reminded Stiles of the old times, of something familiar and known.
Derek looked the same, really, only older with more of a beard than merely stubble growing on his face. He looked less strung out, more at ease. His pants, though, remained tight as they ever were. Stiles stood there before him, unsure what to say considering he’d come on a plane to spend what was dubbed his ‘heat’ with Derek and Cora. Derek looked Stiles over, his eyebrow raised. He reached a hand out, hooking it around Stiles’ neck. The touch had Stiles moaning at the contact as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against Derek’s shoulder.
“Shit,” Derek said, picking up Stiles’ duffle bag from where he’d apparently dropped it to the ground. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
They had to walk three blocks, but Derek didn’t move his hand from Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ mind was fuzzy, yet he felt grounded for the first time in hours. Maybe calling Derek was a good idea after all.
They didn’t speak at all besides Derek wanting to get Stiles indoors. Their apartment was in a three story walk up, small, but cozy. Cora was nowhere to be seen, but Stiles could smell her everywhere. He could smell Derek, too, which was intoxicating and overwhelming. His hands shook when Derek’s hand dropped from his neck. He watched as Derek took off his leather jacket, hanging it by the door. Stiles followed suit taking off his jacket and hoodie. He was warm, suddenly, after freezing the entire flight despite not really being cold since he’d been bitten. It was an odd sensation, his teeth chattering and body shaking like he had the flu, an unstoppable feeling that worsened the more you thought about it. Now, he felt overheated, like he needed to strip. He stopped at his t-shirt and jeans, though. He was already embarrassed enough, he didn’t need to add any more to it.
“I had an uncle,” Derek said, giving Stiles a look. “Not Peter, but another one, who had green eyes like yours.” Stiles licked his lips, crossing his arms so he wouldn’t do something stupid like hump one of the couch pillows. He wanted to reprimand himself for even thinking about doing it, but the scent of Derek everywhere was making his mind go places he didn’t think he’d ever go in regards to Derek, but now that he was here he remembered all the times he had been thrown up against walls, that Derek had scared him, but in an erotic way that only a teenage boy could find arousing.
Derek’s nostrils flared; he obviously smelt Stiles’ arousal.
“He was an Omega.”
“I already said I was an omega,” Stiles stated.
“No, not-- it’s not the same. There are omegas, but then there are Omegas. You’re-- it’s a one in a million type of thing, Stiles.”
“Of course I’d get the shit end of the stick,” Stiles grumbled, trying not to shake. “This is bullshit.”
“So you say,” Stiles hissed. “You’re just a beta--”
“Alpha,” Derek said, his eyes glowing red.”
“How?” Stiles asked, dazed and, yet again, aroused. His cheeks flushed, either embarrassment or the fact that Derek wasn’t rebuking him in anyway considering he actually took a step closer to Stiles.
“A series of events that we don’t have time to talk about right now,” Derek said, reaching out for Stiles again, only this time he looked at him as if he was asking for permission. Stiles nodded his head, biting his bottom lip so he wouldn’t whimper this time.
“Fuck,” Stiles said instead when Derek touched his cheek with the back of his fingers.
“A couple of times a year, you’re going to go into heat,” Derek said, his voice steady, but his heart was beating just as fast as Stiles’ was. He could hear it plain as day, and he found it lulling, calming. “You’re going to want to fuck, be fucked-- nothing is going to stop you from doing that. Judging by your symptoms, you have a few hours before it becomes too much to bear.”
“It’s going to get worse?” Stiles asked, groaning.
“It doesn’t have to,” Derek said. “We can do this in one of two ways: I can help you through your heat by restraining you and doing nothing else but help you get through it. It will be excruciating, like you’re going through the worst pain you can possibly imagine... or we could fuck.”
Stiles laughed. He covered his face with his hand and he flat out laughed because it sounded so simple. He knew that he’d wanted to have sex, all of the wall slamming, screaming, coming, scratching, gasping sex that he could think of, but he didn’t think it was actually an option with Derek.
“Would you?” Stiles asked. “Have sex with me?”
“Yes,” Derek stated. Stiles tried to listen in for a lie, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to be able to tell. Stiles shook his head, trying to clear his head. “Only if that’s what you want.”
“It’s my wet dream,” Stiles said without meaning to. He grimaced, but Derek smirked. “I mean, please fuck me.”
“Alright,” Derek said, hooking his hand around Stiles’ neck once more, bringing him forward. Their lips brushed together tentatively, making Stiles moan before he grasped at Derek, deepening the kiss. He felt the wind was knocked out of him while simultaneously filling his lungs. He felt like he was both underwater and floating in midair.
“What about Cora?” Stiles asked, his eyes wide as he pushed away from Derek momentarily. Derek’s hand was on Stiles’ waist, his fingertips teasing at the hem of Stiles’ shirt.
“She’s not going to be here for a few days, to give us space.”
“Wow, you knew,” Stiles said as Derek kissed him again. “You knew we were going to fuck.”
“Stiles,” Derek said, cupping his face and looking him in the eye. “There is only one reason that an Omega calls someone they haven’t talked to in years when they are in heat.”
“Fuck,” Stiles said, but it came out more like a moan. He knew he sounded desperate, but that didn’t matter. Derek had known the moment Stiles said his eyes were green.
“Can I see them?” Derek asked. “Can I see your eyes?”
Stiles closed his eyes, then opened them, allowing his eyes to shift. Derek sucked in a breath, leaning forward and kissing him again. They kept kissing as they stumbled their way out of the living room and into Derek’s bedroom. It was rather small compared to Derek’s loft back in Beacon Hills that he’d abandoned. It felt like the size of Stiles’ freshman year dorm, personal and cramped. Stiles laughed, covering his mouth with his hand, because he couldn’t control himself. Imagining Derek back then, years ago, and looking at the Derek before him was almost like they were two completely different people. Derek’s room was full of books, clothes strewn over a chair in the corner of the room, an overflowing laundry basket by the door. Stiles could smell Derek in the room, his very essence. It made him hold onto the door frame, stifling his laughter. He didn’t smell anyone else in the room, not even Cora. It was as if no one else had been allowed in the space, but Derek wanted Stiles there. It sobered Stiles, for a moment, enough for him to realize that this wasn’t some random party hook up, that this was Derek Hale, who he’d accused of murder when he was a teenager.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but somehow Stiles ended up here, with a life he no longer recognized. His face contorted as his eyes welled up with tears that threatened to fall. Suddenly, Derek’s hand was on his shoulder, grounding him. Stiles let out a shaky breath; his emotions were all over the place. He went from laughing to crying within a span of seconds.
“Fuck,” Stiles said, wiping at his face as he tried to laugh it off. It fell flat between them, Derek obviously seeing right through him.
“What are your other symptoms?” Derek asked, his voice soft and concerned. Stiles wanted to make a quip about Derek’s usual dry wit and sarcasm, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, his cheeks reddened in embarrassment again. “Hey, it’s okay, I know. I remember everything my uncle went through.”
“Dude, weren’t you a kid?” Stiles asked, eyes widening. “This is just so… so not PG.”
At least Derek laughed.
“Werewolf family-- not much was a secret. We didn’t have secret silencing rooms or whatever, you knew exactly what was going on all over the house. It meant keeping secrets was next to impossible.”
Stiles refused to think about the fact that Derek kept a huge secret from his entire family. He refused because Derek’s hand slid down his arm and Stiles whimpered.
“Did you guys run around naked and shit, too?” Stiles asked. Derek smiled at him, raising an eyebrow.
“We were nudists, yes,” Derek said. “But never when there was company.”
“My mind is blown right now,” Stiles said, imagining a life so different from his own. Derek, surrounded by his family and pack, nudists and werewolves, with an Omega uncle. Stiles took a deep breath. “I’m -- dude, this is so embarrassing, can you smell it?” Stiles asked, pleading.
“I want you to say it,” Derek said. It was then that Stiles noticed that Derek’s pupils were blown, that his nostrils flared; he could definitely smell Stiles, could smell the fact that he was leaking.
“My ass is fucking self-lubricating and it’s weird as fuck,” Stiles mumbled through gritted teeth. “I had to-- I bought pads from the store, alright?”
Stiles thought that Derek would laugh at him, but he didn’t. Instead, Derek kissed him not on the lips, but on his forehead, wrapping his arms around him, enveloping Stiles with his scent. Stiles clung to Derek as his mouth trailed down Stiles’ neck, his teeth nipping at his skin as he went.
“I didn’t know what the fuck was happening,” Stiles went on to say.
“I’m glad you called me,” Derek said.
“Really?” Stiles asked, pushing back enough to look Derek in the eye.
“That you trusted me with this, yes,” Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair and all Stiles wanted him to was yank on it. “You could have gone to anyone, the alpha that bit you, or Scott--”
“Dude, I don’t-- I doubt Scott has come across anything like this.”
“Deaton would’ve known,” Derek pointed out.
“I’m not in Beacon Hills, Derek,” Stiles said. “After everything that happened, we couldn’t go back to how shit was before. You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened.”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Derek said, to which Stiles was grateful, because he really, really didn’t want to talk about it.
“Good,” Stiles said, sighing. He kissed Derek again, just because he could. “So about the fact that I’m currently aching and the horniest I’ve ever been in my life? Because I’m literally about to start humping your leg.” That time Derek did laugh. “I’m serious.”
“I believe you,” Derek said, gripping Stiles’ ass. Stiles’ head fell forward, resting on Derek’s shoulder as their bodies pressed together. “Go ahead.” Stiles shook his head minutely, biting his lip because his dick was against Derek’s, through the fabric of their jeans but that didn’t really matter. Stiles’ hips moved as he sought friction with Derek’s hands moving along with him. Stiles let out an open mouthed moan, getting off to the feel of it. He was so desperate and wanton, he could barely hold onto his thoughts. “Your heat is going to get worse before it gets better. It’s better to give into it.”
“What the fuck is a heat, exactly? Talk about fucking dog references, Derek.”
“Omegas, as you so eloquently put it, are self-lubricating during their heats, to help ready their bodies for sex.” Stiles wasn’t really paying attention to Derek’s words, because Derek’s hands snaked up his back beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. The skin on skin contact made him squirm. Stiles began to mouth at Derek’s neck, not caring that it was desperate, needy. He had no more self-preservation in this; Derek knew exactly what was going on with his body and that was all that mattered. He trusted Derek to know what to do.
“Stiles,” Derek said, cupping Stiles’ face with his hands. Stiles looked at Derek, who’s eyes were red. Stiles’ own eyes flashed in submission. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“No,” Stiles admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’d asked if you’d had sex with a man before now.”
“Yes,” Stiles said. “The alpha was a man.”
“That makes it easier,” Derek admitted as he looked over Stiles’ facial features. “But you didn’t go to him with this?”
“I told you,” Stiles said, his fists clenched in Derek’s shirt. “We broke up. I wasn’t about to go groveling back to him.”
“Okay,” Derek said, visibly breathing in. “Just so it’s stated: you’re okay with me fucking you?”
“Yes,” Stiles said, his voice catching in his throat. “Fuck, yes, please.”
Derek kissed him again and Stiles moaned into his mouth. Derek stripped off Stiles’ shirt, then his own, their bodies pressing together once more. Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ ass, hoisting him up enough that Stiles could wrap his legs around Derek’s waist. Stiles continued kissing him hungrily, letting himself go, giving in to his relatively new instincts as he bit and marked at Derek’s shoulder. He paused at Derek’s neck, unsure, but Derek grunted, throwing Stiles down onto the bed so he didn’t have to stop and ask if he could mark his neck. Derek undid Stiles’ jeans, tugging them off of him. Stiles didn’t have time to think as Derek manhandled him, flipping him over onto his stomach.
His heart was beating out of his chest as he thought that Derek was going to just start fucking him, he knew his body was ready for it. He arched his back, exposing his ass for Derek, showing it to him so he could see. Stiles covered his face with his hand, burying it against the blankets that smelled like nothing but Derek. It was intoxicating as Stiles breathed them in. His mouth open in a loud moan as he felt Derek’s tongue in him, tasting him, the feel of his beard scratching his skin. Stiles rolled his hips, unable to stop himself as Derek’s tongue delved inwards, licking him.
“Fuck,” Stiles said as Derek added a finger. It slid right in easily, ready for more. Stiles groaned when Derek added a second, pulling out only to replace them with his thumbs, spreading Stiles wide.
“Fuck,” Derek whispered, his voice awed. Stiles’ own cock was leaking, hanging down between his legs. Derek took a moment to stroke his cock, sucking on the head before returning to his ass, burying his face deep as he spread Stiles’ ass cheeks.
Stiles whimpered when Derek pulled away, turning his head to watch as Derek rid himself of his jeans. Stiles looked at Derek’s cock, hard and heavy as it hung down between his legs as he kicked off his jeans before taking his cock in his hand. Stiles’ mouth watered, never wanting to be fucked so bad in his entire life.
“Please,” Stiles begged as Derek grabbed his hips, bringing him closer to the edge of the bed. Stiles brought the comforter with him, burying his face in as it bunched beneath him. He wrapped his hand around his own cock as Derek entered him, his hands gripping Stiles tight enough to bruise, though they wouldn’t keep. As Derek fucked him, Stiles thought about how if he was human still, if he wasn’t an Omega, the way that Derek moved would probably hurt him. Stiles spread his legs wider, moving to meet Derek thrust for thrust until Derek pressed him against the bed with one hand on his back so his ass was presented to him perfectly with Stiles’ back arched, keeping him in place. Derek fucked him hard, though Stiles craved more. As he panted, moaning with each thrust, he felt himself losing control. Derek was teetering on the edge, too. Stiles felt his fangs elongate, his claws coming out as he moaned. He felt pinpricks where Derek held him down, as he scratched down his back.
When Stiles came, his entire body shuddered. Derek came inside of him minutes later, continuing to thrust into him until he had no choice but to pull out. Stiles whimpered at the loss of Derek inside of him, though it was short lived as Derek began fucking him with his fingers, pushing his mess back into Stiles, keeping it there. Stiles’ body felt like jelly, his limbs heavy and head fuzzy with sex, but he wanted more.
“Fuck, fuck, Derek--” Stiles gasped as Derek tasted him, his face buried against Stiles’ ass. Stiles could feel him licking, the sound making him shiver. Derek ate him out, fingering him with two and three fingers, until he was ready to fuck him again. Stiles was barely conscious, lost in a haze of pleasure as Derek held onto him, climbing onto the bed so they could fuck more closely this time. Stiles’s hands held onto Derek’s as Derek fucked him slower this time, deeper, with his chest pressed against Stiles’ back as they laid on their sides. Derek mouthed at the back of Stiles’ neck, his nose pressing into his hair and smelling him.
“Please, Derek,” Stiles begged. “Please bite my neck,” he pleaded as Derek’s hand wrapped around Stiles’ cock, stroking him as they moved together. Derek complied, biting down with his fangs. Stiles shuddered, coming from the sensation, his eyes flashing green. This time when Derek finished, he turned Stiles so that they could kiss lazily until he was ready again.
They fucked three more times, once facing each other, another with Stiles riding Derek who was on his back, and then another with Stiles on his knees. When they were done for the time being, Derek showed Stiles a butt plug. Stiles nodded, his hands roaming Derek’s body because he no longer had the words to say what he wanted, fucked out of his mind.
Derek plugged Stiles’ ass so he felt full, keeping his come inside him. Stiles slept for a time, napping with Derek’s arms wrapped around him. Before drifting off to sleep, Stiles remembered the sense of feeling wanted, of feeling safe for the first time in months.
Waking up with Derek Hale’s body pressed against his, Stiles took a moment to let that fact sink into his groggy mind. He couldn’t see Derek, since his back was to him, but he could feel him, could hear him, most of all he could smell him. Stiles laid there, his mind slowly waking up out of a fog; his body satiated for the time being. Derek’s arm was draped over Stiles’ body, his chest pressed against Stiles’ back, his thighs tucked up against Stiles’, ankles tangled together beneath the sheets. It felt like heaven, much like the sound of Derek’s beating heart which stood out to Stiles, along with their mingled scents that filled the room.
It was intoxicating, and made Stiles’ cock harden. It was then that he remembered the plug. Not having moved yet, he’d forgotten, save for the fact that he had a pressure there. Stiles shifted, moaning as it jostled. Yes, the plug was definitely still in place. At Stiles’ sound, Derek stirred beside him, inhaling a deep breath, burying his face against the back of Stiles’ neck as his hand trailed down Stiles’ taut stomach, finding Stiles’ hard cock, fingers brushing over it. Stiles whimpered, his eyes closing as Derek wrapped his fingers around it, stroking him slowly.
“Your fever’s gone down,” Derek said, his voice raspy from sleep. Stiles nodded his head, biting his lip as he watched Derek jack him off. “We should shower and brush our teeth.”
“That requires moving,” Stiles said as he thrust his hips into Derek’s fist. Derek bit down on Stiles’ shoulder, making him shudder, before pulling his hand away, leaving Stiles in bed with his chest heaving. Derek tapped a hand against the butt plug, which had Stiles groaning and squirming.
“Fuck me again?” Stiles asked.
Derek looked him up and down, as if mulling it over. Stiles rolled over onto his back, his hand resting on his stomach as his hard cock bobbed up and down with the movement. Stiles’ hand slid downwards, his fingers scratching across his happy trail and pubic hair as he yawned. He made a face, knowing morning breath for werewolves was horrible.
“In the shower, or right here?” Derek asked. His hand was on Stiles’ neck, finger brushing down the side. Stiles leaned into it, humming contentedly. It felt good, terribly domestic, them laying in bed together as they casually talked about sex. It didn’t feel like just a heat fuck.
Stiles sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, because as soon as his heat was over, he’d be back in Boston, alone.
“Why do you say that?” Derek asked him, his face set in a frown. Stiles looked up at him before reaching out, touching Derek’s beard. Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrist, kissing the pulse point. Stiles closed his eyes, wishing it meant more. His chest ached. “You can’t hide your feelings from me, Stiles. I’ve known your scents since you were sixteen.”
“I’m not sixteen anymore,” Stiles whispered.
“I know,” Derek said, his eyes flashing red. Stiles sucked in a breath, nodding his head. With Derek’s other hand he tilted Stiles’ chin upwards, then kissed him, morning breath and all. “Come on, we’re showering first.”
They brushed their teeth before finally getting into the shower together. It was small and they barely fit, but it didn’t matter because they made out the entire time, Derek sucking marks into Stiles’ neck only to watch them disappear again and again as Stiles’ hands roamed over Derek’s body freely. Derek didn’t take the plug out until they were back in bed and Stiles’ heat was building once more. He presented himself for Derek, on his knees, ready to be ridden and fucked into the mattress, but Derek had other ideas.
Stiles felt Derek’s come sliding down his thighs as Derek sat on the bed, pulling Stiles into his lap, straddling him. They kissed as Stiles sunk down onto Derek’s cock, gasping as he wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. They fucked slowly, with Stiles guiding the pace, his entire body flushed red. Stiles shut his eyes tight as Derek held onto his ass, his waist, cupped his face as they kissed, as he ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair. It was all too much, being so close now after fucking hard last night. It was too much because Stiles didn’t want it to end, if it meant staying. If he could keep Derek, he’d want to have his heat forever.
Stiles pushed Derek down onto the mattress, his hands on Derek’s chest as he rode him, picking up the pace, trying to get distance while continuing to fuck him, but Derek had other ideas. Derek’s hands trailed down Stiles’ body reverently, brushing over his nipples, stroking his cock slowly. Stiles bent over, fucking himself on Derek’s cock, growling and his eyes flashing as Derek’s fingers ghosted across Stiles’ lips. He was angry, he wanted to be fucked, because tenderness meant something else, something they didn’t have.
“Stiles,” Derek said, looking up at him as he grabbed Stiles’ waist to hold onto him. “I can give you what you want, all of it.”
“Fuck,” Stiles said, his fangs bared as Derek began thrusting upwards into him, lifting him off the bed with the momentum. Derek fucked him hard like he needed, like he craved. He moaned with each thrust, each movement as he held onto Derek as best he could, his head tilted upwards towards the ceiling.
He came over Derek’s chest without warning, his stomach clenching. Only then did Derek shift, holding onto Stiles as he moved him where he wished, Stiles’ body going limp with his climax. They were on their sides once more, with Derek moving Stiles’ thigh out of the way, bending his knee so he could get close as he pressed his chest to Stiles’ back, kissing his shoulder and whispering in his ear.
“I can smell it on you, you think I’ll be done with you after your heat,” Derek said as he thrust into him. Stiles whimpered, mouth hanging open as Derek brushed against his prostate. “You called me, Stiles, you chose me.”
“Yes,” Stiles admitted. “I chose you.”
“Do you think I’d throw away that trust, the fact that it was me you sought out?”
“No,” Stiles said as he shook his head. Derek picked up the pace of his thrusts, the conversation stopping momentarily as he came inside of him. He didn’t pull out right away, but when he did, he spread Stiles’ cheeks wide, watching his come slowly make its way down Stiles’ thighs, messy and wet. Stiles craned his neck, looking back at Derek. When they kissed, Stiles twisted his body so that he could pull Derek down to lay on top of him, the weight of him like an anchor.
“Are you saying you want to try this out -- us?” Stiles asked, his lips hovering close to Derek’s. Derek nodded his head, kissing Stiles again.
“Yes,” Derek said. His hands were on Stiles’ face once more, cupping it with his hands so he could look Stiles in the eyes. “I want you in my pack, Stiles. I always have.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Should I call you alpha?” Stiles joked. Derek rolled his eyes, tugging on Stiles’ hair playfully before kissing him again. “Please fuck me again, alpha,” Stiles crooned. “Oh alpha, my alpha.”
“Stop,” Derek said even though he was laughing. “Just stop.”
“My alpha, the highest,” Stiles said as Derek began to tickle him. Stiles squirmed, laughter filling Derek’s bedroom. “I’ll sing it from a mountain top, or maybe the Empire State Building?”
“We could do that,” Derek said, kissing Stiles again once they settled back down. “But first, I’m going to fuck you again.”