Fifth anniversary: for basic bitches that meant some shit like gifts made of wood. Stiles Stilinski was not a basic bitch.
Which was why Derek was pacing back and forth in the middle of a circle of mountain ash, watching Stiles writhe and moan on their mountain ash-encircled bed whilst painting his well-lubed rim with yet another circle of -- that's right -- mountain ash.
Derek's dick stood out thick and proud, curving upward, hard, desperately purple from all the blood pooling in it.
Stiles licked the sweat from his lip, crooning softly at Derek. "Yeah, fuck. Fuck, Derek, look what you've got for me, babe. Oh my god, I want to feel that in me. Want to choke on it. Shove that wood up my ass until you put babies in me."
Derek whined, throwing himself so hard at the circle he was bound in that Stiles heard the small yelp of pain Derek couldn't hold back.
"Aww, baby, no. Don't hurt yourself. I need you to be able to hold me up and spear my ass--"
"Stiles!" Derek lisped around his fangs, the sound half-growl, half whine. All need.
Considering Stiles had spent an hour edging Derek inside that circle, Stiles let himself be swayed. Of course, because he was a little shit, he totally waited until Derek's muscles were bunched up tense in preparation for flinging himself at the barrier again.
His laugh when Derek face planted was mean, yeah, but Derek laughed at him when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table yesterday, so. Stiles didn't feel too bad. Also, there was another circle of mountain ash protecting him from any immediate retribution.
"Derek," Stiles moaned softly, pinching his nipple with one hand, tugging on his rim with the other, and tipping his chin up to show off the length of his pale, unmarked neck.
He'd been planning this night for a year; he'd put a moratorium on hickeys, bites, and bruises exactly a month ago. It had been as hard for him as it had been for Derek. He fucking loved when Derek went all bitey and grabby on him.
But now he got all the rewards for his month of self-denial. He got to watch Derek's eyes go bright blue like the hottest part of a fire. He got to hear the bitten-off whines and see how Derek strained against the crackling air. How his hands curled into fists as he dug his claws into his own flesh to keep from coming before he even got to touch Stiles.
Licking his lips, Stiles turned his head and stared at the thin line of ash that dribbled over the edge of the nightstand. Reaching out one long finger, he flickered his gaze back to Derek to see him eyeing that finger hungrily. "What do you want?"
"Stiles," Derek whined again, quivering.
"Use your words."
Derek closed his eyes, throat working roughly. "Want you."
"Yeah? Tell me more," Stiles breathed, biting his lip as he sank one finger deep inside himself with a moan.
"Want to mark you up. I won't be gentle," Derek promised, low and filthy. "I want to put you on your face and fuck you so hard you can't walk for days."
Stiles gulped, arching off the bed as his body reacted to those words. "S-sweet talker."
"I want to ruin you." The words rumbled through the room, harsh and guttural.
A little breathless with anticipation, Stiles made sure Derek was looking right at him when he slowly, deliberately, dragged his finger through the ash ring around the bed, breaking the circle.
Derek was on him in an instant, whole body pressed hot and heavy against Stiles' as he bit and licked, reducing Stiles to a whiny, needy mess. His fingers gripped hard, leaving marks that would bruise, places for Stiles to poke at proudly in the coming weeks. To take pictures of while they were both trapped at their respective jobs, a little tease to get them through the work day.
But no matter how he worked his hips, no matter how much he tried, Derek couldn't get his dick in Stiles' ass. It slid along Stiles' taint and then glanced off, away, unable to pass through the ash around his rim. Derek snarled, snapping his hips, ripping at the bedding as he was denied his goal.
Stiles wriggled around until he was on his front, then pushed up onto his knees, presenting for his lover. He waggled his ass in the air, delighting in the primal sounds that ripped from Derek's throat as he started to lose control.
"Yeah, baby. It's yours. All yours. Come get it…"
Derek gripped his hips, his claws pressing dents into Stiles' skin but not breaking it. Not yet.
Stiles felt the bed shift as Derek thrust behind him and then… and then there was a different sound. A mingling of pleasure and pain like the sounds Derek always made when Stiles edged him until he came untouched.
Like whatever he was feeling was so good it hurt.
Twisting as much as he could, Stiles looked back and watched as Derek thrust forward again. His dick hit the magic field around Stiles' ass, the very air crackling around the dark, gleaming head.
"Jesus," Stiles whispered, pressing back without thought. "Is it… shocking you?"
"N-no. Pressure and...I can feel it. I can feel the magic. Stiles, god, please…" Derek pushed harder, then eased off before thrusting again. And again.
And then, without warning, he was touching Stiles' ass with the head of his dick, pushing through the ash until there was a popping in the air like the entire room had lost a thousand feet of altitude or something. Stiles shook all over, keening wildly as Derek pushed and pushed, driving all the way into Stiles' ass in one long, steady thrust.
There was no more gentleness then. Derek kept his promise, thrusting deep and hard, nearly savage as he snapped his hips, rolling his back to put more power into each thrust, his hands digging into Stiles' hips and yanking him into each thrust. Pulling him back and pushing him forward until Stiles' every breath was a sob of overwhelmed need.
And then Stiles, worked up for days, came, screaming Derek's name as his ass clenched tight, milking Derek until he went roaring into his own orgasm. They shook against each other, hips still working raggedly as they each chased that last little bit of pure pleasure before their bodies couldn't take anymore.
Derek gathered Stiles close, rubbing his face over every bit of pale skin on his neck and chest, marking his up, scenting him desperately. Stiles just lay there, wrecked. He shivered and shook, hands convulsively gripping any part of Derek he could reach.
But eventually his brain cleared enough that thoughts began to process again. And where one thought broke through, a flood of thoughts followed until he was shaking for a whole new, frightening reason. "Derek," he rasped, voice ruined.
Derek snuffled at his hair, still making little growly noises.
"Derek, babe. We need to… Deaton. We need to talk to Deaton."
"Shhh." Derek squeezed him until Stiles squeaked a little. "Tomorrow. Is anniversary tonight."
And okay, that awesome example of eloquence hid a good point. "First thing in the morning. Happy anniversary, baby," Stiles murmured, snuggling closer against Derek's delightfully furry chest, rubbing the tip of his nose in it, soothing himself right to sleep.
"...the leather flogger and leather gloves and... " Stiles trailed off when Deaton turned on his heel, walking out of the room. "Where's he going?"
Derek, ears a little red, just brushed his palm over the back of Stiles' neck, thumb brushing over a livid bruise and sending a flare of tingling pain skittering along Stiles' spine. "Pretty sure you detailing our activities for each of our anniversaries was a bit much for him."
Stiles' mouth hung open for a moment as he replayed the last few minutes and then he closed it with a snap, coughing a little sheepishly before calling out, "Sorry, doc!"
Deaton calmly walked back into the room, a kitten in one hand and a fistful of needles in the other. "Every time you overshare," Deaton said, his voice smooth and flat, "I'll give Snickers another one of his vaccines."
Stiles felt the blood drain from his face as horror twisted through him. Only Derek's soothing rumble kept him in the room.
"Now, would you like to concisely explain your presence in my clinic?"
"Derek broke through a mountain ash barrier last night!" Stiles blurted, wide eyes locked onto the kitten that was unconcernedly bathing Deaton's hand.
Deaton's eyebrows went up -- the most expressive Stiles could ever remember him being -- and he looked between them both before nodding. "Expound on that. Choose your words carefully."
"I, um, put ash around, uh," Stiles sweated nervously, eyes trained on where Deaton was fondling a needle. Logically he knew Snickers was going to get the vaccine regardless, but… "Around me?" He slumped in relief when Deaton didn't immediately stab Snickers with a sharp pointy needle.
"Were you in danger?"
Stiles looked up, examining the ceiling tiles. "Noooo?"
"Did you want to keep Derek out of the circle?"
Stiles pursed his lips. "I mean. That was the point?"
"Derek, may I see your eyes?"
Derek glanced at Stiles before twitching his neck and allowing his eyes to flare blue. Stiles' dick only twitched a little in his pants.
Deaton rubbed his hand over his head, exchanging a long look with Derek. "Okay. I think it's safe to say, unless Derek repeats this feat with a mountain ash user a bit more dedicated to keeping him out than his overly sexed husband--"
"No such thing."
"--that we needn't worry about having two True Alphas in one territory."
Stiles and Derek both let out twin sighs of relief.
"However, Mr. Stilinski, I would caution you against using such a valuable resource in your… bedroom activities. Mountain ash is too precious to squander."
"Uh huh," Stiles hummed distractedly, already pushing Derek toward the exit. Not that he had to push too hard. Derek was moving easily, just as eager to be away from weirdo Deaton as Stiles was.
When they were out front, Stiles stopped Derek with a hand in his shirt. Bunching the material excitedly in his fist, Stiles dragged Derek into a hot, wet, deep kiss in the middle of the parking lot. When they finally broke apart, both of them worked up and ready for more, Stiles whispered huskily, "Baby, don't listen to him. The man is a quack. You may not be an alpha, but your dick totally broke that circle. You know what this means?"
"I get a blow job?" Derek guessed, eyes darkening with lust.
"Well, I mean yeah. That too. But! It means your dick is a True Dick. The one true dick. The dick to rule them all."
Derek huffed, rolling his eyes.
But Stiles knew his man. The way Derek's shoulders straightened and his chest pushed forward? Oh yeah. He totally liked the thought of his dick having super powers.
Which, honestly? The way it could make Stiles come untouched? Totally the One True Dick.
And it was all Stiles'.
Yep, Derek had a blow job coming in his very near future. Possibly even on the ride home.