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Mating Moons

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**Stiles POV** OCTOBER

It started out as a prank. Stiles hadn’t seen a lot of Derek in the past couple weeks and decided he was going to “surprise” him by jumping out at him from the backseat of his car. It was pretty hard to sneak up on a werewolf at the best of times, but he had a fool proof plan that he may or may not have conned Lydia into helping him with. It was simple, after their next pack meeting while Derek was still inside the loft brooding about whatever ill-advised scheme they were currently hatching (whether it be against evil or just what to do that Friday night), Stiles was going to sneak down and clamber into the floorboard of the Camaro’s backseat and cover himself with the blanket which always seems to be there and which would hopefully mask his scent from Derek’s super nose. Eventually, Derek would leave to go run some arbitrary errand and whenever he got to his destination, Stiles was going to jump up and scare him. Laughing would ensue, glowering would commence, balance and peace would be restored to the kingdom. Especially peace since Derek had been acting more surly and taciturn of late, contributing even less to pack meetings than before. Stiles felt this loss of bad ideas and interpretive eyebrow communication keenly and he hoped his little prank would earn him some much needed banter from his sweet sourwolf.

The pack meeting came and nothing too dire was harassing the community of Beacon Hills. There were some witches in town, but as things went, there always seemed to be some witches in town. Stiles was only vaguely aware of the pack’s discussion of them once it had been decided to give them immunity until they proved themselves unworthy of it. The biggest issue of the meeting seemed to be what they were going to go for pack night on Friday and as the others bounced ideas over their heads, Stiles kept giving Lydia knowing, manic looks which she industriously ignored or rolled her eyes at. She was so done with his shit, but as a true friend she would allow him his folly, especially since it afforded her an entire week without having to see him in plaid (they’d made a deal and Stiles was only marginally concerned with what he would actually have to put on his body when you took plaid out of his wardrobe).

As the end of the meeting approached, Stiles slipped Lydia his keys discreetly about ten minutes before he figured they’d break up to go off their separate ways. He’d been watching Derek the entire meeting and besides two confused glances towards Stiles (who, as he said, had been watching Derek pretty keenly) he’d continued to be silent and withdrawn from the pack. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, skulking around the edge of the group behind Scott and chewing absently on one of his fingernails. His entire posture seemed uneasy, like he was fighting being slightly ill. Stiles briefly thought maybe he should scrap the whole plan, but shook off the idea almost immediately. This was going to work and Derek was going to stop being weirder than normal, damn it.

When the meeting came to an end, Stiles saw Derek draw Scott away from everyone and talk quietly to him. Narrowing his eyes, he watched the two converse with heads bent conspiratorially before Lydia tugged his shirt and walked out the loft door allowing him to follow her trail. He grinned to himself with the excitement of his plan gearing into action, forgetting about what secrets Derek and Scott might have with one another. Their discussion didn’t involve him and if it was truly important or juicy, he knew Scott would spill it to him later over video games without pause.

The underground parking lot was the perfect temperature despite the chilly breeze that reigned the land above it. Stiles face split into a shit eating grin as he spied Derek’s Camaro and he waved to Lydia as they parted ways. He started towards Derek’s car instead of his own, feeling a bounce in his step. Stiles opened the passenger’s side door and pulled the seat forward so he would crawl into the back. ‘This is not nearly as roomy as I thought it would be. No way he could fuck anyone back here’ Stiles thought to himself, picking up the black cotton blanket and easing the door shut and the seat back in place. He then wedged himself behind Derek’s seat and settled in to wait. He knew this would possibly be a long game situation, so he’d brought some gum and a bottle of water. He also made sure his phone was fully charged so he could play games under the blanket during his wait. There was a decent chance that Derek would smell him in the car when he got in but he was hoping all the times he’d been a passenger would help confuse his nose as much as Stiles having the blanket covering him would.

Before long the wait became too much. Stiles wasn’t a patient person at the best of times and he should’ve known from the few times he’d done a stakeout with the pack that this sit-and-wait game was not on his skill set. His initial energy and excitement began to fade as he felt his eyes growing heavier where he slouched against the backseat. ‘A little nap won’t hurt’ he thought to himself, yawning widely and scooting further into the crevice between the rows. ‘I’ll hear him get in.’ Sleep overtook Stiles and the last thing he would remember was the warm smell of leather that lingered near Derek’s seat and the feel of the cotton blanket over his head, cocooning him in a muted, blissful silence far from the outside world.

When he awoke, Stiles was spidey-sense told him that he was not in Kansas anymore… well, the garage really, but same difference. He could hear cicadas singing loudly outside and though the interior of the car was still dim, it was with the blue glow of dusk instead of the muted shadows of subterranean parking. He lifted himself off the floor board and craned his neck to look out the passenger’s window, using the seat to hopefully continue his concealment until he could get his bearings. The last traces of sunlight could be seen winking through tree branches as he took in his surroundings. Derek had parked outside of a small two story cabin in the middle of a small clearing between mountains and forest. The trees were more of a mix of evergreen and deciduous than Stiles was used to seeing on the Preserve or around Beacon Hills so Derek must’ve driven damn near to Oregon to reach this place. Worry started tickling his mind as he wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake to do this prank today. He also was wondering how long he was asleep and where the Hell he was. If Stiles’ bladder’s discomfort had anything to say about it, he’d been asleep for at least five hours. This was quickly followed by the grumble of his empty stomach which seemed to confirm his suspicions. ‘Well, Derek will sure be surprised now!’ he thought, climbing out of the backseat and opening the car door. He shimmied out and hadn’t even finished brushing off the back of his pants before he heard Derek from the porch.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” Derek’s voice growled.

Stiles jumped and spun to face Derek. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and was standing barefoot in his jeans on the cabin’s wide porch. Stiles gaped for a minute, eyes running over the manicured, but hairy chest and stomach, trailing down each dip of muscle definition and stopping at the point where the V-cut in his abs disappeared beneath his low slung jeans. Stiles heart couldn’t deal with the blood flow demand not breathing and being instantly aroused was causing in him. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times as he continued to stare. Derek rolled his eyes and stalked towards him off the porch. The bunch and dip of the jean’s waist line on Derek’s hips did not help Stiles form coherent, platonic thoughts.

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, stopping in front of him and waving his hand in front of Stiles face. “My eyes are up here, Stiles. What are you doing here?”

Stiles snapped his eyes up guiltily, meeting Derek’s which were overshadowed by his deep scowl. He smiled sheepishly and coughed.

“Uh… surprise?” he said lamely, making jazz hands by his face. Derek’s scowl deepened impossibly.

“You need to go, Stiles. It isn’t safe for you to be out here.” Derek started, his hands grasping Stiles’ shoulders to push him away, but Stiles dug in his heels.

“Whoa, how am I going to do that? I came here with you in your car! I don’t have a way to leave. Besides,” he gritted his teeth and pushed past Derek to start towards the cabin, “I have got to piss like a racehorse. The least you could do is let a pack member use your restroom.”

“Stiles, you’re in the woods you can piss on a tree , so -- Wait, Stiles, NO!” Derek lunged toward him, hand outstretched to grab him, but Stiles felt it coming and sprinted the remaining few feet onto the cabin’s porch. When he did, he felt a strange tug at his naval that distinctly did not feel natural. He turned to look at Derek, the triumph at beating him onto porch dying as he took in the expression on Derek’s face. Derek looked aghast; shock molding his eyes wide and his mouth open as he looked at Stiles from the yard. Stiles suddenly wished he was a different person because this was beginning to feel like a situation he could’ve easily avoided, but didn’t due to who he was fundamentally as a person. Derek, meanwhile, just stared silently from the front lawn, frozen in his expression of dawning horror.

“Derek, what was that?” Stiles asked, his voice straining for a calm he wasn’t sure existed while standing still and darting his eyes around for unseen enemies. Time unfroze for Derek and suddenly he was a ball of action on the lawn. Derek paced and stamped his feel, cursing and covering his face with his hands, bending at the waist and yelling into his knees. Stiles scowled and stalked forward to reprimand Derek for this insensitive, explosive behavior when he felt himself being thrown on to his ass and back onto the porch the second his foot tried to step off. He cursed and rubbed his tailbone where it had hit one of the top steps. He looked towards where Derek was staring at him through his fingers, momentarily frozen again by the action.


“Goddamnit, Stiles. Only you.” Derek cursed, dragging his fingers through his hair. He sighed in defeat and walked up onto the porch next to where Stiles was standing. His sudden acceptance to whatever was occurring jarred Stiles slightly but the tug on his naval again as soon as Derek passed the first step caused him to bodily jerk.

“Welcome to the cabin, Stiles. You’re stuck here with me until we mate or kill each other because this is the Hunter’s moon and you have, unknowingly but not unsurprisingly, stumbled into an ancient werewolf ritual that would have been a thousand times easier without your presence.” Derek waited a beat for the information to sink in. Stiles stared up at him in disbelief and the beginning of anger fueled by his hurt feelings at Derek’s insinuation he was not wanted.

“What the fuck?” Stiles started, staring up at Derek from the floor where he’d stayed since the force field had pelted him there. He took in Derek’s serious expression. He let himself ignore the slight about things being easier without him to focus on the real problem at hand. “Okay, so… Mate or die? Those are the two options?”

“Until February anyway. If we last until then, the ritual may end unsuccessful and let us go. Most werewolves historically would use this time to find out if they were compatible enough for a life bond by bringing their potential mates here for uninterrupted alone time for the winter. The cabin enforced living together and cooperating for long, boring stretches of time.” Derek explained, tone resigned as he watched Stiles take in the implications. Stiles eyes unfocused as a myriad of ways of fill long stretches of silence began to filter though his mind and he stared into the blank space in front of him.

“Please tell me you have Netflix” Stiles whispered, finally starting to get up from the floor by gathering his arms and legs beneath him, only barely glancing towards Derek while still ruminating on how long exactly he would be stuck here.

“This isn’t a joke, Stiles. I came here alone because without a second person, the ritual would have defaulted and I could’ve left tomorrow morning. I’m not stocked for a long stay.” Derek had stopped Stiles from getting up by pushing him back down with his foot on his chest. Stiles glared at it until Derek lifted it up gingerly. Stiles did not notice what perfect feet Derek Hale possessed and would never feel a slight zing of arousal from being held down in such a demeaning way. That’s what he would repeat to himself until he died despite his body’s betrayal in responding otherwise. He did lift his eyes, finally focusing on Derek’s unforgiving, but handsome face.

“Okay. Well, please tell me one of us gets cell-service because if we can’t leave til February someone is going to have to bring us supplies. I love you as a co-Alpha of Beacon Hills to Scott, but I’m not ready to be your meal.” Stiles got up slowly, checking his pocket for his phone and finding it close to dead. He didn’t think he had enough signal for a phone call, but he would try to text out. “Where the fuck are we, btw?”

“Modoc National Forest.”

“What the fuck, Man! Do you know where that is!?” Stiles started pacing, chewing on his thumbnail in front of Derek. For his part, Derek just watched him with a resigned look on his face.

“Yes, Stiles, I sure do. I drove here, remember?”

“Fuck. FUCK! Okay, I’m going to text Scott and have him tell my dad where I am and then circle the wagons and get him up here to bring us food. Will it fuck anything up if he comes up here?” Stiles asked, stopping to look at Derek who was considering his plan and looking at the porch rails.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, he’ll have to pee in the bushes when he gets here if he has any urges along those lines, but he should be able to push food past the magical boundary of the cabin without getting sucked into the magic. You might mention he bring lube.” Derek added as an afterthought, still looking around.

“WHAT?!” Stiles screeched, scrambling away from Derek who watched him with a grin.

“I’m just kidding. He can come into the house. He just can’t stay long term. 24 hours I think is the max before the house will eject someone who isn’t part of the potential mating pair.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT, DEREK! LUBE!?” Stiles screeched, feeling a bit done with Derek’s attitude. Derek just fixed him with a look like he was behaving badly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, for starters, in case we do randomly decide to mate I’m pretty sure one of us will want more than spit to smooth the way. And if we don’t decide to mate, that’s still about five months trapped in a cabin without internet. A person has needs. Those needs don’t include chafing.” Stiles just stared at Derek for what seemed like an eternity. Long enough for Derek to snort and walk into the house, leaving Stiles on the porch in the growing cold of Northern California in fall. He stared out at the clearing for a moment, phone forgotten in his hand as he wrestled with whether Derek was joking about the lube or not (and for that matter, the possibility of him using it to slick himself up in preparation for entering Stiles’ ass). Probably, but Stiles didn’t want to admit that the idea of Derek doing just about anything in conjunction with Stiles’ backside was probably in the top five of his favorite masturbation fantasies. Derek didn’t need to know that and Scott sure as hell didn’t need to mental image of it, but Stiles still thought the lube was probably a good call. A bottle with a pump handle would be optimum. Maybe two bottles because Derek did not need to know how much Stiles masturbated. Stiles looked back down at his phone and quickly typed his message to Scott, fingers crossed as soon as he hit send. He fisted the air when a minute or two later he heard the tell-tale ‘PING!’ of a new message.

Stiles: (sent) Hey, so…. Trapped in a cabin with Derek six hours away, bring us foods and lube.
Scott: (received)Ha ha. Good one. So what are you doing tonight, man?
Stiles: (sent) Being trapped in a fucking cabin with Derek fucking Hale six fucking hours away. For fuck’s sake, Scott.
Stiles: (picture sent)
Stiles: (sent) Bring fucking food and lube. I’ll explain when you get here. Also, tell my dad I’m safely stuck in some supernatural bullshit until February. Don’t tell him that if I come home earlier it will be with a sore ass and a life partner.
Scott: (received)OMFG Stiles. Hunter’s Moon. FUCK! Okay. I probably won’t get away tonight, but I’ll head out first thing in the morning.
Stiles: (sent) Thanks man.
Scott: (received)Also…. Ew. Just ew. Don’t ever talk about having a sore ass because of Derek Hale ever again to me. Ew.
Stiles: (sent) Shut up or someday I’ll tell you how I became your pack mom. ;)
Scott: (received)Ugh, you’re getting seriously close to starving, man. See you tomorrow.

Satisfied they wouldn’t starve indefinitely, Stiles finally turned and stalked into the cabin. His eyes bugged as soon as he passed the threshold and took in the interior. It was the kind of cabin that would be on HGTV if it had five more bedrooms and ten more floors. The walls were made of gleaming logs and the front door opened to small entryway that lead to a wide living area dominated by a two-sided fire place of large river stone. One side of the fireplace faced into a living area with plush leather couches and wood-and-iron accent pieces all toned in rich dark browns, blacks, and tans with highlights of turquoise and red. The other side of the fireplace looked like it backed into an eating area which faced the back of the house. The back of the house was attached to a large sleeping porch which had wall-sized sliding doors that could be opened for open-air dining. The kitchen was to the right of the living area, with lighter colored granite counter tops and a gas range. There were stairs directly to the left of the door that lead upwards and when Stiles traveled farther into the living room and turned, he could see that they went up to an open loft area that overlooked the center of the house.

“Jesus Christ, why don’t you live here all the time? This place is amazing!” Stiles exclaimed, not knowing where Derek was but knowing that Derek would hear him. He heard rustling from behind him and turned to see Derek carrying firewood in from a side door that opened to a pantry and a secluded side porch between the kitchen and the back area of the house. He smirked at Stiles as he put down the wood next to the fire place and began building a fire.

“Because this is a baby making cabin, Stiles. I don’t know if you noticed the distinct lack of neighbors, but there would be no one for miles with which to make babies if I lived here full-time.” Derek explained, smirking. “Also, it’s been in the Hale family for a long time despite its updates. This is where we send mates with relationship problems, potential mates for Hunter’s moon, and, as I said, making babies. Who knows how many generations of Hales have been bred here. It’s not just my house, it’s my families, my packs. It wouldn’t be right for me to monopolize it.” He looked fondly at the walls of the cabin, taking a break in his fire building to seemingly wrap himself up in the history of the place. Stiles grimaced inwardly and looked around. His being here was almost a mockery of the rich history this place held for Derek. He was almost sorry he’d ever thought of the stupid prank that brought him here. Derek, for his part, was changing drastically from how he’d been recently. His shoulders were relaxed and he seemed more open than usual. Stiles couldn’t regret any of his actions, however, if he’d been party in some small way to Derek being sociable again even if it was a complete one-eighty from when they’d been outside the cabin less than an hour ago.

“So did you get in touch with Scott?” Derek asked, breaking his reverie and bringing Stiles attention back to where he was knelt on the floor. Stiles tried not to notice that as well as shirtless, Derek seemed to also be missing a pair of underwear if the swell of his muscular butt peeking out from his jeans had anything to say about it. Stiles thought if he shifted his weight just a little towards the kitchen he might see the barest hint of butt crack…which should not turn him on or make him feel warm inside, but God if that wasn’t just the case….

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles paused to swallow the near mouthful of saliva that had erupted from the sight of Derek on his knees looking expectantly at Stiles, “He said he won’t be able to make it out til tomorrow sometime, but he’s definitely coming. I told him…uh… about the lube. I wasn’t sure if you were joking or not.” Stiles finished, blush making its way up his collar and into his cheeks. Derek stared at him for a moment and then nodded, going back to his work. He struck a match on the side of the fireplace and threw it into the kindling.

Stiles stared at him for a moment, his blush turning from embarrassed to exasperated at the lack of comment either way as to whether Derek was thinking about fucking him or not. He pinched his lips shut to keep from saying something and started giving himself a tour of the house, opening every single door he came across whether cabinet or closet and only giving what was inside the most fleeting of looks.

He was pleased to see Derek had been lying about not being stocked because even though it wouldn’t last until February, the food he had would definitely last a month or so. The cabin didn’t have a dishwasher, but when Stiles found the tankless water heater, his soul soared. Exhausting the possibilities of downstairs, he tentatively began moving towards the stairs, watching Derek’s back for any sign that he wasn’t allowed to go up there. When Derek continued to tend to his fire without so much as a twitch in his direction, he scampered up the steep stairwell quickly.

The bedroom was small and looked down into the main living area. It also had a skylight that Stiles hadn’t been able to see from downstairs that looked up into the crystal clear night sky. The bed was positioned directly under it and seemed to be a king-size platform style. He sat on the mattress and moaned quietly, flinging himself back and luxuriating in his absolute ideal mix of softness and firmness. He hoped Derek wouldn’t mind sharing because he wasn’t sure he would be able to ever get off of this bed again. He might mate with Derek just to have his face shoved into this mattress, it felt so good.

Grinning to himself over his silliness, he sat up and looked around. There were two double doors across from the bed and another to the side of the bed near the front of the house. Stiles opened the one closest to the bed and found a cedar lined closet with extra linens and space for clothes to hang or be folded. Derek’s stuff was already hanging orderly in the closet and there seemed to be more than a day’s worth, making Stiles believe Derek wanted to stay here for a little while longer than he’d originally told Stiles. Pushing that to the back of his mind for later inquiry, Stiles walked out of the closet and to the double doors on the other side of the bedroom. When he pulled open both doors in a grand gesture, he found himself looking into the master bath. It had a large two-person Jacuzzi style tub, a large stone lined shower with multiple shower heads and a stone bench, a water closet that held the toilet and a single vanity with a large mirror. The color scheme seemed to be rustic, romantic retreat with live plants set into different spots in the room to give it a forest grotto feel. Stiles appreciated it aesthetically and could see how this would appeal to baby-making wolves.

“They spared no expense making this a love haven, huh?” Derek quipped from behind Stiles right shoulder, making him jump and flail as he turned around. Derek seemed to be laughing at him. He was still bare-chested and Stiles was still hopelessly distracted by the sight of him, but now the sight was coupled with the smoky smell of fire and Stiles had to pinch himself to stop from pressing his face against Derek’s skin to breathe him in. Stiles didn’t think Derek could look or smell any more attractive, but apparently he hadn’t been camping with him because this was driving Stiles a little bonkers.

“If you want me to have a civil conversation with you, you might want to put on a shirt.” Stiles sassed, glaring at Derek’s face once he convinced his body not to over react to the attractive, easily accessible, mostly naked man in front of him. But for a little denim, Derek’s body was on display for Stiles enjoyment and it was beginning to become a problem for him. Derek laughed, brushing past Stiles and into the bathroom. Stiles wondered if Derek intentionally gave him that extra second to admire to broad back and the taper of his waist before he turned, smiling, at Stiles.

“If you don’t want to see me naked, you should probably leave the bathroom. I need a shower. I made sandwiches downstairs and the fires going.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. Derek smirked and popped the button on his jeans. Stiles saw the beginning of Derek’s dark curls and fled the upstairs, his cheeks hot and his cock rushing to fill with blood. He could hear Derek laughing behind him and then the hiss of the shower turning on. This was definitely a different Derek than the stoic creature of Beacon Hills. This was a fun, teasing, sexy Derek that wasn’t brooding or particularly angry. Stiles didn’t know how to handle a Derek who wouldn’t seemingly reject him if he decided to try and flirt or make a move. It threw Stiles off his game and he was determined to regroup while he ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had been left for him on the counter.

After his sandwich, Stiles found a throw blanket and took it with him onto the outside back porch. He nested with the blanket on a large daybed-turned-sofa and found himself staring up at the sky and wishing he’d brought a book or something. He heard Derek step onto the porch and glanced back at him. He was standing there in a towel, hair still dripping onto his shoulders from his shower. He wasn’t looking at Stiles, but past him at the night sky and the large, orange moon that dominated it. It seemed that his entire body tuned towards the bright orb and there was an almost tangible string of energy between the two.

“You know, this is one of the few moons I can choose whether or not to shift on.” He said quietly, still not looking at Stiles but walking farther onto the porch and closer to the screened windows. Stiles watched him silently, trying to gauge his mood.

“The reason is because of humans. Were’s can take a human mate, but sometimes in bygone days, the human didn’t know that their mate was a were. So we’d bring them up here to show them and give them a chance to accept us. But the moon’s pull…when you’re shifted… it’s intense and the actions are so much more animal than at any other time. It’s hard to keep your humanity on a full moon shift. So, while the ritual was going on, the magic that bound the mates to the house also let the wolves stay inside their human skin without any of the ill-effects that could be experienced when outside of the enchantment. But even now, when I know I shouldn’t shift and I don’t have to, I feel the moon calling for me and it’s like getting a love letter you can’t respond to.”

Stiles didn’t answer him. He didn’t know how to console or empathize with Derek’s feelings and Derek didn’t seem to feel any need to expand further on his sentiments. He just stood there, loosely clutching his towel in one of his hands and staring out across the forest at the moon as she moved through the sky. A shockingly cold wind blew through the porch and Stiles shivered slightly, feeling his skin erupt in goose pimples. When he looked to where Derek was bathed in moonlight he could see that the Were was completely unaffected. The slight shiver from Stiles did seem to draw Derek’s attention back to the present. He turned and looked at Stiles huddled under the inadequate throw blanket.

“Go warm yourself by the fire, Stiles. I didn’t build it for me.” He instructed quietly. Stiles was about to object, but Derek turned back to the sky seeming to retreat again into his silent communion with the moon. Stiles sighed and got up, dragging the blanket with him as he wandered back into the cabin and settled himself in the dim living room on one of the leather sofas in front of the fire. His eyes started to droop despite his long nap from earlier and he blamed the stress of the situation that he was exhausted so. His eyes slipped shut as his body basked in the soft, flickering light of the fire, his skin warming and his body growing heavier as sleep pushed aside consciousness to reign for a while.

When Stiles awoke later, the fire was a bed of embers. He dug himself out of his nest on the couch and put another couple logs on the fire to keep it going until morning. The cold had started to seep into the cabin and he was chilled when he got too far from the fires warmth. After he saw the logs start to catch, he stood and shuffled to look out onto the back porch. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but finding it empty worried him for a moment. He looked around to see if he could spot Derek, wondering if he’d decided to shift anyway, until he heard the rustling of a sheet upstairs. Calming himself, he left the blanket on the sofa and padded his way upstairs to the bedroom.

Derek was sprawled naked on his stomach across half of the bed, one leg bent up and his arms flung out from his body. He was sound asleep and Stiles suddenly wished there was more light in the room. He could make out the outline of Derek’s form against the white sheets and the barest hint of red glow from the fire light downstairs that clung to the highest crests of his body, but not enough for Stiles’ poor human eyes to truly appreciate what he was sure was a wondrous sight (and in a position that usually was seen at the beginning of his favorite porns). The dimness didn’t stop him from standing at the foot of the bed and trying to memorize everything that he could see. He knew it was wrong, but after a minute his mind began to go to very dirty places and he had to shake himself back into the present in order not to pop a full-fledged boner over Derek’s inert form.

Sighing and cursing his twenty-one year old hormones, he walked over to the unoccupied side of the bed and pulled back the cover and sheet, briefly debating whether to disrobe or not. While he wasn’t as comfortable as Derek to go au natural, he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy sleeping in his hoodie and jeans either, especially if he was going to have to wear them every day for the foreseeable future. So he tugged off his jeans and hoodie, leaving his shirt on due to the chillness of the room. He left his socks on as well to help him retain some warmth. Scooting into bed, he once again found himself groaning over the mattress, stretching his limbs and arranging himself half sprawled on his stomach in a pose very similar to Derek’s but with much more in the way of modesty. He buried his face in the pillow and breathed in a heavy sigh. It wasn’t his pillow, but it would have to do. Hopefully Scott would think to bring his…and a change of underwear or five. He slipped again into sleep, the quiet of the cabin lulling him as surely as the pops and crackles of the fire downstairs.

Stiles awoke sweating and fighting to get free. There was a large weight on his back and a hand grasping his throat. He struggled to open his eyes, but when he did all he saw was the cabin wall staring back at him. He remembered where he was. He also remembered who he was sharing a bed with. Derek had apparently plastered himself to Stiles back sometime in the night. The blanket was thrown aside and Stiles was suddenly very grateful he’d left the sheet where it was when he felt Derek’s morning wood being gently nudged against the crack of his ass while the werewolf apparently dreamed. The hand on his neck was a little more disconcerting when it randomly clenched and unclenched without warning. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt Stiles or shut off his breathing, but it was still worrisome.

Stiles laid there and tried to think of the most tactful way to get out of this situation. Derek was obviously dead to the world asleep and while his sleep-induced ministrations felt awfully nice to Stiles, he wasn’t sure this was how Derek would want to go about forming a mate bond. Would it still count if Derek did it in his sleep? Almost as if to flirt with the idea, Derek snuffled closer to Stiles, pressing him further into the mattress as he buried his face into Stiles hairline and neck. Stiles own morning wood seemed to feel it was time to give a throb of salutation, causing Stiles to reach between himself and the bed and give it a quick squeeze. Derek’s hand that was not on Stiles throat began to wander and briefly Stiles wondered what it was doing when he felt the sheet being gathered slowly up his thigh. He squeaked and tried to push Derek off of him, but was rewarded with a firm squeeze to his neck and a growl in his ear. Whimpering, but staying still, Stiles let Derek do what he wished. He felt the sheet gathered up to around his hips and then Derek’s cock was leaving a smear of precum on the back of his thigh. His fingers found the leg hem of Stiles boxers and he teased along the edge, slipping under barely to smooth over Stiles thigh. Stiles shut his eyes and held back the moan in his throat, knowing he should speak up soon and wake Derek up to his actions but also wanting as much fuel for the next five months of self-spanking he could get.

Before he could bring himself to speak, however, Derek moved the leg of Stiles boxers out of way and Stiles felt Derek pressing the head of his dick into the tight space between his thighs, thrusting slow to smear more precum around to ease his way. While undeniably one of the hottest things Stiles had ever experienced by one of the hottest guys on the planet, Stiles was afraid this was bordering a little too close to rape for his taste and knew Derek would not be okay with this when he awoke.

“Uhh, Derek” he stammered, one of his own hands covering the one Derek still had splayed across his throat. Derek’s next thrust was a little harder, moving his dick further in between Stiles thighs.

“Fuck, Stiles….” Derek moaned burying his face into Stiles shoulder as he ground his dick further into the space, the head nudging the back of Stiles balls.

“Derek!” Stiles cried in surprise, pushing again to dislodge Derek from his back. Derek seemed to wake up, his hips stilling and his grip loosening from where it held Stiles against him. They paused for a moment, the situation going from dream to reality for one of them quite quickly. Derek practically leapt off of Stiles’ back, scrambling to a far corner of the room. Stiles turned and stared at him, wide eyed. Stiles took in the naked muscle and the angry red cock surrounded by dark curls. Stiles knew in his dreams, Derek’s embarrassment would not be present, but he felt himself blush at how far he’d let it go before stopping. Derek looked mortified, staring at the wet spot between Stiles thighs. Stiles rolled onto his back and sat up onto his elbows. He looked at Derek without anger, not wanting to make Derek feel worse about something he hadn’t been aware he was doing.

“Hey Der, it’s okay. I know you were asleep. It’s cool, man.” He started, holding his hands up as if to show he was physically okay towards Derek. Derek just shook his head and went into the bathroom, the click of the lock sounding loudly in Stiles ears. He stared at the door for a moment until he could hear the shower turn on. He sighed and sat up, looking down at his own hard, leaking cock tenting his boxers.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Not this morning. Let’s go pee off the front porch.” He said, addressing his cock and waiting for some of the blood to dissipate out of it before getting up and heading downstairs to make good on his promise. He didn’t think Derek would let him into the bathroom during his Shame Shower.

After his morning pee, Stiles wandered into the kitchen to see what he could scrounge up for breakfast. He found some eggbeaters in the fridge, a jar of roasted red peppers, and some cheese. Omelets would be the fair for this morning, he decided. He waited for Derek to come down and was a little relieved when he did, dressed from head to..well, ankle. He was still walking around barefoot, but at least he had pants and a shirt on. Stiles smiled at him brightly, ignoring his embarrassed expression and rosy cheeks, while pushing his omelet towards him across the counter.

“Breakfast is served, my friend!” he smiled and Derek smiled shyly back, grabbing his plate and taking it to the dining area along with a mug of black coffee. Stiles followed him and sat across from him at the square table. They ate in silence for a while, each staring down into their plates with unusual intensity. When Derek finished, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and cleared his throat, looking Stiles in the face when he spoke.

“I want to say that I’m really sorry about this morning. I, uh… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to almost rape you. That was wrong and I’m sorry.” He finished, perhaps a little lamely, blush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Stiles stared at him for a minute.

“Okay, so how about I counter with this… I forgive you because I knew you were asleep and that’s why I woke you. I knew you wouldn’t want it to be rapey. But, on the other hand, that was totally fucking hot and this is me giving you future consent to have sleepy intercrural sex with me. Or frottage. Or hand jobs. Or blowies. Just no sleep penetration because that is seriously a little rapey at this point in our friendship. But the rest of it… yeah. I could dig that.” Stiles ended his tirade with a sip of his coffee, secretly enjoying the wolf’s stunned expression. He didn’t expect the scowl that followed however.

“Stiles, this is the kind of shit that leads to mating.” Derek admonished, leaning back in his chair and continuing his scowl of disapproval. Stiles adopted the unapologetic expression he’d learned from Lydia when one was challenging someone else’s preconceived notion of acceptable behavior.

“Would that be the worst thing to ever happen to you?” he asked, distracting himself by cutting off another bite of his omelet while he waited for a response. Derek just stared at him in silence, however, until Stiles finished his omelet and coffee at which point he grabbed the dishes and took them back to the kitchen. Stiles sighed and stayed sitting at the table, staring out the windows at the morning sun across the grass. After a minute he was surprised to hear Derek approaching again and looked up to see him offering him a second cup of coffee. He accepted it and set it on the table to cool as Derek took a chair beside him instead of across.

“Stiles, I don’t think you understand what I mean by mating.” Stiles opened his mouth to protest but Derek silenced him with a look before continuing. “It’s not just about fucking, Stiles. It’s not just about putting piece A into slot B and pumping until there’s a finished product. Mating, especially during this period, is supposed to lead to a lifelong commitment for wolves. We could just fuck someone during this time, but what once is a fuck turns into something more rather quickly. The forced isolation is a big part of this ritual because it can’t stay as just fucking for long. You have to live and work next to another individual without distraction for 24 hours a day for five months. It’s supposed to be practice run for marriage and it only ends sooner than the five months if the couple gives each other the mating bite. It’s not a bite that would turn a human, but it’s certainly a permanent symbol that they agree to be a wolf’s true mate until death. I know you’d like to fuck me, Stiles. I’ve smelled you enough around me to get the picture. I’d like to fuck you too, to be fair. I think this morning proved I was in no way adverse to the idea. But I don’t think here in this cabin is a good idea.”

“Are you saying being mated to me really would be the worst thing to happen to you?” Stiles whispered, keeping his eyes lowered to the table top and feeling his heart beginning to crack under the pressure of imminent rejection. His crush on Derek had been absolute and long-standing and he hated to hear that Derek had known about it, maybe even reciprocated it to a point, but had never acted upon it because he found Stiles undesirable long term.

“What? No, Stiles! You’re amazing. But you’re also barely halfway through college and I’m this grumpy old man compared to you. I got to be crazy and wild and slutty and have all these inhumanly wonderful and terrible experiences already and you’ve barely got your foot out of the door. I don’t want you to end up mated to me on a whim and then regret never getting to be free of all this.” Derek finished with a flourish of his hands and Stiles stared at him. ’The audacity…’he thought before opening his mouth to speak.

“Derek, my best friend is one of the pack Alpha’s of my home town. Almost every friend I have is part of the pack. My dad knows about all this crazy supernatural stuff. I can’t ever be free, I know too much. That’s not to say I feel beholden to stay, but I just… couldn’t abandon my people on a whim. You’re part of my people. Bond or no, I wouldn’t abandon you and I wouldn’t make this kind of commitment to you because I’m feeling frisky. Not being able to be free of them means not being free of you. I don’t want the next forty years to be awkward. I don’t want another minute to be awkward… so what I’m saying is… if you want to have sleepy intercrural sex with me, that’s fine. Just no penetration while unconscious for either of us. Not until we’ve done it fully awake a few hundred times. And I’m not always going to be the bottom, sir. You can just toss that idea right out the window.” Stiles finished, sitting back and sipping his cup of coffee while he gauged Derek’s response.

Derek laughed at the serious expression on Stiles face, his own lit with a carefree joy Stiles had never seen on him before. He thought about the fact that he was basically saying he was okay with an eventual outcome where he and Derek got werewolf married and pretended to make babies on the regular. He’d basically just told Derek he was in love with him, and perhaps he’d always been and would be more than happy to spend his life with him.

“Okay… I will keep that under advisement. But seriously, Stiles… let’s not jump each other. Let’s take it slow. I don’t really know you outside of pack business very well, especially since you’ve been to college. Let’s just… I don’t know… hang out? See what happens? Is that okay to keep sex out of the equation for a few minutes?” Derek asked. Stiles watched him try to guage his reaction and inwardly he was huffing and stomping his feet, but he knew Derek was probably right. His impetuous nature got them into this mess, maybe he should actually listen to the guy so they could get out of it friendship intact (barring them becoming butt-buddies forever). Finally, Stiles nodded his ascent to the plan, trying not to let himself look too put out by the suggestion. Derek’s expression brightened considerably.

“So what do you want to do today then? Scott probably won’t be here for another 7 hours or so.” Derek asked, leaning forward and grinning at Stiles kind of dopily.

“Uh.. got any board games?”

“I think there’s some in one of the closets. Let’s go see what they’ve got…” Derek led the way to one of the closets under the loft’s overhang. After opening the door and flipping on the light, Stiles could see that there seemed to be every sexy board game every invented. Derek looked back over his shoulder at Stiles who was grinning at him in outright glee. There was no way Stiles wasn’t taking the opportunity to torture Derek with this.

“Grab the love dice and Truth or Dare – Sex Edition!” Stiles pushed past Derek and ducked into the closet, hands immediately closing on the large, stuffed di. He threw one in the air and caught it, reading the upturned word and grinning at Derek. “Suck…”

“Nope, no. Bad idea. Get out of the closet, Stiles” Derek rushed, grabbing the di out of Stiles hands and throwing them into the depths of the closet even as he pulled Stiles out of it. He slammed the door shut and stood in front of it to stop Stiles from going back in. Stiles was shaking and wheezing with laughter, hands on his thighs as he leaned against the back of the couch.

“Dude, your face….” The laughs began to turn silent as he took another look at Derek’s flushed, embarrassed face and how he was trying to glare disapprovingly at Stiles. Gasping, Stiles managed to get out, “Best. Day. Ever.”