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All of the Pacific Northwest is Hale territory. There are other alphas operating out of various cities throughout northern California all the way to Victoria, but Talia Hale is the alpha of the alphas. It’s been this way for centuries, and the very few who attempt to start a pack war for territory are quickly defeated. Hunters got extremely close to destroying the Hales when a fire started at their compound outside of Beacon Hills when Stiles was about ten years old. At that time, he hadn’t known about the supernatural or understood why someone would try to kill an entire family. The Hales survived, but they left their burned property to migrate north into Oregon.

There hasn’t been a Hale in Beacon Hills in the fifteen years since.

Scott got bitten when he was fifteen, and through a chain of events that Stiles prefers not remembering, his best friend ends up as the alpha of Beacon Hills. For the last decade, the McCall pack has kept the area safe for those living amongst the supernatural. Stiles has been pack emissary since the beginning, even before he knew what it was or was able to perform any kind of magic. Scott’s a great alpha, and their pack has grown into a solid force in this area throughout the years. They don’t even have to deal with too many threats these days since Stiles has successfully resealed the Nemeton.

Things have actually been almost normal in the last couple of years. Scott’s just taken over Deaton’s vet practice now that he’s finally finished with school. Allison is pregnant with their second child and still working at the sheriff’s department with him and Jordan. Since Stiles is her partner, he’s able to provide back-up any time she needs it and make sure she doesn’t jump in without looking first. Jackson’s finishing up his last year at law school, while Lydia is doing post-grad work that even Stiles can’t understand. Danny’s working for an IT security company, and the twins he brought in run a night club downtown that employees younger members of the pack who are still in college. Kira’s teaching at the local elementary school, and her girlfriend, Malia, a recent addition to the pack, is a mechanic who can fix anything, even Stiles’ old Jeep.

It’s probably fate’s way of fucking with them that everything’s going to change now.

Three weeks ago, they found out that the Hales are coming back to Beacon Hills.

Not all of them, thank God. Talia and her husband, Joseph, are remaining in Oregon along with her brother, Peter, who is the only Hale that Stiles has actually met. It’s a relief that the rather creepy Peter isn’t moving back because Stiles isn’t that fond of the weird attention the dude focuses on him during his, thankfully, brief visits to Beacon Hills. No, it’s going to be the two daughters and the youngest son who are moving back along with a handful of their pack members. Some excuse about wanting to rebuild the family compound and get Hales back into the territory. The two eldest sons live in Seattle, according to Scott, so this move will once again ensure there are Hales in all areas of their territory to handle any disputes or issues that might arise.

Scott is okay with the whole thing. He isn’t threatened at all by having Hales settle in McCall territory, especially since he is constantly pointing out that it’s Hale territory first. Stiles disagrees with him because where were the Hales when the Darach and Alpha pack came to town? Where were they when Allison’s grandfather went postal and tried slaughtering the whole town using a kanima? Where were they when Stiles got possessed by a Nogitsune whose knowledge and memories are still lurking in corners of his mind? And that’s just the shit that happened before high school graduation. No, he doesn’t have that much respect for the pack who left without looking back and never attempted to help a bunch of scared and confused kids who didn’t know what to do or how to survive.

Unfortunately, since Deaton retired as Hale emissary in the area and passed on the mantle to him, he’s unable to refuse to work with them. He might be the McCall emissary, but the Hales overrule everything, so they basically have the final say whenever they want to get involved. That’s the reason he knows Peter, and the reason he’s been invited to represent the pack at this ridiculous farce being hosted in San Francisco by Satomi Ito, who is no longer getting a Christmas card from him because she’s so ready to kiss Hale ass to avoid any pack issues that she’s not even thinking properly obviously. It’s easy for her, though, since they aren’t settling smack dab in the middle of her territory.

The rest of the pack is actually invited tonight, too, but they all had to work or take care of kids, so Stiles has become their designated representative. It’s a little nerve wracking because he so doesn’t want to be here yet he’s also slightly concerned that the Hales might view the McCall pack’s absence as an insult. He can rant and rave all he wants to Scott about how stupid this whole thing is and how dangerous it could be, but he knows how the hierarchy works, and he isn’t going to be the reason the Hales decide to slaughter his pack or anything. He can play nice, even if it’s reluctantly, and he just thinks it would have been better if Scott could have at least tried to come with him tonight.

It’s a masquerade ball, complete with formal wear and masks, so there’s always a chance that the Hales in attendance won’t actually realize Scott and the others didn’t attend. Satomi did earn some credit back for making it easier to avoid detection, even if it seems like a lot of overkill to suck up to the head alpha and her family. Stiles hasn’t actually attended anything like this before, so he’s had to promise Lydia that he won’t get drunk and promise Allison that he won’t back talk anyone no matter how tempted he gets and promise Scott that he’s going to avoid any alphas in attendance because, well, Scotty seems to think Stiles is some sort of alpha bait or some nonsense like that.

He’s got a room booked at the hotel where the ball is being held, a property owned by a vampire that he’s met once or twice before, so he doesn’t have to deal with traffic or anything. Lydia and Kira chose his clothes for tonight, and Malia took care of the mask. He hasn’t really bothered to look at any of it because he’s been thinking about a dozen different ways this whole thing could end up going. No use worrying about it now. He’ll just work himself into a panic attack if he’s not careful, and that can’t happen tonight. He has to have his mind clear and focused.

The bag that Lydia put into his Jeep is hanging from the top of the hotel closet door. He decides to start there so he can get an idea what he’s in for tonight. It’s a black tuxedo, full on prom times wedding best man tux with a tie draped from the hanger. Jackson obviously paid for that thing because it looks expensive and tailored, which is pretty odd since Stiles never tried it on. The vest is a combination of blues and greens that is actually something he might have picked out for himself, and the tie is a simple black slim one that isn’t too awful.

There’s a crisp white shirt in his suitcase, brand new with a label on it that confirms Jackson’s credit card footed the bill. He opens the bag with the mask and has to admit that Malia chose well. It’s silver and black, simple and classy. Stiles holds it up against his face and doesn’t hate the way it looks. If anything, it seems to draw out the color in his eyes and the shape of his lips. Since he’s in San Francisco and it’s been far too long than he cares to admit (eleven months and fourteen days, thereabouts) since he’s had sex, he might have to turn this evening around by looking for a one night stand. After he changes into his tuxedo and puts on the mask, he smiles wickedly as he looks in the mirror. Oh yeah. He’d totally do him, so there has to be someone at this ball who will be interested in a bit of fun.

It’s time to head downstairs. Satomi requested he join her prior to the ball, and he’s not going to refuse an invitation from an ally even if he’s marking her off his Christmas card list. When he reaches the lobby floor, he looks around in a casual manner that is anything but casual. He immediately stakes out any points of entry and exit, gets a good description of anyone loitering around whether they appear to belong or not, and he lets magic flow from his fingertips as he walks, reinforcing the protection spells and strengthening the wards preventing those with bad intent from entering the premise. While he might have been a late bloomer, he knows he’s got a lot of power, and it makes him feel better to do his own security protection.

“You smell like electricity,” Satomi tells him when he finds her at the bar. She purses her lips and tilts her head ever so slightly. “And arousal.”

“Nice to see you, too,” he says with a cheeky grin before kissing her cheek. “You know magic always gets me a little hot.”

“The way you speak to me is impudent.” Her lips twitch but she refuses to smile. “I see the women in your pack have dressed you well. I wanted to meet with you prior to the ball to make sure you weren’t wearing plaid.”

“You wanted to meet with me because you love me and I’m you’re favorite.” He sits on the stool beside her and orders a Scotch. One drink isn’t going to get him drunk, so his promise to Lydia is securely kept.

“Lies.” Satomi makes a dismissive motion with her hand. “Sweet lies from a pretty mouth.”

“If you were fifty years younger, I’d be happy to show you what I can do with this mouth.” Stiles blows her a kiss that earns him a sharp swat to his arm.

Satomi snorts. “If I were fifty years younger, I’d still be able old enough to be your mother, boy.”

Stiles shrugs. “And? I’m very mature for my age.”

“I don’t know how that sweet child, Scott, keeps you reigned in,” she mutters before reaching over to fix his tie. “Tonight is an important evening, Stiles. I know you’re young and tempestuous as well as being new to this world, so you will not understand, but it is a great honor to have the Hales back in our territory.”

“You’re welcome to have them up here,” he says sweetly, rolling his eyes when her eyes flash red. “Do you know these kids? Is Scott in danger?”

“I do know them. Laura and Derek are both alphas, an honor earned while protecting their territory from threats, and Cora is the youngest, a beta who is probably your age.” Satomi meets his gaze and holds it. “Your pack is safe. They mean no harm to Scott or anyone else.”

“If you’re wrong, I’ll kill them all,” he whispers, making her the promise that he can’t make to Scott.

Satomi puts her hand on his chest, over his heart, and he knows she doesn’t hear a lie. “I know, boy. But I’m not wrong.” She pats his cheek. “Come. You’ll escort me into the ball so I can receive envious stares for having you on my arm.”

“You’ll make me blush.” He simpers at her until she slaps his arm again, grinning as he slides off the stool and offers her his arm. “Are you going to be my wingman tonight? I want to find an interested party to take back to my room and thoroughly debauch.”

“I’m sure you won’t need my assistance,” she says dryly. “Just be careful who you select because I cannot vouch for everyone in attendance this evening.”

“I just have to avoid alphas. Scott made me promise.” He loses the easy grin as they step out of the bar and walk to the ballroom. He trusts Satomi, even if he thinks she’s sucking up with this whole welcome ball, but she’s the only one here he believes would have his back if an incident were to happen.

She’s still chuckling at the notion of him avoiding alphas due to his promise to Scott when they enter the ballroom. He has to admit that it’s decorated really well, and he thinks he’ll try snapping a photo at some point so he can send it to the pack. Everyone is dressed formally, the masks ranging from simple like his to full facial coverings. Satomi pats his cheek before she goes to meet her second and her emissary, both of whom are waiting for her nearby.

Since he didn’t have the chance to drink his Scotch before they left the bar, he still has two drinks he’s allowed before he knows he’d be tempted to keep drinking. He makes his way to the bar set up for the ball and watches carefully as the bartender pours the drinks. Once he’s confirmed that someone else drinks one with no adverse reaction, he takes a glass for himself. It’s some kind of whiskey with a hint of ginger maybe? He can’t quite tell, but it’s pretty good, so he sips it as he makes his way to a good vantage point.

A few people that he knows from past dealings stop him on his way, leaning in and smelling him, murmuring about possible deals or needing help with some problem or another. It’s all part of the game, so he plays nice and doesn’t zap them with magic unless they start trying to get handsy. Finally, he reaches a small alcove on the upper floor that’s pretty much hidden from the rest of the room due to angles yet provides him an amazing view of the ballroom below. He doesn’t even realize anyone else is even there until he’s leaning against the rail and sipping his drink.

“Hiding too?” A low voice drawls from the shadows.

Stiles almost falls off the rail because he’s actually been caught by surprise. He flails and can already imagine his pack grieving for him due to his own clumsiness when strong fingers grip his bicep and pull him off the rail. “Way to scare a guy, dude,” he mutters, feeling more than a little embarrassed, both at the whole almost falling thing and also on the being caught by surprise thing.

“I assumed you didn’t have any particular vision problems and would have seen me sitting there easily.” The tone is more than a little amused, which is irritating.

“Forgive me for not seeing someone hiding in the shadows like a big old creeper,” he says, finally looking over and almost forgetting what he was saying. The man is a couple of inches taller than him, dark hair, beautiful eyes visible from behind his mask, lips that are likely in Webster beside the definition for ‘sinful’, just enough scruff on his jaw that Stiles knows would feel awesome rubbing against his sensitive areas, and a body made for climbing.

“Why are you hiding?” The man’s lips are curved into a smug smile as his nostrils flare just enough to inhale the scent that Stiles knows he’s probably giving off. Werewolf then. Please don’t let him be an alpha. There’s that promise to Scott…but, fuck, if he has a chance for this guy, he might have to break that promise.

“I’m not hiding. I wanted a good view so I could watch the ball.” Stiles arches a brow, knowing it’s covered by the mask but still. “What about you? Hiding in the shadows isn’t typical for a ball.”

“My mother is attempting to play matchmaker, and my sisters are encouraging her efforts to avoid being the focus themselves,” the guy says dryly. “I had to escape before I clawed the next person who giggled when I hadn’t even said anything amusing.”

“You not amusing? I can’t even imagine,” Stiles deadpans.

“Neither are you. At least I know I’m not.” The guy looks smug when Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

“Am I supposed to giggle to get you to leave now?” Stiles fakes a giggle that has the guy rolling his eyes.

“Not a good effort. I’d rate that a D.”

“Well, I’m all about the D so.” Stiles smirks as the tip of the guy’s ears turn red.

“You’re crude.” The guy sniffs haughtily. “People don’t usually talk to me like that.”

“Your poor virgin ears.” Stiles is mocking him, and the guy knows he’s being mocked.

“I’m starting to think the respectful giggling might be an improvement over your company,” he mutters.

Stiles just grins. “So, matchmaking mom and a ball to find you a date, huh? I guess that means you’re the prince of this story then? Yet here you are hiding in the shadows. What if your Cinderella is down there right now dancing in glass shoes?”

The man deliberately moves his gaze over Stiles’ body. “I don’t think my Cinderella would enjoy glass shoes,” he drawls, taking a drink of something amber colored. “And I’m not the prince of anything.”

“Obviously not. You’re hiding from your mommy up here.” Stiles smirks slightly as he watches the man’s jaw tighten. He shoots, he scores. Go Stiles. “What if you’re wasting your chance to meet the woman of your dreams?”

“Assumptive, aren’t you?” The guy leans in and inhales, exhaling warm breath against Stiles’ cheek. “Who says I’m looking for a woman?”

“I’m not looking to marry any princes right now,” Stiles murmurs, ghosting his lips across the guy’s scruffy jaw. “However, if you’re interested in a man for the night? I’ll happily consider that option.”

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you that it’s dangerous to pick up strange men, especially at a supernatural masquerade ball?” The man actually looks concerned for a moment before he’s rubbing his jaw across the curve of Stiles’ neck. “I might be dangerous.”

“Pot, kettle,” he points out, leaning in because, fuck, he’s turned on and feeling more attracted to this guy than he has anyone else in longer than he can even remember. Coming to this ball was the best idea ever. He reaches out to touch the guy’s shoulders, needing to know they’re actually real, and it turns out, they’re broader and more muscular than the tux coat lets on. Stiles licks his lips slowly, staring at the guy as he grins wickedly. “I’m probably more dangerous than you are, wolf.”

The guy’s eyes flash red before he kisses Stiles. (Sorry Scott.) Stiles moves his fingers into the guy’s hair, pulling it hard enough for him to feel as he battles for dominance in their kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and taking, claiming, nothing gentle or sweet about it at all. When they pull back, they’re both breathing heavy and staring at each other. Stiles is conflicted. He’s so fucking turned on that he’s almost convinced there’s some kind of lust potion in his drink, but he’s also a little worried because his reaction is so strong and he knows there actually isn’t any lust potion involved.

“Who are you?” The guy is almost in a defensive stance, his lips wet and bitten from Stiles, and a tension in his shoulders that makes Stiles almost want to taunt him just to get him to pounce.

“You can call me Bruce,” he decides, licking his lips and tasting the bitter copper of blood. “It’s a masquerade, after all, so I don’t think we’re supposed to give out our real names. Who are you?”

The guy just stares at him for a long moment, and Stiles sees his forehead moving so he bets his eyebrows must be moving behind the mask. Finally, he says, “If you’re Bruce, I guess you can call me Clark.”

He actually got the reference. Holy fuck. Stiles might be a little in love right now. “Really? Clark is who you go with?”

“Considering I’m seeing a lot more Tony than Bruce in your, I didn’t think we were being accurate.” The guy smirks when Stiles gapes at him. “Close your mouth, Bruce, or it might give me ideas. I’d hate to see the knees of those pants ruined.”

“You…but…you’re an asshole,” Stiles whispers in a rather complimentary tone. He’s an asshole, so he can totally appreciate that quality in others. “And the only going on their knees would be you, Clark, so I wouldn’t suggest trying it.”

“What are you?” Clark is staring intently. “I can’t tell, and it’s driving me crazy. I swear there’s a scent of fox, but you aren’t a were, and I smell fire, not smoke but like the smell of burning wood.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Stiles grins when Clark actually blinks at not hearing a lie. Obviously, Stiles is lying, plenty of people know he’s the emissary for this area, especially after all the work he’s been called in to help Satomi’s aging emissary with, but he likes keeping this guy off-guard. It’s a little payback for the whole tall, dark, gorgeous, and superhero aware thing. He steps closer to Clark. “That excites you, doesn’t it? You might be an alpha, big and strong, but you like the idea that I might just be stronger, that I could push you down to your knees right here and fuck that handsome face without you even being able to stop me. You wouldn’t want to stop me, though, would you?”

Clark’s lips are parted, and Stiles can see just a hint of his front teeth, which makes him smile because it’s actually pretty adorable that this hulking specimen of manhood has bunny teeth. He wishes at that moment that he could smell like the wolves because he bets he’d smell arousal, sharp and tangy, and he imagines that it would smell delicious. Clark’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and his eyes flash red. “I would,” he growls softly. “I’d make you fight me, make you take it if you wanted it that bad, and when you lost, I’d make you beg and scream for me.”

Stiles isn’t sure which of them moves first. Maybe they both move at the same time. One second they’re staring, and the next they’re pouncing. The music playing below provides an interesting soundtrack as they fight each other, really putting forth an effort, neither one of them wanting to surrender. Despite the fight, they’re careful not to rip their clothes because he has no intention of facing Lydia’s scorn if he brings back a ripped tux, and he figures Clark is going to have to find his family eventually. It’s exciting to be forced to work for it, and he uses his body to his advantage, rubbing against Clark, pressing his thigh against Clark’s dick, gripping his ass tightly.

Clark might be an alpha, but Stiles is the fucking emissary of Beacon Hills, and he’s fought feral alphas without magic, so this is a cakewalk compared to that. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he thinks Clark actually wants to lose, so he isn’t fighting at his full alpha strength. Stiles manages to get Clark on his knees, his nostrils flaring, his chin raised defiantly. Fuck, he’s so hot. Stiles kisses him hard, a victory kiss, claiming his prize with his teeth and his tongue. Thank God Malia got him a mask that didn’t cover his mouth and chin. He’s taking her a box of chocolates home for being so smart.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he stares into those gorgeous eyes and smiles. “I want to fuck your face, Clark. I want to get you so addicted to my dick that you drop to your knees with a simple snap of my fingers next time, not playing these posturing games of machismo like it makes you somehow less of a man to enjoy getting fucked.”

“You’ll have to make me, Bruce,” Clark snarls, even as his gaze drops to start hungrily at Stiles’ crotch. He almost wishes he’d just been honest about his name because, as it is, it feels sort of like they’re role-playing superhero sex, which is weird.

“No can do. Consent is a beautiful thing, and I need to hear it,” Stiles drawls, tracing Clark’s lips with his tongue. “It’s okay, alpha. You can whisper it in my ear if you want. Tell me you want to suck my dick.”

“Fuck you,” Clark growls against Stiles’ ear. Stiles just chuckles, a wicked low sound that holds experience beyond his years, a leftover from his possession that can strike terror in the hearts of many men, but just seems to turn Clark on even more.

“Say it,” Stiles commands softly, rubbing his cheek against the scruffy beard.

“I want to suck your dick,” he whispers so softly that Stiles wouldn’t have even heard it if it hadn’t been spoken directly in his ear.

“That’s a good boy.” Stiles kisses him as a reward, licking into his mouth and sucking his tongue before straightening up. He motions at his dick. “Well, there it is. Go for it.”

Clark reaches up to unfasten Stiles’ tuxedo pants. His hands are shaking slightly, and Stiles wonders how long it’s been since the guy’s had a chance to just suck dick and enjoy himself. That whole stupid Me Alpha, Me Big Man thing that so many alphas seem to want to represent is ridiculous. It’s one reason Scotty’s so successful at it, he thinks, because Scott can be vulnerable and let the pack help him. This guy obviously needs a better pack.

He reaches out to stroke Clark’s face. “You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you? Going to suck me down and make me come so hard.”

“Yeah,” Clark breathes out, the one word strangled even as he leans into Stiles’ touch. He fumbles with the button of Stiles’ pants but manages to get it unfastened then lowers the zipper. Leaning in, he just sniffs, his eyelids fluttering as he makes a low whining noise in the back of his throat. He looks up then, blinking at Stiles, his eyes flashing red as he tries to control himself. “You have to make me. I’m fighting my instincts right now.”

“Instinct isn’t going to force you to be the dominant partner,” Stiles points out, gripping his thick hair and tugging. “I know an alpha who lets his partner lead most of the time.”

“Is he a born wolf?” Clark sneers. “Anyway, it’s not that at all. You have no idea…your smell…your power…I want to claim you, Bruce.”

Stiles feels a wave of arousal at the desperate growl in Clark’s voice. Maybe this is why Scott told him to avoid fucking alphas? He knows Stiles is pretty independent and the whole claiming thing would probably annoy him. However, when he’s got this gorgeous specimen of manhood (wolfhood?) on his knees shaking from his impulse to make Stiles his? Well, fuck, it doesn’t sound so bad to just give in and let it happen. He can’t, though, because he honestly doesn’t know the difference between a born wolf and a bitten wolf when it comes to that possessive shit. The last thing he needs is a one night stand fucking up his life, even if it’s with someone as beautiful as Clark.

“He’s not,” Stiles admits, pulling Clark’s face against his groin. “Alright, I’ll make you, but, for the record, consent’s been given.”

“I’m not going to say you forced me,” Clark mutters, rolling his eyes even as he mouths at Stiles’ dick through his underwear. He licks the bulge, dampening the cotton until it’s clinging to Stiles’ dick. “I’m not planning on telling anyone about this, for the record.”

“Yeah, you will, because I’m going to be the best you’ll ever have,” Stiles says smugly. “You’ll remember it every time you get on your knees for another man, comparing us and wishing it was my dick in your pretty little mouth instead of his. Waking up with wet sheets with the scent of me in your nose and the taste of me on your tongue.”

“Shut up,” Clark growls, tugging Stiles’ underwear down around his thighs, letting his hard dick flop out. He licks his lips even as Stiles has to force his head closer, rubbing his dick against that handsome face, careful to not get any pre-come on the mask because that could prove awkward.

“Suck it, Clark.” Stiles grips his dick and traces Clark’s lips with the head, teasing him even as he pulls on that dark hair. “Open that pretty little mouth and suck it.”

“Fuck you.” Clark looks up at him, his pupils dilating already, just from having Stiles’ dick against his face. He parts his lips, and Stiles takes advantage, pushing the head of his dick into that wet mouth. It’s sloppy, too much tongue and scraping teeth, and it makes him wonder how long it’s been since Clark ever sucked dick or, really, if he ever has. Being an alpha, he’s probably used to having his dick sucked instead.

Stiles doesn’t even bother responding, not when he’s fucking his dick into that pretty mouth. Clark is getting better as it goes, licking the underside, sucking hard, taking more of Stiles’ dick inside. He’s pretty thick, but he’s a pretty average length, so he figures it won’t take long for Clark to adjust. He feels hands gripping his ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise as they pull him forward, fucking more of his dick into Clark’s mouth. There’s some gagging when he goes too far, but he keeps moving because it feels so damn good and the hands on his ass are guiding him now.

When he feels a finger press against his hole, he clenches and tightens his grip on Clark’s hair. Clark moans around his dick, the vibrations pretty amazing, and Stiles starts moving faster and deeper. The finger against his hole is pressing inside, starting to fuck him in time with his own thrusts, and he gasps when a second is added, one of them going deep enough that it brushes against his prostate. That feels so damn good. Stiles is sucking in air now, panting as he moves back and forth between warm wet mouth and long hard fingers. Clark growls around his dick, slurping and sucking as he rubs that bundle of nerves until Stiles is whimpering and bucking his hips erratically.

Stiles is going to pull out when he feels his body starting to tense, but Clark doesn’t let him. He holds him firmly in place, and Stiles can’t even get out a warning before he grunts and comes in Clark’s mouth. Clark swallows his come down, sucking and milking him dry, lapping at his dick until he finally pulls it out because it’s too sensitive. Stiles falls to his knees, kissing Clark, sucking on his come covered tongue as he reaches between them. He fumbles with Clark’s pants, finally getting them open and palming his dripping dick. When Stiles wraps his long fingers are Clark’s dick, he captures the whine with his mouth, licking into his mouth even as he jerks him off.

Clark pulls away from the kiss, mouthing his way down Stiles’ neck, licking and sucking at his bare skin, teeth scraping against his skin. Stiles twists his wrist as he jerks Clark’s very impressive dick (if his luck holds out, he totally wants that in his ass later), thumb rubbing the uncircumcised head, squeezing and gripping him just the way Stiles likes when he’s ready to come and all the teasing is done. Clark seems to like it, too, judging by the soft noises he’s making as he clings to Stiles.

“Can I bite you? Wanna make you mine. Can I?” Clark is murmuring against his skin, sounding desperate and practically begging. “Please. Need to make you mine.”

The idea of being his makes Stiles whimper. He shouldn’t like it that much, not when he doesn’t even know this guy, but it feels right. Like this is how it’s supposed to be. Damn, the sex is making him brainless. He nods his head. “Yeah, make me yours. Do it.” Wet warmth suddenly coats Stiles’ fingers as Clark bites him at the curve of his neck by his shoulder. Stiles’ eyes roll back as he feels fangs pierce his skin, his dick twitching in interest as Clark laps at the wound.

They stay that way, kneeling on the floor and almost clinging to each other, as they come down from the intense sex they just experienced. Hell, they didn’t even get naked, and Stiles is more sated than he can ever remember being in the past and already wanting more. Finally, they seem to come back to themselves, their breathing more normal, their brains able to function again. Clark scrambles backwards, blinking at him and staring at his neck.

“Got a little carried away there, big guy,” Stiles says, getting to his feet without a lot of grace considering his pants and underwear are bunched around his thighs. He doesn’t fall, though, so points to him. He tucks his wet dick back into his underwear before fastening his pants.

“You have no idea,” Clark mutters as he gracefully gets to his feet, tugging his pants back up and looking everywhere but Stiles. “Fuck. Mom’s going to kill me. I don’t even know who you are.”

“I already told you. I’m Bruce Wayne.” Stiles wipes the back of his hand across his mouth then smiles.

“Well, Batman, I, for one, really enjoyed the show.” Wait. That isn’t Clark’s voice. Stiles turns to see a blonde bombshell walking into their alcove. She’s pushing her skirt down in a deliberate way, making sure they watch her, then she slowly licks her wet fingers. “Mmm. Tasty.”

“Erica. Damn it.” Clark’s got the alpha eyes going again, so this must be one of his pack because, if it’s one of the sisters, that’d be pretty fucked up.

“What?” Erica blinks her eyes behind her mask and totally fails at playing innocent. “Your mom sent me to find you, and I certainly wasn’t going to interrupt, now was I? I mean, I’d love to be in the middle of all that,” she motions to both of them, “but my honey wouldn’t approve. Doesn’t mean I can’t watch.”

“How long were you watching?” Clark growls, his tone indicating that he’s not in a teasing mood.

She seems to realize it, too, because she bares her neck in submission and says, “Only the last little bit. It was too far gone to interrupt, and the smells and noises…I couldn’t resist. Sorry, alpha”

“Hey, it’s okay, Catwoman,” Stiles says, giving her an easy grin. “We did sort of forget that we’re in a public place, so it’s on us, too.”

“I like you,” she purrs, taking a step towards him. Clark cuts her off with a warning growl that makes her duck her head. “Right. Anyway, your mother is looking for you, Derek. There’s going to be some speeches coming up, so you and the sibs have to be on hand for pack representation.”

Derek. His name is Derek. That’s a lot better than Clark. Stiles starts to smile before he suddenly freezes. Derek with a mother who is going to be giving a speech. Derek who is an alpha and totally gorgeous like all the rumors claim. “Fuck me,” he groans, tugging on his hair and cursing his luck. “You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

Clark—no, Derek--looks him with a slight frown. “Yes. You mean you seriously didn’t know? I thought you were just pretending not to know.”

“Would I have been calling you Clark when I came if I’d known?” Stiles shakes his head. “See? This is what I get for breaking my promise to Scotty. Karma is biting me in the ass. I should have known better, but nooo. I like flirting with trouble, and living dangerously, so I stupidly followed my dick instead of my brain. I thought I’d found the perfect fuck for the night, even planned to ask you back to my hotel room so we could do this again only naked, and I find out you’re Derek fucking Hale.”

“Erica, go tell my mother that I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Derek says, studying Stiles like he’s unbalanced and possibly insane.

“Fine. See you later, Batman.” Erica blows him a kiss, and Stiles thinks he could actually like her but she’s Derek’s beta, so that ruins any potential friendship between them.

“I’m leaving. You didn’t have to send her away,” Stiles points out.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Derek frowns. “What’s your name? I’m not calling you Bruce after all this.”

“Why not? You don’t need to know my name because I don’t plan to cross paths with you ever again.” Stiles nods once to emphasize his point.

“I bit you.” Derek speaks slowly like he’s talking to a child. “You aren’t going anywhere until we discuss this.”

“So? It wasn’t a wolfy making bite. I’m not some new pack member or anything. I don’t have to obey you.” Stiles shakes his head. “Thanks for the fuck, Derek. It was fun.”

He leaves the alcove and starts towards the staircase. It isn’t even that surprising when Derek grabs him halfway there and makes him turn around to face him. “You stubborn asshole,” Derek growls. “You refuse to even listen to me, and you’re so damn headstrong that it makes me want to take you over my knee and spank you.”

“If you even tried, I’d make you regret it.” Stiles channels his magic and zaps Derek just enough to make him let go of his arms. “Now run along to mommy so I can get out of here before I get into any more trouble.”

“You’re magic.” Derek stares at him. “That’s the smell I couldn’t identify. Strong magic.”

“Bingo. Give the wolfy a cookie.” Stiles rolls his eyes and turns to walk away. He doesn’t get another two steps before he’s stopped again. “Talk about obstinate. What is it now, Derek?”

“You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are,” Derek says. “You can’t just run away from this, you know? We went too far already, and there’s no turning back now.”

“Okay, Mr. Cryptic. I can do without the dire tragedy talk.” Stiles frowns. “I’m not running away, either. I’m just removing myself from a situation that has the potential to really fuck up my life, and I’d like to avoid doing that, thank you very much.”

Derek actually looks hurt. “I know we don’t necessary get along that well, but I’d like to think it’s not going to be a fucking tragedy!”

“Boys, is everything alright?” Satomi is walking up the stairs and watching them wearily. “I’m afraid the energy coming from up here is disturbing some of the guests.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Derek mutters, ducking his head respectfully. It would make Stiles smile at how adorable it is to see such a big guy deferring to Satomi if he weren’t irritated with himself for fucking his potential enemy.

“You’re a nice boy, Derek.” Satomi turns her attention to Stiles. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“What?” Stiles shrugs and tries to look innocent. When she gives him A Look, he sighs. “It’s your fault, Satomi. You wouldn’t be my wingman, and I ended up crossing enemy lines.”

“The Hales are not your enemy, boy. How often do I have to explain that?” Satomi shakes her head, her smile fond despite her exasperation.

“Enemies?” Derek looks confused. “I don’t even know who you are. How can we be enemies?”

“You and your sisters are moving back to Beacon Hills. That’s how!” Stiles glares at him, knowing the full effect is ruined by his mask but whatever. “You didn’t give a shit when we were dealing with all the problems we’ve had but, now that things are quiet and calm, suddenly it’s time to come back.”

“Beacon Hills? You’re part of the pack there? McCall, isn’t it?” Derek frowns. “Fuck, that’s going to make this even more complicated since you’re in another pack.”

“Stiles.” Satomi’s voice is oddly quiet and serious. “What is that mark on your neck?”

“Stiles.” Derek repeats the name like he’s just been given the answer to world peace or something. It’s ridiculous how much Stiles wants to just kiss him for being so fucking adorable.

“It’s a bite, Satomi. Someone got a little carried away.” He glares at Derek again for making him feel all conflicted about his plans for warfare.

“Derek, did you really?” Satomi looks disappointed when she looks at Derek, which, hey, Stiles is a catch, thank you very much, and it shouldn’t be a bad thing that they got physical with each other.

“He’s mine,” Derek says firmly. “I never thought I’d…stupid fairy tales but it’s real…he’s mine.”

“Your mother is going to need to hear about this immediately, and we have to reach out to Scott, his alpha.” At those words, Derek’s eyes flash red. Satomi ignores him. “Don’t get stroppy with me, young man. You have no idea what you’ve just done. Stiles is the McCall emissary, and it’s obvious that you didn’t explain anything to him before taking what you wanted.”

“If this is about the biting thing? He did ask. I mean, I was pretty sex drunk at the time, but I said he could bite me.” Stiles doesn’t much like the way Derek’s looking so upset, and he figures it’s only right to make it clear that he agreed.

“Did he explain what the bite meant?” Satomi looks at him sharply. “Did you have any idea what you were agreeing to when you accepted it?”

“Um, well, he said I’d be his?” Stiles shrugs. “Sounded hot at the time, so I said yes.”

“This is why women should have all the power. Men think with their small heads instead of their big ones.” Satomi curses in a different language, and the knowledge in the corners of Stiles’ mind translates it. “It’s not just a bite, Stiles. It’s a mating bite. You’ve accepted a mating bite from Derek.”

“What?” Stiles winces when he hears the strangled tone in his voice. “What kind of bite was that? I thought you said mating, but that’s not real. It’s like folklore stuff. That stuff isn’t true. Is it?”

“Derek, I think it would be best if you go find your mother. She’s about to give a speech, and she needs your support. When it’s finished, please bring her up to room 1306. Stiles and I will be there waiting for you. I’ll try to explain things to him during that time.” Satomi rolls her eyes as she takes off her mask. “Oh, do stop sulking. You’ve managed to claim one of the most sought after emissaries in the country, if not the world, and, while he might be a handful most of the time, he’s a very attractive one.”

“I didn’t know that,” Derek points out, looking at Stiles earnestly. “I had no idea who you really are, Stiles. I just…you just…it felt right.”

“Yeah, it did,” he reluctantly agrees, even if he’s still focused on that whole mating thing. “You should do what Satomi said. Go find your mom, and we’ll go wait in my room.”

Derek nods, moving quickly to Stiles and kissing him so thoroughly that it makes it difficult to think when he pulls away. He smiles shyly, such a contrast to the asshole from earlier, but Stiles can see still signs of the asshole, so it’s all good. “I’ll bring her up after the speeches.”

Stiles watches Derek walk away, admiring the way his ass looks in those pants, then notices Satomi watching him with a slightly amused expression on her face. “What? He’s hot. I can look,” he says. “So, this mating thing…what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that you are his mate. A fairy tale to some, but it’s based on fact and happens occasionally in our world. You are a mated pair.” Satomi actually grins at him as she leads him to the elevators. “Derek Hale is a fine man, in more ways than one. It could be much worse, you know?” Her grin turns downright mischievous as they step onto the elevator. “You still don’t seem to understand so let me try explaining it in simpler terms. Stiles, you are now, as you would probably quip under normal circumstances if it involved someone else, werewolf married. Congratulations.”