Stiles maintained that none of this was his fault. He’d been trudging through the preserve with Derek for the good of Beacon Hills , seeking out some hag that had been causing trouble all across town. But it was pitch black out, and maybe Derek had super special wolfy night vision but Stiles certainly did not. So when he caught his foot on a twisted root and went careening into a shallow ditch, well, no one could blame him.
Except Derek, apparently. If the way he flatly said “Stiles” as the teen pitched forward was anything to go by.
There was something sticky on Stiles’ skin. He couldn’t quite discern its color in the low light, but it seemed to glow unnaturally. The places where it clung to him- his face, his neck, the length of his right arm- were all beginning to heat and tingle. It wasn’t painful. And not unpleasant, per se, but not normal either.
“Stiles,” Derek repeated. He was standing at the crest of the ditch, looking down at the teen with an agitated expression, eyebrows furrowing deeper by the second.
“What is this stuff?” Stiles muttered to himself. He made to stand up, pushing himself to his knees. But then a wave of dizziness hit him in the gut, sending him crashing onto his hands with a low whimper.
“Stiles?” Derek said again. And look at that, maybe Derek did have the ability to emote like a real boy. He sounded downright concerned. Stiles heard the thwack of a branch breaking, knew Derek was about to climb down after him.
“Don’t!” Stiles said. He sat back on his ankles, panting heavily. His clothing was starting to feel wrong against his skin, rough like sandpaper and too constricting. “Derek, don’t come down here. Something...something’s wrong.”
He looked up at Derek beseechingly, and watched the Alpha put his nose to the air.
“Fuck,” Derek said, “Stiles, we need to get that stuff off of you. Now.”
“It’s…” Stiles trailed off, scratching at the collar of his shirt, trying feebly to wrench it away from his body. “What is it? It’s something bad. I can’t… Derek, what’s happening?”
Stiles’ heart rate was picking up speed. He tried to fumble for the button of his jeans, moving on some base instinct, but his hands were shaking too hard for any sort of success. Suddenly, he was being hoisted into the air bridal-style, like some sort of damsel in distress. Stiles shoved down his offense; there were more pressing matters.
“Derek, no! You can’t touch it- it’s - it’s bad- I-”
“It doesn’t affect werewolves,” Derek said. “I’m going to take you back to the house. It’s the closest place, and we don’t have much time.”
“Time? Time for… oh God, am I dying?”
“I am, aren’t I?” Stiles lamented. “Fuck, oh fuck, I’m going to die. Why is it killing me? We’ve got to get to Deaton. We have to- Derek-”
“He can’t help with this,” Derek said. And Christ, how were they already at the Hale house? Had Derek been running? Blearily, Stiles recognized that he might be losing time. “We’ll get as much of it off of you as we can, and then...we’ll deal with it.”
Distantly, Stiles registered that Derek was carrying him upstairs and into the master bathroom. Less distantly, he realized how hard he was inside the confines of his jeans. But nevermind the fact that this was no time for an awkward fear boner- the real issue here was that Stiles wasn’t sure why he was aroused or how . Sure, there was always a hum of low-grade want whenever Derek was involved, but Stiles had learned to keep it under wraps. Wolfy senses didn’t leave room for many secrets, and the last thing Stiles wanted was to ruin whatever friendship had managed to grow between them with his stupid, unrelenting man feelings for the guy he’d once accused of murder.
But now, Stiles felt like his blood was burning as it pumped through his veins, and his dick was the worst offender. The heat was overwhelming. Tears prickled in Stiles’ eyes.
“Shit, Stiles, at least fucking help ,” Derek snapped. And oh, right, the object of Stiles’ affections was hastily attempting to undress him. With Stiles in a puddle of muscle, body yearning for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he wasn’t being much help. Claws came out, and Stiles blinked down mulishly at his shredded clothing as it fell to the floor.
“Can you stand?” Derek asked him.
It took a while for Stiles to tilt his head back and make eye contact with Derek. When he did, his chest was heaving. Stiles nodded jerkily, and held out his hands, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.
Derek herded him into the shower stall and pumped up the hot water. And even though Stiles was hard- leaking now- in front of the man he was pretty damn sure he loved, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He watched the substance from the ditch run off of him in purple-tinted streams, and circle down the drain. Stiles’ hips bucked forward, abruptly, without his consent, and Stiles let out a soft sound between fear and desire.
There was heat building in his middle, a clench and release he recognized, but refused to acknowledge. Stiles pressed his palms to cool tile as another wave hit him. His cock twitched hard, white leaking from the tip. And Derek’s fingers were in his hair, but it wasn’t anything like Stiles had imagined. The older boy’s movements were rough and hurried, scrubbing away and muttering something along the lines of “Shit. You’re not talking. Stiles? C’mon, when’s the last time you were quiet for more than a minute? Fuck, this is worse than I thought .”
Stiles wanted to be thrilled that Derek had climbed into the shower with him, even if he did still have his clothing on. And some deeply hidden part of him was mewing in delight that his Alpha had taken him back to his den to care for him, but the thought wasn’t coming from his own mind. It had seeped in from elsewhere, taken root like an infection. A voice that was not his own whispered to Stiles that his Alpha was here, his Alpha would care for him, his Alpha would claim him and fill him and breed breed breed -
“Derek?” Stiles whimpered, knowing it was already too late. His hands fisted against the shower wall, toes curled almost painfully. He sucked in a series of sharp breaths before letting out a low moan as he came untouched, white streaking against tile, body shaking with the intensity. Stiles’ limbs shook precariously, but Derek’s arms wrapped around him from behind, kept him from collapsing into a quivering heap.
He panted as Derek gently pulled him from the shower, sat him down on the toilet and began to towel him dry. Stiles was still hard. He met Derek’s eyes.
“What’s happening to me?”
Derek swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”
Stiles shook his head to clear it, though it didn’t do much use. “Derek. I couldn’t think, before. And… and I’m not gonna be able to think again, soon. I can feel it. This is something supernatural, right? Please just tell me.”
Derek let out a deep sigh. “What do you know about how werewolves find their mates?”
“Um… not much, dude. The lore didn’t go into it. Just mentioned how wolves were stronger in mated pairs.”
“Well, when wolves mate, it’s almost always with a human. Most packs are made up of large families, so seeking a mate inside the pack doesn’t really work. The plant that you fell into- it only grows on wolf territory.”
“And what does it do?” Stiles whispered.
“It’s meant to help wolves find a compatible human mate. Once a human comes into contact with the plant, if they meet a werewolf they could be mates with, they’ll... go into heat, essentially.”
“Heat? Like a dog?” Stiles asked. “Wait, does that mean you and me-”
“We can talk about that after,” Derek cut him off. “Right now what you need to know is that the only way to get this stuff out of your system is to let it run its course. I’m going to stay with you, alright? We’ll get through this. I’ll get you through this, Stiles, I swear.”
Stiles nodded with his eyes closed. “Know you will. Trust you, Sourwolf.” A shudder ran down his spine. “It’s going to get worse,” Stiles said.
“Yes,” Derek replied. “For a while.”
He dipped the towel down between Stiles thighs, and when it brushed over his sensitive length, Stiles came without warning, one hand curled around Derek’s wrist as he moaned.
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles breathed. His face was a splotchy red. “Fuck. I’m- I’m sorry- I-”
“Don’t apologize,” Derek said. He was looking Stiles in the eye, and his voice was soft like Stiles had never heard it. “None of this is your fault, Stiles. You don’t need to be ashamed.”
Part of Stiles was surprised to see Derek this way. Compassionate, gentle, kind. But the part of Stiles’ mind that was still functioning at normal capacities recognized that this was probably a natural progression for Derek, with how much he’d changed recently. After Jennifer, the Alpha Pack, the Nogitsune- Kate - Derek had grown closer to the pack instead of pulling away.
Stiles had been halfway sure that Derek would run off with Braeden when she made to pursue the Desert Wolf. But instead, he’d suffered the long ride back to Beacon Hills with them, and taken his place at Scott’s left the way Stiles stood steadfastly at his friend’s right. That look of surprise Derek had each time he was referred to as pack transformed into fondness. Then, later, something more like awe when the pack had worked tirelessly, unasked, to help Derek rebuild his childhood home. They were stronger now than they’d ever been. But Derek, Derek -
“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek murmured as he laid the boy down in his bed. He started to peel out of his wet clothes. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere. But skin-to-skin might be… easier right now.”
Stiles watched blearily while Derek skimmed down to his briefs, disappointed he couldn’t savour the moment. The Alpha pulled a box from underneath his bed, opened it, and handed it to Stiles. It was filled with toys, but not the kind a child would play with. Plugs, dildos, vibrators. A few items in shapes Stiles couldn’t comprehend.
“Have you ever…?” Derek trailed off, struggling with his words. He crawled into the bed beside Stiles. “Have you tried…?”
“Just.... with my fingers,” Stiles mumbled. His cheeks were hot. “Nothing like this.”
Derek nodded carefully. “It won’t hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about. Your body wants this right now. And you don’t have to. Fuck, you don’t have to at all, okay? But… it’ll make it easier.”
Stiles shuddered, cock twitching against his belly, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. But he still felt wrong, stretched thin and lacking somehow. He reached blindly for Derek, and let out a sigh of relief when the older boy slid in seamlessly behind him, legs on either side of Stiles’ hips. He relaxed back into Derek’s strong chest.
“Can’t- can’t you…?” Stiles spread his legs wider and hoped the message was clear.
Derek let out a long sigh. “You don’t want that.”
Stiles shook his head feebly. “I do. I do . Please, Derek, just-”
“I won’t leave you,” Derek murmured, large hands running soothingly down Stiles’ sides. “I swear. But I can’t do that to you, Stiles. You can’t consent like this.”
Can’t do that , was all Stiles heard. Can’t.
The rejection hit him like an ice pick to the chest. Fleetingly, Stiles wondered if this is what Scott had felt like, when the Nogitsune had used his body to run his best friend through with a sword.
He shoved away from Derek, curled in on himself and trembled. Derek could scent his misery in the air.
“No. No, Stiles…”
“You don’t want me,” Stiles gasped, the sound like a death knell. There were tears streaming down his face, and if he’d been in his right mind he would have felt ashamed at showing such pathetic desperation. But hearing Derek say no, knowing Derek didn’t want him - he felt like his chest was going to cave in. “Why don’t you want me? Why?- I- I can be better. I can be better, please- I-”
“No, Stiles, shh, shh. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it.”
Derek pulled Stiles onto his lap, heart breaking at the sound of Stiles sobbing against his shoulder.
“I do want you. I want you. I’m not leaving,” Derek told him again and again, until the teen eventually quieted.
After some time, in a quiet voice, Stiles asked, “You won’t leave?”
“No, I won’t leave.”
“But you don’t- you don’t want-”
“I do want you,” Derek interjected, “But not like this, okay? If...after. If you still want it after, we can talk about it then.”
“‘kay,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s bicep. Whatever energy he’d have used to beg seemed to have burned away. He shifted around, still hard and uncomfortable.
“C’mon,” Derek urged. He picked up Stiles’ hand and helped him to wrap it around his own length, listened to the boy’s breath hitch and heartbeat stutter. Stiles felt emotionally drained, already, but his body was hyper aware and begging for release. Derek took his hand away, and Stiles kept stroking.
“That’s it,” Derek told him. “That’s it, Stiles.”
And something about the way he said it, the words or the tone- Stiles couldn’t hold on. His back arched, and he came across his chest with a groan.
But he was still hard. He ached everywhere. “It’s not enough,” Stiles whined. “Why isn’t it- what- ?”
Derek pulled something out of the box and placed it in Stiles’ hand. Lube.
“Fingers first. It’ll be harder to hurt yourself, like this...but, still.”
It was so easy to do as Derek said with his mind whirling as it was, spinning in delicious circles of want and need, attention slipping. He slicked up two fingers and slid them down his body, didn’t hesitate a second before spearing himself on them with a shaky moan.
“ Oh ,” Stiles gasped, “Oh, Jesus, Der-”
It was too much and not enough. He curled his fingers, searching, wrecked, and writhed against Derek’s strong hold.
“More,” Stiles whined, “Need more.”
Something solid was pressed into his hand. Stiles tried to examine it, even as his vision swam. It was the kind of vibrator designed for men. He’d seen them online before, even considered buying one of his own, but fear of his father finding it had stopped him. The device wasn’t overly long, but it was thick, bulbous at one end and a slick-looking black. A plug , Stiles’ mind helpfully supplied for him. And judging by the knob at the end, the vibrating kind.
Stiles grabbed the thing in a shaky fist and tried to push it inside. His body was ready for it, but his mind resisted. This was all too fast, frightening, when it should have been slow and sensual.
“I can’t,” Stiles whimpered. “Derek, please-”
“It’s okay,” Derek told him. His hand was making its way down between Stiles’ legs. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
With Derek’s hand in a firm grip around the vibrator, Stiles sagged back against him. Carefully, like he thought the boy might shatter, Derek pressed the toy inside.
And he did shatter. Just, not the way either of them had expected.
As soon as the toy sank home, Stiles’ hips cracked upwards and he came. It made his body seize and shake hard enough that Derek had to hold Stiles to his chest to keep him from vaulting off the bed. And it seemed to go on and on, until fat tears streamed down his face, dripping to meet streaks of come at his collar bone.
“Derek, Derek …” Stiles gasped, hiding his face in the older boy’s chest. He collapsed against the Alpha, breathless and red-faced. Hard as ever. “Fuck, how am I still going? This isn’t possible .”
“It’s magic, Stiles,” Derek flatly replied.
“Then, when…? How long…?”
“A few hours, at least,” Derek said. “You might be in and out for a while, but I promise I won’t leave you, okay? I’ll get you through it.”
Stiles nodded, even though fear was thrumming in his chest. If just a few minutes of this had left him wrecked, how the hell would he survive hours ? Hell, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Derek was being so heart-wrenchingly kind to him because he knew Stiles wasn’t going to make it at all.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it. Not when Derek reached down and flicked on the toy, and Stiles’ world went dark and quiet.
Afterwards, he’d remember it in flashes. Arching out of Derek’s grasp to spurt across his belly. Rutting against a strong thigh to another burst of pleasure. And later, when he’d become too exhausted, laying his head down on Derek’s chest with one leg hooked around his waist, and keening softly as the Alpha worked the vibrator into him in slow, shallow movements.
Stiles came on his back, on his stomach, once on his hands and knees because Derek thought the position might soothe an ache in him. He came at his own touch, without touch at all, and sometimes just from rubbing against the sheets until he was lost. He never came from Derek’s touch, but nonetheless, the wolf didn’t deny him. Derek stroked his face, his neck, his hair. Sometimes, he pressed his palm against the vibrator so that Stiles had something to rock back against. Others, he cradled Stiles’ face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks.
Because he’d been so dizzy with it, the easiest thing to remember was Derek’s voice. “You’re doing so well, Stiles,” the teen could remember Derek saying more than once. “Almost there,” he’d said sometimes, and less often than that, “So perfect, Stiles. So good for me.”
When Stiles’ muscles had screamed with strain, and he’d felt so weak that he couldn’t help but shake, Stiles had a memory of climbing into Derek’s lap. He’d straddled his Alpha, started to grind against him in a frantic rhythm. When Derek had tried to push him away, Stiles had begged, “Just let me. Please, Der. You’re not doing anything to me. Not doing anything bad. Just hold me , and let me…”
Derek had let him. He’d let Stiles grind their stiff lengths together until Derek was coming with a rumbling growl, fingers digging into Stiles back when the teen followed moments later. Stiles thought he remembered dipping his fingers into Derek’s waist band, sucking them into his mouth and swallowing the wolf’s seed like it was some magic elixir. And maybe it had been, because after that the heat and pain had ebbed away. Finally, blissfully, Stiles slept.
When Stiles woke up, he was clean and dry, and pleasantly warm. Derek was wrapped protectively around his back, and Stiles was grateful that the wolf must have busied himself cleaning them both up and getting them some decent clothing at some point in the evening. Despite a sharp and pounding headache, Stiles was physically well enough to hoist himself up and stumble over to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he splashed water onto his face, then cupped his hands to pour even more of it down his throat.
Stiles had finally gotten what he wanted, and he kind of hated himself for it. Because even after all the time he’d spent pining after one Derek Hale, the thought of the Alpha being forced to be with him like that made Stiles sick. Stiles had managed to fuck up, the same way he always did, and Derek stepped in to help. But the wolf didn’t want him. That much was clear as day.
Stiles sighed and pulled together some sense of determination. He couldn’t exactly hide in Derek’s bathroom forever, even if he wanted to. Derek was sitting up in bed when Stiles tip-toed back into the room. His eyes, big and green and shining, were fixed on Stiles’ face.
There were a lot of things the teen wanted to say. He started with, “So this is going to be awkward, isn’t it?”
He’d hoped to get a laugh, or at least a minute twitch of the other boy’s lips. Sarcasm is my only defense , he remembered telling Scott what felt like a lifetime ago. But instead of a huff of amusement, Derek’s brows furrowed to apocalyptic levels.
The silence hung thick and palpable between them.
Stiles feigned scuffing his toes against the hardwood floors. “Right, well, I guess I should go…”
Derek was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Go? Stiles, no.”
And Stiles probably would have put up some kind of protest, if Derek hadn’t then swept him into his arms and deposited him back onto the bed.
“Jesus!” Stiles snapped, “Derek, stop it. I’m fine, alright? You don’t have to look after me anymore. And I-” his voice cracked, “I just want to go home.”
“Stiles…” Derek’s voice was as shaky as Stiles’ own, and the teen hated it.
“Don’t, okay? I know what last night was. Shit happened, and you helped me out. Made sure no one found me like that, or, or- something worse. But I get that that’s all it was. You made it perfectly fucking clear.”
“Stiles, that’s not what-”
“S hut up ,” Stiles snapped, on his feet now and brimming with energy. “You really want me to just sit here and take it while you rub it in? It’s not like I ever thought I had a chance with you. And I never would have said anything, never . But do you have any idea how humiliating it is to offer myself up to you on a silver platter and have you reject me like that? Like you were disgusted. Like you thought I was pathetic.”
“Stiles, I never thought-”
“Of course you did,” Stiles plowed on. “You didn’t want to- anything - and I- I made you-” Stiles voice broke, and when the teen’s shoulders slumped, body closing in on itself, Derek had to fight the urge to cradle Stiles to his chest. “And I know what that’s like, you know? Getting the choice taken away. With the- the Nogitsune… Did you know that when me and Malia got together at Eichen House, it wasn’t me? I knew what was happening, but I wasn’t in control. It was just using my body to...And Malia knew, but I never told anyone else. She said it didn’t matter to her. And being with her seemed like a good idea when she liked me, and you didn’t want me anyways, and- and who the hell else would want someone so fucked up? But I did the same thing to you. I made you -”
“Stiles. Shut. Up.”
Derek grabbed Stiles by the collar and slammed him into the wall. They’d been in the same position dozens of times before, whenever Stiles pushed him too far. But now it felt different. The air between them was charged. Derek figured he could tell Stiles just how wrong he was, but he’d never been great with words.
Stiles’ eyes were already on Derek’s lips when the Alpha ducked forward and kissed him.
There was no preamble. No slow teasing or easing into it. Derek devoured him, pressed and pressed until he could be sure that Stiles wouldn’t mistake this for pity, or desperation, or anything else but genuine desire.
When he finally pulled back, they were both panting hard.
“Fuck,” Stiles gasped, “Why couldn’t you have done that last night ?”
Derek leveled him with a glare, but it lacked heat. “I told you why.”
“Yes, I did,” Derek growled, “And the fact that you can’t remember the reason is exactly why I insisted we wait .”
“I…” Stiles blinked owlishly. “I was pretty out of it, I guess.”
“You got hit with the equivalent of magical roofies, Stiles. I had to be sure you wanted this. Wanted me.”
“Oh,” Stiles said. Derek watched the corner of the boy’s mouth twitch upwards. “For the record, I do want you. A fucking lot. And also- thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank-”
“Shut up and take a compliment,” Stiles interrupted, but he was full on grinning now. “You made sure I still had a choice. Thank you , Derek.”
Derek bit his lower lip hard, released it, then murmured the only words Stiles’ would accept at the moment, “You’re welcome.”
Stiles beamed up at him, palms drifting down Derek’s sides. “Before things got overwhelming, you said something about mates… is that what we are?”
“We could be,” Derek bit out more roughly than he’d intended. “It’s not fate or anything like that. Most wolves never even find a true mate, they just find someone who’ll make them happy. You don’t have any obligation…”
“But we’re compatible,” Stiles said. “I could be your mate… what...as long as I accept?”
Derek dipped his head in agreement.
“And…” there was anxiety wafting off of Stiles again, and Derek wanted to rub his palms all over the teen until the scent vanished. “And do you want that? Do you want me to be your mate? Because until, well, now , I’ve always figured that one- you were straight, and two- you were totally uninterested in me.”
“I’m interested,” Derek said, and it felt like catharsis. “I’ve suspected...” Stiles was staring up at him with a look of utter disbelief, so Derek made it simple. “I want you, Stiles. I have for awhile. Honestly, I don’t know how someone as smart as you could have missed it.”
“You used to spend all your time shoving me into things,” Stiles pointed out.
“It was the only way I got to touch you,” Derek countered.
“You call me an idiot every chance you get.”
“Have you seen me with Cora? That’s basically declaring my undying love.”
“You don’t treat me any different than the rest of the pack.”
“Stiles, I check in with you at least once a day. I run by your house almost every night just to make sure you’re alright. I come over for weekly dinners with you and your father. The Sheriff. The one who arrested me. And I bring dessert. ”
Stiles’ expression was rapidly shifting from blatant confusion to enthusiastic understanding.
Still, he blurted out, “But you never said anything!”
Derek shrugged. “Neither did you.”
Stiles gaped at him. His mouth hung open, eyes narrow, and he gaped and gaped and gaped. Derek snapped his fingers in front of the teen’s face, and Stiles glared at him in response.
“We,” Stiles enunciated, pausing for dramatic effect. “Are such. Fucking. IDIOTS. ”
Stiles launched himself at Derek, wrapping his arms and legs around the Alpha like a clinging child. But he’d moved with enough ferocity to knock them both back onto the bed, where they landed with a series of indignant huffs.
“ Stiles ,” Derek tried to growl, going for menacing , but it wasn’t much use when the teen had his mouth plastered to Derek’s neck. And then his cheek, and his shoulder, and his sternum.
“Such fucking idiots,” Stiles kept muttering. “Could have been doing this for years. But noooo. We had to be absolute fucking morons.”
“Stiles,” Derek gasped out when a hot mouth met his hip bone. “ Stiles !”
The teen picked up his head to level Derek with a serious look. “We’re going to have so much sex, now,” Stiles informed him.
“Yeah, okay,” Derek breathed.
“No. Not just okay. So. Much. Sex.” When Derek just shuddered underneath him, Stiles continued, “You owe me. And I owe you. We owe each other. So we’re having sex now and we’re not going to stop until both our bodies give out on us, understand?”
Derek cocked an eyebrow. “You know, you’re a little bit scary when you’re turned on.”
“Oh, just you wait,” Stiles said with a smirk. He pressed his lips to Derek for a kiss that was short and sweet. “So. Much. Sex,” Stiles repeated.
And God help him, all Derek could do was nod.