Stiles tried to tell himself that this year was like any other year, that it didn't matter that this year, he was eighteen, that he came of age to fulfill the treaty his family had brokered with the Hale pack over ten years ago. That it didn't matter that the one he was suppose to be marrying was dead, and had been for three years. That he'd never actually met his future husband and had no idea what he would be like. That he'd been in love with Lydia Martin since ever, and it didn't even fucking matter, because he was the fucking sacrifice to the Hale pack in order to keep Beacon Hills safe from the things that go bump in the night.
He was really bad at making himself feel better.
Stiles sighed and flopped back on his bed, shirt rumpling a little bit. He couldn't bring himself to care. It would have made his mom tsk at him, to be wrinkling himself just hours before--but his mother wasn't here. No one that was supposed to be was here. His mom wasn't here. The proper Hale alpha wasn't here. Laura wasn't here. He knew Laura. He'd liked Laura, and he'd been okay with marrying her. She was funny and nice. She laughed at his jokes. She'd hugged him for a long, long time after his mom had died.
He'd hugged her, too, after her family had been killed in the fire. And told her that he'd still be here when she came back, because he knew she needed to leave for a while, take her brother away to protect him while the law and council worked together to find who had set the fire and dealt with them. He'd then spent the next three years trying to stop himself from falling for Lydia, who was the perfect amount of unattainable for him to latch on to and worship.
Stiles closed his eyes and sighed. It hadn't mattered. Lydia had stayed appropriately distant, Laura had been killed, and now Derek Hale was the one he was going to meet at the courthouse today. He barely knew him. No, he didn't know him. He knew of him, knew that he was the new alpha, that he'd taken Scott in when Scott had gotten bitten, and that he was willing to honor the agreement made ten years ago when everything was different.
"Stiles?" There was a knock on the door, and his dad peeked in. "Are you ready?"
Stiles sighed and sat up. "I guess," he said, standing and putting on his waistcoat. He picked up his jacket and took a breath. "I'm ready."
His dad hesitated, and then stepped more fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "Stiles...you don't have to do this."
"Dad, don't. Just...please don't. I do have to do this, if we want to keep everyone safe. So it's not Laura, it's Derek. Fine. I'll live. I need to do this, or those lives were in vain. Laura's, Mom's...the rest of the Hale pack...what's the point of them if I don't do this?"
His father frowned. "Stiles, that's...not really accurate. They didn't die because of all this, you know that."
"No, I--" Stiles cut himself off, frowning in frustration. "That's not what I meant. I mean..." In his head, the comparison had made sense. Laura left to keep herself and Derek safe so they could come back and protect the town when it was time. She died. Mom got infected with that--she died. The Hales died simply because of what they are. They had all died because Stiles wasn't old enough to marry and bond with the alpha and give her strength. Now he was old enough, and he could do this, and no one else had to die. It all made perfect sense to him, but whenever he tried to verbalize it, it got all tangled up and awkward and made no sense at all.
"Let's just go," he said quietly, and pushed past his dad toward the car and the rest of his life.
Consequently, Derek was nervous as hell. He didn't completely know what to expect. He knew Stiles was sarcastic when cornered, a smart ass as easily as he breathed, loved Cheetos, Mt. Dew, Twix bars, and trashy romance novels when he felt like he needed an escape from the world. He loved to cook because it made him feel close to his mom, hated to clean bathrooms, and had always wanted a pet, but hadn't been allowed one. That he had worshiped a girl named Lydia in school, mostly because he couldn't have her, he knew he couldn't have her, and she'd been a safe target for his pent up and frustrated emotions.
And now, he was going to marry Derek in order to protect the town and fulfill a contract made before he'd even hit puberty. A wolf that he didn't know, had never expected to be with, and quite possibly resented. This was going to be a great marriage.
"Get your head out of your ass," Scott said cheerfully, thumping Derek on the shoulder. "I can see it on your face, you're being a dick." He was completely unintimidated by Derek, and tended to be an asshole if he thought Derek needed it. Which was far more often than he should be to an alpha, but there it was. He was irreverent, occasionally rude, frequently an idiot, but for the most part, he was an endearing little puppy, and Derek was kind of fond of him, though he'd die before he admitted it in front of Scott. Right now, he'd apparently decided that being an asshole was the way to go to keep Derek from getting locked inside his head.
Derek growled at him. "Why are you even here?" he muttered.
"Because I'm the best man for your husband," Scott said with a big grin. "Who is coming this way now, Alpha, so keep your temper in check."
Derek shot him a dirty look, and then focused on the car parking in front of the court house, the man getting out of the driver's seat, and then the young man getting out of the passenger's side. Wearing... "Is he seriously wearing a red suit?" he asked in disbelief.
Scott smothered a laugh. "Yup. And looks damned good in it, too," he pointed out.
Derek couldn't argue that. The suit was cut close and tailored right, fitting the lean, lanky form now walking toward him. It was a bright, rich red that accented Stiles’ coloring, and made him look both like an offering and a menace. There was a message there; of that, Derek was sure. The question was, what was it?
“Alpha Hale,” the Sheriff said formally, stopping a few feet from Derek and Scott. “This is my son, Stiles. He’s your...fiancé.”
Derek attempted to smile at the sheriff, but was fairly sure it came across as a grimace. “Hello, Stiles. I’m Derek... Your...”
“I know who you are. Laura did talk about you. Can we do this? I’d rather not let this become a giant spectacle if we can avoid it,” Stiles said, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, and looking Derek in the eye defiantly.
Derek heard Scott choke, and start to hiss, “Stiles!”, but he raised a hand. He was intrigued by this human who would be so brazen when he smelled so miserable. And good. Stiles smelled remarkably good, like...home? Or maybe it was just the smell of true familial love, something he hadn’t smelled in so long that he’d nearly forgotten what it was. “It’s all right. I agree. My pack’s inside, waiting for us. Shall we?” he offered his arm to Stiles.
There was a hesitation, a moment where Derek was sure that Stiles was going to turn him down, and start this whole thing off miserably, but the moment passed, and Stiles tucked his hand into the curve of Derek’s arm. The wave of relief and hope that swept through Derek was unexpected and foreign. He pushed it aside. He had a duty to do.
Stiles took a deep breath, turning to look fully at Derek. He’d promised himself not to look away from a direct gaze, choosing to set the tone for this marriage from the start. He refused to be subservient or shoved into the background just because was human. He would be equal, or he would die fighting for it.
He wasn’t expecting the flash of amusement and respect in Derek’s eyes, or the soft lips that pressed against his own. The kiss didn’t last very long, little more than perfunctory and necessary for the ceremony, but it did leave him a little confused. It was soft and careful, like Derek didn’t want to hurt him, wanted him to be comfortable, and maybe even happy. That wasn’t what Stiles was expecting at all, and it threw him enough that he missed Derek stepping away from him, shaking the judge’s hand, his father’s hand, and the concerned look both his dad and Scott gave him.
“Stiles?” Scott asked, moving close to Stiles so that no one else--who wasn’t a werewolf--would hear him. “You all right?”
“What? Oh. Yeah, just...it’s finally happened, and there’s no going back, y’know?” Stiles said, trying not to stare at his new husband, as he accepted the congratulations of his pack with a straight face.
“Well...technically, you still could? You haven’t consummated it yet...” Scott offered.
“No,” Stiles said firmly, forcefully enough that Scott reared back a little. “I am doing this. For you, for Dad, for the town...for Mom, Laura, the Hales that died...” He took a deep breath, and turned fully toward Scott, missing that Derek turned toward him, looking at him sharply when he said that. “I’m the only one that can do this, and I want to keep everyone safe. Laura loved Derek, and I think he and I can at least be friends.”
Scott frowned a little. “Stiles...” but he didn’t get to say anything else because Derek was there suddenly.
“Are you ready to go to the reception?” he asked Stiles, who blinked a couple of times. He’d forgotten that there would actually be a dinner...lunch...thing with his dad, Derek’s pack, and Scott’s mother. The one that preceded the whole wedding night thing, and tomorrow’s formal presentation of Stiles as the Alpha Mate. Oh.
“I. Yes,” Stiles said, straightening his spine. He was wearing red, his favorite color, and he’d completed half of his job. Well. A third. Another third was consummating his marriage and forming the bond that would give Derek more than double his power so that he could protect the town.
The last third was surviving the rest of his life some form of happy. That one would be harder. But hey, two out of three wasn’t bad.
He let Derek take his hand and pull him gently from the room, toward a waiting car. Stiles blinked when he realized he recognized it. “This is your car?” he asked, a little surprised.
Derek frowned at him. “Yeah, why?” he dropped Stiles hand, and for a moment, Stiles thought he’d fucked up and already pissed Derek off. Between the frown...well. Scowl, and the loss of touch, he had one panicked moment of defeat before he realized that Derek was just allowing him the courtesy of free will, and opening his own car door.
“No reason,” Stiles said, trying to cover his momentary pause by deliberately examining the car. “Just recognized it from being around town.” He didn’t add that he’d noticed it increasingly often on his own street. If Derek had been studying him, Stiles couldn’t exactly blame him. If he’d been allowed out of the house more often, he’d probably have done the same thing.
Problem was, he hadn’t been. Before the Hale fire that had killed most of Derek’s family, Stiles had been allowed to play largely where he wanted; because there were enough wolves in town to protect him if something went very wrong. After the fire, after Laura had taken Derek and run while the Council had worked to figure out who the arsonist was, Stiles hadn’t been allowed out any more. He’d gone from having nearly all of the freedom to having next to none of it.
Stiles understood, intellectually. With the contract in place, he was the only one who could, legally, solidify the Hale Alpha’s position, give them the necessary power boost, and keep Beacon Hills safe, but he couldn’t do that until he was eighteen. So, protection that was little more than house arrest sometimes, and three long years later, he was left with extremely limited knowledge of anyone, but maybe most especially his new husband.
Emotionally, Stiles hated it. He hated feeling confined, restrained, controlled. It was by far his least favorite part about this entire thing. He understood the necessity of marrying and mating with Derek. He understood needing to be kept safe until he could do that. He even understood why Derek hadn’t made the same effort Laura had to get to know him. He hated that he wasn’t in control of his own life.
“So...” he started to say, but immediately stalled. He didn’t know what to say to Derek. Not one damned clue. Of course, since when had that ever stopped him? “I know that you really didn’t want an eighteen year old husband, or me at any age, that I was supposed to go to Laura, and you probably hate me for it, and you probably can’t stand that I’m like this living relic of her life or whatever, but I promise, I’m going to try to stay out of your way. I’m already registered to take a lot of my gen eds online so that I can work on getting my degree, and Scott said that your house is huge, so I should be able to stay out of your way if you don’t want me around, which like I said, I totally get, so--”
“Stiles,” Derek said, and Stiles stumbled to a halt. Derek sounded half pained, half curious.
“You don’t...you don’t have to stay out of my way. I don’t think of you.” He stopped, frowning at the road as they drove through town. “I don’t think of you as Laura’s relic.”
Stiles waited for something else, anything else, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Well. “Uhm. Good?” he offered when the silence started to get awkward. “I mean. Definitely good. That you don’t see me as...yeah.” He looked out the window with a sigh. Shit.
“Where are you registered?” Derek asked, startling Stiles.
“Where are you registered? You said you were registered online.” Derek glanced at him, and Stiles was a little startled--again with the being startled. Was this going to be a thing with this guy?--to see that there appeared to be genuine curiosity on his face.
“Oh. UC Davis?” Stiles offered. “I was thinking...a major in Supernatural History with an eye toward teaching?” He held his breath, waiting for the negation he always got from everyone, the assertion that he could do so much better. The worst part was, if Derek objected, Stiles would have to actually pay attention, and give it serious thought. Not that marriage and mating took away his autonomy, or reduced his status. He was very much a legal equal. He wasn’t a physical equal, though, and he knew that Derek could make his life hell if he wanted.
“I can see that,” Derek said instead. “From what Scott tells me, you’d be a good teacher, and I think someone directly involved in the supernatural would be a better teacher than someone who wasn’t.”
Stiles blinked at him a little. That wasn’t really the response he expected. That wasn’t the response he usually got from people. It was, interestingly, very similar to his own logic. “Exactly,” he said weakly, when he realized that Derek was starting to look a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Sorry, that was just...unexpected.”
“Why, because I’m a territorial alpha, and I’ll be a demanding mate?” Derek said, and Stiles realized too late he’d hit on a sore spot somehow. Fuck.
“No,” he said, struggling to keep himself in check. His instinctive reactions were to both comfort Derek because no one should feel like Derek probably did based on that response, and to yell at him for being an asshole. “Because everyone else tells me it’s dumb. Half of them tell me that you’ll pick a career for me, and the other half tell me that you’re just going to want me at home, taking care of our house and our cubs as they’re born.”
Derek glanced at him warily, and Stiles realized how flat his voice had gotten. He sighed and looked at the window, wondering how to fix it. “Sorry,” he offered.
“...it’s fine,” Derek said, and then they were parking at Derek’s house, getting out, other people behind them, and everything turned to one big blur.
Stiles was fairly sure that he responded appropriately, held conversations, maybe even talked to Derek. He didn’t remember any of it. Not one detail stood out to him until the final click of the door behind the last person to leave--which was Scott with his mother; Stiles registered that much--leaving him alone with Derek. The big house seemed enormous, Derek’s presence at his side massive and warm.
“If I could put this off for you, give you time to get to know me, I would,” Derek choked out. Stiles thought he sounded like he’d rather be anywhere but there.
“I wouldn’t,” Stiles said, squaring his shoulders and turning to face his husband. “Nothing is going to change, so why put off the inevitable?” He was referring to the results, not his relationship with Derek, but the moment he saw Derek’s lips compress, saw the eyes shutter, he realized what he’d said could be taken a whole different way. “No, I--”
“Upstairs,” Derek bit out. “Up the stairs, down the hall straight ahead, doorway on the end. I’ll be up in a minute,” and he turned and stalked toward a closed door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Stiles stared at the door for a moment before sighing and slowly starting up the stairs. What else was he suppose to do? He walked slowly down the hall, to the room Derek had told him to be in, and slipped inside. He didn’t know what he was expecting. What he got was a large room, light gray walls, a rich blue cover on the bed, and honey colored wood floors with a huge area rug that matched the blue of the bed. It was incredibly tranquil and soothing. Not at all what he was expecting from an alpha werewolf.
He sighed. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He wandered around the suite, investigating the closet, which was at least half the size of his bedroom at ho--at his Dad’s. He noticed that the clothes he’d packed that morning were already hung up in the empty space that had been made for him. Drawers underneath the hanging clothes piqued his curiosity, and he opened one to discover things like underwear, socks, and his pajamas.
He stared at the soft cotton of his favorite pair for a moment, before grabbing it out of the drawer. He methodically stripped off his suit, hanging them carefully on one of the hangers--and there were actual three piece suit hangers in this closet, that was a trip--and padded to the bathroom in just his boxer briefs.
He found a room decorated in muted grays and blues, and a massive glassed in shower stall next to a gigantic whirlpool tub. “Wow,” he told his reflection in the mirror across from the door. “Wow.” While the bathroom was impressive, Stiles didn’t take his time. For some reason, he didn’t want Derek to find him in the shower, even if the man hadn’t said he couldn’t get cleaned up. He mostly just felt too nervous to be able to luxuriate in the warm spray.
Thoroughly clean, Stiles dried off, pulled his sleep pants on, and returned to the bedroom. He studied the bed for a moment, wondering if he should crawl in, and be ready...and decided that to hell with it. This was his bedroom now, too. He headed for the side of the bed that looked...well. That didn’t have a book on the bedside table, and flipped back the covers. Sliding in, stiles very nearly moaned. The sheets were soft as silk, thick and luxurious. “Scott wasn’t kidding about the no-expense-spared parts of this house,” he muttered, snuggling down into the soft bed.
The next thing he knew, he was being woken up by a warm hand gently shaking his shoulder. Stiles blinked his eyes open to see Derek studying him, face open. His hair was damp, suggesting that he’d showered, too.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” Derek said, looking actually sorry. If one ignored the grimace. “I’d let you sleep, but...”
“But tomorrow, we’re being subjected to a sniff test, and we better smell right?” Stiles said muzzily, rolling onto his back and stretching. “No worries. Get in here.”
Derek hesitated a moment longer, but when Stiles gave in to the impulse to yawn and stretch again, Derek gave in and got into the bed. He slid across the sheet until he was about six inches from Stiles, and there he stopped.
And didn’t move.
“Seriously?” Stiles asked him, mystified. “What’s wrong?”
Derek frowned and huffed. “I don’t know...” He hesitated for a long moment, and Stiles was starting to worry he was going to say something asinine like “I don’t know how to have sex,” when he took a deep breath and said, “how you’d like to do this.”
Stiles snorted. “Dude, I have pretty much spent my life knowing I was going to the mate to the Hale alpha. While I gave myself a pretty thorough sexual education via the internet, and have researched, at length, what is necessary to bond, and also did my best to learn the 101 ways to drive your wolf wild in bed, I’m...a virgin. Never been touched by more than my own hands and an ill gotten dildo.”
Derek looked like he didn’t actually know what to do with that information, so Stiles huffed and curled his hand around his husband’s neck to pull him closer. He pressed his lips to Derek’s, and tried to figure out how to make this work right. It was awkward. Uncomfortably so. He pulled back with a frown. “Well, that sucked,” he said.
Derek groaned. “Oh my god,” he muttered, and moved in again. This time, they fit together much better, noses aligning properly, lips meeting without pressing awkwardly against teeth. It was tons better. Like. Really, a lot...
He shifted closer to Derek without even thinking about it, until he was pressed against his husband’s chest. It felt good, all warm and smooth against his own. Enough that he opened his mouth in a quiet moan he wasn’t quite sure he should make.
Derek took it as an invitation, and suddenly, there was a warm tongue slipping into his mouth, flicking against the tip of his own, and retreating again. Derek repeated the motion, and Stiles realized that he was being invited to play. With their tongues. While they kissed.
Sex was weird.
He was game, though, because it felt really good somehow, and followed Derek’s tongue back into his mouth. They went back and forth like that a little bit, when Derek shifted and pressed Stiles down into the mattress. They kept kissing, but Stiles could feel his heart rate picking up, feel Derek’s slowly hardening cock against his hipbone, and knew he was getting hard, too. Was this purely a physical reaction? Derek was smoking hot, after all, objectively speaking, and was rubbing that hotness all over Stiles. Was it personal attraction? Was it something else?
“Stop thinking,” Derek growled, pulling away to look down at Stiles in slight confusion. “Seriously. You think too much.”
“Well, excuse me for being unfamiliar with where this is going,” Stiles said, but there was no bite behind it. He was too worried, honestly. Worried about how they were going to actually make this work, and if he was going to be able to bond on the level necessary.
Derek snorted and rolled again, taking Stiles with him. Stiles ooof’ed as he landed on top of a broad, firm chest, and looked down at his husband--he was not getting over that mental designation any time soon--in surprise. “Uh--”
“Explore. Learn. Become familiar,” Derek said, letting go of Stiles and tucking his hands under his head. He gazed at Stiles steadily, maybe even a little challengingly, if Stiles was any judge.
“Seriously?” Stiles asked, but his eyes were already falling to that hollow of Derek’s collarbone. It looked like it would taste good, a little salty, a little sweet, a lot of Derek... he dipped his head and licked, swirling his tongue in the little hollow. There was a rumble under his tongue, a vibration in Derek’s chest that was mostly sub vocal.
Stiles counted it as a win, and swirled his tongue again. He was right, though he’d forgotten that Derek had showered, too, so there was also a faint overlay of soap. He traced his tongue over Derek’s collarbone, to his shoulder, not getting very far before his tongue went dry. “Wait, what?” he muttered, and swallowed, rewetting his tongue before he tried again. He got the same results, and he popped his head up to look at Derek.
“Why does no one ever tell you that licking your lo-lover’s body like that dries your tongue out?” he demanded.
Derek looked amused, a slight smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “Because no one wants to reveal how unsexy it is in actual practice?” he offered.
“Huh.” Stiles looked down. “Well. You taste good and all, all warm and clean and stuff, but it is so not worth winding up with a numb tongue because I dried out my tongue dragging it all over you.” He traced the path with his eyes. “Fingers it is,” he decided, and ignored the snort of amusement. It was better for his sanity.
Fingers were just as good, Stiles decided, pulling his fingertips across the kind of unfairly muscled bicep that he now had full permission to touch. All kinds of sensory receptors in his brain lit up, and information gained by being able to use his eyes, too, flooded his already overwhelmed thought processes. Fingers were awesome. They trailed across Derek’s shoulder, down across his throat to his chest, and then Stiles realized that his fingers were slowing and stopping of their own volition. They’d found a nipple, and Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.
“You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Derek asked when Stiles just sort of rubbed his fingers over it a little. He covered Stiles’ hand for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I...I want you to learn. If that’s. If that’s what you want. But this first time, will you let me take control?”
Stiles wanted to protest. He was weirded out by this as it was. He wanted to remain in control, be in charge...but he had no idea what to do, and they sort of didn’t have a choice about this. Tomorrow, Stiles would be presented to the council as the Hale Alpha’s Mate (Stiles always mentally added a ™), and needed to be unequivocally Derek’s mate. That meant that tonight... “Okay,” he said, rolling off Derek.
Derek blinked at him for a moment, as though he was startled by such immediate and complete obsequiousness. Stiles reached under the covers just for something to do, fiddling with the drawstring on his pants. He didn’t actually register Derek’s movement until a warm hand was covering his, pulling gently on the string until it came undone.
Stiles stared up at Derek’s face that was suddenly inches from his own, and swallowed hard. His cock twitched in his pants, like it knew what was coming and was definitely interested in the proceedings. He raised his head so that he could kiss Derek again. It was a distraction, yeah, because there were now fingers rubbing low on his belly, creeping under the edge of his waistband. It was also something that he just plain wanted to do. Kissing Derek just...was something he wanted to do.
He gasped, pulled out of his head by a hand, warm and calloused, curling around his cock. “Oh god,” he moaned, hips rolling into the warmth--a little too dry to be perfect--like they couldn’t stop. “Derek. Derek, please.”
“Please what?” Derek asked, nose rubbing against Stiles cheek before stealing another kiss.
“I...I don’t know, just. Something. Please, do something?” Stiles begged, squirming to try and get his pants off.
Derek huffed a laugh, and moved, throwing the bedding all the way down, and hooking his fingers around the edge of Stiles’ waistband. The pants went flying, too, and Derek crawled across the bed and dug in the bedside table drawer before coming back. He dropped something next to Stiles as he slotted himself between Stiles’ knees, gently but firmly convincing him to open his legs.
It was awkward, because Stiles really wasn’t use to having anyone around him when he was naked, outside of the locker room, and that was very much not...this. This being a warm male form pressing down against him, a hard cock nudging up against his own, and a mouth coming back down on his, kissing him breathless. The thing was, even if it was awkward in its unfamiliarity, it wasn’t bad. It was actually really good, and Stiles was a little startled by how fast he was adjusting and wanting this.
He moaned as Derek’s mouth moved down his jaw to his neck, across his collarbone, scruff scraping along the way. Stubble shouldn’t feel that good, Stiles tried to tell himself, but it didn’t work very well. Not when Derek’s hips were hitching gentle, and there was amazing goodness of their cocks rubbing together.
“Derek,” Stiles whimpered, and blushed hotly when he realized that he’d whimpered.
“Shhh,” Derek murmured, fingers groping next to Stiles-oh, it was lube. “I’ve got you. I’ll make this as good as I can, I promise.”
Stiles was pretty sure that it was going to hurt, no matter what Derek Did, but then, with one of those adjustments of body that Stiles was use to from Scott, and less use to from the husband between his legs, Derek was nosing his balls, pushing his thighs apart, gently spreading Stiles’ cheeks--
“Oh, holy fuck!” Stiles yelped as a warm tongue dragged across his hole. Derek did it again, and then again, and then Stiles was just going to give up on counting, on thinking, on anything, because that was a tongue working inside of him, and he was going to lose his mind.
He would have liked to be able to remember everything. He really would. Every single detail of Derek fucking him open with his tongue, and then slowly, almost agonizingly slowly by what bits he could remember, stretching him with his fingers. But he couldn’t. All Stiles could remember was the burn of being forced wider than he’d ever been before, the feel of Derek’s mouth on his inner thigh as two fingers pressed deep inside of him, his shriek when his prostate was pressed on.
“This feels...really different...than when I do it,” Stiles panted. He looked down his body, and nearly swallowed his tongue when his eyes met Derek’s hot gaze. There was want there. Actual want. Oh god. “Way better than my own fingers and my dildo.”
“Good,” Derek said with a smirk that should just not be that fucking hot, what the fuck, and carefully worked another finger into Stiles’ body.
“Aaaah!” Stiles gasped, head falling back. It hurt. It burned and it stretched, and it pinched, but somehow, that made it feel that much better. It wasn’t the pain that felt good, not exactly. It was the after burn, as the pain ebbed, the throb in his muscles, the fingers twisting slowly inside of him, coating him with lube, preparing him for--”Wait, four? You’ve got four fingers in me to prepare me for your cock?” Stiles asked, raising his head again in concern.
Derek snorted and gently pulled his fingers out. He pushed himself up to a kneeling position, revealing a thick, curved cock bobbing between lightly furry thighs. It wasn’t...well, okay, so it was bigger than some of the cocks that Stiles had seen in the porn. He swallowed as he stared at it, nearly startling visibly when it bobbed suddenly. He swallowed again, and Derek’s cock bobbed again.
Stiles smiled suddenly, distracted from the size of the dick about to be invading his ass, and looked up at Derek. He very deliberately licked his lips, pulling his lower one between his teeth.
Derek growled and lunged forward, catching his mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. Stiles melted into it, submitting instinctively. There was something humming in the air, some urgent tension that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“Fuck me,” Stiles said, feeling brave for a brief moment. “Please?”
Derek growled again, and kissed him hard. “Yes,” he said, and pulled back. He rolled a condom on to himself, and layered it thickly with lubricant. Way more than Stiles thought they needed, but he wasn’t about to argue. Not when Derek had felt that four fingers was the appropriate preparation.
Stiles let himself fall back all the way, raising his knees as his husband edged forward, hooking his hands around Stiles’ thighs. He lifted, spreading Stiles just a little wider and nudged right up against his ass. “Bear down against me,” Derek said, and then there was a thick, blunt head pressing against his hole, asking Stiles to let him in.
Stiles cried out, half in shock and pleasure, half in stinging pain. Even four fingers hadn’t prepared him for what it felt like to have his husband’s cock working its way into his body. It was both the best thing ever and the worst thing ever, and something deep down inside of Stiles was uncurling, rising up, demanding to be acknowledged and sated. “Derek, please,” he groaned, hooking his heels behind Derek’s back and trying to pull him in.
Derek was visibly restraining himself, muscles bunched with tension as he thrust slowly, withdrew, thrust again, each time going little deeper. It hurt, just like Stiles knew it would, but it was a good kind of hurt. A stretchy, restless hurt that made him ache deep down inside, made him want desperately. The buzzing between them increased, and Stiles realized it was them. Their energy. Their existence. They were buzzing.
Derek bottomed out, and froze for a long moment, obviously trying to give Stiles some time. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice raspy and an octave deeper than it was normally. The sound of it fizzled up Stiles’ spine.
“Good. I’m good. Better than good. Hurts a little, but I expected that. You’re in...I’m so full, Derek.” Stiles’ voice hitched, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop the stream of words. “Your cock is so far up my ass and it feels so good. You’re so big and so deep it feels like you’re touching my soul, which is stupid because really? But I can’t help it, I didn’t expect this. Derek, I didn’t expect this at all, we weren’t suppose to fit together this way, this well, I need you to move now, please fuck me, please, please.” He tried to roll his hips up, tried to get Derek in deeper.
“Stiles,” Derek said with a groan, and pinned him down simply by lowering himself on top of Stiles. His arms were caught under Stiles’ shoulders, his hands hooked over the top, and his face pressed into Stiles’ throat as his hips started to move.
“Derek,” Stiles groaned again, wishing he could get a hand down to stroke his cock. The friction he was getting was good, but not quite enough. “Derek, I’m not gonna last lo--Fuck!” Apparently, Derek didn’t intend for Stiles to last long, because he shifted his thrust and suddenly, he was nailing Stiles’ prostate repeatedly.
Derek just growled into Stiles’ throat, and then everything was a blur of thrusts, scrapes of teeth, drags of tongue, growls, whimpers, and the building buzzing between them that was so loud that Stiles could feel it echoing and vibrating his chest.
“Gonna bite you,” Derek said, and for one panicked moment, Stiles thought he meant turn Stiles. Derek must have felt or heard the spike of panic in his heartbeat, because he nuzzled Stiles’ throat soothingly. Considering the words spoken two seconds previously, it shouldn’t have made Stiles feel better, but it did. “Mark you. Make you mine.”
Stiles relaxed and tilted his head further. This, he’d expected. The mating bite, the one that marked him as Derek’s mate, mate of the alpha, wouldn’t change him. Not into a werewolf, anyway. He gasped as Derek’s lunge pressed him that much deeper into Stiles. The mouth that latched onto his shoulder, hot and needy, was almost too much. “Derek,” he whimpered without meaning to.
Derek growled, soft and low, and perversely, Stiles was comforted by it. He’d caused that sound, made his husband feel this way. His mate. His...
The buzzing suddenly peaked, and something in Stiles’ chest sparked and flared to life. Derek’s teeth in his shoulder had him screaming out, but it was with pleasure. The sharp stab of pain was over in an instant, transmuted into the overwhelming pleasure of his orgasm. He spilled between their bodies as Derek thrust deep once, twice, before stilling, hips rolling jerkily as he came.
Stiles clung to the sweaty, still body of his husband. His mate. He could feel that now, the spark settling into a steady warm burn that just, somehow, felt like Derek. He felt sated and comforted. He imagined that had to do with the bond they had formed. Sort of like an uber afterglow.
Derek gathered himself and pushed up, looking down at Stiles warily. “You okay?” he asked, his voice still that raspy deep one that had sounded so good to being-fucked-Stiles. Still sounded good, actually. He studied Stiles’ face with a cautious curiosity, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do this, but wanting it all the same.
“I’m...yeah. I think I am,” Stiles said, shifting a little to test his body. “Should probably. Like. Unfold now, though.
Derek snorted and reached down to catch the end of the condom as he pulled out. The next few minutes were a weird flurry of wet wipes, towels that Stiles hadn’t realized were still on the floor, and covers shuffling, until they were lying side by side in the big bed. They were both on their back, Derek’s arm closest to Stiles curled up behind Derek’s head. Stiles wondered if Derek was inviting him in to cuddle.
He stared at the ceiling instead, the blankets settled over his waist. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this,” he finally said. “This warmth. It’s like...something settled into my chest. It’s comforting.”
Derek was silent for a long moment. “Do you like it?” he finally asked.
Stiles felt like more than just a simple yes or no question was being asked her. Still, the answer was simple enough. “Yes. I do.” He could feel tension leaching out of Derek’s frame, and it was enough to get him to roll on his side to look at his husband. “Is the warmth the bond?”
Derek turned his head, nuzzling it against his arm. Stiles assumed it was to get comfortable. “Yes and no,” he said, frowning a little. It was a thoughtful frown, though, not an upset one. “It’s the bond, but it’s...how I feel through it?”
Stiles blinked. “Well, then what do I feel like?”
“Electricity,” was Derek’s prompt reply. “You’re like a live wire to my senses.” HIs cheeks turned the faintest pink, and he focused on a spot somewhere above Stiles’ left ear. “It’s energizing in a way.”
Stiles grinned a little. He couldn’t help himself. “So you could say that I’m shocking?” he tried.
Derek groaned. “Don’t ever say that again,” he warned, but there was a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.
Stiles grinned wider, and shifted. The movement jostled the bite on his shoulder, and he gasped in surprise. It didn’t hurt, exactly. A deep muscle ache, yes, but not like he would expect a bite to hurt. He tried to turn his head to see it, but couldn’t get the angle right. Derek’s hand was in the way, anyway. He glanced up, startled, and realized Derek had rolled over, and was gently running his fingers over the mark.
“Why doesn’t that sting?” Stiles asked without thinking.
“Because it’s healed,” Derek said quietly, his eyes locked on what his fingers were tracing. ‘You’ve got a mark...my bite mark. It already healed over. It’s still bruised a little, but from my teeth...” He sounded awed, and Stiles was struck by how very much this wasn’t meant for Derek, either.
Stiles had known for the last decade that he would be the alpha’s mate, but for most of those years, he’d expected it to be Laura. He had been so thrown by Laura’s death and his betrothed becoming Derek that he’d never once stopped to consider that...Derek was as blindsided as he was. More so, since Laura was his sister and alpha, not his intended. The fact that Derek may have had time to prepare, in the sense that they had known for a while this was where things would end, he hadn’t had the years to adjust to knowing what his fate would be. Had, in fact, had to reorder his entire way of thinking on so many topics, that it was likely this one had slipped through the cracks until the last possible moment.
Now, with Derek gently fingering the mark, and looking both awed and a little scared--it was covered, but Stiles could see it in his eyes, and, oddly, feel it in his chest--Stiles was realizing that this was just as scary and new and awkward to Derek as it was to Stiles. Maybe that should have scared him more; somehow, it made him feel better.
Maybe it was because it put him on even footing with the Alpha, or maybe it simply made him feel better to know he wasn’t alone. Stiles didn’t know. He just knew that he was going to kiss Derek now.
Derek startled as Stiles’ lips brushed against his, like he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving closer. “What--?” he started to ask, but Stiles cut him off with another soft kiss.
“I don’t want this to be in name only,” Stiles said, prompted to honesty by some instinct he didn’t understand. “I know that this wouldn’t be your choice if you had one. That I wouldn’t be your choice. But this is what we have, and now we’re married and mated. This is all we’ve got. Each other. I want it to be something real. Is that...can you do that?”
Derek palmed his cheek, studying Stiles’ eyes with intense concentration. There was something in them that suggested to Stiles that he was looking for an answer, a reason, maybe even just a lie. “I can try,” Derek finally said, rubbing his thumb almost absently against Stiles’ cheekbone.
Stiles grinned, and there was a stutter in his chest, the warmth flickering for a beat. Huh. Interesting. “Then we try together.”