It’s two in the morning when his phone buzzes.
Derek rolls over with a pained groan, reaching out to catch his cell before it vibrates off the edge of his nightstand. He doesn’t spend much time with people outside his pack and family and the only reason one of them would be texting at this time could only because of an emergency.
Once he turns it over and looks at his screen with the blue glow lighting up the room, Derek sees it’s a text from his sister and realises that it’s a Laura emergency. It better be a big one to wake him up this early.
She’s the alpha of their pack ever since their mother passed the alpha power onto her, but that huge responsibility doesn’t stop Laura from going out and clubbing in unfamiliar territories on the weekends.
Derek just prefers to stay home, because it’s cheaper, there’s less noise and having drunk people hang off him when he's sober is literally the worst. Plus Derek generally doesn’t enjoy going out to clubs to have fun. It’s one of the reasons why Cora and Laura insist he’s likely to die alone. Because he refuses to go out to these kind of places on any given day and his sisters are pretty insistent that it’s the only way to meet people.
What kind of people he has no idea. But Derek has argued the hypocrisy in that many times, because if he was looking to meet people who shared similar interests, he’s not very likely to find them in the clubs that he holds immense dislike for. The last time he went out with his sisters and the rest of the pack, two people groped him inappropriately and Derek nearly got into a fight with a human when his girlfriend pinched Derek’s ass and he’d glared at her for five minutes.
Needless to say the night had been a bust.
But it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy fun or anything, no matter how much his sisters swear that he’s a crotchety old man. Or that he’s boring. Derek just prefers gatherings at other people’s houses with friends and pack that he knows for sure aren’t going to pour beer on his shoes or try and flirt with him because he accidentally smiled at something completely unrelated to them, and they’ve taken it as a undeclared signal.
The last one happens to Derek a lot. Which is why he avoids smiling as much as he can and that’s fairly easy to accomplish because he was born with what Cora describes as 'resting bitch face'.
And it’s not that he doesn’t want to date either. It's just that he prefers not to use dating sites and whenever people approach him in public his hackles rise before they can even get a word out. Erica says he’s unapproachable, but if his face is enough to frighten people off then obviously, they couldn’t handle him anyway.
Derek’s not bothered with being alone. Just because he’s a werewolf doesn’t mean that he’s required to roam the planet forever in search of his mate. It was that kind of mindset that drew him into some of the worst possible kind of relationships to begin with. Derek mistook a feeling for a connection with various people who turned out to be manipulative and surprisingly dangerous and Derek let it drag on in the hopes that they might be his mate.
And he’d been wrong every time.
He’d certainly been wrong about the girl who tried to burn his house down with the rest of his family inside. Luckily it hadn’t worked out in her favour. But yeah, after those spectacular failures, Derek’s basically given up on trying to track down his mate. Much to the disapproval of his parents and his sisters. Don’t even get him started on the rest of the pack. Even Boyd, who’s happily mated with Erica has taken him aside and asked him about it, and Boyd barely talks about anything if he can help it.
But Derek doesn’t need the pack ragging on him about not giving up on love, or how the universe will align for him eventually. Some werewolves don’t find their mates until they’ve started to turn grey with age. Or maybe his mate is already dead. It’s been known to happen.
If he was a human, Derek would be able to have as many relationships as he pleases. Based off looks alone if he wanted to be that shallow. Being a werewolf means that the person has to smell just right, that both of their scents need to mix together in the best possible way and that they need to be particularly strong to handle his strength. Not to mention mentally prepared for him regularly transforming on the full moon.
Some humans can't handle it and even werewolves aren't always a match made in heaven.
And Derek doesn’t want the werewolf groupies that trail after known wolves, who sexualise the hell out of them and want to put their strength and stamina to the test either. He’s not interested in that. And it’s unfortunate that he has the kind of physique and look about him that makes it fairly obvious he’s a wolf. Derek can’t even fly under the radar.
Which is why it’s so much easier for Derek to do his work at the sanctuary, visit his family whenever he can stomach their hovering and overly invasive concern for him, and the monthly pack runs. His sisters like to tell him he’s a hermit. And if that means they won’t force him to go clubbing with them and he can spend his Saturday nights at home with a good book or a movie then he’ll accept the title, no problem.
But he’s not subjecting himself to being forced out of bed to a place with sticky floors, pounding music and otherwise sexually promiscuous people unless Laura absolutely needs his help.
It turns out that she really does. Derek reads the message twice just to be sure that he isn’t dreaming.
Help, it reads, accidntly kidnpd somr dudew.
He takes a moment to compose his reply.
What the hell Laura?
She’s clearly been drinking, because her response is less than coherent and her spelling seems to have gone out the window.
Sone alph thibg it says my insyunct wnt off. Has 2 brgn hin
Laura clearly turned auto correct off on her phone again. Dammit. He dials her number and waits impatiently, sitting up in bed and tapping his fingers on the bedspread. If she doesn't answer then he's going back to bed, drunken disaster or not.
“Derek,” Laura answers and she’s half whispering, half yelling.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I took this guy home,” she says, slurring a little. “I don’t even want him but he’s got my instincts all tied up.”
Derek feels a shiver down his spine at the words. It should sound so sinister but it does. What about this guy could possibly get Laura, a powerful alpha werewolf, all tied up? “Are you in danger?”
“No,” she whispers loudly. “But I can’t let him leave.”
What the hell is she talking about? Derek pinches his nose and wonders if she's given herself wolfsbane poisoning again from drinking too much. “Just tell him you’re not interested and he’ll go home. You can handle it if he’s a dick about it.”
“No, Der,” she mutters slowly. “You don’t get it. I can’t let him leave. Like I physically won’t be able to do it.”
“You’ve kidnapped him,” Derek realises, repeating the sentiment of her first text and finally understanding how serious she is. Has she lost her goddamn mind?
This can’t be a werewolf instinct. Derek’s never had the urge to take random people home and lock them up in his house. Something’s wrong with Laura. It must be because she’s drunk.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “And I think, I think if he tries to go I’m not going to let him.”
Derek throws the covers back and gets out of bed with a groan of annoyance. “He’s not a stray pet you’ve picked up off the streets. You can’t just keep him.”
“Get over here,” she snaps back. “I think I’m gonna need you to hold me off. He’s drinking my booze out in the lounge room right now but he’s bound to get bored eventually. Especially since I’m not putting out.”
Derek throws some sweatpants on and curses at her. “Why the fuck didn’t you just call Mom?” he mutters. “Why do I have to deal with your weird alpha shit?”
“Thanks a lot asshole,” she says. “I tried to call her. And Dad. Neither of them picked up.”
He tries to think about what kind of instinct could possibly be encouraging her to kidnap people. “Well you were in the Sheffield territory tonight, weren’t you? You’re probably just on edge, and challenging any Were you can.”
“He’s human, dickface,” she mutters sounding annoyed. “And it’s not Sheffield territory anymore. This new Were is running it now. The kid smells like him.”
Oh fuck. Well it’s starting to make sense now. “You took the fucking new alpha’s mate?” he demands, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes and grabbing a shirt.
“He’s not mated,” Laura grumbles like that’s important. “But- hemaybeintheirpack.”
“Dammit, Laura,” he snaps, barely pushing his head through his shirt while struggling to get his arms through and keeping a hold of his cell phone just so he can express his displeasure at the same time.
“Hey I’m the one who just discovered I have hidden urges to kidnap people. Cut me some slack.”
Derek’s on his way to the front door now, stopping only to fetch his keys off the counter. “You’re at home right?”
“Yeah,” she mutters and suddenly Derek can hear a man’s voice in the background. “Shit. You’d better hurry. I think he’s trying to go.”
Derek darts out the door as she hangs up, sprinting down the staircase, out of his building and into the parking lot where his Camaro is waiting.
It’s still two in the morning so Derek keeps his lights off until he’s pulled out of the parking lot and hopes that his engine doesn’t wake anyone up. The Weres in his building probably have soundproofing but that doesn’t mean it might not wake some humans. Nobody should be awake at this hour.
This is why Derek doesn’t go clubbing.
When he gets to Laura’s apartment he can hear the signs of a struggle even as he starts hurrying up the stairs. Her elevator has been out for three months now and the shitty super has refused to send anyone in to fix it.
“Whoa,” a man’s voice says, his heart beating a little louder and suddenly Derek’s heart is beating faster too and he doesn’t know why. “Is it just me or is the vibe in here getting really weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Derek hears Laura say evenly, struggling to keep her temper under control. “You just can’t go anywhere right now and I don’t know why.”
The pause between responses feels weighted with danger. But Derek’s not worried for Laura. He knows that she can protect herself.
“Is this a freaky werewolf thing?” the guy wonders. “Like my best friend’s a wolf and he’s never tried to lock me away before. Not to mention that my dad is the sheriff and he’d frown upon that kind of thing you know, like in general.”
Of all the professions. Now this guy is going to get Laura arrested because she can’t control her damn instincts. This is not a mess that Derek wants or should be cleaning up. Not when the sun hasn’t even risen yet.
But when something smashes in Laura’s apartment, he sprints up the stairs as fast as he can. Because that something sounds an awful lot like a glass bottle. Derek reaches her door a second later, wrenching it open just in time to see the guy standing over Laura’s prone form on the floor, the remains of the bottle neck in his hand.
Derek’s eyes flash and the door snaps shut behind him when he advances with a growl. The guy cowers backwards, stumbling against the couch and half falling over it.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to kill your girlfriend. But she wasn’t gonna let me leave and it was totally turning into a hotel California situation.”
Derek scowls at him and bends down to lift his sister up, listening to her steady heartbeat. The guy hit her good. It’s going to take at least a minute for her to come to. Not bad for a human. He carefully deposits her into the armchair and turns back to the man who’s half hidden behind the couch now and looking like he wants to make a break for the door.
“She’s my sister,” he mutters, irritated. “And she wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“I’m starting to get the impression that she kidnapped me,” the guy mutters, hands raised non-threateningly as if he’s not the human trapped in a room full of pissed off werewolves. “I mean, I did think this was going to end in a pretty satisfying hook up-“
Derek growls again and steps closer, not sure why the thought has him baring his teeth. “She didn’t want you.”
The guy stares at him, at the display of sharp fangs with wide eyes. “Are you sure she’s your sister? Or is this one of those freaky incest situations?”
Derek makes a face, still advancing forward. “What? No. She called me because she was panicking-“
And then Derek finally smells him. He lets out a sharp wounded noise and the man’s eyes go impossibly wider, taking in the reaction quickly as if he’s processing a lot of details at once. His pupils dilate a second later before he reaches out and shakily gets a fistful of Derek’s shirt.
“Oh my God,” he babbles, dragging him in closer. “You’re- you’re my-“
It’s said that human mates can sense the connection between them, but Derek never realised it would be this much. And he certainly didn’t know it would feel like this.
The man is gorgeous he realises, now that Derek’s finally looking at him properly. Pale and covered in moles with a pretty kind of mouth that could get him anything he wanted. His eyes are colourful and bright and much cleverer than Derek first gave him credit for.
And he’s looking Derek all over like he doesn’t know what to do first. Derek doesn’t even get the chance to ask him his name before the guy is pushing him up against the back of the couch and kissing him.
The scent of him is overwhelming and Derek groans into his mouth on first contact, tasting the mixture of beer and whiskey, gratefully accepting heat and tongue. The guy’s hands are everywhere and clumsy and Derek’s suddenly reminded that his sister is unconscious in an armchair a few metres away, his mate is probably drunk and he doesn’t even know his name.
Oh God, his mate.
And he smells like another wolf. Derek pushes him off and the guy stumbles back, mouth hot and already swollen and looking a little disappointed by the interruption and Derek’s so hard already.
“What’s-,” he tries, breathing heavily. “What’s your name?”
“Oh,” the guy says, and he’s smirking a little when he steps forward again. “I’m Stiles. And I guess you’re my werewolf life partner.”
“Derek is fine,” he mutters, red faced and heart swelling with relief.
A second later Laura stirs and her eyes flutter open. “Huh,” she says, clutching at her skull and frowning once she sees that their arms are around each other. “Guess I kidnapped you for a reason after all.”
“Sorry about your head,” Stiles mutters, not looking away from Derek. “But you were acting shady as hell.”
“Well how was I to know that I’d found my brother’s mate?” she argues, slumping further into the chair. “There’s no hidden werewolf message for these things. It was just an instinct.”
Derek’s focused on the smooth skin of Stiles’ neck, where his pale flesh is unmarked and realises he wants to put his teeth there and bite. But that’s for another time. They can discuss all of this when his mate isn’t struggling to stay upright.
“I can drive you home?” he offers, filled with a sudden earnest desire to provide.
The guy is getting a little flushed now and Derek wonders if it’s from the heat of the room or if it’s because of him.
“Or we could just go back to your place,” Stiles suggests, eyes a little hungry with all the possibilities.
He wonders if this is how Stiles looked with Laura before Derek even arrived. Did he use the same lines as well? The arousal stirring in his body abruptly cools off.
“I’ll take you home,” he says firmly.
Stiles’ smirk only gets more pronounced and Derek doesn’t know what to make of that. He cocks his head at Laura to double check that she’s alright but she only grins at him, insanely pleased with what’s happened. She'll probably text Cora as soon as they leave.
“Is your frightening sister going to let me go? Or just keep me here indefinitely?” Stiles wonders, only a million times more amused now.
Derek’s surprised that he can see any humour in this situation at all. He just went home with a woman, who more or less trapped him in her apartment only to meet her brother instead and realise that they’re mates.
It’s been a very confusing twenty minutes that’s for sure.
Laura considers the question. “Nope. Creepy kidnapping feelings gone.”
“How’s your head?” Derek asks as politely as possible. She’s never going to live that down. The rest of the pack is going to have a field day with that, their alpha being taken out, however briefly, by a human.
“It’s fine,” she mutters, mouth quirking in annoyance. “Don’t tell Cora.”
Derek’s already pretty positive that he’s going to tell everyone he can. His mate is obviously strong. And smart.
“Good,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together succinctly. “Well I guess that’s it. Uh Derek- um lead the way.”
Derek hunches his shoulders a little, ignoring Laura’s quiet laughter and the sweet smell of Stiles’ arousal. He’s heard that meeting your mate for the first time is always a challenge to a werewolf’s self-control but he didn’t realise it would be this difficult.
It’s taking everything in him not to reach out and pull Stiles into his arms. He wants to put his hand and mouth all over him. Wants to drink in every inch of his scent until he’s had his fill.
Amazingly, Stiles makes the first move once they’re alone and out in the hall.
“God and I thought your sister was hot,” he mutters, reaching out to take Derek’s hand. He flinches a little at the words, heart sinking. “Oh fuck, sorry. No brain to mouth filter but you are like- fucking gorgeous man. I don’t- I mean wow, I literally don’t even have the words. And you’ve got this kind of grumpy lumberjack vibe that I am seriously into. Can’t wait til you get your fangs in me, huh?”
Derek’s eyebrows feel like they’ve launched themselves into orbit. “What- what the hell are you talking about?”
“God I’ve been wondering for ages when I’d find you,” Stiles says and his fingers are warm and sure in Derek’s own. “Scott kept telling me just to be patient but that’s easy for him to say, he found his mate in high school.”
He’s a little confused by what’s coming out of Stiles’ mouth. Human mates for all intents and purposes should have no idea if they’re fated to be with a werewolf. That’s why human werewolf mated pairs can have so many problems.
When his uncle Peter finally met his human mate the man was already happily married and wanted nothing to do with him. So Peter had settled down instead with a beta werewolf whose mate had died young.
Derek knows mated pairs can end in heartache. And if one of them is human, the chances for that are always much higher. He knows that. But Stiles is really something else.
“How did you know you were my mate? You’re human.”
“When I was eighteen Scott and I visited a psychic,” he explains. “She told me I’d be mated to a werewolf and he’d be the strongest man I’d ever met. Good thing I’d already told Scott I was bi by that point, otherwise it could have gotten super awkward.”
What a bizarre way to spend your teenage years. “And you believed her? This psychic?”
“Well yeah,” Stiles admits, unembarrassed. “Plus, I’d come across other werewolves who’d sensed some kind of supernatural connection with me. Only they didn’t go to the extremes Laura did.”
This is going to go down as the weirdest night of Derek’s entire life.
“She wouldn’t have hurt you,” he repeats. “But I’m sorry if she freaked you out.”
Stiles’ teeth practically glow in the dark, his grin is so pronounced. “Well unlike you, I knew for certain that she doesn’t have a biological imperative that makes it impossible for her to harm me, so I can’t really be blamed for smashing that bottle over her head. You on the other hand, I know if I get in your car that you’ll actually drive me home instead of tossing my corpse in a ditch somewhere.”
Derek flinches at the thought. “I would never hurt you,” he says, horrified by the suggestion. “Jesus, you’re morbid.”
“No, I’m drunk,” he corrects. “Drunk and still being practical in a ridiculous situation which I’m sure that future us will look back on and laugh about.”
“Ha ha,” Derek says blandly, no humour at all.
Stiles grins at him. “Oh I’m gonna like you,” he mutters, sounding gleeful at the thought. “Like I was sold on your face, but I’m thinking your personality is gonna be even better.”
It’s dark so hopefully Stiles can’t see the way Derek’s face is getting redder by the minute. He’s used to directness about his appearance but not when he’s scowling and being himself. Stiles seems to be enjoying the hell out of it so far and Derek’s somehow all flustered from the positive reception. When they finally step out of Laura’s building and onto the street where Derek is parked, the street light exposes him.
“Oh my God,” Stiles breathes, catching sight of his face. “You’re perfect. Are you blushing right now? Fuck, you’re adorable.”
“I’m-“ he protests, unlocking the Camaro. “Stop that.”
“C’mon,” Stiles says, smiling wider. “You know I’m not lying. Don’t get all bashful on me, you’re just gonna make me want to blow you even more.”
Derek hasn’t even considered sex yet. He’s been too amazed at finally meeting his mated pair out of every possible person in the universe. Who the hell is this guy?
“Do you say that to everyone you meet at two am?”
Stiles is not deterred by the question at all. “I say that to the handsome gentleman that I’m fated to be together with,” he says with a wink as they get into the car. “You know supernaturally wise. You’re my werewolf destiny.”
Derek doesn’t even realise that he’s laughing until the sound comes out of his mouth. He shuts up pretty quickly, embarrassed with himself, and fumbles with his keys to start the car, trying his best to ignore how delighted Stiles looks. He knows he’s making a mess of this, but finally meeting Stiles has turned him completely inside out.
Stiles helpfully gives him the directions to back to his place though he puts forth a fairly concise argument for why he should be staying at Derek’s flat instead and they shouldn’t even be bothering to take him home. Derek does his best to ignore how convincing he is.
He’s still drunk. Stiles can’t be relied on to make coherent decisions at this point in time. Even if he managed to smash a bottle over someone’s head in order to protect himself. Thankfully, Stiles isn’t so far gone that he can’t even remember the directions to his own home.
When Derek parks across the street they encounter another problem.
“Yeah that’s my apartment,” Stiles says cheerfully and then he’s climbing over the gearstick and into Derek’s lap before he can stop him.
Or suggest it might be a bad idea.
Stiles kisses him again and Derek surges into it with a groan, burying a hand in his hair, clutching at his back. When Stiles starts grinding his hips down, surprisingly hard in spite of the alcohol he’s consumed, Derek knows the universe has seen fit to test him.
He manages to get his hands on Stiles’ hips and stop the friction that’s promising Derek how easy it would be to get his cock out from his sweatpants and really get things going. He resists, but it’s a monumental effort with Stiles trying to work against him. This is not how he expected his early morning Laura emergency to end at all.
“Stiles,” he mutters out of breath once they’ve managed to pull apart. “I think you should go to bed now.”
“Don’t you want to bite me?” Stiles asks confused even as he tilts his neck, leaving it exposed. “I’ve read that Weres usually bite their mates within the first twenty four hours, otherwise they go a bit wild.”
“Trust me,” Derek promises, leaning in to kiss his throat and trying not to savour it too much or else he’ll never let him go. “I can wait. We can revisit this when you’re sober and maybe not immediately following my sister's ill-organised kidnapping attempt.”
“Good plan,” Stiles agrees somewhat practically and Derek helps him out of the car.
When he gets out to walk Stiles to his door though, Stiles seems to realise what’s happening and turns around with a groan. He ends up shoving Derek up against the front door and kissing him again.
Derek is much too bewildered to do anything but kiss back just as enthusiastically. And Stiles is definitely enthusiastic. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by the intensity of the situation. If anything, he’s relishing it. Stiles is acting as if he’s been waiting for Derek all along, and it makes sense if he found out about the existence of a mate during his teenage years.
Derek hasn’t even asked how old Stiles is. But he is out of breath again when they finally separate.
“Jesus, you’re walking me to my door?” Stiles pants. “Fuck, and you’re being respectful? How are you even real?”
It’s not unreasonable that he’d want Stiles to get home safe. He did go home with someone who wanted to kidnap him. Even if it did just end up being Derek’s sister.
“Can I have your number?” Derek asks, knowing that he certainly wants to see Stiles again. For the rest of their lives if he can manage it.
“Oh my God, I think I love you already,” Stiles says, mouth falling open even as he accepts Derek’s cell phone and punches in his number. Derek can’t ignore the rush of excitement he feels at the words.
Despite the rough start with his sister, Derek actually thinks meeting his mate for the first time wasn’t as much of a disaster as it could have been. And so many things could have gone wrong. Stiles hands Derek back his phone and kisses him on the mouth one last time, hot and lingering.
“I’m so glad I followed your sister home.”
Derek’s heard of weirder ways to meet your mate for the first time. He waits until Stiles manages to let himself into his apartment before heading back to his car.
It’s not until he’s back at his own place that Derek realises he never asked for Stiles’ last name.
Derek wakes up around ten o’clock, having slept about seven hours and realises just how much he might have screwed up last night.
He didn’t get Stiles’ last name. Or his age. Or whether Stiles was even single. He’s not even sure if he could find Stiles’ apartment by memory during the daytime. Things always look so different at night. He could probably find him by scent, except Derek thinks that might come off as a little too invasive and probably very drastic.
Derek realises that he never even programmed his number into Stiles’ phone either. What if he was so drunk that he doesn’t even remember meeting Derek last night?
He doesn’t know if he can handle a who dis? text response. Derek’s not built for that kind of crushing rejection.
He pads around his apartment once he’s awake, shirtless and in the same pair of sweatpants from the night before trying to think of ideas to fix the situation. Maybe he should just text Stiles, even if there’s a very real chance that he doesn’t remember him. It will be humiliating, yes, especially since meeting his mate for the first time is supposed to be earth moving, but Derek’s pretty sure he can recover from it.
Just as long as it means that he gets to see Stiles again. He might have been happy and encouraging last night, but being mated is a huge commitment, especially for a human. Stiles might have woken up this morning and realised that he doesn’t want this after all. Mates might be permanent, but the bond doesn’t have to be. And Derek’s mother has always told him that humans can dissolve mated bonds much easier than werewolves.
Stiles wouldn’t be trapping himself in anything even if he did decide to jump into this head first.
Abruptly Derek realises that he’s going to have to tell his mother that he met his mate this morning in the early hours before dawn because Laura picked him up at a club and kidnapped him.
His dad will see the humour in the situation at least, like he always does, but Derek’s pretty sure that his mother will be pissed. Laura’s definitely going to get a stern talking to even if it turns out she came through for Derek in an immense way. He collapses on his couch with a sigh and pulls up Stiles’ name in a new message window. He barely gets started on the beginnings of the word 'hey' before there’s a knock at his door.
It’s probably a good thing he was spared trying to come up with the rest of that message. Derek doesn’t exactly come across great via text. Actually, Derek doesn’t always come across great even if he’s standing in the same room. His mother says he just needs to practice being a little more open but the thought makes him clench up tighter than a clam shell.
Derek is not an open person. That’s not really a thing he does.
But when he goes to answer the door he wonders if maybe he should start considering it. Because Stiles is standing there in the hallway.
“Stiles?” he says, glancing around and catching sight of another man a few steps away with his arms folded, like he expects trouble.
Derek can smell the wolf on him from here, and he recognises it as the scent that was covering Stiles last night. This is his alpha, the werewolf whose territory Laura was in last night.
“How did you find-?“
Stiles rocks forward on the balls of his feet like he’s trying to resist climbing Derek all over. He’s abruptly reminded that he’s not wearing a shirt when Stiles’ eyes trail down his body and his jaw drops.
“Oh my God,” he groans. “Scott, are you seeing this? I’ve got life made.”
Derek folds his arms over his chest and grimaces at the situation. He's really not so good at first impressions. Or second impressions. “How did you know where I live?”
“Dad’s a sheriff remember?” he says, taking a step forward. “It was easy to track you down. See Scott everything’s fine, he’s totally not a murderer, look at those beautiful eyes.”
Derek's face starts to heat up. “My eyes are not an indication of what kind of person I am, Stiles.”
But he only grins. “Well they’re not dead and soulless for one so I doubt you’re a serial killer.”
This has been a very strange ten or so hours. “Okay,” Derek says, trying to get his brain to catch up. “Okay, let me go and put on a shirt and then we can go out somewhere public and start get to know each other a little better.”
Stiles gets this kind of dazed, happy look on his face and turns to Scott. “Isn’t he perfect?” he mutters a little dreamily. “That psychic was right about the strength thing too, he didn’t even bite me last night and we were making out for ages.”
Derek actually smacks a hand against his forehead and groans with embarrassment. Scott lets out a surprised noise. “Wait, for real? I thought you were kidding.”
“Let’s just get to know each other first,” Derek suggests trying not to inhale so much otherwise he’ll have to drag Stiles into his apartment and get his hands all over him. “Then we can talk about- about biting.”
There’s something else he can smell clinging to Stiles’ scent now, except he’s trying his best not to pay close attention to it. Keeping his distance is hard enough.
“How is he real?” Stiles says proudly, sidling up to Derek and finally taking his hand. “I’m telling you Scott, the past few hours have literally been the best hours of my life.”
“Okay, okay,” Scott mutters, visibly appeased by the situation. “I guess he checks out as not a serial killer, but you’d better text me later or I’m coming over here to make sure you aren't dead.”
Derek’s forehead wrinkles. “What-?”
“Dude,” Stiles says, squeezing his hand. “If you don’t think I’m coming into your apartment so we can have sex you've got another thing coming.”
He groans and manages not to pull Stiles into his arms. “We- we don’t have to rush or anything. Don’t feel pressured to-“
“Oh my god, I love him,” Stiles says, tilting his head at Scott. “Are you hearing this right now? And here I thought I was so drunk this morning that I invented half of our conversation earlier.”
Derek is flooded with relief. So Stiles remembers their first meeting, that’s really good. And now he wants- he wants to-
Fuck Derek’s not sure he’ll be able to survive this.
“I want to get to know you,” he blurts out. “In any way I can.”
“Trust me,” Stiles sighs, practically burying his face into Derek’s chest. They’ve got a similar height so he has to duck a little. “We’re going to get to know each other right now.”
Derek’s cock starts to stir and Scott makes a choked off noise. “Okay, have fun. I’m leaving now before both of your arousal stinks up the hallway.”
“Bye Scotty, love you.”
Scott’s already turning and disappearing down the hall with a wave. “Love you, Stiles. Be safe.”
Stiles snorts as if that’s funny and then he’s pushing Derek back into his apartment with a surprising show of strength. He’s a bit more muscular than his baggy clothing suggests. It must be the layers.
“Stiles,” Derek starts as he shuts the door behind them, peering around his apartment with interest. “You know I want you, but we really don’t need to rush. Don’t feel like you have to-“
“Can I suck your dick?” Stiles interrupts and Derek nearly forgets to breathe. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning."
Derek’s so surprised that he doesn’t stop Stiles dragging him into the living room, but he collapses back onto the couch at his first gentle nudge.
Then Stiles’ eyes zero in on his crotch with the kind of intent that makes Derek a little desperate. “Ugh, those sweatpants. I was trying the whole ride home to get an outline of your dick in them. Blame it on the lack of visibility.”
He snorts as his cock thickens up in his sweatpants and he can’t ignore the heat in Stiles’ gaze as he watches. But then he encourages Derek’s legs open and slips in between them, dropping onto the floor and Derek can’t focus on anything else.
Derek loses the ability to speak seeing Stiles on his knees. Especially when he licks his lips and starts tugging determinedly at his sweatpants.
“Stiles-“ he starts, unsure and Stiles stops immediately.
“Is that a no? Or is that you trying to be a good guy by insisting that I don’t have to do it?”
Derek can’t believe he’s managing coherent sentences when he's so close to his crotch. “Uh- the last one.”
“Well okay,” Stiles says, getting a hand around Derek’s dick and freeing him from his pants. “Cause I really want to do this.”
Derek stops protesting then, hearing the eagerness in his voice before Stiles leans in and presses his tongue flat against the head of his cock. Somehow Derek’s not expecting it and his hands grip the couch cushion on either side of his thighs, claws sprouting at the sensation.
“Jesus,” he mutters when Stiles pays attention to the head, laving it with his tongue, catching every bit of Derek’s precome before taking it into his mouth.
It’s burning hot inside and Derek’s not expecting Stiles to deepthroat him on the first try, he’s not exactly small, but that’s exactly what happens. His claws dig into the couch at the tightness of Stiles’ throat, how easily he swallows Derek down, holding him snug and hot in his mouth.
Stiles presses down until his face is practically in Derek’s pubic hair, and Derek gets to watch his lips stretch over his cock as he slides down on it.
Wildly, he understands why Stiles wanted to do this, because he’s really fucking good at it. Derek makes a dry noise, like he’s been punched in the throat and tries to hold himself as still as possible, unsure of how much Stiles can take, how much he wants. But it turns out he wants it all, because Stiles slides his hands along Derek’s thighs, pushing between the back of the couch in order to get two handfuls of his ass.
Derek twitches at the sure grip before he realises that Stiles is pulling him into a slow rhythm, wordlessly encouraging Derek to fuck his mouth.
“Are- are you sure?” Derek pants, sweating and out of breath and so close to coming already.
Stiles drops an ass cheek to give him a thumbs up before his hands are drifting back to rest on Derek’s thighs. He draws back slowly, watches the sheen of saliva on his cock before he thrusts into Stiles’ mouth.
He groans at it, like it’s all he ever wanted and the vibrations travel up Derek’s cock and immediately make him lose his rhythm. He tries to slide back inside again but the couch he’s on makes it harder for him to manoeuvre. Stiles comes up with the solution a second later, grabbing one of Derek’s hands and placing it pointedly against the back of his skull. Derek swallows and drifts down to his neck, concentrating to retract his claws before getting a good grip there.
He slowly pulls Stiles off, feeling his lips tighten on his cock like he’s refusing to drop his prize. Stiles’ neck stiffens when his mouth reaches the tip, preventing Derek from moving any further and amazingly, he realises it’s because Stiles doesn’t want to let him out of his mouth. Derek pushes his head back down with a startled groan, fucking Stiles’ face just like he asked.
Stiles is red faced but Derek can hear his breaths, the excitement of his scent and how his heart pounds. He’ll know if Stiles panics or if it gets too much, but it doesn’t seem like a possibility right now. Stiles’ eyes are low lidded, his throat working furiously and Derek might worry that he's struggling with it if not for the blissed-out expression on his face.
Stiles really likes cock in his mouth. Derek lets out a helpless moan and fucks past his lips a little faster, feeling Stiles’ throat tightening around him, that perfect heat swallowing him up. He’s so good at this, Derek is stuck between amazement and fighting the impossible urge to come.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re perfect,” he says breathlessly, jerking a little in surprise when Stiles’ hand reaches down to cradle his balls. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“
Stiles’ heart beats faster and he doubles his efforts to make it happen. He swallows Derek down perfectly again, keeping him on the edge, lips already swollen around him and suddenly looks up.
He moans around the cock in his mouth, eyes meeting Derek’s and the vibrations are enough to push him over. Derek’s grip tightens on the back of his neck as he unloads in Stiles’ mouth, filling him right up as Stiles swallows eagerly around him, eyelashes fluttering as he groans again.
Derek twitches and collapses back down onto the couch, not yet soft, but mind completely blown as his hand falls away from Stiles’ neck. He’s a little sensitive, but it’s unbelievably good when Stiles slowly pulls off and keeps the head of Derek’s cock in his mouth, tongue swirling and cleaning up the rest of his come.
Derek has to squeeze his eyes shut at the sight, throwing an arm over his face with a softly destroyed groan. He thinks he tore some holes in the couch with his claws. His mate is absolutely incredible. Derek’s chest feels tight just thinking how lucky he is.
“Are you okay?” Stiles wonders, voice a little deeper, rougher, because he just had Derek’s cock in his mouth.
“God,” he groans. “That was the best I’ve ever had. Ever.”
He’s not lying either, but Stiles preens at the words and climbs onto Derek’s lap, ignoring his cock for the time being, even as Derek’s already stirring again with interest. Derek gets a hand on Stiles’ ass and smells when his scent of arousal spikes.
“Flatterer too,” Stiles remarks, sounding pleased. “You’re the whole package.”
Derek starts trying to work on Stiles’ jeans when he leans in and kisses along Derek’s throat. “Take me to bed,” Stiles demands, sounding garbled and struggling to wiggle his hips free. “Derek, fuck, c’mon.”
“Yeah,” Derek agrees and he’s already got a hand in the back of Stiles’ underwear, fingers slipping between the lines of his ass, finding his entrance.
Stiles jerks back into his touch and Derek’s shocked when his first two fingers slide straight into the knuckle, impossibly slick. “What-?” he says, desperate and confused.
“Fingered myself before I got here,” Stiles groans, rocking back onto Derek’s fingers. “Wanted to save time.”
Derek realises that it was lube that he was smelling in the hallway earlier. Stiles lubed up his ass and arrived here with his alpha so that he could have sex with Derek.
“Scott came with you,” he says, pushing his fingers deep and feeling utterly bewildered.
“Yeah and he bitched about the smell the whole ride over here,” Stiles explains. “It was great. Now are we gonna do this on a bed or what?”
Derek gets a hold of Stiles and carries him into the bedroom.
“Nice sheets,” Stiles remarks, impressed somehow even though Derek didn’t even bother to make the bed this morning.
When Derek sets Stiles down on the mattress he’s already tearing off his shoes and tossing them into the corner of the room.
“Fuck,” Derek mutters, watching him, even as he starts pulling off his sweatpants. He actually gets caught at the knees he’s so distracted by the sight Stiles makes stripping off his shirts and exposing skin.
“Are you alright?” Stiles snorts, reaching out to try and catch him when Derek stumbles.
Derek laughs a little too. “I’ll survive.”
“Get over here,” Stiles commands, lying on his back now as he wriggles out of his jeans, the socks going with him.
Derek stumbles again when Stiles is finally completely naked and even though he can smell the lube in the air, he reaches for his drawer and gets out his own bottle.
“You don’t need it,” Stiles promises. “You can just- no condom.”
“Stiles,” he groans, climbing onto the bed, and uncapping the bottle of lube to slick up his cock.
“Hurry up, hurry up,” Stiles mutters, crawling toward him. In the next moment Derek is flat on his back while Stiles clambers on top of his hips, getting himself situated.
Is he just going to-
Stiles gets a hold of his cock and lines them up together, finally lowering himself down and he is. Derek can see the redness of Stiles’ cock pushed up against his stomach and is suddenly very aware that Stiles hasn’t even come yet.
He bites his lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds as Stiles sinks down until he’s comfortable.
“Oh,” Stiles says beautifully as he adjusts. “Oh, that’s good.”
Derek manages to get a hold of himself but he barely wraps a hand around Stiles’ dick before he makes the most incredible noise and convulses, splattering come across himself and Derek’s chest when he collapses forward.
“Jesus,” Stiles pants into his skin. “That was-“
“Yeah,” Derek agrees, keeping his hips still while Stiles recovers. “You’re so- so-”
Stiles leans over and kisses him when he can’t find the words. Derek has the strangest feeling that he’s the one being cherished right now even with his cock inside of Stiles. It devolves into clumsy kisses, Derek’s mouth travelling down Stiles’ throat while Stiles’ hand skates gently through his hair.
Derek doesn’t even realise that Stiles has started to rock his hips until he pulls back and braces his hands on Derek’s chest.
“Is this okay?” he asks, moving sweetly and starting up a rhythm that makes Derek feel like he’s falling apart in the best way.
“I’m- I’m-“ he says, struggling to find the words for how overwhelming this is.
“You can,” Stiles says nonsensically. “You can do it.”
Derek is too mixed up to figure out what he’s trying to say. He’d never have imagined what it would be like to be here right now, with his mate in his bed, in his territory, finally feeling this intimacy together. “What?”
“You can knot me,” he promises, leaning down to kiss Derek’s mouth. “I want you to.”
Derek stiffens, already starting to swell and wonders how the hell he could be so lucky to be mated to someone like Stiles. “Are you sure?” he asks, stroking his fingers along Stiles’ back, supporting him as he grinds deep.
“Yeah, please, c’mon,” he mutters. “It’ll be so good.”
When it reaches the point where Derek won’t be able to hold his knot back from fully forming, he lets everything go. Stiles stops moving with a soft sigh, expression twisting as he experiences the sensation of the knot pushing inside him. From the way he shifts, Derek thinks it might be for the first time.
“Have you never-?“ he tries when he can find the words, but Stiles just bites his lip and shakes his head.
“Didn’t feel right,” he admits. “Knowing that I had a werewolf mate out there somewhere.”
Derek frowns at that, not exactly sure why it’s unsettling. “You know I don’t own you, right?” he says. “You don’t have to be with me if you don’t want.”
Stiles looks horrified for a second. “What?"
“It’s not the same for humans,” he says. “Wolves will never find another connection as strong as this, but humans aren’t as restricted. You could move on, if- if things don’t work out.”
Stiles relaxes a little and Derek can’t help but notice that he’s starting to get hard again. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, rocking down onto Derek’s knot with fervour. “I don’t scare so easily.”
“No,” Derek agrees, starting to smile. “I suppose you don’t.”
“You can bite me you know,” Stiles says, unevenly a moment later, working his hips harder and Derek can’t even imagine what his life will be like now, having him here. “I’d be super into that.”
Derek laughs a little, leaning up to kiss Stiles as softly as he can manage while they’re stuck together.
“How about we go on a date first?” Derek suggests, happier than he could have ever imagined being woken up at two am this morning would make him.
Stiles grins, and leans back a little, wrapping a hand around himself and beginning to stroke. “I’m game if you are.”
Is he ever.