It wasn’t too much to ask, really, it wasn’t. Stiles did not believe he was being unreasonable, not at all, in fact, he felt entitled to it. Scott was getting it, Allison was getting it, Lydia was getting it – with Jackson, regrettably, but that was beside the point – heck, even Peter had almost gotten some in the past, with Scott’s mom of all people. Therefore, Stiles was determined to stand his ground, determined to make Derek see reason.
“I am not asking for any sort of long-term commitment here, Derek! I just want to do it one time, please, just once! You owe me!”
With a self-satisfied smirk Stiles could tell that Derek’s patience was beginning to slip. It was, after all, not the first time they had had this discussion and when Derek threw his hands in the air in obvious defeat, Stiles seriously felt in need of high-fiving somebody. Not Derek, obviously. He liked his fingers, thank you very much.
Sighing, Derek turned away from the counter where he had been preparing his afternoon coffee, and if his eyes flashed red just a little, Stiles was determined to ignore it.
“Fine!” Derek all but growled. “You can have your fancy dinner.”
Stiles smirked. “Don’t be such a Sour Wolf, you will love it! The food, the champagne, a good-looking waiter who is torn between politeness and jealous rage because you’re there with me, the unspoken promise of a physical dessert always hanging in the air …”
Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed his coffee mug, his face almost pained at the language Stiles was using to foreshadow their evening activities. “Physical dessert – that must be a new low, even for you,” he scoffed, taking a sip from his steaming coffee.
Stiles’ enthusiasm, however, was unstoppable, even in the face of Derek’s lingual critique.
“I’ll make it worth your while, I swear. Tell you what, since this was my idea, I will pick you up all gentlemen-like and we will use my gas money to drive to the restaurant. It takes about half an hour each way so be ready at 7:30. Derek, this will be so romantic, your wolfy senses will not know what hit them!”
He hopped down from the bar stool he had been sitting on and was almost out of the door, when Derek caught up with him, grabbing his wrist in his strong hand.
“Stiles …” he muttered, his expression torn somewhere between threatening and amused. “If your idea of the perfect romantic evening includes bringing me flowers, then you will know what hit you.”
For a moment Stiles looked like a puppy who had just been caught gnawing on a sneaker, but he soon recovered, grinning his patented dorky-smile, as he gently removed Derek’s hand from his wrist and kissed his nose instead. “Save the sweet-talking for tonight Derek. It will be a night to remember!”
As soon as his over-energetic boyfriend had left the loft, Derek began to massage his temples. He loved the annoying human, he really did, but he could not for the life of him figure out why fancy dinners and suits meant so much to Stiles.
It wasn’t the prices of the restaurant that Stiles had picked out – based on a recommendation of Lydia, who had just lost a lot of points in Derek’s book – that he was uncomfortable with. He just didn’t feel like it was who they were.
Recently Derek had felt the happiest, not to mention most peaceful, when he got to spend the evening or weekend with Stiles in his apartment. He did not need elaborate outings or grandiose gestures of romance, all he needed was to have his boyfriend with him, here, in the safety of his apartment, where he could protect him, care for him … build a home with him.
He was aware that this was his wolf talking and that Stiles had different needs, but the thought of giving up one evening of relaxed, peaceful comfort on his bed, with Stiles in his arm watching television, or - if he knew his boyfriend well enough – wedged between his abs and the sheets as he pounded him into the mattress, just annoyed him.
More than it probably should, he was self-aware enough to realize that he was being a stubborn baby about this. If this meant so much to Stiles, then he would at least try to make sure the younger man enjoyed the night. Which left him with only one problem – where was he going to get a nice suit on such short notice?
Stiles was thrumming with excitement as he steered his jeep back towards Derek’s place. He still couldn’t believe he had actually gotten Derek to cave in – never mind the fact that he still wasn’t sure he understood the problem his boyfriend had had with the idea in the first place.
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Derek’s ruggedly good looks when he sauntered around in his leather jacket, henley, and sinfully tight jeans – or just the leather jacket, Stiles was a little kinky after all – but after listening to both Allison and Lydia going on and on about evenings filled with romance and impeccably well-dressed boyfriends, he had begun to feel a little left out.
Derek’s idea of romantic foreplay was pretty much limited to lazy make-out sessions while watching television, and it wasn’t that Stiles was opposed to those – he loved them, in fact – but he did feel that every now and then Derek should make more of an effort.
Stiles, after all, had been very ambitious in his attempts to find out what Derek liked, including one very awkward conversation with Peter and one slightly less awkward but much more innuendo-filled little chat with the Betas.
And he had used his knowledge quite effectively, his efforts ranging from the renting of Derek’s secret all-time favorite movie, Love Actually, to showing up at his loft one evening dressed only in a tight Sexy Bunny costume.
The former had resulted into a drawn-out cuddling session during which his Sour Wolf had turned into a Sniffy Wolf. The latter had ended with a very embarrassed Stiles listening to a lecture about why one should never trust Peter, ever, and some amazing sex – once he had removed the costume and tackled his still laughing boyfriend to the bed.
So, all things considered, it was about time that Derek returned the favor and his lips involuntarily turned upward as he imagined what Derek would look like in a suit.
Stiles was a firm believer in the theory that a suit made every man look just that much hotter, and on someone who had already started out as a 9.5 – minus .5 for the constant scowling – the effect would be mind-blowing.
Or so Stiles hoped, seeing how he was not a hundred percent sure Derek had really gone out to buy a decent looking suit. He pulled up in front of the apartment building and stepped into the elevator, adjusting his tie nervously as the elevator began to ascend. Lydia and his father – the latter albeit grudgingly – had given him their approval on his outfit, although Lydia had declared his choice of a green tie to compliment Derek’s eyes to be totally and utterly sappy.
The elevator doors opened and Stiles gingerly stepped forward, his nerves suddenly fluttering up a storm. Yes, he had been a bit pushy about this, but he also really wanted Derek to enjoy this night, too and he knew that he would be disappointed if Derek didn’t end up having a good time.
Stiles hadn’t been kidding when he had drawn Derek a flowery picture of the evening – in his mind he did see them smiling at each other over their champagne glasses, whispering love declarations and just being smitten with each other in general.
He couldn’t help it, he was a romantic, and he loved the grumpy werewolf. The girls could laugh at him later – although he didn’t think they would do so, seeing how he planned to regale them with a tale of epic romance that would put all of their past dinner-dates to shame.
They deserved it, too, after they had gleefully rubbed Derek’s utter lack of romance-skills into his face on more than one occasion.
He drew a deep breath to calm his nerves and knocked on the door, a cheerful smile plastered all over his face, to get Derek in the mood so to speak.
He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when his boyfriend opened the door.
Nope, not at all.
Like, seriously not.
In fact, Stiles was pretty sure his brain had just short-circuited and he was going to be doomed to a life of babbling incoherent nonsense for all eternity.
Derek was wearing a suit. It was a dark grey suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular upper body, making them somehow all the more impressive. The pants clung to his strong thighs in just the right way and when Derek turned sideways to let him in, Stiles’ gaze was helplessly glued to how they highlighted his firm buttocks.
He was pretty sure he had just started drooling.
He was embarrassed beyond belief.
He was also hopelessly turned on.
While part of Stiles’ brain was already constructing the shrine he planned to build for the suit, complete with a catchy song somewhere along the lines of the epic awesomeness that – in Stiles’ humble opinion – had been the suit song of How I Met Your Mother’s fifth season, Derek’s face underwent a series of different expressions with alarming speed.
The fond smile that had grazed his lips upon seeing the blinding smile on his boyfriend turned into slack-jawed amazement at the way the black suit Stiles was wearing had transformed his lanky, somewhat awkward boyfriend into a more confident, slightly more mature, and breathtakingly sexy man.
His shell-shocked expression soon gave way to confusion, as he realized that Stiles was neither moving nor speaking, a rather uncommon occurrence for him.
Confusion turned into concern – only to be replaced with a sudden surge of arousal, as his sensitive nose finally caught on to the fact that Stiles seemed to be seconds away from pushing him against the doorframe.
Derek’s eyes flashed red, his pupils blown wide as the scent of Stile’s arousal flooded his senses. He could also smell the shock in his system – he and his suit had definitely caught the pack’ emissary off-guard – and the thought excited Derek even more.
With a low growl Derek grabbed Stiles’ tie and yanked him inside the loft, pushing him against the wall with one hand firmly placed on his chest as the other slammed the door shut.
Stiles’ heart was thundering against his ribcage. Derek’s ears were rushing with the sound of it, while the fingers of his left hand tingled where he felt the frantic pulse beating against him. His now free right hand found its way to Stiles’ neck, the four fingers lightly caressing the side of it, feeling his jugular beating rapidly, while his thumb grazed over Stiles’ slightly parted lips.
His boyfriend was thrumming with arousal, his senses were being overwhelmed by their shared excitement and Derek felt himself getting hard. A quick sniff of the air told him that the same was true for Stiles and he forced himself not to look down to confirm it. Stiles was gloriously alive under his fingertips and he was almost shaking with want for him. His wolf wanted to howl in triumph and before that howl actually manifested itself in a way that Derek knew Stiles would never let him live down Derek surged forward to capture Stiles’ lips in a heated kiss, his hands dropping down to the leaner man’s waist.
Stiles seemed to have regained at least some control over his body, eagerly responding to the kiss while his hands shot up to grasp Derek’s shoulders. His fingers were kneading into the smooth material, tracing his shoulder blades and then moving further down, digging into his broad and muscular back.
Derek lightly bit Stiles’ lower lip, eliciting a moan from the younger man, who tightened the hold he now had on Derek’s hips, pressing them closer together with a jerk that had their hips and erections grinding against each other.
The relatively thin, smooth fabric of their suit pants left nothing to the imagination and both of them moaned into each other’s mouths. Derek forced himself to tear his lips away from Stiles’, resting his slightly damp forehead against his boyfriend and taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“Stiles”, he panted, forcing himself to breath through his mouth rather than through his nose in a fruitless attempt to calm himself down amidst the overpowering smell of sex in the air.
“Huh? Derek, don’t … don’t stop!” Stiles ground out, his own breath labored as his mind tried and failed to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Derek’s body underneath the suit.
His eyes were roaming all over the Alpha’s body, marveling at the way Derek seemed to carry himself differently in his new attire. He brought a shaking hand up to place it on Derek’s heaving chest, relishing in its firmness and finally taking in the tie Derek had selected for the evening.
It was green.
It matched his eyes.
It matched his own.
Powerful emotions of love, belonging, and mate welled up inside Stiles, and when his eyes met Derek’s he knew that the werewolf had picked up on his feelings.
They had danced around the mating-question for months now, neither of them willing to risk the comfortable routine they had established and damage the status quo, but Stiles wasn’t that oblivious not to notice that he had almost completely moved in with Derek at this point, taking their commitment to a whole new level and – quite frankly – scaring him to pieces.
He was sure that Derek had been able to sense his hesitancy and he had worried that it might cause the older man pain, but he had most definitely done his research on werewolf-mating, and even after almost two years of being with Derek, the concept of forever was difficult for him to grasp.
Not anymore though. In fact, he was certain he had never been so sure about something in his life.
His fingers stroked over Derek’s cheekbones, trembling at the look in his lover’s eyes.
Derek’s face was completely relaxed, his brows smooth and his eyes wide open as he leaned into the touch. There was still lust in his gaze, but also warmth, and love and when Stiles’ index finger slowly dragged over Derek’s lips, the werewolf pressed a light kiss on it, his lips curling up into a content smile.
Stiles suddenly felt raw and vulnerable and when Derek’s own hand came up to cover Stiles’ on his face, stroking his knuckles and continuing to press soft kisses onto his fingertips, his arousal, which had been shortly put on hold by sudden, life-changing decisions, returning even stronger than before.
He pulled Derek into another kiss, sucking at his lower lip and tracing his tongue along the outline of his mouth before plunging back in, pausing only to take a quick breath and mutter “Please.”
Derek’s hands feverishly reached for his jacket, trying to slide it off his shoulders without accidentally tearing it apart with his werewolf strength, but Stiles stopped him, smirking at Derek’s obvious confusion.
“Stiles.” he groaned, his hips jutting out to create more of the friction he was desperately craving. “If we don’t take these off now, they’ll be ruined by the time we get to the restaurant.”
Stiles shook his head, pulling Derek even closer as his hands came to rest upon his buttocks. He brought his lips right next to Derek’s right ear, his breath ghosting over Derek’s sensitive earlobes. “The suits stay on.”
Derek couldn’t help the growl that escaped his lips. His hands immediately surged downward and he yanked Stiles’ dress shirt out of his pants, exposing a hint of his stomach and the trail of hair that disappeared below his belt.
Derek unbuckled the belt, which allowed him to dip his fingers into the waistband, slowly inching downward until he was able to grab Stiles’ cock with his hand. It was a tight fit but he was able to move his hand just enough to create pressure. His movements, in combination with the confinement of the pants caused Stiles to buck against Derek, his toes curling inside his dress shoes.
Derek’s pants were lower cut than Stiles’ so the younger man was easily able to mimic Derek’s actions, his right hand sliding into his boyfriend’s pants while his left hand snaked around his back to steady himself by grabbing onto his shoulder.
Derek’s free hand was digging into Stiles’ waist hard enough to leave bruises and he pulled them closer together, hands brushing against each other as they were stroking the other’s erection.
The friction was almost unbearable and Stiles couldn’t quite hide the low whine that had escaped from the back of his throat. Derek responded by flashing his eyes once again and suddenly his mouth was on Stiles’ neck, his teeth grazing the skin, not biting, but close, and it was all it took to push Stiles over the edge.
He came hard, his body trembling with the aftershocks and his head dropped onto Derek’s shoulder, his face nestling into Derek’s neck as the tried to catch his breath, his lips puffing out against Derek’s skin.
Derek threw his head back and came as well. His whole body tensed before his head slowly dropped onto Stiles’ and for a minute or so they just stood there, trying to regain control of their breathing, their bodies molded together as close as possible.
“Well …” Stiles quipped after a while, as his hand began to trace lazy circles on Derek’s back. “You definitely got into my pants tonight and you didn’t even have to buy me dinner.”
Derek rolled his eyes, deciding not to dignify that comment with an answer.
He gently nudged Stiles’ head with his own and stepped back, drawing his hand out of the younger man’s pants and surveying the damage to their clothing.
There were dark patches of sweat on their shirts, their ties were rumpled and the pants were, well, not as spotless as they had been.
Derek chuckled. “I don’t know what kind of establishment you had planned to whisk me away to tonight, but I doubt we fit the dress code for any of the available options right now.”
Stiles smiled. “On second thought, the romantic appeal of a left-over dinner has always been underrated.”
He wiggled a little and grimaced when he noticed that his sweaty shirt was sticking to his back. A trip to the dry cleaners was definitely in order.
“How about we take a shower and then we figure out if there is actually anything edible left in this apartment.”
Derek nodded in approval and they made their way to the bathroom.
Stiles’ movements were a bit sluggish and Derek gently ran his soapy fingers up and down his boyfriend’s torso and back, his fingers dancing lightly over his skin as they stood under the stream.
Stiles stepped out of the shower first, toweling himself dry and dressing only in his boxers.
Derek stayed under the steady stream a while longer, his mind replaying what had just happened.
He could definitely appreciate the fact that both of them seemed to have a sex in full business attire kink going on there and he made a mental note to explore that one further in the future. His boyfriend was the Sheriff’s son after all and if they snuck into the station during a quiet shift – with the Sheriff off duty and far away of course – to play FBI interrogator and wrongfully accused werewolf in one of the interrogation rooms then well, no one would have to know.
Although his dick lightly twitched with interest at the thought, he was predominantly occupied with the short, but strong change of scent he had detected in Stiles earlier. He wasn’t sure what had caused it, but for one glorious moment his lover had actually smelled like a mate to him.
Derek knew that he should not read too much into it. He was well aware that they had been carefully avoiding the topic and did not want to pressure Stiles into anything, but he would have lied to himself if he had claimed that it wasn’t becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to finally physically claim the human as the mate his traitorous heart had already accepted him to be a long time ago.
With a deep sigh he turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle. By the time he had toweled himself dry and put on his boxer-briefs he was ready to believe he had just imagined the mate-scent that had wafted off of Stiles and therefore, the sight that greeted him when he entered the bedroom took him a little by surprise.
Instead of comfortably lounging on the bed, his limbs splayed out in every which way like normal, Stiles was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands nervously kneading into his thighs.
“Stiles?” Derek asked cautiously, suddenly afraid that the human was upset about not getting the dinner he had wanted for weeks after all.
Stiles straightened up at the sound of Derek’s voice, his eyes meeting his and he tried – and failed – to give his boyfriend a reassuring smile.
“Is something wrong? Are you upset that we did not make it to dinner after all? I know it means a lot to you and if you want, we can definitely reschedule …”
Stiles lifted a hand to silence him and, after a moment of deliberation, he stood up from the bed, walking towards Derek and stopping just short of his arms’ reach.
“Nothing is wrong. Nothing was ever wrong, actually. Or maybe it was, but I guess that might have been due to me being stupid. I do that, you know. Stupid things. Not that you don’t, actually, you can be a real Stupid Wolf sometimes.”
A nervous grin flashed across his face. “Huh. Did you ever notice that all of your different Wolf personas begin with an S? Sour Wolf. Stupid Wolf. Sniffy Wolf. Sappy Wolf. Sexy Wolf. Oh yes, that one definitely. We kind of have an alliteration theme going here, now that I think about it. Although I guess Wolf-Wolf-Wolf does not really fit that description, it’s more like a repetition. A wolf is a wolf is a wolf, that kind of thing?”
Derek pinched his nose. “Stiles …” he grumbled, a hint of impatience in his voice.
Stiles blushed. “Gotcha, get to the point. See, there really is an alliteration theme here, because you know, in addition to all the fine qualities I just mentioned, you are also Stiles’ Wolf.”
His eyes bore into Derek’s, eagerly searching his face for a reaction, as he continued to speak.
“I think that is what I love about you most of all - the Stiles’ Wolf part. The part that makes you mine. And I want you to be. Mine that is. My mate. And I want to be yours. If you’ll have me.”
Stiles took a deep breath, inhaling shakily, as his mind processed what he had just said.
He could not read Derek, who was standing absolutely still, his face completely blank.
He needed him to answer, preferably before he could have a panic attack and start hyperventilating.
Stiles took a tiny step further towards Derek, tilting his head slightly as he stared into Derek’s eyes.
“Will you?” he breathed softly, trying to convey all of his feelings for Derek into these two words, hoping as he had never hoped before, that the answer would be yes.
Derek was clinging on to his self-control by a thin thread, had been since Stiles had first referred to him as Stiles’ Wolf.
His inner wolf’s triumphant howl was so loud that it almost whitened his vision, a steady chant of mate and mine ringing in his head.
Stiles wanted him to be his. More importantly, he wanted to be Derek’s mate.
Not trusting himself, his arms thrust out and he crushed Stiles against him, burrowing his face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply.
His heart was thrumming in his chest and he could feel Stiles’ rapid heartbeat. He moved his head so he could look into Stiles’ eyes; his hands coming up to gently frame the younger man’s face.
Derek didn’t smile very often and when he did, it was mostly tight-lipped. Now, however, his lips stretched into a blinding smile, his eyes shining with love and pure exaltation.
Stiles was so mesmerized by the rare sight that he almost missed Derek’s answer. Almost. It was the most beautiful “Yes” he had ever heard.
Slowly, Derek guided him back towards the bed, lowering both of them onto the sheets and then he leaned forward to gently capture Stiles’ lips, pouring all his love and affection into the kiss.
Stiles had read about mating sex and expected Derek to go into a frenzy, but his mate had obviously not read the same books he had, because there was nothing frenzied about Derek’s movements at all.
He was being unbelievably gentle, moving up and down Stiles’ body, his hands, lips, and tongue tracing, caressing, and worshipping every single inch of him, claiming every fiber of his being.
It was almost more sensual than sexual and Stiles had never felt so loved in his life.
Derek slowly trailed feathery light kisses up his torso, finally reaching his mouth and claiming it once more, this time with much more force and Stiles felt himself stiffen for the second time this evening.
It did not take Derek long to prepare him, and by the time he was slowly easing himself into his body Stiles was aching for him, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist to pull him closer and begging him with his eyes to mark him and make him his.
Derek’s thrusts were gentle at first, but quickly picked up speed as he finally allowed his instincts to take over.
His eyes flashed red, but his teeth remained human and Stiles dug his fingers into Derek’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer and baring his neck.
Derek’s movements became jerky, his hands grabbed onto Stiles’ waist and then he bit down into the crook of his neck. Stiles came with a hoarse cry and Derek followed soon after.
He slumped down onto Stiles, his face still buried in his neck, his lips already soothing the mark he had left on the sensitive skin.
They stayed like this for a while, hands caressing each other softly, as their breathing slowly returned to normal.
When he trusted himself to move again, Derek slowly lifted himself up and rolled them onto their sides so that they were facing each other.
His fingers traced Stiles’ face and he leaned in for another kiss, this one softer, no tongue, but full of emotion.
Stiles smiled against his lips, his own hand sneaking up to lightly scratch the nape of Derek’s neck.
When Derek moved his head back, there was curiosity in his eyes.
“I know that you were nervous about this, and I did not want to pressure you so I definitely was not expecting this, but I have to ask – what changed your mind?”
Stiles smile widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He thought about the long version of his answer, the nights spent cuddling and talking, the way Derek always put his needs above his own, the way they complimented each other in every important aspect of their lives, the way Derek made him feel like the most important person on the planet.
He thought about matching ties and the feeling of belonging, the way he would trust Derek with his life in a heartbeat.
In the end, he decided to give him the short version.