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I Want to Love You Like the Sun Loves You

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Everyone knows incubi are only dangerous to humans.

They have a very different reputation with the rest of the supernatural world.

"Oh god, give me some of that," Jackson murmurs under his breath, watching the incubus' shoulders lift and tighten defensively, mouth setting in a grim line. He can hear them clear across the diner.

Derek stares, shocked.

He knows the stories, used to eyeroll Peter when he slurred out incubus sex jokes to the pack when he had a little too much spiked whiskey to drink.

The incubus pays and makes his way down the narrow walkway between the diner tables with his to-go bag and all the wolves track him avidly. He's just about to pass them when he pauses, turns angrily to Derek and spits "Get a hold of your pack of wild dogs, Alpha."

Derek doesn't get a chance to respond, just swivels in his seat with Boyd as the Incubus stalks away.

They're all a little dumbfounded after, the blood drained from their heads to fill their cocks. They eat in silence, dazed.



"You're so lucky," Erica pouts later, sighing on the floor where she's supposed to be doing more sit-ups.

Derek reaches over with his sneakered foot and nudges her. Then he goes back to weight-lifting.

After the next rep, he sits up and wipes off his forehead on his towel, takes a pull off his water bottle.

Erica is still just lazing there, hand on her belly, sighing.

"Come on, Erica. Just three more," he says gently, trying to be supportive.

"You know, incubi only go for alphas, right?" she says, tilting her head back to glower at him. "If anyone is putting that sweetheart down and mounting him, it's you."

Derek swallows and looks away, frowning.

It's been years since he had sex with someone, he's not sure what to think about breaking his dry spell to nail an incubus into the ground.



He's minding his own business at the pharmacy, trying to remember which brand of tampons Erica uses when he looks up and the incubus is just standing there at the end of the aisle, looking at him like a deer in headlights.

Derek looks back with the same face.

"Stiles, they have socks over here. Do you think they're any good?" an older man muses, wandering around the corner and joining them. The incubus, Stiles, looks at the man and says "Dad--"

"Is this a friend of yours?" the icubus' dad asks, looking serious, taking in the tension between them.

"Uh," Stiles says. "He's uh--"

"Derek Hale," Derek makes himself say. He stuffs the box of tampons under his arm and steps forward to offer the incubus' father his hand. "We know each other through friends."

"John," the man says. Then "Sheriff John Stilinski," with a firm handshake.

"Sir," Derek agrees and then he can't stop his eyes from trailing back to the man's son, who is all pink-cheeked, just looking at Derek. There's an awkward pause, too long, and then Stiles' dad says "Well, lets head out, kiddo. I got work in twenty. Nice to meet you, son."

"Yes, you too," Derek says quickly, watches as the man walks off, trailing Stiles behind him, who keeps looking hastily over his shoulder at Derek, eyes wide.

"Shit," Derek says, turning into the tampon display to readjust himself.

He sighs all lovelorn in the parking lot, puts his stuff into the trunk and then just as he climbs behind the wheel, his passenger door is thrown open and the incubus is scrambling in, across the seats and into his lap.

"Oh god," Derek breathes and meets the Incubus' eager, tongue-slick kiss.

He gets his hair fisted, pulled around, his mouth devoured. His cock teased, gyrated all over. He's drunk on the pheromones when the kid pulls away. Derek's pupils are so blown his eyesight is blurry.

"What--?" he gasps and the incubus whines "you were so nice to my dad. Who does that?? Who are you? Oh god, I'm going to make you cream so hard you'll pass out. I'm going to eat you alive."

Derek's fangs drop as he arches for it, eyebrows collapsed together in neediness. He needs to get inside him, needs to knot his incubus ass up tight.

"Shit, shit. Oh my god, I need you. Please. Please--" the incubus begs, tearing at Derek's fly, belt.

"Yeah, you need a big, alpha cock?--" Derek groans, head so dizzy with lust he can barely think straight, then he whines in confusion as the incubus freezes, pulls back.


"W-what?" Derek pants, looking down at himself, how he's straining his underwear through his spread fly.

"Ugh, fucking alpha asshole! Every fucking time--" the incubus grumbles and is out the door before Derek can do anything to stop him.

He just drops his head back in the seat and aches for a long time, hands opening and closing on nothing.



He's almost over it, just barely over it when the kid shows up at his loft one night in the rain, looking exhausted and pale, hands fisted in frustration.

"I need you," he grinds out, jaw tightening like he hates to admit it.

Derek is at a loss.

"I'm starving," the kid admits miserably, sniffing a little and Derek can't tell if he's crying or if it's the rain on his face. "You can do whatever you want, just feed me."

He ends up taking the kid in his arms, holding him close with one wrapped firmly around him while he strokes him off with his free hand. The kid is hot and silky to the touch, his nipples sweet and plump in his mouth as he sucks them. Stiles makes all these trilling noises, strange and happy to Derek's ears.

When the incubus gets close, he starts spurting precome teasingly all over Derek's moving fist. He smells so good, Derek drops his forehead to the kid's chest and stares down, eyes hot on that cherry-red cockhead peeking in and out of his hand. He wants it in his mouth so much his throat is sore with it. But he resists, goes back to feeding himself on those soft little nipples.

When Stiles comes, Derek almost comes too, just from the scent of his pleasure hitting him. They tremble together and then Derek lifts his hand, stares longingly at the thick, shiny web of come on his knuckles.

Stiles takes pity on him, wraps his lush-wet mouth on his fingers and sucks them clean one by one, knowing that if Derek got a taste of his pheromone-rich come, he'd frenzy. His eyes are all heavy-lidded on him while he does it, fed and content.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbles, falling asleep on Derek's shoulder while Derek holds his blushy body like something sacred.

In the morning, he wakes up to find his loft still and silent, the incubus long gone. His hands still smell like Stiles though, so he snuffles into them and whines for a while, pathetic with loneliness.



He's got an arrow in his side and he's dying, maybe. His breathing is wet with the blood in his lungs. He turns his head to the side and there's Stiles, suddenly growling over him, angry.

"Shit, shit! What the--" one of the hunter's says, tipping over his chair. And then he's screaming. Derek closes his eyes to it.

"Give him to me," Stiles says, his incubus voice burning in their ears. The compulsion is irresistible, the hunter with the beard gets down on his knees beside Derek, breathing a mess, and unlocks the chains around his wrists, ankles.

"Come on," Stiles keeps whispering as he shuffles them out the door. He's so upset, Derek wants to comfort him, but he's dying. "Don't die, you fucking asshole. Oh god, please."

Derek slips into some kind of healing coma in the car, as soon as the arrow is jerked out of him.



He wakes and gets a moment to take a long look at the kid, who is sitting at his bedside, biting his nails nervously and looking off at the wall.

He's long-limbed and lithe, with crazy, messy hair and pretty, pretty eyes.

Derek sighs and the kid snaps into motion, calling "Oh god, he's awake. HE'S AWAKE!"

His betas are on him in seconds, Erica practically climbing on top of him. Boyd presses their foreheads together and breathes while Derek chuckles dryly, then coughs.

"Your pet saved you," Erica says, ear to his heart and Derek looks across the room at the incubus who blushes, looking horrified.

He doesn't get a chance to say anything, just watches helplessly as the kid slouches away.



He's surprised when the human he saves from the Werecat turns out to be Sheriff Stilinski, a little cat-scratched but no worse for wear. He'd heard a human heartbeat in its den and hadn't expected to be carrying Stiles' dad to safety while the man grit out "I was on a blind date an she turned into that. What the hell was that?!"

"Werecat," Derek huffs, dragging him down the side of the mountain.

"Fuck," the Sheriff curses, "my ankle's all twisted. Did you say a WERECAT?"

"Yes," Derek groans, lifting the man bodily over some rocks.

"Right. Werecats. Well. That sounds like the forest services' problem."

It makes Derek laugh a little, which makes the Sheriff laugh a little too.

They come tripping down the mountain, laughing like idiots.



After, Stiles climbs him like a tree, locks his ankles behind his back.

Derek reels and slams into Stiles' bedroom wall, gasping.

"You saved my dad, oh my god. I...get in my bed. Get in my fucking bed. I'm going to use your dick until it breaks--"

Derek sits down hard in the kid's bed, groans "Sometimes the shit you say isn't actually that sexy."

Stiles whimpers at his ear, reaches between them into his own pants and then pulls his hand free, fingers wetted with his precome.

"Yeah?" he breathes at Derek. "You want sexy?" And then he slicks his come-sweet fingers across Derek's panting mouth, which makes the wolf crazy.



He buries the kid under him, smothers him deep into the mattress with his weight, growling.

Everything is sleek, beautiful skin and heat, the edges of his vision all fuzzy as the pheromones turn the air thick and humid. The kid is so plush and tight for Derek's ramming cock, so sweet on his mouth, under his teeth.

He holds himself up with his hands to the kid's upper back, pinning him. Watches his cock own that cute little ass, knock in and in and in. He follows the snaking line of the kid's spine as it twists and lengthens with each railing thrust. Watches sweat run down there, coursing from the kid's hair. He puts his parted mouth over those sharp shoulder blades, eating up the salt he finds there, tasting every part of him. Delicious. His little incubus is delicious

"Don't get scared," Stiles whispers to him and at first Derek doesn't understand and then it starts to build. It builds low and strange-feeling in his body, in his ass, in his slapping balls, in his perineum. Something cruel and almost beyond good, beyond pleasure. It burns and grows into something sinister, overwhelming. He pops claws and whines helplessly at the feeling, uncertain.

The incubus slams his head back into Derek's shoulder, neck arching, begging "Oh please, it's ok. It's ok! Oh god, just let it happen. Please. Fuck please, Derek. Just...let it come--"

Derek doesn't resist it, though it feels like it's going to blow him apart. He goes into it with his eyes screwed shut, his dick forced deep in the kid's sweet little ass, knot starting to shudder and thicken.

"Oh fuck," he seethes through his clenched fangs.

It's quiet for a second before the storm of it, just the sound of Stiles' beating little hummingbird of a heart. And then Derek's body just wrenches with it, rocketing into the black, the most powerful feeling he's ever experienced, orgasm like a bomb going off inside his hot, clenching gut.

The incubus laughs gleefully, voice hitching slightly as Derek knots him good and tight.



He's kitten-weak after, just sprawls there, drained while Stiles smiles drowsily over him and ducks down to clean him up with his tongue.

His cock is stiff and poking high when Stiles gets down to it, which makes the incubus sigh and take it gratefully into his mouth.

Derek can only tremble under his ministrations, face glazing over.

"Mmmmmnnn," the incubus moans like he's just tasted something exquisite, eyes going thin and hot as Derek splashes his palate with come.