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Kiss Me and Set Me Free

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"Holy shit."

Stiles jerks in surprise and stumbles, feet tangling together and arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance. It doesn't work, and he ends up face first on the cold, leaf-covered ground, elbow smarting. He quickly scrambles over onto his back, staring up at the girl who had appeared out of thin air while he was taking his usual morning run through the preserve.

She's still there, standing with one hip cocked while she examines her perfect nails. In her other hand is a long, sparkly blue wand and she's wearing a short, blue dress that looks like it's made of pure glitter. Her hair is red and falls to her waist, the early morning light catching on it and making it shine.

Stiles blinks.

The girl sighs and plants both hands on her hips, staring down at him with the most unimpressed expression he's ever seen. "I'm Lydia," she finally says. "I'm your fairy godmother."

"My what?" Stiles says, and looks around for the tree stump or rock or something that he obviously hit his head on.

"Your fairy godmother," Lydia repeats, sounding annoyed, and Stiles – finding nothing to blame this hallucination on – turns his eyes back to her. "Are you seriously just going to lie there on the ground while I do this? It's rude."

"Um." Stiles looks around once more before slowly climbing to his feet. "Do what, exactly?"

Lydia smiles at him, and there's something about it that makes Stiles uneasy. Not in a warning, fight or flight kind of way, but more in an I don't think my life is in danger but I'm not entirely sure I'm going to like what happens next kind of way.

"Give you your heart's desire, obviously," Lydia says.

Of course, the first thing that pops into Stiles' mind is his mom, and he winces as Lydia's face falls a little, for the first time looking something other than bored, annoyed, or smug.

"Oh, I can't give you that," she says quietly, sounding regretful.

"I figured," Stiles says flatly. "Is this going to take much longer? Not that you aren't lovely, but I have a run to finish and a job to get to."

Lydia narrows her eyes. "You know, you're taking the news of having an actual real-life fairy godmother better than most people."

"My best friend is a werewolf. I'm used to weird shit."

Lydia huffs, all sympathy vanishing from her face. "Don't move," she orders, and pokes the tip of her wand against Stiles' chest, just over his heart.

Stiles draws in a sharp breath as warmth floods him, sparking and tingling all the way down to his toes. "What –"

Lydia shushes him, brows drawn together in concentration, and after a moment she sighs and pulls her wand away. "True love, of course. You couldn't want something a little more interesting?"

Stiles scowls and rubs at the spot where her wand had touched. "Excuse the hell out of me."

Lydia ignores him, tapping the end of her wand against her lips. Multicolored sparks fly from the tip, and Stiles watches in fascination.

"Let's see," she says, eyeing Stiles from head to toe. "You're attracted to both males and females, so that broadens the possibilities a little. You need someone who can challenge you, someone intelligent, who can easily meet your level of wit and sarcasm and even transcend it. Someone who won't take your shit but at the very core has a heart of gold. Though really, that's only the tip of the iceberg, isn't it?"

"And you got all of that from, what, a single wand touch?" Stiles asks, frowning at her and ignoring the way his stomach clenches nervously.

"Yes, well, I'm good at my job," Lydia says dismissively, and then brightens with excitement. "Oh, I know! He's perfect, and you're exactly what he needs too."

She smacks Stiles on top of the head with her wand before he can ask who.

"Ow!" Stiles shoves his fingers in his hair to rub at the spot. There's warmth swirling through him again, but this time it feels more comforting than the pure energy of before. "What the hell was that for?"

Lydia snorts. "Relax; all I did was make it so the two of you could meet. The love part has to happen naturally. But if you think I'm saying bippity-boppity-boo, you're delusional."

"If you think I thought that I'm Cinderella, you're delusional."

For the first time since she appeared in front of him, Lydia laughs. "I like you, Stiles. Now go find your happily ever after."

Between one blink and the next she disappears, leaving Stiles alone again in the woods.

Well, he thinks he's alone until he hears the snap of a twig nearby and jerks his head around to see a painfully gorgeous man step out from behind a tree.

"This is private property," the man says, and the words come out stiff and almost forced.

Stiles hesitates, wondering if this could be the man Lydia meant for him. Of course, the guy could also be a serial killer, but Stiles has been training with a pack of werewolves for years now, so he's pretty sure he can hold his own.



"Sorry, I didn't know. I run through here every morning."

"I know." The man looks irritated, shoving his hands into his leather jacket.

"Uh, okay?" Stiles doesn't know what to make of that. "I'm Stiles."

It doesn't seem like the man is going to answer, staring hard at Stiles for a moment, but then he relaxes minutely. "Derek."

"Well, Derek, do you mind if I keep running here? It's the only place I've found that I actually like."

Derek hesitates again, then nods sharply. "It's fine."

"Awesome," Stiles says, grinning at him. He glances down at his watch to check the time and winces; he's going to be late. Looking back up, he finds Derek watching him guardedly. "I have to go, but, uh – you could join me in the morning if you want?"

"Maybe," Derek says, and Stiles tells himself he's imagining the thread of hope he hears. "If it's not too early."

"Cool." Stiles nods, and turns to make his way back to where he left his Jeep, calling over his shoulder, "It was nice to meet you, Derek."

He really hopes it won't be the last time.


To Stiles' surprise, Derek actually does meet him the next morning. The sun's rays are just starting to peak through the trees when he stumbles out of some bushes, wearing a pair of basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and some worn out sneakers. He looks harried and rushed, and Stiles' heart leaps at the thought of Derek being worried he would miss him.

"Hey," Stiles says, grinning widely as Derek settles into a slow jog next to him.

Derek gives him a hesitant smile back, and nothing else is said until the run is over and Stiles has to leave.

"See you tomorrow?" Derek asks, that same hope from the day before in his voice.

"Of course," Stiles says, and gives him a light slap on the shoulder before heading off.


"Stiles, stop being stupid. There's no way you can make that."

"Excuse you," Stiles huffs, giving Derek his most incredulous look. "I can so make that."

Derek crosses his arms and glances between Stiles and the small creek they're standing beside, raising both eyebrows. "Care to demonstrate?"

Stiles narrows his eyes. He's been running with Derek every morning for a month now, and it hadn't taken Stiles long to realize that Derek is actually a huge smartass. It's glorious, not that Stiles will ever admit that out loud.

"Stand back," Stiles says, rubbing his hands together. Derek gives him a mock bow, sweeping one hand out toward the creek. Stiles ignores him, takes off, and jumps. He lands on the other side, safe and dry, and crows in victory, throwing his arms up.

Which, of course, unbalances him. He barely has time to widen his eyes before his feet are slipping on the muddy, rocky bank and he's landing on his ass in the cold, shallow water.

"Well, shit," Stiles says.

Derek is laughing too hard to respond.


Three months into their runs, something occurs to Stiles and he stops in the middle of the trail. Derek goes a few more steps before slowing, turning to give him a confused look.

"Stiles? What's wrong?"

Stiles shakes his head, leaning over and working on catching his breath. Derek has really been challenging him lately, making him go farther and faster than what he's used to with his regular pack training. "Nothing, just – why don't I ever see you in town?"

Derek blinks. "What?"

"In town," Stiles repeats, straightening. "You know, Beacon Hills? I just realized that in all this time I've never once seen you around."

Derek's face goes blank, and he shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe you just haven't been paying attention."

Stiles shakes his head. "No, I don't think that's it. Beacon Hills is a small town, and three months is a long time to never see anyone who supposedly lives here. The coffee shop, the bookstore, the grocery store. Everybody always sees everybody at the grocery store, Derek, it's like a law of nature or something. Hell, I don't even know where you live."

Derek doesn't say anything, scowling down at the ground and refusing to meet Stiles' eyes.

"Go out with me," Stiles blurts, surprising himself. He's wanted to ask Derek out for ages now, but he's never been sure if his advances would be welcome.

Derek's head snaps up, eyes going wide and vulnerable. "Out?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, planting his hands on his hips. "Like on a date. We can do the whole dinner and a movie thing, or we can, I don't know, go bowling? Or skating, maybe, there's a new skating rink that just opened up. You can watch me fall on my ass and laugh at me, and then we can go get burgers and milkshakes at the diner and maybe make out in the back of my Jeep like teenagers."

A myriad of emotions flickers over Derek's face before settling on regret. "Stiles, I can't. I'm sorry."

Stiles' stomach sinks, something in his heart cracking open and leaving him hollow. "Okay," he says. He looks away for a moment, swallowing hard, and then back to Derek. "I think I'm going to go."

"Stiles, wait –"

"Bye, Derek." Stiles turns and starts jogging in the direction of his Jeep, keeping his pace casual rather than the desperate sprint he wants to make it.

Derek doesn't follow.


"So how's it going?"

Stiles yelps, flailing as he twists in his desk chair. Lydia is standing in the middle of his living room, and Stiles can tell she's trying to look bored but she isn't quite managing to hide her interest. She's wearing another sparkly dress, this one dark orange, and her wand matches.

Stiles scowls at her. "How is what going?"

Lydia crosses her arms, giving him a flat stare. "Don't play ignorant with me, Stiles. I know you've been meeting with Derek in the woods for the past few months."

"Well, in that case, you should know that it isn't going at all," Stiles snaps. He knows he's being rude and a little unfair, but he can't help but feel as though his current heartache is in small part because of Lydia.

Lydia frowns. "Why the hell not? It's been ages, surely the two of you have fallen for each other by now."

"One of us has," Stiles says stiffly, turning back to his desk and the stack of reports his dad wanted him to go through.

Lydia is quiet for a moment. "What happened?"

"Shouldn't you know that already?"

"I don't know everything, Stiles, I can only see bits and pieces at a time."

Stiles groans and runs one hand over his face as he turns his chair back around to face her. "I asked him out. He said no. End of story. Can I please get back to work now?"

Lydia blinks at him. "Did you kiss him first?"

"Of course I didn't kiss him first, oh my god," Stiles huffs, rolling his eyes. "He wasn't just some random guy; I wanted to do things right – like, in the right order and shit. Why would I kiss him before asking him out?"

"Because it's the only way he can leave the forest," Lydia says slowly, as though speaking to a five year old.

Stiles gapes at her, not sure he heard correctly. "Do what now?"

"He didn't tell you." Lydia throws both hands up, sparks flying from the tip of her wand. "Jesus Christ, you're both stupid as fuck."


Lydia sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Stiles decides to give her a minute.

"Stiles," she finally says, dropping her hand from her face and pointing her wand at him, "get your ass to the preserve tomorrow morning before dawn, while it's still dark. If you don't, I will find a way to hex you, fairy godmother or not."

She disappears, and Stiles is left staring at his empty living room, wondering what the fuck she could possibly mean.


Stiles can't wait until morning so he heads over to the preserve a little after midnight, and it turns out the woods are a lot creepier when there's no sun shining through the trees. Stiles shivers, pulling his hoodie closer around him, and trudges along the path as best he can. He's tripped no less than five times already, and he's really glad he decided to just wear jeans instead of running clothes. He's not here to run, he's here to follow Lydia's orders and then get the fuck on so he can try to forget about Derek.

"Ugh," Stiles says, fully aware that he's talking to himself. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Red-haired women with sparkly wands is not a good basis for a functional love life."

There's an odd sound to his right, like a cross between a huff of laughter and a low whine, and Stiles freezes on the spot. He's no stranger to things that go bump in the night, but he hadn't thought to bring any weapons with him. Shitting fuck, he's going to die out here.

A rustling comes from the same spot as the whine had, and then a huge shadow steps out from between two large trees. There's just enough moonlight for him to see that it seems to be a wolf of some sort.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathes, taking a slow, cautious step back while trying not to panic.

But instead of going for Stiles' throat the way he expects, the wolf shuffles down onto its belly and lays its head on its front paws, looking at Stiles almost sadly. Stiles stares at it for a long, stunned moment, until a thought occurs to him.

"Wait. There aren't any wolves in California. Not actual wolves anyway, just –"

The wolf's eyes flash yellow.

"Holy god," Stiles says, gaping. "You're a werewolf."

The wolf jumps up and turns, disappearing back between the trees.

"Wait," Stiles calls, tripping over his own feet in his rush to follow. "Wait a minute, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

The wolf doesn't stop, but he does keep pausing and looking back as though to make sure Stiles is following. Taking this as a good sign rather than a warning, Stiles does his best to keep up.

Eventually they reach a clearing, and what looks like a well used campsite. The light from the moon shines directly down onto the space, allowing Stiles to see clearly enough. There's a large tent, and a fire pit dug into the ground and lined with stones. A few pots and pans and dishes are stacked neatly inside a plastic bin set to the side, and a wire hung between trees is holding a few articles of clothing.

"You live here," Stiles says, eyeing the wolf where it has decided to sit near the tent.

The wolf yips once, and then disappears into the tent. When it comes back out it has a pair of familiar, worn sneakers held delicately in its mouth. Stiles blinks at them for a moment.

"Derek?" he finally says, and the wolf drops the sneakers and gives a weird head bob that Stiles thinks must be a nod. "Holy shit."

Derek doesn't move, just sits and stares at him, until Stiles throws his hands up.

"Well, are you going to change back or not so we can talk about this?"

Derek whines, his ears going flat, and he looks up at the moon in the sky before dropping his gaze back to Stiles.

Stiles frowns. "Are you – are you stuck?"

Derek nods again, and Stiles takes a slow step forward. Several things start clicking into place in his mind – words like true love and kiss him first and can't leave the woods. By the time Stiles reaches Derek he thinks he might have part of the puzzle figured out, even though he obviously doesn't have all the pieces yet.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? We could have taken care of this already."

Derek glares at him, and Stiles huffs out a laugh. "My life is a goddamned fairytale," he says, and leans over to plant a firm kiss on Derek's muzzle.

The change starts instantly, a bright white light shooting up from the place Stiles' lips had touched and wrapping itself around Derek's snout. Derek makes a panicked sound, crouching down and legs splaying out in a way that would have Stiles laughing if the situation were different. As it is, he can only watch as the light continues to twist around Derek's wolf body.

The black fur starts to recede, slowly revealing skin and shifting muscles as Derek's body becomes human. It's fascinating, and Stiles can only stare with wide eyes.

When the light finally fades completely, Derek is kneeling on the ground in front of Stiles, wide-eyed and extremely naked.

"You did it," Derek breathes, looking down at himself and then up at the moon. He laughs, and it comes out sounding choked, like he's holding back tears. When he looks back at Stiles his eyes are brighter than usual. "You broke the curse."

"Damn right I did," Stiles says, his own voice shaky. "I'm still mad at you for not telling me sooner, though."

Derek laughs again, and grabs the front of Stiles' hoodie to drag him closer and kiss him. Stiles makes a shocked little noise in the back of his throat, Derek's lips warm against his, and presses back. A full-fledged groan is ripped from him when Derek licks into his mouth, tongue hot and wet and perfect inside Stiles' mouth.

Stiles whimpers, fingers scrabbling at Derek's skin, and is forced to break away when Derek drags his hoodie and t-shirt off together. "Shouldn't we – ah – shouldn't we talk about this?"

Derek licks at the spot on Stiles' neck where he's just bitten him, and then sucks the skin between his teeth. Stiles' brain short circuits, and he moans as he tilts his head to allow Derek better access.

"We will," Derek says, sucking more biting kisses down Stiles' collarbone even as his hands reach for the buckle on Stiles' belt. "But I've wanted to get my hands all over you for months now."

"Oh god," Stiles chokes out, hips twitching as Derek's hand brushes against his hard dick. "Okay. Sex now, talk later. So much for doing things in the right order."

"If you don't want to –"

"Shut up and fuck me."

Derek laughs and pulls away, taking Stiles' hand and pulling him to his feet. "Come on, there are blankets in the tent."

Stiles trips after him, kicking off his shoes and the rest of his clothes as he follows, and by the time they stumble into the tent Derek isn't the only naked one. Stiles barely has time to register the stacks of books in one corner and the pile of blankets and pillows in the middle before Derek is shoving him down onto his back and pushing Stiles' legs open.

"So gorgeous," Derek murmurs, eyes roving over his body in a way that makes Stiles flush. "I can't wait to get inside you."

Stiles lets out a shuddering breath, fingers clenching in the blankets beneath him. He licks his lips as he looks at Derek's dick, hard and flushed, a drop of precome shining at the tip. "Yeah, yes. You should do that."

Derek grins at him, sharp and slightly feral, and shuffles down onto his stomach. He slides his hands down to Stiles' ass, squeezing the cheeks before lifting him half off the ground, bending him nearly in two. Stiles makes an undignified noise, watching wide eyed between his knees as Derek leans in and licks right over his hole.

"Oh fu – uck."

Derek doesn't stop, tongue lapping at Stiles over and over, the tip tracing around the edge and pushing at the center. He slowly works Stiles' hole open, tongue breaching him a little bit at a time until he's loose and wet with saliva. Stiles can't move in the position Derek is holding him, Derek's fingers digging into Stiles' flesh as Stiles makes incoherent noises in the back of his throat.

Finally, Derek places his mouth wide open around Stiles' hole and spears his tongue as deep inside as he can go. Stiles wails, fingers twisting desperately in the blankets as Derek wriggles his tongue, curling it up to catch on Stiles' rim when he pulls it back out.

"Please," Stiles gasps, his dick so hard it's aching with the need to come. "Please, please, Derek, please fuck me, please –"

Derek shudders, dropping Stiles' bottom half back down onto the blanket before surging up and kissing Stiles deep and wet. Stiles groans, hands coming up to grip at Derek's hair as his mouth gets ravished. He can taste himself on Derek's tongue and something hot twists deep in his stomach.

Derek pulls back, sitting up between Stiles' legs. His eyes are dark, the green nearly completely taken over by blown-wide pupils, and his hair is sticking up from Stiles' hands. Stiles only gets a moment to take in Derek's disheveled appearance before he's being flipped over onto his stomach, Derek's hands at his hips pulling his ass into the air.

Derek spits directly onto Stiles' licked-open hole, using two fingers to push it inside, and Stiles groans, arching his back and shifting his knees further apart.

"Derek, come on, I'm good – I'm ready, I swear, just get your dick in me now –"

Derek actually growls at that, pulling his fingers free and pressing the head of his dick to Stiles' hole. He doesn't waste any more time, pushing inside with short, sharp thrusts. By the time he bottoms out, Stiles is gasping into the blankets, whole body trembling and fingers clutching at whatever they can reach.

"Is this what you wanted?" Derek asks, leaning down to bite at the back of Stiles' neck. "My hard dick deep inside you?"

"Yes," Stiles whines, shifting back for more despite Derek being balls deep. "Oh god yes, you feel so good, oh fuck –"

Derek moves, forgoing any gentleness to pull back and slam his hips forward several times in succession. It's hard and rough and exactly what Stiles wants, and he moans open-mouthed into the blankets. The way Derek fucks him feels almost desperate, and Stiles' heart clenches at the thought of him being out here by himself for however long.

And then Derek shifts, straightening up and gripping Stiles' hips with his fingers. It makes him slide just a tiny bit deeper, the base of his dick stretching Stiles' rim wide open, and Stiles' mind goes blank with pleasure. Derek growls and starts snapping his hips over and over, rutting into Stiles so hard it pushes him up the pile of blankets.

"Oh god, oh fuck," Derek moans, shoving deep and grinding for a few seconds before continuing with his brutal pace.

Stiles can do nothing but lie there and take it, face pressed into the blankets and ass in the air as Derek slams into him. All sorts of sounds are pouring from Stiles' mouth, garbled words and choked off moans, his body thrumming with heat and pleasure. He's had some good lays in the past, but nobody has ever fucked him the way Derek is.

"Gonna come," Derek gasps out, thrusts going from long and hard to short and wild. "Gonna come, Stiles –"

Stiles lets out a desperate sob, reaching with one hand for his aching dick. He hadn't wanted to touch it until Derek was ready, had wanted to make it extra good for both of them, and now he grips himself tightly and gives a few harsh strokes. Stiles clenches down hard when he comes, eyes rolling back as his dick pulses in his hand. Behind him Derek digs his fingers in and slams deep, grinding again, hips hitching as he fills Stiles with his come.

When Derek finally pulls out he doesn't move away, sliding his hands to Stiles' ass cheeks and holding him open. "Fuck," he says, and dips his thumbs inside Stiles' used hole, keeping him stretched wide. "Look at you, all filled up with me."

"I want to fuck you next time," Stiles says, and Derek groans like he's in pain, dropping his head down to press against the small of Stiles' back.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."


They clean up with the edge of one of the blankets, tossing it to the side before curling up together on one of the non-come stained ones.

"So how did this happen?" Stiles asks, head on Derek's shoulder and one arm thrown over Derek's waist. Derek's fingers are carding through his hair. "The whole stuck-in-the-woods-as-a-wolf thing, I mean."

"I pissed off a dark witch a few years ago," Derek says, surprising Stiles by answering right away. "We were dating casually – well, I thought it was casual, but she apparently wanted a lot more than me. She wanted to marry me, take me away from my pack, and when I refused she went a little crazy. She was going to kill my entire family as retribution. Somehow I talked her out of it, but she was still angry so she cursed me. I'm human by day and a wolf at night. She trapped me here in the woods, too. I can walk all over the preserve but never find my way out. I can't leave, and my family can't find me."

"But you can now," Stiles reminds him, palm sliding absently across Derek's bare chest. "I broke the curse. You can leave the woods."

Derek's fingers freeze in his hair. "I can leave," he says, and his voice cracks. He sits up so fast Stiles goes sprawling on the blankets, blinking up at him as Derek stares at him with wide eyes. "Stiles, I can go home. I can be with my family again."

Stiles smiles, reaching for Derek's hand to tangle their fingers together. "Yeah, you can. They'll probably be ecstatic to see you."

"Will you come with me?" Derek asks, and Stiles' breath catches. His eyes are searching Stiles' face as though looking for something. "I want you to meet them. I want them to know who broke the curse and set me free."

Stiles swallows and nods. "Of course I will. I'll go meet your pack, and then you can come meet mine. Okay?"

It's a declaration, and they both know it. Derek smiles, leaning down to press his mouth to Stiles' in a kiss far sweeter than any they've shared so far. It's just the beginning of their life together, but Stiles thinks that no matter what happens next, it will be worth it.