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Derek and Stiles Sitting in a Tree - K N O T T I N G

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Being Derek Hale’s mate – and thus essentially werewolf-married to him – was many things, but it was never boring. Whether it was a random supernatural crisis in their hometown of Beacon Hills, shenanigans with the pack or a scary encounter with one of Derek’s remaining relatives, there was always something exciting going on in their lives. For example, Stiles was almost a hundred percent sure that his best friend Scott was about to propose to Allison and he had actually set up a betting pool as to when it would happen, loyally intending to share the profits with the True Alpha.

Of course there was also the fact that Derek was pretty much the hottest being that had ever walked on the face of Earth – in Stiles’ very humble, highly esteemed, and so not biased opinion – and he used his assets in a way that could make Stiles howl, sob, and curl his toes in pleasure.

Their sex life, thus, would have been wildly exciting on its own, simply because it had Derek in it, but Stiles was not only curious by nature but also adventurous, grateful that his Sexy Wolf was usually willing to indulge him in his ideas to spice up their already pretty hot amorous activities.

Well … he was maybe over-exaggerating their sexual prowess a tiny, little bit.

There had been phases in their relationship where they had barely had sex, just like any other couple, and Stiles was reluctant to admit that these phases usually occurred after one of his more ‘inventive’ ideas got a little out of control.

With the exception of the “Never to be Spoken of Again Bunny Incident of 2013”, which had actually made their sex life a lot more versatile because Derek had finally clued Stiles in on the fact that he did not want to top exclusively, which the human had pretty much assumed, many of Stiles’ other overly creative ideas had – for various reasons – forced them into more or less wanted dry-spells.

Sex on the beach had been one of them. He had thought it would be brilliant and romantic to share the equally named cocktail during a romantic picnic in a hidden little cove during their first real couple-vacation together. Sand, as it turned out, was evil and hurt like a bitch when it left sand-burn in certain orifices.

Additionally, having a strong werewolf jerk you off with sandy fingers was pretty much equal to polishing one’s dick with sanding paper. Derek had healed easily. Stiles had … gotten a subscription to Cosmopolitan, because apparently they warned you that something like that could happen. He had also gotten antibiotic cream and not been able to have sex for more than three weeks.

Then there had been the “Stiles Really Wants to Have Sparkle Sex in the Woods Role-Play Disaster” from five years ago. In hindsight, he should have just respected Derek’s skepticism about that idea and forgotten all about it, however, he knew that Derek could never resist him for too long and so he had successfully charmed his werewolf into humoring him.

He would forever regret it. Afterwards he had sworn that the only reason they would ever talk about it again would be if aliens came to Earth one day and threatened to blow up the planet if they didn’t get to hear the story of the worst, least sexiest, and utterly most mortifying sexual experience in the history of mankind.

Derek had barely been able to look at his penis for weeks afterwards.

Of course, Derek had also refused to give him a blowjob for almost a month after the “True Poet of Beacon Hills Fiasco”, claiming that whenever he saw Stiles’ dick he couldn’t stop thinking about limp, soggy, white-cream filled Twinkies of Love, but Stiles was strangely comforted by the fact that at least this time he had had nothing to do with it. Stiles loved his best friend dearly, but he would never forgive him for ruining Twinkies for him for life.

Their longest and most recent dry-spell, however, had been caused by the aftermath of their breeding-kink/knotting accident three years ago. After Derek had gotten a little too excited about the fantasy and knotted him on accident, Stiles had had the most epic freak-out in the history of freak-outs when he had mistaken an admittedly very nasty stomach bug for a magical ass-baby pregnancy a couple of weeks after their sex-mishap.

On the one hand he was glad that it had happened, because Stiles was almost certain that Deaton, in his never-ending quest to be as enigmatic as humanly possible, would have kept the information that Derek was able to conceive and carry children a secret until he would have actually gotten his werewolf pregnant on accident.

Stiles had had actual nightmares about how Derek might have reacted if that would have happened and he had woken up sweaty and gasping every time, his hands immediately dropping to his crotch to check that his balls were – in fact – still attached to him and not a bloody mess on a gold chain around Derek’s neck.

On the other hand, it had made Derek extremely cautious about having sex. Deaton had warned them that Derek’s wolf would take a while to get out of the breeding-mode and, being aware that the possibility existed, it had indeed been a while until Derek had stopped popping a knot when he masturbated. He had refused to penetrate Stiles until then, arguing that the experience had been uncomfortable for both of them and Stiles had still been too overwhelmed to argue.

At the same time, Derek had been extremely paranoid about getting pregnant despite the condoms they had bought for Stiles, arguing that if he had a magical uterus – a term he insisted on using even though it drove Deaton up the wall – one could easily assume that the same magic would be able to nullify the effect of a condom.

They had been in a happy and stable relationship for five years at that point, having a baby would not have been the most terrible of things to ever happen to them, but Stiles was not finished with school and he had just turned 23, while Derek, whose insurance money from the fire had finally run out, was just starting his career as a proof-reader for academic journals. They were neither in the emotional nor financial space to have a child and as a solution Derek had refused to have intercourse for over three months.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t done anything else during that time, after all, Cosmopolitan had made it pretty clear that one could not get pregnant from kissing, and there had definitely been some clothed groping and maybe a blowjob or two, but blowjobs usually led to other things and Derek wasn’t willing to take the risk.

Stiles had never been so blue-balled in his life. He may or may not have cried in relief when Derek had waltzed into the bathroom while he was taking a bath one night and proceeded to give him the sexiest, most definitely knot-free masturbation performance had ever seen. The moment had been slightly ruined when he had slipped in his haste to get out of the bathtub and almost given himself a concussion, but it had nevertheless successfully ended their dry-spell.

That had been two and a half years ago and Stiles had not voiced an idea to spice up their sex life ever since. However, it was his birthday and Derek had promised him that they would always have epic birthday sex – well, he had not used the word epic; that was Stiles paraphrasing. His werewolf had thus not even blinked when Stiles had suggested celebrating the anniversary of his birth by having sex in a tree.

Stiles was pretty sure that if it had not been his birthday Derek might have snarkily commented on the fact that the tree Stiles had chosen as the location for their amorous endeavor looked exactly like the one that Edward had been perched in during one of the first Twilight movie’s most iconic scenes.

He probably would have refused to go along with it in the first place, citing the after-effects from the cruel and unusual punishment he had considered Stiles forcing him to watch the movie with him to be.

The movie had indeed inspired Stiles’ tree-fantasy and he had been prepared to sell the idea to Derek by pointing out that he was just making a critical statement about all that unrealistic abstinence-talk.

Derek, however, had honored the birthday-promise and Stiles was determined to take advantage of his mate’s superhuman strength, trusting him to keep them secured in the tree instead of plummeting to their deaths – or at least severely injuring themselves – dicks first.

Derek’s strength had been extremely useful when they had climbed up the tree to reach the thick branch that looked like it would support their weight plus some vigorous thrusting and Stiles was currently plastered against the trunk facedown, his fingers digging into the ridges of the thick wood while Derek had one arm wrapped around his midsection for support and the other hand grasping a sturdy branch hanging right above him.

The branch made a protesting creaking noise every time Derek thrust into him and Stiles was holding onto the trunk for dear life, experiencing a confusing mixture of enjoying himself immensely and regretting all of his life choices. Sex in a tree, as it turned out, wasn’t quite as awesome as he had imagined.

The creaking noises were seriously creeping him out, the angle was a little weird, his own dick kept grinding into a conveniently located spot of moss growing alongside the trunk of the tree and was turning a rather alarming shade of green, and if he wasn’t completely mistaken he had just been deeply judged by a passing squirrel.

Derek, meanwhile, was not uttering a single word save for his harsh panting and occasional muffled curses that – Stiles was afraid – had nothing to do with sexual pleasure but everything with insects. He might have healed easily from mosquito bites, but his heightened senses enabled him to feel every single bite when it happened and since werewolf blood was apparently an aphrodisiac to mosquitoes, it happened frequently.

Stiles wasn’t complaining, having Derek walking next to him was the best insect repellant there was, but he nevertheless felt a little guilty when Derek’s hand on his midsection twitched as if he wanted to actually reach out and swat the insects away.

The combination of their sweat, precome, and pheromones was attracting all kinds of bugs and yes, Stiles should have probably thought this through some more.

However, they were already too far gone to stop now and Stiles decided to speed things up a little, rolling his hips in a way that he knew never failed to push Derek over the edge.

With a little grunt Stiles pushed back as far away from the tree as he dared and Derek bottomed out, groaning when Stiles thrust his head to the side and bared his neck.

“Come inside me, fill me up,” he whispered and Derek sunk blunt, human teeth into his shoulder, muffling his moan as he came. Stiles hissed, his fingers tightening on the tree trunk as Derek all but crashed into him, pushing him against the wooden surface and forcing him to grind his own wood into the moss.

Not his best pun, Stiles mused briefly, but it would have to do.

With Derek squishing him against the tree, Stiles had no way of grasping his currently very much neglected member and he was ready to comment as such when Derek suddenly gasped “Oh no!” and went stiff behind him.

In fact, all of him went stiff behind and inside Stiles and he was about to ask what was wrong when he began to feel the almost forgotten tugging sensation of a knot swelling inside of him.

“Derek?” Stiles meeped, his pulsating dick forgotten as he twisted his neck to look at his mate in shock.

“Are you trying to get me pregnant again?” he asked incredulously and Derek whimpered when he came a second time within two minutes.

“Stiles!” he almost sobbed, “Careful with your language!”

Stiles gulped.

“Whoops, sorry.”

Feeling sorry, however, really wasn’t at the top of his priority list right now. He crossed his arms against the trunk and rested his forehead on his wrists, the new position allowing him to observe his slowly deflating penis, which was not only olive green at this point and looking more like a shriveled cucumber than the dick he knew and loved but obviously also extremely intimidated by the knot’s significance.

Derek was a brick-wall of silence behind him and Stiles inhaled resolutely. Derek had some explaining to do and he was determined to break the tension.

“Derek and Stiles, sitting in a tree, K-N-O-T-T-I-N-G!”

Again, not his proudest moment, but he relaxed a little when Derek snorted into his shoulder blade.

“I think your rhyming was a little off,” he managed and Stiles shrugged.

“Yes well, I am stuck in a tree with a knot in my ass, there is no way I can dismount you or this tree without breaking all of my bones probably and I think we really need to talk, so I’m sorry, but all of that had me a little too occupied to rhyme correctly!” he said, his voice growing higher and shakier with every syllable.

Derek pressed a soft kiss against his neck and brought one of his arms around his chest to pull him closer towards him, careful not to tug at the knot and hurt Stiles in the process.

“I … I guess I …” Derek began, sounding hesitant and small and Stiles forced himself to let go of his death grip on the tree and brought one of his hands to the one that was gently stroking his chest, intertwining his fingers with Derek’s.

“You want to make me a proud daddy and give me a baby?” he asked softly and Derek exhaled sharply.

“I …” he began again and Stiles squeezed Derek’s fingers even tighter.

“I would love to have a baby with you. For a while now, actually. I was just … waiting for you to pop the knot so to speak. Get it? Pop the knot instead of popping the question? God, I’m sorry, I’m nervous, this is huge, please don’t leave me for my bad puns, I love you, I want to be your baby-daddy so bad you have no idea!” Stiles rambled, feeling relieved when Derek finally relaxed against him.

“I wasn’t sure how to approach the topic,” Derek admitted, turning his head and resting it on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I have been thinking about it for a couple of months and at first I started breaking out into a cold sweat whenever I imagined myself heavily pregnant but … lately, it hasn’t felt so scary.”

“I’ve been imagining it, too, lately,” Stiles said slowly, wondering how to best put his feelings into words.

“Of course the idea of the pregnancy is not all that scary to me, since I won’t be going through it and I admit I have a bit of a hard time imagining you with anything other than chiseled abs, but ... I don’t know, I mostly don’t think about you pregnant, I think about you holding our little boy, who is going to be so handsome and the spitting image of you. And I absolutely cannot wait for us to finally be parents!”

“Or our little girl, who’ll have your smile and will probably look like a combination of our mothers,” Derek added and Stiles chuckled.

“Do you think so? Somehow I think all our children would look exactly like you,” Stiles grinned.

Derek sighed softly. “It wouldn’t matter whom they take after, they’d be perfect either way. God, Stiles, I want them so badly. It’s … I can’t even explain it, it’s like suddenly a switch has been flipped inside of my head and all my instincts are screaming at me to have a baby, build our family, strengthen the pack. It’s a little … overwhelming to be honest,” he mused.

“You could have told me before we got stuck in a tree – in every sense of the word,” Stiles huffed good-naturedly and Derek grunted.

“Serves you right for your never-ending Twilight obsession – don’t even think for a second that I was unaware of what your motivations were!” he exclaimed and Stiles laughed.

“You are an excellent Sleuth Wolf, I’ll give you that.” He turned his head so he could press a kiss against Derek’s cheek and smiled brightly.

“So … since I’ve been wanting to ask you about the possibility of starting our family soon for months and you can’t really deny that you are on board with that idea … should we …” he trailed off, taking a deep breath before continuing, all bravado suddenly gone as he sounded a mixture of awed and terrified.

“Should we have a baby?”

Derek’s answer was a breathless “Yes!” followed by a long moan and Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“Just for the record though,” he said conversationally even though there was a slight hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Despite your body’s current admirable attempts to put this baby in me, that’s not what’s going to go down here, right?”

“Where would the baby even go?” Derek huffed, repeating his words from three years ago and for a moment they just looked at each other before Derek’s lips started to twitch and Stiles blushed.

“Derek, no …” Stiles began, while Derek gasped “The look on your father’s face!” and then – because, as far as everyone except Stiles was concerned, this story would never get old and would still be told to their grandchildren one day – his normally grumpy werewolf mate started laughing so hard that the entire tree branch began to shake.

“Derek, careful, you’ll be … Derek this is starting to get really uncomfortable … Derek, the tree ... Derek!” Stiles yelled out in alarm as the supposedly sturdy branch finally snapped and they fell – still locked together by the knot – towards the ground.

There would be no children, Stiles reflected in the few seconds they were tumbling through the air, since it would probably be hard to father them with a broken penis, but when he landed the impact was not as bad as he had thought it would be.

It was still pretty rough, considering that Derek’s chest was as hard as steel when he really flexed his muscles and Stiles was certain that his back was already bruising in all colors of the rainbow but – provided that Derek was still alive – his penis remained unharmed and ready to fulfill all sorts of husbandly duties.

Stiles attributed the problematic phrasing of the thought to the shock of the fall.

A nose suddenly pushed into his neck with vigor and took a deep sniff and once Derek, who had landed on his back in the field of purple flowers under the tree with Stiles sprawled on top of him, had apparently convinced himself that his mate remained unharmed, he began to growl lightly.

“Are you alright Derek?” Stiles asked frantically and Derek huffed.

“I’m a werewolf,” he said before he resumed his growling, wiggling under Stiles in a way that suggested he wanted Stiles to get off of him.

To Stiles’ great surprise he was actually able to. He gingerly lifted himself off of Derek’s lap and stood above him, trying to twist his neck to see if his back was actually bruised. His tailbone area looked suspiciously purple after being slammed into Derek’s hips but he seemed to be fine otherwise and when he looked down at his mate he was surprised to see that the knot was completely gone.

“That wasn’t very long? Derek, did we break your penis?” he whispered and Derek groaned again, his hands firmly pressed against his eyes.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again … after successful conditioning, there is nothing, nothing that kills my erections more effectively than Twilight,” he muttered and when Stiles looked around he guilty realized that he had indeed managed to not only get Derek up a Twilight-tree, but that this tree was also standing in a field of flowers that sparked irrefutable Twilight associations.

“Do you still want to have my babies?” Stiles asked carefully and Derek laughed.

“No – your penis is green and I’m too afraid you’ll read terrible bedtime stories,” he declared and Stiles gulped.

“That being said,” Derek continued, lifting his hands from his eyes and getting up with a slight wince until he was standing right in front of Stiles and could frame his face with his large hands.

“Yes. There is nothing that would make me happier.”

Stiles exhaled in relief.

He hadn’t been too concerned but after all it never hurt to check.

“Your penis is not getting anywhere near me until it’s no longer green though,” Derek continued and Stiles grinned ruefully, inspecting the damage with a slight frown.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to experience what Julie Adams must have felt like?” he said and Derek’s head thumped onto his shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s more disturbing. The image in my head right now or the fact that I actually know which movie you just referenced,” he muttered, lifting his head again and pressing a soft kiss against Stiles’ temple.

“For your information though – the Creature from the Black Lagoon wouldn’t stand a chance against a werewolf,” he grinned and Stiles kissed him back, drawing the older man into his arms and pressing their bodies together tightly.

Stiles would have never considered having children with anyone not able to recognize his clever use of movie references and popular culture puns – and as he nuzzled his face against the werewolf’s stubbly cheek, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of home, love, and mate, he was forever grateful that the person who could was Derek Hale.