The weather outside was what his dad usually referred to as "sneaky wet", meaning it was such a fine mist that you couldn't even see it looking out your windows and barely felt it when you were outside, leading you to this false sense that you can take your time and be fine, but when you got inside, your hair was wet and messy and your clothes were damp and your skin was chilled. It was exactly what tricked Stiles as he parked his Jeep under a street lamp too far from the building he was about to enter, thinking the walk inside wouldn't be that bad.
Which was dumb to think that, regardless of the weather. As an Omega and the son of the sheriff, he'd been taught to park as close to the building as possible when it was dark out—like it was then—to make his walk as short as possible so no Alpha could jump out and attack him in some form or fashion. Safety 101, crap he'd learned in that Refuse to Be a Victim seminar he'd been forced to attend.
Granted it didn't stop him from getting snatched up by a feral Alpha asshole who preceded to tie him up in the back of his car and—
Yeah, he wasn't about to think further on that, absently rubbing at his wrist and the marred skin around it. Then again, that was why he was at Beacon County Community College at seven pm on a Friday night in the first place: past bad experiences and an ad he'd stumbled upon on Facebook alerting him to a class on knot tying, complete with the days—or rather nights—they'd be taking place. Stiles figured if the class could teach how to tie various knots, then he could also learn how to untie them, just in case he ever found himself in a similar situation.
Save rubbing his wrists raw and tearing up his skin.
Tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, he peered out his side window, taking in the three story building with fourth floor observatories on each corner, giving the square building a castle-light appearance—despite the peach brick and glass tower corners. Stiles had already memorized the layout and exits, safety making him paranoid and overly prepared, not too keen on the fact that his course was to take place in the basement level. Way too easy to get stuck down there in the event of an emergency.
At least it was open to all dynamics so he didn't have to worry about being the only Omega in a class full of Alphas.
Was kind weird they asked about his Courting and Bonding status though.
Whatever. Probably some sorta liability thing, archaic thinking about gaining an Alpha's permission or some such bullshit.
Thank god it didn't actually require an Alpha's permission. It wasn't that he thought his dad—who was still technically and legally Stiles' Alpha, even if he was over eighteen so he was technically and legally an adult—wouldn't grant it, it just wasn't all that appealing an idea to have to explain why he wanted to take the class in the first place. They didn't really discuss his abduction that much—or at all really—so discussing this course would lead to a difficult conversation Stiles honestly didn't wanna have.
He really should do something about that while avoiding-anything-he-didn't-like-or-wanna-do habit of his.
Not that he was also putting that off—sorta—but he really had to get going. His course was set to start in five minutes and while he'd left with plenty time—taking into account the poor weather that had been flooding the place when he'd first gotten in his Jeep that had tapered off to nothing as he drove—he'd run into roadblocks due to accidents caused by idiots who would suddenly forget how to drive just because a little water was falling from the sky. Yeah, it was California and there were countless jokes about it hardly ever raining but still. Fucking idiots.
Cutting the engine off, Stiles glanced out the window one last time, not really seeing anything coming down. Then again, with the black sky, the fat droplets sticking to the Jeep's window, and the streetlight reflecting off them, it was kinda hard to tell. Not that he had much of a choice or any option to wait it all out. He snatched his backpack up from the passenger seat and got out, locking the door then slamming it shut.
Okay, it was a gentle mist, barely anything tickling his bare hands. No bigs, he thought as he slung his bag off one shoulder. He hiked his khakis up and shuffled his way to the building, keeping a wary eye out and glancing around as he walked. No one else was around, all cars dead and temporarily abandoned, no shadows holding anyone.
Too damn bad the ground was wet and the air was still humid. Made it hard to pick out any hiding Alpha scents.
Finally, he reached the glass square corner turret and the door, only to find a sign on it stating that it gets locked every day after five. Shit. Okay, more walking, no bigs either. After another glance around, Stiles hiked the bag up his arm then headed down the sidewalk to the main entrance, inset under another square glass turret halfway down the building, a couple dozen yards from the corner. This turret was angled though, more of a diamond, he figured, letting part of his brain focus on the mundane and ridiculous while the other part kept watch.
So deserved though.
The main entrance featured three sets of double glass doors, only the middle pair still open, and he entered the well-lit lobby. All steel and white support columns and glass rails. Way too fancy for a damn community college in Stiles' opinion, nodding at a bored looking security guard behind a desk as he passed on the way to the stairwell. He wasn't gonna risk getting trapped in an elevator...
Nope. Fuck that.
The basement level was more plain, the fancy-schmancy decor of the lobby not making it down here. It felt more like what a community college should feel like, a nice one still, and he wondered how the hell a county as small as the one he lived in could afford such a nice place.
Then again, this was the newer west campus paid for by donations from several well-endowed and philanthropic families. For all Stiles knew, the older building was a rundown piece of shit.
The classroom Stiles needed was halfway down the hall, located perfectly between the stairwell he'd just exited and the elevators at the far end. Two escape routes, just in case. The walls were a soft cream color, easier on the eyes than the bright white and glass the lobby had been comprised of, but the flecked white tile floor was the same. He passed three doors on the right, four on the left, all closed up with lights off. Part of him was tempted to reach out and test the knobs to see if they were locked, too, but he resisted, clutching the bag strap over his shoulder with white knuckles instead.
The door he was looking for was open, light spilling into the dull hallway, as well as the sound of varied conversations and the scent of various folks. No Betas from what he could tell, although their scents tended to be weaker so they could've been hidden under those of the Alphas and Omegas in there.
More Alphas, judging by the heavier presence of the spicy musk that was typical of their dynamic.
Okay, he was fine, this was fine. There was no need for the racing heart or the prickling skin or the shuddering breaths. Not all Alphas were bad, he knew this. His dad wasn't, neither was Scott or Lydia or Malia or most of the other Alphas in his life.
Not to mention he wasn't the naive dumb little Omega of before. And also he had more non-lethal weapons on him now.
Automatically, his left hand slipped into the pocket of his khakis and wrapped around the pepper gel spray he kept in there. The keys in his right pocket featured a keychain that looked like a black bulldog's head but with holes where his oversized eyes would be, perfect for slipping his fingers inside, the latex covering hiding the fact that it was solid metal and the ears were sharp enough to injure when a punch was properly landed.
Really, he shouldn't need those inside a classroom. Safety in numbers and all that shit. If any Alpha tried any shit, the others would stop them. Stiles hoped they would, at least.
Of course they would. This was a learning facility, they were all there to become more educated on how to tie various knots. Really, all the Alphas inside were probably meek dorks, former Eagle Scouts looking for a refresher.
Or yacht preps.
Right, he was completely getting off topic and letting his thoughts run away with him and he needed to get inside before he was officially late.
With a deep breath and a functioning-as-normal body, Stiles stepped up to the threshold, right as someone moved to close the door over.
"Whoa!" he called, hands flying out as though he could stop the steel from smashing him in the face.
Which, maybe he could, since it paused closing over mere inches from hitting his hands. Maybe he actually had the Force...?
Or maybe his cry was heard from the person closing the door and they managed to cease it in time, pulling it back open and peering around the edge to see who was there.
His heart began racing all over again, for an entirely different reason this time, taking in the sight of the Alpha before him. Stiles had known Derek Hale for years, had a crush on him for just as long, their two families old friends. As the richest family in Beacon County--and possibly even all of Northern California—the Hales, and its matriarch Talia in particular, were highly involved in the community, meaning they dealt a lot with the sheriff, aka Stiles' dad. There was a lot of seeing each other at functions and fundraisers, grocery stores and city council meetings, school events and book clubs—at least until Stiles' mom gotten sick then passed away and obviously couldn't participate anymore.
Stiles and Derek had met purely by being dragged by their parents and forced together due to their similar gender and only being a few years apart. When Stiles entered high school, Derek was a senior, giving a cursory wave and head nod and smile when they passed in the hallway. They weren't all that close, acquaintances more than anything, something that Stiles blamed his never-dying crush on. In his twisted logic, if he knew Derek better, he'd find a fault, a deal-breaker, and those feelings would disappear.
Then again, taking in the broad musculature, perfect facial structure, dark whiskers, and multi-hued eyes that seemed greener due to the soft sweater he was wearing, Stiles highly doubted the guy had a fault at all. Gods were infallible or something, right? And even if there was something wrong with the guy, Stiles didn't think it would be much of a deterrent really.
Okay, with a few obvious exceptions.
Derek's brow furrowed as he looked the late arrival up and down, head tilting ever so slightly and lips twitching as he let out a confused "Stiles?", like he was unsure of how to react to the Omega's presence. "I don—I didn't know you were ta—I should've paid better attention to the sign-up list." He rubbed at his forehead and huffed, frustrated with himself, and Stiles shuffled from foot to foot, self-conscious.
"Yeeeeah," he drew the word out, feeling just as puzzled by Derek's presence. Then again, didn't he hear from his dad who heard from Talia that Derek taught a few vocational and hobby courses here. And given the fact that the Alpha knew a lot about a lot and had a hobby of learning as much random stuff as possible—which, same really—it made sense that he'd know about tying knots.
And consequently untying them.
Shit. Stiles had been contemplating asking whoever was leading the class if they could explain how to get out of said knots but now he wasn't sure if he was going to. Derek knew what happened to Stiles, had even sent a stuffed wolf the day after Stiles had been released from the hospital with a note wishing him well and explaining he didn't wanna show up himself and trigger anything.
He clearly hadn't realized how much his scent had saturated the soft toy he'd gifted. Definitely wasn't aware of how often Stiles snuggled it, inhaling that very scent until it was practically gone now.
Point was, Stiles wasn't sure if he could ask Derek about learning to untie knots without him figuring it out for himself. Then again, maybe it was better that he knew about Stiles' history, what happened, then the Omega wouldn't have to go into details that no stranger had any right to.
Or maybe he'd learn it in the class itself anyway.
Maybe not. It was only an hour long and a single class.
Then again, how many knots could there be? Surely not enough to fill the whole hour. And yeah, they might practice right then and there, the teacher—Derek checking techniques and giving any necessary comments, so depending on how many people were in said class, that may take some time.
Yeah, he was getting ahead of himself.
He adjusted the strap on his shoulder as a way of resetting his brain, watching as Derek looked him up and down, nostrils flaring and brow still pulled in puzzlement. Stiles was actually starting to feel a little offended by it. It was like Derek couldn't figure out why Stiles would be there in the first place, like Stiles had no business learning this.
Hey! Maybe he'd finally found a flaw in the otherwise perfect Derek Hale!
But before he could comment or protest or anything else, Derek was stepping aside with a sweep of the arm, inviting Stiles in. "C'mon in then. Just sign your name on the clipboard to the side and grab a booklet off the desk."
Stiles' own scowl deepened, not liking the resigned tone of Derek's words, as though he didn't like that Stiles was taking this course but couldn't do anything to stop it, so no point in complaining or fighting it. He leveled the look on the Alpha as he passed, entering the classroom and giving it a glance over.
The walls were a nice blue-gray kinda color, ceiling the same white dropped-tile as the hallway. To the right were three rows of three tables, two chairs at each, quite a few of them occupied. All three on the back row were filled with pairs, Stiles recognizing Liam from high school and his Alpha Hayden. The second row had another pair in the middle, the far table holding two men but the distance between them spoke to friends more than Bond-mates or a Courting pair. The front row had a solo male at the far table, the middle holding an overhead projector, and Stiles felt a sense of relief washing over him at the fact that the table closest to the door was available and that the ones directly behind and to the side were also empty. Definitely helped ease his paranoia, even if everyone was glancing at him, some more obviously than others.
Stiles turned away, taking note of the gray metal desk in front of him, the large side by side dry erase boards directly behind with a clipboard hanging on a nail next to it. He beelined it to the sign-in sheet as instructed, picking it up and using the pen slid under the clasp to fill out the gridded list. His name, the date, what course he was taking, paid online and when. His neck prickled uncomfortably under the imagined weight of eleven pairs of eyes, shoulders hunching as he tried to make himself smaller.
The door closed over as he returned the clipboard back to where it had been and he scurried to the available table he'd picked out, swiping a booklet off the pile on the desk as he passed. He took the chair closest to the door, put his backpack in the empty one, and took in the empty table before him.
Huh. Were they supposed to supply their own rope? He didn't remember seeing anything online about it when he registered or when he got the confirmation email. Just the usual stuff about no drugs, drinking, alcohol, or weapons—which technically Stiles was violating but fuck them—no food, only resealable drinks, and the suggestion of a pen and notebook that felt more generic than aimed at this class in particular.
Maybe they were supposed to do the practical stuff on their own.
Didn't make much sense, he mentally debated, aware of the conversations becoming more hushed, aware of Derek pulling down the screen for the projector then heading to the door to cut off the main lights, the projector on and providing some illumination, along with a couple tall lamps in the back corners. Why would they practice knot tying on their own? The instructor wouldn't be able to tell them if it was wrong, where they'd messed up. Their knots could come undone and who the hell knew what kind of disaster would happen after that. Tents flying away, boats drifting off, sails coming loose and beaning someone...
Derek made his way to the projector with a binder in his hand, standing on the side closer to Stiles, then called for everyone's attention. He opened the binder up and Stiles caught a glimpse of a protective plastic insert, the top sheet contained within featuring the class name.
"In case some of you don't know, my name is Derek Hale. Feel free to call me by my first name." He gave a friendly smile, dimples forming under his whiskers, and Stiles scowled at the way his heart beat faster at that stupid, stupid grin with its stupid, stupid bunny teeth that should've been a major dorky flaw but worked so goddamn well on this asshole.
It was then that Stiles realized how shitty he must look in comparison, hand reaching up to brush his fingers through hair that was damper than he realized, trying in vain to style it without a mirror. The bottom hems of his khakis were soaked from where they'd dragged across the wet ground outside, his hoodie was damp in various places, and the back of his neck was drenched and chilling him. Derek looked like perfection as always while Stiles probably looked like an absolute scruff.
Shit, was he grooming in the middle of class? Stupid instincts.
He put his hands on the table before him, the booklet drawing his attention, upside down and showing only the publishing information, when it was printed, copyrighted by blahblahblah at suchandsuch a date.
"I'm not gonna ask anyone to share their names," Derek's voice drew Stiles back in, head turning to the Alpha as his hand absently flipped the booklet over to the front. "And we're not gonna do any of those cheesy introduce yourself kinda games or share why we're here. Given the intimate and personal nature of the course, most people prefer a sense of anonymity rather than being called out on any problems they feel they're having."
Stiles' brow furrowed into a hard V at that. "Intimate and personal nature"? What the fuck was he talking about? What could be intimate or personal about tying a knot?
Okay, yeah, he wasn't naive enough to not be aware of what the "B" in "BDSM" stood for and once upon a time, he had a strong, boxer wetting interest in personally exploring it, until fate stepped in and ruined that fantasy for him. Still, he didn't think it was that personal or intimate...
Then again, a lot of that stuff was still pretty taboo, no matter how many copies of Fifty Shades had been sold. Some folks weren't all that comfortable with admitting they wanted to explore or engage in a little kink, even if it was in an Omega's nature to submit.
He shuddered at that last point, faking a chill by rubbing his still damp neck then his arms. Yeah, best not to dwell on that.
"So, shall we get started?"
Agreeing murmurs filled the room and Derek pulled the first transparency out the protective file. Stiles caught a quick glimpse of printed lines and shapes, noting that it was clearly not handwritten onto a blank plastic sheet the same size of a piece of paper. Then he turned his eyes and attention to the image projected onto the screen and...
Oh god fuck no.
His face heated up faster than he thought possible, scalding hot, and he suddenly felt like he was twelve years old and back in sex ed when they were learning about their bodies and puberty and the changes soon to come to them. Only there was no Scott to snicker with and pass notes to and joke around with after class.
Still... This definitely felt exactly the same.
On the screen was... Well, it was a diagram of an anatomically correct flaccid penis. An Alpha's one, judging by the glands near the base that would expand into a knot when—
Stiles' eyes dropped to the booklet, wide and panicked as he took in the words printed on boring beige card stock.
Knot Tying: Information On How to Perform the Act of Knotting or Being Knotted.
Jesus fuck, it hadn't even occurred to Stiles when he saw that ad that there was more than one kind of knot tying and it was totally his fault for being so naive and not paying attention enough to read the class description, brain fuzzy and fighting off traumatic flashbacks as he'd filled out his info. This definitely wasn't what he'd been thinking about, interested in, needed to know. After all, he was an Omega. Really, his part in the whole thing was to just... lay there and take it.
He was pretty sure.
His experience wasn't all that extensive—or pleasant—but he was fairly certain instincts were a huge part of it. It wasn't all that complicated an act. Even an idiot couldn't screw this up.
Which... Surreptitiously peeking over his shoulder at his other classmates, at the way they were all watching Derek in interest and opening the booklets to the page he instructed...
Jesus Christ, Liam though. Stiles was never gonna be able to look at the kid ever again.
Then again, considering how he was also currently in this class...
Didn't matter that he'd more or less signed up by accident, that his intentions had been learning about something else, Stiles was there with the rest of them, in a class about knotting.
The school should really change the name of this class to something less misleading.
Not that it mattered now, with him in this class about knotting and everyone probably thinking he was there behind his Alpha's back in a sneaky way to make him better at sex or to figure how to get knocked up easier or to get tips on how to be better in bed or any other completely wrong assumption. Wasn't like Stiles could stand at the front of the classroom and explain the truth of the situation.
He should probably just leave.
He was right by the door, he wouldn't be disturbing anyone. Not really anyway. Should be no biggie to just grab his backpack and sneak out.
Then again stealth wasn't exactly his thing. And the door was a steel one that wasn't all that silent. And the fact that he was the only solo Omega in there meant his absence would definitely be noted, that the solo Alphas were already attuned to him and would be alerted if he tried to escape.
Plus he'd already paid for the damn class and he was fairly certain getting a refund when he'd already shown up and signed in wasn't possible.
He was stuck basically.
At least there was some eye candy leading the course, Derek standing by the projector and using a laser pointer on the screen as he went over the different part of an Alpha's anatomy. Huh. No wonder he'd given Stiles such a confused look at his presence.
Too late now. Hindsight though...
Realizing his fate was sealed, Stiles grabbed a pen out the front pocket of his backpack and settled in for the next hour. Hopefully it would be a lot less awkward and painful than his old sex ed classes.
It wasn't that it was awkward...
Okay, it kinda was. Not to the degree it had been when he was a kid, but there was still that part of him that was a little...prudish when it came to more intimate shit like this. He'd watched all kinds of porn featuring Alphas tying their Omegas, playing with their knots, pleasuring them. Yet something about seeing them so clinical and plainly...
Part of him was fearing bad flashbacks yet none came, much to his relief. Granted he wasn't sure if the alternative was any better, fantasies involving Derek and what he was hiding behind ridiculously fitted jeans. Because the booklets and transparencies didn't involve just diagrams and drawings, but also real life photos of cocks and knots and even Omegan holes—although those were more of the warning variety of "look at what bad shit could happen to your partner if you pull out too soon or don't push your knot far enough in" that had Stiles squirming in discomfort and psychosomatic pain. Each time one of those pics were shown, Stiles' thought process went from "who the hell would let themselves be photographed like that for this specific purpose? Did they know it was for this purpose?" to "wonder if Derek's knot looks like that".
Yeah, not thoughts he should be having. Not in a class with unBonded Alphas and with the object of his fantasies standing at the front of the room leading the course. Still, not like Stiles could help the thoughts from coming. He'd long since learned there was no controlling his brain and the shit that went through it so there was no point in trying to control any of it. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he'd begin to think about Derek's knot and what it would be like to be tied to him and the belief that he'd treat an Omega right.
And then he'd have to cut those thoughts off as he felt his cock twitch and hole pulse and passage dampen. Class full of other people, including single Alphas, not the place to let his arousal leak into the air.
But blessedly the class was only an hour and despite fears that someone would ask a whole bunch of questions that would cause the time to run over, no such thing happened. As the hour hand hit the eight on the clock above the screen, Derek brought the class to a close, letting everyone know he was available to chat if anyone had any questions. A glance around the room showed Stiles that everyone seemed to be just as eager to leave as he was, things being gathered and jackets being out on. He grabbed his backpack off the seat and put it on the table, unzipping the main compartment to shove his booklet in, destined to become lost and never thought of again, except...
"Omega," Derek called out, voice holding the authority of an educator without the demands of an Alpha, and Stiles raised his head to find the man looking right at him.
Oh. He was the Omega.
Made sense, maybe, sorta. 'Course Derek wouldn't call him by name when no introductions had been made to the class, so he went a more anonymous route to preserve Stiles' privacy and make sure the solo Alphas from the class didn't use the name or their obvious camaraderie to track Stiles down and harm him in some way. Pretty chivalrous when he thought about it that way.
"Mind staying a few minutes?" Derek requested of him, wording it so it was clearly optional and Stiles had every opportunity to say no and leave anyway.
Not that Stiles would take it. Not when Derek had asked to talk to him. Alone. It wasn't a chance he often—if ever—got.
Although he hadn't a damn clue what Derek even needed to talk to him about.
Well, the class obviously. But what specifically? Probably his presence there in the first place, why he'd taken the class. Maybe a question over whether his dad was aware or did Derek need to hide this coincidental meeting the next time he talked to the sheriff. Derek knew better than to ask Stiles if he'd gotten permission to be there. For starters it was archaic as fuck. Secondly, Stiles wasn't really one for getting permission in the first place. Better to ask forgiveness, that's what he believed.
Something bumped the table and Stiles lifted his head to find Derek across from him, hip leaning casually against the fold-up furniture, arms folded in a relaxed manner. Checking around himself, he discovered everyone else had left already, door left wide open. Shit. He'd totally lost focus. That was dangerous as hell. Had it be any other Alpha than Derek, he could've been in serious trouble.
He inwardly shuddered, shuffling in his seat and peering up at the Alpha before him. Derek was staring down at him, looking curious and bemused, hint of a smirk tugging up at the corner of his lips.
"Long time, no see," he remarked.
Was it? The last time he'd seen Derek was... Was right after his dad won the reelection to remain sheriff at a victory party on voting day back in November. So about five months ago or so. Okay, yeah, valid point.
Not like they had any excuse to see each other though. They weren't friends, not to mention Stiles had been busy with his schoolwork and job at a Starbucks on the opposite end of town and Derek had been busy with his own occupation here at the community college. Their paths didn't exactly cross.
Until that night, of course.
"Yeeeeah," he elongated the word again, wringing the back of his neck. He had no idea what to respond with here. An apology? An excuse? Some bullshit small talk over what they'd been up to and gee, what crappy weather we're having here lately, huh?
Derek looked around the room before focusing on Stiles once more, amused smirk growing more obvious, a dimple appearing on one cheek. "You know I gotta ask, right?" he put out there, gesturing with one hand in an obvious sign that he was referring to the class.
Yeah. Fair 'nuff.
Stiles squirmed some more, face heating up and more than likely now splotchy as hell in the most unattractive way possible. "I didn't realize it was that kind of knot tying," he defended himself, unable to look Derek in the face, eyes darting about and hands absently playing with the booklet still on the table. "I thought it would be the kind involving ropes."
Derek chuckled lowly. "Kinky."
His head jerked up, eyes wide as he sputtered and grew redder, hotter. Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he was embarrassed at having his deepest fantasy being called out like that or upset his statement had been misconstrued in such a fashion or amused at Derek's dirty mind taking it in an X-rated manner or hopeful that maybe Derek made such a comment because he engaged in such behaviors.
Derek just smirked salaciously, eyes half-lidded as he shifted so he was half-sitting on the table. Stiles swallowed hard, tempted to bare his neck at the imposing Alpha, except... Except he wasn't really imposing. His scent was more interested, intrigued than anything, not pushy or demanding.
Quite a turn of events really. Maybe his thought about Derek engaging in a little rope play wasn't too far off.
"Didn't figure you'd be a part of the scene."
Every possible thought, every possible response spun around his brain like one of those bingo ball cage things and of course, given his unfortunate streak of luck lately, the one that ended up making its way out his mouth was:
"Maybe you could introduce me to it."
Oh. Oh fuck. Goddamn his lack of filter.
Both of Derek's eyebrows raised at that before his face shifted back into the previous dark grin that spoke of darker deeds. He leaned over, reached for Stiles' backpack and took hold of the excess fabric of his strap, flicking it with his fingers. "Are you seriously asking me to show you a whole different kind of knot tying, maybe even both at once?"
Was he? Stiles had no idea. His brain was fritzing out, every thought now a fuzzy, staticky channel and the only thing that was still crystal clear was the X-rated one where Derek was doing just as he suggested. Stiles imagined the burn of rope around his wrists, his ankles, his body held in place as Derek filled him up, tied them together with his body.
His hand absently wrapped around his wrist, under the sleeve of his hoodie, thumbing at the scar there. Rather than the fear he thought he'd be experiencing at the idea of being bound again, he was... excited, curious, aroused. Derek wouldn't do what that other Alpha had, wouldn't treat him like that. He'd listen, care, pay attention, make sure they both enjoyed rather than just taking what he wanted.
A shiver raced up Stiles' spine, cock twitching and passage getting wetter. Yeah, being with Derek would be the exact opposite of being with Theo...
Derek's eyes dropped down to Stiles' wrist and he seemed to remember, the flirtatious nature of his words and body position leaving as he straightened up, face sobering. "I—"
"Yes," Stiles interrupted, refusing to hear any objections, refusing to let Derek rescind his offer. "I want you to tie me, both with ropes and with your knot."
The Alpha's eyes flashed red as they went half-lidded, a rumbling growl leaving his chest, and Stiles turned into a puddle as his entire body went lax in response. He felt like melted wax, hot as fuck and practically liquid, wet and dripping onto his boxers. It may have been the wrong class and he may not be learning what he wanted to, but when Derek was looking at him like he was imagining him tied up as an offer, Stiles couldn't regret a damn thing.
At home, Stiles knew he wasn't getting any sleep anytime soon, so he threw himself down a YouTube hole, watching tutorials about standard knot tying, wishing he had some rope to practice with. Which inevitably led to him ruminating on what Derek had offered, to tie him in more than one way, and his body shuddered all over, growing wet at the thought. His research spiral turned into one about bondage, Google images and website tutorials and the porn search that had him imagining red rope around his own wrists and Derek's body driving into him...
It was the best masturbation session he'd had in years, made all the better by the lack of any flashbacks.
The next day at work had been glorious and torture all at once. Rush hours of folks coming in for coffee before work or between classes or after school allowed him to focus for once, filling orders, cleaning machines, wiping down tables. But the slow moments felt even slower, mind drifting to what he'd learned the previous night, both during class and at home. His body betrayed him, got a little too into those thoughts, and part of him wished he was back in his room so he could finger away the feelings.
When his shift ended, he raced home, finding it empty with his dad still at his own job. Stiles raced through the booklet as he predicted he would, frantic in his search for Derek's number, sending a text asking if his offer still stood before he could think himself out of it.
'Always.' was the reply, less than a minute later, Derek apparently figuring out who was texting, what offer he was referring to.
Stiles felt his entire body grow hot as a huge grin broke out on his face, the two of them making plans for the next phase of Stiles' knot tying education.
They spent the interim texting, random shit during the day when Derek wasn't teaching and Stiles was bored at work, deeper shit at night when the darkness made it easier to confess things. The messages got a little heated at times, Derek expressing how much he couldn't wait to see the Omega trussed up for him, Stiles confessing he could wait to feel the Alpha's knot filling him beyond capacity. It wasn't fully blown sexting, no nudes exchanged, but it was enough to get his heart racing and blood pumping. The fact that Derek had told him not touch himself until That Night didn't help shit either, Stiles a habitual masturbator that got off almost daily, sometimes just to fall asleep.
Finally, after a lifetime of waiting, the big night arrived and Stiles felt ready to burst out of his skin. His shift had been the longest shift in the history of forever, as was the wait when he got home. Still, he forced himself through dinner and a shower, making sure he smelled good and clean and only of himself.
Granted it took forever to get his hair styled the way he wanted without any product, not wanting the chemical scent of it to interfere with anything.
Not that it was completely bad. It was a good distraction from the way his skin had been buzzing all day, body tensing as anticipation climbed with each passing moment.
Which, he honestly needed to chill about. It was a hook-up, a one night stand, a way to satisfy his curiosity and an itch he'd wanted scratched but with no one around he trusted enough to indulge with. This wasn't a date or Courting or anything like that. Sex. Nothing more, nothing less.
Okay, even that thought didn't help. It'd been a while since he'd been laid and now he was finally ending a dryspell... with an Alpha he'd been crushing on and fantasizing about pretty much since puberty. So...
Anticipation climbed further as he got in his Jeep to head over to Derek's apartment, momentarily forgotten about the reasons why when it started raining and Stiles had to force himself to focus on the road, navigating through the downpour and the dark. He also found himself mentally grumbling about how his hair was gonna get messed up, after all that time he'd spent trying to get it just right.
Just his luck really.
Although really, did he even have much of a right to claim his luck was bad considering what was gonna happen that night?
Whatever. Didn't matter. What mattered was keeping his eyes on the road and not crashing and dying before he got there. Then his luck would really be shit.
It was still pouring by the time he reached Derek's apartment, a u-shaped ten story building at the edge of the warehouse district. He found a spot as close to the entrance as possible while still in the safety of a street lamp, double checked his pockets for his pepper gel spray and pocket knife, then slipped the bulldog keychain over his knuckles. Door slammed, he raced inside, feet slapping wet concrete and inadvertently splashing in puddles. But even speeding as he had, he still wound up soaked, hair flattened to his head and hoodie clinging to his frame. His khakis felt ten pounds heavier and he spent the elevator ride—because there was no way he was climbing that many stairs but thankfully it was empty as hell—to the top floor trying to brush some of the water off—like it was even possible. His hair was still limp, clothing still soggy, and now he was shivering from the cold air inside the ancient cart.
Maybe he should've taken the stairs anyway. Would've ended up winded as hell but maybe it would've helped him warm up, helped him dry.
Or maybe he was just being self-conscious as fuck and freaking out about the whole thing by thinking of everything except what was about to happen.
Yeah. Probably that last thing.
The elevator screeched to halt, jarring and sudden, and Stiles had to throw his arms out to keep his balance. The doors rattled open and he peeked his head out, scenting the air. Only Derek's scent hung around, along with a more stale one with similar notes, most likely one of his sisters. From the smell of things, no one else was on this floor and hadn't been for quite some time.
Rubbing his hand over his racing heart, he stepped out the elevator and headed down the right side of the hall, just as Derek had instructed. The lack of other scents helped put Stiles at ease, helped him get rid of any paranoid based fears of walking into an ambush or some other Alpha hiding around a corner or in a dark alcove of the dimly lit hall.
God this place gave him the creeps.
And it wasn't just the paranoia that time. Black walls with chipped paint, half the wall sconces missing a bulb or containing a burnt out one. It was unsettling, even to an Omega who hadn't been attacked.
He sped up his steps, tightening his grip on the keys still around his fingers, finally approaching Derek's door. Taking a deep breath to steel himself for what was about to happen, Stiles jolted once more as the hunk of metal began to slide open, revealing the Alpha and...
And Stiles stopped dead five feet away, eyes widening and jaw dropping. God damn he'd almost forgotten how good Derek looked, whiskers neatly trimmed, hair stylishly cut, muscular frame hugged by a burgundy henley and gray sweats. Stiles' eyes tracked down, locked onto the Alpha's crotch like there was a magnet holding them in place, and...
And Jesus fucking Christ that man was made for that Gray Sweatpants Challenge that the Internet had obsessed over for too short a time—in his opinion.
Suddenly, he was self conscious of the khakis he wore—even though they were the nicest ones he owned, the hems only just barely frayed at the back—and the red hoodie he wore—even though it was recently washed and wrinkle free—feeling overdressed for the first time in his life. Should he have worn sweats? He'd agonized over what to wear, hoping to hit the perfect balance between casual and attractive, good but not like he was trying too hard. Was especially difficult when he thought about what was gonna happen that night, wondering how long his clothes were even gonna stay on in the first place. He wanted to make sure he looked fuckable though, make sure Derek liked what he saw, make sure there wasn't any struggle to undress him that would lead to the whole thing being just too damn difficult to even bother with anymore.
He liked to think he hit it. He wasn't usually all that confident in his looks, although he knew he wasn't ugly, but compared to Derek...
Okay, no comparing. Mainly because no one compared to Derek in the first place.
Still. He was kinda sorta maybe second guessing his outfit choice.
His internal debate lasted as long as it took Derek's nostrils to flare as he scented the Omega before him and his eyes to drop down and take Stiles in, brow furrowing at what he saw. Yeah. Definitely the wrong outfit, Stiles figured, fighting a self-conscious wince.
"Jesus Christ," Derek muttered and yep, fight against the wince was lost. "Didn't realize it was raining that hard. Get in here before you get sick."
Stiles opened his mouth to argue and let out a sneeze instead so maybe the guy had a point. Nodding, he stepped closer, stepped inside, Derek moving out the way to give him space.
Which was what his apartment—his loft was made of: space, lots of it. Huge, open, the only walls being the four separating the loft from the rest of the world and what Stiles assumed was a bathroom in the back right corner. To the left was an open kitchen area, a metal spiral staircase leading to the roof. The right, a large bed not against any wall, a bureau, and an armoire. In the center, a couch, couple armchairs, and an old trunk serving as a coffee table. At the far wall, towering windows letting in ambient light from the street lamps of the parking lot outside, the loft itself further lit by exposed bulbs hanging from twenty foot ceilings. The place was minimal, no nonsense, nothing fancy, a lot like Derek himself. And with the Alpha's scent permeating the air, Stiles felt comforted, any fear over what the night would hold lessening.
He looked down at the cement platform he was on, sneakers slapping as he descended the stairs, squishing from the water trapped inside them. His feet were freezing now that he thought about it, now that he wasn't distracted by the creepy hall or feeling underdressed. He sniffed as he wiggled his toes, socks wet and uncomfortable, and he wondered if maybe he should've brought a change of clothes.
Then again, that would've been pretty presumptuous of him. It would seem like he was assuming he'd be spending the night, that there was more to this than a fuck.
Metal rattling then clanging made him jump, made his heart start racing in his chest, and he jerked around to find Derek still by the door, now closed, hands up in innocence and to show he wasn't a threat.
"It's not locked," he explained gently, slowly making his way down the concrete steps, bare feet masterfully avoiding the wet footprints Stiles had left behind. "And I'm moving away so I'm not blocking your exit, okay? You can also get out through the stairs." He pointed in their general direction and Stiles quickly glanced at them. "That door locks from the inside but it's quick and easy to undo. There's a fire escape leading down from the roof if you need out that way."
Exits. Derek was explaining the exits and Stiles let out a shuddering breath as he nodded in understanding, hand rubbing absently at one of his wrists. He wasn't trapped, not like before, and a shaky smile formed on his face.
Derek nodded right back, stopping five feet away. "I'm gonna go in the bathroom and get you a couple towels. All right?"
More nodding from Stiles then Derek headed off to do exactly what he said he was going to, leaving the bathroom door open and the light on.
Stiles glanced around for a distraction, sneezing again as the dampness on his shoulders began to seep through onto his tee. He took off his sodden hoodie and laid it on the couch, hoping it was okay to do so, wondering if he should ask first.
If Derek had an issue, he'd say something when he came back.
Shrugging, Stiles toed out of his sneakers then slipped his socks off and dropped them onto a wet heap on the floor. His bare, chilled feet came in contact with the soaked hems of his pants and he considered taking them off, too, only...
Only he really didn't know the protocol here. Was he supposed to take off his own clothes, lay in wait on the bed? Strip down to just his underwear or be fully naked? Wait and let Derek undress him?
He was so out of his depth in so many goddamn ways.
Footsteps sounded out and Stiles turned his head to find Derek leaving the bathroom with two large, fluffy towels in the same dark blue shade as his bedding. Because of course Derek would coordinate all his linens like that. Only made sense that he'd be that level of anal.
"You might wanna get out of those clothes," Derek suggested and Stiles felt his face heat up at the words, despite knowing it was more out of concern for his health. Yeah, the loft was surprisingly warm, given how huge it was, but there was still the risk of him getting ill if he continued to hang out in wet clothes.
So he swallowed hard and undid his belt, his button, his zipper, pushing his pants down. Derek stopped five feet away once more as Stiles stripped off his shirt, draping his clothing over the back of the couch—to no objections, he noted—then taking one of the towels held out to him. He gave a thanks and began drying off his body, damp feet first, rubbing himself warm as he went.
When he was dry as he could be, Stiles wrapped the towel around his shoulders, looking up to find Derek stepping closer with a questioning look on his face. A small smirk formed on Stiles', amused, appreciative at the obvious caution and care the Alpha was behaving with, trying not to spook him. But if he kept acting that way, they'd never get anywhere—or at the very least, it would take them all damn night, meaning plenty time for Stiles to psych himself out or Derek to change his mind.
"Der?" he began, the Alpha in question pausing and cocking an eyebrow to show he was listening. "It's okay. You don't have to be so careful around me. I trust you, otherwise I wouldn't have come here or even agree to any of this in the first place."
Derek looked slightly taken aback for a brief moment before a pleased smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, no longer tense, no longer trying to hold himself back, and he moved closer, this time not stopping until he was barely a foot away. He took the towel he still held and draped it over Stiles' head, roughing his hands over it as he dried the Omega's still damp hair.
Stiles' amused grin grew, crinkling his eyes, his heart pounding at the close proximity of the older man. His scent invaded Stiles' lungs with every inhale, making his head feel fuzzy and light, making his body feel loose and languid. God, so good. So rich and thick, that dark spice that signaled an Alpha's—
An Alpha's arousal.
Stiles' felt his own arousal burst to life, overpowering any nerves or anxiety or fear he had before. His cock twitched in his boxers, hole pulsing and passage dampening, and he had to fight to keep his head from listing to the side, exposing his throat. He stared at flat pecs, pebbled nipples peeking through burgundy cotton, giving in to the urge to lay his hands flat against them.
Derek froze but didn't move, didn't object, seeming more startled by the sudden touch than anything. He let out a shaky exhale, breathing harder as Stiles' hands slid up over broad shoulders, around a thick neck...
The Omega dragged his eyes up, meeting dilated green orbs, dropping them to parted lips. His tongue darted out to wet his own, barely aware of the motion, mind fixated solely on how easy it would be to just... lean forward...and...
In a rush of movements, the towel over his head slipped to his neck, used to haul him in close. His chest collided with Derek's before their lips crashed together and neither bothered with slow build-ups or testing the waters or feeling shit out. It was all heat, passion, the dam bursting and Stiles letting out everything he'd been feeling and hiding for years.
And fucking hell was it incredible.
Lips moved and tongues met and hands roamed. Towels were shoved off Stiles' shoulders and Derek's shirt was yanked up and off and soon their hips were grinding, pushing. Stiles felt the heat of Derek's pelvis against him, half hard like him, only much, much bigger, and goddamn did he need it inside, his passage getting wetter as his body loosened on its own.
"Please," he murmured against Derek's lips, hands grabbing at his muscular back in a desperate way to try and pull him impossibly closer. "Please. You prom—you offered to tie me, knot me up."
A growl sounded out, sexual and feral, and Stiles felt himself go limp against Derek as he yielded under the strong Alpha. Derek's eyes flashed red, lip curling back over his teeth and head ducking down, only to suddenly jerk back as he apparently remembered something.
"We gotta talk first," he stated, unwrapping Stiles' arms from around him and holding both his wrists with care.
Stiles let out an honest to god whine, like a kid who'd been told he couldn't get his favorite marshmallow filled cereal, and Derek snapped his teeth at him in warning.
"It's important," he insisted before leading Stiles over to the bed then pushing him down by the wrists he still held, until the Omega was sitting on the end. Releasing his hold, he stepped back a foot or two, folding his arms and staring down in an attempt to look authoritative and intimidating.
Really, he just looked more drool-worthy than ever, biceps pushed out where they were pressed against his sides, abdominal muscles on full display, half hard cock visible through his sweats and right there at head level for Stiles.
Not quite close enough.
And too bad for Stiles, Alphas were faster so rushing closer wasn't quite possible.
Maybe if he took Derek by surprise.
His name was called in a hard tone and he jerked his eyes up to meet the serious expression on Derek's face.
"We aren't doing anything until we make a few things absolutely clear, understood?" Derek paused and Stiles nodded vehemently. "First things first. Safe word?"
"How 'bout 'untie me right the fuck now'?"
Derek just blinked. "Guess it could work. But generally it's a safe word, not a safe phrase."
Stiles shrugged. Honestly he had a feeling that if he wanted to call it quits, it would be due to something panic-related and he wouldn't be able to remember any safe words. But blurting out to be untied "right the fuck now" was inevitable in that situation so just made sense he'd have it as his safe word. Phrase. Whatever.
"Here's what I was thinking," Derek began, rubbing at his whiskered jaw before continuing. "Are you familiar with shibari?"
Very fucking much so, if it was what Stiles was thinking. He squirmed in his seat as he felt his hole pulse in excitement and he had to clear his throat before speaking. "Japanese rope tying, right?"
Derek nodded, smirk pulling up one side of his lips, and he moved so that he was crouched in front of Stiles, hands gently wrapped around his calves. "I wanted to tie your legs up so you're held open, spread for me to do as I please to you. Then I wanted to tie your wrists together." His hands moved so they were around the mentioned body part, a frown forming on his face as he ducked his head and looked down at them.
Right. The scars.
Stiles twisted his hands so he could grip Derek's hands right back, squeezing them, opening his mouth to speak.
"We don't ha—"
"I want you to," Stiles interrupted. "Do what you were planning."
Thumbs rubbed over the raised, marred skin, Derek still frowning. "We can wrap these in something soft first. The rope I have is silk and made for this but I don't wanna—"
"Hey," Stiles interrupted again, softer this time, nudging Derek's head with his own until the Alpha raised his eyes and actually looked at him. "Cover his marks with yours."
Derek reared up at that, their lips colliding once more but doing nothing to cover the animalistic growls he was letting out. Stiles was pushed back onto the bed, nearly two-hundred pounds of Alpha pressing him into the mattress as Derek ate at him like a starved man. He could feel his body rev up once more, cock filling faster and passage getting wetter. Fuck, kissing Derek was enough to make him come and the way those rough hands were holding his wrists pinned above his head...
Just as suddenly as Derek had launched at him, the Alpha pulled away, both men panting and Stiles lifting his head to chase his lips with a whine. "That's not what I meant to do," Derek announced and Stiles smirked, feeling a little proud that he'd managed to get the usually in control Alpha to go wild with just a simple phrase.
"I have no complaints."
A small laugh breathed out of Derek's nose and he gave one final kiss—a chaste one for once—to Stiles' mouth before pushing himself up. "Middle of the bed, head on the pillows. Get comfy." He added the last part with a salacious smirk and a flash of red eyes that had Stiles' heart racing and body thrumming.
Fuck. It was happening.
He scrambled to comply, flailing none too gracefully as he crab-walked back across the bed. A quick rearranging of the pillows and he was comfy as could be, stomach quivering with his trembling breaths, obvious tent in the front of his boxers.
Derek grabbed something out the bottom drawer of his bureau, returning to the bed with three bundles of black rope. Soft rope from the looks of it, and the feel of it, too, Derek letting him touch the smallest one of the bundles, about half the size of the others, to find out for himself. Silk rope, the Alpha had said, nothing but the best for the only son of one of the richest families in all of NorCal.
Not that Stiles would complain about that either. It was miles different than the rough shit that had been used on him before and the difference in texture allowed him to keep that incident and this one completely separate in his mind. No triggers, no flashbacks, no falling into panic.
Glancing up, he found Derek still standing by the side of the bed, questioning look on his face. An approving nod from Stiles had him relaxing, had him moving to the end of it, tossing the bundles onto the mattress beside the Omega.
"Might wanna lose the boxers, or else I'll have to rip 'em off ya in order to get to the other knot tying that you want."
Heat scorched down Stiles' back at that and as unfairly sexy as the thought of Derek barehandedly ripping his clothes off was, Stiles couldn't really afford to replace any of it. So with another nod, he hooked his thumbs in the elastic waistband and pushed the underwear down, cautious around his dick.
"You want a towel or anything to cover up for the time being?"
Stiles shook his head. "S'okay. You're gonna see everything anyway." Boxers completely off, he tossed them aside then...
Then awkwardly laid there, unsure of what to do with his hands, his legs.
Luckily for him though, Derek knew what the hell he was doing—a thought Stiles wasn't gonna dwell on for too long, lest that green eyed monster arrive uninvited and without reason—moving onto the bed and gently wrapping his hands around Stiles' ankles. "Spread 'em for me," he coaxed gently and the Omega was weak to resist, parting his legs and letting Derek move them where he saw fit.
The cold air on his hot skin made Stiles shiver, Derek's gentle touch adding to the sensations. His right leg was pushed and manipulated until his knee was bent in the air, foot flat on the bed. A warning look shot his way meant he was to stay like that and Stiles nodded once to show he got the message loud and clear. When he was sure Stiles wasn't gonna move, Derek picked up one of the bigger two bundles, unwinding it.
Shit, this was it, Stiles thought, swallowing hard as his heart raced out of his control, as his breathing grew shakier, as his blood boiled with excitement.
Derek peeked at him where he was folding the length of rope in half, eyebrow cocked in question. "Last chance. You're absolutely sure?"
Stiles tipped his chin up and looked the older man dead in the eye. "Tie me up. Alpha."
Once again, the words had their intended affect, Derek's eyes flashing bright scarlet. He rolled his shoulders and got comfortable sitting on his knees between Stiles' legs, rubbing around his ankle as though warming it. A shuddering breath of his own was let out, his scent thickening and getting stronger. Stiles felt himself relaxing further from it, not jumping at the first brush of soft rope against his ankle.
Peering down his body, Stiles watched Derek take the folded end of his rope and wrapped it around his ankle, placing it carefully. He fed the length through the loop created by the fold them pulled it in the opposite direction for tension, essentially encapsulating Stiles' ankle.
"Too tight?" Derek questioned, even as he checked the slack himself.
Stiles wriggled his foot with no issues and shook his head. "S'fine."
More than fine really. Something about the way his ankle was bound, held... it was... calming almost. Probably the Omega in him but he wasn't gonna fight it, instead relaxing into the pillows and letting Derek push his ankle back further until it was pressed against his thigh.
With a deep exhale to loosen the last of the tension he held, Stiles watched Derek work, on the way thick fingers and large hands delicately wrapped the doubled-up rope around his leg, holding his calve to his thigh. Once, twice, three, four times around, evenly spaced, not going too high to where it would slip over Stiles' knee. Then he brought the rope down, under then around the loops that held his leg together, twisted knots creating a pattern and holding it all in place. At the bottom, he passed the rope between Stiles' ankle and thigh, repeating the pattern upwards this time, then straight back down behind the loops until he reached the bottom.
Stiles checked in with his leg, the ropes and loops tight enough to be felt but not hurt or cut off any feeling. From what he could tell, Derek had expertly missed any important veins or nerves, missed the artery, allowing circulation to still flow.
And the look of it? Evenly spaced loops, perfectly lined up knots. It was a work of art that Stiles got to wear.
Was too bad he was gonna have to take it off.
"Perfect," he murmured, raising his eyes to see Derek's chest puff out in pride, his lips stretch into a smile.
"Agreed." He tied the remnants of the rope into an overhand knot on the outside of Stiles ankle, avoiding bone and nerves as before, then repeated the entire process on Stiles' left leg, checking in to make sure nothing was too tight. Finished, Derek took a shaky breath, running his hands up the row of looped knots on both inner-thighs. "You still doing okay?"
Another deep breath, a shuddering exhale, a harsh gulp, but Stiles nodded and let out a shaky "yeah". It was the truth, he was definitely okay, he was also...
Shit, what was he also?
He was aroused as hell, that was for goddamn sure. His cock was harder than ever, dripping pre onto his stomach at a steady rate. His hole was so open he could probably fit two fingers straight inside, a feat usually not achievable straight away except in Heat. Slick was leaking out and soaking the comforter beneath him and they probably should've laid down a towel beforehand because he got the feeling he was gonna be messier than ever by the time they were done. His skin felt tight, his blood was rushing, his heart was pounding, his stomach was flipping...
Yet he felt incredibly calm, safe, at peace. There was a sense of freedom and relaxation that came from giving himself over to Derek, from letting Derek take control. His mind wasn't racing, no anxious thoughts buzzing and stinging. For the first time in a long time, Stiles' mind was quiet, at ease.
Well, not entirely at ease, given how goddamn horny and desperate he was, but other than that...
"I feel fuckin' amazin'," he answered honestly, drunken smile on his face as he looked up at Derek, at the way Derek was staring at the ropes around his legs in awe and reverence.
God it was thrilling. He never thought he'd have an expression like that aimed his way, especially not from Derek fucking Hale, but there it was. Probably the most overwhelming part of this whole thing.
And they weren't done yet.
Putting his wrists together, Stiles extended his hands towards Derek, ready for the next step. The Alpha took hold of the slim limbs but made no move for the last bundle of rope, the smallest one, instead staring at where his thumbs were once again rubbing at the scars. Stiles wanted to remind him that it was okay, he wanted this, he trusted Derek to do it, but got the feeling silence would be better. Let Derek get his thoughts together, let him speak first, then prove him wrong again.
"Never thought I'd get to do this," Derek mumbled after a long silent moment, self-deprecating smile on his face. "Always thought you didn't like me in that manner, because I used to boss you around and nag you, as you used to say."
Stiles remembered. Remembered when he was a kid, hanging at the same events as the Hale kids, Derek always telling him what not to touch and to stop putting things in his mouth and “don't go in there” and “that's not for babies like you”. Stiles usually didn't mind, was comforted by it, but sometimes it annoyed him and he lashed out at the older boy. His mom had explained it was just the Alpha in Derek, instincts telling him to watch over Stiles and protect him. He didn't understand then, but he did now.
And so he opened his mouth to argue, words getting caught in his throat as Derek raised his head to look at him with watery eyes.
"Then I figured you wouldn't wanna be with me because of this." His hand moved to Stiles' leg, tracing right under one of the rope loops, indicating his obvious kink. "That maybe it was too much for you, especially after—"
Stiles tensed up and braced himself but Derek had cut himself off, not finishing the sentence, instead going back to his original thought.
"Always dreamt of it though, tying you up, binding you so you couldn't move, totally at my mercy as I pleasured you until you cried from overstimulation."
Another shudder wracked Stiles, this time in pleasure because fuck, he wanted that, dreamt of it, too. And now they were both so close to making it happen...
"Always had a feeling these ropes would look amazing against your skin," Derek went on, smile turning into a smirk, hungry, feral, finger slipping under the loop by Stiles' knee. "Turns out I was right. Can't wait to see if I was also right about how good your pale flesh will look with rope indentions, rope burn, marks from my mouth and my teeth."
Stiles groaned and closed his legs around the Alpha's broad waist as he simultaneously arched his spine and tilted his head back to expose his throat. A blatant invitation. God he wanted it, too, so goddamn bad. Rope marks crisscrossing his frame, hickeys littering his chest, bruises on his hips and thighs, hole reddened and stretched, teeth marks on his neck. He wanted to wear v-neck tees to show off the litany of scars and abrasions Derek had left on him. No more hiding his wrists in shame but displaying them in pride.
"Please," he moaned, body undulating, slick leaking and Derek's scent getting stronger, thicker, spicier. "Mark me as yours. Show the world what's always been true."
A gasp sounded and Stiles peered up to find Derek staring at him wide-eyed and shocked. He cupped the Alpha's face in both hands and hauled him in close, only successful because the older man was stunned into inaction.
"I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," he stated firmly, foreheads pressed together and eyes locked. "Mark me up, knot me, make it so the whole world knows who I belong to."
Another growl, Derek kissing him deep as he moved his hips against Stiles'. The sensation of soft cotton against his cock, of a hard bulge pressing and rubbing against his own, it was too much and he pulled away with a moan.
"I'm gon—gon' come," he barely managed to get out, panting, his hips managing to move with Derek's despite the ropes around his legs.
"Good," the Alpha rumbled as he moved his hands to Stiles' knees and pushed until his legs were spread, held back so he had no leverage. He rubbed his cheek against the younger man's, whiskers burning and irritating the smooth skin. "Told you. Want you overstimulated and crying."
Stiles whined, Derek pressed down more, and it wasn't long before he was clinging to Derek's back, fingers digging in, as his body seized all over and his cock shot out between them. Fuck, it felt good to release, to let his body go languid after letting the tension of his arousal get out.
Derek's lips traveled all over as Stiles relaxed and went gooey against the bed. Soon the Alpha was pushing himself up, swiping a finger through the come of his stomach and tasting it with a satisfied groan. Fucking hell that was hot, as was the way his sweats tented out, precome staining the front. Stiles reached out for it, to return the favor and give the older man his first orgasm, only to have his wrist snatched up and Derek shake his head.
"This is about you," he insisted, reaching over with his free hand to pick up the last bundle of rope. "Still want this?"
Stiles automatically lifted his other hand and held it equal to his still trapped one, letting the action speak for itself. The salacious smirk of Derek's that Stiles was becoming increasingly familiar with as the evening wore on made a reappearance and the Alpha gave him another quick kiss before positioning his hands together, wrists a couple inches apart. Halving the rope once more, Derek took the folded middle and laid it over Stiles' wrists before wrapping the rope around them three times. Just like before, it was tight enough to be felt, to bind, to control, but without hurting or cutting off anything vital. Next, he took the loop he made when he folded the rope in half and wrapped it around those encircling Stiles' wrists, in between his hands, the silk twist dragging across Stiles' skin as Derek kept the loop the right size. Finally, he tied it off with the excess rope, still keeping that loop big enough to grab onto for control.
Control Stiles willingly handed over.
Another check-in, Stiles affirming that he was okay, then Derek leaned down, moving the bound hands above the Omega's head as he pressed in close once more. He didn't let their bodies touch, but he was close enough that his heat could be felt, making Stiles shiver.
"I have hooks hidden between the mattress and boxspring that I could use to keep your hands in place, but I won't use them," Derek explained, way too calm for how keyed up Stiles was feeling once more. "I don't want you feeling too trapped or held in place this first time, okay?"
Part of Stiles wanted to object but he knew it was just his argumentative disposition, his bratty behavior. Derek had a point. This was already a lot and was successful in making Stiles feel bound and safe, in turning Stiles on, in giving Derek control. Anything more would verge on the edge of too much in a negative way and possibly even trigger something they were both being careful to overwrite.
Maybe later on down the line.
For now Stiles was nodding, swallowing hard, agreeing. Derek released his hands but kept his hovering nearby for a long moment to ensure Stiles would behave. After shuffling to get his shoulders comfy, the Omega held still, obeyed, and got an approving nod that had him grinning and biting back a purr.
Derek's hands moved Stiles' bound legs from being pressed against his hips to being spread open and laying flat against the mattress, his Omegan flexibility coming in handy. Stiles' heart began to race, his breathing faster and more shallow than before, anticipation pricking at his skin. His cock twitched where it lay on his lower abdomen, half-hard, not fully satisfied from the frotting orgasm he'd just had. Neither was his hole, pulsing and throbbing and gaping, leaking more slick onto the puddle already below him.
Ducking down, Derek left the first of what was sure to be numerous hickeys on Stiles' neck, the hard suction making the Omega gasp and groan and bend his back. Another was left at the hollow of his collarbone, another right under his jaw on the other side, before Derek bit over his scent gland. The last had Stiles barking out a swear, practically his entire body leaving the bed, pre spurting out his fully erect dick. Shit, if only he'd sunk his teeth in a little more, broken the skin...
Derek's mouth traveled south, nipping and licking and sucking at Stiles' collarbone and chest. He let out a heady groan after burying his nose in Stiles' pit and inhaling his scent and Stiles bit his lower lip as he smiled in pride, glad the Alpha loved his aroma so much.
His chest and abdomen wound up littered with marks created by Derek, his breathing heavy and shaky, feeling way too worked up once more. Pleads and whines left him at an increasing rate, hips rolling but Derek held himself away, on his hands and knees above the needy Omega, not letting Stiles get any of the friction his body was desperately seeking.
Then his lips sealed around one of Stiles' nipples and he cried out louder than ever, a swear leaving as a finger slipped inside his hole.
"Oh fuck, Der, fill me up," he whined, hands jerking where he struggled to keep them above his head. "Stretch me out for you."
Derek hummed around his nipple as a second finger smoothly and easily joined the first, proving how wet and ready Stiles' body already was for his Alpha. A pleased groaned left Stiles as he sank into the feeling of being opened up, of having something inside him, of being—
Shit! Fuck! What the hell was that?!
He practically yelled out as he felt a jolt of electricity pulse through his body, Derek grinning victoriously, Stiles realizing he'd purposely been aiming for that reaction. For the Omega's prostate.
"Can I?" Derek asked, licking his way from one nipple to another, and Stiles keened his consent.
"Oh fu—God, please."
The tip of his tongue was flicked over his hardened nub and Derek didn't hesitate to start his assault on Stiles' prostate, rubbing his fingers back and forth over it. Automatically Stiles was writhing on the bed, crying out, panting harshly. It was so much and so fast and relentless and fuck, the sounds of his slick as Derek thrust his fingers and his own hyperventilating and the embarrassing keens he was letting out...
Turning his head to the side, Stiles tried to muffle his staccato whines against his bicep, his shoulder, but his mouth couldn't quite reach with his wrists tied. Instead, he brought his hands down and used them to cover his parted lips and his wanton cries.
Suddenly the rubbing stopped, the pleasure ceased, and he peered down to see Derek staring up at him in blatant disapproval. It hit something deep inside Stiles, the Omega part of him upset he'd done something wrong in the eyes of his Alpha, and he let out a whimper both in remorse and at how things had stopped.
Right. His hands.
He moved them back above his head then exposed his neck in apology, Derek nodding once in acceptance.
"I wanna be able to hear you," he stated, voice an arousal roughened rumble that had Stiles' pelvis circling as best he could. "Don't hold back any of those pretty noises."
Oh fuck, he was determined to kill Stiles. It was obvious. Especially when he tucked a pillow under the Omega's lower back to raise him up for easier access then went right back to massaging his prostate in the same relentless manner as before.
"Oh fuck!" Stiles keened, head pressing back against the pillows, his fingers curling into fists. "Oh shi—fu—I-I-I can—I can't."
"Yes, you can, baby," Derek assured, dragging his lips along Stiles' sensitive inner-thigh, right between two loops of rope. "You were made for this, made for me. Wanna see you come from just your prostate, then I'm gonna fuck into you, knot you up and grind against your little button here, make you cry from how good it feels."
Jesus fuck, definitely trying to kill him.
Derek kept massaging and Stiles kept panting and keening and writhing and moaning and begging. Everything was building up, higher, more intense, his toes curling and fingers digging into his palms and his back arching. Fuck, his lungs were burning and everything in him was tightening up, pleasure racing and coursing through him at a million times an hour. His cock was twitching and throbbing and it felt like he was right on the precipice of coming, the summit of ecstasy when everything was euphoric and blissful and amazing before that crash of a fall down and it wasn't ending and fuck! He was crying. Legit crying, tears in his tightly shut eyes, body shaking all over.
And it was never ending, still going and God, Stiles really couldn't handle this, eyes opening and head lifting so he could look down his body at the totally enraptured way Derek was watching him fall apart. Shit, prostate orgasms were no joke, coming dry was amazing, and they were gonna do this every goddamn day for the rest of his life if Stiles had anything to say about it.
But for now...
"Sto—stop. Too, too," he huffed out the words, unable to make any sense, but Derek understood.
Fingers moved from his prostate but didn't leave his hole. Instead, a third one slipped in with a loud squelch that should've been gross but just added to everything and made him moan. Despite having just orgasmed—dry, too—Stiles didn't feel any need to rest or recover—except maybe in his lungs. He was ready for the next round, wishing for more leverage so he could help Derek stretch him out, get shit moving faster.
But once more luck proved to be on Stiles' side, the Alpha just as impatient. Three fingers quickly became four and in what felt like no time at all, Derek was sliding his fingers out and shoving his sweats down and off.
"Let me know if you get uncomfortable or need a break, but I need to mount you like this. Wanna see your coming face again."
Here lies Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski. He died from Derek Hale being too fucking sexy and too goddamn good at the dirty talk then following through on those x-rated promises.
A strangled groan left Stiles, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and eyes fluttering closed. He forced them back open in time to see Derek dropping his sweats off the side of the bed, whiskey eyes shooting over to find the Alpha fully nude now, no underwear being worn under and...
Yeah, those sweatpants had given Stiles a good idea about how well endowed Derek was but... But damn, it felt like he was ill-prepared and had no clue exactly how big and thick his cock actually was. He licked his lips at the sight of it, angry red and soaked with precome with the head peeking out from the foreskin. Thick fingers reached down to peel it back and reveal the glistening glans and Stiles' eyes traveled down the thick length to where he swore the knot was visibly throbbing, large balls hanging underneath, heavy with seed and ready to fill him up.
Fuck, now he was drooling and he awkwardly shuffled to wipe the corner of his lips on his shoulder. Not that it helped, giving the layer of sweat he was wearing.
Dragging his eyes up, he found Derek grinning, chest puffed out in pride, scent alight with it. Cocky as fuck, but well earned, Stiles had to grant him that. If only Stiles could feel a little bit of that cockiness inside of him...
He bit his lower lip once more, letting out a whine as he circled his hips as best as he could, watching Derek's grin go from prideful to amused. The Alpha snatched the pillow out from under Stiles' butt and tossed it aside, somewhere on the floor, then scooted closer. He moved Stiles' still folded, still bound, still spread legs onto his own, Derek sitting back on his heels and drawing up close so that his pelvis was right up against Stiles' ass now.
Fuck, so close. So close but not close enough...
Stiles felt more slick leak out, his hole gaping and desperate to welcome any part of the older man inside. Derek's hips flexed and his cock slid along the open crease of Stiles' ass, grazing against where it was wanted, where it was needed, and the Omega cried out in frustration, fists digging into the pillow above his head.
One of Derek's hands held Stiles' knee, held his leg still parted, while the other pressed down on the head of his own cock, allowing it to finally, finally, finally pop inside of him. It was just the head, but it was enough to be felt, enough to have Stiles gasping then groaning in relief as he felt his rim stretch to accommodate him.
“Inches, or all at once?” Derek offered, sounding a little more strained that he had all evening.
Stiles opened his eyes to take note of the tension held in Derek's body, abs tight, shoulders hunched, vein in his neck straining, chest shaking as he struggled to keep his breathing even and steady.
And an ego booster. And comforting, knowing he wasn't the only one on the verge of breaking. There was no need to drag anything out. There was no way either one of them would be able to stand it. It was years building up to this moment, not just the time spent in that loft together, not just the foreplay and the ropes and the fucking amazing prostate orgasm or the frotting one before that. It was...It felt like a lifetime leading up to this.
No need to delay it any more. Not when it was so wanted by them both.
“Fuck me,” Stiles answered, meeting the Alpha's eyes with a tip of his chin.
The salacious smirk returned. Apparently he'd picked the right answer. And without any further ado, Derek shoved his hips forward and bottomed out in one deep thrust, forcing a keening noise out of Stiles as his spine arched and his head fell back.
Oh fuck so goddamn big. So goddamn big and hot and wide and pulsing and good. Shit, he was gonna die and it would totally be worth it. He wanted to go out with the best fucking lay of his life and Derek was gonna give it to him. His only regret would be that he couldn't do this anymore.
And true to Stiles' request, Derek started really, truly fucking him. There was no pause for adjusting, no slow build-up, no gentle easing into things. Nope. The Alpha pulled back to the glans and thrust back in just as hard, began pounding away at Stiles, hands holding onto the Omega's knees for leverage. Oh fucking goddamn shit, fucking amazing. Every thrust had cries and keens and moans being shoved out of Stiles' mouth, unable to hold them back, unable to keep silent as he was filled so good, so much, so fast.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Derek grunted out, breathless, hips going rabbit fast, never breaking rhythm.
Stiles could only whine, despite the compliment lighting something in his chest, despite the desire to return it and point out how Derek felt just as amazing, if not more. God, he was filled beyond what he thought was possible but it was perfect. He felt alive, felt sparks shooting all over his skin, all over his bones, in his soul. So dumb and stupid and cheesy, but there was no other way to explain it. Not when Derek's cock was perfectly dragging along his walls, rubbing against his prostate, hitting something deep inside him that had never been touched before.
Ruined for sex. Absolutely fucking ruined for it. It was never gonna be this good with anyone else. Derek was pretty much gonna have to Mate him at this point because there was no reason to ever be with another person.
Well, that plus he was in love with the fucking guy. But the mindblowing sex felt like such delicious fucking icing on top of an already yummy cake. And Stiles was nothing if not a greedy little shit with a major sweet tooth.
Derek switched and slowed to long, deep drives inside as he bent down, as he pressed himself as close to Stiles as he possibly could. Taking hold of the rope around the Omega's wrists, he moved Stiles' arms so they were draped around his neck, connecting their lips in a kiss that felt as passionate as the way he was grinding inside of his passage, his own arms trying to wrap around the younger man as much as possible. It was impossible to get closer, sweat mingling as their chests rubbed, Stiles' cock pressed between their abdomens, Alpha dick inside Omega hole, the way it was meant to be. Tongues collided and tangled, breath was exchanged, whines and moans swallowed. And the scent in the air? It was heady, intoxicating, both of their aromas blending perfectly together, joined with the hedonistic smell of sex and need.
All of his senses were alight with this man above him, driving into him, holding him close. He never wanted it to end.
When his knot began to expand, Derek began to press harder inside and Stiles worked at bearing down to welcome him in, squeezing and milking the sensitive bulb, just like he'd learned in the class the Alpha had led him in. Derek actually whimpered, breaking their kiss to cry out himself, to let loose a string of swears. Both of them were trembling, clinging to one another in desperation as they chased the high they knew was coming, refusing to let go for anything. Their eyes met, Derek's a bright scarlet and Stiles' more than likely glowing gold, and the Omega tried to decipher the plethora of emotions swirling in his partner's, only to have it all clarified for him.
“I wanna bite you,” Derek breathed out, grunting as he tried to push his knot inside. “Wanna Claim you already, Mate you. Wanna—wanna spend my life with you and only you. But I—I know I gotta. Gotta ask first. Ask your dad.”
“Please don't talk about my dad right now,” Stiles said in a rush, earning a breathless chuckle.
“Okay. But I mean it. One day.”
The knot popped out, making him keen, and the next time it pushed in, it stayed in. The deep driving thrusts of before turned to shallow grinds, the bulb perfectly placed against Stiles' prostate, like nature had intended. And just like before, the attention to the bundle of nerves had him quivering and crying out, whining high pitched and breathless. His hands twitched to reach down and stroke his cock but the ropes kept them behind Derek's neck. The friction of the Alpha's eight pack helped though, giving him what he needed as his ecstasy grew higher, more intense, closer and closer and closer still.
Derek was growling steadily at this point, burying his head in Stiles' neck and mouthing at his scent gland, teeth dragging and touching but never biting, just a press to be felt. It was almost as though he was planning it out in his head, practicing for later. His hips became more jerky, twitching more than anything, his body tensing up above Stiles' then suddenly...suddenly, hot splashes were felt inside of him, powerful jets coating his passage, filling him up.
The sensation of Derek's orgasm was enough to trigger Stiles', his legs shaking and closing around the older man's hips, arms jerking as he tried to find something to grab onto other than air. His head lifted off the pillow then slammed back onto it, falling back, mouth open as he choked on a soundless scream. Everything was too tight, too tense inside of his body as the pleasure racing through him caused him to contract then finally release with a heavy gasp and a swear.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Yeah, he definitely died for a second there. Had to. There was no way he survived.
His obituary was gonna be interesting as hell.
For now though...he was gonna work on breathing and getting his bodily systems to, like, work. Properly. Shit, maybe, if that was even possible.
After a long moment, Derek's own orgasm seemed to taper off and he brought Stiles' arms back from around his neck before pushing himself up into a sitting position. Man, he looked debauched as hell, and all the more sexier for it, hair a mess and face flushed, skin shining with sweat and a dopey smile on his face.
“You okay?” Derek asked and Stiles wanted to hit him for how goddamn stupid that question was.
“I have never orgasmed so hard in my life and you managed to make me do it twice within, like, twenty minutes. I might be dead. I dunno.”
Derek glanced around. “Heaven needs to dust then.”
“You just insulted your own apartment.”
“My dusty apartment. I got lazy, not gonna lie.”
Stiles snorted and laughed, bringing his hands up to wipe at his face, only for Derek to take hold of them. With gentle yet efficient movements, he undid the knot then unwound the rope from around Stiles' wrists, rubbing them once they were free.
“These feel alright?”
The Omega nodded, smiling sleepily at the way Derek kissed the inside of each wrist sweetly. Derek switched his attention to untying and unwinding the rope from around Stiles' right leg as Stiles himself inspected his wrists, finding them a little red from irritation, but no worse for the wear. Those scars were still there, ugly and stark, yet they didn't nauseate him the way they had before, didn't upset him as badly. It felt as though his earlier request to Derek to “cover the marks with his own” had been followed through on, even if there was nothing physically there. The new memory overwrote the old.
Leg free, Derek kissed the inside of his knee then helped him stretch the limb out as much as he could with the Alpha's knot still buried deep inside. The same thing happened with his left leg, Derek smiling stupidly at them, Stiles looking down to see the imprint of rope around his thighs. Reaching down, he traced his finger along one line, stupid smile of his own forming on his face.
“We are so doing this again,” he commented. “The sex, the tying up, all of it. And one day.” He paused, looking up to find Derek watching him intently. “One day, I wanna be tied up all over, full body, and stay that way as you knot me.”
No verbal answer was given, but the way Derek lay back down on top of him and kissed him breathless spoke for itself.