Ever since he was a little kid, Stiles had heard scary stories from his dad about the big, bad alpha, Derek Hale, ruling his huge forest territory with an iron paw.
As the father of a little catboy Stiles’ dad had instilled in Stiles’ mind that he was to stay away from the forest and keep to the small town where his dad, the town’s sheriff, could keep an eye on him, protecting him from danger that being small and different could get him in.
But as Stiles grew up as the only catboy in the area, it soon became abundantly clear that his dad had trouble keeping up with him. There was only so much an overworked, single dad could do to keep up with whirlwind Stiles.
Being bullied and alienated from early on for his anomaly, despite his dad’s best efforts, Stiles developed a sharp tongue and a spiky attitude ready to handle anything - according to Stiles, anyway.
He didn’t really mean to get into trouble, but everywhere he went, trouble seemed to find him.
So, when an alpha pack came to their small town, their leader immediately zoomed in on Stiles without him having anything to do with it. It was the honest truth and had nothing to do with Stiles’ late night walk to check out some alpha muscles or with his notoriously big mouth.
He just needed to know where the danger was so he could stay away from it.
Stiles got caught, and without his permission, the sleeze bag alpha leader Duke touched Stiles’ sensitive, pointy ears and silky tail, and told him to get on his knees for his new master, like Stiles was some kind of pet. Stiles bowed to no one and sank his sharp canines so deep into the alpha’s dick that he, minutes later, tasted blood while running for his life--straight into the dark, dangerous forest.
And--like finding a needle in a haystack--stepped into the only bear (cat) trap in there.
“Damnit. Damnit. Damnit!” It hurt like a mother fucker and Stiles sputtered and cried for way too long before finally a big guy burst out from behind a tree--obviously to save Stiles--and stared him down. Without a word, he clipped the trap off of Stiles’ poor ankle. Stiles fully expected the man to set him down with a pat on his head and a highly misplaced scolding, but the jerk gave Stiles a once over, lingering on the pointy ears and long tail. He proceeded to throw Stiles over his shoulder and carry him fireman-style through the trees to a sturdy-looking old house, sitting there all lonely in the huge forest.
Through his yelling and fighting, Stiles still noticed, thanks to his excellent observation skills, the front yard full of trucks and people. Their yapping died down as Stiles pleaded for help to get him out of the claws of the beast, but as soon as they saw him close up, they stared at his ears and tail like everyone always did. No one stepped forward. Damn them all to hell and back!
Inside the house, Stiles’ complaints resounded from the walls as his kidnapper slipped Stiles to the floor. Stiles sat up, dazed, and swirled his head, cocking his ears, taking in his surroundings and searching out potential danger. In the middle of the room, around a large, wooden dining room table, stood men and women in all varieties of ages, dressed in camouflage clothing and carrying different kinds of weapons.
Shit! Was this some sort of military operation going on to find the precious son of Stiles’ dad or was it a mob squad out to capture the intruder on their property--Stiles?
The biggest one of them all, a mountain man from Stiles’ floor perspective, turned away from the table he’d leaned against holding a rolled up paper, scowling down at Stiles, growling attractively, “What the hell’s this, Boyd? I don’t have time for any distractions right now!”
Stiles swallowed hard, trying not to salivate. This was easily the most gorgeous specimen Stiles had ever laid his eyes on, with the whole broody bruiser type going on for him. Bad boys had always done it for Stiles, especially when he found the way to twirl them around his finger and get his way, conquering their big frames with his small one: them holding his tail up while fucking him straight into next week, and later, them doing Stiles’ bidding and following his whims to get him to lift his tail again.
One taste of catboy sugar and men were sold, ruined for anyone else.
Stiles sat up on his knees, batting his eyelashes at the guy, wiggling his tail leisurely up and down as he licked his lips.
Tall and handsome just glared and turned back to the table. “Throw him in the basement. I’ve no time for whores tonight.”
“What?” Stiles sputtered. “I’m no fucking whore, you imbecile!” He tried to stand up, but his ankle wouldn’t hold his weight after the goddamn cat trap and he fell down on his butt. A woman with a long, blonde ponytail, who still had her attention on him, snickered, tapping her boot against Stiles’ hip. “I’ve never seen a catboy before. I might do him later, Boyd.”
Stiles blew up, spitting. “Get away from me, you wench! There’ll be no doing of any catboy here! I refuse to go into the basement, I’m getting the hell out of here. Right now!”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” tall, dark yelled, waving his papers. “Get that big mouth away! I’m busy!”
Once more, Boyd threw Stiles over his shoulder, Stiles sputtering indignantly and hammering at the man’s back. But to no avail. Soon, he sat on the moist floor in the dark basement, his hands chained up to the wall and his throat sore from yelling. Eventually, he tried to curl up on his side, but the hook his wrists were chained to was too high up, so instead he hid his face behind his tail, its silky, brown fur calming him a baby bit.
Finally, as the early morning sun shone through the tiny window under the ceiling, someone came downstairs, and Stiles gaped at the sight: the guy had dog ears and a black, bushy tail. Holy hell!
“Who are you? What are you?” he croaked, flicking his gaze all over the young man hunched down in front of him, staring at Stiles with wide, brown eyes.
“I’m Scott and you’re in my alpha’s territory. I’m a dogboy and I’ve never met a catboy before. I didn’t even know anyone like you existed!” A smile spread on his cute face, lighting up his eyes.
The air rushed out of Stiles’ lungs. “A dogboy?” he gasped after a moment to get his bearings. Scott nodded eagerly. In awe Stiles whispered, “A dogboy. I had no idea.”
“Me neither.” Scott smiled, looking Stiles over. “You have a tail and pointy ears like me. Do you have canines?” He grinned wide so Stiles could see that Scott had canines like him. Scott’s were bigger but perhaps not as sharp-looking.
Someone opened the basement door. “Get ‘im up here, Scotty boy!”
“Yes, sir!” Scott fished a key up from his pocket and let Stiles’ hands free, helping him up. Stiles’ ankle still gave way under him, but Scott grabbed his waist and together they climbed the stairs. “I want to talk to you more,” Scott whispered hurriedly. “But our alpha has summoned you and he’s pissed already, so please, can you be polite to him so that he doesn’t eat you?”
Stiles snapped his gaze to Scott’s face. “You’re joking, right?”
Scott opened the door in front of them. “Be good,” he whispered and pushed Stiles inside where he fell to his knees hard. “Holy fucking shit!” Stiles gasped.
Gorgeous guy sat in a deep chair in the corner of the dining room, an empty dish beside him, looking Stiles over annoyed, his dark hair sticking up and his face drawn like he hadn’t slept for a long time. His boots were the size of a grizzly bear’s feet, his cargo pants tight over his huge, muscular thighs and his broad chest covered by a thick, wool sweater, rolled up to his elbows. His rough-haired underarms were the size of Stiles’ legs but a lot more bushy. Stiles wanted to lick him all over.
“Who the hell are you and what possessed you to enter my territory, catboy?” the alpha growled, staring down at Stiles like he was a lice.
Stiles wasn’t exactly known for respecting authorities, so he growled right back. “Who the hell are you and what possessed you to imprison me, jackass?” Stiles fell sideways and clutched his suddenly stinging, hot cheek. Fucking hell, the bastard had hit him!
The alpha sat back, nostrils flaring and eyes sending daggers at poor, little Stiles. “Who are you and why are you here?” he spat.
Stiles sat back up, taking his time to arrange his limbs, trying to ignore his racing heart. “Fuck you!”
The alpha jumped up with surprising speed for a huge guy, pressing his boot down on Stiles’ tail. Stiles may have whimpered, but just for a fraction of a second. “Fine. Fine! I’m Stiles Stilinski resident of Beacon Hills and there’s people wanting to hurt me, but you’re no better than them, so let me fucking go and I’ll be out of your hair! It’s not like I want to stay in this shithole.” He tried to rip away his tail, but it was trapped and it hurt, god damnit. He sagged in defeat, doing his best not to stare at the clear bulge in the alpha’s pants. Fine! He stared at the bulge, and when the man cleared his voice, he looked up. The man stared right back, his pupils blowing up.
Stiles swallowed hard. Damnit, he wanted to lean forward and nuzzle the front of the man’s pants. If the alpha wanted him, he’d bend over this instant, because holy hell, the guy was scolding hot. He batted his lashes, whispering, “Please, let me go? I’ll do anything.” He most certainly wouldn’t do anything, he was just very good at pretending.
But that was clearly the wrong thing to say or do because the alpha ripped him up from the floor and dragged him upstairs, Stiles flapping and stumbling like a ragdoll. Some people, still in combat clothes, were out in the hall and cheered at the sight. “Go, Hale! Get some catboy cunt!”
Shit, shit, shit! He’d clearly been out of his mind with stress: it was the big, bad alpha Derek Hale that was dragging him, kicking and screaming he might add, and there was no one there to save poor, catboy Stiles. His dad had no way of knowing where he was, he probably didn’t even know that Stiles was missing and not sleeping on some random guy’s couch. Even if he’d set heaven and earth in movement to save his son, he’d have nothing to stand against this brickwall of power. Sheriff of a small town or not, this was the heart of the big, bad alpha’s territory that his dad had warned him against ever since he was a baby.
Stiles was so screwed it wasn’t even funny, and screwed he’d soon be, that was beyond clear and it both scared and thrilled him equally.
Derek Hale threw Stiles on the floor of a bedroom, smacking the door close and stalking over to where Stiles scrambled under the huge bed. He’d give Derek the fight of his life, even if he really wanted up in the alpha’s bed. “No, no, no!” Stiles kicked and fought, but the big, bad alpha easily pulled him out of hiding and gripped his wrists.
“Will you keep still, you slippery runt!” Derek bit out through clenched teeth.
Stiles twisted and turned, his wrists about to snap in the iron grip. “Never!” Derek hoisted him up on the bed, and Stiles bounced once before he got the whole lump of muscle on top of him and all air left his lungs in a whoosh.
Derek pushed Stiles’ hands above his head and glared down at him, growling so deep Stiles felt it through all of his body. “You’re impossible!”
“No, you are!” Stiles bit, glaring right back and trying to kick. “You’re a brainless pile of protein and I hate you!” His heart was racing so fast, he thought it would pound out of his body and his dick was so hard it hurt. Then Derek snatched Stiles’ legs with his own and Stiles became completely immobile under him. “Fuck!” Stiles gasped. The bedding smelled strongly of dark spices and a lonely catboy’s wet dreams. He raised his face to bite Derek to a bloody pulp with his very nasty canines, but Derek had stilled above him, out of reach. Stiles let his head fall back and panted.
Derek had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, and mingled with some golden specks, he wasn’t sure what color they really were. The vicious leader of the alpha pack he was running from had had red eyes. “Why don’t you have red eyes?” Shit! Here he was supposed to fight Derek - he didn’t want to show the alpha he had any interest in him or wanted to be in this bed - right? Then why was his dick hard as stone and his mind all floaty and his thoughts spread for the wind? They needed to be naked already, damnit!
Derek spread Stiles’ hands to either side of Stiles’ head, leaning on his elbows, his legs holding Stiles in a death grip without working up a smudge of sweat. He stared down at Stiles with an unreadable face. He had crinkles at the side of his eyes, like he actually smiled from time to time. Huh. “Because I’m trying not to shift and scare you,” Derek said and flashed his eyes at Stiles, a warm, red color.
Stiles snorted, trying to not be affected. “You’re planning on raping me. You’re not a good guy.”
Derek frowned. “I’m not gonna rape you, you brat! I’m gonna sleep and if you’d hold still for one second, I’ll arrange you how I want you.” Holy god, the guy smelled good, but Stiles needed a clear head.
“I won’t ever let you arrange me in any way, dipshit! I might be a smidge smaller than you, but you’ll never be able to do what you want with me!” If just his little brain could comply with his mouth he’d get more impact out of his words.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Derek got up on his knees, trapping Stiles under him still and did something with the footboard, then he stepped away from the bed, smiling a little smugly. What the hell?
Stiles twisted, tried to get up, but his wrists were bound once more. With bristly rope. To the alpha’s bed. “No! I need to run! I don’t have time to be your sex slave!”
Derek rolled his eyes. “You’re the most infuriating, little catboy I’ve ever met.”
That froze Stiles up. “You’ve met other catboys? Where are they? Did they look like me? Can you take me there?” Derek shook his head and bent down, lacing up his boots. “Oh, please! I want to meet others like me! I’ve never seen any and I need to! It’s a matter of life or death!” He used the tone that worked very well with his dad when he wanted something.
Derek just placed his boots outside his door, closed the door again and sat down on the mattress, pulling off his socks, completely unaffected.
“Hey, jerk! I’m talking to you!” Stiles kicked Derek’s hip who didn’t move an inch, just pulled off his other sock and folded them neatly. He gripped his sweater at the back of his neck revealing bulging muscles and a furry chest. Stiles wanted to struggle more, but he froze, his gaze glued to all the alpha skin, a sudden high pitched sound in his ears like his brain was bleeding out. Derek stepped out of his pants and Stiles pressed himself against the footboard, not quite sure what he wanted to happen, couldn’t decide between all the different fantasies he’d jerked off to since he was twelve, but Derek just climbed under the covers and pushed Stiles completely against the footboard with his feet.
It took two seconds before Derek started snoring and Stiles lay there, trapped to the foot of the bed, biting his lip and mentally juggling his possibilities. He really hated being ignored, and he considered if he should throw a tantrum or not, but decided against it. Derek would probably just gag him or something, and not being able to express himself was at the top of the long list of what Stiles hated.
Fuck! His dad must be beside himself with worry by now, right? He’d know somewhere deep in his paternal instincts that this time was different from all the other times Stiles had ran away or fallen asleep somewhere random and come home a couple of days later. At least, Stiles hoped he was worried and not celebrating finally being rid of Stiles and his constant disappointments, like job searching. He got new jobs easily--Stiles just let his dad’s name slip casually--but it was keeping them that was his trouble. He told his dad again and again that there wasn’t anything he wanted more than to keep a job so that he could get a place of his own, but in truth it was quite comfortable to sleep late every morning, head downstairs to a full fridge every afternoon, and hang out with his best friend, Allison, after she came home from work. She worked at a bakery, which was very convenient since she brought with her the leftover sweets and willingly shared them.
Once Stiles managed to sneak out of this tiny trap he was currently in--an erotic smelling bed with a gorgeous specimen that looked like he had a hell of a lot stamina--he’d shape up and get a job he actually liked well enough to meet up every morning. He really would. Promise!
Someone nudged his shoulder, but Stiles turned his face to the soft mattress. “Five more minutes,” he groaned.
“Stiles.” The nudging kept on, and Stiles squinted his eyes against the afternoon sunlight and jerked awake. Scott stood smiling over him. “I’m to take you to the bathroom and then feed you. Hurry up.”
Stiles groaned at the awareness of his bursting bladder. He tried to sit up, but his hands were still bound to the very, very empty bed.
“Sorry,” Scott said and unbound the rope with clever fingers.
Stiles rubbed his sore wrists. First chains and now rope. His poor, vulnerable skin glowed red, right? It was at least pink. What a way to be treated! And without even getting any fun assplay out of it. He followed Scott to the bathroom and peed while the dogboy stood in the door opening. He plucked at his ripped clothes with his free hand, sniffed himself. Oh joy. At least, he managed to place weight on his foot now. Small victories and all that. He washed his hands, ignoring the mirror, sure he’d see a scared, ugly-looking little thing. His fighting spirit depended on him to get him out of this situation.
“Thanks, man,” he told Scott and followed with a slight limp out of the room and down the stairs, gripping the banister. The previous mob was thankfully sparse in the hall, except for one that appeared to guard the front door, but inside the kitchen Boyd and blond ponytail-woman sat eating. She grinned wide as Stiles entered. “Hey, honey,” she crooned, patting the chair beside her. “Aren’t you a cutie! Sit by mommy while doggy boy makes you food. I’ll make you feel better, baby.”
Stiles glared at her, standing in his power pose with his hands at his hips, feet square, chin held high. “No!” She was hardly much older than him. “I’m no ones baby, bitch.”
Boyd frowned like Stiles had insulted him, but the woman’s grin just spread wider. “Ooh, you’re a feisty little one, aren’t you,” she said in a baby voice, looking over at Boyd. “He reminds me of a lap dog with his bark. Can a cat be a lap cat? Please tell me the two of us can keep him when the boss tires of him.” Boyd snickered and went back to stuffing his face, shaking his head.
Stiles opened his mouth to give her his piece of mind, but Scott nudged him, jerking his head to the stove where he was making mouth-watering goodness, mouthing, "Ignore her". That went against everything Stiles stood for, but his stomach rumbled and he was a prisoner here, without a trial he might add, and food was in grabbing distance, so he’d shut up, just this once. Soon he had a full plate in front of him and he realized that he hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. That was probably why he was so spineless at the moment. He was being smart, a voice, usually hidden extremely deep, whispered in his head. He started eating, listening to Boyd and the woman, named Erica, talk about last night and a hunt or something they’d been on that’d been unsuccessful. Their alpha had been ready to explode, according to Erica. Stiles tried to follow their conversation, but it was hard keeping up with something boring when his stress level was sky high and he had food in front of him and... a dogboy beside him. He smiled at Scott who immediately glanced at the two others at the table, but grinned back when he saw they weren’t paying attention. Stiles had all sorts of questions for Scott, but none of them mattered much at the moment, he was just happy to have someone there that treated him kind and mirrored his interest.
He scraped his plate with his finger and almost dropped it when the alpha stormed inside. “Everybody out!”
All of them jumped to their feet, including Stiles, god damnit. He plunked back down, taking orders from no one.
“Not you,” Derek pointed at him.
Stiles ostentatiously finished licking his fingers and glanced up, startled to see Derek staring at his mouth. Oh god, the effect that man had on him. Excitement rolled through him, down his stomach, and out to his limbs--one in particular--from the sight of that weathered face and capable body. The control the alpha had over himself and his pack actually made Stiles’ toes curl. He grabbed his tail to have something to hold on to, so he didn’t fling himself at Derek that very moment.
“The Beacon Hills’ sheriff has caused me some inconvenience over the years due to his uninformed fear of werewolves. Turns out you’re his son.”
Stiles gripped his tail hard. “Uhm. Yes, that I am.” He wanted to say what’s it to you but managed to keep shut. Derek flickered his lazer beams over him. “The sheriff has no authority here.”
“Jerk,” Stiles muttered, and Derek squinted his eyes at him.
“I need to know what you’re running from, boy.”
Stiles crossed his tail and arms in front of his chest. “You need to know zip nada.”
Derek slapped his palm on the table, making Stiles jump. “Are you just running away from home? Is this some kind of misguided teenage rebellion?”
“What?” Stiles glared at him now. “I’m no teenager, old man.”
“You sure behave like one!” Derek spat.
The room was quiet for a moment before Derek demanded, “Are you your father’s spy? Did you come here looking for trouble? Because if so, you’ve sure got it!”
“No, I told you, idiot. I was trying to not get murdered, okay!” He flapped his hands up in the air. “Or hell if I know! They were probably gonna rape me and then eat me. I just bit his tiny dick and ran!”
Derek’s eyes softened a tiny fraction.
“I have no idea why I bothered running because look at where that got me,” Stiles huffed, trying his best to stay tough, but his stomach knotted up.
After a moment, Derek said, “Well, you’re staying here for now. And no one here’s gonna rape, eat, or murder you. So, just… Just lower your fences a fraction. That would be good.”
“Hah! That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard! You hold me here against my will, bound to your bed all day and you tell me to calm down?”
“Christ!” Derek dragged his hands over his face. “I’m trying to protect you from whatever you’re running from, all right? And I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone earlier; both of us getting some sleep and guarding you at the same time.”
Stiles blew out a breath, stroking the tip of his tail over and over. “Oh.” So Derek didn’t want to fuck him after all. Stiles almost felt like crying in disappointment. He’d looked forward to getting a taste of that alpha-cock later. His defenses rose again. That huge bastard, making Stiles think that he wanted catboy, laying on top of him in the bed and looking at him in that way. And it was all a lie. Damnit, Stiles wanted Derek to fuck him, hold his tail up and go to town. Bet he had a nice cock. Probably long, wide and uncut, with delectable veins and a red, glistening head.
Stiles squirmed a little. It was too bad Derek had slept with his underwear on - Stiles had missed his only chance to see Derek completely naked. He sighed in defeat, then stood up. “I’ll risk going back home now.”
“The hell you will!” Derek growled, leaning forward. “I decide who comes and goes around here, and you, catboy, are staying put.” He tapped Stiles’ chest with his finger. It hurt.
Stiles rubbed his chest, pouting. “I don’t wanna stay!”
Derek crossed his impressive arms over his chest. “That’s not up to you!”
Stiles stepped forward, tapped the alpha’s chest in return. “I do what the hell I want!”
Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand, his face furious. “You do as I say! And that’s final, boy!”
Stiles rolled his eyes, just like he had done a thousand times before in his life, with his dad, his teachers, and employers. But in this house that was clearly not something he got away with. Derek jerked Stiles towards him, Stiles’ face smashing against the hard chest with an oomph, his hands bent to the small of his back in an iron grip. He tried to glare up at Derek, but he was quickly manhandled into the hall, yelling and sputtering.
Here we go again. “Help!” he cried. “Murder!” People peeked out from doors, eyebrows raised. “Rape!” No one came to his rescue, and the last thing Stiles saw before he was dragged inside the dining room was Scott’s worried face. He wanted to mouth "Call my dad" to the dogboy, but Derek banged the door closed and threw Stiles on the floor where he scrambled backwards, grabbing the table leg. Would the alpha eat him now?
“You. Are. A. Pain. In. The. Ass!” Derek spat, pulling Stiles’ foot so that his fingers snapped away from the table and he was dragged over to the deep chair. God, Derek was a caveman and this behavior had to be stopped! But it made his dick hard too. Damnit!
Stiles yelled back, “Tell me something I don’t know already!”
Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrists, yanking them up and gripping them as he fell down in the chair with a deep sigh, Stiles’ hands in his lap. Stiles cried out, forced up on his knees in front of Derek, who sat staring at him with dark, furious eyes. Stiles glared right back unsure if he wanted to keep fighting or lick the alpha. Before he could blink, he was lying over Derek’s knees, his legs dangling in the air, hands trapped under a huge thigh and a strong arm around his waist, his tail held up, and then he got a hard slap right on his butt.
“You.” Slap. “Are.” Slap. “The.” Slap. “Most.” Slap. “Insufferable.” Slap. “Little.” Slap. “Cat.” Slap. “Boy.” Slap. “Ever!”
The spanks drum rolled over his butt, catching Stiles’ breath in his chest, making his protest stick. He wasn’t a little, unruly kid anymore. He had the right to stand up for himself and to question orders, especially biting back at Derek keeping him here against his will. Fury swelled up like he hadn’t felt in a very long time, as if it had been lying right under the surface ready to jump to attention at the right scratch. God damnit! He’d worked so hard for years to not be in a vulnerable position, always to be the first one to bite, building up his fences against bullying, and when he had his ass in the air, it was by his own choice.
He tried to protect his stinging behind, which was starting to get numb, had to stop the repeating movement crackling his defenses and hard built borders. To his mortification, tears were running down his cheeks, snot stuffing up his nose, and his throat clogged.
Had Stiles finally met his match? Or was he just taking a beating, another bullying?
“Please,” he whispered, sagged down, too tired to fight anymore. The spanks continued and he started weeping, deep sobs rippling through his body without any control. The pain in his butt didn’t warrant this amount of tears, but it had opened the floods and he had no way of stopping it. Soon there was a constant warmth and numbness on his butt and he gave up fighting at all. “Stop it. I’ll try to do as you say.’’
Then the spanking stopped.
His tears kept coming though, and strong arms wrapped him up in a good smelling lap, curling him up against the warmth. He squeezed his eyes shut, curled his tail over his face. The alpha held him tight, stroking rhythmically and calming over his back and made soothing noises in the rumbling chest.
Several different voices spoke around him about some hunt or people they needed to catch. Nothing made sense. He recognized Erica’s voice after a while. “He’s so adorable, Derek.” It was quiet for a moment, all the voices still. “What ever did you do to make him relax like that? He was as tense as a bowstring, but now he’s mush.”
“Shut up, Erica,” Derek growled from higher up beside Stiles who realized he was lying on the floor, but on a soft blanket.
“Those cute, little ears,” she continued, sounding unaffected. “I just want to cuddle him up and stroke his tail. He’s screaming to be tamed like Scotty boy is. If you’re not keeping him, can I have him, please, Derek? I’d like to play with him. I bet he’s enthusiastic in bed.”
“I don’t think he’d get it up for you,” Derek said.
“Ooh! So he wants you?”
“That’s clear as day.”
Stiles was feeling his heartbeat in his sore butt already, but now it started up in his face as well. Damnit!
“But you don’t want him? How could you not? I want him.”
Stiles shuddered. Yes, he wanted to be the alpha’s, even if he was a bastard that spanked, made Stiles feel vulnerable and way too open. Just the thought made Stiles’ dick perk up and a small moan escape his mouth.
A hand on his back started stroking. Groggily, he turned his face, blinking swelled-up eyes. Scott smiled his crooked smile from beside him. “Hey. You all right?” dogboy asked softly. The voices around the room had started talking about their problem again, something none of the things they’d tried had resolved.
Stiles wiggled around a bit. “I think so,” he croaked. He sat up, but immediately winced and leaned on his side. He needed some lotion. Preferably aloe vera.
Erica must’ve been watching because she laughed. “Your butt sore, catboy?” Stiles sat in a room filled with a werewolf pack discussing him and casually talking about his meltdown. Normally he’d jump up and pick a fight, but he just didn’t have the energy, so he settled on muttering a weak, “Shut up.”
She grinned and he wanted to bury his face in his tail or get the fuck out of here, but he was glued to the spot. “Did you enjoy the boss’ spanking, honey?”
“Fuck you, and fuck honey,” he groaned and pulled his tail into his lap, stroking it, calming his heart.
Scott continued rubbing his back. “Just ignore her and she’ll stop.”
That wasn’t in Stiles’ nature, and he knew he had to set himself in respect. He’d do it soon. He felt his tail being brushed by something other than his hands. Scott’s bushy-haired, black tail twinned against his own brown, sleek fur. He met the dogboy’s gaze, smiling. He’d never felt or seen anything like it. “You ever seen any other catboys or dogboys?”
Scott shook his head. “I’d not even met any werewolves until I ran away from home and ended up here. Derek rescued me and I’ve been a part of his pack ever since.”
A tightness in his stomach made him whisper, “He’s your boyfriend?”
Scott shook his head, said, “No, God,” like it was the most stupid idea ever and not all the legs in the world would turn to jello at the sight of the alpha. “I’m straight. Soft apple cheeks and cute dimples push my buttons.” His gaze clouded up and a goofy smile spread on his face. “Long, brown hair, and eyes that smile.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “But someone like that just doesn’t exist.”
Stiles smiled to himself. Perhaps some day he’d get the chance to introduce his best friend to Scott, show him his dream girl lived just outside of the territory.
Derek bent forward in his chair and drew everyone’s attention. Stiles stared like a deer in headlights as Derek grabbed his tail and started lightly pulling at it, so Stiles had to move his butt and slip over to the chair, leaving Scott sitting alone on the blanket, smiling fondly at him.
Derek patted his lap. “Up!”
What the fuck! Stiles growled at him. “I’m no pet.”
Derek growled right back and pulled at Stiles’ tail, forcing him to comply. He went without more fuss - but let the record say: he gave in only this once!
“Jesus. No need to manhandle me,” he grunted as he arranged his limbs to the alpha’s liking.
“Oh, you like it,” Erica sing-songed, and Stiles blushed, for God’s sake, and no snappy retort came on his lips. Where had all his fight gone?
“Shut up, Erica,” Derek growled, and petted Stiles’ hair, pushing Stiles’ face against his chest. His palm covered half of Stiles’ head, fingered with his sensitive ears and stroked his tail right there in front of his pack. Maybe the alpha wasn’t so bad after all? But he sure was big.
Stiles might be able to convince Allison that his dad hadn’t been completely right about the danger of this big, bad alpha and that it was werewolves like Duke and his alpha gang that gave werewolves a bad reputation.
Stiles sagged against the chest, feeling sluggish and warm, a contentment he hadn’t felt since before his first wet dream spread around in his whole body. He rubbed his nose against the mouth-watering smell, wanting more of it.
“Oh God,” Erica giggled, “Is he purring? I had no idea he could do that. Can you purr, Scotty boy?”
“No, Erica. You can go to hell,” Scott muttered, sounding embarrassed despite his denial. Guess he could make a similar sound then, but probably not purring like Stiles.
“You’re sexy as fuck,” Derek growled by Stiles’ eartip.
Stiles melted against him. “Guh!”
Derek nipped at the sensitive tip making shivers rip through him, instantly calling his dick to attention, straining against the flimsy fabric of his ripped pants. Suddenly, he fell to the floor as his mattress stood abruptly, grabbing his hand and walking briskly out of the room and up the stairs. Erica meowed after them.
“What the hell?” Stiles heard Scott say.
She laughed. “Catcalls?”
Stiles tried to get his brain to work. “Didn’t you have some kind of trouble to fix?”
“They’ll just have to wait until tomorrow.” Derek pulled at his hand. “I’m busy.”
Stiles could hardly get his legs to cooperate, he felt so weak and hot, like everything was happening to him, not with him. Was Derek going to fuck him finally? Did Stiles want him to? Hell yeah, his dick told him, yes, very much, his brain said. His mouth begged, “Please tell me you’ll fuck me now.”
Derek pushed Stiles down on the mattress and crawled up over him. “You’re infuriating and the biggest brat I’ve ever met.”
“Okay,” Stiles gasped as Derek licked his ear, gripped his hands, and, by old habit, Stiles yanked to free them.
“No, you don’t get to control this. I do.”
“Shit, fuck.” Stiles had no control over his own body any longer anyway, so it was the easiest thing in the world to give up.
He wasn’t scared or furious anymore.
“God, I want you to fuck me hard.” His eager hips grinded up against Derek, but Derek pulled back, his dark eyes searching Stiles’ face. Stiles blinked before his mind caught up and he stiffened, immediately defensive. “Jerk!” He wiggled, trying to get free. “I don’t really want you either, so just let me the fuck go!”
“No,” Derek growled. “You don’t think I want to to fuck you? I’m gonna make you come until you beg me to stop.” Stiles stared into Derek’s half-lidded green-gold eyes, the alpha frowning. “You’re not gonna fight me on it?”
Stiles glared, just out of old habit. “Hell, yeah, I’m gonna fight you to the bitter end, you bastard!”
Derek froze for a moment. “But you want me to fuck you? Really?”
Stiles stared up at the ceiling. “Damnit! Yes! You can just yank my tail and I’ll come, you fuck!”
“Your tail?” Derek took one of his hands away from his grip on Stiles’ wrists, and carefully lifted up Stiles’ tail. “You’re the only catboy I’ve had sex with. Is it really sensitive?”
“You haven’t had sex with me, jerk!”
Derek stroked Stiles’ tail in the circle of his palm from bottom to tip, and Stiles’ eyelids closed of their own accord. “Oh, mother fucker,” he gasped. Derek did it again and again, and Stiles felt every stroke build up fire from the bottom of his tail and to the tip of his dick, down to his tightening balls, like a sacred triangle.
“Can you come like this?” Derek sounded hoarse and intrigued as he stroked and stroked. It felt almost like he was jerking Stiles off but even more erotic.
“I don’t know,” Stiles gasped. He loved to stroke his tail when he jerked off by himself, but he’d never managed to tip over the edge only stroking his tail on his own.
Derek let go of his tail, and Stiles protested, but Derek’s fingers went straight to Stiles’ pants’ zipper and button, ripping them open.
Stiles stopped it. “Wait a minute.” He wiggled his pants a little down, then held the bottom of his tail getting it safely out of the hole at the back as Derek pulled them all the way down and off. Stiles ripped off his shirt and threw it away then lay back, all naked and exposed while Derek was still fully dressed and devoured Stiles with his eyes, following his hand stroking down Stiles’ chest and groin, circling his hard, leaking dick, but not touching it. It made Stiles breathless and frustrated like hell.
“Drop the clothes, mister!” He tried to look stern, but it was difficult with Derek ignoring him and instead taking his tail once more and sucked at the tip for a moment, then rolled the wet hair to a point, looking wicked and playful, so completely different from before. Stiles’ gaze was glued to Derek’s face and it was first when he felt something wet stroke his cock-head he noticed that the man was using the tail to play with his dick. Stiles’ toes curled and he gripped the comforter. Derek leaned down, and with his mouth an inch away from Stiles’ dick, met his gaze and deliberately stuck out his tongue, licking Stiles’ slit once before taking it all inside his mouth and sucking on it, still fully clothed and with his ass in the air.
“Holy fucking shit!” Stiles gasped, his eyes rolling back, feeling that wet, wicked mouth around his sensitive skin, and he instantly came unglued, jerking his catboy juices into the warm mouth.
Derek hummed and swallowed, sucking for a little while more before popping Stiles’ dick out. “You’re awfully pliant here. Where’s your spunk?” Derek asked, his fingers finding their way over Stiles’ tail.
Stiles groaned, shuddering. “In your mouth.” He was flipped over on his stomach, his ass and tail in the air. He glanced at Derek over his shoulder, but the alpha’s gaze was glued to his cathole. “Drop the pants and show me what you got.” Stiles tried to say it as a challenge, but it came out way too softly.
Derek pulled his sweater over his head, revealing his muscular, hairy form. It was glorious.
"That's what I'm talking about," Stiles rasped, stroking his tail over Derek's chest.
Derek flopped on top of him, pinning him down, pants scratching his sore behind and gripped his wrists. "No! I want to touch you," Stiles whined as Derek bound them with rope to the headboard. Stiles twisted so he sat on his ass, yanked at the knot, pouting. "Bastard! This rope hurts me." He tried to kick Derek, but Derek just got off of the mattress and pulled at his belt, shed his pants, his cock smacking against his abdomen. Stiles’ mouth went dry and he swallowed hard.
"Will you keep still or do I have to spank you with this?" Derek rubbed his belt between his hands, arching an eyebrow.
Stiles shook his head frantically. "Holy hell, no!" He drew his legs to him in case Derek wanted to check the sound of the belt against vulnerable flesh. "I'll be good!" He swallowed. "I'll try to be good," he amended, knowing he'd never be able to follow up on behaving perfect.
"So yielding at the threat of a little bit of pain." Derek crawled up over Stiles again, still holding the belt.
Stiles' heart pounded in his chest. "No, no. No need to use that on me! I’m just an innocent little catboy!"
Derek grinned at him and before Stiles knew it, he was bound to the bed by Derek’s soft leather belt instead of scratchy rope. Damn, damn, damn. But at least he wasn't going to get spanked with it. That wouldn't have been pleasant.
"I won't hurt you," Derek murmured, rubbing his scruff against Stiles’ cheek and his nose against Stiles' ear. “Only a little bit.”
"Ungh!" Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, trying to grind against him, but Derek flipped him over so his ass was in the air again and he had to struggle not to hang on the belt, but keep himself up. He needed to observe Derek and watch his next move.
Derek stroked Stiles' spine from neck to tail, caressing the fur up to the tip, let it go and grabbed the hair on his head instead. "You gonna be a good boy for me, catboy? Or do I need to gag you? And perhaps blindfold you?"
Stiles shook his head. "No, no, just do you thing." He desperately wanted to see Derek. If he thought about it, he didn't trust him 100% either, even if he without much complaining was tied to the alpha's bed, naked, and defenseless. He wanted the guy to fuck him, to use him, but doing it blind felt like tipping over some limit. Fuck, it wasn't easy to find his reasons. He just had them, all right? Sensible or not, Stiles never stayed away from danger. He wiggled his tail. "Touch me!" he demanded and was rewarded for his immediate rule breaking with a hard slap on his bare butt, already warm and sensitive from the previous spanking. "Ouch! Let me go and I'll slap you like that! Then you can see how much you like it!" he growled.
Derek gripped his hips and yanked his head back with his hair. "I thought you said you'd be good? Is this backchat being good, little boy?"
"Shit, no," Stiles admitted, pressing his lips together to try to stop complaining and just feel. Derek stroked his flank and to his stomach, gripping Stiles’ once more rock hard dick, dripping from the tip. Stiles grunted but didn't say a word.
"Very good," Derek praised, jerked his dick a few times before letting it go and grabbed his tail instead, lifting it up and stroking the underside slowly, down to where Stiles' fur stopped and his bare skin began. Derek gripped the base of the tail firm. Stiles gasped and wanted to plead for Derek to fuck him, but he bit his lip and kept still, letting Derek play and get to know his appendage. Derek rubbed at the base of it, right over Stiles’ hole, where it was the most sensitive. Stiles spread his legs further, pushing his butt up eagerly. He heard a snap and then he had glorious, slippery fingers inside of him, spreading him open while Derek’s other hand held his tail up and out of the way.
Stiles groaned and pushed back, but Derek smacked his butt cheek. “Hold still. I’ll do the fucking, not you.” Stiles whimpered. “So be patient.” It took everything in his power not to fuck himself on the probing fingers that expertly rubbed over his prostate and a thumb over the base of his tail.
Right when Stiles was about to come again, desperate and needy, Derek slipped out the fingers, gripped his hip, held up his tail, and sank his cock deep inside, all the way down so their balls slapped against each other.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Stiles arched his back, feeling Derek’s cock poke his intestines and fill him up completely. Derek twined the tail around his hand, yanked it up, and started pounding. Stiles’ molars snapped against each other before he could bite them together. He managed to grip the headboard, though, even with his hands bound, so that he didn’t smack his head--he wanted to be conscious, damnit!--but it was so worth it when he felt the alpha’s cock push against his prostate at every snap. He’d never felt so full in all his life.
It was a good thing he had to bite, or else he’d babble nonsense from the get go.
“Such a good boy,” Derek praised, sounding totally in control of himself and not even breathless, “taking my cock all the way inside that sweet, little hole.” He snapped his hips again and again, riding Stiles higher and higher. Stiles was a mess with sweat, weak muscles and completely out of breath, even if the only thing he had to do was hang in there, getting the fuck of his life. Derek appeared to have an endless supply of energy, though, pounding away on the little cat ass for an eternity, making Stiles’ mind swim and feeling out of his own body, his vision foggy. His mind was far away from his own orgasm when Derek finally flexed against his butt for the last time and came hard, jolting Stiles and filling him up. Derek fell over him for a second, the only indication on his control slipping.
Stiles cried out from the sudden weight pulling at his wrists, and Derek quickly unbound him, barely breathless. He flipped Stiles’ exhausted body over on his back, dipped down and sucked Stiles’ dick all the way down his throat. Stiles came instantly, jerking and twitching like he was electrocuted.
Stiles felt Derek curl him up against his chest.
Light shone in his eyes and he turned away from it. His ass stung, making him remember the plowing he’d taken last night, and his dick jumped at the thought. Holy hell, what a ride! He wanted it again--right now!
But he was all alone in the huge bed, the pillow beside him cold.
He sat up a little dizzy, and as he rose wetness ran down his inner thighs. He was in desperate need of a clean up, the last time being a couple of days ago. After a shower, he picked up his clothes, but they smelled of sweat and dirt, and had huge holes in them. Derek’s dresser stood beside the door. Could he...?
Yes, he could. He found a shirt he rolled up at the arms, but still he wore a tent. It’d have to do. Now, what to do for pants. Derek had a pair of outworn shorts in the bottom drawer that went to Stiles' mid-leg, but if he tightened the string enough and put the shirt inside it, it stuck. His tail could actually fit in beside his leg, but that’d be horribly uncomfortable after a while, and as a principle he refused to hide it, so he grabbed a multitool he found in the top drawer and cut a hole at the back of the shorts, fished his tail out and wiggled it a bit.
Content, he opened the door and went downstairs where it was all quiet and deserted. Where was everyone? Out on that hunt they’d talked about? Scott too? He grabbed his tail, stroking it, unsure on what to do. Then laughter came from the kitchen and he headed that way, his stomach tense.
Boyd and Derek sat eating at the table, and Scott stood by the stove, frying bacon. Scott turned and smiled at him, looking him up and down as if to check if Stiles was okay. He hesitated in the doorway, not fully daring to look at Derek. What would he say to Stiles using his clothes and making a hole in the shorts?
“Morning,” Boyd said muffled by the food in his mouth.
Derek picked up his coffee cup, and as he took a sip, he waved Stiles over with his fingers. Stiles went to him, wringing his hands around his tail. Derek sat his cup down and raised Stiles’ chin. “Give us a kiss.”
Stiles swallowed down his nervousness and leaned forward, intending to place a quick peck on Derek’s lips--this was a promising start for the day!--but Derek immediately pushed his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles melted against him, dizzy and needy. Before he knew it, he sat in Derek’s lap, letting the alpha grope his ass and kiss him senseless in front of the two others. Finally, Derek was satisfied and let Stiles’ mouth go, giving him a wink full of promises. Stiles wanted to bury his face in Derek’s neck, but his stomach rumbled and he finally felt hungry and not tense. In fact, butterflies had taken over inside of him.
Boyd said, dryly, “He was easy to tame.”
The smile on Stiles’ face wiped off and he retorted, hands on his hips, “No one tames this catboy!”
Boyd grinned at him and Derek arched his eyebrows. Stiles blushed, damnit. “Just a tiny, baby bit.”
Derek pushed him out of his lap, slapped his butt, making Stiles wince. “Sit down and eat your food like a good boy.”
Scott handed him a plate full of bacon and eggs, grinning, “So, you’re staying?”
Stiles stared up at him, his hand frozen in the air holding the plate. Was he? Then he realized he could have run away this morning. There’d been no guard to be seen by the door, no one around. He glanced over at Derek, seeing the alpha study him calmly, resting his elbows on the table.
“If you want me to?” He said it like a question. It wasn’t like he had much to return to.
Derek pushed his own plate away. “That’s settled then.” He rose. “Come on Boyd, work awaits.”
Boyd followed, telling Derek, “He’s such a timid little thing now.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Stiles yelled between mouthfuls.
“Later!” Derek retorted before Boyd closed the door, leaving Scott and Stiles to get to know each other better over breakfast.
Stiles helped Scott a little around the house the rest of the day. Scott worked there, sort of like a housekeeper, but also made all the food, so he was a busy bee with all the pack members coming and going at all times.
Derek took Stiles to his bed that night like Stiles belonged in it. This time, Stiles didn’t immediately fall asleep like a log after two intense orgasms, but crawled up beside Derek, resting his head on the firm chest, feeling a kiss being placed at the top of his head. He fell asleep eventually with a smile on his face, satisfied and content like never before in his life.
It was barely light outside when the knocking, yelling and commotion started. Derek was out of bed and dressed before Stiles opened his eyes.
Derek pointed a finger at him. “You stay put!”
Instantly Stiles jumped out of bed and pressed his nose against the window, taking in the front yard full of pack members. By the treeline, Duke stood with the rest of his alpha pack. Holy shit! Why were they here? Was it because Stiles had bit the asshole’s tiny dick to blood?
His heart jumped in his chest. What should he do? Sneak out the backdoor? Hide under the bed? What would the Hale pack do? Surely they’d deliver Stiles over to Duke to keep the peace if that was what Duke wanted?
Like laser beams, Duke’s red eyes zoomed in on Stiles in the window, and pointed up to him, yelling something. Derek strode out over the front yard, his pack swarming at his heels, all of them shifting to werewolf form. Derek bent down, baring his teeth, but Duke held up his hands, grinning like all of this was a big joke and not about to become a bloodbath. He waved and his alpha’s twins stepped forward holding something in front of them. Stiles stared at the motionless things for a moment before they started wiggling like worms, but the twin’s sat teeth against their arteries and they froze. His dad! Allison! They were both bound together and gagged!
A hand fell on Stiles’ shoulder and he screamed. Scott said urgently, “Come downstairs! They’re asking for you.”
“No. No. No! This can’t be happening!” Stiles gripped the window frame to keep himself from sagging to the floor. “They have my dad and my best friend, Scott! They want to eat me, rape me and kill me! In that order! And I need to go with them! I need to save my family!”
White noise swallowed him up, but Scott shook him and made him focus on the dogboy’s face, his big, warm eyes. “Listen to me. Don’t worry, Derek will protect you. This alpha pack’s been terrorizing all over and Derek can’t wait to finally rip them all apart!”
Stiles let himself get dragged downstairs. “I’m not so sure about that!”
“Come on!” Scott said.
Stiles got swallowed up in the flock of pack members, and Derek came inside the door. “Do you know this pack?”
Stiles shook his head, gripping his tail. “Not really.”
Derek frowned at him, or so Stiles thought. It was hard to tell with his werewolf face on. “Well. They want to speak to you.”
Stiles swallowed hard, stepped forward. “I need to do as they say, they have my dad and my best friend.”
Derek gripped his upper arm, eyes searching Stiles’ face. “This what you ran away from?”
“Duke says you belong to him. Do you?” Derek gripped his arm harder.
“No!” Stiles yelled. “They want to hurt me.”
Derek’s grip loosened. “All right.” He sighed deep. “Good. Let’s go.”
Stiles followed him outside and as they approached, Duke whistled. “There he is! Kitty, kitty, come to daddy.”
“You piece of shit!” Stiles yelled, ran towards them, but Derek held him back. “Dad! Allison! Are you all right?” They stared at him with wide eyes, looking tousled and scared, still with the twin alphas’ teeth at their throats. “Why are you doing this, you bastard?”
Duke grinned at him, like the rest of his alpha pack did, all standing relaxed like they didn’t have a huge flock of aggressive werewolves surrounding them. The twins licked his dad and Allison’s necks.
“Derek.” Duke nodded. “You’ve been trying to reach me for a while. I believe you have a request for me?”
“The hell I have!”
“Then what’s all the attacks been about?”
“You’ll withdraw from my area or leave it in pieces.”
Duke studied his nails. “Well. I’d think I’ve been pretty clear on that, haven’t I? I’m not leaving. Beacon Hills isn’t any werewolves' territory, so I’ve taken it as mine!”
Derek roared. “So what is it you want?”
“Oh, just a tiny thing,” Duke said sweetly. “I want them.” He pointed at Stiles and Scott. “You see, when the little catboy came to my camp completely voluntarily, I had him on his knees like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“I’d never met a catboy before, so of course I wanted to have him. And imagine my surprise right now when you have what looks to be a dogboy too.” His face lit up. “I have the right connections so I expect I can get a pretty sum for them. So. In exchange for leaving your territory and Beacon Hills alone, I’ll let this sheriff and girl go at the border where I found them searching for the catboy, but I’ll take those two with me.” He pointed at Stiles and Scott again.
The sheriff and Allison groaned into their gags.
Duke stared at Derek. Holy shit. How much was Stiles and Scott worth to Derek? Not a lot in comparison to protecting his area, Stiles realized. The answer came, digging Scott and his graves. “Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal.” Derek let go of Stiles, who immediately ran to his dad, who shot daggers at him.
“We’ll follow you to my borders,” Derek growled.
One of Duke’s alpha’s threw Stiles over one shoulder, grabbed Scott, and hoisted him over the other shoulder, gripping them both.
“Shit, Scott! What do we do?” Stiles asked his friend over the alpha’s back.
"Trust Derek," Scott mouthed.
Stiles had never had much trust in people, honestly, so he searched his brain, trying to come up with a plan. It seemed hopeless. He’d just met Derek, and now he and Scott would end up in a circus or as slaves, perhaps eaten. Some people probably thought catboy and dogboy tasted nice. They probably did too.
Stiles tried to notice what was happening around them, but he had to think of his plan and brace himself against branches as the alpha holding them sped through the forest.
But then he suddenly had his mouth full of forest floor dirt and the big alpha over him, screaming bloody murder.
Duke ripped at Stiles’ tail, trying to pull him out from under the screaming alpha, but Stiles was trapped by the big form. And then Derek’s wolf pack was all over them, ripping the alpha pack to pieces. Blood splashed all over, screams hit his ears and then the alpha trapping him was gone, and Stiles stared. Erica grinned down at him with dirt smeared at her chin, seeming excited about the bloodbath. She pulled him to his feet and he saw what had thrown the alpha carrying him and Scott: the one cat trap--now also werewolf trap--in the whole forest that Stiles’ ankle was personally familiar with.
“Scott!” he cried, couldn’t see the dogboy in the chaos. “Dad! Allison!” He fought Erica’s hold, desperate to find everyone, but she just tightened her arms. “You’re not getting away from me, catboy!” she laughed in his ear. Was she on the alpha pack’s side? She licked his ear. Oh shit, was she taking him for herself after all?
Soon, it quieted down and the blur of body parts, blood and trees came into focus. Most of the alpha pack seemed to have been ripped to pieces as far as Stiles could tell, except for one of the twins, who still held Allison in his arms. Scott stood in front of them, pulling at the girl’s leg, yelling. Derek was nowhere to be seen and not Duke or his dad either.
“Let me go!” Stiles squirmed in Erica’s arms.
“No!” she said, “Derek would want you safe.”
“I need to save my friend!” He watched in horror as Boyd advanced at the twin alpha’s back, Scott pulling at Allison’s leg, and then the twin sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. “NO!”
Boyd snapped the alpha’s head with the teeth still deep in Allison’s neck and a whole swarm of pack members helped him rip the alpha apart. Allison lay on the ground, bleeding, white and unconscious, with Scott slapping her face, yelling.
Erica finally let Stiles go and ran with him. She cut Allison’s rope off with her claws as Scott plucked out the fabric from her mouth. Stiles gripped her shoulders, shaking her, but Erica pushed him away, lifted her up, and carried her in the direction of the pack house with Scott at her heels.
Stiles twisted this way and that, ran around crying to the pack members, asking for his dad. Derek and Duke was still missing too. He headed back to the house to look for them there when Derek came through the trees with Stiles’ dad limping, holding the alpha's shoulder. “Dad!” he yelled, running to them.
His dad caught him, hugging him tight. “I’m all right, son.” He pulled back, searching Stiles all over. “Are you hurt? Derek here tells me you’ve been safe at his house the last two days after running from Duke and his pack.” Was his dad okay with werewolves now?
Stiles nodded, glancing over at Derek, unsure of what to say. Derek stared right back. “Yes, Derek saved me from them.” Derek frowned and looked away but didn’t deny it. “What happened to Duke?”
“He’s dead," Derek said. "We’re gonna find all their pieces and build a fire. That’s the only way to make sure the alphas stay dead.”
“But Allison, Dad! She got bitten by the alpha twin!”
“What?” Derek roared. “Where is she?”
Stiles threw his thumb over his shoulder. “In your house. Can you save her?”
“Shit!” Derek spat and ran toward his house with Stiles helping his wobbling dad along. Allison lay on the dining room table with Scott cleaning her neck, tears streaming down his face. She looked like Snow White except for the open wound on her neck.
Stiles froze, completely numb, and stared at her in horror.
This was all his fault because of his attraction to danger. Allison would die because of his stupidity and inability to control himself.
Strong hands fell on his shoulders, and he turned, buried his face in Derek’s chest, not able to do anything else than cry for his friend while Scott was the one cleaning her up. This was the proof he’d always been looking for: he was a pathetic catboy. All the bullies in his life had been right. Just like he’d feared deep down.
Derek stroked his back, making a calming rumble in his chest. Stiles turned his face and opened his eyes, saw his dad sitting in Derek’s deep chair, his attention not on the dead girl, but on Stiles, his eyes wide in shock, but surprisingly not fear like Stiles expected from his dad seeing his son in the arms of the big bad alpha, Derek Hale.
“Calm down, boy,” Derek rumbled. “Your friend will be all right. She’ll soon wake up and shift for the first time.”
That shut Stiles up instantly. “What? She’s not dead?”
Derek stroked away Stiles’ tears, kissed the top of his head. “No, catboy. She’ll be a werewolf, a part of my pack now.”
Stiles’ legs gave in under him, but Derek held him up, sat them down on an available chair beside the sheriff, curling Stiles up in his lap. Stiles said, “Is it true, Dad? Both you and she’ll be okay?”
His dad smiled tiredly at him then, warm and for some reason proud. “Seems like we’ll all be, son.”