With every in breath he can taste omega in heat. It’s a different scent than any other of this kind he has known; it’s better, sweeter. It makes something claw inside Derek, eager to get out. He is brimming with too much energy, too many feelings.
“Right, Derek, listen,” the Sheriff says.
A soft whine is heard from upstairs, and Derek tenses even more. He scents the air again, takes a step forward. A hand grasps his shoulder roughly.
Listen. Derek forces himself to focus some of his attention on the Sheriff, even if half of his mind is already rushing upstairs.
“If you hurt my son,” the Sheriff says, then he closes his eyes briefly. When they open there is an even harder glint in them. “If you hurt my son any more than absolutely necessary… I don’t care that you’re a werewolf. That your mother is one of the most powerful werewolves in the region. That you have a whole pack of werewolf friends and family. They won’t be able to stop me from castrating you. Okay?”
“Okay, yes.” Derek swallows, lowers his gaze. “But… I, I wouldn’t, Sheriff. I would never hurt Stiles on purpose, I swear.”
The Sheriff’s eyes softens just a little. “I don’t think you would, Derek, but in the heat of a moment…” he says. “This a privilege the two of you have gained, for Stiles’ sake. I really wish you could have waited until both of you were eighteen.” He sighs. “But here we are. Come on.”
Slowly, as if he’s walking towards his doom, he heads up the stairs. Derek follows eagerly. After the Sheriff’s talk though, he starts thinking of what’s going to happen really. He knows they should be careful, of course, there is always a small risk of tearing and injury during mating, particularly the first time. If they’re too eager, and rough, if Derek knots too quickly… Hurting Stiles makes Derek feel sick. Hurting his mate. This is why Mom and the Sheriff spent two long evenings talking. Derek knows a doctor has been consulted as well. Not only for the physical reasons, but for mental ones as well. They’re too immature, everyone says, they need some more time to grow up.
John gives him one long, final look before he opens the door. The scent is overwhelming now, makes Derek’s mouth water. The Sheriff didn’t bother with knocking, and Derek can see why. Stiles eyes are glazed over as he looks at them. He’s on the bed, hands clawing at the sheets as he twists and turns; unable to be still. The t-shirt and boxers he’s wearing sticks to his body in places, and his forehead is blank with sweat.
“Stiles,” the Sheriff says, very gently, “Derek is here now.”
Stiles stills for a brief moment, looks at them again. “Derek,” he rasps out.
“Yes,” Derek says, stepping inside.
“I’ll be right downstairs, boys,” the Sheriff says, but Derek barely hears him anymore.
He’s moving towards the bed. Stiles is so very still suddenly, just gazing at him. But something isn’t quite right, Stiles is off somehow. Like a part of him isn’t home. Derek can feel himself heading the same route, the longer he looks, and tastes, and smells the other boy.
Carefully, he sits on the very edge of the mattress. Hesitates for a long moment, before reaching out and petting Stiles. The fine hairs on his arms, the flatness of his belly. A low growl starts, and Stiles whines again; tilting his head back.
Next moment, Derek is upon him. He rips off the t-shirt and boxers, leans down to mouth at where Stiles’ shoulder meets his neck. Stiles hands are grasping at him now instead of the sheets. They scramble all over his shoulders and back, like they can’t find purchase. Legs are wrapping around Derek’s waist too, pulling him flush against Stiles.
Their hips rock grind together, and Derek just wants inside. He scrambles back enough to get his pants open. Stiles clings to him; surprisingly strong, and Derek has to hold him down with one hand as he gets his cock out with the other. It’s easy to flip Stiles over though, to pull him onto all fours. Stiles can’t stay completely still though, rocking slightly back and forth.
Derek strokes his ass, pulls the cheeks apart and bends down to breath in deep. The scent of the slick has him almost dizzy, and he licks eagerly into the small opening. Stiles moans and pushes back.
For a long minute, Derek is absorbed. Even as his cock throbs and starts to hurt a little. When he rises and moves closer on his knees, he presses a hand down in the small of Stiles’ back. Stiles arches.
Sliding inside Stiles is easy, and Derek folds himself over his back. Just rocks, his knot already swelling. His own hand could never compare to this. Already, he wants to press in and stay. But the Sheriff’s words are echoing at the back of his head.
He can’t rush, he isn’t allowed to rush. His clawed hands dig into the mattress out of pure frustration.
For a few, short minutes he manages to thrust; his claws digging deeper and deeper into the mattress. Stiles quickly begins to protest, first softly, but finally his upper body swirls back towards Derek and comes as close to snarling as a human can. Derek gives in. His knot swells rapidly, and Stiles cries out. Harshly, Derek bites down into his neck to keep him in place. His arm going around Stiles’ chest to keep him flush.
Derek’s vision whitens when he comes. When he becomes aware again, Stiles is completely relaxed, just hanging in his arms, panting. The scent of tears makes Derek whine, and he laps at the bite mark.
Very gently, he follows Stiles down until he lays flat. Immediately Stiles starts to rock against the mattress, and it takes just moments before his hole clenches around Derek as he comes.
When the door creaks minutes later, Derek’s head snaps up. Locked inside his omega, he feels so very vulnerable. Can’t protect them without making his mate cry out in pain again. Vaguely, he recognizes the alpha in the doorway. It’s not a true threat, but he shouldn’t be here.
This is for Derek only, and he flashes his teeth in warning. The alpha backs out.
Beneath him Stiles swiftly falls asleep, and Derek watches over him.