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He wakes blearily, the world a blur around the edges as he takes in the room. He’s cocooned underneath a small pile of blankets. A nest of fabric swaddled around him as he struggles to turn over to find the bed empty. Reaches out to feel the cooling sheets, just a touch of warmth left behind. Rolls back over.
Stiles squints at the window, open halfway and the curtains blowing gently in a cool, early, early morning breeze. It’s just after dawn , he thinks stupidly, blinks sleepily. He sits up, the blankets pooling around his naked waist, the too cold air contradictory to his warm, warm bedding. Stiles shivers, waking a fraction, but pushes the blankets out of the way to stand. Absently he wiggles his toes into the worn, plush rug laid across the wooden floor. Stretches, hearing the pops in his joints. Thinks about last night, his sore hips and tired arms.
Naked, he leaves the room. The house is chilled as Stiles makes his way past the bathroom, down the hall, listening. Passes pictures on the wall, memories strewn haphazardly along the surface. Hears a light grunt from the other side of the house and changes trajectory. Finds Derek in the spare room, working out on the floor.
He’s sweaty, knees apart and arms bulging from where they’re bent by his head. Dark hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes bright from endorphins. He’s wearing earbuds but he hears Stiles all the same. Stops mid-movement to look up evenly. Takes Stiles in sedately. The marks on his thighs, the tiny, mottled purple bruises around his wrists, a bite mark above his left nipple.
Stiles drowsily watches back and shivers again. Derek stands, agile and deadly and big. Takes his sticky shirt off to hand to Stiles, who takes it gently and slips the fabric on. It hangs over his smaller frame, lands just above his rug burned knees. Smells like sweat and alpha and Derek. Whiskey.
Honey and ginger wafts out to meld with Derek’s scent. Stiles smiles, small and gentle, pleased. Hands on his hips, Derek leans down and kisses him, a press of skin to skin. Soft and pleasant. From here, Stiles can hear the fast music in the headphones, beating away. He reaches up to pluck them from Derek’s ears, who lets him and suddenly the room is booming in sound. Derek huffs a laugh, taking the earbuds, and strides over to his phone. After a moment the music stops, almost disorienting in the rush of too loud to quiet, quiet .
Stiles is still smiling as Derek approaches, muscles and tan skin on display, rippling as he moves. He’s warm where Stiles touches his chest, fiddling with the hair there.
“Morning.” Stiles says, still sleepy. He’s fucked out tired and loose and sluggish, up most of the night until he’d passed out onto the pillow they shared.
Derek rumbles a response, the timbre of his voice low and strong. “Morning.” He bends and kisses Stiles’ forehead, who takes the kiss with his eyes slipping half closed and a hum in his throat. Derek regards him. Focused on Stiles like he sometimes gets, eyes mottled and gold but not demanding.
“Come on.” He pulls away and steps out of the room.
Stiles follows like a lemming. They move to the kitchen, not bothering with the light. The world is starting to wake up, the birds calling, red and brown leaves falling slowly in the wind. The sun struggling above the trees.
Derek leaves him standing at the island counter, withdrawing with a kiss at the temple to root around in the cabinets. Stiles is suddenly, overwhelmingly happy that Derek plans to feed him. Provide for him before himself, as most alphas would. He thinks about their little house that they bought together . Thinks about the first time Derek put his hand on Stile’s neck, eyes huge and gentle, gentle, gentle before he squeezed–goes a little wet and gets a little hard.
It’s enough that Derek stills. Enough that Derek crowds him against the counter. Enough that Derek’s eyes flash and he inclines his head, sniffing at Stiles.
Stiles knows what he smells like, his own eyes flashing in response to Derek’s, glowing in the early morning light. His heartbeat jackrabbits and he feels slick on his thigh at the look on Derek’s face. He flushes to his neck and Derek swears in his lower register. “ Jesus Christ, Stiles–”. And he thinks, this is it, this is when Derek manhandles him onto the counter and ruts against him until they’re both cumming.
But he doesn’t and Stiles is honest to god startled when all he does is cradle Stiles’ face in both of his gigantic hands. Stiles wets his lips, pink tongue darting out against the flesh. Derek’s nose flares, eyes flashing from marbled to red and back again like he can’t fucking control himself and Stiles whines . It’s high pitched and needy and Stiles forgets, sometimes, how sexy Derek Hale can be.
Derek closes his eyes and takes a moment. Opens them. Runs a thumb along Stiles’ bottom lip until they’re kissing. Stiles tries to deepen it, but all at once Derek is relaxed and loose limbed, taking his time. The kiss slows and sweetens and when Stile’s opens his mouth to let Derek in, his stomach swoops at the intensity and, and– Derek is still holding his face gently. Pulls back and presses their foreheads together.
He runs his hands down Stiles’ entire body, cradling his hips, his thighs. Runs his fingers over the swell of Stile’s ass. Their lips wet from kissing. “I’m going to touch you now.” Derek murmurs against his mouth. He always does this–makes sure Stiles knows what’s going to happen when they have sex. Makes sure he isn’t too gone to the pheromones yet. Makes sure he’s aware .
It’s entirely too saccharine. Stiles loses himself a little, pupils dilating. He holds on to Derek’s biceps. He’s starting to pant now and Derek’s only just slid a finger into him. Derek pulls out only to rub against his rim for a few moments and slip two back in, one from each hand. He crooks his fingers, rubbing deep inside Stiles, who goes rigid when Derek presses against his prostate. Stiles’ eyes go wide and he grips Derek’s arms, fingers digging in. He trembles, moaning against Derek’s throat, pushing back against his fingers.
“Did you know,” Derek starts talking and Stiles has to focus, focus . Derek rubs harder and Stiles sees stars, clenching his eyes shut. “That when you stimulate the prostate–”. Here he slips his fingers out and turns Stiles fast but gentle so he’s grasping the counter. He plunges three fingers in and Stiles scrabbles against the marble.
Softly, he continues, “And the uterus at the same time that omegas feel intense pleasure?” At this Derek crooks all three fingers until he’s pressing against the mouth of Stiles’ womb and prostate. Stiles keens, his moans echoing in the quiet space. He continues to finger fuck him slowly, taking his time, until Stiles is drooling against the countertop.
He’s barely aware of Derek pulling his fingers out and pushing his sweats down, cock bobbing and pressing hotly against Stiles’ ass. Against the shirt that’s now soaked with slick, tented and wet from Stiles’ dick. Derek holds Stiles against him, back to chest, and slides in, just the head of his fat cock spearing him open. “Arms up, baby.” Derek coos and Stiles doesn’t understand what he’s saying, drunk on pheromones and alpha. He finagles the shirt off of Stiles, pinching his nipples once Stiles is fully naked again.
Derek rubs at his nipples, his soft stomach, his thighs as he slowly bottoms out. Stiles is on his tiptoes now and the angle is better and he becomes cognizant enough that he wants to cry at how gentle and unhurried Derek is in his thrusts. How reverently he’s touching Stiles, like he’s the most precious thing Derek has ever held.
“Alpha, alpha, alpha .” He’s babbling and thinks this is intense, Holy Shit, Holy Shit.
His body is tightly coiled, dick weeping, small and pink between his legs. He wants a hand on his dick, but he’s rooted to the spot, clawing the countertop, feet cramping from supporting the angle for so long.
It’s good. It’s so fucking good . Stiles thinks he’s crying and Derek is kissing him everywhere he can reach.
When his lips, featherlight, brush past Stiles’ mating scar, his legs give out. Derek holds him like he weighs nothing with an arm under his legs and continues thrusting. Slow and steady. Stiles knows, knows he’ll think of this moment forever. Until he’s old and dying.
Derek is safe and warm and oh– Oh . Derek’s pressing against that spot again–where his prostate and uterus meet but the thrusts are measured and jesusfuckingchrist Stiles is completely undone, shuddering and cumming all over everything, untouched.
Derek keeps thrusting through it, Stiles trembling because he’s pulling out until his crown catches on the rim and he’s sensitive , and thrusting and thrusting until Derek cums with his head bent low on Stiles’ shoulder. He doesn’t knot Stiles, who deliriously thinks, What a shame.
They stand, Derek mostly cradling Stiles by his hips, catching their breaths, until Derek slips free, slick and splooge sliding down Stiles’ shaking legs. Derek just watches, because of course he does, and Stiles is falling apart but in a good way.
“Are-are you okay?” Derek asks lowly, voice like gravel from fucking. He’s entirely engulfing Stiles with his big body from behind and Stiles loves it. Hears the adoration in Derek’s voice. Feels cherished when he’s turned around and Derek’s hands are all over him, wiping stray tears from his eyes, hands in his hair, palming his cheek.
Stiles nods. He doesn’t think he can talk right now, too blissed out, eyes blown. Derek’s brow furrows, eyes smoldering. “Baby, I need to hear you say it.”
His pulse begins to quicken at the way Derek is concerned, exhilarated that Derek isn’t acting like an alpha usually would. Derek is always there–stable and soft and not at all mean and self-centered.
He fucking loves this about Derek, tells him so. “I love you so fucking much.”
Derek relaxes. His shoulders going slack and mouth turning up at the corners. “Love you, too.” He’s picked up then, Derek holding both of his legs with one arm, because he’s fucking massive and capable.
He carries Stiles to the bathroom and their enormous tub, big enough to fit them both. Turns the water on and makes sure it’s nice and hot and places Stiles there too, who’s still a little fucked out. Sits down in the water so Stiles is nestled against him. It’s nice.
They don’t often fuck like this–make love like this–and it means a lot to Stiles. Little omega Stiles as he smiles when Derek starts to take care of him, soaping up and washing his smaller body. His fingers are gentle, so fucking gentle, around the bruises on his neck and wrists, the marks on his thighs. They skirt over the splotches lightly and it tickles a little so Stiles laughs.
Derek’s returning smile into his shoulder has emotion burning in his chest.
No, Derek isn’t like most alphas–any Stiles has ever met.
*****
Later, when Stiles is laying on the couch in the office bored on his phone and Derek is tapping away at his computer, he has a wicked thought. Stiles’ goes warm from head to toe, his dick chubbing. Derek stops typing.
“Stiles .”
He blushes, color blooming along his face and neck. Abruptly, he’s hot, very fucking hot.
“ Stiles .”
The heady scent of aroused alpha blossoms across the room, joining Stiles’ own supple omega one. His throat goes dry as he continues to think about it. He presses the palm of his hand against his fledgling erection.
“ Stiles !”
He sits up, dropping his phone. Throat clicking, he says, “I–I think, that is, I–I.” He’s suddenly embarrassed, looking down at his hands, wringing them together. The color along his cheeks deepens, but the arousal is still there.
Derek pushes his seat back. “Tell me, please?” Derek says this complacently, non-threatening.
And Stiles. Well, Stiles really can’t deny his alpha much at all. He responds, clasping his fingers together tightly. He looks at Derek and admits, “I–I want you to knot my legs.”
Derek goes stiff, all hard lines of him. Stiles is having a difficult time breathing. Derek exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair, peppered gray at the temples. He looks uncertain.
Stiles covers his face and all but shouts, “Nevermind!” At the same time Derek says, “I can try.”
The room goes silent.
Stiles is panting a little, squeezing his eyes shut from behind his hands. The scent of arousal two folds when Stiles understands what his alpha has said. Wide, amber eyes meet Derek’s.
“Re-really?” He stammers out, knowing he’s beginning to get wet at the thought. Derek nods, eyes flashing when Stiles starts to move. He flashes his eyes back, pupils quickly dilating. The scent in the room is heady and thick.
Overcome with need, like a fucking whore , Stiles thinks. He rolls onto his back and rucks his shirt up, sucking on the end as he imagines . Derek’s big, fat, knot poking through his reddened thighs –Stiles moans and gets his pants and underwear down beneath his balls. He’s still imagining it, pulling at his nipples when Derek’s chair all but falls to the ground and he’s next to Stiles, a low growl in his throat.
Derek reaches out to touch Stile’s small, reddened dick, the cockhead leaking and proud. He clasps his hand around the cocklet loosely and licks a nipple. Stiles bucks his hips and shakes, shuddering when Derek runs his nose up to his neck. He scents Stiles in a flurry of teeth and tongue, jacking his hand slowly.
Stiles moans loudly, feeling his nipples pebble and swell. He pulls and pinches at them until Derek swats his hand away and latches on. He sucks hard and Stiles keens, grasping onto Derek's shoulder. He digs his fingers in and ruts against Derek's hand.
Derek stops stroking and holds his hand still, groaning a constant litany as Stiles continues to thrust against him without shame. He takes his pleasure and continues to roll his hips, eyes fluttering and hips reaching higher and higher the closer he gets.
" Alpha ." Stiles whines and grips his own thighs, cumming hard. Stile's mouth goes slack, dropping the wet fabric and drooling a little. He spills all over Derek's big, warm hand and keeps rubbing until he's too sensitive.
Derek pulls back in a hurry, getting his fly undone and using the hand covered in Stiles' cum, starts stroking himself. He groans and presses his face into Stiles' soft stomach, effectively pinning him down. From this angle, Stiles can't move and all he can see is Derek's arm. He feels Derek's breath and tongue against his stomach, wiggling when he feels the pleasure pain of his blunt teeth biting down.
Craning his neck, he can finally, finally see Derek's hand on his alpha dick, wet and slick and rubbing furiously. Stiles' nostrils flare at the sight and he's turned on again. Unable to stop himself, he starts murmuring.
"Alpha. Alpha. You gonna cum for me? You gonna– fuck– yeah, you gonna cum for your slutty little omega? Using my cum as–".
Derek lunges forward with a growl, eyes burning red, red, red . He bites into Stiles' neck, locking onto his mating bite and Stiles goes completely still. Eyes rolling back into his head, Stiles' cocklet tries to cum again but it's too soon. His toes curl against the dry orgasm and he moans weakly when he feels Derek's own release splash against his hip.
They are both panting heavily, Derek laying with his weight against Stiles for only a moment until he is rocking back onto his knees. Catching his eyes, Derek reaches out to rub their cum together before licking Stiles' body clean.
He huffs at the treatment and squirms. His arms and legs feel heavy but Stiles is pleased. He hums and reaches out for Derek, who is relaxed and watching. For a moment he feels silly, mostly naked and on display.
Lips upturned, Derek leans down to kiss Stiles sweet and soft and for long moments until Stiles is completely relaxed and sighing. Stiles could stay like that, forever but eventually Derek pulls back and tucks himself away. He does the same to Stiles, hands stroking along the length of his body.
Stiles feels loved and cherished and his throat clicks from sudden emotion. Derek crowds him against the couch and holds him in his big lap until Stiles calms down.
*****
Stiles is on hands and knees in the entryway. He's drooled all over the floor, face pressed into the wood and sticky with spit. Knees together and shaking and sore from staying upright in a puddle of slick and cum. Pupils so blown they're slits of gold. He's far past moaning, letting out quiet little groans and blubs of pleasure. A small sob followed by a hiccup. A fresh glob of slick.
The sickly sweet smell of omega arousal and alpha musk is cloying and too much too much for Stiles' sensitive body, soul, he is losing his goddamn mind –he cums again, drenching the floor in more semen.
His hips shake dangerously, but he can't stop from pressing tighter, harder– fuuuck. Derek sucks at his hole, rim loose and leaking, beard burning a fiery trail where he's rubbed his face against Stiles' ass.
Dropping down onto his elbows painfully, claws scratching at the wood, whoops , he tried to hold onto his sanity as Derek slips fingers in along with his tongue. He fingers carefully but thoroughly, pressing against the mouth of his womb. Back bowing, Stiles keens too loudly, cocklet at full attention again.
He can't cum again, he can't, he can't, he can't.
But.
Derek is relentless and intense behind him. Stiles can feel release building much too fast, right-wrong-right.
"Der." He gasps, prying his unfocused eyes open. The alpha continues, unperturbed.
" Der . S'm'thing's not– hahh, there! "
Derek sucks with finality and pulls away to loop an arm around Stiles' waist and manhandles him onto his knees. A fresh splurge of slick down his thighs. A full body shiver.
Sharp teeth caress his neck and shoulder.
"You can cum for me, baby. One last time." Derek murmurs, voice thick and slurred from his canines. His hard dick presses against Stile's ass from the confines of his alpha-cum soaked sweatpants. A little cold. A little wet.
He takes Stiles into a big, warm, calloused hand. He has no mercy, jacking quickly and efficiently. Stiles squirms, no longer locked in a sexlustpheromone haze. He grasps Derek's forearm with both of his hands.
"Der! W-wait!!"
Derek keeps moving, rocking against Stiles' small backside, absently chasing his own pleasure. Alpha arousal is so thick Stiles is choking on it.
"'S okay." Derek responds confidently, rubbing around the crown of Stiles' cocklet.
The feeling keeps building until Stiles cries out and throws his head back, digging his fingers into Derek's forearm. He squirts, all over the floor and raining down on discarded clothing and joining the splooge already there.
Stiles goes boneless, whole weight of his body against Derek's front. The smell of embarrassment cuts through the air, alpha arousal lingering. He turns his face into Derek's neck, crying a little.
"Shhhh." Derek coos, rubbing Stiles' thigh, arm heavy and secure and comforting around his waist. "You did so good. So good. "
In one motion, Derek stands up, holding Stiles close. Still hard. Still leaking in his sweats. He kisses Stiles' temple and stepping over the mess on the floor, says, "Let's go to bed."
Absolutely wrecked and sex-high, Stiles peers at Derek. Hole tingling and clenching, asscheeks beard burnt and smarting. He touches Derek's wet face and responds softly, "I can't. Derek, I can't. "
He can't take a dicking at this point. He can't.
Derek rumbles a low chuckle but says nothing in response. Crossing the small house, he kneels them on the bed. Laying Stiles out, he steps back and out of his stained sweats. His cock slapping against his toned stomach, angry and red. Stiles grips the comforter, a sliver of fear tainting his satisfieddrowsycontent scent. Fire and honey. Whiskey slowly caressing them both.
Derek returns to the bed, pressing foreheads together. "I'm going to knot your legs now." Exhaled as a sigh.
Oh. Oh.
Omega arousal, sudden and jarring in the room. Blooming fast and potent.
Stiles falls back, pulling Derek with him.
"Alpha, alpha. Please, ohmygod!" He says this in a rush, getting his mouth on Derek's, pulling at his hair as they kiss. Derek rocks against Stiles, dick slippery along his soft, chubby stomach.
Stiles suddenly feels out of control, feverish and whorish but he can't stop . He licks into Derek's mouth and they kiss for long moments. He doesn't get hard but his body is heating up, beginning to burn when Derek sits up to take both of his legs in one hand, ankles crossing in his grasp.
Derek slips between his thighs easily–they do this often after all; Stiles sometimes preferring this to penetrative sex. Stiles shivers at memories of rubbing against Derek until he cums, shamelessly taking his own pleasure. Thinks of being in the office and Derek's massive cock in both of his hands and edging the alpha until he's a panting mess of hormones and barely restrained hunger . Thinks of just now–of Derek eating him out for hours.
He doesn't get hard.
The smell of Derek's sex is cloying. Stiles licks his lips, watching Derek's cock slide in and out. Thinks of the time they coupled on Derek's desk, Stiles wheezing from the hand around his throat and moaning so loudly Derek's beta secretary knocked on the door. In and out.
Thinks of their first anniversary fucking in a fancy hotel. Their second. In and out. Their fifth, pressed up naked against a window overlooking the city and gagging for Derek's knot.
More aroused than he can remember, so fucking turned on, but he doesn't get hard.
"Tell me," Derek gasps. In and out . "What you're–fuck, baby–thinking?"
Stiles does with droopy eyes and pulls at his own nipples, Derek thrusting faster, knot starting to grow against his clasped thighs. When the knot catches, Stiles moans and watches hungrily as Derek cums heaps and loads, eyes closed and grunting. Across his cocklet and belly. Across his puffy nipples. There's so much and Stiles loves it. Loves this. Loves Derek.
"Love you." He murmurs and doesn't try to move. Derek nods his agreement, blissed out and sensitive. Opens glowing red eyes. He's still hard against Stile's soft cocklet. Spurts more cum after a moment of grinding.
Derek gets comfortable, doesn't move but to shift minutely. Drowsy, Stiles plays with the mess. Watches Derek sigh and cum a little more. Fingers the knot until he drifts off a little. Wakes up long minutes later to Derek watching him, cock finally softening, knot deflating.
Gently, gently , Derek bends and shifts Stiles' stiff and sore legs, kneading the feeling back into them before standing on his own shaking legs and heading into the bathroom across the hall.
Stiles deflates on the bed. Derek returns and cleans him gently, checking his swollen hole and reddened thighs.
"Okay?" Derek asks in the night, settling them into bed. Nodding Stiles rolls into Derek until they're sharing a pillow, knocking his feet against Derek's shins. Derek moves until his lips press lightly to Stiles' mating scar. He falls asleep like that, breath wet and warm against the skin.
The moon is bright through the open window. Red and brown leaves fall from a gentle breeze.
In the morning Stiles wakes first, blinking owlishly into the early morning light, Derek still pressed against his neck, mouth slack and open. Holding Derek, he falls back asleep.
Honey and ginger in the air. After a moment, whiskey's returning scent.