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“Okay. There’s no need to panic,” Stiles says, his voice raised with tension.
“I’m not panicking,” Derek says with his ever present monotone.
“Just because we are currently stuck in a mountain cabin in the middle of a winter storm and the door is snowed shut does not mean there is cause for alarm.”
“Stiles. You are the only one here that is panicking.”
“OF COURSE I’M PANICKING! We are trapped inside of here for the foreseeable future with limited food, no service, and an unfortunate lack of firewood.”
Plus, he just so happens to be head over heels in love with his unassuming cabin mate, but the other man doesn’t need to know that.
“Look. The storm will pass. We’ll be mindful of our food rations and if need be, I can go outside and hop down from a second story window to go find more wood.”
“That is a phenomenally stupid idea for several reasons, but I’ll just name a few. One, the snow is about five feet deep and you’d be up to your chin in the stuff. That is, of course, unless it’s packed in enough that you land on it like solid ground. I mean, you probably wouldn’t actually break anything because you’d be closer to the window that way, but-“
“Stiles-”
“Two, you probably won’t be able to find any firewood if you can’t see more than five feet in front of you. And three, how the hell are you going to get back in the window after you’ve jumped out of it?”
“Make a rope out of the bed sheets and I’ll climb up.”
“Still doesn’t fix the other problems with that plan,” Stiles reiterates.
“I’m a Hale. We’re tough.”
“Derek… I know you don’t like to talk about this, but-”
“Stiles,” Derek snaps back, not giving Stiles the opportunity to finish his thought. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.”
He storms out of the room and Stiles jolts when he hears the loud slamming of the bedroom door moments later. He sighs and throws himself down on the couch.
He should have known better than to bring up Derek’s little werewolf problem. He doesn’t like to talk about the fact that, despite his entire immediate family being werewolves, the gene seemed to have somehow skipped over him when he was born. Stiles still isn’t really sure how that’s possible considering he has two werewolf parents, but, hey, he supposes people end up with an inexplicable ginger sometimes.
Stiles had made the mistake of bringing it up when he’d first been introduced to the Hale family several years ago after his best friend, Scott, had been bitten by a rogue alpha and had turned into a wolf himself. Talia Hale invited the two of them into her home and accepted Scott into the Hale pack by flashing her red eyes at him. When he flashed his own golden eyes in response, Stiles had marveled at the way everyone else in the room’s eyes seemed to light up the same color. Everyone except for the young (unbearably handsome) man in the corner whose eyes never changed from the strange mix of green, gray, blue that had immediately caught Stiles' eyes when he’d first seen them.
He’d gone up to him during the subsequent celebration where he was in the corner chatting with his older sister and asked, “hey, how come your eyes didn’t light up in there?”
It seemed like a perfectly innocent question. It was intended as one, at least. But Derek had scowled at him before turning away and stomping back to the house without another word to either of them.
“He’s not a werewolf,” Laura told him. “He’s really sensitive about it. He’s the only non-werewolf in six generations.”
Stiles did his best not to bring it up after that, but it was always sort of there…
It was there in the moments when the rest of the pack would quiet down and perk up when interesting conversation was happening elsewhere in the house or someone was coming home after a long day at work. It was there in the moments when the pack would go on full moon runs and Derek would be left behind with Stiles because he couldn’t keep up. It was there when the pack would wrinkle their nose when Derek would enter a room and he’d blush red because everyone could apparently tell that he’d just been having some fun time with his hand (and therefore Stiles knew too, to his great delight and misfortune).
It meant Stiles and Derek, the only humans in the pack, were sort of just naturally clumped together. Which is why they are now finding themselves in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, Canada, looking for some magic stone that Deaton found in one of his ancient texts that apparently has the ability to “reveal what is hidden.” Whatever the fuck that means.
And since Stiles is his apprentice and emissary-in-training thanks to his Spark, he was given the task of flying to Canada to find the stone for his tutor. Derek was volunteered by his mother to come with him, because apparently Stiles needs a babysitter and he and Derek “are always hanging out anyways.”
Alright, no need to rub in the fact that Stiles has absolutely no chill and basically follows his crush around like a lost puppy while Derek barely tolerates his presence.
The snow had started falling before they’d even made it up the long mountain path to the remote cabin that Deaton had rented for them, but luckily it hadn’t blocked their doorway until about an hour after they got inside. And now they’re stuck- without even getting an opportunity to look for the stupid stone.
What a fucking waste of time.
Stiles wallows in his misery, waiting for Derek to calm down and come out the bedroom, but after a few hours his stomach starts growling and he still hasn’t heard from Derek. He sighs and decides he needs to get up and make them some dinner. With a huff, he slaps his hands down on his knees and pushes himself to standing, trudging dramatically into the kitchen and looking through the cans of soup and chili that had been put in the pantry prior to their arrival.
He grabs some chicken noodle and dumps its contents in a pot on the stove. As he waits for it to heat, he looks out the kitchen window toward the large full moon shining brightly enough to be seen even through the TV static sensation of snowfall happening around it.
Stiles loves full moons. He always has. Even before he started hanging out with werewolves who celebrate each full moon as a sacred holiday. There is an energy about it. An electricity. It’s a pull strong enough to move oceans and Stiles can feel it stir in his own chest as he stares at its bright reflection.
With a sigh, he looks away, checking the temperature of the soup and deeming it warm enough. He pours the contents into two bowls and sets them on the table.
“Hey, Derek!” he calls through the bedroom door as he knocks three times.
He’s met with a pained yell.
“Derek?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Shut up!” Derek yells back, his voice strained.
Stiles takes a step back in shock, surprised by the aggressive response. Derek is always growly and grouchy, but he’s never usually so harsh about it.
“Um, okay,” Stiles says softly. “Dinner is in the kitchen if you want it.”
He waits another moment for a response, but when one doesn’t come, he walks resignedly back to the kitchen and digs into his own bowl of soup.
An hour later, his soup is long gone and Derek’s still sits untouched and cold on his unoccupied side of the table. Stiles wrestles with what to do. Derek still seemed pissed last time Stiles checked on him. Really Stiles has no one to blame but himself too. He’s been in Derek’s life for six years and “don’t talk about the werewolf issue” was the very first thing he learned about the guy. Before he’d learned his name even!
Stiles knew better than to bring it up. But in his defense, he’s stressed and panicked and he doesn’t exactly have a filter on a good day, so…
He sighs. He should definitely apologize, shouldn’t he? Especially if he wants to get through the rest of the snowstorm without dealing with their own shitstorm happening inside.
With a shaky breath, he gets up and heads back towards the bedroom. He knocks again, more hesitant this time.
“Hey, Derek?” He calls.
He doesn’t get a response.
“I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I was a dick.”
Nothing.
Starting to get worried, he puts his ear to the door to listen to the other side. From beyond, he hears a series of growls and whimpers that sound distinctly inhuman.
“Derek?” he calls again. “Are you okay in there?”
He hears more whimpers before the sounds erupt into a pained howl. Stiles jolts at the sound.
“Derek?! I’m coming in.”
Stiles gets the door open less than an inch before it is being slammed shut from the other side.
“No,” Derek growls. “Don’t come in here.”
“Derek, what the hell is going on in there?”
“Something’s… wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know… I-“ his words trail off into a whine. “Stay away from me, Stiles.”
Stiles hears footsteps receding as Derek steps away from the door and Stiles only hesitates a moment before he bursts the door open and steps inside.
“Oof!” He grunts as his back is suddenly slammed against the door and a large, growly hunk is suddenly pinned against him. “Derek, what the hell are you doing?”
Derek doesn’t respond. He’s too busy burying his face in Stiles’ neck and taking big whiffs. Stiles starts to panic, worried that he’d gotten too sweaty on the hike and Derek is making a point of how gross he is to get back at him.
Only… Derek doesn’t seem put off by the smell at all. In fact, if the way he’s rolling his hip against Stiles’ is any indication, he seems to be… really enjoying the smell.
“What is happening right now?” Stiles demands as he looks down and realizes that Derek is wearing nothing but a thin white t-shirt and some slowly tenting boxers.
“Mmmmm,” Derek moans, his voice vibrating against Stiles’ jugular. “Mmmate.”
Stiles’ stomach drops. He’s been around werewolves long enough to know exactly what it looks like when they find their mate.
But Derek isn’t-
“Derek… are you shifting right now?”
Derek growls low in his throat and moves his nose up and down against Stiles’ throat in a nod.
“Okay. Holy shit.”
This is… unheard of. A twenty-eight year old born wolf shifting for the first time.
But, somehow, even weirder is the fact that Derek’s newly formed wolf seems to recognise Stiles as its mate.
“This is insane,” Stiles yelps as Derek licks a stripe along his neck. “You can barely stand to be around me.”
“Lie,” Derek grumbles, his hands running up and down Stiles’ sides.
“Uh, no,” Stiles insists. “Not a lie. You hate being stuck with me all the time.”
“Lie,” Derek repeats.
Stiles scowls, getting annoyed now. “Alright, why don’t you listen to my heart and see if you detect a lie, wolfman?”
Derek lifts his head and looks at Stiles as if that’s the most magnificent idea he’s ever heard. He presses his ear against Stiles’ chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist as he listens.
“So beautiful,” he mutters.
If anything, that just makes Stiles’ heart beat harder.
“Derek. Get off,” he gasps suddenly, pushing the older man away.
He knows it’s a mistake as soon as he sees the wounded puppy look on Derek’s face, but he just needs a minute to sit with everything before he lets anything happen between them.
“Don’t look at me like that, sourwolf. We just need to figure all of this out before you continue all the sniffing and humping, alright?”
Derek keeps frowning, but he nods, shaking his head as if he’s trying to snap out of some kind of spell.
“Okay,” Stiles exhales, going over and sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. Derek follows him tentatively, keeping a suitable distance from him. “So first thing’s first, you’re a werewolf now.”
“I guess I am,” Derek says, sounding hopeful and confused in equal measure.
“Do you have any idea how that could have happened? I mean, I’m not exactly an expert, but in all my studies I have never come across a case of a born wolf having their first shift at nearly thirty-years-old. It’s unheard of.”
Derek sighs, but doesn’t speak at first and Stiles figures that’s a sign that he isn’t going to. It’s silent for several long minutes as Stiles tries to think of explanations for this sudden change.
It startles him enough that he jolts a bit when he hears Derek’s voice. “My mom told me it was a curse,” he says. “She said that before I was born, a witch cursed her so that her first born son would never know his wolf.”
“Shit,” Stiles can’t help but say. Maybe not the most tactful response, but he’s never really gotten any sort of explanation on Derek’s lack of wolf and he’d just assumed it was a biological issue. Like recessive genes and shit. Not a fucking witch’s curse! “Does anyone else know?”
Derek shakes his head. “Just Mom and Dad. Mom told me one night when I was really upset on a full moon. I think I was… fourteen? She said she never planned on telling me, but she hated me thinking there was something wrong with me when it wasn’t my fault at all.”
“That must have been hard to hear.”
“It was. I mean, it stopped me from blaming myself, but… well, it was easier to blame my mom than some faceless witch back then. I think she knew that would happen, but she told me anyway because she’d rather I hate her than myself. I’ve never loved my mom more than I did the day I figured that out.”
Stiles sits silently as he tries to wrap its head around this new information and how it could relate to the current situation. He thinks about the environment they are in- the only new factor in Derek’s life as far as he can tell- and it dawns on him.
“The stone- It’s supposed to ‘reveal what is hidden,’ right?”
“Yeah?”
“So maybe you always had a wolf in you, but the witch’s curse… like, hid it? Or suppressed it, I guess.”
Derek’s eyes go wide. “So… maybe being this close to it-“
“-and on the full moon no less…”
“…maybe it broke the curse?” Derek says, voice dripping with wonder. He chokes on a laugh, his eyes shiny with tears.
Stiles can’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by the beauty of the man before him. The man he’s spent so long fantasizing about, but never truly believing he could have.
“And…” he starts, his voice shaky. “Your wolf is telling you that I’m your… mate?”
Derek looks him in the eye, his own eyes earnest as he says, “yes. God, Stiles, the second I caught a whiff of your smell it was like… I just knew it all at once. It’s killing me to keep away from you right now.”
Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. Christ, the amount of nights he has spent dreaming that those very words would come out of Derek’s mouth. That the man who is so closed off would tear down his intricate walls just for Stiles. And now it’s happening. It’s actually happening.
But-
“You can see why I’d be wary though, right, Derek? I mean, you never seem to want me around. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret just because your wolf wants it and you don’t know how to control it on the full moon yet.”
Derek sighs. “Stiles… I’ve always wanted you.”
Stiles blinks at him. “What?”
“I’ve always felt… drawn to you, but I didn’t get why until now. Now that I can hear and feel my wolf- I get it now.”
Stiles lets out a long exhale. “That is… surprising information to say the least, Derek. I mean, you really made it seem like you hated me, dude.”
“I just… I guess I never felt… good enough. I was always less than everyone in my family. I thought you deserved better.”
“ Better?! Than you ?!?! Derek, werewolf or not, I absolutely could not do better. You are the bravest, wisest person I know and you’re secretly a major fluff ball even though you try so hard to hide it and… Derek, I’ve been in love with you for years. I was in love with you yesterday when you were still human and I’ll be in love with you tomorrow.”
Derek perks up at the admission, taking it as permission to nuzzle back into Stiles’ neck.
“Stiles, you smell so good,” he grumbles. “I’ve never felt like this before. I feel… out of control.”
Stiles hums, his heart singing as he leans back and lets himself fall on the mattress with Derek pressed on top of him.
“I want you so bad,” Derek breathes, his tongue coming out to lap at his neck.
“You’re sure this is you you and not just… wolf you?”
Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye again. “Last July 4th, you wore tiny little banana swim shorts to the lake and everyone made fun of you, but I stormed off and swam to the middle of the lake because I started visibly clubbing up the second I saw you in those stupid things.”
“No!” Stiles gasps in disbelief.
“ Yes,” Derek emphasizes. “I was so embarrassed. They were so ugly, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how your legs looked in them. How round your ass looked. It made me crazy.”
“Holy shit. That is baffling information. You really liked me that long ago?”
“I’ve liked you since you offered to make me a s’more on your first full moon with the pack and somehow ended up setting yourself on fire while roasting a marshmallow.”
“Wow… not gonna lie, you have some weird turn ons.”
“I know. Believe me.”
“I’m not complaining, though,” Stiles quickly adds. “I’ve liked you… well, basically since I saw you. But I was pretty sure I loved you on that one afternoon when I got a stomach bug and you let me sleep in your bed and took care of me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you can do something like that and still believe you aren’t good enough for me.”
“No one is good enough for you, Stiles.”
Stiles slips his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugs so Derek is facing him fully.
“You are,” he says with no room for argument. “You are.”
Derek’s breaths turn heavy and labored and when he opens it, Stiles can see that his fangs have fully popped out. “Stiles, I am going crazy with the urge to claim you right now.”
Stiles looks at Derek. He looks at the gold brightening his eyes for the first time in his life. He hasn’t fully shifted, not yet. Stiles is pretty sure it’s because he’s been holding himself back since he told him to get off earlier. That must have triggered some level of control in the newborn wolf, some desperate need to please his mate that was stronger than the pull of the moon.
He remembers Scott’s first moon as a wolf. He remembers him being aggressive and impulsive all afternoon and only calming down when his alpha roared at him. Without his alpha to keep him in line, Derek should be going crazy right now. Realistically, he should be far too out of control to hold back from getting off like he wants to.
It’s that fact that has Stiles saying, “then claim me, Derek. I’m yours.”
Derek’s lips are on Stiles’ in an instant. He feels it like lightning striking his body. It’s like the jolt that revived Frankenstein’s monster, making him born anew. He opens his mouth against Derek’s and feels his tongue sliding inside possessively. Hungrily.
Stiles can’t help but moan at the sensation, his hands coming up to burrow in Derek’s hair, gripping tightly and knowing it’ll hardly be felt now that Derek has enhanced strength and healing. Derek’s hips begin to rut against his leg and Stiles mirrors the movement against Derek’s own leg, his body feeling as on fire as that stupid s’more that apparently was way more relevant to the history of their relationship than he ever would have guessed.
Stiles wants to whine when Derek’s lips separate from his own, but the sound is quickly replaced with a high pitched keen as Derek starts nibbling and sucking on his neck.
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles whines, his toes curling where they are pressed against the mattress.
Derek’s hands start to slide under Stiles’ overshirt, pushing up all of his layers so that his stomach is fully exposed. Derek sucks a bruise into his collarbone before pulling off to take off Stiles’ tops.
And just like that Stiles hates the cold more than anything.
Why the fuck is he wearing so many layers?!
Derek doesn’t seem too pleased either as he growls his way through pulling off the top layer before giving up and shredding the undershirt and the thermal undershirt with his newly formed wolf claws.
“Hey!” Stiles exclaims. “I’m kind of gonna need those.”
“Hmmm, I’ll keep you warm,” Derek grumbles, his voice inhumanly low as he leans down so that his breath is brushing against his belly. “I’m hot now.”
“Well, you’re always hot,” Stiles jokes. “But that’s not gonna help me when we need to get out of here.”
“You can wear mine. I’ll survive.”
Stiles rolls his eyes even as his heart flutters. “That’s… very stupid, but also kind of sweet.”
Derek hums in agreement and presses a kiss to Stiles’ ribs. “Can I take the rest off?” he asks, his voice hopeful and pleading.
“If you promise not to shred them, yeah.”
Derek sighs, but takes great care to keep his claws away from the fabric of Stiles’ jeans, peeling them off slowly before repeating the process with his long underwear until Stiles is wearing nothing but his boxers.
“Can I return the favor?” Stiles asks, feeling incredibly vulnerable being laid bare for Derek while the older man is still fully clothed.
Derek is eyeing Stiles’ bulge with poorly concealed interest, but he nods his consent as he licks his lips.
Stiles sits up and starts frantically working off Derek’s shirt.
Luckily, Derek seems to have already shed several layers, probably due to his wolfy transition, and Stiles only has to pull off a thin t-shirt before the man’s gorgeous, rock hard abs are on display.
Stiles’ runs his hands along them with such fervor he’d probably be embarrassed if it hadn’t been revealed that this is his mate’s abs he’s feeling. They are all his to touch and ogle at for the rest of time.
Um, score!
He wraps his fingers around the elastic of Derek’s boxers, feeling suddenly shaky with nerves as the reality of this hits him. He’s about to have sex with Derek Hale. He’s about to be claimed by Derek Hale. Like, in a wolfy, bitey kind of way. That is huge!
“Are you having second thoughts?” Derek asks, his voice full of worry.
Stiles looks up at his eyes, which have gone back to their usual kaleidoscope of green and gray and he smiles.
“No,” Stiles answers honestly, shaking his head. “I just still can’t believe this is happening.”
Derek smiles back warmly, bringing a hand up to caress Stiles’ cheek. “Me too. I thought I’d have to keep you at arm’s length for the rest of my life.”
Stiles groans and presses his forehead into Derek’s lower belly. “I wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you couldn’t have me. We could have been doing this the whole time!”
“We can make up for it now,” Derek says, running a hand through Stiles’ hair then leaning forward to kiss the top of his head.
Stiles smirks mischievously at him as he yanks Derek’s boxers down so his thick, hard cock comes springing out. “Got nothing better to do ‘til the snow clears, I guess.” Before Derek can respond, Stiles leans forward and licks at the slit of his dick.
Derek gasps, then groans as Stiles wraps his lips around his head and suckles lightly. He only allows it for a few moments before he pushes Stiles back onto the mattress and pulls his boxers off as well. He immediately presses his nose into Stiles groins and breathes in greedy lungfuls of Stiles’ natural musk. His breath tickles against the coarse hair there and Stiles would be tempted to giggle if he wasn’t also incredibly turned on by the act. When Derek’s tongue starts licking along Stiles’ inner thigh, he can’t help but yelp at the sensation. He’s always been sensitive there and Derek seems to delight in learning that fact.
Then, Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’ thighs and pushes them up so he is completely exposed to him.
Stiles may not have the most active sex life, but he’s had his fair share of flings and hookups in his life. And yet, no one has ever done what Derek does when he presses his tongue flat against Stiles’ hole and licks.
“Wooah my god,” Stiles gasps, his back arching as a surge of electricity rolls through him. “That! Keep doing that! Oh my god! That’s fucking- fuck!”
Stiles can feel Derek’s lips turning up in a smile before his tongue starts to go to town, lapping and sucking and fucking past the tight ring of muscle as soon as Stiles is loose enough. It’s like nothing Stiles has ever felt before.
He starts writhing and squealing nonsense until Derek hardens his grip on him so he can’t move from where the werewolf wants him. After that, he has no choice but to clench his fists in the sheets to stop himself from losing it at the unfamiliar euphoric feeling.
When Stiles is sopping wet from Derek’s saliva and his body relaxed, Derek presses a finger in alongside his tongue. He slowly inches it inside ‘til it’s fully sheathed inside and then he starts fucking Stiles with his finger and his tongue. Stiles moans at the stretch and pants as his body feels like it's burning from the pleasure.
He feels a second finger begin to press in next to the first before the ministrations stop entirely. Stiles looks down in confusion and frustration, about to ask Derek why he stopped, when he sees a contemplative expression on the older man’s face.
“Please tell me you packed lube,” Derek says. “I want to make sure you feel good.”
Stiles whines, not really wanting to use the brain power necessary to think about and answer the question, but he points to his backpack on the floor in the corner and says, “front pocket.”
Derek is there and back in the blink of an eye, popping the cap off and squirting a glob on his fingers before getting right back to work with a single minded focus on Stiles’ ass.
With the combination of spit and lube, the way is made smooth for Derek and it doesn’t take long until he’s got three fingers pumping in and out of Stiles.
“Do you want me to wear a condom?” Derek asks. “I didn’t have anything last time I was tested and I’m pretty sure it’d be irrelevant now if I did.”
Stiles shakes his head. “No. No condom. Not for this,” he says, before adding, “I’m clean, too, by the way.”
Derek nods and leans forward to give Stiles a deep, reassuring kiss before lining himself up and pressing inside.
It feels amazing.
Like nothing Stiles has ever felt before. It’s like Derek was made to fit perfectly inside of him. And he supposes, since they’re mates (he’ll never get over that fact), he was.
As he presses to the hilt, Derek pushes his face up against Stiles’ neck again, familiarizing himself with the spot where he’ll be putting his mating bite soon enough.
“You feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he breathes, echoing Stiles’ thoughts.
“Mmm, Derek, I need you to move,” Stiles gasps.
Derek does as he’s told, pulling out and pushing back in with a few slow, powerful thrusts before he begins to pick up a quicker, steadier rhythm, hitting Stiles' prostate with every other thrust.
“I’m not hurting you am I?” Derek asks. “I’m not sure how strong I am now.”
“Not hurting. If anything, you can go harder.”
Derek takes the note, thrusting harder into Stiles, even though it’s very clear he’s holding himself back from his full potential.
That’s okay. Stiles will let him get comfortable with his new abilities before he demands they bring that werewolf strength into the bedroom.
The room is silent apart from the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Stiles’ near-constant stream of consciousness as he moves nearer and nearer to his peak. He’s pretty sure he’s about to come when he suddenly feels himself being stretched inexplicably wider.
“Holy shit!” Derek gasps, before Stiles has a chance to question what’s happening. He stops his thrusts and pulls out, his eyes wide as they look at his own dick.
“What? What is it?” Stiles asks, sitting up so he can see what Derek is freaking out about. “Holy shit!” he repeats when he sees a ring around the base that is beginning to inflate. “Is that a knot?!”
Derek’s eyes go wide as he finally looks at Stiles. “I didn’t even think- I’ve never had to worry about this before.”
“I thought knots were just for alphas.”
Derek shakes his head. “All wolves are able to knot when they are with their mate.”
“Huh. Interesting,” Stiles ponders, leaning forward to get a closer look at it.
“It’s not a zoo animal,” Derek snaps self-consciously, covering himself from Stiles’ gaze.
“What? I’ve never seen one before! Sue me for being curious.”
Derek sighs heavily and throws his head in his hands. “Maybe we should stop.”
“What? Why?” Stiles asks dejectedly.
“Because you didn’t sign up for a knot and I don’t know how to control it yet.”
Stiles ponders it for a few moments before deciding, “I don’t mind.”
Derek peaks out from beneath his hands to look at him incredulously. “You don’t?”
“No,” he says assertively. “In fact, I think it sounds kind of hot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’d be fine if-”
“More than fine. It feels right, doesn’t it? Being locked together when I become yours forever.”
Derek smiles warmly at him, his cheeks going slightly pink. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Stiles grins brightly. “Well then, get back in me and knot me, Der-bear.”
“We are not doing, Der-bear,” Derek protests, although he gets back in position anyways. “That’s not going to be a thing.”
“Sure it’s not- oh!” Stiles' words are replaced by a shout as Derek shoves all the way back inside him in one big thrust. He hardly has time to adjust before Derek is back at his relentless rhythm. Stiles can feel the knot getting bigger and bigger with every thrust, pulling at and stretching his rim in painful pleasure as he quickly approaches his orgasm.
“Hmm, Stiles,” Derek gasps, the knot almost too big to move in and out. He presses his teeth against Stiles’ sensitive, kiss bitten neck and the younger man can feel the sharp points of fangs brushing against his skin.
“Do it,” Stiles insists breathlessly.
Derek comes with a roar, his knot popping into Stiles’ hole and his fangs biting down on the point where Stiles’ neck meets his shoulder, breaking through flesh and claiming Stiles as his forever.
It’s enough to send Stiles following him right over the edge and he screams as his orgasm bursts through him like an explosion.
It takes him a minute to come back to reality, but when he does he sees Derek looking down at him adoringly.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
Stiles takes stock of himself, feeling where Derek’s knot is still locked inside of him and the fresh wound on his shoulder that Derek seems to have licked clean while Stiles was out of it.
“I am way better than okay, Derek. That was the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life!”
Derek chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it.” He leans forward a bit to nuzzle against Stiles’ jaw. “I thought so, too. With all my senses heightened… that was… unreal. You are unreal, Stiles.”
Stiles hums and tilts his head to press a kiss to Derek’s lips.
“How long does the knot last?”
“How the hell should I know? I’ve never had one before.”
“You never asked?”
“Asked who, Stiles? My parents?”
“Yeah, okay, fair enough.”
“Are you getting uncomfortable?”
“No. Not really,” Stiles responds. “But I imagine the cum on my stomach is going to start bothering me soon if I don’t get cleaned up.”
Derek looks around and grabs the nearest piece of clothing he can find. He wipes his boxers across Stiles’ stomach then tosses it to the floor.
“You take such good care of me,” Stiles says appreciatively.
“I like taking care of you,” Derek admits bashfully.
“Aww, such a good mate,” Stiles teases, ruffling Derek’s hair.
“Shut up,” Derek grumbles.
“But really, though. I’m glad it’s you. I never wanted it to be anyone else.”
Derek smiles and presses another kiss to his lips. “Me too. It was always you, Stiles.”