Dr. Deaton had a long and tiring morning. He woke up early to oversee the arrival of their supplies in the harbor, looking through everything to make sure that there was nothing suspicious or amiss.
So far there have never been anything wrong, but well. With the political atmosphere on both sides of the ocean being what it was, it was better to be safe than sorry.
There were plenty of people who would have loved to see his sanctuary of the supernatural go up in flames.
Being located on international water was both a blessing and hindrance. On one hand, no countries ‘hunting laws’ applied, on the other, it was incredibly hard to find people willing to ship necessities to them. Thankfully, even after the failed werewolf rebellion, there were a few people with ties to the supernatural who were willing to help.
It took hours to sort through everything, and then it was back to the manor. It was a huge building in british colonial style - the island having been a vacation spot for a family of aristocrats back in the day - but inside it was completely modernized. Dr. Deaton had a mission, and that mission was to hopefully conserve every kind of supernatural creature. He was hoping that with time the laws in the outside world would mellow out, and all the different species could be reintegrated into human society.
The work was tireless, but he believed it to be worth it, especially when it came to creatures so very, very rare like his newest project. Werefoxes.
Dr. Deaton had a quick breakfast and then went to Stiles’ room. The young man - maybe around nineteen - was the latest addition to the island’s population. He had arrived with the supply ship, in an unmarked pet carrier. For a week or two Dr. Deaton haven’t been sure if he was really only a fox, or if he was supernatural, and even though he had no information about the boy’s previous life, he could guess that it must have been traumatic.
It took him almost a month to coax him back to human form.
As much as he wanted to deny it, he had the suspicion that Stiles would never be able to function as a human again. He was obviously intelligent, though he had a hard time forming words. He was friendly - after he got to know people - but had no respect for personal space or societal conventions.
Dr. Deaton was honestly heartbroken that Stiles would never be able to live with humans again. But that didn’t mean that all hope for werefoxes was lost, because the boy happened to be an omega.
If they wanted to save the species, Dr. Deaton would have to find a breeder for him. The task seemed impossible at first. Werefoxes were rare even before the Were’ Wars and he didn’t think there were even a hundred of them scattered around the globe now.
Thankfully he had the biggest supernatural library in the world, and a always, that made all the difference.
Stiles was perched on a treetrunk outside his room. Most of the living quarters had small, high walled gardens, filled with things they enjoyed. For water nymphs they had ponds, for goblins a few rocks they could work on… for Stiles it was a small space with trees, things to climb, and a nice little piece left open to dig a hole into.
“Hello there,” Dr. Deaton greeted him, smiling softly. The boy perked up, cute, upturned nose twitching. He could probably smell the treats in the doctor’s pocket.
“Hi,” Stiles said with a wide grin, coming inside. It was hard to put a finger on it, but even his walk had something animalistic in it. There was no way he could go unnoticed among humans.
Stiles was only capable of saying a few words. ‘Hi’ and his name being two of them. He mostly communicated with his mobile, expressive face, and a generous amount of yipping and barking.
“Hi,” he said again, walking a few circles around the man, sniffing. That suspicion would probably never go away, but that was okay.
After he saw that Stiles was satisfied with his person, he gently pulled the boy to the mattress in the corner. Originally, Stiles had a bed, but they quickly found out that he would not sleep in it.
“Come on, let’s have a talk.”
Stiles frowned - they came to understand that he could comprehend everything, he only had problems with articulating his thoughts - but followed obediently, eyes wandering back to his pocket from time to time. It made Dr. Deaton smile.
Stiles made a questioning sound, probably trying to repeat the last word, but ending up with a barked little ‘takk.’
“Yes, come on.”
Dr. Deaton sat down in the corner, waiting to see what Stiles will do. The boy shifted in place for a few seconds, but the climbed after him, snuggling up close to the man’s side. He was a surprisingly affectionate creature.
The doctor put a careful arm around him, letting the boy curl up in a ball.
Stiles made a little sound that he knew signaled agreement.
“Good. We have to talk about your future.”
The werefox went still, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Dr. Deaton smiled encouragingly.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad… Stiles, you’re an omega, you know what that means?”
The boy blinked and then flushed, wiggling his butt a bit. He had to take that as a yes.
“You will go into heat, and your body will want to be mated. Nothing bad will happen if you don’t. You will have a few miserable days, and then everything will be back to normal.”
Stiles nodded, hiding his face in Dr. Deaton’s side.
“But, as I told you before, I would like to make sure that supernatural creatures don’t go extinct. I hope that in the future humans and you guys can live together again without anyone getting hurt.”
The boy snorted. He didn’t have great faith in Dr. Deaton’s plans, but thankfully accepted them to be the truth.
“Werefoxes are very, very rare. If there are some out there, they are very few, constantly on the run from humans. So… I would like to ask you to breed with someone.”
Now that made Stiles jerk. He sat up, looking at Dr. Deaton with an unreadable, still expression.
“Fox?” Stiles asked, one of the other words he knew. It broke the man’s heart to tell him no.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but there are no werefoxes on the island other than you,” he said, feeling a bit guilty for getting his hopes up when he saw the boy’s face crumble. Thankfully Stiles didn’t get angry, quickly climbing into his lap for comfort.
Dr. Deaton petted his back, sincerely hoping that his plans wouldn’t backfire.
Stiles made an inquiring noise, probably confused about what the doctor meant if there were no other of his kind around.
“I did some research. It seems like you would be able to produce offsprings with other creatures. Werewolves, to be exact.”
The boy didn’t make a sound, but Dr. Deaton thought he was a little tense. So far, Stiles hadn’t reacted well to other species. There were plenty of weres working on the island,but he didn’t seem comfortable around them. At all. He did tolerate Scott, but then again, Dr. Deaton wasn’t sure anyone could dislike his assistant.
“I won’t force you. But, if you decide to have pups, there’s a seventy percent chance they would be foxes.”
There was also around twenty percent chance that they would be werewolves and ten that they would be humans, but that wasn’t the point.
Stiles made a little yippy sound.
“You don’t have to decide now, but I expect your heat to come in the next month or so. I just want you to know your options.”
“Alan, what brings you to my humble rooms?” Peter asked as soon as he walked in. Dr. Deaton averted his eyes as the man went to get his bathrobe - changing just a second before from his wolf form.
He wasn’t really modest, he just liked to remind Peter that it wasn’t polite.
“I need to discuss something with you,” the doctor said. He wasn’t sure Peter would agree. He was a curious man. Perfectly well adjusted, cunning and ruthless.
Except he just didn’t want to live among humans. Well, and there was the fact that he sometimes lost his temper and completely wolfed out when he felt himself threatened by them. Past trauma.
“Go on then,” Peter said, sitting down on his couch. He had one of the nicer rooms, thanks to having the intellectual capacities to take care of his things - thanks to the war most of the island’s endangered residents were feral. He was actually a bit of a neat-freak in Alan’s opinion.
“I’ve told you about Stiles, I believe?”
“Ah,” Peter raised an eyebrow. Yes, Dr. Deaton was forced to talk to him about the boy, because Peter started behaving… uncharacteristically interested when he smelled him on Alan’s clothes.
“ Ah , indeed. He’s going to go into heat soon.”
The werewolf leaned back, looking casual, but he couldn’t fool the doctor. The thing about Peter was that his wolf was always right there, a hairbreadth away from the surface. And what Dr. Deaton could see right now was extreme attention in every line of his body.
“What is that have to do with me?”
Alan knew that he was on dangerous ground. Peter was not particularly predictable on his best days.
“Well, as you might now, there are no other foxes on the island.”
Peter was looking at him with cool, calculating eyes.
There was no sense in dancing around the subject.
“Meaning that if he is to have children, he would have to be bred by a werewolf.”
Dr. Deaton could see that Stiles was nervous, clinging to his arm as they walked the halls. It wasn’t surprising, considering that the boy was about to meet his heat-mate for the first time.
Peter accepted, of course, and he didn’t even put too much effort into playing hard to get.
“Come on, we’re almost there,” he said, rubbing the boy’s shoulders as they walked. For once they managed to wrestle Stiles into a T-shirt. Usually he was all too happy to just hang around in a pair of loose boxers - if even that.
The boy bit his lips, restless fingers pulling on the hem of his clothes.
“You’re going to like him,” Alan told him confidently. He had no doubt at all, but he also knew that it was little comfort. “And, if you don’t you can just go back to your room. You will have other heats and we will find you someone who fits.”
Finally that seemed to calm Stiles down a little.
Just in time, because they’ve reached their destination. Dr. Deaton put in the code and the door opened, revealing Peter standing in the entrance of the garden. He looked all casual again, but Alan would have bet a fortune that he put a lot of thought into the pose.
For a second he thought Stiles would bolt. The boy was stock still, muscles tensed to run.
Before Alan could do anything, Peter stepped closer, stopping in the middle of his room.
“You must be Stiles,” he said, grinning. There was something animalistic in the gesture - too many teeth - and surprisingly that was the thing that broke the ice.
The werefox moved slowly, shifting closer inch-by-inch. He was sniffing the air curiously. Dr. Deaton didn’t visit that often, so it was possible that this was the first time he could catch the other man’s scent.
Stiles circled Peter, keeping out of grabbing range, but it was obvious that his whole body was thrumming with excitement. Even though they cut things a bit close, Alan didn’t think it was only the heat.
The werewolf was much the same, eyes following the boy’s every move.
When Stiles finished his round, his eyes cut over to Alan, shining with mischief and then he darted over to the werewolf, pecking him on the lips as fast as lightning.
Dr. Deaton couldn’t help chuckling, especially when he saw Peter’s shocked expression.
Well, that was settled then. All he had to do now was leave and trust nature to do the rest.
Peter barely heard the door clicking closed as Alan left. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than the sweet, spicy scent clogging up his nose and making his head spin.
Stiles was looking around, hands loose by his side as he inspected Peter’s quarters. He knew that the boy lived in a place a bit more… sparse. He hoped to hell that he wouldn’t ruin anything here.
“Come here, little one. Let me look at you,” he said finally. He didn’t completely understand it himself, but he just… he wanted the boy close. His wolf was restless, shifting under his skin.
Stiles turned, looking at him with a sort of calculation he could appreciate. And the next second the boy was off, disappearing into the small garden with a bark-ish laugh that set Peter’s blood boiling in the best way.
Oh, it seemed he would have to catch his mate first…
The wolf. The wolf caught him easily, Stiles knew he could have done it under a minute, but the wolf played along, chased him around - even when he tracked mud into his room. Stiles had a feeling that the wolf didn’t like it when his den got untidy.
It had been the most fun he had in ages. But. But in the end he had to lose. Not just because the wolf was stronger and faster, but because his own blood was calling, telling him to just give in and show the soft meat of his underbelly.
He had been scared when Dr. Deaton first told him that he would have to mate. Well, that he could. He’d been alone for so long, barely even remembering what it was like to be close to someone. Foxes were solitary creatures, but they were part human and humans were social. It was a constant duality that was hard to solve.
He came with the intention to turn the wolf away, hoping that the doctor would save him if it got mad, but the second he could smell the man… He couldn’t really explain it. Something in his belly started itching and he knew instinctively that this one would be it.
He ended up on his back, tackled from behind and thrown to the bed. It wasn’t exactly gentle treatment, but it wasn’t threatening either. The wolf was… more wolf-like. Hairier and growly and exactly what Stiles’ fox wanted. He could feel his own canines dropping - maybe not that impressive, but still sharp and pointy.
The wolf grinned. His hands were large and warm as they pushed his clothes out of the way. Stiles helped. Clothes were annoying, especially when all he wanted was to be out of them.
He could barely wait until both of them were naked to turn on his belly. The wolf almost stopped him for a second, but when Stiles got his knees under him and pushed his ass up the man growled, deep and sweet. In a second, he was over Stiles, enveloping his lighter body with his own.
He was big and strong, and smelled so good that Stiles had to close his eyes and just breath. Even the scent alone was almost like an orgasm. His bottom felt hot, hole wet and incredibly sensitive when the wolf brushed the pad of his thumb over his entrance.
The wolf was saying something. It was garbled over his fangs, and to be honest, Stiles wasn’t so good with decoding human speech right now. He got like that sometimes, when he was overwhelmed.
He yipped back pushing his ass out more, hoping that whatever it was it wouldn’t stop things from happening.
The wolf huffed and the next thing Stiles knew was the glorious feeling of the head of his cock pressing against his hole. He couldn’t stop whining, knowing that he sounded needy. But it had to be okay, because he felt like he would just die if he didn’t get it inside of him soon.
A part of him knew that his heat must have started, kicked into motion by finding a suitable partner, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the emptiness inside him, aching to be filled.
Thankfully, the wolf was not playing around. He pushed in in one smooth motion, knocking the breath out of Stiles. Not because it hurt, but because it felt so… right.
It was a hot, messy blur after that.
He clawed up the pillows in his desperation to find something to hold onto as the wolf started fucking him. He wasn’t violent, going fast but steady, taking care to drag his cock just right along his inner walls until Stiles could see stars from the sheer pleasure of it.
His hole kept clenching down, dripping all over the sheets under them from being so turned on. His cock was hard too, but it was almost like an afterthought, all of his attention taken up by how his ass was feeling.
At first the man kept talking. Stiles couldn’t understand a word, but just the tone of his voice - gritty and molten - was enough for him to know that it was something dirty. But then, when the wolf’s knot finally started forming, he lost his voice too, reduced to grunting and growling and nipping on Stiles’ shoulder. And that was something he understood clearly.
It was mostly instinct that made him clench his hole again and again, squeezing down on that fat knot when he felt the first stream of come hitting his insides. The wolf liked that. He liked that very much.
The last thing Stiles remembered was the man’s rough hand reaching under him, palming at his neglected cock. He came on the second stroke, body tensing up, twitching around the wolf’s cock as the pleasure washed over him. After that… it was comforting darkness.
Alan left them alone as long as he could, telling the staff to steer clear of Peter’s quarters, but as much as he wanted to give them their privacy, he was a doctor and he was responsible for both of their well being.
He had to admit that he was a bit nervous when he opened the door next morning, and wasn’t even surprised when the first thing he heard was Peter growling viciously from inside.
“It’s me. I just want to make sure that you’re both okay,” he said, trying to sound as non-threatening as he possibly could.
It took a few seconds, but the growling stopped and he stepped in.
Stiles and Peter was still in bed. Well, that was a bit generous. They were in what remained of the bed. All of the pillows, blankets, even Peter’s spare clothes were dragged there, making a small nest just big enough for them to curl up in.
He could only see Peter’s shoulder at first, and a pair of blazing blue eyes watching him intently from the nest.
“Stiles?” he asked, just to make sure that everything was fine. The nest was a good sign, but it never hurt to double check.
There was a bit of rustling and then the boy poked his head out. His hair was standing up every-which-way, and his eyes were puffy from sleep. His nose twitched, like he was making sure that it was really Alan and not some imposter.
“Go,” he whined finally, disappearing under the blankets again. Peter grumbled in satisfaction.
“I will have some food brought over,” he said, before backing out slowly.
Well. It was time to read up on werefox delivery.