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Trick, Then Treat

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Stiles looked around the crowded area as he sipped his drink. It wasn’t very strong, which he was grateful for. Lord knows he doesn’t want to be drunk when half the people were already drunk enough for the other half.

The Halloween party was a big mingle of old high school classmates and older people that lived in town. Lydia’s invite was inside her huge house. It was very cold, like most Californian nights, so he didn’t get the scantily clad costumes the women insisted on wearing. Not that he didn’t appreciate the view. Still, practicality had to take place at some point. The heater helped, but the door was constantly opening and closing, letting in the icy air from outside.

“Dude, there you are!” Scott’s voice carried as he walked fast over to where Stiles was. “Nice costume.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, a reply he’d made countless times that night. Nearly everyone who’d seen him said the same thing. If he knew dressing up as a steampunk robot would have been this cool, he’d have done it a lot sooner. His costume was basically a suit that fit him nicely and had the feel of Victorian England. His top hat had brass goggles and his face paint, courtesy of Lydia, was incredible. The outlines on his face made his cheekbones stand out and he had to say he found himself feeling good about the choice.

“I came to find you for the party, man,” Scott said, taking his arm and leading him towards the exit.

“Aren’t we at the party?” Stiles asked, confused.

“Not this one,” Scott said, “the werewolf party at Derek’s place.”

“What werewolf party,” Stiles said, nearly indignant at not knowing and huffing an annoyed breath.

“I thought you knew,” Scott said, glancing back. “I was sure Erika or Boyd would have told you already. It was their idea and they begged Derek for a whole month to let them have it.”

“I’ve only recently been able to see you,” Stiles said as they got into his Jeep and headed to Derek’s place. “Work’s been busy and my dad has been wanting company, too.”

“Well, some other werewolves from a different town are there already, and they’ve brought powerful drinks that can get us drunk,” Scott said excitedly. “You know how hard that is for us.”

“And Derek’s okay with letting other wolves come over on his territory?” Stiles asked, barely believing it.

“He said he’s actually on good terms with the betas, so yeah,” Scott supplied, his eagerness rubbing off on Stiles. Stiles was actually really looking forward to the party. It was sort of a dud at Lydia’s place. And he had wondered why none of the werewolves were there.

“What about Lydia,” Stiles asked, feeling like a bad friend for leaving her party without even saying goodbye. “Does she know about the party?”

“Of course,” Scott said. “She’s closing down that one in fifteen minutes and heading over after that.”

“Oh,” was all Stiles said, not really able to think of a different response. How was he the only one who hadn’t known about the party? Well, Scott did tell him about it, but he had assumed he had meant Lydia’s. But still, Erika, Isaac, and Boyd hadn’t mentioned anything to him the few times he had gotten to see them the past month. He was pretty busy, though, so maybe he had only heard it in passing and thought they had meant Lydia’s party instead of their own. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

That feeling didn’t last long when he and Scott finally made it to the clearing about two acres behind Derek’s newly renovated house.

“Stiles!!” came the combined chorus of the three werewolves when they saw him.

“Where have you been?” Erika asked, quickly making her way over, her pirate hat and short costume pulled back by her brisk pace. "We’ve been expecting you! And you didn’t disappoint with the costume. It’s amazing.”

“You have to meet our friend,” Boyd, dressed as a storm trooper, called to the small group of werewolves Stiles wasn’t familiar with. There were about eight of them and they all had a slight glaze to their eyes. Now that he was aware of it, his own werewolves looked quite the same. The table that held large bowls with purple liquid in it was the most likely explanation.

Stiles was introduced to new faces, four women and four men.

“Nice to meet you,” said a very tall and broad man nearly Derek’s height. He’d sauntered over after Stiles had made his way around the fire meeting the wolves.

“I’m Victor.” He was obviously the Alpha of this pack and he eyed Stiles with interest.

“Likewise,” Stiles said, trying to dislodge a slight discomfort in his stomach.

“It’s not often a pack is very fond of a non-pack member,” Victor said, his gaze traveling up and down Stiles’ body, “much less a human.”

“I’m lucky to have them,” Stiles said, looking at his wolves in fondness and as a way to break the eye contact Victor was trying to make with him. He wasn’t sure he liked the vibes Victor was giving out.

“We’re lucky to have him, actually,” Isaac said, coming over to stand next to Stiles once he realized Stiles’ slight distress. Stiles was sure the alpha hadn’t realized his unease. Only those who knew Stiles well could read when he was trying to be nice instead of potentially offending a possible ally pack.

Stiles smiled gratefully at Isaac. He’d so have to get him a great Christmas gift.

“Such loyalty,” Victor’s voice lowered, his eyes getting a predatory look Stiles only saw in his own wolves’ eyes when they saw something they really wanted. “I suppose the pack would mind if I...took an interest.”

“Very much,” came a dark and angry voice from their right. Stiles felt relief wash over him as he turned to face Derek. Then he felt his own eyebrows rise as he saw what Derek had on.

He wore a costume that was clearly a character from the popular Game of Thrones series. A Dothraki outfit that left his muscled torso on display and that he no doubt was forced to wear by Erika and the rest.

Derek stepped next to Stiles, leaning slightly against him. Stiles was positive he was clearly marking his territory in a not so very subtle way. Stiles would have rolled his eyes had he not actually welcomed the action. Well, he always welcomed it, but even more so now. The other alpha was giving off creep vibes that made Stiles’ skin crawl. And he wouldn’t object to having a half dressed Derek rub against him.

Concerning Victor, it wasn’t that the other alpha wasn’t attractive, it was that he clearly wanted Stiles for one thing and one thing only. Dominance over Stiles himself, and over Derek’s pack. Stiles was a thing and nothing more.

“There’s my alpha,” Stiles said, making Victor raise an eyebrow and Derek glance at him before turning a slightly smug face towards the other werewolf. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just had to check the area to make sure kids didn’t wander onto the property,” Derek replied, speaking to Stiles, but still half glaring at Victor.

Victor gave a slight chuckle, mostly to himself. Stiles had a feeling it wasn’t about Derek’s patrol.

“Drinks all around!” Erika said loudly, clearly drunk and handing everyone a drink not knowing that she had walked in on a tense situation. It sort of broke up the tension, which Stiles was grateful for.

She started to dance to the music, which led to other werewolves near them pair up in twos or threes and start moving to the beat. Stiles looked down at the cup, not sure he could drink what was in it. It was obvious the herbs in it were affecting the werewolves, but he was sure it would cause a negative effect on his system.

He excused himself, happy to get away from the domineering alpha, but not liking that it took him away from Derek as well.

He saw Scott walking towards him. “What was that all about?” his friend asked, nodding his head towards the two alphas making strained conversation.


“Some sort of alpha thing, I think,” Stiles said, acting ignorant because he knew the entire party could hear what they were saying if they wanted to. Stiles was sort of annoyed at Scott for not picking that up, but couldn’t really be angry at him. Scott was obviously tipsy since his eyes weren’t nearly as focused as they were before. Stiles wondered just how strong the drink was. He and Scott had gotten there not too long ago and Scott was already feeling the drink’s effects.

“Try not to drink too much?” Stiles cautioned, picking his own cup up for emphasis. Scott’s eyes lit up at seeing the drink and tried to swipe for it. Stiles pulled it away easily, alarmed that Scott hadn’t been able to take it from him. “Go drink some water, dude. This stuff is powerful.”

“It’s a party, Stiles,” Scott said, no heat in his words, “let loose a little. Have some fun.”

Stiles was about to respond that he would if creep-wolf wasn’t here, but kept silent. “I’m not even sure if I can drink this,” he said instead, peering down at the dark liquid.

“We can’t,” said Lydia’s voice from behind him. Stiles turned around and found Lydia eyeing the other werewolves curiously. “But it does seem like a strong drink.” She picked up a flask in her hand and took a long swig. “But my own concoction is pretty strong, too.”

“Walk with me and introduce me to our new friends,” she said, taking Stiles' arm in her own and leading him around the area.

He was happy to oblige until he reached Victor. He looked around for Derek only to see him talking to about three werewolves that looked like they were insisting that he drink. By the reluctant look on his face, Stiles figured he only bothered to take sips to not offend them.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked, feeling Stiles stiffen against her where she still held his arm. It was a chilly night for a human, so he appreciated the warmth. But her question couldn’t be answered truthfully with werewolves all around with super hearing.

“Just wishing I had a drink,” Stiles lied, glancing down at the cup he still held, but couldn’t drink.

“And who’s this?” Lydia asked, as they came upon Victor, who had been looking at Stiles for the last ten minutes.

“Victor,” the alpha replied, giving a slight nod of his head. “Another person not a werewolf, but dear to the pack.” He gave Lydia a cursory look, but it was nothing near the desire that now filled his gaze when they landed on Stiles.

“She’s our Lydia,” Stiles said, turning to smile at Lydia to again avoid making eye contact with the alpha. Lydia’s eyes went slightly wide with understanding before admirably changing the expression quickly. She could definitely see Victor's intentions.

“Let me take that for you,” Victor said, reaching out before Stiles could react and taking the cup from his hand. Stiles shivered from the finger the alpha brushed against his own, but it was far from being arousal. It was a shiver of dread and extreme discomfort.

“How about a drink?” Lydia asked, offering Stiles the flask she had brought, clearly seeing Stiles’ reaction.

“Actually,” Victor said, offering a flask of his own to Stiles, “This is a gift from my pack to yours. It can be drunk by human and werewolf alike. Please, have a taste.”

There was no way Stiles could refuse without ruffling some feathers. He knew something was in that flask that would do him no good, but he couldn’t very well say no. And pretending to drink wouldn’t work either. The alpha would know.

Stiles forced a smile before taking the flask and taking a drink.

“Don’t be modest,” Victor said in a low voice, indicating that Stiles should drink more. Stiles felt he had to oblige and hardly tasted what he was swallowing.

“I hope you don’t mind if I have a word with Stiles, would you?” Victor asked Lydia, but didn’t wait for her reply before quickly grabbing Stiles’ forearm firmly and pulling him towards the edge of the trees.

Stiles could see that Lydia was going to follow, but one of Victor’s wolves crowded in on her with forced conversation. She tried to get around the man, but he was bigger than her and she wouldn’t be able to pass him without some bodily force.

Stiles pulled against the grip, but it was no use. Struggling against a werewolf, much less an alpha, was futile. But Derek had always let him go. Stiles didn’t realize how much he took that fact for granted until now.

“Let go,” Stiles demanded, his commanding voice actually catching the alpha off guard. The wolf let him go, surprised that anyone would take such a tone with him.

“What a fighting spirit!” Victor laughed, leaning in too close to Stiles’ personal space. “Makes me want to crush it that much more.”


Stiles wasn’t able to say more as the werewolf pushed him against the tree, the impact knocking Stiles’ top hat to the ground. Before Stiles could process what was happening, he felt a hot mouth on his, a tongue forcing its way against his own and harsh hands removing the black jacket of his costume.

“Mmph!” Stiles could only mumble in complaint, but he bit down hard on the alpha’s lip, drawing blood.

Victor only pulled back slightly, then laughed before trying to claim Stiles’ mouth again.

“Stop, you asshole!” Stiles grit out, trying his hardest to get out of the alpha’s grip, straining his muscles.

“Any second now,” the wolf mumbled, which made Stiles confused. Until it hit him.

A wave of heat washed through him, making his knees buckle and his arms go a little limp. He slumped against the tree and was powerless as the alpha took advantage of Stiles’ vulnerability.

He felt lips against his neck, a flicker of a tongue. Hands were now beneath his shirt and traveling up.

To his horror, his body felt the touches as pleasure while his mind was repulsed by what was happening. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but would be damned if he let them fall. He wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction.

“Fuck off,” he said, but was dismayed that it came out breathy.

When Stiles felt hands reach for his belt, a cold dread filled his stomach even as his body quivered at the touch. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t cry before long. He felt humiliated and violated. And whatever this prick had given him wasn’t letting his true reactions come forth.

Stiles felt cold air against his skin before a deafening roar filled his ears. He saw Victor fly through the air, hit a tree, go through the tree not a second later, and then hit the ground far away. A huge werewolf stood in front of Stiles, seemingly unable to decide what to do in its anger. Stiles could tell Derek wanted to kill the alpha, but also wanted to make sure he was okay before moving away.

Other roars were heard behind the wall of trees where the party was gathered, but the noise of stumbling bodies meant that drunk werewolves weren’t much help.

Derek howled, his head lifted in the air, hot steam escaping his mouth. He turned a quick eye towards Stiles, a savage growl breaking forth at what he saw, before lunging towards the other alpha.

Stiles slid down the tree, shaking his head to try to clear away the rising arousal that was from what he drank now settling in his system more. He had to stay focused and try to keep Derek from killing another alpha and starting a war. Regular wars were bad; drunk wars could only be worse.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed out between pants, effectively stopping a charging Derek who was very nearly on the other unconscious alpha.

Derek glanced back at Stiles, clearly broken on what to do.

“Please,” Stiles said, knowing it would be enough.

Derek let out what could have been a whine, but from resisting killing Victor or of something else entirely, Stiles couldn’t tell. Not that he could think of much after a violent shiver went through him, making his body painfully sensitive.

Stiles was only half aware of big arms lifting him up. He was too busy trying to get control of himself. He heard Derek give directions to Lydia, and her response, but couldn’t for the life of him know exactly what was said.

A door was opened, then closed, and Stiles felt himself being put down on something soft. A couch, he saw, now that he opened his eyes.

Derek was pulling away, but Stiles’ hand shot out of its own volition, grabbing Derek’s wrist and trying to drag him closer. He didn’t budge. Stiles heard himself give a whine and would have been embarrassed at the clear wantonness in it.

“What did he give you?” Derek asked, easily ignoring Stiles’ efforts of pulling him closer. Stiles felt a warm towel wiping his face, clearing away the make-up, and, he was certain, tears he promised wouldn’t fall. Derek must have gotten the towel on the way in.

“Don’t know,” was all Stiles could say, still absently tugging on Derek’s arm as his other hand reached down towards his own unbuckled pants. He hadn’t realized the alpha had gotten that far. “Feel gross.”

Stiles felt Derek pull away, but he held on tighter. “Not at you, at what he was doing!”

Stiles took all his willpower to stop his hand that strayed towards his own pants and was breathing heavily. Damn, he was so fucking horny, he was surprised he hadn’t come yet. He closed his eyes, hearing his own harsh breathing. Derek knew he was aroused, and there was nothing Stiles could do about it. He found he didn’t care, though, not right now. He wanted so badly to be screwed out of his brains. But he wouldn’t force Derek into something like this. Not that he could, anyways.

“Stiles,” Derek said, close to Stiles’ ear. He hadn’t realized Derek had gotten closer, but fuck, that didn’t matter at all. Stiles shivered, this time in tantalizing escalation of his arousal. He legs, which had held his arm between them in a death grip to stop his hand from going down his pants, was released.

He lunged at Derek in a swiftness not even the werewolf was prepared for, and they both toppled to the ground. Stiles landed on top of Derek, straddling him, and couldn’t stop his hands from roaming against the bare chest beneath him. Just the sight was scintillating. Dear god, he was gonna erupt soon.

His hips ground down and a moan escaped his lips when he rubbed against Derek’s hard erection.

“Stiles,” Derek bit out in evident, but clearly sexual, frustration.

It was too much.

Stiles undid his button and reached into his own pants to bring his throbbing penis out. He could only imagine what he looked like. Shirt hanging off one shoulder, a flushed face, and a grinding lower body. Not to mention his dick out and being stroked by himself for Derek’s viewing pleasure. But that thought was quickly consumed by nothing but sensation.

The noises coming from him were downright lewd, but he was actually getting off on them. The fact that Derek was grunting as well only made it that much more stimulating.

He looked into Derek’s eyes as he stroked his hard erection, pre-cum making the friction delicious, while still rolling himself down against Derek’s hard-on. The werewolves’ pupils were huge, and his teeth were half turned. His panting was loud and Stiles could tell that he was trying to hold himself still, but was slowly losing. Stiles would have smiled at the fact that Derek kept looking at his moving hand and back up to meet his eyes, but he was too close to bursting.

 "Haah, mmm," Stiles breathed as his hand stroked his slick cock. Derek bit his lip, but couldn't stop small gasps from leaving his lips.

All Stiles could do was tilt his head up as pleasure mounted, his mouth opening and his eyes lidded as release was almost upon him.

Derek shot forward, seemingly unable to hold himself back anymore, and captured Stile’s mouth with his own. Stiles welcomed the action, but he was soon whimpering when Derek’s hand squeezed tight around the base of his cock, stopping him from reaching climax.

He squirmed in the arm Derek held him with, trying desperately to move himself in Derek’s hand. The sadistic bastard had stopped him from coming!

“Derek!” he meant to sound angry, but the word only came out in a small cry.

Derek attacked his mouth fiercely, his tongue meeting Stiles’ eagerly.

Stiles felt his back touch the floor and looked up at Derek staring hungrily down at him. Suddenly, Stiles felt slightly bashful, but thought no more once Derek’s hand slid up and down his still stiff erection.

Stiles moved himself against Derek’s strokes and gasped as Derek mouthed up and down his neck and behind his ear. Fuck, the wolf must’ve realized he was weak against that area. Stiles was panting again and moaning every time Derek made his grip slightly tighter near the tip of his penis.

When he felt a finger hesitating against his opening, he welcomed the touch against himself. He had wanted to do this for so long, he was sure Derek had to have noticed something before. But if he hadn’t, Stiles wasn’t going to give him reason to start questioning him now. He leaned against the finger, getting the feeling that whatever that douche werewolf had given him would actually help his first time be relatively painless.

He was right. The lubrication from his pre-cum made the passage smooth and Stiles was beside himself with the new sensation. It was a little odd, but he figured it would be for something never used before. Derek kept Stiles’ pleasure going as he stroked from the front and added more fingers behind.

Stiles' head was spinning. He tried like hell to keep from coming two times as Derek hit a sweet spot, but he wouldn't be able to hold off on a third.

“I- “ Stiles panted, “I’m ready, now.”

Derek looked into his eyes as he positioned himself against Stiles. He lifted Stiles’ legs wide before guiding himself slowly in.

The sensation was one of tightness, especially as Derek moved deeper. Stiles’ breathing was labored, but he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Derek held still a few moments, breathing heavily, obviously wanting to move, but giving Stiles’ time to adjust. Stiles felt his emotions swell at the gesture, and started moving first.

Derek let out a sharp breath before moving his hips out, then back in again. The sight was amazing to Stiles. Derek, the stoic werewolf, getting lost in ecstasy, and inside Stiles, no less. He only had a brief moment to appreciate the view before Derek quickened his pace and Stiles was engulfed in a feverous heat.

Pants and gasps were very audible in the quiet room. Stiles’ moans, along with Derek’s, were loud and unhindered. Derek’s were more beastly; Stiles’ low and interrupted every time Derek buried himself to the hilt, then out again, the speed of contact making fleshly noises. 

“Ahhnn,” Stiles cried as Derek placed Stiles’ legs on his shoulders and held Stiles’ hips still. Stiles lost himself in blazing sensation which only built at the sight of Derek thrusting into him; his abs contracting with the roll of his hips. Stiles couldn’t hold on much longer.

Derek, looking into Stiles’ eyes with his own heated ones, turned his head as he lifted Stiles’ leg up to his lips and nipped at the sensitive flesh as he ground into him.

Stiles came in a blinding wave, pulsating at the intensity of his climax. He felt Derek quiver against him right after, and they were fighting for air as they came down from their release.

“That,” Stiles said in between rapid breaths, “was incredible.”

Derek, breathing just as fast, didn’t say anything.

Stiles looked over, wondering what the werewolf was thinking. Already, Stiles could see doubt and hints of guilt color Derek’s face.

Stiles tried to sit up, but only managed to raise his upper body on an elbow.

“Derek, look at me,” he demanded, his voice making it clear he wouldn’t be ignored. Derek stubbornly kept his eyes away before giving in when Stiles entwined his free hand with Derek’s.

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time, regardless of what douche-were slipped me,” Stiles said with a warm smile. “It actually helped me get my feeling across, though I would have rather told you that I like you before this stage.”

Derek looked surprised.

“I only hope,” Stiles went on, biting his lip in apprehension, “that you aren’t regretting it.”

Derek laughed. “Yeah, I’m not regretting any of that,” he said, smiling back at Stiles. “Though I still may have to kill him for laying his hands on you.”

Stiles could tell he was mostly serious, and tried to think of a way to avoid the murder from happening.

He saw his opportunity. “How about we just go for another round instead,” he suggested, motioning to Derek’s erection. “Though perhaps we can go a little slower. I was a virgin just a while ago, you know.”

Derek’s face was nearly comical at hearing that, which Stiles found oddly endearing.