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I Will Be Your Remedy

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"I'm hallucinating, aren't I? Can you hallucinate when you get hypothermia?" Stiles slurred, wrapping himself tighter in his self-made cocoon of blankets.

"You're not hallucinating." Derek muttered, sounding awfully put out for someone who didn't have a currently lower-than-normal body temperature.

"Why am I the only one sick?" Stiles suddenly wheezed, indignant. "Scott and Allison got the same exposure for the same amount of time.”


“Was their ice bath less heavy on the ice?"


"I mean, come on! How fair is that!"



"Eat." Derek demanded, holding up a spoon full of steaming soup to Stiles' lips.

Stiles glared.

"Did you poison it?"

Derek glared harder.

"If I wanted to kill you I'd let you do it yourself. You seem to be highly capable in that department. And just what in the hell were you thinking?"

"I couldn't do nothing-"

"So you decided to immerse yourself in ice, and be officially declared dead for the better part of seven minutes? You’re lucky you didn’t get brain damage."

Derek eyed Stiles wearily. “Then again, maybe you did.”

“The freezing water helps. Allows more time for recovery.” Stiles answered automatically, pulling the facts from some long-forgotten read passage on the internet. “There was nothing to worry about.” He added, and watched as Derek festered in his anger and utter disbelief.

“You died, and you have the nerve to say there was nothing to worry about?” Derek was letting out a constant growl now, which would be worrying if Stiles wasn’t so tired. “If I had been there you wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near that fucking water.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, brows lowering in a frown.

“Isaac did the same thing and you were all for that. You were the one who held him down, if I recall.”

“That’s different.”

"I don’t see how, but okay."

"It just is." Derek stated, trying to leave no room for argument. He should know better.

"You sound suspiciously upset. Almost like you care."

Derek’s growl deepened, but he remained in enough control to hold the spoon full of scalding soup steady.

Stiles ignored him, practically pouting.

“You take unnecessary risks.” The wolf muttered, and it was Stiles’ turn to get angry.

"You're one to talk, hypocrite. Don't think I didn't hear about what you did for your sister. Not an alpha anymore, are you? I’m sick, not blind. I can see your pretty blue eyes flashing at me. Blue, Derek. Not red."

Derek huffed, choosing to overlook the 'pretty' remark.

"I did what I had to."

"Exactly." Stiles shot back, coughing harshly for his efforts. Derek forgot his anger, going back to shoving a spoon in the teen's face.

"Seriously, tell me I'm hallucinating."

"Would you just shut up and eat."

"You're trying to feed me!" Stiles accused as if it wasn’t obvious, and Derek grit his teeth.

"Try being the key word."

"Why? Why are you even here?" Stiles groaned, burrowing deeper into his blankets.

Derek sighed, giving up and placing the spoon back in the bowl.

"Because you're sick, and I need for you to get better."


"'re pack. And when one member of the pack is sick, we take care of them until they're better." He quoted.

"We?" Stiles asked, looking around. "You're the only one here."

Derek almost shattered the bowl in his hands. "Look, you're in pain, and I can feel it. I don't want you to be sick anymore, so would you just eat the damn soup already!?"

"Touchy." Stiles muttered, wincing as he shifted into a reclined position. "All you had to do was ask."

Derek tried very hard not to become violent. Once more, he held up a spoon full of soup in offering.

"And I can't feed myself because...?"

"You're hands are shaking." Derek answered, giving Stiles a look like he was completely mental.

"Right. I knew that."

Stiles leaned forward cautiously, testing out the soup's heat with the tip of his tongue.

"S'hot." He complained, leaning back against his pillows in defiance.

"You are impossible." Derek whispered, bringing the spoon to his own lips. Stiles watched, mouth slightly agape as Derek blew gently on the soup's surface. With a pointed look he brought the spoon back to Stiles' mouth.

Stiles opened and swallowed it down without question.

"There, see? That wasn't so bad." Derek grinned, actually looking like he’d won a small feat. With Stiles, everything probably felt that way.

"Did you make it yourself?"

Derek nodded. "Something my mom used to make in the winter."


Derek continued to blow over each spoonful before serving it to Stiles, and the boy actually stayed quiet while he ate, which was a miracle in itself. When he finished the whole thing, Derek set the bowl on the nearly empty nightstand and sat on the bed in silence.

"Thanks." Stiles felt the need to say. He was never good with pregnant pauses. "You can go. I'm sure you have better things to do."

Derek merely shook his head at that.

"I'm not leaving. There's no one to watch over you. Scott's busy and your dad wont be home tonight."

"Don't need a babysitter." Stiles slurred. Now that he wasn't ingesting hot soup anymore the cold was creeping back in. He could feel his lips going numb, teeth itching to start chattering.

"Whether you want me here or not, I'm staying."

"So bossy." Stiles muttered, pulling his blankets tighter around himself. "Don't know how you could ever be a beta with an attitude like that. You were practically born to be an alpha."

Derek was momentarily taken aback by the comment, shaking his head with a slight smirk as he started to remove his clothes.

Stiles had to blink a few times, sure he had finally lost it.

"Am I hallucinating now?"

"No." Derek answered with some good-natured irritation.

"Then why is your shirt off? And why are your pants following? You think flashing your unbelievable physique at me is going to make me feel better somehow?"

"No, genius. You're temperature is dropping again. I need to raise it."

"So you're gonna...No. No no, thanks, but no. I have several blankets and you really don't need to-"

"It's not up for negotiation." Derek interrupted, clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs. He was already getting closer, pulling off some of the fort-blankets Stiles was clinging to like shrink wrap.

"Hey! Those are mine. Give them back."

"You won't need them." Derek promised absently, finally managing to find Stiles underneath all the fabric. Without another word, he climbed in and settled down next to the boy.

Stiles' skin was alarmingly chilled, and his whole body was wracked in shivers. Derek maneuvered him into a sitting position, Stiles protesting the entire time. Without so much as a warning, he began to remove all the layers Stiles was wearing until his chest was bare, skin pale with sickness.

"Derek?" Stiles hissed in frozen shock, and Derek hushed him, settling him back down on the mattress before following, draping his body gently over Stiles’.

Derek could feel his frantic heartbeat, as well as the shocked exhalation when their skin made contact for the first time. Like everything else when it came to them, they were extreme opposites. Stiles was like an icicle, while Derek was a furnace.

"Am I-"

"No, Stiles." Derek denied, rubbing his hands up and down Stiles' sensitive sides in order to create friction and heat. "You're not hallucinating."

"I'm starting to think hallucinations can lie."

Derek smirked against the boy's neck, continuing to systematically heat his cold flesh.

"Next time you feel the urge to take a dip in an ice bath, don't"

"Noted." Stiles sighed, this time in pleasure as the cold was slowly but surely chased away. Although he was getting warmer, his head was still wracked with a migraine that hadn't left him since he woke up from...well, being dead.

"What is it?" Derek asked in concern, and Stiles had never seen that amount of worry directed at him before. Especially not coming from Derek.

"Nothing." Stiles lied, and he only had to look at Derek's unconvinced expression to remember.

"I know when you're lying."

"I meant it's nothing." Stiles corrected, and Derek's eyes became sharper, electric blue bleeding into forest green.

"Wanna try that again?"

"Geez." Stiles gritted, wrapping an arm around Derek's waist absently, for nothing better than something warm to hold on to.

"I have a headache."

"A headache?"

"More like a pounding migraine. Not like I can do anything about it."

"I can." Derek whispered, running a soft palm along the side of Stiles forehead. Gently, as if Stiles were made of glass, Derek began to massage deep circles into his skin.

Stiles moaned, lids fluttering in pleasure.

"You have magic hands." He sighed, and watched as Derek actually smiled.

"You have no idea."

A tingling sensation started along the surface of his flesh before shifting to something else. Stiles had given blood a few times in the past, and that was the only thing he could compare it to. The feeling of something being drawn out of your body, almost siphoned, but without the pain. It was actually soothing. His eyes widened as he tracked the black trail moving from his veins into Derek's, pulling out sickness and discomfort.

"Does that hurt you?" He asked absently, and Derek looked at him in curiosity.

"Only for a second." He answered honestly. "Why?"

Stiles swallowed down his nervousness. "Cause I don't want you to do it if it hurts you. That'll just make me feel guilty."

"I can handle pain better than you."

"Wow." Stiles snorted. "Way to emasculate me."

"I wasn't trying to." Derek admitted with a concerned frown. "It's just part of my biology. Werewolves have a higher pain tolerance than humans do."

Stiles shrugged. Well, tried to anyway. Derek was still kind of hindering him by being on top of him.

“Does it still hurt?” Derek asked, and the concern Stiles was able to see in his expression still threw him off. He shook his head.

" long are you planning on staying?" Stiles asked, trying to fill in the silence.

"However long it takes for you to get better."

"I still don't know why you're so invested in my health."

"I told you, you're pack. If one member isn't well, the pack isn't whole. We need to be whole. Now more than ever."

" would do this if say...Lydia or Peter were sick?"

"No. I mean yes. Peter can't get sick."

"But he can get injured by like, wolfs bane, or something."

"He's capable of handling himself."

"But if he wasn't?"

"Yes, Stiles. Is that what you want me to say? Yes, I would take care of him too."

"You're kind of a terrible liar."

Stiles could feel the tense line of Derek's body. He usually had this effect on the wolf, but he hadn't really felt bad about it until now. His hands started rubbing soothing circles in his back, tracing swirls where he knew the triskele to be.

Derek inhaled sharply at the boy’s caress, eyes squeezing shut as he fought not to move.

“Tired.” Stiles slurred absently, and Derek turned his head deeper into his neck to breathe him in.

“Sleep.” He ordered against his skin, and Stiles’ whole body shivered, having nothing to do with the hypothermia.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.” Derek promised, and Stiles was too tired to analyze why that declaration made him feel better instead of worse.


Stiles awoke to a hot wet stripe branded along his jaw.

“Am I dreaming?” He slurred, eyes blurry and unfocused.

Derek made a negative sound deep in his throat and continued his ministrations.

“Okay.” Stiles drawled. “If I’m not dreaming or hallucinating, do you have a reasonable explanation as to why you’re licking me?”

Derek didn’t answer right away. He just continued to run his tongue along Stiles’ cheeks, his lips, neck and ear. Stiles body was wracked in sensation, trembling from head to toe, member hard and heavy between his legs.

“Seriously Derek, please explain before a burst a blood vessel or something.”

“I’m cleaning you. Making you smell like me now instead of sickness. It’ll make you feel better, trust me.” Without waiting for permission, Derek continued on, mouthing at Stiles vulnerable throat and collarbone, nibbling over his quivering Adam’s apple.

“Holy sweet heat, you have to stop that.” Stiles moaned, trying very much to keep his hips from trying to fuck up. He was failing, miserably.

Derek, however, refused to quit.

“I’m serious, Derek. I don’t think this is having the effect you were hoping for.”

“Why?” Derek asked off-handedly, dangerously close to a nipple. “Because you’re aroused? Because I made you hard?”

“Jesus, Derek. You can’t just say shit like that.” Stiles complained, still struggling with the urge to lose himself in sensation.

“Maybe I like making you feel good.”

“Maybe you like-” Stiles couldn’t finish that preposterous sentence. “Do you even hear yourself? The Derek Hale I know takes profound pleasure in slamming me into any available surface as rough as he can. Who are you and what have you done with Derek?”

“There’s a time to be rough," Derek agreed, mouthing against him, "and there’s a time to be gentle.” Derek’s hot tongue did swipe against his nipple this time.

“Oh my god.” Stiles choked. “You’re taking advantage of a sick person.”

“I’m taking care of you.” Derek argued, pushing persuasive logic into his tone.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“I’m the only one who is allowed.” He declared as serious as a heart attack, pulling away from Stiles’ skin so his blazing blue eyes could bore into amber-brown. “Do you understand? No one else.”

“Okay.” Stiles breathed sharply, fear and arousal spiking through his body. “Only you, calm down.”

“If you can tell me to stop and convince me it’s what you actually want...I’ll stop.”

Stiles knew he couldn’t. Derek would be able to tell the second that the words were out that he was lying, so he remained stubbornly quiet instead. Derek grinned, lowering himself back down to Stiles’ pale skin in victory.

“Thought so.” He mouthed over Stiles ribs. Stiles watched as Derek traced his moles with the tip of his tongue, mapping out his body with a hot trail of saliva.

“I can smell your scent again, underneath the sickly sweet aroma of illness. I can almost taste you.”

“S’that a good thing?” Stiles groaned, arching his back off the bed as Derek tongued at his navel and abdomen, wondering just when exactly he became Zen with the idea of Derek lapping at his body like a particularly delectable bone.

“Very good.” Derek whispered huskily, continuing to “groom” Stiles.

“This is a pack thing, isn’t it? This is a normal behavior? Do you do this with all the wolves?” Stiles babbled, trying desperately to just stop talking, fingers itching to bury themselves in Derek's thick, dark hair.

“This is an us thing.” Derek answered cryptically, and Stiles really didn’t have the proper amount of brain function needed to decipher his cryptic code of absurdity.

"I am so very confused right now."

"Then just relax. Enjoy it. I'll do everything for you."

Stiles’ breath left him in a sharp exhalation, body taught like a violin string. Derek was getting dangerously low and Stiles' legs spread of their own accord so Derek's warm body slotted perfectly between them.

"Oh my god."

"Hush." Derek whispered, bringing Stiles' wrist to his mouth, suckling on the skin there. And since when did Stiles' wrist have a direct line of connection to his cock?

Derek was lathering his skin in saliva. It sounded gross but it felt fucking amazing. Every time the air caressed him he shivered, but not with cold. Derek was setting his body on fire, starting from the outside and working inwards.

Derek moved down even further, completely bypassing where Stiles wanted him the most, moving on to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Stiles almost bucked him off when the werewolf's lips sealed over flesh and began sucking.

"Easy." He breathed against him and Stiles tried to regain control.

Derek traveled his way down his leg, nipping at skin with suddenly sharp canines. Stiles couldn't take anymore. It was too much sensation. Just when he was about to beg, Derek moved back up until he was settled between his legs, and Stiles choked when he felt the man's prominent erection rubbing against his own.

"Thought it was medicinal? A werewolf comfort kind of thing. To make me feel better?" Stiles accused as the tip of Derek's claw gently traced the freckles and moles dotting his face.

"Do you feel better?" Derek whispered, leaning in closer until he could lick the side of Stiles cheek to the corner of his eyelid.

Stiles stuttered while his body seized up, thrusting against the heat and hardness he felt in Derek's boxer briefs.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Derek was kissing his eyelids now, and Stiles simply couldn't breath. Who does that? Who kisses someone's eyelids? Who licks along the sensitive folds of skin like they had all the time in the world.

Derek Hale, that’s who.

"Why?" Stiles bit out between gasps. "Why are you doing this now?" He had to ask, even if he would regret the answer later.

"Because." Derek murmured along the corner of his lip. " You're always saving me, Stiles. Even when you didn't trust me. When you couldn't stand me."

"I still can't stand you." Stiles lied good-naturedly as Derek ran his fingers through his grown-out hair.

"Even in the elevator the other night, when you tried waking me up. I could hear the blind panic in your voice. It's what brought me back."

"Not me slapping you over twenty times?"

Derek's eyebrow rose, and Stiles swallowed, keeping quiet.

"The fact that you cared enough to try and save me, not just the other night, but all those times before..."

Derek was looking at something only he could see, and Stiles actually remained quiet until he came back to himself.

"And then I thought...what if you weren't there anymore. What if you could no longer pull me back to the surface..." Derek's hand moved down to his hip, squeezing in a declaration of possession.

"You died, Stiles. You were gone and you weren't breathing, and I...I could feel it."

Derek took in a shaky inhalation of air, feeling wrenched, weak, and lightheaded.

"I can't ever go through that again. I can't ever lose you again, do you understand? I’m not strong enough."

Stiles knew he was playing with fire, but he shook his head anyways.

"I don't." He whispered, and Derek looked at him with bright blue eyes, almost like he felt betrayed. "I'm sorry Derek, but I don't understand. You're going to have to explain it to me better. Why would you care? I mean, yeah we've mutually helped each other out in the past, but you've never let on that it was anything more than that."

Derek's forehead dropped to his, and every time he breathed out, Stiles breathed him in.

"It's rare, but sometimes...there is a person who comes along that is specifically made for someone like me. We call them true mates. That's you, Stiles. You were made for me.

Stiles was at a loss for words. Literally speechless. Because seriously? I mean, come on!

“I've been denying it for a long time now. I wanted you to be able to have a choice in the matter. But then you went and killed yourself and now I can't hold back anymore."

"Mates." Stiles echoed in disbelief. "Like...soul mates? That kind of mates? Not like just friends, mates?"

Derek sighed and shook his head. "Do you even know what you are?"

"A horny seventeen-year-old?"

"You're mine. My other half. My reason, my stability, my humanity. The longer I stay away from you the more my animal side takes over. When that happens I function on pure instinct alone. I become a not very nice person to be around."

"I thought you were like that most of the time, anyways."

"Ever wonder why? Why is it the more I’m near you the more relaxed I can be. It doesn’t happen very often though. I mean, we don't exactly spend a lot of time in each others company, now do we."

Stiles was still gaping, trying to wrap his sick, fuzzy, confused head around what Derek was trying to tell him.

“So the longer we’re apart, the more of an asshole you become?”

Derek glared.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Stiles muttered trying to ignore the way Derek’s fingers were gently massaging into his scalp.

"You're not just my mate, Stiles, you're my emissary."

Stiles was choking on his own saliva now, trying to get away and failing miserably.

"Whoa, whoa hang on a second. An emissary? Like Deaton?”

“Just like Deaton. Why do you think you were the one tasked with the mountain ash when we were all trying to catch Jackson?”

“Because Scott couldn’t do it?”

“No.” Derek denied patiently. “Because only you had the power to be able to do it.”

Stiles felt like he was spiraling into some kind of dream.

“You’re the clever one, remember? You’re smarter than anyone I know, even when you’re babbling about whatever comes to your head. You always have the answers, you figure things out faster than anyone, and you give the best advice. That’s what an emissary does, Stiles. Why do you think the pack listens to you? Scott, Peter, me! We all benefit from your advice.”

“No one listens to me.” Stiles whispered in denial, but Derek’s hands were cupping his cheeks, forcing his eyes back on him.

“But you’re always the one with the answers. When Scott was bitten, you were the one who figured out what he was. You tried to convince him. You were able to teach him control when I couldn’t. You found out his anchor. When Jackson started killing people you were the one who found out who was controlling him. You always suspected Matt because of the feeling you got from him. You trusted your instincts. You were right from the very beginning! You always are.”

“But...that doesn’t mean I’m emissary.” Stiles denied, and Derek sighed in almost-frustration.

“Every pack has one.”


“Was my mother’s emissary. That pack is gone now, we’ve formed a new one. You are our emissary.”

“But I...I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

“That’s okay.” Derek soothed, running warm hands down Stiles’ arms. “You’ve already been doing it. You’re job is to guide us. Advise us when we need it. You already do that. You keep us in line. You’ve always been the one to keep us connected to our humanity. To remind us when we go too far.”

“That’s it? That’s all I need to do? Just keep being my awesome self?”

“That’s it. I’m not sure if I’m the only one who has figured it out. I’m sure Deaton knew about you a long time ago. When you feel up to it, you should go talk to him. Ask him to tell you whatever he can. He can teach you things. How to protect yourself. How to use your abilities.”

“Do I have super powers? Am I actually something instead of nothing?”

“You were never nothing.” Derek growled, voice full of conviction. Stiles took in a deep breath and nodded for Derek’s benefit.

“Sometimes, only the alpha knows who the emissary really is.”

“But you’re no longer the alpha.” Stiles whispered suddenly worried for reasons unknown.

“That may be, but you shouldn’t tell anyone else, at least until this whole thing with the alpha pack is really over. You’re secret is safe with me. You’re my mate.” He said, as if it should explain everything. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“And if the others knew?” Stiles asked, not sure if he wanted the answer.

“Sometimes, emissaries are targeted by other packs or even pack members looking to damage or destroy the pack as a whole. Without the emissary, a pack loses its connection to each other and the world around them. An emissary can be the tether that holds each part together. Without it, everything else crumbles.”

“So, I should keep this on the down low?”

“At least for now.” Derek agreed. “And maybe don’t tell Peter. Ever.”

“No argument here.” Stile agreed quietly, losing himself in thought.

“Hey?” Derek whispered, fingers tracing Stiles’ full lips, and Stiles’ golden eyes found Derek’s forest green ones. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Because I’m your mate?” Stiles asked with weakened curiosity.

“Because I care about you. Because if anything happened to you, it would destroy me.”

Stiles was shaking his head. Where had all this come from? Why was it being sprung on him now? He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do this. Didn’t want-

Derek’s lips settled over his, and all of Stiles’ worries flew out of his mind as if he were an open window and Derek was the fresh breeze.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, but then Derek’s tongue was running along his bottom lip and Stiles was opening his mouth on a moan. It was all the invitation Derek needed to slip inside.

This wasn’t like the desperate kisses Stiles had received from Heather. Nor was it the slow almost sad kiss Lydia had given him. Almost as if she knew how much he needed it from her, even though she could not provide everything he hoped for.

This was...This was invigorating. Like being able to breathe for the first time on your own after spending forever hooked up to machines that breathed for you.

This was the first time he’d gotten a hundred percent on a test. The first time he’d snuck out and hadn’t been caught. The first time he stood up to someone, proved his worth. This was a thousand of those moments combined into one. This was him and Derek. This was Derek wanting him, and that was a miracle in itself.

Derek’s mouth was slanting over his, over and over again, and Stiles’ hips were bucking up with new interest.

“I need you to understand something.” Derek said, pulling away from his lips to mouth at his ear. He sounded utterly wrecked to Stiles.

“Anything.” Stiles agreed without fully understanding what he was agreeing to.

“I don’t share.” Derek choked out as Stiles’ hard and leaking cock grinded into his own.

I did that to him, Stiles thought. Me. Little ole not-quite-so-ordinary me.

“Wolves mate for life.” Derek fought to keep his voice steady as he continued. “And it’s even more intense when we find our true mate. If you decide to do this with me, this has to be it. No one else.”

Stiles stopped moving, pulling back until he could look into the glowing light of Derek’s recently reverted blue eyes.

“There’s never been anyone else before.” Stiles felt the need to admit, completely breathless, reduced to the writhing mess Derek had made of him.

“And there never will be after this. As long as you want me, I’m yours.” Stiles promised. He didn’t know why he felt he owed Derek this...

But his body seemed to know it did. His heart seemed to understand and agree with the terms, so he allowed his mind to get onboard as well. And why not? He wasn’t blind. Derek was...well-

Who wouldn’t want him? Even with the sometimes unbearable attitude, the man was beauty personified. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship to spend the rest of his life with him.

“You’re mine.” Derek growled, more wolf than man, as if needing to reaffirm the idea. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Yours.” Stiles hissed, hands traveling down Derek’s back, fingers slipping into the hem of his boxer briefs, going lower until he could cup the unbelievable ass that rested beneath. “All yours. Only yours. You are mine.” Stiles added on a whisper.

“And I am yours.” Derek finished for him on a sigh.

Stiles lost himself then, feeling nothing but the pleasure and the sudden unmistakable need for Derek.

Derek; who was removing them both of their underwear, stripping them until no barriers laid between.

“Oh my god.” Stiles choked as his bare cock thrust against Derek’s. It was hot and hard and leaking copiously.

“Need it.” Stiles whined without having a clue about what he was doing. “Need you.”

“You have me.” Derek soothed, wrapping a clammy palm around Stiles’ dick.

Stiles keened, back arching completely off the bed. He could feel Derek’s eyes boring into him, watching each expression, each reaction to his touch.

“You’re so good for me.” Derek praised, a growing rumble that started deep in his chest.

“Please!” Stiles begged. “I need...something...just please.”

“I’ll give you what you need.” Derek promised, continuing to jerk until Stiles’ back bowed again, come shooting out of him with the force of a freight train. Derek stroked him through his orgasm, making the waves of pleasure last longer than usual.

Stiles was whimpering, head thrashing back and forth as Derek continued to milk him. He was way too sensitive for this. Way too sick, and much too tired.

“Can’t-” He tried warning, but Derek only quieted him as he continued to touch and caress.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” Derek promised, and Stiles had to argue the fact.

“Already did.” He murmured, feeling sated and rubbery.

“Not enough. Wanna hear you scream.”

The declaration shot a new spike of arousal through Stiles’ body that he wasn’t quite ready for.

“Derek.” He started off, trying to sound serious. “I don’t think I can yet. I’m not exactly feeling up to par what with the hypothermia and the just coming my brains out. I don’t think I have your werewolf stamina-”

“You do.” Derek interrupted, moving suspiciously lower down Stiles’ chest. “You were made for me. Everything about you was made just for me.”

Stiles let out a strained breath as Derek actually began to lap up the come that coated his skin, moaning as the taste hit his tongue. As if he actually enjoyed it.

“God, the way you taste. The way you fucking smell. The noises you make. Why did I deny myself this for so long?”

Stiles knew he wasn’t looking for a response, but he had to say something.

“You wont do it anymore, right? You wont deny yourself anymore?”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t.”

Derek pushed down lower, and Stiles’ mouth opened in a silent ‘O’ when Derek swallowed him down completely. He was soft in his mouth, but Derek started growling low in his throat and Stiles let out a strangled yelp as his sensitive flesh was attacked by sensation. He started to get hard on Derek’s tongue.


Even though Stiles was a healthy teenage boy, it was still way to soon for him to be responding like this.

“Told you.” Derek said, allowing his cock to slip out of his mouth with a pop. “You were made for me. You’re my equal. The only one who can stand up to me.” Derek pressed his fingers to Stiles’ lips and Stiles opened up, allowing them into his mouth.

“You’re the only one who could pull me back from the brink.” Stiles coated the fingers generously with saliva. “The only one who could ever satisfy both my human side, and my wolf.”

Stiles scraped his teeth around the flesh in his mouth and Derek hissed.

“The only one who can keep up with me, in life, intimacy and love. You were made to hold up to everything I have to give. You will not crumble under the onslaught of me, like others. You’re stronger than that. Strong enough to contain me. To keep me grounded. To keep me from ever needing anything else but you. I will never need anything but you.” Derek finished on a whisper, removing his fingers from Stiles’ mouth, marking a trail down his neck, chest and stomach, lightly brushing his dick. Stiles shivered, eyes never leaving Derek’s.

“Let me show you what you do to me.”

Derek’s slick fingers teased at the rim of his entrance and Stiles let out a wrenched gasp at the feeling coursing through his body.

“Will you let me?”

Stiles couldn’t even entertain the idea of saying no, nor was his voice working at the moment, so he gave a shaky nod instead.

Derek’s finger circled his entrance one more time before it ever-so-slowly sank in.

“Oh my god.” Stiles moaned, voice trembling.

“Relax.” Derek soothed, shifting down until his face was right there.

“Wha- what are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying not to panic.

“Wanna see.” Derek whispered by way of answer. “Wanna taste you.”

It was the only warning Stiles received before Derek moved in even closer, and suddenly...

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, voice reduced to cut shreds. He was surrounded by liquid heat as Derek’s dexterous tongue lapped at his entrance, becoming taught before sinking in right alongside his finger.

Stiles was babbling, his eyesight failing him, fingers trying to find purchase in anything; which happened to be Derek’s silky hair. It grounded him somewhat, but not nearly enough.

He was pushing back against Derek’s tongue and finger, actually trying to fuck himself on the appendages. Derek was growling deeply, sending overly pleasant vibrations coursing through Stiles’ body. Stiles bore down at once trying to get closer and distance himself from the onslaught of sensation Derek was forcing him to feel.

“I can’t.” Stiles tried warning when Derek wiggled in a second finger and began to thrust.

“You can.” Derek assured, fingers moving faster. “You are.” His tongue joined in again and Stiles literally saw stars. Stiles’ cock was leaking against his stomach, and Derek was adding in a third finger, stretching him on all three while his tongue did deliciously wicked things that shouldn’t be legal.

“Derek, please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for anymore. A reprieve or release.

“Just let go.” Derek instructed, and Stiles was nothing if not obedient. Well, sometimes.

He let go.

Stiles was sure his eyes were open, but he saw nothing. He could only feel what Derek was making him feel, as he once again fucked him through his orgasm. Taking all he had to offer and then some.

“You’re beautiful like this.” He heard whispered somewhere in front of him. “God, you have no idea, do you? I’m going to claim you in front of a mirror one day. Mount you and make you watch yourself. Then maybe you’ll see what I can see.”

“Derek?” Stiles moaned weakly, and christ was he still coming?

“That’s it, Stiles. Just let me have all of it. All of you."

Stiles collapsed back against the bed, dick giving a final jerk, spurting one last string of come. His body was exhausted, his breathing hiked up to a worrisome, slightly asthmatic level. His limbs refused to move. If a giant bug-eating demon was in the corner of his room at that very moment threatening to eat him, he would say bring it on. S’not like I can move.

Derek was there suddenly, all around him. Petting his hair, caressing his sweating skin, palming his cheeks. His hands rubbed along Stiles’ abdomen, gathering his release on his palms before rubbing it into his own skin. Stiles watched in shock, a deeper flush settling over his body.

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but whisper, gaze still captivated by the fact that there was a werewolf in his bed.

“Making your scent apart of mine.” Derek answered as he continued to massage Stiles’ release into his skin. “It lets others know that I belong to you. Don’t worry, I’m going to mark you as well.”

Stiles’ whole body shivered at that promise, and of course, Derek saw.

“Do you like that idea? Me marking you. Claiming you so others can see.”

“Yes.” Stiles breathed without hesitation, and Derek looked deeply pleased. “I just need a breather-”

“You’re hard again.” Derek interrupted, staring at Stiles’ erection. Stiles wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t see it for himself.

“Jesus, how is that possible?”

Derek’s grin turned lecherous. “I already told you.”

“So this is all your fault?” Stiles asked huskily, and Derek shrugged, and then nodded.

“Maybe.” He answered gently, easing closer as if Stiles would spook if he didn’t go slow. “Or maybe it’s all your fault.”

“I highly doubt that-”

Derek didn’t let him finish, just sealed his mouth over Stiles’ to keep him quiet. Blindly, he reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the lube that Stiles thought was cleverly hidden.

“How did you-” Derek motioned toward his nose and it was all the explanation Stiles needed. Stiles watched while Derek generously coated his fingers in lube, trying not to feel nervous.

“It’s okay.” Derek soothed. “It’s okay to be scared of the unknown, but I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” Stiles said, not aware that he was so certain until the words were out of his mouth. And he believed them to be true. Derek wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

Derek whined in pleasure at Stiles’ utter faith in him, nuzzling into his sensitive neck. Stiles felt it then. Derek’s slick fingers once more circling at his hole.

“Gonna get you ready.” Derek growled into his skin. “Gonna make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.” Stiles gasped as a finger entered him. And whoa, Derek’s fingers really were magic. He was worked over like an instrument, and Derek was the talented musician, or any other analogy where Derek was good with his hands and Stiles was the substance he molded to suit his needs.

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles hissed, teeth biting into his bottom lip.

“Don’t do that.” Derek ordered, looking down into his eyes. “Wanna hear you.”

“Oh god.” Stiles moaned, eyes going impossibly wide as Derek added in a second finger. They curled upward and Stiles back was coming off the bed again, a scream filling the small room.

That was his prostate. Had to be. He’d read about it before, but he’d never actually known.

“You’re not gonna last long like this.” Derek observed, sounding arrogantly pleased with himself.

“No.” Stiles begged, shaking his head. “Want it to be with you this time.” He knew he wasn’t making any sense. Derek was the one who’d made him come the previous times, after all. He tried again.

“Wanna touch you. Wanna feel you in me. Want to be the one to make you come. God, Derek, I wanna feel it. Want to feel you.”

“Oh, you will.” Derek promised darkly, slipping in a third finger that had Stiles keening. “Trust me, you’ll have everything I can give you.”

“Now, Derek. Please now.” Stiles cried, rolling his hips deeper onto Derek’s fingers.

“Fuck.” Derek gritted, pulling out of Stiles’ body, and the boy whimpered in loss, feeling suddenly empty.

Stiles watched with lust-filled eyes as Derek slicked up his massive cock.

How the hell was all that going to fit inside him.

“It’ll fit.” Derek said, flashing-blue eyes meeting Stiles’ as if he could read his mind. “You were made for me.” He repeated, and Stiles nodded, trusting him.

Derek was crawling up his body, settling between his thighs and Stiles brought his legs up, wrapping them securely around the werewolf, as if he were threatening to disappear. Derek’s hand traced up his thigh, moving in to grab his leaking member. Stiles keened, mouth hanging open as he thrust into Derek’s grip.

“Kiss me.” He begged, and Derek was all too happy to oblige, mouth capturing Stiles’ lips, devouring him with teeth and tongue. Stiles nails scrabbled at Derek’s back, leaving welts and marks that healed instantly.

Derek’s teeth kept nipping at his neck and Stiles could feel his need as if it were his own.

“Do it.” He whispered, pulling Derek’s head in closer. “I know you want to. Just do it.”

Derek pulled back, eyes searching Stiles for any doubt. “Are you sure.”

“I’m sure.” Stiles assured, and Derek gave him another earth shattering kiss. “Want you to mark me. Claim me.”

“I will. God I will.” Derek promised, and Stiles watched as he took his massive cock in his hand, guiding the swollen head to his slick entrance. Stiles moaned uncontrollably as Derek continued to tease, adding just enough pressure to make him known, but not enough to sink in.

“Come on, Derek.” Stiles pleaded. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Derek’s hips thrust powerfully, and he was inside.

All the breath left Stiles in a rush, eyes wide open and staring into Derek’s shocked blue. Derek was huge inside of him, and he was stretched beyond his limits, didn’t hurt. It was just like Derek had said. He was made for him.

Derek looked almost in awe of Stiles, hips swiveling in sharp circles.

“Stiles.” He whispered in utter amazement, hand coming up to caress his jaw. “God, you feel-”

Stiles’ hips pushed back into Derek’s, and the wolf looked completely wrecked.

“You’re so tight. It’s never felt like this before-”

Stiles enjoyed the compliments, but he really didn’t want to hear about Derek’s past sexual experiences.

“Please, Derek. Come on. Need you to take me. Make me yours.”

It was all the encouragement Derek needed. His hips slammed in, and Stiles let out a sound of such relief that Derek had to keep doing it.

“You’re so hot.” Stiles cried out in surprise, and Derek couldn’t help the pleased grin that took over his lips, showing longer than normal canines.

“Not just that.” Stiles gasped, holding on to Derek for dear life as he was pounded into the mattress. “Inside. You’re so hot inside me. You feel like a brand.”

“Does it feel good?” Derek asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t even...God, you feel...just don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Stiles finally demanded, all common sense leaving him.

“Didn’t plan on it.” Derek admitted, grabbing Stiles thighs and hitching them up higher, spreading him open even more to get a better angle.

Stiles couldn’t breathe. Each time Derek pounded in had him hitting that sweet spot. There was this undeniable connection between them, almost like a loop of pleasure. Whatever Stiles was feeling, Derek could sense, and whatever Derek was sensing, Stiles could feel.

It was too much and not enough.

“Need more.” Stiles bit out, and Derek’s rhythm increased to a brutal speed. Stiles was practically bent in half, legs held aloft in Derek’s powerful hands. His cock was leaking copious amounts of pre-come into his navel. Derek let one of Stiles ankles drop, one clawed finger going to the mess he’d made.

Stiles watched in awed fascination as Derek lifted his finger up to his mouth, tongue lapping at the come he’d gathered.

“Holy fuck.” Stiles screamed, body arching as he came. He shouldn’t have anything left to give, but strings of come spilled from his dick in abundance. Derek let out a pleased growl, speeding up even faster as he continued to fuck Stiles, long after he was spent and his body went limp for what felt like the tenth time that night.

“I can still smell your arousal.” Derek gritted as he continued to jackhammer inside. “Can tell just how much you’re enjoying this. I can even smell the absence of your virginity, marking you as mine and only mine. God, you have no idea what fucking you is doing to me, do you?”

Stiles whimpered and moaned, body twitching in aftershocks as certain parts of his anatomy began to react.

“You’re getting hard again, Stiles. Did you know that? How many times does this make it? You want it so bad, don’t you? And only I can give it to you.”

“Only you.” Stiles promised on a whisper, voice ruined, as was the rest of him.

“I bet I could make you come again, without even having to touch you. Just like the other times. Did you want me to try? You’re sensitive, aren’t you?”

Stiles couldn’t help but nod, feeling as if he needed to answer all of Derek’s questions, even though the wolf already knew the truth. He still didn’t think he could do it, though.

“Derek, I can’’s too much.”

“It’s not enough.” Derek argued. “Don’t worry. You can. You will. You’ve already given me so much, just a little bit more.”

Stiles wasn’t so sure that a little bit more wouldn’t kill him. He gave in anyway. If he had to pick a way to go out, this would be it.

“Good. Good boy.” Derek moaned against him.

Stiles’ cock was leaking again, slicking the way and creating friction as it rubbed against Derek’s hard abdomen, and how was this even possible?

Did being a mate mean he carried some kind of natural Viagra in his system?

Derek was grabbing at anywhere he could reach, claiming Stiles’ lips, gripping his hips so he could slam Stiles’ body back into his thrusts, flicking his sharpened claws at sensitive nipples. Stiles was losing his mind to pleasure. Was this how it was going to be every time? He didn’t think he could survive, but at the same time, he never wanted it to end.

Derek’s lips remained against his, not kissing, but breathing him in, eyes focused on him. Stiles clenched his muscles down on Derek’s cock, and Derek whined, hand pressing against the boy’s abdomen as if he could feel himself inside, thrusting blindly. Stiles clenched down again, feeling Derek get impossibly harder. He whimpered.

“The things you do to me.” Derek moaned, and Stiles was in wholehearted agreement.

“I’m gonna...”

“Yeah.” Stiles begged. “Want you to. Wanna see it. Feel it. Taste it!”

“Fuck.” Derek whined, hips snapping brutally into Stiles. He leaned down into the boy’s sweat drenched neck and sunk his teeth into the skin there, finally marking Stiles liked he’d asked him to.

Stiles screamed, louder than he had before as the teeth broke skin. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to have Stiles coming untouched by the mere suggestion. The fact that Derek could hold himself back just enough to not cause damage, but he could...if he wanted to.

Derek was still thrusting as he came inside Stiles, and Stiles was still coming as Derek fucked him through it. But then, something at the base of Derek’s dick filled and grew, becoming harder and firmer, pressing into Stiles’ rim until it was inside and Derek was coming harder then before, more come filling Stiles then his whole body had released this entire night.

“Sorry,” Derek was chanting into his neck as he continued to thrust and come. “Should’ve told you, I’m so sorry-”

But Stiles wasn’t listening, because another wave of pleasure took him over and he was coming again!

“You have a knot.” He was babbling, seeing nothing but white. “Of course you have a knot. Oh god, Derek, how am I still coming? How am I still alive-”

“Just let go.” Derek whispered soothingly, and Stiles listened, unable to do anything but feel Derek’s hard cock thrusting right against his prostate. His hot come filling his passage and slicking the way, the knot keeping any of it from falling out of him. Then there was the blood leaking from his neck. The blood that Derek was licking up, refusing to waste a single drop...

Stiles passed out, Derek’s howl following him into the dark.


He wakes up to Derek’s fingers inside him, practically having a field day in the mess he’s made.

Stiles moans, hips rutting back to drag Derek deeper into him, and how the fuck does he still have the strength to even think about doing this?

“You’re back.” Derek observes, fingers thrusting in deeper before pulling out completely. Stiles watches as his come-coated digits trail over the skin of his thighs, his abdomen and chest. His cock gives an interested twitch as Derek starts to rub his release into his flesh.

“Now everyone will know.” Derek whispers. “You are mine and I am yours.”

Stiles should be disgusted. He should want a shower, but instead he feels a sharp thrill at being so blatantly claimed like this. He pulls Derek down next to him, giving his lips a sweet lingering kiss before he settles, using Derek as a pillow.

“Would it be inappropriate to say thank you?” Stiles voiced the question against Derek’s nipple, grinning when the wolf trembled.

“Gratitude is always appreciated.” Derek hissed. Stiles pressed open-mouthed kisses against his abs, tracing his tongue against the indentations of his muscles. And what inspiring muscles they were.

“I’m sure I could show you my gratitude. I could wax poetic about your body. Try to touch and lick every inch of you, cataloguing how you taste, what makes you react.”

“Jesus, Stiles.” Derek growled. “Thought you were tired.”

“Or maybe I could use my words. Tell you about how fucking good you make me feel. How hard you can make me come. Christ, Derek, how many times did you bring me off?”

“Five.” Derek cried out in pleasure. “Five times.”

“Five times.” Stiles whistled under his breath. “That’s impressive.” Derek keened when Stiles tongue flicked into his naval. “I can taste my come on your skin.” He admitted, and Derek’s eyes were back to shining blue.

“Maybe I want to know what you taste like.” Stiles whispered, hand wrapping around Derek’s newly-hardened cock.

“Oh hell.” Derek moaned, arching up as Stiles sank down, engulfing what he could of the werewolf’s member in his mouth. Derek leaked, a lot, so Stiles didn’t have to wait in order to know what he tasted like.

“You’re so wet.” Stiles couldn’t help but comment when he pulled off. “And the way you taste...fuck.” Stiles moved back up to Derek’s lips. “Have you ever tried it?” He didn’t wait for the man to respond, shoving his tongue as far into Derek’s mouth as he could push it.

Derek lost it. Grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck and pulled him impossibly close, licking the taste of himself from the inside of Stiles’ mouth. They were both moaning in pleasure, bodies shaking with the force of it.

Derek’s back rested against the headboard, and he pulled Stiles up to him, maneuvering him like he was a rag doll until he straddled his hips.

“Damn it, Stiles. If you’re tired you better tell me now, or I’m-”

“Not tired.” Stiles promised huskily, eyes boring into Derek’s with nothing but lust, and want, and need.

Derek didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted Stiles up and sank in to the hilt.


“How are you feeling?” Derek murmured his question into Stiles’ skin, going back to ‘grooming’ the younger boy.

“I feel like putty.” Stiles moaned, tilting his head to give Derek better access.

“Good putty, or sick putty?”

“Derek.” Stiles sighed in affection, “I just rode your brains out. I’m pretty sure my hypothermia turned tail and ran away screaming ages ago.”

“Good.” Derek grinned, feeling smug and pleased. His tongue ran a hot trail over the back of Stiles’ neck, teeth nipping playfully at the top knob of his spine. Stiles’ let out a low, tired laugh, swatting at Derek’s arms without malice.

“Tickles.” He murmured, eyes fluttering in exhaustion. Derek’s arms tightened around him and he refused to let him go. Stiles was quite alright with that.

“So I’m an emissary, who happens to be your mate and we just had crazy werewolf sex.”

“In a word, yes.” Derek answered with a smirk in his voice, nuzzling at the line of Stiles’ hair.

“Am I hallucinating?”

Derek pinched Stiles’ side and Stiles yelped.

“Does that feel like your hallucinating?”

“It would make more sense.”

“More sense then what?” Derek asked absently.

“You so love me.” Stiles teased, and when Derek didn’t deny it right away his throat closed up.

“Would that be so terrible, or would you rather be hallucinating?” Derek whispered silkily into his ear and Stiles trembled.

“No. This is good. Yeah, I want this.” Stiles stuttered, gripping Derek tighter to him.

“Get some sleep.” Derek breathed in his ear, and Stiles let out a contented sigh.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?” He asked with his remaining strength.

“Always.” Floated back to him on a whisper.