Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Jeff Davis et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: have sex or die trope, rimming
Stiles had made a decision; he was going to lose his virginity. He had been seventeen for nearly a month and he was the only one of his friends who had yet to pop his cherry. Isaac was with Allison and they were at it like bunnies; Scott had been with Allison before and at it like bunnies; Lydia and Aiden gave bunnies a bad name and Ethan and Danny had been walking around smiling like bunnies were going out of fashion.
It was all grossly unfair.
Hence Stiles had decided he wasn't putting up with being the only virgin any more. For various reasons, not least of which was that his wet dreams of late, when he could actually sleep that was, did not only feature Lydia, but also a strong, well muscled man who would remain nameless, he had also decided he was willing to try playing for the other team. The other very potent explanation for all this was that all his female friends were attached to werewolves who would rip his throat out for looking at them funny.
That was why he was on his way to Jungle where Danny had promised to hook him up with someone who wouldn't mind assisting him with his problem. It was the full moon, so all the wolves were off doing wolfy things and Scott couldn't look at him mournfully because Scott wasn't getting any either at the moment. He had five sachets of lube in one pocket and a whole handful of condoms in the other, so he was prepared for everything.
Well except someone grabbing him from behind and smothering his face with a really odd smelling cloth. He struggled for less than ten seconds before blackness engulfed him.
He woke up feeling very groggy and slightly sick with a horrible taste in his mouth. There was an unopened bottle of water in front of his nose which he opened and downed several gulps in case anyone decided to take it away. Only then did he register his surroundings. The room was about ten feet square, had one light, a concrete floor, no furniture and what looked like a reinforced door. It also had another person in it, curled into the far corner.
"Um, hello," Stiles asked carefully, "are you alive?"
There was blood on the floor near the hunched man, but a grunt came back. That settled, Stiles did a quick check; whoever had grabbed him had taken his phone and the wolfsbane coated knife he kept strapped to his shin, but he still had his wallet and everything else from his pockets. Whoever had grabbed him had clearly only been interested in making sure he couldn't escape and he tried not to think too hard as to why he might have been kidnapped in the first place. Standing up, he walked to the door, just in case, but it was indeed, locked tight. That just left his companion.
"Hi again," he said, approaching the curled figure carefully, "do you know why we're in here?"
He went barrelling backwards when glowing blue eyes snapped onto him like prey. His brain was so busy going 'oh shit, werewolf, full moon' that it took him a few seconds to realise those eyes were familiar.
"Derek?" he asked and his fear began to dissipate.
He moved forward again quickly even though a voice at the back of his mind was pointing out that Derek looked on the edge of his control.
"Oh my god, what did they do to you?"
Now that he was looking there was more blood than he'd noticed before, but Derek's body was hiding where it had fallen. He traced it back with his eyes, looking for obvious wounds, which was when he realised the blood was coming from Derek arm and it was being caused by Derek's own claws.
"What are you doing?" he asked, reaching forward, but Derek pulled his arm away before he could touch.
"Poisoned," Derek growled out.
"The people who grabbed me..?"
"Hunters," Derek said.
"And they've poisoned you?"
"Why the arm?"
"Trying ... trying to ... keep control."
"The poison is wrecking your zen?" he checked.
Derek nodded again.
"Want me feral," Derek's voice was more of a growl, but he forced out the words; "instinct, hunt, kill you, then they can kill me, draw out Scott."
Stiles saw Derek dig his claws into his arm further and grunt in pain; fighting for stability. They were in real trouble.
"So I'm piggy in the middle, a reason to kill you and something to make Scott mad," he said, compartmentalising the information rather than letting himself think about it too hard. "Is there any chance you might be able to hold on?" he asked hopefully.
"Moon," Derek said, shaking his head, "getting worse."
There went any plan of waiting it out. Stiles looked around the room for anything that might help, but it was as empty as it had been the last time he looked. When Derek finally lost it there would be him and one insane werewolf and absolutely nothing else. He considered screaming for help, but if the hunters had been good enough to plan this then he was pretty sure it would be a waste of time.
The edges of panic flickered at his mind, but he pushed them away. He might be afraid of feral werewolves, but he wasn't afraid of Derek, quite the opposite in fact given his dreams lately, and there he had managed to break his own rule. He had figured if he didn't name Derek he didn't have to admit he was having sexual fantasies about someone else totally unattainable. If only he had been able to have sex he might have been able to take the edge off, because instincts and hormones were a heady mix.
That thought brought his brain to a stuttering halt and he put his hand in his pocket. The sachets crackled under his fingers and his thoughts started spinning again at a hundred miles an hour. He had an idea; it was a crazy idea, but crazy seemed to be all they had left.
"Derek," he said, putting his hand on Derek's arm.
The werewolf looked up at him, eyes still glowing blue and features beginning to shift.
"I know the hunting instinct is strong," he said, "but what if we could replace it with another one?"
Derek frowned, so Stiles pulled out one of the sachets of lube. For a moment Derek actually looked scandalised, which was hilarious given the situation.
"Look I know you're straight, but sex is sex, right, and if we can get you interested in me before you lose it, would sex replace maim and kill?"
"Hurt you," Derek said, not sounding overly coherent.
"Yeah, well, you're probably gonna kill me if we don't do something, so will this work, yes or no?"
Derek stared at the lube in his hand.
"Might," was the eventual response.
Stiles' heart decided to speed up at that, because it made it real. From abstract it went to distinct possibility and his stomach rolled and his dick twitched in apparently opposite assessments of the situation.
"Okay," he said, trying to think, "do I need to try and hide I'm male, is that a passion killer?"
He decided if he thought about it logically maybe his brain wouldn't disappear in a puff of hormones and he might make it through the night alive.
"Bi," was what Derek said and totally didn't help.
"Oh cool," he said, "me too, but then that was probably obvious given I'm carrying a fuck ton of lube in my pocket."
Derek actually managed an eyebrow raise.
"Right," Stiles said, dragging his brain back on course, "we need to get your dick focused on me. Naked would help right?"
He pulled at his shirt, hands shaking with nerves, but Derek's hand shot out, catching his wrist in bloody digits.
"Won't need much," Derek said, looking him in the eye.
"Oh," he replied, "because it's me or because you're losing it?"
Anyone else wouldn't have asked, but Stiles and his mouth were not always in complete agreement with what came out of it. For a few seconds Derek did not reply and Stiles could feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck and into his face.
"You," Derek eventually growled.
"Really?" was probably totally inappropriate as well, but he couldn't help it. "Um, me too; if it helps, you in some really wild dreams is how I kind of figured out I wasn't completely straight."
Derek looked surprised again.
"Yeah, who knew, eh?" Stiles commented. "Of course the model bod and ass like a god probably helped."
The confusion on Derek's face was adorable, which wasn't really something Stiles had ever thought to put together with a half turned werewolf.
"Okay," he decided, "then we're on the same page. Now I totally had plans to lose my virginity tonight and it looks like I'm getting my wish, but I'd really like to start proceedings before you totally lose it because, yeah, virgin ass."
Derek let go of his wrist and he finished pulling off his shirt, feeling just a little more confident. He'd been on the internet and he'd prepared for all options for the evening, so he was ready. Of course he hadn't thought his partner in crime, because technically it wasn't legal, would be a werewolf.
"Derek, you need to get naked," he said as he dumped out the contents of his pockets and started on opening his jeans.
Derek just stared at him.
The intensity of Derek's gaze was unsettling, but Stiles decided to run with it. If Derek's wolf was interested in fucking instead of hunting, he was in with a chance and Derek definitely looked focused. Feeling all sorts of nervous, Stiles stood up, kicked off his shoes and then shucked out of his jeans, leaving him only in his boxer briefs.
"Your turn," he said, but Derek was still just looking at him.
He wasn't quite sure what to do, so he knelt down again and tentatively reached towards Derek.
"Off," he said, pulling at Derek's ruined t-shirt.
Ripping it in half wasn't quite what Stiles had had in mind, but it did give him a really nice view of Derek's abs and a lot of the blood in his brain headed south, so he was good with Derek's reaction.
"Pants off too," he said, "and I'll get me ready for you."
He picked up a sachet of lube and waved it in Derek's general direction. It wasn't exactly romantic, but at least Derek wasn't trying to rip his throat out. When Derek finally moved to remove some clothing, Stiles threw caution to the wind and slipped his boxers off. If anyone came in now they'd get an eyeful, but he doubted anyone would be stupid enough to open the door with a rabid werewolf on the premises.
Stiles was a planner, so he'd researched everything about gay sex. He'd also practised some parts. Putting his fingers where some people would have been horrified had been one of those and while Derek stripped, he ripped open the lube with his teeth and put the practice to good use. Gay, bi or heterosexual, Stiles figured anyone who didn't at least try anal stimulation was missing out. His cock reminded him just how good it felt by throbbing mercilessly as he did his best to make sure Derek wasn't about to rip him in half.
He was on his hands and knees, one arm behind him and somewhat lost in what he was doing, so he wasn't really ready when Derek moved up close behind him. He almost jumped out of his skin as clawed fingers settled on his hips.
Having pre-prepared in the shower before going out, he wasn't as tense as he could have been, but he definitely wasn't ready yet.
"Give me a minute," he said even as his heart fluttered.
All he got in return was a growl and when he looked at Derek the werewolf was in his full beta form. However, Derek didn't immediately leap on him. He worked quickly, using as much lube and as many fingers as he could as quickly as he could. The sooner they started the less likely he was to be mauled as well as fucked.
His dick was hard and he chanced a glance round at Derek and his heart jumped. Derek was just as hard as he was and way bigger than Stiles had imagined.
"Oh shit," he said and his hand stilled.
Derek seemed to take this as permission to throw them up to the next level. Stiles was pretty sure he was in no way ready, but when clawed hands settled on his butt cheeks, spreading them, he had no choice but to brace himself and pray. What he really, really didn't expect was for a tongue to replace his fingers. He grunted and collapsed forward onto his elbows as Derek's tongue swiped over and then pressed into his ass and his fear-wilted erection jumped back to full attention in seconds.
This was on his list of things he definitely wanted to try, but he hadn't expected it to end up at number one. The little voice at the back of his head figured he probably should have guessed a werewolf might be a little orally fixated, but most of his brain was occupied with melting. Derek's tongue was insistent and wet and Stiles forgot just about everything else. The fact that Derek was rimming him, Derek fucking Hale, was doing it for him like he actually couldn't believe and he almost forgot they were in a life or death situation.
"Oh my god," he said as Derek's tongue actually breached him.
He had no idea if Derek had a preternaturally long tongue or if werewolves had long tongues (he hadn't noticed if they had) or if he was just feeling more because of reasons, but he had never experienced anything like it in his life. He didn't even care that the concrete was chaffing his knees. As Derek worked Stiles felt his body relaxing and for once his brain did not go in a million directions at once, it was totally, one hundred percent focused on what Derek was doing.
He was so focused that when Derek finally stopped his whined in loss.
Then he felt Derek move up behind him and his brain started functioning again, at least a little. He grabbed the nearest packet of lube, ripped it open and shoved it in Derek's direction, since he was pretty sure Derek's tongue would have removed most of the last lot. When Derek took the sachet, Stiles was almost shocked, but it seemed Derek had at least some brain power left.
The lube was cold, but Derek's cock was hot as it pressed against him and Stiles guessed the next part was going to hurt. He wasn't wrong as Derek slowly but firmly pushed into him and his ass opened to accommodate werewolf cock. He swore, but his muscles were relaxed enough that there was no tearing sensation, just being way too full and spread and the feeling that he would burst, even though he wasn't.
Derek didn't seem interested in stopping.
Then somewhere, Stiles couldn't actually place when, it went from feeling like pain to feeling like something else entirely. He couldn't track down what happened, maybe his brain flipped or the endorphins finally kicked in big style, because he wasn't focused on the hurt anymore. What had all of his attention was how open he felt, how vulnerable and how it was Derek pushing into him. It was like an epiphany and he was sure, in that instant, if anything so much as brushed his cock he'd be coming like a freight train.
He pushed up on his arms, pushing back, wanting everything he could get.
Derek growled at him then, a firm hand pushing on his back, forcing him back down and claws raked over his skin, but he barely even felt it. It was as if his brain turned inside out and sense went out the window as he rolled his hips, begging, no demanding more. He'd had fantasies, so many fantasies, but this was nothing like any of them. When Derek took the hint and started to move, every brain cell Stiles had imploded.
It hurt, but it didn't hurt and all Stiles could do was whine and moan and take it. He had never even imagined, not remotely guessed what sex would do to his already besieged brain. Derek was moving in him and against him and it was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. His cock and balls hung heavy between his legs, moving in time with Derek's pace and he wanted to touch, but he knew as soon as he did the first round would be over. The small corner of his mind that was still working knew that he needed Derek completely fixated on him or sex might become dinner anyway, so he endured.
He started talking, just for something to distract him from the intensity, but he had no idea what he was saying. It could have been nonsense for all he remembered and Derek didn't seem to care.
Then, mid thrust, Derek changed angle and it felt as if every nerve in Stiles' body lit up. There was nothing he could do; the new sensation was too much and he came all over the floor, shaking and quivering and losing what little control he usually had of his body. Not that it stopped Derek. Derek just kept going, pulling him up against that strong chest so he didn't completely collapse face first into the concrete.
It would have been a nice though if Stiles had believed Derek was thinking at all.
His orgasm kept going long after the initial loss of control and soon every touch was into too much territory. It was like parts of him were on fire as Derek held him and fucked him and squashed together the bits that had flown apart as his brain exploded. At least Derek slowed the pace and Stiles felt his body simply giving in.
Minutes passed as he slowly came back to himself and Derek snuffled at his neck. He couldn't quite understand what Derek was waiting for, but there had to be something. Then he realised his cock was beginning to fill again.
"Oh god," he mumbled as his body started to respond for a second time.
The harder he became, the faster Derek moved and now he got it. Derek had been waiting for him, fucking him through one orgasm and towards the next. He whimpered, because he wasn't sure he could take it.
As Derek began to lose his rhythm and tense behind him he knew what was coming and part of him was glad. Part of him was afraid what would come after, but his body needed a break or he was going to pass out. There was only so much he could take and Derek was pushing him way past anything he had envisioned. That his body was responding without his consent, seemed to crave the overload, was not something he could do anything about.
However, when Derek thrust into him hard, pulled him very close, gripped his cock and bit down on his shoulder while coming, the pain, the fact Derek had bullseyed his prostate while grabbing his neglected cock and the fact he was completely overloaded anyway added up to one thing. He came again, spurting everything he had left over Derek's hand and passed out.
When he came to, Stiles found himself lying on his side on the pile of clothes he and Derek had left on the floor. Derek was curled up behind him, still in him, holding him like there was never any way Derek was letting go. He tried to move, just a little, and his ass complained and Derek growled at the same time. Whatever was going on, Derek was not getting any smaller and they were very much still joined together. In fact, as soon as Stiles showed he was awake, Derek began moving again, just little forward and back thrusts, but it was enough to make Stiles whine and grab at the arm firmly around his waist.
As he felt himself getting hard again, for the third time, even though he was pretty sure he had nothing left to give, he wondered if he might actually die anyway.
Stiles woke from an exhausted sleep when the door smashed in. He had just enough time to see Scott fully wolfed out before he heard Derek growl behind him. He reacted purely on instinct, sitting up, twisting and throwing himself on Derek before there could be a very bloody, probably fatal for someone, werewolf battle.
"Not the enemy," he said, gripping Derek's hair and staring straight into Derek's eyes. "Friend."
Derek's gaze was still wild, but there was just a hint of reason as well at Stiles' words.
"Stiles," Scott said, voice heavy with a warning tone.
"They poisoned him," Stiles said, refusing to look away from Derek; "made him lose control. We need to knock him out until it's out of his system."
He ran his fingers through Derek's hair, making sure he had all of Derek's attention. The scratch down his side and the bite on his shoulder were gently throbbing and his ass was aching, but he refused to let them distract him.
"It's okay," he said, not allowing Derek to look away; "they're here to help."
He was facing away from the door, but he heard shuffling. There was a phutt sound and a dart hit Derek square in the side of the neck, but something had to have got through, because Derek didn't struggle. The arms around Stiles tightened even as Derek's eyelids started to droop.
"It's okay," Stiles said again, beginning to lower Derek to the floor as the werewolf went heavy in his grip, "it's okay," he repeated.
Whatever was in the dart, it was strong stuff, because Derek was out before Stiles had him on the floor. Only once he was sure Derek was breathing normally did he finally look up, climbing off the prone body and turning to look at his rescuers.
"Hey," he said, all too aware he was naked and covered in very obvious signs of sex.
He and Derek had had sex for hours before Derek seemed to realise he couldn't take it anymore and had let him fall asleep.
Scott was there, Chris was there with a tranquiliser gun in one hand and a .45 in the other and as he saw his dad all the strength he had left seemed to leave him. His dad descended on him, pulling off his own jacket and throwing it round him as he sagged. It dawned on him he had just survived a full moon in a locked room with a drugged out of his mind werewolf and he started to shake.
"You're safe," his dad said, holding him very carefully. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing serious," he replied and had to wonder when six inch scratches and a rather spectacular bite had become 'nothing serious'.
The way his dad said it he realised he was being asked about other, less visible things and his dad was trying to be subtle and not spell it out.
"I'm fine," he said, "he wasn’t trying to hurt me. We had to ... we had to channel Derek's instincts into something other than eating me. Not a virgin anymore," he tried to joke and his dad just pulled him in for a much tighter hug.
His dad insisted he get checked out at the hospital, just in case, and thank god for Scott's mom, because she was able to give him the once over without raising questions. Then she'd let him take a shower. Scott and his dad stayed very close, while Chris and the twins took Derek somewhere to keep an eye on him until he was sane again.
It turned out that when Stiles hadn't shown up at the club and Danny had found his Jeep in the parking lot, Danny had called Ethan. Ethan had brought the whole pack and the hunters hadn't been anywhere near as careful as they thought they had. Tracking them, according to Scott, had taken most of the night, but Chris said the hunters should have been ashamed of themselves. They were currently locked up in the Sheriff's station and if they were lucky they would be processed before Stiles' dad got his hands on them.
Chris had had words and given the option of facing justice or facing the local wolf pack and Stiles' dad, they'd decided to confess to gun running and kidnapping. Scott's dad was being useful for once and was all over it. Stiles was going to have to give a statement about having seen them meeting a contact outside Jungle, but he was used to lying by now.
"You want pancakes?" his dad asked when they finally made it home.
It took him a few seconds to remember it was only just past breakfast time. Nodding, he gave his dad a small smile. He was sore and tired, but his dad knew just how to perk him up.
They chatted about nothing, or rather, Stiles rambled on about something totally irrelevant while his dad cooked. Only when his dad placed enough pancakes to feed an army in front of him did his dad ask one simple question: "Do you want to talk about it?"
He drenched his pancakes in butter and maple syrup while he thought that over. Being the wonderful dad he was, his father did not push.
"He didn't rape me," he said eventually, deciding he needed to get that out there. "It wasn't anything like how I pictured my first time, but it was completely consensual, in fact I suggested it."
"He’s an adult, you're not," his dad told him.
"And he was almost out of his mind," Stiles replied. "If anyone took advantage, Dad, it was me. Derek's been kind of a thing in my head for a while, right up there with Lydia, and no he didn't know, and no he never made a move on me. It was just a really happy coincidence that we were both on board, so it was easier than it could have been to make sure his wolfy side wanted me for something other than dinner."
He stabbed a piece of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth.
"Stiles," his dad said, placing a hand gently over his own, "it's still okay not to be okay with what happened."
"I," he started to say, but then stopped, because he didn't really know what he was trying to express.
His thoughts were all mixed up, he was tired and he hadn't had his daily dose of Adderall yet, which all coalesced into his brain really not being sure what he was thinking or feeling.
"I haven't processed it yet," is what he decided to say eventually, because it was the truth.
He knew himself only too well; over the next few days he would take everything apart, look at it, analyse it and then probably over think it. Only when that was done would he know how to react.
"If you need anything," his dad told him, "I'm here."
That did bring a genuine smile to his face; not a big one, but definitely genuine.
It took Stiles six days to finally decide what to do. Over those days he went back to school, he talked to Scott and Allison, he talked to his dad and he gave himself the time he needed. The only mention of Derek was from Scott who told him Derek was back at the loft and seemed fine now that whatever the hunters had pumped into him was gone.
That was probably why Derek was looking so shocked to see him in his doorway.
"Hi," he said and stepped inside.
Derek just stared at him, apparently completely lost for words.
"You're looking like you now," he continued, "which is a good look, by the way. I mean there's something to be said for the whole dangerous werewolf thing, but human you is kind of stunning."
"Stiles, why are you here?" Derek broke his babble with a question.
"Well I knew you wouldn't come near me," Stiles said, "what with your overdeveloped guilt complexes and a protective father and protective alpha between me and you, so I thought I'd drop by instead. Are you okay?"
Derek's eyebrows did a thing that even Stiles couldn't interpret.
"You're asking me?" was the incredulous question.
"Well yes, we were both kidnapped and locked in a small room, you are allowed to be not okay with it," he replied, remembering what his dad had said to him.
"I'm fine," Derek replied in a rather flat tone.
"Good, because so am I," Stiles said, walking further into the room; "another thing to add to the nightmare list..."
Derek whole body flinched.
"Not that," Stiles hastily corrected; "the whole being grabbed and nearly suffocated by a drugged rag is the nightmare. It was the rest I wanted to talk to you about."
Knowing that Derek was never going to come near him, he walked as close to Derek as he figured he could get without Derek making an excuse to run away.
"I spoke to Scott," he said, "and what we did, that wasn't just sex."
The emotions on Derek's face were so confused that Stiles could not figure out what his companion was thinking.
"Scott said he did it once with Allison, when it was near a full moon, wouldn't let her go, insisted on staying together," he went on. "He said it scared the crap out of him, so he asked you and you told him it was mating behaviour, that it only happened when wolves wanted something more, something long term."
Derek still didn't say anything.
"Now if you tell me it was just what they'd pumped into you, I'll leave and never mention it again," Stiles continued, "but if it's not, if it means what I think it means, I wanted you to know, I'm not going anywhere."
The silence stretched on.
"You're only seventeen," is what Derek eventually said and Stiles' heart skipped several beats, because it wasn't a denial.
"And I've nearly died more times than I want to count in the last year," he replied, "I think that gives me a little more perspective than most teenagers."
"I'm broken," was Derek's next gambit.
"Actually, I think you're starting to mend. You weren't here very long after you and Scott dealt with Ms Blake and Deucalion, but what I saw, giving up being an alpha did more for you than shed loads of therapy ever could. Besides, I'm not exactly stable emotional material myself. There's losing my mom and then the whole darkness around my heart thing. Bet you would never guess I slept better on the floor with you than I have done in weeks at home in my own bed."
Derek just looked at him.
"I know you're on this whole, finding yourself quest," Stiles had to fill the silence, "and the hunters dragged you off it and I get you're probably going again soon, but I wanted you to know, before you did, you have something to come back to. I know I'm not much, but there was something there, I felt it."
When Derek didn't move, Stiles decided he had said all he had come to say, so he turned to leave.
"I was coming back," is what stopped him as Derek spoke; "when they grabbed me, I was already coming back."
Stiles took a step closer to Derek.
"The wolf in me has wanted you for a while," Derek told him and Stiles bit his lip to keep from interrupting, because this was the most Derek had ever said to him; "ever since you started popping up everywhere. I kept pushing it away, but after I left there was this big hole."
It was Stiles’ turn not to know what to say.
"So you're staying?" he asked.
"If Scott will let me," Derek replied with a curt nod.
"Scott's a pushover, all you have to do is give him the puppy eyes."
Derek did not look so sure.
"You're pack, Derek," he insisted, "all you have to do is want it."
"I hurt one of his," Derek all but whispered.
"No," he said very firmly, "no," he repeated for emphasis, "you didn't. I let you do everything, I asked you to do it, hell, I wanted it. I could have asked for better circumstances and I will, believe me, if you let me I will, but you didn't hurt me."
"You were bleeding."
"Hazard of hanging out around werewolves," he replied. "I can take scratches and bruises; what you didn't do is take anything I wasn't willing to give. If those bastards have ruined what we might have had I think I'll go and shoot them myself, right now."
Derek stepped towards him, almost like he thought he was serious. Stiles was likely to throw things, but murder was a bit beyond him.
"Why do you even like me?" Derek asked, apparently bewildered.
"Oh, now you're asking," he replied. "I can go on forever if that's what it takes. You're brave, tenacious, a survivor, you're beautiful, and I mean that in a totally manly way, you never give up, you..."
Derek stepped forward and placed a finger on his lips.
"You just described yourself," Derek said and Stiles just stood there.
The moment held for what seemed like forever until Derek finally dropped his arm.
"Your father will shoot me," Derek said as if giving in to something he could not control.
"Nah," Stiles replied, "well, maybe a little, but it's not like it will kill you."
Derek gave him the full fledged eyebrow of doom and Stiles had to smile just a little.
"You are going to be the death of me," Derek said.
"Probably," Stiles said and took that last step into Derek's personal space, "but it'll be worth it, promise."
Before he knew what was happening, Derek reached out and pulled him in, face planting on his shoulder and breathing in like it was the most important thing in the world. He simply wrapped his arms around Derek and waited.
"You smell like home," Derek mumbled into his shoulder.
"You smell like sex," Stiles replied, "but then my nose isn't as good as yours."
Derek laughed into his shoulder.
"You really are going to kill me," Derek said, pulling back and looking at him.
"Only if you want me to," he said.
Leaning in, Derek took his face between those strong, capable hands and then kissed him, at which point Stiles forgot how to think. He didn't remember how again until several seconds after Derek drew back again and his brain was abuzz with so many sensations it was hard even then. This was real and he didn't even need to pinch himself to convince his mind of the truth.
As Derek stared into his eyes, gaze with just a hint of werewolf blue, Stiles knew he had found something he had missed since his mom died: stability. He didn't care why or how they had found each other, only that he and Derek had, and there was no way he was ever giving it up.