Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/942595.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Bottom_Stiles, Possessive_Behavior, Dirty_Talk,
      Marking, Biting
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-26 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2378
****** Make Me Yours ******
by hexthejinx
Summary
     Since he started to sleep with Derek, Stiles has realized he wants
     things he never thought he would. He wants to belong. Luckily, Derek
     is more than eager to give him all he desires.
Notes
     I'm going to add more tags as the story progresses, so please, pay
     attention!
The thought has been on Stiles’ mind for a while, but he waits for weeks until
he finally decides to voice it. He does that one evening when he and Derek are
lying in Stiles’ bed, Stiles’ breathing still slightly quickened after the sex
they had not so long ago, although Derek breaths perfectly normal by then. He
doesn’t know why he chooses this precise moment to ask. It seems that it’s a
less of a conscious choice and more of letting his guards down, when he’s still
a little boneless and post-orgasm happy.
“Derek,” he murmurs into the dark room, not bothering to raise his voice
because he knows the alpha will hear him anyway. “Why do you never mark me?”
Derek stiffens next to him. Stiles’ bed is too small for them to lie far from
each other; their arms are brushing and Stiles feel Derek’s body going tense.
“Why would you ask that?” he says, voice measured.
“Well...” Stiles isn’t sure how to handle this conversation without making him
sound like a creeper. Ever since he and Derek have started this thing (they
refuse to call it dating; there are no real dates involved anyway) he has spent
a truly unhealthy amount of time browsing various sites devoted to werewolves
and reading any supernatural grimoire he could get his hands on. Whatever it is
he has with Derek, he wants to do this right and his extensive research was
supposed to make sure he wouldn’t screw things up by saying or doing something
absolutely inappropriate. What it’s done instead is make him crave things he
would have never thought he would crave.
In the end he settles on a straightforward approach. “It’s just... It’s a thing
for you weres, right? An instinct. When... When you have an intimate connection
with someone,” he finishes awkwardly, cringing at his words choice.
Derek doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, it’s still stilted. “It
is.”
“Um... Unless we don’t have that connection. Which is totally fine, fine with
me in every possible way. I mean, the sex is great, it’s awesome, better than I
have ever imagined. Not that I’ve imagined it a lot, nah, that’d be-”
“Stiles. Shut up.”
Stiles does, his mind catching up with what has just left his mouth. He feels
blush creeping up his cheeks and he’s glad for the darkness surrounding him,
though he’s not sure how much Derek can see with his night vision.
Derek moves, turning on his side and facing Stiles, which also puts some
distance between their bodies and they are no longer touching, even briefly.
Stiles suppresses the urge to move closer, chase the warmth the werewolf is
radiating at all times.
“I really need to know why are you asking this right now.”
“I don’t know! It’s just came across my mind, it’s not like I planned on doing
it.” He can see in the faint glow from the street lamp that Derek is shaking
his head.
“I mean more why not a week ago, or a week before that, or almost two months
ago when we slept together for the first time.”
Stiles pouts, a little irritated with this whole interrogation. He can’t come
up with a believable excuse on such short notice. “I did some research,” he
mutters finally, fingers playing with a hem of his comforter.
He doesn’t need to look at Derek to know his eyebrows are currently riding up.
“What sort of research?”
“About werewolves and... stuff.”
“Ah.” Derek is silent for a moment, long enough that Stiles thinks that the
conversation is over. But before he manages to throw in some random comment,
just to make the situation less awkward and start some new, safe topic, or
maybe just sneak off to the bathroom, Derek continues. “Something else your
sources said I should have done?”
“Uhm... You never scented me, either. And,” he needs to take a gulp of air to
force the phrase out. He still stutters a little. “You never kn-knotted me.”
Derek runs a hand over his face. “Jesus.”
Stiles sits up and waves his arms around frantically. “No, dude, don’t worry
about it! It’s just something I’ve read on a stupid website, I’m sorry for
bringing it up. Like I said, it’s okay if you don’t want to-”
“Stiles,” Derek interrupts him again, his voice a strange mix of exasperation
and fondness, and as always, Stiles stops talking. “I’ve never said I didn’t
want to.”
“You do?” Stiles asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Then why didn’t
you...?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, trusting Derek to know that his
question encompasses everything he has mentioned, and maybe a bit more.
“I don’t want to force my wolf on you, okay?” Derek is agitated now, his
earlier composure gone. He gets up and flicks on a small lamp on Stiles’ desk.
The boy squints, even though the light is not a harsh one. But they’ve been
lying in the darkness for quite a long time and his eyes need a moment to
adjust. When he opens them again, blinking a couple of times for a good
measure, Derek has already his briefs on and he is sitting in the desk chair.
The way he is physically distancing himself worries Stiles. He wants to get up
and pull Derek back to the bed, but he doesn’t follow on the impulse. If Derek
needs some space he has to have a reason.
“I know it’s not easy for a human to be in a relationship with a werewolf, any
sort of relationship. There are many things people don’t understand, don’t know
how to handle them. If they are nice, they call these things “quirks” but more
often than not they just write us off as creepy weirdos and run away, more or
less literally. I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Dude,” Stiles lets out a puff of air and gazes at Derek, incredulous. “I’ve
seen you all wolfed our more times than I can count, and do I have to remind
you about the last month when you showed up at my house all bloody and barely
standing upright? I had to clean you up and make a fucking herbal concoction at
three in the morning, to help you fight off the poison that stupid lamia
managed to inject into you. I actually own a shelf of dried up herbs, just for
such occasions.” He indicates said shelf with a wide swing of his arm. Several
small jars are lined up there, each with a handwritten label on it. “So yeah, I
think if I wanted to run away screaming, I’ve done that a lot earlier. Possibly
when you wanted me to cut off your arm, for fuck’s sake, and I almost did it.”
Derek frowns at the reminder, but he must see the point, because he nods
tightly. “Fair enough. But I still don’t want you to think you’re obligated to
put up with something just because I’m a werewolf and I have werewolf-like
urges.”
“That’s very noble of you, Derek.” Stiles doesn’t mean to sound so sarcastic,
but it turns out this way anyway. “I’m glad you’re so considerate, I really
am,” he adds hastily, not wanting to start an argument. “But you could have
check in with me. Never occurred to you that I might be actually on board with
all of this?”
Derek shrugs. So yeah, apparently it never has. Stiles tends to forget about
this self-depreciating streak Derek has, how he often doesn’t let himself
believe he can have all the nice things. He sighs, shaking his head and
receiving a glare from Derek in return.
“Seriously, though.” Now that the topic has been already tackled, Stiles is
determined to go on with it. “So you admit to having werewolf urges?”
Derek holds himself very still, arms crossing over his chest, gaze flicking
away. “You’re stepping on a dangerous territory, Stiles.”
“What, is it that bad?”
“Jesus. Okay, have it your way.” He straightens up and locks his eyes over
Stiles’. “Yes, it’s that bad. It’s worse. Every time we meet I want to rub
myself all over your body, because you smell wrong, like other people and not
like me, and it’s killing me. Touching and kissing helps, but that’s not
enough. I want to suck and bite at your pale skin, make marks and bruises, make
everybody see who you belong to. I want to stuff you up with my knot, fill you
up with my seed and keep it inside until it takes. I know it won’t but I still
want to do it. I want to rub my come all over your skin, make you smell like
mine. Fuck, I want to do it and not allow you to clean afterwards, so it
stays.” Derek’s chest is heaving, eyes flashing red and there are tips of claws
showing at the end of his fingers, his control clearly slipping away from him.
He digs the claws in his palms and takes a shuddering breath, managing to pull
the wolf back in. “Happy now? That’s what you wanted to hear? Is that enough of
an admission to you?”
Stiles stares at Derek wide-eyed as the werewolf finishes his tirade. Derek
clenches his jaw and turns around, heading towards the door and possibly the
bathroom, as he isn’t likely to go anywhere else just in his underwear. Stiles
doesn’t want him to go, at all.
“Derek,” he calls out quietly. When the man turns around, he waves his hand in
an odd gesture, bringing attention to his crotch. He hasn’t put on any clothes
and his dick is in the plain view. His definitely erected dick. He’s not hard
all the way, but it’s enough to indicate how aroused he is.
Anger vanishes from Derek’s face, replaced with astonishment. “Are you...”
“Yes.” Stiles feels vaguely embarrassed, but not very much. He makes no move to
cover himself. His initial unease to be naked in Derek’s presence is long gone,
since around the first week of them sleeping together when he learned that for
some unfathomable reason, Derek is ridiculously attracted to his gangly body.
“I’m turned on right now. Like, a lot.”
Derek still seems stunned. “You really want this.”
“Told you, dumbass. Well,” he amends. “Maybe not everything at once. But in
general... yeah, I want it.”
Derek approaches the bed, stopping right in front of it, close enough that he
could touch Stiles if he extended his arm. He hovers uncertainly, though, and
Stiles knows he still wants him to have the final word.
He looks Derek straight in the eye and is actually surprised when his voice
doesn’t waver as he speaks. “Mark me. Now.”
Derek shuts his eyes tightly. “Are you sure? Your father is going to see.”
“Then do it lower, so I can cover it. Come on, Derek. Please.”
It’s the plea that does it for Derek. He can’t resist when Stiles, when his boy
asks for it. The werewolf groans and opens his eyes, then shoves as Stiles’
chest. He doesn’t expect it and falls backwards on the bed with a little
‘oomph’. Derek crawls over him, pinning his body to the mattress with his
weight. Stiles doesn’t struggle. Instead, he tips his head back, exposing his
long neck. Derek is not able to resist a second longer.
He sucks on the tender skin just below Stiles’ jaw, making the boy gasp. He
does that on his way down to the dip of Stile’s collarbone. Derek sweeps his
tongue in a single lick over the spot and then bites down, catching a small
fold of skin between his human teeth.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Stiles moans but he grasps at Derek’s head and keeps it in place,
so the werewolf knows he still wants it. He releases the skin and licks at it
soothingly, only to clench his teeth on it again.
Stiles takes one of his hand off Derek’s hair and slides it down to cup his
dick. He starts stroking, quick up and down movements, tightening his fist
every time he moves it up. Derek’s teeth are still clamped on his skin; he lets
out a guttural growl, a sound that vibrates through Stiles’ body, sending him
over the edge. Just a few more strokes and he comes, splattering over his
stomach and hand, a few curses slipping past his lips.
Derek lets go of his abused skin but he keeps licking over the spot, small
precise movements as Stiles comes down from his orgasm. Stiles can feel his
hard-on where the alpha is pressed along his side. “You still haven’t... Do you
want me to...?”
“Mmm,” Derek mumbles against his neck, but before Stiles asks to clarify what
that means, Derek gets hold of his dick and starts twisting his hips, partially
fucking in his own fist and partially rubbing against Stiles’ thigh. He doesn’t
take long either and when he comes, his teeth clench on Stiles’ collarbone for
the last time.
For a minute or two both of them just lie there, Stiles stroking Derek’s hair
absentmindedly and looking at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. Derek
lifts his head and runs his finger over the spot. Stiles draws in a sharp
breath.
“Does it hurt?”
“Stings. But it’s good. How does it look like?”
“Amazing,” Derek says, sounding awed and when his eyes meet Stiles’, there’s
something darker in them, primary. Stiles feels a wave of heat spreading
through his body.
“So... Can we make it a thing? Like, regular?”
“Yeah. Yes. Definitely.” Derek still sounds like he thinks he’s dreaming and
he’s going to wake up any moment. Stiles scoot closer, wanting to reassure him,
but also because the air in the room is getting chilly.
“I wonder how it’ll look like tomorrow,” Stiles says quietly, snuggling against
Derek side. The werewolf swings his arm around his shoulder, bringing him
closer and Stiles hums his approval. “All red and vivid, or maybe bluish, like
a bruise.”
“Keep talking like this and I’ll be ready for round three in no time.”
Stiles laughs in Derek’s chest but stays quiet afterwards and he doesn’t even
know when he falls asleep.
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, Robb.”
Robb laughed, and it relaxed her. “No, we didn’t, sweet girl.” He gazed into
her eyes and she saw a trace of worry there. “You sure you’re all right, Sansa?
I didn’t hurt you?” He kissed her forehead.
She laced her fingers with his. “No, Robb. You make me yours just like I
wanted,” she whispered.
“And you did the same, Sansa.” She drifted off to sleep, with Robb’s strong
arms around her.
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