Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2639507.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Alan_Deaton_(mentioned)
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Human_Alpha_Stiles_Stilinski, Omega_Derek
      Hale, Bottom_Derek_Hale, Alpha_Derek_Hale, Derek_and_Stiles_are_Mates,
      Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Dubious_Consent, Rimming, Anal_Fingering, Anal
      Sex, Knotting, Dirty_Talk, Referenced_Mpreg, Masturbation, Breeding_Kink,
      Accidental_Unsafe_Sex, POV_Alternating
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-18 Words: 3117
****** Ready ******
by ashley_ingenious
Summary
     Derek Hale’s not an idiot, okay. He knew becoming an Alpha wouldn’t
     prevent him from going into heat. He just thought… he just thought he
     had more time, because Alpha’s don’t go into heat unless they’re in
     the presence of their true mate. And that, well, Derek hadn’t been
     expecting that.
Notes
     This was a not fic on tumblr that kinda hastily got turned into
     something publishable so...yeah. I just feel like you should know
     that going in, lol.
See the end of the work for more notes
He isn’t ready.
Derek Hale’s not an idiot, okay? He knew becoming an Alpha wouldn’t prevent him
from going into heat. He just thought… he just thought he had more time,
because Alpha’s don’t go into heat unless they’re in the presence of their true
mate. And that, well, Derek hadn’t been expecting that.
He’s upstairs, sitting in a pair of briefs on his bed, trying to figure out
what the hell he can possibly do. He could hire somebody. He could just ride it
out on his own? But it’s coming on fast. Hot and hard and he’s not gonna be
able to think clearly much longer. The back of his briefs are already tacky
with slick and dammit, Stiles is still there.
Stiles is still there. Researching (“Why can’t I just take the book home?” He’d
whined. “The last time I let you take one home there was cheeto dust all over
it when I got it back.” Derek growled.)
And he’s an Alpha technically, but he’s never been good at it. He’s not
possessive really. He’s got a temper on him but he’s not especially quick to
anger. He doesn’t have any of the Alpha traits, he’s just Stiles.
He can smell it though, the heat rising off Derek. And as much as he wants to
gather everything up and leave, just run, there’s rules, you know? He learned
in health class: you’re not supposed to leave an Omega alone in heat. But this
isn’t any Omega. This is Derek fucking Hale. He can’t possibly want Stiles. But
maybe there’s someone he wants Stiles to call? Somewhere he wants Stiles to
drive him? He could probably make it. Could probably ride locked up tight in
his tin can of a car with Derek smelling like…he did. They’d crack the windows.
It’d be fine.
Still, he sits downstairs pretending he doesn’t smell anything for a long time.
Maybe he’s got a fast acting suppressant he could take? Stiles has heard stuff
like that exists for rich people, and the Hale financial situation has always
been a mystery to him. So he sits there, trying to gather all the pertinent
information out of his book, breathing through his mouth. He’s at about a half
chub, nothing he can’t deal with. Nothing that’s even necessarily specific to
the situation, he’s a growing boy, it happens.
And they stay that way, in a kind of stalemate, until the cursing starts. Long,
drawn out moans of, “fuuuuuuck,” and that’s it. Stiles can’t pretend anymore.
The heat in the air is getting thicker, and Stiles has to get Derek someone, or
get him somewhere, before it gets too bad. Omegas can get sick if they’re not
properly cared for, and out of all the things that have tried (are actively
trying) to kill Derek Hale, Stiles just thinks it would be terribly fucked up
if a heat took him out.
So he’s walking up the stairs thinking he’s seen some pretty decent porn that
started like this, but all his good humor dies when he gets to the top of the
stairs and sees Derek.
"Dude, seriously, what the fuck?!" He shrieks, a little furious because of
course. Of course Derek Hale would do the one thing that would make this
situation harder for himself.
Derek is splayed out naked on his bed, taking in huge gulps of air, still
pumping his hard, come covered cock.
"Needed," he swallows, "needed to take the edge off."
Stiles swears. “Well, you realize that’s the exact opposite of what you did.
The first orgasm is the real trigger of the heat. You made it worse.”
Derek is shivering. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he moans.
"Yeah, because you’re heat drunk as fuck. What do you," he takes a tentative
step into the room, "what do you want me to do?"
Stiles isn’t half hard anymore. His dick is a tight line behind his zipper, but
he’s still in control. Most of the time, but not always, Omega heat will
trigger an Alpha rut. Just another way Stiles isn’t unlike most Alphas he
figures. Derek smells good. Like, really good, but Stiles’ head is clear. Derek
always smells good anyway.
"Come here," the Wolf growls, and Stiles steps deeper into the room, stopping
at the edge of the bed.
"You want me to call somebody? To take you somewhere?"
Derek shakes his head, hand going shaky on his dick. “Why do you smell like an
Alpha?”
"Uh, dude, I am an Alpha."
And Derek’s eyes widen a little, and he makes this little choked off noise that
Stiles really wants to call a whimper, but then he bites down on it hard, nods
his head once and just rolls over onto his hands and knees. Just presents for
Stiles like this is a perfectly normal thing for them to be doing. 
(Which, biologically, it is, but Jesus.)
"Der— what the fuck are you doing?"
"Mount me, Alpha," Derek whines. 
Stiles sputters, blinks. He instinctively steps towards the bed, but there’s
nowhere for him to go, the toes of his sneakers hit the mattress frame. 
"Derek. I can’t just…you don’t even like me." 
"Why are you here, then? If you’re not going to take care of me?" He snaps, but
it’s countered by the shameless wiggling of his ass in Stiles’ face. 
"Do you like your omegas to beg," he continues, voice going breathless, "I
could do that for you, Stiles…I could beg." Derek’s voice goes soft and needy,
and Stiles has to shake his head to clear it. 
"You’re gonna regret this later," he murmurs, at a loss. It’s clicking in him,
the way it’s supposed to for an Alpha, that he needs to take care of this
omega. It’s not the mindless rage of rut, but the smell in the room is getting
thicker, and Stiles’ vision is getting a little hazy. 
"Not," Derek sobs out, and Stiles can see his hard cock bobbing up against his
stomach. "Please." 
Stiles blinks and he’s pulling his arms out of his hoodie, tossing it across
the room. Derek’s ass his flushed, covered with a sheen of sweat. He can see
the slick sliding down his inner thighs. 
"Spread yourself for me," he finds himself saying, "let me see." 
"Fuck," Derek whines, but he does it. The bud of his hole is red, puffy and
fluttering at nothing, slick dripping out of it in slow, syrupy pulses. 
"God," Stiles mutters as he toes out of his shoes, climbs up on the bed,
crawling up the mattress on his knees. 
Derek’s skin is hot when Stiles puts a hand to his lower back. Bracing himself,
he ducks down and seals his mouth over that hungry opening. 
Derek shouts and shudders hard, hand leaving his ass to grip the sheets in
front of him. Stiles slides his hand into the place where Derek’s once was,
humming around him when he gets the first taste of Derek’s slick directly from
the source. 
Stiles has been high twice in his life, and this is better. It’s none of the
druggy, slow feeling meds normally give him. This is pure. He feels cracked
open, weightless. 
Pulling up for air, he chuckles and licks at his lips. Derek whines, and Stiles
hurries to shush him, running a slick stained hand up his back. 
"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, running long fingers around Derek’s
puffy entrance. He presses a fingertip against the tight skin, just to feel the
give.
Derek sucks him in, one finger after another, spasming around him. He works his
ass back desperately, and Stiles swears under his breath.
"S’gotta be so hard, playing big, bad Alpha when all you want is this."
He curls his fingers up, searching for the spot he read about. He knows he’s
found it when Derek grunts, sobs, and comes all over the sheets under him.
Stiles can feel his body relaxing around the fingers still pumping inside him.
"Stiles," he moans, voice raw, "You’ve gotta…"
The younger man scissors his fingers, stretching and spreading him. He’s on
autopilot, body moving and words spilling out of his mouth without volition.
He’s still fuzzy, moving on instinct. He realizes that he has to get his
clothes off, but he doesn’t want to stop touching Derek. Doesn’t want to leave
him alone. 
"Roll over, sweetheart. Touch yourself." He says, soothing a hand down Derek’s
side. 
But he finds himself closing his eyes, blocking out the picture Derek must make
as he struggles out of his flannel and tshirt (no Alpha grace either).
Wrestling himself out of his belt,  he shoves his jeans and boxers down. His
blood is a roar in his ears as the cool air hits his dick. 
"Stiles," Derek whines, and Stiles’ eyes fly open. The wolf is writhing on the
bed, cock obscenely red, choking it roughly.
"Slow down, Derek," Stiles says immediately, "take it easy."
"You’ve gotta…" Derek chokes out, but Stiles is already nodding.
"I know, sweetheart. I just need a condom."
"Can’t hurt me. Won’t hurt you. Just please.” 
Stiles can’t help but lean forward and take Derek’s mouth. Plunge his tongue in
and take all that lush heat that’s being offered to him. Derek is gasping when
they break apart. 
"You could carry," Stiles murmurs, wrenching open the bedside drawer and
fumbling until he finds a condom. 
“Yesssssss, breed me, Alpha” Derek moans, catting his hips up as he lets a
clawed hand skate down Stiles’ back. And Stiles is right on the edge of rut,
has to be right on the edge because the bite of pain in his back makes him
grin. 
"You would be pretty," he hums as he slides the condom onto his aching cock,
"All fucked full of me." 
He lines himself up slowly, head of his cock inching into Derek’s tightness,
slick pulsing around him as he works himself in. 
Derek’s head is thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out as he arches,
works himself down to get more cock in him. He’s greedy and panting and Stiles
is still smiling as he slows down his thrust, dragging it out further. 
"Stiles," Derek gasps, "Alpha, please, fuck me, fuck me, please," he whines,
begging. And Stiles knows that his rut is right around the corner, that soon
it’ll be driving and instinctual, that he won’t be able to control it. He
doubts, when the haze of hormones clears, that he’ll be able to remember much
after this. He’s resolved to go as slow as he can for as long as he can. To
remember Derek Hale spread out under him like this, pretty and flushed and
begging for his dick. 
When he does bottom out, he leans in and lets himself lick at the pulse point
in Derek’s neck, where the claiming bite would be. 
"More," Derek whimpers, hands scrabbling at Stiles’ hips. The teenager just
laughs into his throat. 
"You have to fuck me. You have to. You have to give me what I need or I’ll find
somebody else to—" 
The roaring, incomprehensible rage of rut slams into Stiles, then. Snatching
Derek’s hands from his hips, he pins the wolf’s wrists against the headboard,
hips working furiously. 
"Someone else?" He snarls, hips angling until they find that same spot, that
hot place that makes Derek keen. 
Heat suspends the healing process in wolves, Stiles knows. He can almost feel
the blood rising under his hands, knows that Derek will have deep, purpling
bruises ringing his wrists for days. It makes him dip down, bite a bruise into
Derek’s collarbone, another below his Adam’s apple. He licks and sucks at the
pulse point, teasing, and Derek comes again between them. The werewolf is
reduced to mewls and whimpers now, thighs shaking as Stiles rams into him. 
"There’s no one else," the boy growls, "No one else you’d lay yourself out like
this for. Like a slut, Derek. Like my pretty little omega whore." 
"Yes— I, yes. Don’t stop," Derek moans, and Stiles chuckles. 
"Not stopping, sweetheart. Not stopping," Stiles grunts, but he can feel his
knot growing, stretching out his skin. He slams in harder, deeper, swiveling
his hips to hit all of Derek’s sweet spots before thrusting one last time, and
letting his knot fill and lock them together. 
"Yes, yes, yes," Derek chants quietly, and Stiles rolls his hips to keep the
pressure up against his prostate. He can feel it rising in Derek, the need to
come again, so he reaches his hand down, wraps it around the wolf’s cock, jerks
roughly once, twice, and then Derek is shouting, shivering and coming hot and
hard around Stiles’ cock. 
The omega’s orgasm triggers his own. He can feel himself start to spill over,
teeth gritted against the bone deep ache of it. He collapses into Derek’s
throat, the wolf’s breathing already evening out in sleep. 
When Stiles is spent, Stiles pulls only to find the condom torn, unable to hold
the amount of come pumped into it, and his seed spilling out of Derek’s hole. 
                                      ——
When Derek comes to, the room is too bright and Stiles is gone. There’s a
bottle of water and a fresh looking salad on the bedside table, and he can hear
the teenager moving around downstairs. 
"Stiles," he calls out, and smiles a little at the crash bang of something
falling as Stiles runs up to answer him. 
"You’re up," he says dumbly, looking entirely too at home in a pair of Derek’s
sweats and nothing else. His hair is wet, so obviously he helped himself to a
shower, but he still smells like Derek. And Derek smells like him. They smell
mated and Derek likes it. Likes it a whole lot more than he should.
He just nods in response. 
"The uhm…the condom broke," Stiles mutters guiltily, and then it’s Derek’s turn
to run an embarrassed hand over the back of his neck. 
"I know," he replies, "I felt it." 
"Dude! Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve tried to pull out! We
could’ve—" 
But Derek just shrugs, picks up the bottle of water to give his hands something
to do. “Didn’t want you to.” 
They’re silent for a while, Stiles’ eyes alternating between being intensely on
Derek or desperately anywhere else in the room. 
"I’m hungry," Derek mutters after a while.
"Eat your salad," Stiles supplies. Derek looks at it with narrowed eyes. 
"I’m not a woodland creature, Stiles. I need food." 
"You had a three day heat, and then you slept for two. You can’t just dive
right into a rack of ribs, Derek. Eat your damn salad." Stiles spits. 
Derek huffs, but he grabs the salad from off the nightstand. There’s chicken
tossed into it,  and heirloom tomatoes like he likes, so that’s something. He
takes a tentative bite. Then another because it’s delicious. 
He’s about halfway through the salad when Stiles starts fidgeting again. 
"Do you think you’re…?" He asks, looking meaningfully at Derek’s stomach.
Derek shrugs again. “Too soon to tell.” 
"How long?" 
"The full moon I guess. I’ll go see Deaton." 
Stiles nods, but he’s still wringing his hands. 
"If you are, I’m sorry." he says quietly.
"I’m not. It’s not like, I mean, you’re a kid. I’m not expecting—" 
"Shut the fuck up." Stiles snaps, stomping into the room and sitting down on
the bed next to Derek. 
"If you are, then I’m in. All in. Hell, I’m down to be in even if you’re not. I
just didn’t think you’d want…I mean. I don’t know. I’m me and you’re…you. But
don’t act like I’m some idiot kid that’s just gonna leave you with this. When
have I ever done that? When have I ever just left, Derek?” 
"You’re too young," Derek grunts, and Stiles laughs. 
"Yeah. Hell yeah. Way too young for hunters and guns and near death
experiences. Totally. But for babies? Dude, there’s a whole tv show about
people younger than me having kids. It’s not even that much of a thing. I’m in,
Derek," he says, reaching out to tip Derek’s chin up with a finger. "I need you
to know that I’m in." 
The wolf nods, and the conversation is tabled for a while. 
                                      —-
Four days later, Deaton assures Derek that he is not, in fact, pregnant. The
wolf leaves with some foul smelling herbs that he’s been instructed to boil and
drink for his next heat, to avoid the same dilemma. 
Stiles is waiting with the Jeep outside. Derek told him he didn’t have to come,
but of course he didn’t listen. 
Figuring it’d be best to get it over with, Derek takes a deep breath and
marches over to the Jeep, mouth set in a grim line. Stiles is leaning up
against it, watching him with eyes that are too old for the baby fat left in
his cheeks. Derek wishes for a moment he could still see him as a child, but he
remembers the brute strength in those fingers as Stiles held him down, the heat
of that plush mouth against his neck. 
"So?" Stiles asks, impatient, as soon as Derek’s within earshot. 
The older man just shakes his head. 
Stiles’ face is a dizzying range of emotions for the first few seconds, but he
finally settles on something that looks considerably more disappointed than
Derek was expecting. 
"You said," he finds himself saying, unable to stop himself no matter how bad
an idea it is, "You said even if I wasn’t…" 
And just like that, Stiles is pushing himself off the car, sliding into Derek’s
space, still a few inches shorter than him but refusing to act like it. 
"Hey," he breathes quietly, wrapping two tentative arms around Derek’s waist,
"I’m still in." 
Derek lets himself smile, a small thing that few people have ever truly seen,
and sigh in relief. 
"Me too." 
And Derek will have to explain it to him. Mates, and what it means, and whether
that’s something he wants, because Derek has promised himself he’ll deal with
it, figure it out somehow, if it’s not what Stiles wants.
But for now, he lets himself be guided into the driver’s seat of the Camaro,
let’s Stiles kiss him on the temple and murmur, “I’ll meet you there,” before
closing the door. Lets himself drive home with a smile on his face because he’s
found his mate and his mate wants him, and they didn’t have a baby but they
might some day and…all in all? This is probably the best things have gone for
Derek Hale in a long time.
End Notes
     Dubcon pertains to the nature of heat sex. Also, Stiles solidifies a
     mate bond with Derek without the knowledge that he's doing so.
     I'm here on tumblr. I'm a wreck, but I'm there.
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