Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/721320. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Teen_Wolf_(TV) Relationship: Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski/OMC_(non_con) Character: Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, Original_Male_Character Additional Tags: POV_Outsider, Non_Consensual, Forced_Consent, Knotting, Claiming, Mates, Rough_Sex, Emotional_Hurt, Suicide_Attempt, Bittersweet_Ending, Non-Con is_Stiles/OMC Stats: Published: 2013-03-15 Words: 2993 ****** Rip His Heart Apart, Smear It On His Hands ****** by Brego_Mellon_Nin Summary It’s almost too easy. As soon as we threaten the kid’s alpha, the fight is over. The boy is a scrawny thing, limbs too long and uncoordinated, his hair cut short and a pretty pattern of moles all over his pale skin. A pathetic human, with the distinctive smell of alpha mate all over him. Forcing this kid to say yes to me, well, it’s just like torturing his mate with a wolfsbane covered knife right in his guts. It’s just too tempting to pass up. Notes First of all, BEWARE of possible triggers in this one! Read the tags people! Okay, I’m not entirely sure how this happened. I was having a bad day (I have depression FYI) and I felt the need to write something destructive. It started out as an outlet for my feelings, but ended up as a different, but kind of exciting project. I’ve never written explicit non con before, and it was tough crossing that line. I don’t know if I ought to feel like a first class perv for writing this, but well, it was an adventure for me, broadening my horizon and experience and the outsider POV was fun to try, even though I had to get into the head of one fucked up individual in this case. Thanks to my pre reader nmydreamz and the help and support from the awesome and lovely Dragontattoo75! Warnings: Forced consent, Violence, Suicide Attempt. Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. See the end of the work for more notes   Rip His Heart Apart, Smear It On His Hands “No! Don’t hurt him, please! I’ll do anything!” It’s almost too easy. As soon as we threaten the kid’s alpha, the fight is over. The boy is a scrawny thing, limbs too long and uncoordinated, his hair cut short and a pretty pattern of moles all over his pale skin. A pathetic human, with the distinctive smell of alpha mate all over him. A quick flick of my hand and the beta holding a wolfsbane knife to the restrained Hale Alpha’s throat lowers his weapon. “Anything? Even letting me claim you?” I ask, stepping up close to the kid, taking a long inhale. Fear, anger and stupid, naive determination. He’s a brave one, not that it will do him any good now. Initially my intentions had been to kill the Hale Alpha and leave his pack and mate distressed and scattered. However, as soon as I saw how protective this kid is, how desperate he is for me not to hurt his alpha, a new plan formed in my head. To wolves, the instinct to claim their mates are overwhelming, and to have to watch another werewolf claim what is yours is agonizing, even if it’s done with consent. Forcing this kid to say yes to me, well, it’s just like torturing his mate with a wolfsbane covered knife right in his guts. It’s just too tempting to pass up. The boy keeps looking at his mate, who is struggling violently against the chains holding him in the corner of the room, clothes hanging in tatters around his bulging muscles, saliva escaping around the gag in his mouth. Desperation and longing is rolling off them both in waves. It’s so sweet it almost makes me want to vomit. When the silence drags on, I growl. The kid flinches and turns to me, eyes wide. I know my grin is big and wicked. “If you’ll let Derek go and promise not to hurt him anymore, then yes,” he says, his voice shaky but resolved. As soon as the words are out, McGrouchy in the corner thrashes, roaring as best he can. The chains creak and grind, but hold, and I can’t help a cackle slipping out at the sheer cheesiness of the spectacle in front of me. This is why I’ve never taken a mate myself. You become too vulnerable when you care so much, let another person hold such a big piece of you, and your enemies will exploit this fact. Always have, always will. With a swift kick, I send the boy on the floor and I give his Alpha a wink as I let my nails grow and morph into claws. My vision takes on a red hue and I crouch down, pressing a hand to the back of the squirming kid. He’s so slim and lanky, he’s not really ready to be claimed yet, at least not while he’s still human. This is not a concern to me, but is most likely the reason Hale hasn’t touched him yet, even though the kid is obviously his mate. It could also have something to do with the fact the kid is underage and his father is the Sheriff. The boy yelps as I tear the back of his jeans apart, ripping the material so his pert little buttocks are only covered by a pair of blue boxer briefs. “What?No! You said you’d let Derek go!” he screams and kicks out at me. “I will, little boy, after we’ve performed for him,” I say, voice sugar sweet, just before I grip the ankle of the leg he tried to kick me with, and snap my wrist, relishing in the crack of bone. He screams so prettily. “No! Please, no, don’t make him watch! Please, no, no, no...” The kid begs, literally begs, with no dignity whatsoever. When I yank his underwear down and roughly shove a finger up his tight little hole, he wails, his face scrunched up and body trembling. The enraged howls of his mate are like an inspiring soundtrack to me as I force the kid to take three fingers, sobbing and writhing. I can feel the power crashing through me, the rush I love so much. It’s like my very own drug. Just to add to the insult, I merely unzip my fly and pull my dick out, not even bothering to take my jeans off. Solely to make sure it’s pleasant for me, I spit in my palm and rub it on my throbbing cock. With a shameless grin on my face I force his ass cheeks apart and ram into the boy, not even giving him a second to adjust before withdrawing and punching my hips forward again. He’s hot and perfect around me and I move both my hands to his shoulders, bracing myself so I can really get force behind my thrusts. He’s screaming and crying, desperate sounds escaping him as his body is propelled forward by my movements and hauled back, my claws embedded in his back. The slide of my cock in his tight hole feels a bit more slick than it should with the small amount of spit I’d used. When I look down I see a glimpse of red on my cock before I shove in again, enjoying the chaos I’m inflicting. Fuck, it’s so delicious! By the time I can feel my knot coming on, the boy has stopped screaming; he is only crying silently now, huffs of air punched out of his lungs when I pound into him. It’s a glorious tightening at the base of my spine, tingling all the way from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I bark a laugh and move one of my hands down to the kid’s hip, making sure he isn’t going to squirm away from me. “Here we go,” I hiss at him and lunge forward, punching my dick in as far as it can physically go without actually tearing him apart. More blood rushes south and pulses in my cock, the knot near the base expanding inside the tight heat. The boy utters a pitiful shriek and attempts to claw out of my hold, but it’s useless. I push in harder just to punish him for his disobedience. In the corner, Hale is trembling violently, the chains rattling and his hands are fisted so hard his claws are digging into his own flesh, red trails running down his fingers and dripping to the floor. He’s given up trying to yell through the gag, though. Groaning in bliss, I start moving my hips again, eyes fixed on where the boy’s hole is stretched obscenely tight around the bulge on my dick. I pull back until it tugs noticeably on his rim and the kid whines, his scraped up fingers digging into the dirty floor. When I breathe in deeply I can smell a faint whiff of arousal from the body beneath me. I know it stems from the fact that my knot is putting a lot of pressure on his prostate and not actual arousal in regard to the situation, but it’s just too tempting to let go. With a malicious laugh I pound forward, pressing a hand into the small of the boy’s back, making sure his dick drags across the floor when I grind into him. “You actually like it, don’t you? You little cockslut!” I taunt gleefully, shoving a hand underneath the kid, grabbing his slightly swollen cock. He flinches and squirms, but I just give it a single, harsh tug and let go. This is just priceless. Hale is thrashing again, his red eyes flickering towards green like this whole situation is beyond all the terrible things he’s seen, including his family being roasted alive, and even the burning red, alpha eyes aren’t cutting it anymore. A few thrusts later, the ecstasy explodes and I don’t even care that my claws dig too deep into the kid’s flesh, all I can concentrate on is the mind blowing pleasure tearing through me. I can feel my come pouring into the boy, stretching him to the bursting limit. He’s whimpering, and occasionally a sob rips out of him like it’s almost against his will. I’m almost done coming, when I decide I’ve had enough fun. I raise up on my knees and the boy is tugged up along with me since we are still joined. This is the only annoying thing about being a werewolf. The sensation of knotting someone is extraordinary, but the inevitable wait for the damn thing to deflate is really aggravating. There is no reason for me to be concerned about this kid, seeing as I am not planning on fucking him again, so I give a mental shrug and brace a hand against his back, getting my legs under me. Hale seems to realize what I’m about to do and screams desperately behind his gag, throwing himself forward in his restraints. A crooked smile blooms on my face and then I push down on the kid, simultaneously yanking my hips up and back. I feel the boy’s hole tear when my knot forcefully rips through and he screams in agony before slumping to the floor in a bloody, limp heap. Blood is seeping from between his ass cheeks, smeared across his thighs and he is sobbing quietly. A truly heartbreaking sight. Too bad I don’t have a heart to break. After I’ve tucked myself back into my pants and wiped my bloody hands, I signal to the wolves hovering near Hale and they scurry over to me. I send them out the door with a jerk of my chin and then I direct my red gaze to the Beacon Hills Alpha. I know my face is a twisted mask of malice and amusement and it only increases when I see how furious he is. I’ve ruined his happily ever after by claiming his little boy. He might be able to get over it, but his wolf instincts will always know something is wrong, something that was supposed to be his was taken away and it’ll never be the same again. Ever. I mock salute Hale and throw him a crooked grin. “Have fun picking up the pieces,” I say dismissively, exiting the old shack. Either the boy will pull himself together enough to free Hale, or their pack will find them. Perhaps I should worry about the cruelty of my nature, but it’s who I am and what my experiences have taught me. It’s the only way to survive for long. Besides, watching others suffer is just perfectly delicious entertainment. It is my addiction; I never really was interested in abstinence.   xXx Purely to enjoy the carnage I’ve caused, I stay in the area for a while, watching with glee as Hale hides out in the old, burnt ruin of his home, refusing to go see the kid. He stinks of grief and guilt, but his betas are too stupid to figure the scents out. They seem to believe he is rejecting the boy because he is no longer untouched. Instead of talking to their alpha about it they grumble, giving him the cold shoulder and a glare full of disdain. It only seems to confirm Hale’s belief that he is to blame and it takes about a week for the pack to avoid him entirely. My plan never included a take-over, but it seems like the Hale pack is falling apart all by itself; I relish the destruction. It’s like a shot of speed for me, my brain is buzzing and shooting jolts of energy through my body. I feel absolutely giddy. The kid spends a week in the hospital to recover from the most serious injuries before he’s sent home, sporting bruises and a cast on the ankle I broke. From what I’ve heard while lurking around, he is refusing to tell the doctors or nurses what happened to him. They have some very strong suspicions due to the nature of the injuries he was brought in with, and the Sheriff pleads desperately for his son to give him some information, someone to hunt, someone to blame. Naturally, the kid refuses, pulling back into himself until he spends most days silent and alone. I hear his friends talk in hushed tones about how uncharacteristic the silence is and how they wish he’d let them in.   xXx It’s like watching a train wreck in super slow motion. The boy gets more and more depressed, crying in his room alone at night, believing Hale doesn’t want him because he’s tainted and used. He really has no idea how strong a werewolf’s mating instincts are. If he did, he’d go see the idiot. Instead, he showers at least three times a day, scrubbing himself clean to the point his skin starts to bleed. Hale, on the other hand, is moping and pining in his decrepit house, growling at anyone who dares come near. It’s almost too much for me. I want to laugh at their stupidity! If only a single one of them would open their mouth, this whole problem could unravel, but they’re all too stubborn or simply too idiotic to think that far. The grand finale I’ve been waiting for comes sooner than I had dared to hope. One night when the Sheriff is working the late shift, the boy tries to call his friend, the one named Scott. As he listens to the dial tone, the boy’s breathing grows labored and wheezing, his heart thundering along at an alarming pace. When he gets the cheery answering machine message, the kid hangs up and starts to cry, deep, heaving gulps of air whooshing in and out. From my position in the top of one of the trees in their backyard, I hear him stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen, the cast on his ankle making him extra clumsy. My ears instantly perk up when I register the clatter of metal. After a few moments, the door on the back porch opens and the boy limps out into the moonlit yard, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He plops down in the middle of the lawn and sets to work, cutting fine lines on his arms and legs, staring blankly at the red flow. His heartbeat is now eerily calm. The effort it takes for me to hold back a scoff is daunting. I thought this kid was smart! Doesn’t he know he can’t effectively kill himself with those pathetic cuts? I’m seriously considering walking down there to offer him a hand when the kid laughs, a broken, hollow sound and drives the knife into his own stomach until only the handle is visible. He looks momentarily stunned, like he doesn’t really believe he actually did it and then he keels over, slumping down into the grass with a pained grunt. My emotions are quite conflicting. On one hand, I am now free to move on, nothing more to see here after all, but on the other, I am almost disappointed that the source of my favorite pastime is now being cut off. The air is rife with the coppery smell of blood as I let myself slip off the branch, glancing at the boy one final time before turning on my heel and running off to where the rest of my pack is waiting for me. We have new places to go.   xXx Years later, just before my throat is ripped out, I learn that Derek Hale dragged himself out of his funk to go check up on the kid that night. Only intending to listen in like the creeper he was and probably still is, he was quite distressed to find the boy lying on the lawn, knife handle protruding from his stomach; a horrible statement to the fact he had once again tackled a situation completely wrong. Consumed with grief, he had yanked the knife out and cradled the boy in his arms when he noticed the weak pulse still thrumming shallowly. Without even making a conscious choice, his instincts rising up in a boiling wave, Hale bit the boy. Apparently, it took two days before the kid woke up again, drained as he was when he received the bite. Nonetheless, he turned out to be a strong werewolf, his instincts and powers a true force to be reckoned with. Eventually, he and Derek clashed together again, pulled in by their mate bond, intensified since both parties were now wolves. I’m afraid I don’t manage to withhold the disdainful curl of my upper lip as the sickeningly sweet tale is relayed to me. The rugged wolf standing in front of me growls, tucking his gun back into his belt. I would fight him, but my leg is burning from where a wolfsbane bullet ripped into it, and this guy looks like he doesn’t take any nonsense whatsoever. There is something familiar about him and when he breathes deep to calm himself down, the fur receding a bit from his cheeks and the golden glow of his eyes dull into a honeyed brown, I recognize him. “Don’t think for a second,” he snarls at me, “that what you did will ever be forgiven! Even though Stiles was saved, he still carries the scars on his soul and he will never be completely whole again. Your despicable behavior has caused permanent damage and you will pay for it! Fucking scum! I hope you burn in hell for all eternity.” I only have time to give him my best sneer before he roars and launches at me, sinking his teeth into the flesh of my throat. The last thing I see before everything goes dark is Sheriff Stilinski standing over me, his golden eyes turning red as the life bleeds out of me.   ~ The End ~ End Notes Thanks for reading! :) I'd be so grateful for a comment and/or kudos (if you think I deserve it of course)! Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!