Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/738031.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Lydia_Martin, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/
      Scott_McCall, Vernon_Boyd/Erica_Reyes
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall_
      (Teen_Wolf), Allison_Argent, Isaac_Lahey, Sheriff_Stilinski, Melissa
      McCall, Erica_Reyes, Vernon_Boyd
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Angst, Happy_Ending, Mating,
      Claiming
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-27 Updated: 2013-04-20 Chapters: 7/? Words: 28560
****** The End Of The(ir) World ******
by ladyoneill
Summary
     It started with the Alpha Pack and the Hale Pack but it ended with
     the world overrun by the supernatural and the Hale Pack awaiting
     their fate. Death? Forced turnings? Being separated and taken from
     their homes? Rape? What would be their punishment for defying the
     Alphas? If they survive, what will that survival bring them?
Notes
     This is my first multi-chaptered fic in TW and my first WIP. I cannot
     guarantee how fast this will be written, but after this brief
     prelude, the first chapter is nearly done. I decided to post a WIP
     because I haven't done so in several years, writing either short
     ficlets or big bangs that post in one go, and I didn't want to let
     this languish. I'm hoping that posting it will spur me to continue it
     quickly. This idea hit me out of nowhere yesterday morning and by the
     end of the evening I had over 2300 words written. That hasn't
     happened in a long time.
     This fic will be from multiple perspectives (changing per chapter),
     but mostly from Stiles'. The main pairings will be Derek/Stiles and
     Peter/Lydia and please take the warnings to heart. Stiles and Lydia
     are underage. Lydia is scared to death of Peter (who, as I often
     write him, is a much more sympathetic creature than I figure he will
     be in Season 3; he just wants to be Pack). There are allusions to
     rape, there may be graphic rape depicted. As so little is written or
     even plotted in my head, I will add to the warnings as this evolves,
     so please recheck them each time a chapter is posted.
***** Prelude *****
A little over six months, that's all it took, for the world to shift one
hundred and eighty degrees.
They were exhausted. They were scared. They were waiting, because that's all
they could do. Waiting for Peter to return with the final word on the fate of
the Hale Pack.
It had started with them and the Alpha Pack, but that was just the tip of the
huge, planet-sized iceberg. In the seven months since the mark on the door,
more and more of the dark had slipped out from the shadows. On December first
the first truly overt attacks occurred and the supernatural came out of the
closet.
By December thirty-first, they'd conquered the world.
It started with the Alpha Pack wanting to rip apart the fledgling Hale Pack,
kill the Alpha and take bits of the survivors for themselves. They took Jackson
early on. After two weeks in their company he'd killed the Alpha of a small
pack in Arizona, taking the woman's place and becoming the newest ally of the
Alpha Pack. Completely under their thumb, he left a hole in the Hale Pack. The
Alphas tried to seduce Stiles, wanting his magic, and he'd nearly succumbed, so
desperate for the attention from the twins, before Peter of all wolves stepped
in and forced his nephew to see just what he was about to lose. Isaac's
memories were still a mess from the manipulations of Kali. What was true and
what was false kept him confused and weak. And, Deucalion's multiple attempts
on Lydia's life, to kill something he could not and would not comprehend, kept
the Pack on constant edge.
But it didn't end with the Alpha Pack, although, in the end, here on the last
day of the year, that was all that mattered to the rag-tag, beaten members of
the Hale Pack, their friends, their families.
While the world burned around them, the human population of most cities
decimated, millions dead, millions more enslaved to vampires and demons and
witches and more werewolves than even the hunters realized existed, Beacon
Hills remained mostly untouched.
Waiting, like the pack.
The Alphas failed at killing Derek, failed at seducing Stiles or killing or,
after Jackson, stealing any of the other pack members, but they won the
territory anyway.
***** The Pronouncement *****
Chapter Summary
     The Hale Pack waits to find out their fate. It's not pretty.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry about the delay. I expected to have this first chapter up no
     later than last night but then basketball ate my brain. Since my alma
     mater sucked and lost a hour ago, that's not as much an issue
     anymore. Anyway, the story really starts here. Chapter 1 from Stiles'
     perspective. Also, I realize Lydia may seem out of character, but all
     will be explained as I delve into her complicated relationship with
     Peter. This chapter rated no more than PG13, though there are
     allusions to rape.
Sitting on the floor of the shell of the Hale house, the former living room lit
only by a few lanterns, shivering as the cold seeped through the walls, Stiles
carefully watched Derek who sat on one of the few chairs, back ram-rod
straight, eyes burning red. The Alpha hadn't broken, but, still, he was
destroyed.
Around them huddled the pack, all but Peter their advocate and Allison, taken
prisoner with her father over a week before. No one had heard from the Argents,
but they were alive. Their deaths, as the deaths of all hunters, would be very
public and very messy. Usually that happened quickly. Stiles couldn't help but
wonder at the delay.
A glance to his left showed him Scott and Isaac curled together on one end of
the ratty couch, nothing sexual in their embrace, just desperation and fear.
Scott wasn't handling the loss of Allison well. Their relationship had
tentatively begun again with the new school year, as she made amends for her
craziness, and he fell more and more in love.
Her death would probably kill him.
Stiles was too tired to even fight that thought.
On his right, Lydia sat, her hands restless in her lap. She was thinner, her
cheekbones more prominent, her eyes shadowed by lack of sleep, lack of
appetite, fear. Her hair was tangled, her clothes weren't designer, and the
bruise from a punch from a witch was an ugly purple smudge across her chin.
Stiles had his own bruises and scrapes. Every inch of his body hurt to some
degree. But he didn't bear one of the hurts that Lydia did, not the one deep
inside her heart. On a business trip to Seattle, her father had been caught in
a massacre, torn apart by zombies raised from the dead by one of the evilest
covens around. At least Stiles' dad was alive, or had been the last Stiles had
seen him, a few days before.
The Alphas had made sure that images of Mr. Martin's death had been taken and
sent to Lydia. That had nearly broken her, had sent her into Stiles' arms for
comfort, and since then they'd spent almost every night together, trying to
sleep, usually failing. Again, like Scott and Isaac, nothing sexual. He still
loved her, he always would, but he didn't really want her. Over nearly a year
of getting to know her, his desires had turned.
His eyes flickered to Derek again. The Alpha was staring at the door.
His Betas were turning their attention there as well.
Lydia stiffened and Stiles stopped breathing as gut-wrenching fear punched
through him.
The door opened and Peter stepped inside.
Like the rest of them, he looked exhausted and beaten down. Shoulders slumped,
chin down, he closed the door behind him and briefly leaned against it, before
taking a breath and pushing off to walk towards the expectant group of wolves
and humans. Once his footfalls fell silent, there was not a sound until he
spoke and everyone breathed.
"We get to live."
Tears of relief slid down Erica's face before she burrowed them into Boyd's
shoulder where she sat on his lap at the other end of the couch. Of all of
them, she had suffered the most physical punishment at the hands of the Alphas.
Ethan and Deucalion had taken great pleasure in showing her just what a Beta
female was for, nearly destroying the still forming mate bond between she and
Boyd.
Even two and a half months after their rescue, Stiles knew it still hadn't
settled for them, knew from Erica's teary confessions over too much ice cream
and bad syfy channel movies, that she and Boyd hadn't slept together since
before their capture.
That she simply couldn't stand the thought.
Stiles was jerked out of his thoughts by Lydia's hand wrapping with his,
tightening almost painfully, as she fought to control her breathing.
Being allowed to live was great, but it wasn't relief, because Peter's eyes
were shuttered and his posture spoke of defeat.
"There are conditions," he continued, his voice bitter. He jammed his hands
into the pockets of his leather coat and let his eyes drift over the pack.
Stiles noticed they lingered on him and Lydia before going to Derek, and he
stiffened.
This was not going to be good.
"If we agree to their conditions and follow them to the letter, we can remain
on..." He frowned and amended, "we can remain in Beacon Hills."
Not the Hale Territory anymore, though no one wanted the wreck of a house or
the surrounding dense and overgrown forest.
"The Alpha Pack will let us live as an independent pack under their oversight.
A representative will be left in charge until or if we are deemed trustworthy
enough to control Beacon Hills and the better part of Beacon County, our former
territory. It's my opinion that will never happen. We're allowed to interact
with the town any way we want. They mentioned a deal has already been struck
with the town council to allow the citizens to return to their normal lives
with a few exceptions and a bunch of new rules."
Stiles desperately wanted to ask about his dad's future--once in the know and
as the Sheriff, he'd caused the Alphas a lot of trouble--but he was equally
desperate to know what the conditions were so he bit back his questions.
Obviously conflicted over what to say next, Peter stopped talking until Derek
began to growl. Huffing, he looked directly at Stiles and Lydia. Stiles felt
her flinch and knew she was looking anywhere but back at Peter.
"We know the Alpha Pack despises pack humans, especially those not born to
wolves. In older, more tradition heavy packs, it's customary to turn humans
born into a pack when they come of age or those who join a pack through mating
or alliances at the time they join. In strong and younger packs, humans have
been accepted and allowed to refuse the bite, though most don't. In the past,
those packs were usually too large, too stable to come up against the Alpha
Pack and their old-fashioned rules. The original Hale Pack was both. Our Pack
is neither."
"What do they want, Peter."
Turning back to Derek, Peter sighed in resignation. "At first they ordered me
to have you bite Stiles and kill Lydia." He spoke through the protest from
Stiles and the shocked gasp from Lydia. "I talked them down from that and
finally they insisted that, if allowed to stay human and alive, our pack humans
be mated. If they refuse to mate within our Pack, the Alphas will choose for
them from amongst their allied packs, and they'll be taken from Beacon Hills."
Derek's growl was deeper, angrier, although not addressed at his uncle any
longer, and protests arose from the rest of the pack.
Scott's voice rose above the others, silencing them with his fear-filled
question, "What about Allison?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't know."
"But, we're...we're already..." Scott's head fell onto Isaac's shoulder and
Stiles saw tears in his best friend's eyes.
"They won't let you be with her. Whether or not she'll live is still in
question, Scott. If she does, most likely she'll be given to one of the Alphas
as punishment."
Scott wailed and Stiles felt his heart clench in sympathy. They never talked
about it, but Scott had pretty much accidentally mate bonded with Allison
before she'd gone crazy. It was one of the reasons her mother had been so
desperate to kill Scott. Bonded, they could never be with anyone else.
Well, not willingly.
Stiles glanced over at Erica, saw her shuddering, and dropped his eyes as his
mind began to whirl with too many thoughts and too little Adderal. He wasn't
sure when he'd last taken any.
"Pray she dies," was Derek's sharp comment, and Scott shifted and growled at
the Alpha who just glowered back.
"Did you fight at all for her?" Scott demanded.
Peter shot him an angry look. "Yes. She's pack and you know how important that
is to me. I realized pretty quickly that they weren't going to cave on her. I
was lucky to get them to agree to any of my counters."
Scott's anger fled and Isaac began to murmur to him.
Stiles' heart began to beat more rapidly because Peter had turned his attention
back to the two humans. Slowly he rose to his feet, pulling Lydia with him. He
didn't want to be sitting for this. "Do we get a choice?"
Peter shook his head.
Stomach plummeting, Stiles swallowed hard, trying to work up saliva in his
suddenly dry mouth. "They gave me to you, right." He could...deal with that.
He'd have to deal with that. His skittering mind went back to that night in the
garage when Peter had offered him more than just a turning bite, something
Stiles had learned after Peter's resurrection from one of the few remaining
tomes in the Hale library.
Something like sorrow crossed the older man's face and he shook his head. "No,
they gave you to Derek, Stiles. They gave Lydia to me."
Beside him, Lydia froze, stopped breathing, and Stiles knew how terrified she
was of Peter, who had tormented and haunted and manipulated her from his grave,
after first savaging her and leaving her with scars that would never fade. The
hand within his turned to ice, and he pulled her close.
"Go back to them. Tell them I'll willingly be yours. Get them to switch us,
Peter. Make them give Lydia to Derek or Isaac." God, why did Jackson have to be
so damn weak and give into the Alphas? He and Lydia had been half way mated
already.
"You think I didn't argue that, Stiles?"
"I think you didn't argue hard enough," he yelled back. He would do it. He'd
willingly sacrifice himself to Peter to save Lydia's sanity, even though being
given to Derek...being mated to Derek...something only in his wildest, most
private and hopeless fantasies...
A small sound from Derek briefly drew his attention and he saw...hurt? Before
Derek rose, face going cold and hard as he demanded, "When?"
"Moonrise tonight."
"That's only a couple hours away," Isaac pointed out softly.
"What else, Peter?"
"I argued them down from public matings to only having the claiming bite be in
front of them and the Pack. They'll know if we don't finalize the bonds,
especially where Stiles is concerned."
Starting to ask why, Stiles closed his mouth abruptly. Right. Virgin.
Apparently he smelled like one.
A shiver went through him at the thought of sex with Derek, but then, beside
him, Lydia finally reacted and collapsed into him, nearly sending both of them
to the floor.
"I can't," she cried hysterically. "I can't, please don't make me do this."
Clutching at Stiles, eyes wild, she shook her head in denial.
Wrapping his arms around her, Stiles tried to soothe her, but she was shaking
too hard, too lost in fear and memories. "We can't lose you, Lydia. They'll
take you away. They'll...hurt you." All that did was make her cry harder. He
was crap at this. His eyes locked on Peter, noting the concern there, but also
noting that he made no move towards his soon-to-be mate.
Instead, Erica shook off her own fear and rose to tug Lydia gently away from
him, murmuring to her and trying to calm her as she led her towards one of the
back rooms.
"Why not Isaac?" Scott asked into the sudden silence. "I mean, as werewolves
we're considered adults at sixteen, right?"
"I asked that as well. Neither you nor Boyd are available, but Isaac obviously
is."
"I'll do it. I mean, if she wants."
Peter shook his head sadly. "You're not punishment."
Stiles made a strangled noise that was echoed by a growl from Derek. "What?"
"They really don't like you, Stiles, and they...I think they fear Lydia. They
don't understand her. They're doing this to hurt you both and punish the last
two Hales as well for our temerity to stand up to them and survive."
Eyes going to Derek again, Stiles could only shake his head in confusion
because that wasn't punishment for him. Okay, yeah, he was not even seventeen
yet and Derek mostly ignored him or growled at him or made him research at four
in the morning, but sex with him was not a punishment. It couldn't be. Even for
life sex and all the other implications of mating with an alpha wolf, which he
was having a hard time seeing past the sex to ponder at the moment.
Derek's growl deepened, almost to a howl, and Peter gave him a dark look. "Run,
Derek. Get that aggression out of your system or you'll hurt the boy."
"Not a boy."
Giving his uncle a nasty look and ignoring Stiles all together, Derek strode
across the floor and out the door. His howl shook the glass in the few unbroken
windows and sent a shudder through Stiles.
Derek was pissed.
Yeah, he hadn't thought yet about what the Alpha wanted in a mate. It sure as
hell wouldn't be Stiles.
"I need to talk to my dad," he said dully.
Peter nodded but gestured towards the remains of the kitchen. "We need to talk
first." Expecting to be followed, he headed in that direction, and Stiles did
start to follow him, only to be stopped by Scott who hugged him hard.
"It'll be okay, Stiles, right?"
In trying to be concerned for Stiles, he was obviously as concerned for himself
as well, but since Stiles had finally come to understand just how much Allison
meant to his best friend, he just patted his back and nodded, before continuing
after Peter.
He found the former Alpha leaning against the surviving counter, arms crossed
over his chest, frown on his face and eyes far away. Fingers fidgeting, Stiles
stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and angled around a few loose
floorboards to stand a few feet in front of Peter.
"This sucks."
Peter snorted, but Stiles' comment seemed to bring him back from wherever his
thoughts had gone. "Succinctly put. It could have been much worse."
"Yeah." Stiles was pragmatic enough to figure death had been the probable
outcome. He was kind of surprised the Alpha Pack had gone for...whatever the
Hell this was. "Punishment?"
"Certainly for Lydia."
Ignoring the bitter comment from Peter, Stiles said, "But...not for me. I mean,
even if it had been you..." He could feel himself blushing but barreled on,
"Even you, it would have been okay. I can deal. Derek? I mean, I'm pretty sure
I'm pretty damn obvious..."
"That you want Derek is not a surprise to any of us, no. Well, possibly Derek
because he prefers to keep his head buried in the sand. But, let me ask you
this, Stiles. What happens when your mate won't allow himself to want you
back?"
The blush faded to pallor and Stiles took a stuttering step back, bumping into
the remains of the large kitchen table. "Wha...? Why? I mean...I know I'm not
God's gift or anything, but I know he likes me at least as a friend. We can
deal, right?" At Peter's rather pointed silence, he swallowed hard and landed
on the obvious conclusion. "He's not gay or even bi. That's it. Even though
sometimes I thought maybe he...when he'd shove me against a wall and look at me
and...Jesus, how is this even going to work?" Hands out of his pockets they dug
into his hair, pulling in frustration and fear.
"Calm down," Peter said sharply. "I said 'allow himself to want you'. My nephew
is broken, Stiles. You know this. He can't let himself want anyone. In the nine
months that he's been back here, I've never smelled anything sexual on him.
It's my belief, the boy hasn't fucked anyone since Kate Argent."
Stiles stared in shock because his mind just couldn't accept that someone who
looked like Derek wasn't getting it on a regular basis. "But..."
"He's broken," Peter stressed again. "He wants you, but he can't allow himself
to have nice things, to feel anything good. He's afraid that if he lets himself
truly care, he'll lose everything again. Lydia would have been easier for him.
In her own way, she's broken as well, and she'd never love him. They could just
exist in a bland relationship. On the other hand, you already love him."
Stiles didn't even bother denying it, just scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Shit. He'll try to keep me at arm's length."
"He's been doing it for months. There's also the issue of your age. His wolf is
fine with you, but he doesn't let the wolf control him at all. It's why he
can't take the Alpha form or even go full wolf. He won't let himself. So, his
human side will force himself to feel even worse because you're underage."
"That's just stupid."
"And, again, that goes back to that bitch." Peter sighed softly. "And you're a
virgin which just will triple his guilt and make him feel like a child
molester."
Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by Stiles' sharp, quick
breaths as he tried to process all this. "The Alphas will know tomorrow if we
don't..."
Peter nodded. "Derek will do it because he'll do anything to keep you alive,
but don't expect either of you to enjoy it."
"Shit." He stabbed his hands back into his pockets and stared at the floor. "Do
you...do you think we can make it work?"
"Do you think Lydia and I can make it work?" Peter pointedly asked.
"...Shit," Stiles breathed sadly.
End Chapter 1
***** The Father *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles talks to his dad. From John's perspective (going with the
     common fanon name for the Sheriff) and rated PG13. Also, I like the
     idea of Stiles' mom being Welsh--all that Celtic magic--and, as we've
     been told Genim isn't his name, I went with something a little harder
     to pronounce.
John hated everything that had happened in the last month--to the world, to his
small town--and it was his--to his son.
Especially to his son.
Sitting in the dark--random power outages kept the population on edge--
shoulders slumped, dressed in civilian clothes because the town council had
stripped him of his position...
'For now, John. Just be patient. Let things calm down. They'll need you, if
you'll just...'
Kiss their collective asses and let them kill his son.
Reaching for the bottle of cheap whisky on the table, he poured a third or was
it fourth glass with a shaking hand.
He could face his own death. He'd give his life to the monsters who now ruled
the world, if it would just keep Stiles alive.
But, it was out of his hands. He was helpless and he hated that most of all.
Sipping the whisky, making it last because it was his last bottle of anything
alcoholic and he hadn't been allowed to leave his house in three days--and the
prospect for the future was grim despite the mayor's bland assurances--he
listened to the grandfather clock in the hall chime the half hour. At the
sound, he thought about how his great-grandfather had brought the beautiful
antique from the family home in a village near Prague before the turn of the
last century, all the way across a new country to make a life building similar
clocks in San Francisco.
The Stilinskis had never gone far from northern California. John had been the
first to move permanently from San Francisco and its environs, because
something about Beacon Hills had called to his new wife and there'd been a job
opening.
Now John both hated and loved this town. San Francisco was ashes. If they'd
stayed there, if he'd taken the first job he'd been offered on the Berkeley
campus police force, he and Stiles would be as dead as his beloved Gwynyth.
But, maybe that would have been better. To die barely understanding the truth
of the world. To die in a flash of witchfire.
On the night of the first attacks, Stiles had come to him, had finally told the
truth. All of it. Werewolves, Scott, the Hale fire, his spark, Lydia, the
Argents, Derek Hale and everything. He'd bared his back, showing his father the
red slashes he bore from the most recent battle with a pack of Alpha
werewolves, and John had cried.
He didn't have any more tears.
The clock chimed the quarter hour and he poured himself another drink.
The last he'd heard from Stiles, the day before he'd been confined here to his
own home, surrounded by half a dozen Beta wolves, several of whom had taken
great pleasure in kicking the crap out of him just for being Stiles' father,
his pack was losing. Stiles had believed he was going to die in the next
battle.
The only hope John had was that he truly believed any of the three most
sadistic of the Alphas--not the young girl, not the one twin--would have come
to gloat about Stiles' death. After the initial beatings and the sentence from
Kali that he was a prisoner in his house until they decided otherwise, he'd
seen none of the Alphas. He'd seen no one except the patrolling wolves outside.
For the last day the town had been quiet. No cars on the street outside, no
children playing, no sirens or alarms of any kind. Either everyone was dead or
the town was on lock down. Either way, he knew the Alphas had won.
Another drink, choked down as he worried about not only his kid but all those
kids, the werewolves and those who loved them, their families and friends. The
Alphas could be vindictive. John knew one of the reasons he was alive was that
he was a bargaining chip. He could only hope that the other humans, Melissa,
the parents of the other teen wolves, were alive for the same reason. They'd
already lost Richard Martin.
The clock struck the hour, five bongs, and the front door opened.
John tensed, head turning towards the entryway and then everything inside him
collapsed as Stiles called for him.
Stumbling to his feet, he nearly fell into the hall to pull his kid into his
arms.
"Dad, dad, it's okay, I'm okay," Stiles assured him over and over, clinging to
him like a child, voice choked with emotion, whole body trembling. "I...I've
been so scared for you," he finally whispered.
"Me too, kiddo. Jesus, me too."
The lights came on and John blinked at the sudden illumination, then pulled
back to give Stiles a critical once-over. He looked okay--no obvious new
bruises or cuts. He winced as Stiles frowned and ran his own fingers over the
dark bruise on John's cheek and the split lip.
"Who did this?" he demanded.
John shrugged. "It could have been a lot worse. I'm okay. Just a prisoner
and..." He stepped back, keeping one hand lightly gripping Stiles' arm. "How
are you here? I wasn't even certain you were alive," the last word was choked
out. He still couldn't bear to think about the possibility of losing Stiles.
Stiles ducked his eyes and John narrowed his. When the boy's hand went to the
back of his neck, rubbing it, his heart sank.
"Tell me, Stiles," he gently coaxed.
"Got anymore whisky?"
"Am I going to need it?"
Stiles sighed and glanced up, then took John's hand and led him into the dining
room, flicking on the light switch as he passed. The table was strewn with
paperwork, some of Stiles' formerly hidden notebooks on the supernatural,
and... "Is that an empty oreo bag?"
"Really Stiles? You're going to scold me about my diet now?"
Stiles flushed but pursed his lips, then opened them undoubtedly to start a
lecture, but then he seemed to deflate and sank into his chair. "Yeah, lot
worse shit out there to worry about."
Before he took his own seat, John lifted a clean tumbler from the hutch and
placed it in front of Stiles. "I think we're both going to need that drink."
"...Yeah."
John watched his kid's shoulders, his whole body slump in defeat, and poured
them each a finger of whisky, not at all surprised to see Stiles drink it down
without coughing or gagging.
He might have been blind to some things--though, really, werewolves? Not
anyone's first or hundredth logical answer to anything--but not that teenagers,
especially a cop's teenager, drank. "Tell me."
"We get to live, all of us in the pack, as long as we...well, there are
conditions." Stiles' finger made slow circles around the empty rim of his glass
and beneath the table his other foot tapped out an uneven rhythm, making John
wonder when he'd last taken his medication.
"Yeah, I know, dad. After I tell you, I'm gonna go take a pill. I ran out
yesterday, I think. The last couple days have all just been a blur, but I'm
gonna need to focus tonight."
"What happens tonight? What conditions? You can tell me anything, son, you know
that now." Unspoken was the 'you should have always known that' but they'd
already had their screaming matches over the dangerous secrets Stiles had kept
from him for too long.
"Lydia and I...we're human, and the Alphas don't like that. We both hurt them.
I...I killed..."
John frowned in sympathy and reached out to pat Stiles' other hand. "I know,
Gwalltafwyn." Stiles and his magic had killed at least a dozen Beta wolves
since the first attack by the Alpha Pack, and he, Deaton and Lydia had wiped
out a coven of thirteen witches just two weeks before. When he'd finally
confessed all to John, he'd cried like a child in his father's arms over the
deaths on his hands, and John had seen the man in his gawky, geeky son for the
first time, and comforted him the best he could.
But, taking a life was never easy. Before December first he'd only shot and
killed two men in his entire career, and each had wrecked him. Since then, he'd
been responsible for the deaths of five wolves, and had used one of Stiles'
knives coated with wolfsbane to severely injure one of the ones who'd beaten
and imprisoned him.
A trembling hand went to his son's face, rubbing the pale skin. "Oh crap. I'm
going to have to tell him my real name."
"Who?"
"Yeah, getting to that," he muttered, took another breath, and reached for the
bottle.
"Stiles."
"Just...let me." John sighed but allowed him to pour himself another shot which
he downed quickly and then spilled everything without taking a breath. "We get
to live, but they want to punish us and I guess letting us live under their
thumb and with their rules is going to be punishment, but they really want to
make me and Lydia and Derek and Peter as the last Hales really pay so we have
to mate. I mean, me and Derek, and Lydia and Peter, and they didn't give us a
choice and it's tonight."
Gaping at his pale, stricken son, John tried to let all that sink in, then took
the bottle and drank straight from it.
"Yeah," Stiles added mirthlessly. "It's a clusterfuck all around. Lydia's
scared to death of Peter. He's still mourning his late mate. Derek, I'm not
even sure he likes men, though Peter says he likes me, it's just I'm underage
and Derek's freaking about that because he just has to be miserable and a
martyr, and that's going to make me miserable, and I like him...too much, dad."
His forehead dropped to the table and beneath it his foot continued to tap.
Hesitantly, John reached over and placed one hand on the back of his head,
sliding it down to his nape and rubbing it until he heard the sob from Stiles,
and he moved his chair closer and leaned down to whisper, "It'll be okay, son.
As long as you're alive, you'll find a way to make this work." He kept stroking
and petting as Stiles cried, wishing he could do something else, say something
to make everything better.
But, his heart was breaking for his boy, and he wasn't even allowing himself to
think about all the implications. While he wasn't completely surprised Stiles
liked a boy--a man--but, really, Derek Hale? He'd never understand the
attraction--he wasn't happy the man in question was more than half a decade
older than his underage son, and the cop in him, the father in him, rebelled at
that thought.
He wanted to ask questions, learn all the details about what mating entailed,
but he knew that would send him spinning and he need to be strong. Stiles would
survive.
John just hoped his tender heart would.
"Tonight?" he asked once Stiles seemed to have calmed down.
His son lifted his head, revealing a pale face streaked with tears, reddened,
exhausted eyes, and trembling lips, but he just nodded, then sat all the way up
and swiped haphazardly at his face. "A little over an hour." His voice was
hoarse from crying.
John prayed there were no more tears from his boy tonight, but, while being
completely straight himself, he wasn't unaware about the mechanics of sex
between two men, and if Derek was in a bad mood, punishing himself, would he
hurt Stiles?
"Can you run?"
He watched Stiles' face close up, lips tighten, and wasn't surprised at the
shake of his head. "Not an option. They'll kill everyone if we don't do this.
Dad, it's...okay, it sucks, but I'm not fundamentally against the idea. I am
attracted to him, have been for a long time. I'll make it work. I'm not going
to let Derek be a complete ass about this. I'm more worried about Lydia."
Of course he was and, to be honest, John was concerned about her as well. His
few encounters with Peter Hale had left him wondering and worrying about the
former Alpha's influence over the kids in his pack. He seemed to be sane--
Stiles swore he was, but he'd also glossed over a lot of what he'd done before
his death and resurrection and wasn't that a kicker. The man was a killer. He
was one of the main reasons the Alpha Pack had descended on Beacon Hills.
Although their position in the hierarchy of the supernatural conquerors had
oddly guaranteed the town and most of its inhabitants survival.
While Peter was charming on the surface, the cop in John could see just how
broken he was. He was obviously trying to make amends, and Stiles had
apparently forgiven him for things he'd also glossed over that had occurred
between the two of them, but John had also observed one encounter between Lydia
and the older Hale--and Jesus he was so much older; if the six year difference
between Derek and Stiles was bad enough, the nearly twenty between Peter and
Lydia was definitely criminal--and Lydia's eyes had flashed with terror before
a biting comment had issued from her lips and Peter had backed off without a
word.
John knew he'd been the one to maul her. Stiles was still angry about that, but
he'd accepted Peter being insane and vengeful at that time as an excuse.
Lydia hadn't because more had passed between them that John only knew bits and
pieces about. Somehow Peter had manipulated her into bringing him back from
death and that had broken something in the girl who had become one of Stiles'
dearest friends.
"I'm more worried about you."
"Yeah, but you have to be. Dad, this is going to be really bad. Me and Derek,
we'll figure it out, but Lydia...No, she's going to freak. She's already
freaking. I tried to get Peter to make them switch us."
"You mean, you and Lydia?"
"No, me and him," Stiles said dismissively as if that mattered nothing at all.
John gaped at him again.
"Over my dead body."
"Dad."
"Yes, I can worry about Lydia, but you're my kid, not her. It's going to take
me long enough to accept you and...Derek. Peter Hale? No."
Stiles' face closed down but not before some confusing emotion crossed it.
They'd agreed no more secrets and John wasn't going to let him get away with
keeping anything from him now. He barked, "What?" and Stiles jolted in his
chair
"...The night he bit Lydia. The night he died. I told you he kidnaped me and
made me help him find Derek. He...um, he offered to turn me."
That didn't actually surprise John. He'd actually wondered why Peter, as the
insane Alpha, hadn't just bitten Stiles like he had Scott and Lydia. Consent
wasn't needed, although Stiles had been quick to explain to his dad that Derek
only bit those who agreed. "And?" The flush across Stiles' cheeks worried him.
"Um...he offered me the Bite on the wrist which I didn't know at the time, but
that's actually the first step to claim a mate." His voice died away and he
ducked his head, playing with his glass again.
"Jesus," John breathed, heart speeding up in his chest. If Stiles had accepted,
and the kid had admitted that, at the time, becoming a werewolf had been
tempting, he'd be...
No, he wasn't even going to entertain that thought. Back to Derek, that was
enough of a problem.
"What are the steps tonight, Stiles? Will he turn you? If he has to bite you to
claim..."
"No. From what I remember, there's a ritual of sorts that prevents an Alpha
from turning a human mate when they claim them. The Alphas wanted that,
actually. Me turned and Lydia dead since she can't be turned, but Peter talked
them down to the matings. Um...I'm not sure about all the details. I mean, I
found out about the wrist bite a couple months ago, and a bit about the Alpha/
human ritual, but then Peter saw what I was reading and took the book from me
and hid it because it was kind of werewolf porn. Anyway," he quickly continued,
"There's that bite which is public and in front of the Alphas, I guess, but
then the matings are in private. I'm pretty sure sex is involved. There's a
bond that has to form, an emotional connection. Werewolves mate for life and
the bond affects humans, too."
"How?"
"Dunno. Guess I'll find out," he added baldly, then sighed and pushed back from
the table. "I'm going to take a quick shower, put on some non-bloodstained
clothes, and pack a few things. I...wish you could be there but Peter didn't
know what was going to happen to you or any of our families. It was implied
that you're all hostages to us behaving."
"Makes sense. I've been relieved of my job again, but the mayor told me I might
get it back. I'm guessing if we all play ball."
"I think the Alpha Pack wants to make Beacon Hills a showpiece of a town under
the supernatural's thumb but still functioning. Kind of like Mussolini. The
trains'll all run on time but the people will be miserable under a fascist
rule."
John couldn't help himself. He snorted, and Stiles gave him a quirky, dark
smile in return, before leaning down and giving him a short hug.
"As long as we're alive..."
"Yeah, kid."
Nodding, Stiles headed for the stairs, and John reached for the cap to the
bottle. His head was swimming with whisky, worry, and too many fears and
questions, but all he could do was accept for now.
And pray that Derek Hale didn't hurt his kid.
If he was completely honest with himself, he was more worried about Stiles'
heart than his body. Physically, the kid was tougher than he looked.
But, he also loved too easily.
End Chapter 2
***** The Hales *****
Chapter Summary
     Peter muses. Derek growls. They both try to face what's coming and
     Peter tries to get his stubborn nephew to see the light about Stiles,
     meanwhile refusing to have any hopes about Lydia for himself.
Chapter Notes
     From Peter's perspective. The bit about Erica came out of nowhere
     (some of my best ideas do that) and thanks to a commenter about
     Jackson, I have plans for him! Way far in the future plans so maybe I
     should write them down before I forget them... Next up, the ritual
     and the bites and maybe the Derek/Stiles mating since the chapter's
     from Stiles' perspective.
Long after Stiles left to go see his dad--now that the Pack were no longer
restricted to the Hale House--Peter remained in the kitchen, deep in thought
and trying to tune out the other wolves scattered throughout the ruin.
He'd listened in briefly on Isaac and Scott--the former still comforting the
latter over the loss of the Argent girl, but Peter hadn't lied. He had fought
for the star-crossed lovers. He knew all too well what the loss of a mate could
do to a wolf.
Six and a half years later he could still feel the bond burning to ash. It hurt
like a new wound.
And now he was expected, ordered to form a new bond when his beloved mate still
held his heart.
It was doable. The mate bond broke with death and werewolves who survived could
take another mate, but most didn't. It was just too hard to love again.
And matings should be about love, should be a gift.
What was being forced on he and Derek was a perversion of all the mating bond
should be.
Although he did have more hope for Derek and Stiles. There was possibility
there. Stiles already cared for his nephew and if anyone could pull Derek from
his martyred celibacy it was their stubborn mage. He'd refused to be pushed out
of the pack for his own safety. He'd refused to stop learning to use his
natural magic to help them. He'd refused to run with his father. He was young
and willful.
The kid would fight Derek tooth and nail to make their relationship real.
Peter didn't have such hope for Lydia.
Just thinking her name let him hear her through several walls and he winced in
sympathy at the sound of her still crying.
With the others, even after Jackson's defection, she presented herself as a
strong, vital young woman. She'd stood up to Deucalion armed only with her
brains and a tiny dagger dipped in wolfsbane and forced him to back down, if
only temporarily.
But, the few times she'd been alone with Peter--always on accident--she'd
become someone else. That terrified girl he'd trapped himself with in her mind.
The one who'd flinched from his touch, whimpered helplessly in fear, let him
kiss her because she had no escape and she didn't want to be hurt.
In his desperation to survive, he'd raped her mind. Was it any wonder that she
believed he'd rape her body as well?
Peter tuned the two girls out--Erica was crying, too, the she-wolf still hurt
so badly from her capture that she could commiserate with the one girl she'd
never have spent a second with before.
Which meant they put him on a level with the Alpha Pack males and their
brutality towards Beta females.
He supposed he deserved that. How much of a leap was it from psychotic killer
to rapist?
So lost in his thoughts, he nearly jumped when the back door banged open and
shut and Derek stomped into the kitchen, not even trying to be quiet. He was
sweating and flushed and his knuckles were dirty. He'd obviously shifted to
run.
As he watched his nephew drink water straight from the tap, trying not to roll
his eyes since there were perfectly good plastic cups sitting right next to the
sink, he wondered if Stiles would be a good enough influence on him that Derek
would learn to shift fully. It was something a born wolf could do at sixteen
when considered an adult, but Derek had been just shy of that age when the fire
occurred and then too lost and broken to bother trying. As far as Peter knew
he'd never shifted to the Alpha form either.
Sometimes Peter missed the Alpha form with all its power, but at least he was
still able to shift to full wolf. That his nephew refused to even try to
experience such a joy was baffling to him.
"Where's Stiles?" Derek growled, eyes glowing red as they seemed to do almost
all the time now.
"He went to talk to his father. He'll be back."
Derek's shoulders twitched but all he did was head across the kitchen for the
hall.
"Do you want to talk about Stiles?"
"No." He stopped but didn't turn back.
"Okay, Derek, we need to talk about Stiles." Peter's voice lost all gentleness.
He liked the kid and Derek was going to be a complete bastard to him.
Growling low, Derek slowly turned but didn't attack, just crossed his arms over
his chest and glared. Peter took that as a positive sign.
"What?"
"The boy cares about you..." Peter realized his mistake when Derek's eyes
hardened and flashed an even darker crimson. He resisted growling back at his
nephew. "If he was a wolf, he'd be of age, Derek. He's not a child. It's a
testament to his strength of will and his belief in himself that he's refused
the Bite from both of us. It will do you no good to think of him as a child. It
will probably offend him to be treated like one since you've never done so
before."
"Is there a point to this?" Derek bit out.
"With the attitude you're sporting you're going to ruin something that could
be--should be-- the best thing that will ever happen to you." Derek's glare
deepened but Peter had changed his diapers and wasn't going to be intimidated
by his petulance. "Stiles cares about you a lot, Derek. Even you can't be so
dense you don't know that."
A momentary softening crossed the Alpha's face, but then he shook his head and
angrily snapped, "He wants me. Teenage lust."
"It's more than that and you'd know that if you'd pull your head out of your
ass."
"Shut up, Peter."
Since his response had no real threat behind it, Peter didn't. "You know, maybe
I should have fought Deucalion harder and claimed Stiles myself."
If looks could kill...
Peter managed not to smirk. "He'll be a good mate. You have to know that."
"I don't want a mate. And don't tell me you do either," Derek finally lashed
back. "You'd fuck him, I know that, and, frankly I'm kind of surprised you
haven't. He was desperate enough for attention he almost gave himself to that
prick Aiden after all; he probably would have been an easy lay for you when you
pulled him back into the Pack. But you wouldn't mate him."
No, he wouldn't, not if it was his choice. "You know why," he replied softly.
"You don't have that excuse. That bitch wasn't your mate even if you wanted her
to be."
Derek's fist shot out and Peter barely ducked out of the way of the blow.
Holding up his hands in supplication, he moderated his tone. "Calm down, Derek.
The claiming is an hour away. Are you going to growl and stomp your way through
it?"
"What do you expect, Peter? Should I be happy to have this forced on me? Are
you happy?"
"No, but I'm not going to disrespect my mate by acting like a bitchy child. I'm
not going to give those fuckers any satisfaction."
That actually seemed to get through to Derek and, though he frowned, he relaxed
just slightly. "So, we do the ritual, even though it doesn't mean..." The red
in his eyes faded and for the first time in months, he looked young. Peter's
heart ached in sympathy. It shouldn't be like this, no.
"It means what we make of it," he replied softly.
"There's no time to prepare them, to explain anything. Stiles has no idea
what's being forced on him. How can I...?" Derek turned away and pounded his
fist on the table. "Dammit, Peter. It shouldn't be like this." Unknowingly he
echoed his uncle's unspoken words because they were the truth.
Carefully Peter approached and placed a hand on his nephew's taut shoulder.
When Derek didn't reject it, he rubbed gently, then squeezed. "No, but we're
alive and you have the chance to make this mating all it should be."
"Don't think I didn't notice how you switched from plural to singular there,
uncle," Derek ground out.
"I don't see anything good for Lydia and I."
"You could try."
"...She won't."
Derek's head fell forward, then he straightened and turned. "She won't really
have a choice, though. None of us will."
"That's why it's punishment." Stepping back, Peter watched his nephew shut down
again and mentally sighed. Stubborn jackass. "You reek. Go clean up. Stiles
deserves better than you coming to him dirty and sweaty."
"Stiles deserves better than me period," Derek snarled, then stomped out of the
kitchen.
"Well, that went well," Peter muttered to himself, then jerked his head up as
Erica slipped into the room. There were reddened smudges under her eyes but
otherwise she looked composed and harder than she'd been since the Pack fell to
the Alphas and took Beacon Hills with it.
It was good to see the toughness still existed in her.
"I think I've got her calmed down enough to get through this."
"Thank you."
Erica shrugged. "She's pack." She shook her head, a wry look on her face.
"Never would have thought I'd see Lydia Martin break down so badly over
anything. She's really scared of you."
"She has every right to be."
"Jesus, you gonna just be mister stoic all evening?"
His eyes snapped to her and he bared his teeth. "Do you really think this isn't
affecting me?"
"I don't see you crying your eyes out."
"Female solidarity, hm?" The edge to his voice had her dipping her eyes
slightly, a young female Beta's instinctive submission to an older male.
"I guess, when you told us, you didn't seem...happy."
"I want to live. If this is the price I owe, I'll pay it. Lydia will learn
that's the only way we're going to survive, because I won't lose another mate."
"...Oh. Yeah, I kind of forgot, sorry. I..."
He waved off her apologies. "I don't talk about her because thinking about her
makes the hole inside me throb in agony." Her flush and drooping shoulders and
chin gave the wolf in him pleasure to stave off the pain of loss. "I never
planned to take another mate. And that's all I'm going to say to you about it,
Erica. You need to focus on your own mate, because the Alpha Pack rules us now
and if you don't finalize the bond, they'll break it." He felt a bit sorry when
she paled so dramatically, but during their final negotiations Ethan had made
too many snide remarks and allusions about the girl. The rescue of Boyd and
Erica was one of the Hale Pack's few victories and still stuck in that Alpha's
craw. He'd be thrilled to get her back in his claws. "You know what they use
Beta females for, Erica. Do you want them to breed you?"
"No," she stammered. "I thought...I thought I was finally safe." Tears sprang
into her eyes, and Peter softly sighed and drew her shaking body into his arms.
He hadn't meant to scare her, but he was on edge and saying things he should
have discussed with Derek first.
"They're not coming for you. But they could. There's no way to guarantee any of
our safety but it would be better if the bond was fulfilled."
"I don't know if I can," she whimpered into his shoulder.
"Boyd loves you. He'd never hurt you." He stroked her back as he spoke
soothingly. "You love him, too, and that's where a true mating should come
from. Just trust him."
"I do."
A soft noise came from the doorway and Peter looked up to see Boyd standing
there, his face more open than he'd seen in months. Carefully he transferred
the girl to him and watched them murmur to each other as they left the kitchen
wrapped around each other.
"Is this how you were before the fire?"
Startled, Peter turned towards the half broken in back door. He'd been so
caught up in Erica's fear and his own concerns he hadn't even noticed Stiles'
return. Shrugging his shoulders in response, he noted the duffel bag on the
boy's shoulder, the smell of soap and deoderant, the clean clothes.
"Um...I wasn't sure if I was supposed to dress up."
"Traditionally, yes. It's very much like a wedding. Or it's supposed to be, but
nothing is how it's supposed to be, so don't worry about it. Derek will be in
his normal storm cloud black and gray anyway."
Stiles snorted and set the bag on the table. "Dad's not happy, but he's okay.
There are several wolves keeping him in his house and they beat the shit out of
him, but he's alive. You didn't say, but I assume our families are hostages to
make us obey, right?"
"It was implied that those still alive will remain so as long as we follow the
rules. Even your father, despite his fighting against them."
Stiles nodded in relief. "Is...Is Derek back?"
"Yeah. I can hear his razor. He's actually shaving."
"So, no stubble burn. That's good to know."
"Humor is always your weapon of choice."
"Nah, that's a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, but humor keeps me from
screaming until I go hoarse."
Peter chuckled darkly.
"Did you talk to Lydia?"
And whatever humor he felt fled and he shook his head.
"Dude. She's freaking."
"My talking to her isn't going to calm her. Erica did her best. Maybe you
could...Help her clean up at least?"
He grabbed the bag again. "Sure. How long do we have?"
"I would guess they'll be here in less than twenty minutes to oversee the
claims."
"And then..." Stiles gestured around himself and blushed. "Here?"
"I don't know about Derek's plans. I'm taking Lydia to my apartment. I'm not
claiming a new mate among the ashes of my family and..." He nearly said her
name, nearly acknowledged her and his loss and, fuck, the pain...
Sympathy on his face, Stiles touched his arm gently, then quickly left the
kitchen.
Peter slumped back against the counter and forced his mind to go blank.
End Chapter 3
***** The Mage *****
Chapter Summary
     The sun sets, the moon begins to rise and the Alpha Pack arrive to
     oversee the claiming bites. After everyone leaves, Stiles is stuck
     with an unhappy Alpha who has to finalize the bond by dawn or they're
     dead, which means Stiles is about to lose his virginity and it's not
     going to be pretty.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the long delay in posting the next chapter, so here's a
     really long one with sex (unhappyish sex). Is it dubcon? Well, they
     don't have a choice; it's not all that pleasant, but it's not quite
     as hopeless as it might have been because Stiles is stubborn. And,
     next up is Lydia's POV as she faces mating with Peter. That won't be
     pleasant either.
Duffel bag over one shoulder, Stiles quietly walked into the back room the
Betas had been sleeping in. Strewn across the floor were sleeping bags and
blankets, dirty clothes and bags of what few personal possessions any of them
had with them. They hadn't planned to be trapped here for several days.
Now they were free, but, as far as he could tell, he was the only one who had
left.
Lydia sat in a corner on a pile of blankets, knees drawn up to her bruised
chin, looking up at him from beneath hooded eyes.
Dumping the bag, he crouched in front of her, waiting for her to see how this
would go.
"I'm done freaking."
His lips twitched but he couldn't smile even at her snappy comment. "You want
to get cleaned up?" Offering her his hand, he was half-surprised she took it,
but they both stood.
"Since he's going to fuck me whether I'm covered in mud, stinking like a
barnyard or clean as a whistle, I'll choose clean.
Stiles winced but kept his mouth shut and watched as she pulled cleaner clothes
from a bag along with make-up. Lydia hadn't worn any for days, but he
recognized it as part of her armor. Across the hall was a functioning bathroom
with a tiny shower and he followed her out there, taking a place next to the
door as she went in and close it behind her. The sound of water hitting tile
reached him and he wondered if she'd use it to mask more tears.
His own quick shower had seen a few tears of his own, because despite all his
bravado and his belief he could make Derek accept this as something real and
good, he was an insecure sixteen year old virgin.
He was scared, not only of the the pain from the bites, but the unknown of sex
with someone so very angry and broken as Derek was.
And, also at the future and all the implications of mating and bonding that he
was trying not to think about.
Not wanting to downplay Lydia's fears, Stiles tried not to be more scared than
she was, but at least she'd had sex before. Her terror of Peter had to balance
his own inexperience--he wasn't going to call it innocence. He wasn't a
thirteen year old girl.
The water turned off quicker than he would have expected from Lydia, but then
hot water was an issue and it was already chilly in the house with no furnace
and two wolves who, understandably, refused to allow them fires.
"You still out there?"
"Yep."
"Are you ready for this?"
"...Nope."
He heard her snort and responded in kind. Maybe inappropriate humor would get
them through this.
"I know you've read up on all of it. With...with Jackson gone," she stumbled
slightly over mentioning him but Stiles could hear the strength in her voice.
"I never planned to ever bond with a wolf, so I didn't ask the details. I know
Scott managed somehow to initiate the claim and complete it by total accident,
which is typical, but I'd prefer to know what's coming."
Sighing, Stiles ducked his head for a moment and ran over all the information
he'd gleaned before Peter had taken the book away. "Well, I don't know
everything and some of it may be false or incomplete. I do know the initial
bite is on the wrist. That's the one they'll be doing in front of everyone," he
added sourly. The thought of the Alpha Pack gloating over them during something
so intimate, something that should be for Pack and family, pissed him off.
"Initial?" Lydia sharply asked and Stiles glanced at the door, imagining her
pressed against it, waiting for him to reveal her fate.
"Yeah. The second...well, it's during the sex. It's what sets the bond in
place. It's on the nape of the neck. If we were wolves, we'd bite them back,"
he said in a rush, not wanting to think of the coming pain. "If we were wolves
and this was mutual, it would...be different."
"The skin is thin in both those spots. It's going to hurt."
Stiles winced at the emptiness in her voice. "Yeah."
"Did he...did he say if it would be here, in the ruins?"
"Peter told me he was taking you to his apartment. I have no idea what Derek's
planning. I haven't talked to him."
"You should, Stiles."
"Will you talk to Peter?" he asked candidly.
Silence was her only response and Stiles sighed again, then nodded to himself.
"You okay to finish getting ready? You're right, I should go talk to Derek."
"Go."
Noting that she didn't say if she was okay, he went anyway.
*****
After knocking and waiting for a moment for a response that didn't come, Stiles
pushed open the door to Derek's second floor room and immediately shivered. The
roof was still whole here, but the window and part of the adjoining wall was
gone. Derek or someone had tacked a blanket over it, but it didn't really keep
out the cold. It was also dark and Stiles wished he'd brought a candle--the
flashlights and lanterns had run out of juice the night before and he hadn't
thought to bring fresh batteries from his house.
Wrapping his arms around himself to stop the shivers, he waited for a few
minutes and then Derek walked in, wrapped in a towel, still damp from his
shower, and freshly shaven.
Stiles hadn't seen him without stubble for so long he couldn't help but stare.
Derek glowered, brushed past him, and started digging through a plastic crate
of clothes.
Neither spoke but, naturally, Stiles was the first one to break, especially
when Derek carelessly dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of black jeans
sans underwear.
He had a really nice ass.
"Okay, look, I know this isn't ideal, but we need to talk."
Another glower was shot over Derek's shoulder, then he turned back to find a
shirt. And, yes, it was dark gray.
Stiles sighed inside his head and wondered if he could introduce some color
into Derek's life. "You just going to ignore me?"
"Is that possible?"
"Nope."
"There's nothing to talk about." The bite to his words was muffled by his long
sleeved t-shirt going over his head.
Staring at him in complete disbelief, Stiles tried to wrap his head around
that. "What?"
"There's nothing we can do. Why talk about it?"
"Because...because...mates, sex, biting, and more sex. Derek!" He flailed. He
couldn't help himself.
Finally, Derek turned and faced him, arms crossed over his chest, which, on
him, was more an offensive than defensive pose, eyebrows furrowed as tightly as
they possibly could be, glower still on his face.
He never looked happy. Stiles wondered what that would look like.
"We don't have a choice," Derek enunciated, a growl under each word.
"Does that mean it has to suck?"
No answer.
Stiles bit his lower lip and hesitantly asked, "Does it have to be here?"
Peter had an apartment. It was a nice apartment with lots of windows and some
potted plants. He lived off the Hale family's long term investments and
insurance proceeds from the deaths and the fire. After his awakening from his
"coma", he'd had to fight the insurance company, but with his determination and
a few not so subtle threats, he'd won. Why did Derek insist on living in a
falling down, burned out shell?
Oh, right, because he was a martyr.
"Do you want to do it at your dad's?"
Flushing at the harsh response and the image it produced, he shook his head and
dropped his eyes to the floor. This was really going to suck.
"This is where I live. Deal with it." Turning his back again, Derek reached for
socks and boots.
"Deal with it?" Stiles yelled. "Deal with it? What the fuck, Derek? What the
actual fuck?"
"Yes," Derek snarled, flinging a boot at the wall before stalking towards
Stiles who instinctively backed into the door. "In less than an hour I'm going
to bite you, then fuck you, and any future you might have wished for is going
to be over."
"I might have wished for you."
At his bravado, Derek snarled and took the final step to bring their bodies
flush, pressing Stiles harder into the unyielding wood. "That was never going
to happen."
"Liar!"
Shooting him a look of annoyed disbelief, Derek shoved him once in the
shoulder, then turned away to go put on his socks and boots, completely
dismissing his soon-to-be mate.
Stiles forced himself to calm down and pushed away from the door, but didn't
approach the angry wolf. "I don't need to be a werewolf to know you're lying.
You want me. You just can't let yourself be happy."
"This is not going to make either of us happy. That's the point."
At the desolation in Derek's voice, Stiles finally accepted defeat--if only
momentary--and let his shoulders slump as he murmured, "It might, if you let
it."
When there was no response, he left, quietly closing the door behind him,
before carefully taking the half-rotten stairs down to the main room. Everyone
was gathered there, including Lydia who was curled in an easy chair missing
half its stuffing. Peter was standing on the opposite side of the room
pointedly not looking at her.
All the other wolves turned to look at Stiles and, knowing they'd heard
everything, he flushed and then shrugged. "He's an ass."
Scott snorted in agreement, and whatever conversations his arrival had
interrupted resumed quietly. Stiles moved to perch on a stool next to Lydia,
who briefly looked up at him, then back at her lap. For the first time in a
long time she wore a dress and make-up, but she still didn't look like her old
self.
Maybe none of them did anymore.
Reaching over, he took one of her hands and squeezed it in reassurance.
Derek chose that moment to make an appearance, jumping down most of the stairs
and landing in a crouch, which had Peter rolling his eyes and Erica quietly
snorting in amusement.
"Yes, let's stir up more dust in this place."
Feeling like applauding Peter, Stiles instead chose to frown at Derek who
ignored him and went to stand by his uncle. Peter must have said something for
his ears only because the Alpha's dark look turned even darker and he snarled.
Whatever he said back wiped all emotion from his uncle's face as Peter went
blank and stiff.
Yeah, they were both going to be in great moods for mating.
At that thought, Stiles' body tensed and he started mentally flipping through
ways to make this not suck, but if Derek refused to cooperate...
The eyes of all the wolves went to the door and Lydia stiffened next to him,
her fingers tightening around his.
"They're here," Scott said unnecessarily, because that was quite obvious.
As Alpha, Derek went to the door and opened it, then stepped onto the porch.
Peter glanced at Stiles and Lydia then nodded towards the door before following
his nephew outside, and Stiles stood and pulled Lydia up with him. Beneath her
make-up she'd gone pale, her eyes wide with fear.
"It'll be okay."
"I...I don't know...Stiles, how do I do this?"
"You be Lydia."
She stared at him for a long moment and then he saw something cross her face, a
hint of the strength she used to wear as casually as her dress. With it shown
the intelligence that she still hid too often and, okay, the bitchiness that
she didn't. "Don't let them see I'm scared, right?"
Nodding, he led her towards the door, the rest of the Pack following them.
Outside in the gloom of nightfall stood the five Alphas, arrayed around the
former front lawn and supported by at least two dozen Betas. The Beta wolves
were all shifted and Stiles knew his own Pack followed suit behind him as they
headed down the four steps to the lawn. Derek stood at the center, about ten
feet from Deucalion, also in the center. Peter was at his right, just a step
behind him. Stiles knew Scott's place was on Derek's left, but he also knew,
that after tonight, that was his place.
Giving Lydia's hand one last squeeze he let her go and moved towards Derek,
hoping she could keep it together and go to Peter. Scott joined him but ceded
his place, keeping a step back but to Stiles' left as Stiles stood even with
their Alpha. It just felt right, like they would be equals after this.
Since Derek didn't glare or growl at him--or acknowledge him at all--he figured
he was right. A quick glance showed him that Lydia was next to Peter, her spine
straight, her chin up in defiance as she stared directly at the lead Alpha, who
was ignoring her, though his eyes had passed over Stiles a couple times.
Too bad Lydia hadn't managed to kill the bastard. He was truly freaked by her.
Stiles hoped that gave her strength to get through this.
"So, your little mates are here." Kali was the one to speak from Deucalion's
right--they might all be Alphas but there was still a hierarchy.
"As we negotiated," Peter replied firmly.
"I'm surprised they didn't try to run and leave you to your fates."
"We may be small. We may be young. But our Pack and our Pack humans are loyal."
A sour look crossed the she-wolf's face but she nodded shortly. "The moon is
rising. Let's get this over with. The new year is coming and we have a world to
rule."
As the Alpha's enforcer, Ethan spoke from the left. "As agreed, you may use any
rituals specific to your Pack for the claiming bites. The matings will be
private." Which, from the nasty and lascivious look he shot Stiles, he
obviously didn't approve of. "But if it doesn't happen before dawn, and we'll
know, all your wolves will die and we'll take both your humans as prizes for
loyal Alphas."
Kali took over again. "We'll meet back here at the rise of the sun to sign the
treaty. I suggest that your pets not shower."
Stiles couldn't help but make a face at that and he could feel Derek tense
beside him, but Peter nodded calmly. "The terms have already been agreed to.
We'll be here at dawn with our mates."
At that, Deucalion was the one to nod as he crossed his arms over his chest
and, like with Derek, it was an offensive pose. Around him, his Betas began to
stir in anticipation. Behind him, Stiles could tell their own three were moving
closer until Derek held up his hand which stopped them in their tracks.
Wondering if the Hales had any specific rituals and what they might be, Stiles
failed to realize that Derek had turned to him and was taking his arm until he
caught a flash of red eyes and fangs and then those fangs were biting into his
right wrist. Biting back a yelp, he tried not to react but it fucking hurt and
a tremor went through him. A quiet moan from Lydia drew his attention and he
saw Peter bent over her arm as well, saw her quivering in pain and fear, but
her eyes were on Deucalion, and the Alpha was still ignoring her.
Good for her.
Derek's grunt and the release of his arm pulled him back to the moment and he
couldn't help it. "Ow."
His Alpha, his...fuck, mate, growled at him and didn't shift back, just turned
those red eyes and fangs to the invading pack. "It's done."
"So romantic," Kali smirked. "Have fun boys. Or, suffer, whatever turns you
on." With a wave of her hand over her head, like a cowboy signaling a round-up,
she turned towards her Betas and urged them back into the woods.
Looking down at the two bleeding puncture wounds in his wrist, Stiles pressed
his other hand over them and hoped he didn't bleed to death. They weren't as
deep as a turning bite, which he figured, since there'd been no rituals to
prevent that like he'd read about--what the fuck?--meant he wouldn't turn.
If he turned, he was kicking Derek's ass.
The five Alphas were the last to leave, blending into the dark forest just as
the moon broke above the treeline.
"So, no fancy words? No lighting a candle together? No ritual foods or mutual
bathing of our foreheads?"
"Do you think we'd share any of that with them?"
Stiles saw Derek glance at the way he was holding his wrist, then give him a
sour look, before biting out, "Go bandage that. You all, go home," he said to
the Pack. "Part of the deal was you're no longer trapped here. You don't need
to be here for the signing in the morning either."
The Betas seemed to know there should have been celebrations and a feast at a
claiming, and they were subdued as they nodded, said their farewells and headed
for their cars parked at the back of the house.
Arm throbbing now, Stiles glanced over at Lydia, saw her wrapping a
handkerchief around her bleeding wrist, saw Peter looking not at her, but him,
then the older male nodded and took his mate's uninjured arm to lead her to his
car. She stiffened but went with him.
Stiles wondered how she was going to deal with what was coming. How fragile she
was where Peter was concerned bothered them all, but nothing Peter had done to
try to alleviate her fear had helped. This could only get worse.
"You might want to worry about yourself rather than my uncle's mate," Derek
growled before stomping towards the house.
"Yeah, like I'm going to stop worrying about her. She's my friend."
"Make sure it's never more than that or we're all dead."
"Wait. What?" He hurried after the Alpha, annoyance flooding him. "You think I
still want her? Dude, I gave up on that months ago. I'm pretty sure I mentioned
I would have chosen you if given a choice. You never listen to me."
And, he ignored him now.
Rolling his eyes in frustration, Stiles slammed the door behind him and headed
for the downstairs bathroom and the first aid kit. At the moment, he didn't
care where Derek went.
Lydia had left an old-fashioned hurricane lamp lit--not a safe thing to do in a
half-burned house but he was grateful he didn't have to fumble in the dark as
his wrist continued to bleed and hurt and he was just pissed off. Plopping down
on the closed toilet, he dug under the sink for alcohol, cotton balls, and a
large gauze bandage. The alcohol sent a jolt of fresh, stinging pain through
him, but he held the cotton ball to the punctures until the bleeding stopped,
then inexpertly covered them with the bandage, the adhesive wrapping half-way
around his narrow wrist. Derek had only used his top fangs so the wounds were
only on the inner wrist.
He was pretty sure the bite on his neck was going to be all four and was going
to hurt like a bitch. And, the way Derek was acting, he probably wasn't going
to get any of those nice endorphins from an orgasm to help him through the
pain.
Replacing the alcohol beneath the sink, he stood and faced the mirror, his
reflection dim in the pale light, but he could still see how unhappy he was.
And scared.
A tremor went through his shoulders and he took a bracing breath, then turned
off the lamp and left the dark bathroom. He retrieved his duffel from the other
room, then headed to the main area of the house. Enough light from the moon and
stars shown through the few windows and various holes in the walls to let him
see his way up the stairs. The door to Derek's room was open and there was a
golden glow from a candle beckoning him in. Hesitantly Stiles crossed the
threshold and closed the door behind him, then dropped the bag with a soft
thud.
The room was colder than before and Stiles shivered and hugged himself, his
hoodie, even with his t-shirt and flannel, not thick enough to keep him warm.
He had no clue how he was even going to get a hard-on in the chilly, dank room.
Though, he supposed, it wasn't necessary he come, just Derek.
If that was even going to happen. Despite Peter's assurances, he wasn't
convinced Derek wanted him and could get it up either.
He supposed he could help with that. He was pretty much an expert at jerking
off. Another guy's dick couldn't be that much different than his. At least he
knew werewolves having knots was fiction along with mpreg. Made for good porn
stories, though.
Slipping out of a shadowy corner, wearing only his jeans, Derek didn't look at
all cold and Stiles envied the werewolf's naturally higher body temperature.
"Get out of your clothes and under the blankets."
"You know, we could go get a motel room, be all toasty." Part of him wanted to
be warmer. Part of him wanted to delay the inevitable.
Derek frowned and pointed to the mattress on the floor, strewn with a couple,
thankfully thick, blankets and one lumpy pillow.
How fucking romantic.
Kicking off his shoes, tempted to leave on his socks, Stiles moved towards the
mattress as he slipped off his hoodie and shirt, then fiddled with his belt. A
cold draft hit him and he said to Hell with modesty and got his jeans off in
record time, then dragged his t-shirt over his head and dropped to his knees on
the mattress, yanking the blankets around himself as he lay down. Using his
toes, he peeled off his socks, then reached down and wriggled out of his boxer
shorts before pulling them out from beneath the blankets and tossing them at
Derek.
Who just glowered at him.
"None of this is my fault, you know. You could at least try make this not
horrible."
The glowering faded a bit, but Derek continued to stare at him, looking like he
was trying to fight off annoyance and frustration, but there was something else
there, too. Something Stiles had seen earlier, a flash of hurt, but then the
older man shook it off, dropped his eyes, and reached for the buttons on his
jeans.
Not wanting to watch this, Stiles looked away and tugged the blankets to his
chin.
"You're cold."
"Yeah. I mentioned that. We could have been in a heated motel room," he
muttered.
The blankets lifted and then Derek was in the bed with him and at least he was
warm even though he didn't touch him. Their heads shared the pillow barely, and
then Stiles shifted closer and their shoulders brushed.
Derek didn't flinch away.
Heart thumping painfully in his chest, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered,
"Can you at least try to make this not suck for me, Derek?"
He wasn't actually surprised when he didn't verbally respond. In the nine
months of their acquaintance, Stiles could count on one hand the number of
questions Derek had answered without more than one prompt. Feeling his stomach
clenching, he was kind of glad he hadn't eaten anything in awhile, wished he
hadn't drank that whisky at his dad's, and let his eyes fall shut in
resignation.
Next to him the mattress shifted and the shoulder touching him turned into a
chest and Stiles kept his eyes shut, waiting for Derek to move over him or flip
him onto his stomach and just be horrible.
The surprisingly soft brush of lips on his made his eyes fly open and he jerked
back.
Derek humphed and leaned down for another kiss, this one more forceful, his
upper body pinning Stiles' down, and all he could do was open his mouth and
respond.
It was nothing like the couple spin the bottle kisses he'd had in middle
school.
Nothing at all.
Derek knew what he was doing and his lips were firm and his tongue searching
and Stiles tried to follow where he was leading. Body turning into the larger,
firmer one, he felt the heat spread across his skin and slowly relaxed his
tense muscles.
The kiss deepened, grew wet, noisy and Derek's hand wrapped around his
shoulder, pulled him closer, and Stiles went and felt something that wasn't a
hand or thigh pressing against his hip.
Okay, maybe he wouldn't need to jerk his mate to an erection.
When Derek drew back, Stiles could feel the flush on his cheeks and hoped he
didn't look too stupid. Slowly he lifted his eyes from his mate's wet lips--
that was his spit!--and was surprised to see a softness he'd never seen before
in those hazel orbs. And the hand on his shoulder was rubbing gently. It was
the same shoulder he'd shoved only an hour or so earlier.
The two touches couldn't have been more different.
And Stiles couldn't keep quiet or keep the hope out of his voice. "If we make
it, well, not suck, we win, right?"
He should have kept his fucking mouth shut because Derek's face closed down,
the softness in his eyes disappearing, his body stiffening, but his hard-on was
still there.
"There's no winning." The comment wasn't harsh or cruel or even angry, just
empty, and what little desire Stiles had begun to feel vanished, too. "This
isn't a game."
"I didn't mean it like that," he protested, but Derek turned away from him and
started fumbling through a box on the floor next to the mattress.
"I can't bite your nape if you're on your back. Roll over."
So fucking empty.
Making a frustrated sound, Stiles obeyed, wincing as he smashed his sore wrist
down on the hard mattress, then crossed his arms and pressed his face against
them, avoiding the wounds as best he could. The blankets were shoved down and
he shivered and grunted. "Jesus." Then he felt Derek straddle his thighs,
bringing some heat, but not enough, and he kind of wished he'd left his shirt
on. It didn't seem to matter as long as his ass was bare.
Speaking of...a slippery finger was poking between his cheeks, and he flushed
and tried to relax and tried not to think or wish or...As the lubed finger
pushed into him hard and determined, he hated his big mouth, hated Derek for
being an obstinate bastard, hated the whole Alpha Pack.
His shivering back was suddenly blanketed by Derek's heated body and the warmth
was so surprising he didn't realize a second finger was pushing into him until
they both began to twist and spread.
"God," he breathed. It hurt but he was glad Derek was at least bothering to
prep him, and the warmth was nice.
"Relax," Derek growled softly into his upturned ear.
"Trying," Stiles replied through clenched teeth, and he really was, it was
just...not the way he'd ever dreamed this would happen. When he felt a third
finger pressing at the rim of his hole, he tensed.
"Stiles, you need to relax."
"Do you have to be so fast?"
Derek stilled, breathing tightly against his neck and cheek, and Stiles opened
his eyes to stare across the room at the flickering candle sitting on a trunk.
The blanket over the window fluttered and the cold hit his face and everything
was so damn bleak. Finally, Derek said softly, "I...I don't know how to make
this good, Stiles. I can't think straight. Everything's gone to Hell and I'm
too fucking broken." His forehead pressed against Stiles' back, and the anger
and frustration just dissipated replaced by sorrow and just a bit of
compassion.
Peter had been right. Derek was martyring himself. That's why they were doing
this here, in the ashes of his home, his family. He was punishing himself more
than the Alpha Pack could have imagined, and Stiles didn't know how to make him
stop or if it was even possible.
They had to do this tonight because if he was still a virgin at dawn, Derek was
dead. Scott was dead. The Pack was...dead.
And Stiles couldn't have that on his conscience.
Derek's erection had flagged. His fingers weren't moving any more. He was
waiting.
Not for permission. That was implicit in Stiles' agreement to the mating. But,
maybe for acceptance that he didn't have it in him to make this good for either
of them?
Could that be learned?
God, Stiles hoped so.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again, and urged, "Derek, go on. We
have to do this. Just...I'll try to relax, I will. Just don't stop, okay?"
He felt his mate nod, then the third finger pressed inside and Stiles couldn't
hold back his hiss, but he really did try to relax the muscles and let him in.
As the digits twisted inside him, Derek began to press kisses to his neck and
shoulders, and Stiles wasn't completely sure he was aware he was doing it, but
it felt good, made him shiver with something other than cold.
And then the tip of one finger brushed against a spot inside him that sent a
bolt of something that was almost pleasure up his spine, and Stiles gasped.
Trapped against the mattress his cock twitched, and, when the finger pressed
harder, his hips bucked up.
So, the prostate and how good it could feel was a real thing.
He wasn't sure he was going to get hard, but this didn't completely suck
anymore, and he swallowed convulsively and arched into the next push of
fingers. Against one butt cheek he could feel Derek's cock harden again and it
began to rub against him, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. That was good,
right? Meant he was ready?
Though Stiles wasn't sure he was ready, and when the three fingers pulled
nearly free and a fourth brushed his sensitive hole, he moaned helplessly in
more than a little fear, but the head of that cock was not small and four was
probably a good idea.
When it joined the other three inside him, Stiles bit his lower lip and arched
his trembling back, but forced down a cry. Fuck, it hurt.
"Sorry," Derek muttered against his shoulder blade, lips pressed hotly there,
and Stiles was kind of shocked he'd apologized. Enough that he relaxed again
and the pain eased. "I don't want...to tear you. Jesus, you're tight."
"No fucking kidding."
No, he really couldn't keep his mouth completely shut.
A half growl, half sigh broke from Derek and he pushed the four fingers as deep
as he could, then pulled them out and lifted up to his knees. "Pull your knees
beneath you and keep your head down. It'll be easier that way." He moved enough
that Stiles could struggle into the position he wanted, his body both cold
again and hot in an all over flush, because now his ass was in the air and
Derek was looking at it. That seemed to be more embarrassing than having his
four fingers up his hole.
The moment of silence was broken by the sound of slick flesh meeting flesh and
Stiles peeked over his shoulder to watch his mate stroking lube onto his cock.
His thick and long cock and oh fuck no that was not going to fit!
Instinctively, he tried to drop down to his stomach, wriggle away, but, as if
he could read his panic, Derek grabbed his hip, digging in with bruising
fingers, and tightened his knees against Stiles' shaking thighs. "Stay
relaxed," he hissed, then grunted and the slick noises stopped.
Fuck, was there enough lube in the world to prepare him for this?
Trapped, Stiles tried to calm down, tried to relax his loosened muscles again,
because this had to happen and if it wasn't going to be out of love and
passion, then getting it the fuck over with was for the best.
But, he was sixteen and a virgin and he really wanted Derek but not like this
and he didn't know how to make it better and...
When pain punched into him, Stiles yelped in shock. While he'd been mentally
flailing, Derek had taken his other hip and pushed his cock into him in one,
hard thrust that got him halfway in, and then before he could catch his breath,
another thrust pushed him deeper and...
Flapping his left arm backwards, whether to hit him or ward him off or he
didn't know what, Stiles fingers brushed Derek's thigh, and he found it shaking
as much as his own.
And Stiles calmed and Derek's cock slid in to his balls.
"Jesus, Stiles," he panted harshly. "Just...let me..."
"O--okay." His voice sounded pathetic to him, but when he stilled, Derek's
fingers loosened a bit and his hips drew back and he began to fuck.
It hurt, but Stiles could stand it. He had to. And a couple times the cock
inside him rubbed his prostate and that sent that bolt of tingling pleasure
through him again, and maybe if he was hard, it would feel really good.
Stiles kept his hand on Derek, connecting them in a way Derek wouldn't let
himself, and closed his eyes again, breathing as evenly as he could through the
spreading soreness, trying to control the trembling in his legs as muscles
clenched in ways they weren't used to. After a few minutes, Derek's thrusts
sped up and he began to grunt harshly. As his hard pelvis began to slap against
his softer ass, Stiles winced at the new pain.
Sitting was going to be a joy for the next couple of days.
"I'm close. I have to bite," the wolf growled, and Stiles opened his eyes to
look over his shoulder. The red eyes and fangs were back. He nodded and turned
his head to press his forehead into his arm.
The fingers on his hips turned into claws and a couple accidentally dug into
his skin before Derek leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles' stomach
where the claws only lightly scraped. Stiles tried to stay still, but he was
shivering again, this time more in anticipation than cold, and when his mate's
hips stuttered, slamming harder against him, and his growl deepened, he knew it
was all about to end.
Derek came and bit at the same moment, and Stiles couldn't hold back his yowl
of shocked pain from what felt like knives in his neck, even as warm cum
soothed his sore ass. Pinned by his mate, he couldn't do anything but accept
the bite, the fucking, and the bond that snapped into place.
Heat flooded his veins, spilled from his pores, and his cock hardened.
Withdrawing his fangs, Derek started suckling at the wound, and thrust his hips
again, grinding into him, draining his dick, even as Stiles began to writhe and
thrust into the air, suddenly desperate to come.
"Derek," he panted, so dizzy from the arousal that had come out of nowhere. "I
need...I need..."
A clawless hand wrapped around his dick, jerked it hard and fast and Stiles
almost cried in relief as every muscles tightened, every inch of him ached with
need, and then he came, spilling over the hand, the sheets, his own quivering
stomach. As he began to come down from the intense pleasure, tears prickled his
closed eyes, because...was this his own pleasure, or a remnant of Derek's?
"Stiles," Derek murmured, licking the puncture wounds in the nape of his neck,
cleaning away the sticky blood that Stiles felt oozing from them. "Mate." There
was a tiny bit of satisfaction in that low, almost purr, and the hand on his
cock stopped, moving back up to wrap around him and turn him onto his side.
Derek rolled with him and, as he did, his softened cock pulled free with a wet
trickle of cum and lube and, Stiles really prayed, hopefully not blood. He was
really sore, but nothing stung like he had torn.
"You didn't tear."
"Can you read my mind?" he gasped, flailing, eyes flying open to stare over his
shoulder at Derek.
"No," Derek huffed in what couldn't possibly be amusement as he spooned against
his back. "You've been babbling under your breath for a couple of minutes. And,
yes, I know you're lying in the wet spot."
Stiles' cheeks burned in embarrassment and, turning his eyes forward again, he
snapped his lips shut. Which lasted about thirty seconds. "You need a bigger
mattress because this twin is not made for two men and a wet spot," he
grouched.
Behind him, Derek shook, and was that...? "Are you laughing?"
"Fuck if I know, Stiles. Your emotions are so strong, with the bond so new, I
can almost feel them. You're...how can any part of you be happy?" He actually
sounded confused.
"It's not a game," Stiles tried to explain his own confused emotions that made
him want to curl back into Derek and wanted to make this relationship real and
good and wanted to sneer in the faces of the Alpha Pack all at the same time.
"I know that, Derek, but I'm too stubborn to be miserable. I won't let us be
miserable because they've won everything, but they can't make us hate this. You
can't let them..."
"Win. Yeah, I get it. I...can try." With a soft sigh, the Alpha placed a
gentle, tender, maybe even loving kiss over the bond mark, and Stiles, his
mate, shivered in pleasure.
Then cold. "Blankets, now."
"Bossy."
Stiles grinned as Derek pulled the blankets over them and tucked them around
Stiles' front. Okay, he could live with the wet spot, because his mate was
holding him, the wolf growling softly in contentment even if his human side
didn't realize it.
And, he'd gotten that endorphin rich orgasm which muted the pain in his neck
and his ass, and that really helped.
Although he was going to be one big, limping ache in the morning, he was well
and truly fucked. The Alphas, especially that bitch Kali and fuckhead Ethan,
could just suck on that.
End Chapter 4
***** The Anomoly *****
Chapter Summary
     Set at the same time as the bonding of Stiles and Derek in the last
     chapter, Lydia and Peter now face their own bonding and neither are
     looking forward to it. But, first, Lydia has a lot of questions and
     she finally pushes aside the fear enough to ask Peter for the
     answers.
Chapter Notes
     Two chapters two days in a row! Go me! Surprisingly this isn't as
     dark and nasty as I'd thought it would be. Lydia's a lot stronger
     than I'd thought and Peter's surprisingly broken in ways I hadn't
     planned. Still, NC17 for unhappy het sex.
Peter started to take her arm in his hand and Lydia linked their arms instead.
He seemed startled, but she was living on adrenaline for the moment, and
determined not to show fear to anyone. As they walked together to his car at
the back of the house, she cradled her other arm across her stomach. The
handkerchief he'd given her was already dotted with blood from the throbbing
wound on her inner wrist.
It would probably soak through to her dress but she no longer cared about
things like that.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd ruined one of her outfits with her own
blood.
Lydia was actually proud of herself for letting him touch her without
panicking. She knew he didn't need to touch her to lead her to the car, but she
also understood the need of the wolf to touch its mate.
After finally turning, in that first heady month before the Alphas descended
and he showed just how weak and broken he still was, Jackson had barely kept
his hands off her. They'd never taken the steps to mating and Lydia made sure
he never bit her anywhere by accident because she wasn't going to be trapped
like Allison, even if she did love Jackson with all her young heart.
Well, she had loved him. The last four months since his betrayal her heart had
pretty much died, leaving her feeling numb most of the time.
Until Peter looked at her or asked her something and then she'd feel cold dread
and hot fear. He'd never touched her, though, not once in all that time, not
until tonight.
And now his hand was brushing her arm and his warmth was beside her and his
teeth had been in her skin.
It had been different, though, then that first horrible time when he'd savaged
her side and clawed her back and shoulder. The two little punctures were
different.
And Peter wasn't insane.
Lydia wasn't sure that made any of this better.
The car warmed quickly, classic rock played softly on the stereo. They didn't
speak as they drove across the mostly deserted town. There was a six o'clock
curfew, though she guessed it didn't apply to them.
To wolves and whatever she was.
Mate, her traitorous mind reminded her, and she frowned and rubbed the skin
above the makeshift bandage. The pain was fading, but Stiles had told her there
would be more coming. More blood as well.
And sex with a man she was scared of.
Lydia hadn't had sex in over four months. She'd hardly even touched herself
since the first attack on December first. How long had it been for Peter? Had
he been with anyone since recovering from the fire and then his resurrection?
Werewolves mated for life. He'd had a mate. Did he still...love her?
Not that Lydia cared, because love would never be a part of this relationship,
but if he was still pining over a lost love, maybe he'd mostly leave her alone.
If he was allowed to. She hadn't had any say in this treaty. The rules they'd
live under were mostly unknown to her. She hated being out of the loop, and she
was annoyed at herself for not reading up on mating and claiming and this bond
that was going to form and all it would entail.
She had a lot of questions, but she wasn't sure she wanted to ask Peter any of
them.
Before she knew it he was parking the car in a private garage attached to a
small apartment complex. Recognizing the part of town--upper middle class
mostly, young people with careers and few to no kids, what used to be called
Yuppies--she approved. She knew he had money which was good because she wasn't
spending another night in any kind of hovel.
For a moment she felt a pang of concern for Stiles. Over the last couple of
months he'd become pretty much her best friend, her gay confident--though he
protested that he wasn't gay and then spent most of his days drooling over
Derek and letting her buy him clothes that actually fit--and she wasn't
convinced that Derek could even return any of his feelings, be a decent person
to him, or even want him. She thought she'd been a cold bitch. Derek Hale had
her beat easily.
Peter turned off the car and she waited for him to exit and then open her door.
He had manners, at least. Following him into the locked building and up a set
of stairs, she approved of the simple elegance, the fresh paint on the walls.
The common areas were well maintained. She assumed that Peter's apartment was
as well. The man did keep his car and his clothes pristine.
As he unlocked one of two doors on the second floor, which indicated large
apartments, she appreciated that he stepped aside and let her enter first,
while he turned on the lights at the switch just inside. There was a good sized
main room, decorated in blues and greens, with modern, comfortable furniture. A
large flat screen tv hung on one wall, the others bore abstract paintings that,
at one glance, she could tell were originals. On one side was the opening to a
kitchen with chrome appliances, and a small dining room in an alcove. The other
side had a hallway that she assumed led to the bedrooms. Her eyes quickly left
that side.
"Are you hungry?"
Lunch had been hours before and half a peanut butter sandwich on stale bread
but the last thing she wanted to do was eat, so she shook her head.
"Let me find a proper bandage for that wound."
As he disappeared down the hallway she was avoiding looking at or thinking
about, Lydia walked farther into the apartment. Everything was very tidy, but
there were signs of personalization--well read magazines on the coffee table, a
pair of cuff links on the bar separating this room from the kitchen, a novelty
coffee mug of a wolf and the moon dirty in the sink, a jacket tossed on a
stool.
Seating herself on a second stool at the bar, she carefully untied the
handkerchief and frowned at the red holes in her wrist. One of them still oozed
a bit of blood.
Peter returned and moved the jacket to sit next to her. Opening the first aid
kit, he drew out alcohol swabs, gauze and tape, and when she held out her
wrist, he efficiently cleaned the wounds and bandaged them.
"What about the bite on my neck?" she asked baldly because she did need to know
in order to mentally prepare.
"It's a bit different. It sets the bond between us and my saliva will help stop
the blood flow."
"I should wear my hair up."
"Yes."
So damn clinical about everything.
Staring down at the counter top, Lydia listened to him replacing the items in
the kit, then rise to wash his hands and dispose of the used supplies beneath
the sink. She supposed they should get this over with, but he didn't seem in a
hurry either, and there was one big question that had been at the forefront of
her mind since Stiles had explained what was going to happen.
"The bond, it's supernatural?" Slowly she looked up and saw him in the kitchen
drying his hands and watching her from widening eyes. He caught her
implication, but she asked anyway, "Will it even work on me?"
"I...don't know."
"Does it usually work with humans? I mean, is Stiles going to feel it on his
end, the bond with Derek? What does it do, feel like? How will I know?"
Peter actually looked shaken and he crossed the kitchen to stand across the bar
from her, hands spread across the granite top, fingers clenching just slightly.
"You just know. It's a connection...It's hard to explain. It should be an
emotional connection. Wolves can feel their mates presence, their location,
even what they're feeling if the emotions are deep and the wolf seeks them out.
I think it's muted somewhat for humans, but still there."
"Even if there's no...caring?"
"Yes. It's not about that. Doesn't have to be," he corrected. "It's for
protection, possession and..." He bit off his reply and she gave him a sharp
look.
"What?"
"What do you think mating means, Lydia?" His voice was less confused now,
colder, and she frowned. "Mated pairs have a much better chance of breeding
strong wolves."
Lydia could feel herself blanching. She hadn't thought...that far ahead.
"I'm sixteen."
"They don't care."
Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then she dragged hers away and shook
her head wildly. "No. I'm sixteen and I'm not giving you children, not now."
"It's part of the treaty." There was nothing in his voice now, no emotion, just
cold recitation. "We're not allowed to use birth control and Derek and Stiles
aren't allowed to use surrogates. No cubs for them, and the only chance of a
born Hale Alpha is through us."
"No."
Ignoring her, Peter continued, "But we don't know what your immunity will do,
if you can even get pregnant from me, or, if you can, if the cubs will be human
or wolves. Even two born werewolves can birth a human, so that's never a
guarantee anyway. You're our only chance, though, Lydia. I'm not prepared to
let the Hale bloodline die with Derek."
"You bastard!"
He flushed and leaned forward and she automatically leaned back, nearly falling
off the stool. "Do you really think I want this? I was prepared to seek a mate
in order to carry on our bloodline. I was prepared to make Derek see past
Stiles and find a born she-wolf to claim. We need wolves of the blood. It's the
only way we'll get a strong Alpha to follow him. But, you're the last woman I'd
choose because you despise and fear me. This is our punishment. Derek can't
have a cub of his own to inherit from him. I can only get them on a child who
shrinks from me, who will never love me."
Lydia nearly yelled back that she wasn't a child, but held her tongue and her
temper, since doing that would just prove his point. But, angry though she was,
her mind was clear and coming up with possibilities, probabilities. "Do you
think the Alphas took my immunity into consideration? Do they know something we
don't? That I won't get pregnant?"
"I doubt it. Oh, they might have thought of it, but they don't know any more
than we do. And they obviously don't see any cubs we might have as potential
threats, not even a potential Alpha. If they did, they would have forced
sterilization on you."
Lydia felt sick at the thought. No, she didn't want to be pregnant now, didn't
want to ever have Peter's child, but having that choice taken from her...
Unwilling to think about that anymore, she switched gears. "What if the bond
doesn't do anything on my end?"
He shrugged. "I don't think that matters since we're not doing it out of love
or need of any kind. The human bond mate isn't tied forever to their wolf, it's
more symbolic. They can leave. They can be unfaithful. It's the main reason we
rarely bond with humans that we're not going to have turned. The bonding is for
wolves for life. It's to be taken seriously. Some go without mates forever,
but, even those who don't can still marry and have cubs. It goes against our
wolf's nature not to bond, but we can fight it without too much problem. I've
never seen the point. If you're going to make a serious commitment to another,
you go all the way. And for an Alpha, it's a must, for the future generation.
Unmated pairs can't produce a potential Alpha, and for a male Alpha to take a
male mate is unheard of for that very reason." He shook his head in obvious
concern.
Feeling it, too, worried about Stiles, Lydia still had to get confirmation.
"So, until I die, I'm it for you?"
"I don't see any reason the bond won't settle on my end," he replied shortly.
Slumping a bit, Lydia nibbled on her lower lip, and realized this was the
longest conversation she'd had with Peter since he'd been in her head. She was
kind of amazed she was holding it together so well. "You said it was for
breeding and protection, but it's usually for love, too, right?"
"In these modern times, yes." His face took on a distant look and she knew he
was thinking about his late wife.
She let him be for a moment, but she had to get further clarification. "So it's
not a 'one mate in the whole world' soul mate thing. It's not an urge to find
that one person."
"No, it can be anyone. Obviously, or we wouldn't be here." Peter glanced at his
watch. "And we have about eight hours until we need to head back to the house,
so I suggest we stop putting this off."
A chill went through Lydia, but, steeling herself, she nodded and slipped from
the stool.
"The master bedroom is the last door on the right. I'll give you...fifteen
minutes?" At her small nod, he continued, "There should be something in the
bathroom you can use to tie up your hair. There's also a tube of lubricant in
the night stand on the right."
Now she was flushing and her eyes dropped to her feet. Women her age shouldn't
need lubricant. Did he mention it to her out of respect for her? Or did he
simply desire to touch her as little as necessary?
Unable to reply, she turned and forced herself to walk down the hallway to the
open door at the end.
The bedroom was good sized and well decorated. The furniture was cherry wood,
the bedding navy and cream. The walls bore more art, this time prints--she
recognized a couple popular portraits of redheads in fanciful Renaissance dress
and she paled at how closely she resembled one of the models. Turning away she
opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into a well-appointed room in cream
porcelain. The counter had masculine products and accouterments, but a drawer
yielded a sealed toothbrush which she opened and used. Running her fingers
through her hair, she opened another drawer and searched, finally finding an
unused shoelace. It would do. Gathering as much of her hair as she could, she
tied it high a top her head, then gave herself a critical look in the mirror.
She hadn't thought to bring anything with her, none of her own toiletries or a
change of clothes. Not wanting to think about any of this had left her
unprepared, something she despised. Glancing at the soap she realized it was
Dove, and it would do.
A few minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, face scrubbed clean, wearing
only a pale green silk camisole and matching pair of tap pants. If he wanted
her naked, he'd have to make her that way. She couldn't do that, and...she
wasn't sure she could do this either, but, taking a deep breath, she opened the
drawer of the night stand on the right side of the bed, the one that held a
couple novels and a half-empty water bottle.
The tube of KY was on top of whatever else was in the drawer. All Lydia could
see was it.
Slowly she sat on the bed and stared at her lap.
Did this mean Peter wasn't going to give her any foreplay, prepare her at all?
Or did he think he couldn't arouse her or that she wouldn't let him, so she'd
need the lube?
Either was a horrible thought, and, to be honest with herself, she wasn't sure
she wanted him to try to make it good, to arouse her. And maybe he couldn't.
Maybe, with him, she'd be frigid, so scared that she couldn't let herself want
him.
Or...maybe he just didn't care to even try. Maybe she meant so little to
him,...
Hesitantly she took the tube in her hand and wondered if she had the guts to do
this.
The door opened and Peter stepped inside, quietly closing it behind him before
turning to face her. Lydia looked up at him, saw he was looking at what she
held in her hand and she pointed it at him.
"Will I need this?" she boldly asked, surprising herself as she clamped down on
the constant fear his presence elicited in her, and hid it behind bravado.
"That's up to you, Lydia," was his quiet reply, before he went into the
bathroom and shut that door as well.
Flushing, Lydia put the lubricant back in the drawer, closing it firmly, then
she rose and pulled down the bedspread, folding it neatly at the end of the
bed, then removed the pillows with shams and piled them on a chair. Moving to
the other side of the bed, she plumped the remaining pillow, then tugged down
the thick quilt and sheet, noting the high thread count with approval. She sat
on the firm mattress, then, taking a deep breath, swung her legs up and beneath
the sheet and blanket before lying back.
The fear that she'd clamped down on and that had mostly been at a low level for
the last half hour or so began to slip from her control, and her breathing
increased. She could feel her heart beating quicker as well, and knew he'd know
it, maybe already heard it. Before she could force herself to calm, Peter came
out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of navy boxer briefs. She quickly
looked away from and stared at the ceiling.
God, she felt like some kind of Victorian virgin!
She couldn't just lie here, let him do whatever he needed to do, make it so
completely empty and meaningless.
And, yes, she was scared of him, yes, she even hated him for making her scared
and weak and knowing just how to manipulate her, but she was Lydia Martin and
she didn't cower and she wasn't passive. The last couple of hours had proved to
her that she could be alone with Peter Hale and not have a complete mental
breakdown. She could even talk to him.
Stiles words came back to her.
Be Lydia.
Before she could think to stop herself, her feet kicked the coverings down and
she was sitting and tugging her camisole over her head, then shimmying out of
her tap pants, tossing both on the floor. Fuck him. She was Lydia Martin and
she was not weak and, while she was broken, she wouldn't shatter.
Bravely Lydia looked at him and saw his eyes not on her breasts or the red
curls between her slightly parted legs, but focused on the ugly reddened scar
on her left side, before they slid up to the obvious claw marks on her
shoulder, one going down over her breast nearly to her nipple.
He'd done that to her, but he'd never looked at them before.
"I'm not ashamed of them."
And, she wasn't, not anymore. Over the last several months she'd been too busy
fighting and surviving to worry about scars she couldn't do anything about.
They hadn't been her fault. She hadn't asked for them.
She hadn't asked for any of this.
Remaining seated, curling her legs up to one side, Lydia watched Peter place
one knee on the bed, then fall gracefully forward onto his hands, putting his
face at the level of her marked shoulder. One more move closer and his mouth
brushed the scar.
He nuzzled at the claw mark on her breast, then sank lower and breathed against
the raised brand of his fangs. The mark was huge--she now knew he'd bitten her
in his Alpha form with that massive muzzle.
Smaller fangs scraped her skin now, and she shivered, but not from cold and not
all from fear.
"You would have made a magnificent wolf," he murmured against her quickly
warming skin, "but we never would have had this, Lydia. An Alpha can't take one
of his own Betas to mate. The power imbalance never works well." His nose and
lips dipped lower across her stomach, which clenched in reaction, and then he
took her down onto her back, coming over her and between her thighs. Their eyes
met, his glowing golden, and Lydia swallowed hard.
She hadn't realized, but of course he'd have to shift at least partially in
order to bite her during the sex. Those eyes and glint of fangs frightened her,
but the eyes weren't red and the fangs weren't an inch long and dripping with
saliva and those were the ones that petrified her.
"You didn't use the lube," he pointed out softly, his lips hovering over hers,
his nostrils flaring. "Do you want me to touch you?"
"Do you want to touch me?" Lydia countered, forcing herself not to look away.
Peter was the one to break eye contact and he stared at the pillow next to her
head where one of his hands was braced.
"I...don't know," was his surprisingly honest reply. "Since my return, my
encounters with women have been purely for sexual release and they've been
faceless by the next day. This is different. This is, should be important." A
quick glance at his face showed her how conflicted he looked and she lay still,
waiting for him to continue, and, when he did, his voice broke. It actually
broke. "It should be real."
In a flash, Peter was off her, off the bed, and back in the bathroom, and Lydia
stared after him in frank surprise.
She hadn't realized...this was hard for him, too.
Sitting back up, she drew her knees to her chin and stared across the room and
there she saw it. On the dresser were two framed photographs. One was a full
size professional school portrait of a little blonde girl, maybe no more than
seven or eight. Lydia had known he'd had at least one child but she'd never
cared to know any details. Now she wondered what her name had been, how old
she'd been when she...died. If she'd been a wolf. But, it was the other
photograph that held her attention.
It was a wedding portrait. The bride and groom were both barefoot, wearing
casual clothes, but they were smiling at each other, so obviously devoted to
each other, and the sun shown down on their heads in their outdoor ceremony.
Their left hands were clasped and held to the camera and on their fingers were
matching gold bands.
Peter still wore his.
The woman was his wife, his...mate.
And now he was being forced to take another.
A pang of compassion hit her and Lydia nearly swore at it. She didn't want to
feel anything for him. Yes, he was on their side completely, the Second of the
Pack and Derek's family. She trusted that he wouldn't betray those bonds, but
he was still the monster who had tried to turn her into a werewolf and then had
turned her into his puppet, breaking her so badly she still had nightmares of
purple flowers and blood and ice...and his leering, cruel face.
The clock on the night stand blinked over to the hour and time was moving too
quickly. They had to do this or the Pack, her friends, maybe her mom would die
and, to be frank, better the devil she knew than a strange wolf claiming her.
Lydia truly believed that Peter wouldn't hurt her as long as she accepted him
and didn't fight him. He had control of his wolf now. A stranger? Who knew what
might happen. Most likely Deucalion would find the most perverted bastard of an
Alpha to give her to that would keep her bruised, barefoot and pregnant.
She'd agreed to this, to Peter, for all of those reasons, and they were good
reasons.
Taking a deep breath, Lydia stretched across the bed and took the lube from the
drawer. As she lay back down, she opened it and squeezed some onto her fingers,
then parted her legs and pushed the slick into herself. Peter didn't need to
make this good for her. She didn't need to make it good for him.
They just had to get through it.
Wiping her fingers on a tissue, she tossed it and the closed tube onto the
matching night stand on what she figured was her side of the bed, and rose to
her feet to go fetch her mate.
The door to the bathroom wasn't locked and Lydia didn't knock. Peter was
leaning against the counter, head down, arms locked across his chest. He didn't
look up when she came in but she saw his nostrils flare again.
"We need to do this, Peter." It was the first time she'd said his name to
him...ever.
At that, he looked up and, while still obviously conflicted, finally took her
outstretched hand.
Lydia led him back to the bed, then turned to face him and slipped her fingers
into the waistband of his briefs before tugging them down and urging him to
step from them. When those same fingers wrapped around his soft cock, he cupped
her shoulders in his hands and made her look up at him.
"You're older than your years," Peter murmured, his eyes still empty, but
determination and acceptance on his face.
"I'm not a child. I'm really not." Expertly pumping her hand up and down his
shaft, over the uncircumcised head, brushing back the foreskin with delicate
fingers, was proving that.
Peter swallowed hard, then nodded and his whole body shuddered as the tension
drained from him and, in her hand, his cock swelled. Backing a few steps to the
bed, Lydia sank onto it and he followed her down, until they were on their
sides, her hand still caressing, his both still holding her shoulders, though
his thumbs were moving on her skin, the one on his right hand pressing lightly
into the scars.
He didn't try to kiss her or touch her in any other way and that was okay with
her. She didn't want that. She wasn't sure she ever would.
She wasn't sure he wanted that either.
When his cock grew slippery with pre-cum Lydia released him and turned onto her
hands and knees, then lowered to her elbows and spread her legs. It wasn't a
position she particularly liked, but he had to bite the nape of her neck during
the sex, and this wasn't about pleasure anyway.
Still, she couldn't drive away the bit of fear that always seemed to grip her
when she turned her back on Peter, or control the tremor that ran down her
spine. When one of his hands touched her hip, when he moved between her legs
and both hands found her, she bit back a whimper because she was scared again.
Not that he would hurt her. And not the fear that was always there, but of the
implications. Of what all this meant. Sex and a bite and the bond
and...children. A life with this man. No, this wolf.
Sudden tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them shut, holding them in, and
then Peter pushed into her and drove her breath from her.
It felt so strange--uncircumcised, no condom, wet with his pre-cum and the
lube, and he was hot, no thin latex to shield her from that. His cock wasn't
overly long but she'd discovered when he'd come erect in her hand that it was
very thick and it was stretching her wider than even her favorite dildo. There
was a glimmer of pain but mostly she felt full and open at the same time.
Shifting her left hand to brace herself as he began to move, which drove her
body forward a bit, the claimed wrist pressed to the bedding and sent a shiver
of pain through her and...something else.
Everything felt...unreal and yet so incredibly real at the same time, and Peter
was thrusting quickly, small grunts echoing from him, his fingers digging into
her hips. Lydia found herself moving automatically with him and it wasn't to
seek her own orgasm or hurry him to his, it was...natural.
Real.
It was over sooner than she expected--a sharper stutter of his hips, a curse
bitten off his lips, and he was coming and coming down over her back. Before
she could prepare herself, his fangs slid effortlessly into the thin skin at
the nape of her neck.
The flash of brilliant pain made Lydia whimper than cry out. Her head dipped
even farther in instinctual submission and his fangs held her there, held her
down as his hips pumped his semen into her in a need as old as time--a need to
extend the bloodline through a child of his mate.
And with a sharp, hard cry, Lydia came as well. Without a touch to her clit or
breasts, and no kissing, only his cock and hot cum in her, his fangs claiming
her, his body pressed against hers, she had the most powerful orgasm of her
life.
They fell together, panting harshly, and as she trembled and tried to catch her
breath, she felt his fangs retreat, replaced by his tongue, and he was cleaning
away the blood, soothing her wounds, just as he'd said.
As Peter softened inside her, she felt the ache between her legs of both pain
and pleasure, and tried to figure out how he'd made her come.
"The bond," he murmured against her nape. "I can feel it." There was a mournful
quality to his voice that set her slightly on edge and she searched inside
herself and...found nothing.
"I can't," Lydia forced herself to say, knowing that wasn't what he wanted to
hear, and she wasn't surprised when he pulled out of her and moved to sit on
the side of the bed, feet on the floor and hands rubbing against his face.
"So, you're immunity prevents this as well," he finally sighed in resignation.
Turning onto her side and making a face at the wetness coating her inner
thighs, she stared at his trembling back and was a bit amazed that she'd caused
that kind of reaction in him. Or maybe sex just left him shaking.
"We don't know...It doesn't mean I won't, can't have your..." She couldn't say
it, dropping her eyes to her flat stomach before sadly whispering, "I'm not on
the pill. It makes me sick."
"I know." Of course, he would smell medication, even hormone adjustment pills
on her like Derek could smell the Adderall on Stiles.
"Could I be pregnant now?"
She caught the shake of his head before she pressed one hand to her stomach and
rolled onto her back. "You're not in season. Not fertile," he added the human
terminology.
"I'm your mate now? Your wolf can feel it?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Peter snorted, seeming to come back to himself finally, and he glanced over his
shoulder. "Darling Lydia, none of this is your fault. I made you immune, the
bastard Alphas made you my mate, but you're not broken."
"I'm broken as much as you are, Peter," Lydia corrected him, "but I won't show
that to the Alpha Pack."
"A united front?"
"Yes." She nodded and reached down for the sheet and blanket.
"I can sleep in the guest room," he hesitantly offered.
"Don't be stupid." Most of the fear was fading to the background again.
Bitterness was replacing it and her words were sharper than they probably
should have been, but Peter only nodded and slid into the bed next to her, not
touching her on the queen sized mattress. Reaching over, he turned off the lamp
on his night stand, and Lydia rolled onto her side facing away from him.
Now that it was quiet and she could think again without worrying about what was
coming, she was a bit amazed she'd survived without breaking down into a heap
of terror filled flesh and bones.
Stiles was right. She was strong.
She was Lydia.
Still, she waited until Peter was definitely asleep before she allowed herself
that rest as well. Mate, yes, but still not completely trusted.
And she was still a little scared of him.
She didn't think she'd ever not be.
End Chapter 5
***** The Alpha *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek doesn't sleep. He awaits the coming dawn and his mate's
     awakening and all they will face. The Alpha Pack will come and the
     treaty will be signed, signaling an end to their world and the
     beginning of something he knows he can't face. A mate he wants with
     all his being. A mate he won't let himself have.
Chapter Notes
     Super long chapter I've been writing for several days, from Derek's
     POV and he just kept moping and growling...
Derek didn't sleep. Because his body was exhausted, he dozed a bit, but he was
too tense to let himself relax.
In his arms, Stiles slept like the dead. Derek envied him for that, for his
apparent acceptance of all of this, his lack of the guilt that ate at Derek
every waking minute.
In a bizarre way, Stiles was still innocent.
As the old year turned to the new, Derek mourned that innocence because it was
lost even if the boy didn't know it. His virginity was just the tip of the
iceberg. He knew Stiles hadn't thought through all the implications of their
mating and he admitted he hadn't helped at all. Too bitter. Too afraid to talk
to him.
Too trapped in memories of his own past, of his first time, of the dreams he'd
had with her, becoming her mate. He was afraid Stiles held those same dreams
about him and now, in the worst way possible, they were coming true.
Opening his eyes, Derek watched in the dim light of the guttering candle how
Stiles' chest rose and fell evenly, slowly. How his skin glistened with dried
sweat and Derek's saliva. How the mark on his neck, raised and red, wasn't the
ugly thing he'd feared it would be--how could it be anything else, forced on
them?
But, it was...almost beautiful. It enticed him, made his wolf growl deeply in
satisfaction.
Mate.
This was his mate, however it had happened, however young he was.
Derek's wolf was content.
He just wished he could let his human side feel that way.
*****
Waking Stiles a half hour before dawn was a chore. The boy did not want to
stir, batted at his hands, grumbled at him, and finally pried open his eyes
enough to glower at him.
Derek ignored him and rose naked from the mattress to dress in the clothes from
the night before. Not surprisingly, he could feel Stiles' eyes on him.
He was a bit disconcerted by the flare of arousal he scented--he had to be
sore, couldn't really want that again so soon. But, then he remembered that his
mate was sixteen and often running on a low level of arousal.
Derek nearly stumbled when Stiles knelt down beside him to dig through his bag
for clothes, completely nude and, to his surprise, completely unconcerned. He'd
have expected shyness. But, then, really, when had Stiles ever been shy?
Trying desperately not to see the bruises scattered across Stiles' pale skin,
he headed for the crate of clothes to look for clean socks.
"It's fucking freezing in here, Derek. We're going to talk about that after we
deal with this Alpha bullshit. And, God, I wish I could shower. Even I can
smell how much I reek and I'm all flaky. Cum, blood, sweat. Sheesh." As he
babbled and grunted, he jerked on jeans and a sweatshirt, then took socks and
his sneakers over to the mattress to sit.
When he did so, Derek saw him wince, and felt himself grow momentarily
flustered.
He'd done that.
His wolf barked in possessive delight, and he scowled.
"Such a pleasant face to wake up to."
At least Stiles' sarcasm was still intact.
Choosing not to respond, Derek crossed the hall to the bathroom to run a comb
through his hair and brush his teeth. Not about to risk anything, he'd shower
after this meeting, but he felt like Stiles was infused into his skin. The
scent of his mate was both strong and enticing. It was too pleasant.
Stiles thought he reeked, but he didn't. He smelled like Derek's and with a
scent that was tantalizing familiar.
Home, hearth, family--similar to what he remembered of the scent of his mated
parents.
Already he and Stiles smelled like all of that and, yet, they couldn't really
be what they should be.
Hands propped on the counter, he stared into the mirror, eyes glowing red so he
could see every emotion so clear on his face.
The most prominent was failure.
But, then this was nothing new. He'd been a failure for nearly seven years.
When Derek returned to his bedroom, it was empty, and he followed Stiles'
scent--alluring, really too damn alluring, that made him just want to grab his
mate and bend him over the nearest flat surface--down the stairs to the other
bathroom. The one the two humans had been using. The one with a lamp.
As he waited outside for Stiles to finish, he wondered if he realized this was
his home now. Mates didn't live apart and the Alpha Pack certainly wasn't going
to allow it. In their eyes, in his wolf's eyes, Stiles was an adult, but they
were breaking human laws that meant something to Derek.
And breaking custom in his own Pack. Mates hadn't been taken so young in two
centuries. It had been understood amongst allied packs that Hale wolves weren't
available for bondings until they were at least eighteen and out of school.
But, the Alpha Pack were the most traditional of traditionalists and they were
dragging the world backwards.
The bathroom door opened and Stiles stepped out, nearly tripping into Derek.
"You need electricity in more than just the kitchen with that tiny generator,"
he said sourly.
Yeah, he supposed he did. And heat. It was barely winter and already dipping
near freezing at night. His mate was human, could feel it too easily, could get
sick from the chill and damp.
The opening of the front door drew his attention away from Stiles and he headed
there, knowing he'd be followed. Peter and Lydia walked in, her leading the way
as he opened the door for her. Surprisingly, she looked okay. Actually, better
than she had in weeks. As Stiles greeted her and she handed him some batteries
to replace the burnt out ones in the lanterns, Derek waited for his uncle to
approach him, which didn't take long.
They both discreetly scented each other.
"So, we've passed their first test."
Derek grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Stiles looks...his usual self."
Appreciating the carefulness, but annoyed by his uncle's need to comment about
this at all, he retorted, "And Lydia survived, too."
Peter frowned and Derek immediately regretted his tone, but he couldn't
apologize. Instead his nostrils flared and a surprising scent hit him.
"She...enjoyed...?"
Reddening slightly, Peter shrugged. "Something to do with the bond, I guess,
except..." He glanced over his shoulder at his petite mate who was listening to
Stiles babble as they reset the lanterns and illuminated the dark room. "It
didn't set on her end."
Derek could feel himself paling. "Her immunity?"
"I assume." Peter huffed a sigh. "I can feel it. She says she can't. She wasn't
lying, but it was a very confusing night. Thankfully the language in the treaty
refers to completing the bonding and not the bond. Technically the bond didn't
complete and we could have been held in violation, but the bonding refers to
the physicality of the bite and the sex."
"Did you write it that way?
"Actually, Kali did, and now I'm wondering why. I didn't think about Lydia's
immunity interfering until she brought it up last night.
"She actually talked to you? Willingly?"
"She is...full of surprises." Turning his head, Peter watched his mate, drawing
Derek's eyes to the human pair as well. "Bolder than I expected."
Not knowing how to respond to that, Derek kept his mouth shut and in the
silence came a howl from outside. He saw Stiles stiffen and Lydia pale, then
they set down the lanterns in their hands and went to their respective mates.
Stiles firmly took Derek's hand. Lydia looked up at Peter, her face unreadable,
but her scent tinged with fear.
Peter carefully took her hand and lifted it to his lips and she allowed it and
it calmed her. Beside him, Stiles stiffened even more in shock, then a little
smile of pride in his friend crossed his face, before he wiped it away.
"Let's get this over with."
Nodding at his mate, Derek led the way outside.
The sun was just breaking the horizon, pinkening the sky. The five Alphas were
back, alone this time. Aiden unfolded a portable table and two chairs, one
across from the other, and Kali set two folders and pens on the table, along
with a cloth grocery bag.
"There are these things called tablets these days."
"Oh look, the little pet speaks," Ethan sneered.
"Nothing has ever silenced my mate," Derek said, stressing the title as he
approached the chair closest to the house and watched as Deucalion took the
opposite and sat first.
Releasing Stiles' hand in order to sit, he was pleased to see him remain at his
side, equally. The leader of the Alphas didn't have that. Both Kali and Ethan
were a step back, as were Peter and Lydia on his right side. Briefly he
wondered why Deucalion had never taken a mate. A mate strengthened an Alpha and
the Pack. Even a human one.
Even a male human one for a male Alpha.
With his Second and his mate with him, the pack bond settled peacefully in him.
He knew Stiles could feel it a bit, but he regretted that Lydia couldn't.
Deucalion was the first to speak. "Our Seconds have hashed out all the details
of the treaty. The two of you have bonded with your mates to fulfill our first
requirement, which allows you all to live." He tapped his folder and flipped it
open, but didn't bother looking down.
Derek didn't open his and didn't look away from the Alpha sitting across from
him. He wasn't about to show any weakness, but he really wished he'd gotten
more details from Peter. Too busy being angry and frustrated at the coming
mating.
Reaching down, Peter picked up the second folder and opened it. "Let me just
read through this. Make sure we got everything down the way we agreed."
His doing so saved face, left Derek to remain calm and collected. He wouldn't
know the details of what he was signing but he trusted his uncle--a thought
that was amazing in itself. Peter would have fought for the best deal he could
get.
And, really, a few things were obvious.
Derek and Stiles physically couldn't have cubs of their own and not being
allowed them through surrogacy would be further punishment, so that was
probably in there. Peter, though...He had been surprised by Lydia--she bore no
acrid scent of birth control pills and no residual latex aroma either.
But, then, maybe the Alpha Pack figured her immunity wouldn't allow for a
pregnancy. Either way, they'd be punished. No continuation of the Hale
bloodline at all, or a Second's mate forced too young to bear unwanted cubs.
"We didn't agree to forcing the human families of the Hale Pack members to
remain prisoners." Peter reached for the pen. "There's no reason. There are
restrictions on anyone leaving town that have nothing to do with our treaty.
That covers them as well. And we all know they're hostages to our good
behavior. That clause gets removed."
Kali growled but Deucalion simply nodded and Peter observed as he crossed out
the clause, then did the same in his own document before going back to reading
it.
Derek noticed that the document was only two pages, fairly short, and he hoped
that the clauses that did exist, the rules that bound them now, were things he
could live with.
He really wished he'd talked to Peter.
"All right, everything else is as agreed to." The document was placed back in
front of Derek, turned to the signature page, and he watched as the Alpha
picked up a pen and casually signed his own, then waited for Derek to sign so
they could exchange folders.
Gritting his teeth, Derek signed the first set, then the second, and it was
done.
"You're no longer prisoners here, so we're giving you back your cell phones."
Kali pointed to the bag which Stiles snatched up and began to go through,
stuffing two phones into his pockets before passing the bag to Peter. I'll be
staying in your charming town for a while to make sure you keep to the treaty,"
she cooed, rolling up one treaty and handing it to the quietest Alpha, Cora,
who tucked it into her shoulder bag. Derek handed his copy to Stiles as he knew
he was itching to read it.
So was he.
Rising at the same time, he and Deucalion simply nodded at each other and the
Alphas turned their backs without a care, heading for the woods. As they
reached them, Ethan turned back for a moment and leered at Stiles.
"Too bad Hale got it up, Stiles. I was looking forward to you bent over my bed
and taking my dick for the rest of your miserable life."
A growl burst from Derek but Stiles stepped in front of him, boldly replying,
"Yeah, that would have been difficult since the first chance I got, I'd bite
your dick down to a stub. Well, it's already kind of stubby."
Behind him Peter snorted, but when Ethan turned red and started back towards
them, Derek shifted and grabbed his mate to yank him away.
But, Aiden took his brother's arm and jerked him into the trees.
"Are you insane?" Derek hissed as soon as he was sure they were out of hearing
range.
"I have a mouth. I'm pretty sure you know this."
Stiles was annoyed with him? After risking his life mouthing off to that son of
a bitch? Releasing him, Derek gave him a shove towards the house. "Get inside.
I want to know what I just agreed to."
"Stop manhandling me."
Derek grabbed his arm again and jerked him towards the steps. "It was my place
to respond, not yours."
He shouldn't have been surprised when Stiles went stone cold and still, then
furiously pulled free. "You don't own me, Derek."
"Yes, I do," he bit back, then stormed up the steps into the house. Behind him
he could hear Stiles squawking, Peter trying to soothe him, and Lydia...
Nothing from Lydia, which did surprise him, because she'd become Stiles'
biggest defender. As he sank down onto the couch and rubbed his hands over his
tired eyes, trying to calm himself down, she walked quietly into the room and
sat on a chair next to him, holding the treaty folder open.
"Peter told me a little bit last night. I can only assume that they worry so
little about us that letting me birth a possible Alpha doesn't matter."
He leaned forward slightly and she cocked an eyebrow at him. "You don't know
what's in this, do you." He must have given her a sour look, because she
snorted, too similarly to his uncle, then read a couple clauses out loud.
"'Derek Hale and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski...'" What the Hell? "Yes, that's his
real name. Anyway, 'shall mate before the sun rises on the first day of the new
year, two thousand and fourteen. If either refuses or fails to complete the
bonding, the Hale Pack will be executed and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski will be taken
as prisoner of the Alpha Pack to dispose of at their will. Derek Hale is not
allowed to carry on the Hale bloodline and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski is not allowed
to produce children or cubs through surrogacy or any other manner.'"
They didn't want the magic to continue, either. Derek felt his heart sink.
Lydia continued, her voice even and cool, "'Peter Hale and Lydia Martin shall
mate before the sun rises on the first day of the new year, two thousand and
fourteen. If either refuses or fails to complete the bonding, the Hale Pack
will be executed and Lydia Martin will be taken as prisoner of the Alpha Pack
to dispose of at their will. Peter Hale and Lydia Martin will be allowed no
form of birth control and if a cub, wolf or human, is not conceived within two
years, the Alpha Pack...'" Her voice broke and she looked up from shocked eyes.
"Peter didn't tell me that. He didn't tell me there could be consequences if I
don't get pregnant. We don't even know if I can."
"Lydia, calm down," Derek said softly. "What are the consequences?"
"Just that...that the Alpha Pack may choose to intercede."
Peter had entered the house in time to hear that last exchange and he sighed
heavily. "I hoped you wouldn't read that part."
"Why is this so vague?" she demanded, waving the treaty at him.
"I fought to make that part clearer but they wouldn't agree. It was hard enough
to get them to agree to let you live."
"But they could still kill me. That's what this says. Intercede." She was
starting to panic and then Stiles was pushing past Peter and going to her side,
taking the document and handing it to the older man, before crouching before
her and taking her hands.
"Hey, hey, Lyds, it's okay. We won't let them hurt you, Lyds, promise. You'll
get pregnant. You're Lydia Martin, remember? Queen of Beacon Hills High."
"I hate when you call me that," she muttered.
"What, Lyds or Queen?"
"Both."
He grinned and slowly she relaxed.
Derek held out his hand to his uncle, who turned over the document.
"I think coffee is in order."
"God yes," Stiles chimed in, pulling Lydia up and following Peter into the
kitchen.
Leaning forward, hunching over the folder in his hands, Derek started to read.
Nothing really surprising. He wasn't allowed to turn anyone for five years and
then only with permission. Certain people--Stiles, John Stilinski, Melissa,
Deaton, the Argents--and did that mean they were going to live after all?--were
never to be turned. Outside of the proscriptions to he and Stiles, cubs of the
Pack were allowed and, if human, could be turned at the traditional age of
sixteen or any time afterwards without further permission from the Alpha Pack.
No member of the Hale Pack was allowed to leave Beacon County without
permission. Derek was pretty sure that would never be granted unless, possibly,
for a mating into a pack allied to the Alphas. There was no mention of this
applying to any of the family members, but there were new rules for all
residents of the county that would apply to them. He assumed no one was allowed
to leave without permission.
He was glad Peter had insisted on scratching out the part about imprisoning
their families. They were trapped easily enough within the borders of the
county. If his father had remained a prisoner, Stiles would have gone
ballistic.
Which reminded him that he probably should go talk to the man.
He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.
Other parts of the treaty were pretty standard--at least one member of the
Alpha Pack would remain in Beacon Hills until they deemed the Hale Pack a non-
threat and capable of managing their affairs. Members of the Hale Pack could
interact with the community, get jobs, go to school, basically live life how
they wanted as long as it was in Beacon County or they could get permission to
leave.
That meant the only option for higher education was the two year community
college.
Neither Lydia nor Stiles were going to be happy about that.
But the hardest to deal with was the fact they wouldn't allow him to continue
the bloodline. He'd expected it, and, werewolf surrogacy was an iffy prospect
anyway, but it was a blatant slap in the face at his family. If Lydia could get
pregnant and if she could birth wolves or human children with the werewolf
gene, the line would continue through Peter, and hopefully produce a potential
Alpha, but his own biological imperative to produce an heir was permanently
blocked.
Despite its need for Stiles, a man, who wouldn't have been able to carry the
line anyway, his wolf hated it.
If the Alpha Pack hadn't descended, if the supernatural hadn't taken over the
world, Derek held to a dim hope that he could have put aside his attraction to
Stiles and taken a female mate. To do his duty as his parents and his Pack
would have expected. To give them strong cubs and at least one potential Alpha.
There was no hope for that now. Staring at the most telling clause, Derek
cursed under his breath.
If Stiles died before Derek, he was not allowed to ever take another mate.
He knew it was hard to do, very hard. His surprise--and relief--at the fact
that Peter and Lydia had accomplished the mating was as much due to his
knowledge of Peter's deep love and devotion to his late wife, Marta, as Lydia's
fear of him. Maybe Peter could have forced himself to find a new mate in order
to have cubs of the blood, but Derek wasn't convinced. He'd had two great-aunts
who'd lost their mates when they were young enough to still have cubs and
neither had ever taken a second mate, both living long lives alone.
As he set aside the treaty, a noise drew his attention to the entry to the
kitchen. Stiles hesitated there, two mugs in his hands.
"So, are we screwed?"
Derek could see the nervousness in him as he licked his lower lip and his eyes
wouldn't land on Derek.
"It's not...horrible."
Crossing the room, Stiles handed him one of the mugs, then retreated to the
chair Lydia had been in earlier, which put him at an angle to Derek and allowed
him to avoid eye contact.
"Lydia said they're pretty much making her have kids. Why? They could be
wolves, right?"
"Either the Alphas believe her immunity will prevent that or pregnancy
altogether, or they just don't see us as a threat any longer." Derek shrugged
and sipped his black coffee, knowing Stiles' mug was liberally dosed with
creamer and sugar. "My guess is they don't expect her to produce a potential
Alpha with Peter, though any born and mated wolf can do so, even if the mate is
human."
"But, you don't have to be a born wolf to even be an Alpha. Aidan told me that
Ethan was born human, bitten when he was barely a teenager, and then became an
Alpha through killing someone."
Peter and Lydia returned carrying their own mugs and as they sat on the ratty
loveseat, Derek nodded to his uncle to explain because he wanted to watch
Stiles. He wanted, needed, to see his reaction when he finally realized the
truth.
"You're right, any werewolf can become an Alpha through killing an Alpha, but
do you really think that's the optimum way to do it? Why do you think there are
so many stories about werewolf violence, rampages, mass murders? Why do you
think there are hunters?"
Lydia was the one to come up with the reason first. "Because they weren't meant
to be Alphas. Last night you mentioned potential Alphas and I didn't ask what
that meant."
"The strongest werewolves and the most sane if they become an Alpha, are those
born as wolves with the potential to become an Alpha. The most stable and
peaceful packs are those led by born Alphas. In a perfect world, a mated Alpha
will give birth to or sire the next Alpha and it will pass when they die and
that death is usually not at the hands of their child. That happened in the
Hale Pack for generations until..." He stuttered to a stop and quickly took a
sip of coffee, unable to look at Derek, and Derek fought the instinct to growl.
"Originally only a mated Alpha could produce a potential, but over the
centuries born Beta wolves in mated relationships began to have that ability.
As far as I know, a bitten wolf has never been able to, even if they're mated,
even if they've become Alpha. So, packs led by bitten Alphas have degenerated
over the years. Become feral and out of control. Thus, the need for hunters."
"So, were you a potential? Can there be more than one?" Stiles asked.
"There can be, but, no, I wasn't. My insanity came from many reasons, including
that," he said ruefully, then finally looked at Derek. "But Derek was. My
sister had two potentials. Even though he became Alpha through killing, that
doesn't destabilize this Pack or his position."
"Okay, good. So, if Erika and Boyd finalize the mating bond and have kids, for
example, they could be werewolves but not Alphas unless they kill an Alpha and
that would be bad."
"Correct."
Stiles nodded to himself, then Derek saw him glancing over at him and blinking.
"But I can't have children." A flicker of panic crossed his expressive face.
"Can Derek use a surrogate, even if that won't give us an Alpha?"
Watching his uncle's face close, Derek shook his head and took over the
narrative. "No. They've forbidden it. My genes die with me. The only way the
Hale bloodline carries on at all is through Peter."
"And Lydia may not be able to have kids with him because of her immunity, which
means we could really be screwed. Derek, I'm so sorry."
"This isn't your fault," he gruffly replied, looking back at his uncle who was
looking at his mate who was staring at her feet. What a complete clusterfuck.
"But..."
"Even if you were female, they wouldn't allow it."
"Because...punishment. Yeah, I really get it now," Stiles replied dejectedly.
Silence fell for a moment, then Peter rose to his feet. "Lydia and I need to
get cleaned up and then go see her mother. Text me when the Pack returns and we
will as well." Taking Lydia's mug, he headed for the kitchen, and Derek watched
as Lydia's eyes trailed after him before turning to him.
"If I'm unable to have a child within the two years and they come for me, will
you fight for me?"
"Yes. You're Pack. You're family, Lydia." He glanced at his uncle, saw approval
and relief on his face, and watched him cross to his mate and wait for her to
join him. Then he added, "But, you're stronger than they know, Lydia. If anyone
can beat the odds they're playing, it's you."
"Damn straight," Stiles chimed in, a smile trembling on his face.
After Peter and Lydia left, Derek finished his coffee and set the mug on the
end table, then waited. It wasn't a long wait.
"So, what else are they making us do? Or not letting us do?"
He could see Stiles' hands shaking a bit around his mug and he wasn't drinking,
just holding onto it.
"None of us can leave Beacon County without permission which includes going
away to college."
"And they won't give it."
"Unlikely."
Stiles made a sour face but gestured for him to continue.
"We are allowed to do pretty much anything we want within our territorial
limits. You all will go back to school next week."
"Yay."
He almost smiled at the sarcasm. Nothing kept his mate down for long. "You and
the Betas can get jobs, they can mate, have cubs. There's nothing about Allison
and Scott in the treaty. I'm going to try to find out where that leaves Scott,
but not today. I'm not allowed to turn her or Chris which implies that they're
not going to be killed. Also, I can't turn you, your father, Melissa or Deaton,
and no one for five years and then only with permission."
"None of that's a surprise, really, outside of the Argents. Makes me worry what
they have planned for the heads of the oldest hunter family in the U.S."
Nodding, Derek rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers under
his chin as he tried to figure out how to tell Stiles the last two
requirements. He knew he'd put it off too long when his mate set down his mug
and huffed at him to get on with it.
"You have to live with me."
Stiles gaped at him. "Um...what?"
"Mates don't live apart. Not easily. It's why Scott moons so much over Allison
and used to spend nights on her roof." He could see the wheels spinning in
Stiles' mind, saw him glancing around the dimly lit, burnt out room and make a
face.
"I'm not living here."
"I'm not up to arguing about this with you today. I'll get the heat and
electricity fixed," Derek conceded.
"You know it's probably carcinogenic in here, right? I'm not dying of..." His
voice choked off and his eyes fell and Derek remembered his mother had died of
cancer, but didn't know what kind.
"Not today, Stiles." He was just too damn tired to fight about this now. "Do
you want to hear the rest?" After giving him an angry, stubborn look, Stiles
nodded, and Derek tried to gentle his voice but it probably came out too hard,
too rushed. "You aren't allowed to have children either."
"...But, why?"
"There wasn't a reason given."
"I..." His face fell and he buried it in his hands for a long moment. "I always
thought I'd make a good dad."
"My guess is they don't want you passing on your magic. Deaton's implied often
enough that it had to be inherent in your mom for you to have it so strongly."
"Genetics, yeah. Welsh magic from her family." Rubbing his face, he looked up
and Derek could see his eyes were reddened. "Fuck."
The treaty said nothing about adoption but Derek held his tongue. Not the right
time.
"So...basically we get on with our lives?"
"Under their rule."
"I still don't get why they just didn't kill us all."
It was definitely something Derek had wondered as well.
"Probably gives them sick pleasure to see us beaten down, though," Stiles
continued. "Death just ends everything. Bastards."
Derek snorted and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.
"So, are we going to talk about how you went all possessive out there?"
"No."
"You do know that I'm not a helpless maiden and I can take care of myself,
right?"
Derek shot him an irritated look, then rose to his feet. "You should shower, go
see your dad, get your things."
"Yeah, or we could both shower, both go see my dad and explain to him why his
sixteen year old son is moving in with his werewolf boyfriend."
"Don't go call me that."
"Werewolf husband?"
"Not that either. Damn it, Stiles," he exploded and the boy jumped to his feet.
"Take this seriously."
"I am! My dad didn't want to deal with the implications last night. I didn't
want to deal with them either. But now we're stuck together and we have to live
here and I'm fucking sixteen and still in high school, Derek."
"I know," he growled, his wolf beginning to rumble in irritation, wanting to
run, wanting to...Fuck, he wanted to push Stiles to the floor and mount him.
No, not in anger and frustration. Fisting his hands in his hair, he glared at
his mate. "You're too damn young."
"Not so young you didn't fuck the shit out of me last night."
Derek felt himself pale. Had he been rough? He barely remembered the details,
at the time too caught up in the guilt of what he was doing, at his hopeless
inability to make either of them feel good. Had even tried to be careful? "Did
I hurt you?"
"Huh? What? No...I mean, yeah, a bit, but it's not like I didn't know it was
going to hurt." Stiles shot him a confused look and scratched the back of his
neck, then winced. "Wow, kind of forgot that was there."
"I know it wasn't good," Derek stammered. And he wasn't going to repeat it any
time soon to make it any better. "I..."
Stiles' face softened. "Derek, shut up. I came, remember? I enjoyed it, at
least at the end. Did...did you?"
Derek thought about it for a minute, letting the vague memories wash over him.
His wolf had been ecstatic, claiming his mate, the one he'd wanted for so long.
His human side...Everything was dark and cold and bitter. "I...don't know."
"Oh, Jesus, Derek. You really are fucked up." Before he could stop him, Stiles
had his arms around his waist, his face burrowed into his neck. "If I have to
do it alone, I'll make this work for us." A sense of complete comfort hit him
hard in the face. Something he hadn't felt since his family...
This was what a mate could do if he'd just let it happen.
Derek pulled back, carefully separating them, refusing to see the way Stiles'
face fell. "Shower. I'll go with you to your dad's." He headed up the stairs
two at a time before his mate could respond.
*****
Together but both lost in their own thoughts, they drove through the quiet town
to the Stilinski House.
"The werewolves are gone."
So, the Alphas were keeping their word on allowing the families freedom. He
pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. Stiles was out and
up the walk before he could get out himself, but he followed him into the house
to find the two Stilinskis embracing tightly.
Derek could still smell himself on his mate, smell the mating itself, but knew
the human couldn't. He did notice the bite mark, though, and stiffened, his
fingers brushing it carefully.
"It won't turn me, dad. He can't, actually."
John Stilinski released his son and turned to face Derek, his face unreadable
through the bruises he bore. "I was about to make breakfast. Have the two of
you eaten?"
"No. Let me. You talk to Derek."
Thanks, Stiles, Derek thought sourly.
"We'll all talk while you cook. The eggs are still fresh enough and there's
enough bread for toast for three." Clapping his son on the back, John led the
way into the kitchen. As Stiles bustled around, getting food out of the
refrigerator and a skillet out of a cupboard, John poured a second cup of
coffee and held it out to Derek. "How do you take it?"
"Black." He took the cup and set it down on the table as he and John sat.
His back to them, Stiles was cracking eggs into a bowl, but Derek knew he was
listening intently. As he watched John sip his coffee, also black, Derek waited
for the anger.
Instead, the former sheriff surprised him. "Thank you for keeping my son
alive." They both ignored Stiles' squawk of protest that he could and did take
care of himself. "I'm sure you can understand I'm not thrilled about how, but
I've seen how you protect and care for your pack. He's part of that now."
"He always was."
John nodded in contemplation and Derek turned his eyes to the depths of his
coffee cup, watching the steam curl. "So, it's done. You and him?" Derek
nodded, still not looking up. "And, he's right, the bite you gave him won't
turn him?"
"It won't. It's not deep enough and was...well, it doesn't happen that way. I'm
not allowed to turn him. You either."
"Huh. There's a big announcement at noon in the town square. Mandatory
attendance for all humans, at least. I guess we'll learn all the restrictions
against us then. What are yours?"
Slowly Derek spelled it out as the aroma of cooking eggs and browning toast
filled the kitchen. It was a good smell, but he felt colder and smaller the
more he forced out the words. When he laid out their living arrangements, John
interrupted for the first time.
"Son, he can't live in that ruin."
"I know," Derek gritted out.
"Oh, you'll accept that from my dad, but not me," Stiles muttered, slapping a
plate down in front of Derek before placing one a bit more gently in front of
his dad and then fetching his own to take a seat between the two older men.
"I'll figure something out. I can't think about that today. There's more..."
John gestured with his fork for him to continue, and Derek stared at his plate,
then spilled it all, that neither could have children. Across from him John
stopped eating. Stiles shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
Derek lost his appetite but, knowing had to keep up his strength, forced down
some toast.
"No grandkids," John said sadly.
That stopped Stiles' eating and he gave his dad a guilty look. "I'm sorry,
dad."
"Son, not your fault. Neither of yours fault. They're doing this to punish you,
right? End both our lines?"
"I have cousins."
"Our direct line," John amended. "Derek's too. The Hales have been here for
over two hundred years."
"Peter and Lydia can carry on the bloodline, hopefully."
"Her mother called me last night--they turned back on the land lines--but all I
could tell her was that Lydia was alive. I couldn't tell her..."
"She and Peter were headed there. Oh, before I forget." Stiles dug into his
pocket and pulled out the Sheriff's iPhone, handing it to him. "They gave us
back our cell phones."
"I guess life goes on, huh?"
Stiles shrugged and Derek saw him glance his way from beneath hooded eyes
before turning back to his plate.
"What about someone to follow you as Alpha of your pack when you die?" John
asked pointedly.
"Peter can produce a potential Alpha. It's not a guarantee by any means, but
it's the only hope we have. If not...I'll break up the Pack before I die. I
won't allow someone to take over who isn't a potential Alpha. Within a couple
generations, the Pack would be half-feral and dangerous."
The thought turned his stomach, but, as Derek forced himself to eat, Stiles
explained all the details about born versus bitten wolves and potential Alphas.
"You had the potential?" John asked Derek, who nodded and took a deep gulp of
coffee. "Peter?"
"No. If he'd stayed Alpha...things would be very different. But, he can produce
one. If Lydia..." With a grunt he shook his head and focused on the last scoop
of scrambled eggs.
"So, do you go back to school? Get back as much of your normal life as you
can?"
"Yeah. They're allowing all that. Just...I have to live with Derek. Thanks for
not, y'know, citizen arresting him or anything," Stiles joked and both John and
Derek shot him a sour look.
"A couple months ago if you'd come to me with a twenty three year old
boyfriend, you'd both be in big trouble, but I'm not an asshole, you know. This
isn't your fault. Either of you. But, you're so damn young, and that goes for
both of you."
As Stiles ducked his eyes guiltily, Derek sighed softly. "The Alpha Pack has
forced us to go against Hale tradition. Even though our wolves are mature at
sixteen, we don't mate until eighteen at least. I am sorry, John. This
shouldn't have happened. I would never have..."
John interrupted him. "I believe you. I've gotten to know you somewhat in the
last few months, Derek, and you have an integrity that would hold up to my
son's sixteen year old pushiness as long as possible."
"Hey!"
"You'd have pushed, Stiles. Christ, I remember sixteen and everything I wanted
to do and did. You're stubborn and, my bet, Derek would have caved, and that
wouldn't have been good for either of you."
"Would have been good for me," Stiles muttered under his breath.
"I'll chalk your selfishness up to you being sixteen, Stiles, but Derek had
good reason to want to wait and you know it."
Feeling his own face heating up, Derek watched the color flare in Stiles'
cheeks at his father's rebuke, as he dropped his eyes and nodded.
"But, unfortunately, that's neither here nor there. You're together now, too
young emotionally, and you have to figure out how to make this work, both of
you. Got it?" That was the sheriff voice and both young men nodded.
John relaxed a bit and picked up his mug. "Okay, here's what I want. A safe,
warm and dry place for my son to live. Deal with that soon, Derek." He didn't
wait for an acknowledgment. "Stiles goes to school, keeps his grades up, keeps
up his magic training so he doesn't accidentally blow something up again.
Police cars are expensive, you know."
"I apologized for that, profusely, and, wait, can I even keep using it?"
Derek nodded. "The treaty spoke of proscriptions on rebelling, planning
insurrection, fighting any of the Alpha Pack or other supernatural creatures
unless attacked first by the latter, but also mentioned you could use your
magic for protection and anything that didn't go against their other rules."
"Huh."
"They probably don't want any wild magic out of control. Like with my police
car."
Stiles rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but grin a bit, until his father
added, "And now I want to talk to Derek alone. Go pack some of your things."
After about three minutes of protesting, Stiles gave up, scowled at both of
them, and stomped up the stairs. Derek listened to his door slam shut, then
slowly turned to the Sheriff, ex-Sheriff...The man whose underage son he'd...
He didn't think John would try to hurt him, but he still felt the instinct to
run well up in him.
"I'm not going to shoot you," John said with a snort before taking another sip
of coffee and pushing his empty plate back. "And I don't want to know any
details, god no. But..." He took another sip and frowned slightly. "He looks
okay, seems okay. Is he?"
Was he? Derek was still not certain how he could be, but he nodded. "He's
Stiles. Resilient. Stubborn." Falling silent, he stared at his fingers gripping
his empty mug. They were just on the edge of turning to claws.
"Stiles was afraid that you didn't want him." John looked like he'd rather
swallow poison than continue, but he forced himself to. "I've known longer than
Stiles that he's bisexual and for several months that he's attracted to you,
but if you can't return that attraction, if you don't feel anything for men in
general or him in particular, I'm asking you to tell him and let him down as
easily as you can."
That was pretty much the last thing Derek had expected the sheriff to say. Of
course he wanted Stiles. He wanted him too much. That was the problem. But...
"There's been something there for a while," he finally admitted slowly, "But
I've been fighting it."
"Because of his age?"
"Yes. That doesn't matter to my wolf, though. Sixteen is mature for us. But, I
just...can't...He's too young." It wasn't the whole reason, but it played an
important part. "It doesn't matter, John. We're mated. For me, it will last
till one of us dies. There'll never be anyone else."
"Would you want there to be?"
"Only...only...That doesn't matter either. The Alpha Pack won't let me sire a
cub."
There was a reason John had been elected Sheriff three terms in a row and the
youngest ever in Beacon County. Knowledge shown on his face and he nodded in
understanding. "You wanted to push Stiles away and find a woman."
"It's a biological drive."
"Could you have done it?"
"...I don't know. Probably not," he finally admitted to himself and his wolf
huffed in pleasure, which made no sense to Derek because that side of him
should have been the part wanting a female wolf to bear his cubs.
John smiled softly. "You care about my kid."
Derek flushed and nodded before ducking his head in confusion. No wonder
criminals so readily admitted their crimes when being interrogated by this man.
"I'm glad, Derek. Of course I want him to be happy, and he wants to be with
you."
"A couple months ago he still wanted to be with Lydia," Derek replied sourly
because he'd always seen her as competition. As humans, they weren't bound by
the mating instinct to be faithful.
"You think he'll stop caring about you, that he's fickle?"
"I think he's sixteen years old and hasn't had a chance to do anything, be with
anyone, and that's the biggest reason I...I didn't want to take those choices
from him and the Alpha Pack, they just destroyed his future."
There was silence for a minute. "I think these are things that you need to work
out with Stiles. I think he'll surprise you."
A light touch on his arm brought Derek's head back up and he gave John an
uncertain look. "I'm fucked up."
John smiled and patted him. "Yeah, but my kid has a way of fixing the fucked
up."
A clattering accompanied by a rhythmic thumping on the stairs alerted them to
Stiles' descent and John rose to clear the table. Stiles dragged a suitcase
behind him and had his book bag and laptop case over his shoulders. Rising,
Derek relieved him of the suitcase.
"Did you fill this with rocks?"
"Ha ha. No, it's all my magic stuff. Which, okay, does include some rocks, and
vials of herbs and books and my athame and cauldron and..."
"Are there clothes in here?"
Stiles shrugged and shifted his laptop as it started to slide down his arm.
"Some. I still have more than your three pairs of dark jeans and two black
shirts and two gray shirts."
"I have socks."
Yeah, I know, they're gray."
At the sink, John was biting back a laugh, and Derek felt like joining him but
forced it down to glower at his grinning mate.
"Come on, sourwolf. The Pack will be coming home soon and we've got a lot to
figure out and talk about."
"I don't do talking."
"Okay, I'll talk. That way I get to make all the decisions," he added as he
spun around and headed for the front door with a 'bye dad, call you later'
flung over his shoulder.
"You should see your face, Derek. You're screwed, you know."
Barely restraining a growl, Derek silently stomped after Stiles. He had no clue
what the fuck he was going to do with the kid, but he was definitely going to
ignore the images his wolf was throwing into his head.
He wasn't touching Stiles again, not anytime soon. He just...couldn't. It was
bad enough that the Sheriff could read his emotions like a book and get him to
admit to caring. Caring...caring led to bad things.
He wouldn't survive this time.
End Chapter 6
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