Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/443724.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Voyeurism, Masturbation, Alternate_Universe, Magic
  Series:
      Part 1 of Love_in_the_Groves
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-25 Words: 1533
****** The Oak Tree ******
by Sheepnamedpig
Summary
     A forest spirit decides to take up residence in Derek's forest.
Notes
     I Sterek'd. Whoops?
     Unbeta'd.
Derek senses the forest spirit's arrival almost instantly. The whole forest
seems to sigh around him, branches rustling in a wind that wasn't there a
moment ago. Some trees even sprout fresh flowers and leaves even though it's
already late summer. The slow-rolling wave of the spirit's power follows soon
after and Derek turns his face into it, smelling the fresh green life as young
shoots of grass spring up around him through the detritus of last year's
leaves.
He follows the scent of new growth deeper into the forest, going deeper in than
the Hale pack's territory ever reached, and deeper still until he reaches the
very heart of the forest. The scent of life is overpowering here, so thick that
flowers and grass grow on the patches of dirt and mud on his pants and shoes.
He stops.
Up ahead is a cluster of trees, their trunks and roots too close together to be
natural. The scent is even stronger there, so Derek steps closer and slides
sideways through the narrow gaps between the trunks.
There's a clearing, carpeted with fresh green grass. And spread out on the
grass, face down, is the naked body of a young man.
Derek blinks and tries to sniff through the scent of life for the reek of
death, but the body moves and stretches against the carpet of grass. Derek
hears lips smacking and muffled mumbling and then the young man rolls over onto
his back, starfishing out over the soft grass, unabashedly nude.
He finally gets a look at the young man's face and has to revise his age
estimate down. Way down. Christ, this kid must be barely fourteen. Then he has
to revise it back up because the boy reaches for his cock and there's no way a
fourteen year-old would be that shameless, right? Right? And then he remembers
himself at fifteen, remembers meeting Kate and all the stupid, stupid things
he'd done to get her attention, and forces himself to stop thinking about it.
It helps that there's suddenly an oak sapling where there wasn't one before.
Sometime during Derek's stumble down memory lane, the boy has stroked his cock
from soft to mostly hard and the sapling has sprung up out of the ground next
to him, dead center in the clearing. The scent of new life gets even stronger
until Derek feels like his lungs are going to be stained green from all the
power in the air.
The boy palms himself to full hardness just as the sapling unfurls a modest
crop of young leaves. For a second, everything goes still as the boy's hand
rests at the base of his cock. And then the whole forest seems to take a deep
breath as the boy curls his fingers into a fist around the shaft. The boy pulls
up along his cock and sweeps his thumb over the blunt head and there's a surge
of energy that rushes into the clearing, the power so dense in the air that
every hair on Derek's body stands on end.
The sapling jerks like it's been hit, or maybe hit by a bag of instant-grow
fertilizer, because it starts putting out new branches and leaves like it can't
grow them fast enough. The trunk thickens and stretches upward, branches
erupting outward and reaching for the sunlight, and all the while, the boy is
fisting his cock in earnest.
The boy raises his other hand from where it's been clinging to the grass and
reaches between his legs to fondle his balls and the tree jerks again, putting
out a small crop of acorns that fall to the grass while they're still small and
green. The sparse shade under the tree grows until the boy is completely
shadowed, then begins to reach out across the clearing as the main boughs
thicken and put out new branches. Derek doesn't notice because he's too busy
watching the boy collect a clear liquid from a flower that has sprung up beside
him. And then the boy is reaching between his thighs, his feet planted firmly
on the grass, and his fingertips brush against his scrotum and keep going,
down, until Derek loses sight of the hand. Another small crop of young acorns
rains down onto the clearing, a few of them landing just shy of where Derek is
standing.
Derek's breath seems to seize in his lungs and he reaches behind him to lean up
against one of the trees bordering the clearing. His fingers meet empty air and
he looks behind him.
The tree line is ten feet away. Except, Derek knows he hasn't moved an inch
since he first stepped into the clearing. Knows because the morning glory that
sprouted from a patch of dirt trapped in his shoelaces has taken root amidst
the grass of the clearing, anchoring him to the place where he stopped. And as
he watches, the tree line seems to creep further away, as if making space for
the oak whose branches now stretch over Derek's head, sheltering him in its
deepening shade.
Derek turns back to the boy. He's close, precome dripping onto his belly and
his hips jerking every time his fingers brush over his prostate. Derek swallows
the saliva that gathers in his mouth.
“Come,” he whispers.
The boy's head tips toward Derek and his eyes open for the first time since
Derek discovered him. His hand speeds up on his cock, the one between his legs
working faster and reaching deeper.
“Come,” Derek repeats, voice rasping in his throat.
Pale toes curl tightly into the grass and the boy's body curls up off the grass
as he shouts, coming harder than Derek has ever seen anyone come before. He
writhes like he's being tortured, fist and fingers still moving as he works
himself through his orgasm. A massive crop of green acorns rains down from
above and Derek wants to throw his head back and howl in victory, but the boy's
hands are slowing down, his body shivering from the aftershocks as silence and
stillness return to the clearing, the built-up energy dispersing back into the
forest.
There's a quiet sigh as the boy, the forest spirit, eases his fingers out of
his ass.
“I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be giving the orders around
here, seeing as I'm further up on the magical-creature totem pole,” the forest
spirit snarks. “And aren't you supposed to be a little more grateful that I've
come back to this to set up shop in?”
“I don't take orders from fourteen year-olds,” Derek replies, ignoring the
boy's yelp of protest as he tries to pull his feet free of the tangled mess of
morning glory. The vines cling stubbornly to his jeans, but obligingly uproot
themselves from the ground, leaving Derek mobile but with ten pounds of flora
strapped to his legs. He shuffles over to where the boy lies cradled in the
roots of the massive oak tree and drops to his knees next to him as he states,
quite proudly, that he is “sixteen, asshole, and now is about the time for you
to start groveling before I pack up and find some other forest to haunt.”
Derek shrugs because he doesn't actually care. There are more interesting
things to do, like pick up the forest spirit's hand and suck the long fingers
into his mouth to clean off the sweet, lubricating sap.
“Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? Those were just up my butt!” the
forest spirit yelps.
“Don't care,” Derek growls around the long fingers. He pulls them out of his
mouth and slides his tongue between the fingers, lapping up every last trace of
the sap.
“Oh god, that's so gross,” the spirit whispers. Derek looks up at him from
under his eyebrows, fully aware of how it makes him look. “Don't stop though,
'cause it's really fucking hot, too.”
Derek nips at his fingers and makes a show of laving the palm clean. “Hot
enough to make you stay?”
“I'll think about it,” the spirit babbles, but Derek can smell his arousal, or
what he suspects is arousal: a burst of raw life, bright and clean and full of
limitless potential.
Derek picks up the spirit's other hand and guides a come-streaked finger into
his mouth. The flavor bursts on his tongue, potent but not sweet like he'd
expected it to be. He can't quite pin the taste down, but it somehow tastes
like a new shoot pushing up out of scorched earth or a flower growing in a
fissure of a rock. It tastes like something unstoppable and inevitable and
something in Derek shivers and rolls over.
He takes his time licking the forest spirit clean, lapping up every drop of
come and even turning him over to clean the sap from the cleft of his pert ass.
And when he is convinced that the forest spirit is clean, he strips off his
clothes and gives the kid a warm (or as the forest spirit will later say, sun-
scorchingly hot) welcome, sheltering him from the rain of ripened acorns with
his own body.
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